Fortunately, after a rushed, dusty walk along the bank of a dual carriageway beyond the station, I finally reached my destination. No-one had stopped to pick me up despite the thumbs-up and cheeky grin combo I gave to every passing motorist, until I was about five minutes away when a Spanish couple kindly obliged me. I naturally saw this as an opportunity to show off my skills with the lingo but after the initial chit-chat it soon became apparent that I hadn't a clue what Sergio was saying to me. I just kept nodding and saying things like 'Si' and 'en serio!?' as he continued to yap away at a million miles per hour. I got the gist alright I suppose.
Anyway, the Caves. If you've been on a similar tour before then you'll know how mad everything is down there. I didn't quite catch the entire explanation but the rocks are basically formed through the constant dripping of water from the Reka River above, causing a an icicle-like formation to occur over thousands of years. Puzzlingly, these rocks also grow upwards, causing head-on collisions and eventual amalgamation. One such freak-rock, 'The Giant', had grown to 18ft in height over an apparent period of 250,000 years, at a rate of 1cm every 100 years or something daft like that. It looked revolting, as far as good-looking rocks go, but pretty impressive nonetheless. The most remarkable part of the tour, however, was the crossing of a huge Indiana Jones style bridge, albeit made of steel and glass, suspended between two gargantuan boulders over a 200ft drop. Epic stuff.
Annoyingly, we weren't allowed to take any photos during the tour. Although this didn't seem to stop one determined tourist, who spent a large portion of it stealthily hanging around at the back, clearly because he was taking photos. Eventually, the guide clocked him and gave him a right telling off. She made him come to the front and walk with her for the rest of the tour. Pretty embarrassing when you're a middle-aged man and there are children around behaving better than you are. Funny for everyone else though.
Ah yes and let's not forget the endless squeaking and flapping of those bloody bats. I've not got a great track record when it comes to walking below potentially bowel-bothered birds so I was wary of impending bad luck. The relentless dripping didn't do much for my repose either, and I must have brushed my hand through my hair and checked the resulting colour a dozen times. To my relief, I escaped the gloomy grotto unstained.
After the tour had finished, my Spanish compatriots offered to take me back to the station. Upon arriving I discovered that the next train to Ljubljana wasn't for yet another hour. That bad start to the day really had had a knock-on effect. I inevitably fell asleep atop a platform bench and would surely have missed my train if the conductor hadn't shook me awake when it arrived. The train eventually trundled into Ljubljana at about 10.30- six and a half hours later than the time the hostel were expecting me. I then got lost, even though the hostel was allegedly 500m away from the train station, which it wasn't, so didn't actually check in until 11.15 by which time there was nowhere to get something to eat. Must get up earlier.
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