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Issue #281, December 31, 2025, Ljubljana back to Trieste
Journal, December 31, 2025, Ljubljana back to Trieste
The day started early for me. I had intermittent sleep, punctuated by extreme ear-ringing. I was more than ready to get up at 7:00, and slip out of the Airbnb by 7:30, wanting to find a scene to sketch.
The air was frigid, and clouds were hanging low as I headed back to Prešeren Square. It was quiet - in contrast to the night before - as I sketched the Franciscan Church with the sculpture of France Prešeren (1800–1849), the national poet of Slovenia, with ‘the muse of poetry’, a sculpture of a lady hovering above him, on a rock.
Before walking back to the apartment, I sat inside the church to warm up. But after reaching the doors of our Airbnb, I realized I had left my hat on one of the pews! I walked all the way back to the church to get it, and also gave a beggar lady two euros that was in my pocket.
In the remaining two hours we had left in Ljubljana, Orion decided to go back to the café on the upper terrace of the Nebotičnik skyscraper, saying he needed to work on a scholarship application.
At 11am, we reconvened and walked to the bus station, where, after a short wait, we got on the ‘BlaBla’ bus that took us the 42 kilometers back to Trieste.
The inversion fog smog disappeared as we drove out of the basin, and soon we descended to the waterfront town of Trieste in clear air. It was still early, so we went back to the Italian shop to check our bags for the day, then got some lunch at a nearby grocery store. Not sure where to eat, we started walking up towards a park called Villa Ulia.
We were hungry, so stopped on a stairway in a narrow pedestrian alley that had some sunshine; ate packaged sandwiches on this secluded set of stairs, just enough to carry on our the way to the park.
Being a winter day in Trieste, the vegetation in the park was sparse and leafless, yet the sun shone through in dappled patterns. It was quiet, in contrast to the busy streets below.
We found a bench to sit on across from a public water fountain, which had a button that Orion could not resist pressing - of course! - and watched the water flow out in measured portions.
A white-haired lady walked by with a big hound named Lola, who sniffed around our bench and ate fallen crumbs of pound cake that the kids had bought at the market.
Due to the fact that our overnight bus from Trieste to Nice was not scheduled to leave until 10 pm, we still needed to find something to do at a time when the entire city was effectively shutting down for New Year’s eve.
Orion remembered that Oli’s mom had recommended Miramar Castle, an outpost west of Trieste, as a place to visit; indeed, my mom had been there too, so decided to head there.
Miramar is a beautiful, modern castle built by the Archduke Ferdinand in the 1800s. It was open, so we took the train to reach it and got to enjoy the late afternoon light falling around the castle, which is situated at the water’s edge. We wandered around as dusk grew, and watched the sun set from the castle.
A point of family negotiation arose as we decided on our next move. The train station, a 20-minute walk away, was not due until 6:18, in an hour. Orion wanted to go into the castle to wait out the time. The kids’ tickets were cheap (both still being minors), whereas Paige and I would have had to pay 48 euros to wait out the time.
After some discussion, we eventually opted to walk back to the train station and wait for the train there. Unfortunately, the station was locked and closed, so we ended up having to wait outside for about half an hour.
A curious thing happened: at one moment a couple appeared, pulled out a set of keys and walked right into a doorway adjacent to the station. It appeared that they lived in a private apartment connected to the station.
Finally, back on the train, it took only a few minutes to get back to Trieste. We still had a few hours to kill before getting on the night bus, so we wandered around until we found an authentic Italian pizza restaurant, Fratell la Bala, where we once again succumbed to a cheesy (but fantastic) meal.
Still, with over an hour to wait for our overnight bus, we hung out in the train station. Firecrackers loudly echoed off the nearby buildings, as locals prepared for 2024 to transition into 2025.
At last on our Flixbus we steeled ourselves for the eleven-hour drive to Nice, which we endured like the ride before: in relative discomfort. This time, however, I took two of Orion's melatonin gummies, and managed to sleep for a few uncomfortable hours.
Journal, December 31, 2025, Ljubljana back to Trieste
The day started early for me. I had intermittent sleep, punctuated by extreme ear-ringing. I was more than ready to get up at 7:00, and slip out of the Airbnb by 7:30, wanting to find a scene to sketch.
The air was frigid, and clouds were hanging low as I headed back to Prešeren Square. It was quiet - in contrast to the night before - as I sketched the Franciscan Church with the sculpture of France Prešeren (1800–1849), the national poet of Slovenia, with ‘the muse of poetry’, a sculpture of a lady hovering above him, on a rock.
Before walking back to the apartment, I sat inside the church to warm up. But after reaching the doors of our Airbnb, I realized I had left my hat on one of the pews! I walked all the way back to the church to get it, and also gave a beggar lady two euros that was in my pocket.
In the remaining two hours we had left in Ljubljana, Orion decided to go back to the café on the upper terrace of the Nebotičnik skyscraper, saying he needed to work on a scholarship application.
At 11am, we reconvened and walked to the bus station, where, after a short wait, we got on the ‘BlaBla’ bus that took us the 42 kilometers back to Trieste.
The inversion fog smog disappeared as we drove out of the basin, and soon we descended to the waterfront town of Trieste in clear air. It was still early, so we went back to the Italian shop to check our bags for the day, then got some lunch at a nearby grocery store. Not sure where to eat, we started walking up towards a park called Villa Ulia.
We were hungry, so stopped on a stairway in a narrow pedestrian alley that had some sunshine; ate packaged sandwiches on this secluded set of stairs, just enough to carry on our the way to the park.
Being a winter day in Trieste, the vegetation in the park was sparse and leafless, yet the sun shone through in dappled patterns. It was quiet, in contrast to the busy streets below.
We found a bench to sit on across from a public water fountain, which had a button that Orion could not resist pressing - of course! - and watched the water flow out in measured portions.
A white-haired lady walked by with a big hound named Lola, who sniffed around our bench and ate fallen crumbs of pound cake that the kids had bought at the market.
Due to the fact that our overnight bus from Trieste to Nice was not scheduled to leave until 10 pm, we still needed to find something to do at a time when the entire city was effectively shutting down for New Year’s eve.
Orion remembered that Oli’s mom had recommended Miramar Castle, an outpost west of Trieste, as a place to visit; indeed, my mom had been there too, so decided to head there.
Miramar is a beautiful, modern castle built by the Archduke Ferdinand in the 1800s. It was open, so we took the train to reach it and got to enjoy the late afternoon light falling around the castle, which is situated at the water’s edge. We wandered around as dusk grew, and watched the sun set from the castle.
A point of family negotiation arose as we decided on our next move. The train station, a 20-minute walk away, was not due until 6:18, in an hour. Orion wanted to go into the castle to wait out the time. The kids’ tickets were cheap (both still being minors), whereas Paige and I would have had to pay 48 euros to wait out the time.
After some discussion, we eventually opted to walk back to the train station and wait for the train there. Unfortunately, the station was locked and closed, so we ended up having to wait outside for about half an hour.
A curious thing happened: at one moment a couple appeared, pulled out a set of keys and walked right into a doorway adjacent to the station. It appeared that they lived in a private apartment connected to the station.
Finally, back on the train, it took only a few minutes to get back to Trieste. We still had a few hours to kill before getting on the night bus, so we wandered around until we found an authentic Italian pizza restaurant, Fratell la Bala, where we once again succumbed to a cheesy (but fantastic) meal.
Still, with over an hour to wait for our overnight bus, we hung out in the train station. Firecrackers loudly echoed off the nearby buildings, as locals prepared for 2024 to transition into 2025.
At last on our Flixbus we steeled ourselves for the eleven-hour drive to Nice, which we endured like the ride before: in relative discomfort. This time, however, I took two of Orion's melatonin gummies, and managed to sleep for a few uncomfortable hours.
solo/group kukai
drawing/writing/photography
jonathan machen
drawing/writing/photography
jonathan machen