Boris Takes A Photo

Mark and I never did get that dream wedding at Lake Bled back in 2010. But as 2018 came to a close, we did get a chance to hire a photographer and recite our vows in front of friends and family. Only problem was, I had totally forgotten to pack the sheets of Homewood Suites stationary that Mark and I used. I WhatsApp'd my friend in Windhoek with a request to help me out. She needed to go into the house and into the living room, where on the top shelf on the right hand side of the TV, sat a small tin box with the label "Box-O-Crap" (my sister-in-law gave it to me several years ago. I think she was on a road trip with her then boyfriend, my brother, in the Rocky Mountains.) Would my friend be so kind to take a photo of the vows and send them to me? 

She quickly agreed to this favor and followed through brilliantly (thank you Christina!). While in Slovenia, I first downloaded Mark's, which I easily got onto one page. Apparently I had quite a bit to say while standing at the altar eight years ago because when it came mine, mine took up six sheets paper. My hand cramped, so I cut to the chase and settled on the highlights of why Mark is a better person than I am and ever will be. 

The kids were great sports about the photography session, as were my Austrian friends who I convinced needed to be in the photos too. Our photographer was a man named Boris. He used to play professional hockey, which meant of course he had played Sport Club Ciuc, much to Mark's delight! Ciuc (pronounced Chook) is a small city in Romania known for two things: winter sports and the kind of cold weather that goes beyond a three-dog night. You need the whole damn dog pound to handle Ciuc's winters. 

Boris and Mark got on famously, talking about photography, ice skating, and how Boris hitchhiked around Ghana and Botswana when he was a kid. I think once Boris realized we weren't a bunch of nut jobs who wanted three hundred perfect photos, he ended up liking us all tremendously. In fact, after two hours of smiling-not-smiling at the camera, Boris was game to take more pictures for as long as we wanted. Once the sun dropped behind the mountains, however, it was instead time for lots of HOT mulled wine and/or gin. Plus, a snuggle by the fire with my favorite piece of perfection.

Sharing a piece of our historic promises with the kids.

The High Five, reenacted

Christina and Roland and Mark and Emily

Lil' Red

Huddling by the carp filled lake.

The fire I didn't want to leave.

Should anyone find themselves in Bled, Slovenia, and want to have dealings with photographers or wedding related events, I recommend using Primavera Bled. 

Sweetness of Slovenia

Sometime in the last 15 years I have known Mark, I learned that one of his favorite romantic place on Earth was Bled, Slovenia. He hoped one day he would get married in a church that sits upon an island in the middle of Lake Bled. Life threw an unexpected, unplanned curve ball (David's birth) and the dream didn't come to fruition, and never will, if I have anything to do with it. Everything worked out for the best and here we are, now traveling and living internationally with two kids. Anyway, the Slovenia leg of our trip was an easy one to plan since he'd always wanted to come back, and I wanted see the place that gets him a wee bit misty eyed. So we rented a car and drove out of the tight city of Venice, and into the high, wide mountains of Slovenia. 

For the week, we planned to see castles, ski, hike, breathe in the fresh air, and play in the snow. The only thing that didn't go according to plan was that it didn't snow, so we had to settle on the lingering frost that coated everything overnight and the sparse, man-made snow at the ski resorts. 

The church on the island was gorgeous. Ninety-nine steps lead visitors from the shore to the base of the church doors and tradition requires the groom to carry the bride up the steps. It's paramount to a happy marriage. Beyond the church, on the hill is Bled Castle, built in the year 1011 and is easily the most visited castle in Slovenia. Initially, I was not super gung-ho about visiting, but after some mulled wine and a hefty hike up the steps, my attitude changed. 

First off: the view is of course magical, overlooking the lake, which at the time was smoother than glass. Second, the interior rooms were filled with things that kept the kids' attention, from jewels to weapons, toilets to clothes, to interactive videos. What took the cake though, were the castle staff who reenacted time-old professions. Margo and David learned how to bottle wine by a monk, and we met a blacksmith who was not only knowledgeable and hilarious, but a legitimately trained blacksmith. His lineage had been employed by the castle for hundreds of years. At least, that was how the story went. 

The blacksmith told us how Slovenia was responsible for outfitting the majority of Venice with wood and ironworks to build their bridges and houses. Both are still major exports for the country today. He showed us his craftsmanship, which I totally would have bought, were it my taste. Another lucky customer would get to buy his exquisitely detailed, soul-piercing Jesus on a cross. Telling us a bit of  Eastern Europe history, he described slavery as equal opportunity, and how children and women were not at all discriminated for agism or gender.  Fishing around in his apron for a coin to mint for another customer, I asked him if he had future lineage ready to take over his profession so he could enjoy early retirement. He tossed his chestnut brown ponytail, bound by a leather thong over his shoulder and said that first, he needed to find a woman dumb enough to marry him.

Outside of the towns were countless kilometers of hiking and exploring. Slovenes love being outside and take no heed to inclement weather. They simply gear up and go. On the trails, handfuls of hikers blew past us with hiking poles and miniature crampons, backpacks stuffed with backup gear. For good reason too: not even 3km up the mountain the sun disappeared and the trail went from brown to white. Snow covered or not, the trails are well marked with red and white bull's eyes, the official trail marker for their national park system. The trailheads also have signage boasting the power of surrounding oneself in negative ions. They are abundant in the forests, waterfalls, and beaches, and are believed to produce biochemical reactions that increase levels of serotonin, helping to alleviate depression, relieve stress, and boost energy. Margo and David enjoyed tracing a finger labyrinth. It was posted along the trail and aims to induce relaxation. Pro tip: always start from the outside in.  

I am certain the kids felt self-actualized when we took the kids skiing for the first time. They took a few lessons, skied with Grandma and Grandpa, rode the poma and chairlifts, and were left begging for more. The kids closed out the mountain, something I don't remember ever doing. After a fifteen year absence, I was nervous. Would I remember how to turn if something got in my way? Would I remember how to "ride Fat Bob?"  In both cases, yes- thank God.  I didn't remember however, was how fast and technically sound Mark's muscle memory was. He gave me a run for my money, and now he's making all sorts of plans to go heli-skiing when we move to Uzbekistan (August 2020).

On the way back to Venice, another dream of Mark's came true. We detoured to the Dolomite Mountains in northeastern Italy. Nearly 3 million years old, the peaks are jagged and intimidating, reaching as high as 10,967 feet (3343 meters). Huge chunks of WWII ran through these mountains with the 10th Mountain Division skiing and fighting between the peaks and ruts. James Bond's For Your Eyes Alone was filmed here as well as Cliffhanger, and thousands of skiers visit the multiple resorts every season. Early January meant frigid temperatures of 5F as the sun ducked behind the mountains. We had the pleasure of reaching these mountains at just about the same time. Subsequently, we drove nearly the entire route in 1st gear and descended into bumper to bumper traffic on the way to Venice. Next up: balmy Sicily, where I could finally wear cute sweaters and not freeze. Or so I thought.

Lake Bled with Bled Church, backed by Bled Castle.

Bull's Eye

Typical Schlink family death march.

Hibernating bees.

A little bit of Slovene went a long way.
Everyone loved our kids for their stabs at politeness.

Eating with my favorite people on earth.

So happy.

At the top of one of 37 Dolomite Passes

Photo credit: Mark

Christmassy Venice

When we arrived to Venice by way of Rome, Johannesburg, and Windhoek, I anticipated cooler weather, cute sweaters, and languorous walks through the city famous for its canals, history, and culture. What I got was bone-chilling humidity, snow pants, and speed walking in order to keep warm in the city also famous for its prices, mean seagulls, and crowds. 

I only half jest. I got all of the above, because when you are married to a man who studies European history with fervent enthusiasm, you get to space out when the walking gets boring and listen to fascinating stories of Venetian battle, diplomacy, and religion as told to a 6 and 8 year old. One of my biggest complaints about the Rough Guide to Venice was that it was hard for me to read. It just didn't have a narrative that I like. Mark's was better.

As we walked through St. Mark's Basilica, he spoke of the  gorgeous relics. "Many of the the pontiff jewels, gold chalices, thousand year old pottery, tools and paintings were the spoils of the Crusaders sneaking into Constantinople, ancient Turkey. Thieves, they were!" 

When gazing down at the Rialto Bridge, Mark talked about Venice being a European powerhouse since it had a strong navy and thriving economy, manufacturing and shipping out textiles, weapons, armor, and other goods. The bridge, built to connect two neighborhoods facing each other on the Grand Canal, also served to increase sales and trade. The current opulent facade of the bridge shows off Venice's historic wealth. Before that, the bridge was rebuilt time and time again. One time it collapsed under the weight of too many people during a revolt (that backfired). Another time it caught on literal fire. Architects built the final bridge out of marble and it is "single span", anchored at each end with no support in the middle.

I had opportunity to show off a bit too, talking about infections and plague doctors, prompting David's desire to buy a mask, which he wore throughout the duration of the trip. 

Cool stories and COLD weather. Mark was horrified to see me in public wearing snow pants, a neck gator, and hiking boots, but I had to sacrifice fashion for feeling even moderately warm. Most mornings were thick with fog and temperatures rarely got above 45F. We were lucky if the sun came out, but even then it felt miles away. So when none of us could take the chill (or walking) anymore, we would duck into a cafe for espresso, wine, or both. The meals, though crazy expensive (meals for four people plus drinks, usually wine cost about 100-120 Euro). It was also the trip where I learned that my kids eat adult portions. 

Schlinks love to walk, hike, wander, and explore. So do the Ripleys (Grandma and Grandpa) but even after 10km, we all got tired. The only thing that might distract Mark from walking an additional 15km would be a soccer match. So it was a pleasant discovery to find that Venice FC was playing Cosenza, an Italian city nearly 10 hour's drive south, at the stadium right down the block from our Air Bnb. I was willing to sacrifice being a cold in exchange for a break from walking. 

When attending matches in Italy, and likely throughout Europe, ticket purchases require passport identification. Mark got our tickets which were hilariously in the old-white-guy stands. No one moved a muscle except for their screaming mouths, until halftime when the stands emptied for cigarette breaks. The cheering section adjacent to us was steadfast throughout the game, singing non-stop for 90+ minutes. Venice didn't win, but the experience was just as awesome as the last match we attended.

Four cold days and one Christmas holiday later, Venice was finished with us. Onto: Slovenia.

Sinking tower in Castello neighborhood

Some of the nicer looking graffiti.

Warm-up break. There's an extra fee if you sit versus stand.

Photo credit: Margo. When you visit the Fondaco dei Tdeschi and climb to the top,
you get a free rooftop view of the Rialto Bridge,  and a panoramic view of the city.
Make a reservation on the iPad stand if there are crowds. Otherwise, just walk right up.

Top of Fondaco dei Tedeschi

The details

View of Church of San Giorgio Maggiroe
A view we didn't intend to get when we took a wrong turn
and ended up walking an extra 4km. FUN.

Gramps, or Grampie as Margo calls him.

St. Mark's Basilica: erosion from too much touch.

Wandering the neighborhoods.

Venice FC

If you walk between the pillars of Saint Marco and Saint Theodore, you are guaranteed bad luck.
It used to be the site of execution for all to see in Venice.

Plague Doctor, Jr.