Though the days are lovely and nights are lovelier still, I am starting to miss my bo almost too terribly. Everything makes perfect sense and is perfectly enjoyable, if you can come home in the evening and bother your yours with detailed reports of every little thing that impressed or amazed or educated you... And things you ate, claro.

Without him it's just lackluster.

To cool my morning, I offed to the massive Ethnographic museum, which, since the last time I was here over a decade ago, not only expanded but also built upon itself. The original concept included some very old ... I suppose they were monarchy army barracks, at least at some point, later a squat and party place, so of course when "the government" took the squat away, there were riots from old punkers and young lesbians... "We are not surrendering Metelkova!..." Right, anyway, now Metelkova is no longer the place to get stoned on cheap weed, but a vast yard of exhibitions, surrounded by large modern buildings, full of our (and certain corresponding foreign) heritage.

Because I haven't been to such a large museum in so long, I was a little bit out of shape. By curiosity, I read every tiny label and absolutely every board, and those were really many. I will post pickies once I get home, as I took plenty, pretending to be a tourist and not really knowing whether or not taking pickies is allowed. Nobody said anything, so ... First I found a lady amidst looms and she told me how she fell in love with this dying industry and now sits in her nice little corner of the museum, making shawls and the like ... We talked about where she gets the looms from or who repairs them, the wool and so on.. That is a prime example of living history. Then there is (I was told to get up the top floor first and spiral down, but I got lost twice, so my memory is all over the place.) a really good exhibition about doors - featuring some actual doors. Many many pictures and door parts and meanings elaborated upon, a sense of safety, possession, might, privacy, etc... But mostly a lot of doors. From very large, old, castle gates long out of service to very new, cold, flat, modern entrances that make you think those people live in a vault.

Another temporary exhibition is about the people here and abroad - everyone who ever left for whatever reason, going to faraway places and what they found there, experienced there, learned there, improved or ruined there, what they sent home and who they were if they ever returned. Also, there is a small expo of instruments made of natural materials, such as reeds, bones and possum.

The uppermost floor is the set cut-through Slovenians as a nation, from ancient times, when first folk settled here, to gradual mastering of farming and fishing, then crafts and market and so on and so on. It was nothing I wouldn't know or see before, but I am simply really fond of this and always feel like the past is slipping away, behind the corner, just a little too quickly. One of my favorite historic figures is the 'dry wares merchant' - a guy who walked village to village, selling sieves or small rakes, and also gossip, news and messages. This corresponds deeply with my ButtonsalesGirl, and it is likely that I was one of such men in the previous life.

The third floor was quite hot and I was really getting tired. Friend called me if I want to have lunch, which I ran to. Well, there was a fancy ladies dress exhibition just at the bottom of the museum, but those were just very pretty dresses with no real meaning to it other than glamour, so I didn't really examine each and every one with equal curiosity.

The lunch was awesome. Always eat things you would otherwise never eat at home, when you're "abroad"! I ordered the cheapest lunch deal out of three, still a bit costly but so worth it, a vegetarian ordeal, and it was ridiculously good. There was a long fried red pepper (only thing I didn't eat and now I actually regret it), filled with four light cheeses and pinjola and pistachio nuts. Then there were crusty small potato slices, a spoonful of paste made of black olives (first time I actually really enjoyed olives, ever), some pumpkin oil sprinkled over all and some green leaves, rukola, I think. And the soup was a cold watermelon with peppers soup. Good gods, that shit was awesome!!!

Other than that, I mostly live off expensive ice cream. I went home after lunch and napped or read and returned to town in the evening to meet with Maja and Ema. The second ice-cream I tried was called Utopia, quite justly so. Then we offed for some fries and beer, weather a storm that didn't really bother coming. Lastly Maja and I, after circling the town in all its majesty, had Vigo ice-cream, cheesecake in my case, creamy, but simply beyond reproach. Then we sat on the Prešern monument, which gets really hot during the day, so our bums were really warm, watching people play in a spot in the middle of the square that "has its own climate", meaning it rain s there all the time and you can get yourself refreshed...

A great, great day.

But lonely. 

*First half of the museum pickies