Day 3

Today's destination was Vrsic - a mountain pass between the Russian road and Soca valley and Trenta - it's a 1600m pass, accessible by busses, when accessible. It's a pass that has the most fun anytime anyone tries to take it by force. It's windy and in fould weather, catastrophic. Peaks around it may appear humbke and fuzzy, but again - if you try to force it, you're f**. There are a range of cottages and stops on the way, and a lovely tiny chappel made entirely of wood, in the Russian Orthodox style, dedicated to the dead prisoners of war from WWI, who were kept here to build the road and got killed by an avalanche. I don't know the details, because these things upset me. But the churchling and the tiny park before it are truly lovely, so either someone felt very bad or someone really loved these people and was heartbroken not to get them home. There's a small separate grave to an 'Unknown Russian guy'. Dunno what he did to deserve separation. Don't want to find out.

Two post-adolescent girls serving drinks in the cottage where I tried to get us something were a challenge - so distracted by two flirting Checz offering them home-made slivovica (plum moonshine), it took one five minutes to make me cocoa, which, no, does not come in a glass, yes, it can be served in a mug, and yes, it is made with hot milk. Cute kids, but after a few shots of flirtation from cute boys, holy cow.  Who knew getting cocoa was such a challenge. It reminded me of that time I was in the habit of ordering MIXED pancakes (usually when they are offered, they are either chocolate, with walnut paste, or marmalade in these parts). And pancakes are tricky - some people are stingy as fuck serving them, you get two thin tiny dead flaps of tasteless dough with store-bought jam and that's it. Horrific. But, they can come as an almost religious experience. And some would not bat an eye, just bring me three different ones, others would just stop, mortified. 'What do you mean -mixed? How ... how would we charge for that?' Hm, charge the most expensive version and be done with it? Anyway, I stopped bothering people with my avantgarde fickleness. When I am on vacation, I am determined to enjoy anything they serve me.

* For anyone interested, as someone who is an Olympic champion of eating pancakes, I have a very well-developed criticism muscle when it comes to love put in a serving. It pisses me off when someone makes them as if they were garbage with chocolate on top. The best ones I have ever eaten, and on which all of which I make myself are based, were made by an unknown chef in a forgotten-name hotel on a December eve, where my army group went to have dinner. A shitty situation, I hated those people, and because I don't drink I never "relaxed", but whoever heard of my request for MIXED, went to town. They were: one large, not too thick, pizza-wide base (homegrown eggs, too, which make the dough golden as opposed to white), smeared with Nutella, folded twice, walnut paste and apricot jam (sour, yummy!) as toppings aside, ice-cream, whipped cream and butterflied slices of apples, peaches and pears, knife-thin, aside. Sprinkle of almond shavings and a pinch of cinnamon on the whipped cream.

Royalty.

The food in this hotel hasn't been the best, except for pizza, which finally I submitted to - and it was an excellent pizza: with blue cheese, sour cream, deer prosciutto and truffle paste toppings, on a base margarita with excellent crust. (I love the crust the most.)

While rolling around under the electric fence, something stung me. G had some burns, too, like he touched a poisonous plant, but there are not supposed