This is...

...the National and University Library, according to many Plečnik's most significant work in Ljubljana. Designed in 1931 and built between 1936 and 1941, it is a four storey and four wing building in the shape of irregular rectangle with two small inner courts.

The library contains a substantial collection of books from the 18th century, some earlier pieces and most publications of national value issued since. In 1944 a German aircraft crash landed on the library roof thus destroying some 60.000 books.

A Find

I am walking in the field, alone apart from the insects and birds. The sound of traffic from the right reminds me of the vicinity of the motorway. From the patch of the forest behind me a jay calls. Ahead of me and slightly to the left a hay-rack is waiting to be filled with scented hay. Power lines criss-cross the landscape in two different directions. Most of the clouds, covering the sky for the past two days, have withdrawn and this late summer day is bathing in sunshine.

There is little evidence of the recent storm. Some broken branches lying on the ground, the leaves still green, some mud alongside the path. If left on its own, the nature takes care of itself and recovers quickly from its own rage.

Shimmering from the hedge attracts my attention. A dragonfly! The sun reflects off its delicate but powerful wings. I follow it into the woods, hoping for a shot but with little success. But there in the bush lies something that wasn't there the last time I passed. A derelict ramshackle sofa with a mattress, obviously left there by humans - unless it flew in through a time warp - a foreign body in the natural environment. I wonder how long it will take for that to decompose if it stays there. Oh, the nature will take over eventually if left alone, but certainly not overnight. And the sofa may stay there for years - a sign of human messiness and duplicity.

Oh!

"Shit!"

"Sorry?"

"It's frozen again. And just as I was beginning to…"

"Frozen? Who's frozen?"

"It's what, not who. That damned computer, that's what."

"Whaddya mean, frozen - in this heat? I might have understood if you said it had melted or something like that but frozen? Beats me!"

"Of course it beats you, you… ignorant buffoon! You can't even look up missing calls on your mobile let alone set up a new address and now you expect me to explain… oh, forget it!"

"Why should I learn if I've got you to do it for me. And, I don't want to know about that computer anyway. But, if it causes you so much trouble, why don't you consult somebody?"

"Well, here's the news, darling: from now on you're on your own as regards that mobile. Besides, I think it's high time I got a new computer."

"Right. And next you'll want a new DVD and a new microwave and a new car…"

"Well, we do need these things. But since you're so reluctant to change, perhaps what I need most is a new man."

A Bargain?

I discovered this notice today taped on a lamp post not far from where I live. A local driving school advertises their services in this manner. They offer several discounts for driving courses in the summer months.

Great! So let's produce more instant kamikaze drivers. As if the road statistics doesn't speak for itself. Approximately 10% more people have been killed in traffic accidents on Slovenian roads this year than in the same period last year.

Either I'm missing something (which I probably am) or there is something wrong with the equation.

Another view...

... of Prešeren Square, this time towards Čopova Street.



Matija Čop, after whom the street is named, was a Slovenian linguist and literary historian, and Prešeren's close friend and tutor, directing him into romanticism by his influence. He was extremely educated and spoke 19 (yes, nineteen) languages. The man died in 1835 at an early age of 38 drowning in the river Sava (there are no details to be found as regards the circumstances of his death, but - and this is merely speculation - Prešeren and his companions were known for their boozing and this might have happened after one of those sprees)

Coo, 19 languages! I'd be more than happy if I spoke three or four properly.

Prešeren Square

This is where Čopova Street (the one from the previous post) ends. The square is named after a bard whose statue stands there (of course) and who is considered Slovenian greatest poet. One of his poems, The Toast, has in fact become Slovenian national anthem.

Here's one of his sonnets (from a cycle named Sonnets of Unhappiness) translated into English:-


O'er thee, Misfortune, I have ceased to wail,
I'll utter no reproaches any more.
Thank God, I'm used to griefs thou hast in store
And to the sufferings in life's strong jail.

No burden can now hurt my shoulders frail;
My lips are used to bitter drinks of yore;
My feet, like leather, are no longer sore,
I dread no thorny path, no irksome trail.

Stiff are my limbs and joints as if confined.
My heart, once sensitive, is hard as stone,
The claims of sorrow have subdued my mind.

All fear is fled; with it all hopes have flown.
Should Fate caress or beat me, it will find
Insensibility of flesh and bone.

By the way, that sign at the front of the picture is part of an artsy-fartsy project; above the square, at the end of Čopova Street is installed a device which sprinkles water on the surface below. Somewhat pretentious but quite refreshing on hot days like today.

Take a walk with me...

...along Čopova street, one of the few in Ljubljana reserved strictly for pedestrians.

As in many cities, traffic is a major problem in Ljubljana. The city centre is jammed with vehicles and finding a parking place often proves an impossible task. Attempts have been made to clear the centre of cars but they all resulted in even more chaos. Meanwhile, everyone and their mother wants to get as close to their destination as possible (with their own means of transport, of course), thus making some streets and squares almost impassable.

There is public transport, of course, but coaches are uncomfortable and the intervals too long. Still, some people actually use it. Me too, although I admit to being guilty of sometimes using my own car to get me to a specific venue, that usually being the market.