LJUBLJANA,SLOVENIA

On the train I'm watching, trying to find the exact point where Austria merges into Slovenia and vice versa... we stop at a station still in Austria where the guards change, my passport is stamped and I begin to say 'Huala' instead of 'Danke shen' to give thanks. No other signs - strange things, the borders of countries... I wonder who decides them, and how languages can change so suddenly. The guard asks me what 'hello' is in the Maori language and tells me to keep preserving the language, and this is my first impression of Slovenia, a country whose insistence on their own language preserved their culture even when dominated by Austria and Hungary.

Ljubljana, smaller than New Zealand's capital, makes me homesick at first. It's something about the compact-ness of the whole town, the community gardens I stumble across just directly out of the main centre (much like the gardens in the beautiful Aro Valley at home) and the friendliness of the people. I feel an immediate change in me which first manifests as confusion - I've been travelling so fast these past weeks that to actually be in a smaller, more intimate place is strange to me at first.

The city is a pretty one, no doubt about that.. The beautiful riverbank is lined with trees and cafes which a more affluent crowd frequent. Then there's the Metelkova area, an old prison which was taken over by squatters twenty odd years ago and has grown into a wonderful alternative area with makeshift bars and unique sculpture woven into walls everywhere. I go there for a party put on by lots of people travelling round in a big orange bus (www.humanweb.tv), they've been going since Milan, Italy and plan to end it all in Istanbul, throwing parties everywhere they go, meeting the local musicians and filming it all for a documentary. It's a great night, a full moon, though the orb's shrouded in mist due to the thunderstorm that washed away the warm weather earlier. I get home at two a.m and know that Llubljana is going to be one of those cities like Barcelona last year - where you sleep when you can and busk between the parties that go on...

I'm not sure how busking will go in Slovenia, as in the other Eastern countries I plan to go, but I give it a shot anyway... there's a great fruit and vege market right in town so it's here I set up first. The owners of the restauarant I play outside buy me a drink and people seem to like it, but a police guard tells me to clear off after twenty minutes or so. I think I might have even been the first person to busk there in fact, because when I move to the Triple Bridge area things begin to flow more smoothly straight away and people stop giving me strange looks.

Busking wise, it's the first time I've ever had more notes than coins in my case.. the Slovenian tola is 237 to the Euro or something, and the largest coin is worth about 20c I think, so the most common demonination that I get is a 100 tola note, worth about 0.40 Euro. It's nice for once to not be weighed down by coins, and Ljubljana seems to be a place that loves change - because the smaller coins are worth so little people rarely keep them and instead pay for most things with larger notes.

As the days pass in this city I begin to unwind a bit, and stop planning my next moves so much. I'm pretty happy actually with this lifestyle - sleeping late, spending time in parks and a beautiful forest just out of the city, and busking in the late afternoons and evenings to make enough money for my dinner /dorm bed / maybe a beer or two. As I busk, the thoughts going through my head change from wondering if I'll make enough to last me a day longer, to the possibility of coming back to different parts of Europe every summer and doing this country by country. It's definitely a possibility, but then again there's so many different dreams in me at the moment that it's pointless to choose one so early on... but it would be a good way to really experience a place; staying longer than just a few days as I have been, busking in the smaller towns and villages and maybe even learning a different language every year....

Again, again, I remember to take things day by day, to not get wrapped up in future notions as everything changes so much. I get an email from a New Zealander I've never met, but who lived in the same house I did in Wellington years ago and plan to visit him and his girlfriend somewhere in the north before heading to Budapest. Looks like I'm going to be travelling more slowly from now on and it's about time, I must say. The cricks and cracks in my back are glad for it anyway...