The Podkoren Princess and the peas

With the sun setting we passated up the altitudes to our alpine accommodation, marvelling at the Julian alps and crisscrossing slip streams through our sun roof. Podkoren, with roots potentially dating back to Roman times, with many homes in the village retaining late Gothic structural elements and a distinct bovine manure smell of barn housing. As we had been travelling for almost 48 hours pasta is some sort of faint memory and clambering up the most uneven, giant size steps of our 500-year-old hotel.

I awoke at 5.30am in my 500 year old pea-filled mattress and marveled at my ability to first, sleep and second, to not be covered in bruises. Surprisingly my husband was still asleep blissfully unaware of the rock on which he slept, but as usual in his typical angel-touched snoreless repose with hands clasped under his square jawline and cheek. Such perfection 😏 and never in contention for the Kearney Fishing Trip Snoring Trophy - that would be me.

The morning sun fulfilled the previous night’s promise of stunning scenery and I marvelled at the jagged peaked alpine scenery and tip toed out, camera in hand.

I’ve decided that a horse is responsible for the malodorous assault on my nostrils, not that any could be seen, but I did hear a few stomps as I passed many a shingled ancient barn. Makes you feel sorry for the Australian beast of burden that will never feel the comfort of a barn and straw but is left to brave the elements and eat prickly pear.

I was alone in my uncoordinated ramblings and very much enjoyed sharing the crisp start to the day with the purple mountaintops, resisting the strong urge to break into a Julie Andrew’s sonorous praise of their beauty. My hands numb I headed back to my water heated castle in anticipation of the bakery delights these alpine country produce!!Read more