Workaway #2

Traumatised from mountain roads we arrived at Paul & Katja’s late in the afternoon. Instantly friendly and kind they welcomed us into their new house for some proper English tea, shortly followed by a tour of their gloriously renovated three storey Slovenian house and field scattered with wild-flowers. Dinner was already soaking: spicy chicken smoked later on a cherry wood fire with roasted potatoes and cucumber salad from their newly emerging vegetable patch.



During our short stay we built a path and chopped some wood (moving it to the perfect bonfire site ready for baked potatoes). We wish we could have done more for them in exchange for their generous hospitality. Even if it was just for the stunning views and for bringing us to such a secluded gem nestled South of the Triglavski national park.

Gore, the village above Paul & Katja’s mountain retreat, consists of around eight houses, most of which have at the very least a neatly attended garden and not unusually a sloping field and a few livestock. The small dairy filled with 20 beige and white cows formed the centre of the rural village. From their house, situated at the end of a 45% road, the forest encrusted mountains of three valleys stretched away, greeting the chiselled clouds with their pyramidal peaks. After rain (half of our stay) these peaks would rise out of the mist like triumphant ships wrecked in twirling currants that disappeared up in wisps. They had extended the balcony from the original house out into a piazza where we bathed in the evening sun with a carafe of chilled white wine and the delights from Katja’s kitchen, gazing at this incredible view.

On Saturday we met the neighbours. A typical Slovenian family with the three daughters living upstairs and butchery in the garage (a family will build enough floors in the house for the children they expect to have). It was a party to celebrate the new football pitch built by the residents of the next village. We all sat together enjoying the jaunty music of a traditional live band, sipping Laŝko and enviously following the young and old waltzers as they whirled around the tarmac.

When we left (after a few troubles getting the van out of the sand pit and up the hill) Katja packed us off with a loaf of freshly made bread and three packages of salamis and ham and we promised to return soon. Back on the road and thankful of the relief of a real home, we are off to discover Italy.