Our stay in the Slovenian climbing mecca, Osp, was book-ended by sleeps in a slightly scrotty service station populated mostly by truckers and cats. After driving for two hours from Cvetka's house, and arriving at a point only twenty minutes from where we started, we bought a vignetta by accident and so decided we'd better pillage the highway system. We cosied down under the subtle shades of car park illumination, and watched peacefully as a mama-cat coaxed her kitten, wide eyed and stiff legged, through the paths of the megalithic lorries that blasted past. We grew sleepy, soothed by the sounds of truckers partying and a child piling out of a van and pissing in the middle of the tarmac. Bliss.
In the further spirit of Slovenian hospitality, we met the lovely Elica, for whom is named the route Super Elica. We went to buy a guidebook, and were treated to some homemade wine and hand-picked cherries. Despite limited communication it was a privilege to meet such a passionate local proponent of the sport. Hvala.
We returned, triumphant and tired, to that romantic little spot, the service station. The adventure finished as it began, as a carload of Germans pulled up a mere two feet from our open windows and proceeded to, as a family, consecutively pee on the tarmac. Bliss.