Just One Part of the Former Yugoslavia

We made out way to Slovenia for my first excursion outside Italian borders. A two-hour, scenic drive past various small slavic towns, we were headed for Ljubljana, the country's capital. The town was inviting. It was covered in graffiti, crawling with alternative culture, lined with off-the-wall themed bars and restaurants, and this summer, they were celebrating 20 years of independence from Yugoslavia.

It was by far one of the more interesting places I've been so far.

Preseren Square, is the city's center where the old town meets the new city. A medieval castle - now a museum - sits on Castle Hill overlooking the city. A statue of the famous national poet, France Preseren with his muse stands staring at the window behind which she once lived. The first bridge in Ljubljana with asphalt, Dragon Bridge, is symbolic of the four dragon sculptures at each of it's four corners. Legend has it that when a virgin crosses the bridge, the dragons wag their tails.

After dinner and sight-seeing, we went to a few local spots. We were hoping to meet Ljubljana locals. Our first stop was at Kavarna Macek. A relaxing bar on the river, the walls were covered with NOFX posters and framed pictures of Ljubljana scenery. Pr'skelet was next. A skeleton-themed basement bar. Need I say more? Down a dark hallway a floor below, the walls were lined with more ghouls then a haunted house. "Scary" pictures hung from the walls and were surrounded by creatures who rode decayed dead bodies; some of which were preserved behind glass cases. A death museum. The office and bathrooms were located behind fake bookcases. Sound familiar? A 5-1 female ratio had me convinced we were in a lesbian bar. Turns out it was just an Aussie tour group on a six-week Eastern European adventure. We fit right in. The drinks were fruity and coyly named - skull banger, bye bye bitch, goombay smash, and an intriguing favorite, sex in a disabled toilet. Buy one. Get two. The perfect non-lesbian, chick bar. If only we knew what was in a sex in a disabled toilet. We opted for something more local - a beer called Lasko, that gloated the slogan, "traditionally brewed with love since 1825."

Then we made our way to Metelkova. For anyone who grew up in a late 90s / early 2000s punk, hardcore, or any alternative scene, this place is a representation of the more creative aspects of your coming of age. Surrounded by a thick concrete wall, Metelkova is located on the former military barracks (the Slovenian headquarters of the Yugoslav National Army). It's since been taken over by every artistic vision the city knows, gay and lesbian activist groups, and squatters. You can hear the after-dark festivities from blocks away.

Look at this place.

Now imagine it at night.

It was full of people of all colors; artists, metal heads, tweaking drug addicts, and tourists who were blown away by everything behind the entrance gate. It was a freak show. An amazing spectacle of cultural interaction. One venue played punk. Another blasted metal. It felt like you were going to get stabbed with a heroine needle, while tourists in mini dresses naively ran around as if it were a carnival.

It wasn't that I was scared. Sure, the place was eerie, but it didn't seem unsafe. It was more an overwhelming sense of culture shock. I couldn't help but wonder what it would be like to live here day-to-day. I sat on the curb watching the interactions among a collection of people who may not otherwise be found together. They were accepted and welcomed. Unlike any place I've seen, Metelkova thrives as a unique and creative outlet for alternative culture in any and all forms.

I want to go back. If not at night, then to see the art and graffiti in the light of day.

The next day we wandered through the antique market that lined the river. It was full of great finds - newspaper clippings from Tito's reign, typewriters branded by slavic manufacturers, Yugoslav war medals, a gentleman selling bird-calling whistles with a sign that read, "a waste of your fucking time," and even a random senior citizen singing and arguing with the crowd. Anything goes here. Men in costume riding a three-wheeled bike or playing theatrical tunes from an old music box were also the norm.