earth on foot 8
16 july 2025
Hiking and running around the verdant land that is Slovenia, I saw reminders of World War I, World War II, and the country’s independence in 1991 (it was part of the former Yugoslavia and became independent in a 10-day war in that year). An example of this is the 33-km-long “Trail of Remembrance”, once a barbed wire circle surrounding Ljubljana that the Italians erected during WWII to prevent the Liberation Front from communicating with partisans. Prehistoric and Roman artifacts also abound, and there’s a marshland. At night, as summer’s long light finally descended into darkness, a quiet, complex energy remained.
On Sunday, some friends, lots of local families, DK and I ate strudels and rehydrated after the steep climb to the apex of Šmarna Gora (trans. Mount Saint Mary), near Ljubljana. I still dream of the vegan strudel with warm oats, apricots, and red currants—yum!
Yesterday we flew an hour and a half to Frankfurt, then took the S8 train to Mainz, Germany. We slid off that train—one of the many from the airport—luggage and all, crossed cobblestones, moved to more roller-friendly tracks, retraced our steps to where we had exited (wrong turn, stare at the map); walked a route alongside the station…I stopped, held my breath as I watched a white-haired man on a bike negotiate traffic. He wore a neon orange vest, serious shoes, and a baseball cap which he’d tied to his head with string. We spotted our hotel with its name painted in large type, strode confidently past the entryway, then (less confidently) back. Missed the doors entirely… Perhaps you’ve had similar travel moments.
And, the hotel exceeds our expectations! Borrowable backpacks and bikes (with locks), friendly, helpful staff who don’t mind English or attempts at German, a room that fits our needs well—even a Peloton in the handsome gym. The Me and All Hyatt has a disco ball in the lounge. Perfect.
Now, here in the Botanischer Garten der Johannes Gutenberg-Universität Mainz, where I have come to write under the dome of sky majestic in azure and cool whites, light here and there dapples the host of tree species. To my right, a throaty bird warbles, emanating its tunes unseen within a Lauraceae tree. Two women speak German on the bench to my left, one with a comically loud snort when she laughs. In the far distance, a man shouts directives that echo like a protest.
The myriad rustling makes an organic symphony, each branch distinct as breeze blows through, each note added to the whole piece. I watch a willow’s languorous arms sway, and—
A sharp cackling crow cracks my revery. The woman snorts at something said, uproarious laughter ensues, then comes a repeated crunch-crunch-crunch-crunch, which is the stomp-dance of someone’s heavy footfall on the pea gravel path. Hah! Life, always on the move. Sublime, mundane, so it goes.
Thoughts of Slovenia, deep forested home to 140,000 caves like Postojna, large enough in parts to fit a cathedral—or 10,000 people for the Philharmonic! — fade as I prepare to a run today along the Rhine River here (…and to find the laundromat)
