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We just made it in time to catch the 7:30 train but our cabin was packed with loud sweaty Hungarians and there was no room to move never mind lie down and sleep. This is just what you wish for when hung-over on an 8 hour journey. I decided I’d rather sit in the toilet than my Turkish prison of a cabin so set off to find one.

Along the way I found a luxurious and empty restaurant compartment. I ordered a drink and joyously slept off my hangover. I then woke up and for the first time and started to read about Slovenia in my guidebook, and must admit it did sound really good with most of the country being devoted to mountains and vineyards, a trait that I have since come to really admire in any country.

I then further explored the train trying desperately to find someone who could pronounce the capital, Ljubljana where we were headed. On my explorations I found a 6-foot teddy bear sat happily in one of the cabins. I wondered who’s it was. Were they backpacking with a 6ft bear? Now that would be impressive. The owner was actually a Slovenian who had just bought it. He told me I would like Slovenia and struggled off with his bear.

Now I wanted one, only I wanted to scoop out the insides and use him as my backpack, a few furry straps and a zip and I’d be away. I could get inside him and dance of a night, I could even buy him a raincoat and some shoes in case it rained and put speakers in his ears. Everybody would talk to and remember a drunken backpacking bear! This idea was going to keep me awake unless I got really drunk so when we got off at the train station and found the tourist information Andy got a map and I got a guide to the local nightlife.

Our hostel was only 500 meters away and we dumped our bags and headed off to explore. I was already ridiculously excited by the guides I had been reading and the numerous fountains I had all ready ear marked for a drunken swim later on. We headed into the nearby town centre and my enthusiasm gathered further momentum as we walked through the quaint cobble streets looking for somewhere to eat. We choose the ultimate travellers eatery in McDonalds. Now I’m not a particularly big fan of this fat American chain, but it is easy and cheap and you know what you’re getting in any language.

There was outdoor seating and a balcony over the picturesque main street below us, and small birds where swooping down eating chips out of my hand. They were particularly scrawny creatures and the chips they were eating were almost as big as them. I wondered if they were flying off to throw them back up when nobody was looking just like the bulimic young birds back home.

The girl who served me was quite possibly the best looking girl I have ever seen in real life. She had long plaited blonde hair right passed her arse a reminded me a lot of Anna Kournikova. Now I consider my self a connoisseur of European fast food outlets and I can quite safely say this is the best I have ever been to, especially as McDonalds is normally such a Mecca to the ugly and inept. If Maccies was this good I couldn’t wait to try the restaurants and bars out.

We walked around the town centre and its pretty little cobble streets. There was a river running through the middle of the town and countless outdoor bars, restaurants and ice-cream parlours all along both sides of the river, the streets would then wind off into rows of charming little shops and boutiques, and I very nearly bought a ridiculous coat in a second hand clothes store before common sense got the best of me. A window display of a teletubbie on a spit demanded my attention, and I had no idea what the shop sold. I did, of course, investigate further and it was a skateboard store but they didn’t sell the teletubbie burgers I had so craved. There was also a shop called Extravaganja with a pot leaf symbol on its sign. Now this really intrigued me and, although I had planned not to smoke on my whole trip, this shop was obviously a sign, quite literally so. However, my intrigue was horribly trampled as it proved to be nothing more than a makeup shop!

I then decided to buy some new shoes, which despite my best attempts had proved particularly difficult. I wanted a pair of sandals like all the other backpackers were wearing but finding a shop that was both open and had shoes in my size proved a little too demanding. I had bought a pair of flip flops from a Tesco in Bratislava but being drunk at the time I had somehow managed to buy a pair two sizes too big and when they began to give me blisters I flipped and kicked them out my hostel window in Budapest.

I was already in love with Slovenia and after continually bumping into the same drunken Irish man, he urged us to visit Lake Bled. We were planning a day trip up to the Slovenian coast but my Slovenian friends had told me Lake Bled was worth a visit and a drunken Irish man can be very convincing. We took the morning coach up to the lake and were both ridiculously desperate for a swim. To me holidays have always consisted of spending most of your days lounging around by the hotel pool but that was a luxury we had yet encountered after weeks of backpacking.

The lake was truly stunning, set in a picture postcard valley of snow capped mountains and forests. The water was a clear calm and vibrant blue, although turquoises and greens shimmered in the shadows of overhanging trees. We walked half way around the lake looking for a good spot to park our belongings and jump in. The water was clean and delightfully warm. This was easily the nicest swim I had ever had. There was a small island in the middle of the lake and Slovenian gondoliers were continually ferrying tourists to and from its small church and restaurant.

I decided I could swim there, despite not being a particularly strong swimmer and suffering from extreme lack of practice and fitness. I made it there fine but I was almost too tired to climb out onto the bank. I scouted around the island trying to recover but my shoes and money were on the mainland and I had to stay in the shadows to preventing burning my feet on the scorching floor. After a short rest I decided I would have to swim breast crawl all the way back, it might take me while but at least I wouldn’t drown.

I got about 100 yards out when a gondola came right at me, I shouted hello just to avoid being run over and the oarsman asked did I want to get in. I grabbed on to a chain at the back of the boat and allowed myself to be towed along at surprising speeds. I was able to keep my head under water most of the time to see fish flying past. Just before we got to shore I shouted to back to my friend, “Andy! I’m hitchhiking on a Slovenian gondola!” I was so proud of myself, and I let go about 50 yards from shore to swim over to him. This was definitely the best swim I’ve ever had – how often do you get to hitchhike on a Slovenian gondola?