We were three; my Dutch friends Jeroen, Robin and me and we were riding our bikes on a Sunday morning along the fast streaming river Sava. It was cloudy and it was fresh. The wind was so strong that it even brought back memories of our home country. But it was dry and after the bad weather spring brought so far, we were happy.
After we left the outskirts of Ljubljana the road meandered through small villages. We had the water on our left, wooded hills on our right. We took turns in the lead to maintain our speed in the headwind that blew dust and small branches our way.
Sooner than I expected we reached the small town of Litija. I doubt Litija, home to 7000 people, ever saw so many Dutch guys together. When we entered the small bar of the Spar supermarket to hydrate ourselves, the heads of all other guests turned our way. The day would never be the same in Litija.
We drank, paid and left. Through the hills we rode back to Ljubljana. And in Litija the ground was still shaking. 3.0 on the Richter Scale to be precise. We Dutch never go unnoticed.