Probably.”Slowly, not wanting to draw attention to ourselves, we backed away.Quickening our pace, we continued down the alley, our hearts clamoring up our throats and fingers locked together, clinging to one another for dear life.At the late hour, nerves on a razor’s edge, they were not encouraging.
SŽ  has hourly commuter services from Ljubljana, taking about 40 minutes.
There are three stations in Kamnik, with Kamnik-Mesto the closest to the Old Town.
Continuing onward, it quickly became evident that there was nowhere to go.
Our hostel was behind us, tucked among the shouts of revelry.
” I whispered to Tara, feeling as though raising my voice may wake the dragons that supposedly slept here.
My question was met with a rustle of papers as she sifted through a stack of documents, squinting at street maps and hostel reservations.“This way — I think.”We set off together, keeping close, still uncertain.
Beyond the chain was what looked to my terrified, exhausted eyes like a massive riot.
Flames leapt from fire pits, creating ghastly shadows, making faces seem to leer and twist, turning the street art into moving, living things.
Street art defined the alley, and it was hard to take our eyes off of the never-ending cascade of faded color.
Living in a city where graffiti was synonymous with gangs and violence, the sight made my stomach clench and my palms begin to sweat. From off in the distance, growing steadily louder, there was a growing cacophony, and a blaze of light. When the noise reached its loudest, rekindling memories of college parties gone awry, we reached a hole in the graffiti-laden wall, the gap blocked off by no more than a single chain.
Never mind that we knew nothing about Slovenia; could barely even Ljubljana.