Bleeding, not good. Bled, good.

I know I'm a total dork. More like, a nine year old dork who thinks it is funny that we went to a place called Bled. Especially since we were going to a place called Split afterwards. And especially, especially since I want Mark to take me to Middlefart, Denmark later this summer. I can think of at least one 6 year old I know who would be impressed if I tell him I went to Middlefart.
Back to Bled.
Bled, is beautiful. All of Slovenia that we saw was very picturesque, unspoiled, lush green mountainsides capped with leftover winter snow. Bled is known most for its pristine sub-alpine lake and castle perched on a cliff overlooking the lake.

In the middle of the lake is a small island with a church where visitors are invited to ring the bell for good luck. Manly-man Mark rowed us out to the island in no-time flat. Mom rang the bell with gusto on behalf of our group. And manly-man JP would have rowed us back fast as well, had I not asked to try, since I hadn't done anything for the group yet like ringing or rowing. Let me just say it is harder than it looks to row right. That so-called rowing machine at the gym is not even close.
I did better on our hike to a nearby gorge and glacial river. None of our pictures really do this really stunning area of the world justice. Slovenia strikes me as a photographer's paradise. I'm afraid you've got the amateur pictures here, but hopefully you can still tell Bled is pretty darn good.