I’ve missed the last transport to Ljubljana and am in no mood to hang
around. I’ve seen this done in a thousand films, but in real life, hitchhiking
feels awkward and absurd. Ignoring the appalled voice in my head, I solicit
passing cars. In 10 minutes I have a ride, generously offered by a friendly
woman who drives me to the outskirts of Ljubljana and then calls me a cab
for the rest of the way. And that, more or less, is how my visit to Slovenia
began. This trip was unusual for me. Having deposited my kids in the alpine
resort of Kranjska Gora, I had an unprecedented week alone. I had taken
work along as a safety blanket against the enforced vacation. I was, let’s say,
a tad ambiguous about the days in hand.
I spent my first evening in Ljubljana strolling around the city centre.
I popped into the TIC (tourist information centre) to explore my options.
I had rejected the idea of renting a car to explore Slovenia because I’ve never
got the hang of driving on the right. But public transport was thin on the
ground, and I’d always been leery of organised tours. Eventually, I booked
a food walk for the next day—it seemed like a good way to get oriented and
not too large a commitment.
The next day, my guide Alinka, a visiting couple, and I strolled around
the Old Town, tasting food and wine from different regions and chatting
with the owners of the restaurants and stalls we visited. The experience
was varied, ranging from sampling cheeses and sausages at the local
market, to a gourmet platter at the upmarket Monstera Bistro
(monsterabistro.si). It felt like a proper introduction to the city. Back at the
TIC, I found a small group tour company and worked out some day trips.
Over the next few days, I learnt that I liked the flexibility of having a
private car and guide, enjoyed the company, and ended up covering far
more ground than I could possibly have done on my own.
My first excursion out of the city was less than an hour south of Ljubljana.
Postojna is a massive cave system deep inside the karst landscape, of which
six kilometres is open to the public. A small electric train transported us two
kilometres down into the caves, where we were able to explore a section on
foot. It felt like being on a Lord of the Rings movie set as we moved through
ancient chambers with primeval stalactite and stalagmite formations. I kept
expecting to see a band of trolls digging for gold. Postojna is clearly touristy,
but the sheer size and beauty of it makes it enjoyable.
Heading northwest, we arrived at Predjama. Built half-way up a cliff, this
is one of the last surviving castle caves in the alpine region. First built
in the 12th century, it changed hands many times and is most famously
associated with the robber baron Erazum, stories of whom are an integral
part of Slovenian folklore. Urban, my guide for the day, regaled us with
graphic descriptions of the castle’s violent history and the inner workings
of its rooms and features. For instance, “This is the room for boiling vats of
oil to pour on unwelcome visitors from that hole there.” Urban kept us in
splits through the tour and brought the castle alive with his narrative.
Another day, I went north into the alpine region. As we drove into
Škoja Loka, the alps were already visible with Triglav, Slovenia’s highest
peak, never long out of sight. Skoja Loka is the oldest preserved medieval
town in Slovenia. There’s always a historic site at hand: a stone fountain in
the central square, built in 1883, now with
an invisible sensor to dispense drinking
water; a 500-year-old monastery, which
now houses affordable apartments; banks
of cycles are parked outside walls adorned
with ancient frescoes. We paused on the
Capuchin Bridge, one of the oldest in
Europe, talking about its history while
cars drove past, headed out for their daily
commute to Ljubljana. Škoja Loka ended
up being a highlight, a successful blend of
the past and the present.
At the Vintgar Gorge, a deep ravine
carved by the River Radovna, Mojca—my
guide and driver for the day—dropped me
off at one end. I walked along the river,
taking photographs at every twist in the
path. Eventually, I gave up the futile
attempts to capture its beauty for posterity.
Mojca picked me up at the other end of the
gorge, and we headed to Bled. One of the
oldest settlements in the alpine region
(traces of habitation date back to the Stone
Age), Bled has passed through the hands of
the Austrian empire, Napoleon, and even
briefly served as German military
headquarters during WWII. Today it’s one
of Slovenia’s most visited sites, famous for
its lake and castle. Tourism here exploded
to the point that the Mayor of Bled once
infamously requested Slovenians not to
visit the town on weekends. When I went
there on a warm June day, it did not seem
particularly crowded.
Lake Bled has a small natural island in
the middle and is presided over by the Bled
Castle, built on a steep cliff that rises 130
metres above the glacial lake and claimed to
be the oldest of its kind in Slovenia. You can
walk up to the castle for the views, or take a
traditional pletna boat to the island. I did
neither, opting for a stroll around the lake.
I chanced upon the Vila Bled, perched on the
lake’s shore with striking views of both,
castle and island. This was once the summer
residence of former Yugoslavian President
Josip Broz Tito, and is now a luxury hotel.
It was the perfect spot to sample the famous
Bled cream cake. Later, I lunched on local
delicacies at Bled’s oldest restaurant, the
Gostilna Pri Planincu (pri-planincu.com).
At Lake Bohinj, I began to understand
what the Mayor of Bled had been
complaining about. While Bled was hardly
overcrowded, Bohinj was an entirely
unspoiled version of it. The water was
crystal, the mountain views almost
unbroken by signs of human habitation,STANDING ON A HIGHWAY
OUTSIDE A SMALL SLOVENIAN
TOWN, I’M SURROUNDED BY
SILENE AND THE JULIAN ALPS.
CLOCKWISE: JAN WLODARCZYK/ALAMY; MICHELE FALZONE/GETTYIMAGES; IAN MIDDLETON/ALAMY; BOZAC/ALAMYtravelandleisureindia.in