At the top, I perched for a while on the
remains of the ancient city wall under the
church bell tower. Later, I browsed in the
shops at Tartini Square, and then went to
Pirat for a late lunch of freshly caught
seafood and Malvasia, the region’s white
wine. Finally, I joined the daytrippers and
sunbathers at a stretch of cafes beside the
sea, and over coffee, gazed at the coastlines
of both, Croatia and Italy, across the water.
After three hectic days of daytripping,
I decided to turn my attention to Ljubljana.
My evenings here had already yielded
enticing glimpses of summer in the capital.
So far, I had stumbled upon a free
performance by a string quartet, a pride
parade, and a Bosnian food festival. Each
night, I had fallen into the habit of visiting
the Gelataria Romantika for a nightcap of
marzipan-flavoured ice cream. In the
summer months, the friendly server
behind the counter told me, there are
festivals every week. Sometimes, there are
fireworks over the castle. “We just like to
celebrate,” she explained, handing me my
nightly indulgence. “Summer is good, yes?”
Good, indeed. Ljubljana is small, with a
population of just 300,000. The River
Ljubljanica, lined with bars and cafes,
flows through its heart. People are as likelyand the few people around were easy to lose on one of the many walking
trails in the area.
The next day, I headed in the opposite direction, south to the coast.
Our first stop was the UNESCO world heritage site of Škocjan. When
I suggested we skip a visit to yet another cave, Mojca smiled and told me
it would be worth it. She was right. The River Reka that once filled the cave
still flows through it. Škocjan has been preserved possessively, and
walking inside it is a dimly-lit and cautious affair. As we descended into
the cave and walked along the river, everyone became quiet. Postojna was
in some ways prettier and certainly more accessible, but the soaring
chambers of Škocjan had a raw power that was far more compelling.
Further south, we stopped for refreshments in a tiny village—bread
dipped in pumpkin oil and platters of delicate prosciutto, a local speciality,
washed down with the local Teran wine. Teran is tinged with the terra rossa
(red soil) of the region. Mojca assured us that it brimmed with healthy
minerals, which made drinking it mid-morning seem entirely reasonable.
Suitably fed and watered, we then headed to the Lipizza stud farm.
Established in the 15th century, Lipizza is the original home of the Lipizzaner,
the famous ‘dancing horses’ that were first bred for the emperor of Austria.
A peculiar feature of these prized thoroughbreds is that they are born black
but turn white by adulthood. Lipizzaner are known to be highly intelligent
and powerful, and are exported all over the world. I spent an enchanted hour
watching the foals play in the pasture, and befriended a little orphaned
stallion who spends much of his days soliciting cuddles from visitors.
We finally arrived at the charming little seaside town of Piran. A part of
the Republic of Venice till the 18th century, Piran has retained a strong
Italian influence in its food, dialect, and buildings. Winding my way up the
hill, I was distracted by intriguing little paths and small boutiques. Wooden
doors set into high walls opened occasionally, giving glimpses into the
homes and gardens behind them. FROM LEFT: MAURITIUS IMAGES GMBH/ALAMY; ERIC NATHAN/ALAMY
travelandleisureindia.in