A Guide to Slovenia by Maxine Jones
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Arriving late at Ljubljana airport, Slovenia struck me immediately as clean and quiet with a slow, gentle pace. In the darkness there were smells of cut grass and woodlands, an enveloping greenness that cut through the black night.
In the morning Janez met us to show us round his capital. A handsome 29-year-old, (who we later discover has graced the cover of FHM magazine and appeared in numerous beer commercials), Janez answered my queries with grace and honesty.
“What are the national characteristics of Slovenians?” I asked.
“We’re introverted and jealous of our neighbours. We have an inferiority complex,” he said. Throughout the day he added other traits. “We’re bad drivers. We’re working people. We drink a lot of alcohol.”
Even without the slogan on his tourist board T-shirt, it is clear that he loves Slovenia. “Of all the former Yugoslavian states, we are the most different, the furthest away, the most northern. We are also the most wealthy and the best educated.”
Ljubljana, A Charming Capital
Nowhere is his pride clearer than in Ljubljana, where he lovingly points out the works of Joze Plecnik.
The Slovenian architect, who lived from1872 to1957, also made his mark on Vienna and Prague, but in Ljubljana his work was a mission. After returning from Prague in 1921 he devoted his career to urban planning and architecture in his native city. His model was Athens and his aim was to design a capital to reflect the aspirations of a people just beginning to affirm its national identity. He even designed a memorial column for Napoleon, for of all Slovenia’s many occupiers, he was the one who offered Slovenians the most autonomy.
Plecnik’s most prominent works in the city are the Triple Bridge and the National and University Library, but his influence is not limited to individual monuments. He was responsible for remodelling the riverbanks, laying out parks and public spaces and generally making Ljubljana a welcoming and aesthetically pleasing place to be, which it most definitely is. Walking through Tivoli Park, Janez pointed out rows of benches ranged higher than the main avenue. “That’s because Plecnik gave priority to people sitting down and relaxing and watching the world go by,” he said.
The funicular up to the castle gives a panorama of the city, but from here it looks less appealing, as high-rises and chimney stacks come into view. I preferred it at ground level, crossing and recrossing the river, coming across parks, squares, fountains, façades, statues and quiet cafes and enjoying the city as Plecnik would have wished.
With 50,000 students in the city (university is free), not all the cafes and squares are quiet and there is definitely a youthful buzz, but at the same time, maybe because so much of the centre is pedestrianised, Ljubljana has a tranquil aura.
“I could live here,” a young man in the tour group said. “The girls are gorgeous and it’s cheap.” What more could a young man ask?
The Caves of Karst
The next day Janez whisked us through the wooded Karst region, where rivers have eroded the limestone to create thousands of interconnected underground caves. The woods are of pine, the original oaks having been cut down to build Venice. Slovenia is the most wooded nation in Europe after Finland and Sweden. Bears and wolves still roam, said Janez. A brown bear had even made its way into Ljubljana. “When?” I asked, imagining some old folk tale. “Two weeks ago,” he replied.
I didn’t expect much from the caves we were to visit, being in a seen-one-seen-them-all frame of mind, and was blown away. An underground parallel universe of gushing rivers, gorges, waterfalls, lakes, rock sculptures and cathedral-sized caverns, the Skocjan caves are a real wonder. UNESCO has had it on its world heritage list since 1986.
We drive west, to Lipica, just 4kms from the Italian border, where I’m again underwhelmed by the prospect of visiting a stud farm. I soon discover, however, that the white Lipizzaner horses (actually black until mature) are a national institution, close to the soul of any Slovenian, and the stud farm itself is the oldest in Europe. Queen Elizabeth II of England was presented with a champion horse on a visit last year (though it remains at the stables). As well as offering the chance to ride the horses, the complex has hotels, a golf course, casino and wellness centre.
Wines from this region are renowned throughout Slovenia, but little known abroad. We stopped at the Bordon family farm to sample a few, which turned into many. The white Malvazija fairly danced on my palate and we made short work of the kraški pršut, the local air-dried ham.
Slovenia’s Adriatic Coast
It’s a short hop now to Slovenia’s Adriatic coast, all 47 kms of it. Piran is a jewel of a Venetian town, jutting out into the sea like the prow of a ship. Cars are banned and the whole town is a UNESCO heritage site. At the nearby saltpans, right on the border with Croatia, we watched how salt was extracted from the sea using medieval techniques. Our home that night was Slovenia’s most luxurious hotel, the Hotel Kempinski Palace, Portoroz. Built between 1908 and 1212 in the resort’s heyday, the hotel has just had a €70,000,000 makeover and is primed for a return of those glory days.
From sea level, we travelled up to the heights of the Julian Alps next day, stopping off at Lake Bled on the way. If you have one image of Slovenia, it is probably Lake Bled, with its island church and alpine backdrop. We were rowed across in the traditional ‘pletna’ boat and I learnt a little more of the Slovenian character, this time from Eva, the local guide.
Her grandparents had lived under six different states – Austro-Hungary, Germany, Italy, and three versions of Yugoslavia. “We have a stubborn nature, which we’ve needed to survive under the different regimes,” she said. Slovenians respected Maria Theresa of Austria because, like Napoleon, she encouraged their language. The Bible was translated into Slovene in the 16th century, Eva said. “Not that we are particularly religious now. There was the Communist influence and then we felt let down by the Church. It was more interested in property than souls.
“We have always felt close to the land and to our local traditions,” she said. “The right to row the boats to Bled island is passed on from father to son, to keep the work in the hands of locals. We have no aristocracy, no nobles.”
Picture-Perfect Lake Bled
The castle at Bled is now a museum, with exhibits that draw you in – a bronze sword found in Lake Bled in the 13th century BC, a stone axe from 3,800 BC. There are remnants from Ice Age hunters and from the Iron Age and 270-million-year-old fossils from the Julian Alps. The perfect form of a 230-million-year-old fish held my attention.
Bled is on the edge of the Triglav National Park in the northwest of the country, bordering Austria and Italy. It would be the rump of the hen. Janez envisages Slovenia as a hen running forward – its head abutting Hungary, its back Austria, its back leg Italy and its front Croatia. Lake Bohinj, inside the National Park, is not as famous as Lake Bled but at least as attractive and not so overrun. We climbed up to the Savica waterfall, which we toasted with shots of Jagermeister, then carried on by cable car into the snowy heights of Mount Vogel, where we ate wild boar. Back at the lake a few of us tried kayaking, while I sat by the lakeside in a state of perfect peace.
In just three days the variety of landscape I’d seen in this tiny country of two million people justifies the dubbing ‘mini Europe’. Less than two hours away by air and with no real language barrier – proud as they are of their language, Slovenians see the need for English – this is a perfect short break destination. For nature lovers in particular a longer stay would be fruitful. And a ‘hvala’ (thank you) or ‘dober dan’ (good day) will always be well received.