Did you know that Slovenia is
made up of 70% forest, 13% rocky mountain stuff and 17% other? Did you know
Ljubljana had a big fence around it during the Second World War and was
effectively a giant prison? Did you know Ljubljana was the capital of Slovenia?
Did you know there was a country called Slovenia? If not, don’t worry, you
won’t be alone. Tucked quietly away between Italy, Austria, and the Balkans,
it’s a composite of Alpine drama, baroque extravagance, socialist enterprise
and cabbage themed food. It’s really quite lovely.
My first few days in Slovenia were
focused on mountains and the waters that run off them, basing myself in the
Julian Alps at Lakes Bled and Bohinj and driving and walking my way around from
there. Bled is such a show off, with an enduring appeal conjured by its
beautiful mountainside waters and oh-so-perfect church adorned island and precipitous
medieval castle. It’s popular on the coach party circult, but quieter spots,
where the church bell echoes through the forested banks and the fish jump
regularly, are entirely magical. This was a day that started in Finchley and
ended in a fairy tale.
The next morning I had breakfast
in Bled (yes, I’ve been dying to use that one!), and with murkiness now around
there was a different charm and serenity to the lakeside. I walked the entire
perimeter, stopping for a very encouraging quality of coffee half way – another
plus point in the books for Slovenia.
A change of scenery came in the
middle of the day, as murk and drizzle continued and I decided to head for a
place nearby called Vintgar Gorge. This was another gem, perfect in this autumnal
air, with incredible clear glacial waters carving their way downstream. Almost
as incredible was the wooden walkway, parts of which date back hundreds of
years and leave you wondering whether any rot has set in as you dangle off a
cliff edge over furious white water.
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The next day was back to blue,
after a mandatory misty start, and set fair for a day of driving. Short in
kilometres but long in time, a circular tour of the Julian Alps, whose peaks
were now dusted in a fresh layer of snow. The first stop, via narrow,
precipitous road number one was to Kropa, an agreeable little place in a wooded
valley in which iron was once forged but now just stands in gates and
windowpanes everywhere.
From here it was a longer than
expected trek across to the Soca Valley, possessing surely the bluest of bluest
waters, carving there way deep into the high mountains of Triglav. Across one
set of hills lay Italy, and you could sense its influence in the towns and harebrained
overtaking manoeuvres of drivers around here. Kobarid felt and looked mostly
Italian, and had some of its warmth as I sat on a terrace for lunch.
Heading north now towards Austria
came the highlight of the driving day: the Vrsic pass. Lurching upwards and
passing signs with numbers 50, 49, 48 etc, it was only until about number 35
that I realised these signified the number of hairpin bends to contend with. They
also noted the altitude, which topped out at 1611 metres, and led to a land of
high mountain vistas.
Thus followed the descent and chance
to knock off the rest of those hairpins to the town of Kranjska Gora. Nearby, a
nature reserve offered the chance to look at more fish in the incredible water,
before joining merciful motorway back to Bled.
Bled was not the final
destination however, as a further 20 kilometres took me to the Lake Bohinj
region and home for the next couple of nights in the peaceful, rustic town of
Stara Fuzina.
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After another huge breakfast involving
bread, meat, cheese, yogurt and fruit, today was a walking day. Partly to
offset the bread, meat, cheese etc, and partly to give the car a rest. From
Stara Fuzina, the mists soon cleared as I ventured into Mostnica Gorge and
towards its falls. Here, again, vivid waters thread their way through a
typically Alpine valley with flower fields and happy cows.
From the falls (not pictured
left, by the way), the only way was back. Or up. Up along a hunters track
through a dense forest, traversing tangled tree roots and requiring a breather
every third tree. I knew that because I was on it, hoping that it would finally
end and bring me to the meadows of Uskovnica. The sound of a dog breaking away
from its home in a pursuit to suss out who I was provided alarming confirmation
that I had made the top after an hour. More dwellings, and a more open
landscape, before descent into the forest again. It was a nice walk, but just
that little bit on the wrong side of annoying.
Life was happier in the valleys,
which were now warm and sunny and verging on the idyllic. The walk back to SF was
a pleasingly flat dream, taking in the pretty villages of Srednja Vas and
Studor. And at SF, my bargain loft space a setting for quiet snoozing, in
keeping with the atmosphere.
Not that I was passive for long,
as I had determined that, given right weather conditions, I should climb up to
Osojnica viewpoint, back in Bled. This is the spot for picture postcard scenes
and worth the 5 euro parking and many steps. Such effort was amply rewarded
later for dinner, in the pub opposite my place, with a rustic bean and sausage
stew, cottage cheese dumplings, and a beer.
The next morning it was time to
bid the mountains farewell and enter a slightly quirkier phase of the visit. I
wasn’t in any great rush to leave however, and soaked up a few final moments
around and about Lake Bohinj and the town of Ribcez Lav.
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And thus to the metropolis that
is Ljubljana, where I spent a couple of days with an old friend who I met in
Australia, Caroline. It was a chance to relive past trips to odd places and we
did our best to mix it up a little, not to mention eat cake and ice cream
several times for the sake of tradition. Ljubljana was rather charming in its
mix of old town, communist tower block, nouveau riche style, and we were
blessed with a cosy apartment in a lovely neighbourhood just south of the
centre.
Given its population is smaller
than Canberra there doesn’t seem to be a great deal to do in Ljubljana apart
from obvious sights and eating opportunities. Therefore we went on a Sunday
trip back out into the country, taking in diverse sights and towns, the thrill
of a hypermarket and picnic lunch, a revisit (again!) to Lake Bled and
culminating in the enthralling town of Radovljica. Scene of a great ice cream
in the late afternoon sun overlooking the green hills, the sound of cowbells
distant, a pastel perfect town square and probably the greatest beekeeping
museum in the northern hemisphere!
It was hard for the final day to
live up to the excitement of the beekeeping museum, and a somewhat dreary day
weather-wise put a dampener on Ljubljana a little. An excessively informative
boat cruise yielded much information but with an intensity that made it rude to
doze off as one would have liked. And then a little funicular to the castle
presented a strange warren of medieval fortress come convention centre. But by
now I had by dober dans and hvalas down to a pat, and used them to good effect
in cake eating opportunities that came my way.
The final eating in Slovenia was
forced upon us by the weather. After a pleasant evening meal in our local
neighbourhood, what better than to walk along the river, to take in the
buildings and people milling about the squares and bridges? Cue massive
thunderstorm and torrential rain, sending us ducking for cover and two
chocolate milkshakes to pass time as the rain continued to hammer down.
Still, I couldn’t complain and
don’t recall doing so, this being only the second time rain had stopped play during
my time in Slovenia after all. Instead, a chance to pump up the heating and try
to dry my washing before packing again and moving on early next morning. Glad
that I had gone off the beaten path a little and seen a small corner of this
lovely country that some may have never even heard of. Leaving with warmth and a cold.
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