In Verona they tell us there are no trains to Ljubljana. So we catch the train to Mestre and end up crammed into a full 9-passenger van for three hours, with no stops.
We cross the northern Italian plains and at the Slovenian border we enter rolling mountains similar to the Ozarks of Arkansas or the Appalachians of West Virginia. The Julian Alps are farther to the north. A climb through forested ravines puts us in fertile valleys with small villages. The Slovenes are 'mountain people,' and the countryside is beautiful.
The van drops us off in Ljubljana at…the train station. There is no Tren-Italia service direct to Ljubljana, but we could have booked a train to Trieste and connected with another line at that point! We generally prefer trains so we can stand up and move around a bit.
In Ljubljana we find our hotel and relax. It's a nice, small, business hotel, called the "M Hotel," that Carolyn found online. A sign in the elevator says it's "Right Place for Right People." Good to know we're finally, "Right People." Cute B&Bs are nice, but these business hotels are a good value. They're usually well located, not too far from the center or near a good tram or bus line, and include breakfast.
We don't know what we expected in Ljubljana (a wonderful mouthful, pronounced Lyoob-lyana) but it's apparent the Slavic language will be a challenge, although they use the Latin alphabet and not the Cyrillic. And some signs even translate well into any language. But we're surprised that English is so widely spoken.
Our agenda has changed due to high costs and lack of availability along the Adriatic Coast. We'll be traveling inland instead, through the heart of the Balkans, visiting capital cities and corners of the old Austro-Hungarian Empire; or we are now behind the former Iron Curtain; or this is the area that erupted into horrible ethnic killings after the collapse of a pan-slavic experiment called Yugoslavia. It's the Balkan tail that has often wagged the European dog, providing Bismarck, Churchill, and others with headaches well beyond its strategic worth. However you want to see it, this is 'the other.' (http://world.time.com/2012/10/08/the-balkan-wars-100-years-later-a-history-of-violence/)
Louis de Bernières' 2004 novel, Birds Without Wings, is set in a small town in Anatolia (now western Turkey) at the collapse of the Ottoman Empire in the early fires of the Balkan Wars and World War I. The once-peaceful co-existence of Turks, Jews, Greeks, Armenians and others is seen through the eyes of villagers swept into the simmering brew of the Turkish nationalism of Ataturk, the Greater Greece movement, and Christian-Muslim conflict. The horrors of Gallipoli, the Greek and Turkish expulsions, the destruction of Greek Smyrna (now Izmir) are descriptive of Balkan conflicts that will come again in the 1990s. (http://www.nytimes.com/2004/10/31/books/review/31KROINL.html?_r=0)
We knew at least some of that tragic history going into this trip and also knew it would challenge our level of comfort. But the area is peaceful for now; this seemed like a good time for travel in the Balkans, and we began with Slovenia. We get a city map from the front desk and step onto the streets of Ljubljana.
We're about a mile from the historic center, and the number 1 bus will get us there. But we decide to walk, finding our way through back streets and into the large Park Tivoli, which connects with a larger and wilder area beyond. A surprising amount of the city is devoted to parkland, and it is heavily used. People are jogging, exercising in groups, or just walking shaded pathways. There are great numbers of people riding bikes, and we learn quickly to stay out of the bike lanes – a dangerous place for pedestrians.
From the Park there is easy access to the center city through a fine and un-graffitied underpass, with a decent 'musician in residence'. I don't know if we expected drab grey buildings, polluted waterways, collapsing factory buildings and the other Cold War propaganda we grew up with (the other side had propaganda, too), but we're pleasantly surprised. There is good sculpture outside the Ljubljana Museum of Modern Art, well-organized curb-side recycling bins, rental bike racks, fine old buildings, and soon we're at the gorgeous Triple Bridge across the river.
But this is just our first day, it's getting late, and a bit more wandering brings us to dinner at a place called Sokol, specializing in Slovenian cuisine. They start with local aperitifs followed by delicious platters of 'comfort food,' sausages and potatoes and grilled vegetables. And with a good local Refošk (pronounced 'refoshk'), an ancient red wine dating to the Romans, some say. (http://kawavino.wordpress.com/2012/07/28/refosk-by-rojac-slovenia/)
Well-satisfied, we make our way through the night lights of Ljubljana to a jazz club for live jazz outside under towering trees. Afterward we return through the well-lighted underpass and through the Park to our hotel. Others are going home in the night, including several single women. Personal safety does not appear to be a big concern here.
Another day, another adventure. We find our way along back streets to a pathway through the woods into another section of Park Tivoli, the sculpture section – with joggers, and bikes.
We stop at the art museum; they can be an indicator of what a people hold to be important, iconic, and defining. This Balkan nation, long a pathway to conquest by larger powers, has been influenced greatly over the centuries. The layers of history, tragedy, and redemption are beyond my ability to decipher, so the art must tell the story.
Graphic art has been important in the nation's constant struggle with invaders. I ask a friendly museum attendant to translate the poster with the pointing gentleman. He tells me, "It says, 'I will fight for a new Europe!' But it is not in Slovenian. Maybe Serbian or Croatian." It's a fine point, but it may illustrate the divide between these peoples with similar Slavic languages.
Just across the street is an Orthodox church, with its own lush and different take on Slovenian art. Carolyn mentions never having seen bloody crucifixion scenes in the few Orthodox churches we've visited. It's an interesting observation.
A wander through side streets, some cold drinks by the Triple Bridge, and it's time for an early dinner – a fine platter of vegetables with ham and a glass (perhaps two) of good Slovene Babić red wine from the Dalmatian coast. A fire-juggling street performer entertains us with skill and jokes (in English) and earns his tips. Then it's back through darkened streets and through the Park, and a soft bed to dream of the morrow.
On a new day we're off to Ljubljanski Grad, the castle overlooking the city. We dodge hordes of bike riders, duck down a few narrow winding streets and cross the Dragon Bridge to the funicular. The top station is an example of careful and creative Slovenian engineering.
The castle is all we'd expect in a rebuilt medieval fortress, with porthole views over the city and a display of the oldest wheel and axle ever found – it's 5,200 years old – in a Slovenian swamp. The funicular gets us to the base of the castle and there's still a stairway or two to climb inside the old stone walls. We reach the top and look out over the red tile rooftops of the old city, with the winding river acting as a moat for the castle. Back inside are displays of castle history – its role as a dudgeon, among them – with the names of prisoners held at various tragic times through history.
A return via intertwining "up" and "down" stairways gets us to the old main entry and a steep winding pathway back to the city. At the bottom we look back to see Ljubljanski Grad high above us in the waning afternoon, much like the one described in Kafka's The Castle. With all the drama, but minus the snow, and less difficult to reach. (In the book, "K" never does reach the castle.)
We find a place for dinner. I pick a platter of wild boar while Carolyn orders a salad that is beautifully shown and far more than ample. And two glasses of the house's good Babić red wine. We tend to order one main dish and a salad to share; otherwise, we end up with too much food! There are more vegetables on the menu in Ljubljana and better salads than we've seen elsewhere in Europe. And they pour good wine.
Afterward, we'll stop along the way for 'slegoledo' (ice cream), pause often to enjoy the city's plethora of fine street musicians, pass the university area and take in a few minutes of challenging "experimental" music in a dark outdoors street side venue, before arriving contented at the bedside.
Near the end of our stay, we stop at the "Hot Horse" food stand in Park Tivoli for, well, a horse burger. Yes, they eat horses in Slovenia, and so did I in the 7th or 8th grade – as did every kid in the Albuquerque Public School system in the late 1950s. The hamburgers had an interesting taste, then one day a banner headline in the Albuquerque Journal announced the 'scandal.' I didn't understand the problem since we eat cows and pigs and other animals. My folks said yes we do, and people used to eat horse meat when they were both kids. It's just that it was sold as cow meat. Whatever.
So this was my chance to willingly eat horse meat. And….It was pretty good. I don't eat many burgers anyway, but I think I can now recommend a good horse burger now and then. Here's a link for more discussion on the topic: (http://news.yahoo.com/e-u-horsemeat-scandal-ikea-swedish-meatballs-190216847.html)
On our last day in Ljubljana we take a bus to the end of the line to see local 'daily life'. The lady at the hotel front desk suggests a route to a modernist church designed by a local architect.
There's a downpour, but soon we're on our way. We can barely see out the rain-drenched windows and don't even know what we're looking for anyway, so we ask someone aboard (English is widely spoken) and find out we just passed our stop. Thankfully the rain quits and we get off at the next stop. It's a short walk back along the narrow road to see the odd little church and take a few pictures. It's a nice cool day for a walk, and the countryside is lush. But the clouds are still ominous and we don't want to miss our return bus.
Back in town we pass an old marquee reading Komuna Kino and learn that 'Kino' is the Slavic word for cinema. It's an interesting revelation since we live in Kino Bay, Mexico (named for Padre Kino who lived long before cinema), and it's amazing what you'll learn by wandering aimlessly. After a sandwich and drinks at a local bar, we call it a night.
Our time went quickly; it always seems to. Ljubljana is an interesting, surprisingly beautiful, and probably very livable small city; and we became more intrigued every day. Prices are reasonable, there's easy bus access to the nearby countryside, good train connections to all of Europe, the mayor has been putting great effort into limiting traffic and pedestrianizing the historic core, and there's a lively university scene.
We'll be up early in the morning and heading for the train station. We had planned to visit scenic Bled and the lake at the foot of the Julian Alps in northwestern Slovenia; but this is August, all of Europe is on vacation and headed to the beach or the mountains. So we changed our plans and we're going further east, toward the heart of the Balkans. Next stop: Zagreb. — PRW