Slovenia: Walking On A Dream

When I was 13 years old I met a girl named Pia on a cruise ship.

Pia had feline-like eyes; eyes that made you intimidated to stare into, but the beauty of them made it impossible to look away. Her perfectly spiralled hair spilled over her shoulders, and she stood a head taller than any of the other girls. She oozed elegance that I’d never seen a girl my age occupy. I was properly obsessed – I wanted to be this girl.

The best of all was her accent. Rough and guttural, it didn’t match her near angelic stature.

Pia was from Slovenia.

Where the heck was that?

Countless milkshakes and rounds of ping pong on deck went by, and when it came to saying goodbye, I promised that one day I’d go to Slovenia (whenever I found it, that was) and see her again.

Years later, I was lazing about a hostel in Lyon when I met a girl named Ursa. She had the same strikingly beautiful eyes of Pia, and an accent to match. We became fast friends, and once again I promised I’d make my way to Slovenia.

Finally, in the last month of my travels, I’d made it to Ljubljana. I clambered off the bus on a late winter’s night, and took my time making my way to the hostel through the sleeping city.

You know if you like a place the second you’re in it. It has to do with the "energy" or something.

I liked Slovenia. Lots. And I’d seen nothing but dark streets and the stairway to the hostel.

My judgement wasn’t wrong. In the daylight, the city hummed with beauty. Tiny in comparison to other European capitals, Slovenia was humble and uncomplicated. The centre is made up of a few main streets, the charming pink church of Prešeren Square, the smell of chestnuts lingering in the air, and a Zara (how European).

I drifted in and out of dear Ursa’s apartment, who played the perfect host and private tour guide. I spent the days hopping from café to café, and the nights in the company of Ursa and her friends, sifting through the Christmas markets with a mulled wine in hand.

Slovenia was my Christmas love affair. How could I have left it unexplored for so long? I couldn’t bear to think of the day I’d have to bid it farewell.

Then I went to Lake Bled, and my love affair evolved to a euphoric state of adoration. It was magical – like I’d stepped into a snow globe. Snow-capped mountains enclosed the area and the lake shimmered under the winter sun. The only sound was the crunching forest path underfoot, and the odd rowboat rippling through the water.

Complete stillness and tranquillity was awash in the corners of rural Slovenia. I found myself in the company of a bunch of Australians from the hostel, and we spent our days hiking everywhere and anywhere the forest would allow. By night we wrapped ourselves up in all our winter gear, and watched the lakeside come to life with vendors and market stalls.

Perhaps the highlight of my time in Slovenia was a trail that took us to Lake Bohinj. The water was perfectly still and the landscape so untouched, that the image before our eyes looked as though nature had folded itself in half to create a perfect mirror-like reflection.

When it came to time to bid farewell to Slovenia, I left once again with the promise of return. Like a dreamland, you could wander around its perimeter for an eternity and be left in disbelief at every sight.

Perhaps it was all a dream, for the wonders of this little patch of land are hard to believe.