Ljubljana (Slovenia) > Reviews (11)

Christmas in Ljubljana

It really is a small world. Flying to Slovenia, I sat beside a woman whose husband had been at school with one of my brothers, in Australia, fifteen years ago. Still, whilst it's a small world, some places are definitely smaller than others, and for a Capital City, Slovenia's Ljubljana is positively tiny.

We flew across central Europe on a frigidly cold December day. A plump blanket of cloud obscured everything beneath us until suddenly, somewhere over Austria, it ended abruptly and a row of jagged Alps stood gleaming in the sunshine. The plane was mainly full of Slovenians, returning from shopping jaunts to London. I'd watched them, almost pityingly, as they'd hauled down their Hamley's bags and touching little London mementoes from the luggage racks, to brighten, I conjectured, their bleak Slovenian Christmases… More fool I! Later, as I found myself meandering amidst Ljubljana's lovely shops, filled with exquisite and hand-made treasures, I began to wonder why those tourists had even bothered to shop in London at all, with all of this on their doorsteps. And I discovered that in Slovenia, lazy misconceptions are dispelled thick and fast, like the tumbling of snow over a well-trodden bridge.

At its International Airport at Brnik, Slovenia begins for the visitor very much as it intends to carry on… It is immaculate, efficient, and always determined to look its very best. We walked across from the terminal building to a sleek, new parking garage with all the usual car hire firms represented on its ground floor. The automatic doors whished back, revealing a warm but somewhat steely interior. The car-hire representatives behind their little booths, a Budget man in his pumpkin-orange T-shirt, an Avis girl in a pretty red suit, and so on, all looked up at once, and eyed us expectantly. My husband had booked in advance, however, so we marched straight across to the bumblebee-liveried Hertz desk. This, like the rest of the airport, felt a little like a forlorn and poorly-attended party…the invites have been sent, the food prepared, the decorations strung up, but until now hardly anyone has bothered to turn up and make all the effort worthwhile.

I glanced through a complimentary Airport magazine from the counter, whilst my husband entered into a protracted and rather confusing discussion with the Hertz rep. The magazine opened with an introductory mission statement from the President of the Management Board of Aerodrom Ljubljana, a Mr. Vinko Može, who is pictured with hands clasped, looking severe and unsmiling, beneath a garish work of Slovenian Modern Art. His statement was rather amusingly titled 'We Are Optimists Despite Everything'. Mr. Može, we learn, hopes 'to make air traffic the goose which lays the golden eggs'. He then embarks upon an impassioned (and slightly indiscreet) tirade against the 'bureaucratic obstacles' and 'various issues lurking in a mountain of paper-work' which are compromising the Aerodrom Ljubljana's fragile hopes and dreams.

Particular scorn is reserved for the overly stringent safety legislations of the EU… All in all, this brief reads more like a manifesto or shareholders report than a welcome message to international visitors. Clearly, Slovenians are unused to tourism on a large scale, and they are (perhaps refreshingly) a little hesitant about how the whole business usually works. By way of illustration, whilst air-traffic is to be Slovenia's Golden Goose, tourist staples such as picture postcards are more like Hen's Teeth… although not, I suspect, for very much longer.

A perfectly straight, fir-lined road lead away from the Aerodrom towards the City of Ljubljana. There was very little traffic. The snow, slightly ashen beneath that dusky, late-afternoon light, the tall barbed-wire fences demarcating the runway, and the occasional, indistinct figures walking large dogs along the edge of the forest, all combined to produce a rather romantic, behind-the-iron-curtain effect. After this, there is a short stretch of Autobahn, with an (inexpensive) toll half way along it, before you reach the outskirts of Ljubljana proper. These outskirts, unsurprisingly, are characterised by a number of tall, communist-era apartment blocks, some of which have been embellished, others not, but a proliferation of very snazzy, Western-European style advertising on almost every available surface works to disguise Slovenia's recent Socialist past very efficiently.

We stayed at the Park Hotel, which was easy to find and certainly central enough, located just on the fringe of the Medieval Old Town, a stone's throw from the Ljubljanica River. It struck me on arrival, to put it a little unkindly, as being little more than a tarted-up tower block. Closer inspection did not dispel this early impression, and any interior redecorations did not extend very far beyond the ground floor. The reception area, along with the hotel generally, was clean and orderly however. Beyond the desk stood a dejected, elderly man in a plaid shirt, who, by all appearances, might well have just returned from milking a cow. He demanded our passports, a little gruffly, and hobbled across to stow them in the little pigeonhole our keys had emerged from. There were two lifts, each of which stopped only on alternate floors. If human, these would probably have qualified for pensions by now, and they groaned a little alarmingly on the ascent. Still, we managed to find our room, which, being on the seventh floor, boasted very good views across the turrets and rooftops of the Old Town and the castle on the hill overlooking the city, which was lit up in a spectacular shade of blue. There was an apartment building immediately opposite, and we could see a man stretching and doing his evening exercises in one of the flats, and through another window, further down, an old woman appeared to be plucking the feathers off a chicken. The hotel room itself was very basic, but a reasonable size and spotlessly clean. My only real criticism would have been of the flooring, a succession of bleakly grey laminated tiles that extended throughout the building, creating a rather cold and dingy impression, especially on a frosty, sub-zero degree day.

Leaving the hotel, we wandered off into the night, crossed a road, and followed a brief, cobbled stairway that lead down towards the river. Snow was falling gently over the cobbles. Seeing a number of lights flickering prettily on the opposite bank, we continued along towards them, crossing the river at the Dragon's bridge. This takes its name from the Ljubljana dragon, the city's emblem, which also appears on its coat of arms. Local legend has it that the original dragon was slain by Jason (of Argonaut fame). Having stolen the mythological fleece, Jason and his companions had hastened away up the Danube and Ljubljanica rivers, pursued by King Aetes, finally pausing at the lake near to the Ljubljanica's source, where the dragon resided. There they lay in wait, before killing the Dragon when he emerged. Whatever the truth, it's a pretty enough story, and the bridge's collection of green-bronze dragons, large and small, are very charming indeed. We continued on, crossing the abandoned market square, with its stalls shut up for the evening, and edging up along the esplanade towards the Christmas market. This was a collection of diverse and beautifully lit stalls extending along several blocks, at one point reaching across over a bridge and spreading along the opposite bank. The snowy air was warm with the scent of mulled wine and roasting chestnuts. Small children in knitted pixie-hats carried little candle-lit lanterns. A large troupe in Father Christmas costumes danced an energetic jig to the accompaniment of a string quartet. Stallholders sold cakes, chunks of fruit that had been skewered and dunked into hot, molten chocolate, pretzels, exquisite homemade candles, woven baskets and furniture, and all manner of things fashioned from wood, from rocking horses and sleighs to bowls and wooden shoes. Ribbons and mistletoe were strung festively from eaves and cornices. It was one of the most splendid and evocative Christmas markets I've ever seen. The tree, which stood in front of the Neo-Renaissance palace on Preŝeren Square, was nothing short of spectacular. Further along, winding, cobbled streets and mysterious archways disappeared off in all directions. The overall effect is very reminiscent of Prague, although obviously on a much smaller scale. As alluded to earlier, the shops in the old town are superb, with both well-known international as well as more eclectic, Slovenian stores represented. I even noticed a Lush store there. We passed several galleries, including one with an exhibition of 'Living Machines' that really was very ingeniously executed. Tiny, beetle-like contraptions were wired up to small solar panels and suspended from trees. Overhead lamps, irregularly lit, caused these 'beetles' to twitch and move as their solar panels responded to the light. We continued on, passing, and occasionally entering, a succession of attractive little bars and cafes…

Finally, finding ourselves hungry, exhausted and above all extremely cold, we retired to an Italian place to eat.

There seemed to be a large number of Italian restaurants in Ljubljana, which was unsurprising, really, given the proximity to the Italian border. Anyway, the Italian place in this instance was Foculus, on Gregorčičeva St, a popular and dimly lit little pizzeria. It has to be said that the menu at Foculus resembled a short novel, and would have left even the most comprehensive of Chinese menus feeling inadequately short. It extended over many, many pages and consisted primarily of about 80-100 different types of Pizza, although many of these, admittedly, were merely subtle variations on a theme. Pizzas came in three sizes; small, medium and large, which might more accurately have been described as huge, massive, and quite-frankly-too-big-for-the-table. A family of four at the table beside us had ordered the latter and their determined struggle to finish it all off was almost painful to behold. We, in turn, ate as much as we could, and left feeling uncomfortably full, having been relived of less than 5,000 Tolars (about £12) for the privilege. Drinks included. Although many things in Slovenia cost as much as or even more than they would elsewhere in Europe, the restaurants certainly seem to be very cheap. Wearily, we returned to the hotel along snow-lined streets, pausing in the hotel's downstairs bar for a nightcap. The bar was clean & bright and decorated in what would probably be best described as Ikea-chic. The hotel waiter, who was clearly a jack-of-all-trades, and very possibly a master of none, was in any event a priceless character. He flounced about dramatically, dashing from the adjacent dining room to the bar and back again, muttering bitter asides to himself, and launching into flamboyant monologues in response to perfectly innocent questions. I asked for a diet coke, to which he responded that they had none, only the ordinary kind, and besides this is Slovenia & as Slovenians say, it is all the "same s**t" anyway and no-one sensible ought to drink it…he was only really appeased when I finally relented and ordered an unwanted beer, instead. Glutton for punishment that I am, I went on to ask whether Slovenians tended to speak English as a second language, or German, which elicited a fierce "I don't like Germans!" followed by great deal of tutting and miscellaneous contortions of the facial muscles. He sneered and swooned at us by turns as he popped in and out of the bar, no doubt (correctly) supposing that we were talking about him, until we left to go upstairs.

The following morning, I awoke early with a view to climbing up to the castle and exploring the indoor markets. We intended to leave for Austria before lunch, to be on the slopes by the afternoon, so I didn't have much time. It was still dark when I got outside, and bitterly cold. I retraced our steps from the night before, following the little path down towards the river. At the market square, various stallholders were busy setting up and arranging their wares. There were broad bands of bright colours, vibrant green strips of ordered apples, and brilliant swathes of oranges, clementines and pomegranates assembled in impossibly neat pyramids.

All of the vegetables appeared very local, very organic and very fresh. The carrots and parsnips were pale and reassuringly misshapen. Dark, blood red beets were dusted with the faintest trace of dirt, as though unearthed that very morning. Great basketfuls of lush lambs-ear lettuce and raddichio stood to the side. Shelled walnuts and sugared almonds were arranged in delectable abundance. I continued on into the indoor market, which was designed by the esteemed Slovenian architect, Jože Plečnic, and generally regarded as one of his finest works. There is a row of little delicatessens, bakeries, bars and cafes, with semi-circular windows on the riverside and colonnades on the street side. Opposite, there is a second indoor market, housing large, designated cheese and meat areas, and also including stalls with an array of local produce, such as pickles and preserves, as well as a superb little stall selling regional olive oils. There was an especially good Croatian oil amongst them. I spotted a tiny, crowded little bar to the side of the market, and decided to get a quick coffee. Inside, the air was thick with smoke, much of it emanating from fat cigars. A row of old men sat along the bar, drinking short spirits and coffee. I ordered an espresso, which was hot and delicious, and cost me just 150 Tolars - about 40p. I walked back out into the open market, the part that runs alongside the back of the church. People were selling beautiful, home made advent wreaths, fashioned from spruce and mistletoe, flowers, and luscious, buttery-yellow bees-wax candles. I glanced absently up at the clock tower and realised with a start that I had been gone for three hours. I returned to the hotel for breakfast, resigned to the fact that the castle, the view and much else besides would have to wait for another visit.

I was once fined $10 for jaywalking in Australia, which cured me of the vice for a time, and I never jaywalk when out with my little boy. Having said that, it seems practically de rigueur in much of Europe, and old habits die hard… Slovenians, however, are clearly not a nation of jaywalkers. They wait patiently for the little pedestrian to turn green, even when there isn't a single car in sight. And quite a few of them looked rather askance at me, as I dashed across the road near the Dragon's bridge, in my haste to get back to the hotel... Slovenians seem to be a very artistic people, and they are very physically attractive. However, they did strike me at times as a rather dour and even-tempered lot… perhaps they are simply the type of people you need to get to know well, in order to understand them. In any event, I should like to return again in the Summer, and find out for myself…not, I hasten to add, that I would ever need an excuse to return to the lovely city of Ljubljana!

http://www.hotelpark.si/
http://geocities.com/ljubljanalife/
http://www.ljubljana-tourism.si/