t r a v e l o g u e :
s u n n y s l o v e n i a
"Isn't there a war on?"
"Are you sure it's safe there?"
"Where...??"
I got a similar reaction when I tried to book a plane ticket. The young lad behind the counter stared at me and asked me to spell out the name of my destination. Even when I'd done that, there was a long wait as he desperately scanned down his list of plane destinations, asking: "Are you sure there's an airport there?"
It wasn't even if I was going to the Himalayas, or Albania, or North Korea. I wasn't even going as far as Australia or the US. Instead, I was off to the Republic of Slovenia.
Slovenia is a small country of 2 million people, situated between Italy and Austria. Although it used to be part of Yugoslavia, it didn't experience conflict to the extent as that which effected Bosnia, Croatia and - more recently - Kosovo. It declared independence in 1991, which was followed by a war which lasted just over a week.
I arrived at Ljubljana airport in the middle of a hailstorm. I had to get a bus into the town centre but there were no signs marking its collection point and everyone else from my flight appeared to be being greeted by long-lost friends and relatives. The only thing I could think of to do was to wander outside into the pouring rain to where there was a coach with the words 'Alp Tour' written on its side. I went up to try and ask the driver where it was going, who responded by giving me a ticket and waving me inside.
It was only when I was halfway into the journey - when the countryside started giving way to a more urban scene - that I felt I could relax as I it now seemed I was on the right bus. The trip into town passed alpine villages which looked like they needed a fresh lick of paint. The bus seemed to stop at every corner-end, with lots of people getting on and off - most of whom appeared to know each other as they swapped animated greetings.
I had no idea what to expect of Ljubljana. There aren't many guidebooks on Slovenia, but once you're there information is easy to find. I managed to get an armful of brochures from the tourist centre in the middle of town. It's a bit hit and miss getting hold of information in English (but I'm told it does exist!) so I usually had to work things out from German and Italian text. The one brochure I did manage to find that was written in English was called "Ljubljana: City Guide for the Young" which is full of tips on accommodation and places to see. But I was shocked at its assumption that its readers would be men, with its promotion of "strip-tease bars" and for the following advice on souvenirs: "For your father we would recommend a bottle of the best wine, for your mother maybe hand made lace or crystal. Girlfriends are usually satisfied with a smaller gift." Really?! (and what about boyfriends?)
Newspaper articles and guidebooks had given me the impression that Slovenia was a stereotypical East European/former Communist country: full of people in outdated clothes and hairstyles. So why was everyone I saw in Ljubljana dressed in the trendiest of outfits?
One thing that I did find annoying was the state of Slovenia's toilets. It wasn't that they were dirty, in fact they were usually spotless, the problem was that - for some incomprehensible reason - their doors were almost always too big for their frames. This meant that you had to attempt the impossible task of keeping the door (which was always just out of reach) pushed shut with your hands.
My first attempt at sightseeing wasn't very fruitful. I ended up spending most of the time sheltering from torrential rain at a bus-stop after getting totally lost (and only realising so when I reached a tunnel which looked like it disappeared into the depths of the earth). I finally braved the rain and got back to the station where I spent the rest of my time recovering in the waiting room. Again, I couldn't believe how smart everyone else looked - I felt quite out of place with dripping wet hair and scruffy clothes.
Ljubljana reminded me of a small market town rather than a capital city. It's characterised by orange-brown roofed buildings set alongside a narrow winding river. 'Tasteful' is the word I'd use to describe it, with its twisting streets and intricately decorated buildings.
There's a heavy cultural feel. The '22nd Biennial of Graphic Art' and the '26th Festival of Chamber Music' were advertised all over town and there are also a whole host of academies and institutes of art and theatre. So it's not surprising that Slovenia's big heroes are poets and artists. I was forever being told about France Preseren, a 19th century poet who has the distinction of having Ljubljana's main square (Preserenov Trg) named after him. And then there's Joze Plecnik, an architect whose work such as the colonnade in the central market and the National Library were always proudly pointed out to me.
With all these male heroes, it seems that any historical women remain in the background. There's one woman who appears on banknotes - painter Ivana Koblica, in addition to all the cultural men. Women have more of a presence in Slovenia's current cultural scene - for example in the multimedia group Neue Slowenische Kunst and the artists' group IRWIN. Their works, and those like them, can usually be found at the Equrna gallery on Gregorciceva and at SKUC on Stari Trg.
It's usually a bit of a cliche to sue the words 'gay community' but I was surprised to find that lesbians and gay men seemed to take equal parts in the gay scene. 'Revolver', a glossy gay magazine, contains news, interviews, culture, etc with almost equal relevance to lesbians and gay men, and I was pleasantly surprised to find a lot of women at the weekly mixed/gay disco, Roza Klub.
The strength of Slovene nationalism surprised me. Everywhere, Slovene flags flew from buildings and everyone I met was keen to stress what a great country Slovenia was and how they never really had that much in common with the rest of Yugoslavia. Although harassment is rare, it was often uncomfortable visiting the main post office/telephone centre or the train station, where groups of men would congregate. Whilst this wasn't threatening, the stares and comments would make it uncomfortable. When I mentioned this to my Slovene colleagues, they were horrified: "Oh, Slovene men would never do anything like that! They must be Albanian or Bosnian..." The only time I was aware of any criticism of their country was when I commented on how everyone always dressed so fashionably and I was told that this was because of nationalism - there was a lot of pressure on everyone to look prosperous and 'western'.
I also visited towns outside Ljubljana. As it's such a small country, it's possible to experience mountains, lakes, the seaside and the capital city all in one day.
I wasn't too impressed with the coast, which is about an hour's drive from Ljubljana. Despite having a good view (Italy to the right, Croatia to the left), there's a distinct lack of beach - you have to make do sitting on concrete or dirty grassland. There are a couple of exceptions though. I visited Porteroz, which I'd been promised was "just like Blackpool!" - but I'd hesitate to describe it like that. It's a lively place, full of high-rise concrete hotels, bars and amusement arcades with swarms of tourists parading along the promenade (but it still managed to look very neat and tidy). The holidaymakers there looked a lot less prosperous than the sort of people I'd become used to seeing in Ljubljana. The one place I did like on the coast was Piran, a harbour town nextdoor to Porteroz, which reminded me of many Italian towns with its steep slopes, winding streets and city walls.
My favourite part of Slovenia was the lakes in the north. I spent a sunny day in August at an almost deserted Bled, a deep blue lake surrounded by ice-capped alpine peaks with a small island in the middle of the water accessibly only by rowing boat or gondola. The centre of Bled is more populated, with sterile hotels and a shopping mall.