Shh…Don’t Tell Prague

From the moment of arrival, the Slovenian capital Ljubljana, nestled in the mountainous cradle between Italy and Germany, was an absolute delight. I arrived past 11 p.m. due to my Budapest bus debacle but, even in the dead of night, the city was welcoming. The streets were calm; a few pub-hopping pedestrians roamed with mild demeanor but there were no grafitied walls or shifty street-dwellers to darken the scene.

My hostel was a dream. Set a few blocks from the main square, the three story historic home was more like a B & B. I had let them know I would be arriving late and they had laid out my keys, directions, and even made my bed (if you’ve stayed in hostels you know that you’re always responsible for this yourself). Just a nice little touch! Each floor–housing 2-3 suites–had it’s own kitchen, complete with spices and extras you might need to whip up a meal. After weeks of pub food and street vendors, sometimes a homemade salad is all you crave. I lucked out with a four-person room to myself. It was a wonderful little break from the 6-person dorms of that last few countries. You start to get used to it but once you have your own space again it’s DIVINE. For the first time so far, I slept without earplugs and slept like the DEAD. See all those caps? It must be serious.

In the light of a brilliant day, Ljubljana was a storybook dream. A languid river divides rustic medieval alleyways and neo-baroque elegance. The famous Triple Bridge–designed by renowned architect Jože Plečnik of Prague and Vienna fame–brings strolling pedestrians from the architectural dream land of the Prešeren square to the bustling riverside market. From there, the fingers of cozy cobblestone spread to create a web of boutiques, coffee shops, artisan stalls and international eats. A steep, twisting path climbs to the hill-top castle, which although is a little lackluster up close, offers breathtaking panoramic views of the snow-capped Alps.

Like most major European capitals, a McDonald’s and H&M make an obligatory appearance, but it’s far less prominent in tiny Ljubljana. She’s maintained much of her old world sophistication, yet manages to be modern. The streets are impeccably clean, you can’t smoke most places and all the public buildings are eco-friendly. She’s a city where not much seems to happening–not much really did happen to me here–yet the droves of happy locals laughing and chatting at riverside cafes let you know that something more lies beneath her sweet demeanor. Lazy mornings find locals sipping Kava over a threadbare book, women discerningly picking produce from the daily open air market and youths balancing plates of fried sardines, wine and cigarettes in front of food trucks. (The fried sardines are to die for, I must confess). 

Modeled after the City of 100 Golden Spires, she has much of Prague at her soul. But where Prague is the gregarious older sibling strutting for your attention, Ljubljana is the demure younger, quietly going about her day, flattered that you took the time to notice her. It’s a place you could stay awhile–sit by the river with some honey wine and a good book–and all time might slip away. My time here was brief, but I leave with not the feeling of goodbye–but rather, I’ll see you again soon. Don’t tell Prague, but she may have competition for my love.
I left Ljubljana a little melancholy but also filled with eager anticipation for my next stop–VENICE!

 

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