Life is but a dream: Rowing and strolling through the ethereal sights of Slovenia Life is but a dream: Rowing and strolling through the ethereal sights of Slovenia (December 31, 2003)

By Rebecca Wallace
Almanac Staff Writer

I have to use both hands to carry all my snapshots from my three trips to Slovenia. But I'm still not convinced I was ever there.

The incandescent blues and greens are too bright, the water in the mountain lake far too clear. This is photographic evidence of my travels, but it only bolsters the feeling that there's something ethereal about this country, that my time there was all a dream.

Say that Slovenia was once part of Yugoslavia, and most Americans probably conjure up one of two mental images: civil war in the Balkans, or the gray world of Socialism. I think of dragons. And women selling daffodils on the street, classical colonnades, downy clouds on Alpine peaks.

Anyway, that's what my photos tell me I saw.

Bounded by Italy, Austria, Croatia, and Hungary, this nation of 1.9 million covers a lot in a compact space just a bit smaller than New Jersey. Its terrain ranges from Adriatic Sea coast to the heights of the Julian Alps.

Trips to my favorite places in Slovenia -- the capital city of Ljubljana and Lake Bled -- left me feeling pensive, calm, and sometimes even drowsy after a long walk or a stint in a rowboat (which could account for the dreamlike feeling). They were vacations in the true sense, getaways from the hectic real world.

Indeed, Slovenia -- which is mainly ethnically homogenous -- has had more peace in recent years than many of its Balkan neighbors, separating itself from Yugoslavia in 1991 after only a brief spate of fighting. More evident is the country's Communist history; boxy Eastern Bloc high-rise apartment buildings still mar areas here and there.

The city of dragons

Fortunately, these few concrete facades I saw in the capital city of Ljubljana didn't intrude much. Nor did the sprinkling of modern skyscrapers; I simply ignored them, which is easy to do when one's eyes are full of mythical beasts.

Guarding bridges, adorning cafe doors and steps up to the Ljubljana castle tower, and holding an honored place in the city's coat of arms, dragons are everywhere in the capital and serve as its symbol.

Legend has it that the Greek prince Jason slew a dragon here after stealing the golden fleece, but I kind of liked the joke made to me by one Ljubljana man that his city was the only one dedicated to mothers-in-law.

Strolling through the center of Ljubljana is a delight. Smaller than Budapest, more sedate than Prague, the city is home to cafes and riverside views as lovely as any European capital. University students chatter everywhere.

Green with age, two dragons snarl on each side of the Dragon Bridge spanning the River Ljubljanica. Hordes of tourists would snap photos beneath them, except there are no hordes of tourists. Instead, a single bird floats serenely on the water below. It's restful being in a city that feels undiscovered.

The market selling meat and baked goods has its home in a long, covered building along the river with white columns straight out of a painting. Fruits and vegetables, candles and crafts fill tables and booths just outside. An old woman in a blue head scarf sells sauerkraut from wooden buckets, as though she has done it for years, as timeless as a fairytale.

On the weekend, there's a flea market where you can buy silver pocket watches with the Soviet hammer and sickle.

The Ljubljana Castle looks down from 70 meters above the river, and I climb the hill on its gentle paths. In the forest at the top, I find a whimsical stone trash can with a face like a frog. The roofs of the city sparkle bright red below.

The greatest reward

A rich tapestry of turquoise, Lake Bled is too perfect to be touched. But I pile into a rented rowboat with my travel companions, Marshall and Marc, just the same. Marc grasps the oars and gives a valiant tug.

We start to slide smoothly through the water. But it's not graceful enough for the woman who rented us the boat. "No!" she shouts in a heavy accent from the retreating shore. She jumps into a tied-up boat to vigorously demonstrate the proper rowing technique.

Marc tries to ignore her. Marshall and I giggle furiously. "No, mister!" the woman keeps shouting as we move farther away. "No good, mister! No good!"

We call Marc "Mr. No Good" for the rest of the day.

This is the most unpleasant thing to happen to us in Bled, which is saying something. Despite the rather unsavory name, the village and its namesake lake are simply breathtaking. I had never seen such vibrant colors outside a 1950s Technicolor print: the lake, the glinting white peaks of the nearby Julian Alps, the red roofs and bright green grass and trees.

Located in northwest Slovenia, Bled is a quick drive or train ride from Austria and Italy; it's about 45 kilometers from the borders of both countries. The lake is at an altitude of 475 meters and is also an easy day trip from Ljubljana.

As if the lake weren't flawless enough, a pretty little island with a white church sits in the middle. That's where the three of us were headed in our rented rowboat on that September day last year, but we were certainly in no hurry. Even the air seems fresher when the water is this clear.

Along with the three silly Americans in a rowboat, there were several other German-speaking tourists about, who made the crossing in a less strenuous way by hopping aboard a craft with a professional boatman. On the island, the Church of the Assumption steps spill down a slope nearly into the lake, leading to the greatest reward of all: getting to ring the church bell yourself.

One by one, we pulled on the knotted rope that dangled down in front of the gold-plated 18th-century altar, creating a resonant tone we were sure could be heard far and wide.

On the drive back to Ljubljana, we came upon an old war cemetery in the woods as dusk was falling. Hushed and overgrown, the graveyard had flags that showed it was the final resting place for both Slovenian and Hungarian soldiers.

We walked from grave to grave, thinking about times long ago that seemed as remote as a grandfather's tale, and as real.

INFORMATION

** www.slovenia-tourism.si Slovenian regions, attractions, cuisine and wine fill the Slovenian Tourist Board site. You can also make hotel reservations here. ** www.bled.si The Bled Tourist Board site has an event calendar, e-postcards of the area, and information on points of interest, history and travel to the region.

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