The first leg of my 10 day solo trip to Slovenia

I remember sipping a cappuccino at an outdoor terrace near Ljubljana castle, looking out over rust-orange roofs and church spires. Leafy green forest hills stretched on forever, and the mountains in the distance grazed puffy white clouds.

The weather was so perfect it made every moment gorgeous, lending a fairytale charm and idyllic, sun-drenched beauty to the mornings, afternoons, and evenings. It was mid-May when I arrived, and the sun rose early and didn’t set until nearly 9 pm. 

I got lucky with the weather because it had rained for about a week straight right before my arrival. May in Slovenia is considered a shoulder season, so there aren’t as many tourists but it can be a toss up as to whether the weather is warm or gloomy.

Ljubljana blossoms in warm weather; every bar and café has outdoor patios spilling over with locals drinking espressos and wine and beer, smoking and talking and basking in the sun. The city hums with a warm, welcoming energy that makes spending the whole day on foot feel deeply necessary. People gather everywhere— a farmer’s market in the city center, at the base of fountains and statues, on wide bridges big as a town square. All along the river, which winds its beautiful way through the city, are big steps to sit on. The city is lush with trees. 

The night I flew into Ljubljana, the buses weren’t running by the time I arrived at the airport. I took a black mini van “shuttle” to my hostel for 14 euros, laughing internally at being squeezed between two strangers and cruising through dark unfamiliar streets at the mercy of some gruff driver. 

But I made it safely to Hostel Celica, which had served as a prison for a century, then wartime barracks, then was renovated by artists and turned into the hostel people know it as today. It sits in the grungey, artsy Metelkova district, the streets of which are splashed in vivid color, with crumbling walls depicting psychedelic oceans and terrifying monsters and swirling faces. Punk-ish characters hang around sitting on tires and old metal piping, smoking cigarettes and looking like fixtures of the urban landscape. At night I could hear electronic music thumping until dawn. 

I started my first day in Ljubljana with a free (i.e. tip-only) walking tour, where I learned that instead of having a statue of some general in their central square, they have a statue of their national poet (France Preseren)! And he was a Romantic poet at that, which is my favorite genre of literature. The whole city is a literary city, apparently, which I love— that very afternoon I stumbled upon a book market spread along a section of the river. I spent the afternoon wandering through the city center, stepping into the opulent Cathedral of Saint Nicholas, and peeking down narrow side streets that framed slices of the river and trees and town. I had a midday snack at a restaurant called Gostilna Sokol where I tried a drink with traditional Slovenian blueberry liqueur, alongside gibanica, a pastry cake layered with cottage cheese and apple and walnuts and poppy seed filling. 

I chilled by the river bank and took a lovely, quiet boat cruise at 5 pm. At one point I couldn’t stop tears from rolling down my face because I kept thinking of how much my dad would have loved being on a wooden boat with me cruising down a river on a beautiful day, sipping a local beer. It was a total Perry activity. I imagined him and my mom there 7 years prior, on a perfect summer Saturday, marveling at all the things I’d been marveling at and enjoying each other and the city and the beauty of life. 

I walked off the boat sticky-eyed from tears, but in a way just as sweet as it was sad. I sat at a riverside restaurant called Vander and drank a Slovenian red wine and ate a bright green, wild garlic risotto with chicken roulade, watching the people pass by and admiring the way golden hour looked on the city. I then made my way to a rooftop bar I’d read about called Neboticnik, where I had a negroni while gazing out at the panoramic views of the city. One half of the world was luminous and rosy, the other half already draped in dusk. The moon hung fat in the sky and there were as many trees as golden-lit buildings. I was enraptured.

The next morning I took the cable car up to Ljubljana castle and explored the grounds, which are completely free (I overheard someone saying that it wasn’t really worth paying the price to go in the castle, so I didn’t). I had my cappuccino and journaled with a view, then wandered down the hill back to the city for lunch and got fish ’n chips and a Union beer at Vino & Ribe.

Next was a river walk to a waterfront park where I sat dappled in sunlight, drinking a 6 euro Campari Spritz on an Aperol Spritz-branded lawn chair, listening to the disco-pop music playing from a speaker behind me and watching the people sprawled all around eating gelato and sipping drinks by the river. 

I’d spotted this Spica Caffe park from the boat I went on the day before, and made it my mission to come to it the next day as it seemed like such a scene— and I was right! I loved the buzzing energy harmonizing with the placid blue-green river, the occasional swan and duck and boat drifting by. Tiny bugs floated drowsily in the air, excited dogs with wet paws trotted by, kids ran around, adults reclined in the grass and pulled up on bikes. I was in actual paradise, and I felt so happy, like I’d found somewhere that was literally perfect.

On the 15 minute walk there from the old town I felt at times like I was in the countryside as I wandered past overgrown dirt paths grazed by willow trees. I stopped for an hour to eat a gelato and read my book on a long walkway by the river. I could have fallen asleep, I was so relaxed. It felt like a true vacation, to just spend an afternoon people watching and river watching and doing nothing at all but soaking up the scenery while journaling and vibing. I felt that if I had flown all the way to Ljubljana just for that single weekend it would have been worth it. To see the little ducklings go by fuzzy and chirping, to be amongst the people all around making the most of their Sunday afternoon soaking in the beauty of nature around one another.

On the third day I took a day trip to see Postojna Caves and Predjama Castle. It was an hour-ish bus ride through bright green valleys and pastoral landscapes, and I was dropped off at a random parking lot a 24 minute walk from the Caves. I started navigating there and a group of ladies my mom’s age asked if they could follow me— of course I said yes, and we started chatting and didn’t stop for about 8 hours. We spent the whole day hanging out together, and it brought me so much joy.

I had bought a bundled ticket for both the caves and castle (about 50 euros), but found out that the shuttle between the two wasn’t running yet so early in the season and I would have to call a taxi for the 20 minute ride between the destinations. So, it was incredibly convenient to find myself in a group and share the taxi fare all together.

The 90 minute tour through the caves was mind-blowing; I never imagined the caves would be so extensive and vast (24km, in fact). There were caverns textured with waves and drips and spindly stalagmites and towering pillars and abstract sculptural formations. Being underground there was like being inside a spooky, otherworldly city. My imagination went wild and I pictured explorers getting lost down there and being hunted by a Xenomorph-like creature in the darkness. Everywhere limestone glistened damply, sometimes a fleshy pink, sometimes seashell-white or even a pale red. Water dripped on me and pooled into crystal clear basins, and in one placed rushed and roared into darkness. It was a remarkable and scarily beautiful place. 

The weather was gloomy once we emerged from the caves, perfect for visiting a moody castle formed from rock that was said to be cold and dark and bleak for much of the year. The 5 of us stopped for a beer to wait out the rain before heading to the castle, and I thought how much more fun this day was to explore the sights with these fun ladies. It would have been a bit lonely to be solitary that day, and so I was very glad I had newfound friends to brighten my day with coziness and camaraderie. 

Predjama Castle is a beautiful meeting of the natural and artificial, carved as it is out of a solid rock mountain. Moss sprouts on the rough hewn walls and a labyrinth of stairs lead to secret passageways.

Rain continued gently falling, so after the castle we all taxied to the bus stop and sipped tea at a warm café while we waited for the bus. If I had had a travel companion I might not have made the acquaintance of all these sweet ladies and learned about their lives, so I’m grateful to have been traveling alone so that I got the chance to be folded into their group for the day. 

One of the main rules for solo traveling is being open to meeting new people! Especially with a long trip like the one I took, it could be easy to get lonely after a few days. But luckily, I didn’t experience much loneliness. 

In addition to my day with these sweet ladies, I went on a couple walking tours and a wine tasting that helped to fill my social battery. A few times I chatted with people sitting by me at restaurants, and a couple mornings in a row I ate breakfast with two sweet French girls at the Hostel Celica café, and relished dusting off my French. 

Other times I was tired, though, and perfectly content to look at the day’s photos or read my book while eating, which is what I did one evening while dining at the impeccable Gostilna Vida (I cannot recommend that place enough). I tend to be pretty go-go-go in my personal life and don’t make as much time as I’d like for reading and journaling and just embodying a slower pace, so it was lovely to have so much me-time on the trip, to do only and exactly what I wanted to do.

From Ljubljana I traveled to Piran on the coast, and then the Julian Alps… but those journeys I’ll save for next time, as I’ve already written more than enough for the time being;)