My first glimpses of Piran were through a bus window: leafy green heels strewn with terracotta roofs, a small little marina and the sparkling Adriatic sea. Piran was the next leg of my 10 day solo trip to Slovenia, and it couldn’t have been a more perfect stop. When I got off at the main bus station I was instantly greeted with a view of gleaming white boats in the harbor.

Piran is one of the most beautiful places I’ve ever been. The buildings are pastel and cream and cluster tightly together amidst maze-like streets that zigzag and climb and dead-end and are dotted with little archway passages and steps. Apparently the city was designed like this to keep cool in the summer (one is always in the shade) and stay warm in the winter (insulated from the strong winds). 

The buildings are gorgeously faded: ancient sandstone and limestone marbled with peeling paint, draped in vines and popping with vibrant shutters and decorative door handles. I love the quiet elegance of places like this that were built so many centuries ago. I kept looking up to see geometric patches of clear blue sky framed by a mosaic of roofs meeting together.

Slovenia only has a small slice of coastline: a 29-mile stretch known as the Slovene Riviera. Piran is surrounded by water on 3 sides, so when you look out at the horizon you see Trieste, Italy, and then you turn around and see Croatia— in essence, you can gaze at 3 countries in one breath! 

Being there felt like summer, felt like a kind of dreamy Italian seaside escape— but not as crowded because it’s not Italy, and it was not quite high-season either when I visited in mid-May. Still, Piran was built by Venetians, and Italian is even one of its official languages. The Neapolitan pizza I ate at one seaside café was certainly redolent of Italy.

I dragged my suitcase through the narrowest cobblestone streets, hauling it over bumps and backtracking when I missed hidden turns, before arriving at the hotel Zala bedraggled and beyond grateful when they let me check in early even though it was just past noon. 

Hotel Zala is an elegant little boutique hotel, and after sleeping on hostel bunk beds for a few days, schlepping my stuff to shared bathrooms in flip flops, I luxuriated in having an entire room to myself. It’s the little things.

I put on shorts for the first time all trip and meandered to the tourist information center to get directions for a hike I wanted to do. Shortly after, I found myself on a bus taking a 20 minute ride along the hilly coastline to the Strunjan park nature preserve.

At Strunjan, I admired Piran’s iconic St. George’s church tower (which sits on the town’s peninsula) from across salt pans that glittered a serene blue-green in the light. I traipsed past swaying marsh grass and wildflowers. Then, I veered off on a trail through the countryside and walked for about 30 minutes to my destination: Moon Bay.

There wasn’t a soul in sight as I strolled along this little country path. It was quiet except for chirping birds— a whole orchestra of them— singing away. It was gorgeous and pastoral: puffy cotton clouds, groves of olive trees*, and beautifully overgrown meadows with white butterflies fluttering over white and yellow flowers. 

*This is the farthest north olive trees grow naturally! The olive oil produced here is slightly bitter due to the colder climate. 

As I climbed up a hill a gorgeous view of the sea opened up before me and I came to the edge of a cliff, looking out over Moon Bay at the jewel-toned Adriatic. It was breathtaking. Water foamed white on the pebbly beach, the forest was lush, the sky cerulean and the sea sparkling. It made me so grateful to be alive, to be witnessing this. I blew a kiss to Dad, thinking how he’d be proud of me for going on an adventure and seeking these beautiful moments. 

I carefully picked my way down the cliff path to the beach, sitting on a boulder in full mermaid-mode, looking out at the crystal clear water. Tiny hermit crabs and sea life flourished in the crevasses of the boulders. I touched my fingers to the water and brought them to my lips, tasting the salt and greeting this new sea that I was meeting for the first time, a salty sea kiss.

I took a scenic path along the cliffs back to the bus, and a couple hours later I was freshly showered and meeting a group for a sunset walking tour where I learned a lot of interesting facts from the friendly guide, Jan. He knew every single local we passed, constantly saying hi and exchanging a quick few words. One of his friends, a bit drunk, robustly welcomed all of use to Piran while thumping his chest. Love!

The second part of the tour was spent in the guide’s cozy foodie shop. We had a couple glasses of coastal Slovenian wine and tried 8 types of olive oil with cubes of bread and salami. It was lovely, and as I walked back to the hostel at 9 the sky was not yet completely dark.

Slovenia has various wine regions and a rich history of wine-making, but its wines are not as well known as those of its Italian neighbor because 80 to 90 percent of the wine remains in Slovenia for domestic consumption. Accordingly, I drank Slovenian wine every time I ordered a glass during my trip, because it’s such a treat!

The next day was just as sun-drenched as the last. I started the morning off with a sumptuous free breakfast at the hotel: a cappuccino, fresh squeezed orange juice, yogurt, pastries, and an omelet served on a plate dusted with flower petals. Divine!

I was only to stay one night in Piran but my bus back to Ljubljana wasn’t until evening, so I stored my luggage at the hotel and set off for the day. Right away I climbed the highest point of the city, which is part of an ancient fortress wall with lopsided steps that wind up a few different turrets. 

The view was stunning, with the town jutting out in a mesmerizing sprawl into the endless expanse of blue sky and sea. It’s no wonder why they call it Slovenia’s crown jewel of the Adriatic. It’s difficult to describe how beautiful it was, but all I can say is that I had another moment of deep humility and gratitude for being able to see it, and in such luminous weather too.

After the fortress I went down a steep hill only to climb up again, but this time to the tower of St. George’s Church, where heavy old bells clang every quarter hour. The view from there was different but equally gorgeous. I saw the city in detail, peering at rooftop patios and blooming backyards and Tartini Square where people moved small as bugs. Boats cruised over glimmering waters, sea gulls soared on the breeze, and it felt like paradise on Earth.

After the tower I basked in the sun at a café whose tables ran right up to the water’s edge so that you could sip a cocktail and leap into the sea all in the same breath. I had a campari spritz and gazed out at the blue, blue, blue. My mind tried to comprehend all the beauty around me, but it settled on adoring Piran, this little city founded on salt that sparkles and feels so special.