Ljuking around Ljubljana

After a horrible, ill-advised journey that required its own post, I finally made it to Ljubljana, the capital of the little country of Slovenia. I was exhausted, and during the walk from the bus station to the hostel I comforted myself with the notion that soon I would be able to get some much-needed sleep.

I’d become accustomed to large cities, and was pleasantly surprised when I checked my progress on my maps app and saw I was making good time. That’s because Ljubljana itself is a small city, with a population of about 280,000 and for context, that’s less than the population of Bolton in the UK.

Pleased that something was finally going my way, I made it to the hostel sooner than I’d expected. I was poised to check in and drop into a deep sleep, but the woman who ran the hostel wouldn’t stop giving me directions to things. She was so friendly and helpful (even if she thought Ukraine was in Russia - a sure way of making enemies of Ukrainians) that I couldn’t bring myself to ask, very quietly, if I could just be allowed to go to sleep. It was pointless anyway because I immediately forgot everything that she said and ended up with a map covered with meaningless notes.

Finally making it to my dorm room, I was rewarded with one of the most comfortable beds I’ve had yet. I met my dorm mates, who were friendly although I wouldn’t see much of these particular ones - they were replaced by a couple of Italian Erasmus students the next day. I felt so sorry for them, they seemed like nice girls (one gave me a chocolate and later offered me some crisps!) but they didn’t speak very good English and were worried about starting their studies here. My heart went out to them when I heard one say to another in very careful, moderated English that they were only going to speak English to each other here, so they could improve.

One of the Italians tried to befriend a Czech girl who was also staying here and go along to the university office with her, but she quite brusquely brushed her aside. It was awful to watch. I nearly volunteered to go, but then I remembered I’m not a student and it would be weird. It must be very hard, coming to study in a different country.

Watching small groups (three or less; you can’t keep up with more) of Italian people do almost anyuthing is the greatest entertainment the solo traveller could hope for. Everything is overwrought and exciting and dramatic. Even the way they organise their things - from where I’m sat writing this there are bulging suitcases with contents spilling out the side, clothes, bags and shoes thrown with reckless abandon across a chair, pyjamas draped over the end of the bunk. Conversations range from impassioned, lightning-fast streams of words to subdued little “oh” noises. It’s fantastic.

Italians aside, it came as a bit of a surprise to hear English spoken so widely here. Having travelled from Ukraine, where it’s safer to assume English isn’t spoken, it made everything very easy. Almost too easy really. One of the things I like about travel is trying to make yourself understood, and when you get it right it feels like an achievement. (Thankfully when it’s gone wrong it’s been over trivial things; I haven’t yet found myself on a one-way, non-stop train ride to Siberia, for example).

Ljubljana really is a nice little city. Awarded the European Green Capital Award in 2016, the streets are very clean, and on many there are recycling bins for paper and so on. There are also electric vehicles called Kavalirs which roam around the pedestrian zone, dividing their time between trying to run you over and ferrying passengers around for free. It’s a nice idea, and I imagine it’s useful for the elderly, but Ljubljana’s really not that big so I can’t see myself using one.

Having said that, I was sorely tempted to commandeer a Kavalir for my personal use. Europe is in the middle of a very cold spell and I can’t remember a time where I’ve been so cold. On the walking tour about half the group left because it was so cold. I wore as many layers as I could and I still spent most of my time going from shop to shop to stay warm.

I even darkened the door of the Galerija Emporium, the super-swanky high-end fashion mall. It’s probably the fanciest mall I’ve ever been in - it even had a doorman who opened the door for me, although he plainly didn’t want to. I didn’t much care though, I was freezing and wanted to see inside. There was only one floor out of five devoted to men’s clothes, but I still went to the top to kill some time and see if there was a view (there wasn’t).

Braving the cold once more - and it really was an act of bravery - I went up to the castle. This is set on a high hill overlooking the city, and so it is very exposed to the wind. You can walk up to it, or you can get the funicular, a sort of cable car that ferries you to the top. I elected to take the funicular because it sounded fun and freezing on the side of the hill doesn’t (that’s what the top is for).

It’s certainly worth a visit, and I’d recommend going, but not when it’s so cold. I found myself scurrying about from inside location to inside location to stay warm rather than paying much attention. Indeed, upon arrival at a prison cell my immediate reaction was “oooh, nice and warm”, which I’m certain isn’t the intended response.

The layout is very confusing. Many times I’d wander up to a door which seemed to be locked, but looked exactly the same as other doors you could pass through. Parts of it, especially the upper lapidarium with its floor-mounted spotlights and fake pillars could have been taken from an episode of Grand Designs. The view from the viewing tower was great though, and I’m sure the overall experience would be much better in warmer conditions.

I went to the Museum of Optical Illusions, for want of something better to do. It’s ambitiously-priced at just under 10 Euro per adult, and while mildly amusing with some clever tricks it didn’t particularly hold my interest for very long. It’s not a large museum either, so after about half an hour I’d finished.

I’d been looking forward to doing the Communist Walking Tour, but I discovered that wasn’t running this early in the season. This was a bit of a let-down, because I’d been hoping to learn about Slovenia under Tito. I suppose it was a mixed blessing, as I’m not sure I could have stood the cold in the early evening.

I was in Ljubljana over a weekend, and, like Germany, things like supermarkets aren’t really open on a Sunday. Even on a Saturday they close at 7 in the evening. I hate this - they should display this on a giant sign when you cross the border. I’d counted on buying some food from the nearby supermarket for my evening meal, and had to have an expensive and lacklustre meal in a quiet restaurant instead.

Having had high hopes for Ljubljana, I was a little disappointed. The place itself is lovely, with some handsome buildings to look at, the people are friendly (especially after Ukraine) and almost everyone speaks English (apart from my Italian friends). I’d love to see it in warmer conditions, and would not hesitate to recommend it.

Just do yourself a favour, and if you’re coming on a Sunday bring sandwiches. Written on February 26th, 2018 by David Seddon