postcard 4: welcome to slovenia

adventures in Lake Bled

To tell you the truth, I’m not sure I could have picked Slovenia out on a map six months ago, but when we decided to move to Croatia, we heard over and over again that Slovenia’s beautiful mountains shouldn’t be missed. Google Maps tells us it’s going to take three hours to get to Lake Bled so we buy a toll pass and head north on Saturday morning.

Over an hour in, I'm clutching the oh-shit handle in the rental car, the winding mountain roads pressing on my still-sore tailbone from every angle. Topher slams the brakes and backs up to let a driver coming the opposite direction on the narrow road get by and I’m starting to suspect that Google has led us astray. This can’t be the main route north, can it? Finally we hit the blessedly smooth highway but it doesn’t take long for the route to veer off onto side streets to avoid traffic. We follow the map into a construction zone and suddenly there is no road at all and we turn around, waving our apologies at the befuddled workers. This happens again and again and again and I eat our picnic supplies in silence as Topher attempts to navigate confusing and closed streets. When we pull into Lake Bled six hours after leaving, we’re exhausted and grumpy. There’s a giant spider on the hotel ceiling and we remind ourselves that this is an adventure. Topher attaches the TV remote to a shoehorn with a hairtie and smashes it, and we head out to explore

Tucked into the foothills of the Julian Alps, Lake Bled is like something out of a fairytale. A castle perches on a hill, overlooking the serene blue waters. Tourists paddle row boats out to an island where they ring the bells in the church tower overlooking the water for good luck. The chimes are this town’s constant soundtrack.

Coming from the Adriatic Coast where we’ve still been swimming in the sea, the swift transition to autumn is almost jarring. Leaves crunch under our feet and flutter down from the trees. The man at the hotel told us that Slovenians curse in Croatian, since their bad words sound funny, and to try the local specialty, Bled Cake, at a bakery in town. We believe him on both fronts and find ourselves eating massive slices of custardy cake topped with powdered sugar. It’s delicious and fuels our walk on the path around the water.

Every break in the trees reveals another stunning view and my camera shutter won’t stop clicking. Since he was right about the cake, I convinced Topher to follow the hotel man's other advice and visit a viewpoint above the lake. We take off into the woods and immediately start climbing a steep slope over slippery tree roots. “He said it’s a 20 minute walk,” I assure my little family but 10 minutes in we’re sweating and struggling up a natural stairmaster. Topher is not amused as I keep assuring him “20 minutes” in a terrible Slovenian accent. After pulling ourselves up to the summit via chains, we look out at the lake with the dozen other people also huffing and puffing at the top and decide that the pretty boardwalk along the shore is a better view.

Bundled in our puffies because there’s finally a chill in the air, we duck onto a vine covered terrace and order pesto pasta and fried calamari. Slovenian food, like Croatian, seems to be a combination of Italian and lots and lots of grilled meat. There’s no complaints from us.

There’s bell-clad cows in a pasture next to the trailhead parking lot but thankfully we’re on the correct side of the electric fence this time. It’s Sunday, which we’re just learning means everything is closed here in the Balkans. We manage to find a vending machine along the road in a tiny town we pass through that dispenses weak macchiatos and we're ready to tackle our hike. The leaf-littered trail leads us into a gorge and we start to catch glimpses of Gatorade-blue water far beneath us in a canyon carved through white stone. We peer down 60 feet from a beautiful stone bridge and Hazelnut takes this opportunity to practice the balancing skills she’s been honing on Europe’s stone walls. I catch her just in time and haul her back to the ground, adrenaline spiking through my veins. Silly dog.

The water tumbles through slots and over funny shaped rocks, forming waterfalls and alcoves and pools at every turn. It’s breathtaking and we celebrate with burgers and beers on a patio back in Bled. We ignore Google this time and the drive really is only three hours back. This won’t be the last time we visit Slovenia.

Working late into the evening zaps my energy amidst publication deadlines and hiring at work. Every chore or errand really is an adventure and it's exhausting but we feel like we’re starting to log little wins. We buy a duvet and a baby mattress for Hazelnut to use as a dog bed. I find recipes I can cook with Croatian ingredients in our tiny, ill-equipped kitchen and we take pictures of the Roman arena in the morning light, eating halal kebabs overlooking the water. The language is finally starting to sound a little familiar.

dobar dan,

Mikaela