Slovenia Serendipity
I confess, I'm a meticulous planner. When I embark on a journey, I plot my course months in advance—choosing the perfect hotel, the top-notch restaurant, crafting the ideal experience. Planning imbues me with the confidence that every moment, every calorie, every opportunity is well spent. I don't often leave much to chance.
However, I've always been in awe of those who relish in serendipity and spontaneity during their travels. The kind who just pack up and go, devising their adventure on the fly, letting the day's whims guide them. They possess a liberating flexibility, even if it means missing out on a fully-booked restaurant or hotel. To them, the magic lies in the unscripted moment.
So, there I stood, facing a vast, empty stretch on my calendar between bidding farewell to my temporary digs in Rome and heading to Mexico. A departure from my usual meticulous plans, I had no return ticket to the USA and no concrete plans. My initial inclination was to wander through Europe towards the UK, and then hop across the pond.
A dear friend, Lootie, and I had arranged to rendezvous as she began her new freebird lifestyle, much like mine. We chose Milan as our starting point. With just a few days, a jaunt around Lake Como seemed only fitting—neither of us had explored here before. Surprisingly, it turned out to be much more accessible and charming than I had envisioned. I had anticipated a domain of the wealthy, akin to a sanctuary for the Clooney types dwelling in $100,000,000 villas. But Como revealed more heart and soul.
Next up, Friuli had been on my mind for a long time. I’ve been to nearly every region in Italy except two: Friuli-Venezia Giulia and Trentino-Alto Adige. With this sense of serendipity and freedom in the air I decided to make my way to Trieste, a lovely seaside town nestled in the northeast corner of the country.
Trieste is very charming, albeit larger than I had imagined. It has a great centro with an aperitivo culture that rivals Rome. It sits on the sea, so eating was splendidly pescatarian. And it’s smack next to Slovenia. In fact, you can throw a stone to the border. And so I did. I embarked on a day trip to Piran, a charming town perched on the slender slice of coastline that Slovenia claimed after the Yugoslavia breakup.
To be honest, I knew very little about Slovenia. Beyond Luka Dončić and Melania Trump, my mind drew a blank. If you asked me to pronounce Ljubljana, the capital of Slovenia… well, you try it and see how that goes. Let me know what you come up with. To me, this presented a challenge and an opportunity. I love exploring new places and I had some time. To hell with meandering to the UK. I set out to see what’s what in the little Slavic country.
I arrived in Ljubljana (pronounced lube-lee-ahn-ah btw), a mere hour from Trieste, and found myself in a world that felt culturally Alpine, more akin to Austria and Switzerland than anything Italian. The city is adorned with meandering pedestrian streets—were cars even allowed here, or had everyone decided to abandon them? Bicycles filled the lanes, colorful buildings painted scenes from a picture book, and grand plazas adorned the landscape. Green spaces were plentiful, and the city seemed incredibly livable.
In fact, I stumbled upon two, that’s two, food festivals during my brief stay. Paint me green and call me a pickle! And get this, there was global cuisine. After a month in Italy, the falafel at Abi Falafel was an Oasis. They had a shop and a stand at the Odprta Kuhna, a weekly festival for local chefs and kitchens. Of course I had to go back to the festival for the Argentinian Steak that night.
The following day, I decided to book a food tour on Airbnb Experiences and when I showed up, two things happened: (1) I encountered a loud and large group of Americans clearly waiting for the guide, and (2) I passed a massive international festival with booths for every country offering food and crafts. Without a thought, I spun on my heels and dipped before the guide could identify me and made a beeline for the Thailand booth for some larb gai. Then Egypt, Turkey, Ukraine (the USA was there serving brownies and boxes of Kraft Mac-n-cheese, I shit you not).
Over the course of the next week, I made a loop into the countryside, starting at Lake Bled. While the lake was stunning, it was a lot more built-up than I expected. There are casinos and big hotels mixed with very charming chalets and family-run restaurants. You can rent boats to visit the island and church in the middle of the lake, but paddle board and kayaks were finished for the season. Boo. I ended up eating one of the better Neapolitan pizzas I’ve had outside of Naples at a place called Špica Restavracija.
The highlight of the trip for me was heading up into the mountains to the town of Bovec. This is the adventure center of Slovenia. Rafting, hiking, cycling, climbing… all surrounded by craggy peaks and verdant foothills of the Julian Alps. I will definitely be returning here to backpack and ride the rivers. I was a little too late in the season for much more than some waterfall hikes, but I loved what I saw.
What’s crazy is that it’s just another hour drive at the end of the loop and you’re back in Italy or even on to Austria. The open borders whiz by multiple times as you motor down the winding mountainous roads. Everything is just so close. And now, here I sit in Gorizia, preparing to drive back to Milan for my flight tomorrow (and just had another Neapolitan gem of a pizza at Pizzeria Zero81).
What I learned from my time in Slovenia is that there is something to the serendipity of travel that I’ve avoided, under the right circumstances. I qualify that because I am not going to Rome and missing out on Roscioli or Brooklyn and Lucali (book line dudes) or LA and Felix. But…for the first time in many years, I went without a plan. And damned if I didn’t enjoy the discovery and present-moment of it all. I have to confess that game-day Slovenia was the right call and I may just be adding a little more freewheeling spice to my nomadic life in trips to come.