Slovenia and Croatia Story
Why Slovenia and Croatia? my hairdresser and other key members of my tribe asked. We’d been thinking about Croatia for a while with its dramatic coastline and Italian influence. When our Rick Steves book arrived, we saw he’d combined Croatia with Slovenia and kept reading. We decided to blend the two countries in our journey as well.
We knew little about these Balkan countries which until the 1990s comprised the northern part of Yugoslavia. Our mental images ran the gamut from today’s popular cruise destination to yesterday’s ethnic cleansing of Serbia and Bosnia.
ON OUR WAY
We layover-ed in Amsterdam where I once again found my people. If Jim isn’t at my side and I keep my mouth shut, I regularly get addressed by clerks and staff in Dutch.
We changed planes in Zurich, Switzerland where we assumed high airport efficiency, remembering their Swiss watches and famous work-ethic. Instead we encountered long sets of stairs for lugging luggage, absent elevators, scarce bathrooms, and a steep ascent from the tarmac for a free-for-all plane boarding. Jim and I are glad we still have the physical capacity to manage such surprises.
This reminded us of how 1950s dentists often situated their practices on the second floor of office buildings. The climb served as an assessment of a patient’s health before commencing any actual dental procedures. If you can pass the stair test, you’re fit enough for your root canal…or your flight to Slovenia.
THE FAIRY TALE TOWN OF BLED
We began our stay in Slovenia at the small lakeside village of Bled, sight of summer vacation dreams in the southern Alps—and where former Yugoslav Dictator Tito entertained international leaders and dignitaries at his massive villa. Picture Captain Von Trapp’s place with a Communist flair.
We rented a small chalet that would fit perfectly in Disney’s Epcot except it and all the other chalet here are the real thing. Bled’s hotels, on the other hand, resemble Russian office buildings from the 1970s, all massive and boxy ugliness. Think Heidi meets Lenin for the architectural combination in Bled.
Meta and her mother Ana Marija own our chalet and live in the main house next door. They named our quarters The Vintage Art House because of the paintings filling it, mostly done by Ana Marija and her uncle. We felt right at home, discovering drawings, portraits, illustrations and landscapes everywhere, including the closets, bathroom and front porch. We told Meta and Ana Marija how Jim painted his designs on our kitchen backsplashes and many of our interior doors. We bonded over our brazenness with household decorating, all in the name of art.
SLOVENIA’S GAIN FOR DEMOCRACY
After World War II, Russia drove Yugoslavia into Communism and it stayed that way until 1990 when Slovenia and then Croatia declared independence. The Communist Yugoslav army—their own countrymen—came hard for these defectors in their bids for democracy.
Fortunately for Slovenia, the United States showed support by flying jets overhead and the Communists backed off, letting them go after just ten days and with minimal bloodshed. The remaining Yugoslav countries and their upcoming struggles for freedom didn’t have it nearly so easy.
Only six years old when Slovenia declared independence, Meta doesn’t recall the time as particularly traumatizing. In the days prior to their escape from Bled, Yugoslav bomber planes buzzed nearby Ljubljana. The family feared that Bled would end up on the target list. They took cover in Grandma’s basement, with Ana Marija bringing along an ax for protection plus whiskey for emergency disinfectant.
Meta said that Communists like to target professionals and the educated as it makes it easier for them to control the rest of the population. Meta’s dad, a surgeon, would have been particularly at risk.
Meta and her family caught the last train out of Bled before the Yugoslavian army arrived, not knowing if and when they’d get to return. They took refuge with an uncle in Germany for a month. Meta said that the Communists surely would have decimated Ljubljana had the United States not intervened since Communists like to destroy cultural cities.
OFF-SEASON BLED TOURISTS
On our first full day in town, we strolled the perimeter of Lake Bled. Along the way we passed a construction zone with notices warning pedestrians of 160 euro fines for entering the work areas. We’d never seen such dictates for pedestrians before and assumed the restrictions referred to the actual construction site and not the road.
To bypass the construction, we walked in the one lane road regulated by a traffic signal. Off-season traffic allowed us to scamper through safely. Later we learned that our road-walking could have earned us that E 160 fine. Jim said during the Communist era, we might have disappeared to a work camp far, far away.
The next day we took a boat to the scenic church-topped island in the middle of the lake. Between WWII and 1990, Communist atheists shuttered the church, suspending the long tradition of island weddings. Today it’s back. Once again, grooms haul their brides up the 99 church steps as a show of their husbandly fitness; around 80% succeed.
On the lake promenade we encountered a gaggle of middle-school girls who beelined toward us. These exchange students from the Czech Republic had to complete a scavenger hunt task in Bled. They needed to create and perform a choreographed routine and videotape it as proof. We agreed to serve as their audience. Their short routine involved something approximating dance but mostly featured the wiggling of tens of fingers with a finale of tween leap-frogging. We applauded.
SLOVENIAN FAMILY DINNER
Besides our little art house, Meta and Ana Marija rent out rooms in their main home during high season. As first guests of the year, we were their only visitors. Normally they provide breakfast but instead offered to make us a traditional Slovenian dinner. Yes, please.
Meta cooked fairly hearty stuff related to the country’s long history as part of the Austro-Hungarian Empire—
Starter: charcuterie board of cheeses, sliced hams, olives, and bread with olive oil and a couple of spreads.
Soup: a light beef broth with carrots and homemade (by Ana Marija) thin noodles.
Main dish: mashed barley and mushrooms.
Salad: dandelion greens from their yard.
Dessert: strudel with cottage cheese inside and cinnamon sugar out.
Beverage: orange wine, a local vintage.
Meta and Ana Marija arrived at 6 PM and originally planned to stay just through appetizers and then leave us to finish dinner alone. But our conversation evolved such that, to our delight, they stuck around until 9:15 PM. We learned a lot more than you can ever get from a guidebook, even a good one. Rick Steves would never write “(Dictator) Tito was a bastard!” as Ana Marija said repeatedly.
As a school child in Bled, Ana Marija had to pledge her daily support for “Comrade Tito.” Teachers regularly asked their students pointed questions about their parents which could result in deep trouble for the family, such as what they did in the evenings and what they talked about. Catholicism had to be practiced quietly or you might get shipped to a work camp.
Before Yugoslavia turned Communist, the mostly-Catholic families of Slovenia followed a tradition of gifting oranges at Christmas. The Communists made oranges unavailable until the new year celebration of the Russian Revolution. They replaced Santa Claus with the Russian “Grandfather Frost.” (Or as Meta and Ana Marija call him, “The Grandfather Cold.”)
Bananas and coffee grew tough to get any time of year, though coffee wasn’t as of great a loss in Bled since they relate more with Austria than Italy. Ana Marija and Meta both reference the historical association and continued cultural influences of the Austro-Hungarian Empire above anywhere else.
The Communists maintained border controls with nearby Italy but people could still cross, though the guards tried to stop travelers from returning with smuggled items. Ana Marija knew of a local bike rider who regularly carried bags of plain dirt back and forth across the border, puzzling the guards. Only later did they learn that the dirt-carrier actually was smuggling bicycles, not dirt. In Italy, he’d swap out his cheap Yugoslav bike for a much superior Italian model, then ride it back across the border while the distracted guards obsessed over his bags of dirt.
People also found creative ways to smuggle in clothing and shoes. For example, they’d dump their Yugoslav pants in Italy and wear back three layers of jeans. Ana Marija explained that the guards did their best, but “it’s easy to be smarter than the Communists.”
Jim asked about the surrounding mountain ranges and Meta named and pointed them out. “Just over there is Italy.” Meta knew a Slovenian farmer who owned property at the border. His cows routinely crossed the line to graze. Wrangling them back each evening grew even more challenging during the Yugoslav war.
Ana Marija expressed anger and frustration at the modern lack of accountability for the damage done by the Communists and Dictator Tito. Today’s government decided to ignore the past atrocities in hopes that people would simply forget about them, despite the many thousands of Slovenians gone missing or murdered during and immediately following WWII.
A NON-PROPOSAL AT THE CASTLE
A castle overlooks Lake Bled, sheer drama on a sheer cliff. I booked reservations at the fancy restaurant there for lunch on our last day. Two Asian groups joined us, one with a couple of Buddhist monks.
Our solicitous and genteel waiter continuously referred to me as “the lady.” As we completed our meal, he brought me a long-stemmed tulip. (Jim noticed that he gave one to another female diner, perhaps as a thank you for us bothering to make our reservations.)
The waiter handed me my tulip as I checked the weather on my phone, but the table of Buddhists noticed only the ribbon-wrapped flower in my hands. They gestured towards us while nudging and whispering to one another. Then they started clapping for us. I considered kissing Jim across the table but it was too far a reach, so I held my tulip up and smiled dreamily at him instead. I didn’t want to burst the Buddhists’ own fairy tale experience in Bled. Jim had no clue about any of it.
LJUBLJANA, MAYBE MY NEW FAVORITE EUROPEAN CITY
In land mass, Slovenia approximates the size of New Jersey but with a quarter of the population. Its capital city, Ljubljana, has an urban design which incorporates beautiful historic architecture with sleek, modern features. It feels safe and we’ve seen no scammers loitering about, nor any crowds or trash. Young and old speak near-perfect English. Hotels and restaurants come with a reasonable price tag.
Ljubljana offers a bunch of smart museums and a thriving university with young people who energize the streets in the very best of ways. When you ask about the age for the senior discount at museums, they answer, “it’s whenever you stop working!”
A castle sits on a hill above a meandering river with dreamy bridges named for dragons and cobblers and butchers. The huge pedestrian-only city center provides green micro buses for older folks and anyone else desiring a free zip around the center.
Maybe Ljubljana is what Paris felt like during the Belle Époque period when artists and actors flocked to the City of Light, so filled with charm and culture yet still affordable. Now the creatives should just move to Slovenia, because today’s Ljubljana is what Paris imagines and wishes itself to be…but really isn’t so much anymore.
The city’s most beloved sons include a poet from the 1800s and an architect named Jože Plečnik from the early 1900s. You can find his designs and influences today throughout Ljubljana’s buildings, bridges, squares, parks, streets, promenades, libraries, churches, concert halls and public markets.
The Nazis controlled Ljubljana during World War II and sneered at Plečnik for his deep Catholic faith. Right after WWII, the Communists took over and hated him for the same reason. Both extremes prevented Plečnik from completing his urban designs. He last worked on a monastery dating from the year 1715, one which the Communists had recently closed. But even the Reds couldn’t deny Plečnik’s talent and hired him to refurbish the monastery’s courtyard into an outdoor theatre venue.
Plečnik placed a socialist hammer and sickle design in a prominent spot near the entrance to appease his employers, then slathered the rest of the space with Christian symbols such as grapevines, chalices and doves. The religious meanings probably didn’t register with the atheist Communists and it all remains intact today.
EASTERN EUROPEAN GREETING ETIQUETTE
I’ve heard that people from other countries find Americans unsettling with our easy smiles and hellos to strangers. Some find us fake. Others understand that unless you live in New York City, it’s simply our way.
When Jim and I walk on a slow day at our Minto-Brown Park in Salem, 98% of those we encounter offer an enthusiastic hello. If the paths get busy, that percentage drops proportionally as there are simply too many people to properly greet; perhaps you scale back with a gentle smile and friendly head nod. But if you pass someone on a quiet morning and they don’t greet you, you find them cold and frankly a little disturbing.
People seem to figure out these rules innately. Even our old yellow Labrador, Bailey, mastered our customs. If someone didn’t make eye contact, Bailey considered them suspect.
A couple decades ago we had a sketchy dude at our neighborhood park who appeared to sell drugs to high school students on their way home. He dressed cleanly but wore the same odd outfit everyday, his apparent “I am your pot dealer” uniform. He never met eyes with us as we passed. Bailey decided he was Satan and reacted accordingly.
He actually may have been the devil. We heard he was the guy who’d stabbed his mother to death as a teenager and got released as an adult. Later my mom saw him hanging out at her park and considered befriending him because she felt bad that he didn ’t have parents anymore, just like she felt sorry for the Menendez brothers because they were orphans.
Anyway, this brings to mind something I’ve noticed here in Slovenia, especially in the bigger city of Ljubljana. The Slovenia people have been warm and friendly to us in places such as shops, restaurants, and museums. Waiters take our food order with an enthusiastic “shall we?” But they rarely say hi, smile, or make eye contact with strangers on the street.
I’ve been doing exactly that on quieter pathways; I never get a response. A couple of times young children have stared at me in restaurants (I stick out here as a blonde and as an American) and I’ve instinctually smiled and waved back. At home the kids generally giggle and play peek-a-boo with me. Here they react like Bailey did whenever we’d encounter the mom-murderer.
So it turns out that I’ve been the creepy one in Slovenia. Lesson learned, behavior corrected. Until we get back to Minto-Brown Park, anyway.
I KNOW I’VE HEARD OF “SLAVIC”
We’ve noticed images of famous Slovenians often present as side portraits. Somehow this reminds us of Lenin, especially if the subject has a sharp nose and a sports a goatee. It got me wondering if these profiles have something to do with Slavic tradition? And what does Slavic mean anyway?
Turns out being Slavic boils down to three ingredients:
- Faith (Catholics on the west, Orthodox Christians on the east)
- Genetics
- Language
Slovenia’s language sounds pretty Russian to our ears which makes sense since they’re both Slavic. I don’t speak German but I can recognize it, and it sounds a lot different from Slovenian. From afar, German sounds like English to me, which makes sense since they share the same linguistic roots.
During WWII, Germany conquered Slovenia and divided it up into three parts: one for themselves, one for Italy and one for Hungary. Each of those Fascists countries tried to suppress the Slovenian language and culture as part of their take-over plans. They all failed. No wonder today’s Slovenians remain so protective of their literature and spoken word.
