CRF: The Best of Slovenia

"CRF" is not a crime show you've never heard of, it stands for "Cutting Room Floor." It's been more than a year since we returned from Europe, and we've started to get seriously nostalgic.  To give us all an extra travel fix, we're posting some of our favorite photos that never made it onto the blog.  Here are our favorite unpublished memories and pictures of Slovenia - truly one of our favorite countries.

Slovenia held a special place in our heart years before this trip and we were a little worried about tarnishing it.  You see,  it was the first "weird" place we had ever travelled together.  Our former trips included the post-collegiate trifecta of France, India and Amsterdam.  One of us had read an article about Slovenia in a magazine and the idea of the place stuck (along with Lake Baikal in Siberia, which seemed a little less doable).  We went, in 2006, without knowing how to pronounce the name of its capital and came back its biggest ambassadors, dubbing it "The Vermont of Europe" and encouraging everyone we knew to visit.

It was both more "European" than we'd expected (what does that word mean anyway?) and quirkier than we could have imagined (a doormouse museum?).  It felt like a discovery, a magical place.  One day we were driving through foliage that could rival New England, the next we were eating shellfish on a blip of Mediterranean coast.  There were gorges and caves, castles, horse burgers.  Our farm stay had a pet bear, the capital had parking spots dedicated to electric cars ("way back" in 2006) and a Sunday flea market that finally served up that slice of Slav we were expecting.  Revisiting the country, after traveling to places even further afield, we worried it would feel…. predictable.  Or, dare I say, average.  And then, this happened...

The water caves of Križna Jama are special.  They really are.  They are that solitary, unknowable, ancient thing that lurks at the edges of human existence.  There are human remains in the entryway that date back ten millennia.  One travels for hours by headlight, in blowup rafts, past the oldest of earth's rocky bones.  There are creatures there, in those depths, that exist literally nowhere else in the universe.  No more than eight people a day are allowed in.  All of this, accessed through a rock in the deep Slovenian forest.  By some wonderful twist of fate, our guide was a photographer himself and the photos he prompted us to take are some of our favorites of the trip, inextricably linked to the memory of snapping them.
When we're asked that inevitable question - "what country did you like best?" - we have no idea what to say.  Phrased: "what was the most memorable experience you had?" the answer would be easier.  Križna Jama is the experience we call up when we mean "unbelievable."

The Slovenian karst is full of caves - there's the theme-park-like Postojnska jama and the outlandish cave-castle of Grad Predjama, with hundreds of other caverns in between - but there is none to match the grandeur of Škocjanske jame.  We've been twice, but photos aren't allowed in the main caverns, so we never blogged about it.  This is a picture of the exit, which actually feels small at the end of the tour.  Notice the full-grown trees being dwarfed by the archway.

The main cavern in Škocjanske jame is so large that standing inside, with the lights off, feels like standing outside on a dark night.  You can hear a river flowing, a hundred feet below the walkway.  You feel damp cave-breezes and gusts.  It's the largest enclosed space you can imagine.  A friend brought along on our second visit was nervous.  "I'm claustrophobic," she explained, logically reasoning that this would make spelunking unpleasant.  Škocjanske jame conjures the exact opposite feeling.  All you feel is the expanse, your own smallness.  You feel anything but trapped.  You feel like you're on the edge of something that is somehow even bigger.  

At the very top of Rogla Ski Resort, in the Zreče region, we came across this funny group of schoolchildren filing onto a down-slope chairlift.  Even though it was midsummer, it was cold and blustery in the Julian Alps.
We had hiked up from the endearing, bizarre deer farm that we were staying at, Tourist Farm Arbajter.  Our hosts cooked us venison dinners and gave us homemade borovnica (blueberry schnapps).  We loved it there and promised to return with our family one day.

Slovenia's glamor spot is lake Bled.  It's the Slovenian stuff of postcards.  The rolley-bags outnumber backpacks and footwear gets noticeably less clunky.  It's easy to see how one could be content dropping in on Bled and being whisked back away without ever setting foot in the more rugged landscape surrounding it.  Retirees rent rowboats by the hour.  Young, fashionable people sunbathe on the grassy shores.
Slovenia is very much a tale of two lakes, Bled and Bohinj.  Both are beautiful, but we actually prefer Bohinj, nearby, which has zero luxury hotels.

At some point in our trip, we began taking photos of local candy.  It's the little things.  These were a cross between Necco wafers and hole-less life savers.  We just liked the packaging, really.

We considered doing a post about the unusual and emblematic Slovenian roofed hayracks (called toplarji), but never got all the pictures we wanted.  Here's an old toplar surrounded by modern digging equipment.  It's not easy to find prime examples of the old Slovene way of life, because the country doesn't dwell on its past.  History in Slovenia has been relegated to the national parks, culinary tradition, a few quaint castles and their excellent museums.  Everyone looks forward.

Despite its diminutive size, Ljubljana (pronounced "loob-lee-yah-na") easily feels the most modern of the former Yugoslavian capitals.  It's demeanor mirrors the national spirit: lighthearted, friendly, unpretentious.
Slovenia was the first republic to gain independence from post-Tito Yugoslavia, and there wasn't much violence during the breakaway.  Compared to Bosnia, Kosovo, Serbia or even Croatia, the country has few scars and better memories.
We love this red picture of a tiny, communist-era Zastava (nicknamed "Fičo" in Slovenia and "Fikjo" in Macedonia, where we posted about them) against a high-tech construction site. About a block from here, we saw a tractor pulling bales of hay through downtown Ljubljana.

Like Slovenian food, Slovenian wine is pretty basic.  It's also cheap, tasty and plentiful.  For a while, we were working on a vini-post that didn't get finished.  It was going to be about the vineyards of the Vipava and Štájerska regions, but we never got the cornerstone picture or experience that a good piece needs.  It was still fun to try.
We took this picture at a  courtyard "vinotok" in the colorful wine town of Slovenska Konjice. Underripe grapes hung from an arbor over our heads.  If it had been September instead of July, we probably would have had a great, boozy post.

We're still crazy about Slovenia.  Comparing it objectively to its neighbors, it might seem a little boring.  It has nothing to rival the history and cuisine of Italy.  It's mountains aren't as impressive as Austria's.  Ljubljana doesn't hold a candle to Hungary's Budapest, and it's tiny bit of coast is barely a blip next to Croatia's sprawling seafront.
But Slovenia has a bit of everything, and also possesses maybe the most pleasant vibe of any European country.  It's always at the top of our list of recommendations - especially because of all those caves
To see all our posts from Slovenia, just click here.
To see all the Cutting Room Floor posts, with great pictures from the other 49 countries, just click here.

The Water Cave

Križna Jama is unlike any place we've ever been - it's beautiful and enchanting, but the experience is much more than just passages and caverns. It's a water cave - the longest in the world - and very difficult to visit. Navigating the deep lakes and streams, floating on still, glass-clear lakes and surrounded by utter silence, we slipped into a kind of trance.
There's an open, dry section near the entrance, where it's possible to take a one hour tour that culminates in a short boat ride. If you book in advance, it's possible to visit thirteen of the fifty lakes that stretch back along the current. This longer tour takes about four hours, and was more than worth the effort and time. Coming back along the route, the first few caverns seemed over-traveled and somewhat boring; after the wonders of the lakes, the earthen caves seemed like dirty holes, covered in footprints.
The way into the far reaches is dark and clean, without any electric lights and with barely any mark of humanity. Because these waterways are so special, the Slovene government has limited the number of visitors to four per day - on the day that we went, there would be only the two of us and Alojz Troha, our guide. In between the waters, we walked along carefully pointed out paths, where the rock was hard enough underfoot. In deeper pools and small puddles, crystals have formed over the millennia, which can be destroyed if touched or stepped on.
It's cold in the cave, with a constant air temperature of about 45° and colder water to slog through. In the dry section of Križna, visitors on the short tour are given galoshes and powerful flashlights. For the extended tour we wore jumpsuits and sweaters, rubber boots and three pairs of socks, helmets and bright headlights. Neither of us were cold, except for our feet - walking through near-freezing water between spells of sitting motionless in a boat was too much even with so much insulation. We lost feeling after about the first hour, and felt our toes for the first time after we'd already gotten in the car.
Most of the lakes are separated from one another only by a thin strip of stone or by a small hump of sandy rock. Alojz carried the boat over these obstacles and we walked, being very careful to step in the right place. When we were in the water, the gurgling of the small rapids often died away completely. The silence was punctuated only by the sluicing sound of Alojz's paddle, and by our own voices. Sometimes a drop from above made ripples on the surface, occasionally a spring made a faint gurgle as it surged up from below. Alojz has been coming into the caves since 1978 (he grew up in the nearby village and his family owns the woods surrounding Križna Jama), and he told us old stories about early explorers and the old times.
Alojz was excited about my camera and was enthusiastic about having me take pictures. A photographer himself, he had a number of vantage points already planned. He was fond of leaving me on a shore (usually a narrow ledge, half in the water) so that he could paddle out and give the photo some sense of scale. Also, he liked to push Rebecca out alone in the boat, telling her where to paddle and where the best places to pose were. Lighting was very difficult given the darkness. The three of us cooperated, shining our headlights in different directions, illuminating different parts of the wall and water. Before I left, he told me that I should come back with a tripod - "not to take as many pictures," he said, "but to take a few very good ones."
We saw a number of cave fauna as we went - little black moths on rocks, tiny shrimp and invertebrates in tiny pools, wormlike things making trails in shallow silt. One nearly transparent thing with a pellet of bat guano on it's back swam in strange figures in an eddy - Alojz became very animated about this and told us that we had struck the jackpot. Even though all of what we saw was tiny, its assortment was amazing. Križna Jama is the fourth most bio-diverse cave in the world, according to some estimates.

At one point, our guide rescued a small white thing from the water. "This is our mistake," he said. "The boat washes animals from the walls, where they wait for food in the water." He initially thought the little thing was dead, but then it moved in his hand. "Ah," he said, "it is not too late." He carefully deposited it on a low ledge beside the surface and we moved on.
The end of the tour is a giant, stalagmite and stalactite-filled hall where two currents converge in the darkness. We got out here and lingered for a little while, looking at the amazing dripstones and mineral curtains. It had taken us about three hours to make it to this point, though we had been moving slowly and stopping often. Here, we felt as though the world didn't exist beyond this chamber - the sun and the breeze ceased to be realities, like in the deepest corner of a dream. We stared at the dripping features while Alojz looked under rocks for centipedes.
The journey back took only an hour. We didn't stop and our guide paddled much faster. Emerging from the cave, I was surprised by something. The transition from dark to light wasn't especially striking - our headlights had been bright. The sense that suddenly became overstimulated was that of smell. The air inside the cave is sterile and still; the scent of woods and life was overwhelming as we walked out from the entrance. For a few moments, it seemed that I could smell an exact snapshot of Slovenian summer, but it was fleeting.

If you would like to go on the short tour, it costs 7€ and lasts about an hour. The longer tour costs 130€ per boat - the maximum number of people per day is (again) four. Advance booking is necessary: you can call 00-386-41-632-153, or e-mail at krizna_jama@yahoo.com. A one hour tour is possible without any advance booking, and leaves four or five times a day from the little shack near the entrance.

Castle Hunting: Grad Predjama

Slovenia isn't really known for anything, but if it were famous for something it might be for caves... or for castles. This tiny country has a fair number of the latter and a huge number of the former. It only makes sense that the two would be combined into one entity: the great Grad Predjama, in the southeast region of Notranjska. With an interesting history, a magnificent location and a very unique feature behind it, Predjama is one of the strangest and most fun fortresses we've visited. Above, the cavern behind the castle, which served both as a secret passageway and as a refuge during sieges.
The castle is built into the side of a cliff, which otherwise would seem like an indefensible position with easy attack points from above. In this case, though, the wall above Predjama is cantilevered out enough that the structure is almost entirely overhung by rock. This accounts for the narrow shape of the structure; in order to protect the walls from missiles launched from the top of the cliff, it was necessary to make the contour of the wall fit beneath the hollow. Interestingly, the roofs of Predjama rarely get wet because it is so well protected by the overhang.
The forward defenses are fairly standard, with high, strategically elevated walls and only one narrow point of entrance. Behind Predjama, though, is an entrance to the huge Postojna cave system, which stretches for miles through the karst of this region. A well guarded, little known passageway extends from the castle some fifteen miles to Vipava, a vineyard town to the north, and a source of much needed supplies. In 1483, the knight Erazem Lueger was besieged in the castle after he killed a relative of the Austrian emperor in a duel. The siege lasted for over a year, and the Austrian army was confounded by the fact that Erazem was able to supply his defending forces with fresh food for so long. At one point, in the spring of 1484, the knight sent a barrage of fresh cherries over the wall to taunt his attackers.
Another strategic advantage of the cave is the constant supply of fresh water that seeps from the stalactites in the rear chambers. The near constant flow made a well unnecessary and forced modern keepers of the castle to build a drainage system (visible above) to catch and remove the water from the cavern.
The original detachment bridge that spanned the gap to the approach path has long since been stoned up and made permanent, but the old chasm between castle and solid ground would have been very difficult to cross. In the later stages of the castle's defensive history, it became increasingly vulnerable to gunpowder ballistics, which could be arranged very easily across the valley from the walls. It's extraordinary that Predjama was able to survive mostly intact until the present, but that has more to do with diplomacy and obsolescence than modern effectiveness.
An overly-satisfying tavern with heavy food and a castle theme sits close by to the walls - our lunch was filling and presented to us on wooden boards, which was charming. It can be difficult to reach Predjama without one's own car - there are buses but they are sporadic and require many changes and a long walk. Despite being one of Slovenia's major tourist sights, the castle remains only somewhat touristy, with a smattering of visitors and a very rural setting. It's very much worth seeing though - this is a castle unlike any other that I know of, with more quirks and corners than many larger, more visited piles.