What a Week in Slovenia Taught Me

When my friend Jen and I booked our flights to Slovenia, we had only our first two nights hotel reserved and a return flight home booked.

Everything else was a question mark.

For two women who normally appreciate a good plan, this felt equal parts exciting and irresponsible.

As it turns out, it was one of the best decisions we made.

The idea for Slovenia came years ago while I was watching an Air Canada travel video. An image of a small island church sitting in the middle of a turquoise lake appeared on the screen. Surrounded by mountains, it looked like something between a fairytale and Lake Louise.

I never forgot it.

So when it came time to choose our next adventure, Slovenia found its way back into the conversation. At the time I said let’s just go to an all inclusive… Jen corrected me and said… no Lisa we do epic trips! I was grateful for her redirection. She was right! We do!

With a connecting flight through Zurich, one of my favourite airports, and arriving into the quaint Ljubljana Airport, we grabbed our bags and our rental car and we hit the road. Driving was easy and we were surprised by the individual curbed lanes on the roundabouts- but that encouraged us to intentionally slow down and let go of our need for speed.

In only 30 minutes we arrived at Lake Bled.

The water was even more beautiful than I imagined.

Nestled in the Julian Alps and carved by a glacier thousands of years ago, the lake glowed in shades of turquoise and emerald. It is spring and I was slightly concerned that the scenery wouldn’t look like the images I remembered seeing. At first sight I immediately let that concern go.

This lake is a hub of activities! There were prom grads in their formal wear posing for the Gram, and wedding parties posing to capture their own magic moment by their chosen part of the shoreline. While teams of rowers cut through the water with precision – this lake has hosted many world championships. I smiled at the fishermen walking the path in their matching outfits – I don’t see many professional fisherman where I am from – I liked their fit, perhaps the fish will too?

Couples, families and solo travellers lingered on benches just watching the afternoon unfold. It felt alive.

Normally, I try to take photographs without people in them. This time I quickly realized that would be impossible.

More importantly, it would be wrong.

The people weren’t interrupting the scenery.

They were part of it. That became a theme of the trip.

We had no detailed itinerary. Instead, we spoke with locals, followed recommendations, and let curiosity guide us. A spiritual crystal artist at a small market said something that stopped me in my tracks:

“We make our own magic in our lives.”

I couldn’t have agreed more.

The further we travelled, the more that simple sentence proved true.

Magic wasn’t something we found in Slovenia.

It was something we participated in.

The following day, while Jen slept, I woke excited to watch the sunrise and immediately went out to our balcony to see how Lake Bled looked on a Sunday morning. That morning was a beauty. My tired eyes still adjusting to the light, I was greeted to the sound of rowers gliding across Lake Bled before the church bells had even begun to ring.

The water wasn’t quite as smooth as the day before. Gentle ripples stretched across the lake, giving the athletes something to pull against. A cute little bird landed nearby, seemingly as interested in the morning’s activities as I was.

I sipped my cup of instant coffee that tasted exactly like the coffee my dad used to make. Funny how travel can transport you across the world and back home again in the same moment.

There are two very impressive landmarks on this lake.

One is the small island that holds a beautiful small church. The island itself is reached by traditional wooden boats called Pletnas. Similar to a gondola but unique to Lake Bled, they are rowed using two oars and have a fabric canopy. What I found most interesting is that becoming a Pletnas Oarsman isn’t simply a job. The profession has been passed down through only twenty-two local families for generations.

Imagine explaining that career path to your high school guidance counsellor.

As the boats crossed the lake throughout the day, carrying visitors toward the wishing bell, I couldn’t help but admire how traditions like these are still protected and celebrated.

This church has 99 steps to get to the point of entry and the wishing bell. For luck, grooms are to carry their betrothed to the top and ring the bell and make a wish – I will bet that their wish was usually wishing the bell was at the bottom.

The other landmark is Bled Castle, perched dramatically on a cliff overlooking the lake.

Dating back more than a thousand years, it is considered the oldest castle in Slovenia. Commissioned by Emperor Henry II in the early 11th century, it has stood watch over the lake through centuries of change.

I was eager to see what Slovenia would share with us in the days ahead. Feeling excited without a solid plan is part optimism and part faith.

Breakfast at the hotel felt like an event in itself. Floor-to-ceiling windows framed the lake. The lighting was soft enough not to shock tired eyes. The friendly staff dressed in suits greeted us warmly before we toured ourselves around to choose the many offerings . Fresh pastries, local cheeses, juices, and more food than any reasonable person could consume filled the room.

There was even a wine dispenser. I was far more excited about this than I should have been. The children eagerly pressed buttons for orange juice while I quietly admired what I considered to be a masterpiece of breakfast engineering.

The sun was warmer than expected, and despite both of us realizing we should probably change into shorts, neither of us wanted to waste precious time. So we carried on.

Again and again throughout the trip, we chose experience over comfort.

Along the shoreline we watched rowing teams prepare for competition. Families strolled and admired the swans while cyclists passed the horse-drawn carriages that carried visitors around the lake.

Only a few minutes into the walk we spotted the trail leading uphill toward Bled Castle. My first instinct was to skip it. It was hot. We were already walking.The castle looked very high – not eye level from my balcony like earlier this morning.

But what is the point of travel if not to occasionally do the thing you don’t feel like doing?

So up we went.

The climb was steep enough that conversations became limited. We exchanged knowing looks with people descending the path, their expressions carrying a distinct “been there, done that” energy as we huffed our way upward.

The reward, of course, was worth it.

Perched high above the lake, the castle offered sweeping views of the Julian Alps and the turquoise water below. It was one of those moments that reminds you why effort often enhances an experience rather than detracts from it.

The view had to be earned.

And somehow that made it better.

Back at lake level, time seemed to behave differently. Hours disappeared without our noticing. We talked. We walked. We wandered- suddenly we were back at the hotel wondering where the day had gone.

We walked the entire lake.

We were sweaty, tired-the good kind, and feeling rather pleased with ourselves – we reset before heading to a nearby chocolate festival.

If you’ve never attended a Slovenian chocolate festival, I can confidently report that moderation is not the objective. Many award-winning chocolatiers were eager to have you sample their incredible creations!

With each chocolatey treat we bit into or sipped we gave my husband Jamie high praises for the recommendation. Before we left, Jamie did a quick google search and sent us a few ideas of some things that were happening while we were there. One of them happened to be a chocolate festival 10 minutes from Lake Bled. Honestly, once we saw the words chocolate festival, the decision was made.

Chocolate wine. Chocolate desserts. Chocolate covered anything and Chocolate-dipped everything. Our ticket for entry was buying a prepaid chocolate visa to use for tastings and purchases!

There was live music, children’s games, and crowds of people enjoying a beautiful spring afternoon.

It reminded me of our local Maple Syrup festival in my hometown.

Eventually the sky decided we had enjoyed enough chocolate.

The rain arrived. Fast.

Locals huddled beneath tents while a band continued playing Bob Marley as though nothing unusual was happening.

When we finally made a run for the car, we were soaked within seconds and laughing the entire way, holding onto our precious chocolatey treasures.

Fortunately, we had booked Thai massages later that afternoon. Travel and adventure is hard on the body so recovery is equally as important.

I have never regretted a Thai massage. This experience only reinforced that position. By the time we finished, I felt taller, stronger, and capable of breathing through parts of my rib cage I wasn’t entirely convinced existed before.

The day continued with a visit to the hotel spa where we learned an important cultural lesson.

Apparently, in Slovenia, swimwear is not allowed in the sauna. It is considered unhealthy.

Let’s just say there was a brief period of adjustment, followed by a freeing mindset of YOLO. Free to be me!

Truthfully, I should have been better prepared. I learned this lesson years ago in a steam room in Zermatt, Switzerland while skiing with my other travel friend Jenny. There, visibility was limited to about six inches and I made the unfortunate mistake of leaning forward. I can still remember the sensation of my forehead being gently brushed as a naked German man wandered past searching for a seat in the dense steam.

Travel broadens the mind.

And occasionally your comfort zone.

Feeling slightly more experienced this time around, I was confident Jen and I had the sauna to ourselves. Then a fellow hotel guest walked past the glass wall. Apparently, he had not received the same instructions from the front desk.

All I remember is Jen quickly saying, “Incoming.”

I sat upright and the look of shock on my face perfectly mirrored the look on the face standing on the other side of the glass.

Oh boy.

How we laughed.

That evening brought one of my favourite memories of the trip.

With restaurants beginning to close for the night, we hurried out in search of dinner. My hair was still wet from the spa. We had no reservation and no backup plan.

A recurring theme by now.

We stumbled into a beautiful restaurant where the welcome felt immediate and genuine.

The food was exceptional. The orange wine was even better.

Small complimentary tastings arrived unexpectedly throughout the evening. The sommelier delighted in sharing local wines and seemed genuinely thrilled that we were interested in learning about them.

We encouraged this behaviour. Enthusiastically.

Hours passed. The staff stayed long after closing.

Music played while they prepared the restaurant for the following day as Jen and I carried on enjoying our dining experience.

Friendly debates about songs emerged. At one point a track came on that neither Jen nor I cared for. The waiter laughed and promptly changed it.

Somewhere along the way we stopped being customers and became guests. When we finally left, we had recommendations for the next stage of our trip, a gifted bottle of wine, and the feeling that we had just experienced something impossible to plan.

One thing Jen and I repeatedly noticed and appreciated throughout the trip was the extraordinary hospitality we received.

Tables seemed to appear when none were available. Conversations lingered. Recommendations flowed freely. Waiters seemed remarkably willing to improve our day.

We eventually stopped trying to determine whether this was simply Slovenian hospitality or something else entirely.

The truth is, I think people were responding to our joy and positive energy.

We weren’t networking.

We weren’t trying to impress anyone.

We weren’t performing.

We were simply having fun.

Somewhere along the way we had stopped worrying about how we are being perceived and started fully participating in the experience.

The older I get, the more I believe that kind of energy is magnetic and so freeing,

As women, we spend so much of our lives taking care of others, managing responsibilities, solving problems and keeping everything moving. On this trip, we weren’t trying to be anything for anyone.

We were simply ourselves. And perhaps that’s why the connections felt so effortless. The very best travel moments usually happen that way.

Our next stop was Lake Bohinj.

The drive was only twenty-five minutes, though I almost wished it had been longer.

The roads in Slovenia are simply fun to drive.

For someone from Northern Ontario, where a three-hour drive barely gets you to the next major centre, the entire country felt wonderfully accessible.

Mountains.

Lakes.

Forests.

Skiing.

Excellent food and wine.

Talented artisans.

Friendly people.

Roads free of pot holes!

Everything I naturally gravitate toward seemed to exist within a few short hours of each other.

Bohinj was exactly as I had hoped. Our hotel was warm, modern and very hospitable.

It was also my future daughter-in-law’s birthday, and I was determined to FaceTime with her from the top of a waterfall to wish her a Happy Birthday. She will learn, if she hasn’t already is that her future mother-in law will always try to do something extra special for the people she loves.

Five hundred steps later, slightly out of breath but victorious, we celebrated from one of the most beautiful spots imaginable. I am grateful Julia and I could share the experience together.

The cooler temperatures were a welcome change.

The sauna and spa experience that followed was equally memorable.

This time we followed the rules.

Progress.

I will admit that communal European saunas can feel unusual at first.. especially after my last experience. Yet after a while something shifts. Everyone simply exists as they are.

There is something surprisingly freeing about that.

By the time we left, both Jen and I felt restored.

But Slovenia wasn’t finished surprising us.

On our drive toward the coast we stopped for coffee and a bathroom break.

Looking out the window, we spotted a sign for Predjama Castle.

Together we said – “Let’s do it!”

Predjama Castle appears to grow directly out of the side of a cliff. It is both fascinating and slightly unsettling.

Jen loved every minute of exploring the hidden rooms and passageways. I, on the other hand, found myself standing in the torture chamber trying not to laugh from nervousness.

There is something deeply disturbing about seeing instruments of torture located conveniently beside a dining room- not how I design.

Dinner and a show, I suppose.

Now not every decision during the trip was perfect.

One hotel near the coast looked far better online than it did in person.

Years ago, I probably would have convinced myself to stay. This time I didn’t.

We left and that small decision felt surprisingly empowering. There is something satisfying about refusing to settle when you know something isn’t right.

Fortunately, that choice led us to Piran. And Piran was magic.

Our tiny hotel overlooked the sea. Croatia stretched out in one direction. Italy sat beyond the horizon in another. By sheer luck, the rooftop bar had just opened for the season.

We watched the sun sink into the Adriatic while sipping Hugo spritzes and wondering why more people weren’t talking about Slovenia.

My first introduction to the Hugo wasn’t actually in Slovenia. It was in Italy a few years earlier when my sweet friend Anna suggested I try one.

I’ve been a fan ever since.

Light, refreshing, and perfect after a day of exploring, it has become one of those drinks that instantly transports me back to Europe.

Some people collect souvenirs. Apparently, I collect cocktails.

We loved the area so much that we booked a signature sea-salt scrub massages and extended our stay another night.

My massage therapist may have had the strongest hands in all of Slovenia.

I emerged feeling like a newborn baby.

Relaxed, exfoliated and somehow several years younger.

If she had suggested I book another appointment immediately, I probably would have.

Piran is a special town. There were seaside walks, endless restaurants and small streets to explore, a marina and most importantly many opportunities to enjoy long afternoons watching the water – and wine that somehow tasted cleaner and brighter than anything I had experienced before.

The slower pace suited us.

No rushing. No schedules. No pressure.

Just curiosity. And trust.

By the time we arrived in Ljubljana, our final stop, I had completely surrendered to not knowing what came next.

The city unfolded one discovery at a time.

Beautiful bridges with riverside cafes, art galleries, and clothing stores inside remarkable architecture.

A castle that seamlessly blended old stone with modern design. Each corner seemed to reveal something unexpected.

On our final evening, Jen and I settled into a riverside wine bar.

We were tired. Happy. Grateful.

Recapping a week that had somehow felt both endless and impossibly short. At some point I noticed an elegant woman sitting alone nearby. She looked to be in her eighties. Stunning, poised, with her bright red lipstick = something she and Jen had in common. She was enjoying a glass of wine and listening to the music.

Comfortable in her own company.

I had noticed her earlier. She had clearly noticed us too.

The waiter asked if there was any music we wanted to hear. Instead of answering, I suggested we ask this lovely lady in an effort to connect with her. The music quickly became irrelevant. Within minutes we were deep in conversation. She was a widow. She told us stories about her life and her husband. They had spent years visiting this very place together.

There was laughter.

Shared memories.

Questions.

Honest connection.

The kind that appears unexpectedly and yet feels entirely natural. By the end of our conversation she was inviting us to visit her vacation home by the sea. Three women from completely different backgrounds, generations, and countries sitting together over a glass of wine.

It felt like the perfect ending or perhaps the perfect reminder.

The most memorable part of travel is rarely the attraction.

It isn’t the castle. Or the waterfall. Or the perfect sunset.

It’s the people.

It’s the conversations we never expected to have. The invitations. The shared laughter.

The moments that could never appear on an itinerary.

We arrived in Slovenia with one hotel reservation, a return flight, and no real plan.

Only a few days earlier, the crystal artist at the market had said something that stayed with me.

“We make our own magic in our lives.”

Sitting there with Jen and our new friend, sharing stories over a glass of wine, I realized she was right.

Not because magic simply appears. Because we participate in creating it.

By saying yes.

By talking to strangers.

By climbing the hill.

By changing course.

By staying an extra day.

By asking the widow what music she wanted to hear.

We left with sore legs, new friends, favourite wines, unforgettable memories, and a deeper appreciation for what happens when we stop trying to control every moment. Sometimes the best way to discover a place is to allow it to introduce itself to you.

And sometimes, if you’re lucky, you discover a little more about yourself along the way.

Thank you, Slovenia

As the sun slipped below the horizon, I noticed two people standing in front of the same breathtaking view.

One was deep in conversation on his phone.

The other appeared to be photographing the sunset.

Same tool. Different connection.

One was connecting with someone miles away.

The other was connecting with the beauty right in front of him.

It reminded me that technology isn’t always the distraction we make it out to be.

Sometimes it pulls us away from the present. Sometimes it helps us share it.

The real question isn’t whether we’re connected.

It’s what we’re choosing to connect to.