Bled, Slovenia - Simply Breathtaking!

“Bled? That sounds a bit gruesome,” said Jodie when I first suggested the idea of visiting the small town in Slovenia, the most northerly of the former Yugoslavian republics. We were sat by the pool in Poreč, Croatia, and I’d just found out that a coach could pick us up outside the hotel and take us on a guided day trip to the alpine town of Bled.

   “I know, but the place looks stunning. And it’s really close to Croatia,” I answered. “There’s a lake and a castle near it. They look really nice.”

   But nice wasn’t an adequate adjective for how breathtakingly stunning Lake Bled turned out to be.

No words could. Even photographs could only come half way. But all of that came later. First we had to get up at the crack of dawn to board our coach for the three hour journey to Slovenia.

   Slovenia, lying between the Alps and the Mediterranean, is a small country dominated by mountains and rivers. Already accepted into the European Union due to its strong economy,  Slovenia’s national currency, the Tolar, is due to be superseded by the Euro in January 2007. But we had some in our pocket and I wanted to spend it.

 

 

Getting to Slovenia would involve our first overland border crossing. For this I was quite excited. All I could imagine were cold war films with spies attempting to get past the border police.

Turning to Jodie, I mustered up my most Soviet-sounding accent and moved close to her ear. “You have zee papers well hidden? The striped stork will fly at midnight.”

   “Have you heard what you sound like?” said Jodie shaking her head. We’re going to Slovenia not bloody Belarus.”

   As it transpired, getting past the Slovenian border was no hassle at all. The coach stopped, a uniformed woman got on, and she wandered down the isles looking at everyone’s passport. No one was thrown off the coach, and as we sped into Slovenia, I was thankful I’d hidden the microfilm so well.

   The view outside soon began to change. Mediterranean scrub made way for conifers and hills.

Before too long we were in an alpine scene straight from The Sound of Music.

    “Welcome to Slovenia,” said our guide for the day, a twenty-five-year old Croatian woman called Ivanah. “And let me tell you some things about this country.”

   We all listened as Ivanah told us about why Slovenia was the richest of all the former Yugoslav countries. It was to do with the war, apparently, or rather the lack of it. “This war only lasted ten days in Slovenia, so most of the infrastructure stayed intact. No buildings were destroyed. People could carry on with their lives. And this is good. The country you are visiting is especially beautiful.” From what we could see outside, she was indeed correct.

   About two hours into our journey, we passed through Ljubljana (pronounced Loobiana) the capital of Slovenia.

Always somewhere I’d wanted to visit, I was quite sad to see it passing by so quickly, but less than an hour later, we arrived at our destination, the alpine town of Bled.

 

 

Bled lies in the Julian Alps, just thirty kilometres south of the Austrian border. It is one of Slovenia’s prime tourist destinations, primarily because of its large lake formed by a glacier thousands of years ago. The natural beauty of the town and its surrounds has meant the rich and famous have often stayed in Bled. In the 19^th century, it was the Austrian empire’s finest health resort. When Yugoslavia was ruled by the communist Josip Tito, he made Lake Bled his personal place of retreat, often meeting Heads of States and actors from around the world there. Even Prince Charles has stayed at one of Bled’s world class hotels.

   “First I take you to the castle,” announced the guide. She gestured out of the window at a spectacular sight. The castle seemed to be perched high upon a rocky outcrop, flanked with lush conifers. If a dragon had suddenly appeared with a hobbit strapped to its back, it would not have looked out of place. “We will drive most of the way up, but then we will walk about a hundred metres. It will not be too difficult. And the view from the top will take your breath away.” 

   Ten minutes later, my breath was being amply taken away by the walk up towards Bled Castle. But others were finding it much harder. The woman just in front of me was wheezing and panting like a rabid horse. But we all made it to the top without incident. And Ivanah was correct, the view across the lake, with a panorama of the Alps just behind, was simply breathtaking.

Picture postcard from every angle we cared to look.

   The water was a beautiful turquoise hue, and it was easy to spot Slovenia’s one solitary island at the far edge of the lake. Later we would be visiting the island, but for now, Jodie and I wandered around the castle, taking in the views below.

   Although Bled Castle has enjoyed its thousand-year-old birthday, much of it was actually built in the middle ages. It was also extensively renovated between 1951 and 1961. Today, the castle is home to a museum and exhibition centre.

   “We got married here fourteen years ago,” said a man to my left.

We were standing at the castle’s edge, a fine vantage point. His wife was by his side, and a small boy stood between them. “It’s just as beautiful as it was then. And did you know that Slovenia is the only country in the world with love in its name. From here, it’s not hard to see why.”

 

Half an hour later, we were back in the town of Bled to wander around by ourselves. After a spot of lunch, where I spent some of my Tolar, Jodie and I rejoined the tour group for the trip to the small island in the middle of Lake Bled.

   Getting to it involved a very pleasant trip in a gondola-type boat called a pletna. As we set off from the shore, the boatman climbed aboard, taking up station at the back, and begun rowing us softly towards our destination. It was all very tranquil, and as we approached the island, Ivanah told us some interesting facts about it.

   “The island has ninety-nine steps leading up to the church,” she explained. “And it is a custom here in Bled that during a wedding, the husband must carry his bride up the steps, while she remains silent.” The guide stopped, pausing to look at the island a moment. “Also, there is a legend about this place. Hundreds of years ago a rich woman donated all her wealth to the church. Her jewellery was melted down to make the church bell. When it was finished, they began to put it in the tower, but unfortunately, the bell became dislodged and rolled into the lake where it sank. The legend says that if the wind is just right on the lake, then the bell can be heard below the surface playing a mournful song for the dead woman.”

 

After reaching the island, we began the climb up the steps.

They were not as bad as first feared, although I wasn’t carrying anyone up them. At the top we could see the Assumption of Mary’s Pilgrimage Church.  Dating back to the tenth century, Jodie and I strolled about its exterior before going inside. It was small but beautiful. We gazed at the altar, with its golden statue of Mary above a bed of roses. Sat in pews were a few people deep in prayer. They didn’t seem to mind that a bunch of British tourists had just invaded their peaceful sanctuary.

   Once back across at the mainland, we took a short coach trip to the centre of town. Ivanah then led us through a shopping arcade towards a large outdoor cafĂ©. It was time for the cream cakes. Bled is famous for its vanilla-and-cream cakes, and we all had one each. Mine was delicious.

   “Don’t worry,” said Ivanah, noting the looks on some women’s faces.

“These are not like your cakes back home. They are…how do you say it…lighter. Try it and see. They taste amazing!”

   Mine was already gone. Jodie at last tried hers, lingering over it for far longer than I had. “Mmmm, these are nice!”

   Our trip to Slovenia was over. It was time to go back to Croatia. But from what we had seen, it was a place we’d try our best to return back to one day. Lake Bled in winter must look truly magical. And only an hour away from Ljubljana, it could be done…