Capital Cities and Colossal Caves

With my trusty Patagonia backpack, green shoulder bag, and drawstring bag in tow, I walked to the Plitvice bus station and caught the Flix Bus to Zagreb, the capital of Croatia. As we drove into the city, I was impressed by the amount of green space, especially along the river. The luggage storage service at the bus station was a tiny window in a grungy wall, easy to miss if it weren't for the conveyor belt in front. I watched as my two larger bags were swallowed up, freeing me for the afternoon.

I had planned a 5 hour bus layover to get a quick sample of Zagreb, and wasted no time in heading out. At first, I was on guard being in an unfamiliar city, and didn't really stop for photos even though the architecture was quite pretty. But once I reached the center of town and started seeing other tourists, it was easier to slow down and enjoy. The streets of the Lower Town were quite wide - very pedestrian and bike friendly. Blue streetcars glided through the main intersections, briefly obstructing the gorgeous Hapsburg facades. I continued walking into the Upper Town, where the streets became narrower and the buildings were smaller, cuter, and more colorful. Zagreb is placed on a hillside. It's steep enough to have a funicular, but not enough to break a sweat while walking.

For lunch, I went to a Sri Lankan street food restaurant that was highly rated. I ordered their signature dish, kotthu, a tower of shredded roti and chicken with a ladle of sauce on the side. It reminded me a mofongo, the dense plantain cake. The kotthu was heavy and had a disappointing lack of flavor. After washing it down with a Lion beer, the best part of the meal, I continued the walk.

One of the sights that peaked my interest in visiting Zagreb was the Museum of Broken Relationships. It featured a set of artifacts, each with a caption (often a short story) about a failed relationship or lost loved one. While the museum was much smaller than I expected, it was definitely worth the visit. The entrance had an interesting blurb about the premise, explaining that our cultures recognize rites of passage like funerals and graduations, but lack ways to recognize other kinds of emotionally significant endings. Some anecdotes were quite humorous, others tragic, all poignant. They also covered a huge range of tones. Some were bitter, frustrated, perplexed; others grateful, wistful, tongue-in-cheek, matter of fact. It was a unique lens into the human condition. Apparently the museum does temporary installations in other countries, and when they gather local submissions, they find echoes of the area's history, such as the effects of war. I wouldn't be surprised if the concept takes off in other places, it was very impactful and touching.

No particular destination in mind, I walked past some street art, a cathedral under renovation, a few parks, a shopping mall, and ended up stopping at a cafe by a pretty roundabout. They had an amazing lemonade, with fresh juice, elderflower syrup, and mint. I was dehydrated and had two. But alas, that was all the time I had to spare in Zagreb.

On the next bus, I dozed off for a few minutes. When I woke up, we were at a rest stop across the border, already in Slovenia. I processed this fact while the driver had a quick dinner and the other passengers smoked.

It was dark when we arrived in Ljubljana, the capital of Slovenia. I walked to the hostel, knowing it was in an area known for street art, but one pedestrian alley was really something. Large metal scaffolds like a grotesque play structure, a defaced Roman looking sculpture ironically placed amidst graffiti covered brick walls, including a giant image of a rat carrying a city on its back, and small groups walking along the dark periphery. After an uneasy minute, I turned the corner and found the Hostel Celica. The hostel used to be a prison, so the room layouts were a bit unconventional, but it was nicely decorated with a colorful exterior and cozy interior. I ducked out for a quick falafel plate. I returned to check out the hostel's Tuesday "jazz" night in the common area, but it was quite crowded and the show was more of a multimedia experience than a musical one, so I headed to bed instead. I had the top bunk near the apex of the roof, with a funky little wooden staircase up.

The next day, I took a train from Ljubljana to the small town of Divaca, the launching point for seeing the Skocjan Caves. The day started out cold and foggy, but it cleared up along the 1.5 hour ride, revealing green hills dotted with country houses. From the sleepy Divaca station, it was a 40 minute walk through town streets and quiet trails.

The trail reached a viewpoint, and as I approached the rail, my jaw dropped. Below was an enormous sinkhole (called a doline), going down hundreds of feet, with bridges and a river giving it a sense of scale. It was coated with trees, giving it a deceptive impression of continuity with the landscape, despite being an anomaly formed by two collapsed caves. An innocent church perched at the top seemed unaware of the abyss below.

Not far was the visitor center. I stopped there for a gourmet lunch: pork fillet with apple and gorgonzola. Dessert was a traditional Slovenian cake called gibanica, a layered tower of apple, cheese, and nuts. The tour itself began very unceremoniously, with a single shout of "1:00 tour, this way!" before a wordless 10 minute hike down to the cave entrance. But once we entered the cave, our guide began to explain more.

The Skocjan Caves are around 6km long, with an underground river running through several passages. There is a narrow part called the siphon that marks the end of the caves, but the river itself continues for a total of 34km, reappearing in Italy. Our tour route covered about 2km, which is a quite a distance to comfortably walk underground! Surprisingly, photos weren't allowed. At first I thought it was to protect the cave animals, but later found out it was for our own safety, as there were lots of trip hazards and slippery spots. It gave me time to appreciate and absorb the experience. Here's my attempt at conveying it.

The first phase of the tour went through the Silent Caves, named for their lack of a river (though historically this was the river's exit, before it changed course). The edges were covered with hundreds of waxy looking stalactites and stalagmites, like the ceiling was melting at an infinite number of discrete points. One cavern lacked these "dripping" features, and the guide explained the roof had collapsed recently, in the geological sense, creating a blank slate. The next cavern was unfathomably large, and the second jaw dropping moment of the day. Thousands of black stalactites, full of iron or manganese, boldly contrasted with the lighter limestone backdrop. It was so enormous and awe inspiring, my eyes watered. Few places in the world have made such an impression. In the center was a gargantuan single stalagmite, about the size of a two story townhouse, but still dwarfed by the ceiling above. Continuing on, we passed a formation that looked like an organ, and apparently sounds like one too because stalactites are hollow. Nearby was another formation where the stalactite and stalagmite were a centimeter from touching, but would take another hundred years to finally meet!

The tour continued into the Whispering Cave. As we stood at the entrance we could hear the sounds of the river in the distance. The guide explained that during heavy rains, the siphon can be blocked, causing the caves to rapidly fill, and pointed out the max level it had reached - right where we were standing. Later on the walk, this would seem impossibly high, like filling a sports stadium up to the nosebleeds. In a dramatic flourish, the guide powered up the lights inside the Whispering Cave, and a band of light appeared on the opposite wall, revealing the path ahead like a Harry Potter movie. But as we entered, it was another fantasy series that came to mind: Lord of the Rings. It felt like being inside the Mines of Moria. The river had carved a deep canyon, so deep it was difficult to see below. Spanning the canyon was a narrow bridge, evoking the bridge of Khazad Dum. I never expected to experience a fear of heights while underground - I was expecting claustrophobia! Abandoned rock staircases and bridges from obsolete tour routes haunted the corners of the caves, further channeling the Mines of Moria energy. At one point, the guide offered to turn off the lights so we could experience the cave similar to the original explorers. As we stood in utter blackness, my main thought was fascination and horror at the fact the guide's phone could even control the lights (what if she dropped it?) We continued walking in the opposite direction of the river's flow, gradually getting close enough to see the banks and the piles of lumber that naturally get carried inside. Finally, we emerged into the daylight of the sinkhole that I had seen earlier from above.

The tour ended, and the various groups went forward at different paces. I went slower, savoring the main sinkhole, crossing underneath the land bridge for views of the other sinkhole, and finishing the steep hike back to the visitor center. Trying not to sweat all over the gift shop, I bought a few postcards showing the interior of the cave, and started the walk back to the train station.

The other Slovenians on the train seemed very friendly with one another, and I wish I understood what was happening. At one point, a can of beer was passed from one group to another and opened; some snacks were traded in return. Back in Ljubljana, I had some greasy burek for dinner, and hung out in the hostel's common area. I was gradually joined by other travelers, first some Australians, then some French guys, a few Brits and Americans too. Everyone was on a different journey. Some like me had quit jobs (including a nurse and a cook), others were scouting potential places for a future move, and one guy was "funemployed" (recently laid off and living on severance). Everyone was in good spirits and it was a really nice evening.

At breakfast, I ran into some of the same folks. Luik from France, Andy from Australia, and a new addition, Mar from the US. We spent the morning hanging out in Ljubljana, first on a self guided walk along the river, and then on a free walking tour with a guide, Peter. Downtown Ljubljana was extremely charming. The architecture was a highlight, mix of Baroque style from before the 1895 earthquake and Hapsburg style from the rebuild. Slovenia is proud of its prominent architect named Plecnik, who designed the iconic Triple Bridge in the heart of town, among many buildings throughout the region. I also liked the dragon motifs throughout the city, including a Dragon Bridge with four fierce green dragons on the corners. The origin of the symbol is its association with St. George, the patron saint of Ljubljana. A green dragon appears on the city's flag, standing above a castle on a hill. Nowadays, the dragon symbols are everywhere! On garbage trucks, on beer logos (including the hilariously named "Loo-Blah-Nah" Brewing Co), and of course, plushie dragons on every street corner.

After the tour, I had lunch with my hostel friends at a traditional restaurant. I tried a heart barley soup with klobasa (sausage), and some of the sweet rolls that the others ordered but didn't like. We also sought out gelato, and walked alongside the river. I didn't have time to linger and see the castle, but it was still a wonderful spontaneous morning. Ljubljana hadn't been on my radar as a destination itself, but turned out to be a hidden gem.