Legendary Ljubljana
This is a city best savored step by step due to all the pedestrian walkways — sans vehicular traffic.
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This is a city best savored step by step due to all the pedestrian walkways — sans vehicular traffic.
Spot them all The Triple Bridge, one of the several bridges in the old town.
Aged by the elements The pink Franciscan Church of the Annunciation.
Obelisk to the sky The Robba Fountain.
Floating by The riverboats cruise along the Ljubljanica.
National poet The Prešeren Monument.
The relief of Julija Primic, the unrequited love of France Prešeren.
A porcelain shop.
Ljubljana. At first read, the name appears daunting, with all those consonants strung together. “And with two unwanted letter Ls, it just adds to the confusion,” complained a not-so-amused travel buddy. But the ever-so-excited locals will gently guide you with a smile: lyoo-BLYAH-nah.
The old part of town of Slovenia’s capital city is rather small enough to navigate on foot. And yet, it is large enough to surprise with its trove of open spaces and busy squares, bridges and fountains, cathedrals and churches, and monuments and legends.
Tucked by friendly bordering countries, namely, Italy, Austria, Hungary, and Croatia, Slovenia combines the trademark Alpine freshness with Mediterranean warmth — a balance we instantly felt.
Oh yes, this is a city best savored step by step due to all the pedestrian walkways — sans vehicular traffic — all this, on foot. So off we went!
The Ljubljanica River snaked through the old section, dividing and connecting it at all once. Our tour guide informed us 17 bridges were within the city, each with its own distinct history. Most famous was the Triple Bridge, redesigned by national architect Jože Plecnik, who flanked the original 19th-century stone structure with two elegant pedestrian bridges. The Dragon Bridge, Ljubljana’s Art Nouveau gem, opened in 1901 as one of the first reinforced concrete ones in Europe. Its four green copper dragons — fierce and photogenic — are now the city’s guardians.
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Smaller crossings include the Cobblers’ Bridge, where medieval shoemakers once sold their wares. The cast-iron Hradecky Bridge was a rare survivor from two centuries ago. Beneath most of them, almost hidden, stairs led to public restrooms below river level — an odd yet practical detail we cannot forget.
Going back to the dragon, it is, in fact, everywhere in Ljubljana — on bridges, in shop signs, and even on edible souvenirs shaped into pastries and chocolates. According to myth, the fabled Jason and his Argonauts once stopped here after slaying the dragon in the marshes and stealing the Golden Fleece. The beast endured, however, not as a harmful menace but as a loving symbol, immortalized as the city’s protector. The creature has been embraced so completely that it now dominates the Coat-of-Arms and has become Ljubljana’s unofficial mascot.
The stroll took us into Prešeren Square, where the salmon-pink façade of the Franciscan Church of the Annunciation anchored the view. The color is more accident than intent. When first painted, its walls blazed a deep red, the official shade of the religious order. Over time, sun plus the elements softened the pigment, leaving today’s gentle pink.
Right in front of us stood the bronze statue of France Prešeren, Slovenia’s national poet. Almost across from him — but from a distance — on the façade of a building is a relief of Julija Primic, his muse and unrequited love. We soon learned that residents often likened them to William Shakespeare’s Romeo and Juliet — except theirs never became a couple. Instead, their eternal dialogue is frozen in bronze and stone — their gazes forever interlocked.
A short walk brought us to St. Nicholas Cathedral, its mint-green dome and Baroque towers rising above the rooftops. Unfortunately, it was closed — the celebration of the Holy Mass was over. But its impressive bronze doors compensated for it. Created in the 1990s for Pope John Paul II’s visit, the west door illustrated 1,250 years of Christianity in Slovenia. The south door portrayed Ljubljana’s bishops. The sculpted reliefs were packed with familiar saints and unfamiliar solemn faces.
Wandering further, we reached Mestni Trg, the Town Square. There stood the Robba Fountain — or more accurately, a replica of the obelisk-like piece, since the original was moved indoors to the National Gallery in 2006 to save it from weathering. The Baroque masterpiece by Francesco Robba depicted three male figures pouring water from jugs, which symbolized the rivers Ljubljanica, Sava and Krka, as well as the three regions of historic Carniola. Surrounding the Town Hall, cobblestones set in varied patterns crunched underfoot, which transported us to centuries past.
Closer than nearby, the Central Market buzzed with life. Out in the open stalls, chatty vendors displayed bouquets of fresh blooms, crowns of dried flowers, jars of honey, wheels of cheeses, varieties of nuts, and various seasonal produce. The air shifted between floral and earthy. The ladies of our group gravitated towards inviting shops of handcrafted porcelain and artisanal chocolates — the type to bring about over-debated purchases to add to already heavier luggage, but gladly to lighter hearts.
Not far away, the slow and serene Ljubljanica called our attention again, this time animated by riverboats, which glided silently under its bridges.
Though not everything to see in Ljubljana lay above eye level. With cones of gelato in hand, we glanced down to a surprise. Some streets were inlaid with patriotic quotes in gold lettering. Perhaps this is Ljubljana’s way of integrating literature to their daily lives.
As our feet grew weary, the city offered an unusual kindness: small forever-on-the-move compact electric vans, mainly for seniors, persons with disabilities, and others who need assistance, all complimentary. Whisper to the coach captain your desired destination, and he’ll take you there!
Evening called for a proper Slovenian dinner, and Šestica Restaurant more than delivered. Established in 1716, it is Ljubljana’s longest-running gostilna, a traditional tavern which caters hearty local fare.
Waiters in eye-catching national attires served us platters of Slovenian cold cuts, their very own cheeses, stews, steaks, along with domestic wines. We imagined their wooden interiors held centuries of narratives, yet the atmosphere was welcoming and warm. The very name, Šestica, or “number six,” hinted at continuity, having survived centuries-long regimes, sweeping empires, and devastating wars.
Finally, as darkness settled, our eyes were drawn upward to the Ljubljana Castle — perched atop a wooded hill, glowing with soft night lighting. From where we stood, the towers gleamed like guardian fortresses, a fairy-tale crown to the city. It was simply the perfect ending to an active day spent on foot.
Ljubljana is an enticing city which invited us to wander — across bridges, into markets, onto cobblestones that spelled out poetry, and along a storied river where dragons rested and boats drifted. It was small enough to see in a day, but rich enough to linger for weeks on end. And as we are certain on future return trips, there will assuredly be more secrets to unearth.
