Eastern Europe

If the word Slovenia brings to mind slightly Borat-esque images of peasant farm wives with head scarves and beaten up Lada’s spluttering smoke along pitted roads: join the club!

We’d already eyed the check-in queue at Stansted and decided that the fresh faced, trendy youngsters and elegantly dressed older people were obviously tourist, who, like us, are gracing the impoverished Eastern European countries with our magical pounds. The fact that our entire 3 day break, including 5 star hotel, food, hire car and flights came to less than £120 p/p, is quite immaterial, thank you.

It was slightly disconcerting then, to discover during the flight that we were probably the only English speaking people on the plane. Oh well, we shrugged, obviously a few Slovenians that have cleaned up their act with corruption money or something!

We arrived at the airport in Slovenia, suspiciously sniffing the air: was that a whiff of cow dung in the air?I looked around eagerly for sombre soldiers wielding machine guns, but the only remotely fierce person was the cheery customs officer, looking for all the world as if his job was the best, funnest thing on planet earth!

Being a ‘culture vulture’ I’d book us a hire car from a local company, since that way, we could immerse ourselves into the ‘going local’ experience- and I quite fancied the idea of traipsing around in an innocuous communist block car…

Quite bewildered therefore, before the queues at Avis and Hertz even had time to shape, hubby and I were ensconced in a brand new Hyundai Getz, having been efficiently deposited there by a gorgeous (fresh faced, trendy) local agent who’d look more at home in an Abercrombie & Fitch store.

We set off towards our hotel (on the wrong side of the road ofcourse) and everyone else glided along on the manicured roads in the latest BMW’s, Mercedes and VWs.

Hang on a minute! We are in RURAL, EASTERN EUROPE! This is all wrong! Where’s the peasants?! The scruffy old man walking his donkey?

What is that HUM VEE doing here?!

By the time we reached the hotel, we were WELL gob smacked!

Fairy tale roads meander up the mountains, the sparkling sunshine glowing off trees. Picture perfect houses are nestled along the slopes – not one looked smaller than 5 bedrooms!
Along the way, an impossibly quant cottage with a beautifully hand carved sign, invited passers-by in for roasted chestnuts and wine.

At the gleaming, warm reception, yet another A & F-esque young man greeted us with bright enthusiasm and check-in was complete before my bum could even warm the luxurious leather sofa seats.

Yup – you’ve guessed it – the rooms were FABULOUS! Big fluffy, embroidered towels, crisp white linen and my personal favourite: downy, thick pillows.

I can go on and on about the extremely competent staff at the spa – the world class saunas and baths, the banquets of delicious, fresh, local food – but I wont.

You simply have to go and see it for yourself!