Vienna: There be dragons

 Resisting the urge to title this "Oh, Vienna" or "Waltzing through Vienna"

St Stephen's Cathedral

Only the adventurous make international travel plans in 2021. Well, OK, going over the open border to Austria, the stakes were pretty low. There was one thing we were gambling on, though: that the rule stating that over-6s needed to have a negative test to visit many venues in Vienna, would be dropped for the school holiday period. It was not, but we vaccinated adults didn't let our son's discomfort get in the way of a family holiday.

To be honest, I have overlooked Austria as a travel destination, as it never really sparked interest. Somehow, it did not click with me that VIENNA WAS THE CAPITAL OF THE AUSTRO-HUNGARIAN EMPIRE, even though I spent a lot of time studying said dynasty in school. But about ten minutes of internet research got me really excited about visiting.

We stayed in our usual sort of shabby-chic city apartment close to happenings in town - across the road from the underground and trams, and a few stops into the main tourist area. Also, literally next door to a Covid rapid testing centre.

I'm not going to comment too much on coronavirus restrictions, because hopefully you will read this in happier times, but, for reference, the Viennese were far more (although not universally) strict about checking our "papers" as our eldest termed it, compared to attitudes here in Slovenia. Rules for private attractions were also, strangely, stricter than for public ones. 

This was a short visit, and we chose a destination for each morning and afternoon of our full days there (Tue-Thu). I think in retrospect, we should have had at least an afternoon or morning to stroll or hang out in a park. To be honest, I'd been hoping our hyper-organised eldest child was going to produce a holiday spreadsheet for us, but she got busy, so we only got about 3/4 planned. Anyway, as opposed to a blow-by-blow account of each day, here are the highlights of our itinerary, in order.

Aquarium (Haus des Meeres)

(Don't ask me how to pronounce any of these names. I steadfastly refused to even think about it because I still have so much trouble with Slovenian.)

The aquarium was first on the list, partly to console the six year-old for having a stick shoved up his nose. It's built inside an old flak (anti-aircraft) tower, a pretty ingenious interpretation of "swords into ploughshares". This means twelve floors of exhibits, plus some amazing views of the city on the way up. Defintitely worth the price. The main draw for us were the Komodo dragons (on the 9th floor) and the gila ("heela") monsters, but we saw some pretty cool exhibits on the way up. On several floors, they have tubing going around the walls in which you can watch a colony of leafcutter ants going about their work. There were also some of the biggest anacondas I have seen, thankfully looking like they had just been fed. The open monkey enclosure was pretty exciting - you get to walk bridges and climb among monkeys, birds, and fruit bats! - I love bats! Only one phone got pooped on by our flying friends. Going one up on fish petting, they also had a tank full of doctor fish, where you could stick in your hand for a fishy manicure. We thought that was so cool that when we got back home, we went to a fish spa in nearby Piran and all got pedicures.

Why are you all lined up, taking my photo?

Saint Stephen's Cathedral

Like Milan's cathedral (so maybe there is a trend going), you could only access part of the cathedral as a tourist unless you paid or were attending a service. We had not planned for that, and would have had to wait too long for the option that interested us - a trip to the vaults - so we opted to leave and visit the  Imperial Crypt instead. On departing, I could not help but reflect that the cathedral now stands smack in the middle of Vienna's upmarket shopping area.

Imperial Crypt (Kapuzinergruft)

If you are a history buff, or like contemplating how "the paths of glory lead but to the grave", this is for you. Row upon row of ornate sarchophagi housing the remains of four centuries of emperors and empresses. Maria Theresa, of course, has one three times as big as all the others (she made sure of that before she died). They are apparently guarded by Capuchin monks, so we were a little disappointed not so see robed, hooded security here. Also, for lovers of history or old films, there is the tomb of Crown Prince Rudolf - remember Mayerling with Omar Shariff? Rudolf and his young mistress were found dead at Mayerling in an apparent suicide pact (the truth is still a mystery). The line of succession had to change to his uncle, father of the fated Franz Ferdinand, whose assassination launched the First World War. Also, there are enough skulls, skeletons and weapons decorating the sarchophagi to keep a small boy relatively interested, but only with the promise of cake to follow...

The rewards for Covid testing and boring crypt visits

Demel cafe

We went for one touristy experience that we knew might be overpriced: Vienna's eighteenth century cafe, and one of the places that lays claim to the invention of the sachertorte. Even in these times of Covid, there was a queue, but not long enough for total rebellion on the part of the small and hungry (i.e. all of us). As a bigger party, we were lucky enough to get a seat inside to enjoy the decor and see the bakers at work, when most people were being funnelled to the smaller outside tables. The drinks and food (including sachertorte, of course) were tasty - but served with plastic strips around the slices of cake, which rather detracted from the elegance. Also, the service experience was not as advertised online, and they make you pay at the till so that you have to walk through their shop. Call me snobbish, but it's exactly the same as has happened with Fortnum and Mason - now a parody of itself. But we are still glad we tried it. (Website.)

The Natural History Museum

On a par with London (not quite as big, and not multiple shops to strip you of money as you walk around). It has an animatronic allosaurus to scare and delight your little ones, part of a good dinosaur collection. The gemstone and mineral and the early human exhibits were pretty notable, too - who doesn't like staring at huge lumps of gold and shiny things, or human skulls? But we were dubious about having to walk through several rooms devoted to reducing waste. Middle child and I also spent time in veneration of the Venus of Willendorf. However, by this day two, Alcuin had cottonned on to the fact that he was getting lots of treats as compensation for having to be tested, so he started pushing to get to the gift shop pretty early in. It took some persuasion to prolong his education and make for the loot, but even we had to agree that we didn't have the stamina to see the entire upper floor. In his defence, most of us also bought stuff (yes, I have a mini Venus of Willendorf on my bookshelf now). And his (directed) choice of a tube of dinosaurs made for fun for the whole trip, and many a prehistoric battle across restaurant tables. (Website.)

Imperial Treasury (Kaiserliche Scahatzammer)

Not top of my list, but on my husband's and eldest's. If you like splendour, then you can ooh and aah at the imperial and ecclesiastical riches of the empire. Or spare a thought for the work that went into all that embroidery. We also spent a lot of time pointing out ceremonial weapons and reliquaries (body parts keep kids interested) - especially fun were the ones that were 'coded' with the saint's method of martyrdom. I was going to say that we escaped the gift shop, but then I remembered the red feather pen... (Website.)

Spanish Riding School

No, not even in Covid times, did we manage to get affordable tickets to an actual performance, but went for the popular and much cheaper morning training session (1 hour). The riders are still in costume, and you get commentary, so it's worth it. So was the chance to sit down after two days of walking. It did not occupy our youngest as much as we thought it would, but at least he didn't realise there was a gift shop. When you book tickets, be aware that the seating plan makes it look like it is all tiered, whereas the upper rows are in a balcony, so you don't get a 100% view of the arena (though close). And remember, the original stud farm is here in Slovenia, in Lipica, and well worth a visit.

Any by the way, if you're wondering why my descriptions are flagging as I go on, it's reflective of the fact we were wearing ourselves out, plus the memories are starting to blur.

Upper Belvedere

There are three museums in the Belvedere complex, two of which are part of a former palace complex, and the other is a Modernist building (the Lower Belvedere is currently shut for renovation).  We opted for the Upper Belvedere because of course you have to see the Klimt collection, even if The Kiss is ubiquitous. We arrived by tram, and enjoyed the tour of the city (OK, Alcuin complained a lot because he wanted to ride the underground - he'd evolved some ritual about the journey). There was almost a crisis when the children's activity material we promised turned out not to exist, but an audio guide saved the day, combining art and maths.  I admit to liking Klimt's Cottage Garden with Sunflowers best of the paintings on display. And of course, the museum houses (one of several copies of) Napoleon on his rearing horse.  Somehow we managed to persuade Alcuin to share a gift of Klimt origami paper with a sibling. I admit to a Cottage Garden with Sunflowers notebook just because. Fun and freedom afterwards running up and down the terraced Castle gardens.

Kunthistoriches Museum

This is the equivalent of the British Museum. It was the last morning, and we probably pushed ourselves too much, trying to do one last thing instead of heading home. But it was also Ted's birthday, so he got in free (and got a discount in the shop). Also, hurrah for a free children's audio guide. Sadly, a lot of the ancient civilisation exhibits that we wanted to see were closed for renovation. I went for the Breugel the Elder paintings, though, and was not disappointed. However, after about an hour we met in an exhausted heap on a bench, ready to go. We used the shop discount on a Breugal puzzle, which looks hard enough to tax our failing eyesight in the winter evenings. Update - I took so long to write this post that we did the puzzle - it took about a week of neglecting other tasks.

Somehow, we forgot to visit the Butterfly House, which was on our initial to-do list. Still, I expect we'll be back, though Salzburg is the next Austrian city on our list.

I thought I'd round up with favourites and tips from the family, since we're multi-generational. 

Me. Favourite: for intellectual satisfaction, the Venus of Willendorf and Breugel, but I have to admit that the aquarium was really fun. Tip: take time to hang out, even if you think you want to see it all.

Ted. Favourite: Dragons and monsters (Komodo and Gila). Tip: Be aware that Google Maps will not show you all the parking garages, and there is some cheap parking (see below); also, consider the Museums Card if you intend to visit a lot of them.

Eldest (20s). Favourite: Klimt collection in the Upper Belvedere. Tip: take the underground (subway)

Middle (teen). Favourite: Venus of Willendorf. Tip: have some basic German phrases, e.g. entrance, exit, train station, "May I have..."

Youngest (6). Favourite: Komodo dragon, of course, plus almost limitless loot. Tip: I'm guessing he'd say, milk parental guilt for all it's worth.

Our experience was that the main tourist areas were still quite busy, but step just a street or two away, and it was almost deserted. I recommend bringing a young adult who is used to negotiating maps and transport online - we just followed her around, and got on and off trains and trams as commanded.

Touristy stuff - I don't have specific recommendations, because there are lots of options depending on what you want to do, so I'd suggest making a list and then seeing what transport and sight-seeing offers are best for you. The sorts of deals offered include state museums, combined transport and sights, or transport. This site compares the current types of city cards. We scored big on a special discount for a federal museums card - only 19 euros instead of the usual 59 - you can buy that online or at the first museum you visit. We bought separate one-week travel cards for the adults (children of school age are free in the summer holidays). They were easy to purchase at the underground station (several language options at the kiosk). The public transport system was very good - easy to negotiate and with frequent trains and trams. I don't know how crowded it would have been in a normal summer, though.

Randomly, this was on the wall of one of the bedrooms. No nightmares were reported.

This was our AirBnb. For city breaks, we go for cheap and convenient over some penthouse experience, so we tend to end up in older apartments in more residential areas, which suits us perfectly. This was opposite a shopping centre/indoor market (which had a covered car park that was about half the price we normally pay for city parking in Europe), next to transport (as I said above) and with lots of restaurants close by. The apartment had three bedrooms and plenty of space for us. This is the city, though - you might want earplugs if you don't go to bed late, and are used to silence at night. We would stay there again.

Blood in Bled

 

It was time for a short break between two big events - my husband finishing edits of a textbook for Cambridge University Press (Graph Theory - I know you're rushing to preorder it right now), and the 8th European Congress of Mathematics, for which we are both committee members. The rest of Slovenia was heading south for our region, so we went north to the area around Bled.

First stop, Radovljica (Rad-OW-leet-za). We visited the bee museum in this little town about a dozen years ago, and it was apparently such a seminal event that neither of our older children could recall the trip. With the museum renovated, and several years of beekeeping now under his belt, Ted wanted to revisit. Plus, we have a new British friend who retired to this region, so it was a chance to spend some time together.

After a little satnav trauma due to closed roads in Radovljica, we met up with Chloe, who conducted us to the old town and her favourite restaurant, Lectar, where she was greeted with hugs by the staff. A consequence of Covid is that their large staff has been reduced, and the family members are playing many different roles. Yet, we had personal service and a wonderful experience.

We had lunch in the courtyard looking down across the hills - and a pretty good lunch it was, beginning with an aperitif distilled from 15 herbs by the matriarch of the business. I am not a fan of spirits at all, but this was truly delicious. Home-brewed elderflower cordial complemented the main course. For me buckwheat pasta stuffed with what they call "young cheese", sort of a ricotta, with a mushroom sauce made from locally grown mushrooms. Alcuin made good inroads into beef noodle soup, and Ted had goulash. No, I didn't take a photo of my meal. Part way through, our waiter evolved into a musician and joined the restaurant owner to entertain us with a polka and traditional music. 

 

Here's our gingerbread that made it home - more on that below...

After lunch, we went down to the basement and their gingerbread kitchen/museum, where they make the traditional 'lect' honeybread or gingerbread ornaments. Our waiter changed hats again to give us a little historical and practical presentation. Apparently, the tradition dates from the late middle ages - the sentiment, we were told, is that the iced gingerbread represents love that will last forever, decorating your home, or within your heart if you eat it. A different take on all-consuming love. Mindful of Covid-19 losses, we cheerfully went overboard and bought a bagful.

On our way out, we were stopped by the staff for one more serenade in Chloe's honour - a lively rendition of 'Ain't No Cure for the Summertime Blues' with electric guitar and bass.

Second on the list for Radovljica was the bee, or apicultural, museum, which I think had moved from the last time we were there. It's upstairs in the town hall, along with the municipal museum. The exhibits are lively and well-presented, in Slovene and English, with a mix of information on the lives and ecology of bees, and the history of beekeeping and the beekeeping industry in Slovenia. Did you know that the Slovenian Carniolan bee is prized across the world for its docile nature? We actually had this breed in our hives in Mississippi! Slovenia is also famous for its painted beehive panels (see the gingerbread one above), and of course the museum has a good collection of these, along with the totem-like wooden figures carved to protect the hives. Also fascinating are the teeny-tiny bee cages for transporting queens.

Also of interest to me, tying in with our trip to Milan, I learned the legend that, while in his cradle, Saint Ambrose was visited by a swarm of bees who settled on his face without stinging him, leaving only a drop of honey on his lips, a sign of his later gift for smooth talking. Perhaps that explains how he intimidated the Emperor Theodosius. 'Ambrosia', as well as being the food of the gods, is the word for the mixture of nectar and pollen fed by worker bees to the larvae.

 The other reason for our visiting in early summer is that there's an observation hive in the museum, with a glass tunnel for the bees to go in and out. It's surprising to see the swarm (high) above your head as you enter! Another friend of Chloe's had worked on painting some of the bee hive panels for the museum.

Alcuin got a little bored after a while - but I think partly he was tired, and partly he wanted to get out and have an ice cream. I would not fault the museum for his ennui; there's a good mix of media and hands-on exhibits to entertain younger visitors. Eventually he got his wish, and we took ice cream to a beautiful lookout spot across the Sava River valley and Julian alps, which you reach by going down the street alongside the pharmacy and alchemy museum.

And that was just our literal and metaphorical taste of Radovljica. The tiny and pretty old town square is packed with several museums, an art gallery, and a newly opening studio of a local ceramicist to name only the few points I saw. I definitely plan to come back again. Maybe soon, as it's quiet without the tourists. It would make a good day trip if you are in Bled or Ljubljana and want to get away from these more touristy places. I also decided that if we turned up again, we should have badges with "Friends of Chloe" emblazoned on them.

Off to find our AirBnB next, in, Selo pri Bled, warned in advance by Chloe that the roads were narrow, and of course, uphill. At least there was only one road through the town, so finding the Airbnb was easy (review below). We were greeted by the American half of a young American-Slovene couple (you find us English-speaking people in the oddest places!). 

Middle child took a bite of gingerbread and pronounced it rock hard, so I gave Alcuin a glass of milk to devour his - I guess love is fleeting for the young. Only afterwards did I have the curiosity to check the label, to find that it stated, 'Not a food item. Made from non harmful natural ingredients.'  Oops.

After down time, we felt we should make something of the evening while waiting to see if Alcuin was going to vomit from his 'non-harmful' gingerbread, and took the short walk down to the Sava Bohinjka river. The village was quiet and beautiful, but I imagine it would be swarming with visitors in a normal summer, as basically every house seemed to offer holiday accommodation. Being summer, the glacial melt had turned the water a beautiful teal blue. And it was ice cold, at least according to our children. A lovely end to a fun day.

Bled

If you talk to anyone that knows about Slovenia, the chances are, they will mention Bled, which is perhaps the best known tourist resort. Nestled among the Julian alps, it boasts an iconic glacial lake, complete with a tiny island topped with a church. So, as we are not typical tourists, we made a lightning strike on the city the next day, for a lake trip and lunch. With the combination of a warm day, a young child, and a bad shoulder (Ted), we decided to pay extra to be rowed across to the island. Once there, our frugal natures came back to haunt us, and we decided not to fork out the 12 euros apiece to go into the church and ring the bell (a tourist tradition). Ted and Blue had already done this, and I wasn't going to pay up for Alcuin to spend five minutes in there before demanding to get an ice cream. Perhaps this was the moment we were doomed to be struck down for not supporting God's house. 

The exact version of what happened next differs depending on which family member you ask, but if anyone else wants their say, they can get their own blog. After (pretty good) ice creams in lieu of the church visit, we decided to walk around the tiny island before it was time to meet the boat again. The path runs along the bottom of a steep hill, and of course Alcuin kept clambering up despite my continued warnings that it was dangerous. 

When the rest of the family got involved in spotting giant carp, I separated from them to complete the circuit (which was honestly about 5 minutes). I rejoined them just in time to discover Alcuin sitting up on the slope, and screaming. The boat was about to leave, and, yes, admittedly, we parents started fussing at him to come down by himself. He wasn't budging. 'There's blood!' he yelled. We old folks let the sibling leap to the rescue, and together we persuaded a screaming child to let us wash out the wound, which looked, indeed, to be a bad scratch from a thorn or something. Of course we had no plasters, and he wouldn't listen to orders to clamp down on a tissue, so it was a fraught trip back.

Back on shore, Ted headed off for first aid supplies while I checked Alcuin's hand again. 'That was a bad thorn scratch,' I said. 'Oh no,' he said, 'it was sharp metal.' Cue retroactive heart attack and extra pouring on of water. Thank goodness, his vaccination record had been checked a couple of weeks before and we knew he was up to date on tetanus. Ted returned with two boxes of plasters so that his highness could have his pick. Was food poisoning or blood poisoning going to carry him off? The trip was getting interesting.

Vintgar Gorge

Once again, the satnav came up trumps - in taking us down the tiny road as opposed to along the motorway. But hurrah, we got to the gorge, where the Radovna river cuts its way through the hills. I find this a little mind-boggling, and probably a stretch of the truth, but the literature claims that the gorge was undiscovered until 1891. Now, there is a walkway and bridges covering a 1600 metre, currently one-way, hike. Pacified with a makeshift sling for his injured hand, Alcuin was ready to go.

If you ever studied late eighteenth century literature, you'll be familiar with the popularity of the "sublime" - the quality, especially of a natural phenomenon, that produces overwhelming emotions, often tinged with fear as well as awe. Well, this would have had those poets drooling because it was, indeed, sublime. Down inside the steep V of the gorge, skirting the sheer outcrops of rock, brushing past swathes of trees and wildflowers that had made a hold on the rock face, the deafening backdrop of surging water, whitewater foaming over the jagged river bed or pausing here and there in a glacial blue pool carved out in a corner of the ravine. The noise got too much for Alcuin at times, but he was also determined to parade along in his sling, so his sibling had to literally lend a hand to block an ear. At points you could even feel the cold air pushing up from the water's surface.

Of course, Alcuin eventually started up with the "When are we going to get back to the car?" questions, which I evaded. Not the time to tell him that he wasn't going to magically end up back in the car park at the other end. 

I don't usually fall prey to tourist traps, but the cafe at the end of the gorge was more than welcome, and necessary before the second half of the hike. And Blue and I agreed that by the end we were actually zoning out amid the onslaught of impressiveness. 

There was a shorter (45 minute) and longer (hour or so) route back to the car. The shorter route began with 200 steps and warnings not to go near the edge, beware of falling rocks, etc., and the longer one promised good views, so, with the earlier bloodbath in mind, we opted for the longer route. If you are tired out, and not frugal, you could climb the steps and get a taxi back to the car park for about 7 euros per person.

Of course, we still had to climb out of the gorge, so the trail began with an uphill path through forest to the church of Saint Katerina in Hom. Alcuin led the way at first, fortified by a PJ Masks ice cream of dubious blue hue, but he and I were soon lagging behind, reminding me once again that I'll never climb Mount Triglav. We turned from woods into the countryside at the church, and yes, the views were indeed impressive, looking down across the villages and up into the Julian Alps. Apparently it was also a good vantage point to spot invading Turks, as the church bell was an early warning system.

Alcuin demonstrated that he had not learned his lesson at Bled by insisting on walking the tiny track further up the slope, and of course took a tumble. Luckily the thick and soft ferns stopped him rolling all the way down the hillside.

It took way more than an hour, and quite a bit of carrying Alcuin on our backs, but we made it round to the beginning. All in all, we were more than four hours, so I'd say he was a trooper. This time, Ted figured out how to drive back via the motorway, only to be foiled by a diversion due, I think, to a fire we saw from the hill top. We fell back into the apartment early evening, tired out but feeling virtuous.

Dino Park

Sunday morning, as a  reward for going along with our plans, and for still being alive, we took Alcuin to Dino Park on the way home. Used to post-Covid, sparsely attended tourist attractions, it was a shock to see the queue of parents and small children and the cars piling up along the roadside. Alcuin was beside himself with excitement which, of course, burned out in less than 30 minutes. Thank goodness we got a discount on entry. The models are fun, with informative signs in Slovenian and English. But for some reason, there are other, random, prehistoric and early-history exhibits stuck in. It was like,  'Hey, we've got a space over here, let's put in something else. What's really old? Stonehenge, everyone loves Stonehenge. And what about some of those giant heads from Easter Island?'

"Where in history are we now?"

Of course, there is a park and cafe at the end, and Alcuin was keen to queue up for the zipline, even with one hand encased in plasters. Away he whizzed, hitting the end with such force he was flung off. Sometimes I feel that little boys should come with a warning attached. 

A last hurrah was stopping at Ljubljana on the way back for lunch. I want to give a shout out to the restaurant, Namaste, because the waitress remembered that she had forgotten to add a garlic nan to our take away order the previous week, and, of course, made it up to us. (Yes, we happened to be there last week, too. Maybe we like curry a lot.)

That evening, I asked Alcuin what his favourite part of the trip was, and he declared, "Giant carp, Dino Park and curry!" And staying alive, I silently added.

And P.S., the cut healed quickly and cleanly in a few days, but he certainly milked it. Until the following weekend, when he stepped on a bee...

Touristy stuff

Here's the official site for Radovljica, the Museum of Apiculture, and Lectar restaurant, hotel, and gingerbread museum.  Bled sites are ubiquitous, but here is the official portal. The lake is more beautiful in the summer, according to middle child who went with their sister a couple of winters ago. The website for Vintgar Gorge, part of Triglav National Park is here. The route is well signposted and it has a car park. If you have to go, here is the site for Dino Park. I'd avoid a weekend, or arrive early, but it's a good tool for bribing a younger child.

Airbnb review. We stayed in the Red Apartment in Apartmaji manglc, Selo pri Bled. It had two bedrooms (twin and bunk beds) plus a sofa bed. Plenty of room for a short stay. It was clean, bright and modern, and had the three main things I like in an Airbnb - plenty of towels and bedding, and a well-stocked kitchen - plus an essential washing machine. The hosts were friendly and easy to get hold of. It's well placed for several hikes, and a shortish trek (twenty minutes for adult walkers) into Bled if you want to leave the car where it is. The village itself is quiet and pretty, but has no businesses apart from tourist accommodation, which seems to be largely the whole village. We would stay there again, but I would plan for less driving, unless tiny country roads are your thing.

Koper's hidden sanctuary: Škocjan Nature Reserve

 This is technically a post of two parts, months apart because of the pandemic.

To be honest, I never knew about the wetlands reserve on the edge of Koper until a neighbour sang its praises. That is, I had heard the name, but confused it with the park area around the Škocjan caves, which is in a different municipality. Ted had heard of it, but never been in all his years coming to Koper. So, confined to our municipalities by lockdown, it seemed a perfect outing.

Signs of spring

Seemed. The first time, we walked through a sort of annex to the park, then traipsed to the main reserve to find it closed. I was flabbergasted - people can't walk safely in the open air? Then it became a bit of an obsession to follow the lockdown zones and restrictions to see when it would open. In February, we went into the orange zone, and hurrah, the reserve was open - but the first week, Ted had to work all weekend. The second, our son brought a horrible cold back from school and gave it to me. The third - our region was pushed into the red again and the park was closed. Fourth for the win!! 

To backtrack. For reasons I am not sure about, there is a shortish walk near the main shopping centre area of town that is part of the designated reserve, and we visited that back in October 2020. I'd never noticed it, though apparently my teenager knew all about it and had taken her little brother there unbeknownst to us. If you are going for the shopping/nature combo, or only some of the family can stomach shopping, I guess it's a nice outing. The layout is the same as the main walk, including a lookout tower, so I'll save descriptions for below.

The view from the short path

This past weekend was a coldish spring day in our shady town centre, but it turned out to be bright and sunny out at the reserve. There is a small car park, for maybe 20 or so cars. The visitor centre was, of course, closed. 

Near the entrance is a playground, and animal pen, which had one horse in it, though the reserve usually hosts several horses and native cattle. I suppose they were safely elsewhere for the winter/ Covid situation. The horse was pretty friendly - it gave me a horsey kiss then tried to eat my coat. There is apparently horse riding for children at certain times of the year.

Insect hotel near the entrance to the park

The wetlands are basically a lagoon, formed over the past century as the island of Koper was gradually joined to the mainland. It has enjoyed protected status since the late 1990s. According to their website, it is at various times home to around 60% of all bird species spotted in Slovenia, a nesting area for dozens of species, and a key stop on migratory routes. Apart from this, it harbours a host of insects and amphibians, and many mammals, small and large, from the Etruscan shrew to roe deer.

I have to admit, this is not a nature reserve as I am used to it. There is one, gravelled, circular walk around the perimeter, and most of the time you can't actually see over the embankment or through the reeds and rushes to the reserve area. Instead there are lookout points with information at frequent intervals. There is also an enticing observation tower which was still closed because of Covid restrictions. I assume all this is to encourage and protect the wildlife, particularly any nesting or migrating birds. 

(An aside: This is not a complaint about Covid measures in Koper or Slovenia in general, because I know the situation is similar in countries the world over. But why, in a time of health crisis, local and national governments are not prioritising opportunities to boost our physical and mental health, I do not know.)

It's far from barren, though. The perimeter is bounded by ditches and ponds (freshwater, from river channels), and planted with native species, which are labelled for identification (in Slovene, Italian, English, and Latin for the botanists). In our edge-of-the-Mediterranean climate, tadpoles had already become froglets, and Alcuin had the joy of trying to poke frogs with an endless supply of dried reeds. (Don't worry, we did not let him torment any frog for more than a few moments.) My nature spotting skills are not what they were in my youth, but among the species we identified were fritillary butterflies, damsel flies, coots, reed buntings, little egrets, and swans of course (resident here in Koper, you can even spot them off the coast).

The observation stations have clear information (in Slovene, Italian and English), which made the closed visitor centre redundant, at least when a child is in tow. Bright, illustrated field guides, scientific information and children's activities, not to mention welcome benches, invite you to stop and learn. It's strange to look out over the peaceful wetlands and see in the distance the multicoloured walls of shipping containers piled up at the port.

It took us 1 1/2 - 2 hours to meander around with a small child, during which, the same jogger lapped us five times. I would not go there in the summer - I imagine the lack of shade and probable swarms of mosquitoes would make it miserable, but it was very pleasant on the lion's end of March. We will definitely be back, and I'd like to bring my bird-expert Dad there. Sticks and water are pretty much all a small child needs for an afternoon's entertainment.

Note the port in the background

Touristy stuff: Here is the website, which they seem to keep up to date (and which, yes, I should have consulted the first time we tried to go). If you are feeling very fit, you can take a long walk there from the town centre, which we did the first time, but not the second. The path is all gravel, so I don't know how accessible it would be to wheelchairs.

Sečovlje - a salacious experience

 Intimations of a second lockdown in Slovenia drove us off our backsides and into the open air while we could still do so - or at least without wearing masks while outdoors. We headed for a local nature reserve in Sečovlje (I think you pronounce it seh-chow-lee-ay), right on the border with Croatia, which co-exists with one of the few remaining salt pan works in the region. Since we moved back, I have been talking of another autumn walk here. I have fond memories of our several visits about a dozen years ago, and some spectacular photos courtesy of a friend with far better photographic skills than I. 

The last time I visited was to go to the summer open air spa in the middle of the salt pans, a traumatic experience involving disposable thong underwear. Quite the opposite this time. Convinced there was going to be a cold wind blasting across the open landscape this time of year, I stuffed hats, gloves and an extra layer of outerwear in my backpack. Apparently, I was wrong: by the time we paid the small entrance fee, we were so warm that we threw all the outer layers back in the car and set off sans coats.

First excitement for me was a profusion of Michaelmas daisies. I start to hanker after growing them every September - our school's Founder's Day was on Michaelmas, and we used to wear posies of Michaelmas daisies for the church service. This is all pure nostalgia - when I was a teenager, we thought it stupid and complained about wearing weeds. But anyhow, here they were at last, the first wild ones I had seen in Slovenia. But we were in a nature reserve, so was this a gift of Mother Nature or a test of my moral fibre?

They have now built a boardwalk across the water and parallel to the main path so walkers can avoid cyclists and the odd car (they are working on cutting down motor traffic through the park). Trauma occurred early on when Alcuin got two splinters from climbing the rail. We got one out, and I assured him the other would soak out in the bath, so he proceeded to stop about every six feet to lie down and dip his hand in the water (at least that was his excuse). Actually, he stopped about every six feet for something most of the walk - getting or handing back the map, asking for a snack, asking for a drink, handing back the snack... Ted just kept walking on and back, probably tripling his exercise.

An abandoned salt worker's home

So, the nerdy stuff that interests me at least: salt has been harvested here since about the year 800, and some of those centuries were pretty cut throat. When the Venetian Empire took control, coercing the towns in the Eastern Adriatic to sign a compulsory purchase agreement, they deliberately destroyed most of the nearby salt works to create a virtual monopoly. They periodically continued this policy, leaving the Sečovlje pans untouched to become the most important source of salt in the Venetian Empire. In the wake of its collapse, the Austrian Empire took over and formally declared salt a state monopoly in 1814. By the mid-twentieth century (and more political changes of hands), salt mines were seen as more profitable; the pans declined, and were bought up by a succession of small companies. In the 1990s, the process of declaring the wetlands a nature reserve began. The Sečovlje pans are one of the last in the Mediterranean area (nearby Štrunjan has some, but the area is currently closed to walkers).

The simple evaporation process has been largely unchanged for centuries. Sea water is filtered into a huge network of rectangular basins, pans, linked by a series of small canals that have a miniature lock and dam system to let water in and out. The salt is moved down from deeper to shallower pans until it has evaporated to the extent that the salt can be scraped out. A little rail network enables the harvesters to push the wagons of salt to the salt works where it is piled up to dry out. The most gourmet salt is the fleur de sel (flower salt), that forms as a crust on the evaporating sea water.

The canal/channel system

What draws me to the reserve is its bleak beauty, its vast flat lands stretching out to the sea. Here and there a mallard plods across the shallow water, leaving a trail of footprints in the brine-soaked clay. A little egret (the park's symbol) perches on a canal, to spread its wings and fly off with a cry as we approach (over 200 species of birds have been recorded here). Tiny red brine shrimp dart through the water beneath the shadows of salt flies. Patches of purple Michaelmas daisies and golden samphire flowers cling to the sides of the scrubland, visited by saline bees (I wonder what salt pan honey tastes like?). We were lucky to spot a shore crab, too, scuttling through the seaweed of the canal. 

Dry pans

Apart from the board walk, the basics have not changed since our first visit. A shop and gallery half way along the walk, a visitor centre at the end of the main path (updated of course), and a bar that I'm pretty sure was not there before. I spent generously in the little shop because of course although I pass their outlet in town about every day I never bother to go in - plus we are trying to put money into local businesses hurt by the epidemic.

A better bird photo courtesy of my friend, Martin

The little documentary at the visitor centre reminded or informed me of so many things we don't think about when we are sprinkling the white stuff onto our chips. It has been an element of religious rituals for eons. You might think of modern day pagans and witches using salt, but it's a valid sacrament in liturgical churches, too. Or do you remember throwing spilled salt over your shoulder into the devil's eye? Did you know we get the word 'salary' from the fact that Roman soldiers were sometimes paid in salt? Think, too, of salty language or salacious gossip. Perhaps we don't give salt enough respect nowadays.

I know the shadow is there, but I rarely get a photo of myself

I was glowing when I got home - literally, because I had caught the sun. I was not expecting that in October. And yes, small confession - we brought home some Michaelmas daisy seed heads. Then I found out that they are actually sea asters and like salty soil. So much for that.

Touristy stuff. The salt pans are about a twenty-minute drive from central Koper. They are in the middle of a little village, and there are places to eat close by, but I have not explored the area. Here is the website. I found that the Slovenian language version was more up-to-date than the English version, which still said the reserve was closed until further notice, so you might want to double check the original with a translation tool. At the time of writing, the museum and the road that leads to it (a walk on the other side of the reserve) were definitely closed. You can also explore the salt pans with the Nexto app, that covers several tourist areas in Slovenia. I'm not big into electronic tourist guides (I like to read and then experience the place), but others may love it. Take layers and sun cream - there can be a biting wind in the summer, and apparently, scorching weather in the autumn. And if you go in the summer, of course you can try out the Thalasso Spa, but be prepared to bare all.  

Milano without FOMO

 So, we finally got on the road again. Actually, we have sort of been on the road for day trips several times, but it mostly ended in tourism failures which I could have made into witty blog posts if I had been in the mood, but coronavirus somewhat sapped my usual store of sarcasm.

Anyhow, when our daughter's Venice flight to her new school got cancelled, and Milan was the nearest airport offering an alternative, we decided to take a few extra days' break. It's a major Italian city I have never visited, and hubby has a good friend and colleague there. Plus our daughter got to enjoy telling everyone how her family was sending her off to boarding school and then going on holiday.

A little Milan street art

The FOMO? Well, it's Milan in August, post lockdown. Like many Europeans, the Italians see the holiday month of August as sacred. Even in non-pandemic years, businesses and restaurants, regardless of whether they are in the middle of famous tourist cities, think nothing of shutting up for the whole month - "chiuso per ferie" (closed for holidays) was the phrase we saw displayed on shop after shop. Museums and many other city attractions were open only for two days a week, and then only accepting visitors on timed tickets bought in advance. 

But, we were trying to holiday in a city with a five year-old and couldn't have big plans, so there was no pressure to see and do it all. Plus, the only real goal was to get our daughter safely off on her new adventure. As long as the plane left, it was a success. In fact, I had rashly declared to a friend that the rest of the holiday could be a disaster as long as she got off okay.

The Duomo. Credit: https://pixabay.com/photos/milan-cathedral-religion-883761/

The first plus: the roads were empty, so there was none of the usual terror of driving in an Italian city. We pulled into the carefully chosen car park, only to find that it was a supermarket. We'd mistaken it for the actual car park next door, which was "chiuso per ferie". We decided to leave the car there and go to meet the host of our AirBnb apartment. There was only one other car in the whole place, and who was going to fine us in August when all the traffic wardens were "chiuso per ferie"?

The AirBnb was the second plus: we got a one-bedroom apartment in the Isola district for a discount, less than 60 euros a night. A little squashed for the one night our daughter was there with all her luggage, but plenty of room for the three of us after she jetted off (see my review below). And, it turned out that even if half the city car parks are "chiuso per ferie", street parking is widely available.

Unfortunately, our first outing, and our daughter's farewell dinner, was not so great. We headed out to Chinatown to seek out a ramen restaurant - and spent about an hour and a half trailing from place to place which Google thought was open but in actuality was... "chiuso per ferie". Tired, hangry and with sore feet, we trudged back to the apartment to find that the Indian takeaway next door had at least opened, but with a limited menu. Not the best last night, but nothing could be done about it, and we had bought the next day's train tickets on the way, so that was a small victory.

Inside Milan's vintage trams. Credit: https://pixabay.com/photos/tram-milan-public-transport-wood-2384693/

The next morning, Alcuin and I saw Ted and our daughter off on the train to the airport (aside - DON'T FORGET TO VALIDATE YOUR TRANSPORT TICKETS BEFORE USING THEM. Just saying.). I had decided to take Alcuin for a ride on the #1 tram, which still uses the old, vintage cars and trundles through the main tourist areas. We made it to the central station, but then got into trouble. I asked for directions three times, and got vague answers from stallholders around the station probably annoyed that I wasn't buying anything when they were having a terrible summer, and weren't "chiuso per ferie".

 Ted checked in mid morning and told us what had happened with his tickets (but daughter's plane was on time, so what was a hundred euros compared to that?). I was beginning to think I shouldn't have called down disaster on our heads, and was about to limp off back to the apartment when I spotted one last tram line around a corner - and thank goodness it was the right one. The real thank goodness was that I found a small packet of biscuits hidden in my backpack, which stopped Alcuin from having a meltdown.

But yes, the tram ride was fun - and I had validated my ticket. Very few people were riding, and, like the underground trains, seats were marked off so we had lots of space. We journeyed through town until I could no longer follow where we were,, and got off near a park for a break before hopping on the tram in the other direction.

Guess what this is!*

In the afternoon, reunited with Ted, we made our way to the Duomo (cathedral) piazza to meet his good friend and colleague. The place felt like an oven. The temperatures were due to be similar to Koper, but a heatwave swept in at the last moment. We couldn't get inside the Duomo fast enough - literally, because we had to have a bag check and temperature check to be allowed in. There's lots you can do at the Duomo, but we knew our son's limits and just paid the few euros to go inside, forgoing the crypt, treasury and tower to admire the architecture. Taking six centuries to complete, it's technically the largest church in Italy (Saint Peter's in Rome is inside Vatican City).  Like all great cathedrals, it is designed to be a huge space that gives you a glimpse of eternity as it draws your eyes upwards to heaven. I'd go with the writer Henry James on the description that it is "not... commandingly beautiful, but grandly curious and superbly rich".

Next stop the Galleria in the same piazza, where the glory of capitalism rubs shoulders with the glory of God, to cool down with an ice cream and look at all the designer shops I would never step into. There was a lady and her baby dressed up to the nines in front of one, with her husband doing some sort of photo shoot for them. The beginning of the child's instagram life, I guess. There are several mosaics in the Galleria, and someone came up with the idea that it was good luck to spin three times on the bull's testicles of one of them. Luckily we had Alcuin to do that for us so the adults didn't have to be seen being cheesy but we could check it off our list.

From there, we walked ten minutes to the Sforza castle, built up around a 14th century fortress. Again, this is a budget and child-friendly option. You can enjoy the castle and environs, and even the courtyard for free, but pay to get inside the museum rooms (again, only open two days a week), which include Da Vinci frescoes. Alcuin had the most fun walking around spotting the colony of well-fed cats who live in the former moat. There's a notice up that roughly translates "Please don't feed the cats because we do". A short play in the Sempione park that backs onto the castle, and it was time to go back to our thankfully air conditioned apartment to cool down before dinner. Our friend took us literally around the corner in the other direction from the one we had gone the night before - and lo and behold there was an entire restaurant district on our doorstep. Oh well.

Our 'new' family of three at the fountain by the Sforza castle (that's not it in the background!)

The biggest plus of the coronavirus/August situation was that we were able to book tickets to see Leonardo Da Vinci's Last Supper only one week in advance, when it's usually months, so the next morning we were off to the monastery of Santa Marie delle Grazie and another temperature/ security check. (It's Cenacolo Vinciano in Italian if you're following the clear signposting.) Groups of eighteen are allowed in for fifteen minutes at a time, after going through a carefully climate-controlled entrance. The moment we entered the refectory was pretty emotional. Alcuin was incredibly patient for once and even allowed himself to be placated when he got a little antsy. And all was well, until our friend whispered to me, "Whose arm is that?" Bother, he was right, there's this arm that must be Peter's but doesn't quite sit right. This is what happens when you go around with mathematicians. (I've since discovered that yes, it must be Peter's but is twisted and that everyone who has read or seen The Da Vinci Code of course knows all about it.)

The Basilica cloister

With temperatures set to soar to 36 degrees, we could only choose one more spot to hit before we had to take a siesta, and we chose the Basilica of Saint Ambrose (Sant'Ambrogio), founded by the saint but extensively rebuilt. Saint Ambrose, if you are wondering, is famous for a couple of things in particular. The first is being instrumental in the conversion of Saint Augustine, whose writings influenced western thought for centuries. The second is that he dared to defy the Emperor Theodosius, refusing him entry to the cathedral (and excommunicating him to boot) after the ruler was complicit in a massacre at Thessalonica - and the Emperor capitulated and repented.

Saint Ambrose flanked by two martyrs

It was a good choice - a shaded cloister for exercising Alcuin, and, though we had not figured this out beforehand, Saint Ambrose is still there in person, decked out in bishop's robes! Admittedly, he's looking a little thin nowadays, but wow! Being in the presence of such a seminal figure of early history just blew me away. Even better - they had the forethought to entomb the bodies of his brother and sister there, too. Plus, under the pulpit is the tomb of Stilicho which almost certainly contains the body of the famous Roman (but half Vandal) general. This visit may have eclipsed The Last Supper for me. Ambrose, by the way, is still revered in Milan and his feast day is celebrated on December 7th each year.

And that, folks, was it for us. A rest from the heat and a final curry, but from a restaurant this time, and it was ciao to Milan, but we'll be back when it's cooler, and not "chiuso per ferie".

*I don't know. It was on the column outside the main door of the basilica.

Touristy stuff

The Last Supper: Don't be fooled by the first sites that come up when doing a search for The Last Supper: they inevitably try to sell you very expensive package tickets. We paid 15 euros per adult via the official site.

Accommodation:This is our apartment. We had no complaints - but if you are looking for an upmarket AirBnb experience, this might not be for you. It had comfortable beds, a decent amount of towels and bedding, and a fully, but not over, equipped kitchen, plus a utility room with a washing machine and lots of storage space if you are en route to somewhere else or travel with everything but the kitchen sink (but be warned if you do that as it's up 4 flights of stairs). It will not sleep four adults unless you are very short, because the sofa bed is not long enough for the average man, plus the place would be crowded. But if you are the sort of traveller who wants a decent, comfortable, budget place to rest your head, and the city is what you have come to enjoy, I recommend it. It's in the heart of the Isola district, across the road from a small supermarket, and a short walk from the train and underground stations - and restaurants, if you turn in the right direction.

Transport: Milan has a good public transport system that is very cheap. Tickets cover duration, not rides - 90 minutes per ticket, valid on buses, trams and the underground. (I thought at first that it was more complicated than London, but I say that of all other underground systems, even though they have about three lines and London has a hundred and three. Familiarity.) I bought a 24-hour ticket and it easily paid for itself with zipping here and there, because it was too hot to walk. VALIDATE YOUR TICKET - look for the machines, which will often have instructions in English as well as Italian.

If you are foolish enough to take a car, there are several parking apps that can at least make it less of a headache - I used EasyPark and it was very, well, easy.

Planning: This was a last minute trip, so there was no great planning campaign. If you are travelling with children, this might be an interesting website. I also perused this one on free or freeish things to do in Milan. 

A taste of the east: Maribor, Ptuj, Pohorje

Thank goodness we got organised enough to book a short break for January - because 4/5 of us were laid low with the flu over Christmas. We went back and forth on the choice of vacation: snow would be fun, but we didn't want to end up stuck in a cabin in some remote village in pouring rain, so maybe a city break was more sensible - but snow would still be fun...  We ended up picking the Maribor - Ptuj area where we could get a city break and were near to a ski resort (Maribor is Slovenia's second-largest city).

(This review is a slightly conflated version, because we bounced back and forth between the various locations.)

First excitement was taking the advice of a Slovenian friend and stopping at Trojane for lunch on the way. It's famous for its krofi, the Slovenian version of doughnuts. Undaunted by the reviewer complaint on Google that the doughnuts were "too big", we stopped at the bakery's gostilna, which is pretty much like an American diner. Ted and I chose the lunch menu, because how much food could you get for around 11 euros? Turns out, about enough for a hippo. Guess I should get on Google and complain about that. Soup, salad, bread, an enormous dinner plate, and dessert: not fancy, but good, plain, home cooking. Alcuin cut to the chase and ordered a chocolate iced, vanilla cream-stuffed krof (singular for krofi) about as big as his face (but tucked into my food as well). We had to give up and take dessert to go (plus extra krofi). To be honest, krofi are not quite to my taste, but other family members like them.

Second excitement was finding the AirBnb apartment in the dark (after perusing Maribor). We made it easily to what we thought was the village (Slovenja vas) and started looking for the road - except Every. Single. Street off the main road was named Slovenja vas. A phone call brought our kind hosts to our rescue, who jumped into their car and led us to the right place.

In the light of day, the explanation was clear: Slovenja vas is the equivalent of a housing estate/subdivision, with homes on small numbered roads leading off the one main road. Oh, and also, there was a clear sign at the turn for the apartment.

In the morning, fuelled with a big breakfast, we grabbed many layers of clothing and set out for Pohorje. Our eldest had been enthusiastically touting a "family ski holiday" for months. I, on the other hand, had visions of getting cold and wet in our amateur snow clothing and a broken leg at the end. We managed to beat her down to sledding for a first trip. So, on to the hire shop, where a very nice young man explained the options, rented us a very cheap sled to go with the plastic kiddie sled we had bought our son, and sent us forth.

There has actually been very little snow in Pohorje for two years, but they are maintaining slopes with snow machines. It's pretty weird to look up the mountain and see one long strip of snow punctuating the green. Also weirdly, I was the only one with actual sledding experience, albeit I hadn't been on a sled for 35 years, you know, back when there were real winters in England, and you walked to school in three feet of snow, uphill both ways.

I have to say I did pretty well for a middle-aged lady, and I was even having - gasp - fun. Ted, on the other hand, decided that his shoes weren't up to the slippery slope and just watched all the small children happily wiping out. After a little hesitation, Alcuin got really into it. All was going well until one time I was walking back up the slope, and some lady with a toddler went out of control on the ice generated by the snow machine. She hit me so fast I didn't even know what had happened until I face planted in the packed snow. Ow, that hurt. A lot. Thank goodness, there was plenty of snow and ice on hand to put on my face. And, I even went down the slope again. Shock, I suppose. Strangely, this did not make Ted change his mind and try sledding.

On the way back to the car, we asked Alcuin if sledding was fun. "It was SUPER fun!" he cried.

So, score for Pohorje. Ptuj, in the afternoon, was not such an immediate hit. But it did confirm what we discovered on our last early January outing, namely that everything but main tourist attractions tend to shut down after Christmas. We'd planned a little classical excitement, visiting a temple to Mithras and locating Roman monuments in Ptuj, but the shrine was closed (and enclosed so we couldn't even walk around it), and the monument was covered up for the winter. But the tourist office was open so we went in and asked what we could do. The guide suggested the castle. We'd originally dismissed the idea given our experience of cold, empty, small-town castles, but it turned out that Ptuj is an exception, and that the castle is also the museum, housing some important collections for Slovenia. It was also an easy walk up from town - so much easier than our usual hair-raising drives up tiny, cobbled hills.

Since this was our last-minute option, we didn't do the place justice in the short time we had before it closed, plus it isn't really full of things to keep children interested. At least, not compared to a morning of sledding. (Our retrospective opinion was that we should have gone to the thermal baths for the afternoon and saved the castle for another time, but live and learn.)

Korant

The museum includes a colourful exhibition of carnival costumes, with lots of information about the various Lenten/spring time traditions and parades. Ptuj is famous for its Korants, men dressed up in weird and somewhat scary masks representing demons who chase away the winter and dispense good luck or curses around villages, according to their reception. They certainly scared Alcuin, so maybe my plan to return for carnival time this year is on hold. Other collections include Roman artifacts, the armoury, and a national instrument collection (that we didn't get to but should have), which contains one of the oldest instruments found in Slovenia, a rare Roman flute.

We'd scouted out Maribor on our arrival, but went back with intent on our last morning. Intent specifically being a wine tasting at the Old Vine House, hot on the success of our olive oil tasting. Said house shelters the official world's oldest grape vine (around 400 years), growing against the wall outside. We didn't get to taste that wine, of course - you can only get your hands on a small bottle if you happen to be a visiting pope or president. But we did get to taste several regional wines, guided by a young, enthusiastic, and very well-informed host. We decided we would not be appreciative enough to shell out for a tasting of top wines, so we chose the middle package - four set wines and one of our choice, for under 8 euros a head, which I think is pretty good value. We also learned some interesting wine facts, such as the reason Slovenia mostly makes white wines is simply that it was decided by some powers-that-be that this should be its focus. Also, ice wine is so expensive here because they only make it the "proper" way, letting grapes freeze on the vine (and the right conditions haven't happened for several years), whereas lots of those Canadian ice wines are made by "cheating" and putting the grapes in the freezer.

So there is our whirlwind tour. My nose still hurts a little as I write this, a week and a half later. Sneezing is... interesting. I don't think I broke it, but heck, what do my looks matter anyway at this stage of life?

Touristy stuff: So, again, the moral is that if you want to be a tourist here just after Christmas, stick to the main attractions, winter sports, or a major city break. Thermal baths are another favourite option of mine, and I'm a little sad we didn't make it to the ones near Ptuj. Ah well, another time. Websites are not always clear about whether attractions are closed, but here are a few sites: for Maribor (also covers Pohorje), the Old Vine House, Ptuj, Ptuj castle, and Trojane. Apparently there can be a long wait at the Trojane restaurant if you go at more of a tourist time. This is the site for our Airbnb. It's a holiday apartment rather than a family home. It was spotless, warm, and comfortable, and we would stay there again.
And watch where you're going when climbing a ski slope.