I didn’t expect Ljubljana to feel so personal from the very first walk. It’s a small city that reveals itself slowly: murals tucked into side streets, music drifting out of nowhere, pop-up galleries, cafés where people linger and stories seem to stay behind after they leave. Art isn’t announced or displayed. It just happens, naturally, as part of everyday life.

But it was in Metelkova where I felt Ljubljana’s true heartbeat. That place is another universe: walls exploding with color, sculptures that break every rule, lights that glow at their own pace, and doors behind which a different sound is always playing. That night, the music had the soul of the seventies —a bit of Jim Morrison, a touch of Janis Joplin— as if that era had decided to come back just for us. Metelkova felt raw, real, artistic, alive.

Between green bridges, reflections dancing on the river, and alternative bars tucked in little corners, I understood why so many call Ljubljana the artistic heart of this region. And yes… the dragons. They’re everywhere. On bridges, sculptures, murals, souvenirs. Silent guardians watching over the city’s magic.

A curious detail I learned: here, eating horse meat is not taboo. It’s simply part of their local cuisine. Horse burgers and sausages are quite traditional, and of course, a good glass of grappa always finds its way into any celebration or long conversation.
I left Slovenia with my heart full, continuing my journey south toward the Croatian border, chasing the Adriatic sun and that feeling of movement that keeps calling you forward.