Slovenia in winter: an awe-struck five-day journey through fairy-tale towns, Michelin kitchens, and Christmas markets

I had always wanted to visit Slovenia, so I was excited to finally plan a trip. Over five days at the turn of December, I traveled from a gorgeous medieval town in the Julian Alps to a Mediterranean valley brushing Italy, through a green capital lit up for Christmas, and out to a riverside city that guards the oldest grapevine on earth. It’s a small country that surprised me everywhere I went. If you’re looking for an idyllic destination to visit this winter, it would be hard to imagine one with more beauty and variety packed into so little ground.

Arriving in Radovljica, an idyllic town wrapped in winter light

My journey began in Radovljica, a small medieval town in the Gorenjska region that looks like it was carved out of a fairy tale and left to weather beautifully. The old town is a single cobbled spine of pastel houses, and on the late-November afternoon I arrived, every window seemed to hold a candle.

That evening I walked the few frozen steps to Hiša Linhart, which turns out to be more than a restaurant. The building is a late-Gothic survivor on Radovljica’s main square, its facade carrying centuries of frescoes, and the team inside has earned both a Michelin star and a green star for the way they cook: sourcing relentlessly from nearby farms, even down to the handmade ceramics, which are crafted by a local center supporting people with disabilities. None of that, though, prepared me for how playful the plant-based food would be.

Dinner arrived as a slow parade. First came a flurry of little opening bites: paper-thin apple and celeriac, then a quenelle of carrot purée scattered with pansies and a crisp shard, set beside a wedge of dark, crackling sourdough still warm from the oven. A cup of vivid green herb granita cleared the way for what followed. There was a velvety soup the color of toffee, scattered with a nutty crumble and salt.

Then I was served a beet “risotto” so richly magenta it looked lit from within, dressed in beet jus with a charred wedge of chicory and a dusting of toasted grain. A round of grilled eggplant came next, stuffed and savory in a glossy tomato sugo. To finish, a square of dark chocolate crowned with sorbet. I walked back to my room over frozen cobblestones, full and slightly astonished.

Crossing into the Vipava Valley and the Karst, where Slovenia turns Mediterranean

The next morning held my favorite kind of travel whimsy: a train ride through the Julian Alps, from Bohinjska Bistrica down toward Nova Gorica. I sat with my forehead against cold glass as gorges, viaducts, and a turquoise river unspooled past, the mountains slowly trading their snow for cypress and stone. By the time we reached Nova Gorica, the air had softened. This is a town pressed right against the Italian border, half modernist invention and half ancient neighbor, and in 2025 it shared the title of European Capital of Culture with Gorizia just across the line.

I loved considering how these two cities decided to treat a border as a seam. A curator walked us through a central exhibition built around the very notion of borders, and standing in those rooms, I kept thinking about how rare it is to watch a place choose reconciliation as its public art. Lunch came at Super 8, a wonderfully hybrid spot that’s part bistro, part gallery, part living room, where my plate was a bright sprawl of seasonal vegetables.

Eating vegan in the Karst: olive oil, herbs, and a family table

The afternoon dissolved into the windswept Karst, a limestone country of olive groves and bora gusts. Then in the evening I dined at Hiša Špacapan. The family’s whole philosophy is hospitality, and their welcome to newcomers was: “This house is our home”. That extended to vegan guests like me.

Dinner at Hiša Špacapan unfolded as a series of small plates. It opened with a single crisp canapé, a seeded, herb-flecked cracker topped with tomato and a cool round of cucumber, two bites of bright Karst garden. Then came beetroot, three deep-magenta rounds set on vivid green leaves, dusted with toasted seeds and finished with a lone flower petal. Next was a tasty tangle of shaved fennel scattered with ruby pomegranate seeds, sitting in a shallow pool of savory broth on a dark gold-rimmed plate. And a tiny tartlet arrived almost ceremonially. A record player seemed to be turning somewhere in the next room, and the whole experience felt comforting and joyful as I savored the decadent vegan meal.

Ljubljana: a green capital, a riverboat, and a Christmas market on the water

Slovenia’s capital had a lot to live up to, and Ljubljana exceeded my expectations. We slipped into the city under a low pewter sky and went straight to the Cukrarna Gallery for a sweeping exhibition on the twelve-year creative partnership of the performance artists Ulay and Marina Abramović. Their retrospective was dedicated to their  twelve-year collaborative and romantic partnership between 1976 and 1988. Performances, video documentation, and photographs were on display. Taking in their works of art felt like the right way to enter a city that wears its culture so lightly and so well.

Then there was my favorite lunch of the trip. Gostilna na Gradu, perched up by the awe-inspiring castle, builds contemporary Slovenian food under chef Luka Jezeršek, and their plant-based courses were a feast for the senses. A cold starter opened things with a cashew spread laced with kombucha, marinated Treviso radicchio, pickled oyster mushroom, and a tangle of crispy fried onion: bright, sour, and savory all at once, the kind of plate that wakes your whole mouth up.

Then came what the menu aptly called a “warm continuation”: slow-cooked leek and pumpkin cream with fried polenta, apple sauce, and a dusting of burnt-leek powder, comfort and cleverness in the same spoonful. The main course was toasted buckwheat porridge with mushrooms, pear, walnuts, and fresh herbs that  gave it a nutty, woodsmoke flavor. For a sweet finale, I was served carrot cake with vegan cream cheese and a mandarin sorbet that was bursting with flavor.

Afterward I wandered the riverbanks shaped by the architect Jože Plečnik, whose graceful bridges and balustrades give Ljubljana its dreamy, deliberate beauty. A dusk boat ride along the Ljubljanica turned the whole old town into a string of reflections, and when night fell, the Christmas market lit up along the river. I savored the moment with its lights reflecting on the water and the smell of roasting chestnuts.

Maribor and the world’s oldest vine: pottery, plant-based plates, and the Drava

My last full day was spent in Maribor, Slovenia’s second city, lounging along the broad Drava beneath the Pohorje hills. We began at the Old Vine House, home to a grapevine that has been producing fruit for more than four centuries, the oldest in the world, and there’s something humbling about standing beside a living thing that has outlasted empires. I don’t drink, but I enjoyed the beauty and history that seemed to come alive around me.

Lunch at Bistro Nana, a retro-modern little place in the heart of the old town, kept things easy and green, and a highlight for me was taking a pottery workshop. I got my hands properly dirty because there’s no faking your way through wet clay. I made a cup that became a fun, handmade souvenir of the moment where I dared to try even if the end product wasn’t quite what I envisioned. (I learned that creating pottery definitely requires some skills to be developed over time, but it’s fun to jump right and try for the sake of creating.)

What I learned about traveling in Slovenia

I ended my trip to Slovenia with a sense of wonder about the whole experience. Go in winter if you can. Let the car train carry you through the Alps and try some delicious, hearty vegan dishes. Stand by the old vine and don’t skip the olive oil in the Karst.

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