From the Dolomites to Ljubljana

Morning arrived gently in Malcesine, enveloped in the soft sound of rain. The lake, which had sparkled like glass the day before, was now shrouded in mist. Raindrops fell steadily against the cobblestone streets, while the mountains vanished behind layers of silvery clouds. It was the kind of day that called for warm scarves, comfortable clothes, and hot tea held close. I was glad that this was a travel day for us. 

We both had a slight cold—nothing serious, just the kind that makes the world feel a bit slower and just a little more complicated. So we set out with tissues, cough drops, and an easy acceptance of what travel sometimes brings: the willingness to let the weather tell its own story.

We had traveled the day before northward into the Dolomites, where villages clung to green hillsides and the mountains were magnificent—jagged peaks softened by clouds and years of erosion cascading down dark rock. The beauty felt subdued that day, as if the landscape itself had taken a deep, reflective sigh.

We stopped at a small mountain café where we enjoyed tea and warm sandwiches. Many places would be closing for the season in the next few days, so we were glad they were open when we arrived. We lingered for a while, feeling grateful for the simple kindness of warmth and shelter.

Early the next morning, we began our journey to Slovenia. The rain followed us, tapping gently on the windshield like a familiar companion. When we finally arrived, the city greeted us with quiet charm — bridges arching gracefully over the river, pastel buildings reflecting on wet cobblestones, and streetlights glowing softly in the drizzle.

Wrapped in our coats, we wandered just far enough to feel the rhythm of the place — a blend of youthful energy and old-world calm. The streets were quiet, and we promised ourselves that tomorrow, when the rain clears and our colds fade, we’ll return to explore more fully. We ate a warm dinner and headed home.

For now, it is enough to rest — to listen to the rain against the window, to sip warm tea, and to be grateful for the journey that continues, even on the quiet, gray days.

You are loved…