What It Feels Like to See Purpose Everywhere My Slovenian Travels Took Me
When every encounter from a seaside gallery to a quiet vineyard feels like a sign you’re exactly where you’re meant to be
It was the last day of my six-day road trip. My spirits were high. I had just had a marvelously inspired, uplifting few hours in Piran, Slovenia a seaside village across the Bay of Muggia from Trieste, Italy. Piran sits on the northwestern edge of the Istrian Peninsula which Slovenia shares with Italy and Croatia. It occupies a sliver of land that juts out just so into the Adriatic Sea, a prized jewel in the crown of Slovenia’s treasured 29-mile coastline.
An uneven seaside cobblestone walkway decorated with seafood restaurants, pizzerias and gelaterias outlines the perimeter of the small village. From any spot on it, one can easily be swept into daydream. No matter the direction, extraordinary views of unobstructed bright blue water peppered with sailboats and cargo ships flood the frame. It’s breathtaking. On a clear day one can see the Alps and Venice is a quick ferry ride away. Piran is cozy and picturesque without superficial polish or veneer. It is unassuming and simple, and that simplicity makes it feel a touch undiscovered, a touch divine.
On the sunny, off-season Saturday I visited, Piran happened to be unusually warm and still a bit overtaken by tourists like me... With my jacket draped over my arm and without concern for the growing crowds, time or direction, I earnestly explored Piran’s bakeries, storefronts and little pop-up markets and galleries.
After following one of curiosity’s nudges into the Piran City Gallery, I was serendipitously invited on-the-spot by the gallery owner to join a small tour of the venue’s 60th Annual Temporary Exhibit of Local Artists. The gallery was a stunning space with a massive wooden arched ceiling that stretched out protectively over the Slovenian paintings below. As I took in the works on display, I couldn’t stop marveling at how random and overwhelmingly generous this particular collision was – from the passionate, animated, kind desk attendant in the lobby to the fabulously chic museum curator who without hesitation swept me up into her illuminating tour and aura.
There was truly something special and inviting in this humid seaside air. I didn’t just sense it. I felt it. I also couldn’t stop marveling at how close I had come, after a week of trying travel, to giving up and skipping Piran altogether. But as it’s shown me time and time again, the universe has its way of softly re-directing where we’re meant to be.
I rode that burst of creative energy into Atelier Duka a mother daughter run ceramic workshop boutique next to the iconic Hotel Piran. A lovely young store clerk guided me through their impressive assortment so I could find the perfect gifts for family and friends. I loved the idea of supporting this mother-daughter duo – their talents and their dreams.
With all five senses piqued, I then “found” Sveti Donat, one of those special kind of boutiques full of local handmade artisan goods I love to happen into when traveling. Inside each, is always a version of a Leiza too, an owner or shopkeeper who goes out of their way to make sure every customer leaves with not just a treasure but a story. Moving about Sveti Donat’s curated displays of woodworks, textiles and jewelry, I came to view each piece thanks to Leiza’s commentary not only as a symbol of Slovenian culture and heritage, but as each artist’s choice to embrace their calling and purpose. Leiza’s own story of how she started Sveti Donat with a friend was itself a bold answer to purpose’s call.
I left enriched and motivated with one-of-a-kind gifts from nature jewelry maker Atelier Bombardi and VDC Ribnica a social organization offering those with mental and physical disabilities personal development through art and craft. My creative cup was overflowing. And I hadn’t even eaten yet.
My gut led me to Rostelin, where it also thankfully coaxed me to let the waiter take the reins on my order. First came the fried polenta served with a mushroom sauce and shaved black truffles. Decadent, rich and heavy, but everything I hoped for and then some. Then the black squid ink ravioli filled with cuttlefish arrived. Each al dente pasta pillow resting under a dollop of the freshest puttanesca sauce I suspect I will ever come to taste. I usually shy away from puttanesca but I’m so glad I didn’t let the last time I kind of liked something be the only time I ever try it again. These ravioli will affectionately haunt me for the rest of my life. And I’m 100% totally okay with that.
Nestled within each collision, exchange of purpose or bite and sip, I found resonating, reassuring validation to stay true to my calling. I understood, I must at all costs, stay committed to the path I’m already on. From this small village, on a tiny point that juts out just so into the Adriatic Sea, I understood the opportunity costs alone for me not doing what I love are far too great to give up and walk away. I am meant to absorb the ripple effect of others living their callings. And in turn, I am meant to keep that ripple effect in motion by boldly answering my own call to purpose.
Every day in Slovenia, I have seen more clearly how that looks and feels in practice through the gift of travel. I left Piran knowing I was exactly where I was supposed to be – in this great big world and in my life.
That acknowledgement and acceptance brings some clarity and levity to how this road trip started. I wanted to take a more scenic route to my first stop, Lepa Vida Winery in Vipava Valley. While I hadn’t yet learned that there are 75 mountain peaks in Slovenia, if I had done the math, I should have had a sneaking suspicion, the drive wasn’t going to be easy. The 68-mile, 3-hour drive went from serene to harrowing in an instant. The roads suddenly narrowed beyond reason. Turns became significantly sharper. Speed, visibility and my confidence were the only things that seemed to be moving in sync.
I went up and down, mountain after mountain. With every twist and turn, I prayed no one else was coming at me head on. Thankfully no one else was driving on these roads! I rubbed blisters into my palms as I gripped the wheel in silence. I heard nothing but the voice in my head that sometimes chided sometimes coached me but never stopped questioning if this was how it would all come to an end. I tried to see the good, the blessings, the spectacular beauty around me. And all around me was f*cking spectacular. But why hadn’t I taken the safer, more direct route?! Worse, why was fear gripping me so strongly I couldn’t let go and enjoy what life was laying down in front of me?
Then the gaslight came on. I took a wrong turn that was impossible to quickly course correct. I emailed the winery to see if I could push out my 2pm tasting. I missed my window to eat lunch. The email from the winery bounced back. My cell signal bottomed out to zero bars. Every street I turned down in the Italian town I was lost in was a dead end. When cell service returned, the gas station Google Maps led me to had gone out of business.
Weeks of slow travel finding peace and calm weren’t eroding before my eyes, they were being swallowed whole by massive frustration, self-loathing and self-pity. Through only the grace of God, I pulled it together long enough to find a gas station and call the winery to reschedule. I tried to cancel and give up twice. She insisted I join them. Drive safely she said as we hung up. I couldn’t help but smile.
That’s when something unmistakably cosmic happened.
Frazzled, I found my place-setting in front of a big, floor-to-ceiling window overlooking the vineyard. The panoramic views from the tasting room were invigorating. I took a few discreet deep breaths. Irena, one of the winery’s owners started the tasting. She was a natural storyteller seamlessly weaving Slovenian history, tradition and perspective into each pour. As I listened, I recalled how I had felt mysteriously drawn to taste here. There was something about this winery’s aesthetic that I knew I needed to experience. At the very least, I thought it would set an inspiring creative tone for the days ahead.
The view from the Tasting Room window at Lepa Vida Winery in Vipava Valley Slovenia
As it turns out, it would also honor a rhythm I’d already established traveling in Slovenia. Just the Friday before, I had published Tessera Blog #30, a reflection on strong Slovenian purpose-driven female creators. Now on this Monday afternoon, I was listening to the Lepa Vida origin story. Irena started… Lepa means beautiful in Slovenian, and Vida is a common Slovenian name for a woman. Combined, Lepa Vida has become a name or term of great cultural significance in this country symbolizing a woman's emotional and spiritual longing.
Lepa Vida, the winery is a tribute in name, creative expression and storytelling to that longing as well as a new story Irena introduced. Lepa Vida was a celebration of the 7,000 brave, long-overlooked Slovenian women who left their homes in this region due to economic despair to support their families as wet nurses and nannies in Egypt during the construction of the Suez Canal. Each one of Lepa Vida’s colorful labels – the ones I had been drawn to – have an abstract figure of a woman masterfully integrated into their design. Each one asks that we work a little harder, gaze a little longer to “see” her.
Nine different women in the nine different Lepa Vida varieties.
It was then I felt goosebumps spread across my whole body as the realization this story, this ripple effect was meant to pass through me today. It is why I had felt so compelled, so mysteriously called to sit right here. What’s more is as this week was unfolding, I was in the middle of writing Tessera Blog #31 about how my three favorite travel frequencies – storytelling, color and taste – were powerfully moving in harmony to a rhythm that brought exceptional clarity and peace of mind.
It was not lost on me that I was sitting at Lepa Vida with these very frequencies in tune because sometimes the universe softly nudges us through a seaside breeze and other times it commands our attention like it’s about to drop us off a cliff.
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