The trip to the Blues & Brews Festival at Reservoir Dogs Brewery looked easy enough. Nova Gorica is on the Italian border, only two hours from Ljubljana. One of the brewery owners said he could pick me up in the town and drive me to the campsite where the festival was. All I had to do was travel to Nova Gorica.
Everything fell apart.
First, a guy I met at the Happy Ol’ McWeasel concert said he was driving to Nova Gorica, but he canceled at the last minute. So I tried to arrange an online rideshare, but the app didn’t work on my phone. Next, I tried reserving bus tickets online, but the Slovenian transportation website kept crashing. I nixed hitchhiking since it was rainy and overcast that day. By the time I thought to buy tickets directly at the bus station, it was already too late to go. I thanked the Reservoir Dogs guys for their help and said. hey, maybe next time.
However, my good luck hadn’t run out. On that last Ljubljana pub crawl, it got better.
Craft Beer Highs And Tourist Trap Lows – Ljubljana Pub Crawl
Inexplicably, the downtown Tektonik Brewery was closed all Friday. I decided to go back to Ze V Redu Primoz. Damir was inside, busy. Just one person, a young girl, was sitting alone at the table outside. She looked noticeably darker, not Slavic, foreign. Was this a Latina from Juan’s Lajbah Pub birthday party last night?
“I hate the news you see about Pakistan. It’s all propaganda.”
“That’s why I said nothing. I want you to tell me what your country’s like.”
“It’s beautiful. When I finish my tourism studies in Slovenia, I will start a tourism business to bring people to Pakistan.”
“But, pardon me saying, you probably aren’t drinking this craft beer, or much of any beer, there.”
“No. I come to Primoz almost every day and get a different beer each time. Fasting starts in two days, and I will spend a month with my family in Pakistan – where I can’t do any of this.”
The Muslim fasting time, Eid, was in three days. The Pakistani girl was drinking and smoking – a lot -before it started. Certainly, I did not have to fast. But I could help her with the binging part. Inshallah.
She bubbled like champagne: all smiles and giggles and sincere happiness. Her dark curly hair seemed to go on for miles and miles. We ordered another round of beers at the shop, talked of craft beers and weed, and exchanged contacts. We made plans for the next day, then she left to start packing for her long trip back to Islamabad.
I returned to Ze V Redu the next day, a Saturday, but she never showed up. No worries. I drank with Damir and his bartender until they closed the place at 8pm. He suggested the three of us go to – wait – another Harat’s Irish Pub in The Balkans?
Another Harat’s Irish Pub In The Balkans?
“Yes, I know about the Harat’s Pubs in Croatia. They’re all owned by Russians. This one in Ljubljana just opened up last week, so I want to see…the competition.”
Simply put, they were competition, but not for any craft beer bar. They were a tourist trap in training, occupying a prime location in front of The Dragon Bridge, a favorite stop for sight-seeing in Ljubljana. I should have expected this when our server came out in a Scottish Kilt.
Technically, that’s not Irish.
There was plenty of seating outside, but only two tables were occupied when we went there. Our table made three. One table had a young, romantic couple who were lost together in a bottle of wine. The other table had an alcoholic who was also lost (alone) in a bottle of wine. In fact, he was having an intense conversation with it, as well as with a stray dog next to him. And the romantic couple. And, for that matter, the trees too.
That night, Harat’s Pub had a total of six guests. Despite this, my order for cevapi took over 45 minutes. Twice, I asked when my dinner was coming. “Soon,” the waiter stammered. After he took our drink orders, he went inside the restaurant momentarily, then returned to say the beers we saw on the menu weren’t on tap yet. We asked what else they had. He wasn’t sure, so I went inside and asked at the bar. The bartender brought beers which were flat and skunky. We tried a second round of different beers. Also, they were flat and skunky.
Damir joked: “Such great Russian service. But they’re by The Dragon Bridge, so anyway all the tourists will stop here.”
As a proud American raised in all things anti-Russian (and one who had also taken pictures of the damn Dragon Bridge,) I whole-heartedly agreed with him that it was a tourist trap. Especially when, after an hour of waiting, my food finally arrived – cold and tasteless.
It was getting late, but there was one more craft beer bar we could go to. Ljubljana’s first bar to introduce good beer to Slovenia, since back in 1998, is Sir Williams Pub.
Last Of The Night Is The First In Ljubljana: Sir Williams Pub
Sir Williams Pub was only a block from my AirBnb, yet I had kept missing the chance to visit there. As Damir and I walked from Harat’s, we passed Patrick’s Irish Pub, a bar which was marked on my Google map, but turned out to be closed. Possibly permanently.
“Maybe they will open again when all this pandemic is over. The problem is they are underground and have no outdoor seating. Hmm, you live in Serbia. Their manager was a guy, Rok, who moved to Belgrade.”
“Yep, I do know him. He manages a craft beer bar, Pivopija, a place which I’ve gone to for a long time. One of my Belgrade favorites. Rok was also importing some Slovenian craft beers, like Humanfish Brewery, but I think that stopped.”
“I think so too. You didn’t go to Reservoir Dogs. But you can still visit Humanfish Brewery tomorrow. Easy. It’s in a village, Vrhnika, and the regular Ljubljana city buses will go out there. I’m not sure which bus, so we can ask Marko at Sir Williams.”
Sir Williams Pub looks like a traditional British pub: old carved wood surfaces, tables wedged into cozy bunks and weathered walls covered in mirrored European beer signs. Their one concession to modernity is a HDTV with their rotating beer menu and, below it, a running tickertape of Untappd app beer check-ins being made. There looked to be around 15 beers on tap, and many more in bottles.
Clearly, Damir and Marko knew each other. They chatted about craft beer, while giving me some recommendations, yet they were strangely cordial. Something was odd. I chose an unfamiliar Slovenian brew, an Oud Bruin Red Flanders from LOO-BLAH-NAH Pivovara, and we went to the pub’s tables outside.
I asked Damir how long he’s known Marko. He chuckled, “Funny, that’s the first time I’ve spoken to Marko in two years. But we drank craft beer together before a long time. He didn’t expect Lajbah to do so well. He told me before he didn’t want to put Sir Williams on Untappd because he was worried for negative reviews. But now, look, he has their check-ins on their screen menu. Hey hey! There’s you, Pivoslavija.”
It’s a pity I hadn’t come here earlier in the week. Even if the story was a little bitter, the pub was excellent. Regretfully, I finished the night with a Berlinerweise from Barut Brewing, from the small town of Kamnik.
Finally, after Damir went home, I chatted with Marko, who was equally knowledgeable about his beer. He helped me find the bus that would go to Vrhnika the following Sunday. It was the PR A18, which ran about once an hour, everyday. There’s no need to book advance tickets at the central bus station; it’s a regular city stop.
I planned to visit Humanfish Brewery on that quiet Sunday, come back to my apartment, then start packing and spend Monday relaxing alone before I returned to Croatia on Tuesday. But little Ljubljana keeps surprising me.
For a guide to craft beer bars in Ljubljana click: here
