Before going to Ljubljana for business, I had no idea where to locate that city on a map. I’m terrible with geography, despite traveling a lot. I’m sure I had heard of Slovenia’s capital before, but only when searching for flights did I finally learn how to spell ‘Ljubljana’. Well, I confess I was helped somewhat by the booking engine. Only one option was displayed after I typed in ‘lj’, the Slovenian capital of ‘Ljubljana’.

Eastern Europe, sadly, is still a very white spot on the map for Tobi and me. We once spent four days in Prague, warding off the beer-drunken tourist crowds in the middle of winter. Prague was still a fascinating place, despite the drunks and the cold, but for some reason we didn’t set foot in Eastern Europe again. Which is a real shame, I thought, when a few weeks later I strolled through the picture-perfect pedestrian zone historic centre of Ljubljana.

However tempting it may be to simply walk up and down the riverbank, the effort of picking a more diverse route pays off. There’s much to see in Ljubljana in a very compact area with little risk of getting lost, which is perfect for walking or running. We were accommodated in Grand Hotel Union, so this is where I started my run, a stone’s throw from Prešernov Trg Square.

This busy heart of the city is framed by some impressive Baroque and Art Nouveau facades and situated on the riverbank just north of the famous Triple Bridge. The early morning light was pale and the mood just as subdued, sleep-drugged almost.

Break of day has always been my favourite time to be outside. I crossed the middle arch of the Triple Bridge that dates back to 1842 and turned right on the riverbank, dodging sidewalk tables that were patiently waiting for the next onrush.

Every seat was taken the night before, but this early in the morning, only few people on their way to work skirted the empty tables as they ducked in and out of coffee shops for lattes to go. The beautifully restored Old Town is a historical gem. The cobble stone alleyways snuggle up to the river under the stern eye of a 900-year-old fairytale castle sitting on a small elevation.

I followed one such narrow pathway snaking up through the woods to the ancient ramparts when in the middle of the path I almost stepped on an agitated stag beetle. They are one of the largest beetle species in Europe and sharply declining in numbers. But despite its distinctive mandibles that resemble a stag’s antlers, I wouldn’t for the life of me have recognised one had Tobi not shown me a photo just two weeks earlier.