It’s not every day you find yourself with your left foot in one country and your right foot in another. That’s the situation I found myself in when I visited Gorizia in Italy’s Friuli-Venezia Giulia region, at the foot of the Julian Alps.
If I had stepped past the rounded metal plaque on the cobble-stone pavement in Piazzale della Transalpina (Transalpine square), I would have left the town of Gorizia in Italy and entered the town of Nova Gorica in Slovenia.
I’m used to walking across a border – living in Rome you get used to the line delineating the boundaries of the Vatican, a state in its own right. But at least there are police stationed there sometimes to check your belongings before you enter. The biggest check here was probably the tourists making sure the photos they snapped of themselves between the two countries would work on social media.
But it wasn’t always so easy to cross over. Two years after the second world war, the 1947 Treaty of Paris put in place new European limits on travel between Italy and the former Yugoslavia. It also determined that the underdeveloped side of town should be part of the Socialist Federal Republic of Yugoslavia. The new town that was created on Slovenian land was to be called Nova Gorica.
All changed once again when Slovenia entered the EU in 2004. And now the Italian-Slovenian town has become the first transnational European “Capital of Culture”.
On an average year, about 250,000 tourists visit the towns. But the Capital of Culture title means that number is expected to swell to around five million. Gorizia is now furiously organising art exhibits, wine tours, and theatrical performances to keep these new visitors entertained.
Moving away from the square, I walked past the town’s castle, meandered down several side streets and, being the glutton I am, peered into numerous bakeries to see what was on the menu for dessert, before heading down to a restaurant named Ai Tre Soldi, which serves up typical local fare. I ordered a plate of gnocchi with goulash sauce and asked the waiter what he thought about this Capital of Culture business.
“For me it’s a wonderful thing,” he said. “I’ve lived here pretty much my whole life so I’m proud it’s being recognised.”
“We speak the same tongues,” he said, referring to the Slovenian side of town. “We’re very similar and it’s not uncommon for people to have family over there, even though we’re from different countries” he added. “It’s a real joint effort on both parts and I feel this has unified us a bit more.”
In the 21 years since the border was scrapped, it was only reinstated once, which was during the pandemic.
“Another plus side is that our restaurants hopefully will be a lot busier,” he said, before handing over my food.
After lunch I crossed to the other side, to Nova Gorica. The two could not be any more different.
Gorizia is made up of narrow medieval streets and old-world charm. Nova Gorica is made up of wide-open, planned city spaces and colourful socialist-era blocks of flats. The waiter had told me that young people from Gorizia tend to flock here at the weekend due to its buzzing nightlife, craft beer pubs and live music scene.
Nova Gorica isn’t exactly beautiful – but then to the east of the town lie gorgeous green spaces, the Gozd Panovec national park, and its emerald-hued Soča River.
Later I had to nip back across the border to the Italian side to catch my train home, and was left wondering what the point of borders really was.
Jessica Lionnel is a freelance journalist living in Rome
