I don’t come to Piran to rest – I come for peace. For salt and silence, for the buzz of the evening and that something you don’t need to explain. Only we, the quiet “Piranians”, understand.

‍

Sometimes I stay for a whole month, other times just a day or two. Piran is my ritual of returning. A place where the familiar and the new always meet. Where friends and acquaintances are encountered by chance – no calls, no plans. Tartini Square is our living room. Everything happens there: greetings, conversations, silence.

‍

Even though I’m just a renter, I’m part of that quiet town crowd that seeks genuine experiences – and unintentionally helps shape them. We may not be real locals, but tourists still look at us as if we are.

‍

I don’t come to Piran to rest – I come for peace. For salt and silence, for the buzz of the evening and that something you don’t need to explain. Only we, the quiet “Piranians”, understand.

‍

There’s nothing more beautiful than an early morning swim in calm sea. From a pier with no shade but perfect tranquility. That’s where the day begins differently. Just the body slipping into salty water, and the thought that everything is exactly as it should be.

‍

On vacation, we often pretend. Pretend we know how to live slower. That from now on, we’ll be without our phones, with fresh fruit, olive oil and salt on our skin. That every evening we’ll sit without purpose and count stars. And then you come home and say: “Next year I’ll really… truly disconnect.”

‍

But even this “fake peace” is better than none. Maybe it’s not fake at all. Because peace isn’t a goal – it’s a practice. I often realize I’m searching for peace, but I don’t really want boredom. I want the tension of silence that isn’t empty. Presence, with room for thought, for breath, for the rhythm of waves. For a conversation that isn’t necessary. For solitude that isn’t loneliness.

‍

Piran teaches me that it’s not about how long you stay, but how you are while you’re there. Being present – even just for a weekend – can mean more than a thousand sunsets on Instagram. I’m no longer looking for a vacation spot. I’m looking for a space to pause.

‍

Where you can dance in the evening – or just watch the sea. Go out for a nice dinner or simply cross the square that feels almost like home.

‍

In Piran, I am – in my own way – at home. And that’s why I keep coming back.

‍

Piran teaches me that it’s not about how long you stay, but how you are while you’re there. Being present – even just for a weekend – can mean more than a thousand sunsets on Instagram. I’m no longer looking for a vacation spot. I’m looking for a space to pause.

‍

‍

‍