29: Oplotnica // A Culture is No Better Than Its Parks
Oplotnica Mansion // © Oplotnica TIC
Oplotnica has a magnificent park. A magnificent park with a magnificent mansion, ringed by magnificent scenery and tranquillity that deserves that same adjective. Dictionary definition, in fact. Extremely beautiful, elaborate and impressive.
In truth, I knew little about Oplotnica before heading there when putting together the Rogla-Pohorje In Your Pocket guide back in 2017. Less than little, actually. Of the five towns included in the guide, Oplotnica was the real black hole. Slovenske Konjice’s name told me its own story, while the history of Herman Potočnik at Vitanje was very well-known to me. Rogla had the skiing, Zreče was my base. Oplotnica? I quite liked the way the name rang off my top row of teeth, but that was about it.
What is that saying about expectations? It was from The Books, Smells Like Content, a seriously good song that everyone should know. “Expectation leads to disappointment. If you don’t expect something big, huge and exciting, usually, erm, I don’t know…” Remind me to give that album another listen very soon.
I had no expectations before visiting Oplotnica, but the serenity of the park (and the mansion) was more than enough to blow away even the most minute hints of conjecture. It was small but perfectly formed, the first truly accurate use for that term that I believed in. I counted five different shades of green from the grass to the tops of the trees, painting a verdant picture of tranquillity that every single park on the planet should strive for.
Okay, a little excessive, but is this not what our hearts want from parks? There massive parks of the world attract eyes and fame, but they distort the idea of what a park should be. Golden Gate Park in San Francisco covers 1,017 acres and is full of museums, playgrounds and gardens. Bangkok’s Lumpini Park is a jarring volley of dense greenery backdropped by skyscrapers, creating a juxtaposition that drags creativity out of dormant minds. Belgrade’s Kalemegdan has old men drinking šljiva and playing chess in the early hours. You don’t need me to tell you about Central Park (or maybe that is a central park in Newark?)
All famous, all marvellous, but all lacking the poise necessary for reducing blood pressure and heart rates. Oplotnica’s central park was put together in 1924 on the initiative of the mayor, an Austrian called Karbar, on a property that was owned by the Windisch-Grätz family, a noble line that found its origins in the area around Slovenj Gradec in the 13th century. A wool factory once stood nearby, although the active element of the park focuses less on wool and the maintenance of that which the textile gives us.
A reconstruction of the Oplotnica laundry // © Oplotnica TIC
Parks are the heart of small communities. The small stream that trickles through Oplotnica’s park was once a meeting point for the old ladies of the village, where they would come to do their laundry and exchange that most valuable of currency, gossip and conversation. This was the norm until the 1970s, when the damn washing machine made its way to the isolated villages of Štajerska, depriving the elderly of a convenient reason to discuss the past, present and future of Oplotnica. Oh, and it was also used for washing the intestines of slaughtered cattle.
You see, history doesn’t care for your whimsical fancies. Conjure up an image of Oplotnica in 1931, and you’ll easily construct small farmsteads and a leisurely pace. The people of the village gravitate towards the park and the laundry, where cleaning clothes in glimmering water is accentuated by the buzz of conversation and exclamation of surprise at the actions of so and so. Then, the putrid smell of freshly-excavated intestines makes its way into the dream, changing the scene entirely.
Not that that scene should be taken in the negative, because is authenticity not the golden goose of small-town tourism? I jest, I jest. Oplotnica’s park shimmered in 2017 for reasons different to is historic tranquillity, and it presented me with the perfect place to hide with a good book (or a well-charged Kindle, truth be told) if the world ever became too much, a daily occurrence if honesty is expected.
Next to the park lay Oplotnica Mansion, a keen example of how unnecessary fancy names are. This is the mansion in Oplotnica, so it doesn’t need a sparkly moniker. The scintillating white of the mansion’s exterior has long been the heart of Oplotnica’s development and its economic life, from the moment it was constructed in the early 17th century to the current day. I wandered around the mansion with open eyes and a warmed heart, exploring its numerous rooms as well as its charming music school, from where strained strings extended out in search of appreciative ears.
The mansion’s highlight awaited me on the second floor. I don’t know why, but I’m always surprised to find small chapels in fancy houses, despite being fully aware of the importance of faith to the wealthy throughout history. The chapel in Oplotnica mansion deserved special mention, filled as it was with vibrant stuccos and a similar sense of equanimity to the park outside. If the weather was too cold for my hibernation to take place in the park, I could always come inside and read here.
Impressed and surprised, I left the mansion behind. A baroque sculpture of St John the Baptist accentuated the facade, rescued from the Žiče Charterhouse in World War II, one final parting gift from a surprisingly charming town to an eager little man.
