Vienna to Trieste Great Continental Railway Journeys

I'm embarking on a new railway adventure

that will take me across the heart of Europe.

I'll be using this, my Bradshaw's Continental Railway Guide,

dated 1913, which opened up an exotic world of foreign travel

for the British tourist.

It told travellers where to go, what to see and how to navigate

the thousands of miles of tracks crisscrossing the continent.

Now, a century later, I'm using my copy to reveal an era

of great optimism and energy, where technology, industry,

science and the arts were flourishing.

I want to rediscover that lost Europe that in 1913 couldn't know

that its way of life would shortly be swept aside by the advent of war.

On this journey, I'm following my guidebook

through part of the vast Austro-Hungarian Empire

that in 1913 stretched from Italy in the west to Russia in the east,

where the border between the two empires extended over 500 miles.

Were I travelling a century ago, this train would be carrying me

to the capital of the Austro-Hungarian Empire,

a hotchpotch of nationalities that could sing the Imperial Anthem

in 17 different languages.

Bradshaw's tells me that it's presided over by Francis Josef I,

"..a very old and old-fashioned emperor."

I shall travel on the very first transalpine railway,

an iron artery that connected the imperial capital

to its Adriatic port.

Franz Josef's family, the Habsburgs,

had reigned over lands in Europe for seven centuries,

but the Austro-Hungarian emperor's outdated rule was under challenge

from modernisers and nationalisms.

I'll be travelling along the first major trunk railway

to be built in the empire.

I begin in the Austrian capital of Vienna,

from where I'll travel south-west,

crossing the Alps through the awe-inspiring Semmering Pass.

My journey continues south to Graz, Austria's second city,

crosses into Slovenia and on to its capital at Ljubljana

and from there I'll travel the last 60 miles into Italy

and my final stop, the port of Trieste.

Along the way, I'll learn that the empire,

when confronted by change, fought to hold on to its past.

Not everybody likes it when a new world begins.

A new world beginning means an old world ends.

I'll be attempting an Edwardian-style winter sports challenge.

HE CHEERS

-You will hang like this...

-I wondered how I would hang!

And I'll travel along one of the world's

most impressive feats of railway engineering.

No tunnel drilling machines, so they had to drill the holes by hand.

It's a handmade railway line.

At the time of my guidebook,

the Habsburgs had already been forced to compromise with Hungary,

their largest and most rebellious territory.

For the preceding half-century, Franz Josef had reigned as a dual monarch.

Hungary had its own parliament in Budapest,

but the empire's first city was undoubtedly the Austrian capital.

"Vienna," says Bradshaw's, "is regarded as one of the brightest

"and healthiest of the large continental cities,

"with cheerful and courteous inhabitants."

The number of its citizens had quintupled

since the middle of the 19th century,

and its Jewish population had risen 35 times over.

Whilst its imperial port was perhaps the most hide-bound

and reactionary in Europe, Vienna had attracted masses of migrants

who defied tradition with their new music, art and ideas.

With the formation of the dual monarchy in 1867

had come new civil rights, enabling minorities to move more freely

to cities to seek new opportunities.

Around the date of my Bradshaw's,

trains were bringing in Jewish, Slav and Czech migrants

from all corners of the empire.

Vienna has this most impressive new central railway station,

the Hauptbahnhof.

Over the last few years, four billion euros have been invested here,

and from a single station, you'll be able to travel

east and west and north and south.

Bucharest and Budapest and Rome and Berlin,

from a single station.

When Edwardian tourists came here,

they found a city newly rebuild according to the will of the emperor.

In 1857, Franz Josef had personally ordered that the medieval walls

be razed to the ground

to make space for a grand imperial capital with magnificent buildings

designed by the empire's leading architects.

This is the Ringstrasse, which Bradshaw's tells me

is "..a fine, broad thoroughfare.

"Within this district are most of the principal buildings."

This is imperial Vienna - the city of pomp and elegance and etiquette,

of balls and opera.

But by 1913, there was a different city.

It was audacious, rebellious and modern.

The values represented by these edifices of tradition

and dynastic power were being shaken to their foundations.

I'm meeting historian Philipp Blom

outside Austria's National Theatre, built in 1888.

-Philipp, hello.

-Welcome to Vienna.

-Thank you.

How would you describe the state of the Austro-Hungarian Empire by 1913?

Well, it was a difficult time.

It was a time when everything was really trying to break apart,

or threatening to break apart,

and people were desperately trying to keep it together,

so the emperor was trying to keep it together,

but basically, it's a medieval empire in a modern Europe.

This is a place where facades,

where appearances are tremendously important

because only the appearance of unity really makes this one empire.

At the turn of the 20th century,

governing 50 million inhabitants from 15 nations was proving impossible.

With different groups clamouring for equality,

nationalism was on the rise and the empire's integrity was under threat.

Philipp is taking me to the Prater Park, mentioned in my guide,

to ride on the world-famous Prater Wheel.

It was built by British engineer Walter Bassett in 1897.

-Our very own sitting room!

-Oh, wonderful.

And soon to be a sitting room in the skies.

And off we go.

Wonderful!

In fact, this Ferris wheel was already here

-by the end of he empire, wasn't it?

-Well, yes.

Your tourists would have been able to ride on it

and it was said to be a bit like imperial politics, you know?

There's always movement and you always end up where you were before.

Whilst the politics may have been going round in circles,

Vienna's cultural life, led by its Jewish population,

was challenging Viennese values and breaking down its social barriers.

This was an extraordinary period for the arts in Vienna

and for scientific progress, wasn't it?

There was an explosion of creativity, that is true.

And you have got writers like Arthur Schnitzler who really

observed people's identities and crept into their soul.

You, of course, had Sigmund Freud who did the same thing

in a therapeutic context.

You have painters like Schiele and Klimt.

So I think, you know, the questioning of everything,

the questioning of identity

and tradition in a city that is burgeoning

and really bursting at the seams, that was something very important

and that's what we call Viennese Modernism.

There would be a reaction against modernism.

Was that associated with anti-Semitism?

Well, it was, because not everybody likes it when a new world begins.

A new world beginning means an old world ends.

This anti-modernism

especially influenced the city's Austrian middle class,

among them, a young Adolf Hitler who dreamed of studying art here.

By 1913, both capital and empire faced an uncertain future.

I'm heading back onto solid ground, from where I can contemplate

this iconic landmark which features in one of my favourite movies.

Ever since I saw that Orson Welles film, The Third Man,

I've thought of Vienna as the centre of Cold War intrigue.

But in 1913, it was the setting for a real-life spy drama.

I'm on the trail of an event that 100 years ago

sent shock waves around Europe.

I'm meeting military historian Colonel Christian Ortner

at Vienna's central post office.

Hello, Christian. I'm Michael.

Nice to meet you.

Christian, I believe that in 1913,

the Austro-Hungarian army was rocked by a spy scandal.

How did it come to light?

Yes, it was really a big catastrophe,

especially for the Austro-Hungarian army

because it all started

when a few letters here in this post office were not collected.

They were sent back to a tiny, little village

near the German-Russian border,

well known to be one of the spy centres of the area.

And there, the German secret service realised,

"Hmm, some letters are coming."

They opened them and money was in it.

-A lot of money?

-A lot of money.

And then they informed the Austrian military secret service.

"There could be some problems within your army."

The envelope full of cash also contained addresses

linked to Russian intelligence.

It looked as though the Austro-Hungarian secret service

had a mole.

A copy of the letter was sent back to the post office

and whoever collected it would be exposed as the traitor.

Three civil detectives were here, waiting,

and a female worker here had a bell

and when the letter was collected, she should ring the bell

and the three detectives realised, oh, that's the man.

So presumably they followed?

Yes, they did and this was a very interesting story

because when following, the man took a taxi.

This is the decisive point of the whole investigation.

Detectives had staked out the post office for six weeks.

If they wanted to catch the traitor, they had to close the net fast.

Fearing that they'd lost their man,

the detectives waited for the taxi driver to return to the rank

and learned that the suspect had gone to a central hotel.

They also discovered that he'd dropped the sheath

of a letter opener on the back seat.

So the detectives have the sheath of a knife

-and they have an address, a hotel.

-Yes.

-What do they do?

Quite interesting.

They gave the sheath of the knife to the concierge,

because it was clear that maybe one of the guests was the real owner.

And, er, they were waiting in the lobby room

and suddenly a man came down and said this is his sheath.

It was Colonel Redl,

a high-ranking officer of the former military secret service.

My goodness. That must have been a huge shock.

Colonel Alfred Redl was being blackmailed by the Russians

over his homosexuality

and was supplying them with Austrian military secrets.

Interrogators assembled

and went up to his hotel room to extract the truth.

-Did he confess?

-Yes, he confessed immediately.

And later on, he was handed over a pistol and in the morning

of the 25th of May, they found him dead in his room.

He had shot himself.

What was the impact of this scandal on Austro-Hungary?

This was an enormous scandal

and I think it was an earthquake to the empire.

In a bid to repair the damage done to the military's reputation

and to improve morale, Emperor Franz Josef appointed his nephew

and heir, Archduke Franz Ferdinand, inspector general of the army.

It was while visiting troops in the Bosnian capital Sarajevo

in 1914 that Franz Ferdinand was assassinated

and Europe was plunged into the First World War.

Ending my day, I'm drawn to an aspect of this city

that no early 20th-century tourist would have ignored.

Vienna's extraordinary musical heritage of Mozart, Schubert

and Strauss had been central to its culture for over 200 years.

But in 1913, a new sound caused uproar in the city's concert hall.

I'm at the stunning National Library to meet Professor Susana Zapke.

Susana, what are these?

We have here the newspapers that tell the story

of the Skandalkonzert on the 31st March, 1913.

-The Skandalkonzert?

-Skandalkonzert, yes. A big event in Vienna.

The concert was conducted by avant-garde composer

Arnold Schoenberg, and featured new works by other emerging modernists.

For the traditional audience, they'd gone too far.

Did people begin to whistle or to boo or what happened?

And to laugh and to cry and to gesticulate.

-There was a moment absolutely of high tension.

-Did it come to blows?

Oh, yes. It came to blows.

And therefore, in Vienna, we speak not about the Skandalkonzert

but about the Slapkonzert.

Operetta composer Oscar Straus - no relation to the waltz king Johann -

was so offended by Schoenberg's programme that he punched him.

He later claimed that the sound of the punch

had been the most harmonious moment of the performance.

-So it was a clash of the old and the new?

-Absolutely.

They were absolutely aggressive to this new form of music,

this modernity.

Which do you prefer to play?

Straus, but I think if you play music from your heart,

it doesn't matter which kind of music you play.

Do you think people in Vienna now accept Schoenberg

in the way that they accept Straus?

-No. Not really.

-SHE LAUGHS

-It's still considered rather new?

-Yes. Yeah.

I'm leaving the capital behind and following my guidebook 60 miles

south-west towards some of Austria's most breathtaking scenery.

I have, of course, the most enormous admiration

for British railway engineers,

but let's face it, they didn't have to cope with the Alps.

I'm going to take this train through the mighty Semmering Pass.

And as I make that epic journey, I'm going to be thinking

about the man who lived for that idea and the many who died for it.

WHISTLE BLOWS

The Semmering Pass is Europe's first transalpine railway.

It forms part of the 300-mile long Vienna to Trieste line

which was the empire's spinal cord through the mountains.

I've arranged to meet railway historian Gunter Dinhobl on board.

-Hello, Gunter.

-Hi, Michael.

-Nice to meet you.

-Very good to see you.

Why was it so important for the Habsburg Empire

to build this railway line?

I think the most important thing was to get a good transport connection

from Vienna, the capital of the empire, to Trieste,

the main harbour, the main port of the empire,

and at this time to get the opening of the world.

The emperor wanted Austria-Hungary's main seaport

to rival Genoa and Marseilles.

Plans for a line were discussed as easily as 1837,

but the treacherous alpine route

prevented them from becoming a reality.

So suddenly, Gunter, I feel that the train is beginning to move up

a steep gradient.

You can feel it pulling as it goes around the very tight curves

and, of course, the scenery has become very alpine.

Beautiful.

How big a challenge was it

to build the railway line through the Semmering?

I was a really huge challenge because in the time before,

no-one tries to build a railway in such a mountainous area or so steep.

Who was the brain behind the railway?

Karl Ghega, who was born in Venice,

studied mechanical engineering, mathematics,

also studied architecture and he was designated to be the chief engineer

for the whole railway line from Vienna to Trieste.

Karl von Ghega was brought onto the project in 1842.

He immediately began to survey the area

and to study systems abroad to try to overcome to alpine obstacle.

In 1848, construction of the ambitious line began.

It would involve 22 major bridges, 16 viaducts and 14 tunnels.

There had been around 15-20,000 people

working on the 42km long railway line.

Dynamite didn't exist at that time, no tunnel drilling machines,

so they had to drill the holes by hand.

-It's a handmade railway line.

-An extraordinary achievement.

700 men and women died building the line. It took six years to complete.

And in 1854, the first passenger train puffed over the Semmering Pass.

Now UNESCO protected, it's as awe-inspiring today

as it would have been for tourists following my 1913 guide.

I often say to people, if there's one thing that's more beautiful

than a green valley, it's a green valley with a railway viaduct in it.

Indeed. You'll see it on the Semmering.

Auf Wiedersehen.

What a beautiful alpine station and wonderful, fresh -

not to say, cold - air.

I want to take a close-up look

at one of the line's most striking structures.

This is the Kalte Rinne viaduct.

And what impresses me is that the engineers,

who were having to do something that had never been done before,

still had enough passion left to make it beautiful.

Von Ghega's achievements are widely recognised today,

and by one man perhaps more than most.

-Hello. Are you Georg?

-Yes, I'm Georg.

-Georg, good to see you.

Michael.

Ah, thank you.

Georg Zwickl is such a devotee of the engineer that he moved here

from Vienna to build a museum in his honour.

It's perched at the top of the 46m tall Kalte Rinne viaduct.

Georg, this is fantastic.

Perfect little museum. What is this house, Georg?

-In this house always worked two men who looked at the train.

-Yeah.

-So this was built by the railway for some of their workers?

-Yes.

-Do you live close by?

-I live here, yes.

-Ha! You live in a museum?

-Yes.

A model of the viaduct.

-That is fantastic.

-It's exact.

It's exact?

I can believe it.

Superb. The Kalte Rinne viaduct.

In all its majesty.

And here's the house.

That's where we are.

Built to the exact scale, this really is a work of precision.

You have a wonderful view from your house, don't you?

This is perfect. A train spotter's paradise.

Greatest model train in Europe.

The greatest model train in Europe, I believe it.

The Semmering Pass transformed this landscape forever.

Soon, the viaducts were joined by villas and hotels,

built to accommodate the many tourists

coming to enjoy one of the first alpine resorts.

Bradshaw's tells me that Semmering is one of the favourite resorts

both in summer and winter.

Now I've never done any alpine sports.

But when it comes to my duty,

there'll be no slipping or sliding by me.

At the time of my guidebook, many of the capital's modernist writers

and artists were coming here to find inspiration for their work

and get their alpine kicks.

Off to the snowy peaks before I make my daredevil descent.

It took men of courage to build the Austro-Hungarian Empire.

And today, I feel inspired by their example.

Yay!

Although skiing didn't become common until the 1930s,

skating, bobsleighing and tobogganing were all popular

for the most thrill-seeking of Edwardian tourists.

As thrilling as it was to get down the mountain like that,

I think I'll stick to train travel.

Gruss Gott.

I'm heading 66 miles south

towards another popular Edwardian destination.

My journey from Vienna to the Adriatic continues

and my next stop will be Graz, which Bradshaw's tells me is

"..the picturesquely situation capital of Styria,

"1,135 feet above the sea on the river Mur

"and one of the healthiest of Austrian towns."

I really am enjoying this beautiful, snowy alpine scenery.

And it will be a pleasure to spend the night there.

Arriving in the evening,

I'll save my exploration of Austria's second city for the morning.

I've been drawn to the Hotel Erzherzog Johann

by an advertisement in my Bradshaw's guide.

It's first class in the centre of the city in the best position.

I'm promised "steam and stove heating"

and the proprietor is Fritz Muller.

I understand that the Mullers are still the owners today.

I'm eating in a lovely winter garden

and I've chosen Bircher muesli with fruit, cold cuts and cheese -

the sort of breakfast that I think tourists

and Austrians would have eaten even 100 years ago.

'Excited to be in a place that I don't know...'

Gruss Gott!

'..I'm setting off to explore Graz.'

Known as a popular retirement town at the time of my guide,

Graz has since undergone a rejuvenation.

With six universities, one in five living here now is a student.

This was also the 2003 European capital of culture,

which saw the opening of the modern British-designed art gallery.

But it's the view over the city that Bradshaw's recommends.

My guidebook promises me a fine view from the Schlossberg,

that's the fortress mountain at 1,545 feet.

"Ascent by cable tram."

and on the south side, I'm promised a beautiful old clock tower.

Interestingly, when this was opened in 1894,

it was powered by a steam engine, which was at the top of the mountain,

and a boiler at the bottom, the two linked by steam pipes.

Extraordinary!

BELLS CHIME

Well, as I hoped, a lovely panorama over Graz,

with its combination of the Baroque and the ultra-modern.

-Are you visitors to Graz?

-No, no.

-Ah, you're locals?

-We are from Graz.

-Ah, excellent!

But you still come and see the local sights, that's very nice.

A very striking building there. Have you been in that building?

Yes. The building, yeah, it's striking.

Maybe it does not fully fit to the overall view of Graz.

When you say it doesn't fit, I mean,

I think Graz wants to be modern, doesn't it?

-It wants to be known.

-At least it is an attempt, let's say,

but this is subjective, my subjective impression.

Well, I must say, a very good advertisement for a city

is to see two local people enjoying it.

I think so, yeah.

I'm following my guidebook out of the city.

Bradshaw's tells me that, in the area surrounding Graz, the heights and

woods offer innumerable excursions, including Lurloch Grotto.

From the late 1800s,

Alpine adventure wasn't restricted to the mountain heights.

Beneath the ground, cave exploration was also becoming a popular pastime

and the world's first speleology society formed in France in 1895.

I'm meeting cave expert Heinrich in the Lurgrotte where,

over 100 years ago, tragedy was narrowly averted.

-Heinrich, I'm Michael.

-Hi, Michael.

What an extraordinary cave!

When was this cave discovered?

The cave was discovered in 1894.

It was very hard even to come here

because there were so many lakes and streams and pools to cross over.

You make it sound quite dangerous with all that water and so on.

Were there accidents in the early days?

There were a lot of accidents. The most famous was in 1894.

There were two competitive caving clubs who tried to be the first

to explore the cave and one of them entered the cave secretly.

It was a very unlucky exploration because a flood took place outside,

a very big thunderstorm and this thunderstorm flooded the entrance

of the cave, so they couldn't get out any more.

The group of seven cavers, including one 15-year-old boy,

were all amateurs.

When they failed to return home,

their families quickly raised the alarm.

Was there a very big rescue effort, then?

It was a very big rescue effort.

3,000 people involved in the rescue and many spectators.

It was a big event in the papers.

It attracted so much attention that Emperor Franz Josef

dispatched a military team.

They took some people from the army, they brought some logs

and made a blocking of the stream.

Finally, they had to dig a new tunnel to enable the cavers to escape.

Despite being trapped for nine days,

extraordinarily, no-one was seriously hurt.

Today, there are societies dedicated to cave rescue.

Henrich is part of one called Hohlenbaren,

'and they've agreed to let me take part in a rescue training exercise.'

OK, down here you will see there is a little rope.

and here we have a kind of break with a special knot.

-And then you'll let me down gently with this slipknot.

-Exactly.

Very good. OK.

You will hang like this later.

THEY LAUGH I wondered how I would hang.

-OK?

-Like this?

Yeah.

OK.

'Hearing water rushing around me,

'I try to imagine what a terrifying experience it must have been

'for those trapped here over 100 years ago.'

Michael, stop.

Stop.

Michael, you OK?

I'm fine.

Ah.

-Are you fine, Michael?

-I am. Thank you very much, Henrich.

-Welcome down to Earth!

-It's good to be back.

After such an adventure, I'll head for a night's rest

before continuing my journey south in the morning.

Back at Graz Station, my journey resumes

along Austria-Hungary's imperial rail route.

I'm travelling through three separate countries that,

at the time of my guidebook, were all dynastic possessions

of the House of Habsburg.

First, I'm heading into Slovenia, bound for its capital, Ljubljana.

From there, I'll continue into Italy, towards Trieste.

TRAIN HONKS

There's only one direct train from Graz to Ljubljana per day,

so I'm picking up a connection at Zidani Most,

over the Slovenian border.

-Thank you.

-Thank you very much.

My Bradshaw's gives my next destination its German name,

Laibach, but it's now known as Ljubljana.

It tells me that it's the capital of Carniola.

Well, it's now the capital of Slovenia.

And it tells me that the city was greatly injured by an earthquake

in April, 1895, so I'm expecting to find a city

in a new country with a different language and rebuilt.

Under the Austria-Hungarian Empire, those with power and influence tended

to speak German, while everyone else used their native language.

-Hello, ladies.

-Hello.

Do you mind if I join you for a moment?

Thank you very much indeed.

I wonder if you can help me.

The Slovenian language, is it like the Croatian language,

like the Bosnian language, or is it very different?

It's very similar, but it's not the same.

I think we understand each other, almost all.

Are you very proud of your own language?

Do you feel a very strong sense of ownership of your own language?

Well, youngsters, I think they are, like...

..more connected with English than like with their own language.

-So most people of your generation now speak English?

-Yes.

Although independent since 1991,

for much of the 20th century, Slovenia was part of Yugoslavia.

I always feel excitement when I arrive in

one of the former communist countries, because Slovenia

has had a pretty rough passage since it left the Austro-Hungarian Empire

nearly 100 years ago.

Since the time of my guide, it's been a state, a kingdom,

three kinds of republic and, finally, an independent nation.

Throughout the upheaval, Ljubljana has been Slovenia's first city

and it's stunning.

I'm meeting historian Peter Krecic at the central Preseren Square

to discover more about the city as Bradshaw travellers

would have found it.

We meet in a really beautiful square,

but I hear from Bradshaw's Guide that there was an earthquake here in 1895.

A lot of destruction?

Yes, quite a lot.

Maybe more than 50% of the buildings were destroyed

and it was really a dramatic view when you entered Ljubljana

immediately after the earthquake.

On that Easter Sunday, the city was devastated.

The earthquake was so powerful

that it was felt in Vienna almost 250 miles away.

It left many of the 31,000 population homeless, so a plan to salvage

the city was quickly put in place.

When it came to beginning to rebuild the city, how was that undertaken?

In that time, we had a good and capable member of Ljubljana Council.

His name was Ivan Hribar.

Later on, he became a mayor of Ljubljana for a decade

because of his successful reaction after the earthquake.

"Immediately," he said, "when the earth was still moving,

"going through the town, I was thinking of what to do."

He wanted broader streets, new parks, greenery in the town.

Councillor Ivan Hribar, a passionate nationalist,

recognised that this could be an opportunity to create

a contemporary Slovenian capital.

Reconstruction began in earnest in 1896 and drew architects and planners

from all over the Empire.

It was a time of expressionism, architectural expression,

which is hidden behind, you would say, the classical form.

What had been a sleepy, Baroque town became an architectural playground.

The city's interpretation of the Viennese Secession,

Austria's equivalent of Art Nouveau, adorned the streets and, by 1910,

over 400 new buildings had been constructed.

They were intended to embody more than architectural fashion.

This building was built immediately after the break of the centuries,

somewhere...1901.

And, as you see, the national feeling is put on the facade

in the form of the Slovenian flag.

You can see the red ground floor,

then the first floor is in blue

and the rest of the building is white.

-An extraordinary building.

-Yes.

At the start of the 20th century,

nationalism was on the rise across Europe.

Many Slavic groups in the Empire wanted greater independence

and Slovenia wanted to be a nation in its own right.

That passion expressed itself in architecture, literature,

science and art.

I'm meeting curator Andrej Smrekar.

-Andrej? Michael.

-Very nice meeting you.

-Your National Gallery is spectacular, absolutely beautiful.

-Thank you.

The gallery exhibits many works by the Sava Group,

a collection of Slovenian artists formed in 1906,

whose work became a plank of Slovenian nationalism.

Now this painting here, the image emerges perfectly clearly

and it is a man sowing a field,

taking the seed from a basket on his left hip

and presumably casting it with his right hand.

And in the background?

-And in the background is a hayrack.

-Ah, yes.

The hayrack was identified as piece of architecture

that you could find only in parts of Slovenia.

That's what makes the sower Slovene.

The public, or at least the critics, saw that at once, did they?

-Immediately saw the Slovene significance?

-Yes.

The painting is by Ivan Grohar, a Sava Group member.

Those artists exhibited across the Empire

at the start of the 20th century,

reaching a broad audience with their scenes of Slovenian life,

fuelling national pride and sentiment.

Why do you think that this image is so powerful for Slovenian people?

That's... That's us.

Because, from the start, the peasant was understood

as the essence of Slovenian identity.

Aristocracy was, in the 19th century,

perceived as foreign, as other.

The peasant represented the millennial struggle against

German domination.

That's what makes him so iconic.

The picture is saying, "This peasant is of the same stuff as the Earth."

I see that.

These images were part of Slovenia's national awakening,

strengthening national identity and the desire for independence.

This painting features on Slovenian coins even today.

Has it become the most important painting in Slovenian history?

I think so. I think it kept its centrality for the whole century.

-It's extraordinary, isn't it? The power of that is amazing.

-Yes.

With all this talk of Slovenian patriotism,

I'm anxious to absorb the national spirit.

TRADITIONAL SLOVENIAN MUSIC

So the Snopc o'tecca seems like a good place to pause.

-Hello!

-Hello.

-This is a very nice shop.

-Thank you.

-I was hoping to drink something typically Slovenian, please.

-OK.

What do you recommend?

-We have 80 different spirits.

-No!

-Yeah.

I think pear, apple and plum are the most typical ones.

Actually, the apple sounds quite nice.

Yes, this one is aged in oak barrels, that's why it has

this nice colour.

Very nice. What's it called?

Golden Spirit.

Golden... Say that in Slovene for me.

-Zlato Zganje.

-Oh, lovely, Zlato Zganje!

Wow. That is strong...

and very nice!

All the schnapps are fruit-based and made using traditional techniques.

This revival of artisan distilling has become popular in recent years.

-Want to cheers with us?

-Yes, cheers!

-Na zdravje, we say na zdravje!

-Na zdravje!

-Na zdravje!

-Cheers.

Here, do you want to try my...?

-This is apple. You want to try mine?

-Yeah, I'd love to.

Mmmm!

Very nice to see you. Cheers.

-Na zdravje.

-Na zdravje, na zdravje, na zdravje.

My time in Ljubljana is almost up,

so I'm turning in before I embark on my final day

across the old Empire.

I'm heading back to the station for the last leg of my journey...

TRAIN HONKS

..although it's a bit more complicated than it was

at the time of my guidebook.

According to the timetables in my Bradshaw's Guide, 100 years ago

you could travel from Ljubljana to Trieste by train

in about three hours and ten minutes.

Today the journey takes rather longer and just now there are all sorts

of problems with the lines and there's a replacement bus service.

I don't fancy one of those,

so I've found a freight train that's going my way.

Good morning. I'm Michael.

Oh. Hello, I'm Zoron.

-Zoron, good to see you.

-Thank you.

-May I sit here?

-Yeah, yeah.

-Wonderful.

TRAIN HONKS

What is the cargo on the train today?

It's containers, all is containers from Austria,

for all Austria to the Adriatic Sea and then go on board.

540 metres long and 1,500 tonnes.

-Wow. That's a big train, isn't it?

-Yeah.

Here is the route built by the Austro-Hungarian Empire

to carry goods to Trieste.

But this train is heading to Koper, Slovenia's only seaport,

about 13 miles outside Trieste.

TRAIN HONKS

BRAKES SQUEAL

Thanks, it was a great ride. Bye-bye, now.

Thanks.

I'm picking up my final connection for Trieste at Villa Opicina,

just over the Italian border.

A traveller using my Bradshaw's Guide 100 years ago could have travelled

on a tram on this route, because it began service in 1902.

And it's unusual, possibly unique, because at this point,

it's a conventional tram, but as we begin the very sharp decent into the

city of Trieste, a rope system takes over, balancing the tram

that's coming up the gradient with another that's descending.

Outside the city, a so-called shield wagon is added to the tram.

So now we're at the top of the gradient

and it is an incredibly steep gradient and the tram has engaged

with this cable, which is running along wheels, and as we go down,

we must be balanced by a tram that is now coming up,

but I am amazed by how steep this hill is.

Fantastico questo tram, no? E' unico, no?

E' unico, si.

It operates like a funicular, but its application to a tram is unique.

It enables the vehicles to get up and down the 27% gradient.

So now we've disengaged from the cable, we've left our auxiliary

vehicle behind, we now will move on to the tracks where there is no cable

and we'll continue as an ordinary tram.

We're in the city of Trieste,

which Bradshaw's tells me was the "Tergeste of the Romans,

"the principal seaport of Austria, situated on a gulf

"at the northeast end of the Adriatic,

"a thriving commercial place."

Indeed, it's difficult to overstate the importance of Trieste,

the place where Austria's imports and exports flowed, and the Adriatic,

the sea on which its dreadnoughts and battleships

could project the Empire's power.

At the time of my guidebook,

Trieste had become Austria-Hungary's economic hub.

During the second half of the 19th century, its population doubled

as migrants flowed in to find work building ships or heaving cargo.

By 1913, over six million tonnes of goods, including tropical fruit,

coal and cotton, were being moved by rail from ships through the port

and out to the rest of the Empire.

Today, cargo is brought into Trieste's new port.

One of the vital goods at the time of my guidebook

is still a major import today.

Alessandro, hi, I'm Michael.

-Hi, Michael, it's nice to meet you.

-Good to see you.

Alessandro's family has been roasting coffee for 130 years.

-This is an extraordinary display of coffee here.

-Yeah.

And how does coffee rank as a commodity?

Coffee is the third commodity in the world after gold and petrol,

so it's very important.

And today Trieste is one of the most important ports of delivery

for coffee in Italy and in Europe.

Just as at the time of my guidebook,

Trieste has a key role in the global coffee market.

Around two million bags of raw beans are processed

through the port each year.

But before they're used, they must be roasted.

So, Michael, let me introduce you to Massimo.

-Massimo is one of my roasters.

-Massimo, Michael.

-Nice to meet you.

That is not what I expected, because I always think of coffee beans

as being very, very dark brown.

And it has very little smell at the moment.

Yes, because the cellular matrix of the coffee is completely sealed.

-But when we roast it, it releases the flavour compounds.

-Lovely.

-And that's the process we're about to begin now.

-Yeah, exactly.

Whoa, that's heavy!

Each sack weighs 60 kilos

and they are passed through the roaster two at a time.

In order to retain their flavour, the beans must be roasted

at temperatures of up to 220 Celsius and the way that heat

is produced makes a big difference.

The way we roast the coffee is by wood fire flame only.

Why do you use wood?

We use wood because it produces a different kind of heat.

The burning of gas generally produces humidity,

while the heat produced by wood is very dry.

So your family would have been using this method

-100 years ago.

-Yes, absolutely.

In the early 20th century,

over 80% of Trieste coffee was bound for Vienna,

where the coffee culture was a vital part of daily life.

Now the coffee is being completely transformed. It's this wonderful

-dark colour and a fantastic aroma.

-Yeah, it is true.

The machinery may be modern,

but the technique and the skill are centuries old.

The national drink of Italy!

I've travelled from Vienna on railway lines that helped to bind together

the old Habsburg Empire during its last years.

And that has enabled me to see Trieste for what it once was,

the gateway and shop window of Austria-Hungary,

an Empire that has now dissolved.

The rise of art and architecture in Slovenia was typical

of the nationalist movements that helped to loosen the bonds

of the Empire so that today, movement along the old tracks

is complicated by the existence of new national frontiers.

Next time, I'll learn how violence hit the streets of Florence

after the Futurists arrived by train.

There was no friendly discussion.

They arrived here to defend Futurism with their fists.

-Ah-ha!

-Release tagialelle!

I'll taste dishes that titillated Edwardian taste buds.

That is amazing!

And I'll get to experience

the Italian's century-long need for speed.