Our coach took the M3 expressway from Budapest to Bratislava. Most of the roadway between the two Central European capitals was a vista of seemingly endless fields of Van Gogh-like sunflowers. When we got to the Slovakian border we were able to seamlessly cross over thanks to both countries being EU signees of the Schengen Agreement … no vehicle stops, no passport checks, etc. Fast-forward just six months, there would no such easy passage for Syrian asylum seekers trying to make it to refugee-friendly Germany.
We parked up the hill near the tramlines and walked down the ancient looking steps to the Town. Old Bratislava was composed of a “rabbit warren” of roughly cobbled lanes and narrow streets leading directly or less directly to the town square. The first thing that caught my eye (near the under-road tunnel) was a smoking salon, decked out with comfy chairs much like a cafe (actually it might be characterised as a “smoking cafe with coffee optional”). I was bit surprised to find this establishment here, only because I’d heard from a Slovak acquaintance in Australia that smoking parlour shops had been outlawed in Slovakian cities, but here it was, couples happily chugging away at the weed in relaxing surroundings. Mind you, they were lots of other public places anyway that you could freely smoke anywhere in the town (so a shop specialising in smoking seemed a bit superfluous to this outsider!).
It was very hot on the day we visited (about 35-36 degrees), so most of the locals were content to sit round drinking their pivo of choice in the numerous bars (vyčapy) all over the old town. One of the cobblestone street in particular was a kind of “booze bingers’ alley”, wall-to-wall liquor swilling outlets strung out along a dark, dingy bar strip.
One especially popular bar (called, what else? … “the Dubliner”) had the right idea in the heat, it had affixed a sprinkler system of sorts to the underside of the shop awning allowing the sweltering patrons the relief of jets of soft droplets of water whilst they were imbibing. Budapest had a similar thing … a number of Váci utca restaurants were equipped with fans blowing gentle mists of cold vapour (perfumed?) on to diners.
Cultural pointer: Beer drinking du jour is the norm in Bratislava – and cheaper than H2o I found out! … when finally we were driven inside one of the bars by the unrelenting heat, the spring water I ordered cost me €1.80 whereas the half-litre of beer my companions both had cost them a mere €1.20 each!?!
From Bratislava’s central square, tourists can explore the town on a dinky toy train (in keeping with the ‘Lilliputian’ scale of the Slovakian capital). Many of Bratislava’s public buildings seemed a little tired, in need of a facelift or a paint job – or both.
Among the locals, especially the younger women, I noticed a high percentage of blonds (very much in line with what I observed in the Czech Republic). Amusingly one stopped me in the street to ask me, in animated Slovakian, for directions! I am getting used to being mistook for a local but it still bemuses me why.
On the north side of the Danube (about 15 minutes walk from the Old Town) is what is probably the city’s most impressive historic structure, the formidable Bratislava Castle (Bratislavsky hrad). The original castle dates from the early 10th century and has passed through the hands of Moravian, Hungarian, Czech and Slovakian rulers. Its historical strategic importance lies in its elevated location on the fringe of the vast Carpathian Mountains.
Footnote: Tiny Slovakia cf. Even Tinier Slovenia
We visitors to Europe from the other side of the world get these two small Central/Southern European republics mixed up so often (no excuses though once you have actually visited each one!). I can only imagine how frustrating this must be to the Slovaks and Slovenes themselves … especially as both peoples long existed as subordinate ethnic identities in their respective, larger former states before finally freeing themselves from the shadow of numerically larger ethnic groups.