Part 1 of 3 - Arrive Bratislava

I’m late. I knew I somehow would be, even though I was supposed to have 20 minutes to get to the train station from work, which is only a 10-minute walk. The boss is taking over the shift, so of course, I end up leaving five minutes later than I’m supposed to, and food before the train is definitely out of the question now. I walk/jog to the station where I board the train with a couple minutes to spare, however, I’ve now sweat through the shirt that I had planned to wear to an opera in Vienna, hopefully, but it seems a little gross now. I keep checking my tickets to make sure that I’m going to the right place, and that I know when to switch, and what train to switch onto to get to the airport. I arrive at Bristol Temple Meads Coach Station around 4:50pm, with my flight leaving at 5:55. There’s no possible way the bus could get me there in time for boarding, especially since I wanted to check my boarding pass that I just printed off because I’m a little wary of it’s authenticity. I open up a door to a black cab and ask the guy how much.

“20 quid,” he states.

I have no other choice but to agree, since it will only take about 15 minutes to get to the airport in cab, while the £5 bus would probably take around 40 at this time of day. He drives me through Bristol, pointing out small things of interest, like the suspension bridge and the view from the hills. Ben Harper’s new album is playing in his CD player and I kind of want to get it now. He drops me off at the airport and I hop a few flowerbeds to the front door where I find the departure times. “Bratislava – Letisko, Boarding: 30 mins.” Great. I just overpaid by about £18 with the cab, including the tip. Oh well, I won’t make that mistake again. I go upstairs, get past security and find something to eat. I settle for what I thought was a tuna and swiss panini, but it turned out to be a turkey and swiss panini, which ended up being a little burnt. I hadn’t eaten anything that day, so this is fine with me. Halfway through the sandwich I get called to board, so off to Bratislava I go.

I board and sit at the window and start looking through some Slovakian phrases and places I wanted to visit in Bratislava. A lady with a baby sits next to me and her mother next to her. The baby’s name is Thomas and his mother’s Alexandra, and they’re from Bratislava. In between some uncomfortable breast-feedings (yeah, girls, EVERY guy is uncomfortable with it, even though you aren’t, just for the record) Alexandra gives me tips on things to eat and places to go. Thomas is happy the whole ride back to his country.

We arrive around 10:00pm Slovakian time, gaining an hour, and I get my next new country stamp in my passport. Smiling and looking for the number 61 bus, I exit the airport ready for an adventure. I got one immediately. I found the cash machine and pulled out 2000 skk’s (Koruna’s), which is about $100. I can’t for the life of me find the bus, so I walk around and realize that all the buses are turned off and are unoccupied. Crap. I ask a security guy what’s with the buses, and he speaks minimal English. The cab driver he was talking to wasn’t helpful either, so I just asked him how much to the city centre. He said “tisit” and I thought he was asking “city?” Tisit is 1000 in Slovakian. I say “Spitalska” and he nods and off we go. I knew I was in for it halfway through the ride when I looked into the review mirror to have him staring at me as he sped quickly down the highway. We arrive at my hostel and he says in English,

“One thousand fifty.”

Awesome. Dirty, rotten, no-good, okay okay okay. Here’s your money you thief, and he leaves. I check into my hostel and decide not to go out because, even though it’s safe apparently, I’m not too sure about the surroundings. It looks like it’s from a bad drama film where the Russian’s come and get the American kid. It ended up being a very safe place, with the police roaming, and I had a good day the next day. Instead, I spend the night talking with the English-turned-Irish guy in my room who lives off of gambling and collecting welfare from Ireland. He left England because of how many Eastern Europeans (Polish, Czechs, Russians, etc.) were coming to England and taking the jobs at lower pay, yet he decided that he liked Bratislava so much that he spends weeks there at a time. Strange trade-off, I thought.

The next day, I get up around 9:00am and check out. The first thing I decide to do is see the castle. I make my way up through the Old Town and make the trek up the hill to the castle. From the castle walls, I can see the whole of Bratislava, and I have a great view of the old Communist apartments across the Danube. Just knowing what sort of things happened among those streets made the place very depressing. Because I see Slovakia as a small offshoot of Russia (in my small American mind), I was depressed from the start. Only until a grandfather and two of his young grandsons walk through the garden I’m sitting in do I realize that happiness can be found anywhere. The smiles on the kid’s faces certainly didn’t show their country’s sad history. It showed the new life of Slovakia, and what the future can hold for them.

The rest of the day, I walk through the Old Town, up and down the main shopping street about five times trying to decide what to eat. I settle on McDonald’s simply because I want to be full and I KNOW McDonald’s will do that. Just my luck, however, as soon as I finish my Big Mac, I stumble upon the Old Square and the Christmas Market where sausages by the hundreds walk past in the hands of merry-makers. The smell of mulled wine and sausage and onions fills the air. One of the things Alexandra told me to try was “Slovakian food,” or basically just bread with lard and onion. It looks nice, so I grab a piece at a stand and get it down. It tastes like bread with lard and onion, though, and the onion stayed in my mouth for the remainder of the day.

After walking through the market a few times, I decide to head back to the castle, after buying a train ticket to Vienna for the night. I can’t understand anything anybody says, so when I come upon the American Embassy, I head in to speak to an American (they work there right?) about the best medium to Vienna. Dead wrong. Slovakian’s that speak English work there and after a long wait and explanation, I just decide to go to the castle to watch the sunset. Even though it went down over the hill next to the Communist blocks, forcing me to be ever mindful of them, it was a nice sunset. It turns colder, and I walk to the train station. I get a ticket to Vienna and ride on down the way. Once in Vienna, I decide that God will have to guide me, so I leave the station, turn right, and walk. God did guide me, and I came upon the city centre at Karlsplatz, where a Christmas Market was going on, and further down was Stephanplatz. An Asian lady played some songs on the piano in the middle of the cold square, while onlookers gazed at her QUICK fingers. I was highly impressed. Not as impressed, however, as I am until I finally make my way to my hostel, which is situated on a hill above Vienna, next to a 5-star hotel. I check in, then walk to the back of the hostel outside, and sit. And watch. And listen to the silence as I gaze at the city lights and monuments and history and wonder that is Vienna. Beautiful. Absolutely amazing.