This is the continuation of my European travels.

Heading "Home"

A restful night in a pension housed in a 17th century building helped to restore my health. The river cruise is something I've looked forwarded to ever since my first visit to Europe in 1997. It combines two loves…castles and water transportation.

One of my curses in life is that I am habitually early. It means I often end up waiting, but I have compensated for that by always having a small notebook and pen handy to make notes. The morning of my cruise I was a half-hour early. So I sat near the riverbank and wrote a bit. I wrote about going to Slovakia…home. I was so looking forward to arriving in Bratislava that evening.

First there was my long awaited river ride. And I am so glad it was nice weather, though even if it had rained, I would have been out on the deck. The cruise line is very professional and the recorded guide is in many languages. The only bit I remember is about a castle ruin where Richard the Lion-hearted was held captive. There are castles, ruins and monasteries all along the river. I would love to rent a boat and just cruise the Danube from one end to the other. I know that would be impossible. It is not a continuous river anymore because of dams and whatnot. But…it would be fun to see Europe by river someday…or maybe rail and river.

The cruise ended all too quickly. The final destination, Krems, is another lovely city that didn't get much of a write up in the guidebooks. It looks to be quite modern and would be a pleasant stopover for another trip. I really have to get back to Austria.

I took a train from Krems to Vienna and then a bus to another station to get the train to Bratislava. Slovakia…my first border crossing. I had to sit in the cabin waiting for the border patrol to okay everyone. That always makes me nervous, even though it is silly to be nervous since there is absolutely nothing they could find wrong with me. It just feels so other worldly to have to be okayed before entering the country. I think I've lived too long in the States.

Reality Sneaks Up

My friend lives close to the station, so it was not long before I had my bags dropped off at his apartment and on the way out to explore Bratislava. This will sound silly...but the area I stayed in that night reminds me of San Francisco. It is very hilly...the houses are stylish (though not Victorian, of course!)...and there is a sense of "old" that is not rooted in age but in seasoned endurance. Once one looks to the horizon, the familiarity ends. Instead of a beautiful ocean, one is greeted by Petrzalka, a massive cement housing complex where 132, 000 Slovak citizens live.

In The Art of the Impossible Vaclav Havel ¹ writes about looking out an airplane window while flying over Bratislava, "I saw the industrial complex of the Slovnaft chemical factory and the giant Petrzalka housing estate right behind it. The view was enough to make me realize that for decades our statesmen and political leaders did not look or did not want to look out of the windows of their airplanes." ² Indeed, looking out at Petrzalka, I am reminded that no matter how beautiful I see Slovakia, people just stepping out of the train, plane or automobile are likely to see only the cement jungles and many factories that pock-mark the landscape. Havel is right. No one in power looked out windows. But...if you were to look in the windows of those cement boxes (but don't do that...it is impolite!), you would see the warmth and beauty I see when I look at those buildings.

We ended up standing in front of the Slovak National Parliament, high on a hill next to Bratislava castle, looking out over the Danube. It was dark by then and I could hear rock music drifting up from a club down below. I wasn't in the mood for a club, but I did want to sit in an outdoor pub and enjoy a light drink. My friend led me back to the old part of town, and we took a seat in a rather flashy looking place. It was here that the realization I had romanticized Slovakia settled in. I saw the "plastic people."

Slovakia is not in very stable economic condition. Corruption is widespread and those who have money, likely have it because of dealings not quite legal. I know it is not fair to generalize about an entire country, but I firmly believe the majority of the wealthy are making money at the expense of honest people. And there are not many wealthy in Slovakia...so it is easy to pick them out in Bratislava. They are the ones dressed for show, flaunting their expensive toys and cars, and all too conscious of who is watching and wanting to be watched. There are people like this is every corner of the world, but in Bratislava there is desperateness about it. I kept thinking how out of place these people would be in Munich or Brussels. All their fancy pretenses could not mask their insecurity. It made me so sad. Tears threaten and it was all I could do not to sob right there in that plastic pub.

That night I talked with my friend for a long time, crying about how things had changed so much in the last three years. He sees it, too, but is more pragmatic than I. He feels it is just the way of the world. Perhaps it is, but I wanted to get out of Bratislava as quickly as possible. We planned to head out the next day...by car. I didn't sleep well. Lots of tears spilled on the pillow that night.

The hollow feeling had diminished a bit by morning but I still couldn't wait to get out of the city. The plan was to head north to the small village Cachtice. This is the home of Slovakia's most gruesome bit of folklore, the Blood Countess, Alzbeta (Ersebet/Elizabeth) Bathory. During her time in Cachtice (late 16th into 17th century) she tortured and murdered 650 peasant girls. And legend has it, she bathed in their blood to preserve her youthful beauty. There are three notable books about her: Dracula Was a Woman, Raymond McNally, The Blood Countess, Andrei Codrescu (a respected journalist for National Public Radio) and The Bloody Countess: The Atrocities of Ersebet Bathory, Valentine Penrose. The last two focus on the erotic nature of her deeds; the first on history. The ruins of her castle still stand high above Cachtice and that is where I wanted to be.

I may catch a bit of heat for wanting to make a pilgrimage to a place of documented horror. Let it be understood it is not the violence that attracts me. And though eroticism does play into my continued fascination for the ruin, that has nothing to do with Alzbeta/Ersebet/Elisabeth. I wanted to visit this place because of how the legend plays into Slovak national identity. The Countess was Hungarian. The Hungarians ruled Slovakia for a great part of its history. Because the Hungarians did not listen to the protests of the Slovak villagers, the Countess carried on with her deeds. Perhaps I am reading too much 20th century political theory into this, but I think the folklore that has sprung from the history is significant. It legitimizes the animosity many Slovaks still hold toward Hungarians and emphasizes the need for self-determination. Or it could be just a gory story that satisfies the need for sensationalism.

The ruin would be the first of many hrady³ I would visit during the next week and a half. We spent an hour or so climbing over the crumbling pile. The views are incredible. Patchworks of farmland, gently rounded hills and dense woods. There were a few other visitors, but they left and we had the place to ourselves. Then we spent another hour or so just enjoying nature.

As we gathered up our belongings to head back to the car and onto to our next destination, my friend launched into a comedic routine that had me laughing harder than I have laughed in a long time. With a strangely charming, self-deprecating humor, he joked about Slovak penchant for clean windows, their mothers' stern expectations and "old wives tales" like sitting on the ground will result in sure and immediate illness. He went on for a good hour like this. For the rest of the trip, he would go off on similar jaunts of jocularity. I only know a handful of Slovaks, and not a one has such a wonderful sense of humor. I know it is not fair to attach a characteristic to a nationality, but Slovaks are singularly solemn people. It was a complete surprise to find myself laughing so wholeheartedly. I think my friend missed his calling; he should have been a Slovak radio or television personality. Though...in the computer field, I suppose you need a good sense of humor.

The plan was to spend the night in Trencin. There is a magnificent 11th century hrad in Trencin. I had seen it two years earlier from a train and it took my breath away. This is a place one could construct fantastic intrigue. It sits high above the city and at night it is a blaze of lights. This would be a great setting for a spy movie, rambling fortress by day and a maze of shadow and light at night. For reasons I can't recall, we didn't end up staying in Trencin. We did a "drive-by" and headed off to Banska Bystrica in Central Slovakia for the night. So, Trencin remains on my list of places I want to explore.

Banska Bystrica is a lovely city. The Centrum⁴ is one of the widest I've seen and one of the most beautiful maintained. We stayed at a communist era hotel, a massive cement and steel structure overlooking the museum dedicated to the Slovenske Narodne Povstanie (Slovak National Uprising or SNP). The room was stunning in its ugliness, but we arrive rather late in the evening and beggars can't be choosy. We walked into town to find dinner, but the search was fruitless. All the restaurants had stopped serving and the only places open were pubs. As much as I love loud music and dancing, I didn't think I could take the heavy cigarette smoke. So, we strolled the town then headed back to the hotel for an early turn-in.

On The Road

Breakfast is one thing a do not like about Slovakia. It consists of a hard roll with butter, slices of pepper and usually ham. Coffee is either very strong or a bitter instant. Cream is not usual. Yogurt is the one saving grace, though I like mueslix in my yogurt and what passes for mueslix in Slovakia looks more like artificial cereals from boxes mixed together. And I missed bagels. Okay...I have not complained about missing something from the US, but bagels are a staple in my diet. In Slovakia I had to slather my hard roll in honey and pretend it was a bagel. I really would love to hook Slovaks on bagels.

After breakfast we headed out for a tour of the town. Though we didn't go in, we stopped at The Slovak National Uprising museum. It is designed to look like Juraj Janosik's hat. Janosik is remembered as the Slovak Robin Hood. He led a small band of rebels in he early 18th century, robbing from the rich Hungarian overlords. When he was captured, they put him to death by hanging him by his chest. During WW II, the Slovak resistance fighters took Janosik's name and thus the reason for the design of the museum. I've also heard the museum is designed to look like a broken heart. As passionate as the Janosik story is, I like the imagery of the broken heart best.

The story of the Uprising begins in 1938. Hitler, knowing the Slovaks desire for self-determination, decided to play the independence card. He separated the Czechoslovak Republic and set Jozef Tiso up as its president of the Slovaks, granting them statehood. Not all Slovaks rejoiced in this state as it existed only as a Nazi puppet state, and it existed at the sacrifice of thousands of Slovak Jews and Romanies. They were the price Tiso paid for peace with Germany. In 1944, a resistance movement sprung up, heavily supported by the Allies. Since the Slovak troops were unwilling to fire on their countrymen, it took the arrival of Nazi troops to put it down. The area around Banska Bystrica was the last to fall to the German troops. Though the partisans were officially dispersed, they continued fighting Nazi rule throughout the remainder of the war.

Outside the museum there is a park filled with tanks and military equipment. I had a grand time horrifying Slovak passerbys by playing on the tanks. Yes, it is unseemly behavior from an adult, but I just couldn't resist. How often does one get to clamber all over military equipment? Good thing there were no soldiers nearby, eh? One thing I didn't notice about the equipment in this park is that the Czechoslovak and Russian guns are pointed up, while the German guns point at the ground. I read this interesting bit of information in a wonderful magazine we picked up later in the journey, Spectacular Slovakia.

After strolling through town and trying unsuccessfully to contact another Slovak friend who planned to be in Banska, we decided to head out for a nearby village we had both read about. Spania Dolina is a former mining town, first gold, and then silver. It is not a long drive from Banska, but it is remote. Parking the car in near what looks to be the town's only pub, we headed out to explore.

The mines are long closed and the village is, well...let me be polite and say, sleepy. After a ten minute stroll, we were ready to leave. To be fair, there are many hiking trails leading out of the village and one promises a waterfall. But, neither of us were prepared to hike. And as lovely as it would have been to just sit and people watch, I really wanted to do something more adventurous. So, we got back into the car to head out. We passed a young woman hitchhiking and then turned around to pick her up. She was heading into Banska for work and missed the only bus.

She told my friend lots about the decline of the village and the hope of a new vitality if the mines are turned into a tourist attraction. She said the talks have been going on for a long time, but like everything in Slovakia, the wheels move very slow unless greased liberally with oil of the spending kind. And there seems to be an influx of well-to-do weekenders fixing up places in the village so I doubt they are interested in their quiet retreats being a day trip for the masses. I will wager Spania Dolina will see only one bus a day for a very long while.

We dropped the young woman off in town and headed east. On the map I spotted the symbol for caves and we decided to head for them next. Slovakia has an extensive network of state owned "show caves." They feature guided tours and lots of "do not" rules. The major attraction of Ochtinska Aragonitova jaskyna is the clusters of star shaped mineral formations throughout the caves. These delicate, flower-like minerals beg to be touched. I would never, ever touch without permission, but I whispered to my friend that if I worked there, I'd for sure touch just once.

At the end of the tour, I hung back so I could ask the guide if she had touched the formations. I asked her first (in Slovak) if she spoke English, and like everyone I asked that of, she asserted limited ability. However, she understood my question very well, and a look of shock crossed her face. "Oh, no" she exclaimed with sincerity that could never have been faked. She is a better woman than I. There is no way I wouldn't sneak a touch.

To be continued....