Prague, Bratislava ’04
September 18, 2004
Greetings from Bratislava, Slovakia! Where I feel as if I stepped back in time to ye olden days of Communism and suppression of Western ideals, objects, and all that good stuff.
I arrived in Prague late Tuesday night, where I was met at the airport by my childhood friend Alfie and her Slovak friend Andrej. Alfie’s job has taken her to projects in Spain, England and (currently) Indonesia. It’s great, because I get an excuse to visit her in whatever exotic place she’s in. What’s even better is that she gets to work with people from all over the world, and we’ve had her Czech and Slovak friends to take us around (which is fortunate, because as touristy as Prague has become, it is not particularly tourist-friendly. Directional signage is ins Czech and many business operators don’t speak English. So it’s been when Alfie’s friends do the talking when asking for directions, ordering in restaurants and whatnot, because we didn’t have much luck when we tried it ourselves.)
Andrej, being on a tighter budget than us, booked us into a hostel across from the “football” stadium, just outside the main tourist areas of Prague. My first foray into hostels in more than 10 years was not at all terrible… the hostel turned out to be university dorms. The rooms were clean albeit sparse, but we had an ensuite bathroom with hot running water and handheld shower. That is about as good as it gets.
Czech Republic has more than 2,000 castles, the most per capita of any country in Europe, hundreds of which are in Prague alone.
On Wednesday, after getting ourselves completely lost and having to walk for an hour and a half into the heart of non-tourist Prague, we joined a six-hour tour led by Vladimir, a Czech actor whose last American credit was “The Prince and Me”. The tour involved getting around via tram for a bit, then a riverboat “cruise” (and by cruise I mean going up and down the river for maybe the total length of one American football field), a traditional three-course Czech lunch, and more walking. We spent most of the afternoon tooling around Prague Castle and Hrdcany, the surrounding castle district.
In the evening, we were met by Martina, whom Alfie had befriended while working in Cambridge, who took us to dinner at a fabulous Italian restaurant. I’m still on my continuous worldwide quest for the world’s best spaghetti, and while the bolognese was fantastic, it did not unseat my favorite spaghetti of all time. (Which is, for those curious, the spaghetti I had on the ferry from Brindisi to Corfu in 1996. Hasn’t been beaten since.)
We were much better at navigating on Thursday, so much so that we hardly pulled out the map at all. We found our way back to the Stare Mesto, took pictures, had cappuccino at a cafe, and went shopping in the Jewish Quarter, which is one of the prettier and better-preserved parts of Prague.
In the late afternoon, Martina’s partner Jaro and their precocious five-year-old towhead Sara met us, and after (gasp!) more walking and getting lost (of course, leave it to the Czechy to get us lost in a hillside park!), we managed to get to Petrin, an Eiffel Tower replica on a hilltop overlooking Prague. It was closed by the time we got there, so we returned to the hostel to pack, after Jaro succesfully convinced us it was better to stay at their home. Since we had to check out by 9:30 the next morning anyway, we thought it best to take him up on his offer.
After a little bit of confusion at the front desk (can I remind you that there is not a lot of English-speaking here?), when the new receptionist refused to give us our room keys, we quickly packed up and headed to the village of Vsenory and Martina & Jaro’s spacious, wonderful, IKEA-ized home. And I mean that in a good way. IKEA’s clean, modern look provides a nice contrast to the aged exteriors of European buildings. You may be looking at a Gothic facade, but step into an IKEA-furnished home and it’s like you stepped in a time machine and flashed forward 500 years.
Martina made us pasta with three sauce options (pesto, tomato and white) and we stayed up late chatting as they practically shoved port and Becherovka down our throats. (Becherovka is an aperitif similar to Ouzo, but a lot more palatable.)
After a fitful night’s sleep in Sara’s bedroom (thanks to getting all liquored up) we spent a lazy morning having breakfast, talking some more, and finally making our way back to town at around 1 p.m.
Alfie and I wandered around quaint Mala Strana and Hrdcany, seeing some sights and shopping a lot, before meeting up with Jaro at Wenceslaus Square, on the other side of the Vlatava River. Jaro, who had taken a holiday today, decided to go into work for a couple of hours while we did the tourist hting, and was held up there well past six because an American executive from the Silicon Valley was in town, didn’t quite understand that Jaro was technically on vacation, and pulled him into a meeting. Alfie and I had a cappucino and awful chocolate cake while waiting. When Jaro was finally released, he took us to dinner, where we were later joined by Martina, Sara, Martina’s brother Jan & his girlfriend Hana.
After dinner, all of us (minus Jaro and Sara, who wanted to stay up with the adults but was taken home kicking and screaming; she was an otherwise remarkably well-mannered kid) took a nighttime stroll cum pub crawl around Prague, as we took pictures and drank lots of beer. Jan is an amateur photographer and had a tripod, which I’m thankful for, so my night shots didn’t turn out too shabby.
We had a great time, and back at our hosts’ house, we stayed up a little longer after Martina had gone to bed, drinking more port and chatting with Jaro, feeling bad that he missed out on a great night to play responsible dad. It was difficult to get up the next day, but the deed was done, packed up and, bogged down with heavy souvenirs and various shopping bags, boarded a train for Bratislava. Where I am now finishing this update, after starting it at the Internet cafe in the Prague train station.
We arrived in Bratislava about two hours ago, and Alfie had warned me not to expect much at the apartment. We are staying with another of Alfie’s friends, Maita.
If Prague was quaint, then Bratislava is a dump. I look around and get the sense that Communism is still in place.
Maita’s apartment building is a “high-rise” (about 12 or 13 stories high) and while it’s considered great living quarters here for foreign business people, by American standards I’d describe it as rundown at best. The building looks in bad shape with peeling paint, and practically every balcony is draped with drying laundry (or simply dirty clothes, I can’t tell.) The old-school elevator is barely the size of a coffin, no more than four people could fit. (Heck, Alfie and I, with our overnight rollaway luggage and shopping bags, barely fit in it (please, no fat jokes, I’m ready to cry.)
After depositing our stuff in the guest bedroom and a quick toilet break (oh, don’t even get me started on the state of toilet-technology here), we headed back out to the corner cafe where we met up with our host Maita and a colleague of hers from Toronto (Paul) who’s also crashing at the apartment tonight.
Paul is a big hulking specimen of a man and he’s offered to be our bodyguard when we go to Budapest. He was sent to Warsaw on business, and is now trying to do some sightseeing before going back to Canada in six days. Which is great, because our original plan had included Andrej, but he and Alfie had been at odds since her arrival last Saturday, so he ditched us in Prague and went back to Bratislava on Tuesday afternoon. In his place, we get Paul who’s quite amenable and really funny, and after spending an hour with him so far, we think he’s going to be a far superior traveling companion.
The girls are trying to get ready now, and Paul is trying to liquor us up with Polish vodka. We’re going to the town center (which I’m told is pretty much “it” as far as Bratislava is concerned) and then we’re going out to cause some trouble (Paul had been telling us how a couple of years ago, he and some buddies were thrown into a Spanish jail.) If you don’t hear from me in the next few weeks, please please please call the U.S. embassy.
Anyway, I’m having a great time and I’ve got plenty of stories to tell (perhaps much more interesting ones after this night is over.) It’s an eye-opening experience for sure, and the stark difference between Prague (impossibly beautiful) and Bratislava (tortuously dreary) is really something I can’t find enough words to describe.
OK, gotta run, Paul the goon is quite anxious to start trouble.
Dovibeniya!
# # # # # # # #
Leave a Reply