Bloggo Trentiduesime: Bratislava

I was born in Bethlehem – more than 1900 years ago. Well, I used to say when I had to announce it in public. Being in Bratislava makes me think of Bethlehem over 1900 years ago as the air seems filled with “the feeling of Christmas.” The Christmas Fair is great, there are crèches everywhere, people are friendly and engaging…even today when the weather is really miserable I can sense the spirit.

In Bratislava, even the trams are decorated for
Christmas!

But I also think of my real birthplace, Bethlehem PA. My mother’s and my father’s families both lived there, or in the vicinity, mom’s in a house at 1032 First Avenue in Hellertown, dad’s on a farm in Spring Valley. My grandparents on my mother’s side were both Slovakians. He came over in a gigantic wave of immigrants early in the century, specifically 1906. She was born in the States, but her mother was fresh off the boat. Just for the record, my father’s mother was German and born in the U.S. and her husband, my grandfather, was Croatian and born there. I’m not trying to say less about that side of the family, as I hope to visit Croatia in the spring. But the reason I bring this dibject up is that the food here is very similar to what my mom’s mom cooked up for us whenever we came to visit, which was, as often as possible, at Christmas. Grammy Pastir had a huge coal-burning stove in her kitchen – we loved when she carefully lifted the lid off one of the burners so we could watch the red-hot coals sizzle. Opposite the stove was an equally huge table. They were a large family – nine daughters and sons (dad was one of ten brothers and sisters) – good Catholic families we called them, as they certainly did their fair share to propagate the faith.

My hotel & the restaurant

One of the most fascinating things for me was to watch my grandmother roll dough on that table and make all sorts of things out of it – the shells for pierogies and kiffles, cookies etc, but best of all her own noodles – thin and short and delicious, particularly in chicken noodle soup. Well, last night in the rather posh restaurant in the same building as my hotel (in fact it’s where we who are guests at the hotel eat a rather posh breakfast) I wanted Slovak cuisine and ordered the chicken noodle soup, Slovak style as they called it, and a main course of bryndza pierogies stuffed with a rather sharp sheep cheese (bryndza) and served with sour cream and orava bacon. The main course was excellent, but the soup! It was Grammy Pastir’s soup! I got almost dizzy as the smell and taste and all sorts of memories came back to me (shades of Proust’s Swann and the Madeleine). But I think more than anything else what made me realize this was the noodles. I asked the waiter if they made their own noodles (short and thin, just like my grandmother’s) and he said that of course they did. I knew then that in a way I was “home” for Christmas, as in the song…”I’ll be home for Christmas, if only in my dreams.” I nearly asked for more soup, as we ALWAYS got more at Grammy’s, but resisted the urge.

That’s somewhat the way I feel about my entire visit to Bratislava. Christmas is a great time to be here, because that was when we went as a family such a long, long time ago, and even more aptly, because that time is “only in my dreams” now.

That’s my way of saying that it didn’t take me as long to fall in love with Bratislava as it did with Budapest. I was so ready to love it, and of course would have been very disappointed if I hadn’t been able to. But yesterday was a beautiful if cold day (temperature hovering at just about freezing), and that helped a lot. I write that as I sit in my hotel room when I should be out touring today. Instead I am watching the sky darkening on a day that was never really bright, a wintry mix pattering at the windows, one of those days that no matter where Dottore Gianni is, he doesn’t want to be outside, not for long at any rate.

It’s 4 pm now, and in a bit I’m going to brave the elements and get an early meal, schnitzel or goulash or stuffed cabbage (halupki we called it) at one of the somewhat aggressively “Slavic” restaurants in the old town, only a few minutes’ walk from me. In a way I’m glad that the weather is like this, because I raced everywhere yesterday and really got a feel for the city. I’ve seen enough for now. I want to come back. I wrote my brother Tom that if I were a rich man (die-de die-de die-de etc) I’d pay for all the family to visit. I may return as early as this spring, though I think that idea will probably fade with distance and a little time.

But here I am now. So! How did I get here? What did I do yesterday? And this morning? Well…I started much earlier than I needed to yesterday morning, as I was very nervous about catching my train. As it turned out I had plenty of time, and the train was about 20 minutes late in chugging out of the station (actually it doesn’t chug, you can barely feel you’re moving, but I’m always in search of a slightly different verb and find them all too seldom). I was in one of those great compartments that I don’t see often these days, six seats, three on each side, with a glass door that leads out into the narrow corridor up and down the car. And I had it to myself for the entire nearly three hours it took to get from Budapest to Bratislava! The train was due to get much more crowded after that. It had started in Budapest and would end in Berlin, and at Bratislava a horde of people were waiting impatiently to board (by the time we arrived at the Slovakian capital we were 27 minutes behind schedule). But I was off, got in a taxi and ended at…

Marrol’s! This is a great little hotel. It was my splurge this trip at 101 Euros a night (and that for me IS a splurge – I’m paying 152 Euros for four nights in Prague), but it’s worth it. 

A sign of Bratislava's sense of humor:
there are several sculptures like this on,
"Man at Work" around the old town

The bright attractive young woman at reception, Danita, offered me a choice of white, red or sparkling wine or beer as soon as she sat me down to check in. And who was I to refuse? The mini-bar in my room is re-stocked each day, and all items are free (!), the room is lovely, I have over 100 tv channels at my disposal, including a variety of news channels in English. I’m in a plush robe and slippers now as I write – some of you may have seen me in that attire in my latest facebook profile pic. Don’t worry, it won’t stay up long. I look ridiculous. This is the sort of thing that happens when they let peasants into very nice hotels!

But! Back to my first day in Budapest! After finishing my complimentary beverage and checking my e-mail I left to discover this old city that is new to me. It was easier to navigate than I would have thought, as Bratislava’s historic center is smaller than it seems on a map, and even though the roads in its pedestrianized zone are hardly on a grid, when you realize that the center is the main town square you can usually find your way back to that, then start off in another direction. That’s how I did it, anyway.

Marrol’s is in the University district and only a few blocks from the pedestrian zone. I started cockily, without looking at my map, and of course headed in the wrong direction. Surrounding the charming old town is a much duller and more ordinary new town, where most of the business gets of Bratislava gets accomplished, and that’s where I found myself. This is true of most lovely old towns –Verona is one of my favorite inner cities to visit, but would I want to see anything in the new town that surrounds it? Not really. That’s a typical tourist preference of course, but it’s also the preference of a dreamer, at least this one, and with places like Verona and particularly Bratislava I insist on living the dream. 

Hlavni Namesti and Christmas Market

 I soon found my direction and plunged ahead, wandering into the old town (stare mesto) and its pedestrian zone, and stumbling onto one of the loveliest central squares (Hlavni Namesti) that I’ve encountered. It did not hurt that the Christmas Fair was in full swing on its second to last day. Christmas fairs, I am learning, all look similar, but there is a different feel to each of the ones I’ve encountered – curious to see Prague’s tomorrow if the rain holds off, which does not seem to be the case in that city’s forecast, alas.

Bratislava is a capital, but it’s a much smaller city than Prague or Budapest, and there is a small-town feel to the fair. Many people seemed to know each other well.

Nut rolls, poppy seed rolls and more
at the Christmas Market

 There were a lot of tourists at the Budapest Fair, but not nearly so many here, and the vendors seemed amused rather than irritated at my pathetic attempts to order food, to count out Euros, and to attempt to pronounce the few words of Slovak I know. I was excited to see nut rolls and poppy-seed rolls and rolls of many other sorts, but I focused on the two varieties I knew. These were staples of my grandmother’s holiday baking, but in this case there was a notable difference, in that there was less dough involved in the rolls I saw at the fair here, and more center. The Bratislava variety is much thicker than grammy’s and one slice is really substantial. I chose a stand and pointed to a slice of the nut roll, was served in a happy and friendly manner, and munched in heaven as I strolled around other stands, all of which housed rolls very similar to the one I was eating. And then I found another stand and bought a poppy-seed roll and had the same pleasant experience in the buying as well as in the eating of it. I was in the process of trying a third when I realized that I could go on like this forever, and insisted to myself that it was time to stop!

Christmas Market from another angle

The stare mesto is an interesting mix of often really beautiful buildings, some housing restaurants, some gift shops (not an overabundance of those) and café after café. Some of the buildings were official – banks of course, and stores of different kinds, several selling crystal which is a specialty in this area, even a few embassies. I passed the Danish Embassy (nice connection to my fall break in Copenhagen) and the British Embassy (nice connection to guess where?). I also came upon the U.S. Embassy, but it was at the edge of the old town, larger than the others, and while in a beautiful building, surrounded by wired fencing. Altogether a less friendly looking place. Ah, well.

I had read about some of spots that I should investigate and was able to see many of them in that first afternoon.

St Martin's Cathedral

 St Michael’s Cathedral, austere and powerful, which had seen the coronation of several monarchs. The Primatial Palace, home at one time to the powerful bishops that wielded much power in cities such as Bratislava and others as well, such as Salzburg. I didn’t go inside the palace, thinking I’d save it for next day. The town hall, the centerpiece of the main square, which houses the museum of the city’s history. I decided I’d save that also for the next day. I found the old National Theatre, where Die Fledermaus is playing, a perfect choice for the Christmas season. I didn’t step in, instead watched the skaters in the ice rink set up in the square in front of it. In truth I was having such fun just meandering around the streets, people-watching, spotting restaurants where I might want to dine, and just ambling around, that I didn’t feel the need for museums, especially as the sun was so bright and I was so happy.

National Theatre

I spent more than two hours wandering and was getting a little tired and more than a little chilled when I heard jazz being played somewhere nearby, so I investigated. I thought it would be street musicians or recorded music piped in to attract customers. I found what I was looking for in a small café, where just inside the door a quartet was playing, and not playing badly! So I stepped in, ordered a double espresso and sat down to listen. They were really quite good! The lead was a clarinetist, not my favorite jazz instrument, with apologies to Benny Goodman and Woody Allen, but he was quite good. Better yet was the lead guitarist, who offered some really strong solos. The other two instruments were another guitar, used for rhythm, and a stand-up bass, played by the son of the clarinetist. No one was applauding, so I didn’t either, but I did buy a cd of theirs (called Street Music – they probably WERE street musicians in more clement weather) and thanked them on my way out. Brief encounters! Nothing like them!

I wandered a bit longer, but by now I’d been out and about for three hours and decided that I’d better get back to the room. I’d shot a lot of photos and hadn’t published my second Budapest post, so I returned, knowing that I’d get out again the next day. I was more tired than I thought I’d be, and decided to pass on one of the Czech restaurants in the old town in favor of the restaurant in the same building as the hotel.

And that’s where I began the post – with grammy’s chicken noodle soup! Afterwards I helped myself to a beer and peanuts in my room’s mini-bar before I slept, and slept soundly.

About the next day there is not nearly as much to say. I had a sumptuous breakfast. In Budpest as well as in Bratislava the scrambled eggs in one of those silver lidded pans in a typical breakfast buffet were delicious! Not sure how they do it, as when I have them in U.S. hotels they’re luke-warm and runny. The pastries were to die for (no nut roll here however, just a variety of cakes and delicious croissants stuffed with a nutty substance – my tough luck, heh heh), and there was a great spread of lunch meats and cheeses, from which I helped myself and made a sandwich for lunch.

The Castle

I then charged outside, determined to see the castle. If you look back at the beginning of the post you’ll see that I mentioned I stopped early that day – yesterday (I write this on the train to Prague, Christmas Eve morning) – but not before climbing up to the castle. And so I did, on a series of steps that grew a wee bit slippery, as a wintry mix was falling. When I reached the summit, the castle, this mix had turned to a wet snow, and I was feeling the cold, but I was determined to get photos of the views below. 

The Danube & the New Bridge
from the castle

Alas there was not much to view as the town was shrouded in a deep mist or light fog. Whatever it was it was not conducive to photo opps. I did what I could, in snapping them and in photo-shopping them leter, however I couldn’t help but think of the great views I had of the Danube – a river which also flows through Bratislava – back in Budapest. I began to wish I’d tackled the climb to the castle the day before, but you know what? I did what I could, I enjoyed it, and then, snapping all the way, I descended.

Old town on my descent from the castle

I now needed warming up, and decided to do so in the museum of the city’s history. There were few visitors there, in fact I had to wait a bit to pay the entrance fee, as the attendant, bored probably, had understandably taken a break. 

View of Christmas Fair
from tower in Town Hall

When I entered I thought it would be just a few rooms, but the exhibition just kept on going! In fact part of it included a climb into the tower. A brief word about the town hall that housed the museum. I thought it was a church at first, as its tower resembled a stout church steeple. But a town hall it was since the medieval era. And its history was chronicled minutely. I won’t repeat it here, primarily because its history is so similar to that of Budapest, and you’ve read that before, or have you? Have you been slacking on Dottore Gianni’s posts? Eh?

After a good bit of time in the history museum I thought I might hit a café again, chose against it as there was no jazz in the air and I had free tea back at the hotel; but DID hit the Christmas Fair, on its last day and nearly deserted, the weather was so foul; there had another nut roll, this time one that was stuffed with ground peanuts and apples! Unusual, but pretty tasty.

My last stop included a short but interesting brief encounter. I went into one of the gift shops and asked if there were any small Slovakian flags for sale. She told me no, but did offer something with an exact replica of the country’s colors, which I bought. And then we just chatted briefly. She started by saying “Now on the tv is Havel’s funeral.” I responded by telling her I really regretted that I couldn’t be in Prague for it, as he was a hero of mine. For those of you who don’t know (tsk, tsk) Havel was a dissident playwright who spent much of the 1970s in prison for being refusing to discard his beliefs which ran counter to a really oppressive regime. Then in the Velvet Revolution of 1989 he was elected president, not so much for his astuteness as a politician, but because he had been brave and outspoken in a dark time. VERY brief history. He died too early, at 75. The shopkeeper and I talked about Havel a bit – she wondered if Hillary Clinton would be too busy to attend the funeral, for example. Then somehow we got to me being a Russian linguist and covering the invasion of Czechoslovakia in 1968. She grew very interested, and told me she remembered it well. She’s probably a few years older than I, and said that she had completed ten years studying the Russian language (I’m sure it was required in schools). And then she said what I found so interesting: “After August 1968, I decided to forget Russian. Completely.” And smiled. I understood her. What an interesting way to say what another might have shouted in a series of anti-Russian expletives. A fascinating woman. And then I bid her adieu, she bid me a merry Christmas, and off I went, in the early afternoon, no warmer weatherwise, but I felt a little warmer inside.

I stayed in the hotel most of the afternoon writing, Havel’s funeral and news of it from several English language channels in the background. Again, as I wrote at the beginning, I left the hotel again at about 4:30 in search of an early supper, chose one and had schnitzel and potatoes with a green salad. Good enough, but not brilliant. That was fine with me, and I wandered through the Christmas Market, now closing up and packing up, then marched back in the wintry mix to my hotel, where I worked on my photos and my blog and prepared for my next stop. Prague, land of Havel. I hope to be able to find some sort of memorial and stand silently by it for a few minutes.

Christmas Fair on the evening of 23 December

Did I say I was writing this on the train to Prague? I am, and my battery is just about gone. More soon about my Prague experience in a third installment from this wonderful Christmas trip! Merry Christmas to all!