The great thing about studying in Budapest is that you reside in the crossroads of Central and Eastern Europe. Trains, buses, flights come through Budapest when coming from West to East or vice versa. In return, being a major hub, we have access to jump trains to multiple cool locations. Whether that is skiing in the Slovenian Alps, sipping coffee at an Austrian café in Vienna, chugging Czech beer in České Budějovice, tanning on the Croatian beaches, or roaming the eerie woods of Romania, we are only 2-4 hours by train from it all. This past weekend we spontaneously decided to go to Bratislava for the day. We jumped the early train and rolled into the Slovakian capital around noon. We expected Soviet buildings galore, poverty, and right down boredom. But instead we found ourselves strolling the cobblestone streets of Bratislava’s Old Town. The buildings were a legacy of the Habsburg era where royalty strolled the windy streets with colorful buildings and enjoyed cups of coffee and tea in one of the many cafes that littered the plazas. A charm glinted down on the city that immediately entranced us.
Our first stop was lunch. Unfortunately, we found ourselves among several closed restaurants and cafes. Finally we came upon a massive, rambunctious group of yelling men sitting at a café-restaurant. We soon realized they were all British and watching the Liverpool-Everton football match. English soccer hooligans in Slovakia! We headed over to join the crowd and asked the waitress for a table inside. The waitress just took one glance at us girls and asked in clear, distinct words “Are you sure about that?” We confidently nodded and followed her in as we sat ourselves down amongst drunk and rowdy English hooligans. We ordered our pizza and beer and spent the rest of lunch enjoying the entertainment that the men gave us. Not to us personally, that is. Just watching them shout, cheer, fight, slur, dance around, and do other idiotic things that only crazed sport fans would do. One dedicated Liverpool fan turned to us in frustration and said, “I’m going to go home and get a butcher’s knife and stab all these Manchester United fans! Bloody hell they are Liverpool fans!”
After our very exciting lunch, we continued to stroll the streets and made our way up to the castle. Perched on top of the hill, we were able to look out over the city and that’s when we saw the Bratislava we had in our minds. Across the Danube, away from Old Town, were blocks and blocks of ugly, grotesque, Soviet, buildings. “Oh! Here’s Bratislava!”
Nevertheless, we stayed in the charming Old Town and decided to hit up the KGB bar before heading back to Budapest. Inside, the walls were littered with Soviet and communist paraphernalia. A large statue of Lenin sat on the bar, while Stalin stared down on us from behind. Russian vodka bottles littered the back of the bar. Even the bathrooms were styled after Russian interrogation rooms with the stalls as the prison cells. Note: if you are claustrophobic, do not pee in the stall. The small brick stalls with steal doors certainly creates a sense of panic and does not allow anyone to pee in peace. After a few “communist” drinks, we said goodbye to Bratislava and headed back to Budapest. It was only a day; yet, our minds were forever changed about Bratislava. It may be overshadowed by Prague, Vienna, and Budapest, but nonetheless, Bratislava has its own charm and beauty that deserves the attention from any tourist.
Our first stop was lunch. Unfortunately, we found ourselves among several closed restaurants and cafes. Finally we came upon a massive, rambunctious group of yelling men sitting at a café-restaurant. We soon realized they were all British and watching the Liverpool-Everton football match. English soccer hooligans in Slovakia! We headed over to join the crowd and asked the waitress for a table inside. The waitress just took one glance at us girls and asked in clear, distinct words “Are you sure about that?” We confidently nodded and followed her in as we sat ourselves down amongst drunk and rowdy English hooligans. We ordered our pizza and beer and spent the rest of lunch enjoying the entertainment that the men gave us. Not to us personally, that is. Just watching them shout, cheer, fight, slur, dance around, and do other idiotic things that only crazed sport fans would do. One dedicated Liverpool fan turned to us in frustration and said, “I’m going to go home and get a butcher’s knife and stab all these Manchester United fans! Bloody hell they are Liverpool fans!”
After our very exciting lunch, we continued to stroll the streets and made our way up to the castle. Perched on top of the hill, we were able to look out over the city and that’s when we saw the Bratislava we had in our minds. Across the Danube, away from Old Town, were blocks and blocks of ugly, grotesque, Soviet, buildings. “Oh! Here’s Bratislava!”
Nevertheless, we stayed in the charming Old Town and decided to hit up the KGB bar before heading back to Budapest. Inside, the walls were littered with Soviet and communist paraphernalia. A large statue of Lenin sat on the bar, while Stalin stared down on us from behind. Russian vodka bottles littered the back of the bar. Even the bathrooms were styled after Russian interrogation rooms with the stalls as the prison cells. Note: if you are claustrophobic, do not pee in the stall. The small brick stalls with steal doors certainly creates a sense of panic and does not allow anyone to pee in peace. After a few “communist” drinks, we said goodbye to Bratislava and headed back to Budapest. It was only a day; yet, our minds were forever changed about Bratislava. It may be overshadowed by Prague, Vienna, and Budapest, but nonetheless, Bratislava has its own charm and beauty that deserves the attention from any tourist.