Bratislava, Slovakia - A Gem on the Danube!

“Slovakia? Isn’t it where that movie was shot?” asked Jodie when I told her I was heading off to the Slovakian Capital for a two-day break with some friends. I nodded. Hostel had made headlines for two reasons. One was that it was full of gratuitous violence, and the second was the supposed setting was near Bratislava, a place inhabited by beautiful woman and sick sadistic killers.

Relatively unknown to the world at large, Slovakia is actually one of the newest countries on the planet. It only gained independence from its neighbour, the Czech Republic, in 1993. And prior to that, even before it was part of Czechoslovakia, it was part of the Hungarian empire, a legacy that is still evident in Bratislava to this day.

With low prices, medieval buildings, and much else besides, Bratislava might soon have its turn as the most hotly-tipped destination in Eastern Europe.

Where’s Bratislava? most people would say when we told them of our plans. And to those who had heard of it, Slovakia was somewhere you just didn’t go for a city break. Prague, Tallinn and Budapest, yes. Not some dodgy ex-communist enclave filled with dreary buildings and not much to see.

And then there was the movie. Hostel depicted Slovakia as a bleak, poor country, filled with prostitutes and crazed criminals. What didn’t help matters was that it was actually filmed in neighbouring Prague. So disgusted were the Slovakian tourist board that they offered an all expenses trip for Eli Roth, the movie’s writer and director, to visit their country so he could see for himself how untrue his portrayal was. Roth declined the offer.

But what I knew about Slovakia sounded ideal. Cheap, virtually free of crime, and with a small, well-preserved Old Town, Bratislava seemed the perfect location for another whistle-stop city-break tour in the heart of Europe. And only two hours away from the UK by plane, what could be better?

On our first morning in the Slovakian capital, Phil, Jon, Michael and I started the day bright and early. We began our tour at Michael’s Gate - the only remaining medieval gateway from the Old Town’s fortifications. Today, the tower above it houses an exhibition of weapons from Bratislava’s turbulent past. The actual gateway is at the base of the tower, which we walked through on our quest for culture.

Next up was St Martin’s Cathedral, the city’s biggest church. During Hungarian rule, it was where eleven kings were crowned. The spire also formed part of the Old Town’s fortifications. Today, the building is going through extensive restoration work. Heavy vibrations from a nearby road have taken their toll on the medieval building.

“Jesus!” exclaimed Phil. “It’s bloody hot!”

He was right. With the July temperatures in the mid to high thirties, Eastern Europe was experiencing one of its warmest heatwaves in decades. But even this had its advantages. Most young Slovak women were wearing short skirts. And they were everywhere. Something really must be in the water for such an abundance of beauty to occur in such a tightly concentrated area. The four of us literally couldn’t believe our eyes.

To cool ourselves down, we elected to head for the central square for a drink. En route we spied one of the special humorous pieces of bronze art dotted around the Old Town. His name was Čumil.

Čumil is actually less than a decade old, but he’s already a firm favourite with tourists. There are currently three theories to why he’s there. The first is that he’s a bit of a pervert and enjoys looking up young women’s skirts. The second is that he was a sewer worker during the Second World War and had hid below ground to escape the bombs. With the war over, he’d climbed back out, thus explaining the satisfied grin on his face. And a third theory is that Čumil was a guerrilla leader fighting against the Soviets. All sound feasible, but no one knows for sure which, if any, is right.

The attractive central square is the heart of old Bratislava. Its centrepiece is the Roland Fountain, commemorating a famous knight of the town. Strangely, the man on top isn’t Roland; but Maximillian II, the first Hungarian king to be crowned in Bratislava. Later that evening, the area around the fountain would become home to various street performers, including jugglers, jazz musicians and dancers. But for now, we had the square more or less to ourselves.

Just across from the fountain was another bronze statue, this time depicting Napoleon’s Soldier resting his arms on a city bench. In 1809 Napoleon’s army besieged the city, blasting it into submission. The presence of a statue reminding the townsfolk of this seemed odd to us. Nevertheless, it looked good and we seized the chance for a photo opportunity.

Along the western edge of the square was the old Town Hall. Dating from the 13^th century, over time, the building has been added to or merged, resulting in a combination of different architectural styles. More bizarre was the cannon ball embedded in the front wall. It was left there as a reminder of the Napoleonic attack of 1809.

To climb the Town Hall Tower, we entered the History of BratislavaMuseum. Staffed by women ushering us around, gesturing in Slovak not to take photos, we perused ancient pots, coins, manuscripts and stoneware, before being led to some stone steps leading up the actual tower. The view was spectacular. After catching our breaths, we headed down into the dungeons.

Medieval cells and pits were the first thing we saw. Then we came to exhibits showing gruesome torture implements. “Look at that thing there,” said Phil, pointing to a metal device resembling a pair of tongs with rounded cups at the end. “What do you reckon they were used for?”

“Squeezing testicles?” I quipped. I couldn’t think what other possible use they could have.

“No, the cups were probably filled with hot lead, then poured onto people’s feet,” stated Michael with an air of authority. His knowledge of historical titbits was legendary. We accepted his comment as Gospel.

All around the room were artists’ impression of people being tortured, dismembered, boiled alive, and stretched, but the worst was of some wretched soul hanging upside down, legs suspended into a hellish V-shape. The demented individual who’d drawn the image had done so with ghastly skill. The person with the saw was slicing his victim in half, right down the middle. Thank god it was in black and white. Besides, the terrible image led to us to discuss how long person would remain alive under such torment.

“Not sure,” admitted Michael. “But during the French Revolution someone did an experiment on how long a severed head could remain aware of its surrounding. It turned out to be about half a minute. Mind you, according to records kept at the time, the person doing the investigation had to vigorously slap the head to make the eyes open by the end.”

“Jesus wept!” Phil exclaimed. “I need some fresh air.”

Next on the tour was the Primate’s Palace, located just behind the Town Hall. This glorious pink building was built in 1781 and used by the Primate of Hungary (Archbishop Jozep Bathyany) as his winter retreat. Famously though, Napoleon and Emperor Francis I signed the Peace of Pressburg treaty in 1805, after the French victory over the Austrians. The treaty effectively put an end to the Holy Roman Empire. Today, the palace houses a museum of tapestries and paintings as well as the famous Mirror Hall where the treaty was actually signed.

After a hefty hike we reached the Church of St Elizabeth, more commonly known as the Blue Church. Built in the early twentieth century as a memorial toElizabeth, the daughter of a Hungarian King, it was an interesting building to see. The interior was just as amazing, blue everywhere.

“Why do you reckon it’s called the Blue Church then?” joked Phil.

Elizabeth, born in 1207, is Bratislava’s most famous saint. Tending to the sick and needy of the old city, she even converted her castle into a hospital, much to the chagrin of her family. When her husband, Prince Louis of Thuringa, caught her walking with something hidden in her apron one day, he demanded to see what it was, believing it to be food for the poor.

“It’s only roses,” Elizabeth had said, even though her husband’s suspicions were correct.

“Well show me,” demanded Louis.

With no way to escape the situation, Elizabeth had to reveal the contents of her apron. Miraculously, though, the bread she’d been hiding had somehow changed to red roses. And thus the legend was born.

After a spot of lunch, we made our way to Bratislava Castle. First constructed in 1430, fortifications were added right up until 1761 when it was converted into a grand palace. However, it then fell into disrepair, actually burning down in 1811. It was further damaged by falling bombs during the Second World War, remaining in ruin until 1953. Under communist rule, the castle was rebuilt to its former glory, and today, houses the Slovak National Museum.

Climbing up past the castle’s defensive walls, we were rewarded with spectacular views of the Old Town and after wandering around the inner courtyard we decided we were in need of refreshments. The heat really was becoming oppressive. We headed down towards the Danube to hopefully cool off.

During the summer months, tourists often take a boat trip along the Danube to Vienna. It only takes about an hour. And if time had been on our side, we might have taken advantage of this, but instead, we took a walk along the New Bridge towards the UFO Café. Constructed in the early seventies during Communist rule, the café is now a chic, modern restaurant complete with amazing views of Bratislava.

“The toilets are interesting!” stated Michael as he returned with a wry smile on his face. I went off to investigate. Upon entering I was greeted with a most unusual arrangement. The three urinals were buckets plumbed into the pipes. And then there were the windows. They offered an exciting vista of southern Bratislava. But being so low, I couldn’t shake the notion that if someone wanted to, they could use binoculars to view me at work. Electing to visit the adjoining cubicle instead, I found a toilet was of traditional design. As I dropped my trousers, my tackle became displayed to the world. Not the most pleasant of situation to do one’s business I thought.

That evening, as we were sat enjoying another Zlaty Bažant, we pondered on our trip. The general consensus was we’d had a great time. And the general lack of mass tourism was the most appealing aspect of all. No touts and louts to be seen anywhere. There was also a notable peacefulness about town. Not once did we hear the drunken wail of the Brit on holiday. It was all so much nicer than that. Hostel had got it wrong. With low prices, medieval buildings, good-quality food and much else besides, Bratislava might soon have its turn as the most hotly-tipped destination in Eastern Europe. A well deserved claim we thought.