TAHERA Part II: Bratislava

It's not the destination, it's the journey that is important, right?  Right.

When last you left us we were heading to the Keleti Station in Budapest to continue The Austro-Hungarian Empire Rail Adventure.  You can't reserve a seat from Keleti to Bratislava hl.st. ahead of time, so we went to the international ticket office and quickly scored a couple of seats on the next train.  When the train rolled in we discovered that the majority of the cars were reserved for sleeping berths or private compartments.  Apparently this train was on a long route from somewhere to the south up to Prague.  We asked the conductor where lowly folks without a seat reservation could sit and were directed to the last car of the train.  We settled into some comfy seats, pulled out the headphones and reading material, and prepared for a couple hours journey into Slovakia.

Then, about 30 minutes into the journey the conductor came through to check our tickets and informed us that when he said our seats were in the last car he meant the second to last car and that we had to move.  So we did, only to discover that any open seats were in locked compartments and everything else was occupied.  We ended up in a "young families only" table in between the bicycle storage and the WCs with an elderly German couple and their luggage.  The entire time we were expecting to be relocated again when we changed conductors.  We probably couldn't convince them that the Germans were our parents or something.

And then, one of those unexpected travel experiences happened.  When something was announced over the PA, none of us at the table could understand Hungarian and the Germans couldn't understand the mumbled English (we only got the gist ourselves), so we translated for them and ended up bonding.  I'm pretty sure they would have posed as our parents if we were at risk of being relocated again (which thankfully never occurred).  They happened to hail from the north of Germany where people speak perfectly clear German and, thanks to a sister that lives in the States, they also spoke perfect English.  So, we chatted all the way to Bratislava about all sorts of things.  They were on their way to Prague after a few days in Budapest and were pretty excited about their trip.  They hadn't been in this part of Europe since the 1960's and things were, obviously, very different.  One thing we've noticed after 1.5 years of living in Germany is that German retirees are incredibly friendly.  They're always eager for a chat and usually happy to speak English when our limited German begins to fail us.  While young people seem to be more standoffish, the older folks are usually happy to talk to strange, clueless foreigners.  By the time we approached Bratislava we were a little sad about parting ways with our new friends.

Michael's Gate, the only surviving part of
the medieval wall.

But, part we did.  The train stopped for 2 minutes in Bratislava and we leapt off into a completely different world from the one we left from.  Bratislava has a rich and storied past.  It served as the capital of the Kingdom of Hungary from 1536 to the end of the 1700's.  The Peace of Pressburg was signed there in 1805.  It was annexed to Czechoslovakia in 1919.  It quickly fell to the Nazis in 1939, was bombed during the war, and finally "liberated" by the Soviets in April of 1945.  The city was added to the Eastern Bloc with the rest of the country in 1948.  It saw a great deal of social unrest under soviet rule.  Warsaw Pact troops occupied the city in 1968, and it became a strong seat of anti-communism by 1989.  It finally became the capital of Slovakia after the Velvet Divorce in 1993.

Stepping off the train into the chaos of Bratislava hl.st. was like stepping off into one of the sets of xXx .  While Budapest and Prague have shed their East Bloc pall in favor of rampant capitalism or the memories of the glorious old days, Bratislava is still working on it.  It was only recently that guidebooks recommended it as a stop.  I skimmed through an old book from the late '90's and they basically said if you value your life, best to stay on the train.  Bratislava was hit hard by the communists.  They came through with their plows of cultural disrespect, ripped up the old city, stomped on its soul, and left a tired, dried up shell.  For a long time the old town was populated derelicts and criminals.  Tourists didn't dare tread there.

One of Bratislava's whimsical statues, this is a satirical nod to the Napoleonic occupation. 

Today, though the city is entering a renaissance.  The old town has been cleaned up, the cobbles stones have been replaced, and the empty, decaying buildings now house souvenir shops and cafes.  The rest of the city is following suit and new glass skyscrapers can be seen rising up on the west side of own.

It is a bit of a walk to Old Town from the train station so we could see that the revitalization still has a way to go in the rest of the city.  However, it is happening.  We found a great brewpub on the way that served the best burgers we've had outside of the States and some incredible beers.  Czech and Slovak beer should never be pooh-poohed, by the way.  When we arrived into the center of the old town is was a bit of a letdown.  The center was packed, absolutely packed with tourists straight off of buses and river cruises.  There was also a large population of guys in from the UK on stag parties, who were creating quite the ruckus at two in the afternoon.  Perhaps this or the extreme heat was why the locals all acted like they'd rather stick a fork in their eyes then be at work.  Except for the waiter at the pub, everyone else we encountered seemed to believe that living and interacting with other people was an overwhelming burden.  The old town was nice enough, but rather sterile, lacking the charm we normally encounter in smaller cities.

We wandered over to the Most SNP, also known as the New Bridge.  It was built in 1972, during the height of the communist regime.  It is a garish, soviet monstrocity with a weird disc construction that contains a restaurant.  Its access ramp is so close to St. Martin's Cathedral (where more Hungarian kings have been crowned than in Budapest) that the church is suffering extreme structural problems because of the traffic vibration.  As I said, the Soviets really did a number on Bratislava.

The Most SNP bridge in all its funky, East Bloc glory.

Crossing the Most SNP.  I loved this moment of shadow and sharp angles as we crossed
the Danube to the south bank of the river.

St. Martin's.  The onramp to the bridge is on the other side of the stairway.

When we ended up on the other side of the river we were alone, having left the tourists halfway across the bridge.  We were met with an incredible view of the city, which its massive castle towering over the old town and the Most SNP cutting a sharp contrast.

We sighed.  The castle is big, but was reconstructed from ruins in the 1950's by the communist government, while they were ripping up the cobbled streets below to ship off to East Germany.  Our takeaway feeling from Bratislava was that it is a testament to the damage wrought by the communist governments of the east bloc.  Even though it's been 25 years since the fall of the Berlin Wall, the pall cast by communism can still be felt.  We couldn't help but think of the recent turn of events in the news with a feeling of trepidation.  I have hopes for the city of Bratislava.  We probably won't go back again, but I can't help but think that maybe we were there on an off day.  It is a shame to see that it is becoming a mini-Prague, with too many stag parties and not a lot of refuges for the rest of us.  But, the place has potential.

After spending half the day there, it was time to head back to the station to catch our train to Vienna.  That's when the adventure began.  If we never come back to Slovakia the blame can firmly rest on SlovakRail.

We purchased our tickets to Vienna right after we arrived at the Bratislava station that morning.  We asked the clerk if the schedule posted on the wall was right (a train every hour).  We were told that it was and were promptly sold the tickets.  Well.  We arrived back at the station with plenty of time before the train was supposed to arrive.  It was up on the electronic schedule.  We bought some drinks and watched the people come and go inside the station.  As the time ticked down for the train's arrival we noticed an odd discrepancy.  No platform was listed on the departures board.  Two minutes before the train was set to leave, there was no platform nor was there a train.  The train disappeared from the board on schedule, but the train never arrived at the station.  Nothing was posted anywhere in the station about the missing train and the only announcements being made in the station were in Slovak.  We went to the information desk, which was called "Information Desk" in English, believing that the clerk working at such a labeled location in the main international rail hub for the capital city would be able to help.  Ha.  I give you the following conversation,

"Hello. Please, we need some information about the Vienna train.  We're really sorry, but we only speak English."

"Ok."

"Thank you.  Has the train been cancelled?"

"Yes.  No trains leaving from this station to Vienna."

"Uh, ok.  Then why were we able to purchase these tickets today?"

"I don't know."

"Ok.  Is there another way to get to Vienna from here?"

"Yes.  Take bus."

"Do you have the information about the buses?"

"No."

"No?  Do you know where we can get the information about the buses?"

"No.  It is a yellow bus.  Go outside and look for yellow bus.  It say P------ on it."

"I'm really sorry, I didn't understand the name.  Would you be able to write it for us?"

"No.  Go outside and get on yellow bus."

I swear that is exactly how the conversation went.  So, we went outside to look for the yellow bus.  Folks, there were at least a half a dozen yellow buses parked out at the bus terminal.  None of them were labeled with anything that looked like whatever town name the clerk rattled off to us.  No schedules were posted either.  Panic rose.  The thought that we may be stranded there started to settle on us.  We went back in to try a different information desk.  There are about 15 in the station.  Odds were one of them could supply helpful information about how to get to Vienna.  This time we decided to try finding one that was manned by someone under the age of 40.  Chances were we would be more successful communicating with each other.  Our eyes landed on a young person.  We waited in line and tried again,

"Hello, we're really sorry.  We only speak English.  Is that ok?"

"Yes, I speak a little."

"Great, thank you so much.  We purchased these tickets today for the Vienna train, but they are all cancelled, yes?"

"Yes, no trains run out of this station to Vienna today.  Normally they do, but not today.  You understand?"

"Yes.  Is there another way to get to Vienna today?"

"Yes.  You can take a bus."

"Ok, good.  Can you please tell us which bus?"

"No, I don't have the schedule.  But, the list here says that it leaves at 20:00."

"Oh, that is not good."

"Is there any other route we could take?"

"A train is leaving from Petržalka station to Vienna in 20 minutes."

"Oh, that's much better!  How do we get to that station from here?"

"Take a bus."

"Do you know which bus?"

"No, I don't have bus information here, but you can go to the Bus terminal information desk and they will tell you."

"Thank you.  Can you please write down the name of the station so we show them which bus we need?"

"Yes, no problem."

"Thank you so much!"

And then we were off to the bus information desk, grasping the paper with the name of the rail station we were looking to get to.  We arrived, painfully aware that we only had about 18 minutes to get to this station before we missed the only way out of Bratislava.

"Hello.  We're sorry, we only speak English.  Is that ok?"

"Ok, I don't speak much."

"Ok, we need to know which bus goes to Petržalka."  She took our paper and wrote "93" on it and handed it back.

"Do you have the schedule?"

"No, I don't have bus times here."

We glanced up at the sign that said "Bus Information Desk" above her, and accepted the inane situation.  We didn't have time to argue.  At least we knew which bus went to the other train station.  Thanking her, we dashed out hoping that, unlike the Vienna train, bus 93 existed and would be arriving soon.  It did, just as we arrived at the terminal.  We desperately tried to purchase tickets for the bus, but none of the machines were working.  So, with our fingers crossed, we leapt onto 93 with a pack of teenagers, hoping we wouldn't be caught (though satisfied we had a little revenge on Slovak transit).  The bus did indeed go to the correct station and the train was just getting ready to pull out when we jumped on.  We settled down (I think I went through my swearing quota for the year), and went back over how that turned into such a cluster.  The only reason we came up with was that SlovakRail is being run by a room full of chimpanzees somewhere.  Selling tickets for a train that didn't exist, not posting anything about cancellations, and having people working at "Information Desks" that either don't have information or aren't willing to provide it is pretty ridiculous.  The whole incident was a classic failed bureaucracy experience, one which we definitely don't want to go through again.  If we were to get stranded anywhere on this trip, we didn't want it to be Bratislava.

But, we weren't stranded.  We were safely on a train to Vienna, and all was well.  So, next week tune in for the final chapter of TAHERA...

More photos can be found of Bratislava for print or download here!