Bratislava Day Two: Shop Irony

Okay, enough silliness. Back to communism!

The Novy Most (New Bridge), with its Trekkie-esque tower, represents Soviet design at its most enthusiastic. Back in the late 60's or early 70's, when the cement on the bridge was still wet, someone carved this into the pedestrian walkway:

The construction crew either didn't see it or just left it there.

In a delicious twist of irony, the New Bridge today is en route to this:

Aupark, the shopping center that the taxi driver pointed out to me when I first arrived. Now, this mall is huge. I mean, really huge. The only vantage point from which I could get a decent picture of the exterior was (irony again!) from the top of the Novy Most's tower, also know as "the UFO":

See those two illuminated red signs, and all the shorter buildings surrounding them? That's it. 

One can satisfy any desire at Aupark. Need a TV? Fur coats? Insurance? A workout? You can get it all right here! (I settled for a sweater.) The sheer wealth of consumer options was not the only difference between Aupark and the American malls of my personal experience, however. Unlike the mall of my hometown, whose atmosphere leans toward stressful and depressing, Aupark is a happy place. The rather chic cafés were filled. Children were entertained. Adults were smiling. One gets the impression that this shopping mall is quickly becoming the new center of daily Bratislava life. 

Bratislava Day One: Disappearing Museums, Accidental Catholicism, and Tasty, Tasty Meat

I woke up early today, ready for my first full day in Bratislava. Bratislava, however, was not so ready: it turns out that nothing opens until 11am on weekends. (I can only wonder if this has something to do with the stellar reputation of the city's nightlife.) So I waited at a café, just me and the barista at 9:30am. He brought me a cup of bitter, almost Turkish-style coffee with one small cloud of steamed milk. I sprinted laps around the old city for the rest of the morning.

Bratislava's compact Old Town is a pedestrian-only tangle of cobblestone streets so cute you could just eat it right up. The narrow lanes converge at the Main Square, which features a complete hodgepodge of buildings ranging in color from white to pink to mint green. The Rick Steves guidebook tells me that each building dates from a different era and has been recently restored to its unique original splendor, and color.

This square is home to the City Museum, located in the old town hall. It contains information about the building it's housed in, as well as mostly 18th and 19th-century artifacts of Slovak life. It's about as interesting as you make it.

My ticket to the City Museum came with dual entry into the Apponyi Palace, which I hear is not actually a palace, but the restored former home of a Hungarian aristocrat. I also heard-- later-- that it's only open during the summer months.

Not all was lost, however. While searching for this nonexistent museum, I ducked into a church to escape from the sudden onslaught of spectacularly miserable weather. As I sat in the back defrosting, more and more people began to file into the pews, and stay there. So I figured I would stay, too. I ended up participating in mass. The ceremony featured as special guests a Gregorian chanting choir, a group of young men with lovely voices. The music went well with the dramatic black-and-gold church décor.

All of the sit-stand-kneel acrobatics of mass sure worked up my appetite. Fortunately, it turns out that the Slovaks make really, really good food. For the price of 2.5 café crèmes in Paris, I was served duck meat that fell off the bone, buttery, melt-in-your-mouth potatoes, syrupy local wine . . . Even the cabbage was delicious. I think I understand now what keeps Slovaks going in the face of late-October wind and rain.

Bratislava: First Impressions

If you're wondering, "Where the hell is Bratislava?", it's in Slovakia. And Slovakia is a land-locked bubble nestled between Austria and the Ukraine. Quick history: After World War I, Slovakia merged with the Czech lands in the north to form Czechoslovakia.  The next world war turned it into a Soviet satellite state, under which it languished for the next forty years. After slipping out of the Soviet Union in 1989, strife cropped up between the Czech and Slovak governments. They decided to quietly part ways just a few years later. This "Velvet Divorce" of 1993 posed a major problem, however: most of Czechoslovakia's money had come from Prague, and when that city suddenly found itself in the Czech Republic, Slovakia was basically left to fend for itself with few resources.

And it suffered. According the Rick Steve's guide, as few as ten years ago the center of Bratislava was a place where "only thieves and fools dared to tread." But soon enough, money started flowing in from foreign investors, creating what is today one of Eastern Europe's boom economies and a very different picture of Bratislava.

I knew nothing about Bratislava a few weeks ago, not even where it was. Before arriving here, I expected to find something along the lines of stereotypical Soviet-- grim faces, grey coats, and the like. Flagging down a taxi driver in front of the airport, I thought: "And there it is."

I immediately forgot the Slovak word for "hello." We stared at each other for an awkward moment. Then I just nodded, for lack of ideas. He said nothing.

We drove in silence for a while, past ugly industrial zones under a grey sky.

He must have seen me staring at one Gargantuan, all-glass shoebox stretching a length of highway. "Aupark Shopping Center," he said with a note of pride. Shopping center. Looming like a giant middle finger flipped to communism right outside downtown.

The ice was broken. From there he began to point out sights left and right: the ultra-modern presidential palace, onion-domed Saint Michael's Gate, cobblestoned Old Town packed with students day and night. A chocolate shop. "I'll be visiting that," I said, and he laughed. Actually, he giggled. For the first time I saw a big grin spread across his face, saw his eyes light up in the rearview mirror as he bounced a little in his seat. This taxi driver is a good representation of my first impressions of Bratislava: staid and dour in appearance, but underneath, it's positively giggling.