Slovak Sparring

The undulating nation of Slovakia was to be our next stop as we terminated our eastward bearing and began our return journey in earnest. This was my first occasion within its landlocked borders having skirted close by while Interrailing many moons ago. Lowri, however, had visited before and even knew how to order a beer in Slovak, absolutely priceless knowledge. Slightly less than priceless knowledge were the facts I gleaned from our guidebook, namely that the country houses the largest collection, after the United States, of Andy Warhol works in the world (his parents were Slovakian) and that she has the tallest wooden altar and the most accurate astronomical clock found anywhere on earth. We simply couldn’t wait to find out more.

We crossed the Hungarian border, otherwise known as the Danube, at the small and nondescript town of Štúrovo but decided to press on in search of a suitable work/camping spot. With Vishnu only repaired temporarily, we had to ensure that we maintained a direct route home avoiding unnecessary detours or strenuous climbs which immediately ruled out ninety per cent of the country. Keeping to her flatter lowlands, we were soon driving on some of our journey’s most rural and scenic roads through picturesque farmlands and forested fields with only the occasional Massey Ferguson for company. Despite our pleasure as we poodled along the peaceful lanes, nothing could prime us for how pleasurable our next port of call would be.

Our indispensable camping app, Park4Night, came up trumps once more guiding us to a remote thermal spa that just so happened to provide both electric hookup and wastewater facilities free of charge, the holy grail. The only catch was that we had no choice but to use the extensive inexpensive spa facilities every single day we stayed there. We said yes. Having been bitten by the thermal bath bug after delightful experiences in both Ulm and Budapest, finding another on the outskirts of a small Slovak settlement was like finding a vacuum mark on your carpet, pure bliss. I quickly donned my smugglers and embraced the steamy pools along with every pensioner within a ten-mile radius. After several hours learning all about Miroslav’s gout we decided to pay a visit to the village itself.

What can be said about Nesvady that hasn’t already been said? Very little as I doubt anything has ever been said about it. The town hall looked suitably functional and the Tesco, while not of Hungarian standards (although few are), was suitably stocked with Slovak meal deals and sweet pastries. Still overawed that the aforementioned supermarket giant penetrates even the smallest of Central European villages, we bemoaned capitalism and globalisation once more, despite abetting them with our sweet pastry purchase, and got back on the road. Destination: Bratislava.

Far more can be said of Slovakia’s largest city, and I thoroughly intend to do so, although a mention must be made of the Austrian border town of Deutsch Jahrndorf. As well as providing the perfect base from which to reach their near neighbour’s capital, they also host an exhilarating festival for Krampus: a horned anthropomorphic goat figure with one human foot and an elongated tongue who is said to accompany Saint Nicholas on visits to local children during the night. If, as a child, you thought that having an overweight, heavily bearded bloke break into your house and drop his sack at the bottom of your bed while you were asleep was creepy, Austrian kids had it far worse. Suitably scared—and possibly scarred—ourselves, we marked our fleeting return with schnitzels and Stiegls, the local lager, before hopping on a train to Bratislava the following morning.

One part of the triumvirate of closest capitals in the world along with Vienna and Budapest, the city offers far more to the inquisitive visitor than their modest tourism figures suggest. Blue churches, colossal castles, and even a UFO-themed bridge, she certainly deserves to be considered in at least the same breath as its illustrious neighbours. I’ll tell you for why in my next instalment as we go through… the Bratislavan keyhole. Na zdravie!

J