Bratislava, Slovakia
June 14, 2025
The tiny historic square is fronted on all sides by well-preserved buildings. All of them freshly painted and spruced up to the nines, they are definitely on show. The Old Town Hall, the Grassalkovich Palace, the Maximilian Fountain and Trinity Church are all here. Most were built in the 18th century but refurbished to a squeaky clean newness. As are a few quirky statues. So is the Primate’s Palace. And no, not that kind of primate. There was a fair in the square with booths jostling for space when I was there so my views were more than a little limited.
The few streets immediately around the square are cobble-stoned, lined with the inevitable cafes and souvenir shops. Also inevitable are the gazillion tourists. It feels like Ljubljana but on a smaller scale. But here’s something I have never seen before. A beer bike. Where all who imbibe are seated on stools, their feet on bicycle pedals. With everyone pedaling, the contraption moves. In circles likely with the radii changing depending on the volume imbibed.
Looking down a narrow street I see the blinding white of the Bratislava Castle perched atop a nearby hillock but lack the enthusiasm to visit it. Down another street is Michael’s Gate.
Many of the buildings span the narrow streets. As do many in the old medinas and souqs in other parts of the world. Tunisia and Morocco come to mind. Was this too a part of the Moorish influence? I have not read of any such influence but maybe others more knowledgeable than I will know. Similar too are the interior courtyards reached through the almost tunnel-like opening under the front of the house.
In one such tunnel-like entrance I saw a bench. And on the arms were carved creatures. Here is the same motif again – dragons and snakes and creepy crawlies! The man standing in the doorway shrugged and turned away when I asked about the origins.
Bratislava feels like a Ljubljana wanna-be, including the dragon figures. It also with the same pervasive feeling of visitors that are expected to visit, see, eat, drink and make merry. But it all remains strictly superficial and any interaction with locals is strenuously dissuaded. It is quite unlike the many parts of the globe where I have met with curiosity and kindness and welcome and warmth that is humbling, I sigh to myself. Perhaps it is my expectations that are at fault.
But beyond the tourist radar is the everyday life that I would love to know about. It is in the local concert held in the church hidden beyond a few streets. It is in the absorbed conversation of two women as they walk home with the shopping. It is in a peoples that appreciate the music at the fair. It is not rap or rock or pop. It is opera!
ITCHY FEET TRAVELS 