XXIV

It has been upwards of 33C ( 91F ) here and I have to remind myself that it is only temporary…I hope. I am now in my last apartman , a sweet little place on the northeastern side of the Old Town. Soltesovej ( Sholtes-sovay ) is a really nice corner of the Old Town. I have two parks around the corner and it is a bit more spread out than Grosslingova where I was last. I am a firm believer in Airbnb after this trip. Each stay has been as nice ( or nicer ) than the last. Most are converted apartmans from Communist era blocks and they are done up well. My last stay was the exception ; it was a building built at the turn of the 20th century and had a jumbled architectural twist. Half Art Nouveua , part Baroque , and some pre-Art Deco , it was very cool. My host , Vlad , was the best of the best. He bought it and is in the process of slowly bringing it back to it’s original setting. The inner courtyard was a mess of building material and ladder and scaffolds.

I am forever grateful to Vlad , we spent some time together , and as he had been in Chicago ( John Marshall Law School ) there was always plenty to talk about. He is responsible also , for helping me make contacts for the future. On my last day , yesterday , we made plans to dismantle an Ikea-type cabinet that was in my apartman , and then he was going to make lunch. He had already sold the cabinet , and the lady buyer was going to pick it up later in the day. He knew where I was going next , as he uses the same cleaning lady as my new hosts Sona and Jan. It is a small town here and they all know each other. We continued our talk about Slovensko’s future as we took the pressed-board behemoth apart. It would have been a big job for him alone and I didn’t even blink when he asked. We are good friends , and I was in no hurry to travel the 5/6 blocks to Soltseovej…dragging my duffel. He promised a ride after lunch.

The cabinet is on the right in the photo above , and it was a chore to get it apart. Vlad mentioned that he felt as if he should have taken it apart when he bought building , but thought it would help with his Airbnb guests. He wants something more traditional and ornate , definitely made of solid wood. He has other plans for rhe studio and we talked about me possibly renting it , if i were able to secure a teaching job. I am very fortunate to have chosen this place to stay and to have crossed his path.

We carried all of the cabinet pieces out to the hall near the doorway and Vlad went to his apartman to start cooking the Halusky ( hahlooosh-key ) and I ran around the corner to the potraviny ( grocery store ) for slanina ( bacon ). I returned and was awed when he let me in to his building , which was next door to mine. The entrance-way was like stepping back into the 18th century. Of course , they didn’t have scooter and modern baby buggies , but the style of the 1700’s was everywhere. The steps up to his apartman on the 2nd floor were polished marble , as were the banisters. The whole of the railings more florid and flamboyant than the ceilings and door jambs of the apartman doorways.

We continued to discuss the future for either of us , and for Slovensko. He explained that the halusky he was making was not the standard ; usually made with bryndza cheese from sheep’s milk. He is from Bardejov , which is in the far northeastern portion of Slovensko . His Grandmother made her halusky with cabbage. When he mentioned this , my first reaction ( and I didn’t show it ) was sort of ” uuuhm ” . I have been eating sauerkraut soup and many dishes with cabbage in it , and although it isn’t my favorite thing to eat , Vlad was making this out of the kindness of his heart. He piled it into a big tureen and I went at it. He sliced the cabbage thinly and since there were no big chunks of it , the halusky went down rather nicely. I was pleasantly surprised at how much I liked it ; again , during this whole trip my mantra has been ” open mind , no place to be parochial or obdurate “. I bought Vlad some Erdlinger Weiss Beer the night before and he cracked open one , and said ” if you don’t mind , I will carry something , instead of driving you to Soltesovej . I am going have another pivo as these are excellent and I won’t be able to drive due to zero tolerance “. ” Ziaden problem ” was my answer , no problem. We continued on , laughing at some of the things we shared about Chicago and his surprise that I was so close to him while working in Blue Island ( modry ostrov ). Vlad stayed with a family in the Beverly neighborhood of Chicago while he went to John Marshall , part of an exchange program that was the first as Slovensko was gaining its feet after the Velvet Divorce , in the early 1990’s.

The ” Velvet Divorce ” occurred in 1992 , and describes the separation from the Czech Republic. It followed the ” Velvet Revolution ” in the late 1980’s when the Communist Bloc fell apart. It was so named because Vlaclav Havel , a Czech writer ( who else? ) was a big fan of the Velvet Underground….at least that’s one of the theories. Another is that the revolution happened without bloodshed ; it was also known as the ” Gentle Revolution “. Vlad and I covered this and many other absolutes about Slovak history. At one point he said , ” wow , you really are serious about our history ” ; I kept eating and with a mouth full of the magnificent halusky , just nodded.

We finished eating , and washed the dishes – I insisted on drying , and we went next door and grabbed my bags and backpack ( I still believe I overpacked – oh well – lesson learned ) , and headed up to Soltesovej. He knew exactly where to go and as we walked through the nearby park , the one he pointed out with the farmer’s market , he greeted a few of the farmers and and introduced me as a future customer ; very funny and the farmers struggled to push their English as I struggled to push my Slovak. I was really glad to have this time and when we arrived in the apartman , Vlad was a little jealous . He looked around and said that this is what he wants to do with Grosslingova. We stepped out into the heat of the patio and quickly jumped back into the cool of the apartman, The difference was at least 20 degrees. He thanked me for all of my help and I couldn’t thank him enough for what he had done for me. He said that it was already a good friendship and we shook hands , and he was gone.

Vlad called me later in the evening to make sure everything was going alright and we promised to stay in touch. Tomorrow , Thursday 27 June , I will meet up with Alexander/Gabor and he is going to show me his inside Bratislava…some of his favorite places , away from the crowds. I am looking forward to it. I will have 3 days left after that and who knows what they will bring. I have found a treasure trove of inspiration in this city and even more in the country. In spite of the road ahead , the Slovaks are anxious , and even humorous about what they have to face. I feel like I am on another planet. Sitting on my patio as I write this , I have had enough of the heat – even in the shade my phone is showing 27c ( 80/81f ). Since there is no breeze , I am going back inside to the ” cool ” of the 22c ( 71f ) of my apartman with the fan. I will return to my patio later , with a cup of kava and ponder some more where my path has led me and where I have yet to go…..

XXIII

It’s almost 22:00 ( 10 o’clock ) and I’ve just arrived home from a long day out. I’ve popped in and out until 1800 , stopping to get my notebook. I decided to go to the cafe in the park. It’s just around the block and it is a very cool place to eat , drink kava and be outside. Thankfully the cafe has broad umbrellas that cover nearly all of the 2 dozen tables ; it started to drizzle as I ordered dinner. I found a New York Times today at a newsstand in the north of the Old Town , and I brought it along as well. It is a luxury. I really haven’t seen much of the news , as I have been engulfed in reading , writing and developing my ear for Slovak.

I ordered a small mushroom pizza , yeah – comfort food , after all the sauerkraut and schnitzel. I started reading the paper as I sipped my Kofola and noticed how crowded the cafe was. I had to remind myself that it was Monday and not Friday. It seemed packed. I was sitting at one of the few tables that had open chairs. I was just enjoying the fact that Trump hasn’t let me down ; even in my absence , he’s still an idiot. The rest of the news in the paper was predictable , Turkey and Erdogan , the Papacy in Rome starting to show a rift , and the coming ( maybe ) crackdown on illegals in the US. Chuckling as I turned the page , I looked up to see a young man looking around the cafe. I really didn’t pay much mind to it , until he walked straight to me and asked if I wouldn’t mind sharing my table. I shook my head no , apologized for not being able to answer entirely in Slovak. ” American ” ? , was his first question , in nearly perfect English . I nodded assent and said yes. He introduced himself , ” Gabor Jasenich , thank you for the seat “. I introduced myself and asked if he was Slovensko. ” Actually , I’m half Slovensko , half Magyar ” ; I though to myself that this guy was one hell of an anomaly. I asked him how it came about and he gave a little of his family history , interspersed with geography and the history of the Empire. I gave him my story and asked how he could be settled with both backgrounds owing to the treatment of the Slovaks by Hungary…for 1,ooo years. I tried to keep it light and it wasn’t his fault that half of his ancestors were Magyars.

I explained my position and we had a very interesting discussion about the two halves and the fact that he doesn’t forget who he is on either side. His father’s family came from Orava , so we had common ground and talked at length about the region’s beauty. Gabor is 32 and looking for work here in Bratislava , with a degree in accounting. I thought , wow – this kid has a pretty good head on is shoulders. His food arrived and I ate cool pizza , not wanting to eat in front of him. I bought him another beer and myself another Kofola and we kept talking as we ate. I shared my experience here , and he got a kick out of me calling it ” home”. I laid out why I want to leave the US , and he nearly jumped off his seat ; ” yes !..Orban is an idiot too “. We both laughed and mock-argued over who has the worse leader. He was very smart and well-traveled.

We began to talk about the world at large and it was here that I began to feel a pit in my stomach. I had asked what he’d been doing since university , and he described a story out of Hollywood. ” When I graduated from university , the job market in Budapest or here was still very thin. I decided to join the UN Security Force and they sent me to the Congo ” , his voice had a strange timbre to it. I let him talk and he seemed interested to share and at times not so. He shared the things he saw , how it felt , and what it still does to him. I expressed my thanks , and let him know that we could change the subject any time he liked.

We had gotten to our kava by now , it was around 20:30 ( 8:30 ) , and Gabor wanted to know what the US was like. I kept changing the subject , I wanted to hear more about his experience in Africa. “I’m trying to let all of that go away ; I saw a lot of good , but I also saw the harsher side of human beings. I saw young children so deeply affected by the warfare in the East , that I don’t think they will ever be de-programmed……” His eyes were cast down as his voice trailed off. After dinner, we talked some more as we were headed in the same direction. We took a walk through the Old Town and I invited him to come to the US , he politely declined , but hoped we could stay in touch. I said by all means, and we agreed to meet for lunch on Saturday as I am leaving for Vienna on Sunday.

I caught the tram back to Grosslingova and just couldn’t shake the images in my head , as Gabor laid out in graphic description , what is happening in mid-continental Africa. I was hearing also , the need to let it go and carve out a life here , with his girlfriend , and attempt to find some change from another angle. When we parted , we exchanged phone numbers , and as I was typing his name in he corrected me and had me put in Alexander , instead of Gabor. I asked why and he said it was his middle name and he liked it better. I promised to address him by this and I look forward to his telling of Slovak history from the other side of the fence. Our facts are nearly the same , the perspective changes a bit and that is the oddity of it all.

As we waited for our trams , his was going in the opposite direction, we made a short agenda for discussion. He was still aghast at how much an American could possibly know about his history , and I promised not to indict him or attack him with it. Hopefully we will meet before Saturday , maybe Friday night , he says there is a great pub near his place in the north of Old Town. They have a band or two on Fridays. I would like that , I haven’t been near much music since I left home in May. I am writing this now and have Gabor/Alexander’s visions of war dancing in front of me , imprinted on my irises and at this moment – sincerely hoping I can fall asleep. I’m not a big fan of human suffering. I realize that it happens , but not to 4 million people over almost 4 years in The Congo. The Native Americans , The Uighurs and Tibetans in China , The Aborigines in Australia , and the list goes on and on…. It gets me angry enough to want just go to these places on this planet and get into the people that propagate the suffering and derision and just shake the shit out of them and ask them , “who the fuck do you think you are?”

I move tomorrow for the last time. I have only to go a few blocks north and my current host is going to give me a ride. We are going to dismantle the big cabinet in my studio as he is selling it , and then we will go to Soltesovej apartman. I’ve made many connections here and I just can’t say enough about the quality of character in those that I have been fortunate to come across. Tomorrow is another new day and who knows what it will bring…..

XXII

I have to say that I am very comfortable here in Bratislava. I’ve stumbled upon the English-speaking Slovaks ( among others ) , and I am really enjoying life here. There is a bit of the old and some of the new , with a cosmopolitan and yet somewhat provincial feel to life in this city. I met my host this morning and we engaged in a conversation that was far-reaching and very common , at times. I explained to him my hope to teach here in Slovakia. As my talk progressed , Vlad ( my host ) stated that perhaps there were other avenues for me to explore. Vlad is a former lawyer for 3M here in Slovakia and trained at John Marshall Law School in Chicago. Right off the bat , we found common ground and shared our stories.

I gave to him what I was familiar with , as far as Slovak history and he was impressed . He shared with me the differences between what he knew about life in the US and his life here in Slovensko. He spent a few years there as a consultant to 3M and did a tour of duty in their legal department. He served the same role here and after nearly 10 years , he decided to go in another direction. He was enthused to hear that I was hoping to retire here and we both chuckled over my limited grasp of Slovak. He did say that it wasn’t bad for someone who couldn’t form sentences. I would string a few words together and we would laugh until he figured out what I was trying to say. An hour passed quickly , and we put a bookmark on our conversation until lunch tomorrow. He texted me a short while later and said that he some good ideas for me and thought that my talents would be better served elsewhere ; I am intrigued , to say the least.

I have been taking long walks around my neighborhood and came across the ” Blue Church ” of Svaty Alzbety. This church ( kostol ) is dedicated to St. Elizabeth who was born in Bratislava. She was the Empress of Austria , and the Queen of Hungary. I didn’t get a photo of her portrait which is just inside the door of the church. In the photo she is holding flowers and the plaque under her mentioned that she gave extensively to the poor. She died in 1898. This Art Nouveau masterpiece was dedicated in 1913. Sometimes , I sit across the street and watch the sun change the pastel blue of the church as it arcs overhead. This area that I’m staying in is , a bit like Lincoln Park , but with a heavy mix of architectural styles. There are young families in the parks and kids everywhere, skateboarding, shooting hoops, or just sitting at the corner cafes having kava and looking at their phones…sound familiar ?

I will only be about a 1/2 mile North ( Sever ) at my next Airbnb ( I switch next Tuesday ) and Vlad says there will be a much different look to my surroundings. I must say that it is nice to be in one spot for a spell. My studio apartman has it all. Even a washing machine ! It is nice to be in all clean clothes , I was down to my last ; after washing clothes in sinks and showers , it’s nice to have a modicum of civility. It’s not a washing machine that I was familiar with and I waited to wash until this morning when Vlad came by . I made us a cup of kava ( what else ? ) and after we got the machine going we started talking about writing and art. I mentioned that I played the drums and his eyes lit up , ” there are dozens of bands looking for someone like you ” – he said. I downplayed it and we continued talking about music and books ( my default settings ) and he mentioned Dostoevsky and we were off and running about the impact that Raskolnikov had on our thinking and what the author was really trying to get to. I said that it was more about the ” punishment ” and not the ” crime “. Raskolnikov was such a tortured individual that he nearly succumbed to Porfiry’s antagonism to confess. We both agreed that Porfiry was content to let Raskolnikov tear himself up from the inside out.

We were all over the map , when Vlad dropped a bomb. ” I have to say , one of my favorite American authors is Dreiser ” Vlad smiled as he spoke. I jumped up and yelled , ” no way ! “. I looked at him and in mock-investigation asked if it was An American Tragedy. He smiled and we did the ” Bro handshake “. I told him that there is not one piece of writing I have ever read that was so perfectly written as that book. We talked about the reason Dreiser wrote An American Tragedy , and he was surprised that it really did happen. We talked about the themes that occurred in both books ; how Clyde Griffiths and Raskolnikov were very much alike. We talked about philosophy and morals and criss-crossed from the Old Magyars to the Tzarist Russians , the West and now the modern US. I can’t wait for lunch tomorrow , it is liable to be a real hoot.

As I’m walking through this marvelous city , through more run-down areas to those being rebuilt and renovated , I can’t help but wish my kids were here with me. I think they both would change some notions about the way we live in the US. I have not seen a lick of television since I left the US , and have only seen what our Fuhrer is doing via the Slovak Spectator , one of the major papers. It has been a great lift to be free of that aspect of my life. I know that I am not immune to what is going on , but I have discovered more by following less. My life has taken a turn in the way that I look at this world , and I have fully embraced new thinking and new ideas. I’m a bit bummed that my jam session didn’t happen , as I don’t know if I mentioned meeting a Sax player in the Old Town Wednesday night and he invited me to sit in on a jam tonight. He never called today and that’s okay. I have been reading a paper on the separation of the individual from the state in post-communist Eastern Europe ; truly enthralling work. The paper examines how market economies have to find their place here and the role of the individual is paramount to the future growth of not only our country , but the rest of Eastern Europe as well. Old world with new ideas…some for them and some for me.

XXI

As I stood looking up at the Holy Trinity Column , a soft breeze blew down the town square and softened the heat. This magnificent structure was built out of gratitude for the end of a plague that wiped out half of Banska Stiavnica in the early 18th century. I think that what really adds to the drama for me , is the fact that this town square is older than that. It is lined with the former houses of the burghers and mining magnates. The whole of the city center has cobblestone under foot and you walk directly into the past here. Of course , you have to use your imagination a bit , but that’s the fun of it. It was hot and sticky , like most of the world , they go from winter to summer here in a matter of a week or two. The cooling breeze settled me down as I circled the ornate Baroque statue . My eyes wandering over all seven saints crowded around the base. Patron saints of the town and of the miners. Behind me are churches from the Gothic era and above me to the left is Stary Zamok , the Old Castle.

In the cool of the late afternoon , the sun was gone now from Kammerhofska Ulica as it wound around and up ( or down , depending on your direction of travel ) Dolna Ulica and the cafes are beginning to get crowded. I stopped and had a cup of kava and mulled over some of the things that were on my mind. Was it possible that my ancestors weathered plagues and invasions , and the like because they were somwhat remote up in the mountains of Orava ? How did they do it day in and day out ? I kept these questions roiling around in my empty skull as I continued my exploration of this fascinating town. Earlier in the morning on Tuesday , I had taken a walk from my apartman down to the Mining Academy.

In 1762 , Maria Theresa decreed the 1st technological university in the world here in Stiavnica. It was dedicated to metallurgy and mining. Banska Stiavnica , along with some of the other mining towns in the region , were considered the ” Purse of the Upper Kingdom ” , due mostly for the fact that the gold and silver would end up in their palaces in Vienna and Budapest. This rich mining region was one reason that neither ruling house of monarchs were willing to give up Slovakia easily. There is a much bigger building that would become the official university , but it all started in this house.

I know I will be back here again someday and keep turning over rocks. The richness and constant change of the history , especially in Stiavnica , is irresistible . I was very fortunate on one of my wanderings to meet Miro , a cab driver , and we worked out a ride for me today. Banska Stiavnica is one of those places that you can only reach by car. On Sunday , instead of taking a train to Zvolen and then a taxi to Stiavnica , my super-cousin Jano/Kevin drove me from Drazkovce to Stiavnica. On the way in he made a wrong turn and we ended up approaching through a National Park. This whole area sits in the remains of a vast caldera ( which would explain for the mineral wealth ) and the ride was beyond description. Miro took the same way out on our way to Zarnovica for me to catch the train to Bratislava. My Slovak hasn’t improved much because I really can’t hear when it is spoken. I can make statements , and ask simple questions , but I have to listen particularly hard to the answer and pick out words I know. It’s not easy here , because Slovak , when it’s spoken , is a bit like French – it flows and glides. It is not brusque like German or Russian. Miro and I had fun , trying to figure out what the other was saying by using words that are common to our language skills ; he with English and I with Slovak. When I told him that I was retired ( he asked what I did for work in Tshuh-tsaahhgo ( Chicago ) and hoping to live on a pension in Slovakia – unable to afford it in the US. His reply had me in tears ; ” Fuck you Trump “… we were both laughing five minutes later at vlakova stanica ( the train station ).

I have had the good fortune of meeting the best people that this country could throw my way. I have struggled with the language , but they see it , appreciate it , and work with me. Slovaks are truly one-of-a-kind ; I sat reading a New York Times at the train station and two high-school girls started talking to me about the paper. They were practicing their English and it was very nice to have the conversation. As it turned out , they were on their way to Bratislava and we grabbed an air-conditioned salon with a young man they were traveling with , and passed the time talking about our respective countries. An added bonus was that they were going to the same neighborhood I was and we got on the bus , jabbering in a mix of Slovak and English. I would only hope that our youth would be that kind toward people traveling in the US. The one thing the kids couldn’t get over was how much safer I feel in Slovensko than the US. I had to keep reminding them of how violent life is in the US. The Slovaks don’t understand ; they don’t have the same numbers in crime that we have. I quoted that we have more people in prison than any other country in the world. They couldn’t believe it and , like most young people I’ve talked to , they would like to come and see it – but not stay. Conversation always centered on what they are building here. They have plenty of hope for their future , but only if they are educated. I kept stressing that , and we agreed.

I have a sweet apartman ( that’s Slovak for : apartment-but you got that already ) , and I’m right down the street from Bratislava International School of Liberal Arts ( BISLA) ; next Monday I have kava planned with a teacher there. It’s going to be a meeting after we introduced ourselves on Academia.edu. He had written a paper on Slovak education in English and I replied that I was highly interested in teaching the next generation about their history and the importance of remembering the past and not making the same mistakes over and over. I am not pinning anything on it. I started this odyssey here and it feels good to be back. I took a short walk after I was settled in , and love the feel of this city. It’s old , really old , but it has a new vibe and history is everywhere I look.

I know that none of my ancestors were here , but there is something in the air and I can feel it. Although I miss being up in Orava , with its perfect wooded mountains , and the guide vocal of my Grandmother , it feels comfortable to be back at square one. I came into this journey knowing that I know nothing , and that I am going to learn and accrue some knowledge of my past. I know also that I’m rooted in a small-town mythology where we all know each other and have a near familial bond. I’m honestly beginning to miss that feeling a bit. All in all , I’ve been on my own for the most part and lucky enough to have had some time with my family here , however brief. I count my blessing every morning after meditation and chant and I owe those blessings , in part to Matej Halaj. If my Great-Grandfather ( Pradedo ) hadn’t had the foresight to bring my Grandmother to the US , I might be telling a decidedly different story. Without her , there would be no me. It is nearly insuperable to decipher what my ancestors went through , as they worked and prayed , and scratched the soil together. They did it together and that is one of the lessons I have learned. The love and dedication toward one and other was , and is , a continuing inspiration. My cousins don’t have quite as much of the material world that we have in the US. I’ve learned that what they have , and share freely , is themselves. I love each and every one of them for teaching me and giving this notion back to me. In the US , my family practices the same virtue ; there are some things that oceans of time and tide will never wash away…..

• 

XX

After having spent nearly 3 days ill and sleeping , it feels good to be ” alive ” again. I felt somewhat better , and I took a sweaty walk to Slovenskej dideny , an outdoor village that didn’t provide me any more insight than Zuberec , and Prybilina . I was able to get out and walk this village , which is much bigger than I expected. I should point out that it has been unseasonably hot here at 31c ( 85+ ) . For me it is very uncomfortable , and being ill in this weather only added to my being ill-at-ease. It is a bit of luck that the penzion that I am staying at serves plenty of garlic soup. It was my saving grace , added to the fact that it is very quiet here. I have also been unable to see my relatives . We were all together on Saturday as I left for Banska Stiavinca on Sunday. I was able to sweat my way through the Slovak National Cemetery here in the home of the Slovak resistance to Hungary.

It was here that the Matica ( Mah-teesa ) Slovenska was established in 1863. It was , in no uncertain terms the ” heart of all Slovaks “. There was a Memorandum of 1861 that demanded thus ; the Slovaks are to have access and build a system for the practice of their language and culture. This would later become Matica Slovenska. The leaders of this movement would then begin to establish libraries , print more newspapers , and activate an entire structure to allow the Slovak people to become a stand-alone entity .

Matica Slovenska would last only 12 years ; in 1875 , the Interior Minister , Kalman Tisza would forcibly erase the Matica with a decree that stated it was anti-patriotic and anti-government …all done without a shred of evidence. The Magyars confiscated the money that went to build the program and used it in their efforts to begin a renewed assimmilation of the Slovkas into ” Good Hungarian Patriots “. This brutal and inhumane program was called Magyarization. I stood in front of this building and supposed that I could ever know the suffering that took place after this institution was shuttered. An event like this happened all through history and continues to these modern days , whereby one culture deems themselves ” better ” or more ” civilized ” than another. When asked by a Serbian member of the Diet ( there were no Slovak representatives in the Hungarian Diet ) why the Matica was taken away from the Slovak nation , Tisza ( who was by now Prime Minister ) replied , ” I do not know of any Slovak Nation “. Down the street was the first Slovak National Museum , founded along with the Matica , as they were engaging in the study of the sciences.

Hot and sweaty , I could feel energy leaving me , so I took the short hike back to the penzion and took another long nap. I awoke in the middle of the night from a delirious dream that had me smack dab in the middle of that events of the 19th century. I stayed up and read accounts of the military attacks on the towns that resisted agreement with the Magyars and it reads like a damning scripture of defilement for the Slovaks. Awake at 4am and I couldn’t let go off the 19 century. Sleep overcame me again and I awoke on Friday morning feeling much better. A cool shower and a light breakfast , and I felt closer to human.

I was able to see both my girl cousins Zelka and Zuzka as they had been working all week and plus , Zuzka was on a swing shift at her job in the Martin post office. We knew that it would not be like the last visit , two years ago , as they had literally put their lives on hold while I was here. I let them know ( all of my family ) that I would be happy to see them when we are able. I turned out very well. On Sunday , my young cousin Jano/Kevin insisted that he drive be to Banska Stiavnica against my protest. It saved me nearly 4 hours of travel and 35 euro. I am very grateful to him .

Today is Monday 17 June and I am happy to say that I am hale and healthy and glad to be in Banska Stiavnica ( Shteee-uhv-neetsa ) . I came here 2 years ago with my cousins Elena , Jano , Gero , and Alena. It is a former mining town in the Upper Kingdom and it is classically ” Old Europe ” , with cobblestone streets and buildings from the High and Middle Ages. More on that later , as I am going to say goodbye for now and get out to explore this ” royal town ” . The photo above is of Kalvaria , a shrine on top of a mountain in Stiavnica. This particular photo was taken from the window of my Airbnb apartment. Last night I watched a thunderstorm roll in from behind it , very stirring – plus it cooled off here ( 70f/20c ) On my last trip , 2 years ago , we walked up it and stopped at each of the 13 shrines along the way. I made firm to me , how uniquely Christian this country is. More on that later also . I just want to give those concerned readers an idea of where I have been , in the absence of posts , for more than a week ; so we are caught up and I will keep all involved well informed….

XIX

On Sunday my cousin Janko/Kevin ( more on ” Kevin ” later ) drove up and picked me up from Lestiny. We drove from Orava to Martin in between the Velka Fatra and Mala Fatra National Parks . Martin ( Mar-teen ) lies Southwest of the Orava region. Its inhabitants are named after the river that flows through the area , Turiec ( turry-ets ). Martin is also known as the center of resistance to Hungary in the mid-19th century until WWI. This is the period in Slovak history that I am choosing for most of my book. I am very excited to finally have the time to visit the National Muzeum , and many other buildings that were major institutions of a remarkable period in Slovak history. Today will be a day off as the muzeums are closed. I am going to take a slow walk through this village of Drazkovce ( Drahhzsh-kov-ceh ) . The village is just outside of Martin , and it is where my Great-Uncle Ondrej settled . Ondrej ( or Uncle Andy , as my Dad would call him ) was the youngest of my Grandmother’s siblings. Ondrejko was not born until 1913 , so it is possible my Grandmother may have seen him before she left for the US. It is a neat fact that my Tetka ( Aunt ) Irene was born only 4 years later and thus was that much younger than her Stryko ( streeko ) , her uncle. I have yet to do some family history of the Halajci living in Drazkovce , another purpose for my visit here. I would like to find out why Ondrejko left Orava for this region and married Otilia to have his children and grandchildren in this village , which was first mentioned by historical record in 1260 .In this village are my cousins Zelmira and Zuzana. They are the grand-daughters of Ondrej and they are like my girl cousins at home. The built-in sweetness of the Halajci is evident always. We do not let the language gap get in the way of simply being together. Zuzka was the one that started this whole ball rolling with me and my desire to see the home of my ancestors , who know how to make a great cup of kava. The espresso is impressive , but the Turkish kava is out of this world. My first refreshment upon seeing Zelka ( shzelka ) , and she makes a mean cup !

When my Father passed away , a little more than 7 years ago , my Sister Suzka put me in charge of his effects. I was astonished to find many letters to Slovakia. Although my Dad and I spoke about our heritage , he did not see it as a link that was alive , as I had ; and even though he and my Mother made a trip here in 1985/86 , he was unimpressed. Among the many letters back and forth , I found the most recent , and sent a letter to the address that Stryko Ondrej was living. My cousin Zuzka sent back a nice letter and invited me to join her on facebook. I have long since scuttled facebook , for many reasons , but at the time it was a great leap forward in my quest to connect with long lost family. I should do an aside here ; for many years I spent a lot of my time looking East and wondering what had become of my family in Slovensko. On both sides of my heritage ; paternal grandparents each. As most of my kind readers would know , I have been obsessed with knowing my Grandparents that had passed on before I was born. The stories of my Grandfather’s ” hardness ” were legendary , as were the stories of the great kindness and love of Grandmother. After many attempts to find any Hlavatovich connection in Slovensko , and failure ; I decided to go with the strengths and am now reaping the benefit of their love and kindness.

So here I am , on essentially the last stop of my ” get-to-know-your-family history ” tour. After this I will head South and begin a path to Bratislava and then Vienna to return , nearly against my will , to the US. I am living in a dream everyday , and now have the added fortune of getting to see a new life come into our family. My cousin Etelka gave birth to a boy about a month ago. His name is Ondrej , what else? The people in this culture pay a great deal of honor and homage to their past. They don’t rewrite it , they simply live with it , both the good and the bad. It is quite refreshing , in all honesty , to be in a place just the opposite from where I have been for the last 59 ears. The love and devotion that my family has for each here is astonishing. In Orava they are no different. I feel very gifted and grateful for a chance to experience this constant inter-meshing and obvious outpouring of their love for one and other. I am looking forward to seeing the whole family after work today and catching up some , getting a chance to peek in to this family over an absolutely mean cup of Turkish Coffee…

XVIII

On Thursday , 6 June , Jano and I had a plan to meet in Namestie Dolny Kubin to get a look at Stano Lajda’s Last Supper . Lajda ( Lie-da ) is an artist from Orava who reconstructed da Vinci’s Last Supper on a smaller scale. I had seen it twice , but for an admission cost of 2euro , it was a no-brainer. Any reason to spend time with Jano was a good thing. There were days when I wanted to get out of Oravsky Podzamok : I had visited the castle three times and had wrung it dry of its history and secrets , and I decided to strike out and spend some time in the namestie. On those days , I paid my 64cents , rode the train into Dolny Kubin and went to the namestie. Namestie translates into ” town square ” , literally. It is a large open mall surrounded by shops and churches and has schools on either end behind it. Some of the buildings are among the oldest in town , like the Church of St. Katherine , situated at the North end of the square. It was built on the remnants of the first church in Dolny during the 14th century. St. Katherines is a Gothic church in the Catholic tradition. Down at the South end is The Church of the Augsburg Confession , a Protestant church. It is right next to the Orava Gallery. Across the square is the house of the great Slovak poet , dramatist , translator and political parlimentarian P.O. Hviezdoslav.

I have taken to translating Hviezdoslav’s work , if not for the language practice , but also to get a real sense of how he thinks. Hviezdoslav ( h-vee-ejz-do-slawv ) was a trained lawyer and a banker ; he gave it up to write. His work took place during a time in Slovak history when the Magyars were working hard at limiting the Slovaks in all aspects of their lives. Their language , culture , and every vestige of their nationality was being slowly erased , as the Hungarians pushed ” Magyarization ” on them. This policy was a forced assimilation of culture. We have seen it with the Native Americans in the US. Whereby their children are shipped off to schools ( in both cases ) and made to be some manner of ” better versions ” of their birth cultures. It estimated that nearly a quarter of a million Slovak children were ” relocated and assimilated ” in the efforts of the Hungarians to wipe the Slovaks off the map. Sound familiar ? It was during this period hat the small Slovak intelligentsia really came into their own. Hviezdoslav was one of many.

The breadth and scope of the artistic wealth of Slovakia is jaw-dropping. Slovak writers , painters , sculptors, and musicians are on a par with all other artists. They are innovative and highly creative. Stano Lajda is a perfect example ; Jano and I were off to see his rendering of The Last Supper by da Vinci.

Lajda has an idea , after much research , to recreate The Last Supper on a much smaller scale. The original painted by da Vinci and finished in 1498. The original was painted on an end wall in a monastery and was 15′ by nearly 30′ ; Lajda scaled it down to roughly 3.5′ by more than 6′. It is lustrous and vivid. Lajda is masterful and a realist that can transform into neo-surrealism in an instant , as the above portrait proves. I have stated in an earlier blog that I think to know a culture , any culture , look at the art that comes from it . Written , spoken , painted , musical or sculpted ; it doesn’t make any difference. The pulse of a culture is in its art. In the Orava Gallery is a vast array of Orava’s art , from it’s earliest iconography ( 12/13th century ) , right to the modern day. Two years ago we stumbled on Warhol , you never know what you will find.

I left Oravsky Podzamok yesterday and met my young cousin Jakub in the namestie near his high school. He was kind enough to bring me to the apartment that his parents Vlado and Alena have made into a mini-penzion. I am in the village that forms part of my ” Golden Triangle ” for Marija Halaj – my Grandmother. Here in this village is the 330 year old wooden church of the Evangelicals. This entire region was at one time Protestant , hence the wooden church. In my next blog , I will include some pictures of this beauty , that doesn’t have a nail in it. I love this region and Lestiny ( Lesh-tin-ee ) is a village built into the hills of valley. Lestiny lies about 2 miles SSW of Pokryvac and due West from Osadka ( which lies directly South , over a mountain from Pokryvac )….ergo the triangle. It will be my last stay in Orava as I will be heading Southwest tomorrow to stay near family on the edge of the Velka Fatra. It will be hard to say farewell , for now , to a place that has occupied my heart for quite a long time….

XVII

We finally had enough dry weather and sunshine for the rivers to calm down enough to go fishing . My guide Andrejko called on Monday night and it would be Tuesday morning early that he would pick me up at the Penzion . Andrej ( Andrejko is the endearment ) is an affable young man in his late 20’s and highly intelligent . Over the course of our 10 hour day we had dialogues about everything from Aristotle to Ichthyology and the Salmonids . We traveled the same route that Jano and I traveled on Saturday , winding through the West Tatra landscape , in and out of the shadows of the mountains , and over passes into the bright sunrise. We snaked down into a valley lush with pine and birch and brightened with fields of rapeseed. The high yellow of the rapeseed fields contrasted with the high peaks streaked white with snow on their South-facing portions , and below the dark pine forests interspersed with deciduous bursts of green and yellow.

Our river for the day reminded me of any that I have fished in Montana. We hiked from the car for about 3km , on a trail above the moving water , never far from the sound of it rushing over its freestone bottom , or lapping against itself as it bounced and rushed away from the mountains toward the Vah River. Our voices loud and direct as we were in Brown Bear country , there was scat all along the trail they shared with Wolves and Red Stag . All of them having left remnants of their diet , perfectly right in our path. Andrejko and I discussed the vibrant wildlife and wild scenery . As he was rigging my line , the faint song of Wood Thrushes echoed through the river canyon . Robins and Flycatchers shot about as if in a natural ballet. At this time of day the hatch revealed Sedges and Stoneflys , we turned over some rocks in the streams and decided that nymphing , or wet flies , would be the order of the day. This is fly fishing that is not a strong suit of mine , to be honest , and he explained it really isn’t his either , but I will have plenty of practice today . Typical Slovak realism , coupled with a hint of optimism. My biggest challenge would not be the nymphing in itself , but striking the hook. I was being given a lesson in fly fishing by the grayling and trout themselves. It would take me all day me all day to get the speed of the strike right ; it wasn’t until the last two hours that I was able to strike quick enough to set the hook.

At 11 o’clock we decided to have a small snack and sat on the bank , feet in the water and talked as we ate. Andrej was surprised that I answered correctly as to why the Slovaks had lasted for 1,000 years under the Magyar yoke. ” The Catholic Church ” was my reply. Andrejko is studying law in Vienna , and was a theology and philosophy major at university. We covered a great deal of ground ; from the Reformation to the notion of Aristotles ” self knowing” . He was surprised that I was able to tie in fly fishing with Aristotle and the other greats , frankly , I was too. As I ate my lunch of bryndza cheese ( what else ) , smoked kolbasa and baguette , we conversed about the importance of looking back for answers to the future. Both of us were well aware of the dangers of forgetting the past – mistakes and successes . We finished off with kava ( coffee ) and Croatian Oranges . I arose to begin casting and a grayling hit my nymph as it dragged in the water. We laughed at my quickness , summoned from a full belly no doubt. We had 8km of the sinuous river to fish . I waded into full boiling pools and for ten minutes was completely foiled by the speed of the strike from the grayling and trout. Even with a ” strike indicator ” ( essential for nymphing ) , the fish got the best of me. Andrejko marveled at my casts ; I admit that humbly , I still don’t think I am that skilled. We were in some tight spots and I somehow managed to stay out of the trees and still get the casts into the proper places. I was very happy that the dust came off quickly , as I hadn’t fly fished since last June and July in Wyoming.

All day long we discussed history , philosophy , and fish. Late in the day , the clouds gathered over us and we switched tactics. Fish on ! Andrejko knew that my strength was dry fly fishing , but it wasn’t possible for most of the day because of the sun , the heat , and the hatch. Now with the cloud cover overhead , we knew the fish were soon to rise and start working the cooler surface water. After another short water and snack break , he tied a large terrestrial on and I felt more comfortable. For the uninitiated , a terrestrial is a dry fly that looks like an adult bug , they most often have antenna , and legs , and perhaps some fuzz here and there. The idea is to mimic the natural. The come up for the easy-to-see meal and after a few failed hits , I finally was able to land quite a few in a row. It just added icing to the cake , and the cake was standing in this wild mountain stream in the home buried deep in my heart now.

The wind became a stiff breeze , it had been blowing most of the day , it heralded the coming storm. Bang ! Another strike ! Fish on !… they were really coming now. I think they may have been showing me some pity. Graylings , Brown and Rainbow Trout took my fly. I felt a raindrop on my head and kept putting the fly right at the end of a fast moving rapid. Another few raindrops on the smooth water in front of me ; ” keep casting Neko , you’ve got them ! ” … Andrejko egged me on . I moved and cast a perfect put and I saw a sizable Brown come out of the depths to hit and snapped the rod just in time. We landed it and Andrej took a photo as the rain seemed to have moved down the river. My whole body was electric , I was shaking. Andrejko looked at me with wide eyes and asked if I was okay . ” Perfecto ” was my quick reply. I felt like there was no better place to be than in a 1/2 meter ( 2 feet ) of water on a stunningly beautiful Slovak fly stream. I carried on in this fashion for about 45 minutes and felt myself begin to flag.

It was getting late , with a half-hour hike back and an hour drive ; I looked at Andrejko and nodded. ” I think we should save the rest for our next visit ” ; I had reached a point where I was getting a stiff back and I was starting to feel a bit tired as the adrenaline began to wane. we climbed the bank , bush-whacking up , until we reached the trail. As I stepped up onto the flat trail Andrejko gave me a fist grasping high-five and congratulated me on a job well done. ” I have taken clients out and after 2 or 3 hours of getting nothing , they were ready to quit … it is very obvious to me that you are a good fly fisherman ” ; very high praise from a fellow fly-man. I calmly replied , ” I spent many Septembers, year-in and year-out, in Montana and came away empty-handed … I knew that I was learning to have the patience for the river ” He smiled , ” dobre ” , was all he could say. Fly fishing is not for the impatient or the easily frustrated. It takes years to get a good feel for where the fish are and what they are looking for , as far as food. I never stopped trying , and mostly because of the scenery and the gift of nature ; the beauty of the surroundings were often more than enough for me. To stand in the middle of the most gorgeous streams that our creator crafted and be part of the silence , is a gift and I was lucky enough to embrace that consolation prize. The fish were secondary.

Andrejko and I walked down the trail toward his car and as we neared a bend and opening , the magnificent Tatras appeared. Though tired , I was still buzzing from the experience that I’d waited more than half a lifetime for. For me , there is something near-religious in fly fishing. The movie ” A River Runs Through It ” captures the sense of things for me. ” Eventually , all things merge into one , and a river runs through it. The river was cut by the world’s great flood and runs over rocks from the basement of time. On some of those rocks are timeless raindrops. Under the rocks are the words , and some of the words are theirs. I am haunted by waters ” { Norman Maclean }

In my mind , there is no more powerful prose that Norman Maclean weaving fly fishing through this journey of mine. During all of my travels to the mountains of the american west , even as I had dwelled there for some time after graduation in 1986 , it was the combination of the rivers moving and the stoic mountains that fascinated me the most. The steady stillness of the walls of rock , a rampart to weather and water , and then that cool flowing liquid. The wild and unfettered mountain streams and rivers had elicited an unchained sense of self. A sense that I never had growing up , and I came of age in those mountains and in those waters. Always familiar , but never the same. The feeling of fishing for something wilder under the surface , yet seeing an eagle or hawk on the wing above ; elk or moose crossing the river within earshot every bit of it served to awaken a sense of self inside of me. Little did I know that it would be quelled by an addiction that would last 14 years.

Today I spent my time taking walks and applying for study/research grants. I am still in a quandary as they all require an invitation from a teacher or professor at the institution , in which I would be in residence. It will be revealed in due time ; I am hoping to meet with a professor at the Slovak Academy of Science and also BISLA (Bratislava International School of Liberal Arts ) . I am engaging in a dialogue with a professor there and will meet him as well on my return to Bratislava ; I will be there for 3 days before I move on to Vienna to fly back to the states. It has been a beautiful day here in Oravsky Podzamok , only a few more before I head out to further adventures.

XVI

The meadow we are sitting in is Jano’s favorite place in the whole world . I feel , well , honored . We are surrounded by these verdant mountains , Choc ( ts-hoch ) as the centerpiece on one end of the valley , and to our left , a sweeping upslope into the trees to a mountainside splotched with pine , beech and maple trees . This setting reminded me of so many places I have seen in the Western US . The peace was striking , only the mixed bird songs and the breeze through the trees . I am nearly breathless from the smell of the surrounding trees , the grass in the meadow , and bright cacophony of the avian lilt .

Today Jano says that he has surprises in store , and would not elaborate as to where we were going other than to mention Liptov . We traveled East from the Orava region where the Tatras take a swing from their East/West axis and curve to the Southwest . Our path is serpentine , following the valley floors around rising hills and mountains . We made a quick stop at Lucky ( looch-key ) to see the waterfall .

The travertine waterfall is fed by a few gypsum and earthy springs , it flows all year around . There is a spa in Lucky , evidence that geothermal activity is alive and well in Slovensko . We went onto the east and began to enter the valley in which the Liptov region is centered , and the Vah river begins its flowage . The Vah is the longest and mightiest of the Slovak rivers , eventually meeting the Dunaj ( Danube ) at the far southern tip of Slovakia in Komarno .

Our first stop is Liptovsky Hradok . A castle that breaks the ” castle mold ” in that it doesn’t sit on a high commanding site and seems quite more like a fortified storehouse than a defensible castle . It was begun in the 14th century , and as Jano and I walked the grounds of the castle , a better picture emerged of what the idea might have been regarding its location . Castle-diving is always too much fun with Jano , we take delight in pointing things out and discussing various aspects of the architecture ; the shared joy of discovery I think it would be . He and relaxed for a bit and had a drink on the patio of what is a she-she hotel in and around the castle .

We returned to the road in short order and headed North to Pribylina . This time our trail would have us swinging to the Northeast and straight at Krivan ( kree-vahn ) . At turns in the road and from open farmland , the pointed peak summoned us to it . Krivan is like the Grand Teton for the Slovaks . Krivan is a national symbol , and a geographic point of pride . There are higher peaks in the High Tatra , but Krivan has a dramatic presence .

In the village of Pribylina , which is wider and more open than Zuberec , there is the Early-Gothic Church of the Virgin Mary . It is just stunning to me that from the foundation in the 12th century and numerous add-ons this church is still standing . What an incredible feeling to go inside and see the wall paintings from that era . Pribylina was a different sort of settlement than we saw last week in Zuberec . Here they are open and exposed to attack and had only the thick walls of their church and manor house to protect them . Where Zuberec was a typical mountain village with subsistence farming and linen-dying as an economic basis , Pribylina was an administrative center , more urban – if you will – and much busier . Wow ! What was Jano going to follow this up with . He kept saying that there was more … there is .

Tomorrow , 4 June 2019 I am going to realize a long-held dream . I am going to fly fish the rivers of Slovakia . This blog will be finished , because there is more to Saturday . I will also be able to illuminate ( I hope ) on the joys of standing in the trout waters of my dreams …….

XIV

For the past 2 days the weather has been less than agreeable . Yesterday I set off , dirty clothes in a bag and took a train to Dolny Kubin ( 64euro ) and then a bus to the outskirts of town to got my clothes cleaned . No dice ; it was a dry cleaner . The lady said the best she could do was have it back by Monday. ” Buduci Pondelok ! ” , I said . Wow . I explained that I was looking for a coin-operated laundro-mat . She just shook her head. I did what anyone would do in this day and age ; I went back on the internet and looked again with an assortment of different names . She pointed out that there might be one in Dolny near the square. I thanked her, gathered up my ” dirties ” from the counter and stuffed them back into my day pack . After 2 days of looking , I decided to wash my clothes in the sink and in the shower… yeah , kill 2 birds with one stone . I have a habit of taking my shower at night so as to be clean for my bed . Today , I showered at 4 in the afternoon and felt , well – alive.

Here at the Penzion , they have a heated towel rack . Can you guess where everything is drying? It took less time than I thought and now I will be washing all my stuff this way , until I can get to a facility that has a washer and dryer . My apartment in Banska Stiavnica will have one , but that isn’t for 3 weeks . No problem . This life is all about solving little snags that come up day-to-day.

I am still in the process of applying for a Fulbright ” At Large ” grant to study here in Slovensko. I’m going to make damn sure there is a laundry room on sight , or I’m close to a coin-op. In my wanderings about Dolny , I ended up in the square and decided to stop and see my friend Milan , the curator of the Orava Gallery. I had a nice conversation with Milan about getting the world in the know about Slovensko . He mentioned that the kids here are disassociated from it . I smiled and said that it’s the same back in the US . We called up youtube and I proved it to him with some videos of people on the street not being able to recall even the biggest concepts of US history … some were supposedly college grads. He said it is the same here . This makes me want to either teach at home or come back here and weasel my way in and teach these kids a thing or two .

We talked for quite some time , since the gallery was experiencing a ” slow day “. As with most people I talk to , Milan really liked the US on his visit , but didn’t want to live there. Milan and I got in to the fracturing of culture , and it can be just as bad here as in the US. Here though, they are less tribal. The lines separating people politically are thinner and grayer. I am continuing to write and research for a book , and I want the world to know what the Slovaks have here. Unfortunately , the next generation is as disaffected as most in a democratic society. I think it would be easier for me to get the kids fired up about their history here in Slovensko , than back in the US. Slovak history doesn’t have the revisionism that US history does . With the exception of their performance during WWII with the Jews , the Slovaks have a long history of being on the shittiest end of the stick. Their subjugation and oppression by the Hungarians is nothing less than epic and they endured somehow to come out of the Soviet era ( very short by comparison ) , verily in tact. The last 25 years have seen them searching for a national identity ( a work in progress ) , and a solid footing economically in the EU framework. I happen to think they are doing it right , albeit putting too much emphasis on making cars , but they are building slowly and with optimism . They have a great deal to be proud of , but I wouldn’t put them on the world stage just yet . It will take a few more years and at least a coin-operated laundromat in every region , if not district…now that’s a qualifier!!