• 

The Misadventures – Part IV

My apartment , an efficiency , was on Palisady ; just below Bratislavsky Hrad . From my small balcony , I could see the massive castle and the spire of St. Martin’s Cathedral . I stood and stared in wonder for a few minutes and made the decision to go back out in the rain . Undaunted , I squared away my gear and took a few moments to hatch a plan of attack ; not exactly the first time it has occurred in this city .

Bratislava occupies a perfect spot in the topography of Central Europe. The castle sits above the city and the river like a brawny security guard , serving as a sentinel that reaches back deep into the mists of history . Palisady ulica ( street ) curves up from Grassallkovich Palace to Bratislavsky Hrad ( castle ) . I know what you’re thinking , and yes , there are palaces , cathedrals and castles everywhere here . Slovakia’s St. Martin’s Cathedral served as the coronation site of the kings of Hungary from the mid-16th to the early 19th century . Bratisalava is the only capital in the world that borders two sovereign states . Austria to the West , from whence I came ; and Hungary to whence I will take my time going back . From high up behind the castle walls , feeling like a tiny speck , I looked out into Austria and down the Dunaj toward Hungary , trying to imagine the rise and fall of history . It would seem like a shallow breath at one time , and a convulsive gasp at others . I watched as the clouds and mist obscured traffic on the bridge and river below . I thought about all of my Slavic ancestors back into time ; back into Samo’s Empire in the 5th century ; how many had walked through St. Michael’s Gate , traveled through this old crossroad that had been trammelled by countless warriors , cultures and kings . I wondered if in fact , my family was represented by anyone then. I supposed that the blood that runs through me came from somewhere else . Maybe my grandfather’s people really did come from Croatia or Slovenia ; or worse yet – from Hungary . By chance , my grandmother’s ancestors were swept in from the vast Russian steppes as the Avars blew across this region in the 5th and 6th centuries when the Pannonian ( Roman place-name ) Plain was the superhighway for East to West invasions . The sands of humanity shifted and shoaled in a continuum like the ancient river underneath me . The features of my family in the North , Orava , are very different from the faces of my grandfather’s people in Trnava . I believe that getting acquainted with this land and it’s people will counsel half of me at least . The other half will require a trans-continental trip of far more epic proportions ; Thuringia , Wales , Great Britain , Scotland , Ireland , and who knows where , regarding my maternal ancestry .

The unrelenting Central European rain snapped me out of my day-dream and I shuffled back down Palisady to my warm , and dry digs . Monday wasn’t going to be any better , but I’d been watching the weather here before I left and knew that spring and winter were going to do some sort of elaborate flamenco dance ; I came prepared . On Monday morning , 13 May , I took a Tram to Eurovea . A mall that was like any mall in the US . I felt like I had never left Orland . My purpose ? I needed a ” Slovak phone ” ; and I found one for 77euro , and bought a 7euro SIM card . Marek at the Orange store was very cool and set me up in less than 10 minutes . Take that AT&T ! He was very personable and his English was right on . I was in business ; I immediately called my German friend Albrecht ( he liked Al ) and we met for kava and a pastry . I was very comfortable with him and we made great fun at how alike we were . When I told him that upon retirement I read Nietzsche , he jumped up and yelled , ” no way ! ” ; I replied ” way ” calmly . He laughed even harder . He kept saying that I couldn’t be from the US , I kept assuring him that I was and even showed him my passport , he looked over the top of it at me , laughing that it was a fake . Yes , I told him , there are some of us that actually read that kind of book . I told him we weren’t all dumbkopfs ; he asked me to prove it . We had such a good time with the verbal fencing it continued into lunch . We made a lot of hay over the fact that 7,000km separated “twins ” . Albrecht is from Leipzig and when I told him that my grandfather’s people came from Erfurt/Muhlhausen , he couldn’t believe how the world crossed our paths ; nor I . Later that evening we watched the Slovaks lose in the last 2 seconds of their match with Canada and milled about waiting for the Swedes return from their game . I had a tough time leaving , but it was getting late and I couldn’t put another glass of Kofola down my gullet . I had to be up early to travel on to Trnava , the next stop in my Upper Kingdom Roadshow . I didn’t have to sell my soul to the devil , and got away from the Slovak Crossroads…..

Part III

12/5/19 I left Vienna on Flixbus at 10 am and the ride to Bratislava was short and smooth . The best 7euro I have spent yet . It started raining as we headed out of Austria into Slovakia , as we crossed over the Dunaj ( pronounced doo-n-eye ) , the Danube ; the rain became more intense . I’ve mentioned this before , I don’t know if I’m being tested , or what the ultimate plan is – but I carried on in an intrepid fashion . I hoisted my 50lb duffel over my shoulder and made a beeline for the Hviezdoslav statue in the square named after him . I dropped my duffel and strolled over to him and stared at him , as he pushed a stony, heavy gaze in mirror . For those of you still staring at the stew of vowels and constants ; it’s pronounced ” heavy-ez do slav ” . Pavol was one of the many great Slovaks that underpinned our culture in spite of the best efforts of the Magyars , as the Hungarians are known , and he was a genius poet . As the cold Slovak rain pelted me and fouled my glasses , I didn’t back down . Somehow I knew I wasn’t going to win this staredown , but I wanted to get his energy . This was my time in our country ; now is what I’ve waited for … more than 35 years . His work is impressive . He focused on not only his writing , elevated Slovak literature ; he also pushed to make Slovkia a stand-alone political entity . My man !

I grabbed my duffel and sped over to the carriageway of the National Theatre – the old opera house . I stood and watched the rain fall on the square , the southern edge of the Old Town , and felt a wave of relief wash over me . I had some time some before I was to get my apartment , so I walked north through the steady , wet curtain and jumped into a pub . I was looking for a cup of that marvelous Slovak coffee , but instead walked into a bar full of Germans , getting tuned up for their hockey game against Denmark . They were a long way from that game which was being played in Kosice . I should say again , that Slovakia is hosting the Ice Hockey World Championships , so Bratislava and Kosice have been flooded by hockey fans from all across the globe . I moment of national pride for the Slovaks . I ordered a kava ( coffee ) , much to the surprise of the German fellow standing next to me . Between peeks at the action on the screen above us , he asked where I was from ; again , I answered quietly , ” the US ” . He looked at me , smiled and said ( yep – you guessed it ! ) ” Trump ” . I winced , and he toned it down ; but not before his partners all spun and looked at me . I felt like the guy who farted loudly in the elevator . He slapped me on the back and asked if I was in town for hockey . I told him what the purpose of my trip was and we were off and running . Albrecht was smart and entertaining . We exchanged e-mails as I didn’t have my ” Slovak phone ” yet and he invited me to lunch on Monday ; the adventure continues….

Part I

Hello , Ahoj – and welcome to the journey of a man-child in the land of his ancestors . I am recently retired and chose no other country in world but Slovakia , for my existential quest . What says meaning and depth like a trip to the topographic wonder that my grandparents left behind to find a better life in the US ? My Grandfather Jan Hlavatovic ( you will have to excuse my lack of Slovak diacritics , this keyword does not have them . Should I blog from my phone , we shall be standing firm in the eyes of Bernolak , Stur , and Hattala )…where was I ? Oh yes !… My Grandfather Jan Hlavatovich either emigrated or got chased out of the Trnava region ; my Grandmother Mary ( Marija ) Halaj may well have been dragged to the US by my Great-Grandfather Matej . Any and all of this is supposition until I can prove otherwise . My endeavor here in Slovensko , will prove difficult at times , as my language skills are still quite lacking , but the Slovaks are kind and warm in their energies to help me along .

Since this is my opening salvo at bloggery , I will be brief . In the course of this blog , my intention ( quite possibly a " mission statement " here - so pay attention ) is to address a few of the questons I have regarding my grandparents and their precedents and some , if any , history I can unearth - be it as it may . I am traveling to enjoy this beautiful country as well and will share my thoughts on that vast subject as which is Slovak history and culture as a stand-alone entity . A goliath task if ever there was ...this Eastern Europe after all , everyone had their fingers in the halusky .

Part II

I landed in Vienna on 10/5/19 ( using the European date notation , always made more sense to me ) . I stayed with friends near the Innere Stadt . While Vienna is chock full of fantastic architecture , the dynamism of the old Habsburg Empire is captured in the staid strength that the buildings exude from inside the Ringstrasse . The Ringstrasse , literally the Ring Road , encircles the Innere Stadt . I was lucky to stay a ten minute walk from a complex of palaces and museums , and the beautiful Burrgarten . I could spend the rest of my time here explaining how this gorgeous park came to be … not going to do it . I found the tram very easily and headed Southwest to the Schonnbrunn Palace . I was simply awestruck by the vastness of it . There is something incredibly life-affirming for me to traverse a completely foreign city ; alone at that . It is also very nice to speak to complete strangers who are experiencing what you , yourself are seeing – and to relate to each other what you are seeing for the first time .

I had been sitting on a bench pondering the history that had taken place here , having just walked the whole grounds in 45 minutes . I young man from Sweden sat down next to me ; we must’ve had the same look on our faces because we couldn’t stop grinning . He was 32 and had been dying to see Vienna since he was quite young . I shared the same . We chatted on about our lives and bid each other good day – it began to rain . I really don’t know what it is that Europe has against me , but it rained virtually the entire 4 weeks of my trip in 2017 . I haled a taxi , no walking to the tram stop in the pouring rain . My driver was a very nice gentleman of Egyptian descent . He asked where I was from , in turn , and I quietly responded ” the US ” . He smiled and said ( you guessed it ) ” Trump ” ! He turned to see the blank expression on my face and apologized . I told him that must of us are not happy with him and he replied that it was more a punchline than a name now . We both laughed . He was a Economics student when he left Cairo , traveled between Europe and the US . He said that Vienna was the best place to live . I couldn’t have agreed more ; a nice city with warm people . Only the day before , over coffee , I had a wonderful conversation about music with a young law clerk . He plays the cello and the bass ; we talked for all of his lunch hour about Jazz and Blues . In the end we exchanged e-mails and he invited me to see him play at a concert in the Hofburg Palace . I will be back in Wien on the 1st of July and he plays on the 2nd … maybe it will work out .

As I stood in the doorway of my friend’s apartment , there on Weidenerstrasse , the clouds started to break and I considered another short walk later before dinner with Ivan , my host . It was difficult for me to journal ( and still is ) and articulate what it’s like to be away from the noise of life in the US . I don’t mean that in a derogatory way , and it is certainly not directed at anyone . I am really not on vacation , because I have to keep digging and researching for the book I’m in the process of writing . I am enjoying the step-by-step/breath-by-breath aspect that has been afforded me . I took one last walk ; to Belvedere Palace ( pictured above ) and really got lost there . Letting my eyes crawl over every square foot of that Baroque beauty . The photo above is from Lower Belvedere , the ” backyard ” of the Palace . In this vast garden , it is not very difficult to see why these places were havens from the everyday lives of the emperors and empresses . Even with a multutude of visitors , I was able to sit and find solace and peace . Birds filled the garden with an aural tapestry of sound . The Palace also houses the largest collection of Klimt paintings .

On my walk back through the neighborhood surrounding Ivan and Neva’s apartment , the mood captured me and I sat on an old stone wall an watched the sunset settle slowly behind a church . I though about the history of Wien and about my history ; the rises and falls , and the triumphs and failings … maybe we aren’t that different . The following day , the 12th of May ( my sister’s Birthday ) I will be leaving for Bratislava and Slovensko … the home in my heart .