Breaking it Up: Bratislava

"A battle is won by the side that is absolutely determined to win....but we had told ourselves early in the day that the battle was lost, so it was lost."

 --Leo Tolstoy, War and Peace

Is that artsy enough of a quote for you? It is for me. But this is an artsy blog post. Because I'm writing about Bratislava, and I'm writing about a small town in the South Moravian region of the Czech Republic called Břeclav. But I'm also not really going to write about those things. I have some pictures, but you could probably find them on Google Images if you wanted to.

I had planned this trip as carefully as I could, so I bought a ticket on the Eurolines bus from Prague to Bratislava, Slovakia far in advance. The night before I was leaving Prague I had looked up the route to walk to the bus station, screen-capping streets and directions. I had calculated what time I needed to leave the apartment based on how long it would take me to walk to the bus station. But I hadn't factored in two elements: how the vicious cold of pre-dawn, mid-winter Prague and a solid 20 pounds of wintertime clothes stuffed into my backpack would slow me down. I also decided to deviate from the route I had mapped out, ended up on the train station which was across a highway from the bus station. Five minutes before my bus was leaving. So I made a new plan: bought a train ticket to Bratislava.


Dawn from the Prague train station.

Except then I made the exceptionally stupid decision (which I can only blame on Dayquil, my never-ending cold, and my own idiocy) to exit the train at Břeclav. Except that Břeclav is actually still the Czech Republic. And I walked about thirty minutes into the town before I actually accepted that I was not in Bratislava. Then I had to turn around (still in the freezing cold, still carrying my massive backpack) and return to the train station. Where I found out the next train was not coming for another hour. Except that it was delayed an hour. And then it ended up being an hour and a half delay. So I spent an interesting afternoon hanging out in the Břeclav train station bar, drinking my woes away. And then I finally arrived at Bratislava just as the sun was setting.

So all in all, one of my less successful days of travel. The next morning Cait, Christian and I went out to explore the city for an hour or so before it was time for us to leave for the airport.

Buying excessive amount of American junk food in a store we stumbled upon near our hostel. The people working in the store were kind of bemused by our enthusiasm but seriously, Reeses's and Kraft Mac 'n Cheese in Europe? Goldmine. 

Exploring the Bratislava castle from the outside/courtyard.... not going inside because it's a museum and nobody felt like paying.

And that was more or less it for our winter break, except for the night Cait and I spent in Skopje in a hilariously weird AirBnb where I decided it was probably time for me to leave the Peace Corps. It was a good time and also a bad time, thus my only getting around to actually writing this blog post seven months later. Although let's be honest, I'm not exactly a prompt or timely blog post writer.

Crushin' It in Krujë

The next day we woke to the heat of late-August Albanian sunlight and the clamor of a hundred backpackers packing up and shipping out. We devoured our free toast, jam, and instant coffee with minimal complaints and after drinking real coffees we purchased at the bar, we hit the road. We still had about 4 hours of driving and we were determined to wring one more Albanian city out of our trip before heading to the airport: Krujë.

We couldn't resist stopping here to capture a few more shots of the seaside mountains. What I wouldn't have given for one more day, to sit around and just soak this in. Alas. It was at this stop that we thought to document our valiant chariot. Behold, the Opel Corsa:

Just a lovely country lane. Also a national highway.

Passing Fier, making progress, taking in some Albanian hotties.

Finally, in early afternoon we found ourselves in Krujë. We made it! Our timing was good! We even had time to wander through the famous-for-its-souvenirs bazaar in the town. We parked the Corsa facing downhill, wondered briefly if that was a bad idea, put on the parking brake (an absolute necessity in the Balkans), and headed off to shop.

The Krujë castle in the distance. After we'd done our part for the local economy we headed back to the car, ready to make our way to the airport. Once again we hadn't sent our postcards but otherwise we'd done almost everything we had set out to do in Albania and we were feeling pretty good about life. And then: disaster. Or: almost disaster. I'll let the email I sent my parents relate the harrowing tale,

I have one story to tell you guys I want to get down before I forget... Jo and I went to the town of Kruja, where the national hero Skanderbeg was born [edit: not true, and I don't know why I was laboring under this impression] and where there is a very impressive bazaar full of souvenir goodies, and when we parked we did so facing downward on a hill behind a pretty nice-looking Mercedes. We realized our mistake as soon as Jo pulled in behind it and we took a minute to wonder if we should move the car then but decided instead to go to the market with the hope that the car would move by the time we got back. 

It didn't so when we returned and Jo tried to reverse away from the car we found that our little hatchback's engine just didn't have what it took and we were rolling closer and closer forward, toward the car. We didn't know what to do so we thought maybe if we let it slide as gently as it could into the Mercedes we might be able stabilize enough to back away and so with a VERY upsetting crack, Jo let it roll into the back of the Mercedes (I was outside trying to give her an idea of how close she was). Thankfully both of our bumpers were plastic so there was no damage but we were pretty distraught to find that even resting against the other car the Corsa just couldn't get back up the hill in reverse. So we both stood there, kind of devastated and at a loss, until an old man who had been walking by and had turned to see where the noise of our collision came from, walked back around and very calmly picked up a big rock from the side of the road and put it in front of our front wheel. So simple. In retrospect, so obvious. But so completely crucial in getting us out of that bind. And so Jo was able to back the car up, let it rest on the rock, back it up, rest on the rock, until Jo could pull it out from behind the Mercedes.... 

For both of us it was just a very memorable thing because this old man who had no stake in our fates showed us such a simple but completely life-saving trick that got us out of a mess. We had several encounters kind of like that. People who didn't need to helping us in ways that completely saved the day.

This is why I'm gonna go back to the Balkans. This is why I'm not done with Eastern Europe, and it's not done with me.

We made one more terrible mistake that day: we returned our car to Hertz, which was in walking distance of the tiny airport, before we mailed our postcards. We realized our mistake when we got inside said airport, where I think it was totally reasonable to expect there to be a post office, only to find that not the case. We flirted with the idea of one or both of us tempting fate some more and taking the bus back into Tiranë to mail them, but we realized we'd probably just about used up that day's portion of luck. That didn't stop us from feeling a little bitter about our mistake, though, especially when the airport taunted us thusly:

It sure did have some fancy chandeliers, though. 

So we settled in to one of the three cafes and ordered some mediocre sandwiches and whiled away our remaining hours in one of the most frustrating, beautiful, HOT, and incredibly generous places I have ever traveled to. Soon enough our flight appeared on the board and we headed towards the security check. I can't speak for Jo, but for myself, I felt that the trip was winding down and that surely our adventure in Krujë had been our last. Milan had other plans.

pa pa l'americano

Confession: I was not overly excited about coming to Italy, or Milan. I'm sure that makes me a bad world traveler. I guess the thing for me is that Italy is well-tread territory: by my friends, by movies I've watched, by general American pop culture. So while I felt some vague relief at the sight of the foggy, verdant hills and low, rainy skies surrounding Milan as my plane from Istanbul (layover) descended onto the city, I didn't feel any particular emotion about actually being in Italy. More of a, well, here I am, and here I wait until Joanna (my friend and travel buddy for the next leg of the trip) arrives. There was one thing I was very excited about: heading on to Switzerland the next day. I'd booked one night in a very highly recommended hostel in Milan, Ostello Bello, and then had a mid-afternoon bus to catch the next day up to Lucerne, where I would go see a statue that I have loved since the first time I read about it. But more on that later.

Milan. My first impressions were surprise at how the airport was a little bit run-down, a little bit shabby. Although I did fly into Malpensa, which is where a lot of the cheap-o planes arrive and depart, mine included (shout-out to Pegasus!). The system of shuttles into the city of Milan is pretty easy to navigate, and it drops you off at one of the big train hubs in the city. From there I made my way to the hostel, and although I can't exactly recall if it was easy or difficult, I don't remember any serious hardships. I wrote down directions the hostel gave, they turned out to be fine. Except the damn rain. It was pouring. Which is why a lot of my pictures look like this:

Grey skies! Have I mentioned my hostel? So the thing about carrying a big ass backpack with enough stuff to allow you to travel with ease for weeks on end is that it is HEAVY. You know that scene at the beginning of Wild where Cheryl has to basically lie down on her backpack, roll around, and arduously crawl to her feet the first time she puts on her pack? I had a similar, albeit less extreme experience, the first time I put on Big Boy Blue. I had to back up to the chair where B3 was resting, deceptively docile and cooperative, wrangle my arms into its straps, and pray for luck that I could stand up with the damn thing on. I ended up repacking twice after that first round, because I do have some faint notion of my own limits. So by the time I got to Italy I had already discarded some stuff (gifts for my friends in Georgia, my clothes for the wedding, a couple other items I sensed I wouldn't need) from my already lightened pack. And yet. I was in no rush to explore Milan while carrying that thing around.

I have to be honest, even though it's embarrassing, there's another reason I was so down on Milan before I even got started. When I got to the metro station, I was so tired and disoriented I was swindled by a person I'm going to refer to as a gypsy, based on the way she was dressed. Basically I walked up to the machine to buy a metro ticket and she started pressing buttons to "help" me (and actually bought me a much more expensive ticket than I needed), but the screen was in Italian so I was letting her help me. When the ticket came out, she handed it to me and then swiped the change before I could. She got about 10 Euro off me. I have to hand it to her, it's an effective scam to run on jet-lagged tourists who don't speak Italian. I was pissed at her, but also at myself for not even seeing that coming.

Anyway, after that I had about two hours of "fuck Milan!" while I was taking the metro and finding my way to the hostel. Between the bag, the metro scam lady, and the rain, I was not feeling it.

Then I got to my hostel, and they saved everything for me. Warm, cozy, friendly. You get a free drink when you check in, there's a free dinner (that, unlike the free dinner I will talk about getting later on in Albania, was actually extremely nice: a couple different kinds of salad, pesto and pasta, garlic bread, a few delicious sides, discount drinks during the dinner hour), the rooms are about 5/6 beds to a room so you're not in a massive 30 person bedroom, each with their own bathroom, they'll do all of your laundry overnight for 10 Euro, the staff were totally friendly, and there was a free breakfast with amazing coffee that was more than my free breakfast at most hostels (multiple cereals, yogurts, with with spreads, eggs, some kind of breakfast meat, etc). Seriously, this place was nice. Yes, it was 35 Euro a night, but it was worth it. They basically helped redeem Milan for me that afternoon. After relaxing and de-stressing from that morning I went back out and explored, came back to a nice dinner, got some gelato (which I don't get, as a phenomenon), woke up early the next morning to check out a few more things around the city, then got to the bus station.

Saint George, hey! I was just in a country where he's a BFD!

Some shots from the area near my hostel, wandering around looking for the post office.

The Duomo di Milano, a structure so beautiful and intricate you could probably spend several days exploring all of the renderings on both its outer and inner walls, and still not be finished. I've included a handful from what must be dozens of photos that I took because honestly, after a certain point, it's hard to even look at it for its detail anymore.  There's just too much.

A VERY fancy shopping center to the left of the cathedral's square. I felt like a plebeian interloper even walking past some of the shops in this area.

Statue of Leonardo daVinci located nearby.

A series of bas-reliefs located outside a theater, also nearby.

Hilarious. Maurizio Cattelan's 'The Finger', located in Piazza Affari (Business Square), outside of Milan's stock exchange building. I can't say that any piece in recent history has so accurately and appropriately captured my feelings.

On the way to the castle I passed this structure, which you can see part of in the picture above and more of in the two below. It was for Expo 2015 which, at least for this year, seems to be focused on the relationships between technology, energy, plant life, and human health. Seemed interesting, I was disappointed it wasn't open yet.

Approaching and entering the Sforza Castle.

Obviously the best of a crop of pictures taken while attempting to get both the round corner garrison and the main front structure. No joke, I was basically lying on the ground while doing this and yes, people were staring at me.

So bad it's good. Look at all the pavement I managed to capture in this shot! Such a pro.

A slightly better although less artsy shot.

This was my favorite corner of the massive courtyard when you first enter the palace. They're a bunch of broken pieces of old columns, crests, and stone coffins. Some are more intact than others. 

Vines, on the outer wall of the castle. Surrounded by a moat that presumably was filled in at one time but now seems to be mainly used for housing stray (adorable) cats.

The castle, from the other side of the park. And in the other direction...

The lovely park behind the castle and Milan's own "Arc de Triomphe" (Arco della Pace) because apparently this style of arch is like the butt of nationalistic architecture: every country's got one.

So after this wonderful late afternoon/next morning exploration and postcard sending I went back to the hostel to pick up my bag and head for the bus station, to catch my late afternoon bus. With the help of the people working there I got to the closest metro station with relatively little trouble and then TOTALLY botched getting to the bus station because when I exited the metro, I turned left instead of right. That's it. Seriously. I turned left and headed out onto the street and walked about a half a mile in what I thought was the right direction until I was basically about to enter a major highway. So I turned around, tried a couple of side streets, and about 45 panicky minutes later returned to the metro station only to realize that the bus station WAS ON THE OTHER FUCKING SIDE, DIRECTLY BEHIND THE METRO STATION. Vai me, this is why sometimes I think I shouldn't be allowed to travel alone. Regardless, though I got there with only about 15 minutes to spare (at least at this point in my travels I have the foresight to realize I'm probably going to mess things up in some fashion and I give myself veeeery generous windows of time to do exactly that) my bus had not arrived. 

There was another 15 minutes of panic when I realized that none of the electronic signs worked, the ticket station was packed with a sea of people looking to buy tickets/get information so I wouldn't be able to talk to anyone at a counter anytime soon, and none of the depots were labeled and therefore I had no idea how I was going to identify my bus when it finally arrived. Thankfully an Italian woman saw me wandering around looking like a teary, anxiety-ridden pack mule and pulled  me over to where I was supposed to be and where, thankfully, there was a very nice college student who spoke perfect English and who explained to me that I was in fact in the right place and that this is just how things generally work in Italy. Bless you Rafaella, wherever you are! The bus left about a half an hour later, making its way north through the Alps into Switzerland. I got a couple of shots from the ride although they hardly do justice to just how beautiful it was, especially around Lake Como. Anyway I arrived at Lucerne safely around 9 or 10 PM and made my way to my hostel without too much trouble. I had a full day and a second night in the hostel in Lucerne so I basically showed up and fell asleep. The hostel in Lucerne was ridiculous, especially compared to the place I'd just stayed in Milan, but more on that in the next post.