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Went to Bratislava, that’s in Slovakia. The End.
Oh ok I’ll try and spice it up a little bit, could be a challenge though. And that’s not to say I’m writing Bratislava off as a borefest, but lets just say that 2 days is more than enough, 1 would have been perfect.
After a ferouciously shit nights sleep in Budapest due to some obnoxious Spanish snoring in the dorm I boarded the train to Bratislava. Pleased enough to have an entire berth to myself, the idea of having a dangerwank not once crossing my mind in the slightest.
It was a pleasant 2 hour and 45 minute journey through the lush green pastures of rural Hungary and into Slovakia. Unfortunatly weather wise what began as a bright start in Budapest gradually became mangier the closer I got to my destination. It looked as if I was going to have to gear myself up for a wet weekend in Bratislava!
Merely spitting upon my arrival I headed up the hill to Slavin, a memorial monument and military cemetery for the thousands of Soviet army soliders who lost their lives in WWII liberating the city from the
Germans in 1945. There are a series of winding roads and paths that lead up to the monument in what could be classed as a well-to-do part of town, a compilation of aged and newly renovated properties. Which was a polar opposite from the top of the hill which cast views across the breadth of the city; in the distance the surburbs, a multitude of high rise flats that was always my image of the city before setting foot here. I considered perhaps heading out there if I had the time, see what mischief I could get myself into for the sake of a story to tell down the pub when I got home.
Walking down from the hill I headed into the historical part of town and central tourist hub of what is known as old town. Here the town hall can be found, palaces, a riverside promenade coercing the Danube, a procession of shops, cafes and bars. All quaint and easily accessible, a good way to kill a couple of hours. I was done in 45 minutes.
When the rain started to thrash it down I made tracks to my hostel via a stop off in
Tesco where I witnessed the most blatant camel toe I’ve ever seen. Surely they know right? It looked like it was trying to eat itself! But anyway, back at the hostel I was introduced to a 1.5 litre local beer called Zlatý Bažant. Not great, but by no means terrible, it had the ability to see me through the best part of the night, so for that I was grateful.
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Arriving in perfect sync with the Chinese tourist bus accompanied by pleasant clear skies with the potential to get a little bit clammy, I found myself at Bratislava castle. A castle, or Hrad as it is known in Slovac that was built in the 9
th century, burned to the ground in the 19
th and then put back together again in the 20
th. Looking down upon the city of some 600,000 people much better views were on offer I felt as opposed to the previous days Slavin. The commie style high rise apartments again prominent in the outer surburbs and beyond them an army of wind turbines merging into the distance as far as the eye could see.
After my visit to the castle I was clutching
at straws a bit, the temptation to head to the suburbs only mildly alluring now, perhaps I’d save that venture for a rainy day? Oh wait, that was yesterday. Maybe I just didn’t need a story for the pub after all. So without further ado I went to check out the Bratislavin pub scene. Of which there was a wide enough choice as it appeared getting drunk was also another key attraction to this city. Walking into a bar, people were singing, shouting, screaming and seemingly having a good time. I think a few stag do’s were also in effect, but at 2.4 euros for a 1.5 litre beer then one really couldn’t argue with these prices. I later sampled a local plum spirit known as ‘Slivovica’ that just so turned out to taste like the devils hand-grenade. It was the most vile and torturous drinking experience of my life, I could just feel it working its way down my gullet effectively cleansing / sterilising everything in its path and stopping somewhere in my stubborn gut where all hell was breaking lose for some time. It was difficult to say if it was working for or against me.
I
woke up the next morning back in my dorm to a naked Slovakian girl in the room, unfortunately it wasn’t my naked Slovakian girl. One of the American lads in my dorm had picked her up in town during the night, apparently she was so drunk that she vomited on herself and had no choice but to remove all of her clothing.
She had an excellent rack and a hairy bush, I then returned to England.
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