Note To Readers: The Next few blog posts are from my Slovakia backlog. I am posting them quite a few months after the fact. Stary Tekov is a proper village. There is no possible way it can be confused with a town–not with a population of less than fifteen hundred people, where the only restaurantContinue reading “Village Life”
Note To Readers: The Next few blog posts are from my Slovakia backlog. I am posting them quite a few months after the fact. It’s the last week before my Easter Break, and having arrived just this afternoon in a village known as Stary Tekov, yet again, I find myself lucky to have gotten dinner.Continue reading “Further Adventures in Vegetarianism”
This week was spent in Vel’ky Meder, a spa town about an hour south of Bratislava. Aside from the obvious perks (yes, we did score free tickets to the spa, which featured a diving pool, outdoor thermal baths that make winter swimming worth it, and, sure enough, a waterslide), our accomodation–a private teacher’s apartment onContinue reading “There’s No Going Home”
Click Here for Part I It turns out that “coffee” is pretty much the only English word Peter knows, though within a few minutes of him setting the water on boil, we’ve established that “sugar” means cukor (tsuu-kohr) and “milk” means mlieko (mm-lee-koh), and that instant coffee is the only thing Peter’s got in hisContinue reading “Drinking With Slovaks (Part II)”
Well, I managed to get to Holič, and I’m still in one piece, though the prize for Most Difficult Accommodation to Find definitely goes to the Turisticka Ubytovna Holič, Nam. Sv. Martina 9. Getting off the bus, I type the address into Google Maps and heft my backpack for what Google predicts will be aContinue reading “Drinking With Slovaks (Part I)”
Something you should know about me: I’m pretty unlucky. This has prompted several of my friends to come to the conclusion that I must’ve, at some point, been cursed by a gypsy–and my dad confirms that our family’s got a bit of … well, unglück, to put it mildly.
It rather says something about a town when its most striking feature is a massive highway overpass. Welcome to Považská Bystrica, the town whose name I can barely spell and definitely can’t pronounce, where the major landmark is a stretch of regional highway that wants absolutely nothing to do with Považská Bystrica.
It turns out that having a dietary restriction in Central Europe is far more convincing if you claim to be part of a cult, at least as far as the Slovaks are concerned.
One good thing about running into a co-teacher as you get off the train in a town whose name you can neither spell nor pronounce is that he can always help when it comes to finding the hostel.
Something you should know about Malta in the winter: it sucks.