Yet Another Trip to Slovakia, Part 3: Bread, Bojnice, and Bad Attitudes

Continued from Part 2:

Buying "Tomorrow's Bread" (and Getting Rained on) in Tomášovce

We made another trip the second Sunday of our vacation to Terezia's dad's grave at the cemetery in Tomášovce. Simon insisted that we take the train because he thinks it's loads of fun to go on trains, so even though it looked like it could rain at any minute, we indulged him, since it's only one stop.

Waiting for the train at Podrečany's station.

Tomášovce's breathtaking architectural gem of a train station.

But as we were walking to the train station, we couldn't help but notice the ominously dark clouds just to the north of Podrečany, and a wall of similarly dense, dark clouds coalescing south of Podrečany. Once we got to Tomášovce, we started seeing flashes of not-so-distant lightning and hearing the rumbling of thunder. This was going to have to be a quick trip.

Photo courtesy of Terezia, taken at the entrance of Tomášovce's cemetery.

A storm's a-brewin': You don't often get skies like this in the Bay Area.

However, the impending downpour didn't prevent us from stopping by a local bakery on the way back to the station to get a freshly baked loaf of bread. This bakery has nothing that looks like an obvious shopfront, and aside from a small, simple, partially obscured sign that reads "Pekáreň klas" on the front of the house, there's scant evidence to indicate that a commercial business occupies the space. It's tucked away on a residential street between houses. Strangers from out of town would possibly have a difficult time finding the place. But the aroma of the freshly baked bread wafting outside into the driveway was a beautiful thing to bask in.

The unassuming entrance to Pekáreň klas in Tomášovce.

The bakery is still not currently letting people inside due to Covid, but Terezia's mom apparently knows one of the ladies who works there, and she was happy to sell us a loaf of their bread through the doorway. The woman also gave Simon an additional two slices of bread for free, which he happily took and ate on the rest of the walk back to the train station.

I have to say, this bread was positively mouth watering: slightly rustic in its overall form/shape, it was as fresh as can possibly be, and still very warm to the touch, with a beautifully crisp, slightly crunchy, thin, golden-brown crust, and pillowy-soft, warm, and insanely fresh on the inside. This was the kind of bread you imagine getting at some quaint little bakery in Paris, and it had the taste and consistency of the perfect Parisian loaf. 

The amazing loaf of bread before we decimated it.

Simon is not a bread guy. He's never really been interested in eating bread, and oftentimes when he's eating a sandwich, he just eats whatever is inside the sandwich and leaves the bread. But he ate this bread with gusto. Terezia's mom started tearing some bits off one of the ends of the loaf on our way to the train station, and Simon couldn't get enough. Once we were back at the station and waiting for the train, he kept going up to Starka and tearing little pieces off himself. My point here is that this bread was so tasty and fresh that even Simon loved it. It was still warm inside even by the time we got back home.

And this was technically the next day's bread. Every evening around six o'clock, people stop by this bakery to purchase a loaf from that day's batch, which will be distributed to local shops the next morning. They only sell large white loaves, like the one we got, and darker wheat loaves, as well as both in a smaller size, and they bake it in wood-fired ovens. While this place is technically called Pekáreň klas (pekáreň is bakery; klas is the head or tip of the wheat), the locals simply refer to it as "going to buy tomorrow's bread." If this place existed in the Bay Area, you'd have a line of yuppies down the block every day at opening time.

Simon in a bread coma, waiting inside Tomášovce's stunning world-class train station.

At any rate, by the time we made it back to Tomášovce's mesmerizingly beautiful communist-era train station, the rain started pouring down. After waiting 15 minutes for the train to arrive, it was still coming down in buckets. Yet, when we got back to Podrečany a mere five or six minutes later, it was bone dry. As someone from California, where it barely ever rains at all anymore, I love these localized thunderstorms, where in one village it's raining hard enough to drench your entire outfit in a matter of seconds, with full-on thunder and lighting, and literally in the next village over, there's not even a drop of rain.

Strange Attitudes by Some Slovaks About Ukrainian Refugees

For many years, Terezia has been getting facials and her eyebrows done by a woman in downtown Lučenec. She used to do this regularly when we lived in Slovakia, and she now always schedules an appointment with this woman whenever we're in town.

When Terezia went to see her in our first week of this trip, the woman launched into a bizarre tirade against Ukrainian refugees, complaining that they're only willing to take "the best jobs," and that they're refusing to take low-wage assembly line-type jobs because they apparently "think they're too good for them." She went on to claim that Ukrainian kids are taking up spots in daycare centers and preschools that would have gone to Slovak children, and kept pushing this view that the Ukrainian refugees are getting preferential treatment.

So, yeah, let's just ignore the fact that these women and their children have just fled a horrific war zone, often with only as many bags as they could carry and a now-useless currency, and are separated from their husbands/fathers for who knows how long (possibly forever for some). 

I'm unable to take photos of Slovaks with strange views towards Ukrainian refugees, so for some visuals to break up the text, here's a picture of Simon and his cousin Tea (pronounced Tay-ah) on a new play structure in Podrečany. There are no refugees staying in Podrečany, at the time of writing, but I hope if there ever are, people here will be more welcoming of them than you'd think they'd be based on their comments.

Terezia has often said that jealousy is a deeply ingrained and pervasive characteristic among Slovaks. She says they always assume everyone has it better, and they're quick to cut anyone down who they perceive as having more. But the fact that some people would extend this jealousy to Ukrainian women and children who are literally fleeing for their very survival, leaving their homes, friends, family, and possessions behind, is pretty disturbing.

Terezia's mom was talking to a neighbor who, in addition to complaining about Ukrainians getting preferential treatment, was livid that the war is causing a rise in the prices of flour and other basic foods and ingredients, as well as gas and oil. She asked how can we take care of all these refugees when Slovakia can't even take care of its own people? Terezia's mom then asked this woman, "Well, how would you feel if you were suddenly forced to flee your home and your country with only one bag on your back?" The woman gave no response, and Terezia's mom just turned around and walked back home.

In this article, it's mentioned that some Slovaks in an east Slovak town are actually jealous of the Ukrainians coming over the border because they apparently have better cars! Let's conveniently ignore the fact that people from the big cities in Slovakia, like Bratislava and Košice, also likely have better cars than people in some town out in the sticks.

It seems so intensely selfish to me for people to think this way. Ukrainians are fleeing death, rape, and senseless destruction and violence. They are escaping to countries like Slovakia to keep their children from getting murdered, and you're going to get into a snit about the price of flour? These refugees could very well have literally lost their homes - and everything they've worked for - and you're going to bitch about them, from the comfort of your not-bombed-out home, getting preferential treatment? The fact that this apparently needs saying is absolutely insane to me!

Again, no photos of Slovaks with unfortunate attitudes towards Ukrainians, so here is a picture of Simon and his cousin Tea on some swings at the little new play area in Podrečany.

Terezia's mom and brother insist there's quite a bit of pro-Russia sentiment here in Podrečany, as well as in the broader region. I'm told there are a lot of older folks in the countryside who look back to the Soviet days with a certain fondness because, as they'll tell you, during communism, they always had a job, a roof over their heads, and food on the table. The way they saw the transition to a free-market economy was that the store shelves may have suddenly been stocked with more food and product choices than you could shake a stick at, but they couldn't afford any of it, so what good was it anyway? There was also fear that capitalism would bring financial instability, the social safety net would disappear, and they'd all end up penniless and living on the street. Never mind the fact that these people still have jobs (or pensions if they're retired), roofs (which most of them own) over their heads, and food on the table.

So, this kind of thinking sometimes manifests nowadays as a pro-Russian attitude. However, this base jealousy from seeing refugees welcomed with open arms is a problem that could be occurring irrespective of how one feels about Russia or Putin.

It doesn't help, however, that when Ukraine's president Volodymyr Zelensky addressed Slovakia's parliament on May 10, former two-time prime minister, friend of Putin, and professional asshole Robert Fico sat out the speech, along with a number of MPs from his party, Smer, and afterward he accused Zelensky of "lying daily" and harming Slovakia's national interest. Even though Fico and his party are currently in the opposition and not part of the ruling coalition, the problem is that he and Smer just won't go away, and they always seem poised to do well in upcoming elections, despite being tainted by a growing list of scandals. I said this in an earlier post, but we are truly lucky that Fico is not in power right now. The EU does not need another unsupportive country like Hungary trying to throw a wrench in the works.

Things are a bit different in bigger cities like Bratislava, where you have a higher concentration of people with more diverse views, and who are perhaps a little more aware politically. As a result, you're more likely to find people there who support Ukraine and want nothing to do with Russia, and more likely to find people who aren't getting into a snit about some perceived preferential treatment of Ukrainian refugees.

But not everyone in the village is pro-Russian or anti-Ukrainian. I've been curious to see any signs of pro-Ukraine sentiment on our trip here, and on one street in Podrečany, someone has put up a big Ukrainian flag, which is high enough on its pole to be seen from Terezia's mom's backyard and elsewhere around the village. As a lifelong anti-war liberal progressive, flag waving has always left a bad taste in my mouth, and still does. To me it smacks of mindless jingoism and a kind of antagonistic, divisive "us against them" mentality, which I cannot relate to. But in the context of this reportedly prevalent pro-Russian sentiment among people in villages like this one, hoisting this flag seems like kind of a daring statement. Interestingly, this flag is the only sign of support for Ukraine I've seen so far out here in the middle of the country.

If you look closely, you'll see a Ukrainian flag in the middle of this photo (click to enlarge it), just over the tops of the trees. I'm not a fan of flag waving, irrespective of the cause, but I was curious to see if there are any signs of support for Ukraine in Slovakia. This is the only such sign I've seen so far anywhere out here in the middle of the country.

Despite the unfortunate and unhelpful attitudes towards refugees that I'm hearing about, it should be noted that there are other Slovaks who are apparently happy to help them. As long as this country's policy is still to welcome the refugees, and as long as some people are doing the right thing by treating these people humanely and putting them up somewhere safe, that's what's most important.

Bojnice Castle and Zoo

 

Finally, here's a castle and town I haven't written about before! Terezia and I first went to Bojnice - a small town and castle of the same name in the Trenčín region - during our first trip to Slovakia together over the 2010–2011 winter holidays. But when we went there to see its famed castle, back then you had to take a guided tour if you wanted to see the interior, and they only did guided tours if there were at least 10 people lined up. Since this was right between Christmas and New Years (i.e., not tourist season), and it was the dead of winter with everything covered in snow, we were the only ones there, and it was highly unlikely anyone else would have turned up that day. So, we didn't make it inside.

 

Nowadays - thankfully - they don't force you to take a guided tour; you can just do a self-guided tour, taken entirely at your own pace, and they give you a little pamphlet with all the info about the place that you'd need. So, getting inside was no problem this time.

Bojnice Castle, technically called Bojnický zámok, is generally considered to be Slovakia's most beautiful castle, and it's certainly one of its most popular, despite being kind of tucked away in a part of the country with little else to lure foreign visitors. Its design was directly inspired by the famous castles of France's Loire Valley, which is pretty obvious when you lay eyes on its striking, ornate, fairy-tale-like exterior.

However, Bojnice is arguably a bit of a sham. While many of those Loire Valley castles date from the late Medieval and Renaissance periods, Bojnice only acquired its Loire-inspired form when it was radically rebuilt in 1888–1910. Of course, there has been a castle on this spot since the early 1100s, though it was reportedly just a wooden fort then, which was gradually expanded and rebuilt in stone over the subsequent few centuries.

The castle was owned by various families over the centuries whose names loom large in Slovak history, notably the Csák, Corvinus, Thurzó, and Pálffy families. The Pálffys sold it to Jan Antonín Baťa, owner of the famous Czech Baťa shoe company, in 1939, but it was confiscated by the Czech state in 1945, and has remained state owned ever since.

It was Count János Ferenc Pálffy who was responsible for the Loire-inspired rebuild. Because the rebuild is not all that old, it does seem to have a squeaky clean Disney Land quality to it, which can be a bit of a turn off if you prefer your European castles to be covered in a centuries-old film of soot and grime. However, it still cuts a striking figure with its imposing height and grand design.

It's a pretty massive complex, and you obviously don't get to see all of it. You go through a series of rooms done up as accurately as possible in period furniture, and at one point you ascend a broad, stone spiral staircase that takes you up through several floors of one of the fat, round bastions. You see living rooms, bedrooms, dining rooms, a bathroom, big cavernous rooms that were used for god knows what, etc., many of which were adorned with wildly ornate ceilings and floors, and/or very cool stone-carved fireplaces. There's also a portion that descends underground into the rocks directly beneath the castle.

Like seemingly every castle in Slovakia, Bojnice also caught on fire at one point, though this conflagration occurred in the 1950s, much later than most castle fires, and the state paid for the necessary repair work.

A photo of the castle after it caught on fire in the 1950s.

Regardless of what you think of the castle, its Loire aesthetic and immaculate condition certainly make it stand out among Slovakia's many castles, so it does offer a unique experience in that regard. Plus, it's a damn sight nicer than Bratislava's boring castle that resembles an upside-down table.

The only bit of annoyance at the castle occurred when we were close to reaching the top of the big bastion and Simon said he suddenly had to pee "really bad." Note that Simon steadfastly refused to pee when the rest of us all went the moment we entered the castle. So, Terezia asked one of the staff members who stand there in the rooms and tell you not to touch stuff if there was a restroom close by, but she said the only public restroom was the one all the way down at the bottom by the entrance, where the rest of us peed when we first arrived. So, Terezia had to take Simon back down through the long, labyrinthine route to the entrance, while her mom and I waited up in the bastion. On their way back up, Terezia discovered a shortcut which the staff woman several floors up totally neglected to tell her about, and which would've saved her a lot of time and energy.

The village of Bojnice directly below the castle is not as interesting visually or historically as you might expect. It's objectively "nice" in that it is clean and well taken care of. It's centered around a long, rectangular main square decked out with two long rows of large shade-providing trees and broad pedestrian footpaths, and lined with restaurants which all have inviting outdoor seating (when the weather is nice). But in terms of visual appeal, it's quite lacking compared to historic towns like Trenčín, Kežmarok, Bardejov, or Levoča. Most of the facades look boring, plain, rebuilt, and/or new. It has none of those goopy, ornate, old Medieval, Renaissance, or Baroque facades that line the main squares in other historic towns.

The Zoo

After eating lunch in a decent restaurant in an alley off the main square, we hiked back up the hill just past the castle to get some ice cream, and then went to Bojnice's zoo, located pretty much next to and behind the castle, which is another popular attraction the town has to offer. I really wasn't sure what to expect, so I kept expectations low. The Oakland Zoo, by where we live, is quite nice and has thoughtfully conceived habitats for the animals to live in, and I've been to the world-class San Diego Zoo a couple times, which sets the bar exceedingly high. 

Bojnice's zoo was actually nicer and better maintained - and significantly bigger - than I thought it would be. But to see a number of the of the animals, like the elephants, you have to trudge up some incredibly steep and lengthy walkways, which take you far up the hill behind the castle. While I personally have no problem with steep hills, our five-year-old son, like many kids his age, has his limits, especially when you've already spent the morning walking up and down the inside of a massive castle. Also, we went with Terezia's mom, who is in truly outstanding shape for her age at 73, but she nevertheless needed to take the hills at a slower pace and with periodic breaks. We made it as far up as the elephants and camels, but there was another loop further up the hill that we just didn't have the energy for. We still saw maybe two thirds to three quarters of the zoo, though, and Simon was especially happy to see the bears.

Most of the animals seemed to have decent, appropriate habitats, though the enclosures for some of the birds, like the eagles and condors, seemed a bit cramped. Some of the monkey enclosures also appeared to be a little on the small side, though you are able to get up nice and close to some of them, and they had plenty of structures to climb and swing on. There's a massive elephant building containing a large terrace that you can view them from, but none of the elephants were in there when we passed through it; instead, they were in the vast outdoor area behind it where you could only view them from a distance.

Overall, Bojnice's zoo seemed to be pretty nice and well kept up, but it badly needs something like a gondola or funicular that families with young kids and grandparents in tow can ride to the top of the hill, allowing them a fuss-free walk back down.

Click here to see all the photos taken on this trip so far.