Jeff's Tour of Communist Bratislava

[Update, April 2018: I've added some new entries to the tour - scroll down to see them!]

"Bratislava is the perfect combination of ambition and neglect," a friend of mine said as we were walking through Námestie Slobody, Bratislava's sprawling, modernist, and endearingly dilapidated Soviet-era public square, which is an extremely apt description.

I know I've written plenty about many of Bratislava's post-war communist/Soviet-era architectural landmarks in previous posts, but I thought I'd create a self-guided walking tour that takes people through these landmarks in an afternoon (or two), since I'm not sure if anything quite like this exists at the time of this writing. Plus, I originally wrote about many of these sites in different posts, and I wanted to bring them all together into one place to create a narrative thread that connects the key buildings and sites of Bratislava's communist-era urban layer.

Bratislava is, of course, home to a slew of utterly unique post-war communist-era buildings and monuments. Most tourists come to Bratislava to spend a few hours in the city's pedestrianized historical center but miss what lies just outside of it, like numerous beautifully dilapidated Habsburg-era facades, but also an intriguing jumble of buildings reflecting more recent styles and eras, all with a distinctly central European flavor.

But the communist-era structures, once objects of ridicule, are due a reassessment, especially as an increasing number of people have come to appreciate and admire their strange, modernist, and stark beauty. With many of these structures, the state was attempting to make a bold statement and leave its mark on the city, showing off its power, influence, and economic strength - or, at least it was trying to create the illusion of these things. In reality, the fact that many of these buildings took more than 10 years to construct meant that the state really couldn't get it together in the way that it sought to project. 

Some of these buildings were incredibly ambitious and forward-thinking for their time, and were designed in an era in the 1960s when the political regime thawed enough to give architects and artists the breathing room to create some truly original, innovative, and stunning work. Of course, by the 1970s, the regime had discredited some of these same architects, since many had dissident ties with (or offered vocal support for) the Prague Spring in the late 60s, and some of them had their names wiped from information plaques and history books. Furthermore, an increasing lack of state funds reduced the architecture of the 1970s to purely functional, bare-bones designs, hence the drab, grey concrete paneláks that spread through the country like wildfire in that decade.

However, while these modernist socialist-era buildings are seeing an increase in appreciation, they still don't get the same love as the pre-war stuff, and some have been faced with the threat of demolition, while others have become dingy and dilapidated as they are so costly and difficult to maintain. Personally, I think the city should do whatever it can to find funding for these structures to keep them alive and healthy. And the tourist board should be flaunting the hell out of these sites, because I think an increasing number of people find this era of history intriguing, and this stuff could really interest more tourists than people realize. That Bratislava doesn't exploit this stuff is perplexing.

So, after you've wandered around the small but attractive historical center, consider venturing out of touristville and checking out some of these commie-era oddities.

One caveat: Some of these buildings are closed to the public, which means they can only be enjoyed from the outside. And while the exteriors of these structures are still worth checking out, a few of these buildings, like the National Archives or Hotel Kyjev, have genuinely stunning and unique interiors, which you probably won't get to see. Who knows, maybe you'll get lucky and hit one of these places at a time where you'll be able to take a gander inside, but don't go there assuming that will happen. 

Finally, I've separated the tour into two sections. For the first part, I've listed the sites in an order that creates a logical and easy-to-follow path, beginning at the Danube in the Staré Mesto at the UFO Bridge, and gradually extending outward, away from the center. Most of the tour is totally walkable, except for the last two sites, which, while you could walk to them, they are probably better if reached by bus (and I've provided instructions for which buses to take and where to catch them; the rides aren't long). The second category is listed as "extra credit" because it consists of sites that are more out of the way and/or arguably a bit less essential than the first nine sites. But if you have the time, I encourage you to check them out. I've provided maps and instructions to show you how to reach these "extra credit" landmarks from the Staré Mesto.

So, without further ado, here's the tour!


1. Most SNP/UFO Bridge
Map

I suppose it makes sense to start with what is indisputably one of Bratislava's most iconic structures, the SNP Bridge (Most SNP), also known as the UFO bridge due to its uncanny resemblance to a flying saucer from a 1950s sci-fi B movie. It almost looks as if it's hovering over the Danube, preparing to incinerate the castle and old town with its laser beams. Simultaneously striking and bemusing, like it or not, this thing is pretty unique. I've long lamented how a third of the historical old town, including almost all of the old Jewish quarter, was leveled in the early 1960s to make way for this bridge and its adjoining freeway on the Staré Mesto side. This has to be one of the most devastating, megalomaniacal, and hamfisted examples of urban redevelopment in the 20th century that I can think of. Sadly, there's little we can do about it now except to acknowledge the damage, shake our heads, and at least try to appreciate the bridge for what it is.

Unfortunately, the architects who designed the bridge in the early 1960s - Jozef Lacko, Ladislav Kušnir, and Ivana Slaměna - did not get to revel in the status that would normally accompany the completion of such a grand and visible landmark. In 1970, just three years before the bridge was completed, all three architects lost their seats at the architecture university for having spoken out against the Soviet occupation that crushed 1968's Prague Spring. They were not invited to the ceremonial opening of the bridge in 1973, and their names were omitted from the bridge's historical plaque, which only credited the "workers" of the state planning and design institute.

According to Slovak architect Štefan Šlachta (as quoted in the 2005 edition of Spectacular Slovakia), the period following the Prague Spring crackdown, known as "normalization," had a pretty negative impact on local architects at the time, and in turn, the architecture of the 1970s: "Normalization returned the card-carrying apparatchiks to their offices; the overwhelming majority of competent architects were pushed out of work, many emigrated (particularly the young generation), and a dark time set in for architecture. Historical sections of the city were demolished to make way for paneláks, and massive panelák neighbourhoods arose."

Ascending the tower to the restaurant or bar/lounge at the top will afford you unparalleled views of both Bratislava's Staré Mesto and Petržalka, the massive, sprawling borough across the Danube made up of row after row of communist-era residential high rises known to Slovaks as paneláks. From this vantage point, labyrinthine Petržalka appears to go on forever. But we'll talk about Petržalka more in depth later on. 

From the UFO pod, you can also see Incheba (also on the Petržalka side), an exhibition center in Petržalka that shoots up into the air like a colossal computer chip. Lamentably, the side of the building that faces Petržalka is usually obscured by a massive and hideous billboard, which just goes to show how little respect people have in this city for such unique architecture. We'll discuss Incheba a bit more in the Petržalka section.


2. Slovak National Gallery - Water Barracks Extension
Rázusovo nábrežie 1
Map and directions from SNP Bridge

The next site is on our way to Hotel Kyjev (which we'll get to soon), and there are actually two totally separate communist-era components to this structure. The first one, which you probably already noticed from the street, is the add-on to the National Gallery's Water Barracks building, which in my view is a hideous, hulking piece of shit. It's a colossal middle finger to the 19th-century building it was appended to the front of (and now largely obscures), and to me it resembles a section of the tread of a Soviet-era bulldozer that's plowing its way through the historical center. I can't envision a more uninviting entrance to a museum. It looks like it's going to come crashing down on you - and it just might: while the interior is actually a nice and airy gallery space, the whole thing has been deemed structurally unsound, and it's been closed off and empty for a while now (at the time of writing) because apparently it may be at risk of collapsing. (Update, April 2018: The SNG is, at the time of writing, undergoing a massive overhaul, and the communist-era appendage is reportedly being preserved and structurally reinforced.)

Frankly, I wouldn't shed a tear if it were torn down. All the hip contemporary architects gush over this thing, but I don't get it. Only an arrogant asshole would think to cram this heaping turd amid the nice, largely historical buildings that surround it and create such an eyesore along Bratislava's already neglected waterfront. In this case, that arrogant asshole was Vladimir Dedeček, whose other works in the city, like the aforementioned Incheba and the Slovak National Archives (see number 9 below), are actually amazing. What can I say? I suppose even the most talented architect is going to have his or her "off" days.

But walk around the left side of the building and you'll see this at the rear of the gallery:

It's playful and eye-catching, if a bit clunky. Yet strangely, it can only be seen from a narrow side street. Now, had they worked something like this into the front of the Water Barracks, I could forgive that it wouldn't integrate well with its more neoclassical styled neighbors, because at least it would be pleasing to look at! But no, this was added to the rear of the building where few people ever lay eyes on it. Go figure.


3. Apartment Building on Medená ulica [New update, April 2018]

On our way to the next sight, Hotel Kyjev, we're going to make a quick stop by this cool residential apartment building on Medená ulica (at Tobrucká), designed by Štefan Svetko and Julián Hauskrechta, and completed in 1974. Terezia and I actually lived in a building right across the street from this thing for two of the three years that we lived in Bratislava.

First off, you've got to love this building's most striking modernist feature: the wonderful, dramatically stepped vertical layers at the southwestern facing end, which get progressively shorter and narrower as they extend outward. Each layer is thoughtfully capped with an outdoor terrace. While I imagine the yellow painted detailing was intended to soften up the building's otherwise concrete-grey, brutalist aesthetic, to me it recalls the sort of "caution" yellow you see painted on steps in public walkways to prevent people from tripping. I can think of a dozen other colors that might have been softer or more visually pleasing, but I suppose none are more communist than this utilitarian yellow.

When you go around to the side, the building resembles more of a typical panelák. It's really too bad that there evidently wasn't enough money or ambition to incorporate this kind of bold design into the paneláks that would soon overtake large swaths of the city, particularly in Petržalka. Details like this would have definitely made Bratislava's panelák-filled boroughs more visually stimulating and less dehumanizing. Again, I hate to think of whatever lovely old building was razed to make room for this particular structure, but the results could've been much worse.


4. Hotel Kyjev/My Bratislava
Kamenné námestie; surrounded by Špitálska, Dunajská, and Rajská Streets
Map and directions from SNG

Next up is the Hotel Kyjev and My Bratislava/Tesco (formerly Prior) complex on Kamenné námestie. If you went up to the castle and looked eastward, down onto the city, you very likely saw this monstrosity sticking out like a sore thumb just beyond the historical center. Designed by local architect Ivan Matúšik and completed in 1972, this was seen as a super modern and elegantly designed complex, with its sleek lines and striking travertine marble-encrusted exterior. The hotel, in particular, attracted hordes of visitors for the nearly 40 years of its existence, although sadly, it closed several years back and, at the time of writing, its fate seems a bit uncertain.

This is sad because the interior hadn't changed since it was built, and through photos you can see how hip and awesomely modern it looked, especially the lobby with its stunning circular stairway, the stylish Luna Bar in the basement (which looks straight out of an old James Bond film), or the similarly striking Kyjev Club bar upstairs. The rooms had kind of an amusingly communist-era sparseness about them, and the bathrooms looked a bit cramped but fun. By the time it closed, however, the place was, by all accounts, looking pretty ratty and worn down, and in 2012 all of the furniture inside was auctioned off.

Lordship developers purchased the entire complex in 2006, and after initially unveiling plans to demolish the whole thing and build a new multi-use glass-and-steel monstrosity from the ground up, an outcry from local architects and the general public compelled the developer to reconsider. Now they appear to be working on plans that will somehow work in (or possibly wall in) the original complex, but they've been a bit vague about the whole thing, and it's difficult to determine how the hotel will fit into the revised plans.

The Tesco and My Bratislava components work nicely in terms of the overall composition of the complex, with the way the shapes co-exist in harmony with each other. If you try to tune out the ugly signage and noisy junk in the windows, you'll notice some really nice modernist architectural details. Walk around the perimeter of the whole thing, including the triangular-shaped My Bratislava department store and see for yourself.

Naturally, I shudder to think of how many nice historical buildings were razed to make room for all this, but it would be super depressing if Hotel Kyjev was torn down and remembered only via a plaque near the spot where it once dominated the neighborhood.


5. Námestie Slobody (Freedom Square) (plus the groovy mural in the adjacent technical university)
Map and directions from Hotel Kyjev

For our next site, we head north several blocks to the aforementioned Námestie Slobody (Freedom Square). Grand, ambitious, and if you can get past all the graffiti and brazen neglect, it's a pretty striking and well-conceived public space. Its circular layout and gentle slope make it feel inviting. The centerpiece, of course, is the giant stainless-steel flower fountain, called the Fountain of Union, situated in the bull's eye of the square. Apparently the fountain hasn't been operational since 2007 because of its wasteful and flawed hydraulic engineering, and sadly, it's gradually becoming encrusted in a layer of neon graffiti. But wow, what a crazy fountain! The groovy yellow and white iron park benches that dot the square have clearly been here since the beginning. This square has been seriously neglected for a while - the web of paved walkways is pockmarked and pitted, while some of the grates over the drainage gutters are missing (make sure not to accidentally step in one!).

Of course, what really enhances the overall vibe of the square are the monolithic 20th-century buildings that surround it on three of its sides. To the southwest and northeast are stark, rectangular 1940s-era functionalist buildings that are all horizontal lines and endless rows of windows. The one to the northeast is the Post Office Palace, while the one to the southwest on the opposite side is part of a technical university. That seriously long-ass building to the east - the one that seems to stretch on into infinity - is the main building of the technical university. Notice the cool tile mosaics over its entrances. 

A colossal statue of Klement Gottwald, communist Czechoslovakia's first president, once stood in the square’s northwest corner, but was torn down in the 1990s. In fact, the square earned its nickname, "Gottko," from its communist-era name, Gottwaldova. According to local architect Peter Žalman (as quoted in the 2005 edition of Spectacular Slovakia), "It’s too bad that we changed some things so quickly; that we took down the statue of Gottwald, for example. If it was still there it would be obvious how ridiculous it was. We need to keep some of these things like an open-air museum so that people can see what this period was really about."

While I can understand wanting to tear down a constant reminder of an oppressive and stifling regime that caused a lot of pain and suffering, I do think that Žalman has a valid point. The statue did reflect a significant and traumatic time in the country's history, and while people obviously want to move on, we have to be careful not to whitewash that chapter of history. However, I think it would be better to put it in a special park like the Hungarians did with many similar Communist-era statues in Budapest. Also, I think that leaving the crude genitalia that someone had painted onto Gottwald after the Velvet Revolution would have served as a fittingly irreverent middle finger to the regime.

Before you head over to our next destination, I highly suggest you go to the southwest corner of the square and walk in the same direction down Jánska Street, to the corner of Jánska and Radlinského, then turn left and walk toward the courtyard of the technical university, where you'll find this thoroughly awesome commie-era mural:

At the time of writing I don't have any info on it, but I love how it's kind of a crazy amalgam of styles: like a weird fusion of Kandinsky, Constructivism (esp. Moholy-Nagy), a touch of Charley Harper, a smidgen of Klimt, a wee bit of art deco, and a dab of 60s Yellow Submarine psychedelic pop art. Easily my favorite mural in the city, so far. 


6. Slovenský Rozhlas
Mýtna 1
Map and directions from Námestie Slobody

Head just a block north and you'll get to what some (me included) view as Bratislava's communist-era crown jewel, the famous inverted pyramid that is the Slovenský Rozhlas, or the Slovak radio building, which houses Slovakia's national public-service radio broadcaster. This beautifully impractical building was designed in the late 1960s by the trio of Štefan Svetko, Štefan Ďurkovič, and Barnabas Kissling, but it took the state more than 10 long years to actually build it, and it wasn't finished until 1983. The massive sign along the top is classic. It's difficult to find the right words to describe this building, but I will say that it's even more impressive in person than in photos. It almost seems to defy the laws of gravity.

Access to the inside is restricted. You shouldn't have any trouble getting into the main lobby, which is definitely worth a peak with its futuristic waiting area, space-age phone booths, and display cases filled with old radios. 

The rest of the building may not be open to the public, however. The concert hall is quite stunning, with its sleek wood-paneled ceiling and travertine marble-coated walls. If there's a show happening there when you're in town, perhaps you can try to nab some tickets and get in to see the place. The offices in the upper levels are, by all accounts, pretty cool as well, with clean lines and softly diffused natural light. Although - again - sadly, I don't know how or even if you can gain access to them.


7. Communist mural at Bratislava's Hlavná Stanica (main strain station)
Map and directions from Slovenský Rozhlas

Now we'll head a few more blocks north to Bratislava's main train station. The station is another example of how not to redevelop a place. The purely functional 1980s add-on is hideous and super depressing, both inside and out. Not only is it filthy, drab, and run down these days, it's thoroughly inadequate, too, as it's too small for a train station of a European capital (it routinely gets mobbed, especially in the summer and on holidays), and as the first thing many travelers see when they arrive in Bratislava, it's a sad sight.

But there is one redeeming quality, and that is the communist mural up on the wall of the original building's lobby. There's a lot going on here, but it's typical of the kind of communist idealism these things were intended to evoke. In what appears to be a utopian vision of socialist harmony, you've got stoic workers, ambitious scientists, Sputnik soaring through the sky, earnest students, slaves rising up (against their capitalist captors?) with broken shackles, and a big cluster of women communing in the center of it all. The ethnically mixed and harmonious group of women (ironic given Slovakia's relative non-diversity) mostly seem to be wearing some kind of traditional peasant robes. Children messing around with doves likely represents peace and hope. This mural has it all: scientific progress, racial harmony, peace, education, freedom, and healthy and productive workers. Not the most realistic depiction of life behind the iron curtain, but it's clearly how somebody was encouraged to render it.

These kinds of propagandistic murals (as well as sculptural reliefs) were common throughout all of the communist countries, as if the states felt the need to hammer their ideals into the heads of their citizens and instill in them a sense of national pride or civic duty, despite the fact that daily life for most people was often quite bleak. 


8. Slavín
Map and directions from train station

Our next site is obviously not an example of communist-era modern architecture, but it's worth checking out within the broader context of our tour, being a prime example of a massive and important state monument from that era. Slavín is a memorial and military cemetery built by the Soviets in the late 1950s to honor the vast numbers of Soviet troops who died liberating Slovakia from the Nazis in WWII. In late 1944 and the first half of 1945, there were grueling, bloody, and prolonged battles scattered about the country, and it took the Soviets (with help from the anti-Nazi Slovak partisans) many months to beat the Nazis back. The Soviets chose for this memorial one of the most prime pieces of real estate on one of the highest points in the hills of Bratislava's Staré Mesto. Slavín consists of a spacious park and cemetery, which are spread out on top of the hill (from which there are amazing views), but its focal point is the angular and Stalin-esque monument, which you can see from the town below. The Soviets clearly chose this location for Slavín as a symbol of their dominance, as well as a constant reminder of who saved the Slovaks' asses during the war, and quite chillingly, of who was now calling the shots.

The monument itself epitomizes Stalin's state-approved socialist realism style of art and architecture with its stark, no-fuss angularity, cold greyness, and relative lack of ornamentation. Notice the detailed reliefs in the door at the front, which, along with the whole structure, offer realistically rendered depictions of the soldiers. Ironically, a lot of fascist architecture in Italy and Germany from the 1930s had a similar kind of streamlined neo-classical pomp as well. 

Notice how the boot of the flag-bearing soldier at the top of the column is stomping on a swastika. You've got to love the melodrama here. Despite the slender column, however, the whole thing still manages to look a bit clunky. To me it kind of resembles those pictures of viruses you see in high school biology text books. And while commemorating these soldiers is clearly a nice gesture, I wonder if locals harbor a little ambivalence toward Slavín due to the unpleasantness they were subjected to by their "liberators" for the 4+ decades following the war, and, that those liberators chose such a primo spot to leave their mark. But, it's better that it's set aside as some kind of public space as opposed to it being covered by those ugly, sterile new houses that have been sprouting up in the hills over the past two decades, some of which you probably noticed on the walk up.


9. National Archives building
Drotárska cesta 42
Map and directions from Slavín

Architect Vladimir Dedeček, whom I slammed up above for his hideous National Gallery extension, redeems himself with this highly original and visually stunning building. Dramatically situated atop a hill on the opposite side of Horský park from downtown, this bulky, futuristic cube of a building has a nice buffer zone between it and its neighbors, which is good because unlike the national gallery, there was little surrounding historical urban fabric for Dedeček to spoil. This is a prime example of the sort of thing one could expect in the 1960s/early 70s, when communist-era architects were allowed to let their imaginations run wild and probably had slightly better budgets to work with.

The red on the non-marble surfaces is a nice touch (and is actually made up of little tiles). It's a little blocky, heavy, and intimidating in a way that is endearingly communist, yet the vertical lines add a satisfying sense of detail and serve to break up the bulkiness of the thing a little bit. It's a striking contrast from its lush, green hillside setting. Cartoonist Marek Bennett said in a comment on this very blog, "National archives looks like gigantic filing cabinet with some drawers open!" The bulk of the thing definitely gives the impression that the archival documents inside are safe from any catastrophes or natural disasters.

I'd love to have gone inside when I visited it, but I wasn't sure if I was really allowed to or if it's open to the public. The photos I've seen look quite impressive.

When I was walking around the building snapping photos, a big, burly security guard with a shaved head came out and yelled something at me. I have no idea what he said, but at that point I was almost done, so I just ignored him, finished taking photos, and went on my way. I mean, I know I couldn't have been the first foreigner to trek up to this thing and photograph it. But if this happens to you, just play the stupid tourist and carry on. 


10. Petržalka

If you really want to get a feel for what life was like under communism, or see how a sizable portion of Bratislava's inhabitants live, take an excursion into Petržalka. There's really not much to see or do here (really, a trip here should not be seen as obligatory); apart from the massive, contemporary Au Park shopping mall and a few good restaurants, it's largely residential, with basic shops to cater to the needs of the people who live here. But Petržalka's dystopian landscape of anonymous concrete residential high rises offers a great example of the failed vision of the ideal socialist community.

Petržalka is known as the largest and most densely populated state housing development in central and eastern Europe. It's home to a quarter of Bratislava's 450,000 residents, and it's pretty much ALL paneláks - the cheaply constructed, brutalist residential high rises made from prefab concrete panels, examples of which you can see all over the country. To many westerners, paneláks look rather bleak and depressing, resembling crime-ridden, low-income housing projects in the US. But to Slovaks, they're simply a normal part of life and they think nothing of them, which isn't a surprise given how so many people live in them.

You'll notice that many paneláks have been painted in bright pastels, which is actually a post-1989 development. Before that, it was grey, grey, grey. The sprawling labyrinth of paneláks seems to go on forever, but it actually looks more suffocating and Orwellian from a distance than when you're in it, as there is quite a bit of open space between the buildings. Of course, much of that space consists of pockmarked parking lots, barren and threadbare fields, run down public spaces, and scraggly trees, which does little to offset the cold starkness of the borough.

Paneláks were communism's hyper-effecient response to housing an ever-growing population as cheaply as possible. Started in the early 1970s, Petržalka was intended, in part, to house the workers of the huge Slovnaft oil refinery located across the river, southeast of the center of town. The units were typically known for being somewhat shoddily built, with poor insulation and drab interiors (although these days many people have re-insulated and remodeled/updated their units). When it was initially conceived, Petržalka was to become the most up-to-date housing estate in the country, with a complex of facilities and services for its inhabitants, as well as its own transportation system, which would connect the borough with the rest of Bratislava. But these ideas, including plans to develop the open space around the paneláks into a network of parks and canals, were soon abandoned due to a lack of money, and by the end of the 1970s Petržalka was scarcely different from any other housing estate built at that time, except for its size, of course.

The ground levels of many paneláks are lined with shops. While this was intended to make the borough more livable and urban, at least as far as having shops within walking distance to satisfy basic needs, a lot of the shops have since closed down, and many of the vacant shopfronts and surrounding areas look quite depressing. Some paneláks are connected via concrete pedestrian bridges that cross over the parking lots. 

As mentioned above, there aren't many specific sites worth seeing in Petržalka, but some people may be interested in the Incheba exposition center. This is another design by our pal Vladimir Dedeček, and it's quite a striking one. The building is so flat and slender that it looks like a good gust of wind could knock it over. Much like Hotel Kyjev, it juts up skyward while sitting atop a severely horizontal rectangular platform. The interlocking horizontal and vertical lines on the facade form a sort of grill over the windows, which really gives the building a nice sense of texture and geometry and adds to the modern aesthetic.

Incheba

Finally, Petržalka may be the biggest state-funded, residential high-rise development, but it's certainly not the only one in the city. In fact, in many of Bratislava's districts outside the Staré Mesto, paneláks overwhelmingly predominate, particularly in Ružinov, Dúbravka, Vrakuňa, Karlova Ves, and Dlhé diely. It wouldn't be a stretch at all to imagine that a sizable majority of the city's inhabitants live in paneláks.

Getting to Petržalka

To get to Petržalka from the Staré Mesto, you can take the 95 from Šafárikovo Námestie or the 83 from Hodžovo Námestie. The 83 enters Petržalka from the SNP Bridge, and winds its way into the center of the district. Osuského or Romanova are good streets to get off on. (See map for 83 line). The 95 crosses into Petržalka from the Apollo Bridge, and its line converges with the 83, where you can also get off somewhere along Osuského or Romanova. (See map for 95 route). Hop off when you feel sufficiently walled in by paneláks, but take care to note which stop you got off at, and look on the opposite side of the street, sometimes a block or two in either direction, for a bus stop for the return trip).

However, if you want to check out Incheba, take the 82 or 88 from the bus depot beneath the SNP Bridge on the Staré Mesto side. Both lines will take you across the SNP bridge, and you'll want to get off at the Einsteinova stop, the first one after crossing into Petržalka. (See map for 82 and 88 route).

Extra Credit

11. Kamzík
Map

Kamzík is a 200-metre tall television tower that sits atop one of the highest peaks in the Koliba park in the Bratislava hills, and which can be seen from everywhere in the city below (kind of stealing the spotlight from Slavín). It was completed in 1975, and again, is fairly futuristic looking, with a pleasing, elegant and slender form, looking a wee bit like something you'd see jutting up from the top of Cloud City. It has to be one of the nicer modern television towers I've seen (certainly easier on the eyes than San Francisco's Sutro Tower, to name one example). It's difficult to really get a sense of its size or form from up close, as the only vantage point from which you can see the entire tower is directly below, at its base. From anywhere else on the hill, Kamzík is obscured by the trees of the surrounding forest. Its towering elegance is definitely more noticeable and striking from a distance, where one can really appreciate its overall shape.

There are two restaurants in Kamzík, both of which offer stunning, unparalleled views over not just the city but the entire surrounding region. Unfortunately, zipping up to either restaurant only to check out the view is not allowed. But if you have the time, consider going to Brasserie, which is the cheaper, smaller, and more casual of the two restaurants, and is the better option if you just want to order a drink while admiring the view. Another potential downside: the lobby and both restaurants have thoroughly contemporary interiors, so you're not going to see any cool Soviet-era design once inside. 

If you don't have a car, getting to Kamzík is a bit of a trek, but is doable. The simplest way is to catch the 203 bus at the stop across the street from Hodžovo Námestie, in front of the Crowne Plaza hotel. Take the 203 all the way up the very last stop, Koliba, where there is a rundown looking bus depot thingy. Just to the right of the bus depot is a concrete pedestrian path. Take this path until it runs into Brečtanová, turn right on Brečtanová, then after a block or so veer left onto Cesta na Kamzík and continue up this street, less than a mile, all the way to Kamzík at the top of the hill.

Map from Koliba bus depot to Kamzík


12. [Update: This has been relocated! Read below for details.] Československá Automobilová Doprava sign at the Autobusová Stanica (bus station)
Mlynské Nivy 31
Map and directions from Old Town

Update: Bratislava's central Autobusová Stanica was torn down in late 2017, as the city is rebuilding a new, modernized version from scratch. The building itself was super depressing and dingy, so I'm not going to shed too many tears over its demise. Thankfully, the awesome Československá Automobilová Doprava sign that for years stood proudly in front has not been ground to dust, and has been taken in by the Cvernovka Foundation. Unfortunately, at the time of writing, it is not on public display, but it reportedly will be as soon as the foundation finds a museum space that's big enough to house it. Until that happens, you'll obviously have to take the ČSAD sign off your extra credit list, but stay tuned for possible future updates.

Click here for an article about the demolitions of the bus depot and the preservation of the sign. 

[My pre-demolition description:

Next we have this totally bad-ass sculpted sign (designed by Juraj Meliš) situated in front of Bratislava's Autobusová Stanica (Mlynské nivy), the city's main bus depot. I love its sleek and datedly futuristic look, and the way it conveys a sense of forward motion. The letters stand for Československá Automobilová Doprava, which was the country's state transit authority. I don't know what lies in store for this thing, since the unified country of Československo hasn't existed for over 20 years, and there has been talk of doing a total overhaul of this station. But I hope they keep it around if only to appease us history geeks (although I'm not holding my breath). The bus station itself is ill-conceived, unrelentingly drab, depressing, dingy, and even a bit scary, but this signage is wonderful.]


13. Dom Odborov/Trade Union House, aka Istropolis Exhibition Center, aka the Grey Mouse
Trnavské mýto 1
Map and directions from the center of town
 

Frankly, the dreary grey exterior of this building leaves me cold. Even the composition is a bit too drab, hulking, and plain for my tastes, but a lot of experts cite it as yet another example of Bratislava's unique Soviet-era architecture. I admit that when seen from certain angles, it has potential, but what's really worth getting excited about here is the seriously cool interior. Check out this photo, this photo, and this photo, to get an idea of what it looks like inside - extremely stylish and futuristic. The main lobby of this building is usually open, so try to go inside and poke around.

Like many such buildings, construction of this one started in 1968 and took over a decade to complete. Designed by the team of Ferdinand Konček, Iľja Skoček, and Ľubomír Titl, this is a mammoth multi-use building, containing, among other things, a theater/concert hall, office spaces, and a sort of convention hall for ceremonies or communist party rallies. The building is so massive that apparently the state wasn't quite sure about all of the purposes that this thing would serve, but they went ahead and built it anyway!

14. Socialist statues at the entrance of the Prezídium Policajného zboru (Police building)
Račianska 45
Map and directions from the center of town
Map and directions from Dom Odborov

Bratislava, and all former Eastern Bloc countries, are littered with these cool, kind of melodramatic, propagandistic sculptural reliefs. These sculptural reliefs typically appeared on the facades of government offices, schools, and other public buildings. They usually feature angular, dutiful, muscle-bound farmers and workers; doctors or scientists with expressions of unflagging determination; ernest nuclear families representing the foundation of society, etc., all doing their part to further the progress and ideals of socialism, and to illustrate the supposed strength of the Soviet bloc. 

There are many in Bratislava, but none are as striking as these which flank the entrance to the Prezídium Policajného zboru. I mean, you've got a guy standing there with a machine gun, for pete's sake! And the guy in front of him, dutifully scanning the horizon (for enemies of the state?) with his dog is just classic. The strong, young workers with their large cogs are impressive as well. These reliefs are good examples of the era of socialist realism that we talked about with Slavín. They were intended to depict a sort of idealized version of real life; it was the state's way of telling you that everyone had to do his or her part to make the socialist vision a reality.

To see some similarly cool sculptural reliefs that are in the Staré Mesto and much closer to the historical center, check out this and this (also written about in this blogpost), which flank the entrance of an abandoned hospital directly across the street from the Blue Church on Bezručova. 


15. Internát Mladá Garda - University dorms
Račianska 103
Map and directions from center of town

Built in 1954 by Slovak architect Emila Belluša and named after an underground anti-fascist organization, the university dorms are obviously quite different from everything else we've looked at and certainly not an example of 20th-century modern architecture, but they're on the same street and tram line as the police building reliefs, and they are worth the trip if you're already in the area.

As Stalin's power solidified throughout the 1930s, you saw an increasing prevalence of socialist realism, and in architecture this style often adopted a rather stark and streamlined take on neo-Classical and neo-Renaissance themes. The irony here was that both Mussolini and Hitler were massive fans of this kind of thing, and the fact that it was also embraced (and state-sanctioned) by Stalin - at the opposite end of the ideological spectrum - perhaps illustrates how this distinct brand of authoritarian starkness just seemed conducive to an oppressive dictatorial regime. It takes the pomp or grandeur from the past and streamlines it with the no-fuss angularity of the present, without embracing or committing to any details that are modern or forward-thinking. Stalin, in fact, outlawed modern architecture, and it wasn't until Khrushchev came into power in the Soviet Union in the mid-1950s that architects all over the Soviet Bloc were given the freedom to create more modern designs.

This building, with its pronounced neo-Renaissance flair, is nice, even if it does look like someone basically just took a boxy, communist-era building and stuck the crenelated renaissance style trim onto it as an afterthought. Nevertheless, the clock tower really does evoke the sort of renaissance town halls that dominate piazzas in thousands of cities and towns throughout Italy. The surrounding dormitories continue the Italian renaissance theme with nice little design flourishes on the walls. As the 1960s drew closer and a young new generation of architects stepped in, this style of architecture would be phased out in favor of the much more modern aesthetic we've seen with most of the sites above. There aren't a lot of examples of this particular style in Bratislava, at least not with such ornate design flair.

According to architect Žalman (as quoted in the 2005 issue of Spectacular Slovakia) the building's exterior features, like the clock tower and the images of idealized citizens and students, “have their own charm; it’s almost kitsch but such that it’s transformed. That dormitory - on the one hand, it is unnecessarily monumental, and on the other hand, it has its own atmosphere. So the students don’t judge the architecture negatively. Other things bother them such as the equipment; old things that need to be replaced and the like. Everything that was produced during the Socialist Realism period here... I would say the later period was worse.”

16. Vinohrady Train Station [New update, April 2018]

Photo by James Thomson

If you’ve come this far, by all means, take the tram just two stops up Račianska from the University dorms to our next sight, the Vinohrady train station. Small and a bit dilapidated, the cube-shaped building is a gem with its glass façade, which is sectioned into a pattern of offset Mondrian-esque rectangles. The blue lettering of the station's name along the top is communist-era perfection. I can't seem to find any info on when this was built or who designed it, but it's definitely one of the cooler train stations in the area. (The Nové Mesto train station has a similar look, though it's a bit bigger, but I find the Vinohrady station more charming).

Photo by James Thomson

Photo by James Thomson

Notice how to get to the base of the steps from the sidewalk along the road, you have to traverse a foot-worn dirt path that leads through an unkempt patch of grass/weeds. The wheelchair-friendly switchback ramp to the left of the steps is encrusted in graffiti. The building's interior isn't too exciting, but check it out anyway, and then head up to the platforms to see a classic example of Slovakia's sorely neglected infrastructure. Some sections of the cracked, pockmarked, and weed-strewn platforms almost look as if they haven't been resurfaced since WWII (at the time of writing).

Photo by James Thomson

At this point, you should be commended for actually making it this far into the outskirts of town. Although lush, green hills and scenic vineyards are not far off in the distance, the immediate surroundings are pretty drab and uninviting.

A word of caution: Vinohrady has (or rather, had) a twin station, called Predmestie, located just across Račianska street, which serves as a stop on a line coming from Nové Mesto that heads northeast to Trnava and beyond. Why they couldn't simply build one larger station - to serve both lines - just a block up where the tracks from the two stations actually intersect over each other is surely indicative of some wonky city planning. At any rate, the Predmestie station underwent a facelift in 2014, completely eliminating its stark, communist-era glory in favor of a blandly contemporary façade that one could easily mistake for an entrance to a new shopping mall or medical clinic. I truly worry that the Vinohrady station could someday suffer a similar fate, so check it out while it's still there in its commie-era state!


17. Bratislava Airport Lounge (Vládny salónik) [New update, April 2018]

One of the saddest things in the world is that for years the general public has not had access to Bratislava Airport's stunning reception lounge for guests of state, aka the Government Lounge, or Vládny salónik. I've only seen it in photographs myself, but it's an insanely cool example of mid-20th-century modern interior design, with its elegant, sleek proto-Star Wars sci-fi aesthetic. Completed in 1972, the lounge was designed by Vojtech Vilhan and Ján Miloslav Bahna. The graceful curves and contours of the stainless steel panels, sliding doors, futuristic reliefs, stylish light fixtures, and rounded leather seats all give the place a stunningly unique, hip, space-age bachelor pad vibe. Why, in this day and age, we're not all living in homes that look like this is beyond me.

 

 

Fortunately, the public might finally get to take a gander at the lounge someday. Back in 2014, some imbeciles at the Interior Ministry actually considered razing the lounge and replacing it with a new one that meets current standards for airport security and protocol for receiving foreign dignitaries. But when local architects and culturally switched-on folks got wind of this, the Slovak Design Center (Slovenské centrum dizajnu) stepped in to preserve it. They have apparently dismantled it and stored it away at their museum in Bratislava's old town. At the time of writing, the Design Center has not put it on display yet, but if and when they do, I'll try mention it here, and it should definitely be a top priority for anyone reading this blog post. It's truly a stunning example of modern design and I would love to see it in person someday.

I emailed the contacts at the Slovak Design Center (on this page here) for information about the lounge, as well as for any photos that I could use on this blog, but no one ever responded. Try writing to them and see if you have better luck! (Also, if by chance anyone has managed to see and photograph the lounge in the past, please let me know if you have a couple of photos I could use for this page, as I'd really love to include some here.)

 

See more images of the lounge here and here.

And there we have it. Of course, there are many other stunning examples of communist-era modern architecture outside the capital, like the Slovak National Uprising Museum in Banská Bystrica, the University of Agriculture in Nitra, and the Tatra Railway Station in Poprad, just to name a few. If you're interested in learning more about these, check out the book Eastmodern: Architecture of the 1960s and 1970s in Eastern Europe by Hertha Hurnaus, Benjamin Konrad, and Maik Novotny, which contains photos galore and plenty of well-researched information on these sites and more. 

If you think of any sites I may have overlooked, please let me know and I'll either go and check them out, or politely explain why I didn't think they were worth covering here!

Click here to see the full set of architecture and monuments featured in this post.

Also, take a gander at my previous posts on the subject, if you haven't already:
Communist-era buildings that Jeff actually likes!
Communist murals and monuments
Erasing history
Erasing history part 2: More communist-era urban planning blunders in Bratislava
More communist-era architecture that Jeff likes