OVERLOOKED BY GUIDEBOOKS
Slovakia is a worthy European destination far from the madding crowds
I always search for the road less touristed. Yet it was not without trepidation that I drove with my spouse across the Hungarian plain from Budapest into Kosice, Slovakia’s second-largest city. As the industrial outskirts gave way to a skyline dominated by Communistera block apartment buildings, I grew convinced that I had made a terrible vacation choice.
The windowless entrance to our pension on a grimy block was equally discouraging. The room was unremarkable, with modular furniture that transformed twin beds into a double, but left metal bars protruding from the walls. When I reported to the concierge that our refrigerator was not working, she answered, “Most of them don’t.”
I couldn’t say I hadn’t been warned. A Europe-savvy friend advised me to skip Slovakia and head to Krakow. The country gets scant coverage in guidebooks; travel writer Rick Steves deemed it “the West Virginia of Europe,” which I did not take as an endorsement, although he did note its rustic beauty. A 2015 DK Guide to Eastern and Central Europe describes Slovakia as “a relatively little-known country, with few visitors,” and Lonely Planet devotes more than half of the thin coverage in its six-yearold Czech/Slovak guidebook to Slovakia’s capital, Bratislava.
Only about 40,000 American tourists visit Slovakia each year, while its more illustrious neighbour and erstwhile bordermate, the Czech Republic, draws hundreds of thousands. The majority of those probably only stop in Bratislava en route to Vienna or Budapest.
Nevertheless, I had opted to bypass the relatively more touristed Bratislava and western Slovakia to head for eastern Slovakia — where I arrived despondent.
But just around the corner, down a graffiti-defaced block with a single cafe, stood a stunning and massive Gothic cathedral anchoring the unexpectedly lovely and lively town centre. For several car-free blocks, Hlavna Ulica (Main Street) was lined with dramatic monuments — including its Baroque Plague Column, erected in 1722 to offer thanks for the plague’s end — fountains, shops and buildings from the 13th to the 19th century. Cafes, serving up chocolate and ice cream treats as delectable and sophisticated as any in Western Europe, and restaurants, predominantly Eastern European, but also Indian and Irish offering permutations of dumplings and meat doused in sour cream and mushroom sauce, bustled with activity. Although the restaurants were typically staffed by tattooed, English-speaking waiters, rarely, if at all, did I hear English spoken by the patrons.
Between the cathedral and the Baroque Revival State Theatre, a tree-encircled musical fountain played Yesterday and other familiar tunes; after sunset, coloured lights illuminated jets of water pulsing to the music while families with gelato cones strolled by. Climbing the cathedral’s steep, cramped stone spiral staircase afforded a bird’s-eye view of the mosaic roof and the happenings below; one day, the plaza at the foot of the cathedral hosted a bike-stunt competition; the next, a protest of a corrupt official. Just off Hlavna Ulica, the repurposed synagogues were a poignant reminder of Slovakia’s past. As part of the Axis in the Second World War, it rounded up and deported tens of thousands of Jews, most of whom perished in the Holocaust.
Kosice exceeded my modest expectations, but Levoca was a smallscale medieval marvel by any standard. Two hours to the northeast, through increasingly pleasant countryside, Levoca makes a great base for exploring castles and national parks. Founded in 1249, this walled town of 14,500 people has an intact centre of Gothic, Baroque and Renaissance structures painted in pastels.
In the town square sits a circa 1550 Gothic town hall and the St. James’s Church, with an altar carved by Levoca’s famous (well, relatively) native son, Master Pavol. A 16th-century wrought-iron cage of shame for unlucky locals also sits in the square.
Despite its iconic status in Slovakia, you’ve probably never heard of Spis Castle. A 20-minute drive east of Levoca, the sprawling ruins of one of Central Europe’s largest fortresses — a UNESCO World Heritage site — first appeared in the distance as a mysterious white smudge in the lush hills. Gradually, the walls and ruins perched on a ridge became discernible. The castle, parts of which date from the 11th century and which housed 2,000 people in the 17th century, overlooks multi-hued fields, redroofed villages and rolling hills with a backdrop of snowy mountain ranges. Traipsing around the 10 acres (4.4 hectares) of atmospheric ruins and taking in the views can take several hours.