Goat Gate Cemetery, Bratislava

Worn down from jet lag, we had just arrived in the capital of Slovakia. Jenelle wanted to rest for a couple hours at our hotel so I took advantage of the time to hunt down a cemetery.

My first impressions of Bratislava came during the 10-minute walk to the cemetery. The streets were lined with dingy four-story apartment buildings, probably relics of the Communist era. There was a smattering of graffiti, as well as occasional strips of grass. Away from the historical center, the ambiance here was a peaceful one, with only a handful of pedestrians.

When I arrived at the cemetery on Palisády Street, I found the graveyard locked behind an iron fence. I could see the canary-colored farewell chapel with its rose window, but couldn't find a way to get inside.

Farewell chapel within the walls of Goat Gate Cemetery.

Discouraged, I began to walk around the cemetery in a clockwise manner, first along Bradlianska Street. On my left were more apartment buildings, while on my right, the drab cemetery wall. My mind considered what it might have looked like during the late 1700's when this cemetery likely stood alone, beyond the walls of Pressburg. From time to time I found a gap or hole in the wall and peered inside to see the jumble of tombs.

When I had nearly completed the loop and had already given up hope of entering the cemetery, I arrived at the true entrance on Šulekova Street. What a relief!

I entered a world filled with trees of all varieties, and old tombstones taller than myself. In spite of the motorized roads around the cemetery, the world within its walls was peaceful and quiet.

Giant tombstones.

Interesting statue and headstone.  Notice the little skull. 

Youth making a peaceful walk through Goat Gate Cemetery.

I wandered among the graves, which appeared to be laid out in random patterns. Headstones came in a variety of designs, with different styles and motifs. Some were in the shape of a cross, while many came accompanied with statues. Some appeared to contain the carving of a skull.

Although I am not an expert in all languages, the headstones appeared to have writing in Slovak, German, and probably Hungarian, likely representing the different people and rulers over the last couple centuries. Within this burial ground were artists, inventors, architects, lawyers, historians, merchants, clergymen, soldiers, and politicians.

Dr. Cyril Daxner: Nationalist, lawyer, Slovak officer and church official, hero of the Little War, participant in the resistance against German Nazism.

Cintorín Kozia Brána, or literally translated from Slovak as “Goat Gate Cemetery,” was established in 1783. Originally, the growing Lutheran population of Pressburg (the old name of Bratislava) built a cemetery just outside the city walls. Emperor Joseph Ⅱ made a declaration that all cemeteries would have to be further away from the population centers for hygienic reasons. As a result, the Lutherans purchased land at the current location for a new cemetery. It received its name because it was built along the road that led from the Goat Gate (of the old city walls) toward the hills of the Little Carpathian Mountains.

Several expansions have been made over the years, leading to some of the chaos in the layout of the graves. The cemetery was officially closed in 1950, although there have been burials since then by those who already owned plots. There are 4,000 graves in the cemetery, but taking into consideration that several of the graves have been used several times over, some estimates put the number of deceased at 20,000.

I found it interesting that many graves abutted the outer wall. Many of these outer graves used the wall as a headstone, each with their own design, thus creating a tapestry of styles.

Inner wall of cemetery used as headstones. 

Who knew that Freddy Kruger was buried here?

Example of a German headstone.

For being an older cemetery, the grounds and graves were very well-kept and clean. Although I didn't see many people, there were some who came in for a stroll to enjoy the peaceful spirit.

As could be expected when walking through a foreign cemetery, I didn't know any of the people buried there. Although there was one who was later brought to my attention.

Grave of Janos Jeszenak.

A wing of the mausoleum for the Jeszenak family. 

Russian Orthodox Cross inside of a cross.

On the south side of the cemetery is a mausoleum dedicated to the family of Baron János Jeszenák. János was a former governor and a participant in the Hungarian resistance during 1848 and '49. As a result, he was executed in Budapest on October 10, 1849. It wasn't until 1867 that his remains were exhumed and brought to his homeland, where this former traitor became a national hero.

As I finished walking through the old burial ground, I wondered how many more stories were entombed below the ground, never to resurface in this lifetime. I thought not only of the noble, but also of the common people concealed beneath the lush, green ground of the cemetery. What kind of stories did they have? ♠

Example of a rare modern statue and grave in cemetery.

Another statue with a skull. 

Morskie Oko

I've been looking forward to this excursion for years now, and today was finally the day it would happen. Would it go as planned, or would weather or something else put a damper on our day?

We took a shuttle from Zakopane to Palenica Białczańska, the starting point for our jaunt into the High Tatra Mountains of Poland. Our destination, Morskie Oko, was five miles away, and there were only two ways to get there: on foot, or by horse-drawn wagon. We chose the latter.

Of course, we had to pay a steep fee for that option⸺200 złoty⸺but Jenelle's back still hurt from her surgery and we didn't want her worn out by having to walk up the mountain.

The path to the lake is paved and the vast majority of people walk it. And there are thousands of them! Young, old, partially crippled, mothers with strollers. It's like a long line of ants on a 5.6 mile path.

We, on the other hand, waited for over an hour for our turn to ride the horses. We weren't going to ride the horses directly, but were to sit in a covered wagon pulled by two horses. The problem was that only so many people could ride in a wagon at once.

When a team of horses completed the circuit, we would have to wait for them to take a break, drink, eat, and get pampered by their owners. This was quite a tiresome job for them, and they couldn't continue the loop without a rest. Although there were many teams on duty for work, it was a slow process to rotate through them.

Riding in a horse-drawn wagon to Morskie Oko.

Our driver of the wagon dressed in traditional Polish attire, with a brown leather hat and gray sweater. As we moved up the road, the horses' hooves clacked on the pavement. Their tails swooped back and forth, and the fresh scent of manure mixed with cold mountain air.

We passed two brown does feeding off the road, then small rivulets of water coming down the green slopes. As we got higher we passed a much larger waterfall.

Waterfall along the way.

I felt sorry for the horses. Their job was to pull a wagon full of people up a tediously inclining road, and sometimes at a trot. When we passed other teams coming down, I saw sweat on their flanks.

As we got higher on our route, views of the craggy peaks of the Tatras became more splendid. Streaks of snow in the gulleys of the upper slopes still lingered from winter.

At last, after a 3.8 mile ride, our adventure on the horses came to an end and it was now up to us to walk the remaining mile or so up to the lake. In true European fashion, an ice cream shack and restaurant stood beside the road to serve us. Not now. Maybe on the way back.

Morskie Oko.

When we arrived at the lake, the view was just as spectacular as I had anticipated: a beautiful deep-blue pool of water surrounded by majestic mountains. Hundreds of people loitered about the edges of the lake admiring the view and taking selfies. Near the shore was a large wooden “hut” where hungry hikers could buy a sandwich and beer.

After a few quick pictures we moved around to the eastern edge of the lake. A trail made with relatively flat mountain rocks made a circuit completely around the lake. We enjoyed the view as we hiked. A handful of waterfalls tumbled into the lake from random points, most likely from melting snow and springs.

Swiss pines grow along east side of Morskie Oko.

Morskie Oko, the name of this beautiful lake, comes from Polish meaning “eye of the sea.” It has been recognized as one of the most beautiful lakes in the world.

It's about half a mile to the back side of the lake, and it is from here that another trail climbs nearly 600 feet to another lake. This one is named Czarny Staw pod Rysami, or "Black Lake Below Mount Rysy" when translated into English. By this time, Jenelle was doing better than expected, so we decided to make it a go to the upper lake.

Sign on south side of Morskie Oko.

Looking down at Morskie Oko from the trail going up to Czarny Staw.

Cascading stream coming down from Czarny Staw.

The trail was steep and tedious, but was made bearable by elevated views of Morskie Oko, as well as a cascading stream that tumbled down alongside the trail. I was proud of Jenelle. She was doing much better than either of us expected.

Half an hour later we arrived at the second lake, and what a wonderful view it was! Not only did we have the grand view of Morskie Oko, but now the full view of Czarny Staw. Unlike the lower lake, this one was more transparent and had a turquoise ring around it when the sun was out. The center, however, was a dark blue, probably the reason for the lake's name.  At 249 feet, it is the fourth deepest lake in Poland. Mount Rysy, the highest peak in Poland, reigns supreme above it.

Czarny Staw pod Rysami, or "Black Lake Below Mount Rysy" in English.

Mount Rysy, above Czarny Staw, is the highest peak in Poland.

Hikers enjoy the shore of Czarny Staw.

The craggy ridgeline on either side of Rysy serves as the boundary between Poland and Slovakia. If circumstances were different, meaning I were here alone and it was later in the summer, I would have hiked Rysy. Apparently hundreds do it every day during the latter part of the summer. It is a steep ascent, but there are cables to assist the climber.

We spent nearly forty five minutes at Czarny Staw. It was enjoyable to watch the groups of hikers as they lounged around and rested. I was very pleasantly surprised that it hadn't rained. Juicy storm clouds threatened, but with no success. I was worried that by this time we would have been deploying umbrellas and fighting slippery rocks.

Natural platform between Morskie Oko and Czarny Staw.

The way down was much easier than the trip up. We decided to complete the circuit and take the west side of Morskie Oko. We didn't take nearly as many pictures, so it went a lot faster.

Hiking on the west side gave us new views of the lake and mountains. We enjoyed walking across the base of one of the waterfalls. There I refilled my water bottle.

Looking across the lake at "the hut."

Waterfall tumbling into Morskie Oko.

Looking back across Morskie Oko toward Czarny Staw (not seen) and Mount Rysy.

Looking northeast across Morskie Oko.

When we completed our hike around the lake and again returned to the hut, we had accumulated 3.7 miles. Jenelle was still doing great. Adrenaline must have been kicking in.

Our plan was to hike down instead of taking the horse and wagon. I was excited for this. It was an opportunity to see the mountainside at a slower pace.

We stopped at the lower hut and ordered an ice cream and pannini. It really hit the spot! We sat at a table and watched the hikers on the road.

Eating a snack at a hut about a mile down from the lake. 

Then we continued. We took note of the thick, fairy-like forest with moss growing on the logs. Jenelle noticed the thousands upon thousands of scrape marks in the pavement where horses' hooves clanked across the top.

From time to time we would hear the clapping on the pavement behind us, then would turn around and watch a team and wagon come along full of people. One wagon was singing a song as they passed.

Beautiful forest in the High Tatra Mountains. 

I was most impressed with the sheer amount of people walking the trail, especially families with young kids. One set of parents hauled up little scooters, then once at the top, let their two little girls⸺no older than four years old⸺ride them down. Several parents pushed strollers. It was a level of commitment that I have rarely seen in the States.

Five point four miles later we had made it to the bottom! Our total for the day was 9.1 miles. Luckily for us there was a line of shuttles waiting at the bottom to take us back to Zakopane. ♠

Evening in Vienna

After a 7-hour bus ride through the rolling hills of the Czech Republic, we pulled into the Erdberg Bus Terminal in Vienna.

We walked across the street and took an elevator down to the subway. It wasn't too difficult to buy our tickets and hop on the orange line. In only four stops we arrived at Landstraẞe, where we exited the underground and returned to the street.

We were in Vienna! As we rolled or carried our luggage, we took note of where we were. The architecture was older, but I knew it wasn't as old as what we'd find in the city center. People everywhere were walking, biking, riding scooters, driving and using the tram.

In just a couple blocks we found our hotel and happily plunged onto the bed and eventually took a one-hour nap. We were exhausted. We were at the end of a two-week vacation and came to Vienna to fly out the following morning. We had one evening in The City of Music, and intended to make the best of it.

After our nap, we were outside once again, but this time without the encumbrance of luggage. (I strategically booked a hotel close to the city center, but one that also had easy access to the airport.) Within a block we came to a large shopping mall, and inside was a two-story grocery store. That was exactly what we needed: a place to grab a bite for now and some snacks for tomorrow.

Interestingly, it was the biggest grocery store we'd been in during our two-week sojourn in Europe. There was a cornucopia of food and other items. I found a mozzarella and tomato baguette sandwich and Jenelle some lasagna.

But the people-watching was the most interesting part of all. There was a different feel to the chaotic crawl of the store. The people⸺although varied and not fitting any single stereotype⸺were taller and had darker hair than I expected to find in Austria. Except for the obviously foreign-born shoppers, most had typical white skin. And, of course, German was the language of the chatter.

Grocery store in Vienna, Austria.

We crossed Stadtpark and quickly were immersed in the old historical center of Vienna. Many narrow streets bent slightly, with cobble-stoned paths. Iron railings on the balconies came in elegant styles.

Our first “place of interest” was Mozart's house, an apartment on one of the old narrow streets. A group of Asian tourists stood across the doorway and took pictures. Across the street a small shop sold Venetian masks and costumes, reminiscent of the movie Amadeus. The theme of Vienna throughout the evening was a theme of Vienna being the world capital of classical music.

Domgasse Street, with the Mozart House on the right.

Beyond the narrow street, an archway tunnel lead to a big plaza, and the backside of a gigantic church. From this angle we could see the massive outer walls and a myriad of medieval motifs. The steeple was dizzingly tall. This was St. Stephen's Cathedral, an icon of Vienna.

Flanking the house of worship was a line of horse-drawn carriages. As we made our way toward the front, the plaza opened up and suddenly thousands of tourists came into view. It was a madhouse! They walked, took pictures, and many along the outer edge of the plaza sat at outdoor cafes and ate.

Stephansplatz, a popular square in the center of Vienna.

St. Stephen's Cathedral.

It was sensory overload. We couldn't take it all in. All the buildings surrounding the square appeared elegant and were probably of historical significance. On the corner of the cathedral a carousel took children for rides. On the other end a gigantic souvenir shop dazzled us. We would come there later.

The open door of the cathedral lured us in. The sound of organ music echoed throughout the massive interior, coming somewhat near the front. Tourists respectfully moved around, admiring the tall nave and arches.

As I moved toward the front I passed lit candles, Baroque paintings, and carefully sculpted statues. The music became louder and more distinct until I finally noticed the organ player. He was still at a distance, but I admired his work. I had long hoped to someday come across an organ recital or concert inside a cathedral.

Candles inside St. Stephen's Cathedral.

Inside St. Stephen's Cathedral.

Back out in the plaza we continued to move, being very conscious not to lose each other in the crowd. Vienna, I could tell, was a large collection of people from everywhere around the world. We quickly noticed the high percentage of Muslims, most dressed in a range of traditional clothing, women in hijabs and scarfs, and some men in long white robes. Many of the women, especially, wore captivating and colorful apparel.

Around each corner was a new architectural masterpiece: elaborate hotels, modern buildings with reflecting windows, St. Peter's Church with its light-green dome, fancy shops and restaurants. In the middle of Graben Street was a large Baroque statue dedicated to the Great Plague of 1679.

Graben Street and a statue dedicated to the Great Plague of 1679.

Many Muslims on the streets of Vienna.

Louis Vuitton on Kohlmarkt Street.

Taking a rest on Graben Street.

Kohlmarkt was an intersting street. Here were many high-end stores like Louis Vuittan and Cartier. As we walked closer to Michael Plaza, the soft, deep sound of a stringed instrument floated like sweet aroma. In the background came the clacking of horse's hooves on the cobble-stoned street.

At Michaelerplatz, not only did we find the double bass player, but also a fragment of Roman ruins inside an enclosed viewing area. Below us we saw the bricked walls of a house and the arch of a door. A small stone canal led to the house. It always amazes me how ruins of the past are located so far below the surface.

Man plays a double bass at Michaelerplatz.

Roman ruins in the center of Vienna.

People-watching in Vienna.

Adjacent to the plaza stood St. Michael's Church. It was smaller and less flamboyant than many of its neighbors. We walked inside and found a mostly dark and near empty interior. A lone lady knelt at a pew and prayed. We quietly circled to the sides, admiring the artistry of the paintings and sculptures. One in particular caught my attention: a figure of Christ, after his crucifixion, being laid on a cloth by two of his disciples.

Inside St. Michael's Church.

St. Michael's Church in Michaelerplatz.

I should mention that it was much hotter and humid than we expected. Except for the occasional cross-breeze, or dampness of a church, we suffered from this pleasant heat. I say “pleasant” because, after all, we were in Vienna.

To alleviate this inconvenience, we found an ice cream shop. We had several Euros and we had to use them up. We sat at the base of a fountain, along with a couple-dozen strangers. We ate our ice cream cones as we people-watched. By the time I got to the bottom the treat was melting and the waffle cone crumbling. It still hit the spot.

By now dusk was settling in and the hue on the cathedral and other buildings was changing. Some of the places, like the carousel, now had on their lights. People wore a variety of clothing, including women now wearing evening dresses.

We returned to the souvenir shop, one of the biggest I'd ever seen. It had two stories and an endless supply of magnets, postcards, t-shirts, hand bags, small figurines of Viennese landmarks, and a plethora of other items.

St. Peter's Church.

The evening wore on and we knew that soon we'd need to return to our hotel to catch a morning flight. I had one last request, and that was to eat a wiener schnitzel while in Vienna. "Wien" is the German name for "Vienna."

I had a restaurant in mind on a street down from St. Stephen's Plaza. It was the Figlmüller and claimed to be the original home of the wiener schnitzel. But as we met the server at the doorway, we learned they had no tables available.

We moved to another place around the corner, but there was a line out the door. Then, Jenelle found a place down the street. Immediately we were seated and handed a menu.

Maybe they'd never heard of air conditioning in Austria. It was stuffy. No fans to blow the air, but at least the windows were open. The restaurant seemed to be dominated by shades of the color red, and had a feel from the 1920's.

Kaffee Alt Wien.

It didn't take long to decide what I wanted. It came in either pork, veal or chicken, and since I had eaten neither veal nor wiener schnitzel in my lifetime, that's what I chose.

It came with two schnitzels, a side of cranberry sauce, and a small bowl of parsley potatoes. It looked exactly like all the picture's I'd seen.

To make wiener schnitzel one has to pound and flatten the meat, then deep-fry it in batter.⸺It tasted how I thought it would, largely dominated by the taste and texture of the batter. I thought it was a little on the dry side, but was improved when accompanied with the cranberry sauce. I followed each bite with a chunk of buttery parsley potatoes.  It was a good compliment.

Wiener schnitzel. 

Our evening was now over. We lazily walked toward our hotel, taking everything in. It was now dark, but the city still buzzed with life. We passed a group of over a dozen couples waltzing to classical music. We watched in amazement as the couples moved in step, their legs and arms knowing exactly what to do and where to go. We both agreed that this was a lost art in the States.

We were both beat and feeling bloated from force-feeding ourselves all this “cultural” food. We were ready to get back to the hotel and sleep. But our evening in Vienna would never escape our minds. What a beautiful, pleasant and vibrant city! ♠

Evening of waltzing in Vienna.