Day #8 - The Malá Fatra - Returning to reality
Sobota (Saturday), 26. augusta 2017-- (excerpts from
my journal The Pressburg Diaries,
vol V and a separate travel diary)
All good things must come to an end, and so today our
week-long adventure in the Malá Fatra concludes. We finished our breakfast by
eight and settled the bill for the whole week with the strict but kind, elderly
mother with wiry hair who ran the establishment. She runs a tight ship here,
but her employees—virtually all young women—seem to love working here, and the
spotless rooms and dining hall and tasty home-cooked meals reflect her
management skills. The damage report for the whole week, including dinners,
came to 252 euro. Not at all bad for a week for two in paradise.
We relaxed awhile back in the room, then packed our
things. We still had time to kill, so we took it easy some more as if we were
at home. In fact, we kind of were. Our quaint little inn, comfortable, warm and
cozy (nights in the mountains in mid-August can be downright cold), had been
our home away from home for a week. We had grown attached to this place, and we
were both sad to leave. “Do we really have to go back to reality?” we asked
each other. Ah, but we have cats and I suppose they’d appreciate it if we came
home, even if Uncle Niko (Zuza’s son) was looking after them.
Our home away from home
At 9:30, we looked at each other, sighed, took up our
packs and slowly, forlornly, and made our way to the bus stop down the street.
At 9:40 the bus for Žilina arrived and we boarded it. I brought both the
walking stick I picked up at the “symbolic cemetery” on Tuesday as well as one
I picked up last night at Koliba pod Rozsutcom. I’d seen it there Sunday or
Monday, resting against a table. But I left it in case someone had lost it and
came looking for it. But last night, I found it behind the koliba. Someone had
moved it, and this time I decided to take it.
Our bus stopped in Terchová for a huge group of mostly
Czech tourists, including—guess who??—“Grizzly Adams”! Now this was like the
fifth time we’d seen him during the past few days. It was amazing we got all
those people and their luggage on that bus. It was tight, but miracles do
happen. Fifty minutes of country roads later, we arrived in Žilina. We took our
luggage and walked next door to the train station, only to find out the train
to Bratislava was going to be 40 minutes late. We called Niko because he knows
a lot about trains. He did some research online and messaged us that the train
was delayed. Well, that much was already clear. But at least we had plenty of
time to get water and buy some snacks. I also found some more stickers for my
Turistický Denník (Tourist Diary sticker book), as well. As the delay stretched into 45 and
then 50 minutes, Niko filled us in whenever he learned new information about
the fate of our train. Finally an hour had passed. According to him, the reason
our train was delayed was because of a “jumper”, that is,
someone who had jumped onto the track with the purpose of ending their life. He
explained it’s psychologically traumatic for the engine driver, so they have to
change the driver before they can proceed. Of course, they also have to call
the police, fire and rescue, and then clean the engine, which is usually changed
anyway, and then investigate the death. So finally after a little more than an
hour, or train arrived.
Sobered by our week of simplistic living in the mountains and the end of someone who threw their life away rather than get away from it all and see the mountains, for instance, we were mildly numb as our train rolled gradually south towards Bratislava. At one point, we passed through the city of Trenčín, home to one of the finest castles in all of Slovakia. We pulled into the station, but the castle was no longer visible. We were sitting on the opposite side of the train, so I flocked like a hungry sheep to the other side to catch a fleeting glimpse of Trenčín Castle as we pulled away from the station.
A fleeting glimpse of Trenčín Castle from the train
The really hard part about returning to reality, aside
from getting my teaching schedule ready for the upcoming week, was that it was a
muggy 36 degrees (Celsius) in Bratislava! Yay! We were accustomed to daytime
temperatures of 20-23 degrees of sunshine and dry air in the mountains, with as
low as 8 degrees at night. Reality, as it stood now, was a sauna, and it was
like a heavy hand trying to hold us down or push us back. Fine, so be it, then.
I’d rather get back on the train and go back to the mountains. We sweated and
stumbled our way through the station with the hundreds of other holidaymakers
and the drunken homeless bums who call the station home, found our way to the
bus stop, and grabbed whatever seats we could. The bus was air-conditioned, sort
of. Mostly it was crowded. We were glad to be close to home, even if it was
reality. Once home, we unpacked, did some light shopping and tried to
reacclimatise to overheated city life. Truth be told, we weren't all that thrilled to be back. I know one thing for sure, though: our cats were delighted that we
were home.
Someone was glad we were home