-  CONTRIBUTIONS 

---

School 

 

---

Into the Unknown

 

We crossed the frontier (I nearly wrote Rubicon!) from Austria to Czechoslovakia on a Sunday evening in August by the railway from Vienna to Bratislava, the capital of Slovakia.  Of the "Iron Curtain" we saw little, but during a tete-a-tete with the customs official, we were obliged to confess the total amount of money we had with us, because of stringent currency regulations.  A train passed us slowly on its way back to Austria, and a number of faces peered out.  Did they appear relieved to be leaving, or was it just our imagination, stimulated by a natural anxiety at having crossed into "forbidden territory"?  Although several days elapsed before we became accustomed to it, the incident proved to mark the end of our contact with officialdom, until the frontier was recrossed fifteen days later.

Our wish to meet and mix with the people and thus obtain a balanced picture of actual conditions prompted us to set aside our travel agent's offer to "fit us in with an English party" at the risk of increasing the natural hazards of travelling alone in a country where very little English is spoken, and where even our elementary German might prove useless.  The occurrence of a series of opportune meetings with helpful people not only enhanced our enjoyment and increased our understanding of conditions, but their spontaneous generosity and natural good-spirits dispelled much of our apprehension.

This concern showed itself early when we dismounted from the train without even knowing the Slovak word for EXIT.  Normally one would follow the crowd, but at ten o'clock on a Sunday night on a train that had just crossed the frontier, no crowd existed.  When we did find the exit, the only fairly recognisable words to be seen were "RESTAURACE," which was closed, and "INFORMACE," which was available only in Slovak and Hungarian.  A quietly inquiring "Was wollen Sie bitte?" introduced our first helpful friend who gave us directions to our hotel, using the phrase which rapidly became as important as our passport.  Seconds after boarding the tram, a conversation developed with a fellow passenger who insisted on escorting us to our hotel.

Next morning we had time to observe that our windows opened on to a balcony with views of the mighty Danube, but time allowed us only a quick inspection of the city, known in earlier times as Pressburg, before we took a train for the famed tourist region, the High Tatras, the Slovakian "Switzerland."  After several hours' journey across great plains, and alongside the river Vah to where it comes sparkling out of the mountains, we reached Poprad, from where an electrified mountain railway took us to the resort of Tatranska Lomnica, in the heart of the vast national park of coniferous forest, strewn around the feet of the high ranges of the Carpathians.  From here we made excursions, including one to the mountain lake of Strbske Pleso and another to the famous ice caves of Dobsina in the Low Tatras, where, in the gigantic limestone caves, ice has survived from the Ice Age, and remains in layers to a thickness of about one hundred feet.  The austere beauty of the interiors defies description, and although we bought a few photographs, they scarcely do justice to this fantastic natural wonderland.  Two friends from Bratislava, met en route, helped to make this expedition successful and memorable and, in addition, they gained us an introduction to one of the villagers, who was delighted to have travellers from England inspect her shining new cottage with its stock of traditional costumes.  Here in the heart of the previously backward and under-developed rural Slovakia, was evidence of renewal, improvement and advancement, particularly in living standards and increased farming efficiency.

Our next halt was at Brno, the capital of Moravia, to which we came after a long westward train journey, and we used the city as a centre from which we made more excursions.  First, in the interests of history, we pilgrimaged to the village of Slavkov, originally Austerlitz, near the battlefield of 1805, with the Napoleon Museum of relics of the battle.  The limestone caves of Moravia were also visited, these being Europe's largest.

We planned our visit to Prague to be the central feature of the holiday, accepting an invitation to stay with some friends of ten years' correspondence.  Here is the capital of Czechoslovakia, the ancient capital of Bohemia, the "city of a hundred spires," associated with the national saint and hero, "Good King Wenceslas."  Overlooking the Vltava river is the cathedral fortress of the Hradcany approached by the fourteenth century Charles Bridge, and surrounded by Mala Strana, the Little Town.  Across the river lies Stare Mesto, the Old Town, and Nove Mesto, the New Town, extending away to the industrial suburbs.  The days were spent in exploring the interesting parts of the city, and the evenings in discussion, or some form of entertainment, the high-spot being a performance of Dvorak's fairy opera "Rusalka," for which our friends had booked in advance.  The setting was the open-air stage of the Waldstein Gardens, floodlit except during the acts.  So rare an opportunity to see Czech Opera performed in Czech, competently and with fine taste, was not to be missed.

Another day remains memorable for the river steamer trip up the Vltava to a large recently-opened hydro-electric installation, this providing a welcome antidote to the large round of baroque interiors, Gothic spires, castles and art galleries.

Our friends, Tom and Mary, were the very soul of generosity, and staying with them afforded us a unique opportunity for real contact with the people of the country.  Both from them and from numerous others we encountered, we were able to glimpse something of the tragedy and misfortune of this nation lying between Germany and the U.S.S.R.  Of the former, they remember the horror and brutality of the Nazi regime, whilst the closed frontier which has kept them virtually prisoners for ten years is an ever-present reminder of their powerful eastern neighbour.

Whilst it would be folly to pretend that we grasped all the implications of life behind this section of the Iron Curtain, we are glad to have had the personal experience of journeying freely within a country which, for lack of information, is practically unknown to us in Western Europe.

R.W.