Have you ever walked from one country to another? For those that live close to one it might be commonplace, but for me, two things have always precluded this from happening. The first being I’ve only ever lived on islands, and short of turning into the Second Coming this would be impossible. Furthermore, even though I’m from England, and could theoretically walk to either Scotland or Wales (would this count?) I’ve never lived close enough to a border to want to attempt such a momentous feat.
In 2005 I had an idea to visit 3 countries in the space of 10 days. I was living in Japan at the time, and initially flew back to England to briefly visit family and friends. Going back home never really felt like a holiday so I would always arrange to jet off somewhere else in Europe. Flights were super cheap, and usually only took a few hours. This particular year, my good friend Duncan and I had decided to visit Hungary and Slovakia. We had a great time in both, taking in the amazing culture, architecture, sampling the cuisine and beers, and practicing our hastily learned phrases on the locals. We crossed into Slovakia by train, which was another unique experience; the immigration officer walks up and down the train checking passports and stamping them.
We rented an apartment in Bratislava, which was much cheaper than staying in a hotel, and was before airbnb or smartphones existed (at least for us). We organised everything by phone and half expected to end up staying in a barn next to farm animals. We were pleasantly surprised when we arrived, it was very spacious and conveniently located. Bratislava was a great looking city – vibrant and friendly. There was a positive atmosphere emanating from the place.
Hungary and Slovakia had both joined the EU in 2004, but were still using their own currencies. We had prepared both in advance. After a wild night out indulging in the nightlife, we woke early with one thing on our minds: spontaneous adventure! We checked the map and realised just how close Bratislava was to the border of Austria. We would walk across the border and take a short train ride to Vienna – 4 countries in 10 days!
We set off enthusiastically, in the hot summer sun. We took a small drink and expected the journey to take no more than an hour. Reaching the actual border wasn’t so bad, it was just on the edge of the city, we met a friendly but officious, gun-toting border guard, who questioned why we dared to leave the beauty of Bratislava for Austria.
After convincing her we weren’t terrorists or smuggling contraband, we were, upon showing our passports, allowed to cross the rather nondescript boundary between the two countries. Success, on to Vienna! We were heading for Wolfsthal, which had a direct train to our final destination. Momentum and weather were both cheering us on.
We chased the bank of the Danube at first, but it quickly transformed into green Austrian countryside. The euphoria started to wain a little as the vista barely changed for many miles. The 34C heat was taxing our energy quicker than the inland revenue. We resorted to desperate measures – Duncan thought he was the more physically appealing so he would try to hitch a lift. Alas, he came up short – we trundled on.
Our divine idea had started to seem like it was the road to hell, but after what seemed like an eternity we entered paradise – Wolfsthal! A quaint village with picturesque houses and chickens in the street. By the time we arrived, we were gasping for sometime to drink. We walked along chicken central and came across a rather lively looking green with families frolicking on the grass. To our amazement, at the back of this common area was what looked to be a local boozer. For us, it had become the holy grail from which we would imbide sweet life-giving nectar. With renewed vigour and confidence we strode forth. Outside was beaming bright, but inside was dark and dingy – it was getting better all the time. Landlord three pints of your finest ale!
Someone threw a proverbial spanner across the table and completely jammed the works. Who has the euros? We hadn’t planned to come to Austria. We thought we’d use cards, but they were verboten in this establishment. We emptied our wallets and found pounds, forints, korunas and, even yen. We offered all of this money for tale of three beers, received with a glum shake of the head. Despair. Dejection. Defeat. We continued to sit at the table with faces like Oliver. The thought of continuing our Canterbury Tale without sustenance was too much to bear.
The barman came back – to throw us out we thought, and the conversation went thus:
“What you vant to drink?”
“Well, we wanted three beers, but we seem to be shy of bunsen burners gov’ner.”
“No matter foreigners, in Austria we serve free drinks for weary travellers.”
We were strangers in a strange land, and here was an establishment willing to part with some of its’ product. The cheshire cat in Alice springs to mind to describe our faces. We proffered all kinds of money and favours in return, but they would hear nothing of the sort. I don’t think I’ve ever savoured, or tasted such an amazing pint.
We finished our drinks and headed to the station in awe of the generosity shown to us. We got there in a purple haze, and checked departure times. With an hour before the next train, we felt like pushing on to Vienna would be pushing it. We weren’t going to have a more positive experience than the one we’d just had.
It took us another 3 hours to walk back to Bratislava – which went a damn sight quicker in the cool afternoon air, and with that good feeling sloshing around in our stomachs.
From that day forward, I’ve based all my stereotypes of Austria and Austrians on that one moment. A stereotype, but a great one nonetheless.
Told you there were chicken/s.
