Austrian Airlines is bureaucratic. Although my CPAP machine fits into my carry on Austrian needs to know the make, model, weight, dimensions and for a while I was afraid they would ask for the serial number. I also had to register my walker, which makes sense because that is an extra piece of baggage. But once we get to the airport they are amazing. With the walker I go to the head of the security line, the head of the immigration line into the Schengen countries and they give me special treatment getting on the plane. At Vienna the smaller Austrian plains park away from the concourse and we take a bus to the terminal. But in Vienna they made me feel like Donald Trump. I was out the back galley door into one of those catering type of trucks that can elevate to the level of the plane and then lower for the drive to the terminal. Except it was kitted out for people rather than meals. My walker was gate checked and was waiting for me when I got off the contraption.
We booked a fixed rate cab to our hotel in Bratislava. It was a good thing we were not on the meter. Our driver, Mr. Osman, didn’t know where he was going. At one point near the border our cell signal gave out so his navigation system quit. He pulled over to the side of the motorway and started banging on the steering wheel. If I had been able to speak either German or Turkish I cold have brought his attention to the big sign that said “Bratislava.” I did point. We finally got him going again and soon we were in cell range but we made a few strange loops anyway, circling in closer and closer to our target. He was able to get us to within a block of the AC Hotel. As I said, glad we were not on the meter.
The AC is in a very convenient location on the edge of Old Town and our old “Pressburg” (The German name for Bratislava) bourgeois neighborhood, which is also where the Presidential Palace is located.
After we arrived, we walked through the old town to the main square which is the home of some of the great Central European cafes, the Roland, the Maximillian and the Mayer… and a Starbuck’s. A few people were actually taking their coffee there! When we lived here, we had to travel to Vienna every six weeks to get stamped out of and into Slovakia. We never succeeded in getting a residence visa in our 27 months. We often went to the Opera Café at Schwarzen Platz. The waiter once asked us why we came there when the best café in Central Europe was the Mayer in Bratislava? We couldn’t argue.
As we had dinner at the Mayer we watched workers set up the same type of booths, probably the same booths, used for the Christmas Market. Next day there would be a folkloric festival with crafts and performances.
The festival started at 11 with opening speeches. Since they would be in Slovak we decided to skip those and take a walk through our old neighborhood. Many of the bourgeois buildings had gone to seed, as you would expect under Communism. In 1997 they were shedding bits of stucco to the point where there were nets suspended over some of the sidewalks Restoration had begun before we left Bratislava and now the neighborhood has been largely restored. it was a pleasant walk and I could look up to appreciate the architecture rather than to protect my head.
I remember boarding a plane that same way once, in Venice. I’ve been a wheelchair passenger for years, but had never encountered that fashion of boarding before. I entered from the rear of the plane, too (but left from the front, so still had to walk the long aisle).