**  SLOVAKIA 2008  - Weeks 3~4  **

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SLOVAKIA 2008 - SLOVAK KARST CAVES,  KOŠICE (Slovakia's second city), UKRAINE BORDER and the WOODEN CHURCHES of CARPATHO-RUTHENIA:

At risk of provoking emailed accusations of train-spotting tendencies, this week's edition begins with yet another rail journey, but this time, a ride through scenically spectacular forested terrain to experience a remarkable piece of railway engineering, the Telgart Loop.

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The road from Brezno winds steadily upwards through wooded hills into the higher reaches of the Hron valley; never before had we seen so many trees as in Slovakia, and this was logging country on a large scale. At the village of Telgart a few kms from the Hron watershed, the railway builders devised an impressive solution to gain height through into the next valley:  the Telgart 360° Rail Loop (Photo 1) raises the line on a steep gradient within a curving tunnel to continue its eastward progress. At Telgart Penzion halt, trains disappear into the lower tunnel mouth to re-appear minutes later trundling across a viaduct 100 feet above. We followed the road through alpine meadows over the 994m pass to begin the long descent into the Hnilec valley and through the massive limestone gorges of the thickly forested Slovensky Raj, to camp by the picturesque lake at Dedinky. From the sadly neglected village station, we mastered the obscurities of the Slovak rail timetable to catch the well-used local train back through the hills down the Telgart Loop, with just enough time at Červená Skala station before the return train to Dedinky.

Another spectacular natural phenomenon in this area is the Dobšina Ice Cave (Dobšinska L'adova Jaskyňa). Ice caves occur in the Alps but at higher altitudes. At Dobšina, unique conditions at 970m on a north facing hill around 300,000 years ago enabled underground glaciation to form: roof falls created deep cavities filled with very cold stagnant air causing slowly percolating surface water to freeze, building up to the present 26m depth of ice. With a surface area of 10,000 M2, the ice takes the form of a vast underground frozen lake, and like any glacier, it moves at an annual rate of 2~4 cms towards the lower area of the cave. Kitted up against the freezing temperatures, we descended steeply into the underground glacial gloom down through deep walls of ice. The route curved around through a tunnel in the ice to emerge into a large hall filled with ice-floors stretching away on either side. Ahead we could make out a massive pillar of ice and ice stalagmite (Photo 2); they all the characteristics of normal cave calcite formations but made entirely of ice where percolating water had instantly solidified. The sheer bulk and scale of the underground glacier at Dobšina Ice Cave was yet another awe-inspiring experience to add to others from our travels.

From the Slovensky Raj the road dropped 1,000 feet in spectacular looping hair-pins to the small town of Dobšina, a desolately impoverished looking place with many Roma gypsies milling aimlessly around. We had seen these dark-skinned people in eastern Hungary; they are thought to have migrated as nomads into central Europe from India some 500 years ago. Despite German attempts in WW2 to liquidate them along with the Jews, this ethnic minority now numbers some half million in Slovakia; their numbers, living conditions and dependence on state benefits is one of the country's major social problems. Until recently, their welfare was of concern to no one; the Communist regime's solution to the Roma problem was to pay for Roma women to be sterilised. Discriminated against by Slovaks and despised as an almost sub-species, they now exist on the fringes of this normally industrious society, living in third-world conditions in squalid, semi-derelict ghettoes on the edge of towns and villages with no running water, no sanitation, and no hope. They have virtually no education, and are victim of perennial unemployment or menial seasonal jobs. No wonder that many turn to petty crime. They are viewed generally as work-shy and sponging off state aid, and are to be seen everywhere begging and hanging around aimlessly with bottle in hand, harassed by the police, an easy scapegoat for society's ills. The discriminatory prejudice against the Roma is both understandable and a continuing cause of their downward spiral into isolation. An attempted break-in to our camper in Hungary 2005 was readily blamed by police on the Roma, and we had been warned to be on our guard in eastern Slovakia. Is this however just another symptom of discriminatory mythology? To us they seem utterly aimless and forlorn, but we still take care. At least the present Slovak government with EU help is trying to address the Roma problem, but such is the scale of deprivation and prejudice, it will take decades to end their plight and integrate them into normal society.

From an overnight camp at Dobšina, we headed south into the Slovak Karst limestone region (Slovenski Kras) with its many caves. Above Štidnik, the road rose steeply over densely forested hills leading to the Ochtinska Aragonite Cave. The cave was originally discovered by mining prospectors in 1954 in this remote location 800m above the surrounding valleys. Formed in an isolated area of limestone among ore-bearing rocks, cavities created by tectonic faults were enlarged by percolating water rich in dissolved minerals. The slow rate of capillary action caused calcite to crystallise out as pure white spiky 'flowers' of aragonite (Photo 3), 'growing' in delicate coral-like encrustations in alcoves within the cave ceiling. The Ochtinska Cave's aragonite formations were as beautiful a natural creation as seen anywhere, and certainly made the journey over the hills worthwhile.

This region around the attractive town of Rožnava has for centuries been a centre of iron-mining and founding industry. You could appreciate how the 1920 Trianon Diktat redrawing of borders deprived Greater Hungary of most of its mineral wealth and transport infrastructure; the new Czechoslovak Republic began its existence in 1918 with a windfall economic bonus. Rožnava has a comfortably affluent feel about it: once a flourishing Hungarian and German mining centre set at the confluence of several valleys, the town's economy is still supported by local iron-ore mines, steel foundries and associated industries. The Mining Museum presents the history of the town's links with iron mining and founding and is well worth a visit. The town hall's triple language sign - radnica, varoshaz, rathaus - reflects its multi-ethnic traditions. Rožnava's Gothic watch-tower in namestie Baníkov gave panoramic views over the central square (Photo 4), the paneláki suburbs and surrounding hills. An industrious and unpretentious town, Rožnava impressed us by proudly making the most of its historical inheritance and taking care to welcome visitors with its helpful TIC, features markedly missing in most Slovak towns.

We camped that night at Krásnohorske Podhradie, literally meaning 'Below Krásno Horske Castle', the gaunt Gothic seat of the Hungarian aristocratic Andrássy family, which looms dramatically on a limestone bluff above the village. From this base, we visited two other caves of the Slovak Karst region each with spectacularly distinctive formations. In a remote corner of the Slovenski Kras hard on the Slovak-Hungarian border, the Domica Cave system extends for several kms under the border to emerge by the Hungarian village of Aggtelek where we had camped in 2005. On the surface, the open-Schengen border now allows ready access between the two EU states, but in the underground cave, a metal grille still blocks access as we had seen when visiting the Hungarian section of cave. Domica Cave's range and scale of calcite formations (Photo 5), flowstone and sinter waterfalls was mightily impressive and well-lit, and the cave's resident bat population flitted around as we followed the winding passageways. At nearby Gombasecká Cave, a combination of slowly percolating calcite-rich water and stagnant high humidity air caused unique formations - starkly white, fine spaghetti-like straw stalactites (Photo 6) covering the ceilings. With a growth rate of 1 cubic mm every 10 years, the longest straw with a length of 3m will have taken 47,000 years to accumulate.

After a further cave visit at Jasov, we walked up into a typical Karst dolina at Zádiel, sliced by river erosion into the featureless limestone plateau as if into a gargantuan wedding cake, with cliff-like walls 1,000 feet looming above. At the southern margin of the Karst tableland, the broad, open glacial valley of Bodvianska Kotlina spread out towards the hills of the Hungarian border. Here we approached Košice (pronounced Koshitsa), Slovakia's second city with a population of 250,000. The city's economic and employment mainstay is the gigantic steelworks, originally developed under the Communists in 1950s and now ironically owned by the ultra-capitalist US Steel. We had hoped that Košice's standing would merit a worthy campsite, but Autocamp Salaš Barca on the city's by-pass was a real let-down with decrepit facilities, indifferent staff and outrageous prices (by Slovak standards). But on a bright sunny Sunday morning, we caught the tram from the outskirts into the city centre. Viewed from a distance, Košice seems an unattractive industrial wilderness, but once past the shabby and fortress-like paneláki tower-block estates which encircle the city, its old centre of Staré Mesto along the elongated main street of Hlavna ulica is a real jewel (Photo 7). This whole central area, lined with a handsome parade of art nouveau and neo-classical buildings, was sensitively restored in 1990s. Credit for Košice's superb revival is due to Rudolf Schuster, the city's mayor until 1999 when he was elected Slovakia's national president. Believing that a physically attractive city was the keystone to urban renewal, Schuster invested Košice's wealth to produce the republic's most attractive city. The southern end of Hlavna ulica is dominated by the bulky mass of Košice's Cathedral, Europe's easternmost Gothic dom (Photo 8) with the sunlight glowing on its cleaned stonework. The handsome environment of Hlavna ulica, with the former stream that once ran through now restored as a stone water channel running the length of the square, this was understandably the ideal place for Košice's more affluent citizens to take their Sunday afternoon stroll. But of the city's inevitable Roma underclass, there was not a sign. The square's centrepiece were the gardens of the Singing Fountains set against the grandiose Baroque backdrop of the State Theatre (Photo 9). Local people gathered here and children ran around the gardens as the fountains rose and pulsed to unobtrusive musical accompaniment; it was sheer delight. In contrast in the back-streets, the 1927 former synagogue now stood in a state of abandoned dereliction, a memorial to the 12,000 of Košice's Jewish population dispatched to the camps by Tiso's thugs for ritual murder at the hands of the Germans. Behind the cathedral, the elegant Stolničný dom was the setting for Beneš's 1945 declaration of the post-WW2 Czechoslovak government; he also awarded key ministries to the Communists which led after Beneš's death to the Party seizing monopolistic hold on power for the next 40 years. After such an aesthetic feast in Košice, we caught the tram back to our camp in the suburbs, and as August drew to a close, dusk fell earlier and the evenings began to feel chilly.

In leaving Košice, we visited Europe's only geyser outside of Iceland at the small village of Herl'any in the foothills of the Slanské vrchy; originally spurred into action by 19th century drilling for a mineral water spa, build-up of carbon dioxide pressure causes the geyser to erupt tepid water 15m into the air every 36 hours. Our visit coincided with the lull period, and all we saw was the grubby concrete basin surrounding a small hole in the ground from which the unpleasantly mineralised water erupts. But our priority was to continue eastwards over the Dargov Pass, a mild climb today but in January 1945, it cost the lives of 22,000 Red Army troops to liberate this region from the retreating Germans. At the top of the Pass, tanks and a vast Communist memorial commemorate the losses. Traffic on the main eastward Route 50 was unrelentingly the worst experienced this trip, with aggressive tail-gating and suicidal overtaking. Descending from the Pass, the utterly flat Zemplin plain stretched away to a hazy horizon eastwards towards Ukraine and south to Hungary. Trebišov, despite its upbeat description as 'gateway to the Slovak Tokaj wine region', was just another rather grubby, forlorn town with the usual gaggles of Roma hanging around the paneláki. We continued south across the plain to find Autocamp Maria; what seemed to us a perfectly reasonable request to camp at her campsite evoked total incomprehension from Madame Maria. Never before had we been totally unable to find any means of communicating in any known language, and only eventually did she relent to our camping for the night behind the huts. The best you say about Camping Maria was that it existed - just.

In this area, a northward extension of the Hungarian Zemplén Hills, the Slovakian Tokaj grapes are grown in terraces up the south facing hillsides. Wines produced under the Tokaj Aszú method of adding small wooden containers (puttony) of late-harvested extra sweet botrytised grapes to the fermenting must have been made in this corner of Slovakia since the time when it was part of Greater Hungary. Under an EU agreement however, Slovakia is not allowed to export its Tokaj wines. We visited the Slovakian Tokaj wine-producing villages (Photo 10) of Mala and Vel'ka Trňa to sample their wines and compare them with the Hungarian version tasted at Tokaj itself in 2005. And the verdict? Well the Tokaj wine is too sweet for our taste, but we'll know better at Christmas when we open the dry white Furmint and Muscat wines bought in Slovakia. And so down to the Hungarian border at Slovenski Nové Mesto where we walked across a footbridge into Slovakia's neighbouring country, just for old times' sake, where the inevitably wishful-thinking Trianon memorial recalled the much-resented creation of this border in 1920.

Curiosity at this point compelled us to investigate the settlement of Čierna, close to the 3-way border between Slovakia, Hungary and Ukraine by the River Tisza. This was indeed a forlorn little place, even its paneláki swamped by enormous railway marshalling yards with lorries queuing at the major railhead to take on board freight from the east for onward transportation into central and western Europe. These railway sidings were the scene of the last-ditch talks between the Soviet hard-liners and Dubček's reformists shortly before the Soviet invasion in August 1968 brought to an end the Prague Spring. Heading north, we reached the small town of Vel'ké Kapušany where a lane led between the rail tracks to the Ukraine border. But 500m from the border, a police post deterred further progress; knowing Slovak sensitivities about protecting the EU's eastern border against the passage of illegal immigrants from the east, we retreated not wanting to invite problems at such spot. A direct approach to the Ukrainian border would have to wait until further north. At Mikalovce, Slovakia's easternmost major town and capital of the Zemplin region, industrial estates on the outskirts showed the town to be economically even if not aesthetically well-endowed; but for such an unpromising place, the central square proved more promising, decorated with fountains and lined by attractive fin de sičcle buildings, making for a pleasant strolling the late afternoon sunshine. For tonight's campsite, we continued east to the so-called Slovak Sea (Zemplinska Širava). In a land-locked country, any such large area of lake even if artificially created is considered sea, as developers fill the shores with so-called leisure activities. In the hills above the village of Vinné, by the small lake of Vinianske Jazero, we found a delightful informal camping area with all the basic facilities needed at no charge. Having settled in, we retired to a nearby bar for much-needed beers after a long day's travelling, and by the last light of the day, prepared our BBQ supper looking over the small lake. The following morning brought comic entertainment courtesy of the Slovak army who arrived at the lake in a huge truck to fulfil their NATO commitments in the form of canoe training. It was like an episode of Dad's Army as the squaddies were instructed in the use of the paddle; watching these Cockleshell Heroes, somehow western defence seemed in a fragile state if we depended on this to keep out the Russian hoards! And after a day's walking in the nearby Vihorlat Hills by the lake of Morské Oko with the sunlight filtering down through the beech trees just beginning to gain their golden autumn colours, we returned to our quiet lakeside camp.

We continued our eastward journey beyond Sobrance, a dreary little town with a forlorn Back-of-Beyondsville feel, at last to approach the Ukraine border at the main crossing to the Ukrainian city of Užhorod. The border village of Vyšné Nemecké seemed from the map to have a by-pass. As we advanced cautiously towards the border, we understood why: in effect it formed a lorry park for the 4 km line of trucks queuing to get through customs control into the Ukraine. It looked as if it would take more than 24 hours to pass the border. We were not about to test whether stories of such extreme delays and the venality of Ukrainian customs officials were apocryphal. Turning back from the border, we turned north, parallel with the border up into the wooded hills for the next phase of our Slovakian travels to find the Rusyn (Ruthenian) people and to learn more of their largely unknown history and religious culture which has left a treasured heritage of their 18th century wooden churches.

This area of Carpatho-Ruthenia, now bounding eastern Slovakia, Poland and western Ukraine, is traditionally home of the Rusyns (Ruthenians), one of Europe's lost peoples. The name is of unknown origin but is thought to mean Ukrainian (Little Russian). Their language is related to Ukrainian though their homeland in the Carpathian mountains was never part of historical Ukraine, only becoming part of USSR-dominated Ukraine after Stalin annexed the region from Czechoslovakia as war bounty in 1945. Historically, the Rusyns were of the Eastern Orthodox faith, but from the 16th century, a series of schisms split their church, and while retaining all the trappings of Eastern Orthodoxy, they aligned themselves with Roman Catholicism. This great Rusyn cultural institution and guardian of the Rusyn national identity therefore gained the name of Greek-Catholic Church. Those Rusyns remaining in Czechoslovakia were regarded by the Communist regime officially as Ukrainians, and despite their ethnic and religious distinctiveness, their Greek-Catholic church was forcibly amalgamated with the Eastern Orthodox church and its priests persecuted. The extent of the Rusyn population is unknown but clearly forms a significant part of the rural eastern Slovakian population. Since Slovak independence, their prospects have improved with more understanding towards ethnic minorities and greater religious tolerance. It was the Rusyn Greek-Catholics who during the 18th century built the many characteristic wooden churches which we now set out to find.

At the remote village of Inovce, high in the wooded Carpathian hills, we literally reached the end of the road; the Ukrainian border was just 1 km away and the presence of police jeeps showed again this was a sensitive area. Here in this isolated farming community, we found our first wooden Greek-Catholic church (Cerkev drevený) dedicated to the Archangel Michael and set on a hillock overlooking the village. Nearby in a similarly remote setting in the wooded hills, we reached the village of Ruská Bystrá, and found the Rusyn wooden church of St Nicholas the Bishop, and in Hraborá Roztoka, the wooden church of St Basil the Great. These churches were all of the Rusyn Greek-Catholic faith, but in the same villages, we saw newly-built evidently Eastern Orthodox churches, with their characteristic onion-domes. The two distinctive faiths evidently still co-exist. Clearly also the population of these remote villages was predominantly Rusyn or Ukrainian since the village name-boards were dual-language, Slovak and Ukrainian Cyrillic. We still had much to learn.

Unsure of campsites in this remote NE corner of Slovakia, we found the delightful Camping Stanový Tábor, set among tall birch trees (Photo 11) close to the small town of Snina and run by Štefan Labanič and his wife who welcomed us with glasses of excellent Steiger beer. From this base, we set out to explore more of the Rusyn Greek-Catholic wooden churches in a remote pine and beech-covered valley high in the Poloniny National Park: at Jalová the Greek-Catholic wooden church of St George (Photo 12) stood on a hillock in the heart of this small farming community surrounded by columnar hay stacks, and at the next village, similarly tucked away into the hills, we found the Church of Archangel Michael at Ruský Potok (Photo 13). We continued to the furthest point of the high valley, and at the road's end, we reached this trip's turning point, Nová Sedlica the most easterly village of Slovakia (Photo 14). Above the village, the 1,200m high mountain of Kremenec marked the 3-way border between Slovakia, Ukraine and Poland. The church in this village was modern and had replaced the former Nová Sedlica wooden church (Photo 15) which we saw later at the outdoor Rusyn museum (skanzen) at Hummené. Having reached this most furtherly eastern point of this trip's host country, it just remained for us to pause briefly near the Slovak-Ukrainian border-crossing at Ubl'a (Photo 16) and take surreptitious photos before the Slovak officials hustled us on. We turned west and began the long journey homewards.

Nová Sedlica, Slovakia's most easterly village, and the Ukrainian border-crossing at Ubl'a were the turning points of this trip. From here, it will be westward all the way, but we still have much to see in what is proving a wonderfully fascinating country. More of that in the next episode, coming in a further two weeks.
 

   Sheila and Paul

   Published: Sunday 14 September 2008    

Next edition to be published in 2 weeks

 

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Music this week:
Slovak folk song

  Croatia 2008

  Denmark 2007   Sicily 2007

  Alsace 2006

  Greece 2006

  Hungary 2005

  Pyrenees 2005

  Slovenia 2004

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