Walking to Slovakia

After a tedious train ride, I had finally reached Esztergom. Once the capital of Hungary, today it’s a lot less busy. I walked through the town to a nearby hilltop, where both a castle and a large basilica overlook the Danube river. The basilica is impossible to miss, being the largest church in Hungary.

Talking a short rest before ascending the hill to Esztergom basilica.

Below the basilica is a crypt with several tombs, where the damp underground chamber provided a welcome respite from the heat. Emerging from the chamber into daylight, I look down down upon the glimmering Danube from a large stone wall. The river is separating Hungary from Slovakia, but there is a connection. The Mária Valéria bridge has been connecting the two countries since 1895.

The allure of exploration is irresistible and an hour later I’m walking across the bridge into Slovakia.

The border crossing isn’t marked by grand gestures or iron curtains these days. No barbed wire, no guards with itchy trigger fingers, just a sleepy bridge, a fading sign and the soft hum of wind across the Danube. Then, like flipping a coin, I find myself in Slovakia.

Mária Valéria bridge.

The Slovakian border town of Štúrovo is not the most exciting sight. I walk past a few closed shops and the statue of Ján III. Sobieski before finally finding an open place, which magically provides an ice-cold pint of Zlatý Bažant.

I don’t walk to Slovakia for the sights. It’s not about bucket lists. It’s about the beauty of borders that no longer bite. The strange satisfaction of crossing from one world into another, using nothing but my own two feet. Suddenly the world feels a bit more open.