Day 15 A Rainy Visit in Bratislava

After lunch we ventured out into the cold, slightly rainy city of Bratislava. Our local guide led the way, QuietVox receivers snug in our ears as we followed her through the winding streets of Old Town. The city was beautifully dotted with bright red Viking umbrellas drifting through the squares and alleys — and I had to laugh. We looked surprisingly fashionable, perfectly matching the red Bratislava trolley cars rolling past us.

Our first major stop was St. Martin’s Cathedral. Inside, the darkness carried that deep, mystical stillness that only ancient churches seem to hold — the feeling that centuries of whispered prayers are still suspended in the air. For nearly 300 years, this was the coronation church of the Kingdom of Hungary. Between 1563 and 1830, eleven kings and eight queens were crowned beneath its vaulted ceiling, including the remarkable Empress Maria Theresa. Standing there, in that soft light, felt like touching a thread of history.

Protected from the elements inside the cathedral was a small version of Čumil, the city’s beloved “Man at Work.” His full-size counterpart usually lounges halfway out of a manhole cover in Old Town, chin resting on his folded arms as if he’s taking a break from his shift. Some say he represents the everyday worker; others insist he’s just a bit of mischievous humor. Either way, he’s become an icon of Bratislava.

Not far from the cathedral, our guide paused in front of the former home of Adolf Frankl, the Slovak-Jewish painter who survived Auschwitz and turned his trauma into haunting, unforgettable artwork. One of the themes that becomes painfully clear as we travel throughout Europe is the long, tragic history of persecution against the Jewish people. Standing before Frankl’s home — a simple building with an extraordinary story — was another reminder of the danger of persecuting people for their DNA, their beliefs, or simply for being like us.

As Maya Angelou wrote so beautifully: “We are more alike, my friends, than we are unalike.”

Once we were released for free time — like grade school kids rushing out of class — Donna and I slipped into a local café. We climbed the narrow staircase and found a small table by a second-floor window overlooking the street. From our cozy perch, we watched umbrellas drift past, listened to bursts of laughter from the square below, and enjoyed a quiet moment just being together.

As evening crept in, we wandered slowly back toward the river. That’s when we found him — the full-size Čumil himself, popping up from his manhole cover in the middle of the street. For a split second, I wondered if he actually needed help. But instead of pulling him out, we did what every traveler does: we snapped a photo and left him exactly where he was.

Installed in 1997, Čumil was part of Bratislava’s effort to bring humor, color, and joy back into public spaces after decades of communist rule. His “job,” according to the city, is simply to watch the world go by — and to make people smile.

As we crossed toward the river, a warm trolley rattled past carrying locals home for the evening. It struck me how ordinary this moment was for them — and how extraordinary it felt for us. We spent just a few hours in a place we never even knew existed until today, yet it welcomed us with history, humor, and the quiet charm of everyday life.

With the sky turning blue-gray and the lights dancing on wet cobblestones, Donna and I made our way back aboard the Rinda — our floating home on the Danube.

#Bratislava #OldTownBratislava #Slovakia #DanubeJourney #VikingRinda #TravelJournal #SimplyStreetTravel #Cumil #StMartinsCathedral #QuietMoments #CruiseLife #FindPenguinsJourney #EuropeanChristmas #WanderWithDonnaLæs mere