Bratislava might be contemporaneously known as a stag weekend staple, but it’s not all beer, bikes, boat parties and pub crawls.
The city – the country’s political and cultural hub, with a population of around 475,000 – has collected influences, voluntarily or not, from across Europe. The city was called Pressburg from 1526, during which time it was the Kingdom of Hungary’s capital, underwent Ottoman invasion, was ransacked by Napoleon and then, following the First World War, it found its current name.
Its architecture is a visual timeline: a medieval core, Hungarian Baroque palaces, then Soviet-era concrete apartment blocks and the shifting skyline of the new Eurovea riverside quarter. The city’s recent outward sprawl documents Slovakia’s successful emergence from Communism then the Velvet Divorce from Czechoslovakia thirty years ago.
And while Bratislava isn’t necessarily as cheap as other East Europe stag-weekend favourites, such as Krakow and Budapest, prices are on average a third lower than in London and 20 per cent less than in Manchester. It also offers far more than cheap nights out.
As soon as I arrive, my eyes are immediately drawn towards the formidable Bratislava Castle. Ignore the fact it’s burned down and been rebuilt on numerous occasions (most recently between 1953 and 1964 when plans to clear the castle were cast aside in favour of its restoration); today it is a symbol of might, the city’s Baroque protector. It overlooks the maze of tight, cobbled alleys adorned with inviting century-old coffeehouses and cafes in the old town below.
I’m sitting outside one of them on Bratislava’s Main Square. The sun illuminates the ornate pastel-coloured buildings that surround me as couples and young families stroll past. The only group that resembles a stag holiday is our trio, and we’re sipping €2 lattes and munching on traditional makovník, a popular type of Slovak poppy seed pastry.
Where are the crumbling Brutalist flats and vulgar concrete monuments people always talk about? They must be hiding somewhere else. All I see is the architecture and artisanship of grand, old Europe: teal tower-topped town hall with Napoleon’s cannonball embedded into its walls, carved Renaissance-age fountains depicting St George’s fight against the dragon and charming bronze statues of Bratislava’s famous folkloric figures. The local’s favourite is Cumil the Sewer Worker, a cheeky round-faced street labourer who casts a watchful eye over pedestrians.
In Flagship – a large, venerated beer house and restaurant in the centre – the wood-paneled walls, marble bar and twisting staircase reveal the building’s history as a theatre. Our waiter glances towards us. He seems surprised that we are the only table of English tourists among the hubbub of locals. Soon Slovakian wines arrive at our table followed by kapustnica – a rich sauerkraut soup – and bryndzove halusky, a goat, or sheep, cheese gnocchi dish topped with fatty lardons.
Following our hearty main courses, the waiter consults with his bartender then giddily skips over, placing three glasses of clear liquid onto our table. “Many locals don’t drink it, but you should,” he smirks. As today’s only English visitors, are we on the end of special treatment or a charming prank? It seems to be the latter. Slivovica is a plum brandy. Slivovica, as we would learn, is very strong.
Afterwards, we stumble into Pivovar Shenk, a pillar of the city’s flourishing microbrewery scene. In exposed brick surroundings, we sample the carefully crafted selection of IPAs and ambers – each for the price of a lemonade in London – that are establishing Bratislava’s name as a rival to the traditional brewing heavyweights in Prague and Vienna.
We leave the local hipster-types and continue to Antique American Bar, a classy cocktail spot with a drinks list created by Erik Lorincz, the former head of The American Bar at the Savoy in London.
Within its opulent walls, well-dressed couples quietly flirt over sidecars and bourgeois businessmen knock back old-fashioneds. In 2022, Antique American Bar was named as one of the World’s 100 Best Bars, so we are lucky to grab a table. For only €10 each we receive white jacket service and a world class martini.
The next, admittedly slow, morning we continue to uncover more of Bratislava’s muddled architectural timeline. Walking towards the Danube we find the Blue Church (officially known as the Church of St Elizabeth of Hungary), a baby blue and white structure that demands a double take. We wander down to the river to find the imposing Most SNP “UFO” bridge, from the 1960s.
Hints of the extraterrestrial don’t end there. Further on the Western outskirts of town, a crash-landed sci-fi sculpture, the Bratislava UFO, sits on a hill.
We catch a 20-minute bus ride east, and there stands Devín Castle, or at least its ruins. We explore the crumbling fort that overlooks the Danube and Austrian border. Devín has remained a cultural cornerstone since its initial construction in 864, despite Napoleon’s forces destroying it in 1809. Bratislava, it seems, always has something surprising up its sleeve.
For our final meal in Koliba Kamzik, one of Bratislava’s white tablecloth restaurants, a delightful three-course meal costs the same as a pub burger back at home. We devour plates of venison pâté, roasted pork belly and duck pierogies.
Around us, tables of smartly suited older couples and trendy young professionals chatter, all enjoying Koliba’s contemporary take on Slovakia’s classic cuisine.
If anything represents today’s Bratislava, this scene might just be it: high-end experiences for reasonable prices and modern takes on age-old traditions. More for less, the old with the new. I finish my visit as a well-fed, culturally-enriched traveller who’s found far more than a party city.
Travel essentials
Getting there
Ryanair and Wizz Air offer direct flights from the UK to Bratislava.
Staying there
NH Bratislava Gate One has doubles from €87 per night, room-only, nh-hotels.com
Further information