I just got back from a week-long trip I went on with a great friend of mine. We both had some time off, and we wanted to take the opportunity to visit some different countries, maybe get a glimpse into different ways of living, and just in general see what the hell else is out there in the world.
First, we visited the pretty city of Vienna. It was nice, and we saw some interesting things, but that’s not what this story is about. This story starts in Bratislava, the city we went to after Vienna. We got there at 11ish in the morning, and we’d be leaving the evening of the next day. All caught up? Great! Let’s dive in.
After checking into our hostel and putting our stuff away, we headed out to see some of the capital of Slovakia. We visited the Slavin memorial (which was beautiful), accidentally stumbled upon the residence of the President (which is placed right next to an intersection and some office buildings), and went for dinner in a beautifully designed restaurant (in which I ate the strangest thing I’ve ever had).
I ate a chicken and waffle burger. If you don’t know what that’s supposed to be: It’s a piece of fried chicken between two Belgian waffles. Oh, and it also has some caramel ice cream on top.
Yes, it tasted exactly as weird as it sounds. Although I can’t say it tasted bad—or good, for that matter. The overwhelming sensation was just one of confusion.
Here are some pictures. If you don’t know which is which: the first one is the memorial, the second one is the burger, and the third one is the residence of the president.
So, after confusing the hell out of my taste buds, we headed back to the hostel. We planned for it to be a relaxing evening, as we were a little spent from running around Vienna the past couple days.
Before going to bed, however, we decided to check out the hostel bar for a bit. There, we met some fellow travelers, and while my friend started playing Jenga with some of them, I played chess against a Slovenian. Which is how I found out that Slovenia and Slovakia are not the same. Even though they do sound very similar. It was quite difficult for me to keep them apart.
While struggling to remember basic geography and at the same time wondering where to move my pawns, I learned, to my dismay, that the beer in the bar cost only 2 euros (which was a lot less than what I’d been paying for beer so far).
*Sighs* Goddammit.
Alright… well, guess I can’t let this opportunity go to waste.
So, after playing chess, the guy from Slovakia—no, dammit—the guy from Slovenia and I moved on to drinking.
While he and I were drinking our beautifully inexpensive beers, and after I had learned about the truly breathtaking nature of Slovenia, I took a closer look at the bar selection in front of me. It was heavily stocked with different flavours of a Slovak drink called “Tatratea”.
I didn’t know what Tatratea was, but luckily the important information was easy to get. All the bottles had their flavour and the percentage of alcohol they contained marked, very visibly, right on the front.
And let me tell you, those numbers, they made sweet, sweet eye contact with me. They flirted with me, smiled, and then all of a sudden became shy. They pulled me in, then pushed me away. They were dancing with me, and they wanted me to come taste them.
These sirens ranged from 22 percent all the way up to the flavour innocently called “Forest Fruit Tea Liqueur,” which contained 62 percent alcohol.
Now I was intrigued. “62 percent? That’s like one and a half whiskey shots in just one shot!”
I wanted to do one.
The bartender wasn’t trying to convince me otherwise either. She kept telling me about how deeply rooted drinking is in the culture of Slovakia. Now it felt like my calling. Didn’t I say I wanted to experience different cultures? Well, this culture was drinking Tatratea. So, that’s what I was going to do too.
Before ordering my shot, however, I noticed another bottle on the shelf. It wasn’t Tatratea, and it also didn’t have its alcohol percentage marked on the front. That’s why I hadn’t noticed it before. But now that I was taking a closer look at it, I recognized the name: Absinthe. Which told me all I needed to know about the amount of alcohol contained in that bottle (70 percent).
Hm. What now? I’d already set out to drink the strongest Tatratea they had, but I didn’t know it wasn’t their strongest drink overall. Which I wanted to drink too.
Lucky for me, the bartender came to my rescue. Seeing my undecidedness, she shared a piece of Slovak folk wisdom with me. Apparently, some people in Slovakia say that you should always take drinks in pairs. Not necessarily that you have to take two at the same time, but your total number of drinks should come out to an even number. Why is this, you ask? Well, because if you drink one drink, it will go into one of your legs—which would be unfortunate because if you tried to walk, you’d be lopsided—but if you take a second drink, it will go into your other leg and balance you out. That’s why two, four, or six drinks are fine, but one, three, or five drinks are to be avoided.
Thank God she told me. Who knows what would have happened, I might have taken only one of the two shots. Can you imagine how hard it would have been for me to walk back to my bed being all out of whack? Me being all unbalanced and clumsy.
No, thank you. I’ll take the second shot then.
So, I did. Which was fun, and burned. It also made me more drunk than I’d planned to be that evening.
Additionally, while my buddy and I were in Vienna, Austrian nicotine companies, for some reason, decided to aggressively market their new snooze products (nicotine pouches for under your lip). Which meant they gave out free sample packs.
This meant I was now heavily armed. I had alcohol in my blood (because of Slovak folk wisdom) and a whole bunch of little nicotine pillows (because of Vienna) at my disposal. I was now well-equipped to severely alter my state of mind, should I desire to do so. Which I found out I did.
So, I drank some drinks, smoked some e-cigarettes, and pouched some pouches. Then, I lay back and enjoyed my creative concoction of different substances. My work was done. I was spent.
Soon after, I wobbled to bed. Maybe my drinks came out uneven after all.