Train through the Tatras Mountains to Levoča, Slovakia

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(the article below accompanies this video)

A thrilling plunge into the heart of Slovakia for Masayo and I today: after a mere two nights in the border capital of Bratislava we wanted to go into the mountains and see snow. There was no guarantee we actually would, but with a train ride between the High Tatras and Low Tatras mountain ranges towards Levoča, our chances seemed good. My blood sugar ended up dropping dangerously low in the evening though, and Google Maps yet again screwed us up and made everything worse.

Ah, diabetes travel.

First thing in the morning at Juraj’s Outback Hostel in Bratislava my blood sugar was 150 – not too bad for a waking reading. We ate cereal with milk, plus instant coffee, and packed our stuff.

We dropped our key off but didn’t see Juraj himself to tell him goodbye. Too bad; he had been really nice and a great host for us. We did of course see his yard full of rabbits as we trundled out, waving to them as they alternately sat serenely and hopped around in zigzag patterns.

Bratislava was rainy as it had been since we arrived two nights ago. Masayo wore a rain cover over herself and her big backpack, making her look like an oversized snail without antennae. I opted to just get wet. Hey, it’s only water.

At Bratislava station we bought our tickets; the train was going to a town called Poprad in the northern part of Slovakia near the Polish border. (From there we’d have to find a bus to Levoča. Wish us luck.)

What was so exciting about today – what made it feel so full of promise – was that the route went between the High and Low Tatras; this train ride is noted as one of the most scenic in Europe. Especially if there’s snow, I thought. The train, which was on time and boasted a lovely-looking silver and red color scheme. We just weren’t sure if we’d have views of the High Tatras range (to the north) or the Low Tatras (to the south) from our seats.

Actually the seating proved to be more problematic than we could have imagined. It was impossible to tell if our seats were reserved, or if seats that were empty were reserved for someone else, or even what class certain cars were. All we could find at first were two seats together but facing backwards. We took them, but wouldn’t end up keeping them.

After watching the wet, rainy, not-yet-amazing Slovakian countryside glide past us (backwards), we decided to move across the aisle while stopped at one station because two forward-facing seats had opened up. We did, moving our big bags with us and barely settling in before an older couple approached and indicated that we were in their seats.

We sighed and got back up, but one of our old seats was taken up by a guy who had snuck in under the radar. Now were were entirely seatless until I found two at the opposite end. Facing backwards. We pulled out, smirking ruefully at one another.

But then our fortunes turned around: Masayo returned from a stroll to the restroom to announce that she’d seen a whole six-person compartment totally empty. We had no idea if it was ok for us to sit there but we went and did it anyway.

It’s always better to ask for forgiveness than permission.

Now this was luxury: alone in our own wide, enclosed space, facing forward, and with a large window to gaze out of. And we’d just left a station called Ziliny, meaning we were just entering the supposedly scenic part.

Luckily on this day, Slovakia didn’t disappoint: the mountains began to make themselves visible in the distance on either side of the train, and patches of snow got bigger and bigger until soon we were seeing entire mountains covered in snow. Masayo and I snapped photos and chattered like excited school kids. Even the ground outside the train had snow on it!

While in the booth I checked to see what all this movement and excitement was doing to my BG. Everything was perfect; I was 108. But it was lunch time.

As we left a station some ladies came and joined us in our car but we were on the way out anyway to visit the dining car. The prices weren’t extortionate and the car had very large windows. I got scrambled eggs and bacon with bread and coffee, about €5. And I took my Humalog shot at the table through my Bluff Works pants.

We passed the rest of the trip in our no-longer-private compartment, romanticizing the snow and slopes outside, before finally arriving at Poprad-Tatry station in the dimming light of late afternoon. We got off and by the time we located the bus station, we’d missed our bus.

Luckily for us another would leave in 45 minutes. We sat around the rather dingy little station; it was very cold outside and there was nothing at all to do inside but wait.

But soon enough we climbed aboard a bus outside and paid the driver for a ride to Levoča. I had booked us a room at Penzión Oáza through booking.com, and studied Levoča on Google Maps back in Bratislava so I knew exactly how to walk there from the bus station.

Yet again, relying on Google Maps proved our downfall. Diabetes wasn’t helping much on this night, either.

Lost in Levoča

As soon as we got off the bus in Levoča I was confused. The roads didn’t match what Google Maps said at all. We were walking uphill on a sort of highway but there were no shops or anything. No roads seemed to be where they should be. It was even worse than the night we arrived in Bratislava.

Sometimes we’d pass a highway sign for motorists pointing the way to “CENTRUM” but we never seemed to get to any town center. Or anywhere. Giant trucks whizzed by us and I was getting more and more fretful.

Eventually we arrived at a hospital, where there was a staffed guard shack. The woman inside tried her best to help us, in English, but what she was saying made absolutely no sense to me. It couldn’t be right. We thanked her and went and sat on a nearby bench.

There I checked my BG; I was 44. No wonder I was so out of it. I had some juice and asked Masayo to to ask the lady to call us a taxi. No more walking for me.

Masayo reported that a taxi would arrive in ten minutes. I ate a Snickers bar to go with the juice, still feeling wobbly and lost in what seemed like dark Slovakian countryside with only the lights of the hospital complex for company.

The taxi showed up and we climbed in, giving the driver the name of the pension. This was our first taxi of this trip – by habit I never take them since they can be unmetered and I don’t want to get ripped off. And I really don’t mind walking to the rooms we reserve. But diabetes, and Google Maps, made this different.

The guy drove us right to Penzión Oáza; the fare was only €2 and I gave him a grateful €1 tip. We turned out to be at a back door, so another (suspicious) guest had to let us in, but we eventually worked it out, checking in and making it to our room.

My blood sugar was feeling better, and our room was great: very large, with four single beds, but only Masayo and I are staying in it. It’s probably the largest room we’ve had so far on this trip. The shared bathroom is down the hall and the kitchen is next door. The place is made out of light-colored wood and has the welcoming, comfortable feel of a lodge.

I did some research and found that Google Maps thought that the Levoça bus station was on the opposite side of town from where it really is. The lanes of the bus station are on the map, they just aren’t marked as anything. What it called the bus station is maybe some tiny stop for a local city bus in a residential neighborhood.

Every Google product and service is like this: a good idea, done well until about 75% of the way through, when they seem to lose interest and just release it as-is. It makes for frustrating problems; I’d actually rather have no technology at all than confusing and unreliable things. Google Maps has let us down many times on this trip, and this has been the worst.

Levoča is small, and what we found still open for dinner was a fast food place called Happy Food where we got hamburgers and fries with sparkling water. Nice to have something hot and filling after the voyage of today.

Later I checked the weather forecast online (Google again; will I ever learn?) and there was supposed to be snow falling in Levoča starting around 9 pm. I kept looking out the window, like a kid waiting for Santy Claus, but saw none. At 10:00 pm my BG had risen to 260: overcorrecting the low before the taxi and then eating fries proved too mathematically overwhelming for me.

But who can complain? I am traveling in a magical new place in northern Slovakia, after completing a giddy ride through famous Slovakian mountains on the first day of December. We’re in a lovely room, there is the promise of snow, and we have a new place to explore tomorrow.

The only question is: will I get my snow tomorrow? And if I do, will I be so excited that the “happy stress” wrecks my blood sugar? It’ll be a challenge but that’s what diabetes – and travel – are all about!

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