A common conversation I’ve had with folks back home lately:

“I’m now headed to Bratislava.”

“Brati-what? Where in the world is that? I’ve never heard of it.”

Well, my little geography students, Bratislava happens to be the capital of the fairly newish country of Slovakia. We all remember being back in school learning about a country far, far away called Czechoslovakia? Although, I’m hesitant to say that as a kid I pronounced it ‘Checkle-slovakia.’ Well, the second half of the compound word finally declared its independence after the Velvet Revolution of 1989 and a new nation was born.

Bratislava is often overshadowed by its much larger, much more touristed ‘step-brother,’ Prague. But, I’d been to the jewel of the Czech Republic and had heard that Bratislava was just as lovely, but with less crowds and even lower prices. Bratislava is great. It is another one of those places that forces me to walk around its cobblestone, medieval pedestrian-only old quarter with a bit of a smitten grin plastered across my face. Not only is it charmingly filled with story-book castles and towers and some amazing gothic and baroque architecture, there is a great artistic cultured feel to this town.

The streets brim with colorful cafes, museums, theaters, and art. It’s summertime so there are outdoor concerts nearly every night wafting the sounds of Jazz and even Latino beats through the echoey centuries old cavernous lanes. There are these fun whimsical life-size Bronze statues at every turn—‘the Frenchman,’ ‘The Peeper,’ and ‘The Photographer.’ I can tell I’m in Europe again—there’s an artsy creative feel to these cities that seem to give them a progressive edge over many American cities. Although Millennium Park in Chicago is one place that comes to mind that always reminded me of something I’d find in Europe. The plazas and lanes here burst with life and public art mixes with form and nature. After 7pm, families come out with their kids for a refreshing gelato treat, lovers nuzzle and purr into each others ears on benches lining the park, girlfriends laugh and chat over a glass of wine, and the tourists snap happy photos of this fairy tale scene that is real life Slovak-style.

Something hard not to notice here–the people are all beautiful. I have to say, so far on my trip, these are the most gorgeous women, as a group, that I’ve encountered. Of course, I’ve seen pretty Asians, Australians, Argentineans, and Emiratis (at least their eyes were amazing), but the majority of the gals I pass here could all be walking right off the runway of a fashion show. You know them as all the eastern European models on the pages of the fashion mags: extremely tall with legs up to their neck, thin, and nearly perfect.

Another sign I’m in Eastern Europe? Beer is the breakfast of choice here with many locals. Every morning I would undoubtedly see guys hanging out at cafes way before noon with a couple pints of lager and a cigarette. I like to do as the locals do, but I still prefer a latte and maybe some eggs over easy. Or a bagel—something else Slovakia has. I haven’t seen one of these since…hmmm….maybe Australia, but I honestly don’t recall any there either.

The one odd thing that stands out amidst the scene of medieval delight–besides the rows and rows of communist apartment buildings just on the ‘other’ side of town and the Soviet super highway that was built right through the old Jewish quarter destroying dozens of old buildings in its path —is the local McDonald’s. But even it is brimming with life under the umbrellas on its alfresco ‘McCafe.’ And even this little slice of America somehow, if it’s possible, takes on an air of European charm.