Levoča is a walled medieval town about 30 minutes from Spišský Hrad. It came as a pleasant surprise to both of us (especially Michael) after the run down-ness of Spišský Podrady. We were just in time to walk around the well-preserved, clean, renaissance-quaint main square. We choose a hotel (recommended also by the book) – which proved to be our nicest and favorite of the trip.
Hotel Satel *** was on the main square . It had a nice courtyard we had to walk through to get to our room. The rooms were very large – suite style. They had parquet floors, hard wood detail, peach curtains and sofas. There were chairs, three twin beds, sloping ceiling, plants, minibar, and wardrobe. It was a very pleasant place!
Our meal also ended up to be the best here: I had two glasses of red Slovak wine; Michael had two Pilsners; we each had Mineral Wasser; soups as appetizers (I had a great cream of broccoli soup, Michael – Slovak garlic soup); Pirogy; I had a turkey and veggie dish; he had some meat and potatoes dish. It came to not much, about $10 each, including a big tip. Oh, and we each had a nite cap (I had Bailey’s and he had Becherovka) as they wouldn’t let us order Palatschinken.
Wednesday we got around too late and couldn’t receive breakfast at 9:45, even though it went from 7:00-10:00. (We were also the last ones to leave the hotel restaurant last night.) It was quite perturbing to Michael. I however, was not bothered too much. We walked about the town’s main square, and ended up at the “Three Apostles” restaurant. Ich habe auf Palatschinken und zwei Cappuccino gefrustuckt. Michael auf wierschedened Wiener austellung.
After feeding, we toured the Museum of Master Pavol of Levoča, including, but not limited to an English video and some nice replicas of his work. Which was good, especially since we were not able to get into the church housing his alters, the highest in the world. Gothic, made out of wood, and 18 meters tall.
We toured the back streets of Levoča, saw “the cage of shame” and old town castle walls. Then we boarded a bus for Kezmarok, by way of Poprad. Poprad, which I’ve been through on the train, is an ugly chimney-spewing-black-smoke, industrial town, only good for it’s convenient hub to the High Tatras.
This is an excerpt from my Kosice Journal, documenting my exodus from a (relatively happy) bustling life in beautiful San Diego, to (voluntarily) take a post teaching English in the newly independent eastern capital of Slovakia during a very cold winter 1999.
