Slovak in a day

The rain caught up to us. I sat on my bed staring out the wet soaked window, still in shock over the details of last night's mass shooting at Las Vegas. Everyone has left from my room, and it was barely 7am. I wasn't too surprised. From everyone I have spoken to on this trip, the consensus has been the same. One day in Bratislava, the biggest city in Slovakia, is enough. In fact, I had originally planned not to come here. But why not spend one day in the country, I thought. It's not like I might ever been in Slovakia again. In fact, had I planned this better, I would have scheduled to stay on a night when the local KHL hockey team was playing. I fellow Canadian traveller went to one. It was a riot, he said. I would expect nothing less. The KHL can be the less civilized, more rowdy version of the NHL. There are some sick talents, no doubt, but probably a lot more variation in skill levels and goon plays.

And so, this rainy Tuesday (Tuesday, is it?) is now my travel day, a nice slow intermission in my city hopping schedule. My train in Kraków leaves at 11:10am, which means plenty of time to stay in the appropriately named dreamy Dream Hostel, and get my laundry done.

But spending a day in Bratislava was well worth it (the 3 hr bus journey here was rather comfortable, which I have learned, they do quite good job of long distance bus travels here, with comfortably clean coaches and, in the case of the one I just took ran by RegioJet, even served hot coffee and water enroute along with headrest entertainment systems on each seat). Coming from the stunning city of Budapest to Bratislava, you have got to feel a little bit of a downer. This was it? Damn that castle looked hideous on the hill. The train station looked trashy. That was supposed to be the biggest in the country?

But like all sleepy smaller towns, once you walk it, they usually still have a lot of character. The old town of Bratislava was clean and well preserved, despite losing a large chunk of it over the building of a terrible looking bridge during the communist ruling era. Bratislava is like the always overlooked sibling of Prague. Word was that, when it was Czechoslovakia as a whole, the communist regime felt included to have one beautiful city (Prague), and one simply just functional one (Bratislava). There's a chip on the shoulder of the Slovaks, no doubt. But while it may not be as refined as some of the nearby worldly cities, the charm is that people simply just live here and make it work. In fact, sometimes it feels more real. Everyday modern Slovaks, living among dull looking communist buildings beside historic ones alike. It felt a little like the Eastern part of Berlin, whose chill and laid back attitude actually made me rather fell in love with it. So, Bratislava does have charm, behind its somewhat pretty-enough face.

Budapest is beautiful

Budapest is beautiful.

Budapest (pronounced BudapeSH, apparently) is beautiful. Everywhere you look, you couldn't help but tell yourself that. Budapest is beautiful.

Andrew, my other Irish roommate (Colin and I "think" his name is Andrew, but we've both felt it was well past the point of clarification with him in person..), wouldn't stop raving about the city every time he come back from his many walks.

And I do agree. The core of Budapest is very well preserved (most of which probably due to the fact that it was completely wiped out in the past and had to undergo massive rebuilds in the not too distant past). As a Unesco world heritage site, the city has limits on new buildings and definitely no sky scraper. What you have is a uniformly historic looking city center, with beautifully aged architectures in every corner, most of which isn't even an important landmark but rather just your run of the mill office building. The city is actually the combination of two cities, Buda, a hilly and affluent neighbourhood on the west bank of the Danube, and Pest (or "Pesh"), a completely flat political and cultural hub of the city. The view is greatest when you climb the hills at the Citadel or palace complex over at Buda. But if you want to roam the streets and neighbour the many outdoor plazas and cafes and Hungarian bistros and pubs, you stick to Pest, especially in the central Jewish Quarters. By day, Budapest has numerous historically important destinations for the causal tourists and historically inclined alike. By night, Budapest has no doubt solidified its reputation as one of Eastern Europe hippest party town. Pubs are plenty, clubs buzz later into the night, and sophisticated wine bars line the region like Starbucks in a Canadian City. It's low key, it's laid back. It's messy but hip, causal yet sophisticated, historic but modern enough.

I've had a blast roaming this beautiful place for the past two days with some new friends through the city's many "free" walking tours (price is by donation, basically), and pub crawls. Colin has been a fun companion both in the hostel and out in the nights. Much like the ever popular Vienna and Prague in this part of the world, Budapest is, most definitely, a wonderful world class destination, a must see if you ever venture into this part of the globe.

Onwards to Budapest

After two and half day in Slovenia, I'm off to Budapest, my prime destination this trip. But Slovenia has earned a little soft spot in my heart, particularly Ljubljana. Beautiful and mellow in its quiet charm, it had a peaceful and laid back attitude that does not intimidate and allows you to slowly take it all in. The hostel I stayed at, Hostel Tresor, was clean and nice, and extremely central to the old city. I had the pleasure of sharing a room with a lovely roommate in Adelaide, another exchange law student, this time from Belgium. Her continued comfortable presence made this temporary home warm to return to after my day trips. I will miss our soulful conversations and her gentle smile. On my last night I also met Ming, an avid marathon runner from Austin, Texas, who paid forward an earlier friendly gesture he received by treating me to a ramen dinner, in Slovenia! I promised him I will pay that forward too, on my last leg, to try to treat another traveller on a nice dinner.

The trip to Budapest was a 6-hr grinding bus ride. I had initially wished to take the train for long trips. I'm particularly fond of European train travel. But in this part of Eastern Europe, it seems that bus travel is the way to go for most connections. Had I chosen the train, I would had to ride first to Vienna, then off to Budapest, unnecessarily extending my journey many more hours. In addition, owing to my last minute trip planning, it was virtually impossible to book a train ticket online. Due to some archaic reason, after purchasing an online international train ticket, they would have to MAIL you the hard copy (either to your home or a hotel in your DESTINATION country). Needless to say, that was impossible. So I resolved to booking online bus tickets, and found the company FlixBus quite a popular and easy choice. As it turns out, it wasn't as bad as I thought. The driver made two quite prolonged rest stop, one even long enough for lunch at a pit stop restaurant. In fact, since the bus wasn't packed, it was rather comfortable. Had I been on a train, I might have had to battle for a seat and hold onto my overly unnecessarily heavy messenger bag on my lap. We arrived shortly before 7pm, and owing to the easy online instructions on how to take the metro to my hostel, it wasn't too long arriving at the comfortable of a thankfully clean, and quite lively hostel in the middle of everything one again. This time, I'm in a room with three other Irishman, one of whom, Colin, a commercial lawyer currently working in the UK (what is it with lawyers on this trip?) went out to grab a bit with me.

Coming to Budpest from Ljubljana is like leaving a small town and being dropped into the middle of a big city. Your senses are immediately over stimulated by the lights, the rush of traffic, the frequent pedestrians and weaving bicycles. In fact, it feels like Hong Kong. We roamed up and down our street, looking past the numerous burger and kebab joints in search for something more authentic that doesn't ring like a tourist trap. I get the impression that this city never sleeps. I'm going to hold off on bar crawling for another night. Tonight just going to mellow out. Budapest is hip. It's a little chaotic, a little crowded, a whole lot messy, and it seems, a ton of energy.

Sunny day in Piran

Today the sun came out. And we greeted it at the perfect setting.

Part of my plan with making Ljubljana my base is to take a few day trips to nearby cities worth checking out. On a beautiful day, Lake Bled is one of the most renowned lakes in the region, with a picturesque church on a tiny island in the middle of the lake, overlooked by a taunting Castle on top of a cliff. In the background, on a clear day, sits the Julian Alps. Of course, it wasn't a clear day when I went. So no Alps. But a gentle stroll up to the castle (didn't pay the 10E to go in...) and along the lake was quite worth the effort of the 1.5 hour bus ride to get there...

But my day trip to Piran was quite different. After days of overcast skies, the sun came out with a vengeance. I spent the day roaming around and getting lost in back alleys with an exchange law student from France, (Anais, her name was, which I had trouble pronouncing all day). Part of the joy of travelling yourself is that you meet fellow travellers and make new connections in strange places. Usually these connections are short lived. Occasionally they become lifelong Facebook background buddies. But all the time their presence became lifelong stories in my mind and fond memories of the brief encounters. Quite often, within minutes you hang like old friends, chat about all kinds of stuff and goof around like colleague buddies. And then, when your day ends, you bid each other farewell, and walk away with a warmth in your heart that is hard to ignore.

Piran was beautiful indeed. Small but beautiful, just perfect for a day long excursion. In fact, it took us a little no more than half an hour to cover the old town. A small climb to the nearby city wall grant us a postcard view of the coastal city, with red tiles and all, including the classic Venetian clock tower (a smaller version of that standing in St. Mark's square in Venice two hours across the Adriatic Sea). In fact, it seems most old towns of this coast are lined with vintage Venetian architecture, owning to over half a millennium of their ruling. Piran is wonderfully well preserved, and the rich blue sea coast gives it a very laid back easy feel. Sunbather and causal swimmers dip themselves in the somewhat cool water to soak up the last bit of pseudo-summer. Anais was smart enough to wear a bathing suit with her. I told her I thought about it, but was too lazy to pack it. I made do with sun-tanning on the edge of the sea wall dangling my feel over and diving into a small up of Italian hazelnut gelato.

It was a prefect sunny day, on a beautiful coast lined by charming old streets. It's quite worth the three hour bus ride each way to get here.

Ljubli what?

"So, why are you going to Ljubljana?", asked the border agent as I entered Europe via Zurich, wearing a somewhat surprised look on her face.

"oh, just travelling..."

"Do you know anyone there?", asked the agent, still somewhat suspicious in her glance.

"Hmm... No."

"Hmm..... How much cash do you have on?"

I paused. Leaned closer as to not announce my possessions, "well I exchanged a few hundred Euros in case I need some, but I was just assuming I could use an ATM..."

"Oh good", she quickly interrupted, looking more at ease. "You'll be alright."

"hmm..", I paused again, "should I be worried?"

She smiled and waved me through.

I walked through, slightly rattled, but more amused.

And so I embarked on my two week solo backpacking trip through four selected countries in Eastern Europe (because I had already done most of the more visited destinations a few years back with Doris and Ollie). For some reason, that trip had me yearning for more. So when I discovered I had two weeks of unplanned time off due the quirkiness of my shift schedules, I entertained a few destinations, but inside, I wanted to come explore some more. So simply based on geographical sensibility, I chose to start at Slovenia, then crossing into Budapest, then Bratislava in Slovakia, ending in a few days in Poland covering Kraków, Wroclaw, and Warsaw (because I couldn't decide which one to let go..". It shouldn't be too rush. I don't plan to do much in each city. In fact, apart from flight and hostel bookings, I hardly did any research or planned anything at all....

But before Europe, came my triple legged flight from Vancouver to Ljubljana, changing planes in Toronto and Zurich. Because of that, what would have been merely 13 hour flight became a 17+ hour journey. By the time I arrived, even though it was barely past noon, I could hardly get myself to explore my surroundings. The castle would have to wait. My earlier ambition of taking the 1.5 hour bus trip to nearby Lake Bled have vanished too. But I forced myself to drag my tired legs and sleepy eye along the lovely cobblerstones of the old town. Ljubljana was once part of the former Yugoslavia, country that dissolved shortly after I had moved to Canada. There's a distinctive romantic feel to all these old communist regime Buildings. Think scenes from some of the Bourne movies. Without the spy works and all the explosions.

But Ljubljana (apparently it's pronounced "Liubliana... Much easier if you replace the "j" with an "i".. ) feels remarkably peaceful. "Thing are changing, and every year it feels more crime," the locals would say. But in its heart it's still a relatively small country with a deep history and lots of natural wonders to offer. The people are genuinely nice and friend, the street clean and old town kept well. The weather has been a little grey, which dulled the festive mood, but you could imagine in the heat of summers thousands would flock to this little town and sit and mingle in the numerous street lined cafes by the beautiful canal. It's a little like Amsterdam, only much much smaller, and way less pot. The food is nice (seems to be focused on comfort food variety with sausages and stews and soups and potato dishes). I feel remarkably at ease wandering the streets in day or in dawn or dust, camera in hand, without my spidey senses perking up too much. Although heavily jet lagged, I managed to make up for my laziliness by bussing out to the beautiful Lake Bled the next day (marred by yet more clouds, unfortunately), the return to conquered the high riding Ljubljana castle to get a birds eye view of the city. The hostel is nice. A little too quiet for my liking. But that may not be a bad thing. My next stop, Budapest, will sure be much more of a party town, so I'll be careful what I ask for.

Another early morning rise, owe to my Jet Lagged. Off to Piran on a day trip by bus today. Reports says it's gonna be sunny. Can't wait to catch some Venetian artitecture and a glimpse of the beautiful Adriatic coast.

Funking it up on Mars.

I never really went to concerts when I was growing up. They always felt expensive, excessive, sort of a luxury that although not necessarily out of reach, but just unnecessary spending. After all, I can get my fix of their music from a CD, or nowadays, youtube or sportify. Why pay sometimes close to a hundred bucks (for the cheaper seats usually) to go to a concert and hear all the same songs?

Well, because sometimes the experience makes it really, really, worthwhile.

Bruno Mars was wonderful tonight. After the expected delay in start time (show was scheduled for 8pm, then after the opening act, Mars took almost an hour to change stage, starting the show at almost close to 9:30pm. However, once the stage emerges, it is clear why they chose to take so long (well, probably part of that delay was still simply for the effect).

The stage was one of the best I've seen yet (which, to be honest, doesn't count for a lot for a non-concert goer like me). But the numerous mobile pieces, the LED stage displays and lighting, and the intermittent pyro and fire displays made it all the more impressive.

And it was loud. Perhaps the loudest concert I've been to yet (again, small sample size, I know).

Mars and his band, the Hooligans, were funky. They were playful. They goofed. They sang. And they danced, a lot, non stop.

In fact, right from the get-go, it seemed the entire audience danced with them, all night long. I sat down for a song or two. But for the majority of goers, they didn't touch their seats at all. I almost felt guilty sitting down. Such a non-fan, I know.

Swaying, tapping, clapping. Some, dare I say it, almost looked like they were grinding.

It was a treat. Mars sang his little heart out. Sweaty like a pig. He must have went through ten towels tonight. And I loved his causal demeanor, singing in a baseball sweater and cap outfit (he didn't change outfit at all), holding on to a towel wiping away as if he was at the gym during his songs. So much for star like qualities. He was just one of us.

Some concerts makes you fall in love with the artist a little bit, or at least makes you appreciate their music more. This was one. In the past, concerts like James Blunt, Eason Chan, and Damien Rice had very similar effect.

Concerts are worth going to. Some of them at least. Sure you don't walk away with anything tangible (not even a ticket stub to hold on to these days). But the experience would last, well, long enough, if not a life time.

Fall. Get up. Keep going. There's work to be done.

I find one of the toughest thing as a doctor is to sometimes having to separate your own emotions from your task on hand. This is especially true when you are dealing with some adversity, or in some unfortunate situation, emotionally still dealing with a bad outcome with a patient, yet having to move on, because a new case await you, and you better enter the next battle with a clean slate of mind.

Every so often, you come across a case that humbles you. In fact, these often scare you to pieces. The outcome is often unexpected. Had it been more obvious, you might have caught it. But no, the body doesn't follow the textbook, and sometimes it's just hard to pick up subtle signs. With every bad outcome, there are always learning points. I keep a log, fortunately not too large of a collection, but it serves to remind me the little lessons along the way that hopefully can make me better.

But emotionally, having to deal with a miss is never easy. It consumes you. It doubts your abilities. It shatters your confidence.

Yet, without pause, you have a next patient waiting for you, expecting nothing less than your best effort, and in their mind, near perfection. Of course, one should not expect anything less naturally.

But yet, how does a warrior, in the midst of some degree of self doubt and broken confidence, go on fighting his best fight. Yet that is the task bestowed upon us. I might take a minute or two to regroup. But then I ask myself, am I ready for the fight. If I say no, I have better excuse myself from the battle. But frequently, you demand detachment from yourself. You set aside what just happened. Your reset. You motor on.

That is one of the hardest thing to learn, but yet I think most critical. It's naive to think that our past do not factor into our future decision making. Would we become overly cautious now? And work up everything. Would I question every grey area, but that would cripple me as an effective decision maker. My more senior colleagues would remind me, that we work in a high risk area, and that bad things happen. We try our best to minimize it, but we cannot let them consume us.

Best practices come in many forms. It's up to each one of us to decide what is our standard. But at every junction, I guess the only way forward, is to keep trying my best. To have no regrets, to feel I have done what I can do at the moment for each case, and then wipe my mind clean, and move on.

Patients are waiting. Things have to get done. You do the best you can.