England in the Rearview: Hello, Central Europe!
Every year, countless individuals journey across the Atlantic from the Americas. They seek new life opportunities, whether it's a better education, a rich cultural exchange, exciting adventures, language acquisition, visits to fairytale-like destinations, or simply love. For those of us who have made the transatlantic move, we continue to return to the place we now regard as our second home.
We are all susceptible to judgments and stereotypes, whether they stem from media exposure or a brief encounter with an unfamiliar culture. These biases often result from adopting mindsets that were never truly our own.
The first time I ever encountered the name "Slovakia"—back then, still part of "Czechoslovakia"—was in a National Geographic magazine that I still hold dear. It happened purely by accident. At the time, I was a teenager obsessed with sharks, a wannabe marine biologist, and the cover naturally featured a massive shark. I discovered that particular issue tucked away in the sea of yellow-spined magazines my grandfather collected.
Still, back then, I was much more captivated by the reading material on Jaws, different shark species, and photographs of great whites menacing divers in cages. Consequently, Czechoslovakia faded into the background of my thoughts. I didn't encounter the name, or anything close to it, until 2004.
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I've always been drawn to scary movies and thrillers for the adrenaline, even though I'm a total coward when the credits roll. I usually end up covering my ears and eyes, followed by two weeks of sleepless nights—but I still crave the thrill. This is exactly what happened when I watched Hostel in the cinema. That movie was truly gruesome and, unfortunately for Slovakia, incredibly influential.
The film portrayed the country as a land of the world's most beautiful women (which, in fairness, is largely true) but also, controversially, as a lawless playground of foreigner-haters. In retrospect, the script was a terrible slander against the nation. Today, it reminds me of the unfair anti-Mexican sentiments and prejudices often portrayed in media.
But reality has a way of shattering Hollywood fiction. During a 2004 trip touring England, I unexpectedly met two Slovak girls, Slavka and Martina. They were impressed that a Mexican actually knew where Slovakia was on a map, and despite our age differences, we instantly connected over shared interests in travel, Spanish, and music
When the time came for them to head home, they extended an invitation to me and my American friend, Amber. Amber had also recently met Martin, a friend of the girls, who echoed the invitation. We were both incredibly excited, but a tiny, apprehensive voice in our heads immediately whispered: remember that terrible movie.
That eerie feeling quickly vanished the moment we looked up ticket prices. A round-trip from London to Bratislava on Ryanair was a mere 19 euros. Heck yeah! We were absolutely going. Looking back, I truly miss making those spontaneous, reckless decisions. I find it so much harder to make them nowadays!
We joked about it before boarding, teasing each other with, "What if they're just lures to kidnap us?" But we laughed it off and set a rule: "If anything looks strange, we'll give each other the signal and run!"
Slovakia was never a place I imagined visiting in my younger years. When people talked about European travel, the usual suspects came up: Italy, France, England, or Scandinavia. Slovakia sounded remarkably remote. And it is—especially if you consider its second-largest city, Košice. Located in the far east of the country, Košice sits right near the convergence of Hungary, Ukraine, and Poland. That was our ultimate destination.
Our arrival in Bratislava was brief; we barely had time to see the city before Martin and his friends met us at the station. We boarded a train bound east, stepping off at Štrba, where Martin had a flat. Our friend Slavka was waiting for us there, and that became our base camp. The plan for the following day was simple: witness the magnificent Tatra Mountains.
The trip was fantastic from the jump. I have distinct memories of that first night, primarily because we got a little drunk. I learned to drink "Slovak-style," which involved using beer as a chaser—a technique my stomach failed to master! Despite the hangover, I clearly remember gazing up at the sky later that night. The stars were unbelievably bright, and the firmament felt immense. I had never seen a sky so completely free of light pollution.
The next day, I got my first real glimpse of the Tatras. Given that I lacked the natural hiking expertise common among most Slovaks—and definitely didn't bring the proper footwear—we opted for a straightforward path. I ended up staying with Slavka at a cottage in Popradské Pleso, a breathtaking area surrounding a crystal-clear glacial lake, while the rest of the crew continued their steep ascent up the peaks.
After our mountain excursion, we finally headed to Košice. At first, I couldn't even pronounce the city's name (I intend to write a separate, detailed guide dedicated to this underrated spot later). Despite its understated profile and remote setting, Košice is an absolute historical gem. I have always been drawn to medieval, Gothic architecture, so it didn't take much to convince me to explore. While I can't claim it was love at first sight, the city quickly cast its spell on me. The city’s historic soul is practically electric, palpable on almost every street corner.
Given my long-standing attraction to all things gothic—the music, the fashion, the literature—it was no surprise that I fell hard for the central cathedral. Dóm svätej Alžbety (St. Elisabeth’s Cathedral) holds the proud distinction of being Europe's easternmost French-style Gothic cathedral. Beyond this architectural marvel, the historical city center is utterly charming, mapping out a picturesque labyrinth of cobbled streets and pastel-colored buildings.
Past the cathedral, the view takes a sharp, metallic turn. A steel dragon now haunts the main street, adding a layer of dark magic to the old-world aesthetic. Standing under its shadow, I smiled to myself: 'This is the place.'
The lifestyle here was a major revelation. Despite being roughly the size of my hometown, Košice offers a vast cultural landscape: museums, underground venues, pubs, indie restaurants, and surrounding rolling hills perfect for running. Most importantly, it felt profoundly safe. People of all ages were out late into the night, laughing, drinking, eating, and genuinely enjoying life—a welcome, peaceful contrast to the constant vigilance required back home in Mexico.
I felt a need to be part of this world. It was the escape I’d been craving—a way to distance myself from the family chaos back home and find some breathing room. I could go on about Košice forever, but I’ll keep this introduction brief: what started as a temporary getaway became my second home. I’ve spent the better part of a decade living here on and off, and even now, the city calls me back every single year. I’ll be diving into the grittier, deeper details of that decade in future posts, but for now, consider this a glimpse into the place that changed my entire trajectory.
It’s easy to let the world's biases color your view, but nothing beats firsthand experience. Go explore, stay smart, and keep an open mind—otherwise, you might miss your own 'Košice.' I never dreamed this city would become the centerpiece of my life, but look at me now.
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