Locked In (In Slovakia)

As a kid, I was always afraid of being locked into places. My parents still tell stories of how, while waiting in the car for my dad to shop, the store sign’s lights would flicker or a letter would burn out, and I would go crazy thinking my dad was going to get locked inside. Even worse was when I was inside the store when knowing it was closing soon. I feared being stuck in for the night. Eight year old me would have hated what was to occur in a solid stone tower in the middle of Eastern Europe.

I had been planning to take an Eastern European trip over spring break for months. I flew filled with excitement from Stuttgart to Budapest and spent the next day exploring that old beautiful city. The next day, a work friend of my dad, who just happens to be living in that area, came to Budapest to pick me up. After visiting the town where my ancestors came from in Hungary, I rode with my dad’s colleuge and her boyfriend to her home city of Košice, Slovakia. We met up that evening for genuine Slovak cuisine. Along for the night was her boyfriend and her dog, Beny. We trudged over the rustic cobblestone streets to our restaurant, which was specifically picked by my hosts for it’s amazing authentic dishes. The restaurant was built to look like a traditional Slovak house from the steepes of Eastern European While waiting, we chatted and laughed and got to know each other. Beny decided to use this time to venture into the kitchen. We enjoyed a hearty meal of a Slovak dumpling platter. My hosts explained what each dish was: perogis stuffed with cheese and potatoes, Slovakian sauerkraut, fried savory doughballs, and my favorite, dumplings smothered with melted sheep cheese. After stuffing ourselves further with poppyseed and honey dumplings for dessert (they really love their dumplings in that town), our night had still just begun. We spent the rest of the night touring the town and trying more delicious parts of Slovakian gastro culture, like local ice cream and an interesting dried plum dessert. I got back to my hotel, a quaint yet cozy inn centered in town, around one in the morning. I’ve had a long day. Collapsing into the typical narrow European bed, I didn’t even have time to think over all that had occurred before my eyes closed and I drifted into dreams.

As the morning light shone through the opened window next to my bed, I began to stir. The chirping birds and leaves rustling in the wind pulled my attention from sleep to meeting the day. After showering and getting dressed, I made my way down and into the busy street of Košice. I had a lot planned for the day, yet first in my list was visiting Saint Elizabeth Cathedral. I was told about it the night before, and how one can go up to the top of the tower. I made my way into the church, where the smell of burning incense tickled my nose. In a little office off the main hall I purchased my ticket and was led back outside to the tower. It was a tall stone pillar standing tall about the rest of Košice, with a glimmering golden roof shinning bright in the sunlight. Entering in, the coolness and dampness of the stones blocked the heat of the day. As the worker closed the door he pointed at a small sign of the inside of the door and told me to call him when I was done. He then locked the door. Although it was a little odd being locked inside, I made my way up the ancient rustic stone stairs to the top of the tower. Each stair was tilted and uneven and towards the top of the climb I felt dizzy from the instant spiral of the stairway. Yet, the climb was worth i. With the wind in my face I looked out over the beautiful city. You could see everything. Right below was the old cobble streets of Košice‘s old town, with it‘s brick and wood-trimed buildings. Further out inter distance towered the soviet-era apartment blocked, devoid of style and of color. I stayed up there for a while, taking in the moment. There I was, over eight thousand miles from home, standing above ne of the most beautiful places I have been.

Finally I started the steep descent down. I went slowly, trying not to fall and crack my head opened. I finally approached the bottom and pulled out my phone to call the number posted on the door. It was in this moment that I realized I had a problem. I tried to call, but, in a reason I still do not completely understand, my phone could not call a Slovakian number. There I was, stuck at the bottom of the stairs against the door, all alone, and with no way to reach anyone outside. I sat down on the cold steps and typed in the number again. Maybe I dialed it wrong. I was answered by the same error message I had gotten before. I tried dialing the number on WhatsApp- the Europeans really love using that app. Still, an error message. I wasn’t worried or anything. In all actuality the situation was pretty funny. I peered out of the keyhole and watched people pass nearby. I had been sitting for five or so minutes now, and still had no plan on how to get out. Figuring YouTube could help, i looked up how to dial a Slovakian number on an American phone. Following exactly what the guy in the video did, I called once more. No error message this time, but no answer either. The problem was I just wasn’t sure why it wasn’t working. I had of course entered in the country code and I had never had this issue before in my travels to other European countries. I was trying to figure out what to do when the door swung open and reveled a wave of sunlight, blinding my for the moment. My last phone call had worked, the worker just hadn’t picked up.

Walking away from the tower, I smiled, thinking about how eight years old me would have handled that situation.