intramaweb.com/.

I finally found my notebook! Now I just need to find some time to type up my notes from Slovakia, but not before I decypher the data which I transcribed in an encrypted form, the security of which rivals AES - my handwriting!

It is my hope that the long weekend will offer a suitable opportunity, but competing for my time will be my attempts to learn Polish. The results so far have been somewhat pitiful but I've only just begun.

If, with the assistance of Mr Friendly Polish Lodger, by the time I jet off to Krakow in May, I'm able to say a handful of things in badly spoken Polish to the folks I meet over there, I'll be very happy. No doubt most of the inhabitants of Poland's tourism capital will speak pretty good English... but hopefully I find one or two people who will at least humour me!

http://xkcd.com/327/ - a cautionary tale for any school with a student database application that doesn't sanitise input data.

PS I've lost my note book with my diary from Slovakia so I can't post the rest of my notes about my trip here until I find it.

N.B. Follows on from last post...

After a 2 hour and 20 minute flight, I disembarked from the Boeing 737-700 that carried my fellow passengers and me from Birmingham over Europe directly to Bratislava. We boarded a bus, which when fully loaded took us the entire 20 yards or so to the airport itself.

Walking straight through the baggage hall, I was grateful that I'd decided to take only hand luggage. I passed the custom stand and was the first to emerge into the arrivals lounge. A further 10 yards and I was standing outside the airport breathing the cool Slovak air, ready for my mini escapade to begin.

I was surprised at how nervous I found myself when I tried my first bit of Slovak on a real live Slovak taxi driver by asking how much it would be to my hotel. "Kolko to bude stat' do Hotel Kyjev?" I asked.

In retrospect, it seems a little strange that I asked in Slovak when I haven't really got a handle on the numbers, though they're similar to Russian which I have a passing familiarity with from my trip to Ukraine in 2005.

The taxi driver replied with a rambling, unbroken, rapid sentence, not one word of which I managed to identify! Time for my next phrase, "Prepáčte, nerozumiem. Hovoríte po anglicky?" (Sorry, I don't understand. Do you speak English?)

Of course he doesn't! He continues in Slovak for a while, then he says "Fourty" in his gruff accent, holding up four fingers. Doubting very much that my 5 mile journey will cost only 40 SK (less than £1), I nod anyway, put my bag in the back of his car and climb in.

The taxi driver seems friendly and he tries to engage me in further conversation. "Prepáčte, nerozumiem," I repeat. Then I add "Nehovorím po slovensky." (I don't speak Slovak.) He shrugs and makes what sounds like a "suit yourself" sort of a grunt.

I can't be sure, but I wonder if my several evenings spent listening to the audio clips on the BBC website over and over again, repeating Slovak phrases aloud, has afforded me the ability to speak the handful of words it covers with an accent that sounds a little better than what can usually be expected from visitors with no real Slovak language ability to speak of.

Wanting to show I'm not just unwilling, I offer another sentence. This one I have to look up and I'm not so sure of the pronunciation. "Som tu na dovolenke na jeden dni." (I'm here on holiday for one day.) The taxi driver replies but I'm not sure if he's heard and understood me so I repeat myself. From the words and gestures that follow, it's my best guess that he understood me but that he's trying to correct a mistake. Something to do with the gender or tense in the way I said "one day".... I think.

The rest of the journey is conducted in silence. When we arrive at the hotel, the meter reads 372 SK and I can't help wondering if I've we've been round the houses to get to the hotel. Nonetheless, I had over 1,000 SK and ask for 600 back.

Hotel Kyjev is nicer than I was expecting after reading reviews online. Yes, it's not quite as well maintained as it could be - a cracked bathroom tile here, a slightly rusty sink fitting there - but it's warm, clean, dry, cheap, excellently positioned in the Old Town, with nice staff and great breakfasts.

There's something surreal about travelling to Slovakia, walking out of a 15 floor hotel redolent of the communist era, turning the corner and walking into Tesco. I needed razors as I'd not brought any, assuming any attempt to get through airport security with razors in my hand luggage would be ill advised. Tesco was handily positioned to supply me with just what I needed. Three minutes from my hotel room door to door, in fact.

As I walked back into the hotel, the concierge looked at me and said "Dobrý večer." (Good evening.) "Uh oh," I thought, "he's talking to me! I can't speak Slovak! I don't know what to do!" I'd almost passed him by the time my mini panic attack had subsided and given way to the realisation that I both understood what he'd said and knew how to respond. "Dobrý večer," I said sheepishly, as the sight of the concierge disappeared over my left shoulder. I don't know if he heard me.

Back in my hotel room, I quickly shaved, put on some eczema cream, faffed with my hair and changed my jumper for a coat. It wasn't that the weather was too cold for me with only my jumper on - I warm up very quickly when I'm walking. However, I'd noticed that everyone else in Bratislava seemed to be wrapped up warm and I didn't want to stand out like a sore thumb if I could possibly avoid it.

I took my glasses, camera, phrase book, map, keys and cream and headed back downstairs. Passing the concierge on the way out, I quickened my step and managed to avoid his attention whilst he attended another guest.

Not surprisingly, I felt a little excited leaving my hotel behind for the evening and walking out into Bratislava. I was on my own in a place I knew little about and my brief adventure was about to begin.

The charm of the Old Town about which I'd read was accented by the warm glow of the elegant Christmas illuminations, which added light and colour to the pedestrianised area by night. Walking through the beautiful streets, I began to get an idea of the scale of the map I'd printed off the internet and which I was now following.

"'Charming' really is the best word for the Old Town," I though. There was something about it that made me thing of the Shambles in York, England. Totally different in style, size and character, I think it was their endearing quaintness that linked them in my mind.

Passing various bars and restaurants, a number of which I'd marked on my map prior to leaving England, I began to grow anxious. Where should I eat? There were a couple of places whose prices seemed very reasonable but I wasn't confident I'd manage to order something I'd really relish. The menus of some other places looked quite attractive but the prices would have stretched my budget a bit.

I was still undecided about where to eat when I arrived at Hviezdoslavovo Námestie, signalling the completion of my planned route through the Old Town on foot. The square is named after Hviezdoslav, the pen name of Pavol Országh, regarded as the most important Slovak poet to have lived. One end begins at the north end of Nový Most bridge over the Danube, near Bratislava castle. It extends east toward the centre of the Old Town, where the Slavok National Theatre (Slovenské Národné Divaldo) sits, opposite a statue of the square's namesake. Along it rest several bars, cafe's restaurants and various other establishments including the US embassy, the SAS Radisson hotel and the Academy of Fine Arts and Design.

Looking at my map, I saw how close I was and decided to walk across Nový Most to take a closer look at the "UFO" observation deck and find Leberfinger, a restaurant that came well recommended and was where I was planning to take my friend Karin for lunch the following day when she came to pick up and whisk me off to Austria.

I was glad to be able to get a couple of half decent photos of the "UFO" by resting my camera against various stationary objects in lieu of my tripos, which I'd absentmindedly left at my hotel.

To be continued...