Autumn Leaves

If instantaneous time travel were a reality, I would go back to the United States this weekend. Perhaps I would drop into Denver and catch the Broncos game. Peyton Manning lives there now, and I live in Bratislava. Who saw that coming? 

Or I might swing into a university town–maybe East Lansing–to catch my alma mater’s football game. We would tailgate and barbecue and sing our fight song obnoxiously loud. The university structure in the United States, and the sub-culture which wraps around it, is unique. Each fall it springs back to life. After the game, we might stop by a farm stand and pick up apples and maybe a jug of cider and freshly made donuts. 

My grandmother used to burn leaves in the fall. On a cold day, she wrapped up in her tweed wool “leaf burning coat”. We lived next door. As that first scent of burning leaves wafted through the window, I would fly out the door to join her. She stood next to a tall metal drum poking the leaves down with a long stick. Her cigarette, dangling precariously off the edge of her lower lip, bobbed as she talked to me. As we huddled together, sparks crackled and smoke blew into our faces. I love the smell of fall air, especially when it’s tinged with burning leaves.

The dog days of summer are finally gone. The hills are  golden and red. As autumn comes to an end, families will gather and eat turkey, clutch full bellies, and watch football games on TV. Politics will be debated, and then each person will share what they’re most thankful for during the past year. 

For me, these autumn traditions define us as Americans.

Slovakia has its own traditions. I’m sure a Slovak in America would yearn for home right about now. During the harvest season, the Slovaks celebrate with a goose festival. Goose, along with the fixings of red cabbage and potato pancakes, is ubiquitous. Restaurants dust off their goose feast advertisements in September.

Fall Festival in Modra

Although it runs for several weeks, my friends tell me that they eat goose just once and traditionally on the weekend of their village wine festival. Wine-making is a centuries old remnant of the German and Roman influences on this region. The wine towns dotting the nearby lower Carpathians each have a wine festival weekend. 

Last week, Pezinok celebrated their festival and before that, Raca and Modra. Neighbors and friends join together to turn grapes from their modest backyard arbors into a few hundred bottles of wine. The wine will be enjoyed during future holidays or shared with friends as Christmas gifts.

Under the thin veneer of difference, we increasingly recognize our similarities. Family, friends, wine, songs, games, dance and food made from traditional family recipes all live at our core.

Backyard Vineyards in Pezinock

This fall, I am here in Bratislava. Tonight, we will go to St. Martin’s Cathedral to hear the Bratislava Boys Choir sing. I’ll grab a jacket against the increasing chill. We’ll stroll home through Old Town and probably stop someplace for a glass of wine. We will know the waiter, and he will greet us as if we are old friends. We will catch up in broken, noun rich English. When we get home, we will watch college football late into the night. 

And next week, we will celebrate the season with a goose feast.

Autumn at the old railway bridge

Categories: Insiders Bratislava

Tags: Bratislava, goose feast, modra, pezinok, Slovakia wine festivals, traditions of autumn, US expats