I think it reached the UK media that Slovakia rolled out nationwide coronavirus testing over the Hallowe’en weekend. It’s been quite exciting seeing the news reports pop up, so I thought I’d focus this post on our experience as two new residents taking part.

To set the scene somewhat, even after more than three months in Slovakia neither Guido nor I have a particularly advanced level of Slovak. Guido’s is unarguably more advanced, not least due to proper lessons through his employer, but I cannot pin the difference entirely on this: I’ve not taken to the language as much as him, and so my progress has essentially halted. I have a smattering of basic vocabulary, a theoretical understanding of grammar (eg. Nouns decline in at least 6 cases, but their endings I couldn’t tell you), and enough pleasantries to be polite at my local supermarket; but since this is the extent to which I get to use my Slovak, it also is the extent of my Slovak.

All of this is to say that we rely heavily on friends and (Guido’s) colleagues for drip-feed updates on restrictions and lockdowns, so please consider the following through the somewhat hazy lens of similar-but-different accounts and Google-translated articles.

A few weeks back (October 23^rd), I remember Guido was given the afternoon off work in light of an imminent curfew. We hadn’t much warning of the intensive restrictions, and with slightly barren shelves we decided to use the extra time to pay a visit to Kaufland, our nearest megastore, since it would be a few weeks before we were allowed to visit again. As far as we understood, only our very nearest shop (Lidl) would be allowed – even our nearest park was probably off limits.

What can I say, except that everyone had clearly had the same brilliant idea. I saw no sign of panic (excluding one rather shouty man), but the fresh produce shelves were all-but stripped by sheer volume of customers. I didn’t see any full carts, or maddened shoppers lugging apocalypse rations to their cars – actually, the exact opposite: like us, almost everyone there was leaving with dainty little bags of the most random things: three individual cans of beer, or pickled-something in two tiny jars. We were no different, sporting a few boxes of vegan meat and two half-carrots from the bottom of the crate. It really was only the fresh stuff that was gone; the rest of the store (and there is a lot of it) was full as ever.

Regardless, it meant our shop was slightly less successful than planned, as we were now resigned to a week of frozen spinach and mixed veg for fibre (plus our two half-carrots). As we wandered home along the canal, the sky grew dark and a mist rolled in, obscuring the drooping Sun (not long after 3pm). Back home, with a cup of tea, we saw an unusual red glow from the foggy main roads as what must have been half of Bratislava made a dash for the country. This is an actual thing – we’ve noticed in the blocks across from us a distinct lack of occupation at weekends. Anyone with family outside the city seems to make an almost weekly visit: faced with a lockdown, they’d rather be with relatives.

Testing Time(s)

During the following week we became aware of the planned testing the following weekend (Hallowe’en!), and essentially a choice: test negative, and enjoy a regular lockdown (no gathering, only essential shopping and walks in nature); test positive (or decline to get tested), and strictly isolate for a fortnight.

For us, working from home, there really wasn’t much in it – we occasionally visit a nearby park, and beyond our closest shop, the only place we really frequent is the Kaufland a few miles away. But even then, given the choice, I’d rather be able to go for walks and stretch my legs, so we decided that (for the sake of a few hours), we might as well do it.

We decided to go first-thing on Saturday, and used the provided materials to find a suitable testing site behind our local Lidl. Traversing an alley between the store and a church, we approached a seeming mass of people that resolved into two queues, either side of the path, facing opposite directions. Not entirely sure what the distinction was, we picked that with an end closest to us and got in line. It can’t have been half an hour before they started to move, and it became apparent that each led to a different test site (queues coincidentally overlapping). We followed ours through (I guess) a side gate of the school, enjoying a double rainbow over the Old City, and up to the gymnasium steps to a registration centre. I think arrival to here took around 90 minutes.

This was the part about which I was most nervous, and while I fumbled for my various IDs, it became apparent that they were not about to ask any difficult questions and really just needed my passport photo page for a few details. Thinking back, it was a bit mean of Guido to make me go first, with my extremely limited linguistic abilities. But that’s besides the point – the test itself was taken at the far end of the hall, much the same as before (less the throat swab), then we were given a raffle ticket for collecting results (why is it always raffle tickets?) and ushered outside.

On the other side of the school, we stood huddled against the cold with everyone else, penned in from anyone else who might come wandering by. In the absence of a queue, I realised that we didn’t know who’d come before us, so we had little way of knowing when it was our turn. We shuffled gradually to the front by comparing raffle tickets (a constant stream of people collecting their results ahead of us), and eventually we had our results: negative. Sweet. We got a tub of ice cream from Lidl on the way home to celebrate.

—TJC