By Caroline Hurry

To be honest, I had a few reservations about visiting Bratislava. My husband, Peter, swore it was a vibrant European city, but the name sounded a bit - I dunno - pork knuckle and dumpling.

I envisaged pock-marked cement apartment blocks and thick-ankled women in headscarves trading turnips and wondering how their lives might have been if the Russians hadn't won the war.

"That James Bond movie, Die Another Day, was filmed there," added Pete, well aware of my penchant for Pierce Brosnan. That settled it, then.

Situated at Slovakia's western edge, a short distance from Austria, Hungary and the Czech Republic, Bratislava turned out to be a pleasant surprise.

While unsightly Soviet-style cement blocks do indeed disfigure the southern outskirts, the rest of the city on the northern banks of the Danube is a medieval delight of stuccoed walls and onion domes huddled beneath the brooding Bratislava Castle on the hill.

The four-towered castle dates back to the 11th century before the Habsburgs gave it a facelift in the 1600s. Then drunken Austrian soldiers burnt it down in May 1811 and it was reconstructed in the 1950s.

A climb to this impressive fortress through winding streets and ramparts affords a sweeping panorama over the red-tiled rooftops of the old town, dominated by the Gothic St Martin's Cathedral, and across the river to Bratislava's high-rise suburbs. Such varied architecture attests to the city's turbulent past.

Nine hundred years of Hungarian rule resulted in the city's stylish monuments, which is a lot more than you can say for Slovakia's subsequent association with its Czech neighbour.

Marrying in 1918 to form Czechoslovakia under Soviet allegiance, the Slovaks and Czechs parted ways in the peaceful "velvet divorce" of 1993, four years after communism collapsed.

A fresh breeze blew off the Danube as we strolled past the ruins of an old Roman settlement in the castle's gardens and found the statue of Elizabeth, daughter of the Hungarian King Ondrej, who was born in Bratislava Castle in 1207.

At 14 she married the Landgrave of Thuringia, Ludvig IV, and went to live in the Wartburg castle, near Eisenach. Ludwig joined the Crusaders and died in 1227.

On hearing the sad news, Elizabeth's brother-in-law showed his support by promptly turfing her out of Wartburg Castle in midwinter, with a baby at her breast.

Like Princess Diana who fled the confines of a dysfunctional family to counsel the sick and dying, Elizabeth renounced royal life to devote her energies to the poor and hungry.

Legend says the lovely Liz could turn loaves into roses, which must have made her popular at parties. I would have thought the hungry might have preferred fish, but then I'm not a Catholic.

Elizabeth was canonised in 1235 and Bratislava's Blue Church - designed by Odon Lechner, who is to Budapest what Gaud’ is to Barcelona - was built in her honour.

With all its rounded edges, decorative swirls and blue glazed tiles, it looks more like a wedding cake than a place of worship. It's certainly the right place for roses.

Little remains of Bratislava's city wall but an original gateway St Michael's Tower - dominates the old town, its graceful baroque spire reaching more than 50 metres into the sky. The tower contains an exhibition of weapons, but the main reason to venture inside is to climb up to its viewing platform for another superb vista.

From here, the occasional dilapidated dwelling can be seen amid all the restored finery, hinting at harsher times, now hard to imagine, as I sip a reflective espresso in one of the cosmopolitan cafes lining the pedestrian, cobbled streets below.

My café overlooks the main square, Hlavne Namestie, where the old town hall's patterned, tiled roof invites further exploration of its inner courtyard and the medieval torture instruments on display in the dungeons.

Within its yellow tower is a cannonball dispatched by Napoleon's troops in 1809. Even shooting from across the Danube they managed to hit the central square. A statue of a Napoleonic soldier leans over a bench smiling at the city he once helped destroy.

Beneath him snores an oblivious tourist, no doubt worn out by his wife's appetite for bargains from the many kiosks selling dolls, glassware, pottery and other souvenirs. Shopping here is sheer pleasure.

South of Hlavne Namestie on the corner of Panska and Rybarska streets, Cumil, a life-size statue, sticks his head out of a manhole. Some claim Cumil led an underground movement fighting Soviet invasion, others say he hid in the sewers during the World War II bombing, but probably he's just a guy who likes to look up women's skirts.

Bratislava is full of quirky statues such as the goateed, smiling man waving his top hat at passing pedestrians. His name was Handsome Ignatius (or Schone Nazi) and he was locally famous for strolling the Korzo (town promenade).

His jolly expression belies a personal loss from which he never recovered. His fiancée died after being deported to a Nazi concentration camp during World War II and Ignatius never tried to marry again. He simply ate cakes in the cafés, raised his hat to the ladies and died a lonely man.

Pete's favourite statue was the photographer outside Papparazzi, which also happened to be his favourite restaurant. I preferred Caribi but really, when it came to fine dining we were spoilt for choice.

We tried seven different eateries without once being disappointed, more than we could say for nearby Vienna, where meals did not always justify their steep prices. Bratislavan fare was far superior at a fraction of the cost.

Early evenings with stars out against a violet sky, we meandered up Hviezdoslavovo Namestie, named after Slovakia's most revered writer. Quill in hand, his impressive statue dominates a square that is alive with spring tulips and beautiful people.

Bratislavan women are particularly well groomed and chic. Indeed, the only woman I found wearing a headscarf turned out to be a delightful old Gypsy selling dried herbs at a local market.

East of Hviezdoslavovo Namestie is the beautifully restored Slovak National Theatre dating back to 1776, which offers drama, ballet and opera. The bronze Ganymede fountain in front depicts the eponymous Trojan youth being abducted by Zeus disguised as an eagle.

In fact, Ganymede looks perfectly happy on the bird's back, bizarrely raising up a bowl that might or might not contain tidbits for the ride.

Also worth visiting is the 18th-century Primate's Palace, painted pastel pink and topped by a cast-iron archbishop's hat to honour its first occupant, the head of the Hungarian Church.

The palace houses an array of 17th-century tapestries but its star attraction is its Hall of Mirrors, where Napoleon signed the Treaty of Pressburg (Bratislava's former name) with the Austrian emperor Franz II in 1805, following the Battle of Austerlitz, in which the French sent the Austrian and Russian armies packing.

A 20-minute drive from Bratislava takes one to Devin Castle, dating back to 864. The ruins perch on an incline overlooking the confluence of the Danube and Morava rivers.

Here, the virgin tower marks the spot where the young widow Margareth jumped into the icy Danube and drowned rather than live without her beloved Mikulas, then lord of Devin castle, who was killed in an unfair fight shortly after their wedding.

Another spectacular old ruin is Spis Castle, about six kilometres from Levoca in eastern Slovakia. A fortress built by Hungarian kings in the 1100s, it burned down in 1780 but remains one of the most intriguing monuments in Slovakia.

Daunting when viewed from the roadside, the interior is equally fascinating. There is a display of torture instruments and a museum, not to mention a stunning view of the surrounding snow-capped mountains.

A destination that offers both a quintessential European experience and great value for money, Slovakia is hard to beat.

• This article was originally published on page 14 of The Star on May 21, 2005