Bridge between two worlds

No steep slopes below Visegrad Castle, the blue tower of the picturesque town of Dürnstein, or water reflections of the majestic Esztergom cathedral. But a typical road and rail bridge, with a historical identity matching hundreds of other bridges in Europe. Yet different and exceptional, at least for me. This ordinary bridge represents a symbolic of my recent remarkable experience, the story of my last years, the bond between my seemingly distant worlds.

Two massive green metal snakes crawling side by side allowing me to cross the river so many times: the Danube bridge in Tulln, Lower Austria. Having lived in Vienna for more than five years, I realised only in the last few months that I could not even count how many times I crossed the mighty Danube thanks to this bridge. Either during the commuting between my residence in Vienna and visiting family and friends in Czechia or during the countless trips I took with my girlfriend. But this story is not about our car trips or train travels.

With each crossing, a new chapter of my story in Austria’s capital was written, another stage of my personal and professional transformation recorded in the book of my life. But behind all this there is still something more, a clash of two worlds existing in parallel on both shores. The rigidity of a small village clashing with the dynamics of a city; the liberalism of urban environment with the conservatism of rural area; the cosmopolitanism of international colleagues confronted with the provincialism of some Czech friends. Two worlds so seemingly far apart yet mingling within me.

Coming from a village near the brewing city of Pilsen in Western Bohemia, I would never have imagined that the Danube River and its surrounding region would affect me in such a profound way as it has over the past years. My involvement in the Institute for the Danube Region and Central Europe, the Danube Rectors’ Conference, the EU Strategy for the Danube Region hints the river flowed through my daily work and formed the rapids of my life sailing. But the Tulln bridge was still standing there – as a personal reminder, as a professional recapitulation, as an arbitrary reality check. It always performed its role, as befits the bridge. It connected my two worlds: the perfectly explored microcosm of my childhood and the adult world of the known unknown.

Such an intersection of two worlds has its great transformative power. It is like routinely crossing a bridge while not realising the river below moves you forward, shapes you, defines your personality, determinates your mental map. And just as a river finds its way through a rugged landscape and changes its course over time, so too does man shift with the challenges of life. Suddenly, a new bridge needs to be built. A bridge bringing another stream of experiences, a bridge guaranteeing the continuity of life’s path, a bridge connecting different realities, a bridge between two worlds.