Port Report from Bratislava

It's easy to get through the control gate at Bratislava port, the porter's booth hasn't been used for years. Only the guardrails are a reminder of the former workers' entrance. Cars parked next to the buildings - their owners enter with a magnetic card - show the present.

Built between 1897 and 1907, the double-pool winter harbour, which later became the pride of the first Czechoslovak Republic, is now in need of renovation. It could, of course, be more accurately described as closure and demolition.

One only needs to glance at the huge contrast between the harbour, which is still in use (and which seems to keep the boats in good order), and its cosmopolitan dreamland surroundings. If it is true of Budapest that it tries to appear bigger than itself, it is doubly true of Bratislava. The industrial town behind the port has seen tower blocks rise from the ground over the past decade. Some of them are Singaporean leaning, London ovoid and seem like the successors of the late socialist flattened office blocks. Some are clustered in groups, others stand alone as a single signpost.

At night, coloured stripes of light run along the facades, so that their dancing can be seen from Bratislava Castle.

As American as this may seem, it is not. Even when it comes to building skyscrapers, the locals stick to the rules, so they're almost all the same height. And the green space between the giants is a surprisingly welcoming urban space.

At the foot of the skyscrapers, the warehouses of the port are strung out like the old rows of condemned Old Town houses next to the first panels. At a glance, it is difficult to tell which are still in use and which are not. The listed house of the sailors (Starý dom lodníkov, Július Lehocký, 1940-1942) is one of the latter. It is a modernist building, but in a slightly more popular style than the main hall. The rounded side façade, reminiscent of a ship, and the 'stern' above the roof are architectural expressions that are easy to grasp. Its entrance is shaded by substantial pine trees.

They are a sight to behold, but also an ominous sign that they will be the first victims of the future redevelopment.

The port is still alive and well, despite the abandoned buildings. I close my eyes, because the industrial landscape has not only a sight, but also a sound. The engine of a push boat whirs twice, then its huge load sloshes towards its destination, making tiny waves. From the other side of the basin, the rhythmic clatter of locomotive whistles and freight wagons can be heard. These are the great, one might say celebratory sounds. Next to me, however, there is a constant clatter that almost dictates the rhythm: the grabs against the cargo, the rattle of metal ropes, the turning of the Ganz crane, the rattle of ropes again, and then the fast spinning drumbeat of the cargo as it is unloaded over the ship. A crow caws angrily. There are no seagulls, no pigeons - if from nowhere else, this is how you know they don't load grain here. I move closer to the blackened hills beneath the crane. I am surprised to find that they are not coal but rattling iron balls. Of course you could have known this from a distance, as the coal would have painted the area black.

When the winter harbour was born in the 1900s, it was impossible to imagine the river bank without coal. Despite competition from the railways, steamships were still thriving. But despite - or perhaps because of - the economic dreams, ports have always had to be redesigned. No sooner had the winter basins for the safe storage of ships been completed than the idea of converting the whole area into an industrial port was mooted. This was finally done during the First Czechoslovak Republic.

The Bratislava shipping scene was in its heyday as it sought to replace Vienna and Budapest. Warehouses were built, twenty-three kilometres of railway track were laid and cranes were put into service.

On the initiative of the Hungarian-speaking economist and politician Kornel Stodola (1866-1946), the annual international fair called the Danube or Eastern Markets (Mezinárodni Dunajský Veletrh) was held from 1921 onwards, with the express purpose of positioning Czechoslovak trade towards the eastern regions of the Danube. In the same decades, the coal-based economy began to shift to crude oil. Until the Second World War, the new raw materials were typically transported by tanker. The economic role of ports is reflected in the destruction caused by the war, which was similar to that caused to rail infrastructure. Under Soviet rule, the Danube regained its strategic role, which was reflected in the opening of the new basin east of the city (Prístav Pálenisko) in the 1970s. No doubt, if the city continues to expand at the current rate, in a few decades' time there will be a need to redevelop it.