A day late, a buck short (Newcastle upon Tyne to Swansea)

Hitchhiking was too far, the train was to expensive, Actually everything was. My brother bought my bus tickets from Newcastle to London, from London to Swansea, unfortunately and unforgettably twice. He graciously booked the midnight coach and I nursed a four hour beer to rent the corner of a quiet pub to stay out of the cold.

The most ironic thing happens at that point. With so much time with second language English being spoken by anyone behind a bar, it was perplexing and hardly decipherable when the same happened here. No, not Polish, Jordie.

'Huh, ah, sorry?' Was what I ended up mustering as a reply... Twice.
Eventually I was presented with a bitters, pondering over Jordie was the hardest twisted form of English, spoken by anyone this far. Still we made some conversation till the closing time of nine pm; it wouldn't be the last time I was thankful for a good book.

So in the open air shelter I sat, with my sleeping bag, towel scarf, make do stuff sack hat, feet up on the rucksack feeling rather content with life and a good book. Being dislecsic has an upside, when you have to ration out a two hundred page paperback.

The first part was smooth, getting to London's Victoria coach station. The second part of sleeping and missing my connection, not so much. Can I summarise my embarrassment by just saying "Thanks Jack"?

Long story short, I made it to Swansea, a day late, the thirteenth of December, 2013; though twelve hours at least before I needed to be. Greeted with a familiar smile and a much needed pork pie.

To Italy and beyond adventure: 13 September 2013 / 13 December 2013

Priceless Sunrise (Amsterdam to Newcastle Ferry)

There was the ferry in front of me for the crossing over to Newcastle. I was glad that I gave a little extra time to find my way to the dock, because each push on my skateboard, seemed to cover as much distance as usual, but never seen to reduce that between me and the ferry. After an hour or what felt like it, I finally made it in to the boarding gates and on board and on time, just.

I wrote my post cards, read my book and dropped off to sleep, reflecting on all the crazy adventures the last three months had held.

It was still dark when I woke up, a golden light just creeping over the horizon. So I made my way on deck to watch the sun rise over the sea. One of a handful I'd seen on the trip, and approached from the side that doesn't require sunglasses. If I over romanticised sunsets in words, I'm ashamed to not capture this as well in photos. It was something of an impressionist's wet dream (no pun intended), and something that you will have to forgive me for the blurred exposure. Though a grey sky would have been accepted, such great way of waking made a brilliant closure to the adventure over the mainland.

When mid morning broke, the sky did not stay as clear, but it was still crisp and pleasant as seagulls started to fly over the boat. A sense of familiarity started to set in as we passed the cargo ships, entering the industrial bay, there was even a little sand on the shore line. If not a whole likeness to its namesake and my home town, it was certainly enough to generate some nostalgic thoughts. That's to say, three months of that intense experience, changed me more as a person than I feel years may have at home.

One of the best wake ups

UK arrival

Well worth any cold

Window shopping (Amsterdam)

Paris ended up a two night stop over before my last continental destination. A couple of people I met were also coming to the end of there epic travel across Europe, and invited me to finish off with them in Amsterdam. I liked the idea of getting in one last cheeky country before arriving in the UK; so while they went via Rome for a couple of days, I took the night coach up to Holland. Unfortunately they got sick in Rome and had to cut there trip shit, but these things happen.

After getting off the coach in the morning, I proceeded to walk in completely the opposite direction to where I wanted to go. Looking back that was hard work to be so completely off, but it was 6 in the morning I figured I had time to explore. There were no shops or cafe's open, so I wandered into tranquil suburbs not passing a single early riser, till I finally stumbled across a train station to discover how far I was from where I actually wanted to be. A short ride later, and a point to the nearest hostel had me safe. Dropping my bags off, I was just in time to catch the calling for the free walking tour starting in fifteen minutes, so with no time lost I was out exploring the city.

What ever you're there for, you can't help but love it. From Rembrandt to red lights, history and 'highly' profitable businesses, and a everything in between is on the table. But it's the laid back mind set that makes it work like "thish ish not a problem, why don't we taxsh thish". Maybe it's my rose tinted glasses, but I don't think I have met a more chilled group of people than residents of Amsterdam, it's just as though they don't waist any time in circular arguments. Just be careful where you use your camera.

I spent a couple of days taking in the sights and it wasn't long before I was thoroughly convinced that if I still smoked weed, I'd love to move here. It's a city pleasing to the eye, with humour around every corner, sprawling parks, rich history and handsome canals, but it's the ambiance of the lifestyle here and that no one has anything bad to say that makes it such a wonderful place.

The last couple of days, didn't go out with a party, just an effort to see more as my deadline of travels end came closer. Apparently you can't see Van Gough's work while holding a skateboard, so I went to the Anne Frank house. It's a really well put together museum, non essential viewing of being there, but worth the look. I bought the book and before I knew it, my time was up on the continent. It was time to head to the ferry, and the final hotfoot through the UK.

 

Amsterdam street seen, removed, then restored by popular demand

 

The tourists might be a bit more rowdy than the locals

 

Pleasant little walk into the centre

 

Because it not all drugs and prositutes

The hole in the Swiss cheese (Lyon Part 2)

I wondered when this was going to happen? My calculations that I was about two weeks over budget were just about right. So when I did finally run out of money it was only in the order of a mild surprise. Actually I had about 1000€ left, only problem being it was in the wrong country. 

We play to our strengths and budgeting is not one of mine. When I left, Dad was kind enough to sell my car and motor bike on my behalf, and transfer the money when (if would have been a bit too self flattering in this matter) this situation arose.The 24 hours of transfer time meant unfortunately, I needed to cut out the day trip I planned across the Swiss boarder, with 70€ in my pocket and no booked accommodation the practical rout was back up to Paris.

So I greatly abused to sitting time in a cafe and watched the news. Not a particular habit of mine, the news that is. But today sadly, was the day that Nelson Mandela died. I don't really have to say much, except to read 'The long walk to freedom' if you haven't already (the last book I was reading before I left coincidentally). Just how much one man changed to world for the better, how recently these events happened in our world history. This could go into a rant, but it puts a wait with a cup of coffee into perspective.

The light fantastic (Lyon Part 1)

I wanted to squeeze in what I could into the last bit of travelling I had, so I thought Geneva was the place to go via Lyon. From the moment of arriving I had my fun and obstacles.
You know the scariest way to fall in skateboarding? Stairs? Vert ramp? Centimetre talk rock? Yep it's the third one. There's something about it, the way it will fling you off a board, on that particular angle guaranteed that you are going to either hit the ground with you face, or get the skin of your palms replaced. It was the first one, this particular incident also involving a sixteen kilo bag coming from behind to join the party. A concussion has always been an interesting way to start the day.

So with a lack of planning and double vision, I set out for somewhere to put my bag down and when it was time sleep the night. No where could I find a room except the Ibis at over 100€, reluctantly I took it after several hours of futile search. The good and bad timing responsible for the premium charge for a bed, was the annual light festival in Lyon, apparently it was the opening night.

By the evening I had recovered enough to surf the town. Viewing a few of the instillations, trying to get the most out of my stay. Like always there was a castle, on top of a hill, light up like the focal piece for the whole city, a hike but always worth it for the view. Sitting back from the top, provided the best landscape look of all that was going on, watching a silent movie projected on a screen in the centre of the ferris wheel, until the fireworks went off.

Time to go back and the second skateboarding escapade, the fastest way down is roll. This has got to be both the scariest and most fun snake rides I've done. The gradient is nothing to vicious, but the light rain fall on the tar meant that for breaking does something to regulate speed, rather than give any practical option of stopping. I won this time.

 

Something I passed on the winding walk up the hill.

 

The view from the castle

A Day in the park (Versailles)

Time for another day trip. Part of the hostel lifestyle is of course, running with people on the same page. And of the places to in the area, a girl I met Annabel and I thought 'Versailles had got itself a pretty good rap'. Centre of political power, gilded apartments and 230 acres of gardens; as Billy Connolly said about the Albert Hall "Some size for a folk club?" So off we went.

If you want opulence, the palace of Versailles is the right place to come to. Pick your flavor, when Louis was asked which colour he liked in the Dullux catalog I think he must of said 'All of them', because each of  the rooms, the 300 or so not particularly special ones has its own colour, then set of particularly crafted furniture to match. That before where the money really went, like the ball[in!] room, 20 crystal chandeliers should do it.

I'd love to tell you more about the history, little anecdotes, and trivier. But honestly I didn't do the research for it.

So on we sauntered through the grounds, giving names to the abundant farm animals and particularly ugly fish that we passed. OK they were all called Louise, but it still became a joke of our adventure. The simple advice for anyone going to take a look, is get up early, there is a lot of grounds to cover, but no shortage of what to look at on your way.

OK this is the point where it should become blatantly obvious that we're both Australian. The raw excitement, both of us had realising that one of the water features we were looking at had frozen over. It's something special, it's unusual, it means winter is coming and cold is about to start operating on a different scale then we're used to. If you don't relate, it's just our version for "it's only 28 degrees".

My camera had been dead all day so Annabel had the photos. To say that Versailles was worth a few shots wasn't justice. 500 well that might take a while to go through.

Eat some cheese have some sex (Paris part 2)

So what do you do in Paris near Christmas time? Everything. How it starts is mould wine, friendship, ice skating, some kind of epic rachlette sandwich filled with ham, potato and cheese (look at the photo, it's had its own private rant) and then moves into more artery clogging adventures, soaking up the ambiance of a city in the full bloom of festival and everything those pretty lights offer. Do your thing, wake up in somebody else's bed. Coffee at whichever artisan café happens to close by. Repeat.

That's it.

OK you should probably do the Louvre, I went there three times. And there are a dozen other attractions to do before you're bored enough to go to Disney Land, and that's not a statement hatin'. But point being, enjoy some lifestyle, the Eiffel tower is a check box. New rule, if it's not a story worth digression, is not one worth telling.

 

But what the heck, I was motivated to do it all and have little regret for time poorly spent. Buy something on the Champs Ellipse, see the city from the tallest building of its time, under no circumstances talk to a Parisian about how it is an architectural wonder unless you want a two hour argument of why you're wrong (still haven't figured that one out). Go have a look at the ossuary, Notre Dame and Sacre Coure. All of these have a place in a photo album and deserving in writing, but when it comes to ambiance, this city has got it and don't miss it.

 

Sorry, I didn't get a pick of it on the end of my finger.

 

Best Sandwich ever

 

Notre Dame. Top 5

Catching up with a friend (Paris 1)

There's nothing like catching up with a friend. Rolling with the random occurrences, minus one book, several hours of sleep and any ability to think beyond the rational. When the sight of the spot light on top of the Eiffel tower sweeping across the city comes in to view, it's a reassurance that the world is fun place, and better the less negative care you carry.

Battered and semi contious, I contorted through the metro yoga that is the ritual and privilege of anyone traveling through a major city. Checked in, sent Alex a message and went for dinner. Placing my order in a very broken french, the response given in exceptionally fluent English, oh well, points for trying. It wasn't a late night, but it was a long sleep.

It was a day of the practical, cigar investment and wandering, map collecting and working out what to do in Paris. Turns out quite a lot. A grey sky day, didn't make the highlights of the photo album, but the night lights, well that's something different, Christmas was only about six weeks away at this point and the city knows how to dress up for it.

Crouched down over a cup of mould wine, collar up and beenie down, was quite possibly the smartest person I know. Quite a funny look, but practicality trumps style when your against the cold. To cut a long conversation short, we both had our issues with the opposite sex and once we had both vented our parts, we agreed that in the perspective of things, the good and bad are just character building. A few laughs and a glass of wine later, the world once more was looking rosey.

 

Light fading early now

 

Champs Elysée

 

The city is at its best after the sun sets

I'd rather cry in Paris (The end of the east part 1)

We had a fight. We needed a fight, because we started talking more again after that. It when along the lines of, "What was the point of me coming back? I thought I had a reason, and led to believe I had one, but I would have gone to Turkey if I thought this was what I was coming back to."
"Because I could have made you fall in love if I wanted to." "I had already left, and just enjoying the now. So what you are saying is you were leading me on?" "No." "Then why am I back here?"


The last night we stayed up and talked till six in the morning, then slept for an hour before getting up. Then we talked all the way to the airport. I can't recall what was said. But I remember the feeling, enjoying the company, and letting go the feeling of betrayal. It's funny I new I was clinging, but it was mutual bidding war. I wanted to be caught up in a moment, and like the alcohol it only hurts after the fact.


My head a mess of too much to take in and process, looking to the forward, living in the moment, and trying to put some closer on the past. Waking to the rumbling sound of tires on tar mac as the the plain came into land. Then a blur of language, cigarette smoke and an update of currency. On the bus; the rush of a new city and being somewhere in the world that I've always wanted to be, and crying at the same time with the opposite of emotions. Replaying the last six weeks over though my head.


As the Eiffel tower came into view beaconing the city, the cleché became true “I’d rather feel shitty here”.

Flowers for a funeral (Wroclaw part 2)

I had about forty five minutes, and wasn't letting a second of it go to waist. Flowers, hotel check in, book a taxi, candles and petals around the bath tub, shower, shave, clean clothes. Taxi to where I was meeting Szilvi and still have five minutes to spare.

She was looking beautiful and hand in hand we walked while talking till we came to the center of town, and our hotel and restaurant. Small talk, miss you talk, antidotes, and travel notes, a lot said and a lot unsaid. Like that feeling you haven't been way from someone. We did the whole romantic dinner thing, wine, three causes, and up to the room, where we opened another bottle of wine and danced till we fell on the floor.


It was an early check out Szilvi had made plans with two of her friends to have a movie marathon, and we were cooking a feast to last the night. I had already agreed to it about a week before, though I wasn't expecting for us to eject ourselves so that we didn't even cuddle in the morning. I let her know that I was frustrated by this, 13 hours I had been back and I was playing number 2? If there was no 20 minutes of us in the morning, than it wasn't so long the question came, why?


Quickly 2pm came round and no one showed up, 4pm came round and no one showed up. At 6 pm we got word that no one was going to. We ate dinner, and watched movies, I was feeling bad for her, she was obviously looking forward to it. I understood that she felt let down, felt angry, but with all the long conversations we had, talking for 5 hours most nights, again I felt like a second priority. We had made plans that we would go to Zakopane for a few day, get a cheap hotel, go walking and hope for some really cold days. As we made plans there was always something, that made it not work, the room was too expensive, the bus didn't leave at the right time. Like we had to wait for the perfect opportunity, rather than make the best of what we got. We had one more day of this, no sex in the middle of the day for the fuck of it, we were support to be driven by lust and love and passion. A needle and a cushion had more passion then us.


It was day three, so much for another week together. I bought flowers, this time not for joy, but I'm sorry. Sorry I'm leaving. Sorry but we had something, and we both knew that it was never going to work, so we can't repair it. I'm heading to Gdansk, and am going to continue this next part of my adventure.


I would like to think I changed my mind. No, the plan got changed, that was all. I had a message, are you going to be in Paris this weekend? I was planing Monday, it was time I left the east behind and a couple of days forward wasn't a bad thing. And a good friend, you know when you need one.


And that was it, I booked my flight, I stayed a couple of days longer. One night we where having a smoke on the balcony, I give her a kiss with all of the passion I had, not because I was in the mood to, but from a reaction point of view. We had a fight.

Table for two (written in Budapest)

To my Dear Szilvi,

Come join me, for a romantic dinner for two.

Break this feeling of longing, that I have struggled with for the last two and a half weeks.

Take my hand as we wander, and share the stories of our time apart.

Dine with me so that we may hold each others gaze once more.

I will wait for you, at six pm;

on the night of Friday the fifteenth November,

So that I may give you the kiss we have yearned for.

Before we embark, to the Granary la suite hotel restaurant.

You needn't bring anything but your smile, nor worry about a thing,

and when dinner is done a room awaits us upstairs.

Your laugh, your smile, your body beckons me back

Please write your response soon.

Missing you still

Yours in longing,

-Duncan

You can't argue with idiots (Budapest part 4)

Not wanting to go straight to sleep, when I got back to Budapest, I stopped in for what would turn out to be a not so quiet beer. Well the first one was quiet, jotting down notes with passing conversation, then with the satisfaction of one glass I ordered another. I was in the mist of a conversation with someone near by, when a man came out of the bathroom walking towards where we were sitting. This man had evidently annoyed the person I was talking to before, and was well intoxicated. My counterpart tried brushed him off and minutes later left. Without the chance to return to my notes the annoying fellow, decided he needed someone else to piss off.


"Where you from?"
"Australia."
"I hate Australians!"
"And that how you open a conversation?"
"I got fucked over by an Australian girl!"
Then proceeded to tell me how, Australia is fucked. And how this girl convinced him to come out to Australia and screwed him over. While I proceeded to tell him, I couldn’t care less.
"Australians are all fucked, there only interested money like the Jews"


Take it from here that I already had one stop loose, and with every other starting to come off very quickly.


"Sounds like you picked a dud. Fuck, you want to tell me how shit Australia is, you got screwed over, your problem, do you want me to get started on the Jews?"
"The Holocaust didn't even happen, you don't know the truth, it's a conspiracy"
"Yeah, the Polish built Auschwitz as a tourist trap to make money?"
Obviously what I meant by this was "I swear you're retarded, go to a fucking library". I should have been less surprised hearing.
"It's all a big scam, you can't comprehend it"
"Well explain it, come on, tell me how it's all a big plan"
"It's out there on Youtube" then no other logical argument.


.."I swear you're retarded, go to a fucking liberty".."Go to Auschwitz or any other camp, have a look at the photos the millions of possessions, the matted shaved hair for felt making of hundreds of thousands of people" I did the maths out loud for good measure.


This has been thoroughly abbreviated, a lot more was said. In truth I used a logical approach first without raising my voice as I was treating it as a logical debate in the hope I could get him to reconsiders his points. It was an unrealised hope, so I crushed him. I could and did counter his arguments easy, what really pissed me off, is he wasn't smart enough to realise I was pissing on him.



Then I left.

A little lull (Egar)

I was on the edge of town staring up at a sign that read, Szépasszonyvölgy or the much more easily read English translation 'Valley of the beautiful woman' (that way). This was wine country, red wine country, or at least the city that provide residence for wine country. The wine Bikaver also known as 'Bulls Blood' it's self is what Egar is famed for, sure they have a castle, been invaded a few times, but where hasn't? It turns out the 'Valley of the beautiful woman' was the precise place I wanted to be the next day, but I would of followed that street on a whim anyhow if it wasn't. City centre was a better place to bet on until I had a base for the night.


Upon with drawing money and a check of my balance I was where I had expected to be, and about two weeks forward of where I wanted. No matter, I found a hotel that came within the region of my budget. Cheesey (along with bread and lettuce) could have described more than my dinner that night. Well the name of my temporary dwelling was the Hotel Romantica, and lived up to all the tack that could be suggested. Half bottle of wine, clipped rose on the dresser, red, there was a lot of red. I felt like I should be sleeping with someone here on point of principal, not to happen this time though.


I slept in, feeling drained nearly two months on the road and burning the candle at both ends was taking it's toll. Valley of the beautiful woman, well theirs a name that inspires life. It was already the afternoon and feeling like the morning had been waisted, I was going to take pleasant break from trying to see everything. Perhaps it was a waist of the day to only want food and wine, but I felt like I needed to take the opportunity to have a day doing nothing. Of the food I got more than I had anticipated, walking down into the valley with a solitary restaurant at the bottom.


A small feast, described what I actually ordered, that could have amply satisfied two, was my solitary challenge. And the wine was the delicious and famed 'Bulls Blood'. The waiter insisted on me having dessert, after graciously refusing twice, he brought it out on the house. I guess as a thank you for helping him with his English, I find it amazing the kindness you get from strangers. Though in a restaurant, this was quite perplexing. Perhaps it was because I was the only one dining at the time, even though the sun had barely set and it was still very early in the evening, maybe it was an encouragement to tip (which I did well). All I can say, it it was a great meal, I didn't feel short changed for what I prayed for it.



I may have felt like I could have done more that day, but one of appreciated quietness. I had a deadline to keep so I was not about to keep the habit; or so I thought...

More than an ample dinner

An apology on lateness.

Firstly, Thank you to everyone’s kind words on my writing. It has been something I've truly enjoyed doing and continuing to do. Due to a combination, of circumstances, procrastination, stress, all of which I do not pass the buck on; as well as hard work and the progression of other dreams, I took a break from writing.


My apologies to those following the blog, for the delays, and the missing of the second half of my
travels so far. There are a lot of stories I am still looking forward to sharing with you and I hope they continue to entertain, inspire, make you think or feel something.


I will still be a slow process to complete, but writing and editing has commenced once more. And I thank you again for your patience.


Till then, watch this space, and all the best,


Duncan






You may or my not be aware this blog, I have been re-editing, replacing a lot of material and adding new in a separate document to eventually become a book, and I hope to share more on that later.


Peace

Some nights are to remember (Budapest part 3)

The Groove hostel was once again home to me, and as I said before, it's not a party hostel. How ever you make friends, and these friends, might have another friend who is staying at a hostel call the Retox, no points for guessing that this one is a party house. Not being the biggest fan of organised pub crawls because 15 euro is a lot to pay for some watered down shots, I usually take the chance to explore myself, but being free this time I thought why not? We stood by the door outside or the hostel listening into the MC try to organise everyone over the microphone. It sounded as much of a challenge as a room full of twelve year old kids. "There's a noise curfew here, so I need everyone to shut the fuck up!" Worked eventually.


A name like Retox, it was always promising mess, and it delivered, but I'm getting a head of myself. At the bar was an open open mic and the worst joke telling MC down the front of a long room, but I'll give him this he had good taste with the first girl he called to the stage. She was pretty and strummed guitar, and when she sang, she blow my mind. The air was full and cause with Australian accents, until that first sung line pierced the room and turned it to silence. I regret that I never wrote down her name, because she took the whole room not just me with her voice.


The proceeding sets was of a less than amazing quality, or of an amazingly untalented quality. Bad jokes, off tone voices, lyrics dropped by the handful, but it wasn’t to last forever. One of the hostel staff along for the crawl was a professional rapper (Cyclops), and owned that stage with a freestyle that lasted a good 7 or 8 minutes. "Owed to Tittie". Now there was a lot to say about titties, everyone loves titties. But this owed was not for the love of fun sacks, but the love of another hostel worker that went by the name, that had left for Australia the day before. I never him, from being in another hostel, but I do knew he will be missed.


Later on in the night something else happened. Some people were up on stage, and thanks to the wonders of smart phones, had the lyrics there to guide them. The song was 'The scientest' by Coldplay. From the moment I heard the instrumental, a freestyle started writing it's self in my head. Walking out of the crowd at the second chorus, I asked for the mic and dropped the sixteen bars of speaking my mind.




Coldplay


Come up to meet you, tell you I'm sorry
You don't know how lovely you are
I had to find you, tell you I need you
Tell you I'll set you apart
Tell me your secrets and ask me your questions
Oh let's go back to the start
Running in circles, coming in tails
Heads on a science apart


I was just guessing at numbers and figures
Pulling your puzzles apart
Questions of science, science and progress
Do not speak as loud as my heart
Tell me you love me, come back and haunt me
Oh and I rush to the start
Running in circles, chasing our tails
Coming back as we are


Nobody said it was easy
Oh it's such a shame for us to part
Nobody said it was easy
No one ever said it would be so hard
I'm going back to the start




My Verse (Love you, or leave you alone PT1)


We met a month ago. Thank you
for a few moments of you time to hear out my mind.
We started as friends, and damn she looked fine
Then after a few days, for a night she was mine.
A couple of days later I wrote, that song confessions of a player
How my thoughts changed weeks later.
We kept in contact talking on the face space
Came to visit a few days at her place
After a week, what can I say things changed
Emotions got involved, as they do in there strange way
Every day, we talked even just to say hello
I'm missing you, and where'd the time go
Am I wrong to be getting into this? I don't know?
Home is where the heart is and a and I left a part with her
So I'm picking up the phone
I've got to love you, or leave you alone.




I remember I had some long conversations later that night, though I cant remember what about. I do remember too much Polinka, free drinks, and more drinks after that, and free again. Then the 'oh shit' moment, where my legs stopped obeying what my head was telling them and just doing there own thing instead, the moment I realised I should have stopped five drinks ago. I knew I was going to black out, very, very shortly. I said some quick good byes, and stumbled my way out to the street.


I woke up the next day in my bed with a hangover that could kill a small bear, and know idea of what happened yesterday after about after midnight. I looked down beside me to see my boots still laced up beside my bed. My boots lace up around my ankles, they can't actually take them off laced up, but I managed it some how like a shit Houdini trick that I can only do when I'm slaughtered.


I made a coffee and took it outside for a cigarette. A moment later I was joined by a friend, she gave me red bull, she was a nice girl.
"Morning" I defrosted.
"Afternoon" came returned with a smile.

About two hours later I remembered I got a taxi, that was a good move especially in the part of town I was in. Somehow didn't wake anyone, or make a fool of myself coming in. Some nights are to remember, some things are not to repeat.

A different night, but a good night. Lovely people.

A fan of Micheal Jackson (Vienna)

At the end of the main street was the Renascence Hotel, beautiful building by night, but astonishingly boring by day. I went inside to enquire as to the price, feeling in the mood for a hotel. My thoughts had been something of get some work done, have a good nights sleep, be up at some reasonably respectable time the next day. I was by no means set on it.
“How much!?”
'150 euro for a room and breakfast'
I suspected the cost was going to be well out of my range, but I inquired into a room without breakfast for the sake of seeing what they ask.
'99 euros sir'.
I felt like John Travolta asking if there's bourbon in the $5 shake. All I can say for 51 euro, I hope it is delivered to you by a skimpy dressed maid, baring a silver platter, or at least campaign. So I went to see what the fuss was about and had a look at the dinner menu. I would say well priced for what it was, but boring, almost all the dishes on the regular menu failed to inspire me, but the featured one I must say did. A showcase of goose, with a nominal amount of courses, I was really exited when the entree was only 10 euro. Unfortunately the restaurant had been booked out that night so I never got to try it.


I found a pub with wifi to get my bearings, the bar tender was incredibly helpful, and seemed incredibly 'friendly'. So I met the locals and compared beers and played darts, long time since I've played but I could get into it as an alternative to pool. And talked the night away while some cool old grooves played in the background (yeah, I did just say that). People came and went, originally there was four of us, the regulars came in for there rounds, taxi drivers (for coffee), and a policeman. Until the end where, the bar was closing and it was just the two of us. With the bar packed up and ready to leave, we through on some music to dance to. Dance we did and wow she was really, very good.


She beat my to ask if I could walk the other to the train station, at the station. Despite, being in a new city the want to explore, and a beautiful girl standing in front of me, it was the second place I wanted to be. For all long time that evening I was wondering should I kiss her, there was something good going there. Every part of myself, or at least the three usual suspects in a power struggle were sending me messages, and not agreeing between themselves. Heart with Szilvi, head knowing that would end, and well... No points for guessing he last one. I said, that “I'd let her know next time I'm coming through.”


I at least saw a little of the city, but hardly enough to say I've truly experienced it, more than a tease. Vienna seemed to have a mix of many things, and it's a curious mix when it comes to town planning, never before and I doubt ever again will I see a religious building next to a strip club. (funny enough, this would be proved wrong a few weeks later). But there it was a impressive cathedral, with a very low budget looking strip club right beside.

I was taking the tram back to the train station when I saw it. An opportunity to ring out my shoes and another pair of socks. Looking like something out to the X-games was the skate park. When Jack and I were young, we'ld be wanting to stop into any park we past, now older with my own time management, haven't changed much. I spent the rest of the afternoon there with my rolling vice, until it was time to get my train back to Budapest.

For Saturday nights and Sunday Mornings.

Cold Feet (Sopron)

It was a misty night setting in as I arrived in Sopron, cool without breeze. A relief after the bustling streets of the capital, and major cities. As I looked for my hotel I could see ruins by the sides of the cobbled streets of the architecture of the once expansive Roman empire. After a routine check in and bag drop at the best Western, the sudden realisation came in that I was famished. Extending to my perception of a sleepy town, the small restaurant that would satisfy my hunger that night was to be occupied by only one other group than myself, though it was early in the week and getting later in the night. However the occupants were jovial, and between them trying to create the ambiance and volume of every other table left vacant. Going from there mood, I'm sure they would of been quite happy to have me join in there singing, but my lack comprehension of Hungarian settled me as audience rather than participant. When the time came for me to wonder, the mist had set in so far as not to be able to see the end of the street. Not far away a pale blue glow shimmered as a beacon in the sky thus becoming the target of exploration, that loomed as the fire tower as I approached; underneath, the entrance to the town square.

Hardly passing anyone as I walked through the streets, I was becoming reflective of the last few weeks, mainly of when I left Poland. I had talked much of my mind with a few people, but I was alone with my thoughts properly for the first time in a while. And of course with the love of irony, on the mistiest night I would see on the trip, my head started to clear. Some nights in Budapest, Szilvi and I would talk to the early hours of the morning, four or five hours at a time, with the practicality of some sleep bringing the close to most conversations. I was wandering around the misty streets, but I had now come to terms with something I knew, with a bit more clarity, and my heart and mind come to rest on a common ground.


One thing every low budget traveller will comment on, though usually dropped in recount, is walking, a lot of walking. My whole point for mentioning this, being no different, my choice in footwear is around my sport: skateboarding, thus the rapid destruction of shoes. I had woken the the sound of rain, and the rest of the day it would keep me company with a thoroughly inadequate umbrella turning inside out with any moderate speed gust of wind. And the shoes worn through at the heels at this piont. The sights of the town, last night covered in the mystique of the mist was now under a heavy wet gloom of grey. By the time I had made the five minute walk into town, my socks were water logged through the split in my heals. And for the first time in my life I would find sanctuary under the roof of the church.



A moral boost was in order, so at the first bakery I turned in for a treat. I have always had a strong love for bakery goods, but in Hungary I think I had started to gain wait for the love of them. Rolled and fired doughnuts, scrolls of chocolate and pastry or orange and poppy seed. Greeted at the counter the lady to served me said to me "guten Tag" To which I started responding "Nem Ertem Mag..."? (I don't understand Hung..) "Sorry I can't speak German". I gave this some thought as I ate. Sopron is as far west as you can be in Hungery without leaving the country. Twenty minutes later, I found that a train to Vienna takes four hours and leaves in two. I took that time to once more see the town, before taking the train and changing to fresh foot insulation of two pairs of socks.

Sopron Fire Tower

Sleepy town

Punching claustrophobia in the balls (Budapest part 2)

The day was still grey and drizzly, but I head to Margaret island, just near to my hostel, strolled through the park decorated with different art insulations, and saturated violets. I was out looking for a light show fountain that Sziliv had recently told me about, but unfortunately it was not in operation. The island was a pretty place but, somewhat looses its charm when I comes with brushing my wet fringe from my eyes every thirty seconds. Setting out my plans I went to find the Lucas baths. I stopped in to a pub for a coffee and directions, and in that inevitable way what was going to be five minutes turned into a half our conversation about Budapest. By the time I had left, may map was full with new scaled additions of 'Go here →' and 'avoid here at night → Brooklyn'.

I found the baths shorty and let the warm water relax me, the themes thermal bath in coloured light, and bubbling with jets on different patters and swirling with the artificial whirl pool. Then in the sauna to sweet, then bathing in the cold water and back to the bath until all tension had been left from my body. Three hour later I left severely pruned and satisfied.


I when back into the bar for a drink and continue the conversation at the bar and with a local. Though I struggling to keep up; the pleasures of the baths only left me with one downside, my left ear had become jammed with water that refused to clear its self for a couple of hours. I was given a good tip when I was there to head down to find the event Random Trip, a improve music event at the A38 club on the Danube (On a boat). I also learned a dangerous word that night before I left 'Szeretlek' (I love you in Magyar) Two weeks and the first thing I think of each morning is Szilvi, I am starting to believe it is true.


The A38 was unreal I only had a few drinks as there were pretty expensive, but the band was excellent two of the best freestyles I've ever heard (sincerely) a singer and four peace band, just killing it. One song in particular stuck to me 'I got to love you, or eave you alone' perhaps it was what was on my mind. Thought they killed every other moment of the show too. I got back to my hostel, a little drunk but not to bad.


The headed down the road for caving. Then, when I arrived at the meeting point I bumped into someone completely unexpected, Kevin Blaine that I met at Alex's in Milan. It was great to catch up with a familiar face, swap a few stories of where we had been since then and, and share another activity. It was a large gathering, and when we arrived at the caves we split into two groups. The one Kevin and I were in was, nearly all Australians, with the only one American girl separating it from being total. Behind an ominous iron door was a tunnel, I had to stay crotched in to avoid hitting my head on the iron supports that held up the roof.


At the end of the passageway we started to make a steady decent into the caves below. Crawling on our bellies we clambered under tight passes, descending further and further by ladders until we came to an open chamber. Every one was young and fit, feeling we were moving fairly quickly, until the instructor came flying through a gap little wider than a man chess to join us as soon as if he had used a door. “that was the easy bit, we can choice the easy or hard way from here”. Being Australian and manly which did we choose? The going got progressively harder as we went on, we had descended to a depth of about 100 meters at this point when the path opened out to another chamber, the roof was lined with fossils of shells and marine animals. Instructed to turn our head lamps of the guide shone a torch at an unambiguous piece of rock, but on the wall behind stood out the profiled silhouette of a face. The same chamber also brought out an elephant in the room, a great big stone elephant coming out of the wall. As we started to rise back up through the honeycombs, we were given the option to take the easy way or the really hard way buck to the surface. The Australians had lost there gusto at this point for difficult options, I was secretly hoping for the that someone would speak up for the hard option, and it came to the shame of the Aussies form the American girl. The hard option was aptly named the sandwich, a fifteen meter long sideways shuffle along the tightest gap you could possibly fit a human through that tips you out on your head afterwards. We made it out alive bruised and in need of a well earned beer, and as Kevin so brilliantly put it with the feeling that we just punched claustrophobia in the balls.


When I got back to the hostel Szilvi and I started talking on facebook, so time went on and we flirted, and talked about our days. It was about 10 when we started talking and didn't stop until about 3 am. I was starting to really miss her at this Point...

What fun that day was.

Kevin

I cant believe I'm actually here! (Budapest Part 1)

I woke at six in the morning to see the bear black trees of Hungary, the ground still wet from the night before and the fog starting to rise. I sat and just watched the world go by, as we pasted through small towns and villages, steeped roofed houses often pasting by, and few in the streets walking their dogs in the still sleepy hours of the morning. Low hills and forests lining the background that, slowly disappeared as the got in closer to the capital. After departing from the train, at eight o'clock I headed for the main street to find my hostel. A man standing on the corner of two roads, approached me, with typical drug dealer type body language, "hey, do you want to buy some cigarettes?" 'No thanks' I replied and had a little chuckle to myself. Looks like tobacconists don't open on Sunday morning here? I did not recognise the street names, the direction I had written down were quite clear. So I stopped into a bar to have my morning coffee, and hopefully push my remaining 8% battery life on my computer to find directions. Alas it did not make it. Not to worry around the corner I found an internet cafe, and for the extreme price of 50 Forint (15c Euro) I was able to get new directions. Feeing lazy and frustrated, I caught a taxi that immediately started taking me in the wrong direction, after a moment when I realised that the driver didn't have a clue where he was going, I got him to pause the meter, look up the address once more and go in the right direction this time. My hostel, the groove, was reviewed very well on hostel world and in it's description there was a statement it was not a party hostel as I was in the same apartment building as permanent residents. This suited me fine, after Prague a decent detox was in order. I did my usual routine, of a few nights, extend, extend.


The first night I met two young ladies, true romantics, which made the three of us in this conversation. All of us missing the people we wished we were with so we talked of why we weren’t. All of us happened to be reading smut novels at the time too, by the end of the night I had another blog project to add to my list and pseudonym name. I downloaded an audio book of Fifty shades of Grey as we were chatting away, and upon playing it we couldn't stop laughing. The voice actor managed to take some perfectly good filth and turn it to a story as wooden as a cupboard, I couldn't see anyone bearing listening though the whole thing, let alone be turned on, it would be like trying to let your imagination run wild while listing to the sound of nails on a chalk board. Szilvi and I talked that night after the girls went to bed, teasing each other, and missing her as she does me. After an hour of so my computer decided, this a is a suitably frustrating and inappropriate time to update. Bringing the end of the night for me to a close as abruptly as this paragraph.


I took my skateboard as the early evening set in the next day, the dreary drizzle of the morning had passed, and the streets were dry enough to skate on. The light was becoming notable shorter now and by four o'clock the light was beginning to fade. Following the Danube I rolled on. Sitting on the bridge next to a crown with a crooked cross I had one of those brilliant moments, where you say, 'fuck me, I cant believe I'm actually here! This is the Danube, I'm in Budapest, and I can't believe I am actually here!' The type of moment you feel so alive that you can remember the breeze on you face, and the rush of adrenalin. Across the water from the bridge, on either side stands the parliament building and to the castle, dead in front it the distance, stood the Liberty statue, awe-inspiring light up in the night. I followed the hill up to the castle and walked around the outside of this astonishing glorious building. Statues and interesting architecture are all around with the detail and endemicity that lets you know your in a capital of Europe, so much so I even took photos of the parking lot (Best parking lot I've ever seen though). A different bridge brought me back to the Pest side, I pasted but the Parliament, thought at this time the size and grandeur were appreciated best from afar; as the ground level was almost completely surrounded by construction work, that did mare the effect a little up close. I bought some supplies, and skated in the general direction of my hostel. Forty five-ish, maybe more minutes later I found my hostel once more. So I can tick Budapest of my (genuine) goal list of getting lost in every city I visit.

Pinching myself on this one.

Hungarian Parliament, look familiar?

Not bad for a car park

Getting about the bones (Kutna Hora)

Another day trip on the cards. A few of us from the hostel took to the train to, check out (or Czech out) the Sedlec Ossowary at Kutna Hora. Despite what you might think of the idea of the contents, it is straight up far from a creepy place. OK the elaborate assortment of the decorations are made up of the remains of somewhere between 40,000 to 70,000 persons, but hey in the imagination of the human race this is but, strange; and about a creepy as a skull tattoo. You can find yourself transfixed by the assemblies, and from the elaborate chandeliers that hang in every other castle and manor; none have got such a notable kick-ass appearance as here. At least one of each bone in the body, from the philangie (fingers) to the calcaneus (heel) are sewn together to form the chandelier, that hangs above four posts of layered skull and cross bones. Then of coarse you have the Schwarzenberg family coat of arms, that looks like it something you might find on the walls of a 'Gears of War' game. A brief walk through the history will explain how this came about.


This all started to come about in the seventeenth century, but the reason why become so over abundant in bones started over 600 years before, with Otakar II Reigning King of Bohemia. Sending the abbot of the Sedlec monastery to the Holy lands. When the Abbot returned he had bore with him a small amount of earth which he sprinkled across the cemetery. The earth the abbot brought back was from Golgotha, according to the gospel, the sight of Jesus' crucifixion. The Sedlec cemetery soon became on the most desirable paces in all of central Europe to be berried. In the 14th century, the cemetery was expanded. This expansion was due was from the sweeping black death; and again expand in the 15th century after war. In 1511 skeletons were exhumed, stacking bones in the chapel by a half-blind monk. This of cause was a bit untidy, so now we come to the interesting part; 1870, František Rint was employed by the Schwarzenberg family, to make sense of the mass of bones, the results of coarse outstanding.


It is no surprise that the Ossowary has been used in the Dungeon and Dragons movie, it is a space that lends its self to the fantasies of movies and novels. It is so far out of the ordinary that it is one of the places I have wanted to see for a Long time; that is, about as long as the time since I first saw it on the TV series the Long way Round. We all had a good look round, through our copper to the wishing stand and took our photos, we would of stayed longer, but it came to closing time of the day. As you walk out, bone lines the doorway, bone chalices flank your sides, F. Rint's signature is the last thing you notice on the wall, and of coarse, written in bone. Glad to be ticking it off my bucket list, we headed off to find somewhere warm.


It was a sleepy grey afternoon, with no more than a handful of people walking the Sedlec streets excluding us. When we stopped at a cafe for afternoon coffee, there was only one other person with a cigarette at the bar; possibly a sign that the tourist season was coming to a close. Felling warmed up once more we retuned to the train station. James my room mate, who had introduced me to the group (and also looked as if he had been recently mauled by a nymphomaniac) split of the head down to Brno. James, James, Hanna and myself had walked round the castle in Prague on a previous evening; though I haven't made the inclusion in my blog, if I stay to my plan of editing this once more into a book, I shall make this addition and many more that were cut to the volume of content I gave for each stop.


Breakfast the next morning had it's acquaintance as usual, bumping into a couple of people up for more exploration of Prague. When we got to the clock the crowd was thick in the square, we supposed and the affirmed by checking the time that It was close to the hour. Waiting around till the hour struck and windows opening and the figures paraded around. I was trying to film it, though I don't know why I hardly had filmed anything up to this point. Doing my best to avoid experiencing wholly through the camera screen, the result was an unfortunate tipsy swinging shot, that filmed parts of the wall, and parts of of what I was actually tying to point it at. There's got to be a few morals in there, but I'll leave you to choose your own. When my friend and I said our goodbyes, I went to see what time at night the train left for Budapest. I was exited to find it would be midnight, there is something about travelling on train that greatly appeals to me, and I was chuffed the next leg would be on a sleeper.

The Chandelier

Schwarzenberg family coat of arms

František Rint 1870

The sign from the butcher we past on the way to the station,

not sus at all?