Day 4: Lauterbrunnen
| One of the problems of writing your diary at the end
of the day is that the most tortuous events never seem
quite as bad in hindsight. The day started well enough. We played table-tennis (the campsite has a strange circular table), joined by French table-tennis maestro Patrick. andrew and I then set off to M�rren up one wall of the valley. "The steep bit is at the start" Andy had claimed. No, the steep bit was all the way up. The path climbed and climbed and just when you thought it might flatten out, climbed some more. Utilising muscles I hadn't used in weeks, I dragged myself to the top, Andy gambolling up ahead like a mountain goat. To my utter amazement we made it to M�rren 10 minutes quicker than the recommended two and a half hours. Even my hypothetical guidebook might have admitted that 'people with one leg may need assistance'.
M�rren was a happy enough village. We had a late lunch and I went to look at a real mountain goat before the rather quicker descent.
There was time for another game of table-tennis with commentary provided by Patrick. "YOU LOSE!!! THE BIG BOSS LOSE! WOAH! THE BREAK ZE BALL!" Well he certainly had a good vocabulary for a seven-year-old. After dinner we watched CNN (very frustrating) and played yet more pinochle. Tomorrow the bright lights of Milan beckon...
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Day 5: Lauterbrunnen > Interlaken > Z�rich > Milan > Mestre >
All the way to Milan just to buy a pizza? That's how it turned out anyway...
15:10 I'M ON THE TRAIN!!! Today is what Richard and Andy euphemistically call a 'travelling day'. As usual this meant a horribly early start, no time for a shower, the tent wet and muddy and heavier than ever.
We arrived at the station five minutes before our train was due to leave, and I spent several nerve-wracking minutes waiting in the queue while some painfully slow customers negotiated with the only cashier (A ticket to Interlaken ... via Aberdeen ... next year ... paid for in South African rand ...) Finally the tickets were bought and we got on the train [OK, OK, we could have caught the train half an hour later, but that would have made it seem less exciting.]
My diary got soaked by my water bottle as you can probably see [Well, probably not since you're reading this on the Internet. Imagine the computer screen being very soggy.]
From there the journey proceeded smoothly, the scenery turning more and more Italian as we headed further southwards.
21:15 I'M ON THE TRAIN!!! Ah, Italy, home of the stereotype! In our few brief hours in Milan we encountered the expected manic drivers, hopeless inefficiency at the station and of course delicious pizza.
Mmmmmmmmmmmm
The best night trains out of Milan were to Barcelona and Vienna, but just as in Bern, the train to Barcelona was full (what's this European sudden obsession with Barcelona?)
So Fate pointed us in the direction of Austria and there was barely time to stock up at Milan Central's "Free Shop" (which sadly didn't live up to its name) before setting off once more.
Proof I really did go to Milan, if not for long
22:20 I'M ON THE TRAIN!!! (in fair Verona where we lay our scene.) As the train rumbles on through Italy and with my 'light' reading stock already exhausted, it's a choice between a huge tome by Dostoevsky or the excitement of "Optima Salute" magazine (discovered under my seat). The contents page is not encouraging: both people featured have their heads in their hands.
My Italian is a little rusty but articles about "il tasso di colestro" and "la dermatite" suggest I've found a health magazine. Except there's an article about ducks on page 16.
Deeply engrossed by the article on dermatitis.
I'm bored senseless if you hadn't guessed. Postscript The last train of the day, from Mestre to Vienna was surprisingly comfortable (if you're 5'8" like me) Richard and Andy were less impressed...
Day 6: > Vienna
CITIES!!! I love them. I love the way you can ring up a youth hostel to book and turn up an hour later with a bed waiting for you. I love being able to jump on an S-bahn, a U-bahn or a tram rather than having to slog it on foot. I love the hustle, the bustle, the noise, the buskers, the Internet access, the newspapers, my Bratw�rst mit Brot for lunch, my stodgy plum pudding and beer for dinner. However I am not a great fan of human statues. Tossers. Who do they think they are, standing around annoying the hell out of everyone and demanding money for it. At least Richard does that for free.
Vienna was full of beautiful architecture, impressive statues and men in dodgy Mozart wigs.
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After depositing our bags at the Youth Hostel, I went for a wander in town to get my bearings and check my email.
Later I went with Andy to take a look at the Vienna Film Festival and ate my plum pudding, a heaped plateful of pure stodge (more on that tomorrow).
Plum pudding and beeeer
Later we went to Prater and had a look around the fairground before returning to Stephensplatz hotly pursued by a swarm of mosquitoes seeking out Andy.
All the fun of the fair
Tip of the day: melon and cappuccino ice-cream don't mix.