Day 1: Crawley > Ashford > Brussels >
| As the 09:27 Eurostar from Ashford International
plunged into the Channel tunnel, I pondered the adventure
that lay ahead. (Actually that's not true. I missed the
moment we actually entered the tunnel since I was too
busy playing Chinese Poker and eating boiled sweets.
Pondering wasn't on the cards.) On arrival at Brussels after an impressively short trip we spent a good quarter hour struggling with the luggage lockers.
Having finally satisfied the demands of the lockers we set off down the pleasingly named Rue Stalingrad towards the Grande Place, stopping off en route to stun the waitress in a sandwicherie with my command of French (Deux TEXANS, s'il vous pla�t). Brussels seemed a lively, if a little unexciting, city. We wandered the streets for a while to kill some time, checking out the Euro shops, having a drink in a local bar and then a pleasant and cheap meal in a restaurant. It was all worryingly civilised. Was this the same threesome who had last year spent the night on a bench in the Arctic Circle? Our hours in Brussels up, we headed back to the station for the night train to Bern. Our €13 supplement had bought us berths in a couchette and hence the chance to sleep flat out. Our compartment was shared with two Americans, names unknown (called Billy-Bob and Buzz in my imagination). The five of us, having exhausted the mutual conversational topics of British/American accents, turned in for the night. I was on the excessively high top bunk and was provided with safety straps to stop me going 'bump' in the night. |
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Day 2: > Bern > Interlaken > Lauterbrunnen
It had taken several hours to deduce that there was in fact no truly comfortable position on my bunk. I managed about four hours sleep after that. Luckily neither Billy-Bob nor Buzz seemed to be snorers.
The 'highlight' of the night's entertainment occurred some time in the small hours, when a grey-haired elderly man came into our compartment. He looked bemused for a while before finally deciding this was not his bedroom and beating a hasty retreat.
By the time the steward returned with our passports at 6.30am there was only half an hour left and my bed suddenly seemed a lot more comfortable.
Enough of the night, on to the day. A shop trip from Bern brought us to Interlaken which despite its impressive mountain surroundings had precious little else to recommend it. An attempt to find the 'laken' ended in failure and soaked clothes (conscientious Swiss drivers).
Another train took us to geographer's paradise Lauterbrunnen, everyone's favourite U-shaped valley.
Everyone's favourite
The weather hadn't been great all day and the valley was initially shrouded in cloud. As the clouds cleared the dramatic cliffs on either side seemed to loom ever larger.
I had, I feared, been rather 'over-sold' Lauterbrunnen by Richard and andrew... it didn't take your breath away [Andy: Boo] but it is certainly a world-class sight.
The tent feels proud of its surroundings
After a much needed shower (that's a person shower, not a rain shower) we went to visit the Tr�mmelbach falls, a series of scarily powerful cascades with spray being tossed up in your face (and at your camera).
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Dinner was the first attempt at camp cooking and consisted of bolognese and crisps ... one up on semolina anyway.
Finally we smeared and sought ropes and marriages till nightfall.
Day 3: Lauterbrunnen
After two nights short of sleep I snoozed late into the morning. Soon though I headed off with Andy towards the distant snowy peaks of the Jungfrau, Eiger and the M�nch.
No doubt a guidebook would describe our route as
Gentle stroll, suitable for casual walkers, children and people with one leg. Difficulty: *
It was a hot day however, and the route was long and uphill. The scenery was ample compensation with numerous waterfalls, towering rockfaces and clich�ed Alpine cows tinkling away.
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We finally reached Trachsellauenen, 1210 metres above sea level.
The end of the trail
The journey back was much like the journey there, only backwards.
As usual when I'm hot and tired, I became intrigued by the most trivial things we passed, for example a sign for Daniel's scooter meeting place. Who was Daniel? Why did he have so many scooters? Why did they all have such a desire to meet?
Who was Daniel?
Back to the tent to listen to a crackly North African version of the BBC World Service before a slap-up meal of r�sti at the camp restaurant.
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.
Day 7: Vienna
After a great night's sleep (due to those amazing inventions, sheets and quilts!) I awoke fresh and early at 7am. I'll repeat that, 7am. For someone who thinks 9 is an early start, this was quite an achievement.
After my free Youth Hostel breakfast, I headed out into the deserted streets. First stop Hundertwasserhaus, which was an ordinary block of flats until the obviously mad Austrian artist Friedensreich Hundertwasser was let loose on it.
Hundertwasserhaus
After a quick trip to a Konditorei, I headed for the MAK museum of modern and creative arts, the highlight of which was a brilliant parody 'museum within a museum'.
Tomato Ketchup and Mars Bar Pyramid
(Time for another trip to a Konditorei)
More caffeine required
I had seen a lot of people rising around on 'viennabikes', a system which allowed you to borrow a bike for a €2 deposit. To my delight I finally discovered one in a rack and was soon off on my wobbly way (oops, RIGHT-hand side) towards the (AAAAARGH!!! a tram!!!) MuseumQuartier, just next to our hostel.
Museum Quarter
I chose the MUMOK museum (more for the name than anything else). The special exhibition was on a particularly bizarre art school called Fluxus, typified by artists such as John Cage (4 minutes 33 seconds of silence) and Yoko Ono. All very entertainingly strange and strangely entertaining.
Finding another attractive luminous pink bike, I set off down a cycle path.
My stylish bike
Sights en route
Cycling seemed good fun, so I carried on.. and on... and on... About 40 minutes later I had to admit that
- I hadn't a clue where I was
- I hadn't a clue how I'd got there.
Naturally I ended up accosting an unlucky Austrian woman on the street and practicing my poor German and sign language. A 15-minute trek later I made it to a U-bahn station somewhere in the Styx and eventually back to the Youth Hostel for a much needed rest.
Rest??? Ha! Soon we were off again, back to the Vienna Film Festival. There were about 20 stands selling food from all around the world: Spanish, American, Mexican, Hungarian, yesterday's plum pudding and today's Dalmatian chicken dish.
Decisions, decisions
The entertainment proper was a live telecast of Don Carlos from the Vienna State Opera.
Culture vultures
The opera was too long (3� hours) and in Italian and it was too cold; but overall it was an entertaining and definitely Viennese experience.
Day 8: Vienna > Bratislava > Vienna
[Richard:
It has come to my attention that human statues are great, that it
is an honourable trade and that there is no plague of Mozart wig
people. and my hair was very good today]
A day trip to Bratislava sounds like a huge undertaking, but the Slovakian capital was only 90 minutes away by train. Much of that was spent at the border station as a succession of Austrian and Slovak (the ones with the big guns) officials came to inspect us. "When crossing a border it pays to look reasonably turned out" claimed the Rough Guide. Hmmm. Anyway, they finally let us in, and I got my first ever passport stamp.
The walk from the station to the town centre was promisingly Eastern European... for a start everything was CHEAP (a major theme of the day). Hotdogs for 15p, ice-creams for 10p, semtex for 50p. We hoped this was just an unfortunately-named drink.
We walked down to the Danube to see the 'Most SNP', a huge bridge built in the Communist era with a giant supporting column supporting a Starship Enterprise-style viewing platform.
Most SNP
Next to the famous Cafe Mayer for a cappucino and Mayertorte (highly recommended not only for the name).
At the Cafe Mayer
After a stroll round the pretty Old Town we ascended (beamed up?) to the top of the Most SNP for lunch in the panoramic restaurant. One view gave you the castle, cathedral and Danube, while the other was a sweeping vista of tower blocks - the Petrzalka housing estate, home to a third of the city's population.
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We had lunch of goulash and pork medallions in the restaurant on top of the tower (an amazingly cheap �4) and there was all afternoon to explore the likeable city including the grand Presidentpalace.
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Our sojourn finished on a high note with a visit to ... Tesco! We stocked up for a big dinner with our remaining k200 (�3.50) and still had food left over.
Can I use my Clubcard?