Oh The Places We’ll Go

This post is long delayed, I’ll note that immediately.  In fact, how delayed this is I won’t even begin to recount to anyone because it’s so completely and utterly embarrassing that I’m only just now getting around to ending my traveling backpacking blogs, I should be tarred and feathered.  Of course, since I’m doing this from memory, obviously my recollections of things aren’t going to be quite what they would have been should I have done this immediately following the adventures.  Instead I’m left struggling to recollect, my own fault of course, but I’ll do my best to conclude so that years from now, when I absolutely don’t remember anything, I can read these and pick up on fuzzy, far away images from adventures of long ago.

After the island night, with crazy Gaycob, Kurt being “Rocky and shit”, Sam and I hilariously creeping up the 105 stairs to the hostel nearly exploding with laughter, there were 2 notable arrivees to the hostel, though which one arrived first I don’t really remember.  The first was Connie, a 5 foot nothing American girl from the Bay Area (go figure), who I clicked with immediately.  We’re from the same area studying abroad, share the same obsession with good tequila and margaritas, and were both greatly disappointed in the unattractiveness of Italian men.  The second was an Australian named James, otherwise known as Curly Jim.

Now, I know for a fact that Saturday night was our Cinco de Mayo streetparty night, full of margaritas that were WAY too strong for anyone to handle unless they had years of experience with tequila crazed people mixing margaritas for them.  Luckily, my mother taught me well, and the margaritas were nothing short of extraordinary.  The lot of us showed up to the street party on Saturday night buzzing with excitement, especially the few of us who were Americans.  Mexican food in the middle of Hungary?  Give me a nacho and I’m sold.  The band on the street was great.  We got little flowers for our hair, more than a few drinks in our hands, and headed out to the middle of the crowd to dance the night away.

Sunday I know for a fact was park day.  Initially I wasn’t sold on going to the park.  In fact, I wanted to be nowhere near an outside, grassy, hot climate with nothing to wear but a t-shirt I’d worn 500 times over and a book that I needed to finish.  The Pillars of the Earth, my book project since purchasing it in Krakow, was taking forever.  It was sucking the life out of me, and it needed to be killed.  It’s an addictive, long, complex novel that is fantastic (once you’re finished) but at a certain point drones on and on.  It’s especially long when you decide that reading it while extremely intoxicated is a wise idea, then having to go back and re-read what you drunkenly read once you’ve finally sobered up.  Who gets drunk and reads?  Me, apparently.  The point being, I wasn’t enthused about going to a park in the least bit.  I went for a mini-walk around the Buda side, got back to the hostel and realized no one was there, and instead of being anti-social and reading I decided to meet up with everyone at yes, the park.  Once I got there, I realized everyone had their cheap Hungarian beer in hand and, after getting hit in the head with a soccer ball (Thanks, Kurt), I went to the local stand to get me a beer of my own.  Sunday marked the arrival of Curly Jim, more commonly known as James, an Aussie surfer straight of out high school and direct from Sydney.  Kurt and Jim had become buds the last time he had stayed at Carpe Noctem, a few days before I arrived for Cinetrip, the massive rave in a Hungarian bathhouse, and he’d made it a habit of leaving and eventually making his way back to Budapest.  It’s an addictive place to stay for most people who have a lot of time for traveling.  Why would you ever want to leave a place that is so cheap, beautiful, accessible, and full of a constant and revolving door of attractive young travelers?  James and I hit it off right away, since his cousin goes to UCSB (small world, eh?) and he was coming out to visit California at the end of his trip.  I’ve never quite understood what this whole gap year thing is about, but these non-Americans have the straight up right idea.  Traveling when no one else is, seeing Europe and then getting back to civilization to do the boring and tedious work of university.

Back to the park.  Drinking drinking drinking, sun sun sun.  After a few hours of killing time and dragging myself back to the hostel, I was met with a challenge.  ”Try to actually look like a girl, for once, Cat”.  Ugh.  Fine, I’ll check and raise you buying me a pint later.  Deal?  Luckily, Sam is you know, a girly girl and lent me a shirt to wear for the night.  I’m not some butchy non-makeup wearing manly girl or anything (not that there’s anything wrong with any of that), but I’ve been known for my affinity for wearing t-shirts and jeans on a daily basis.  Especially while backpacking.  An actual shirt-shirt for once?  A nice change.  Once I got ready to go, walked out into the main hall and saw a jaw actually drop at the shirt I was wearing, I knew mission accomplished.  We headed out to Morrisons for some shenanigans and it was probably my favorite night of the whole Budapest experience.  Drunken dancing, drink after drink, shot for shot, PLUS B-City Pub?  Perfection.  Plus the dance moves to that crazy African-American weight lifter videos?  I’ve heard “Get it”, “Yeah Budddyyy” and “Nothin but a peanut” enough times to last me a lifetime after that night.

Kurt left on Monday for sailing in Croatia, that bastard.  It was one of those, wake up, “Hey I’m leaving in an hour for Croatia” and then boom, he’s gone.  What the fuck.  Australian James became my new shenanigans buddy until Wednesday when I, too had to leave.  The next two days went so quickly for me since I had such a hard time figuring out how I was going to get to Frankfurt Hahn to fly out on Ryanair back to Glasgow on the 14th.  Initially I had planned on leaving Wednesday, spending that night in Hahn or whatever city it is, and then just getting up and bussing it out to the middle of nowhere airport for my flight on Thursday.  Not going to happen.  Turns out there are NO hostels in that city, and, to make matters worse, I had to pay for whatever train I was going to take since my pass expired on the 13th at midnight.  Devastated.  I didn’t want to miss Mongolian BBQ on Wednesday and I would’ve had nowhere to stay anyways on Wednesady night, so I bit the bullet.  I bought an overnight seat on a train from Hungary to Germany leaving at about 7 that night, so I wouldn’t miss Mongolian BBQ and I could make it to Frankfurt Hahn with plenty of time.

Monday and Tuesday night were pretty uneventful from my recollection.  Sure, they were fun and had plenty of crazy, drunken shenanigans but compared to earlier I don’t remember much.  Most of my time was spent hanging out with Samantha and James, cuddling with Kes, finishing the book, and sleeping.  Oh, and drinking of course.  Once Wednesday finally rolled around I was so upset at the thought of leaving I didn’t even want to go.  Thank god I got to go to Mongolian BBQ.  Otherwise I would’ve been crushed.  Mongolian BBQ was epic.  Unlimited drinking and eating for 5 whole hours.  I’m sold.  We had such a great time, such a great event for my send off, it almost made it even harder to leave.  Once I was solidly drunk and left at 5 that night, I got back to the hostel and signed the guestbook, grabbed my bag and headed down the stairs for the bus to the train station.  I was gutted.  Emotional and drunk, even.  All of this great traveling, all of the meeting and craziness was over, and I was devastated.  I got on the train and was in a compartment with a nice Hungarian woman who spoke no English, but all she could say was “no cry” since I was yes, crying, and once she smiled at me and I smiled back, I stopped.

That’s not to say I wasn’t happy to see Nicola, Liz and Erin back in Glasgow.  I couldn’t wait to go back out to Curlers and hang out with everyone, drink a bit, see my brother and get into some madness with him, but I knew that it would be a long time before I could go out and hostel it up again, meet some more new and crazy travelers.  I was so unbelievably happy I went to Carpe, and that’s entirely thanks to Tess and Johnny, and could only hope that someday maybe I’d run into one of them again.  James in Sydney?  Kes in Brisbane?  Brian in Boston?  Double-A Ron in Santa Rosa?  Who knows.  All I know is that as I’ve said a thousand times over, the best things in life come to you when you least expect them to, and for Budapest’s sake I’m glad it came to me when it did.

I got on the plane to Frankfurt Hahn in the nick of time, flew back to Glasgow, and was antsy with anticipation just WAITING to see the girls again and wanting to tell them everything that had happened.  Once I finally got back to the flat, I was happy to be back in good ol’ Glasgow, knowing that just as my days were numbered for backpacking, Glasgow and I’s short but passionate love affair had its’ days numbered as well.

This post has been long delayed, of course I know that.

It’s hard when you’re traveling to remember to update, especially when everything costs money and you just can’t be bothered sitting on the computer for too long before you feel like your brain is about to fry/explode.

I guess I’ll just start from what has been most recent.

Krakow was amazing.  I’m not even sure if I’ve posted anything about forgetting my camera in the hostel, having to stay the extra night, then getting dragged out with a bunch of Manc stag party boys who insisted on buying me pints from 11am to very very early the next morning.  Not a bad way to live- eh?  Nicola said maybe I was meant to leave the camera behind, and I have to agree.  It was the absolute most batshit crazy, ridiculous night of my life and I’m so so glad I missed that train.

Prague was boring for me.  The hostel was a little anti-social, I had nothing to do, managed to make it out one night and left early.  Plus I spilled mustard on my favorite shirt- absolutely gutted.  It’s a little pathetic that mustard spilling is my great story for Prague but oh well.  Don’t get me wrong, Prague is absolutely beautiful.  The buildings are gorgeous and the gardens are amazing, but anything after the chaos that was Krakow would have paled in comparison.

Vienna was a boring little visit too, except for the fact that all of these random people from the Krakow hostel ended up staying in the same hostel with me in Vienna.  It’s a little crazy, the entire situation.  We always say traveling you meet people and your process of being friends is on speed.  You make best friends in hours, days, and knowing anyone for longer than three or four days feels like a lifetime.  Maybe that’s the reason why meeting up with people you know from before is so great.  You’re traveling around in a big group of all of your best mates… even though you know you’ve only known them for a few days.

I ran out of money in Vienna.  4 euros to last three days is not fun and I would not recommend that experience to anyone.  Besides the fact that Vienna itself is simply boring, not having any money to see anything and on top of that having to walk around EVERYWHERE without clean clothes (no money to do laundry) is hardly the enjoyable experience.  PLUS the hostel was in a shady location so walking around alone at night felt like someone was about to jump out and rape me.  Fuck Vienna.

One great thing that came out of being in Vienna with all of the guys from before- Tess and Johnny, Kane, Brian and Dennis- is that I was pretty easily convinced to come to Budapest (something that had been eliminated from my list early on) and as it turns out… Budapest is IT.  It’s amazing, the hostel is just absolutely fantastic, and Suze and Kez and Brad are freaking amazing.  I showed up and two hours later ended up adding 3 days to my stay.  Going out every night, partying it up.  Did I tell about the exchange rate?  1000 forents (however you spell it) is 3 euros.  THREE euros.  And beers are all around 500 forents.  that’s a 1.50 beer.  I love this country.  I’m staying until the night of the 13th and taking an overnight train into Frankfurt I think.  I think it’ll be a good way to end my trip… and besides it’s cheap and I just can’t be bothered leaving.

I’ll elaborate more on my travels once I get back into Glasgow and can add some photos.  Thomas comes in on the 17th/18th for a highland adventure and I can’t WAIT!  I miss my computer, my life, friends, everything.

Hope everyone is having a good time stateside… Budapest is the BEST!

I felt pretty rough waking up on Friday, but thank god I didn’t feel nearly as rough as Brad did that morning.  He crawled out of his room looking like the night of the walking dead.  Eyes half open, hair all tussled about, clothes half on and shifted to one side.  He came out of the room for about five seconds, saw the light of day and just went, “I need to go back to bed” and disappeared again.  The champs of the night before, including two big Australian guys whose names I can’t even remember, were up bright and early in the morning with no problems at all.  Champ status right there.

Now, I always got made fun of at Carpe for never going to sightsee.  It happens when you stay in Budapest at Carpe.  They always tell you go and see what you’re going to see the first day you’re there.  Otherwise you’ll never see anything.  You may think, now that’s an exaggeration, but it’s completely true.  There are people who spend their entire trip inside during the day and out drinking until 5am, never seeing anything other than the insides of pubs.  Friday was my “I am determined to be productive day”, and a bunch of the Australians wanted to go and sightsee since they knew they were leaving at 5 the next morning after pulling an all-nighter off partying at the island with the rest of the hostel.  Of course, the one day I decided to actually go and see sunlight and be productive Budapest decided to go and get all hot on me.  I’m telling you, this ‘real weather’ thing has completely thrown me off.  Sunshine, actual HEAT.  Give me some rain and wind and I know exactly how to handle it.  I was overprepared for sightseeing on Friday, including wearing a sweatshirt I couldn’t take off.  The lot of us walked for ages and after showing up late for the free walking tour, a few of us branched off to climb the big hill on the Buda side with the big statue on top.

Climbing big hill with sweatshirt on in heat- not a good idea.  I had taken a shower that morning and by halfway up that stupid mountain I needed another one.  Sweat and I don’t mix well, so I was miserable AND looked like absolute ASS in all of my photos.  Brian, Australian James, French-Canadian Jeremy, Diego from Chile, and I made that hill our bitch.  Well, with lots of stopping and searching for a hair-tie for me (thank god I had that pen in my bag).  The view from the top is great since you can see all across Buda and Pest to the mountains around the city.  One thing I have to say though.  That damn statue- she’s holding a damn leaf?!  All that climbing for a chick with some fern in her hand.  What a let down.  On the top of the hill there’s an old German bunker with pictures of the Soviet/German invasions of Budapest.  The one touristy thing I did the whole time I was in Budapest.  The best part is a picture of the very bridge I had walked over the day before, completely destroyed from the bombings during the invasion.  Literally, the entire bridge minus the stone foundations went into the water.  Crazy.

A walk back to the hostel, another shower, and a change of clothes and I was ready for the island.  Well, technically it IS an island but not how I think of one.  No surfing or anything like that.  Beaches, yes, and surrounded by water, yes.  The lot of us headed out for the island ready to party it up with Suzi and Kes (his first night out with us by himself, I believe, as he had been entertaining a friend of the female persuasion up until that day).  4 of the guys whom I had known since Krakow and Vienna (Johnny, Tess, Brian and Kane) were headed for Croatia the next day at 5am so they were pulling an all-nighter on the island before splitting to Split and hanging out on the beach for the next week.

It was at on our way to the island that I met one of the most memorable characters from all my travels- Gaycob.  Commonly known as Jacob, yes, but I find that Gaycob is a more fitting nickname.  Jacob is a very tall and narrow, close-to-the-head-shave gay man from North Carolina originally but came to Budapest via New York City.  The boy has all different kinds of crazy stories and just oozes sass and attitude.  I love him from moment number 1.  I believe our first destination pre-island was Morrisons 2 (or is it Morrisons 1?  I can never remember), where I met Gaycob.  He’s got all different kinds of celebrity gossipy stories from working in retail in NYC (“Lady GaGa, bitch needs to get a new weave… hers is the worst I have ever seen!”), the flick of the hand and the sly grin on the face.  Not to mention the boy has the greatest sets of sunglasses I have ever seen in my life, and he’s incredibly funny.  All about the attitude… and I love it.

When I had first arrived in Budapest the hostel was, let’s just say, a sausage fest.  3 girls, the rest male.  The odds were in my favor.  Around Island Party day the scales started tipping more evenly with the arrival of Connie, my fellow Californian.  And from the Bay Area, which made her automatically awesome.  Connie is a 5’ nothing insanely tan and insanely petite girl from Santa Rosa studying in Italy.  She’s quiet at first but get her going and she’s a firecracker.  Really nice, really laid back.  I like her.  At Morrisons 2 we had missed out on the good drink specials so after a couple of beers we all up and headed to the island for some partying.  First stop, 2 for 1 tequila.  I love this island already.  Tequila, beer, tequila, beer.  I’m in it to win it.  Most of my night was spent chatting to some combination of Sam/Kurt/Connie/Gaycob, though I don’t remember half of what was said past a certain hour.

At one point Kurt tells us he’s leaving and I drunkenly forbid him.  Where does he think he’s going?  He’s not drinking anymore tonight, too many carbs.  Sam and I tell him we’ll grab a to-go beer from the bar and head back with him in a cab.  Beer in hand, we hop in the cab and get back to the hostel after nearly peeing ourselves from laughing up the stairs.  It was this night, I believe, that my adding the phrase “and shit” to the end of every sentence got out of hand.  I finish the beer from the island bar sitting on the counter in the kitchen and, what do I do?  Go to the fridge and open another can.  I am awesome.  It’s 3am and Kurt is making one of his workout drinks- raw egg whites.  I tell him he’s “like Rocky and shit” and we all burst into drunken laughter.  The rest of the night gets really spotty.  I don’t even remember being in the lounge until I wake up the next morning, jeans still on, and find myself with a picture on my camera- me in a furry Russian hat?  Where did this hat come from?  I have no idea.  It’s 10am and beer o’clock already.  Let’s do it.

You would think at this point in the vacation that I would need a breather, that I would need to sit back and relax before going out again.  Not so fast.  Thursdays are Morrisons nights, and we all know what that means.  100 Forint beers.  As in less than 50 cents, as in 10 beers costs 3 euros.  Where do I sign up?

During the times when daylight was shining, I honestly can’t recall doing much other than sitting around and reading my book.  In Budapest I picked up the habit of drunkenly trying to read my ‘Pillars of the Earth’ book around 4am before giving up and falling asleep.  However, as I dog-eared the page I drunkenly read last, I would have to go back and re-read whatever it was I had drunkenly read before.  This happened a good 5 days in a row or so.  Get drunk, get back, get the book, read, pass out, forget, re-read it all over again.  How annoying.  Especially during a graphic rape scene halfway through the book.  Traumatizing enough the first time around, and not something I’d like to re-read ever again.

The one time I actually decided to go and, you know, see the light of day was for dinner across the street with a big group of people staying at the hostel.  Mostly Australians and Kiwis, minus Brian and I.  This was a pretty standard group percentage going for most of the trip- large majority Aussies, small percentage Americans.  Fine by me, I guess.  Just keep talking in your really cool Australian accent and I’m smitten.  The restaurant across the street from the hostel gives hostel residents free beers when they eat there, so I was sold from the moment I heard ‘free’.  Turns out… this place takes forever for service.  And I mean FOREVER.  Literally took us days and days to get served, though once I actually did get my goulash it was so worth it.  I’m telling you, meat and potatoes are my weakness and Eastern Europe is full of em’.  The closer and closer time crept towards 830 the more and more anxious and antsy all of us were getting.  WE don’t want to, you know, miss out on all the delicious beer flowing from the taps at Morrisons for such an insanely cheap price.  It was literally cheaper to wait and just drink at the bar instead of pre-gaming.  That is how cheap it was.  God knows how long waiting at this restaurant, we finally got the bill, divvy’d it up and headed out to Morrisons to meet up with everyone already significantly into their beer stupors.  In retrospect I almost wish I would have gone straight away with the rest of the crew to Morrisons instead of going to the stupid restaurant.

By the time we got to Morrisons everyone was already far beyond buzzed and into their happy drunk phases, so we did what any normal beer and alcohol loving people would do… try to catch up.  Grab two beers, drink those, go back for seconds, over and over again.  Once I saw Brad’s arm full of all the B’s he had written on it (B for beer, T for tequila, etc) I knew there was no way any of us were going to catch up with all the crazy Australians who had been there since 8.  Drunken karaoke ensued for the rest of the night, no participation from me of course.  Seeing as how Kurt told me I had the “most annoying voice on the face of the planet” (true story), there was no way I was going to subject anyone to me singing drunken karaoke against their will.  Besides that, I would have to be level 4 drunk, blacked out, and absolutely shithoused before I’d even consider singing in public.  In other words, never going to happen.

About halfway through the night while all of us were sitting around the table, I’m sitting alone chatting away to someone when all of a sudden I feel someone’s arm around my shoulder, look to my right and see a blond and clearly drunk Hungarian guy.  He starts speaking Hungarian and realizes I obviously don’t have a clue what he’s saying when he switches to English.

(in a Borat-esque voice) “HELLO!  How are you?”

Ignore.  He keeps trying to talk to me, and I give him a few words here and there.  I’m fine.  Just drinking.  No, I don’t want your beer.  After a while he starts pestering these two girls that Tess is talking to, getting drunk and disorderly when Tess tells him to leave the girls alone.  Ah, 100 forint beers.  Once I got up to go and get my double fist refill of beer, as I’m walking back and start talking to Brian I see out of the corner of my eye that this guy is ASLEEP in the middle of the bar, head turned towards the ground.  Completely passed out.  This seems like the perfect opportunity for a picture.  Tess grabs my camera and I start posing with drunk crazy Hungarian guy for a few photos and then leave the guy alone.  The table has been completely abandoned thanks to crazy Hungarian guy, like he is the black hole no one wants to get sucked into.  A little while later after coming back from the bar yet again I walk up to the group and just as I turn towards the drunk Hungarian across the room, I see him lurch.  “Oh no, he’s not going to…”

Yes, puke.

All over the floor.  In the middle of the bar.  Absolute classic.  I point him out to everyone and we are all equally amused and disgusted.  God, I’m proud I got to witness the sick.  Don’t judge.

I don’t really remember why but all I remember is needing to leave all of a sudden from Morrison’s.  I think I was still gutted Alabama and his friend never showed up at Morrisons that night and, sure enough, never saw them again.  Devestated.  I just remember drunkenly feeling absolutely exhausted, figuring out the quickest way back to Carpe and leaving by myself.  Of course, I’m retarded and drunkenly left a bar in a foreign country by myself… probably not the smartest idea in the world.  I tend to get really weird about that stuff when I’m really drunk.  I make these really sudden decisions and become obsessive about going through with them.  If I need to leave, I NEED to leave.  Now, no questions asked.  I got back to the hostel pretty quickly and passed out, jeans on and everything, on my top bunk.

The next morning, my stomach hates me.  I hadn’t PROPER drank since Krakow and even then I wasn’t pounding beer after beer post-shot taking and vodka redbulling.  It’s not so much a hangover as it is the acid buildup in the stomach.  A combination of “I need to eat” and “I never want to eat again” all wrapped into one.  Once I finally wandered out of bed and showered, I pulled out my book and delved into my book.  The group had all gone out walking for some sightseeing and I had inevitably missed out.  My hair needed to dry (don’t laugh) and I just couldn’t be bothered.  I figured I’d get myself together and wander out by myself for a bit later that afternoon, which I inevitably did.  If every night was like B. City Monday’s, even if Budapest was ugly as SHIT it would be one of the best cities I’d stayed at if not purely for the night life.  Once I got around to walking, though, I discovered Budapest is anything but ugly.  It is absolutely BEAUTIFUL.  Just one glimpse at the Parliament building, this grand and intricate building covering a span of land right next to the river, and I am sold.

After my bit of walking around Budapest to get a good idea of what the city is like, I wander back into the hostel and realize there are new non-Krakow and non-Vienna acquaintances that have just arrived.  Beer o’clock is here and, beer in hand, I pull up a bean bag next to a tan mid-twenties guy with a nice square jaw.  He opens his mouth and I’m in heaven- he’s a southern boy.  From Alabama.  I meet his friend, who is insanely nice, but I’m too preoccupied with the southern oil-rig working Alabama boy who drives the truck and the whole shebang.  Way to fit a stereotype buddy, but I didn’t even care.  Just keep talking with your funny, slow, insanely adorable little accent and I’ll just smile and nod.  You don’t meet many southern people traveling.  I wonder why that is?  Loads of Canadians, Californians and New Englanders, but Southerners and Midwest people are few and far between.

Wednesday night is the Epic Pub Crawl (mind you, there are many epic pub crawls every couple of days, not that it matters) and I am ready and roaring to go.  The lot of us headed out to the first pub and after a few minutes of chatting away at everyone I am poked on the shoulder and turn around to, guess who, 2 of the crazy foursome of Australians from Krakow and Vienna.  Dan, the hippie dreadlocked and laid back one of the crew, and James, the relaxed and friendly Aussie with hair that may even be longer than mine, always tied in a nice and long, straight braid.  I hadn’t expected to see them in Budapest, so I was excited to see yet another familiar face in with everyone else that I already knew.

As we hopped from one crazy looking bar to another, including one with graffiti’d bathrooms that looked like they hadn’t been cleaned since Hungary was communist, I got to drinking more and more with the southern boy and his friend before we somehow ended up in some random club with the rest of the group?  This part I really don’t remember.  I remember dancing (which, as I feel I need to remind people every time I state that I was dancing ANYWHERE- I don’t dance… ever), and I remember drinking a lot, but other than that I couldn’t tell you what the club looked like or what music was playing.  It’s a mystery.  What I do remember is heading home with southern boy and his mate, stopping at a kebab shop along the way and preventing the drunken southern boy from getting into a fight with some guy who shoved him while we were standing in line.  It was all drunken stupidity, really, and as drunk as I was that night I wasn’t drunk enough to let anyone get into a fistfight over some stupid shove.  Get over it, men.  After wandering back to the hostel kebab in hand, we got into our rooms and I immediately passed out.  Too much alcohol, most of the night I don’t really remember, and until I started clicking through the photos the next morning as I woke up I hadn’t even realized that Dan and James had shown up.  I completely forgot until I saw the pictures and just went “Oh yeah!”.  Woops.

There are times in life when life’s unexpected curves end up turning out far better than what had originally been planned.  For me, changing my plans and heading to Budapest turned out to be the best travel decision I have ever made, far better than missing my train in Krakow for the Preston boys (and I thought that story would be hard to top).

Sure, I had no idea what to expect from Budapest.  Armed with the guidebook I had “accidentally” stolen from a hostel during the early leg of my travels, and even pre-armed with a map of Budapest I lifted from Vienna, I knew that Budapest would be good even if the city was shit.  I knew people there, had a couple of days to spend checking out the town, and that was all I really thought of it.  On the train from Vienna to Budapest, Tess, Johnny and I sat back and watched ‘Sweeney Todd’ and I remembered why I don’t watch movies on moving objects.  Headaches ensue, and with no fresh air in a train compartment it was all bad news.  Well, not really bad news.  Just annoying and I didn’t want to be a bother and stop the movie all because of some stupid headache.  I’m stronger than that.  3 hours on the train and loads of chatting, re-starting the movie (thank you, power failures on the train), and eventually giving up on Sweeney, we got into Budapest in the early afternoon.  Again, weather I was not expecting in Budapest.  It had rained in Vienna when I left and in Budapest the sun was out and HOT.  Sweatshirt probably wasn’t the wisest idea for attire but you live you learn, I guess.  We got into the secondary train station (once again) and tried to figure out how to get from Keleti to Nyugati station on the underground/tram.  Once we actually FOUND the Metro (thank you, construction), we got off to catch the tram and couldn’t figure out where to get the tickets when we had no change.  Whatever, fuck it.  Let’s just hop on.  We never did figure out how to get a tram ticket but as it turns out, you don’t need one.  They never check.  Ever.

Once we got into Nyugati station we found the hostel really easily and, though I knew I had 100 stairs to climb once we got there, the actual reality of the stair climbing sucked far more than I had expected.  I blame the sweatshirt wearing sweaty hotness that Budapest weather had inflicted upon me, plus my general aversion to stairs, but of course we all made it to the top absolutely exhausted and ready to ring the bell.  The door swung open to this really cool looking flat, not like a hostel at all.  The only thing that gave it away was the extra cushions piled up against the far wall and, of course, stacks of bunk-beds lying around every room.  With only 4 rooms, 8 or 10 beds in each and some of the staff staying in some of them, the hostel was really intimate and friendly.  Far less people in it than the hostel in Vienna, which probably had well over a hundred beds.  Suzi, who checked Johnny and Tess and I in as soon as we got in, just led us to our room chatting and swearing away, completely not giving a shit.  I loved this place already.  Set my bag down, Suzi is chatting away and cracking jokes and Kane is already in our room.  Kane, not expecting to see me, gave me the “Hey!  I wasn’t expecting to see you!” smile and the reunion was already in motion.  What made it even better, though, was the moment Suzi left the room, Kane just tells us, “This is the greatest hostel ever.  Last night was madness, and tonight is going to be even better.”

Number one priority upon arrival: food.  Brian, Kane, Johnny, Tess and I were all starving and everyone had planned on going out to some Indian food place Kane had seen the other day wandering back to the hostel from whatever.  Turns out Budapest is really cheap.  I mean, really cheap.  1000 forints is about 3-4 euros, and since Indian was estimated to be around 2000, this could be my cheapest meal of my travels yet.  Being the unadventurous eater that I am, I had never had Indian food before but I figured you live you learn.  I don’t want to be like that crazy New Orelans couple from Krakow only eating McDonalds.  Sign me up for Indian.

The one person in the group going to the Indian food place I hadn’t met yet was Kurt, who as it turns out I would get to know really well during my stay in Budapest.  At first glance, Kurt is well… scary.  I know people with loads of tattoos (shit, all of Thomas’s friends have sleeves AT LEAST), and I know people who are really really built (most of Thomas’s friends have only one religion, and that religion is the gym), but the combination of the two embodied themselves in Kurt.  Tattoos everywhere (including the word ‘Ego’ written on his foot) and muscles popping out, all I could think was fuck, I really wouldn’t want to meet this guy in a dark alley.  Besides the fact that well, Kurt’s a built guy, his posture tends to be very stoic, so even walking around looking at him he oozes this scary confidence like he could beat the crap out of you.  That is until you get to know him, of course.  You learn to know better.  In retrospect, comparing what I know now to what I first thought, it’s funny to think of Kurt as some scary guy who could kick the shit out of me.  Not that he’s not capable, he’s just not like that.  But I’ll get to all of that later… for now, Indian.

Let me preface by saying straight off the bat, I hate spicy food and it hates me.  We do not mix, and even through my love of Mexican food which is filled with all different kinds of crazy spices, I have learned to avoid them all in favor of my mild and boring food.  Indian food is full of crazy spices far beyond the crazy that Mexican food has.  Luckily Tess and Johnny have both had a lot of Indian food, and Brian had never had Indian food either, so they pointed something out that would be pretty mild.  Chicken and rice- very nice.  Then I made the mistake of getting rice instead of naan bread, and by the time I was even halfway through eating I was already stuffed.  This restaurant, by the way, was the quietest restaurant in the history of restaurants.  Kane started joking that even by saying 2 words we were being WAY too loud in the place… why isn’t anyone talking?  Weird.  We finished up pretty quickly and headed back to the hostel, after during the course of the meal I had said a grand total of about 5 words.  We headed up to the hostel and I quickly learned about beer o’clock in all of its glory.  Anytime is beer o’clock, and once we had climbed up all the damn stairs, it was time.  Time for beer.  The local shop around the corner from the hostel sells some local beer for around 215 forint.  That’s about… 75 cents.  Seventy five freaking cents for some huge can of beer.  God, I love this country.  We all got a few cans from the shop and headed back to the hostel for some pre-game festivities.

You quickly learn at Carpe Noctem that priorities in this hostel are a little… different from other hostels.  First off there is no real separation between staff and resident.  Suzi, who owns the whole place with Ian (who was in Croatia for the first few days I was there) smokes and drinks with the rest of everyone.  The staff’s priorities are the same as the people who come to visit: have a good time and drink a lot of beer.  It’s nice, then, because you get to know EVERYONE in the hostel because it’s so small, and going out at night you go to these obscure crazy looking pubs that normal pub crawls and nights out would never lead you to.  After returning for beer o’clock I got to meet a few of the staff I hadn’t met yet.  Brad, the tall and crazy Australian from Brisbane with the boombing deep voice, and Kes, the cuddle master from Australia, are fixtures at Carpe Noctem along with Suzi.  I’m still thoroughly convinced that if there was a loud contest between Brad and I, Brad would win.  I’ve been told otherwise, but I’m sticking to my guns.

Once 8:30pm rolled around and we all had to head out (quiet rules, not that anyone minded since we all wanted to go out anyways), Brad led the way to the first pub before Suzi met up with us later.  Did I mention the free chicken wraps?  And this is night one.  Free chicken, beer o’clock, and nightly pub hopping.  I am never going to leave this place.  Throughout the course of night number one, we managed to wander from a few random pubs into this crazy cellar looking, graffiti’d joint with freestyle Hungarian rap going on downstairs?  And the craziest dentist chair in a pub I have ever seen.  Sure, it was the only dentist chair I had ever seen in a pub, but should I see another one anytime soon, I doubt it will beat this dentist chair.  I’m talking Sweeney Todd quality dentist chair.  Wait, Sweeney Todd was a barber.  Shit, that doesn’t work then.  Oh well, you get the point.  Crazy chair.  At some insane hour Suzi started rounding up people to head over to a pub called B. City, a pub I would come to know and love over the ensuing days in Budapest.  Tess volunteered to go along with Brad and Suzi, so I decided to tag along.  I had nothing better to do, and felt like drinking more anyways.  Things are so cheap in Budapest, I can actually afford to go OUT for once.

Blowjob is the name of the game at B. City on Tuesday nights.  Blowjob is a game that involves the stacking of coasters in pint glasses with one mission: blow off all of the coasters LEAVING one on the top of the pint glass.  Sounds easy enough, but combine that with international consumption rules (no “d” words, drink drank drunk, no cursing, no names, no pointing, etc.) you’re bound for a shit show.  I am terrible at this game from the get go, and Brett Wolfe aka Wolfie or ‘AWOOOOOOOOO’ (as in, a wolf’s howl), is a pro at this game.  This is going to be bad.  As it turns out, I don’t suck at this game.  Sure at first I am terrible, but after a while with a little more liquid courage (thank you, beer), I’m pretty good.  Wolfie on the other hand?  He’s not so bad at the actual participation in the game, it’s more of the consumption rules that kill him.  Conversations towards an hour or two into the game ended like this:

“I am going to drink the consumption vessel.  Shit, fuck, shit, FUCK!”

As we are all counting the violations (shit, fuck, shit, fuck, drink, drank, drunk) we eventually arrive at:

“Fuck this fucking game.  I hate this fucking country.  I hate this fucking city.  Fuck.  Wait, I don’t give up anymore, deal me back in.”

Sure enough, though, the boy took it like a champ.  15 violations deep, the boy sculled his entire beer and was ready for the next round moments later.  C.H.A.M.P.

Some insane hour rolls around, Tess and I are drunk, and we wander back to the hostel to crash and recover from Blowjob and the magic that is B. City.  Welcome to Budapest.

There are a few things that Vienna is known for.  Mozart, palaces, classical music.  Fun?  Not so much.

The train from Prague into Austria and on to Vienna felt like the slowest train in the history of the world.  I had nothing to eat, nothing to drink, and no one to talk to for the however many hour train into Vienna proper.  Of course, coming from Prague into Vienna you are sent to the secondary train station further away from all the youth hostels.  If I had arrived at the main station it would’ve been a 4 minute walk to the hostel.  But of course, no.  Nothing is ever that easy, and I had to tram it up before getting to the hostel in Vienna.

When I got into Vienna it took me forever to find an exchange place to get rid of my Czech money and get some Euros back in my pocket.  Once I got that figured out, I had to wander around and find somewhere to get a tram ticket before messing up WHICH tram stop I needed.  Just one thing after another.  One funny thing did happen, though, that I didn’t expect.  I saw a girl in a UCSB sweatshirt.  In the middle of Vienna.  Waiting for the same tram.  How random?  I asked the girl if she went to UCSB and she said she had just graduated, and I told her I went there too.  We both laughed about it and I told her how to get a tram ticket before we headed our separate ways.  Crazy.  Almost as cool as the guy who yelled “Go Bears” at me while I was wearing my Cal Bears t-shirt in Krakow.  No, it’s not just a shirt that says California.  It’s a California Golden Bears t-shirt.  Get it right.

Once I hopped on the tram and saw a guy almost kick the ever living shit out of this guy who was harassing him, I got off at the right stop and found the hostel pretty easily before getting my bed and unloading all of my crap.  As I was sitting around post-shower, I looked at the window only to see, to my shock, Tess and Johnny with backpacks in hand walking into the hostel.  I literally just said to myself, ‘Wouldn’t that be funny if they were in my room?’ and sure enough, they were.  Tess and Johnny, who I had met before in Krakow, walked into the room and it was like some crazy ‘hey, this is random’ reunion.  They told me that Kane, also from Krakow with us, was also at the hostel and had been there for a day or two already.  There was another guy at the hostel in Vienna with us, Brian from Oregon, who I believe Tess and Johnny had met at Hostelone in Prague?  I can’t really remember how everyone knew each other but he was some old acquaintance of everyone else’s from before Vienna.

I’m assuming the Krakow-Prague-Vienna route is a pretty common one.  They are the 3 big cities in a row with nothing else to see in between, so odds are you’re going to see the same people within that same drag.  Random though, eh?

After I had unpacked and headed down to the bar to chat it up with everyone from the hostel, I had one thing on my mind: I need a beer.  Kane was sitting down in the bar with Brian, the guy from Oregon, who I got to chatting to outside.  Brian really is the nicest, coolest guy.  We shared our “left coast is the best coast” stories with each other and man, if how he talks doesn’t remind me of back home I don’t know what does.  Lots of “man”s, “dude”s and “sweet”s.  Surfer lingo with a  bit of snowboarder/skateboarder thrown in.  If he hadn’t told me, I would’ve thought he was 18 and fresh out of high school.  Nope, 27 years old.  I was literally in disbelief for a couple of days before I actually believed that he was 27 years old.  Brian is the youngest 27 year old I have met in my entire life, that’s for damn sure.  Another random Krakow connection was staying at the hostel in Vienna with us: Andy the Kiwi.  I literally didn’t know Andy’s name for a good 3 days before I found out it was Andy.  He was Kiwi, and nothing beyond that.  That’s how I tend to remember people in the first place- Jersey guy, Oregon guy, etc etc.  There are too many people you meet to remember specific names.  Places are much easier.  Andy had been at Tutti Frutti with me the night of the stag party debauchery and the group of us had drunkenly and rudely awoken him in the middle of the night, including one of the guys stealing his bed.  Woops.  Thankfully Andy was a really nice guy, so he had no hard feelings towards me and my drunkenness from Krakow so we laughed it off and went on our way.

After a solid night of drinking was packed in, including chipping away at the 1 euro bottle of wine that Andy had so graciously offered up to Tess and I, who wandered in but Adam, Alex, James and Dan from Krakow?  Now this was getting crazy.  First Tess and Johnny, then Kane, and now the fearless foursome from Australia?  It was like some massive Australian, Krakow reunion.  I guess Tess and Johnny had been in touch with the boys since being in Krakow and they were staying with Adam or Alex’s relative in Vienna?  I don’t really remember the story, all I remember is they were staying for free in some flat and I was stuck on some bottom bunk that I couldn’t sit up in.  Gutted.  The whole group went out that night, but I couldn’t go out.  No money to spare and a phone call to Dad was waiting for me the next day which ended up completely shaping the rest of my trip.

After heading to sleep early the day I got into Vienna, I woke up early the next day ready to hit up the town and see everything there was to offer in Vienna.  First, need for money and food, and we’ll go from there.  I headed over to the ATM to withdraw money and realized crap, it won’t let me withdraw money.  Next ATM, same thing.  Shit.  Time to call Dad.  Post-Skype conversation with my Dad, my worst nightmare was realized.  I had to wait a few days before my account would be positive again… and I had 8 euros to my name.  For 3 days.  What in the world am I going to do in the middle of Vienna with 8 euros for drinking/eating and sight seeing?  Obviously not much.  I already hate Vienna.

Priorities first: I need food.  I wandered over to the grocery store and picked up the 2 essentials: pasta and pasta sauce.  Cheap enough and 4 euros to spare.  I’d better save that for a Coke a day or something before I start going through caffeine withdraws.  Obviously I wasn’t going to be using trams at all for the sightseeing so I had to suck it up and walk nearly everywhere in Vienna.

Walking in a normal situation isn’t such a bad thing.  I like walking.  It’s good for you and all that shit.  But with crappy pasta in your stomach for every meal for 3 days straight, no caffeine to stop the headaches and no money to see anything?  Walking sucks.  My sightseeing in Vienna was so half-assed it was unbelievable.  It was the beginning of May so the weather had changed a lot since I started my travels.  A lot more sun, a lot warmer and a lot more sweat.  Life sucks.  What I did actually see in Vienna was such a miniscule part of what Vienna was all about.  A few palaces, the opera house, the gardens in the center of town, etc.  Nothing really noteworthy or exciting.  Even if I had the money to take the tram I undoubtedly would’ve had the same opinion of Vienna as I had minus the tram: Vienna sucks.  It’s just another city.  There’s nothing especially exciting about it, nothing overly exciting to see.  Plus, you’re on the euro and euros make everything expensive.  I missed Eastern Europe already.  So loads of walking around, I was exhausted and hot, so I made my way back to the hostel through all the creepy sleazebags lining the street near the hostel.  Sucked.

Positives about Vienna: I got to read a lot.  I mean, a lot.  Of my 1000 page book, 400 pages were churned out in Vienna in a day alone.  Can you say… bored?  After sitting down with my bowl of pasta at the hostel I met the newest arrival to the hostel, Dennis from Jersey.  This guy was such the All-American it wasn’t even funny.  He had been studying in Barcelona for the semester, so we exchanged stories about crazy Barcelona night life and the Apollo (hahahaha… oh man), and how never to show up before 12:30 to a club.  Dennis fit the American profile to the T (not that there’s anything wrong with that): blondie with blue eyes and the slight hint of the funny east coast accent, I was telling him about Rutgers and the grease trucks, about how Newark sucks… until I found out he’s from Newark.  Woops.  It was all good banter, though.  I doubt he meets many people traveling who have ever been to Jersey or really know anything about what Newark is like, just like I’m impressed when I meet people who have been to Santa Barbara/San Jose/Sacramento.  The other guy I got to know from the new crop of people (as in not former acquaintances from Krakow) was a Wake Forest student, Nick.  Nick had been studying abroad in Venice for the semester and was traveling around since his course just ended.  Nick was just a genuinely really nice guy.  Good stories about Italy and Venice, trying to learn Italian and how difficult it is, and random travel stories.  He told me he was going to be in Scotland in May and I told him he MUST go to Glasgow since it’s so much better than Edinburgh.  Fact.

Andy whipped out the cheapo bottle of wine for round two of “how good is this really cheap box of wine?  Can you believe it’s only 2 euros?” and we were on our way.  Bill and Graeme, the Scousers (Liverpoolians), were reeling from seeing Liverpool play earlier that day, Graeme still wearing his jersey.  Everyone got into playing some card game that I didn’t understand.  Shithead?  I think it was called something like that.  Anyways, I sat back and had a good chat with Nick while everyone was playing the mysterious card game I didn’t understand, and glass of wine later I was headed for bed.  Lord, I lead an exciting life.

My last day in Vienna was, what a surprise, as boring as the last two days.  The night before I had a good chat with Tess and Johnny, both of whom were headed to Budapest next and as it turns out, so were Brian and Kane.  Added bonus, the number one hostel in the world at the moment, Carpe Noctem, still had availability and everyone I knew would be there.  I had planned on going to Salzburg and on to Munich afterwards, but I figured Budapest was on my list of places to go, I’d know people in Budapest that I had known for over a week (a LIFETIME in travel time), and the hostel looked like it was really good, so I changed my plans.  On to Budapest for me, and I’d figure everything else out later.  With my last 2 euros until late that night when more money got deposited in my account, I got online and booked the hostel before checking out train times and letting Tess and Johnny know I’d be tagging along.

Sightseeing was underway sometime that afternoon and, sprinkling down rain, I did my share of walking and attempting to be productive, including getting a good look at some cathedral, before giving up at going back.  Rain and I don’t mix, especially with no trams and no umbrella to my name.  The cathedral downtown is large and beautiful, as most cathedrals are.  There were loads of people dressed up as Mozart trying to sell you things everywhere you went.  No, I don’t want your stupid Mozart coffee mug, even if it is an “Official Mozart Item”.  Once I got back to the hostel I met the new Scousers who had just arrived.  They were going to Uni of Liverpool and were the guinea pig study abroad students in Austria, an experiment that as it turned out wasn’t going very well for them.  They escaped for the weekend to Vienna to have a break from whatever city they were studying in.  Billy, one of the Scousers, sure could talk.  I thought I could talk a lot, but this girl gave me a run for my money.  Andy and I were sitting down chatting and as soon as she introduced herself I knew her life story.  She worked for Everton FC, had met loads of WAGs and famous footballers, hated getting snapped at by footballers wives, and was going to get 1000 pound bonus if Everton beat Chelsea in some game at the end of May.  Like I said, life story.  Not that I minded, though.  She was a nice and funny girl, and she told me she was coming to the states to visit friends during the summer.  Oh really?  Where in the states are you going?  Oklahoma, Utah and somewhere else in the Mid-West.

“You mean to tell me you’re going all the way out to the States… to go to Oklahoma?”

“Yeah, I’m SO excited about it!”

Alright, whatever floats your boat, I guess.  Haha.

Once the bar shut down at 10 and we were all kicked out of the bar at the hostel, Billy and her friend, Andy the Kiwi, Nick from Wake Forest, the male Scousers and some random tag alongs and I headed out to some Aussie bar somewhere in Vienna.  Map in hand we made it to the bar which was… empty.  Figures, it was a Monday night and everything, but Jesus.  When I say dead I mean DEAD.  I got a pint or two with my newly acquired funds (thank the lord) and had a good time watching the very intense foosball that was going on between the Americans and the Scousers.  Then the free shot came from the bar for the group.  Now, there are times, and this doesn’t happen often, when the cost of taking something for free outweighs the not taking it.  This was one of those moments.  This shot tasted like…rubbing alcohol.  It was the absolute worst shot in the history of shots.  By far the worst shot I had ever taken in my life.  I wish I had never taken it.

Post-shot, I wandered back to the hostel with one of the randoms and crashed on my bed before being woken up at 9:40 by Tess and Johnny’s packing.

“What time is it?”

“It’s 9:40”

“Mutherfucker… I haven’t packed yet.”

After dragging my ass out of bed and packing as quickly as I could, or more like shoving everything I owned into my bags so I could get out of the room on time and not get feed, I wandered into the common room right on time to check out.  Then I had the pleasure of taking everything back out of my bag and repacking the entire thing from the beginning, re-rolling and re-stuffing everything I owned into my already overflowing bag.  Tess and Johnny and I all decided to take the same noon train out to Budapest since we were going to the same place, so I had a bit of time to get my stuff together before we had to leave.  After everything got packed and put away, I had a few minutes to relax before putting my backpack on and saying bye to Vienna.  Won’t be seeing you anytime soon, that’s for damn sure.

After my insanely hectic day of drinking and debauchery with the Preston boys in Krakow, the 6am wakeup call wasn’t the greatest way to start the next day.  Stomach still full of beer and head still reeling from the lack of sleep, I woke up and promptly gathered my belongings before saying goodbye to the boys still awake from just getting back to the hostel.  I headed out of Tutti Frutti hostel, camera in hand this time, and made the same walk over to the train station before plopping down in my seat and relaxing for the 7 hour train ride to Prague.

Now, I had completely messed up my travel plans by missing the train the day before.  When I had called the hostel in Prague, Sir Toby’s hostel, I was reminded that per their cancellation policy I may be charged a fee for missing a night of my stay.  I tried to explain that I would be willing to add a night to my stay, so still have it be 3 nights but delayed by 1 day, but I don’t think the guy understood me.  I couldn’t be bothered to try explaining it to him again so I ended up settling for the 2 night stay, knowing that I needed to jam in as MUCH sightseeing as I possibly could while I had a full day in the city.

The train ride went by really quickly and before I knew it we were crossing the Czech Republic border and crossing into Prague.  Once I got into Prague proper and off the train, I followed the directions to jump onto the metro and then a tram to get to the hostel in the outskirts of Prague.  There are a few different districts in Prague: Old Town, New Town, the Castle district, etc.  The best located hostels are mainly in Old and New Town, but mine was across the river, a 15 minute tram to all of the major locations in the city.  Sucked, but it was cheaper than anything else so it was good for the price.  I, being the complete twat that I am, misread the hostel number so I wandered around for a good 10 minutes dazed and confused before I figured out I needed building 34, not 24.  I am an idiot.  Once I got into the hostel I got the full speech about how great the hostel was, the location being great, etc etc.  No, you just have to say that.  If you weren’t getting paid to say so, you’d say what everyone else was thinking- God, I wish we were in the center of town.

I didn’t really do much the first night in Prague.  Call it exhaustion or whatever, but most of my first night in Prague was spent reading and flicking through photos, taking a shower and then falling asleep early thanks to the no sleep all nighter the night before.

My only real day in Prague was spent wandering around the city aimlessly, seeing as much as I could without wearing myself out.  I saw the big castle, but didn’t pay to get in… couldn’t be bothered to pay.  The gardens right next to the castle are amazingly beautiful, probably my favorite part of the whole city.  There are tons of flowers and beautiful trees lining this massive park overlooking the entire city.  The architecture in Prague is exquisite.  All of the moldings on all the buildings are very old fashioned and intricate.  You know someone must’ve spent a lot of time building every single one of the buildings you’re looking at.  And, luckily, Prague wasn’t hit during WWII bombings so everything is still in tact from pre-WWII.  Lots of other cities weren’t nearly as lucky.  After I wandered around the Castle District for a while I made my way down the massive hill and onto the big, famous bridge in Prague which was absolutely PACKED with tourists and people trying to sell things.  I hate really crowded and touristy places so I jetted out of there as soon as humanly possible.  I need my space, so walk faster and stop pausing in the middle of the freaking walkway and let me get by already.

Old Town was really really cool, including the Jewish district with all of the old synagogues and buildings.  Again, didn’t go inside any of them.  Everything costs money and I had none, plus I didn’t care enough to make the effort to go inside.  The main square in Old Town was, as everything else is, packed with tourists.  I fucking hate tourists, and I’m one of them.  Go figure.  At this point I was absolutely exhausted from walking around the entire city, so I made my way back to the hostel and pulled up a chair outside with my huge pint, intending to get some writing down in my journal which, up to that point, I had completely neglected to write anything down in.

But you know what they say, plans never go like you think they will.  After I got outside to start writing, I was quickly met by a large group of German guys on vacation in Prague for the weekend.  Turns out they’re all on a basketball team together back in Southwest Germany, so I was impressing them with my Warriors knowledge and they were all following the Bulls/Celtics series.  Of course they’re all Bulls fans- children of the 90s, the only team on TV regularly was the Bulls thanks to the god himself, Michael Jordan.  Most of them spoke English really well, including the main guy I was talking to who was an English teacher.  He had absolutely NO accent, and if I hadn’t known better I would’ve thought he was American.  The thing that gave him away, as it gives most Europeans away, was the fact that he smoked his cigarette all the way down to the filter.  Americans leave a little bit off the end instead of smoking it all the way down.  The German guy was telling me during WWII some German spies were caught by Americans for this very reason- they had done everything right except for when they started smoking, the Americans knew they must be Europeans.

It was around this time that myself and the group of German lads wandered into the all but fun territory of discussing the Holocaust and WWII… me, American and them, German.  Can you say… awkward?  I don’t know how I manage to wander into these situations but somehow I always find myself tredging into the uneven waters of conversation about things to people whom I shouldn’t be discussing it with.  Ugh.  Anyways, it actually wasn’t that bad of a conversation, minus the part where one of the guys jokingly said someone I knew could have killed his grandpa (one of two who died in WWII).  Awkward, but he laughed about it morbidly as conversation passed.

After I managed to squeeze out of that conversation, I was invited on a pub crawl through Prague that 2 English boys were going on, and their lady friend was going to meet up with them later.  The girl and I, along with the German boys, decided to go out on the town ourselves instead of paying for the pub crawl, maybe deciding to meet up with the English lads later.  We wandered down to the Old Town and through the square trying to find a pub without much success.  I don’t know how that happened… we were probably just looking in all the wrong places, but it seriously took forever just to find a place for a drink.  Did I mention, by the way, that the German guys were absolutely MASSIVE?  Seriously, I should’ve guessed when they said basketball players but Jesus.  One of them was 6’6” and towered over me like the boogeyman.  It’s hard for me to find someone that I find intimidatingly tall, but this guy fit the profile.

The bar was boring.  I’ll just say it outright.  It’s hard to find the great banter and chat that happened in Krakow, and all of the German guys while nice were really reserved and quiet.  It’s hard to keep up your energy when the people you’re with have no energy themselves.  The girl I came with had the unfortunate task of talking to the ONE guy who spoke NO English, a 20 year old with a 15 year old girlfriend.  Can you say pedophile?  Geez.  After 2 pints, I was done for the night.  I knew I wasn’t about to make it the full night with the guys so the girl and I said bye and went to the tram stop to catch a night tram back to the hostel.  Of course, on the way we picked up these delicious sausages and I managed to spill mustard onto my brand new GAP shirt.  My life sucks.

I got a decent night’s sleep that night, no thanks to the crazy Polish guys making all kinds of noise getting in and then waking up at some insane hour as they headed out to do some sightseeing.  I hate crazy loud European men.  Almost as much as I hate babies crying within enclosed spaces, but that still takes the cake.  I woke up the next morning ready to get the fuck out of Prague and head to Vienna, since Prague had been nothing but bore and disappointment.  After my bags were packed I headed to the train station and waited around before hopping on the train into Vienna.  I’m sure Prague is capable of being a really great and amazing time out, but with 2 nights and the most boring hostel on the face of the planet, I managed to meet no one memorable AND get in to sleep early both nights in a row.  What a let down.

I left Berlin at some insane hour on the 26th of April and headed out to Krakow, one of the two most recognizable cities in Poland (the other being Warsaw).  I wasn’t sure what to expect when I left Berlin.  I had heard so much about how amazing Berlin was and only left disappointed.  I had no money to go out and experience the nightlife of Berlin, which I hear is absolutely legendary, so much of what I saw was only what I walked around and got to see during the day.  Too much walking, too hot, and just the constant reminder that I am not at all prepared for summer.  Scotland has fucked up my internal weather tolerance, so anything above ‘mild’ is too much to handle.  Besides that, the hostel I stayed in, as much as it was immaculate, was boring and boring and I don’t mix well.  I couldn’t name you a single person I met in Berlin other than a Canadian couple from Regina in Saskatchewan, and the only reason I remember where they’re from is because supposedly people from Regina say they’re from ‘The Vag’… if you get the euphemism.  I’ll let you think about it.

Anyways, about Krakow.  I wasn’t sure how I felt about this long train ride alone on a singular train for 9 hours.  I got to the main train station in Berlin and hopped on the train with plenty of time to spare before it even left (my OCD about being early for trains/planes), and found my seat really easily with the little reservation card sitting above it.  Everything was going fine until some CRAZY woman, younger with pants that didn’t fit her quite right, looked at me in the seat and just went, “You are in my seat”.  After I explained to her that I had a reservation too, she just went, “Well I don’t really give a shit, I paid for this seat and this is my seat”.  Psycho woman.  OBVIOUSLY the woman sitting in front of you is in your seat, not me, if you just looked at the fucking numbers above you.  Of course I didn’t say any of this- I don’t want to step on anyone’s toes… it all got figured out anyways.  All I could think was Jesus, someone needs to calm down and have a drink… people are too high strung to just think and relax about things.  Why the constant need to freak out?

Once things calmed down, the first hour or two on the train I was daydreaming and thinking about plans.  It’s amazing how fast time flies when you’re just beside yourself thinking about things.  One of the things I learned to love traveling by myself was the pleasure of my own company.  You don’t NEED someone around constantly to really enjoy yourself.  Sometimes it’s nice just to sit back and relax.  After I got bored of just sitting around, and especially after I realized no creepy people would be sitting anywhere near me, I got out my iPod, listened to some music, read a book, and when all else fails what do you do?  Wander to the drink car.  As I got there, I realized, woops, I haven’t eaten yet today.  I should probably do that sometime.  Just as I ordered a sandwich I saw a woman pick up the most DELICIOUS looking soup I had ever seen and I just went, I need one of those.  Sandwich and soup in hand, I had the best (and cheapest) train meal of my life.  The soup, as I later found out, was goulash which is the GREATEST kind of soup in the history of the world.  Lots of meat, lots of potatoes, and pure deliciousness.

9 hours later on a train, a dead iPod later and another book finished, I arrived in Krakow with no local currency and no clue how to get out of the train station.  I’m not retarded or anything.  The Krakow train station is really close to the local mall, oddly VERY similar to an American shopping mall, so instead of exiting the station onto the street I somehow ended up smack dab in the middle of a mall.  With a huge backpack.  And no makeup on.  And looking like absolute ass.  Great… welcome to Poland?  People must’ve thought I was insane.  I finally figured out how to escape from the mall, found a currency exchange that was open at night, and eventually figured out how to get to Tutti Frutti hostel.  3 guys were standing outside having a smoke as I got to the hostel and greeted me with a friendly hello, but I was too preoccupied with my heavy bag and need to brush my teeth to even think of replying with anything but a ‘hey’.  I got inside, checked in, found my bed and put the sheets on, and headed out into the living room where the guys with their mate who I hadn’t yet met, making up the terrible foursome, were sat having a chat around the table.  As I would later learn, I was about to get to know these guys very well.  Dan, James, Alex and Adam are all friends from back home in Melbourne (Australia for those who don’t know geography) traveling around Europe together and wreaking havoc upon the planet.  2 people in my room were also from Australia.  Tess, who was originally from Australia but had been living in London for the last 10 months, and Johnny, her boyfriend who was technically Kiwi but had lived in Melbourne before moving to London with Tess.  They were all a really nice bunch.  I’m sure at first meeting I must’ve seemed so boring and dead… I was just exhausted.  The chat in me had completely disappeared, and though everyone was going out that night (post-consuming a vodka gun?  don’t ask… haha), I just couldn’t be bothered.  Too exhausted, too dead inside.  Give me a bed and I’m happy.

The next day I decided to be a good little tourist and wander around Krakow for a bit.  As it turns out- who knew- Krakow is BEAUTIFUL.  The entire Old Town is lined by a park with trees everywhere cascading across the sidewalks and little benches set up everywhere.  I was there in ideal travel time, April, so it wasn’t crowded and the weather was absolute perfection.  I got around to the main square, the Jewish quarter, the castle and the river that goes through the city, snapping pictures and being a good little tourist before heading back to the hostel to relax and pick up my new book (The Pillars of the Earth).  It was only then that I realized why Polish people are so crazy for Pope John Paul II.  He was Polish.  From Krakow.  Woops, forgot about that.  I guess he used to be the head cardinal and got his start in Krakow or something?  He’s kind of a big deal.  Anyways, as I was dipping into my book I ran into a guy who, go figure, is from Sacramento.  As in grew up 20 minutes away from where my parents live.  Cue “It’s a Small World” right now.  We got to chatting, he’s a Republican studying in Durham doing all different kinds of graduate work, and as we were chatting I got conned into going on the inaugural pub crawl through Krakow.  Thank god I did because Jesus did I have a good time.

It was at this time I got to know all the Australians better, including Kane, another Australian from Brisbane.  All the pubs we went to were really cool, laid back pubs.  Plus, the beer is INSANELY cheap in Poland (like everything else is), and cheap and I mix very very well together.  Lots of Polish beer drinking ensued, lots of bar hopping and meeting people.  I even met the nicest Australian girl who dragged me to the club with her and we got to chatting away about traveling alone and meeting people.  Gosh, I wish I remembered her name or got her email or something.  She even bought me a drink (in a non-sexual, friendly kind of way).  Once we got to the final destination and I had wandered around the club, the girl and I sat down at a table with the anti-social French people on the pub crawl with us, whose names I never learned… as they are French, anti-social and didn’t introduce themselves.  As I was chatting away to the cute French boy, trying to get him to understand what the words “chick magnet” went, he interrupted me and just went “My friend is drinking your beer.”

“What?”

“My friend is drinking your beer.”

I turn around and, to my horror discover that yes, the French bastard is guzzling away at my brand spanking new and free, mind you, thanks to the nice Australian girl, beer and all of its deliciousness is slowly disappating into this asshole’s mouth.  I grabbed the cup from him and just said, “Listen buddy, I don’t know who you are or where you come from but where I come from, you drink my beer, I chop off your penis.  Understood?”

I think he got the point.

An hour later, dancing with crazy French people (in a French accent- “Come, we dance Rock N’ Roll!) to the YMCA and other really really bad 80’s and 90’s pop songs, I got my kiss from the cute Frenchie and got on my way back to Tutti Frutti to crash on the bunk bed and get ready for the emotional day that was coming my way the next day- my day to Auschwitz.

I had reserved a spot on a tour to Auschwitz mainly for one reason- I was getting too lazy to actually go somewhere and figure out the different trains/busses/smoke signals I would need to send to get there.  Give me a tour with a ‘board here’ and personal tour of the place and I’m happy.  I’m too lazy to you know, read.  Who reads anyways?  (Obviously, as a Lit. major… reading not necessary… haha).  Anyways, I didn’t do much other than eat to make my stomach stop hating me and read to get my mind right before getting to the tour at 2pm to head to Auschwitz.  Actually, before I was at Auschwitz, I shamefully headed to a McDonalds (don’t judge me) to get food and met an older Baton Rouge couple who had just come from Auschwitz.  They told me they were scared of Polish food and just stuck to good ol’ McD’s.  It was after this that I decided I couldn’t eat American food traveling around anymore… I don’t want to end up like this crazy Louisiana couple.

On to Auschwitz.  The tour left Krakow at around 2 and on the bus they show you this really really graphic video of the original liberation videos from a Soviet camera crew who were the first to get to Auschwitz and document its liberation.  It’s got all different kinds of information about what the people were like when they got there, the different people who had been experimented on, and for me the worst part- the autopsying videos of little children who had been experimented on or starved to death.  I ended up turning my head away for half of it… I couldn’t handle it.  As we got closer to the city of Oscweim (? I don’t remember how to spell it), the tour guide asked if anyone in the coach was British, to which he stated that Gordon Brown (the Prime Minister) was at Auschwitz at the moment, and that we had to go to Birkenau first before heading to Auschwitz I.  Damn you Gordon Brown, fucking up all of the plans.

Birkenau is ENORMOUS.  We couldn’t go and see the wooden barracks, thank you Gordon Brown, or use the bathrooms (bombs in the toilets possibility, of course…), so we were stuck with the brick buildings and the ash pool near the ruins of the old crematoriums.  You could just see from the vastness of the space how many people must’ve been kept at this camp, especially considering over 1,000 people used to be in each barracks.  Yes, 1000 people.  The Nazis destroyed most of the buildings before the Soviets got there so there are only half a dozen or so of the wood buildings and half a dozen brick buildings, but the foundations of the old barracks are left in tact.  As we left Birkenau I got a long distance glance at Gordon Brown and the press following him around.  All this bullshit for one stupid man, go figure.

Auschwitz I is a lot smaller and, dare I say it, nicer than Birkenau.  Take away the ‘Work Will Set You Free’ sign, the death signs and the fact that people (a lot of them) died here, it could actually be… nice?  At least there are trees around and green during the spring.  The buildings almost look like council flats.  Crazy.  Inside the buildings are a lot of what you see at any Holocaust Museum.  Piles of hair, shoes, glasses, pots and pans, etc.  The tour guide was milking the emotion a little bit too much.  Plus she said “Ladies and Gentlemen” enough times to make someone go insane.  The worst part of the whole thing was going inside the crematorium, officially the most depressing place I have ever been in, and from the moment I stepped inside I just went, “Alright, that’s enough… now get me the FUCK out of here”.  Being in there with a bunch of Hacidic Jews didn’t help the situation much.  Loads of emotional Jewish people surrounding me in Auschwitz… ugh.  Too depressing.

Sometime around 6 I hopped back on the coach and got to chatting with Brenna and Anita, who was from Milpitas in the Bay Area, who were both on Fulbright living in Europe for a while.  I had never heard of Fulbright before and I guess it’s all a pretty big deal?  Who knew.  Anyways, we all got to chatting and, dare I say it, laughing, as we left Auschwitz and headed back for Krakow.  Is that wrong, to laugh post-Auschwitz?  I don’t really know, but all I did know was that I was too depressed to continue feeling like shit so the laughing/joking was a good pick me up.  As we got to chatting I got invited to dinner by the Krakow-resident Anita with Brenna and their friend Stephanie.  We got into the Old Town and met Stephanie at the statue of the sideways head (yes, you read that right) and headed to this absolutely delicious Italian food place right next to the square.  I had forgotten how nice it was to meet new people in places.  After my draught through Berlin and Copenhagen, Krakow was starting to make things look up.  Dinner was really delicious and fun.  Lots of joking, chatting, gaining good travel advice, etc.  Just good girl chat.  I even got invited to hang out at the pub after but I had a 6am train to catch the next morning, so I had to pass.

Once I got back to the hostel I had to pack my bag (in the dark) since it was almost midnight and most people were asleep.  I plugged my phone in to charge, set out clothes for the morning, and slipped away to sleep until I awoke to a light turning on, a bang, and really loud people talking in CRAZY accents wandering through the room.  Catherine, meet the Preston boys.  They were all chatting about kebabs and where they had been all night, and just when I thought it was all over, another one wandered in.  Great.  Sure enough I had to wake up 30 minutes later so I just said screw it and woke up early.  I got up, grabbed my iPod from the side table and the guys were sorry about waking me.  I said not to worry about it, I had to wake up in 20 minutes anyways so it wasn’t a big deal.  One of the guys was complaining about how he couldn’t sleep so I chucked him a pair of earplugs and his friend, who I later learned was Craig, told me in his drunken state that I had beautiful eyes.  I got my bag together, told the boys I had to leave, and was nicely ushered out of the hostel as I made my way to the train station to wait for my train to arrive.  As I waited for the train I had remembered that I didn’t recall packing my camera in my backpack, and after realizing it wasn’t in my entire pack (and it wouldn’t have been in the big bag), my horror came over me.  I left it somewhere.  I got on the train with 15 minutes before it left, called the hostel and was overcome with relief when the receptionist told me someone had brought it to the counter earlier the night before.  Thank GOD.  I had to miss the train, though, and there were only 2 trains a day to Prague.  1 that I was about to miss, and one at night.  Shit, I have to call the hostel in Prague.  I got back to the hostel in Krakow as the light was coming up at 6am (too early, yes I know), called Prague and said I was taking the night train instead, and the receptionist was so nice as to set up a bed for me on the couch so I could fall back asleep.  Nice, eh?

I woke up, again, to crazy Preston boys asking me why I was still around, and after I explained about the missing camera fiasco they insisted on inviting me out with them.  As it turns out, they were with a stag party group for their mate’s pre-wedding bash and their plan was, quite simply, to get absolutely pissed every day while they were there.  Sounds good to me.  I told them I would meet up with them in a bit, that I needed a shower and a hair straightening, but I would meet up with them for a pint or two before heading off to my night train to Prague.  After I got myself together I met up with the boys at a pub in the square in Krakow and was quickly convinced (and had my room paid for) by the Preston boys, who wanted to take me out with them for the rest of the night for some pint-drinking Manchester United-watching debauchery.  You had me at pint-drinking, boys.  For the next god-knows-how-many hours I had a good time being the crazy, sassy California girl who says “huh” too much, got bought EVERY SINGLE ONE of my pints and didn’t drop a single dime of zloty the entire day.  I love English boys.  Got to squeeze in some football watching with big Manchester United fans and show off my footie knowledge, which always goes well with the boys.  I ended up wandering around with two of the boys after splitting from the rest of the crowd, and after a drunken and hilarious bed hopping musical chairs (nothing too exciting but nothing that I can post on here), I got to sleep around 3am and two hours later was on the train to Prague.  Hungover and tired, one thing was certain- Krakow is the bees knees, that’s for damn sure.

I survived Denmark and made it safely and soundly to Berlin without a hitch.  My last day in Copenhagen went by pretty quickly.  I went to go and see the little mermaid statue which is out in the middle of NOWHERE and took FOREVER to walk to, but it was worth seeing.  Heck, it was the ONLY touristy thing to see while in Denmark.

My train left way too early for my taste out of Copenhagen, into Hamburg and then a quick train change before hopping on my way into Berlin.  By the time I got into Berlin I was absolutely EXHAUSTED.  I tried explaining to my Brazilian roommate that I needed a siesta and she didnt understand.  Oh well.  Anyways, my first day/night here in Berlin was pretty much spent sleeping, waking up for random people wandering into the room, and falling back asleep.  What can I say, I am the life of the party eh?  The hostel I am staying in here is great… completely immaculate and especially clean.

My first real day spent here in Berlin was spent walking around and doing all the touristy things I could think of doing.  I walked over to the Reichstag, saw the Brandenburg Gate or whatever its called, and had myself a delicious brat from a street vendor.  It was ah-mazing.  The underground here takes a while to get used to.  There is the S-Bahn, above ground trains, and the U-Bahn, a normal underground, but the maps for both of them are intertwined with each other so its hard to tell where one stops and the other begins.

Yesterday was probably my only real sight-seeing museum walking day.  I went to the East Wall, which is the longest stretch of Berlin Wall left, Checkpoint Charlie, and the Jewish Museum (to make Erica happy).  Everything was so freakin expensive yesterday!!  The stupid underground and s bahn, all of the different trains and shit everywhere.  I, being the idiot I am, didnt buy the all day train pass so I kept having to buy new tickets.  Ugh.  Its not like I paid much for the museums or actually looking at anything… just the transport costs so much.  Lots of WWII history stuff, which is right up my alley, lying around Berlin.  I could go into museums and read about Hitler and Stalin, the history of the wall, etc. for hours and hours.  Its things like old paintings and sculptures that put me to sleep.

Right now I am preparing to go to Krakow in Poland.  I have my train reservation all set and ready to go… just have an insanely early wake-up call ahead of me!  Not excited about that.  Auschwitz is the big thing coming my way in Poland.  Should be depressing.  I tried walking around Berlin earlier today and it was so hot I couldnt hack it.  I had already seen what I had planned to walk and see today so I just couldnt be bothered.  I am stuck in this hostel reading up on the places I am going next instead.  I think the schedule is going to be Krakow-Prague-Vienna-Salzburg-Munich-Switzerland somewhere-Frankfurt to fly out.  I think I am halfway through my traveling, which is a little crazy if you ask me, but it is going by pretty fast.  Just exhausting and making me anti-social.

I know this is a bit of a crappy post and everything, but this keyboard is driving me insane since the z and the y are in opposite places from each other on German keyboards.  I cant handle it.  I promise to give a more thorough explanation of everything in my next post.

-Catherine