So the 19 hour train journey turns out to take 24 and a half. Surprisingly the trıp wasn't quite as bad as the extended hours suggest, I was fortunate to meet two Canadians (Tanya and Thea) on the train in the next compartment, their help was instrumental in stopping me from going insane stuck alone inside a small cabin that was more similar to the inside of a cramped but furnished prison than a train cabin.
But to be honest the train compartments reminded me of the Ian Flemming novel 'From Russia with love', the unfortunate thing was I going in the opposite direction, I did not have a Tatiana Romanova to share it with, and the tag line for my movie was not:
"JAMES BOND IS BACK! his new incredible women! his new incredible enemies! his new incredible adventures!"
Yes ladies and gentlemen my tag line read:
"BEN SMITH IS GOING TO ISTANBUL! his new friends the Canadian backpackers! his only enemy the hot and sweaty confined cabin where the the air conditioning does not work! his incredibly new sweat soaked nothing to pass the time boredom!
However, after minimal hassle from the infamous Bulgarian border guards and maximum train going forwards and then backwards and then forwards again we finally arrived in Istanbul.
Being my normally organised self I had no idea where I was or how to get to the hostel that I had booked, this obviously is not a wise thing in a sprawling city of millions upon millions. Fortuitously lady luck blind as she is guided me miraculously in the right direction.
I never knew that I had so many friends until I walked in to the Sultanahmet district of Istanbul. Seriously. Calls of "My friend, my friend, where you from?" called from... well everywhere! People clamour around to give directions or take me there themselves and to give their recommendations of the various hostels on offer, of course my pessimistic mind knows that the directions they give me have a carpet shop stop on the way and the recommendations come from the people employed to scout for customers. However this knowledge does not dampen my spirits as its great to just walk around and talk to people after being confined to quarters for the last day.
So after a fair amount of "Kia ora, Kia ora, hey Kiwi, free apple tea, no obligation to buy, have a seat my friend, what kind of carpet do you like" I make it to my hostel and check in exhausted.
Meeting up with the Canadians for dinner we go to a roof top restaurant with views of the Blue Mosque, Aya Sofia, and the mighty Bosphorus. The meal itself wasn't very memorable but the view is what we were paying for. A few drinks later we head back to the roof top bar on top of my hostel with a surprisingly even better view, we drink and swap travel stories until late.
The following morning I head off in search of some tee-shirts as the European summer has rotted the few remaining ones I have and I get sidetracked by those carpet salesmen again. A shitload of apple tea, a beer and a kebab later (all free of course) they finally understand that when I say "I'm not going to buy a carpet whatever the price" that I mean it and not that I actually want a lower price.
Finally hitting the Grand Bazaar I bargain for some "Raybans" sunglasses. I'm trying them on in the mirror and a man says
"You like, You like?"
and I reply "Yeah, how much?"
"Eighty seven lira, fixed price"
I laugh and say "I only have ten"
"twelve" he replies "because you are my first customer today" - keep in mind that its 2pm and crawling with tourists since opening.
"Deal" I say walking away "thinking" I got a deal.
I wander past a kebab shop that I ate at the previous day and I get the usual "my friend, my friend very good cheap food"
I reply "yes I know I ate here yesterday" at which the owner pipes up from the back "yes yes my kiwi friend, for you today freshly squeezed orange juice, as much as you can drink! on the house!"
Well I'm sold.
Istanbul photos here:
Sunday, July 30, 2006
Saturday, July 29, 2006
Romania - No I didn't see any vampires
The train to Sighisoria Romania was undertaken mostly in the dark, my cabin-mates spoke about three words of English and I spoke no Romanian, hence conversation was at a standstill. Once it gets light I decide to check out the scenery, it looks grim, but that could just be the ghost towns, overcast weather or copious amounts of stray dogs.
I’m not sure what station to get off at so I decide to get off at the one closest to the estimated arrival time on the schedule, fortunately the train is exactly on time and I turn up in the right place, still a few place name signs viewable from the train would’ve been nice.
The hostel turns out to be an easy four minutes walk from the station; I settle in and decide to go on a tour because that’s what everyone else appears to be doing. Weirdly two Dutch guys in a jeep pick us up and we all pile in. We begin to see how the locals in the surrounding villages live, either really really poor or just really poor. The weird thing is that despite their poverty they greet us with smiles and the children follow us around striking poses, laughing and making faces. Of course if you take their photo they expect a few coins in return.
We visit all the deserted but well kept fortified Saxon churches that were pretty much abandoned centuries before. Saxon because the ruling Hungarians of the time gave land in return from protection from the Ottomans to the south and fortified, well for obvious reasons.
Drinking a beer in almost every village proves a great way to interact with the locals who are friendly but look at us like we’re aliens, which we are I guess. One bar has four old men sitting in it and all of them are wearing fantastic hats. I mention the words “awesome hats” enthusiastically to our group and one of the old fellers enthusiastically tips his hat towards me. As he looks me in the eye his wrinkled and aged face cracks a huge smile. I enthusiastically tip my cap back at him and return his smile, language barriers are broken.
After a few more beers the locals decide to really show us their hospitality, they crank up some phat tunes on a rusty old tape player. The thing is they assume that because we visit the Saxon church they believe that we are all Germans and the music turns out to be the oldest German folk music known to man, hilarity ensues as we don’t have the language or even the heart to tell them that actually none of us are in fact German.
In the evening I hang out with Soern and Jonas who are from Denmark. We drink a few unbelievably cheap beers, laugh and swap travel stories until the following day we all depart for Sibiu.
The minibus ride is notable for its death inducing driving as the three of us sit clutching the seats in front with whitened clenched knuckles as the locals calmly nod off despite the random swerving and dangerous speeds undertaken by the driver.
Old town hostel is nothing special in terms of its facilities however it is notable for its party hard staff. At this point I begin to realise that not only do Romanians drink every day, they drink every day to excess. As first I’m thinking that the Romanians are my kind of people but then my body informs me that I am not Romanian and therefore I will struggle to keep up with a people that treat beer drinking as an Olympic sport and every night is the gold medal match. Corporeal consequences are endured. I’m not so naive to say the clichéd “I’ll never drink again” speech but my body makes me resolve to cut back for at least a few days.
During the train ride to Bucharest an old man yells at us for taking our shoes off and I have an unrelated epiphany. It may have had something to do with the uplifting music on my MP3 player such as Guns n Roses, Queen, and interestingly a touch of Meatloaf but as the sun went down over the endless sunflower fields of Romania I came to the conclusion that I have a great life, Soren and Jonas backed away slowly at my over-enthusiasm.
Anyway, enough superlatives because here we are in sweltering Bucharest. My first impression of Bucharest occurred as we exited the train station, to my left an old man grunted as he blasted fourth a turd towards the already shit stained pavement, directly ahead of me a child of about 12 or 13 masturbated freely and laughed as three female Canadian backpackers hurried past, I decided that this was all too much and I promptly turned right and stepped in dog shit. I could tell already that I was going to have a ripper of a time.
Dinner was consumed in an Italian restaurant where my previously rock solid no alcohol resolve was finally broken. Hey twenty hours without alcohol is doing well for Romania! The next few days pass by uneventfully and Soren and Jonas depart for home with promises of a bed in Copenhagen if I need it.
Soldering on by myself I continue the daily battle to find a shady spot to sit/stand/walk in and sighting a McDonalds I feel an involuntary tingle as I smile with glee, McDonalds has air-conditioning! As I sit watching TV in the spot directly below the air-conditioning a man speaks to me as if in a dream, crap he wants me to buy something or get out, has it been 20 minutes already?
I decide to move hostels to a better one because the one I’m in is shit and I need a break from the party atmosphere. I meet a Swiss girl and we go for a walk in the park, she asks if I want to go for a beer and without thinking I’m having yet another beer. Hunger inevitably sets in and we hit a restaurant and proceed to wine and dine until the small hours swapping travel stories, talking EU politics and eventually ‘swapping recipes’. I figure I’ll just sleep on the 19hr train journey to Istanbul tomorrow right?
Check out the photos here:
I’m not sure what station to get off at so I decide to get off at the one closest to the estimated arrival time on the schedule, fortunately the train is exactly on time and I turn up in the right place, still a few place name signs viewable from the train would’ve been nice.
The hostel turns out to be an easy four minutes walk from the station; I settle in and decide to go on a tour because that’s what everyone else appears to be doing. Weirdly two Dutch guys in a jeep pick us up and we all pile in. We begin to see how the locals in the surrounding villages live, either really really poor or just really poor. The weird thing is that despite their poverty they greet us with smiles and the children follow us around striking poses, laughing and making faces. Of course if you take their photo they expect a few coins in return.
We visit all the deserted but well kept fortified Saxon churches that were pretty much abandoned centuries before. Saxon because the ruling Hungarians of the time gave land in return from protection from the Ottomans to the south and fortified, well for obvious reasons.
Drinking a beer in almost every village proves a great way to interact with the locals who are friendly but look at us like we’re aliens, which we are I guess. One bar has four old men sitting in it and all of them are wearing fantastic hats. I mention the words “awesome hats” enthusiastically to our group and one of the old fellers enthusiastically tips his hat towards me. As he looks me in the eye his wrinkled and aged face cracks a huge smile. I enthusiastically tip my cap back at him and return his smile, language barriers are broken.
After a few more beers the locals decide to really show us their hospitality, they crank up some phat tunes on a rusty old tape player. The thing is they assume that because we visit the Saxon church they believe that we are all Germans and the music turns out to be the oldest German folk music known to man, hilarity ensues as we don’t have the language or even the heart to tell them that actually none of us are in fact German.
In the evening I hang out with Soern and Jonas who are from Denmark. We drink a few unbelievably cheap beers, laugh and swap travel stories until the following day we all depart for Sibiu.
The minibus ride is notable for its death inducing driving as the three of us sit clutching the seats in front with whitened clenched knuckles as the locals calmly nod off despite the random swerving and dangerous speeds undertaken by the driver.
Old town hostel is nothing special in terms of its facilities however it is notable for its party hard staff. At this point I begin to realise that not only do Romanians drink every day, they drink every day to excess. As first I’m thinking that the Romanians are my kind of people but then my body informs me that I am not Romanian and therefore I will struggle to keep up with a people that treat beer drinking as an Olympic sport and every night is the gold medal match. Corporeal consequences are endured. I’m not so naive to say the clichéd “I’ll never drink again” speech but my body makes me resolve to cut back for at least a few days.
During the train ride to Bucharest an old man yells at us for taking our shoes off and I have an unrelated epiphany. It may have had something to do with the uplifting music on my MP3 player such as Guns n Roses, Queen, and interestingly a touch of Meatloaf but as the sun went down over the endless sunflower fields of Romania I came to the conclusion that I have a great life, Soren and Jonas backed away slowly at my over-enthusiasm.
Anyway, enough superlatives because here we are in sweltering Bucharest. My first impression of Bucharest occurred as we exited the train station, to my left an old man grunted as he blasted fourth a turd towards the already shit stained pavement, directly ahead of me a child of about 12 or 13 masturbated freely and laughed as three female Canadian backpackers hurried past, I decided that this was all too much and I promptly turned right and stepped in dog shit. I could tell already that I was going to have a ripper of a time.
Dinner was consumed in an Italian restaurant where my previously rock solid no alcohol resolve was finally broken. Hey twenty hours without alcohol is doing well for Romania! The next few days pass by uneventfully and Soren and Jonas depart for home with promises of a bed in Copenhagen if I need it.
Soldering on by myself I continue the daily battle to find a shady spot to sit/stand/walk in and sighting a McDonalds I feel an involuntary tingle as I smile with glee, McDonalds has air-conditioning! As I sit watching TV in the spot directly below the air-conditioning a man speaks to me as if in a dream, crap he wants me to buy something or get out, has it been 20 minutes already?
I decide to move hostels to a better one because the one I’m in is shit and I need a break from the party atmosphere. I meet a Swiss girl and we go for a walk in the park, she asks if I want to go for a beer and without thinking I’m having yet another beer. Hunger inevitably sets in and we hit a restaurant and proceed to wine and dine until the small hours swapping travel stories, talking EU politics and eventually ‘swapping recipes’. I figure I’ll just sleep on the 19hr train journey to Istanbul tomorrow right?
Check out the photos here:
Thursday, July 27, 2006
Booty-pest... booya...
Vısited Budapest again because it was on the way to Romania, my intention was to stay for just a day or so but I was sucked in by that eastern European charm or more accurately the cheap beer and a great nightlife.
After checking in at a smallish but charming hostel I was confronted with a yellow g-string clad Italian man of about 35-40ish who looked at me curiously for a moment too long. To break the awkward silence which had developed I simply said "Hi, how are you?" to which he replied in broken English "I am fine, or is it I am OK, or maybe I am good?" My response to this was to back away saying "ahh any of those will do" as he was beginning to rub his belly in disturbing and ever widening circles.
As it turned out other people in the dorm had similar experiences with The Belly Rubber. One young girl reported the Belly Rubber rubbing his belly with some kind of lotion, as she looked quizzically at him he thrust fourth his hand towards her face saying only "Calvin Klein". Backing away slowly ensued.
Apart from the Belly Rubber the hostel was full of other backpackers who like me were up for a party. With a few Americans, British girls and yet another Aussie called Scott we hit the town a few nights in a row and got positively slaughtered.
Sampling the local women, which incidentally I rate along side the beautiful Polish girls, was a priority. Being dangerously drunk and having the whole exotic "Hi I'm Ben from New Zealand" pick-up line this did not prove too difficult, as Scott and I found ourselves chatting to two beautiful Hungarians... well Scott did the chatting while my communication technique was much more body language orientated.
The following day Scott and I went to the outdoor water park on the Island in the middle of the river. You may recall in my previous Budapest entry that I visited the baths and was thoroughly unimpressed... I, simply put am an idiot, I was just at the wrong outdoor pool. This place has water slides, hot pools, cold pools and massage fountains, oh and there was a serious amount of hotties too. So obviously we stayed until closing.
While walking back from the pool in the early evening we were caught in the rain, and when I say rain I mean the mother of all thunder storms decided to let loose and bucket down on us. Eventually finding shelter in what looked like a cafe we got a coffee and found ourselves chatting to some friendly locals who seemed very excited to speak English with us, and very happy to share a few stories over a beer. Being Budapest and all one beer tends to turn in to two, which in turn turns in to three, and then of course you find yourself back at the hostel around 4am.
Ooh I almost forgot, I had a brush with the law. My intention to catch the metro to the train station to buy my ticket to Romania was almost thwarted by the local metro ticket inspectors who, after me paying every single day previoulsly, decided to check tickets the day I decided to have a freebie.
I had not even boarded the train when a woman approached me on the platform asking for my ticket, stalling for time while pretending to search my wallet looking for my ticket, I explained that I thought I had left my Metro pass in my hotel. This lame excuse did simply not cut it with the self important train inspectors who were already pissed at having to work on a beautiful Sunday afternoon.
Smiling as she proceeded to explain that I had to pay a fine, and if I didn't then she would call the police and the fine would be ten times as much. I realised that I had to think fast. Brilliantly I decided that by feigning the fact I couldn't speak English I would be able to play the dumb tourist card. This of course was an utter failure. However it did allow me to stall for time a bit more until, as luck would have it a train arrived on the platform with hundreds of people who hadn't had their tickets checked. She takes her eyes off me for a split second and at the same time a choir group wanders past singing in Hungarian, I stand behind a tall guy taking off my hat and jacket and begın to hum along as we all drift up the escalator to freedom.
Damn I'm good...
After checking in at a smallish but charming hostel I was confronted with a yellow g-string clad Italian man of about 35-40ish who looked at me curiously for a moment too long. To break the awkward silence which had developed I simply said "Hi, how are you?" to which he replied in broken English "I am fine, or is it I am OK, or maybe I am good?" My response to this was to back away saying "ahh any of those will do" as he was beginning to rub his belly in disturbing and ever widening circles.
As it turned out other people in the dorm had similar experiences with The Belly Rubber. One young girl reported the Belly Rubber rubbing his belly with some kind of lotion, as she looked quizzically at him he thrust fourth his hand towards her face saying only "Calvin Klein". Backing away slowly ensued.
Apart from the Belly Rubber the hostel was full of other backpackers who like me were up for a party. With a few Americans, British girls and yet another Aussie called Scott we hit the town a few nights in a row and got positively slaughtered.
Sampling the local women, which incidentally I rate along side the beautiful Polish girls, was a priority. Being dangerously drunk and having the whole exotic "Hi I'm Ben from New Zealand" pick-up line this did not prove too difficult, as Scott and I found ourselves chatting to two beautiful Hungarians... well Scott did the chatting while my communication technique was much more body language orientated.
The following day Scott and I went to the outdoor water park on the Island in the middle of the river. You may recall in my previous Budapest entry that I visited the baths and was thoroughly unimpressed... I, simply put am an idiot, I was just at the wrong outdoor pool. This place has water slides, hot pools, cold pools and massage fountains, oh and there was a serious amount of hotties too. So obviously we stayed until closing.
While walking back from the pool in the early evening we were caught in the rain, and when I say rain I mean the mother of all thunder storms decided to let loose and bucket down on us. Eventually finding shelter in what looked like a cafe we got a coffee and found ourselves chatting to some friendly locals who seemed very excited to speak English with us, and very happy to share a few stories over a beer. Being Budapest and all one beer tends to turn in to two, which in turn turns in to three, and then of course you find yourself back at the hostel around 4am.
Ooh I almost forgot, I had a brush with the law. My intention to catch the metro to the train station to buy my ticket to Romania was almost thwarted by the local metro ticket inspectors who, after me paying every single day previoulsly, decided to check tickets the day I decided to have a freebie.
I had not even boarded the train when a woman approached me on the platform asking for my ticket, stalling for time while pretending to search my wallet looking for my ticket, I explained that I thought I had left my Metro pass in my hotel. This lame excuse did simply not cut it with the self important train inspectors who were already pissed at having to work on a beautiful Sunday afternoon.
Smiling as she proceeded to explain that I had to pay a fine, and if I didn't then she would call the police and the fine would be ten times as much. I realised that I had to think fast. Brilliantly I decided that by feigning the fact I couldn't speak English I would be able to play the dumb tourist card. This of course was an utter failure. However it did allow me to stall for time a bit more until, as luck would have it a train arrived on the platform with hundreds of people who hadn't had their tickets checked. She takes her eyes off me for a split second and at the same time a choir group wanders past singing in Hungarian, I stand behind a tall guy taking off my hat and jacket and begın to hum along as we all drift up the escalator to freedom.
Damn I'm good...
Tuesday, July 18, 2006
Vienna: Part Deux
Heidi meets me at the train station which is awesome of her. Even though I rate myself to successfully navigate (i.e. avoid death) around Vienna after visiting once before its still nice to not have to think about that sort of stuff.
Friday afternoon we see the massive palace which for years was the centre of the Austro-Hungarian empire, photos are taken and monuments are looked at.
We spend the afternoon in the sun along the Donau (Danube river) where Heidi unsuccessfully attempts to kill me by taking me to ISLAND OF DEATH!! Well, in all honesty its not actually called "Island of Death" but I guess I just have a habit of naming things in relation to the happenings of the place rather than actually knowing the real name.
So I ask Heidi where her favourite swimming spot is and she points out this seemingly innocuous island a short wade out in to the river. At this point I'm thinking "oh yeah hanging with the locals and going to the best spots..." Little do I realise that after spending 30 seconds walking (not sitting) on this so called paradise that I am covered in killer ants up to my arm pits. Sure they may not have been actual killer ants but the situation was disconcerting enough for me to dive in to the water hoping that these were just the mild form of killer ants rather than the more deadly killer-swimming ants.
The evening is spent hanging with one of Heidi's mates Fiona. Now for those of you who don't know Fiona which I'm guessing is all of you shes the kind of woman that half the time you think shes high on speed and the other half just wonderfully nutty.
Because of language difficulty I think that we're going to visit some guy called Herman until we turn up at an actual bar called Hermann, oh dear imagine my embarrassment. Its turns out to be a faux beach bar with beach deck chairs by the river-side. The bar is rather busy and leading on from my earlier faux pas I loudly but jokingly ask to speak to Herman, the girls thinks its hilarious but at least we get some service. Once we find a seat its turns out to actually be pretty cool.
The second bar was only notable for two reasons, firstly; the waitress taking a fancy to me because of my New Zealand accent, ooh I'm so exotic, and secondly my realisation that Austrian men have no hips and hence can not dance.
Saturday afternoon Heidi and I take buses and trains to the top of this mountain overlooking Vienna and I get paranoid about snakes as I'm not sure if Heidi is joking about their existance or not. I take one photo, hope it turns out cause it was actually a good view. Later on Heidi models a red bikini... Oh um I mean we went swimming, but I mainly spent my afternoon avoiding death, well more specifically, islands of death
In the evening we decide to go see a film festival movie at Kino Unter Sternen or Cinema under the stars. As I don't speak German and Heidi didn't really read the program we have no idea what the movie is until it starts. As the title rolls on screen my exact words are "oh my god this could not be more hilarious and awesome".
Cracking open the beers I brought with me should this exact scenario ever occur we settle down to watch the classic stoner flick, Dazed and Confused... Now Guy Stapleton I know you're jealous!!
By the time the classic "I get older and they stay the same" line occurs I'm quite plastered so of course the line is shouted out loud. Arty film festival types turn, stare, and laugh... hilarious.
Heidi is fortunately sober so we navigate back to her apartment pretty easily where she proceeds to laugh and beat the crap out of me with a pillow, the kill Ben theme continues.
A lazy Sunday afternoon and Heidi takes me to Prater which is a kinda fun-park-fair-ground kinda place. They have roller coasters, ghost trains, go karts but these petty things are not for us oh no. We're here for a gentlemanly competitive game of mini-golf. The course is not really up to the high standard of the courses back home but we have a competitive game all the same. (Well I take Heidi to school but its really how you play the game right? ;-)
Feeling hungry we hit a restaurant called Running Sushi where the food is on conveyor belts that travel between the tables and you can just pick however much you want of whatever you are game enough to try.
To conclude the evening we watch True Lies starring Arnold Schwarzenegger. Surprisingly, despite Arnie sprechen de Deutch he does not do his own German voice overs!! This small detail actually makes the movie funny.
Heidi goes back to work and I just hang out relishing the chance to relax and not have to worry about anything. The following evening Heidi has to work again so I hang out with Silvia who is Heidi's older sister. We go to the outdoor swimming pool at the palace where literally mens jaws hit the floors as "ever so modest" Silvia reveals just how good she looks in a bikini. As we tire of the pool our thoughts turn to food so Silvia shows me her favourite Italian restaurant where they actually serve the red wine at room tempeture rather than those crazy eastern europeans who drink it chilled.
Leaving Vienna is hard as my hosts have been so gracious but I must soldier on...
Check out the Vienna photos here:
Friday afternoon we see the massive palace which for years was the centre of the Austro-Hungarian empire, photos are taken and monuments are looked at.
We spend the afternoon in the sun along the Donau (Danube river) where Heidi unsuccessfully attempts to kill me by taking me to ISLAND OF DEATH!! Well, in all honesty its not actually called "Island of Death" but I guess I just have a habit of naming things in relation to the happenings of the place rather than actually knowing the real name.
So I ask Heidi where her favourite swimming spot is and she points out this seemingly innocuous island a short wade out in to the river. At this point I'm thinking "oh yeah hanging with the locals and going to the best spots..." Little do I realise that after spending 30 seconds walking (not sitting) on this so called paradise that I am covered in killer ants up to my arm pits. Sure they may not have been actual killer ants but the situation was disconcerting enough for me to dive in to the water hoping that these were just the mild form of killer ants rather than the more deadly killer-swimming ants.
The evening is spent hanging with one of Heidi's mates Fiona. Now for those of you who don't know Fiona which I'm guessing is all of you shes the kind of woman that half the time you think shes high on speed and the other half just wonderfully nutty.
Because of language difficulty I think that we're going to visit some guy called Herman until we turn up at an actual bar called Hermann, oh dear imagine my embarrassment. Its turns out to be a faux beach bar with beach deck chairs by the river-side. The bar is rather busy and leading on from my earlier faux pas I loudly but jokingly ask to speak to Herman, the girls thinks its hilarious but at least we get some service. Once we find a seat its turns out to actually be pretty cool.
The second bar was only notable for two reasons, firstly; the waitress taking a fancy to me because of my New Zealand accent, ooh I'm so exotic, and secondly my realisation that Austrian men have no hips and hence can not dance.
Saturday afternoon Heidi and I take buses and trains to the top of this mountain overlooking Vienna and I get paranoid about snakes as I'm not sure if Heidi is joking about their existance or not. I take one photo, hope it turns out cause it was actually a good view. Later on Heidi models a red bikini... Oh um I mean we went swimming, but I mainly spent my afternoon avoiding death, well more specifically, islands of death
In the evening we decide to go see a film festival movie at Kino Unter Sternen or Cinema under the stars. As I don't speak German and Heidi didn't really read the program we have no idea what the movie is until it starts. As the title rolls on screen my exact words are "oh my god this could not be more hilarious and awesome".
Cracking open the beers I brought with me should this exact scenario ever occur we settle down to watch the classic stoner flick, Dazed and Confused... Now Guy Stapleton I know you're jealous!!
By the time the classic "I get older and they stay the same" line occurs I'm quite plastered so of course the line is shouted out loud. Arty film festival types turn, stare, and laugh... hilarious.
Heidi is fortunately sober so we navigate back to her apartment pretty easily where she proceeds to laugh and beat the crap out of me with a pillow, the kill Ben theme continues.
A lazy Sunday afternoon and Heidi takes me to Prater which is a kinda fun-park-fair-ground kinda place. They have roller coasters, ghost trains, go karts but these petty things are not for us oh no. We're here for a gentlemanly competitive game of mini-golf. The course is not really up to the high standard of the courses back home but we have a competitive game all the same. (Well I take Heidi to school but its really how you play the game right? ;-)
Feeling hungry we hit a restaurant called Running Sushi where the food is on conveyor belts that travel between the tables and you can just pick however much you want of whatever you are game enough to try.
To conclude the evening we watch True Lies starring Arnold Schwarzenegger. Surprisingly, despite Arnie sprechen de Deutch he does not do his own German voice overs!! This small detail actually makes the movie funny.
Heidi goes back to work and I just hang out relishing the chance to relax and not have to worry about anything. The following evening Heidi has to work again so I hang out with Silvia who is Heidi's older sister. We go to the outdoor swimming pool at the palace where literally mens jaws hit the floors as "ever so modest" Silvia reveals just how good she looks in a bikini. As we tire of the pool our thoughts turn to food so Silvia shows me her favourite Italian restaurant where they actually serve the red wine at room tempeture rather than those crazy eastern europeans who drink it chilled.
Leaving Vienna is hard as my hosts have been so gracious but I must soldier on...
Check out the Vienna photos here:
Monday, July 10, 2006
Back to Vienna...
Back to Vienna, not sure why I'm going back rather then hitting the beaches in Croatia, but I think it has something to do with a certain Austrian called Heidi. So here I am breaking travel rule number one "Don't change travel plans for a woman". I justify it to myself by saying that "Free accomadation is free accomadation and I'll hit the beaches on the Black sea instead of the Adriatic - or do both!".
Ljubljana, Slovenia. No cars, no bras...
The train in to Ljubljana (loob-lee-ana) takes a rather awesome scenic route that reminds me of road tripping the west coast of the south island back home. Forest everywhere but every now and then you can see the odd patch of cleared land where budding wine makers have their life style blocks.
I check in to this hostel that apparently was once a prison, honestly its a place you have to see to believe, all the rooms are ex-cells redesigned by Slovenian artists and... well... just look at the damn photos.
The evening is spent with a couple of students from ye olde England and we drink in the hostel bar in which weirdly we are the only foreigners. We eventually head out to a bar called Dr Skeleta or something similar, but I affectionately rename it, SKELATOR!!! Its a bar full of skeletons in the roof and walls and floor, to go to the toilet you have to push on the right book in the right book case, otherwise you'll embarrassingly end up in the staff room... like um... this um... dumb tourist from New Zealand did, but I didn't know him.
With the same guys from ye olde England I catch a bus to the lake in an area called Bled. I can honestly say that this place has got quite a lake, not big but beautiful, surrounded by mountains with castles, and with a large church on a small island. In fact one could, and one did say "would you like a touch of island with that church Sir?"
Finding a sweet spot where people are swimming we strip down and jump on in as its 35 degrees and we're wet through with sweat anyway. The lake turns out to be surprisingly warm and women are sunbathing topless. In fact one could, and one did say "Welcome to tit town boys, population somewhere abreast of tit-thousand tit-hundred and titty tit" to laughs aplenty. On closer inspection there were quite a few lookers but they unfortunately weren't the ones getting their gear off... Still the scenery will suffice.
In the evening following the lake I meet two different Englishmen. At first I think that they are gay bikers, however they bring up in conversation that everyone they meet thinks that they are gay bikers and I bullshit them and say " really? nah that didn't occur to me at all". We eat at a Mexican bar and the service is shit so we get a free round on the house.
After some good conversation we head to SKELATOR and the boys are suitably impressed. After a few cocktails each we head back to the hostel bar where we tell jokes and meet some local students. At this point the Englishmen head off to bed because they are English and the English as we know have weak bellys.
I go out to a few bars with some local students. Going out on the town in Ljubljana is hilarious as the locals travel between bars via bicycle. The fact that I don't have a bicycle doesn't seem to matter as I think I stole one from somewhere. We have a bit of trouble getting around as we're all quite wasted but as it turns out six people traversing gutters on mountain bikes while incredibly intoxicated is heaps of fun! I was almost sad that the trip to the bar was so short.
We all have an awesome time and at their request I teach them a Haka which they think is awesome, even the girls want to do it too but unfortunately I don't know any females Hakas...
Check out the photos here:
I check in to this hostel that apparently was once a prison, honestly its a place you have to see to believe, all the rooms are ex-cells redesigned by Slovenian artists and... well... just look at the damn photos.
The evening is spent with a couple of students from ye olde England and we drink in the hostel bar in which weirdly we are the only foreigners. We eventually head out to a bar called Dr Skeleta or something similar, but I affectionately rename it, SKELATOR!!! Its a bar full of skeletons in the roof and walls and floor, to go to the toilet you have to push on the right book in the right book case, otherwise you'll embarrassingly end up in the staff room... like um... this um... dumb tourist from New Zealand did, but I didn't know him.
With the same guys from ye olde England I catch a bus to the lake in an area called Bled. I can honestly say that this place has got quite a lake, not big but beautiful, surrounded by mountains with castles, and with a large church on a small island. In fact one could, and one did say "would you like a touch of island with that church Sir?"
Finding a sweet spot where people are swimming we strip down and jump on in as its 35 degrees and we're wet through with sweat anyway. The lake turns out to be surprisingly warm and women are sunbathing topless. In fact one could, and one did say "Welcome to tit town boys, population somewhere abreast of tit-thousand tit-hundred and titty tit" to laughs aplenty. On closer inspection there were quite a few lookers but they unfortunately weren't the ones getting their gear off... Still the scenery will suffice.
In the evening following the lake I meet two different Englishmen. At first I think that they are gay bikers, however they bring up in conversation that everyone they meet thinks that they are gay bikers and I bullshit them and say " really? nah that didn't occur to me at all". We eat at a Mexican bar and the service is shit so we get a free round on the house.
After some good conversation we head to SKELATOR and the boys are suitably impressed. After a few cocktails each we head back to the hostel bar where we tell jokes and meet some local students. At this point the Englishmen head off to bed because they are English and the English as we know have weak bellys.
I go out to a few bars with some local students. Going out on the town in Ljubljana is hilarious as the locals travel between bars via bicycle. The fact that I don't have a bicycle doesn't seem to matter as I think I stole one from somewhere. We have a bit of trouble getting around as we're all quite wasted but as it turns out six people traversing gutters on mountain bikes while incredibly intoxicated is heaps of fun! I was almost sad that the trip to the bar was so short.
We all have an awesome time and at their request I teach them a Haka which they think is awesome, even the girls want to do it too but unfortunately I don't know any females Hakas...
Check out the photos here:
Tuesday, July 04, 2006
Wien, full of Wieners
Went to Vienna for three days, it rained. Got some washing done. Spent a shit-load of money, didn't really do anything.
Sunday, July 02, 2006
Beer cheaper than water?
Warning to Dave Wynne, I think I found your heaven...
So I'm heading back towards Bratislava in Slovakia because of one simple fact, my guide book says that the price of beer is cheaper than water. This I gotta see...
I meet up with some Serbian-Australians called Rebbecca and Miller and a Brazilian called Mariella. We spend the day sweating and wandering the city in 35 degree heat soaking up the sites. Bratislava has an "old town" area much like all the other cities in Eastern Europe, a bunch of extremely modern and random bits of architecture, and a familiar contrasting post-soviet feel. By that I mean they have old castles and churches, large grey Soviet-era apartment blocks and a completely random UFO bridge!
We watch a Soccer game as it seems like the thing to do when the Soccer world cup is on. The pub is just around the corner from the hostel but its not like we can venture very far anyway as there is a rather disconcerting amount of thunder, lightning and rain outside. The beer does is in fact turn out to be ultra cheap, I spend about $6 NZ and I'm done like a doggies dinner.
The following afternoon, as the morning is a write-off, we mission to the castle at Devin which is about 25 minutes from central Bratislava. Its a beautiful place on the Danube and I climb to the top and take some good photos of the view. You can see all the way back to Bratislava and across in to Austria which appears to be covered in massive wind turbines.
The castle up close is rather disappointing as it feels like it was actually rebuilt the year before with a bunch of possibly old stones that may have been used in a castle possibly on that particular site. I'm certainly no castle expert but the light switches in the walls and air conditioning really give it away guys...
Deciding that I need some food, I find myself going out for dinner with Steve, Steve and Rob. They're all Uni students from England here for the cheap beer, i.e. my kinda guys. We find ourselves in the Slovak Pub sweating like bastards, fortunately this place serves up some fantastic cheap food, and by this stage the much needed cold beer, we proceed to eat drink and be merry.
The lower floor of the Slovak Pub is actually located in the old sewers of the city and proves to be the only place we can escape the incessant heat.
We hit a Cuban themed bar called Havana with awesome live music and order a Hemingway special thinking that Hemingway is the mans man of the literary world right? so obviously we're ordering a mans man of a cocktail. What arrives turns out to be a rather girly looking cocktail with little umbrellas. Needless to say the Hemingway special is downed rather quickly... in fact rather too quickly as the alcohol content turns out to be a rather manly portion. This speedy introduction of rocket fuel leads to dancing and a touch of grooving if you will.
Heading to the Danube because if there is one thing I've learned so far in Europe its that: if there is a city on the Danube then there shall also be a bunch of bars floating in the river itself. The theory appears to be correct as we descend below the water-line on a dodgy looking boat in to a pumping bar with poles and pole dancing aplenty - no it was not a strip club Dave, it was just your average Slovakian bar.
Eventually we stagger back to the hostel and start chatting to some Mexicans that switch between Spanish, French and English without warning. I'm rather drunk so I don't really notice but one of the Steves speaks fluent French albeit with a hard Scottish accent, its really quite awesome to listen to to be honest.
Waking sometime around 2pm I decide that I need to see the castle on the hill so I climb to the top of Bratislava castle. I'm glad I did really as the view is rather awesome. From this height you can see all the contrasting architecture and landscape; from the Communist-era apartment blocks, to the weird UFO bridge, to the Austrian wind turbines and finally the Danube snaking away in to the distance.
As the evening rolls around I brace myself for another big one because that's what you do in Bratislava. I met some more English students, Max and Jack. We eat more great cheap food and drink more ultra cheap beer. The night turns in to an absolute write off and my memory is limited to a lithely Scottish girl with a high proportion of "breast on chest".
Not a bad city really...
Photos are here:
So I'm heading back towards Bratislava in Slovakia because of one simple fact, my guide book says that the price of beer is cheaper than water. This I gotta see...
I meet up with some Serbian-Australians called Rebbecca and Miller and a Brazilian called Mariella. We spend the day sweating and wandering the city in 35 degree heat soaking up the sites. Bratislava has an "old town" area much like all the other cities in Eastern Europe, a bunch of extremely modern and random bits of architecture, and a familiar contrasting post-soviet feel. By that I mean they have old castles and churches, large grey Soviet-era apartment blocks and a completely random UFO bridge!
We watch a Soccer game as it seems like the thing to do when the Soccer world cup is on. The pub is just around the corner from the hostel but its not like we can venture very far anyway as there is a rather disconcerting amount of thunder, lightning and rain outside. The beer does is in fact turn out to be ultra cheap, I spend about $6 NZ and I'm done like a doggies dinner.
The following afternoon, as the morning is a write-off, we mission to the castle at Devin which is about 25 minutes from central Bratislava. Its a beautiful place on the Danube and I climb to the top and take some good photos of the view. You can see all the way back to Bratislava and across in to Austria which appears to be covered in massive wind turbines.
The castle up close is rather disappointing as it feels like it was actually rebuilt the year before with a bunch of possibly old stones that may have been used in a castle possibly on that particular site. I'm certainly no castle expert but the light switches in the walls and air conditioning really give it away guys...
Deciding that I need some food, I find myself going out for dinner with Steve, Steve and Rob. They're all Uni students from England here for the cheap beer, i.e. my kinda guys. We find ourselves in the Slovak Pub sweating like bastards, fortunately this place serves up some fantastic cheap food, and by this stage the much needed cold beer, we proceed to eat drink and be merry.
The lower floor of the Slovak Pub is actually located in the old sewers of the city and proves to be the only place we can escape the incessant heat.
We hit a Cuban themed bar called Havana with awesome live music and order a Hemingway special thinking that Hemingway is the mans man of the literary world right? so obviously we're ordering a mans man of a cocktail. What arrives turns out to be a rather girly looking cocktail with little umbrellas. Needless to say the Hemingway special is downed rather quickly... in fact rather too quickly as the alcohol content turns out to be a rather manly portion. This speedy introduction of rocket fuel leads to dancing and a touch of grooving if you will.
Heading to the Danube because if there is one thing I've learned so far in Europe its that: if there is a city on the Danube then there shall also be a bunch of bars floating in the river itself. The theory appears to be correct as we descend below the water-line on a dodgy looking boat in to a pumping bar with poles and pole dancing aplenty - no it was not a strip club Dave, it was just your average Slovakian bar.
Eventually we stagger back to the hostel and start chatting to some Mexicans that switch between Spanish, French and English without warning. I'm rather drunk so I don't really notice but one of the Steves speaks fluent French albeit with a hard Scottish accent, its really quite awesome to listen to to be honest.
Waking sometime around 2pm I decide that I need to see the castle on the hill so I climb to the top of Bratislava castle. I'm glad I did really as the view is rather awesome. From this height you can see all the contrasting architecture and landscape; from the Communist-era apartment blocks, to the weird UFO bridge, to the Austrian wind turbines and finally the Danube snaking away in to the distance.
As the evening rolls around I brace myself for another big one because that's what you do in Bratislava. I met some more English students, Max and Jack. We eat more great cheap food and drink more ultra cheap beer. The night turns in to an absolute write off and my memory is limited to a lithely Scottish girl with a high proportion of "breast on chest".
Not a bad city really...
Photos are here:
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