Dry Humour...

Istanbul... I think I'm going to die in a horrible vomiting shitting mess. The fact that I am here today writing this proves that I didn't die, though I wished that I did at the time.

"Arse of steel, arse of steel" I calmly repeat over and over to myself. One question remains as I make it to the hostel, "How have I not shit my pants yet?"

I collapse, a doctor is promptly called, who promptly calls an ambulance, which promptly arrives and rushes me to hospital. As I'm in the ambulance a single thought enters my dehydrated semi-conscious brain, "When I wake up, I hope they've cleaned the shit and vomit off me".

Once I regained my conscious ability to think my first thought, rather then being something profound about near death experiences, the meaning of life, or the way silent Velcro works, was "fuck somebody shit their pants". My second thought followed within seconds, simply "Oh fuck". Holding my breath made the unconsciousness come faster.

For a holiday experience I'd really recommend waking up in a pile of shit stained sheets on a low bed in the hallway of a busy foreign hospital, it really puts things in to perspective. There will forever be the before and the after, life changes from this point onwards.

As I regained my strength but certainly not my dignity; "No" I thought to myself, "dignity would come much later", I was acutely aware of a stabbing pain in my arm. "Hurt, pain" said a Turkish accent, despite the words not being a question "Yes" I answered, to no one.

It turned out that he was a Doctor and he was squeezing a bag which led to a drip in my arm. "What are you doing?" I asked accusingly. "Hurry hurry, busy busy" he said indicating the already overflowing hallway, I took it to mean that the concept of triage had decided to check me out as quick as possible.

I was allowed a shower and soap which went someway to restoring dignity. In a plastic bag I found my clothes with a bit of vomit on the tee shirt but thankfully, and incredibly no shit whatsoever. To this day I don't know whether they had washed my boxers or if I'd managed to hold on, I'd like to think it was the latter, and I'll swear to the day I die that that's what happened if anyone asks.

Dignity restored, and feeling like a million dollars mostly due to my newly and speedily hydrated body, I knew that I needed receipts for my medical care for insurance purposes. This was denied me by the long line and no English speaking receptionists. Fuck it.

The comedown from the magical Saline solution didn't take long, so I slept for about 12 hours and woke with a pain in my stomach. A burning ring of fire later and I thought that I'd better get in to the prescribed medicine.

Three days later and feeling like I was about to lapse back to square one, I crawled downstairs and hit Wikipedia. One final shit, I was determined that it was to be the final one, and I was off to the pharmacy with the name of a drug. Of course the drug was prescription only, my face dropped and I thought maybe if I shit myself here in the pharmacy they'll get the picture that I'm not fucking around.

Instead of shitting myself I calmly place twenty lira on the counter and look the pharmacist in the eye, he holds my gaze. I repeat the process until there is a hundred lira on the counter, his gaze falters. I've got him, he's mine, and so are the drugs.

Forty minutes later gazing at the beautiful Blue Mosque of Istanbul, words drift aloud from my lips "Though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, I smell no sulphur."

Ironically and without emotion, my raw chaffed arse gets the joke and laughs with relief.

Thankfully there are no photos.

Krakow... Beautiful...

After getting on the wrong train, i.e. first class instead of second and express train instead of slow train there is casual gun pointing and fines to pay, the fine is 10PLN and I ask if they have change for a hundred. I continue my journey to Krakow in style.

Ahhh Krakow... Beautiful, I'd fully recommend it to anyone, great night life, beautiful sites, castles and of course Auschwitz is an hour and a half away.

The hostel has a BBQ every night so despite already having enough Polish sausages to possible overdose I decide to go along, plus they have a pub quiz following.

I drink with some Canadian chicks and we get slaughtered on the hostel bar's 10 shots of polish vodka for 30PLN ($12NZD).

The following day I meet up with some Scots and an American and we go to a lake which used to be a quarry. The women are unbelievable and insane cliff diving ensues. Pity I didn't take the camera that day.

In the evening we all have a few beers and play pool at the hostel, surprisingly I take everyone to school. A relatively quiet night because the next day we're going to Auschwitz.

Auschwitz is... well its un-be-fucken-leavable, you can literally feel the personal hell of the people that died there. Everything is presented so matter of fact, from the bullet holes of the firing squad to the scratching of the names on the wall.

Auschwitz II - Birkenau is completely different, the scale is much bigger the numbers are much bigger, its more of a production line of death and appears to be less personal. As far as the eye can see there are the chimneys of the huts that housed people while they waited to die. There are two separate ash piles with small signs. Its quite hard to comprehend "Here lie the ashes of approximately Six hundred thousand people".

Back at the hostel the next day I wandered in to a massive Catholic procession. It turns out that it is a national holiday today and I run in to some school kids that I met in Warsaw who are on a class trip, they are keen to chat and tell me whats going on.

I go to a resturant and have a big night out on the town with some Danes and Swedes. I have a paticulary "good time" with a curly haired Swedish blond called Elana. I take her to the lake the next day and we get caught in the rain on the way back.

Check out all the photos here: