Phil & Toj Explore (the Areola of) Europe

Breast Cancer Awareness Month

2009-10-31T16:31:00.011Z

ONE VAN - TWO LADS - FIFTEEN COUNTRIES

You may or my not be aware that we are at home and no longer travelling. We are still involved with Genesis events and are collecting in outstanding donations.

Since October is Breast Cancer Awareness month, we though it was about time you got to see some photos of our trip supporting Genesis. These are the 'best of' cut down from thousands taken over 8/9 months. Just over 600 to go at then!

Please comment and continue to donate to The Genesis Appeal. Don't forget to read our blog (the last section coming soon) and to watch our videos on YouTube.

Cheers, Phil & Toj

Click below to view some of our photos:

View Europe Part 1 - New Adventures

View Europe Part 2 - New Experiences

View Europe Part 3 - New Challenges

View Europe Part 4 - New Opportunities

View Europe Part 5 - New Direction

Slovenia

2009-05-13T16:07:00.029+01:00

Day 142 – Anything to declare?

This was the day we were heading back into the EU. Meaning we had more fun and frolics in store with border control. On the way into Croatia, the search was thorough but the guards were friendly enough. This time it was the opposite. We were treated to the ‘bad cop’ routine. At the window we show our passports as usual. The customs officer stopped us and in an ‘I’ve already decided I don’t like the look of you’ way, asked what was in the van. We said ‘camping stuff’ as usual. ‘You park over there’ bad cop snapped with a vague hand gesture. Moving from the line we of course parked in the wrong spot. ‘Not there, I SAID THERE!’ with a wilder and even vaguer gesture. Luckily we got it right the third time. Engine switched off, we jumped out to be greeted by two burly policemen who looked similar in build and in the face to that oversized bulldog in Tom & Jerry. Then came the speech from the guard. ‘These two men are policemen, they are going to search your vehicle. If you have anything to declare …’ He was off on one. ‘… cocaine, heroin, cannabis, [prostitutes strapped to the roof, machine guns in your pockets] ...’
It sounded like a terrorists’ dream shopping list. ‘We have nothing … [I know it would be better for us to hand over the weapons of mass destruction now, instead of you finding it, but we don’t have any!]’
The search began and to our surprise bad cop, beebob and rocksteady were fairly tame in their vehicular probing. The threats kept coming ‘’we’ll get the sniffer dogs out …’ bad cop says pointing to a tiny grey hut. If there were dogs in there, someone should phone animal cruelty. The search itself was not that vigorous and besides we were clean (of illegal possessions at least!).

All this was jus to get out of Croatia, so we were understandably concerned about how tough it would be going back into the EU. We are at another bay, we have shown our passports again. Another customs officer approaches. ‘What’s in the van?’ ‘Camping stuff’ we answer fearing the worst. He opens the side door, looks in and at Toj ‘Ok, that’s fine, good bye.’ We had crossed our last boarder control until we reached the UK. We were in Slovenia and heading towards Piran.

Days 142-144 - Piran

Piran is a pretty, peaceful town at the end of the Istria Coast. With narrow streets rising steeply from the waters edge, it offer beautiful views over the Adriatic to the Italian mountain in the distance. This being said it was still raining and we were still in need of a roof over our heads. Quite often it is the smaller and quieter places that throw up the most unusual hostels. In this case the place itself was not that strange aside from the fact it was not a hostel at all, but a B&B.

It had been a long time since we had slept in our own room with oak furnishings and scrambled eggs for breakfast. Val, the assertive, efficient owner ran a tight ship. Thus our stay in Piran was a little more luxurious than we were used to. Due to the prime waterfront location of Val’s ‘hostel’ we could not park the van where we could easily keep an eye on it. Oh the trouble The Van gets in when we’re not there. As we approached to collect certain forgotten items, a shiny red envelope was flapping on the window. It was a half empty car park, in a quiet area and we had been given a parking ticket. The requested amount was 90 euros. Obviously this parking inspector wasn’t aware that the pound and the euro were practically equal in value. 90 euros – ridiculous! So on moral grounds we chose to ignore their request and kept the shiny red envelope as a souvenir.

Travelled = 3344 Miles

Days 144 &145 – Koper & Postonja

Generally we were driving towards Ljubljana, however we had decided to take a look at a bit more of Slovenia on route. Koper, another coastal town was our next stop. Koper is one of those places that doesn’t care too much for tourism and tourists. To be honest, we didn’t care too much for it either. It was a fully functioning, industrial harbour. Other than this the town centre is, for want of a better word, ordinary. Locals were surprised to see us and wanted to know why we were there. In one bar the girl working even bought us a drink and apologised for what she called her ‘boring town’.

After spending our night in a commercial centre near the harbour we headed for the awesome Škocjan Caves. Due to their exceptional significance, the Škocjan Caves were entered on UNESCO’s list of natural and cultural world heritage sites in 1986. International scientific circles have thus acknowledged the importance of the Caves as one of the natural treasures of planet Earth. For more information see: http://www.park-skocjanske-jame.si/eng.

On the approach, there are spectacular views of the cavern where these caves hide. The tour takes you on an adventure deep below ground. Anyone who longed to wander round the bat cave or was filled with wonder by the set of the Goonies would love this. Stairs cut into the rock, narrow bridges over an underground river, stalactites and stalagmites of all shapes and sizes. If you’re in this neck of the woods, this is well worth a visit.

After our underground experience, we drove onto the nearest town with a hostel. It is necessary to point out that our movement inland in Slovenia had reduced the temperature from about 10 degrees to -1. Thus sleeping in the van became very unappealing. For this reason Postonja was our next destination. While it did have a hostel, it little else. Outside the town there are more caves, a small castle and was surrounded by mountains. Unfortunately we were passing through so didn’t have time for these wonders. Instead we went to Tourist Information and asked about the town itself. Phil enquired ‘Is there anything to see in the town?’ ‘No’ came the stern answer from the well informed member of staff. With that we left the rather unhappy woman at the counter not really knowing what to do. Retreating from the cold we returned to the hostel. This was another strange one.

We drove down the winding driveway towards the sight of delinquent youths leaning off the windows. It turned out that part of this former Yugoslavian building was also a college. Asking the old woman at the counter, ‘Is this a youth hostel?’ ‘Yes!’ She seemed very upset when we only wanted to stay one night. Eventually however she caved and let us stay. The building was huge but empty and was decorated with school style art projects. The shared bathroom was reminiscent of a school PE changing room, in both style and odour. That night we spent was by ourselves in an empty hostel and in the morning we got told off for checking out too slowly. The woman wanted to go for lunch but it was still only 11 am.

Travelled = 3402 Miles

Days 146-148 – Ljubljana

From here on we were heading to those parts of Slovenia that are more famous amongst other tourists. The county’s capital and its nearby beautiful lakes. Ljubljana was first on the list and as we had been informed by our Ron Jeremy look-a-like (who trained cheerleaders) it was indeed pretty and smaller than Zagreb. At this juncture we should note that Phil’s birthday was fast approaching. This was to be spent at Lake Bled, where his darling Miss Gemma Talbot, would be joining the party. Our time here was thus split either side of the birthday festivities.

Slovenia’s capital is relatively small, but it is also relaxed and ornate, on a winters day with the snow falling it makes for a beautiful place to walk around exciting (‘and take some photos’). Like most European capitals Ljubljana offers everything you could want in terms of places to shop, drink and eat. For us this was particularly because there was a plethora of places to get good, cheap Mexican food. Now you’re probably thinking ‘boys when in Slovenia eat Slovenian’. I, on the other hand say ‘if Mexican is on offer eat it’ and we did. It warmed us up and made us happy any how.

Like many European capitals Ljubljana’s outskirts are rundown and grubby. This of course is where we were staying, in the father and son run Aladdin Hostel. A peculiarity of this under staffed hostel was the presence of CCTV cameras everywhere and signs making you aware of them. There were also signs explaining why there was no staff and why they provided nothing for you; it was a matter of saving you money. This is quite strange as it certainly wasn’t any cheaper than other hostels we’ve stayed in.

Our big brother hostel experience was shared with a Russian clown, a Frenchman who insisted on exercising Toj’s linguistic skills and of course the Father and Son. It was one of those places where no one really spoke but everywhere you looked something strange was going on. The Russian clown would mix lentils in the room. The Father would sleep in the office. The Frenchman seemed to drift around the hostel like a ghost, always there when you opened a door or turned a corner. One of the joys of travelling off season is there is never a shortage of odd middle aged men around. Who knows why?

The other issue we had to contend with in Ljubljana was the snow. A healthy covering of white powdery snow is beautiful but not what you want when you are driving into the mountains. We were slightly concerned so our first port of advice was the hostel Father. He leaned back in his chair, laughed and said ‘this isn’t snow; you’ll be fine, the roads will be clear’. We were disconcerted by his laid back attitude so we sought a second opinion at Tourist Information. The woman at the counter laughed and said ‘this isn’t snow, the roads will be fine’. We bought our statutory snow chains anyway.

Travelled = 3437 Miles / 3553 Miles

Days 148-152 – Lake Bled and Lake Bohinja

The roads were fine and collecting the wonderful Miss Talbot along the way we arrived as a merry trio at Lake Bled. Saying it was beautiful would be stating the obvious. There was over two feet of snow on the ground (not the roads though) and a mist in the air that was rather magical. It was a bit of a winter wonderland and an excellent place to spend ones birthday. For what could be a better way to celebrate than messing around in the snow like kids.

Another feature of travelling off season is that sometimes you get a hostel pretty much to yourself (as we experienced in Postonja). This isn’t always a good thing, but this hostel had such good facilities that it was like staying in a private lodge. We took full advantage of the kitchen for four days we feasted on cooked breakfasts, roast dinners and everything in between. After having been away for five months, a few home comforts suited us down to the ground.

Our time in Bled was broken up by a day trip to the larger but less touristy Lake Bohinja. Lake Bled is beautiful (oh no it’s been said!) but Bohinja is spectacular. The magnitude of lake and mountains combined with the air of peace makes it one of those places you still can’t believe you’ve been. In places the snow was waist deep which did make for slow progress when walking around. Despite of his wellies and plastic trousers, Toj’s feet also got very cold and very wet. None of this however detracted from our awe of this place. Cold and wet is easily solved anyhow with mulled wine, a hot meal and a warm living room to yourselves. This represented the happy time and end of our days in Bled.

With Gemma, we sadly drove back towards Ljubljana airport, said farewell and then continued onward to our next country – Italy.

Travelled = 3505 Miles

Croatia

2009-04-28T21:39:00.017+01:00

Days 133&134 - Back to Zagreb

Before we could continue our travels we had to return to Zagreb and collect our beloved van. A couple more days were spent in a warmer Zagreb than we had left. We were then ready for the road again and set off for our next destination, Rijeka. Having stopped in the on route in Karlovac, the only thing that now stood between us and Rijeka was the small matter of the Croatian Highlands. Again this wouldn’t have been an issue if we hadn’t once again decided to avoid the toll roads. What we did not quite realise was the scale of these mountains. Home to Croatia’s largest mount and Olympic standard ski facility, it is safe to say the landscape was fantastic.

Travelled = 3039 Miles

Days 135&136 - Rijeka

We our challenging drive we had arrived at the Istrian peninsular on the Adriatic and were in temperatures above zero for the first time in months. This was quite a lot to take in. Our voyage was changing and those icy eastern cities seemed a long way behind. Rijeka itself was off-season and thus quiet. It did however have the novelty of being the first seaside town we had seen in ages. The blue of the Adriatic is something to behold when you have come from the grey snow of Belgrade and driven through snow capped mountains all in a matter of days. Unfortunately the warmer weather, combined with a large body of water had some side effects.

The rain came by the bucket load and as the phrase goes ‘we were damping’. As unlucky as it is to have to do your sightseeing in the rain (and we are committed, so we did) in this situation we were lucky enough to have a home to go to. Here began our second Couch Surfing experience. This time we were staying with a man experienced in the world of Couch Surfing, called Vedran.

At a pre-arranged time (by which we were soaked) we waited for him outside his front door. A car pulled up and a man ran towards us saying ‘hey I’m Vedran, you must be Anthony and Phil’. Assuming it wasn’t customary to jog during introductions, we noticed Vedran was in a rush. This was confirmed when he said ‘look guys I’m really sorry, my friends just had a baby so I’ve got to go’. Pushing open his front door, which was already unlocked, he showed us in. ‘Here is the TV, the computer, kitchen, your bed, oh and my dog. Make yourself at home and take it for a walk if you want.’ Then Vedran rushed out of the door and left us to it.

This man had unbridled trust, leaving two strangers in his house, with his dog and his belongings. We had heard stories of peculiar Couch Surfing hosts but a Jack Russell really takes the (dog) biscuit. When morning came around we still had not seen anymore of Vedran and our host was busy chewing some old slippers. After taking our host out so he could take care of some business we left, somewhat bemused but grateful for the roof over our heads.

Travelled = 3162 Miles

Heading Towards Pula

Day 137 - Opatija, Icici & Ika

Our next major stop was going to be Pula but we had been forewarned about some beautiful coastline on route. It would have been rude not to stop and make the most of our seaside location. For car parking reasons we stopped in a small town called Icici, with the intention of looking around near by Opatija and the surrounding area. The space we found was probably as close to the holy grail of spaces as we have got, in terms of the view at least. The back doors opened quite literally out on to the waterfront. The view was sensational.

Opatija is the deluxe resort of this costal stretch and was the holiday habitat of the Hapsburgs during their reign. Thus it was the perfect location for two van dwellers like us. In reality we had read one phrase about this place which had really captured our imagination. Apparently it was known as being ‘positively Mediterranean’ in climate and style. It was as well, at least as ‘Mediterranean’ as the weather gets in January. Espcially not yet warm enough for paddling as we discovered. However this did prove a stunning spot to refreshen our feet. See our YouTube video 'The Return of The Coast'.

We spent the day promenading in the sunshine. Enjoying our lunch on the waterfront in the shape of a ham and cheese baguette (van sandwich) and crisps. In the evening we went down the coast to Ika where we found a bar full of students to hang out in and an amazing burger to fill our bellies. All in all it was a success. The view we woke up to in the morning made all the damping in the world seem worth it.

Day 138 - Labin & Rabac

It is at times such as these that vanning really pays off. Our journey from Icici onto Pula did not have to be a straightforward one. We had the luxury of being able to wind our way through two small but wonderful places. Labin was the first place we stopped and an absolute gem of a place it was too. This was mainly because it took us by complete surprise. We pulled up in a small, modern and slightly shabby town for a coffee break. Having enjoyed our refreshment we were heading back to the van when we noticed a map for a historic centre.

The place we were in was no historic centre so we followed our noses, finding on top of a nearby hill a beautiful walled city. Labin is a place filled with wonderful streets to wander and get lost in. The fact that we had chanced upon this little gem made it all the more exciting. At the top of the hill Labin winds itself around there are amazing views of the nearby coast.

We could see another small town hiding in the cove with an unbelievable waterfront location. ‘I want to go there’ Toj said, rather off the cuff. So, off we went. Rabac is a small coastal resort which was emptied of all holidaymakers when we visited. There is nothing remarkable about the hotels and bars that line the shores here. If you turn your back on them however, you see something well worth a mention. The view out to sea is unbelievable, especially in the peace and quiet of an out of season resort.

Days 138-139 - Pula

Pula is a city on the southern tip of Istria that wears an Italianate influence on its sleeve. No surprise when you consider the intensity of Roman monuments in this smallish city. Particularly worth a mention is the amphitheatre, which is brilliantly preserved and still used. Obviously it is not used for fights to the death but concerts and other performances.

Whilst we were in Pula we had sought the refuge of a hostel as the rain persisted in damping our entire world. This hostel has to be one of the most unusual we have stayed in. We knew it was on the beach before we arrived, what we did not know was that this hostel had its own beach. Appropriately then staying in this hostel did not involve the usual dorm room and bunk beds. Instead we stayed in a private, holiday camp style cabin. Breakfast was served outside in the cold and we would eat whilst watching an elderly lady swim in the freezing water. We told she did this everyday, no matter what.

In the area of the Istrian peninsular, Pula is highly regarded for its nightlife and it would have been rude to have left without sampling it. On our last night we hit the town and found a club. It was the only club as far as we could see that had anyone in it. By the end of the night this club actually seemed to have everyone who was out in Pula in it. Despite this something very odd went on in this club. The place was full but the dance floor was empty. This not something we took very kindly to. So with some Dutch courage and Blondie’s Maria playing we took to the floor by ourselves. Not to blow our own trumpet but our Croatian audience soon saw where the good time was. Since then Maria has become a popular van anthem.

Travelled = 3235 Miles

Day 140 - Rovinja & Fasana

Our rather late night was followed by a horribly early checkout. Leaving our cabin and private beach behind, it was time to carry on up this beautiful coastline. Our destination was Rovinja, a town recommended many times as on of the area’s most beautiful. On route we stopped at a place called Fasana, for lunch and to enjoy a sudden burst of sunshine. A late Sunday morning spent walking along the Adriatic was made extra special by a hot Burek, fresh from the oven. For those of you who have not had the pleasure of a Burek, it is a roll of pastry stuffed with soft, salty cheese, curled into a Cumberland sausage shape. Best enjoyed hot and by the sea.

Well satisfied by the first of the days experiences we carried on to Rovinja. Here we found a place that was as beautiful as everyone had said. It is conical in shape, seeming to rise out of the sea and touch the sky with a climactic cathedral spire. The streets twist and turn, opening eventually out into a broad cove where the harbour sits, proud and protected. At times like this the phrase ‘it’s not a bad life’ always crops up. Wandering the streets and waters of this particular place we felt very grateful for seeing parts of the world we had never seen before. More specifically we were grateful for the power of the van and our ability to visit small out of the way places.

That being said the downside of living in a van was felt that same night. Where we had parked was free Sunday but not Monday. Having drawn the short straw Toj had to get up at 6 and put money on the meter. This was not a fun task as it was a cold night. This was made a million times worse when he returned to bed and could not zip up his sleeping bag. It had broken. For Anthony the night got a lot colder. To say the least, Toj felt ‘annoyed’. There are more appropriate and at the same time inappropriate term we would use of course.

Travelled = 3283 Miles

Day 141 - Porec

After a chilly and disturbed night two disgruntled young men took to the road again. Porec was another town that had been recommended to us and was our last stop before we crossed into Slovenia. Unlike Rovinja, which in itself had been a veritable success, neither of us really found what we were looking for in Porec. It was like all other places we had visited in Istria, off-season but did not have the same natural beauty to make up for this. To be honest things did not go well for us here. Rather than blaming the place entirely we will put it down to a bad experience.

As we pulled up in to a busy shopping centre car park, spots of rain appeared on the windscreen. By the time we had shopped for, made and eaten our van sandwich it was pouring down. Our attempt to look around Porec ended in us sitting, dejectedly in the corner of a café. The evening came, we had moved the van to a flatter and quieter car park, but still it rained. The night was spent in more corners of more cafes with even more miserable faces than before. The rain got worse and worse.

There is a phrase we use at times like these and after a 15 minute walk back to the Van we had ‘gone damping’. We were well and truly soaked to our skin. Now being from the North West, generally rain does not bother us but sometimes it is the last thing you need when sleeping in a van. This was one of those occasions. We all know there is nothing nice about wet clothes but we can safely say that waking up in the same wet clothes you went to sleep in is a lot worse, particularly when you live in a van where nothing dries. When we woke up, still sodden from the night before, there were two words on our lips, Slovenia and hostel.

Travelled = 3300 Miles

Leaving the EU, again!

2009-04-19T20:55:00.019+01:00

Day 127 - The long long winding road

In the previous blog we commented on our crossing out of EU soil into Serbia. We soon realised this was a non-event compared to our second attempt to leave the European Union, from Hungary into Croatia. Although Croatia only has EU pending status, no green card was required for us to drive, so we presumed, passports and all we’d be ok. However, this boarder crossing was more eventful. This time the search was much more thorough. Boxes and bags had to come out of the van. Glove boxes, car doors and the dirty washing were all searched. We even had to empty our pockets. Of course, because the van was not full of heroin, illegal aliens or false passports we were alright. Despite the guards’ systematic efforts, we were able to have a bit of a joke and shared some of our left over Christmas chocolates.

Once the van was reloaded we were on our way to Croatia’s capital. This wouldn’t have been an issue if we hadn’t decided to take the A roads. We thought we would try and save some money by avoiding the toll motorways. At this time of year this was not a pleasant drive. The roads were windy and baring remnants of left over snow. By the time we arrive in Zagreb after this three hour slog, Toj was well and truly exhausted and had to go to straight to bed.

Day 127-129 & 133-135 - Zagreb

We had already re-planned to visit Belgrade by train from Zagreb whilst we left the van. The hostel was a bit out of the centre but had parking at least. In a converted semi-detached house, this hostel, ‘Meli Mrak’ would prove not only to be our home for a short while but also kindly for the van during our next train adventure. We had two days before heading to Belgrade, which was a short period spent exploring the city and having our first experiences of Croatian culture. One thing we immediately noticed was how cold it had become, between -6 and -8 degrees. Normally we would expect such temperatures to attract a sympathetic grasp from an Anglo audience. However, we were made aware that this was no worse than in parts of the UK this winter.

Due to our limited time we did something, which under normal circumstances we would not subscribe to. We engaged in a whistle stop tour of Zagreb’s old town guided by a free tourist information guide. It is an unusual experience seeing the side of a city the tourist board wants you to see. Every street, building and sign post was significant in the grand narrative of the city’s life. It was all names and dates of a chronology, but nothing was offered of the modern-day Zagreb we were in. Therefore we enhanced our walk with a Toj brand fictional tour, inspired by Phil’s exemplary tour of Bratislava.

Once we had fulfilled our sightseeing quota the guide book was put down and we began to wander freely to see the somewhat confused make up of Croatia’s capital. Zagreb is in part ‘European’ and in part ‘Eastern’ but is not definitely completely either. There is a sense here that a new, youth driven culture is emerging out of an old ex-Yugoslavian country. That being said, they still enjoy watching that eastern European favourite sport – Handball. The Handball ‘World’ Cup was being help in Croatia whilst we were there. Zagreb had every convenience you would expect from a modern capital, along with enough historic and beautiful buildings to keep the tourist happy. Our time spent in Zagreb was time spent witnessing the procedures of change and becoming and EU country.

Also during our time at this hostel (like with most hostels we stayed in) we met some more weird and unusual characters to speak of. One in particular to mention was a 40 year old looking American man, resembling somewhat that of the infamous adult movie star, Ron Jeremy. Following talking to our Ron look-a-like, we discovered he had been living and working in Slovenia’s capital, Ljubljana, as a youth cheerleading coach, and was now just beginning travelling. During our chat he offered us some sound local advice for our upcoming visit to Ljubljana. This consisted of “It’s a pretty little place, just walk around. Yeah just walk around, take some photos. It’s smaller than Zagreb!”

During our first two days in Zagreb, we were blessed by a piece of good fortune in the shape of a kind member of hostel staff. We had discussed with him our campaign and our plan to leave the van somewhere safe in Zagreb whilst we visited Belgrade. Having cleared it with the boss, he had arranged for us to leave the van on their drive whilst we went to Serbia, “as long as we went back of course”.

Days 129-133 – Belgrade

It had begun to feel like we were making a habit of crossing non-liberal boarders. For some reason things seem to be a lot easier when you’re not driving a 2 tonne mental box with plenty of room for people, drugs and guns. They didn’t even ask why we already had stamps for in and out of Serbia in our passports over a matter of days. Our rather slow but fairly comfy train trundled along without event. There was the odd sight of people alighting from the train on either side and wandering down the tracks. Half way through the journey, the alphabet changed from roman to that scary one terrorist used in the 80s American action films – Cyrillic.

That aside we arrived in Belgrade without any real stress and wandered out of the train station in search of our hostel. Green Studio hostel was to be found on the fifth floor of a rather dishevelled apartment block, like most of central Belgrade. Walking the door we were met with a large loft space and a few people lounging around. To say this place had a laid back atmosphere is like saying the weather was cold. The weather was freezing and these people were so chilled out no one seemed to know who worked there, namely us. Turned out they all pretty much worked there! In this low season we were two of three guests staying there. We were shown to our beds, dumped our stuff and got ready for a night on the town.

By now we are used to being in a place where we can’t speak a word of the language. Not being able o read the letters was however a new problem. It was particularly a problem when the map provided by the hostel and Tourist Info was in the Roman alphabet. Having to reply on the skills of the cartographer behind your shiny tourist map, and not the Cyrillic road signs, is no guarantee of finding your way.

So it was dark and it was very cold (so cold 300 locals slipped and were badly injured the weekend before, during their New Year celebrations), it wass the middle of Belgrade and we were lost. Luckily we only wanted a quiet drink after our journey and if there is one thing we can find it’s a good bar. A few quiet drinks later and it was still dark, it was the early hours, it was still Belgrade and we were lost again! Eventually we found our hostel and the same group of staff were no longer lounging and were now having up having a party. We joined the fun and spent the night talking to some incredibly interesting folk. The hostel owner provided us with complimentary beer and with a Serbian spirit that very much resembled our old Hungarian friend Palinka. Before we knew it, it was 5am and we said it was time for bed. This first ‘quiet’ night ensured we didn’t see much of Serbia’s capital the day after.

The days and nights we spent in Belgrade were eye opening from start to finish. A polluted city, sitting on the confluence of the Danube and the Sava,
was covered in frozen solid snow that was like cracking the top of a crème caramel. It is not a beautiful city but is it a city with a beautiful outlook, in some ways physically, but in many ways culturally. Looking at the old castle and fortifications, as an example, you have history, ancient, modern and contemporary all thrust side by side. There are exhibitions of modern war machines, then playful current sculptures, furniture and cinema. The place is historic but habitable to say the least.

This seems like a common and important these, running throughout this capital, where recent history still hangs in the air. People in Belgrade are very aware of their history but also conscious that life must go on and want to be involved in this readily changing world. Thus the strict boarder policies of the EU and neighbouring European countries (Serbians need a visa to leave) and continued heavy Russian presence (economically regarding the oil crisis) is a big issue. Yet the people of Belgrade are also concerned with creating a new, independent Serbian culture.

If you wander Belgrade’s streets at night you will often hear music emanating from derelict spaces. Once built during years of communist rule and then left to ruin since. These are now Belgrade’s clubs, bars and the progress of its culture. In one such bar we bumped into a Russian guy from the hostel called Nikolai. After a long time in Belgrade he was heading home and his best Serbian friend was saying good bye over a few drinks. We joined them for a while and it was genuinely an emotional affair. Talk raged from how they met to when they’d see each other next and how they couldn’t or wouldn’t have been friends years ago. Despite the history, people were just getting on with it. We were told we were guest of a Serbian and wouldn’t pay. If he were able to come to Manchester we would reciprocate.

Walking the streets of Belgrade in the day similar can be seen. Luxury shops, American chains and every other convenience and finery you’d expect from an European city. Own other streets you will pass rows of men selling found and broken objects on the floor and the buildings around them looking near to collapse. The past and present way of life is always present to be seen. It is important to say that because of this in between social, economic and cultural situation, Belgrade is a rarity. It is a very exciting, but very affordable city for the ‘western’ travellers. A fact which is positive for is and negative for them, in the old fashioned sense. We did however take advantage of this when it came to our shopping, drinking and eating.

It was a surprise for is both to discover that Serbian food is pretty fantastic. So we ate like kings while we were there. Feasting on grilled meats, fresh salad, warm bread (which can only be described as an oven bottom muffin) and very cheap pints of beer - all for a fiver a head. Unbelievable and filling, the best kind of meal.

Travelled = 3039 Miles (not including the train journey!)

Hungary

2009-04-09T17:56:00.008+01:00

Days 122-125 – Szeged

After we had packed our belongings back into the van and left our homely city centre pad, it was time to move on. There was of course one small issue that remained to be dealt with. Whatever had caused the van’s flat tyre was still proving to be a torn in our side (or more literally, a nail in the tyre). So we set off in search of finding somewhere, on route, where the tyre could be fixed.

There was however, nowhere to be found. We had driven as far as we could but the slow puncture didn’t seem so slow anymore. Parked up in a lay by on a Hungarian motorway, we set about changing the wheel. It was minus six degrees, the snow had begun to fall again and we had an audience of eastern European truck drivers.

Things didn’t start off too bad. The van was jacked up and we’d retrieved the spare wheel, so it was just a matter of removing the damaged one. Here we came unstuck, or to be more specific the wheel was stuck. The issue was rusty nuts, a problem no man wants to face. It could have been the malnutrition caused by living on van sandwiches for four months, but no matter how hard we tried, we embarrassingly couldn’t get shift them.

At this moment a couple of Slovakian truck drivers leap from there cabs. Obviously we thought they’d come to have a closer look and a laugh at the comedy of errors. ‘Help?!’ the burlier of the two shouts. ‘Yes’ we insisted, ‘Please’. Thinking he was going to retrieve a more heavy duty spanner or magical device from his truck.

Actually he took the cross iron out of Toj’s hand, applied it to said nuts and booted it as hard as he could. Within a few minutes the wheel was off while we stood there ashamed but grateful and he smugly retreated back to his cab. So with the help of some Slovakian muscle we were all sorted and on our way again. No matter what people say about the erratic driving habits of these juggernaut jockeys, we owe a lot to this particular one.

We were now cold and dirty but fully mobile at least. We were bound to a small town in the south called Szeged. Here we had planned to try out a phenomenon called ‘Couch Surfing’. This works using an online network where people offer travellers a spare bed/couch for the night. So we emailed to ask if we could stay.

Our host was a lovely girl called Szuza, a geology student who had offered us her sofa bed for a night or two. There is something a little peculiar about turning up on the doorstep of someone you’ve never met with your bags. Unfamiliar to all parties, as we were all new to this social concept, at first you don’t really know what to say apart from ‘your house is lovely’ and ‘thank you’.

Luckily Szuza was prepared with a little 4pm ice-breaker known as Palinka. This is a rather potent, Hungarian sprit, which when washed down with a few beers is bound to cause severe drunkenness. Fortunately/unfortunately, Szuza had acquired copious amounts of this home brewed fuel from her birthday the night before. With this came a few of her friends and our stay began with a post-birthday. This resulted in Toj sleeping on an uncomfortable, unrecognisable device, which we later learned to be an old school washing machine.

This welcoming experience set the tone for our entire stay in Szeged. Szuza was not only generous with her home and time, but also with her friends and knowledge of the city she lives in. We were given a brilliant (but hung over) tour of this pretty place, which included good food and hot wine. For the day we walked and talked, ate and drank Szeged.

In a city like this, which barely gives tourism a second thought, it would be easy to walk around and learn nothing about what you see. With a local give however, you are given information which rangers from historical to anecdotal. It brings a place to life, not just in a figurative way, but also into the life of a local.

Travelled = 2728 Miles

Day 124 – A tiring attempt to leave the EU

Our time with Szuza was not all sight seeing and parties. We had hatched a plan to drive with Szuza to Novi Grad, a city across the boarder in neighbouring Serbia. The plan was to stay with a friend of hers, we would carry on to Belgrade and see would return back to Szeged. So we spent the morning getting our puncture repaired and then set off to leave the EU boarder.

Having heard a few horror stories we approached the EU boarder. With a native Hungarian speaker, leaving the EU into no-man’s land was a breeze. This linguistic advantage would not be so possible with neighbouring politics however. We approached the Serbian side of the boarder with some trepidation. To be honest things did not go particularly well from the moment we reached the barrier. ‘Passports’ a surly voice said, ‘Ok, now your documents’. We handed him the papers from the van to which he replied ‘No your papers’, the guard had lost a little patience, ‘Your green card’.

Oh no. Having not originally planned to go to Serbia, we didn’t have one. The boarder guard informed us we must buy one but insisted he keep Toj’s passport. Through the barrier we drove to pull up on Serbian soil where he said to get the matter sorted. Having been told where to go, we didn’t anticipate another stop by the customs officer, who angrily brought the van to a prompt halt. We tried to explain we had been sent to buy a green card but this was of no interest to him. So there and the van was searched and the treat of the police were summoned. With the ease of open EU boarders so far, this was our first board control and our first search. Whilst we waited nervously for the police we were question and things were poked and prodded (luckily not ourselves). We explained and he released us to try and retrieve Toj’s passport.

We faced another window and another stern face ‘How much is a green card?’ we enquired. The woman taps the computer keys and rifles papers. The wait seemed like hours and then she uttered ‘240 euros’. Eventually picking up our jaws off the floor, we faced no choice, just the harsh fact we could afford this expense for just over a weeks travel in Serbia. So we returned to inform our Hungarian friend and updated the guard that we were not going any further into Serbia but back into Hungary. The customs guard escorted the van, in the style of a pole barer, back in the direction of the EU boarder still without Toj’s passport. It took a chain of Serbian whispers to get a message back to us that his passport would be returned as we left Serbian soil at the barrier. All that now awaited us was a two hour queue back into Hungary.

Szuza kindly took us back in for one more night, which was filled with decision and advice about which direction we should now go.

Travelled = 2753 Miles

Days 125-127 – Pecs

Eventually the decision was made to move toward Croatia, across the southern Hungarian countryside, via one last Hungarian city. Pecs is a beautiful, ancient city, cram packed with UNESCO sites. For is it was only a stop over to replan and regroup. Our brief exploration of this small city revealed a place with a huge history. In temperatures which ranged from -6 to -8, it was a truly atmospheric place for a short stay.

Travelled = 2878 Miles

Christmas & New Year!

2009-04-01T20:06:00.009+01:00

Days 103-122 – Budapest

Moving on to Hungary’s capital felt in some ways like we were moving toward Christmas and New Year; on a journey where our duo, was still a trio. We were privileged that Lauren was able to join us on the road to experience our life on the road. Including a stop over in Gyor for an infamous van sandwich! We had arranged to stay in an apartment whilst we were there, initially because Lauren was with us and had two other friends coming to stay, but also because it turned out to be much cheaper than any hostel.

Getting to the apartment and getting settled was not that simple. When driving, there are certain things that can go wrong. What we have learned is, that for us, a few things tend to go wrong at once. For instance whilst driving it will begin to snow heavily; you will then get stuck in heavy traffic for an hour or so; and the TomTom will then take you to a street of the correct name but on the wrong side of town. When you eventually arrive there will be nowhere to park! Thus our arrival in Budapest was somewhat stressful. Luckily Csaba, the man managing the apartment was a true gent and helped us as best he could. I would like to say this was the last of our van related troubles but that would be a lie. That however will have to wait, for now we will return to the city.

Buda-Pest, a city of two halves, divided by the Danube and only united in
1873 In this way Hungary’s capital is an unusual and schizophrenic place. The history is far too long and complex to mention. We will simply say that Budapest has a mixture of Germanic, Turkish and Eastern European influences in its not too distant past. Jumping to our contemporary experience this makes for an exciting city.

There is an interesting mixture of a well preserved historic centre, with a genuine underground cultural spirit. Budapest’s streets, its monuments, its shops are beautiful. There is however all the while something more, bubbling under the surface, like the hot water that flows naturally under this place. Perhaps in a way that is part of it. A culture of talking politics in ‘Turkish baths’, which are dotted across the city; a culture of people being creative in the café bars that occupy the narrow alleys of the Jewish quarter; or having fun in the underground clubs that had to be out of the sights of oppressive regimes. Now these spaces are used openly and freely but they are still energetic and creative spaces.

There is of course always an exception to the rule and in this case Christmas time was that exception. Like most Central European cities Budapest closed down over Christmas. This was something that we had anticipated and bought in for. On the 23rd December, after sadly taking Lauren to the airport and saying our farewells, we did the obligatory Christmas big shop. Buying all we needed for a spectacular day of eating and then feeling slightly sick. Having already decorated the flat by the 24th we were all setup for the big day. All that was left to do was find a place for our even more obligatory Christmas Eve night out. In the same way Christmas day is always spent with our families, we always spend Christmas Eve with our friends from home. Just like our families who we missed hugely on Christmas Day, Christmas Eve was not the same without our friends. Trying to make the best of it however, we found a place called Szoda. This was a back alley bar with an underground club attached, we so we got the best of Budapest in one night. Here we spent the night in a state other than sobriety and danced like merry fools.

It was Christmas day and it came with a hangover. Having not woken to a visit from Santa (we must have been bad), we cheered ourselves up and solved our spinning heads with bacon and eggs. Full and fairly happy we sat back and put our feet up. At this point there was a rattle beneath Phil’s feet and he said ‘I want to know what’s inside this stool’. Lifting the lid of this odd piece of Ikea furniture we found a veritable trove of treasure. Abandoned by the previous (long term) tenants; there was a razor for Toj, a mirror and comb for Phil and a collection of novelty lighters to share. Our presents were not many and they were not costly but because they were truly unexpected, some might say they were stolen, they made us happy. All that was left to complete this unusual Yule Tide experience was a feast and a feast we had. Boiled ham, mash, vegetables, pigs in blankets, stuffing and gravy was the fare. We could not have asked for any more and after three helpings we didn’t because we were full. A familiar feeling of sickness and being sleepy drew our Christmas to an end.

At this point we must return to our tales of the Van. While we had been indulging in too much Christmas spirit the Van experienced two traumas. Firstly it was assaulted by an over zealous parking inspector. A day too long in a spot and look what happens. Sad to say Budapest’s parking authority were not in the Christmas spirit. Secondly, we returned to the van one chilly morning to find it with a flat tyre. Now nothing makes us sadder than an ill van and though the injury wasn’t serious it was enough to cause concern.

Our tyre may have been deflated but we were anything but. Two of our good friends, Beth Essex and Edmund White, joined us. With them we had planned to New Year and another week in Budapest. For New Years Eve we had chosen a club called Gödör (literally meaning in the ground). Here we drank cheap beer, listened to gypsy punk bands and had a good old fashioned dance. In the following days we not only took it upon ourselves to indulge in the history of this great city but also the food. It is worth mentioning that Budapest is a city where one can eat very well and not spend a fortune. As you would expect Goulash became a regular in our diet, along with many weird and wonderful soups.

During our time in Budapest it did seem like our life was getting a little luxurious. This was epitomized by our day in the Baths. When in Budapest in would however be foolish not to take advantage of the hot natural springs. The Széchenyi baths are situated near Heroes square and are the city’s biggest baths. With a combination of indoor and outdoor pools of different temperatures, steam rooms and saunas, oh it had it all. This was a completely entertaining and strange experience. There is nothing quite like sitting in a pool which is thirty eight degrees when the air around you is minus six degrees, watching large, hairy Hungarian men play chess. It is probably best to bring this section on Budapest to a close with an image of us in our swimming costumes, with steaming heads. After that there is just another sad good bye to speak of; but only after Phil, Toj & Ed gave their best Bowie rendition on karaoke.

Travelled = 2605 Miles

Austria

2009-03-31T18:19:00.011+01:00

Days 94-103 – Vienna

When you talk of Austria’s capital before you see it, images of architectural grandeur, operatic glamour and the riches of European civilization spring to mind. It seems we drove in from the wrong side of the tracks (or Slovakia to the Austrians!) since we entered past a cemetery and several strip clubs. After negotiating our way around the narrow labyrinth of einbahn strassen (one way streets) on the edge of the city, we found our hostel. Now it was up to us to squeeze the rather chunky van in almost these all to svelte Austrian streets. Unfortunately the spot we found was shared by an equally chunky ‘lady of the night’. We do worry for what the van might have seen whilst parked there.

It is fair to say though, that Vienna will always occupy a strange place in our travelling memories. For the entire time we were there the skies were grey and it rained. This was combined with the fact that the streets were rammed with Christmas shoppers. As we all know, Christmas shoppers are the most impatient and the most violent. So an elbow to the ribs from an Austrian grandma with a bag full of baubles was not an unusual occurrence.

Vienna is also an extensive city. If you don’t know your way, and we didn’t, it is hard to find cheap food, drink and entertainment. Thus Vienna makes you choose between museums and exhibitions; and you have to cherry pick a place to eat and where to stop if you need a warming drink. This decision making can make it a frustrating place for the traveller on a budget. Yet learning about the economies of experience is part of our journey.

Despite this, Vienna is spectacular. You often find yourself stopping and watching inanimate buildings. You are often lost down streets where only the magnitude of ‘history’ (in the civilized European sense) seems to live. It is a big city and quite definitely a more western capital city. This is reflected by every high spire, important museum and busy person.

Vienna’s town hall typifies this, rising above the city in all its gothic (style) magnificence. Whilst we were there the windows had been converted to looks as those on an advent calendar. The bright lights and bustle of the main Christmas market was laid out before the town hall. In many ways this was the über Christmas market. There was stall after stall filled to the brim with Christmassy goods. Walking through this maze of wooden huts and fake snow, you couldn’t fail to be filled with a certain childish glee. Here we began purchasing the decs for decorating our beloved van (Toj must add a nightmare YouTube video to edit).

Moving from this traditional and family friendly vision of Christmas, we jump to an alternative, seedy and much less sober vision. The tale begins in the hostel bar, a cosy place that served a pretty good pint. It was here that we got talking to Jameson. He was an American PhD student currently researching in Zurich and taking time to see a bit of Europe as well. Now to be truthful, he is the true protagonist of this tale. Jameson asked us if we had eaten, but we were having a budget dinner of hostel sandwiches. However, we had arranged to meet Jameson for a drink afterwards in the, rather notorious authentic Austrian, restaurant near the hostel.

The Austro-eatery Jameson had selected was called Mozart Stuber. It was notorious because it opened from 6pm to 6am, smelt like a dirty deep-fat fryer, good cheap schnitzel, and had exceptionally friendly staff. We opened the doors and peered through the smoke to locate Jameson. There smiling proudly and waving us over, we found him sat at a banqueting table with twelve rather burley Austrian men. Some of whom were so drunk their heads were in their dinners, others were laughing heartily. As we approached nervously, Jameson (who we discovered speaks fluent German) began introducing us. He also explained to us that there men had come together as part of a yearly tradition. The following day they were all going to dress as Santas and would walk the city carolling and drinking.

That night however they had adopted Jameson (rather insistently he informed us) and proceed to get him a little tipsy. These men were friendly and funny. So it was unfortunate that not long after joining them, Phil had to slip out and speak on the phone. Particularly because when he returned, it appeared that Toj and Jameson had taken several doses of Schnapps (including Phil’s share). Needless to say, neither of them were just a little tipsy anymore.

Due to certain members of the Austrian contingent beginning to lag after a hard days drinking, the mob disbanded. This left us and Jameson to sample some more of Austrian’s alternative nightlife. This went smoothly up to a point, but Toj, who was our chief navigator for the night, was well past anything but tipsy and therefore led us a little of course. After a while of unproductive searching, we realised we didn’t know where we were. Sensibly we jumped into the only place with its lights on to get our bearings. Eventually we had to ask the barmaid ‘where are we?’ She replied by asking us whether we meant the names of the bar or the street name. Laughing we said ‘either’ to which she wrote both on our map. So drunk, amused and only slightly ashamed we got home to bed safely.

Vienna’s Museum Quarter is well worth a mention. It is a section of the city that incorporates the majority of its most important museums and gallery spaces. Due to the density of these institutions in such a small area, it creates a real cultural hub for the city. This makes it much easier to know about and to the best of what the city has to offer. It also allows you to witness the meeting of contemporary culture with its historic predecessors. The very architecture exemplifies this. As the museum of contemporary arts stands boldly out, as a charcoal, granite, cube against a background of magnolia 19th Century structures. Inside the Quarter, work of contemporary artists is displayed in strange glass corridors. While monumental stone buildings proudly exhibit a rich history in traditional arts. We opted for the modern.

During the later part of our time in Vienna, we were blessed with the presence of Lauren, Toj’s best friend and housemate from Uni, on her way back from au pairing in Madrid. She was lucky enough to not only share our wet Viennese experience but also some cultural sights too. And no talk of Viennese culture would be complete without giving the Opera a mention. ‘Opera’ you say. ‘How could any van dwelling paupers afford the Viennese Opera?’ Well, simply by waiting in line for well over an hour on the day and paying 3-4 euros for the pleasure of standing in the gallows with all the other poor people. Two operas were consumed in this rather unusual way. Mozart’s The Magic Flute and Puccini’s La Bohème. Despite the aching back and sweaty pits, the experience was amazing and well worth the money.

As this Viennese odyssey is drawn to a close, there is one remarkable occurrence that must be spoken of. We call it ‘The Return of Keith’. This is Keith from New Jersey who we met in Prague. Strolling though the hostel lounge sporting his Yankees hat, a pair of sunglasses and a cup of coffee he spots Phil. Bellowing the immortal words ‘Hey Phil, what’s up?!’ After catching up and not before long, we were enjoying another night out with the very unique and indescribable, Keith.

Travelled = 2383 Miles

Slovakia

2009-03-11T20:57:00.012Z

Days 91-93 - Bratislava

Bratislava suffers with the reputation of a ‘quiet’ city. For many backpackers the capital of Slovakia breaks up journeys between Vienna, Budapest, Prague and Krakow. It is not as big or populated, or as popular with tourists as any of its neighbours, and who would want it to be. What Bratislava does offer is a walkable and affordable historic centre.

You can eat, sleep and sightsee within the city centre without it costing a fortune; because of this the entire time you spend in Bratislava is spent with the feeling of mystery a maze of narrow cobbled streets give you. This is felt most when they burst, somewhat inappropriately, onto modern shopping streets; surging with traffic, people, Tescos and McDonalds. You begin to wonder how this city came to stand as it does today. It is like the town planners who have overseen Bratislava’s development were all devout believers in The Chaos Theory.

We drove into this city under a cover of darkness and the place felt anything but quiet. Road markings were contradictory, observing traffic lights was optional and road rage was apparently a popular past time. We breathed a sigh of relief when we eventually got the van into the hostel’s secure, off road parking.

The hostel itself was a rather lifeless place, where no one wanted to talk to each other and that included the staff. Patio hostel was its name and it was about as thrilling as spending the night at Offerton Sand and Gravel. To give an example of the spectacular help we were given by the staff; on arriving we asked where the nearest cash machine was so we could pay.
‘In Bratislava there are ATMs everywhere.’
This was the stern woman’s indignant reply. ‘Well thanks for that’ we thought, because ‘everywhere’ is the kind of specific detail you need when you have arrived in a new place at night.

Anyway let us not get side tracked. The next day was a new one and it was time to explore the city by day. It began with a happy accident. After loosing ourselves a little in the odd arrangement of Bratislava’s streets we decided to dive in somewhere to eat.

A door at the bottom of an external staircase opened into a packed, underground restaurant. We sat for a little while and then all of a sudden an exasperated waiter brought two bowls of soup to our table. We pointed out that we had not ordered them but asked if we could see a menu. The waiter looked even more stressed and left with the soup. Soon the head waiter came over, coughed politely by our side and said
‘We have a set menu on today, anything else will be over an hour.’
At this point we noticed that everyone was eating and drinking the same thing and so not wanting to be the odd ones out we opted for the set menu. The same unhappy waiter returned with more soup, followed by a hearty plate of chicken and rice and a bottle of Fanta. This feast cost less than four euros, which made us very happy.

From this point on we started to find our way around. Beginning with the epicentre, as in so many European cities, the main square is a great point of navigation and meeting place. At this time Bratislava’s was filled with a Christmas market. Stalls were selling food, drink and all manner of things. There were constantly crowds of people here, tourists and locals, talking and making merry. For us this square was the place where hunger was quelled and thirst quenched. With cheap hot food and cheap hot punch on offer we rarely missed an opportunity to stand and fill our faces.

Off this central square sprout a number of streets carrying you to the corners of the city centre. Wandering through them, you seem to stumble between architectural styles and periods. If you walk for long enough you will find yourself climbing towards the castle, set up on high, overlooking the city below.

Sometimes as a traveller, having been to numerous cities and surrounded by a mass of beautiful buildings, you can become careless. You forget to enquire about what these buildings are actually used for or why they exist. On occasions such as these, when we I become aware of this failing, we have taken to an alternative approach. It may not improve knowledge of these places but it is a lot of fun. We call it the ‘Fictional Tour’ and it began in Bratislava. It involved Phil guiding Toj through the streets of the city telling him ridiculous and obviously untrue ‘facts’ about the sights we saw.

Devin Castle

We were travelling on from Bratislava to Vienna. A journey we had chosen to break up by stopping at a castle on Slovakia’s boarder with Austria. On outcrop overhanging the Morova River stands Devin Castle. This castle is located near a nice but non-descript village and immediately boarders a nature reserve on the river’s wetlands. On the cold December day we turned up it was closed. Officially closed that is but not physically closed. As we walked up a hill and through the half opened gate the dramatic landscape and castle ruins were revealed to us.

We do not use the word dramatic lightly either. Experiencing this place was to experience great drama. It began with a sense of isolation, us being the only two who populated this vast, arcane space. As if this location that had been occupied since Roman rule had, for a brief moment in time been forgotten about and was seen by us alone.

The space filled you with suspense as each half fallen wall, corner and crest of every hill showed something new and exciting. Roman foundations, medieval chapels, vast open landscapes were constantly taking you by surprise. They left you short of breath and as if all the walking wasn’t making it hard enough. Perhaps though it was the way it built to a climax. As we traversed the hill we slowly climbed toward the overhanging edge. Interested and awestruck was what we had felt about this find, this sightseeing treasure. Then when the rivers opened up before our eyes and the lands separating two countries spread, we were simply overwhelmed. It was a real land mark in our travels so far, as you can probably tell from the rambling blog.

We descended from the castle, back to the van and back to moving on. There was just time for one of those good old fashioned van sandwiches. This accompanied by a rather unusual delicacy, a mug of apple juice that tasted and smelt exactly like baby wipes. An unfortunate side affect of our unorthodox method of cleaning the cups.

Our time at Devin castle was completed with another unique experience, well for Toj at least. As he went to relieve himself in some rather private bushes, he was caught in the act by two deer. I am sure he never thought he would wee in front of deer and I never thought I’d hear these words.
‘While I was pissing, there were two deer and then they ran off!’
So the magic of the occasion was complete and off we set off, through the Austrian countryside, to Vienna.

Travelled = 2323 Miles

Poland

2009-03-11T20:53:00.015Z

Days 83-87 – The ‘Death Train’

12:15 on a Saturday afternoon we boarded the Prague to Warsaw train at Olomouc station (to save the labour and expensive of driving there and back). The plan was a simple one; we would take this train across the boarder into Poland, change at a place called Katowice and be in Krakow by 18:00. At this juncture it is necessary to address an issue we dealt with, rather glibly in one of our videos. This particular train has notoriety amongst travellers as being a kind of mobile danger zone. There are stories of carriages being attacked with gas and people being robbed while they sleep. Tales of gangs of railway pirates leaping through windows and relieving you of your Zlotys, digital camera and mobile at the point of a sword, then running off with your women and your dignity, awaited us.

A lot of these stories emanate from that home of truth, The Internet. Now you are perhaps saying ‘there is no gas without railway pirates’ or ‘smoke without a serious engine defect’. Ok, these things may have happened at some point in the history on this major rail route, but they are surely the exceptional and not the rule. However, our experience was a fairly pleasant one. We had a six seat cabin, which we shared with no one, except a headrest that kept leaping to the floor due to the rough ride. We also did sustain third degree burns due to an exceptionally hot brew. When combined with the rough ride, it all turned into a bit of a disaster. Unfortunately there was no lukewarm, Virgin Trains brand, ‘health and safety water’ to suit our English sensibilities.

Journeys like these teach you a few things. Loud bangs and crashes are not always as bad as they sound. When your train splits in two and you do not know which part is going your way, there is a 50% it will be ok. Finally when you have changed you will probably get on at least six wrong trains and ask ten people, who will all give you different answers before you find the right one. So now we do not worry about it, because what is the worst that could happen? Gas, pirates, hot tea…

Arriving in a strange city by train can give you a romantic notion that you are on an adventure. Like most of the adventures we have, this one started with a simple question.
‘How do we get to the hostel?’
‘I don’t know but there is a map and directions on that flyer you’ve got.’
‘I don’t have it; I put it by your bed this morning.’
As driving travellers, our over reliance on the TomTom to take us door to door became very apparent. At this point we did the only thing we could. We followed a gaggle of people out of the station, in the direction we assumed was the city centre. Then lady luck appeared in the shape of a small office, selling guided tours. Its lights were on despite being past closing time and inside resided the nicest woman in Krakow. She gave us a map, showed us where the hostel was and wished us well.

Krakow is a small city that revolves around a large and beautiful square. Before long we had made it to the hostel, in to the reception and ready to check in. There was however another obstacle to overcome. No one was there, no staff and no other guests. We rang the bell, we waited, wandered around and then finally a man appeared. Looking at us quizzically, he spoke.
‘Who are you?’ he said.
‘We have a reservation.’ we said, not answering his question but hoping to appease him.
‘No you don’t!’ He was not appeased. ‘We are closed.’ He explained further. So somewhat disillusioned and not really knowing what to say we stood there, in an empty hostel in Krakow. They had closed that hostel for low season and kept their more central and expensive sister hostel open. In the end it all got sorted out. We had beds awaiting us there at the very cheap rate we had booked them for.

In total our first night in Krakow ended up being an interesting cultural experience. It turned out that the only reason there was anyone at the hostel at all was because the staff, like most people in Krakow were celebrating a popular name day. The guests at the hostel were invited to this party later on. There was drinking, singing, dancing on tables and gifts. The whole city was alive with these festivities and in many ways the celebration was a communal one. It was brilliant to see people come together and enjoy themselves in that way. It seemed like the people really took pleasure in the company of others.
Later that night we were given a slight glimpse of the other side of the coin and a disturbing side of Polish culture. We were taken out for a few drinks by a Congolese man who worked at the hostel while he was studying in Krakow. He described some of the racist attitudes he has faced since being in Poland. He moved from a smaller city where he found the general attitude to be a prejudiced one, to the more cosmopolitan Krakow. With its large university and significant tourist trade it was obviously a more accepting place. That being said he still spoke of clubs and bars that were always ‘closed’ to him, verbal abuse and violence. In other situations he said that people stared and paid him unwanted, but not always malicious, attention.

Whilst we were talking in a bar a man approached us and asked him where he was from.
‘The Congo.’
‘Wow Africa that’s cool, really exotic. You’re unusual man’.
Then the man stood there staring and none of us knew what to do.

These attitudes can never be excused but it is perhaps worth trying to put them into the context of Poland’s own history. The Nazi campaign of extermination and Second World War laid waste to over three million Polish people. This nearly wiped out the Jewish community, along with other ethnic minorities. This, combined with a lack of immigration once Poland was behind The Iron Curtain, has created a uniquely monotone ethnic make up. This of course is quickly changing now Poland is apart of the EU. Hopefully these negative attitudes will also change at the same rate.

The city of Krakow itself is a lively place, with a well preserved historic centre. A lot of was had wandering through the large Christmas market, sampling good, traditional Polish food. We watched glass blowers craft souvenirs and listened to music played on the stage. A walk up to the castle and cathedral give you chance to view Krakow old and new. The view out over the city is a spectacular site of its contemporary splendour. The Cathedral on the other hand tells the story past glories. It gives the history fifteenth and sixteenth century royalty, with a crypt full of very elaborate tombs. Also not forgetting the riveting tour of the Pope John Paul II Museum next door too.

On reflexion our experience of Krakow was relaxing and intense, in equal measure. It turned out to be a time that was enlightening and thought provoking. It was also somewhere we enjoyed a guilty pleasure. One Sunday afternoon spent in an Irish bar watching the Manchester Derby, with a bizarre sense of feeling at home.

Day 85 – Auschwitz

While we were in Krakow we made the decision to visit the Auschwitz Concentration Camp. It is a strange sensation to simultaneously feel like you want and do not want to do something. It is not that you feel obliged to go. It is more like you have the will to go but take no pleasure in the act of going.

Auschwitz is silent, cold and testing. It is the absolute horror of reality; numbers, objects, processes, bricks and mortar. It is the unreality of disbelief, of wishing something out of existence and out of history.

The bus to and from the camp is an everyday public bus. Old ladies get on with shopping, students get off with their satchels, couples chat and tourists sit in silence with nothing to say, not knowing where to look.

Olomouc Part 1

2009-03-03T19:56:00.014Z

Days 79-82
A comfy corner in one of the Czech Republic’s most beautiful cities

In an ideal world, the trip from Prague to Olomouc (pronounced Olomutz) would have been a simple (3 hour) drive. It should have been motorways, a healthy break, more motorway and straight to a hostel. Things are never that simple though and an hour into the drive the road takes us past some beautiful snowy mountains. Normally these are things the English traveller longs to see. If the sun is setting, and you’re driving, it is a far less appealing prospect. Now as it got darker we became very aware that our headlamps weren’t illuminating our way as other driver’s. ‘Maybe the beam converters had something to do with the low beams’ we thought, or ‘the headlamps just need a clean’. For an hour we drove on without discussing it further out of genuine fear. Then, as the sun had set and we were replying on the headlamps of the Czech car in front, a beacon of hope appeared on the horizon. It was an Ikea.

We had arrived in Brno and only an hour away from our destination. With that we stopped for a pile of meatballs and all the coffee we could drink. When we returned to the van, we discovered that the bulbs in both head lamps had blown, and we’d been driving for an hour relying solely on our sidelights. It was minus three and we had to replace them by torch light. Hands got cold and dirty and swear words were said. In the end we succeeded, and the lord said let there be light. Thus we made it safely to Olomouc, where we were met by Jared at Poet’s Corner Hostel. Here nothing was a drama and we were encouraged to relax with a cup of tea, on a comfy sofa, before we collapsed into bed.

Olomouc has been described as ‘a city as beautiful and historical as Prague, but without the tourists’. This is true and for many reasons, Olomouc was a magical place. Perhaps because it was unplanned and unexpected, or maybe it was to do with the great hostel and the people we met (which always helps). It could have been the balance of a picturesque city and a great student based nightlife. Whatever it was we stayed in this city for four nights and enjoyed every single one of them. The thing about this hostel is that they give good specific advice about what you can see in the city, as well as where to eat and drink, so you make the most of your time there. Once again we did so much in this place that a step by step account would bore you to death. Instead here are the highlights.

Our first full day was all about museums for us, and free ones at that. By the power of the Olomouc tourist board there are certain days when they allow you to visit the Archdiocese museum and the modern art museum on the same free ticket. The Archdiocese museum is particularly worth a mention, not just for its religious artefacts. This building itself is the star of the show. This is amazing because it is the first site to have been settled in the city and dates back nearly 1000 years. The temporary exhibition at the modern art museum was also of interest, with an exhibition of the famous Czech illustrator, Josef Lada, as well as being the home of Olomouc’s chocolate pie. This desert was in no other words heavenly. Toj nursed the same slice for the best part of half an hour. If you’ve even eaten a Gu chocolate pot you’ll know the feeling.

That evening, Greg (the hostel’s ‘Dad’) took us, along with the other guests to watch the local ice hockey. His beloved team were playing and in the end conquered their opponents. For us ice hockey was a new and enjoyable experience, albeit cold. There was manly shouting, beer and sticks. Also with us and Greg on this sporting adventure was the Jared, Harrison & Alex (brother and sister from Australia), Chris & Lisa (a couple who had been working in the Slovakian mountains) and Daniel & Anushka (travelling Aussie couple). After the hockey, Jarred kindly showed us some of Olomouc by night. He took us first to one of the city’s microbreweries, which served good food and amazing beer (brewed on site). This place was a highlight by itself. After this we went to a bar, which for us has become synonymous with Olomouc. Vertigo was an underground student hangout, which opened late, served cheap beer. On this occasion we danced on the tables til after 4am.

During the following days, we took in some more of the beautiful sights the city had to offer. It’s Main Square, with astronomical clock that provides an interesting alternative to the one in Prague. We walked along the city walls on a cold, frosty morning and into Olomouc’s many churches. We ate hearty Czech meals in the Hospoda, which were cheap and left us unable to move.

One evening we arrived back at the homely hostel lounge where we joined in celebrations for Justin’s (a French traveller) birthday. Francie (the hostel’s ‘Mum’) had made a birthday cake and we all sat around for a slice and a chat. This was another moment when you realised you were in a special hostel. They genuinely cared and were interested in their guests and that was certainly our experience. At the end of most of these days came the inevitable trip to Vertigo and more good times, including one night spent on you tube watching Phil’s Back Crack & Sack video, as well as filming Jared & Harrison watching that infamous internet video as mentioned in our Bremen blog.

During our four days with Francie & Greg, we made plans, again, to go to Krakow. This time by train and our hosts had very kindly offered to take care of the van whilst we were gone. So we could lock it in the safety of their garage and go to Poland knowing our pride and joy was in safe hands. We had decided to spend 5 days in Krakow and return to Olomouc in time for the festival celebrating the start of Christmas. Sadly we left behind the wonderful people we had met, the beautiful city we had found and our beloved van and went to Poland via ‘The Death Train’. (A special mention must go to Jared as well as the other hostel staff – Jess & Nikki. He looked after us whilst we were there and by the time we returned, he had moved back home to Australia).

Travelled = 2194 Miles

Thank you to Francie, Greg & The Poets for their support and donation to our campaign to support breast cancer awareness.

Prague Act 2

2009-02-22T16:43:00.011Z

Girls, Girls, Girls

Peter and Simon were not only good friends to us, but also to the very special visitors we had whilst we were there. On our third night in Prague we were joined by Phil’s beloved, Gemma Talbot and her two compadres; Victoria Strange and Emma Thomset. Here we have the stars of our show, and no offence to the others, but the people we made Prague so much fun.

We shared many an adventure over the next week with these young women. We stared out from Charles Bridge at sun down, while a band played merrily in the background. Ascending the windy pathways to the castle, we were met with the changing of the guard and Prague in all its splendour.

There is too much to say, but a particular highlight was an exhibition of National Press Photography. This didn’t just hint at how the Czech Republic views itself, but also how it sees the outside world. It was a fascinating insight into Prague’s the past, present and future, in the context of the wider world. This was the same day we also shared our first fry up since we left home!

Surely not more Canadians!

If we had to pick comedian and comedienne in this dramatic affair, it would have to be Matt and Kara. They were couple who were always there to lighten the mood. It is safe to say, we never stopped smiling when they were around.

Either ironically or appropriately, two of the more serious cultural experiences were shared with this duo. One evening Matt and Kara with Toj, Emma & Amanda Poke, attended one of Prague’s many musical concerts. At St Giles church, a Baroque reed organ, soprano and violinist warmed this bitterly cold venue. Despite the winter temperature and no heating, we enjoyed the performance facing the alter piece as the trio filled the room from the rear mezzanine behind.

On another day, Toj and Victoria joined Matt and Kara in a tour of Prague’s unspoilt Jewish Quarter. As the story goes, Hitler himself intended to preserve this whole area as a museum of an extinct race. We viewed a multitude of synagogues and museums, which included the ornate Spanish Synagogue, as well as the very special Jewish Cemetery. A truly fascinating cemetery, which is said to have given inspiration to the designer of the Holocaust Memorial in Berlin. Both unnerving experiences, with their intimidating grandeur. As you walk around them, you glimpse a multitude of people appearing and disappearing in amongst the varying heights of their cramped structures.

An emotional end

Our last night with Matt, Kara and the Girls was obviously emotional, but we decided to make merry all the same. Proceedings began with a feast. We ate in a place where the food was cheap and the portions were massive. In fact relative to the size of the table they were absolutely enormous. A fact with Toj found out to his peril. The shear excitement of being presented with such a large plate of beautiful food caused the boy to dive in with a little too much enthusiasm. At this point the size of the plate, the slimness of the table and Phil’s rivalling feast formed a terrible combination. 60% of his dinner landed in his lap, 40% on the floor. Toj is not an overly emotional man, but this is probably the closest to tears his has come to so far on our trip. He salvaged what he could from his crotch and put an exceptionally brave face on. Fortunately Gemma had been served a Flintstone portion of pork ribs, not dinosaur, and kindly shared her meal.

After dinner we had to wave good bye to our hilarious Canadian couplet. So with tears in our eyes and stains on our trousers (well Toj’s) we trooped on into the night, we found a good bar, with good music and had a hell of a last night, where Phil also found the dark side of Becherovka. Gemma, Victoria and Emma had to leave the following morning which was obviously awful. There is definitely one downside to an adventure like ours, and that is having to say good bye to people you grow to love and care about.

Olivier & our attempt to leave

Every story needs that mysterious character and for us Olivier was that man. He was incredibly French and had the cheek bones to prove it. Not to confuse anyone, it is important to say that Oliver was present throughout our time in Prague. Drifting in and out, a word here and there, but his presence was felt most strongly when we were left by ourselves.

He had been in Prague for a few months and knew the ropes pretty well. At this point we were planning to leave the van in the protection of the troll under the bridge ad head to Krakow in Poland by bus instead of by van. We didn’t quite do our research well enough though. The day we had to get the bus we turned up in plenty of time to buy our tickets and board. However, in the ticket office the man said “you can buy the ticket here but this bus leaves from the station across town and you’ll never make it in time”. Unfortunately, there was not plan B and the next bus wasn’t for four days we were told! It is safe to say we were not used to this international public transport thing.

So with our tails between our legs we returned to Hostel Elf for another night. Back to the sofas sipping free coffee and back to the drawing board. After explaining our story to Olivier, he recommends ‘Olomouc’, pointing to a map of the Czech Republic, a city about 3 hours south east of Prague. He described “it is beautiful and full of Czech people. No America, no Australian etc. Just good Czech people … oh and the bars and the girls and the …”

This went on for a while and he made it sound very appealing. And the best thing was we could drive it and still get then get the train to Poland. So it was settled, tomorrow we would go to Olomouc, but for tonight we were in the very capable hands of a Frenchman. We’d love to document what happened that evening, but the details are extremely sketchy to us both. However, it did ended up with Toj standing on his own glasses, which seems to conclude the messy affair.

Travelled = 2028 Miles

Prague Act 1

2009-02-01T20:45:00.011Z

Day 68 - Entering the Czech Republic

Now it may seem like we’ve mentioned mist an awful lot lately, but on our journey to Prague it arose once more. In fact, to put it more accurately it drifted in, from the left, the right, the front, the back, it pretty much surrounded the van. This was a type of mist that any ‘weather weapon’ creating villain could be proud of. To explain fully, we left the safety of the toll-free autobahn and crossed into the bumpier, narrower and windier Czech Republic. Within half an hour of crossing the boarder, we met with the old enemy … MIST.

We’d love to tell you that the countryside and small villages we passed on route to Prague are quaint and reflective of real Czech life (which we’re sure they are), but in honesty we just don’t know. Driving through a country you don’t know, to a capital city you don’t know, when you can’t see the car in front of you is an interesting experience. But fear not dear reader, we arrived safe and sound.

Days 68-70 - The Adventures of Hostel Elf

Following some parking challenges, when we arrived at our hostel we entered a smokey, but friendly place, which was to be our home for the next 11 days. After we had checked in we were sent on another little adventure, to find parking around the corner. This was under a railway bridge, amongst a host of deserted Skodas on a seriously raised pavement. Now the van didn’t necessarily look safe, so we checked on it everyday. It was safe but for some reason always smelt like wee. Probably favoured by the troll under the bridge.

Prague is a city with the kind of architectural integrity one finds rarely. This is because the entire city, and particularly the old town, works like a unified and mystifying composition. It takes you into narrow alleyways and dark corners one moment, and then into vast, dramatic openings in the next. If you can ignore the vast number of tourists and shops catering to their/our every need, journeying around Prague’s streets is a wonderful experience.

When we arrived in Prague the city was preparing to celebrate the anniversary of its national independence from the USSR. The weight of recent history could be felt in the air and in many ways this through into relief, the colourful, multicultural and turbulent history of this city.

During our stay in Prague, we had some very special guests coming to visit us. So we took the three days up to their arrival fairly easy or as easy as you can in Hostel Elf. You see this was one of those hostels where the very architecture helped you meet people. It had a common room that became the main stage for our Pragian adventure and the place where we encountered a host of wonderful characters. It seems fitting therefore to document our time in Prague as a Dramatis Personae, not just telling you about this wonderful city but the wonderful people we met as well.

Three lads from Chapel & Keith

Back to our first night and we threw our bags into our room, breathed a sign of relief from the drive and sipped our first of those infamous Czech beers. As we looked around the room a voice piped up with the statutory ive-breaker. “So where are you from?” “England, Manchester.” “Aww wow” came the Australian’s response, “these guys are from Manchester too!.” Following the direction of her point we see three lads, laughing at a joke only they get. Of course this the embarrassing moment when you have to confess that you don’t actually live in Manchester. “Where about’s do you live” they ask. “Near Stockport, and you?” At this point they look as sheepish as us and say “Holmes Chapel”.

As we are joking about how as soon as you leave the country, you lie and say the nearest biggest city to home, Keith enters stage left. “Hey you guys, what’s up?” The lads from Chapel laugh (their reaction to almost everything) and reciprocate with a “Hey Keith!”

Keith is straight ‘outta’ New Jersey, US of A and wears his Yamkees hat always like a badge of honour. We all get talking and it turns out Keith is a well travelled man and was on his second trip around Europe. He had been in Prague a while and seemed to be quite a resident in the hostel. There is not really a way of putting Keith into words, so all we can say is that the man was an experience in himself. We’ve never met anyone like Keith and doubt we will again. Who knows?

The Chapel lads, Keith and ourselves formed a motley crew and went our for some traditional Czech cuisine. There was a small restraint across the road from the hostel, which after this first meal became a highlight of our time in Prague. On a side street, down some stairs, laid this little eatery. It resembled someone’s dining room more than a restaurant and the food tasted like Grandma had cooked it. Also it was so cheap that you almost felt guilt after paying the bill. Our first night here was spent trying to sing along with a band of Czech men in the corner. Due to a distinct lack of knowledge of the language this was exceptionally difficult but pretty funny at the same time.

Amanda Poke & German Julia

When we got back to the hostel after dinner, the Australian voice that appeared earlier appeared again. “Aww Hi! How was dinner guys?” This voice belonged to Amanda Poke, a small, but feisty girl, who was here was more a part of the hostel furniture than Keith. There is a simple way to cut straight to the core of this girl, who introduces herself with the phrase “Aww hi! I’m Amanda Poke. I’m sure there is a transvestite somewhere with my name.” Take whatever you will from these words because we’re still trying to make sense of them.

Sat next to Amanda was Julia from Germany. She was equally as interested in the success of our feast but in a more reserved way. Julia was one of those quiet, intelligent peple, who always seems to take great enjoyment in observing others. She also took great enjoyment in Becherovka, a Czech spirit which is potentially lethal if not taken with care. Julia will always occupy a special place in our hearts, because one night a discussion arose about the foods we missed from home. We waxed lyrical about the virtues of Baked Beans, and the hole in our lives created by their absence. About two days later, Julia enters the common room with the confidence of a good Samaritan and a gift she had bought us. We thought it may have been Becheroveka, but out of her Tesco bags came a more thrilling tin of Baked Beans. We were overjoyed.

Now since Amanda Poke was a fixture of the hostel common room, there are so many anecdotes to regale, but our trip to the Absinthe bar is certainly worth a mention. A few people at the hostel had the bright idea of going to an Absinthe bar and search for a green fairy or however the story goes. Now the bar of choice was across town and Amanda being practically a resident by now was confident she could get us there. The lesson to learn here is that confidence doesn’t always equate to knowledge or a sense of direction for that matter. So we followed our pint size tour guide for an hour or more. We walked and walked ‘til our feet were weary and every query was met with “Aww guys, I know where I am.”

Eventually we found the place and it was a disappointingly clean space. There were no wayward drunks, no one seeing the future and no sick in the toilet sink. In fact we only had one hour before closing time. Despite this we all enjoyed the experience. Absinthe created some of the best post-shot facial expressions and the barmaid did something with fire and a spoon certainly ‘not to be tired at home kids’. Even though some of our new gang of friends paid an extortionate amount, nothing particularly magical happened.

And then there was Peter & Simon

The lounge at Hostel Elf did not only supply us with free tea and coffee. It also brought into our midst two fine Canadian lads from Toronto. Now Peter and Simon were the kind of people who you instantly felt comfortable with. They played an important part in our Prague drama. The kind of good, well rounded characters that keep the whole plot together.

That is not to say however that our time spent with them was safe and sound. On the eve of the Czech day of independence, we went out for a couple of beers with Peter & Simon. After a couple of places we stumbled across a bar that sounded particularly exciting from the outside. The only problem was, we couldn’t get in. We tried the door from the outside and it was locked, we range the bell and there was no answer. Eventually a very drunk woman stumbled from down the road, pressed the bell and the doors opened. So naturally, we followed her in. Down dome stairs we went, passed two disapproving bouncers and into a room full of people, who seemed to be having a bit of a private party. It is safe to say we stuck out like sore thumbs and none of the other party-goers seemed too pleased that we had joined the festivities. It was too late now though. Our drinks had been ordered (in English) and paid for, so we retreated to the safety of a corner. After a while everyone else seemed to forget that we were even there, but we didn’t want to overstay our welcome, so we drank out drinks and left.

Travelled = 2028 Miles

Auf Wiedersehen Deutschland!

2009-01-18T21:55:00.010Z

Days 57-65 – BERLIN Part 3

Our fourth hostel in Berlin was located directly east of the city centre, on the edge of the Kreuzberg district. The hostel itself was comfy but fairly unremarkable, the location however was perfect. We were within walking distance of Alexanderplatz and a brilliant area for nightlife. Actually there was one remarkable thing about this hostel, it had some of the most precarious beds we have had yet. Our first couple of nights were spent on a (nearly communal) bed deck that was at least ten feet in the air. Try getting into that thing late at night and not waking anyone up. After this we were moved to another room with the safety of conventional bunk beds, or so we thought. One night however a horrible creaking was heard coming from Phil’s bunk and before he knew it, he was lying on top of the Frenchman in the bed below, along with several pieces of wood. This was very embarrassing and when the person working in the hostel was told, they looked at the bunk and said ‘oh that one again, I’ll get some more wood’. By this time it was 2:00 am.

We had been in Berlin over two weeks by this point and felt completely happy in our surroundings. Really the most important thing to mention about Berlin is that it’s a place you feel you feel you could live in, and for a short time we did. For such a large capital city it is relaxed and affordable, while being constantly stimulating at the same time.

During these days we visited more must see sights, including: the holocaust memorial once again and the Reichstag. At the Reichstag, you can take a lift into Sir Norman Foster’s dome, walk out on to the roof of the German parliament and see the entire city (mist permitting of course). You can also look down from the dome into the chamber. It is like looking at the inner organs of the state, then looking out through its eyes and seeing the people who actually control it. During our tour, we met two American women. They were both proudly wearing Obama badges. Having been detached from the World’s media for two months, we enquired about the result of the presidential race. They smiled and informed us of the “the land slide”. One of them was so happy she had tears of joy in her eyes. We all laughed and chatted and then went our separate ways.

Travelled = 1,786 Miles

Day 58 – Potsdam

During our last week in Berlin, we took a day trip to the very regal, UNESCO bastion that is Potsdam. As it is a city in its own right it warrants a little blogging of its own. About a half hour S-Bahn (that’s their over ground metro system) ride away from the centre of Berlin and we arrived in the picturesque city of Potsdam. Famous for being the summer residence of Prussian royalty from the 1700s until 1918. It was actually their permanent residence for a while. It is also the Brandenburg state capital and former centre for Prussia (thank you tourist information).

It was an unusual experience going to see a summer palace on a very grey, cold autumnal day. The vast parklands, which surround the palaces and the buildings themselves were quiet, eerie and yet undeniably still beautiful. When you looked out over the park from the Sanssouci Orangery, you were met with an array of natural rust, as yellow leaves turned copper and those already copper shed their last skin and stood skeletal in the mist. A little over the top admittedly, but these conditions had an affect on the place. It hard to imagine the sensation would have been the same in the bright light of summer with the hum of tourist in the background.

One of the greatest benefits of travelling off season is seeing things (quite literally) in a different light. As we wandered the park, neo-classical statues were maintained by scaffolding and some were clad in black bags to protect their muscular frames from the frost. At times like this you feel strangely privileged being able to see how a place works and survives all year round.

COMMU-MIST?

Tired from the fresh air we retracted to the small and quiet town centre. Here we sought hot liquid refreshment and sat away from the cold. During this time the mist closed in. When we set on our way back to Berlin, it looked like the smoke machine from a Westlife concert had been let loose in the middle of Potsdam.

Actually this moment was the beginning of a recurring joke between us, that we are yet to tire of.

Phil said “wow its got misty out here”
Anthony said “it’s the communists, they invented the mist, they’re back”
Phil said “you can’t say that …”

But we did, in fact we amused ourselves all the way back with the idea. A journey which we were both glad we were going by train, as no one wants to drive in ‘communist brand’ mist.

Days 66-67 – Dresden

The day we eventually left Berlin was a sad day. Neither of us were particularly eager to leave a city that we felt so at home in. Having said that we had heard good things about Dresden and being back on the road had a good feeling about it. We were making progress again. Only a couple of hours drive south of Berlin we were in a grey dirty back street parked up outside the hostel we had booked. Everyone had told us that Dresden had a beautiful historic centre and a great nightlife. We were quickly informed by the hostel receptionist that the nightlife was five minutes north by foot and the centre was ten minutes south. This information was well received but for the time being, we couldn’t think beyond our stomachs. So the first thing we saw of Dresden was a Lidl and the excellent facilities of the hostel kitchen.

Priority number one taken care of, we were now ready to face what ever the gods of sightseeing could throw at us. It is fair to say that they pulled out quite a few stops as well, because Dresden is an incredibly attractive and monumental city. As you cross over the bridge from the new to the old town, the historic centre reveals itself coyly, flashing one spire at a time, until the promenade, the walls, the churches, all show themselves. This magnificent unified body of architecture has been painstakingly reconstructed after it was destroyed at the end of WWII.

This old town has a peaceful atmosphere. It allows you to wander its cobbled streets and squares feeling small, but quite contented. Here narrow alley ways open into vast market squares. The earliest rumblings of Christmas preparations added to the gentle surprises Dresden has to offer, as the odd tree was erected and market stalls opened for business.

Dresden definitely lived up to what people had said and we headed back to our hostel pretty satisfied. It is worth pointing out another unusual feature about travelling off season. The people you meet in hostels can sometimes be far removed from ordinary backpackers. At the Kangaroo Stop Backpackers Hostel this was the case.

During our stay there, the hostel had been possessed by a small army of hyperactive children, who were in town for the Junior Chess Championships. Now you’re probably thinking “little chess champions can’t be that much trouble”. Well apparently too much time at the board and not enough time outside makes for little a*$e holes (not help by the indoor rope swing in the hostel living room).

At times like this there is really only one thing to do and it’s to go out for a drink. Filled with high hopes from our successful day in town, we went to sample Dresden by night. Dresden’s nightlife is a rare and wonderful thing. In an area completely separate from the old town centre (so there are no rip off restaurants) you will find more then 100 bars and clubs in an area of one square mile. There is a laid back, good fun, community atmosphere. It is pretty much impossible not to have fun here. After our first night we had a collection of bars we wanted to go back to, and another set we wanted to explore.

On our second night exploring this labyrinth of debauchery, we were given some of that excellent German hospitality we had become accustomed to. Propping up the bar in the Big Lebowski themed bar (there are loads in Germany, for some reason the film is insanely popular, and from our experience you are usually guaranteed to get a pretty good white Russian) we sampled a few white Russians and Toj demolished his body weight in Pretzel bar snacks. In the bar we also met a couple of German men, who were hilarious and soon became our guides for the night. They seemed endeared to us because of our charitable cause (Genesis not just a great cause but always a way to make friends also). If you want to go to the best bars in a town, always hang on the coattails of a local. On this occasion we ended up with our new German friends in a Punk bar. It was the kind of place where everyone stares when you walk in and then instantly forgets you exist. Truly the right kind of place to end a great night out.

The final point of interest to mention is that Dresden is home to the German Hygiene Museum. That is right people, this is an interactive museum dedicated to the cultural significance of the healthy human body or unhealthy for that matter. Now there’s no prizes for guessing which one of us got excited when we the advert for the museum about human health. Having said that we both had an amazing time and literally spent a full day there. After looking around the fantastic multisensory exhibition, 2o about the cultural effects of climate change, where we learned that in times of warfare the communists, among other nations, researched the use of artificially manipulating weather as a weapon, namely … MIST! The huge permanent collection was a bizarre and entertaining journey through all aspects of human health, including work with the Frankfurt based breast cancer organisation - Komen.

Dresden was a beautiful, relaxed and incredibly entertaining place to end our German odyssey. After spending over a month in Germany, we were excited about our new change of country and culture. At the same time, we felt privileged to feel so comfortable with the country we were leaving behind.

Travelled = 1,934 Miles

BERLIN - Part 2

2009-01-02T19:58:00.006Z

Days 51-54 – Ali Attack!

We had a special visitor during our time in Berlin. Our good friend, Alison Winter of Romiley, arrived a week into our time in Berlin. We met her off the train and first things first – a cup of tea to catch up. After this we set off towards our new pre-booked accommodation. The very swanky Wombat’s Hostel, slap bang in the centre of town. Despite how central this hostel was, we did manage to get lost trying to find it. We eventually got there and happy in the company of an old friend, we soon started to make new ones too. Paul was his name and for four nights we were to be roommates. So as a merry band of four we went into the night like the Berlin girls of night, but without the corsets over the bubble jackets and short skirts over jeans! As you’d expect we started with food; amazing Vietnamese to be exact at amazing prices. Eating in one of the trendiest districts and the food was still cheap. Absolutely love this city!

After that we naturally sampled the hostel bar and following some advice headed to a bar a few doors round the corner. This bar had a dirty battered door that we both recognised. Inside there were red lights and retro furniture that we’d see before; everything was frighteningly familiar. It was indeed the bar we were taking to on our first night in Berlin. Kaffee Burger was its name and we learnt quickly that this place was an old hang out for arty types in the GDR (German Democratic Republic). So our first night with our lovely old friend and our lovely new friend was capped off with a terrifying sense of de ja vu.

The next day, we had all agreed to go on the ‘free’ walking tour of the city. They actually work on a tips basis and apparently the guide has to pay for you to be on the tour! Regardless these tours are infamous amongst travellers and one of the most commonly offered pieces of advice when anyone says ‘I’m going to Berlin, to which the rest of the room says ‘do the walking tour!’

It is good advice as well, because it’s a brilliant was to orientate yourself in the maze of Berlin; hitting most of the ‘must see’ sights too. It gives you an amazing amount of history in a digestible form and makes the most ordinary looking parts of the city come alive. You’re not going to be given the details here, but you know our advice if you go to Berlin. If you go on the tour, you also get 1 euro off the price of the 100+ strong pub crawl ran by the same company run 7 days a week. When all is said and done we did this tour on a freezing cold morning. For three and a half hours we walked with numb fingers and toes, but we all had a brilliant time with our Scottish tour guide.

That night we met another two of our roommates and went out with another two new friends; Eion, from Dublin, and Bret, a travel writer from America. This night was a rainy night and after we had ran from place to place, we found ourselves caught in a downpour. With that we relied on our trustworthy friend – The Van (parked conveniently close). So we dived in and all of is sat there wet through and drank our reserves of Van Beers. Who needs a bar. Love The Van!

The last full day/night we spent in the company of Alison, Paul and Eion was Halloween. It was a particularly fun filled day, beginning with a visit to the GDR Museum whilst Toj, like a lone ranger, went to the Berliner Dom (cathedral) alone. An odd experience considering the cathedral did not look out of place to its Baroque-styled neighbours from the outside, yet was only built between 1895 and 1905. It was refreshingly different to other cathedrals we’d been in to date and free on Fridays. Good choice Anthony. I took the opportunity to walk around the Dom outside with views across Berlin for a small fee of 1 euro. Yep, definitely good choice.

The GDR Museum was an interactive experience, allowing you to get a feel for life behind the iron curtain in the strangest of ways. It displayed clothes you could try on, a Trabi car you could sit inside, an apartment you could walk around, and all of it was accompanied by strangely understanding descriptions. If you want a surreal view of life in the GDR, this is the museum for you.

Aware that this night was our last night was our last hurrah we made the most of it, traversing Berlin physically and musically. So we took in some live drum and bass, in a special bar called Café Zapata. It has a man made beach outside and a mental dragon that breathes fire onto the dance floor. The beer is ok and it’s a hot and sweaty dive which counts for a lot as well.

Our next port of call was The Bang Bang Club in the centre of town where The Horrors were DJ-ing. Having stood in the cue outside for a while and spoke to the crowd about our trip and the work of Genesis, we drank and danced the night away. We arrived back to the hostel safe in the knowledge we’d all feel horrible in the morning. Oh and we did feel horrible!

So our last few hours with Alison were spent, like old times, grumbling about our hangovers. We said goodbye to our new friends and past roommates. Then set on the sad drive to the airport, which was livened up by some Van Dancing, which is a little like Irish dancing in reverse, where one can only move the top half of the body due to the sitting position. So Alison flew off into the sunset and three became two once more.

Days 55-56 – The Van meets The Generator

Our time in Berlin post-Ali was, to be honest, somewhat less active. We had been burning our candles at both ends and so a few relaxed days were in order. This would have been the case, but we hadn’t bothered to book a hostel and thought we’d save some pennies and sleep in the van. Immediately a though prang to our minds. We would return to the beast and sleep in the free car park outside The Generator. This was truly the perfect crime. The place has toilets, showers, it was open 24 hours and it was so big no one would ever know we weren’t staying there. The best thing however was that in the morning we could walk in, eat breakfast, take butties for lunch and leave with no suspicion or questions asked.

For the first night everything went perfectly to plan, the Gods smiled upon us. It was warm enough, we showered and ate in the morning and it was all ‘free’. The second night however didn’t go as well. For a start the temperature dropped well below freezing during the night. Secondly Phil came down with an “upset stomach” (euphemism for the runs), so he had to run across the car park and the main road, into the Generator and past the night reception staff. With this he spent the rest of the night curled up on a sofa … ahhh. After this experience we booked another hostel.

Travelled = 1,781 Miles

BERLIN - Part 1

2008-12-28T20:07:00.005Z

Days 45&46 – In the ‘Mitte’ of something

The drive into Berlin was a strange one. We were expecting the kind of mania you get when you combine a capital city, with the populous and traffic congestion. We, however, had a long, gentle drive down a long straight road into the laid back capital and all of a sudden reached our destination (so the tomtom kindly informed us).

So we were in Berlin and we were relaxed. Our hostel for the first few nights was Mittes Backpacker Hostel (Mitte being the central district of Berlin, not the person who owned it). This hostel was in, what appeared to be, an old factory building. The reception was on the second floor and our room was five floors up from that. We were staying in a 32 bed loft conversion in the sky. It was slightly unusual, but comfy enough with some single beds to sleep in.

So we were settled in one of Europe’s most exciting cities and we would have been ready to hit the town but we both stank; having done four nights in the van. Up to this point, our personal hygiene left something to be desired. So Phil dived in the shower and Toj took the opportunity to go and have his hair cut. When Toj returned it appeared he had been involved in a very literal close shave with a Turkish Barber. Toj having never studied German, or Turkish for that matter, had a slight language misunderstanding with his basic phrasebook German.

So after Phil recovered from the shock of seeing Toj and him recovered from seeing himself, we were ready to hit Berlin. A good walk took us into the Prenzlauer Berg district and after a bit of searching we found a busy bar with young scruffy looking people like ourselves.

It is amazing how easy it is to meet people just by sitting in a bar and speaking English. We did and three people appeared over our shoulders exclaiming “You speak English? What are you doing here? Where are you from?” All questions came from all three people and we were ever so slightly overwhelmed. However we battled our way through this inquisitive Labyrinth … “Yes, Travelling, England”. Out of politeness we reciprocated the questioning. They were Swedish art students on a college trip. It was their last night and we were happy to ride on the coat tails of what turned out to be an entire class full and their German guide.

So we had a few drinks and headed into the maze of Berlin’s streets to find another bar, which was open to the early hours. Having no knowledge of Berlin’s geography didn’t trouble us at this moment; we were riding a wave of adrenalin fuelled by the sense of adventure. When we arrived at a surreal place. The dirty, battered doors opened to revel: red lights, some very retro furniture, the last song with a woman with an accordion and a collection of people of all ages and nationalities.

At this point it was about one o’clock and seemed like the party was just getting started. So we immersed ourselves in the atmosphere and the German beer. Therefore the moment we left this mystical place, stepping out onto the street, breathing the air and muttering the immortal words “so how do we get home?” The answer to this question is, not easily, but the ingenious use of the bus stop maps, some kind of a German man and an hour of perseverance – we made it!

Kebabs, Punks & Bears

For obvious reasons the following days were spent physically and mentally orientating ourselves. Berlin is a city that is physically, culturally and historically unique. It is an impossibility to understand this place fully. The best you can hope for is to be able to navigate around it and even that can take a while.

In the first few days some of Berlin’s quirks become quickly apparent, the heavier historical facts took longer to digest. As always with us the first issue is to do with food. Berlin and Berliners love the kebab. It comes in all shapes and sizes and you can get it on, what feels like, every street corner. Apparently, in Berlin alone, 40,000 Kg of doner kebab meat is consumed a day. Not surprising with a large Turkish population and around 1,500 kebab vendors. What is really amazing for a young Englishman is that it is socially acceptable to eat a kebab at any time of day. It is not just reserved for the drunken stumble home. The best thing for two travellers on a budget is that these kebabs are good and they are cheap. Because of this, this fine example of Berlin cuisine quickly became a staple meal for us. We now crave a Berlin kebab! Oh no!

Walking through the streets there are other things that stand out, namely punks and bears. It is difficult to walk down the street without seeing one or the other. The punks are fairly loud, fairly drunk and fairly harmless. It is one of those subcultures that displays itself publicly, showing a sense of community that doesn’t relate to a location but a way of living. It is quite refreshing to see that this still exists. Moving onto the Bears, these are quieter, even more harmless and always more sober than the punks. In fact the bear is the city’s representative animal and dotted around are many decorative statutes (similar to the cow parade we had in Manchester not so long ago, but there permanently). Actually the bears themselves are attractive but not that exciting. What is amazing is the things people are prepared to do to these statues for that perfect Kodak moment. You can walk around and see these bears hugged, harassed, talked to and included in family photos; it is one of the many bizarre sites to be seen on Berlin’s streets.

Now to deal with some of that history. On our first exploration of Berlin’s Museum Insel we witnessed a large building being torn down, piece by piece, before our very eyes. This building was The People’s Palace from the German Democratic Republic. A building designed to be the focal point of cultural activity in East Berlin and perhaps East Germany as a whole.
There is no doubt that this concrete reminder of a Communist past must have stuck out like a sore thumb, amongst the other grand, Baroque style buildings that dominate this area. From the information we were given, it would also seem that this building had fallen into disuse and disrepair since the fall of the Berlin Wall merely 18 years ago. Therefore there is a definite necessity to ‘do something about’ this building. The demolition we observed throughout our time in Berlin was uneasy. There were no big explosions to witness, just the sight of them literally tearing the building to pieces with pincers due to the paranoid way the concrete had been reinforced.

After many years of debate about what to do with this space, the decision has been made to build a replica of the old royal place (which once stood in the same spot pre WWII) from the outside which will house another cultural centre for a unified Berlin & Germany. A German lady spoke to Phil about the reconstructive options at the site and expressed how she thought the German people would prefer something beautiful to look at and an old royal palace will be more beautiful than any communist or new structure could ever be.

Days 47-51 – THIS IS THE GENERATOR

After three nights at Mittes we decided (for financial reasons and itchy feet) to change hostels for the weekend. So we went to the Generator. This hostel was on the South East side of the city, on another giant road filled with giant buildings. Phil didn’t have any kind words to say about The Generator. The kindest words he used were ‘sterile’ and ‘functional’. In its defence it was only 9 euros a night, the beds were pre-made with free sheets and a feast of breakfast included. In fact the breakfast was the best thing Generator had to offer. Toj still talk about the porridge and fresh bread rolls with apricot jam. You could always take meat and cheese sandwiches for lunch as well.

Essentially the place was a beast. It climbed higher than the Tower of Babel and sunk lower than the sulphurous pits of hell (Phil’s words again, think they’re getting the idea pal). It’s true, souls could get lost in here and some people looked like they’d been there for an eternity.

During our time there we did take the opportunity to see another side of the city. Undoubtedly one of the most interesting and poignant things we saw here was The East Side Gallery. This is the longest remaining stretch of the Berlin Wall, which was decorated with the work of famous international artists immediately after The Wall came down. This is another example of Berlin architecture in change. This section of wall has weathered and been defaced and now they are planning to have it repainted by the original artists to return it to how it was in 1990. It will then be replace under monumental protection.

There were two other features of our stay at Generator that are really worth mentioning. We found the best kebab shop ever on the doorstep. Not only could you get a great durum kebab, but also half a rotisserie chicken with chips and salad for only 5 euros! So we ate like kings many a night. Secondly Generator had planned nights of entertainment from DVD screenings to Karaoke. One karaoke night a group of ten German lads gave the best version of Country Roads ever. It was both painful and hilarious.

Travelled = 1,743 Miles

Will the real Germany please stand up...

2008-12-14T17:58:00.006Z

Days 41&42 – LUBECK

There is always a strange feeling connected with arriving in a new place. Obviously this is related to not knowing exactly where you are, what it is you’re surrounded by and what there is to do. This can result in a kind of lethargy / agoraphobia that makes one oddly attached to the hostel room. This condition is called Monumentaphobia. In severe cases it can result in many travellers going round the world and seeing nothing more than the four walls of their dorm, bunk beds and other travellers who are equally scared of leaving the hostel. Now when we arrived in Lubeck it is safe to say that we were suffering from a slight case of monumentaphobia ourselves. While we were aware of what a beautiful place Lubeck was, nightmarish images of cathedrals and town halls kept us confined to our lonely 8-bed dorm for the first day. The hostel was quiet so we had no fellow suffers to share our pain, but the walls and bunk beds kept us entertained.

The following day a hearty hostel breakfast and many a cup of coffee got us over our psychological upset and we were ready to embrace the monuments of Lubeck. There are many of them in the compact, old town centre. It is a place you can walk around time and time again and always find something different to look at. In a way Lubeck feels like a town sized gallery, exhibiting some of the finest examples of brick gothic architecture that exemplify this part of Germany. The majority of these buildings have foundations that date back to the Middle Ages, but they have been rebuilt and reconstructed over the centuries since, particularly in the years following the Second World War. In this sense there is something quite new about this old (UNESCO protected) town.

Having re-immersed ourselves in the world of the monument, we created quite an appetite, which was satisfied with a half chicken and chips. This may not be exotic cuisine, it may not be particularly German, but it was tasty.

Travelled = 1,451 Miles

Day 43 – WISMAR

The following day began with another restorative hostel breakfast and another set of sandwiches ‘liberated’ for our onward journey. We had planned to travel to the small town of Wismar for the afternoon in order to break up the journey to Rostock, which was to be our next overnight destination. Like Lubeck, Wismar is small but certainly doesn’t struggle for its share of historic buildings. It is also once again dominated by brick gothic architecture.

It is quite an unusual experience for the Englishman abroad to witness bricks being used in such old buildings. You instantly think of industrial Victoriana, when you see those brazen, terracotta, checkerboard walls. Stockport Viaduct, Whitworth Street or London’s St. Pancras Station spring to mind, not medieval churches. However the powers that be in Germany have seen fit to restore these structures brick by brick. Some of which are being used as exhibition spaces and some are museums of themselves; documenting their own history of destruction and reconstruction. Others did actually survive and remain brilliant examples of medieval churches.

One in particular we visited still had its original painted interior. We were lucky enough to be given an impromptu tour by the attendant, who allowed us to go beyond the velvet rope in order to see the alter piece to take photographs.

So feeling particularly blessed by our VIP treatment, we popped our donation in the box and went head strong on to Rostock.

Travelled = 1,496 Miles

Day 43 – ROSTOCK

One slight flaw in our plan was that we didn’t have anywhere in Rostock to head to. The weather had been getting colder but it certainly wasn’t beyond us sleeping in the van. We thought we would check the hostel out and if nothing else, it might have a free car park.

Rostock is a far less picturesque place than Lubeck and Wismar, yet it has a large university, its own brewery (home of Rostocker) and a marina. In fact it is a place where one does not feel the effects of Monumenaphobia. Rostock looks and feels like an ordinary town where people live ordinary lives and sometimes these are good places to be.

One thing however, that was out of the ordinary was its hostel. Rarely can you say that a hostel is situated on the water and mean it quite literally. In this case however the hostel was on a ship. This excited Anthony greatly, there’s something about open stretches of water that gets him all giddy. Unfortunately this hostel was full, but in this instance the cloud had a silver lining, as we found a place to park for the night by the waterside which was free (well we didn’t pay for it, so in many ways it was). Actually we weren’t the only people taking advantage of this spot. We were surrounded by luxury five-star motor homes on either side, also making use of the opportunity, so we felt like there was safety in numbers.

That night the temperature was bearable but it was certainly getting colder. Of course the one thing the cold does is make you need a wee and the one thing our car park didn’t have was a toilet. We managed to hang on through a bladder aching night and relieved ourselves in the morning, followed by a sausage roll breakfast as our reward.

Travelled = 1,556 Miles

Day 44 – WERAM (MURITZ)

From this point on we were heading for Berlin. Before our trip began we suspected that Berlin would be a highlight and since being away we had heard stories that could make any traveller’s mouth water. The drive from Rostock to Berlin was however longer than our recent travels, so before we threw ourselves headstrong into the frenzy of the urban jungle, we thought we should experience the other side of life. We headed into the depths of the Muritz National Park, to a town called Waram, perched on the edge of Germany’s second largest lake.

This was the kind of place Germans would go on holiday, although we were there out of season. A kin to our Lake District, this area is puddle with lakes and marsh lands, formed after the last ice age. The landscape is strangely disorientating as it quickly alternates between managed fertile and wild marshlands.

Being out of season the town was bizarrely quiet, made up of lots of empty spaces which, we can only presume, once bustled with tourists and holiday makers. We had arrived late in the afternoon, so we had a quick look around part of the lake and the picturesque town. While it was undoubtedly a beautiful place, there was something unnerving about seeing this tourist catered town deserted. It’s like going into a theme park after it’s closed.

The night was drawing in and our bellies began to rumble. We concerned ourselves with making some pre-Berlin savings, so it was a van sandwich for dinner, which we have to mention is one of our quickest yet. Two Lads, One Van and a ham and cheese baguette, made in under two minutes on a box in a Lidl car park. A truly unusual sight for any local shopper passing by.

After we had fed ourselves we found a nice, out of the way car park we could call home for the night. This one was a particular find because it backed onto a special motor home/camper park, where you had to pay 10/15/20 Euros a night … ha ha! We spent the evening playing pool in the only bar we could find that was open and thought about our first day in Berlin.

Travelled = 1,631 Miles

HAMBURG

2008-11-22T20:59:00.004Z

Days 36-40

A&O and Apnoea Man

We woke to the sound of breaking glass and our hearts jumped, The Van’s safety being of paramount importance, of course. Luckily it was just people making use of the bottle bank we were sharing the car park with. So we disposed of our own empties, which we’d been carrying for at least two weeks and started looking for the nearest conveniences. They were (somewhat predictably) in a swimming pool. To tell the truth this swimming pool was bizarre. Firstly it was run by robots, there were turn styles and computer screens everywhere. It was a horrible vision of a future where leisure facilities are cold, sterile and no longer dictated over by enthusiastic people in shorts. Secondly the toilets in this place were specifically designed to thwart any attempt at taking intravenous illegal drugs, the usual UV lights and such. (You might not be able to see your veins but it does make you want to pop a pill and D.I.S.C.O). Any way all those kids cuing up outside with over filled armbands and spoons hidden in their Speedos, were sure to be disappointed.

Next stop Hamburg and the A&O Budget Hostel and Hotel, which was home for a couple of nights. This place was as commercial as it sounds and apparently a Mecca for unruly German school parties. It was however cheap, which as a rule Hamburg is not. It was the kind of building that could rinse you of your soul, or at least that’s the impression the staff gave off, but we had no intention of spending a lot of time there. It was a bed, shower, electricity and that is all we needed. Just a quick note on those staff by the by; I’ve seen more smiling on Victorian family photographs and their mantra seemed to be ‘if I’m completely vague I can’t be completely wrong’. So thank you to them all for their help.

Due to their spectacularly vague advice our first night in Hamburg was punctuated by several lengthy walks, a significant amount of time feeling lost and then eventual success when we found an area with many places to eat and drink. At this stage in our travels, 36 days on from when we left home, certain cravings had set in. In particular was a desire for some Indian cuisine and by chance we stumbled on an eatery of that nature. It was the busiest place in a mile radius, it was reasonably priced and that was good enough for us. After a minor intellectual battle with German menu, a waiter came to our rescue with an English translation. It is unknown to us whether they let us struggle for a short while and enjoyed our drama, with that perverse sense of schadenfreude the Germans are famous for. (This is a joke, they are lovely people really). On the other hand it could have been that we asked for ‘ein tisch fur zwei’ with such proficiency and confidence that they assumed we were fluent (also a joke). Either way, the food was good and our craving was satiated for the time being.

That night our return to the hostel was greeted with a fanfare of sorts; it was in fact some of the most amazing snoring I have ever heard. It was musical in a discordant way, like it should have been on the soundtrack to a Hitchcock film. It was how I imagine the Ghost of Christmas Yet to Come to sound when he has a bad cough. The producer of this noise was a man, we called him Apnoea Man. He was in his forties, always drunk and always asleep.

The following day was our first proper day in Hamburg and although sleep deprived we were committed to the task of orientating ourselves. The city centre is very pleasing on the eye and the people who populate it have a relaxed way of using the space. However when you talk to people who live there, no one really knows what there is for a tourist to see but they are all certain where you should go and shop. I guess it is a little like Manchester in that respect. I think it is fair to say that Hamburg has a disproportionately large number of nice, expensive shops, matched only by the large number of fashionable, beautiful, wealthy people. So we didn’t quite fit in but hey that’s never bothered us before.

As we had dined out the night before a budget dinner was on the cards. As luxurious as the A&O was it did not have a guest kitchen and did not look kindly upon people eating their own food in its restaurant. So using the best of our ingenuity we took our ingredients and our mess tins into (the very clean) disabled toilet and came out with a quality salad. It was a meal prepared and eaten in clandestine fashion and it was all the tastier because of it. We returned to the scene of the crime to wash out our tins and felt pretty satisfied with our work…

That night Apnoea Man fell asleep on a hard wooden chair in front of the T.V in our room. Toj turned it off and he roared with all the fury of a truly horrible Christmas. Then half an hour later he stood up and left the room. That was the last we saw of Apnoea Man. Despite keeping us awake I sincerely hope that man is in a better place now than he was then. I at least hope he has got out of the A&O hostel, it could drive anyone to drink.

Meeting The Infadels, Watching The Infadels and Drinking with The Infadels!

Our third day in Hamburg began with a disappointment. We had decided, as it was the official European breast health day that we would don our campaign wears and head to the Tourist Information in search of any information we could get. This was the beginning of what is commonly called a wild goose chase. The woman at tourist information kindly searched for any events, locally based charities or anyone who might have some information. Unfortunately she could not find anything and recommended we tried asking at the pharmacy. This we did and another kind person searched all their resources and came back with nothing. They then suggested a charity shop that was actually run by a Charity for Aids sufferers but might know something about other charities. This shop was closed. At the end of this experience we were pretty deflated but we felt, at least like we’d learned something. In Germany it is not a condition that is given a lot of attention in the public sphere…

In the afternoon we were changing hostels and moving to the other side of town. St Pauli is notorious for being Hamburg’s party district and also Europe’s biggest red light district. It was a far cry from the posh shops and monuments we’d seen up to now. The Wira hostel was our home for the next few nights and when we arrived we struggled to understand this unusual place. It is located at the top end of the district, in the basement of an office building. When we checked in we were the only people aside from the owner in the whole place and this owner was suspiciously laid back in his demeanour and even more suspiciously particular about the rules. So there we were in a ten bed dorm, in a hostel that slept about fifty, all by ourselves, with a guy telling us rule after rule, in a very calm way. This is where the narrative splits in two because Anthony went to do laundry and Phil stayed by himself and showered…

After a shower and about an hour and a half of wondering whether they’d be sleeping in this hostel alone two Australians wandered through the door and Phil eventually had someone to talk to. One was called Sean, the other Owen and they were the beginnings of what turned out be an awesome gang of people to hang around with. Not too long after Toj reappeared looking rather distressed and in need of a brew…

After Toj had recovered from the stress of standing in the laundrette in his underwear whilst his jeans were being washed, we readied ourselves. Then along with Sean we went to see what this end of Hamburg had on offer. What we discovered when we stepped out of the Hostel door was rain, proper heavy rain, like we get back at home. So our night was very much dictated by not getting too wet. We jumped quickly from bar to bar having little success in finding something we liked and eventually Sean (suffering somewhat from post-Berlin fatigue, a common travellers condition and one we now have a lot of sympathy with) decided to call it a night. Phil and Toj still felt like Hamburg owed them something, so they decided to try one more, particularly noisy bar. Stepping through the door they found something that looked like a run down Spanish cantina, with a group of what we assumed were crazy people dancing in it. These were of course The Infadels (a band from East London for those of you who don’t know) and we got talking because we thought each other were German. A confusion over toilets and lighters, which is too complicated to explain, ended up with us dancing the night away with them. It also led to them generously offering to put us on the guest list for their gig in St Pauli the following night. So in the end it turned out to be a good night.

Fast forward to Friday night and we were stood at the door of a bar called Molotov saying, for the first time in our lives, we are on the guest list. Our hands were stamped and we were shown in, all for free. Once again thank you The Infadels, because we had an amazing time dancing like crazy people ourselves. This is of course the other important thing to say about our time with this gang of Londoners. They were really supportive about what we were doing, they thought Genesis was an amazing cause (which it is) and they did us a video, which you can have a peek at yourselves on YouTube. So all round it was a brilliant experience. We even got the chance to have another drink with them after the gig in and Toj turned into a part time roadie and carried some stuff to the tour bus. Phil stayed by the bar. So once more we partied in St Pauli, staying up far too late and perhaps having one too many drinks.

In the morning we both woke with the Uber hangover, the feeling was shared but certainly not halved. If anything it was amplified by having to look, smell, speak to and generally be near, each other. That Saturday morning we also shared a solemn pact, that day we would not drink, we would not go out, we would instead hide from the world.

The Gunner Returns

Lucky for us we were not the only ones who had decided to confine ourselves to the hostel that day. We were kept in good company by Sean and Owen, along with Luke from Chicago who had joined the dorm on Friday and who was another real gent. Together we wallowed the day away, planning our journeys onward and making small talk. At about six in the evening the dorm had gone quiet, Phil was their on my own for the first time that day and all of a sudden from a shadowy figure in the door a familiar voice said,
‘Phil is that you?’Well you’ll never guess who it was… The Gunner had returned. It was like a strange dream, there was friendly banter as if we were old friends. Phil blinked and he was putting an even friendlier beer in my hand. Even though the very sight of it brought tears to my eyes I was compelled to drink. Toj entered saw my face, saw the beer, saw The Gunner and burst out laughing. We were reunited for one last night in Germany and it was a good one, so once more a heart felt thanks go out to that man, who turned an evening of misery into night of fun… into a morning after of complete misery, but that’s as much our fault as it is his.

Travelled = 1,408 Miles

Hello Deutschland!

2008-11-15T18:25:00.004Z

Day 32 – ENTERING GERMANY

This was the day we were going to enter Germany; a country bigger than Belgium and The Netherlands put together and noisier than Belgium and The Netherlands put together. Anthony for some reason was particularly excited about visiting the home of the Autobahn and Phil was particularly excited about visiting the home of the roadside Bratwurst. (I soon discovered that Anthony’s excitement did not relate to speed limits being a thing of the past, it was actually because he got to say the words ‘this isn’t Europe this is the Autobahn’. Apparently this is some kind of Alan Partridge quote I didn’t really get the first time or every time he’s said it since.)

There certainly wasn’t any kind of culture shock when we crossed the boarder into Germany. The landscape was still flat and dotted with wind farms. Once again we didn’t get touched up at the boarder and no one ripped the van to bits in search of drugs or contraband clogs smuggled from The Netherlands.

Boarder Services = 1,195 Miles Travelled

Day 32 – OLDENBURG

Oldenburg was our first port of call and was another one of those places where locals wondered at our being there. It is safe to say that it wasn’t a big town and was by no means a big tourist destination. In fact it was a very ordinary German town and thus a pretty good place for us to begin our Germanic adventure. By this time our arrival at any new place follows a fairly predictable routine: find a free car park, find tourist information, and find food. In this instance the twenty minute walk from free parking to town, meant our bellies took priority over our need for knowledge and so food came first.

The question of what to eat was easily answered. When in Oldenburg eat a big sausage. (This may not seem like a blog worthy subject but the humble bratwurst quickly became a staple of our diet and so the first is remembered fondly). Stepping rather timidly up to the opportunely placed street vendor, Phil mumbled in his best (GCSE) German “zwei bratwurst bitte”. He came away proudly brandishing something that resembled a hotdog, where the sausage had experienced a growth spurt and the bun had shrunk in the wash. Said sausages were enjoyed at speed that guaranteed indigestion and then we headed to tourist information. We soon discovered that we were parked in Oldenburg’s only free car park and this happened to be located under a motorway overpass. With this in mind we were inclined towards finding a hostel and we found quite the hostel…

Stepping through the door of DJH Oldenburg was a little like stepping into a retro fantasy where you could holiday in the eighties. This doesn’t just refer to the decoration either; the very kind lady at reception, sporting a Hawkwind t-shirt and a pair of ripped Levi’s 501, was in on the act as well. However there was a shower, a bed for a lie down and a private place to put on clean underpants, so we were happy enough. As we were getting ready to go out, a roommate entered.
‘Hi I’m Anthony’ followed by the obligatory handshake.
‘Hello’ the young man replied.
‘Hi I’m Phil’ followed by handshaking.
‘You speak English’ the young man continued.
‘Yes’ came the rather obvious answer.
For the rest of this conversation and the whole of the following morning this man never introduced himself. What we do know is that he was from Algeria and he was very, very tired. In the course of the brief conversation we had it was mentioned that Toj spoke French and this man proceeded to talk to him in French for the rest of our stay. This was slightly problematic as many topics were covered which Toj didn’t always fully understand. What was more problematic was he also talked to Phil in French; Phil who doesn’t speak a word of French.

Presumably tired out from all the talking the young man put himself to bed, it was about 6:00pm. Then entered another roommate and the introduction was pretty much the same except this time we got a name in return. Andrew was an enthusiastic physicist from Malaysia, studying in Oldenburg, but we will talk more about Andrew later.

Our trip into the town centre was without event up to the point Toj spotted an Irish bar running a Karaoke night. Now our trip so far has taught us that if in desperate circumstances you want to meet other travellers an Irish bar is a safe bet, so it seemed worth a look. What we found was an unexpected piece of German social culture. Apparently (and forgive the generalisation) the people of Germany love karaoke. They sing with passion and at least some of them take it very seriously. I’d like to tell you that it took Toj a few drinks before his desire to sing took over. This would be a lie; in fact he picked up the song list before he got a drink in his hand. Phil on the other hand took at least a few drinks and a lot of convincing, from Toj and a local girl called Martha whom we’d been chatting to, before he’d get up. Some people would say this karaoke experience was doomed to failure when the only song we could agree to sing was Message in a Bottle by The Police. What I can tell you is that we hit a definite low point around the twelfth refrain of ‘message in a bottle, message in a bottle’ when the DJ turned the microphones off. It is hard to tell whether or not the people appreciated our effort, loud conversations and looking the other way could be there equivalent of applause, right?

We weren’t too down hearted after our poor public reception and we headed back to the hostel for a good nights sleep. Now this brings us back to the subject of Andrew. At around 6:00 am our good friend Andrew felt it was the appropriate time to unpack his bag. Lucky for us everything in Andrew’s bag was separately wrapped in plastic bags. I guess if plastic bags could have an orgy this is what it would sound like. Not content with rustling more than a squirrel in a pile of crispy autumn leaves, Andrew refused to use the ladder kindly provided with his bunk bed. Andrew leapt like said squirrel from his bed about seven times. Each time something was retrieved from its plastic bag and taken back to his bunk. One can only assume this hive of activity was the precursor to a period of hibernation in the winter.

For the first time on our trip getting up for a breakfast which finished at 9:00 was not a problem. Our ability to make conversation with the still very lively Andrew was however affected. On this occasion leaving the hostel and getting into the van gave us the same feeling Superman must get when he reaches the fortress of solitude.

Travelled = 1,254 Miles

Days 33-35 – BREMEN

We had planned a two night stop in Bremen and booked a hostel in advance. So we drove straight to the Townside Hostel, situated in a trendy little spot, ten minutes walk from the city centre. We got inside and sorted our usual first priority of parking. This hostel generously provided a safe spot where the van could be kept under lock and key, truly a dream spot. Then we were checked in by possibly one of the nicest and busiest receptionists we’d come across. Climbing four flights of stairs we eventually reached our room and entered to the sight of four alarmed and slightly disgruntled holiday makers from Israel. We didn’t quite know what to make of this so we got on with making our beds. Their rather speedy departure left us with the feeling that we were going to be stuck with some pretty grumpy roommates (the last thing we wanted after a night with Andrew, the bag rustler). The hostel itself was a beautiful place, our room had access to a sun terrace, its own en-suite and adjoined a kitchenette provide for guests. This was the kind of luxury that brings tears to our eyes and made the grumpy roommates seem like no big deal.

Then it seemed like the gods were really smiling on us; the Israelis returned to say they had been put in the wrong room. They were expecting a room of their own and were a little upset by our arrival. In actual fact they were pretty nice people. So now we had these extravagant surroundings and there was only one logical thing to do: lounge, take a nap and spread our stuff everywhere. We were rested, taking care of business and the room was a mess when another character was introduced to the room. He was a big man and his outfit was similar to that of a polar explorer from the turn of the twentieth century. This man also seemed to be in a bad mood and to us this was aggravated by the messy room… oh no. After a rather sheepish tidy up and retreat to our bunks there was a moment of intensity and then the gods smiled again. The man said to Anthony ‘I hope the quality of what you write lives up to the quality of your note book’. ‘Probably not’ Anthony replied and we all chuckled. From this moment the ice was broken and we got on better and better as time went on. It turned out his mood related to miss-adventure with his vehicle.

You maybe wondering why I refer to him in such unfamiliar terms and basically it is for legal reasons. The fantastic nature of this man and the trip he was on means it is better to talk of him in euphemisms anyway. So we shall call him The Gunner, say that he is a Viking and that he had travelled an amazing distance, for an amazing length of time, under his own steam. It was an epic journey that really puts ours in to context. So with our new mysterious friend we hit the town and drank many a jug of mead (in reality it was beer).

The following day we went in to Bremen to see a statue that was described as ‘a lot of animals standing on top of each other’. There is much more to see in Bremen than this however this is by far and away the strangest. This town has a connection with the Brothers Grimm Fairytale of The Wonderful Musicians and there is a statue to commemorate this. Essentially what you see is a donkey, with a dog on its back, with a cockerel on its back, with a mouse on its head. Surrounding the statue is a huge group of people trying to touch the donkey’s hoofs and rub his nose. We don’t know why they do this, if you do please let us know.

In Bremen’s main town square we were also lucky enough to see a Polish market in full swing, with traditional song, dance, food and drink (It looked a little like the German Market we have in Manchester). After a combined dose of German and Polish culture and thorough explore of the city we headed back. Meeting The Gunner (coincidently) at the hostel door we headed back to the room together and found a Lithuanian family had moved in.

Now the events I am about to describe are not for the faint hearted and I apologise for there lewd content… it’s all The Gunner’s fault. Soon after our arrival the Lithuanian mother and father in their 60’s and son in his mid twenties left. We carried on chatting and after discussing our own YouTube page, the conversation hit a wayward track. To put it in a nutshell the topic was disgusting things you could watch on the internet and of course that infamous video with the girls and the chocolate ice cream cropped up, (If you don’t know what I mean be pleased with yourself and ignore this). We were laughing like little school girls at the very serious description of this video available online, when the Lithuanian family returned. Both Phil & Toj stifled our giggles and looked back to our books, but The Gunner carried on reading. As the mother and father readied themselves for bed the son got involved in the conversation as well. At this point we were disturbed and completely baffled about the things he was saying in front of his own mum and dad. When we eventually left the room and went out, with the Lithuanian son in tow, the question had to be asked. ‘Your mum and dad must have been horrified?’ To which him and The Gunner replied ‘no, they don’t speak a word of English, it was fine’. We breathed a sigh of relief.

Then we indulged in a traditional German custom, Legal Street Drinking, our chosen spot was outside Corona Pizza, for obvious reasons. It was here we met the (very drunk) youth of Bremen, who gave us an in depth look into German youth culture. Not that different from our own apparently. They also offered us a quick German lesson, which began with the question ‘what words would you like to know in German’. The night carried on from there in much more ordinary, although much less sober fashion and we all went to bed not looking forward to checkout in the morning.

Normally checking out is an uneventful experience, this time it was particularly uneventful. In fact we didn’t even make out of the hostel lounge, we didn’t move the van, we just sat for hours reading and eating our stack of alternate Pate and Primula sandwiches and saying goodbye to The Gunner as well.

As I said we’d only planned to stay in Bremen two nights, but our desire not to move was strong. Another night in the hostel wasn’t an option (didn’t want to get too used to the good life) so we decided we’d do a night in the van, in Bremen. We saw there was a lake just out of the centre and thought that a bit of time out of it would be good. As it turned out there was no where suitable to park overnight, we did however take in the lake while we were there. On our peaceful stroll around the water we chanced upon a sight which has etched itself on my mind and still to this day I struggle to believe I saw it.

Sat on a bench looking over the water we were joined by a few dog walkers, some families and the odd jogger stretching out. We caught a glimpse of a man in his seventies undressing by the water; a man who had muscles I had never seen before. It seemed to cold for a swim but he didn’t mind. In fact he cared so little he took off all his clothes and naked as the day he was born walked toward the water. He then splashed himself a little and turned around showing all of himself to the amazed people on the lakeside. He repeated this routine about three times before he took his swim. This bizarre exhibition was followed by some particularly explicit drying and his departure.

The words only in Germany spring to mind. We certainly hope so. Everything after this seems rather dull. That night we slept in The Bremen Shakespeare Company’s car park, still a little scarred from what we saw and dodging the theatre’s departing clientele as we prepared ourselves for a cool night in the van.

Travelled = 1,305 Miles

Bye Bye The Netherlands

2008-10-28T13:22:00.009Z

Ok to begin with an apology; once again the blog is delayed and once again the bad workmen (Phil and Toj) blame their tools. The internet is a slippery beast, a little like the soap in the shower; it is tricky to pick up and even harder to hold on to. Not to worry though we have it in our hands, so here is what we’ve been up to since we last spoke. Please read the Amsterdam/Zandvoort/Haarlem blog first.

Day 28 - SNEEK

The following morning was windy (in the gale force sense of the word) and rainy (in the torrential sense of the word). A very excited Toj and a very disgruntled Phil sat in the cab of the van, ready to return to Zandvoort for the F1 experience. It seemed Toj was intent on keeping his promise to the Dutchman and Phil was less than pleased at this display of solidarity. Now to say we went to the race, in fact to say we got near the track would be an exaggeration. This did not affect Toj’s good mood. Apparently noises and a sign that said ‘Welkom Race Fans’ was enough to quench his need for speed, they were not enough however to improve the mood of a very wet and cold Phil. At the time his words were “I’m cold, I’m wet and I hate cars!” (love the van, but hate cars).

After our Formula 1 fun we were heading to Frisland, a northern province of The Netherlands, famous for its cows, its water and being quiet. To get there we had to drive across the water and with the wind and the rain we feared for the van and ourselves. Lucky for us the industrious Dutch had built a big dam, with a big road on it so we were ok. In our madness we rightly stopped on the dam, in the rain, for the delicacy that is – ‘stolen’ hostel sandwiches.

Our first destination was Sneek and it is safe to say this is a place that lived up to Frislands quiet reputation. After checking into our hostel we soon realised that the place was only populated by a German family and ourselves. The following morning we took a look around this quiet town and saw a bit of The Netherlands that English tourists rarely seem to reach. In fact through out this part of Europe the question most people seemed to ask is ‘why are you here?’ And at that point we tell them all about Genesis and the campaign.

Travelled = 1046 Miles (we hit 1000 Miles on route at 12:50 on the N242 around Alkmaarseweg)

Day 29 - LEEUWARDEN via HARLINGEN

From Sneek we ventured further north and further east toward Leeuwarden. On route we decided to stop for lunch in the port town of Harlingen. After eating more sandwiches (also they liberated from the hostel’s breakfast buffet) by more water, we trucked on and arrived in Leeuwarden late that afternoon. Leeuwarden is a modern university town and the capital of The Frisland Province. Here we found another sports centre and another free car park for the night. After we had chosen our spot we headed into town, to sample some of the student orientated watering holes. At this point another life lesson is about to be learnt.

If you arrive in a town after Tourist Information is closed and you don’t have a street map, the least you should do is make a note of where you’ve parked; an address or perhaps the name of the sports centre would have been helpful. This however we did not do and after enjoying a few of Leeuwarden’s bars, our decision to head back to the van was hampered somewhat by not knowing where we’d parked. Don’t get me wrong, we had a vague idea but the exact coordinates were a little hazy. Under normal circumstances loosing your vehicle is bad news; it is particularly bad when it’s also your home for the night. As luck would have it after an hour and a half of wandering we found a few familiar landmarks, namely a big sports centre and the van was safe and sound where we left it. Well you can guess what we said as we fell through the doors and into bed.

We woke to a beautiful sunny day and the incredible odour of what we like to call, Van Tang. Van Tang is a unique smell created when two (unwashed) lads sleep in a van that suffers with a minor condensation problem…mmmm, Van Tang! Slightly alarmed by this fragrance and in need of a little revival we decided to go for a swim and a shower at the sports centre, which had kindly put us up for the night. After a few lengths, a Jacuzzi dip, a ride on the slide and a good wash later, we were back on the road, this time to Groningen.

Travelled = 1103 Miles

Days 30&31 - GRONINGEN

Groningen was our last stop in The Netherlands and a nice place it was to. It is Frisland’s biggest ‘university town’, with a young and modern atmosphere, thrown into relief by a backdrop of old Dutch architecture. We had decided to make tourist information our first stop in order to find some accommodation with electricity and a shower, (we had begun to fear the Van Tang fumes were affecting our health). We found a cheap hostel on the outskirts of town, so it was time to extract the van from the multi-story car park where we’d squeezed it and move to there.

The van and the multi-story car park have a troubled relationship. Unfortunately in this instance they came to blows. As we descended the helter-skelter to ground level there was a section of car park ceiling that was lower than the 2 meters promised by the entrance barrier. From inside the cab we heard a crunch, which resulted in a series of swears that any van man would be proud of. From outside, the van appeared to be stuck, which resulted in another series of swears that no one could be proud of. Panic is the word we’d use, shear panic. Then followed some deep breaths, a bit of gently, gently driving and the removal of some bits of concrete that were hampering us and we were on our way again.

This ordeal resulted in the van suffering minor physical scars and Toj suffering major emotional scars, mainly because he could not bare the thought of having hurt the van… he loves the van.

When we arrived at the hostel we arrived at a strange place. Located in the back of an old paper mill, this hostel was a cross between army barracks and Biker Grove. With approximately five people on reception at all times and signs in every room saying acts violence were against the rules the place was secure enough. Unfortunately none of the five receptionists could give us any information about Groningen itself, so we explored it for ourselves. One final point about night in this hostel; when we came to go to bed the room was filled with an over powering smell of smoked cheese, ten times worse than Van Tang… oh the irony of it all.

The next day began with a huge success. We found a place that sold bacon butties as big as your head. This is a particularly tricky thing to come by in Europe and secured a smile on our faces for the rest of the day. From here on the rest of the day was committed to ‘business’, as we had found a café with free internet. We returned to the van, which was parked outside of a very swanky furniture shop, to drop our bags off before going out for the night. We had purposefully chosen a car park which was locked over night for extra security. What we had not banked on is that two executive members of staff would come parading out of the shop, trying to retrieve their own cars from this lock down. We were in the middle of sorting out our beds and other trivial matters such as getting changed. They looked at us strangely to say the least and we tried to look like were just the owners of a normal van. After a bit of high quality acting on our part the men eventually retreated to the shop and we took the opportunity to leave, hoping for the best.

Everything was fine when we returned from our night out, the men and their cars had gone and another vantastic night’s sleep was had by all. In the morning we decided to make use of the stores amenities. We paid for a coffee and got a toilet to use and a place to brush our teeth for free. We also got horrified looks from the two men we’d seen the night before, who happened to be having a meeting in the same cafe.

Travelled = 1163 Miles

Amsterdam, Zanvoort & Haarlam

2008-10-28T13:19:00.005Z

Days 21-25 - AMSTERDAM

The following morning we were going into the heart of darkness (Amsterdam might be an appropriate equivalent for the modern European traveller) and fearing for the van’s safety we stored him a park and ride just by the campsite. Love The Van too much to risk The Van in Amsterdam. So with bags on our backs we got on the train and twenty minutes later we were in the thick of it all.

With the small amount of forward planning we’re capable of, we had already booked ourselves a hostel for four nights. Thus our first stop was the StayOkay Hostel at Vondtelpark to dump our bags and get settled in. A job that was made easy, firstly by the flirtatious receptionist who took a shine to Anthony (he was a lovely man) and secondly by our friendly roommate, who we’ve fondly named ‘Portuguese Dad’. That done we headed into town to see if Amsterdam was anything like we remembered it (having visited four years previous).

To be honest it wasn’t the same as we remembered. The same things were still in the same places, there were still canals, the Reijksmuseum, coffee shops and brothels. It was however cleaner, tidier, more sanitary and less of a Mecca for the English stag doo. It is hard to know whether to be disappointed or relieved about this, it certainly looks better at first glance but in the same way that an over restored painting looks shiny and new. You can’t help but feel something in its original, worn state has been lost. That said it is still one of the most entertaining places to visit, it is a place filled with potential. If you want to do it, the chances are you can in Amsterdam.

Our second day involved the obligatory trip round The Sex Museum, which takes an eccentric look at anything slightly smutty and contains nothing in the least bit sexy. That night we were joined by Phil’s flatmate from university, Rachel Rath and the duo became a trio.

From then on we set out on a mission to absorb as much of Amsterdam’s culture as any mortal can. This consisted of a trip to the Reijksmuseum, long wanders around a very damp Amsterdam, a visit to the Neiuwe Kirche to see an exhibition about the representation of black people in Dutch art and looking round The Anne Frank House. (Rachel also went to the Van Gogh museum, but our pennies would not stretch that far, and she visited a boat full cats. The thought of which made us feel sick). This may not sound like too much but when you’ve spent the three nights sleeping in a van it’s a lot to take on board.

The Reijksmuseum is one of those things that ‘you have to go and see’ and by nature we are always a bit dubious about these places, surely they will be full of people who do as they are told or like to be told what to do. Since I (Phil) have not had someone to tell me what to do for a month now I’ve realised I fall into the latter category, so I went to the Reijksmuseum with a smile on my face whilst Toj went to check if the van had been stolen, vandalised, clamped or something in between. Of course a museum as popular as this is always going busy, busier in fact than some high streets I could mention. The collection housed here is worth a visit, if you are prepared to be molested by telephoto lenses and city maps. My advice to anyone visiting the Reijksmuseum is to endure the hustle and bustle of the exhibition space and see The Netherlands many treasures. Then retire to the large and comfortable toilets, as it is the only place in the whole museum to sit in quiet contemplation.

Of course The Anne Franks House is also a place that everyone says you should go and see. And if you want to feel involved in the very heavy presence of the recent past then you really should. There is a thesaurus full of adjectives you could use to try and put this experience into words, but I’d only be expressing my experience and not particularly well. The best I can come up with is affecting, this place is more affecting than any number of monuments we’ve visited in the past. If you go you will feel changed and that’s the best reason I can think of to visit anywhere.

From our nights in Amsterdam there are a few things worth a mention, Coincidental Australians, 5 Euro pasta and a crazy jazz man. On our first night we turned into a bar and ended up chatting with some Australians. Certainly not a rare experience for any traveller, but it turned out the night previous we had camped opposite these very same travellers, without ever seeing each other. After telling them all about our trip for Genesis they responded with:
“ah yea we saw your van mate, that thing’s tiny”.
(Typical Australians) We had a good laugh until the pool cues came out and then we became very embarrassed (for obvious reasons) and they became very competitive (as you’d expect).

It was on our third night we found Pasta and Jazz. It is impossible to explain just how excited we get about a cheap, tasty, hot meal. So to find a little Italian restaurant that would give you a bowl of pasta for five Euros was a little like finding the meaning of life. This may sound like an exaggeration but I’m pretty sure none of us had a thought beyond our steaming bowls at the time. This budget feast was followed by a trip to one of Amsterdam’s Brown Cafes, which is a type of traditional Dutch watering whole. We chanced upon with a little live jazz so we sat back and settled in. Drinking quietly in our little corner, we were soon visited by apparition of a man whom seemed haunting to this café, much to the enjoyment of the customers, it must be said. This man was of senior years but still fully filled with the spirit of jazz and he danced toward our table in away we’ve never seen before and am sure to never see again. Think of the crane kick from Karate Kid but a lot less mobile. After be being properly entertained by the music and this man’s moves we took ourselves home for the night.

The night of Friday October 3 was our time to leave Amsterdam. So we boarded the train once more and headed back to the park and ride where we had left our beloved van. Another free car park and another home for the night.

Travelled = 879 Miles

Day 26 - ZANDVOORT

We drove from the campsite car park, pallid with a special kind of lethargy that only Amsterdam can give you. The road and the feeling of moving on provided a welcome change of pace, which is almost as good as holiday right? In that vein we decided to head for Zandvoort, a beach town just outside of Haarlem. When we hit the coast we also stumbled on a fine example of a car park and set about crafting one of our now infamous car park baguettes. It wasn’t the warmest of days but the sun was out and it was good weather for eating a butty in the van by the sea. Once we’d had our coastal fix and our sandwich fix we headed in land to see what we could see. To tell you the truth we had actually left it a little late for sightseeing and so committed ourselves to finding a more conspicuous car park, to call home for the night. Once more a sports centre came to the rescue, (who’d have thought Phil & Toj would have felt so at home in sports centres) we settled in and thought about heading into town for the evening. At this point a rumbling external to our stomachs began and a familiar noise rang loud on the van roof. So it was cold, wet and it didn’t stop raining till morning, but that’s ok because we were damp, chill and didn’t leave the van till morning.

Now with hindsight there is one thing to consider about sports centre car parks and that is on Saturday morning they are busy. So one should consider that when you jump out of the van wearing the clothes you slept in, with toothbrush and toothpaste in hand, you will probably hit the car which is now parked next you (another lesson Phil has learnt on the road).

Travelled = 948 Miles

Day 27 - HAARLEM

After we’d made the most of the sport centres hospitality, the decision was made that our damp, unshowered and now powerless selves should check into a hostel. So at the StayOkay Haarlem we parked the van and got the bus into town. Our experience of Haarlem began with a rather unproductive trip to tourist information, where the question ‘do have any information about local breast cancer charities or events for breast cancer awareness?’ did nothing but raise alarm in the person at the desk. In fact we couldn’t even get a Google search out of them, which is really the least they could have done.

Haarlem itself is a beautiful town with plenty to see, one particular gem is The Netherlands oldest museum. Teyler’s Museum of Science and Art is a treasure trove of unusual objects, displayed in an equally unusual way. Pieces such as the first telephone and microphone were crammed into Victorian cabinets along side other oddities. There was an early battery which filled an entire room and cabinets full of Dinosaur fossils. The real beauty of this museum was not just in what it had to show, but the way it displayed these objects, in an exhibition unchanged since the nineteenth century. It was a little like being in a museum of museums.

When we got back to our hostel we found we were sharing our room with a few interesting characters. Firstly there was a cyclist, who lived in the UK but was originally from New Zealand, secondly there was the proudest Dutchman that ever lived and his two sons. The Dutchman was in Haarlem on account of the Formula 1 racing that happened to be going on at Zandvoort race track.
“Ah Zandvoort” we say “we were there yesterday”. “But the racing was today” (actually he meant the qualifiers), he replied. “What racing?” we said, and thus the foe par was committed. This was an exhibition of ignorance the Dutchman never quite got over, despite Toj’s best efforts saying “we’ll definitely go tomorrow, just to soak up the atmosphere”, at which point Phil said “do we have to? It sounds rubbish”. The Dutchman was still not pleased.

So the night went on in this vein and after the Dutchman told the cyclist that too many kiwis spend too long working in the bars of The Netherlands, it was time to go to the bar. The only thing to do when you’ve been put in your place by a Dutch father is drink a beer with your tail between your legs and laugh about it of course.

Travelled = 957 Miles

Delft, Den Haag and onward to Amsterdam

2008-10-12T14:28:00.006+01:00

Dear reader, due to technical difficulties this is the second time I’m writing this. It was not good the first time. This time it will be worse.

Days 18 - DELFT

There is as much to say about our time in Delft as there is nothing to say about our time in Delft. We are two young men (although since leaving we have been reliably informed that we don’t look that young), Delft is famous for its pottery and that is obviously why we went. Well doesn’t everyone go to Holland for the good pots? We arrived and were immediately aware that this was one of those places where you could easily get lost in yourself. The buildings were old, the streets were narrow and if you wandered without thinking or let your mind wander while walking you came back on yourself time and time again. In this beautiful, peaceful place we had one major thing to occupy our minds and that was laundry. You see we’d been telling ourselves for at least a week that it was time to do a wash, basically because we’d run out of undies. Now when you’re in our situation clean jumpers and jeans quickly became a thing of the past and we accepted that, but there are only so many times you can wear underpants again. So we went on the hunt for a laundrette, without any great success. “We’re closed, come back tomorrow” or “no English” they’d say (the latter is a lie the former is truth). In a moment of weakness we nearly gave up after spying the refuge of an Ikea car park but we were strong and we soldiered on. Putting the better halves of our heads together we thought “where can we wash our filthy smalls”.

The answer was obvious, the answer was a campsite. And we found the uber campsite, a four star kingdom of camper vans and statics. Obviously the Phil and Toj budget would not stretch to a pitch but we were not to be defeated. After a reconnaissance mission we knew where we were going what the script was. So we put on Bafta winning performances and played the part of happy campers. After we’d got the tokens we required from the nice lady at reception we took control of the washroom for a half hour and conquered our pile of soiled pants (not literally!).

Lucky for us this campsite also had some high quality, free parking, so you know what we did… that’s right we stayed the night. After making ourselves and the van comfy we explored the area and found this campsite actually rested on a big lake. So there we sat and let the night go by. We made full use of the campsite’s (complimentary) facilities and the headed back to the Ikea we had forsaken the day before, for the cheapest and most filling food we could buy, plus all the tea and coffee we could drink. With the hallucinogenic effect of Ikea meatballs in full flow we set off for Den Haag.

Days 19 - SCHEVENINGEN

Earlier in our travels a person at the hostel in Rotterdam had recommended we visit the beach their and as the sun was in the sky it was the natural choice. The place was called Scheveningen and it was as beautiful as our advisor had suggested. White sands, dunes and rolling waves were the backdrop for a day sat in the sand. This treat was made sweeter by the free parking we’d found on the sea front. (The parking gods were being too kind; we were suspicious). The day on the sand was followed by a night in a quiet beach café with outdoor scatter cushions and raging (controlled) fires. A café that was quiet apparently because everyone in Scheveningen was hanging out by the van. It appeared we had parked where every under 18 year old with driving licence chose to spend their Saturday night. Car stereos were playing people were checking out each others wheels and you’ll be glad to hear the van was getting its share of attention. This is possibly because Phil and Toj were climbing in and out of the van trying to put on their pyjamas. When all is said and done it was an experience.

Day 20 - DEN HAAG

The following day we headed into the city of Den Haag and its big, grand streets. Housing the Peace Palace, the Royal ‘working’ Palace, a huge town hall and Cathedral, it is safe to say Den Haag is not lacking impressive buildings. An afternoon walking in the shadows of these monumental structures makes you feel very much in proportion and content with your own modest lot in life.

We were heading into Amsterdam the following day so we chose to spend the night on a campsite just outside of this infamous city. So Gaasper Camping Amsterdam was home for the night and the night at this campsite was fantastic for one reason. We got the stove out and combined the eggs and beans we had with a portion of chips from down the road. Ahh eggs, chips and beans… this is the good life.

Travelled = 837 Miles

Breast Cancer Awareness Month

2008-10-08T16:02:00.005+01:00

If you weren't aware October is Breast Cancer Awareness month, not just in the UK but also in mainland Europe.

Please continue to watch our blog and videos for information on European Breast Cancer Events. However the lack of electricity and internet time is proving to make the quest for local events more difficult, not helped by the suprising lack of knowledge at tourist informaion.

Throughout our trip, and during October particularly, we want your input and support so please keep us posted about events you're involved in and reply to our blog posts and videos online.

Please also continue to donate and support Genesis via our website http://www.philandtoj.com/.

Thanks for your ongoing support,

Phil & Toj.

The Netherlands

2008-10-08T15:55:00.003+01:00

Days 14&15 - ENTERING THE NETHERLANDS

Waking up on Sunday 21st September 2008 was a surreal experience. The festival that was closing the night before was in the throws of being packed away. It was just us and one other intrepid group of partiers (with their own van - obviously not as good as our van… Love The Van) left behind. While workers noisily pulled apart the venue, which was looking decidedly less glamorous than the night before, we relaxed in the sun with a bowl of Coco Pops and a smile. Once we were fully rested and recovered we packed up and pointed ourselves in the direction of The Netherlands.

It is safe to say that crossing boarders is somewhat anti-climactic and this was no exception. The giant pair of clogs, the windmill, the tulip, the sign saying ‘drugs and sex that way’ did not exist. There isn’t even a ‘Welcome to the Netherlands’ sign or ‘Welkom in de Nederlands’ if you’re going to be particular about it. Talk about rude, it’s as if they didn’t know we were coming. Of course what we are trying to say is that crossing the boarder between Belgium and The Netherlands was as easy as driving down the motorway. So that’s what we did, leaving Belgium in our wake, we were one country down and just fourteen to go.

Our first destination was a campsite just outside of Rotterdam, where the somewhat acerbic receptionist was highly amused at our coy attempts at ‘Sprekt oo Engels’ (for those of you that didn’t guess that’s supposed to be ‘do you speak English’ in Dutch). In fact this girl actually laughed in our faces and said, “Of course!”. It turned out she spoke better Engels than either of us. We spent a couple of nights at the Staadscamp Rotterdam, getting ourselves together before we hit the next set of cities. This was just what the doctor ordered and it changed us from tourists to masters of the mess tin – otherwise known as travellers. During our time camping we learnt some important things.

· In order to save gas you can, if you’re inconspicuous, boil a kettle using the shaving plug in the shower cubicles. Thus you can have all the brews you want without getting out the stove.
· Secondly when carrying said boiling water back from said shower it is best to check that the lid on the flask you’ve filled is closed. Boiling water does scald and Phil has the red mark on his leg to prove it. At the time he said .. “!%$*it and *!@$*ollcks... It’s all for a good cause”.
· Thirdly nothing is more satisfying than a bacon and egg butty and brew made on a camp site… even if you did scald yourself in the process.

Days 16&17 - ROTTERDAM

This could be Rotterdam or anywhere, Liverpool or Rome, cause Rotterdam is anywhere, anywhere but home…

Well who remembers that mid nineties classic? Thank you very much The Beautiful South but there are a couple of comments we’d like to make. Firstly Rotterdam is nothing like Liverpool and it’s certainly not like Rome either. Secondly we felt every much at home in Rotterdam. So get your facts straight and stop moaning.

Anyway when we arrived, the difference between Rotterdam and anywhere we’d been so far was immediately apparent. As we drove across the bridge toward the city centre we were surrounded by striking modern architecture, contrasting with the medieval centres of Belgium’s cities. Rotterdam is a unique spread of sky high structures, each trying to be stranger than the next. The effect of this was so disorientating at first that when stuck in traffic on the bridge Phil said,
“Wow look at the building straight ahead, it’s been designed to look like a vertical road”.
After a bemused smirk from Toj, Phil quickly noticed this so called ‘building’ was falling from the sky and the traffic had started to move. Yes, indeed it was the bridge and Phil did feel like a fool.

Our first stop was the hostel, to drop off our bags and make our usual inquiries about free parking. The ROOM Hostel Rotterdam was a traveller’s haven tucked away in the centre of the harbour (the biggest harbour in Europe don’t you know… a fact we were told many times). As a building that survived World War Two it is a rarity in Rotterdam and a real treat.

While checking in we were told of an island where the parking was free. To us this Island sounded as mystical and amazing as Narnia or Never Never Land. A place where cars could roam and rest free from fear of warden, ticket or clamp. So we headed there and found it was as wonderful as we’d imagined. We found a prime spot outside an ‘Aldi Markt’, that was right on the water. Amenities and a view, who could ask for anything more!

At this point we did what any two hungry lads would do. We bought what we could for less than three Euros from Aldi and made the best lunch we could with our bare hands. This is what our life on the road consists of and to be fair we love it. Nothing beats a sandwich in a car park. From this point on we committed the rest of the day to a wander around town and getting our lives in order (the internet and electricity had been proving some what allusive thus far).

Day 2 in Rotterdam was, to all intents and purposes a more exciting affair. We decided to take the free walking tour offered by the hostel, which may not sound very rock ‘n’ roll, but I should explain something about the ROOM Hostel Rotterdam…

· This is a place where the bar is decorated half like a Barbadian beech and half like someone’s lounge, with a leather couch and piano at one end and wooden parasols at the other. Also each room has its own theme from ‘The Board Room’ where we stayed, to a ‘Historic Room’, so your stay is different depending on where you sleep.
· They have a dog called Lexie
· The staff went out of their way to make us feel at home.
· Finally and most exciting of all, they are the only hostel so far to offer English tea and toast for breakfast – stand aside salami, cheese and strange cake.

… So with our guides Monique and Lexie we went on a tour of Rotterdam, via some of the infamous architectural sites, a maritime museum and concluded at the Museum Boijmans Van Beguningen where entry was also free. This museum has an extensive collection of paintings, including… well every major artist we’ve heard of from the nineteenth and twentieth centuries. The experience of walking from a Van Gogh to a Monet, past a Picasso and Degas’ Ballerina to a Dali or two was awesome (in its most literal sense). This experience was made all the more exciting by an extraordinary, alternative retrospective of Yayoi Kusama’s work (a Japanese artist based in New York we learnt). There were fairy lights and infinity mirrors, rooms filled with giant inflated cushions and the opportunity to film your self looking round the exhibition (you can watch the videos of people via their website http://www.boijmans.nl). To sum it up it was loads of fun.

After these cultural exploits we were inspired to take some photographs of Rotterdam’s architectural sites. As you’d expect at this opportune moment the battery in Phil’s camera went. This was shortly followed by an icy wind descending from the North Sea, which quickly turned our walk into a hasty retreat to the van… ah Love The Van.

Once we’d rested up and sorted our beds out for that night we headed back out into the cold, in search of food and fun times. Earlier that day we’d been invited by the lovely people at the hostel to join the staff party they were having. We were also very aware of the generous happy hours in the hostel bar, so never wanting to turn down good hospitality we went for a pre-dinner drink. We arrived to see the staff do in full swing. A table with a veritable feast upon it filled the bar and around it sat owners, staff and punters alike. After propping the bar for a short while we were encouraged to sit down and get stuck in, so we did and we happily ate like one of the family ( in other words for free).

It’s safe to say this was neither a quiet nor an early affair; it is also safe to say that our dinner was washed with many a tasty brew. So when the clock struck 3:20am and we were faced with an icy twenty minute walk to the van, on legs that were less than stable (potentially we could have fallen off the bridge), there was only one thing to do. Well who says 3:20 am isn’t an appropriate time to book a bed and check in.

It may seem like I’m waxing lyrical about our hostel experience in Rotterdam but that’s for a good reason. The people we met there were not just exceptionally friendly but also genuinely interested in and responsive to the purpose behind our trip. They wanted to hear what we had to say about Genesis and help in any way they could. So a genuine thank you goes out from us to them.

And finally thank you once again for patiently wading through our ramblings.
Please keep checking out the website cause there’s more stuff to come on YouTube, we’d love to hear your thoughts as well so leave us a message and don’t forget to donate a little when you can… It’s all for Genesis baby!

Travelled = 784 Miles

2008-09-27T13:54:00.005+01:00

Hey everyone,

We apologise for the delay, but the lack of electricity and internet access has proven difficult. Thank you for supporting our campaign so far (especially those who have contacted us from seeing the van on the road). Please contintue to donate to Genesis via our website or by contacting their team directly.

Oh and sorry for the order of the blog. Please read Bruge first. We're writing when we have electric and posting when we have internet.

We're currently sat in a cafe in Den Haag by the 'working' palace. New post coming soon.

Phil & Toj

Belgium

2008-09-27T13:49:00.004+01:00

Day 9 - BRUSSELS

Due to the warnings of several locals and the expense of staying in Brussels, we decided to make it a calling point on the way to Leuven, a small university town and home to the Stella Artois brewery.

Brussels was a maze of one way streets, dual carriage ways and city tunnels. Like in most capital cities driving in Brussels was a nightmare and it cost a small fortune to park. It was not only the etiquette of the drivers and the scale of the roads that alters when you enter this metropolis. The language the people speak stands in contrast to the rest of the Flanders region. The sound of French was in the air not Dutch and so luckily due to Toj’s ability to speak some of that tongue we were able to find out where we’d actually parked.

We were just round the corner from the European Parliament, so we put on our international thinking caps and like the nerd we are enjoyed a free tour of Europe’s political capital. There are a couple of things about this experience worth noting:

Firstly when we reported to passport control on the way in, the guard looked twice as she did not know what the United Kingdom of Great Britain and Northern Ireland was … we were concerned.
Secondly a man chatted to Toj in French for the entire tour. Anthony understood little of what he said but is an exceptional actor.
Thirdly during the portion of the tour which takes place in the chamber four people fell asleep.
Finally you get a free copy of The Fundamental Human Rights of the EU, in miniature, it’s literally a book the size of a penny … we took three each so we could stop worrying about gifts for people on our return.

This was not a tour for the faint hearted.

Travelled = 614 Miles

Days 9&10 - LEUVEN

After nearly being bankrupted by the car park we set off for Leuven at around 5pm and got there around 6. On our arrival we found a beautiful, shinny new hostel positioned perfectly in the centre of a building site. We were phased however because this time we were given the warmest of welcomes by our room mates. Gihad (originally from the Lebanon but now a Surgeon in France) was soon joined by our other room mate Laurent (an urban planner also from France) and we hatched a plan to go for a drink in town. We proceeded to collect a trio of Czech girls and an Albanian girl studying in Leuven from the hostel bar and thus our band of four was now a party of eight.

Due to the 40,000 strong student population it is safe to say that Leuven isn’t short of a bar or two. A feature we made good use of til 4am when our international collective decided it was bedtime. A certain Laurent deserves a special mention here as the poor man had to be at a conference at 9 in the morning … so Laurent here’s cheers to you.

Leuven itself is a brilliant town with its own historic squares and a particular pride for having the oldest and biggest university in Belgium. A short walk around Leuven will take you past an ornate town hall, Saint Peter’s cathedral which houses a museum (or ‘collection of treasures’ as they put it) containing D. Bouts The Last Supper. An unusual sight to be found in Leuven is a Greggs pie and pasty emporium and after the night before a pasty and sausage roll is what we needed. Whilst we’re on the subject of food it is only right to conclude talks of Leuven by mentioning a very special eatery. This place sold nothing more than marinated rotisserie chicken, potato salad and bread. It was a restaurant with only four tables and one jovial owner and the food was delicious. So Leuven will always be remembered by us for good food and great people.

Travelled = 657 Miles

Days 11,12&13 - ANTWERP

At the end of another 45 minute drive we arrived at Antwerp’s harbour on Thursday 18th September. Learning from previous mistakes (for the first time in our lives) we headed straight for tourist information, to ask about free parking and because we hadn’t arranged a place to stay. A wonderful man (soon to be known as our Antwerpian Angel) provided us with a book of accommodation and told us about free parking just ten minutes from the centre. So we were informed and ready for action, what we perhaps did not consider was that in Antwerp there are two streets of the same name both with car parks, the one we’d been told of and one the other side of a ring road. Now both the TomTom and us are easily confused, so it took a twenty minute drive and some pretty bleak surroundings to tell us we were in the wrong place. It took a further twenty five minutes and Toj getting very aggravated to get us back to the right place. Despite doubling our drive time the van got lots of attention while we were stuck in traffic, particularly off two Belgian ladies who read, smiled and waved, so every cloud has a silver lining.

Once in the safety of a free car park we turned our attention to finding a home for the night and as our batteries were all drained we decided to look for four walls, some plug sockets and internet access. After searching we got a good B&B, where the nicest old lady in Belgium took care of us for two nights. On the first day we decided to spend our (late) afternoon wandering the MuHKA museum of contemporary arts. A vast museum with an exciting collection that displays the best of Belgium’s contemporary visual arts along side pieces from across the world. The place is a maze you can happily get lost in for a couple of hours, but in truth it is worth the money for the building itself (1 euro if under 26 or 6 euros otherwise). Also it has a café with roof terrace which is good for a sit in the sun, something we indulged in too.

That evening we headed in to Antwerp and found a cool little jazz bar to while away the night. With some quality music plucking and tinkling away in the background we arranged for the Czech girls (also in Antwerp that night) to meet us and we spent a night miscommunicating in the happiest of fashions.

Day two in Antwerp and we woke to a beautifully prepared breakfast. Somewhat unnervingly it was just for the two of us and we were made to feel perfectly at unease by the very attentive service. However we filled up and headed this time to the Museum of Fine Art. Here the architecture shouted ‘shhh this is a traditional museum’ as loud as it could, none the less the place was beautiful and it had a collection to live up to its columns and marble floors. With a range from medieval Flemish masters, through some beautiful Ruben’s, to an intriguing collection of modern works by artists based in Belgium.

That night we had decided to go to a free ‘house’ festival (that refers to house music by the way, not to me and Toj staying in and having a party by ourselves). It took place in a small park in Antwerp’s docklands. Once we new where we were going Toj used his bloodhound instincts to get us to supermarket. With a cool box full of supplies, we settled in a nice bit of park and turned The Van into our personal banqueting hall. Once the party had got itself going we joined the fun and danced like two crazy English men that had one too many beers inside of them. After chatting with some lovely locals and of course showing off The Van (‘Love The Van’), the sun started to come up, so we decided to put our heads down. With the festival slowly shutting up behind us we were asleep in no time.

So to conclude the most intriguing thing to note about Antwerp in comparison to the other places in Belgium we’d visited is how normal it felt. Easily comparable to a city like Manchester, it did not feel heavy with medieval history, it felt contemporary and transient. In that way it did not feel too different from home. A good thing and a bad thing for any traveller I think.

Any way thank you for reading and your patience, I know this has been a long one, but we will try and keep them shorter in future. Just remember it’s all for Genesis so keep the donations coming, keep checking YouTube and please read again.

Travelled = 712 Miles

Week 1 - Across The Water

2008-09-27T13:43:00.006+01:00

Days 5&6 - BRUGES, BELGIUM

9:00am Ostend time and the rains hadn’t stopped. Two unhappy campers threw a wet and muddy tent into the back of the van and headed for ‘the beautiful medieval city of Bruges’.

Bruges is referred to in this way in many a guide book, yet this is a rather narrow description of a city with many personalities. For instance the narrow cobbled streets are bustling and beautiful, but they are also a daunting labyrinth of twists and turns for any one stupid enough to drive a big grey van (with their names on) through them. Evidently the medieval town planners didn’t foresee our chunky chariot coming; however we squeezed our way to the Bauhaus hostel and budget hotel, which would be our home for the next two nights. This was a lovely little place with a lovely little bar, only a stones throw from the centre of Bruges. It gave us a chance to recharge the batteries of our failing equipment and our own waning batteries.

By default we had ended up in our own room, with our own shower. Compared to our usual vehicular accommodation this was absolute luxury. We were so awestruck that simply leaving the room was a struggle. Yet the sun was shinning again, we showered, rested and the streets of Bruges were ours for the taking. So first stop, the hostel bar (well it’d be rude not to really) which was friendly place with a clientele that ranged from locals, to travellers, to families and beyond. It was however quiet enough to hear our bellies rumbling, so we headed into town in search of a Flemish feast.

After we’d filled our bellies with beef stew (apparently a local delicacy, but it tasted just like grandma’s, which is no bad thing) we wandered the city and took in the sights by night. Eventually we ended up in a little smoky place where the locals were friendly and the music was good. We sang and chatted with a wonderful lady who put us at ease about our inept Dutch. Once we found our way back to the hostel the party was in full swing and two accommodating locals gave us assistance in not only how to talk like a local, but how to drink like one as well, so thanks to Liza and Robin for that.

Saturday was another glorious day and we wandered Bruges, which is a place that has something interesting to see in every corner and cloister. The very architecture of the place makes it feel like ‘one big museum’ and I’m quoting a local when I say that. So it is constantly stimulating but a bit weird at the same time. You struggle to find any real life in Bruges or should I say anything living and not preserved. Yet maybe this is found in a smoky little bar, or in talking to two strangers like you’ve known them forever or in the small jazz festival we stumbled across on Saturday night.

Just after we left the hostel we could here jazz in the street and Toj (as giddy as I’ve ever seen him) said ‘lets follow the sound of jazz’. So we did and found ourselves in the playground of a local school where the JazzBruges festival was taking place. There we found great music, cheap beer and a smoking BBQ. Smiling like Cheshire cats, we tapped our feet drank and had something to eat.

So there you are, by day Bruges is a beautiful city that throws its history at you from every angle, yet for us real Bruges life came out at night.

Travelled = 505 Miles

Days 7&8 - GENT

Powered by hostel strength muesli (a special brew designed to give emaciated backpackers all the nutrition they need for the day in one hit) we set off for Gent. After a 45 minute drive we were rumbling around Gent’s medieval streets trying to find a parking spot near our hostel. At De Dracke (The Dragon) YHA hostel we were in a 4 bed dorm, not exciting news in its self, but when we entered the room for first time we interrupted our quiet but friendly French room mate mid poo. This didn’t seem like the right time for introductions, so we went to get our bags and sheets. Returning to the room we found our room mate now strolling around the room in a pair of undies so tight it made your eyes water. Some how a handshake seemed inappropriate but we did it anyway out of politeness.

Gent itself is a beautiful place which marries medieval architecture with the functioning of modern city and the lives of its population. The place and the people ooze relaxation. Even as a tourist it is impossible to engage in a sightseeing frenzy, the people and the place will only let you meander and gaze. After wandering the streets for a while (a necessary exercise in orientation) we spent a lazy afternoon side by side with the locals sat in the sun. By the canal side, in the shadow of Saint Michel’s cathedral was the perfect spot to watch people, the world and tour boats go by (a necessary exercise in doing nothing).

When we returned to our room a third and final time our French room mate was happily in bed and the forth member of our dorm had arrived. A man of Germanic descent, he had the look of a Viking and the proportions of Beowulf himself. Yet this man roared like Grendle (or any other mythical beast you care for) all night long.

The following day our first stop was Saints Baafs cathedral, an amazing building which houses Van Eyck’s Lamb of God a painting which made the visit worthwhile in it self. However it was not the only art exhibited that day. An Italian tourist, obviously made by the building gave an impromptu rendition of Ave Maria. Her voice rose to the vaulted rafters and it was goose bumps all round.

After the medieval and renaissance treats of the cathedral, we opted for something completely contemporary and when to Gent’s ‘Graffiti Street’. An alley where graffiti is legal, provides an unusual arts space; a hidden gem of contemporary culture amid ancient streets.

At this point our sight seeing was determined by a series of accidents. Whilst eating a hearty carton of soup in the Grote Markt we spotted the Vooruit socialist workers building on the outside this is a masterpiece of twentieth century design. Our guide book spoke of a café where the coffee was good and the internet was free, however when we got inside all we found was the HQ of a workers union. In fact there are two Vooruit buildings in Gent and the one we had been reading about was across town in the student quarter.

This Vooruit building is less dramatic on the outside but spectacular on the inside; with a café of epic proportions where white utilitarian tiles and solid dark wood furniture spoke of socialist ideals. However the DJ’s pulpit and an extensive bar speak of a new student clientele, which makes the décor and those old ideals seems nothing but retro.

A relaxing evening in these surroundings was a nice conclusion to our Gentian adventure. Our final stop was The Van, a happy and peaceful home for the night … Love The Van!

Travelled = 540 Miles

Week 1 - Before Europe

2008-09-15T19:16:00.003+01:00

DAY 1 - Goodbye and hello… Corley Services!

We departed at around 7 o’clock pm and hit the road and without a care in the world we headed to the nearest petrol station. Then with a full tank and full of hope we took to the M6 like bats our of hell (that still observe the speed limits obviously). Driving 113 miles we reached Corley Services, just outside Coventry, at around 21:30 which provided us with a home for the night. After taking full advantage of all the services this service station had to offer, we tucked ourselves up in our cabin for the night – the van.

Travelled = 113 Miles

DAY 2 - Down your end… A night in Norwich with Jo & Emma

Waking to the sound of rain on a tin roof we rose and refreshed ourselves and headed toward Norwich via Cambridge for a spot of lunch. After a quick look at the colleges of Cambridge and a portion of pie and peas, we headed for Norwich. There we met Anthony’s friend Jo, and her housemate Emma, and enjoyed a night out in the ‘Fine City’ of Norwich. Thanks to Jo and Emma’s hospitality we had a slate roof over our heads and a proper bed to sleep in.

Travelled = 227 Miles

DAY 3 – Finding the crows nest… At the port in Ramsgate

The morning after the night before and we were making sandwiches in someone else’s house and playing cat and mouse with an overly enthusiastic traffic warden. Faced with a three hour drive to Ramsgate ahead, we could have got down in the mouth. Yet the sun was shining and with our chicken sandwiches in tow we took off with a hungover smile on our faces. It was plain sailing over flatlands and we thoroughly enjoyed being on the road. After a brief spell of being lost somewhere near Ramsgate, we hit the port and our home for the night. Having secured free boarded in the ferry terminal car park we took to the streets of Ramsgate in search of food drink and live coverage of the England match. Closing time came and safety of the van beckoned. Tomorrow we had foreign and Her Majesty’s Customs to contend with, for now all we could do is sleep.

Travelled = 450 Miles

DAY 4 – Getting across and getting cross… In a stormy Ostend

We woke early on this the day of the crossing and it was cold but the skies were clear and ‘plain sailing’ were the words of the morning. We quite literally were asking each other,
“Surely this is too easy?”
Our concern would soon be proved prophetic, but for the time being (7:00am) all was well. We negotiated Customs without sight of a sniffer dog or a strip search. We soon got over the disappointment of not being molested by a civil servant and indulged in our surroundings. The ‘ferry that time forgot’ (as Toj endearingly named it) was big, flashy and as eighties as you like, a real lesson in tasteful décor. We both read, Toj snoozed and we indulged in some budget ferry cuisine (toasties).

When the boat docked we found ourselves in a sunny beach town called Ostend. Off we set in search of a home for the night and there was only one thing on our minds… Happy Camping. Not being familiar with local custom we didn’t realise that every campsite in the area shuts up shop between the hours of 12:00 and 2:00, so we took a stroll on the beach to kill some time. Eventually we found a site, a pitch and set up camp. With our shorts and flip flops on, we sat back beer in hand to admire our canvas kingdom and then… The Rains Came! Now we are from the North West so rain per se is not a problem, but when the tent you pitched less than two minutes ago begins to float you feel a little bit annoyed. (When the rain doesn’t stop for twenty four hours and your once lovely pitch becomes a swamp you’re pissed off). Anyway we tried to make the best of a bad situation and headed to Ostend. Our lack of local knowledge and being novices at this travelling meant we stumbled head long into another pitfall. The town of Ostend turned out to be about five miles from our campsite. A fact we only realised when we got lost in a less than attractive fishing port. To say we looked like tourists/drowned rats/idiots/unhappy is an understatement. We took solace in a plate of hot pasta and eventually the warmth of the van (we couldn’t reach the tent for muddy water. It’s official we love the van!

So, the lessons learnt are:

1. Check the weather before you pitch the tent.
2. Check the map before you go places.
3. Always expect rain and take the brolly.
4. Always trust in the van… P.S. we love the van.

Travelled = 480 Miles … so far.

campaigning so far ...

2008-08-30T23:12:00.004+01:00

The preparations for our trip have been hectric over the past few weeks especially, but the end is in sight.

What have we been up to? We have been talking to the press and been on Oldham Community Radio (Wed 27th Aug) to raise the profile of our campaign, which was an experience to say the least. Check it out on our you tube page soon.

Phil has undertaken a sponsored 'body' wax this week (Thurs 28th Aug), which you will also be able to watch on our you tube page shortly. If you would like to received a full unedited version of the experience, please donate more than £5 online via our website. He's a true hero!

Yesterday (Fri 29th Aug) we officially launched our campaign and had our last meeting with the Genesis team. On this occasion we raised £200 of donations for Genesis. More info and photos to follow.

We aim to depart next week (w/c 1st September) once our final preparations have been completed. Oh and most importantly, our section of the van has been now been sign written. Thank you to Terry for his hard work. Although we still have some sponsors spaces to fill. And lastly, as of today the van has now been carpetted! Thank you to Ed for his handy work and also to Jordan for fitting the carpet. Official photos up soon on here.

Watch this space to keep posted with our campaign.

Phil & Toj

Website Launched

2008-07-20T22:19:00.003+01:00

The website has been provisionally launched today. Although, here are still some aspects that need to be revised before we set off. Please visit our website for further information about our campaign and trip.

Cheers, Toj.

www.philandtoj.com

Planning and Raising Support

2008-06-17T23:07:00.006+01:00

Very much in the initial stages of planning our exploration. Still a lot to arrange and sort out, including raising sponsorship for the trip in support of raising breast cancer awareness. Our plan is to begin our journey late August / early September 2008, however this date is open to change.

Watch this space for further information.

Cheers, Phil and Toj.