Europe. A user's guide.

Here are many pics of my recent European jaunt. Above is a map showing the route. I entered these pics in order but this Blog thing has displayed them in reverse order so to experience things like we did, start at the bottom (Budapest) and work back to here. Though feel free to make your own way round the continenet, there are no rules. You can click on any of the pics to get a larger look, I highly recommend it.

Thanks to Owen who took many of the pics.

To all my travelling buddies met on this venture, hi. If you want a larger copy of any of these pics, send me an email and I will oblige.

From Milan to London

The last email I sent concerning our travels. Did you get it? If not, relive the memories now.

Buenos Tardes amigo...

Well here I am back at ‘Chez Justin’ in London with
nothing to show for my travels but a few scratches, a
couple of hundred photos, and a million memories
(roughly).  It seems very strange to be back here,
especially as very little has changed and the world
really did seem to be able to get by without me.  I am
not under the time-restraints of a web café pricing
system so please, allow me to ramble a bit.

When last I wrote I was in Milan and a few miles have
been covered since then.  After I left you all at the
email shop we headed over to a classically atypical
Italian café and had sandwiches and espresso strong
enough to keep you up all night if drunk after midday.
The waiter was one of those quintessential
middle-aged Italian waiters who is so good at his job
you don’t need to order from him, he just brings you
what you want when you want it.  Have you noticed that
in Britain, male waiters never seem to be older than
30?

Following Milan we traveled right across France to
Hossegar to stay with Simon.  The overnight journey
was improved by having a couchette cabin so some sleep
could be had.  However the French rail network seems
to think that a pillow the size of a tic-tac is
sufficent.  Now, I’m not too fussy about pillow size
normally, however on a train it is a little more
important.  Every time the train takes a corner it
tilts and you need a fairly big pillow to keep your
head above the rest of the body else the blood will
rush in there causing a weird sensation.  Suffice it
to say that I had some very strange dreams that night.

We spent a very long week in Hossegar and the relaxed
vibe was an absolute tonic after all the cities.   The
town is pretty small and off-season a lot of it is
closed so we had to entertain ourselves quite a bit.
Fortunately the weather was just like England in the
summer so we got in much surfing, barbecues, rounds of
boules, bike rides and runs.  My surfing is still
pretty poor, even after eleven years of trying I can
not quite stand up, but the conditions were quite
fierce this time and I took more than one vicious
pounding at the hands of the Atlantic.  We were also
joined by two of Simon’s surfing buddies, Groves &
Dempster, which made for a great more-the-merrier
atmosphere, even if I was reduced to sleeping on the
floor.

We then traveled to Barcelona.  We had a brief
stopover in Toulouse which I can describe in one word;
‘shitty’  Maybe I’ll elaborate.  I don’t want to speak
for the whole town, parts of it maybe as picturesque
as a biscuit tin, but everywhere within walking
distance of the train station seemed to be painted in
excrement, both canine and human it would seem.  There
was a staggering amount of crap in this town and
stagger is exactly what you did as you tap-danced
between the piles and smears of the stuff.  We finally
found a spot for lunch, the enticingly entitled ‘Hotel
Bristol’ where the food served was so poorly put
together and overpriced that the management virtually
guaranteed no repeat business – still it was right by
the station and their business must come solely from
poor suckers like us who don’t have the time to find
anywhere else.  Still, the beer was good which
triggered another observation; I have never had a
remotely bad beer served to me on this trip, and
believe me I have tested this hypothesis beyond all
statistical doubts.  I experienced lousy
accommodation, transport, food but it seems nobody in
this great continent wishes to be known as a purveyor
of bad beer – surely a sign of civilization.

Barcelona is a great city – I remembered it as that
from my first visit nine years ago and I wasn’t
disappointed.  My only complaint is that you simply
cannot find a greeting card suitable for a grandfather
in the entire city – we spent THREE HOURS looking for
one.  I can only assume that the Spanish simply don’t
care for their grandparents at all. 

I partook in the local culture, enjoying the Gaudi
Architecture, especially his intricately-designed
park, as well as visiting the Picasso museum (poorly
curated in my expert opinion).  We also scored tickets
for the Barcelona vs. Athens football match at the Nou
Camp stadium.  This is (I think) the largest stadium
in Europe with a capacity of about 110,000 (again, I
think so don’t go emailing back sports buffs).  We
were in the vertigo-inducing third tier looking down
upon the game as Gods might, though without the divine
influence on the game.  The atmosphere was great and
it was awesome to see how another country enjoys their
sport. Barcelona won 5-0 so a good result for the
locals and of course no European riots.

I enjoyed the vibrant street theatre, though the
idiots who paint themselves silver and stand very
still are still rubbish – it is not a talent!  But I
saw some good musicians, a decent sword swallower, a
great juggler (and I hate juggling) and the absolutely
worst street-performer ever to tread the boards, err I
mean the cobbles.  This girl who I am sure was either
on drugs or simply crazy serenaded us with song,
practiced inept ballet, tried to sell something she’d
found in a bin, drew very bad pictures, climbed a
lamppost, threw something in the air, clapped three
times and caught it again and finally simply verbally
abused the audience – all done ineptly.  It was
car-crash theatre, I knew I shouldn’t watch but I
simply couldn’t take my eyes off the fiasco.  Talking
of street theatre, on our last day Owen and I finally
took our finely honed skills to the streets and
serenaded the beautiful Placa Reial to our own brand
of acoustic rock and blues.  The square is one of the
cities most impressive (we were staying in a hostel
that overlooked it), full of cafes, a fountain and
tall palm trees, as good an arena as any busker could
want.  Our audience soon turned up – a one-legged
homeless man who was so enthusiastic, he was giving us
money and then clapping along before falling into a
coughing fit that saw him nearly tumble out of his
wheelchair.  Just as the set was nearing its ecstatic
climax the local cops came and shut us down.  Although
our audience argued for all he was worth we knew
better than to disagree with two cops armed with guns
and hitting-sticks and so the guitars were put away.
Rock and Roll!  We gave our loyal fan his change back
as well as a little more to buy himself some Strepsils
and so ultimately we made a loss – this was not the
idea of busking.  And so it seemed time to go and
that’s exactly what we did.

The End

I’ll post some pics up soon once they are collated,
edited and photo-shopped so you’ve got that to look
forward to.

It’s goodnight from me,
                          and it’s goodnight from
him.

All the best

Justin

Barcelona

On Las Ramblas, Simon's eye is caught by a man painted silver standing very still. In the background a market stall sells birds. Wild pigeons would also sit on top of the cages, I wodnered if they were taunting the imprisoned birds.

Two dudes look at a tower.

At Nou Camp stadium.

The nose-bleed inducing view.

Nearly 110,000 footy fans.

Those be some big cactuses.

In case anyone was confused about what some green space surrounded by a wall in the middle of a city was, the signage was accurate and to the point.

The Gaudi Park

Another Gang For a Day. What carefree times we had.

Actual busking did happen.

Hossegar - Atlantic Coast of France

Hossegar.

A sunset, a bottle of cheap red wine and an acoustic guitar. What more could you want?

Simon, Sam, Dempster & Owen, enjoy the view

Simon's van only has one passenger seat. Here are the three of us who drew the hsort straw; in the boot.



Different day. Same sun.

From Berlin to Milan

Here is reproduced an authentic email from the road...


Dear friends far and wide...

Well, here I am in Milan and I sit writing this email for the second time because the previous computer I was using siezed up on me (like Mike Whittle) and I lost reams of witty description. Does everyone who ever went backpacking experience this problem? I shall now try to recreate the last email, my appologies if it sounds tired and unspontaneous, I am now just a hack!

Well, after my last email I recieved a few kind repsonses and some queries, I shall now try to address those. 1. No, nothing bad happened in London to drive me away, nor am I running from our local terrorists! 2. I hope to travel for five or so weeks in total. 3. I didn't plan on visiting Bucharest anyway. 4. Yes, but only in summer months. 5. no, and I'm offended you asked. 6. Time will tell...time will tell.

Now onto the update. My keyboard has all the Zs and Ys in the right place so things should be quicker to type and easier to read than before.

I had a good last night in Berlin with our spontaneous and short lived gang (hello to those of you out ther if yr reading). Open Mic night was a disaster. Owen was overcome by a crippling bout of sleep and I had to carry the show alone, you could have heard the tumbleweeds, still I souldier on in the face of philistines.

We caught the train to Prague the next day and for once the scenery was actually worth looking at. The Prussian plains are flat and dull and now we had winding rivers, sheer cliff faces and tiny little villages somehow perched between the two. I had heard many things about Prague and like a lot of places I am still always surprised by what I find. Of all the places we've seen, this is perhaps the most cosmopolitan, even anglicised. I was fully expecting Ronald McDonald and the evil colonel to have opened up shops but I was not expecting Marks & Spencer. Nor Debenahams. But C& F'n A?! It was like being in Swindon! Once away from the shops though, Prague's bohemian beauty is almost overwhelming, stunning arcitecture, nifty little winding cobbled streets and always a corner cafe to get a brewski (still as cheap as legend states). We climbed up to the castle on the hill and caught great views of the city, the classic sights as well as more modern stuff like the strange giant metronome that sits on top of a hill and keeps time for a very slow jazz giant, and what looked like the soyuz rocket and launch platform ready to send a satelite to the stars. I gather it was a transmitter of some sort, but we told a few tourists that the launch was being held later that day.

I had my one bit of travel bad luck in Prague too, what trip is complete without it? - I cracked a tooth on what was up until then a very nice traditional Czech meal. Rats!

From prague we continued south to Munchen (munich for you ignorami). We took beer in the hoftbrauhaus that sells it by the arm-weakening 1ltr, seriously the waitresses were built like arnie schwarzenegger. We also had some wurst which quenched my hunger for bavarian sausage and then marvelled at the sly nazi swastikas painted into the cieling design - the haus was built AFTER WW2 so we don't know what was gong on.

I finally got to see if the legendary German efficiency stretched as far as the dental industry (an ambition of mine since youthhood) and am glad to report that the ZahnDoktor did not disapoint, fixing me up in 15 minutes for a very reasonable 100 euros.

From Munich we hit Salzburg in the foothills of the Alps (or is it the dolomites, I can't remember and they aren't actually labelled!). Now the scenery was getting quite spectacular, row upon row of mountain disappearing into the haze. We had a decent hike out of the town into the country and had a classic backpacker picnic, salami, cheese and bread. We also climbed up to the fortress that overlooks the town and felt as if we were actually sitting on top of the town.

We then spent a night in Verona, another of those beautifully old looking italian towns that has streets too narrow for both pedestrians and cars, so of course the Italians put their bus routes down it. We sure had a hair raising taxi ride this morning too, the driver drove as if he were qualifying for monza! The city is beautiful though we didn't have time to see the legendary arena and the hostel had a 23.30 curfew so we had to eat early. Pizza of course and italian wine that despite the waitresses protestations I was convinced was bad / corked. After all, red wine should never be fizzy should it?

We're now in Milan having a brief wait between trains before heading west into France and on to the West coast to meet up with Simon for some surfing and hopefully some decent wine.

Hope all you folks are well and I'll see you when I'm next in your part of the world.

Love from Justin

Salzberg

Salzberg in JuzzaVision (TM). Click on the image to see it in widescreen.

I have been known by the name 'Wolfie.' Here I poke fun at that.

Enjoying a typical backpackers lunch. Saucisson & Laughing Cow.

From Left to right: Castle, Owen.

The beautiful streets of Salzberg. At least one European street is not ruined by the imperialistic Yankee dollar of the golden arches of McDonalds. Or is it?

Actually it's pronounced 'vengar.'

Munchen (Munich)

Munich = Beer. The hofbrauhaus. Named after David Hasselhof.

They served beer by the litre. Cheers!

But inside lurks a dark secret, as Owen's McIntiresque undercover filming shows, the cieling still carries images of swastikas. And it was built after WWII. Apparantly the locals get a bit tetchy when tourists try to take pictures. Whitewash it then!

It's like Jesus Christ meets Liberace. Munich's gaudiest church. What it really needs though is a model of a golden skeleton.

. . .Oh, it's got one.

Even in land-locked Munich, local adrenalin junkies can catch some waves. This was on a river running through the park. Photo taken from bridge above.

Pub crawl time. With Cynthia, Bridget and Hannah.

That same evening. Later obviously.

Mmm, hellooo! Munich's gayest lion makes his presence er... felt.

Prague

Prague by day

and by night.

Prague Castle

To these eyes, the best gargoyles in Europe.

Owen discovers the hippy within at the John Lennon wall.



The grotto in prague. Eagle eyes will see the photoshop seems - I couldn't be bothered to do a better job. Click on it for the full widescreen effect

The architectural equivilant of one of those magic-eye drawings that were popular in the early 90s - if you 'relax your eyes' you can see images. The huge face is quite obvious though.

Best foam stash ever.

Seen in a Prague street. I have no explanation for this

Berlin

Berlin!

...Full of fantastic architecture both old (the parliament buliding)...
...and new (more government buildings next door).

The brand new memorial to the holocaust victims.
Made up of about 2400 Stone monoliths of varying height (the number is not relevant!)

And you can walk right in it. A disorientating experience.

Made some good friends in Berlin. Here is our gang for one night. Best friends for a few hours and then all went our seperate ways.

Tony, Myself and Leslie toast the fine German Ales at the hostel bar.

This adorned the wall of a typically hipster East German club. Unfortunately I didn't get a photo of the cabaret, a nurse with a phallus drawn on her back who wailed over the DJ!

There I was, standing in front of the wall when they hosed it with red paint. Or was it Neal Patrick Harris?