21/08/12
Location: Budapest, Hungary
We got to Budapest late afternoon and we were
starving! Not so much Kei as I brought two sandwiches thinking they were
vegetarian but wasn’t, so Kei ended up having both. I hadn’t eaten for a long
time and was on the verge of being moody. This is a difficult time for all of
us, but for me, it’s very risky as the tiniest thing could cause me to explode
with anything from anger, tears or frustration. It’s anyone’s guess.
So then we got lost. We got lost
because the hostel directions were so poor and ended up walking up and down the
same streets over and over, in the dark and carrying our backpacks through the
exhausting humidity. When we finally reached our hostel it was down an eerie
side street of the main road. It looked like something from a movie, but this
time not in a good way. It looked like the kind of place were killings happen,
and when we stepped through the rusty iron gate into the hostel, I then
realised that I actually felt safer if I was back out on the street.
Once through the iron gate in front
of us was this huge, wide, old concrete staircase (which I was convinced had
blood spots on the steps). The tiles were coming up from the floor and falling off
the walls. It was pretty dark inside and to give you all a clear picture on
what it looked like, then just imagine Miss Havishams house. Behind the
awaiting staircase is a wall made up of small little smashed through windows.
Not that they would let much light in as behind the windows was just another
concrete wall.
I would like to say that something
really spooky happened, or that once we walked up the decrepit staircase
awaiting us was a pool of vampires ready for their meal. Us. But that didn’t
happen and as soon as we reached the top of the stairs it was actually really
modern and quite nice. What a boring
ending ay?
21st August 2012
Location: Prague
I am currently in the dining section of
the train as I couldn’t find enough space to breath, let alone write in the
train cabin filled with five other people. The train is quite warm but I’m
grateful for the lack of aircon- that stuffs horrible. It’s probably more
likely to make you ill than sticking your tongue up a flu infested dustbin man’s
nose. I’m not saying there's anything wrong with dustbin men, just that they
have to rummage around in everyone else’s germs. Kind of like a shopping bag
full of infection.
Prague was the best place we have
visited so far! Last night, after dinner, we bumped into (not literally) our
'night before friends'. I like to call them that, as one night of meeting doesn’t
mean you are true friends, just that everyone is kind of your friend after a
few drinks and chatting. They invited us to go along with them to get some wine
and sit by one of the many river banks. It was so picturesque with the night
sky, the lit up bridges in the background and the sound of an acoustic guitar.
It felt like something out of a movie, but obviously some of that giddy feeling
was also coming from Mr Sauvignon Blanc himself ;). We all sat round listening
to the guitar, absorbing our surroundings and talking about not only our own countries,
but our opinion on everyone else’s.
I think this is probably one of the
best things about travelling for me, is that you could be sitting down with a
group of people, and nearly each individual person is from a different country.
It’s brilliant. Our company last night consisted of people from England,
France, Miami, Poland, Israel, Canada and Spain.
So there we all were each talking
about different things about each other’s countries. The conversation was
flowing as were the drinks. By this point I had drank a bottle of wine, and
when I do drink, that filter from mind to mouth starts to disintegrate. As I
felt more comfortable around these people I started to swear a lot. Not in an
alarming manor just throw the odd one in here and there- or in every fucking sentence.
not only that but I also have a habit of having many voices- by this I mean I
put on many accents and characters during my day to day life, I suppose to
spice things up a little. Actually I’m not quite sure why I do it. So being
around all these different countries my brain was getting rather excited
picking up all these new ways of saying different words, and all these new
accents. They started to drown my mouth and I couldn’t hold them back anymore.
With every person I spoke to I adopted there accent and spoke back to them in a
similar way (but obviously a worse version). It was extremely embarrassing for
both me and Kei but I just couldn’t stop, it was like someone had pulled the
plug. Our 'night before friends' didn’t seem to notice, or they were just too
polite/offended to mention.
Although come to think of it, the
guy from Israel did actually make a comment, and considering I was the only
English girl at the gathering, I think I can comfortably say it was aimed at
me.
He Said "I don't really like
English girls, they swear too much and get drunk to easily."
Haha the whole thing is pretty funny
now though.
Ok so the actual point of this post
was to let you all know that I have found out two important facts about English
people, and I feel the need to enlighten you all. So here goes:
1. We are arrogant as fuck in the sense
that we don't bother to learn other languages but our own.
2. Our knowledge on other countries
is poor. This is either because we are on a rather small island of our own so
we maybe feel less connected, or that we are just arrogant as fuck.
Oh and not forgetting...
3. English girls swear too much and
get drunk to easily.
Thank you all for reading.
18-08-2012
On the Train from Berlin to
Prague
This train is crazy! It’s similar to
the ones in Harry Potter with the little cabins - You know where Harry brags to
the trolley lady "We'll buy the lot". So with all the cabins on one
side and a narrow isle on the other this is the full works of the train. I'm
not complaining about the layout of the train, as it looks rather classy, but it’s
just that we don’t have a reservation. So we are just standing in the isle,
with about 100 more none 'Reservees'. We are rammed and are constantly on the lookout
for the smallest space just to stretch out a finger or toe. I have people to
the side of me, people to the back of me (which I was sure was just a window,
but no, apparently someone could squeeze in, using the space that the arch of my
back had created), and people in my face. I have had boyfriends in the past
that didn’t even get this close to me. I would say like sardines, but even they
have more room than us in that comfy little tin of theirs. I am almost sure
that if you opened a can of sardines that looked like how we do now, you would defiantly
send it back and demand not only a refund but an explanation as to who
regurgitated it before putting it back in the tin!
There’s a baby, including its
pushchair, and they also didn’t make a reservation (well the parents didn’t, I’m
not sure Babies are that advanced), not only did they not make a reservation
but both Mum, Dad, the baby, and the fricking pushchair are occupying someone else’s
RESERVED seat. Shit is going down.
The Isle is getting more crowded and
it looks like two lanes of traffic, each going in opposite directions and
merging into one. The people that haven’t made seat reservations are either
blocking the isle or sitting in a reserved seat. The people that have made
reservations are trying to squeeze, barge and shove their way through the crowd
to get to their paid for seat- which in turn means they are also joining the
masses in helping to block the isle. Once they have found their allocated seat
they either sit down looking calm and smug like "Ha! Well I have my
seat", or they do the opposite and start kicking off with the non-'Reservees'
and try to claim back what’s rightfully theirs.
Kei's started to panic due to claustrophobia,
but I on the other hand are actually quite enjoying myself- making friends that
kind of thing, you know.
Right Kei's going for it! He leaves
me with all the luggage and skilfully surfs through the now less busy crowd in search of spare seats so that we can sit for the remainder
4 hours of the journey (possibly less than 4 hours now I’m not sure how long we
have been in this pickle).
He's back and we are in luck, now
all we need to do is plough through three more carriages of this to get to some
seats then eat. I’m starving! All that friendship making makes you hungry.
17.08.2012
Location: Berlin, Germany
By the time we made our way up to
bed it was about half one in the morning, so already we was pretty exhausted-
especially after all the travelling. We opened the door to our room and that’s
when it hit us. I had never experienced anything like it. It was the pure,
rotten stench of feet that entirely engulfed the room that we were supposed to
be resting our tired heads in.
Before I left home I prepared myself
for the worst- spiders, theft, un-cleanliness, bed bugs, and getting beaten up.
You know the normal stuff. But never had I imagined that I would encounter feet
this smelly- I wasn’t even aware that feet could smell THAT bad! No words can truly
describe the rawrity stench of those feet, but I think if you can imagine the
smell of the remains of gnawed away flesh left out in the rain for 8 years,
mixed with smoked cheese, then I think you will be able to sympathise.
When I breathed in I could feel the
stinky waves of disgustingness eating away at my brain tissue. That was enough!
The stench had got the better of me, and it was time to take action. After
convincing myself and Kei that the toxicity coming from those toes was giving
me brain damage, and after trying to get to sleep with a cheese and onion Pringle
pot over my nose (even that couldn’t mask my senses, and that’s some pretty cheesy
stuff),then we complained to reception.
Reception explained that there wasn’t
much we could do about the man’s feet, as he would probably wake up when seeing
a Rasta man and a 19 year old girl at the end of his bed, giving his feet a good
scrub. The Receptionist did suggest that we bagged the cuprite’s shoes (that
were also stinking out the room), as this would maybe make it slightly
bearable. Bag in hand we marched back up to the room.
Bagging the trainers managed to
contain some of the deathly aroma, and after performing a bit of ventilation
door swinging, the room was just about bearable to sleep in. Either that or the
smell knocked us unconscious I can’t remember?
To be honest I think everyone was thankful
to us that night and possible even the stench producer himself.
16.08.2012
Our First Interrail
Experience
(For those that don't know
what this is- Google it, then do it because it's awesome)(Seriously Awesome)
We are now on the second train which should be
straight to Berlin from Amsterdam. I am waiting a bit anxiously in my seat-
firstly because I am quite an anxious person and secondly because we aren’t 100
per cent sure on how to use our passes. I have been through the guide book a
fair few times hoping that by the fourth I will have found something in there
that my brain failed to receive before, but no, nothing. The guide book scares
me.
Just crossed over into Germany and the train
staff just casually strolled on the train with a GUN. As you do. Kei said that
they are immigration control but I’m not convinced- especially considering they
haven’t even ask for our passports or even our tickets for that matter and we
have been on the train for 2 and a half hours. Kei is talking about how slightly
different Germany looks to England. Slightly?! Our fricking train conductors do
not hold us at gun point!
Ok so we are not actually held at gun point,
but if the armed staff decide to start fishing through our bags, find this piece
of writing, be massively offended that I called them immigration control (well
Kei did but I think one of the 3 year relationship rules is that you should want
to take a bullet for your partner, so I will, naturally). Then I will obviously
get my brains blown out. Then with just Kei left they will find out that we
jumped a poor little innocent tram back to ‘Weed-vile’ earlier on in the day,
and then the "immigration control" will be sure to unite Kei's brains with mine
on the frickin window.
I’m just going to stop writing before I give
them any more ammunition.
