Holiday snaps

Managed to upload my photos:
Berlin
Prague
Budapest

Eurotrip 2008

Well, I’m back from my big mad mental holiday. I actually got back almost a fortnight ago, but I’ve been doing nothing but work and Z since and so I’ve only just got the chance to sit down and write a huge, gratuitous blog entry.

I ended up hitting Berlin, Prague and Budapest in my first nine days. As much as I desperately tried to persuade my friends (and then acquaintances, and then complete strangers), nobody had the money or parental permission to come with me, and so I travelled alone. In hindsight, I’m actually glad that I did. I got to do my own thing, and met a lot more people than I would have had I been in a group.

Berlin was lovely – I hit a lot of museums when I was there, purely because I happened to be there on a Thursday night, when admission to most museums is free. I went to the Old Museum (where they have the bust of Nefertiti) and the Bode Museum (which, it transpires, consists entirely of Christian Renaissance art – very dull, but I was with a very funny Californian guy who made it a little more entertaining. There was a lot of Jesus). I didn’t go to the Pergammon, because it was 12 euros to get in, and I’m just way too cheap. It occur ed to me , whilst reading some information on how the Nazis had to get all their Egyptian shit the fuck out of Berlin during WWII, that although museums are perceived to be very prestigious and scholarly places, almost all of their artifacts are obtained through imperialism and the raping of other cultures.

The one thing I really need to mention about Berlin is Tacheles. It’s this old, abandoned high-rise building that used to be a department store before the Blitzkrieg, and it was just never restored. Now, there’s loads of artists who squat there and sell their stuff. It’s amazing – the entire interior of the building is totally graffiti’d, and there’s a rooftop bar on the top floor. It’s very underground. Except, above ground. The first night I was in Berlin I went with a couple of people from my hostel and a man stopped me at the door and asked me for my age. I assumed I was getting ID’d, so I pulled my purse out of my bag— and suddenly all the people I was with were shouting, ‘NO, STOP!!!’ As it transpires, the man was actually trying to sell me cocaine. A drug-dealer with morals, it seems, as when he found out how young I am, he shook my hand and sent me on my way. He was very nice after the misunderstanding was cleared up. EVERYONE in Berlin is nice. Even the drug-dealers are nice.

I went on a very informative walking tour whilst in Berlin, actually – it was really fab. I went on a walking tour in each city, and they gradually got worse and worse the further south I got. The tour-guide, I think, was probably a raging homosexual and very funny. From somewhere in the States. The tour lasted 12 hours.

Prague was the only city I visited over the weekend, and so although I went out to a couple of pubs each night at the other cities, this was the only city in which I actually went OUT. Friday night, to be sure, was tame. I’d got in at 10am after a four-hour night train, before which I hadn’t slept, only to be told that check-in is at 3pm. I’d have liked to have been informed of this BEFORE I planned my route. But never mind – I sat in the lobby and read, because I was too tired to go anywhere else.

So, after I was all settled in, some Americans (from Chicago, I think) invited me out for Mexican food. They were very nice, but they were very stereotypical Americans. I’m not saying all Americans are like the stereotype, by any means – but these ones DEFINITELY were. They had just graduated from college, degrees like accounting and finance and economics. All sororities or fraternities, whatever they are. After the meal, I paid my bit and jumped ship to a nearby table – also Americans, who were studying agriculture for a couple of weeks at the university, and who were chaperoned by a very good-looking Bulgarian man. I much preferred them to the first table, because they didn’t ask me, ‘What language do you speak in Scotland?’ or, ‘So, is Scotland in Europe?’ For further reference, note: Scotland is NOT a city in England. It is not IN England at all. It is north of England – both are sovereigns in the UK. Separate ones. With a border.

I ended up going off for a very nice walk around the city with a boy from Missouri (I say boy, he was 21), who gave me his e-mail address and walked me back to my hostel, even though it was roughly a half-hour’s walk away, and in the complete opposite direction from the university. I think he maybe thought he’d be getting something out of it, and I was happy to let him labour under that delusion.

I might as well say something about the hostel I stayed at in Prague – I didn’t like it, even though it was probably the nicest hostel I stayed in. It was actually more like a hotel – it was huge, and the linens were changed for me, and there was a bar that served breakfast as opposed to just a kitchen where I could make my own. Breakfast wasn’t included with the room, though, so I felt a bit raped spending that amount of money on shit food. It just wasn’t as homey and cosy as the others I stayed in.

Anyway, night the second in Prague. Two of the sorority girls from the night before offered to let me come out to dinner with them – it was lovely, I had goulash and a shot of some gold-coloured alcohol that tasted like peaches. Mmm. Ended up at this club on our side of the Charles Bridge – five storeys high, and each storey was a different genre of music (I think, from ground to top; chart music, techno, cheesy 80’s disco music, RnB, and the top floor was a chill-out room with loads of bean-bags and shit). I spent about two hours with them, then I had to sit down because my heels were eating my feet. At this point I spotted a gangly boy who had been rubbing up against one of the girls I was with earlier, and who I assumed was Czech. I went up to him and said something to the effect of, “What are you doing here? You’re like, 14.” (No, I hadn’t been drinking, I’m just rude by nature). To which he replied, in a stunning Irish accent, ‘Fuck off, I’m 19!’ I demanded to see some ID, and for some reason, we really hit it off after that. I spent the entire night (from around midnight to 6am) dancing with him and his three mates, also from Dublin. I let them buy me glasses of water (I made a pact with myself not to drink until I was in familiar company) and walk me home, again. They were absolutely lovely – they couldn’t dance for shit, but they could certainly drink. And flattery was also one of their strengths. The RnB room, where we spent most of our time, was actually a lot like a scene out of Save the Last Dance or Step-Up or whatever shit film it is that the middle-class, classically trained white ballerina falls in the love with the working-class black street-dancer. Replace ‘white’ with ‘Hispanic.’ This one blond girl, who was clearly totally trolley’d, spent a long time dancing VERY closely to some super-smooth black guy, with some very creepy-looking local grinding into her arse. The couple eventually went off (presumably to the top floor to fuck), and the local followed. So did three other guys. She doesn’t even have that many holes.

Anyway, on my last afternoon, I got back in touch with the manboy from Missouri – he took me to his dorm in the university and we watched In Bruges on his laptop. He hadn’t cleaned his toilet in a while.

Budapest. To be quite honest, I didn’t get as much done as I’d hoped I would. There is apparently a park full of Soviet-era statues about a two-hour bus-ride from the city, which I never got a chance to see, and a lot of open-air clubs which I’d like to visit if and when I go back. I DID hit one of the outdoor thermal baths, though – 37 degrees Celsius, or body temperature. I took a man from the hostel (he’s Londonese) with me, and despite our very vehement discussion on politics, it was very relaxing. Probably because we agreed on everything. He’s a proper lad, though – very typical working-class London, with the accent and everything. It’s nice to finally meet someone who’s leftist principles don’t completely contrast with their lifestyle (i.e. my friend D, who wears slippers and lives in a house with white carpets). Turns out there were loads of other baths of different temperatures both around the city and in the building. Will have to return to them as well. Man-from-London was recovering from Krakow (which is apparently a raging party city, along with Munich), is studying scriptwriting at university, moisturises, and desperately tried to convince me he’s not gay. We went to a roof-top bar with the rest of the hostel on our last night and he bought me my first beer.

The hostel itself I loved because, as I mentioned earlier, it was cosy and homey, just how I like it. In fact, it went so far as to actually BE someones home. The girl who runs it just rents out her flat to backpackers. It has a kitchen guests can use – HER kitchen, and the bathroom still has all of her toothpaste and shampoo and things. I used her shaving cream – she doesn’t know. I think she actually lives in her boyfriend’s house (who helps her run the business) now, but I still thought that was quite cool.

So, to summarise the first and lonely leg of my holiday, I went on a lot of walking tours, and there were lots of buildings and shit. Which brings us to Metalcamp ‘08, which I absolutely can’t be arsed writing about yet.

I’ll get back to you. With photos and stuff.