04/07/02
First day of travels – Loth & I set out for Germany.
05/07/02
Stopped off between trains and had our first traditional German dinner in Hamburg, followed by a glass of wine at a wine festival. (We’d actually thought that it was a beer hall and wondered why the woman looked at us funny when we asked for ‘bier’ – the word was close enough to the English one, how off could our pronunciation be?) Arrived in München (Munich) that afternoon, where we met up with Minton & Crazy Dave. Spent the night in a place called ‘The Tent’, which is exactly that – an enormous tent with dozens of people strewn about the floor on thin mattresses. For some reason, it was actually cheaper than putting up your own tent.
06/07/01
Visited a schloss (castle) & then went to the Dachau (1st Nazi concentration camp) memorial. Went to a beerhall and drunk an impressive 1 litre mug of beer. Met two Spanish guys, one of whom after having spoken to us for only 5 minutes (& was possibly slightly drunk) offered accommodation to Loth and I at his uncle’s house in Berlin – an extremely useful and hospitable invitation.
07/07/02
Loth & I headed off to Praha (Prague) on the early morning train where we found a room with a view and were joined by Minton later in the evening. Found a delicious Czech food place for dinner where I ate ‘Potatoes – RAKE. 3 Half hollow out toasted potato brimming mixture from piquant pork meat namely regaling mixture cheese’. The menu helpfully pointed out that ‘mentioned grams they are quantity base material it is. Greengrocers, fish and smoked-meat product in raw state’. Went for a walk that evening and made the mistake of trusting Minton’s navigation skills. Made it back to the hostel considerably later than planned but at least we found a really nice bar on the way.
08/07/02
Charged around the streets of Prague in tow of Minton and saw many sights & monuments, none of which escaped detailed description by Minton from his trusty Lonely Planet guide. Became sick of traipsing around the castle, so while Loth & Minton continued, I sat down on a bench near some Danish tourists (easily recognised by a waving Danish flag, along with the fact that they were probably the only people in the country wearing socks with sandles).
09/07/02
Walked around the Jewish Quarter and other areas. Loth & I returned to the modification chicken restaurant where I had a more conservatively titled meal of ‘chicken steak in Cantonese batter potato’.
10/07/02
Took the train to Kutná Hora, a town much smaller than but not dissimilar to Prague. Most notably we saw an ossuary – an old temple filled with sculptures made from human bones from approximately 40 000 different people (an artist’s solution to overcrowding in the cemetary following plague and war in the 14th century). Went back to the hostel in the evening. Narrowly missed a huge storm (which covered my cherries in acid rain, I might add) before Loth & I had to run to the station again to catch a train to Krákow (Cracow), Poland.
11/07/02
Arrived in Cracow extremely tired, wandered around the town streets and fell asleep in front of a castle rather than seeing the inside as planned, only waking up due to Loth’s cries as her face was licked by a small black fluffy dog. Perused some shoe shops, all the while thinking of a Polish friend’s warning story. (One of his relatives had been shopping one day and stumbled upon an amazingly cheap shoe store. Thinking he was getting quite a bargain, he smugly purchased three pairs. Shortly afterwards when wearing these shoes at a wedding, while he was dancing they began to fall apart. It was then that he discovered he had bought them from a shoe store that catered solely for the dead, the strength of the shoes therefore being no greater than that required for a brief coffin display before burial). Took advantage of the favourable currency conversion and ate dinner in a fancy medievil style restaurant.
12/07/02
Went to Ocwiecim (Auswitz) concentration camp memorial. Caught night train (packed with rowdy drunk Polish youths) to Berlin. Shared the carriage with 2 reluctant French girls who started complaining about our intrusion only to discover, much to their embarrassment, that Loth speaks French.

13/07/02
Love Parade day. Arrived in Berlin feeling like hell – realised that I had the flu. After eventually making it to Mario’s house, ate some food and crawled into bed, where I was to remain for the next 15 hours or so. Missed the Love Parade – oh well.
14/07/02
Woken up by Mario at 6am, distressed at having lost Loth (who returned a few hours later claiming that she didn’t know where she’d been – must have been a good night). Feeling mostly better, decided to visit as many museums as possible, assured by the Lonely Planet guide that they were free on Sundays. Arrived (in the pouring rain) to discover that they’re only free one Sunday a month. Damn you, 5 year old Lonely Planet guide... Taking the budget option (as usual), walked around Alexander Platz instead and stumbled upon the German History Museum (conveniently free). As it turned out, there was a great exhibition showing on the European witch hunts. One of the more ‘arty’ abstract elements of the display was a looped 15 second excerpt from the Hitchcock film ‘The Birds’, in which a woman gets divebombed by a seagull. To this day I ponder the relevance.
15/07/02
Met up with Minton & Crazy Dave at the Reichstag. Getting through the security check before entering was quite a lengthy process, yet they still let us through with pocketknives in our bags (which had just been x-rayed). ? . That afternoon, went in for a brief look at Kaiser Wilhelm Gedächtnis Kirche Chapel, where we inadvertently ended up stuck on a pew whilst a sermon commenced. We left as discreetly as possible after the first reading, however, another tourist, complete with comically oversized camera, didn’t seem phased in the slightest by the religious proceedings taking place around him & continued to peruse the architechture, walking through the aisles and staring from close range at the altar behind the Minister as he spoke. Decided to go back to Mario's to cook dinner. Minton & Dave seemed to have developed a strange attachment to ‘just add water’ meals & were seemingly shocked at the suggestion of fresh food, so we dined on packet fungi pasta & multiple tins of vegetables. Walked down the road after dinner & saw the longest remaining stretch of the Berlin Wall.
16/07/02
Broke one of my rules of travel & went on a guided tour of the city. It was suprisingly good, even if the guide was a bit of a pompous British git. One of the most interesting things visited was the proposed sight for a memorial to the Jews killed in WW2. A quite remarkable coincidence was that whilst digging in preparation for the memorial’s construction, the bunker of Görring was discovered in that very place; this resulted in a great deal of controversy regarding whether or not it’s in good taste to place the memorial there. After the tour, Loth & I said goodbye to Minton & Dave & found ourselves a fine blue collar saurkraut, würst & kartoffel joint. That night we set out again.
17/07/02
Arrived in Salzburg, buggared after little sleep in a train on which we spent half the night trying to escape developing emphysema in our horrible unventilated smoking section seats. Thanks to regular coffee injections, gathered the strength to walk around the beautiful city & through the mountains. Headed back to the train station around midnight to wait for our next train. Obviously one day wasn’t enough time to really take in Austria but at least I got to annoy Loth by singing tunes from ‘the Sound of Music’.
18/07/02
Fell asleep on the floor in the waiting room at the train station while it was my turn to stay awake as we waited for the train. Woke up to the wrath of Loth 5 minutes after our train had departed & had to wait another 2½ hours for the next train. Broke another of my rules of travel and paid for the use of a toilet (oh, the shame). Finally got on the train exhausted after another night of very little sleep.
Arrived in Budapest and checked into a dodgy hostel that served as a university/dormitory during most of the year. Had a most unproductive day, mainly consisting of sleeping (on a bed that made enough noise to wake the dead every time I turned over). Didn’t discover until the next day that someone else had found their room to be infested with bed bugs. Ate packet pasta for 2 meals – how disgusting.
19/07/02
Becoming quite tired of cities & longing to just lie on the beach or a nice patch of grass. Wandered the streets with Loth, did nothing in particular and felt guilty for not doing anything worthwhile. Went to the pub that night with a group of people from the hostel. Were going to go to a jazz club – a suprisingly good suggestion from one of the bimbo Canadians from our room - until she said ‘I hope they’re not actually going to play jazz there, are they? Decided after one drink that my creaky bed was calling (more persuasively than though perhaps not as loudly as the two Canadian girls).
20/07/01
Abused by Loth when trying to wake her up in order to meet the 9am checkout deadline. Seems she’s not much of a morning person. Left her to sleep and set off for the day on my own, thinking that on my last day in Budapest I’d better at least see something of the city. Ventured up a mountain and finally saw the scenic Budapest that postcards are made of. Having limited amounts of time, I thought that the Buda Castle Labyrinth sounded like an interesting place to go. Fortunately, I took the ‘ausgang’ (ie. ‘exit’) entrance, figuring that it was only fair after having stood at the front counter for a good 10 seconds without being acknowledged by the cashier. It turned out that the whole ‘museum’ was a joke. My suspicions were aroused upon observing a fossil which beared remarkable resemblance to a sneaker print. They were confirmed upon reading a sign claiming the fossil to be estimated at 40 million years of age, thought to come from the predecessors of homo sapien, ‘homo consumus’ – a species who worshipped the consumer goods. Amongst other grand exhibits was a giant coke bottle fossil, ‘considered to be a cult symbol, possibly even of alien origin’. Another favourite was the fountain spurting a fluorescent red liquid – presumably imitation blood. I left the labyrinth with a mixture of mild aggrivation at having wasted my time finding this place (I blame the dodgy map – others may blame my atrocious sense of direction) & amusement; the latter especially when seeing the serious looking group of old men entering the place, looking as if they were expecting to enter somewhere of great historical significance. At least they were going to see some nice underground tunnels, I rationalised to myself whilst mentally debating whether or not I should warn them of what was in store. Wandered some more around the beautiful (though touristy) area outside before going back to meet Loth & then heading off (running late agin) just in time to catch the train.
21/07/01
Awoke after a long sleep on a 16 hour train journey to Venice. Attempted to phone my Italian friend, Silvia. Instead, I had an extremely confused conversation with her mother, who was speaking Italian whilst I spoke English & struggled to establish whether Silvia was there or in fact if she had ever had been or would be there & whether this was even the right number. The whole time I was mentally kicking myself for not taking the opportunity to learn some more useful Italian before I arrived. Firstly there was year seven high school Italian, in which I had decided that I hated the language and would instead answer the whole exam in French. Then there were the bits of Italian that Silvia had taught me back in Denmark. I don’t know how I though that being able to run off phrases such as ‘il lupo cambia il pelo ma non il vizio’ (‘the wolf changes the skin but not the bad habits’) could possibly have any practical applications this lifetime. After some time I was given a phone number (at least I knew enough Italian to understand that). Flustered and befuddled after the whole conversation, while grasping for the word ‘arivaderci’, I instead managed ‘prego, grazie, buongiorno’ (‘you’re welcome, thankyou, hello’) and quickly hung up. I’m sure I made a fine first impression upon Silvia’s mother. Thankfully, as it turns out, she’s a little eccentric anyway. Eventually contacted Silvia & bummed around Venice for the rest of the afternoon, drinking espresso and eating pizza & gelato (I was liking Italy already). Met up with Silvia & Rune (Danish guy) and stayed at Silvia’s mother’s house in Valdagno that night, after being taken out to dinner in a fantastic local restaurant alleged to make the best pizza in town. Slept in a huge double bed for which we were most grateful.
22/07/02
Woken up to find a sumptuous breakfast feast laid out for us on the patio table, complete with scenic mountain views. Loth & I then headed to Verona. Tried to order a long black in a cafe – ended up with an Americano which was instant coffee. Could sense the waiters laughing at me mockingly. Decided to try to only drink espressos for the remainder of my stay. Met up with Silvia again in the evening & went to stay at her sister’s apartment, where we were treated to yet another delicious Italian meal. Then came the bathroom – always a fine time for my travel misadventures. Silvia was shocked when I asked for clarification on the uses of the bidé. Well, isn’t it fair to assume that it serves the same purpose as the shower hoses in Thailand? (No, I didn’t try to shower with it this time). While attempting to shower, I had difficulty finding the lever that redirects the water from the tap to the hose. As a last resort, I started pulling at a cord hanging from the wall (hmm, I wonder what this does?). Shortly after, Silvia got up and came to the bathroom door to ask if everything was ok & there was any reason that I was repeatedly sounding a loud buzzer in the loungeroom. Oh, that’s what it does. Went to bed after a rejuvenating shower lying under the bath tap.
23/07/01 Went to Verona town again, visited ‘Casa de Giulietta’, which is meant to be Juliet’s house. Don’t know quite how they figured that but anyway... That afternoon we drove to Garda lake, the largest lake in Europe. I must say, it is bloody enormous – I would have thought it a sea. After walking around Garda town, a beautiful area, we went back to Verona and saw an opera. The Italians were most excited as the president was also in attendance that night. Needless to say, the singing was amazing, though the whole thing was a little lengthy & the story abstract and confusing, to say the least. Even Silvia & her sister, Lisa, were not able to understand more of it than the rest of us – a crazy assortment of Egyptians, African tribesmen, knights & aristocrats dancing & singing. Afterwards we went back to Lisa’s again & were cooked another huge tasty meal – at 2:30am. That’s Italian timing for you.
24/07/02
Left Verona & ventured off to Padova. Passed by a university surrounded by students in the midst of their graduation ceremony. In Italy, this involves standing on the street in your underwear reading out embarassing poems about yourself whilst your ‘friends’ throw flour & eggs at you. What a treat. We then went to a nearby cafe for lunch and discovered that since it was 3pm, we could no longer order most of the things on the menu & had to settle for toasted sandwiches. Oh well – at least this custom seemed slightly more sensible than the fact that the shops in Italy close for 4 hours for lunch. Saw a huge church (about the millionth of Loth & I’s holiday so far) and went back to Silvia’s mother’s house in Valdagno for yet another grand feast. This one was surely the greatest yet – Mrs Carneva had gone all out with multiple dishes, fancy dining wear and the whole shebang. I did, I confess, ‘subtly’ dump my raw meat dish onto Loth’s plate throughout the course of the meal. Quite unconcerend by the fact that neither Loth, Rune or I spoke Italian, she then proceeded to have a long conversation with us, in which Silvia was forced to jump in and translate in order for any effective communication to be possible.
25/07/02
Loth’s birthday & off to Rome. Fortunately, Silvia’s friend had an appartment there & all her housemates were on holidays. Could the timing be more perfect? This free accommodation thing was definitely fitting in well with Loth & I’s budget. Went to a BBQ for dinner where I shocked some Italians by telling them that kangaroos are served on pizzas to tourists in Australia. The horror was not that we eat one of our national symbols but that we sabotage the Italian concept of pizza in doing so. Mama mia!
26/07/02
Went sightseeing. Most notably saw the Vatican museums, the highlight of which was the ‘Capella Sistina’ (Sistine Chapel), where I stared in awe at the ceiling and Michaelangelo’s ‘Last Judgement’ Saw the window that the Pope speaks from and were refused admittance to St Peter’s Basilica due to our disgusting ungodly display of shoulder.
27/07/02
Sick to death of organised sightseeing & schedules, Loth & I declared that we were going shopping. This was met with disapproval but off we ventured nevertheless. Stumbled upon a Basilica designed by Michaelangelo which we looked around. The architecture was fantastic – the church had been built into the existant remnants of Roman Baths. The decorations were way over the top and hideously mismatched thanks to their efforts to cram as much grandeur into the building as possible but such is the way in many churches. Went back to Anna’s place and taught some Italians the Goldmark jingle, claiming that it was a real piece of Australian culture.
28/07/02
Went to visit the colloseum - figured we couldn’t leave Rome without seeing it. Obviously Silvia agreed, judging by the way she spent the morning giving me stern looks and checking that we were in fact going to the colloseum and not planning another shopping trip. Afterwards, walked down a huge street surrounded by ruins then ate dinner that night in a typical looking Italian restaurant – red & white checkered tablecloths and all.
29/07/02
After a fight with the Italian train system, arrived some hours late in Cinque Terra, a beautiful beach area in the north. Stuffed around for some time in a loud train station (one of many) waiting for the bus from the camping ground to pick us up in ‘5 minutes’ (every time we called them). Were by now feeling just slightly deterred, our visions of a relaxing few days in the mountains by the beach brought back to reality by the despair that we’d ever make it to our camping ground, the sound of alarm bells & screaming children and the sight of the long dried out ground indentation which we assumed to be the sparkling blue lake shown on the map. But all was not lost – eventually the bus did turn up. With a relaxed and oh so Italian wave of the hand and vague apology about the tardiness, off we were driven to the camp.
30/07/02
Our last real day of holidays. Went to the beach with three Albanian guys from the tent next to ours. It was my first ever pebble beach but hey, the amazing mountainous view made up for the lack of sand. Got quite nicely burnt – just in time to look like I’d had a real Summer holiday when I got back to Denmark.
31/07/02
Started taking our tent down just as a huge thunderstorm hit – brilliant way to start the day upon which I commenced my 24 hours or so of train travel back to Denmark. Caught the train up to Milano where I made the mistake of partaking in a conversation with a loud American guy, Eric. Turned out that he was also going back to Copenhagen as he had to spend the night there before catching his plane home the next day. For some stupid reason I offered him my lounge for the night, and so condemmed myself to a good 1½ days of hearing about how great everything is in ‘The States’. Not trusting the train schedule that had been given to me at the previous station (Eric had been given a competely different one), decided to check. After being sent between counters, spoke to an assistant who actually seemed to know the best way to get back to Copenhagen. At least you’d think so by the way he spoke at almost incomprehensible speed and waved his arms around wildly. When I politely inquired about details such as times, he looked at me incredulously and stated that he wasn’t able to provide such specifics – he was just telling me what he thought was the best route based upon the fact that his sister had travelled to Copenhagen - at some point. If I actually wanted reliable details (or the closest available Italian equivalent), I would have to go to a different counter. Grrr. After obtaining what we hoped was accurate information, we passed the rest of the day walking around Milano. I was sorry to be leaving Italy but certainy wouldn’t be missing the words ‘cuiso’ – ‘closed’ and ‘in retardo’- ‘late’ (speaking of which, the Italian train schedule notice boards actually have a separate column dedicated to informing you of how late the train is going to be). That night, all three of us boarded the same train. Loth was to change at Strasbourg. As strange as we thought it was that a train to Frankfurt went through France, she had been assured by two different train guards that this was the right train. Of course, it wasn’t. No harm done, Loth realised this by the next station and so, we said a hurried goodbye and went our separate ways. Now left alone with Eric, I was subjected to waves of American propaganda; details of this I won’t inflict upon you poor readers.
01/08/02
Changed trains at Frankfurt for an amazingly homicide free journey to Hamburg. The discman did much to help blocking out the sound of the resident American patriot telling me about how much better McDonalds tastes in The States. Managed to make our train to Copenhagen as it had been delayed. Hardly even suprised anymore that one of the arrival times we’d been given in Italy was wrong, thus connecting us with a train that should have already left. Sat down in our reserved seats in the only carriage of the train in which the air conditioning didn’t work. What better excuse for me to venture off and find a vacant seat next to some refreshingly interesting Dutch guys in a different carriage. Finally we made it back to Copenhagen. I tried as hard as possible to make my appartment sound unappealing without blatantly retracting my offer. ‘The lounge is really uncomfortable & it’s a 10 minute walk from the station’. Who was I kidding – compared to the extortionate local hostels, a stroll up the road and slightly less than a luxurious mattress wasn’t going to deter anyone.

Europe on a Cheap Bastard’s Shoestring – ‘Doin’ it the Aussie Way’

1. never pay for a nights accommodation when you can country hop on a night train instead. Don’t worry if you end up travelling around in circles – your next destination should always be planned around train schedules and seat availability.
2. When visiting museums, try to see the exhibition from finish to start. Witnessing history in reverse chronological order makes an interesting change. A little known fact to note is that ‘ausgang’ means ‘free entrance’ (as opposed to ‘eingang’, which means ‘extortion’). If for some reason you are refused entrance through the ‘ausgang’, why not consider admiring the external architecture instead? Alternatively, you could pay (not literally, of course) a visit to the museum gift shop. There you can see pictures of most of the major exhibits and decide if the entry price is really worth its value in terms of cucumber labour.
3. Under no circumstances pay for toilets – it’s craziness. Some European women realise this and find ways around it. However, for prudish Australians such as myself who have inhibitions about squatting on the footpath, pubs are a better bet.
4. As far as cheap goes, you can’t go past bread. Any sensible Australian traveller should also carry a jar of Vegemite with them at all times (provided that one is not unlucky enough to have had theirs looted by drunken Danish Vikings). As for vitamins, bananas will take care of your every nutritional need (at least, so you’d think until you end up with the flu). Naturally, however, after a time this diet may become monotonous and occasionally you’ll decide to eat out. In such situations, the following guidelines should be observed:
The dirtier the tablecloth, the better. A foolproof way of picking out the cheaper joints without even needing to look at the menu.
Eat where the locals eat. In order to distinguish the locals’ restaurants from the tourists’ ones, make sure the menu is not translated into English. (Nb. an exception is if the English menu offers delights such as ‘modification chicken meat on way Chinese kitchen’. Dining in such restaurants is probably still within your budget.)