Day 13: Prague to Krakow

Highlights:

• Letenske Sady, obviously
• One last Kozel Cerny for the road
• Night train to Krakow

Standard start to the day, Letenske Sady, followed by Kaficko (Brazilian coffee, followed by honey cake). There have been different staff every day at the cafe, and todays were my favourite. A friendly man and his young son, having a little banter and alternately serving me. It was empty again apart from two older German ladies who joined later on. 

The day before, the Kiwi Nicola had looked at me like I was mental when I said I hadn't visited the tourist-infested old clock tower, and then was only slightly less shocked when I said I hadn't had a curled doughnut cake thing. So I reluctantly trudged along into the centre of town, unfortunately missing the big display on the hour (it's supposed to be BRILLIANT...) but locating a nice vendor of the doughnut thing. I can't remember the name of it, but it's made out of some leavened pastry, rolled round a metal rod and then cooked over some fire. Once complete, it's then rolled in sugar, vanilla and almonds. It was alright. It was no honey cake.

I'd booked to stay another night, but with my interailling pass, I'm allowed 10 journeys in only 22 days, so it seems wasteful to use them with long distance travel. I headed to the station and bought a cabin add-on for the 20.17 train to Krakow that night. 10 Euros. SIDE NOTE One thing I've noticed since travelling is that Americans and Kiwis have been using multiple Euro in the singular. That's not right, is it. Pound/Pounds, Dollar/Dollars, Euro/Euros. It really winds me up. 

I leisurely strolled back to the hostel to pack up and plan my next steps, and bought a 10kc (30p) Kozel Cerny, my favourite Czech beer and then became distracted first by my book (I've nearly finished Kafka on the Shore - it's getting really good, and the character keeps listening to Prince and Radiohead) and then by a group of travellers in the bar who had just been sky diving. Whilst high the night before, they'd all agreed how much they wanted to sky dive and so first thing, they went out and booked it. Pretty cool. I don't think they liked my comment about how Felix' dive sort of stole their lightning. There was a guy from York (Harry Job) who was staying in Prague for a few months whilst some friends he knows work out here, and started with a "you're English too, aren't you? I heard your accent last night. He's just going to chill out for a few months, which seems to be what every traveller I meet is planning. I'd love to be going for a few months!!! An American girl who had a few loud Skype calls with her boyfriend and mum which I eavesdropped on (of course) and a Czech girl.

Three of the Aussie guys were also going to Krakow that evening. They were from Taronda (or something...) in Australia, and were travelling for a few months before starting uni. Adam, Henry and Sven were pretty spaced out, but we hung for a while and then I guided them to the station (I'm not sure they'd have got the train if I wasn't there). We parted ways as I headed off to my luxurious cabin, and they followed a huge group of Warsaw ice hockey fans (who had spent the past 30 minutes banging a drum and chanting, and going up and down the escalators; we presume they'd just beaten Prague). As the train departed and I snuggled down in my bed, I could hear the fans from a few carriages down. I was in a 6-birth cabin, sharing with a Polish man who wore glasses and had a hat like Thernardier from Les Mis, and a shy American couple, who seemed to shrink away from any comment I made (such as "Sorry, do you mind if I just squeeze past" and "can I turn the light off now?". Intimidating stuff). Slightly disconcertingly, the ticket inspector showed us clearly how to lock the door and advised we do it...

The train was arriving before 7am, so I was panicked that I wouldn't wake up in time and had a pretty crappy night's sleep. A bumpy ride into Poland as well.

End of day 13.

Day 12: Prague

Highlights:

• Petrinkske Sady
• Alfons Mucha museum
• Watching the Czech Grant National whilst drinking Kozel Cerny in Riegrovy Sady's beergarden

Did I mention that I really love Prague? I think I could move here. I've already set myself a few weekend routines, which I repeated today. A walk up into Letenske Sady to look over the city. It was all sun and blue skies today, and so it looked better than ever. Being the weekend, it had gotten a little busier and so my calm was slightly distracted by this Japanese guy, agonisingly slowly putting up his tripod. I then headed to my regular cafe, Kaficko, though shook it up a little by having Mexican coffee beans and plumb cake. Just as good. I perused a book about Prague Architecture, though learnt absolutely nothing to pass on, other than that it's varied.

In the Kafka museum, I'd come across some postcards by Mucha, who's apparently another local hero with a museum in town so was planning on heading there next, but it was too nice a day to be inside, so I went to the other sady that the rain had stopped me from climbing, and went up. This was Petrinkske Sady, and it was lovely. It's probably higher than Letenske, and I was getting seriously out of breathe as I climbed (though there is a rail to take you up if you can't walk), but the top offered a great view. Some cities can look a bit rubbish from up high, when the rooftops are just grey and covered with ugly vents. Prague though, with it's cream, pale green and beige buildings and bright red roof tops looks great. Letenske is still my favourite place in the entire world (no exaggeration), but Petrinske is pretty special. I'm looking forward to going back to Paris to see what it's like out of peak tourist season, but at the moment, I'd say Prague is a much more romantic city. Either going up in to the hills, or walking down the quiet streets, it's got a greater sense of calm and contentness (is that a word?) than Paris. No wonder Siemen proposed to my friend Marthe here.

So I slowly wandered down into town. It's a park, though it feels more like a forest, and the paths weave between tall trees so it does feel like a bit of a nature trail. I passed a policeman on a Segway (monitoring park crime obviously) and then as I reached town, I heard some acoustic music coming from a youth club. They'd opened the side door as it was obviously too hot, and I saw lots of young kids with down syndrome dancing around to the music. The music sounded Czech and there was lots of laughter coming from the room, so I stopped and listened for a while. I think they noticed me, as after the song finished, they pointedly closed the door.

Then I saw a group of brown-cloaked monks. There's just always something different going on here. In another park later, I saw an old lady teaching people how to throw javellins, and on my walk to Letenske in the morning, I walked through a Maltby Street-style busy market in a huge warehouse, with a Czech recording (it sounded like some sort of political maniuplation broadcast) overhead.

I tried to find the Kafka cafe again, and realised I'd made a mistake in the location yesterday. It was near the awful tourist bit (I'd advise never going to Karlovy Lazne), but literally the next street along from the overwhelmingly busy tourist crowds was completely quiet, and that's where I found the cafe (Literání Kavárna on Řetězová) . I think the international use of the word cafe generally means bar, so it didn't open until the evening. They were setting up some music for the evening, so I imagine it's a cool place, but I didn't have time to go back.

I weaved through the new town with my 'avoid crowds' guiding rule, and found the Mucha museum on Panska. So you'd all probably recognise Alfons Mucha's (pronounced mookha, apparently) work (here). He was a big dog in the Art Nouveau world, and made his name in Paris drawing posters for theatre productions. He was 24 I think when a 'famous' (I'd never heard of her) Parisian actress called Sarah Bernhardt had asked him last minute to design a poster for her production of Gismonda. She loved it, and gave him a six year contract the next day. The exhibition was quite impressive; as graphic design posters are now more commonly computer-generated, it was cool to see completely accurate drawings on such a large scale. His idea for all his work was to make a pattern which could be repeated, whilst incorporating a key figure in the middle (usually a woman). It was 120kc, so 4pounds, and the video they showed of his life, and his later work for Czechoslovakia (he designed bank notes and stamps for the country when it was established post-war) made it worth the money.

I was in the centre of Prague at this point, and wanted to explore the east so headed to the Riegrovy Sady. Again, it rose onto a hill, so there were beautiful views of Prague, and I passed the javellin throwers to find the beergarden on top. I asked for a beer ("Prosim, Kozel. Djekuji") and sat watching the Czech Grand National. In Germany and Czech Republic it seems to be legal to drink on the streets, but I've definitely noticed a lot more drunks around in the middle of the day than you see in London. A few were in the beer garden, enthusiastically screaming/singing at the horses. I imagine it's cool in summer when it's packed, but I didn't stay too long as a man wearing a black and white checked fedora (no, really) was winding up his two dogs and it was a bit noisy. I was in Zizkov in the East of Prague by this point, which I'd seen described as grungy, and I know I'd live in that part of town if I moved here. To sum up Prague, I'd say it's got the architectural beauty of Paris, but with the edge of Berlin. Best of both.

I found a pub called U Sadu on Skroupovo nam, and after apparently insulting the waitress when I tried to order my drink at the bar ("SIT DOWN"), I ordered a Lambrusco, and warily looked at the five meaty dishes on the menu. After my bad start with the waitress, who slammed my drink down, I was trying to work out the politest way of saying that whilst I respected their meat-eating culture of liver and goose, I was vegetarian, I saw a longer menu being passed around. I had some marinated vegetables and ordered another drink in Czech, to try smooth over my relationship with the waitress ("Jesto jedno"). The pub was cool; it had all this communist memorabilia everywhere, and there were lots of Czechs inside, so I presumed it was a local. The waitress and I parted on friendly terms (success!) and on getting lost trying to find the station, I decided to illegally jump on a tram and headed back to my hostel.

I spent the evening in the bar chatting to a Kiwi called Judy, a Japanese lady called Miho (who I suspect smuggles drugs by some of her stories), an Aussie living in London called Miran and a Malaysian called Ron Keo who now lived in Minnesota.

End of day 12.

Day 11: Prague

Highlights:

 

• Kaficko - the first non-smoking cafe in Prague
• Learning what Tanka is
• The Franz Kafka museum - an existential space

 

I headed back to my (what I'm probably going to call) favourite spot in the entire world, and sat looking over the city for a while. It was dry, but cold, and my ears started to ache after a while, so I cut down into the Mala Strana before the castle.

 

I think I must have generic European colouring and features, because wherever I go, people seem to think I'm a native (France, Germany, Holland, Czech Republic, and when I'm tanned, Italy). Some Germans stopped me to see if I knew how to use the car park ticket machine. I didn't, but stuck around to give some moral support, and we all came away smiling when they successfully got a ticket. That's got to give me some good Karma.

 

There's a path which follows the river round into the Mala Strana, and I headed along it back to Cihelna street, where I'd been yesterday. My general rule to guiding myself around a city has so far been to turn off sharply to the side if I see a group of tourists ahead. Sometimes I end up down cul-de-sacs and have to pretend I meant to go down there, so start taking photos of front doors and pavements, before casually going back to the main road. But it's also just a good way of getting a feel for the city, and you usually stumble across something interesting. I did the same here, and veered off to the right down Misenska, where I found this brilliant coffee shop called Kaficko. It was half a level down from the street, so there were only windows on one end, but it felt very quaint, and was pretty quiet. Some small Italian and Czech groups came in while I was there, but it was relatively empty. They served about 15 different coffee beans, and grinded your choice in front of you. I took some Costa Rican and a slice of Honey Cake (really good), the lady brought it over to my table (table service seems to be a rule in most cafes and bars in Germany and Czech Republic, and you never really pay up front. It makes for a relaxed experience, especially in bars). The coffee was served with a chocolate and my Dad will be pleased to hear, a pot of HOT milk. I sat reading my book for a few hours, in no particular rush to leave. The book I'd bought by Haruki Murakami following 'Norwegian Wood' was 'Kafka on the Shore', and it felt quite appropriate when I arrived in Prague and discovered Kafka was a local. In the novel, the author mentions Haikus and Tankas. I had no idea what Tankas were, and having never used this function before, I flukishly scrolled over it with the curser on my Kindle, and the built-in dictionary told me that it was a five line poem, with the 1st, 3rd and 5th being five syllables long and the 2nd and 4th being seven. The whole thing should tell a complete story of sorts. So, like some sort of poncey artist, I sat and wrote a Haiku and a Tanka (I'm not poncey enough to put them on here). I reached a point in the novel where the characters actually start talking about Kafka, so I used that as a prompt to go to the Museum.

 

With my student card, it cost 120kc (4 pounds). The first part of the exhibition details his early life in Prague, and displays letters he sent to his father which express his dislike of him, and love of his mother (a bit of an Oedipus complex). It goes into a lot of detail about the route he took to school with his family cook, and there are numerous photos the block his family lived in from different angles...It sort of made sense later on why they explained his route in so much detail, as even as a kid, Kafka felt he lived his entire life in within too small an area in Prague. this part was quite interesting, because it explained the divisisons in Prague between the Jews, the German speakers and the Czech speakers. Kafka was a German speaking Jew, with a slight disconnection to his faith until he discovered Yiddish beliefs and art. So, his biography aside, the exhibition is actually called 'Kafka: An Existential Space', and throughout, there is an unusual, slightly unsettling Yiddish soundtrack, and a lot of video art. One showing words being cut into people's skin, before fading into tattoos. Another showing an artistic expression of his novel 'The Castle' in a room with angled mirrors. The layout of the museum was unusual as well, taking you through a sort of canvas swirl, and through rooms of files. It really was existential. The last room is the most gruesome, with I think an unnecessary model of the execution machine that Kafka describes in 'The Penal Colony'. I'm pretty sure the whole point is the detail in which he describes it, making a model unnecessary. I left the exhibition, thinking that the entire thing had been completely surreal. The only way I can describe it, is that I think my mind was actually boggling. I was boggled.

 

And then on exiting the museum, you walk straight into the courtyard and see a sculpture/fountain of two men peeing, with their hips and willies mechanically twisting from side to side into a pool shaped like the Czech Republic. Surreal.

 

I wandered in a daze down the street to an International and second hand book shop called Shakespeare and Sons. I wanted to buy some second hand Kafka or Gabriel Garcia Marquez (which I'd discovered when travelling in Nepal, and so thought it'd be cool to read some this time around). No luck, but I bought a copy of The Prague Post, hoping to see some of the Crepe Girl's articles.

Just further along from Charles Bridge there's a Grafitti area called Lennon's Wall. I hid behind a phonebox and eavesdropped a Segway Tour Guide, who explained that it had previously been maintained yearly by discontent students complaining about politics. It was whitewashed once a year for new art. There was a John Lennon painting which had apparently been done three days ago.

I was walking down Nebovidska, in the middle of all these buildings when I looked to the right and saw a huge Sady (park) again steeply rising up. I was all set to climb it when it started raining so I walked toward the River to head into the New Town (Nove Mesto). I was crossing the Legii Most (I think Most means bridge) when I saw a camera crew on a barge with a boom swinging up to an Island where there were some stone ruins, and two actors in period dress, and a huge dog. I stopped in the rain and zoomed in my camera trying to see if I was spying Brad Pitt in a new costume drama. I couldn't zoom close enough, so creepily went back over the bridge to get a closer shot. I couldn't really recognise them (the woman looked similar to Romola Garai and the guy like a skinny, younger version of Captain Hook from Robin William's film), and I'm pretty sure instead of 'Action' the Director yelled 'Ashtic!' so perhaps it was a Czech film.

 

So, I'd slightly overestimated how much clean underwear and socks I had remaining, and had had to two-time sock wear that day. There were washing facilities on site, but I was too late. So I just bought another week's supply. Bosh.

 

I walked through the Old Town (Stare Mesto) looking for a cafe which Kafka has used to drink at, though it appeared to be on the main Karlovy street which was horrifically touristy. I kept on walking. It was getting dark, and was pretty rainy, and I'd clocked up about 15km eating only a banana, apple and piece of honey cake so I stopped at the overpriced Pavillion in Letenske Sady on the way back for a pivo, and the only vegetarian meal on the menu, a cheese and boiled egg sandwich. I think it might have been the best meal I've ever had. I washed it down with some overpriced cold red wine and creme brulee, and then walked back to my Hostel to freshen up.

 

Then, because I was in Prague (which homes one of the biggest clubs in Europe - the five story Karlovy Lazne) and it was a Friday night, I went to bed at 8.30pm.

 

Some young Aussie girls arrived around 10pm, slightly drunk and in a completely chaotic swirl. Thinking they were going to be somewhat abrasive, I was sort of charmed by their slightly drunken, Tazmanian swearing and enthusiastic helpful advice to Nicola about the Bone Cathedral. Tazmanians are supposedly known as being a bit mental by the rest of Australia, and after hearing them using phrases like 'This Arvo' was reminded of Stingray from Neighbours (were they from Tazmania too?). The girls had got tattoos that afternoon; Eden had got this odd, creepy Humpty Dumpty tattoo that her friend had designed on the bag of her calf, and her friend had got a tattoo on her lower back. They'd gone out for drinks with the tattoo artist after. I liked them. Despite Eden admitting that she snored.

 

End of day 11.

Day 10: Prague

Highlights:

• Sir Toby's Hostel - the most informative welcome I've ever received
• Letenske Sady
• Czech Pivo (Beer) - 9-35kc (with 29kc = 1pound)

Well, bloody hell, Prague is lovely. Aside from the fact you can cross the road on a red man if its clear (oh, Germany), with a foresty hill just north of the river, in five minutes (and after a pretty steep climb) you have this overhelmingly beautiful view of the city and river, and are surrounded by nothing but quiet.

So I didn't sleep overly well on the train. Mainly because in the heat of the sandwich luggage bed, I'd taken off my socks and when I fell down to my lower bed, I could only find one. It got pretty cold at night and as I had to use my coat to protect my sockless foot, the rest of me was pretty icy. In the night I spoke briefly to my cabin sharers (and did a little German translation for them with the ticket inspector, earning myself a few brownie points with him). They were American, and had caught the train in Copenhagen and were getting off in Berlin at 4am. I must have fallen asleep at some point, as I don't remember them leaving, and so I had the cabin to myelf when I woke up. It felt like I was in some sort of movie, with these hills, rivers and villages rushing past the window, as I leant casually reading my book, and deliberately looking thoughtfully out of the window every now and then. We were actually in the last wagon of the train, and so just round the corner from our room, you could look out onto the track. It sort of felt like that bit at the end of the James Bond film, where the Voodoo Man you think is dead, is actually alive and on the back of James' train. I mean, it was like that in the way that we had the same view of the railway track and not because I'd come back from the dead...

Anyway, passing Dresden and several other German stops, we pulled into Praha Hlavni Nadrazi around 9.40am (Main Station). The Czech countryside up until that point had been really lushous, lots of forests and lakes, so I think I'll try to explore a bit more of the country beyond the capital before I leave. There was a Danish family in the cabin next to me, and their youngest child, Martin, even after learning I didn't speak Danish, babbled on to me for the last ten minutes of the train ride. I tried to teach him some English (your Sister is Amelia, your brother is Christian) but he just giggled a bit and fell over his suitcase. I jumped out of the train (this isn't some movie exaggeration, the trains are REALLY high) and then spent the next 15minutes wandering around the station looking for the Metro ticket office, looking like some sort of upright confused tortoise with my huge backpack. Currency here is the Koruna, and the ATM gave me 1000kc notes; I eventually found the ticket office and bought a ticket. You have to pay extra on the train if you've got luggage, but even then it came to 32kc (just over a pound) so pretty cheap. There's a small metro system in Prague (three lines) and then a huge tram network which seems to run pretty frequently, so I used both to get to Delnicka, which is a bit out of the main town (we're talking a 10minute tram, so not far) in the North East. I'd booked a dorm at Sir Toby's Hostel, and on checking in, the guy on reception (Richard) gave me two maps, and completely annihilated one with felt tips, indicating good walks, useful tram lines, nice restaurants and cool areas to visit. It was really helpful, and seemed to show some routes away from the main tourist areas, and as I was too early for my room I set out to walk into town sans luggage using the route he'd suggested.

After following the highway for 5 minutes, I reached Letenske Sady, this park which rises up to give supposedly amazing views of the city. It's just North of the River, so you're very close to the city, and the paths are really steep to help you gain height quickly. I got slightly disorientated as I headed along the top, so decided to head out of the park northwards to find the area Richard had said had nice cafes. Passing the National Technical Museum (technology which seems to focus heavily on tractors), I found a restaurant which seemed to have a few people in on Ovenecka. I circled the block once and tried to cram some Czech vocab that the hostel had given me, and then plucked up the courage to go in, by which point it had emptied and I was the only one there. All my Czech vanished, so my "Dobry den" greeting turned into "Hi", which prompted the bartender to give me an English (Anglicky!) menu. Vegetarian options were limited, mushrooms, eggplant or deepfried cheese with potatoes. I went with the latter and had a small Lobkowicz pivo. The food was literally two triangles of deep fried cheese, and some tinned baby potatoes, and it was delicious. The entire thing cost 123kc (about 4pounds) and I couldn't get over how cheap it was. I think mainly because this was out of the centre, as this girl I met later told me that she found Prague expensive, but then had only been in the main town and shopping district and starbucks...

I went back to Letenske Sady, and walked a little higher until I found a viewing spot, and was sort of stopped in my tracks by how lovely it was:

It was a really bright day, and I just sat in silence on the ledge for half an hour, absorbing it all. Every time I've arrived in a new city on this trip, this sort of insanely happy grin and laughter have just welled up, and I naffly bounce down the road as I think how amazing it is that I've made it to a new place on my own. So I just sat, completely at peace, thinking that quitting my job and coming on this trip was the best decision I've ever made. Not to gush on, but I couldn't get over how incredible that view was and I decided then and there to extend my stay in Prague, even if just to spend a whole day up there. Life seriously is too short to get caught up in your routines and jobs, if it means you miss out on sitting in silence on a hilltop for as long as you like, just breathing it all in.

From there, I headed towards Prague Castle (Prazsky Hrad) which lay at the top of the old town just to the West. You could walk around the gardens for free, and by gardens, we're talking an expansive forest, orangery, owl sanctuary and traditional gardens. The castle is huge. I'm not sure on style, but to me it looked like Notre Dome, only perhaps slightly more impressive? I walked down through the old town to the Franz Kafka museum. I had a look in the shop, bought a few postcards and will go back inside tomorrow. I wandered across one of the bridges and headed through the Jewish Quarter to head back to the hostel. I'd slept in my clothes last night (minus one sock), and was feeling partcularly grubby and self conscious.

I stopped off at a supermarket to buy some long overdue fruit, and some water (a 2l bottle cost 9kc. Ridiculously cheap, though when I finally managed to break into it this morning, it had a funky, FUNKY taste, sort of like flat fizzy water). There was a kitchen in the hostel for everyone to use, but I knew Sir Toby's were hosting a free Crepe evening, so I was sorted for food. I'd decided on going for a female 6-birth dorm at the hostel, and when I arrived in the room, slightly out of breath after optimistically taking the 8 flights with my huge backpack, there was a Kiwi girl there called Nicola, and only one other bed occupied (supposedly by a rude French girl, though I haven't met her). Nicola had been travelling for 2 and a half months, and had a week and a half more. She'd been everywhere, exploring these towns and cities I'd never heard of in Italy, Switzerland, Albania and Montenegro. She said Greece was awful, with men trying to snatch your belongings as you left your hotel. Given that yesterday unemployment was announced in Greece at 25%, with 54% youth unemployment, you can see how more people would turn to theft than usual. Despite all this travelling though, Nicola seemed remarkably well-groomed and fashion conscious. She was carrying three heavy copies of Vogue and the highlight of her trip had been seeing Anna Wintour (who?!) at Versailles Palace. Her favourite author was Miriam Keyes. I'm just saying.

I had the best shower known to man. It was beyond powerful, like a shower version of the Xlerator hand dryer. There were no locks on the bathroom doors, but as it was an all girl dorm I didn't worry too much. I headed down to the bar for their free crepe night. The bartender was late (after a bit of eavesdropping, I'm inclined to believe it was because of the drunken absinthe night she'd been out on last night with some of the other hostel guests) so Mira from reception came down and gave me a Kozel pivo, for only 35kc. All Czech beer seems to be pretty tasty. The crepes were being made by an English girl from Surrey who had just moved to Prague to write for the English paper, 'The Prague Post'. I'm not sure if she needed the money, or viewed the weekly crepe making as a way to meet people, but it worked, as it got everyone talking. I met a few cool people, and spent most of the evening speaking to a 18/19 year old Canadian couple called Brendan and Mel, who were travelling round Europe for 3/4 months (Brendan sounded EXACTLY like Woody Harrelson (and looked a bit like him too), and when I mentioned this, Mel laughed and said his teacher had said the same thing), an American girl called Sarah who had been travelling for 3 months, and had a few more to go, and a German called Florian who was just in Prague for a short break. We had a good discussion about European History; the American and Canadians are overwhelmed by all the churches, and the architecture in Europe, and it was lovely to see them gushing (intelligently) about everything they'd seen and learnt whilst being away. Florian and I agreed that being European, it didn't impact us the same way anymore, as we were so used to it.

Something I've learnt recently is that in both France and Germany (and maybe in other European countries), their cinemas generally only show dubbed Hollywood films. So there's one voice-actor in Germany who voices all Brad Pitt movies, and if you get a good actor when you start out as a French/German voice actor, you've got a lifelong job. The bar-crawl guide that night had clearly not been English*, but had a perfect accent, and Florian explained that the reason Germans and possibly the French don't have such good accents is that a lot of their potential exposure to English through films and TV is ruined by the dubbing.

It was a good pivo-filled evening, and the bar/kitchen area we hung out in was in the basement with cool exposed brickwork and arches, and vintage, ripped chairs and a slightly dodgy four stringed guitar. I made it to bed somewhat shattered at about 12.30pm.

End of day 10.

*We weren't even close guessing the correct Azerbaijan, even with his clues that it was sort of in Europe, but not really (I shouted Turkey!). It was only after he mentioned their Eurovision win (which we later comically explained to the North Americans) that I placed them as being slightly European. I explained where it was on the map with a little Kazakhstan/Borat chat

Day 9: Hamburg to Prague

Highlights:

• Oma's Apotheke - lovely cafe opposite Frank und Frei (didn"t serve Fritz Cola though)
• Planten un Blomen - stunning
• Meeting other hostel users: Mai Chi Hai (Hai, the Vietnamese conference-attending Travel Consultant), Alex (the Philippine party photographer) and Fatih (the Turkish Intern)
• The City Night Line from Hamburg to Prague

So as my sleep plan hadn't worked, I was already half awake when the runner's alarm went off. And wide awake when it went off again, after he hadn't heard the first. Then for the next 30minute, another alarm went off every 5 minutes. There was a sort of collective sigh around the room as everyone was slowly woken up, but couldn't do anything about it. I sealed the deal by crashing the lid of my metal luggage container and yelling "Sorry!" to everyone.

I headed to the Deichtorhallen near Steinstrasse to see a photography exhibition, but after an unnecessary amount of faffing on my part, found it wasn't open, and I'd just followed a lady into a building site. I walked along the Elbe from here, past Hafencity, which is an area they're building up for residents, as Hamburg grows in size. It's the wealthiest city in Germany (you can definitely sense this in comparison to Berlin) and as such the population is increasing as people are drawn here for work. Past Hafencity, you hit the warehouse district of Hamburg along the river. These are warehouses in the Shad Thames sense, rather than the Big Yellow Storage sense, and so are pretty picturesque...There are a few museums along here, including the Hamburg Dungeon (run by the same company as the London dungeon) and a Miniatur Museum. Jonny recommended I go here, but I'm pretty sure I've grown out of looking at miniature cities and pretending I'm a giant. I kept walking West along to Landesbrucke, which is the main port of Hamburg. I hadn't really heard this area mentioned (aside from that the restaurants were overpriced) but it was rammed with tourists. As the main port, there were lots of leisure and trading boats everywhere, but I couldn't see any other draw to the place. I then headed to Reeperbahn, which I figured was a safe bet during the day. Quite a few sex shops and erotic cinemas, thrown in with normal restaurants and bars. There were a group of 8 year old kids playing football along the road, and I just find it a bit odd to have sex toys and stuff on display in windows for the kids to see.

I was going to return to Frank and Frei's as this was on my way to the park, but figured it'd be a waste of a trip to go to the same restaurant twice. So I crossed the road and went to the one immediately opposite, called Oma's Apotheke. There were a few tables reserved (I presume regulars pop in for lunch and have their favourite tables), but I grabbed a seat by the window and bopped along to the cheesy pop they were playing (I literally can't get away from Carly Rae if I tried). From here, I walked back through the Messehall to Planten un Blomen. The park was divided into sections, and heading in from the West you reach the Japanese section first, which is by far the best. Unusual squared sections, going downhill, with huge round stepping stones staggered along the way and beautiful greenery everywhere. I'd thought October was a bad time to go travelling, but it means that all the leaves are changing colour so there's just some lovely rust, orange and red colours everywhere. Great for this setting, and as the sun came out I sat on one of the white wooden chairs dotted along the way, and (perhaps nationally appropriate) finished reading Haruki Murakami's 'Norwegian Wood'. I'm a bit wary about trying out new authors, but this was a brilliant find. Read it.

Went back to the hostel to have my standard middle of day when nobody's around shower, and bumped into both Desire and the guy from bed 8. Hai was a Vietnamese Travel Consultant, who'd flown into Frankfurt and taken a train to Hamburg for a Conference. He was heading out that night as well, and was looking for a gift to buy his daughter Minh. He was a very sweet man, and gave me a tourist map of Vietnam and his business card. I packed up, and went down to the bar and had a local beer (Astra) and chilled out, preparing for my overnight train ride. After some comfortable silence, I got chatting with two guys sitting opposite who had been staying in the hostel that week. Alex, my dormmate, was a Philippine guy, who was a club photographer, mainly in Hamburg but also out of town. He'd been out partying the night before and so received a comically large number of high fives from people who walked past. We under-estimated his age by about 7 years, but turns out he was 34 and had an 8 year old son who was going with him to Copenhagen that weekend whilst he worked. Alex was definitely energetic. We were also hanging out with Fatih, a Turkish guy who was over from Istanbul interning for Airbus for 4 months. He was studying Electronic Engineering, and had found out about the Airbus position whilst talking to a girl in a bar (the best opportunities come over beer) and then he'd spent the next seven months pursuing it. Fatih explained how he was going to weave his way out of Turkish Military service with a nice donation to the government...

I'd been prepared to twiddle my thumbs until my 00.31 train to Prague, but this (and a long wait at the bar) had killed the time, so I said my goodbyes (and got a handshake from Hai) and headed to the station. I was there with plenty of time, but as the train pulled in I couldn't find my carriage and logically started to count down form 197, to 196, to 195 and had the two angry German platform attendants yelling at me "Einsteigen! Einsteigen!" as I waddled/ran along with my heavy bag. I got the gist, but I just googled this and it means "get in! get in!". I'm going to have nightmares about those shouts. EINSTEIGEN. Turns out, my cabin 162, was actually in the other direction past 197. Surely not my fault I couldn't find it? A nice officer on the train directed me to my 4-berth cabin. The train had come from Copenhagen, so there were already people asleep in the cabin, and I had to fumble around in the dark looking for bed 26. Turns out, someone from Copenhagen had decided to take my nice spacious bed, so after remembering my friend Sarah telling me about how tightly you could be shoved in, I presumed the next bed down was mine. I somehow squeezed in, and the roof above was literally 5cm from my head. It was hot, and I was verging on anger, but I calmed myself down thinking that maybe the person above was fat, and so embarrassingly couldn't fit in their allocated bed. And as I wondered how I'd get to sleep when I was so uncomfortable and tightly packed in, I tried to remember if there had been a warning on the website about obesity and space availability in overnight cabins. And how it must be really embarrassing if you'd booked a ticket for something, but then were too big to fit. I started feeling sorry for the dad (I presumed it was a dad, mum, and child) and so just sort of accepted my uncomfortable bed, that I could at least fit in. As I wondered this, the light came on and the ticket officer came in asking to check my ticket. He looked at me and said "Why are you sleeping there and not down here?". He pointed to the two areas I'd assumed were seats, and not for sleeping, and in an attempt to shift my body sideways and escape from my mini prison, I sort of fell out of my bed and landed on one foot in front of him. In the light I could see the opposite 'bed' that I'd thought contained a packed-in child, was actually being used for luggage...I fumbled around with my ticket, as the inspector told the other two people off for not sleeping their allocated seats, and then I dragged my belongings down next to me and settled on the below bed (with an extra metre above my head). And then the train, slowly rocked me off to sleep.

End of day 9.