The [party] bus is coming: Eastern Europe Festive Party Trek - Part 5

Tuesday, 30 December 2015

AUSCHWITZ

We left Zakopane in a bit of a hush. Before beginning the festivities in Krakow, we stopped by Auschwitz. I wasn’t sure how I was going to handle this. With the little bits I know about my heritage, my mind was doing cartwheels. I’ll try to enunciate my feelings but I am sure it is going to be a poor substitute (and some I think I will keep to myself because I don’t think I can put it down, flat, in words).

The landscape was as sombre as the mood. Monochrome as far as the eye could see; black trees dipped in white and frosted houses. Occasionally, a yellow or pink painted home brought relief from the stark landscape. 

By lunchtime, we reached Auschwitz. Our guide was a stern Austrian lady. She laid the facts bare, no mincing of words, no shying away. 

ARBEIT MACHT FREI

Work sets you free. 

These are the words that greeted us as we stepped through the gates into Auschwitz I.

Let me paint the picture. It was -7C. The sun was shining bright but the air was bitterly cold. The ground had a thin covering of snow. We stood, huddled, faces tucked down towards our chests inside our scarves and collars. Fingers curled up inside our gloves, stuffed into our pockets. Gently moving from foot to foot to try to warm our bodies up, our feet becoming leaden from the cold.

It was sobering, being as cold as we were. Knowing that 1.2million people stood where we stood, colder. Freezing. Unbearable.

Over 110 thousand shoes, a tiny portion of what was found, 3800 suitcases, most of which bore the names and date of birth of the owner - including children - in case their possessions got “lost”, 7,000kg of human hair

The museum, constructed from preserved prison blocks housed enlarged pictures and the personal effects; the shoes, hair and suitcases, the spectacles and the prosthetics, the kitchen utensils and the shaving brushes. We saw bedroom quarters for those who were strong enough to work, the torture rooms, finally ending with a pass through the last remaining gas chamber, before walking slowly back past the main entrance and that sign.

ARBEIT MACHT FREI

Work sets you free. 

From Auschwitz I, we returned to our bus and a short drive later, we were at Auschwitz II, or Birkenhau. The ground was covered in snow, the sun setting behind the rows and rows of chimneys - almost all that was left standing other than the train tracks. Here we stood on the platform where so many people were to learn their fate.

Men to the left. Women to the right.

I don’t feel like I can do the experience justice, putting words down on the proverbial paper. You have to see it to understand it. I also don’t want to go into detail as I feel I am far too ignorant, still, to try to be an authority on what happened.

Sadly, one of the main things that stood out for me was the disrespect displayed by others. I saw people, none from our group, with selfie sticks or posed in front of what was once electrocuted barbed wire. The prisoners would douse themselves with water and throw themselves against that barbed wire to end it all. 

We left Auschwitz quietly and it was not long before we were in Krakow.

***

I wanted to keep this post by itself because then Krakow becomes full of revelry as we ramped up for New Years Eve.

xx

Auschwitz II - Birkenhau

Sun setting over the rows of chimneys

The train tracks and the platform

The party bus is coming: Eastern Europe Festive Party Trek - Part 4

Sunday, 28 December 2015

BUDAPEST - DONAVALY - ZAKOPANE

Begrudgingly, I hopped back on the bus to depart from darling Budapest. I wouldn’t have had such a heavy heart, however, if I had known what was to come. Before long, I realised we were again crossing three countries which I proclaimed loudly to all and anybody who would listen.

Time for a slash and dash and now we were in real snow country. We piled out of the bus (eyes straight ahead, directly to the bathroom, we’ll look at the snow later) and, regrouping outside the bus, marvelled at the whiteness around us. Some on our troupe had never seen snow before and while it had gently fallen elsewhere, here we had a thick fuzzy white blanket thrown over the countryside, the trees, the buildings.

The landscape getting whiter and whiter.

We were headed towards Donavaly, back in Slovakia. We climbed up and up with the landscape becoming more and more monochrome. The occasional brightly painted yellow house stood out from the black and white backdrop of dark trees dressed in white. Here, I made a beeline for the husky sled rides, which, while short, was enjoyable. The puppies were bouncing with energy and affection, and I took some time to have a pat and gaze into their amazing blue eyes.

Little puppies pulling my phat ass

Here, I think the trip caught up with me somewhat. I stood in front of the ATM, fingers poised to enter my PIN, when my brain churned to a standstill. PIN, gone. Vanished. Unrecoverable. I had quite a bit of cash still on me, thankfully, but this would prove to be somewhat inconvenient for the rest of the trip.

Our time in Donavaly drew to a close, and we piled from the freezing air back onto the warm bus. Up and up, ears popping as we ascended the hill, we were now driving our way towards the snow village of Zakopane, Poland.

Gorgeousness is what awaited us when we alighted the bus. Thick, pillowy blankets of snow, fluff falling steadily from the sky like glitter, glinting in the light of the street lamps as it settled in our hair and on our scarves and our noses, a rogue snowflake sometimes headed [directly] into an eyeball.

Our lodgings in Zakopane were a little different to the others. Our entire troupe was given a chalet of our own with many steps between the ground and my shared room. It was divided into bedrooms, unlike a hostel, and this was a nice little bit of semi-privacy. What this accommodation did lack, though, was reliable hot water. And by now we had landed in the coldest part of our journey. Brrrr.

After a lie down, it was time for dinner. We piled out into the snow and, after Chris the bus driver precariously got us out of the driveway, we drove our way across the town to Karczma Przy Mlynie.  And what a dinner it was. Pickles, lard and bread adorned the tables when we arrived and we hoed in, starving. We all went a little too hard on the bread, and also spread the lard a little too thick. Next, came some potato dumplings - here we were told that soup would be arriving next, and that the mains would follow. Excuse me, pardon? Mains..what? Haven’t we just… It dawned on us how much food we were about to be subjected to, and we pulled back, saving ourselves for the plethora of food to follow. Gently going forth on the dumplings and the soup (curse us, for going so hard on the lard!), we were then presented with meat.

Meat, meat and more meat. Did I mention meat? Two massive trays were placed on our table of 8 - enough meat to feed 15 people. We lamented our greedy ways and gingerly picked at the artery closing platter in front of us. Embarrassingly, we barely touched the sides and there was a large amount left over, but it was utterly delicious. Many different kinds of sausages and chicken and beef and every other kind in between, Polish dumplings and the rest. We ate until we could eat no more…and then dessert.

I feel I talk about food a lot. Food is one of my favourite things in this world - I feel there are only a couple of great, uninhibited, unabashed pleasures - with food being one of them.

We rolled down the stairs at the conclusion of our meal (I, for one, was grateful for the baggy woollen jumper I had opted to wear) and while we waited for Chris to arrive with the bus, listened to a rousing Polish troupe on 2 violins, piano accordion and double bass lift the roof in the front foyer. I particularly enjoyed how the lead violinist held his violin down on his chest to allow himself the ability to sing, and sing loudly, at the same time. Dressed in their traditional filigreed (and tight) white outfits, this was an enjoyable conclusion to the dinner!

Back out in the snow glitter, and never one to say no to trying a local drinking establishment, a few of us joined our guide at a little bar not far from our chalet. What to get? That was the question. We were in Poland. Vodka seems to be the right choice. Ahead of us, Simon jumped straight in a bought a honey infused vodka. Why not? I thought, and bought a round for myself and 3 of the other girls.

“32 zloty,” the rambunctious girl behind the bar said.

“32? What?” I was flabbergasted. Amy next to be did the maths (because I dropped maths at the first available opportunity).

4 vodka shots at 32 zloty, that’s 8 zloty each.

4 zloty = roughly €1 (1 euro).

That’s about €2 per shot. Now let’s put that back into pounds.

That’s £1.50 per shot. 

Polish vodka. It really is cheaper than water.

In hindsight, I should have bought more than 4! We stood with our vodka shot in hand, ready for the first sip. This was to be savoured, not thrown down the hatch. First sip was to the chorus of “Urgh”, and “Argh!” and accompanied by a shudder, followed by “Actually that tasted alright.” 

Second sip, much smoother. Tasty, in fact. The warmth could be felt seeping in through my belly and spreading through me. Beanie, off. Jacket, off. Woollen jumper, off. I was down to my singlet (and jeggings…I’m sorry for my crime against fashion) in snow country, sipping delicious, warming vodka.

Next up: herbata góralska (highlander tea). I thought it sounded a fraction Scottish but after some research, realised it is referring to the highlands of Poland (namely Zakopane). This is the perfect nightcap beverage, and certainly sent me into a cozy, warm, sleep, somewhat drunk state. But what is it? It’s tea (complete with tea bag, sugar and slice of lemon) - with a generous shot of Polish vodka. Piping hot, I stirred in my two sugars, squeezed my lemon until it could be squeezed no more, and settled back to let it cool down a little (after my first sip conveniently burnt my tongue).

It was a strange concoction - not something I would drink regularly but definitely a perfect night ender. The vodka infused its way through the taste of the tea, getting stronger you drained the mug. The heat from the boiling water sent my body temperature skyrocketing to maximum and I was quite looking forward to getting myself back out into the snow and the -10C.

Zakopane, you too are a pretty little thing. A reasonably early night ensued as tomorrow I was going to try my hand (or legs?) at skiing.

***

Monday, 29 December 2015

ZAKOPANE

I stood beside the shower, shivering, with my hand under the icy cold stream. I turned the tap one way, then the other. Freezing one side, frosty the other. Groaning, a quick APC later and I was down in the breakfast room, unable to open my eyes properly and stumbling around like I was horribly hungover. World, meet Morning Sasha. 

Today we were going skiing. I was both excited and terrified - for what I think is rather good reason. On the off chance you don’t know (which would be rare as I go on about it at length), I’ve had knee reconstructions on both my knees; the first was due to a skiing accident when I was 15. We were taught to snow plow, and then taken to the top of the mountain. I, like everyone, fell, but did so in such a way that I tore the crutiate ligament in my right knee in one go. Bam. Like that. My other knee I tore when I was 20, and it never quite healed correctly. Never-the-less, I was adamant I would ski and that I would be fine.

I donned my waterproof pants and stressed about how many layers I was going to need to wear. I took a couple of costume changes just in case and by the time we were on the bus, we realised how few of us were actually going to participate in any snow sports. 

Perfect little snowflakes

The snow fields were teeming with people, little ants up and down the mountain. ski and boot hire complete, I strutted outside (as there is no other way to walk when wearing ski boots) and we joined the enormous queue for the chairlift. All of us were panicking. Would we lose a ski? Drop a pole? Faceplant when getting off the other side? FALL OFF?

It was freezing up in the air. Literally freezing. I tucked my little face into my jacket and scarf and goggles and beanie and tried to take in the scenery (at the same time as breathing upwards to keep my nose warm). I curled my fingers up inside my gloves so the limited body warmth of my palm spread to my finger tips. What felt like an age later, we approached the end of the chairlift ride and I prepared for my dismount. I squealed as my skis touched the sloped ground and, scooped off the chair I careened gently to the start of the hill.

So far so good.

As soon as I started off down the hill I realised that I may not have what it takes to ski anymore. I told everyone to go ahead of me as I would have to make frequent stops. There were a few reasons for this:

• the pain in my knees was quite noticeable (and would get worse as the day went on)
• as a result of the surgeries, my knees (despite a lot of physiotherapy) turn inwards, which meant that I was constantly crossing my skis. I hadn’t thought of this until one of the girls mentioned it was why she didn’t ski and instead opted for snowboarding
• my sheer fear of falling over and damaging myself again

At the time it wasn’t so hilarious, but afterwards I likened myself to Zoolander.

Except for me, I couldn’t turn to the right. My left leg, the most recent victim to surgery, was painfully weak and prevented me from putting the weight on it required to turn to the right. As a result, I had to wend my way down the mountain from the right hand barrier to the left, and then make my way horizontally across the slope to the right hand side again, before beginning the process all over again.

My first trip down was a bit of a process. I was thinking, “What have I gotten myself in for?”. I decided I’d try again, at least once, just to make sure (although I was a little scared of how much it would hurt). I again joined the long queue, got on the chairlift, froze, but this time I looked around and marvelled at the sheer beauty around me. White, as far as the eye could see. People little dotted ants rushing down the slope. 

I again disembarked the chairlift without hassle. This time, not feeling rushed, I took it easy down the mountain and found that I could move with much more easy now I had relaxed a little. I still had to stop often when my legs began to wobble - I wasn’t game to let myself fall - and thus I felt considerably more confident in my second descent. 

I waited at the bottom to see if I would spot anyone I knew. Before long, a cloud of snow to my left and I thought, I recognise that beanie. It was Liz, and she was there with Caitlin and George. All three were snowboarding, and zooming up and down all the slopes. I joined them with what was to be my last trek up the mountain.

And then the clouds parted and the sun made a cheeky appearance

We had a snack at the cafe at the top (a very welcome hot chocolate!) and found a few more from the tour - warming themselves with a few mulled wines. In hindsight, I might have relaxed a little had I had a mulled wine, but then again, the risk of injury would have been that much greater…who knows? It was rather cold, to say the least, and a little warmed by the hot chocolate I bid the table adieu and made my way down the mountain for the last time. This time I allowed myself time to stop and take some photos, and just enjoy the view.

Reflections

At the bottom, I discarded my skis and boots (obviously through the correct channels) and attempted to remember how to walk like a normal human being. I spent some time looking through all the little stalls and nomming on delicious treats. I marvelled at the perfect snowflakes that were falling here and pulled my scarf in tighter around my neck. I returned to the hire station and, meeting the rest of troupe, we eventually made our way back to the hostel. 

During the year, Zakopane has a population of roughly 30,000. But during the course of the year, the tiny town is visited by a staggering 2 million tourists. Partly due to the ridiculously inexpensive skiing coupled with the great slopes and snowfall. Therefore our way home to the hostel was very slow going. 

NB: Back at the hostel, I had the most ah-mazing hot shower. It’s almost a stand out in hot showers I’ve had in my existence. It was both hot and showery.

Tonight, we could find out own way to dinner. A group of us wanted to try the famous Meat Palace and after a short wait, was shown to our table. Cue a very similar night to the previous: a ridiculously enormous tray of meat (that was meant to only feed two but three of us could not even get close to finishing it). One thing I decided about Poland: it’s very shouty. In all of the restaurants, the waiters and waitresses yelled and stamped their feet and clanged at hanging bells. I wish I knew what they were doing but it made for a lively atmosphere.

Poland: a vegetarian's nightmare

We had originally considered going for a drink but we all ended up being too exhausted. On the way back to the hostel, the snow was beautifully deep and I realised I hadn’t made a snow angel yet. Throwing myself into the centre of the deep snow, I swished my arms and my legs and lay there, shivering, waiting for the photo. Only a gentle -10C and the middle of the night. Never was one for making good decisions. To be honest, The Marshmallow (my purple jacket) served me incredibly well throughout the trip: my upper half was rarely cold. So lying in the middle of the snow, my body and arms were quite happy but my two pairs of pants didn’t really cut it. By that point my legs were numb anyway.

That brought the gorgeous little town of Zakopane to a close. The glittery snowflakes, the blankets and pillow of white, the meat, the shouting, the vodka, the snowball fights and the wrestling in the snow. I may or may not have also eaten some snow (in hindsight I think it tasted minty because it came from a pine tree…). So long Zakopane, you’re another one I wouldn’t mind popping in to say hello to again one day.

xx

The snowiest of angels
(the zooming lines are snowflakes falling) 

The party bus is coming: Eastern Europe Festive Party Trek - Part 3

Friday, 26 December 2014
VIENNA - BRATISLAVA - BUDAPEST

Mind blown. We travelled across three different countries today. Three different countries. Austria to Slovakia for a casual lunch break and then on to Hungary. Simple. Let’s just have freaking lunch in Slovakia. No biggie.

We had been snow cursed up until this point. Everywhere we had been it was forecast to snow the day we were leaving. My excitement knew no bounds when I realised it was snowing outside our bus as we were driving our way into Bratislava. SNOW.

NB: Over the next few posts, I’m going to get very shouty about SNOW because I love SNOW.

Let me take a moment to explain to you why I love snow so much. Australia is a magnificent country and truly has the full plethora of climates; desert, tropical, hot, cold and snow. This last point came as a surprise to many of my new British acquaintances, usually accompanied by an exclamation of What? No it doesn’t. Oddly enough, I think I’d know.

So yes, it does snow in Australia, but it is not a country known for its fluffy white stuff. We have a little band on the right hand side that dumps a bit, and occasionally ice happens elsewhere. But we’re largely a hot place with desert, yes? Before this tour, I had seen snow twice in my life; once at Mt Hotham at Falls Creek in Australia and the other in Seattle, both on the ranch and at Mt Rainier. These were when I was 15 and 17 respectively. That’s over a decade ago - I suddenly feel very old.

Seeing snow falling and falling heavily outside the bus was magical. How can this fluffy white stuff fall from the sky? How is it made? Where does it come from? Why is icing sugar falling from the heavens and creating pillowy blankets covering the grass and the trees and the rooftops?

I sat with my nose pressed to the icy cold window for most of the journey and we made our way across the border into Bratislava, Slovakia. This was just a quick pit stop for some food and to stretch our legs. By now the sun was pouring down from the heavens and any semblance of snow had long vanished. Piling back on the bus (after I purchased a magnet, of course) we began the trek towards Budapest.

Carlos, our guide, had spoken at length about Budapest. Other friends too had heralded their love for this city. I now understand and long to be back exploring her streets and nightlife and cafes and culture. It was dusk as we crossed the Danube upon the Chain Bridge, which connected the city of Buda with the city of Pest (pronounced Pesht). The sun was aglow with pinks and oranges as a beautiful sunset took hold of the city before the city and Christmas lights took over. Completely breathtaking.

Sensational sunset that greeted us as we came into Budapest. This
is in Heroes Square

Tonight was to be our night to don our hats and party up and down the Danube. Why our hats? You see, there were actually two tour groups, one from Czech Republic to Krakow, and the other, travelling from Krakow to the Czech Republic. In Budapest was where we met, and their group was much larger than ours. To stand out from the crowd, we each fashioned some kind of headwear and settled down for a evening to party.

Hats and boats, winning combination

And party we did. Later, we were to be told that anything that went wrong, anything disgusting, anything raucous, any trouble that was caused was done so by someone wearing a hat. The evening began civil enough; a delicious 3 course dinner with wine. But then we discovered there was more wine. And bubbly wine. And unlimited wine. And an open bar. We started by going to the bar for a glass; by the end we were ordering by the bottle. We danced and spilled wine to the chorus of penalty champers! (whereupon one would have to skull the entire glass in a go), we raced out onto the deck to freeze our little tush's off in the presumably minus temperatures. But when you're wearing your wine warmer, your champagne coat or your beer blanket you are impervious to the cold.

Dinner smiles, before too much wine happened.

All too soon it was time to stumble off the boat. Some of us were more worse for wear than others (not naming any names, never fear) - I was actually remarkably standing and reasonably responsible. A few of us helped those who were slightly less capable and we got back to the hostel in one piece (with the taxi driver looking more towards the back of his taxi for fear of it being soiled than at the road). Most of us still had our party on and so we trekked back out again into the Budapest night life.

I've been dreading writing this part of the blog. Palinka happened (remember the Death Juice from the first day?) and then it was Saturday.


***
Saturday, 27 December 2014
BUDAPEST

Saturday midday, to be exact. A cracker of a hangover and a missed breakfast later, a shamefaced Sasha ventured out for a 2.30pm walking tour of this gorgeous city. You know the kind of hangover I'm talking about. You pull on a sock. You take a little break. You slowly drag your shirt over your head. Need to rest for a minute. You walk around the room a couple of times to convince yourself you're fine before running to worship the Porcelain God. I knew I'd hate myself if I slept the day away so I mustered what energy I could and made my way out into the chill afternoon air, instantly feeling better for the cold.

It was one of those free walking tours and we were split into 3 smaller groups. Our guide was lovely, entertaining and interesting and so I really enjoyed wandering the city. "I'm here for the facts, mate." Sometimes I wandered off (as I have wont to do) to take photos, making sure I kept someone from the group in my line of sight. At one point, it became icy cold. I visibly shook with cold, lamenting that my hungover self didn't take the extra energy to throw on an additional layer of clothing. Two pairs of socks simply weren't enough. Soon, however, the sun descended completely and Budapest..simply..lit..up.

Crossing the Danube, just casually. Buda on the left,
Pest on the right

At dusk we crossed from the Pest side over the Chain bridge to the city of Buda and made our way up the stairs to the citadel at the top. The view, in a word, was breathtaking. Buildings, ablaze with a yellow glow lined the Danube, reflected perfectly in the midnight blue water. The Chain Bridge twinkled and I stopped to take in the sight before me.

Utterly stunning.

I was keeping an eye on the time. Tonight, we were to meet in the foyer of the hostel at 6.30pm to go to the thermal baths. With my hangover coupled with exhaustion, I could not wait to relax in the baths. Leaving the walking tour and the citadel in the Buda side of the city, I made my way back towards the hostel in Pest, whereupon I walked in almost entirely the wrong direction. Of course. I lost about half an hour of time and had to rush back to pack my bathers.

Yes, my bathers. It was minus something by this point, and I was packing my bathers.

The thermal baths. What to say. Freezing cold, chill air, shivering barely clad bodies running as fast as their little frozen legs and icy feet could take them to jump into hot and steaming naturally heated water. Utterly. Sublime. Perfect. At one point, a few of us decided to change pools to see what another was like. This was accompanied by many expletives, hands pressed tight under armpits and exclaimations of "Why did we get out of the water??"

Thermal baths, steam and snow

And then...it started snowing on us. Sitting in a piping hot outdoor pool being snowed on was one of the most incredible experiences I can think of. I squeed. SNOW. This also meant it was cold enough to form snow, so hopefully you can now imagine how cold it was running around in our bathers  and bare feet when we were out of the water.

Completely magical. Entirely relaxing. Exactly what we all needed at that particular point of the tour - a moment to stop. Relax. Take a breath. Sit back. Float. Reminisce. A lovely change of pace after the go-go-non-stop franticness of the previous few days.

Eventually it was time to say goodbye to the baths. A few of us were keen to head out to check out a recommended pub, but not before one last chance to have some delicious goulash. A quick recommendation from the hostel staff, and Harry, Simon and myself set off - in the SNOW - to find the best local goulash. I didn't even mind that we got a little lost as I was completely overwhelmed by the beautiful fluff falling from the sky.

After said deliciousness, we made out way to Szimpla Kert, an incredible ruinpub not far from our hostel. A ruinpub is a space that has been up-cycled, in this case from an abandoned warehouse with all interiors and decorations being recycled too: you can sit in a bathtub for your drinks, or watch a black and white movie from the backseat of a car.

Still battling my hangover and desperately unkeen to drink, I joined in with a group for a bit of shisha. We settled ourselves on the floor at the back of the pub (yep, you could just sit anywhere) and, cross legged, we passed the hooka backwards and forwards between us. Relaxed, we were still on a gentle buzz from such an incredible evening at the baths.

***

With a heavy heart and a promise to return, this was the end of our Budapest adventure. Budapest gently nudged Bruges aside to take top place to be my favourite place in Europe that I have visited so far. I must go back - I will go back.

xx

I will see you again, Budapest. Don't forget me.

The party bus is coming: Eastern Europe Festive Party Trek - Part 2

Wednesday, 24 December 2014

VIENNA - Christmas Eve

Christmas Eve and we had the journey to Vienna ahead of us. Getting on the bus we were greeted by a happy surprise - it had been decorated Christmas-style by Carlos and driver-of-the-year, Chris. Tinsel down the aisles and windows, snowflakes and Christmas lights adorned the ceiling. It had transformed into a Christmassy party bus.

Over the non-discernible border (I mean, really, where are the borders around Europe? They’re drawn on the map, but they could really be anywhere) we paused for another much needed pitstop and grabbed some delicious Austrian pastries.

We passed through Vienna and out the other side to our hostel. It was a little way out of the town and was the least favourite hostel on our trip. We were greeted by the hostel owner - quite a character - with her wobbly chins and her brusque Austrian attitude.

“Get fucking drunk, it’s Christmas!” she boomed and, slightly taken aback, we edged our way towards our dorm rooms.

We had 6 to a room this time, and only one powerpoint (later, as we were packing to leave, we’d find another 3). We unpacked and got ready to explore the area a little bit - get some food and some euro’s out to pay for all the activities we were going to be doing over the remainder of the trip before heading off for the walking tour. As a group we wandered  to the first ATM we found and withdrew the required cash. A few of us became separated from the main group, and so Danielle and I wandered and chatted our way through the streets. As the hostel wasn’t very close to anything of note, nor was anything open, it was simply a walk to be away from the hostel of weirdness.

He's got the whole world in his hands

The walking tour saw us all piling back onto our beloved coach. By now it was 4pm, and pitch black night time. It was surreal doing an afternoon walking tour at night. Here our tour guide showed our shivering frames around Vienna, pointing out the lovely buildings of old and many of the 700 museums that Vienna houses. By now our bellies were grumbling, and back on the bus we hopped ready for our Viennese dinner. Schnitzels with wine was the order of the evening, followed by apple strudel for dessert.

Beauty and the Beast library

Back at the hostel, it was time to get into the spirit and ring in Christmas Day. We put the finishing touches on our Secret Santas, made our way down to the bar and grabbed our first round of drinks. The clock struck midnight and there were sparklers and champagne all around. Hugs abounded, drinks clinked to the chorus of “Prost!” - accompanied by fierce eye contact because no one was wanting to risk 7 years bad sex - and thus it was Christmas Day.

In sauntered a small Christmas tree aka Carlos and an uncomfortable looking Santa Claus the Bus Driver, gathering all the presents and leading us away from the fray into the adjacent room. It was time to distribute the presents! I was worried my Secret Santa would hate hers because I bought something gender neutral back in London, so I bought a small bottle of vodka to supplement it. I think the piece de resistance was her name written on the card with eyebrow pencil (through a severe lack of pens…). From my Secret Santa (I never found out who it was?) I received a very warm pair of gloves and my card was an origami crane - was this from someone how had been listening to me prattle about my Japan adventures? Thank you, none-the-less, elusive Secret Santa.  

Champagne and Christmas cheer    

What followed was a crazy night. I’m not sure how much I can write as this blog is in the public sphere (seriously though, who is going to find my lowly blog?) but let’s just say this was a what-happens-on-tour-stays-on-tour kind of night.

Drinks, laughter, more drinks, Bar’s open, 1 euro!, music and 3am playground adventures in the freezing Vienna night saw my Christmas in with a bang.


***
Thursday, 25 December 2014
VIENNA - Christmas Day

My alarm sounded, and my head pounded. 8am I was scheduled to FaceTime my family and so I gathered my Christmas jumper, my present from my mum (which I had been carrying around on the tour), my phone charger and a big bottle of water and made my way down to the breakfast room for a bit of peace and quiet (and more importantly, a powerpoint).

Turns out, I’d messed up the time difference. It was 8am here, but only 3pm there. Shit. I can’t do it any later as breakfast is about to start, and then we’ll be off and running for the day. Shit. Shit. Is there anything you can do? As a result, my bro and family and my mum gathered themselves as quickly as possible and we were able to do the chat right then and there. It was amazing seeing all their faces and watching as they opened their little care package from me. I loved seeing the girls running indoors and outdoors with their UV colour changing bracelets, and it was great to chat. I sounded a bit croaky, I’m sure.

My mum posted me a present early in December so I had carefully packed that into my suitcase, ready to be opened on Christmas Day. She sent me some lovely Australian themed earrings and a necklace, and also another pair of gorgeous earrings that are real gum leaves which have been electroplated using copper and nickel. Gorgeous!

I said adieu to my lovely family and crawled back to my room. A group of us headed out into the heart of Vienna in the hopes to visit some of the many museums this old city boasts. Alas, they were all extremely expensive to enter, so instead we found our way to a highly recommended cafe where upon we gorged ourselves on Christmas fare.

Dark chocolate mocha with cream and caramel.
Delicious fresh bruschettas.
And finally, the Emperor’s pancakes.
I’ll let you in on a little secret - I had to undo my jeans button.

Rocked my world. 

Rolling out of the cafe, we visited St Stephen’s Cathedral. It was very beautiful and peaceful inside. Everyone knows that I am not in the least bit religious, but I found being in the church very moving and I felt an intense sense of homesickness in here. I felt very alone.

Tonight we visited the Schnaps Museum. The owner was a hilarious character, warning us of liquids that smelt of nail-polish remover while our tour guide hid his face (remember the Death Juice from the first night?). We learnt how the different liquors were made before…tasting! We each were to receive 3 shots of our choice, but it's Christmas, so who's counting?

Prost!

I went for the chilli infused vodka, which wasn't spicy - but filled the belly with an incredible warming glow a few seconds after it reached there. Apparently strangely potent and a good mixer with orange juice to really get the party going. Second, I couldn't help myself but to try the absinthe. As some of you may know, many moons ago I used to drink a fair amount of the green fairy, usually with disastrous results. I can honestly say this was the tastiest absinthe I have ever had, without even a hint of a shudder. It was astounding. For my third shot, I chose the orange flavoured vodka with gold flecks (to poop gold?) and it too was delicious, if a little flamboyant. I did go back for a sneaky fourth - can't remember what it was now, but the first three were so incredible I felt compelled to buy something. After much umming and ahhing, I went with the absinthe as it blew my mind.

Christmas dinner, so many ugly sweaters!

Next stop: Christmas dinner, then back to the hostel and down to the bar with all our Christmas attire in full swing. Ugly Christmas sweaters abounded, antlers poked people’s eyes out and there was a particularly impressive light up fireplace complete with smoking chimney hat, modelled and designed by the lovely Tori (who went on to win the Best Dressed prize, naturally). A much quieter affair than Christmas Eve, I sat chatting for hours before giving everyone big squishy hugs with a final “Merry Christmas!” at 11.55pm.

xx

"How do your antlers stay in"?

The party bus is coming: Eastern Europe Festive Party Trek - Part 1

Foreword

I didn't want to spend Christmas and New Years alone. Simple as that. I had only just started to make friends in London when I had the brainwave to go on a tour over the silly season.

I researched high and low. I became obsessed with one tour, just to become obsessed with another tour a week later.

"I've found it," I'd say, sending the link to anyone who would listen, finally settling on the Busabout Eastern European Festive Party Trek from Prague to Krakow. Again, I sat on it for a few days before stumbling across a 15% online code and wham-bam-thank-you-ma'am, I threw down my deposit and I was locked into the 11 day tour.

I am going to try to document everything I remember about the holiday (with appropriate censorships, of course - what happens on tour, stays on tour!). This will be my usual rambling account of events. I will probably break it up into countries which will result in roughly 5 posts depending on how much waffle I put in.

This was my very first tour, and joining me were an additional 39 individuals. By the end, I knew each person by name although I will admit I got everybody's story completely muddled, and hugged everyone countless times. A couple even got a sneaky smooch out of me. And so I will start at the beginning, and end at the end, and what happens in the middle - well, that's the good bit.

***
Sunday, 21 December 2014
LONDON - PRAGUE

I lost 5kg running through the streets of London with my new backpack firmly attached to my back. Casually talking to my housemate earlier that day, she look concerned at how much time (or lack there of) I had left to get to the airport. I'd forgotten to take into account traffic. Leaving work traffic. Just before Christmas traffic.

Shit shit fuck shit fuck, I thought to myself as I powered through the streets towards the coach station.
Fuck shit shit ball sack shit, I thought to myself as I sat on the coach, paused at a red light.
Seriously where did all these people come from, I thought as my foot tapped impatiently in line to check in my baggage.

I finally relaxed once I was in the queue to get onto my flight with almost an hour to spare. And in the queue I stood for almost 2 hours thanks to my plane being delayed, chowing down on a refreshing fruit salad and catching my breath.

Not the most relaxed beginning to my holiday, but when have I been one to do things the easy way? I fell into my seat on the plane and settled in to arrive in Prague.

Shazza joined me on the plane

A long 2 hours later after sitting in front of a very shout-y and kick-y young boy, we descended into the Czech Republic and my shuttle driver was standing waiting for me, "Mrs Sasha Oelsner" on his little sign.

The shuttle driver was darling, although I was mildly worried jumping in with an elderly man in Eastern Europe. He passed me an info book about Prague and pointed out the main sites to see as we drove our way through the city.

Shortly around 11.30pm, I arrived at the Plus Prague hostel and set myself up in my room. Facebook had indicated some drinks were happening in the bar, and I stood in the front room of the hostel looking perplexed. I happened to say to a girl, "Do you know where the bar is? I'm looking for the Busabout crew", to which another girl to my left exclaimed "You too! I'm trying to find them as well." And so I met Liz and we made our way to the Plus Prague bar across the courtyard.

Here we took a gamble on a group to sit with, meeting Jacob, Cara and Harry. We laughed and chatted and drank until about 1am, before promising to meet on the morrow to begin our crazy adventure.

***
Monday, 22 December 2014
PRAGUE

This morning began as every morning would begin for the next two weeks: early, with a rushed shower and a communal breakfast. Liz and I marvelled over the quality of the breakfast here; delicious scrambled eggs, frankfurters and bread and cheese. Hopefully we weren't peaking too early with the good breakfasts! We rushed back to our room to repack our bags (oh god, how did I pack so much?) so that we could check out and meet the other people on the tour. Later that afternoon we would be able to check back in again when our rooms were ready, but in the meantime we were going on a walking tour of Prague followed by a bit of exploring by ourselves.

We met our charismatic tour guide, Carlos, who made us all feel very much at home and distributed our Secret Santas ("Do you even know who this person is??"). We arrived in the city centre and Carlos led us through the streets - it wasn't long before my good camera was whipped out. Looking around, there were plenty of decent cameras in the midst and thus I didn't feel so alone hanging back and taking pictures.

The colours and rooftops of beautiful Prague

We saw the Lennon Wall, the Prague Castle, the chapel, the astronomical clock. Prague is a beautiful city. We found ourselves in the town square with the Christmas markets, horse drawn carts and mulled wine cheaper than soft drink. At the conclusion of the tour, a group of us decided it was time for food and we each bought a different kind of Czech food (namely meat and potatoes!) and pooled our dishes in the middle of the table.

The rest of the day was spent exploring the streets and the markets, and realising that I need more time in this city to truly appreciate it. In the markets, we had our first taste of the Trdelnik, or as I called it, the donut bangle. Deliciousness in the cold chill air of Prague.

Peering through pure deliciousness

About half of the group returned to the hostel with the early bus. Here, Carlos introduced us to home made palinka (a drink that will rear its ugly head more than once on this trip) which I nicknamed the Death Juice. In a word, it was brutal. One sniff was enough to make the mouth water and the shuddering begin. All together, we shouted Na Zdravi (cheers!) and attempted to down the liquid. The bus was a unified chorus of "Ergh!" and "Blergh!". I had drunk about half of mine in one go - and when I went for the second sip, almost lost my lunch.
That's enough for now, I decided.

It knocked me for six, so I returned to my room for a short nap before gathering with the rest of the troupe for dinner and to line our bellies ready for the Welcome Party and our 5 free drink vouchers. At the Welcome Party we introduced ourselves to those we hadn't spoken to yet, immediately forgot their names, grabbed our free wine or beer and danced the night away. A bunch went to a nearby club, but my elderly self wasn't ready to go so hard so early on, and so I made my way to bed around 1am.

It was a great and exhausting first day, filled with happy people, cold air and names I was struggling to remember. I crept into my already sleeping room and settled down for a couple of hours sleep. We had an early start the next morning, like many mornings would be to follow.

***
Tuesday, 23 December 2014
PRAGUE - CESKY KRUMLOV

Not only did I get back to the room after my other bunk mates, but I got up before all of them and had a shower. Then I hopped back into bed for a little bit longer before making my way down to another amazing breakfast at Plus Prague. At breakfast, I realised I had made a little bit of a mistake with my booking as I thought the tour ended on the 2 January. Oops - it ended on the 1st. This meant that I had to find accommodation for that final night. I put this dilemma on the backburner and dealt with it at a later date.

Today's stop: Cesky Krumlov, a small city on the edge of the Czech Republic and is a UNESCO World Heritage Site. On the way, we paused at a Tesco to purchase snacks, last minute Secret Santa gifts and a hat or costume for the Christmas days for those who hadn't yet. I boarded the bus again afterwards, realising something was missing. My phone! My life is on that phone. Breathless, I pushed my way off the almost full bus and sprinted back inside. I ran up to the lady at the checkout, who, seeing me coming, reached behind a stand and handed me my phone. I was beside myself with relief. This is why the phone never leaves my hand - but I had put it down to figure out my change.

Back on the bus, it took me some time to gather myself. Thankfully it wasn't long before we were in Cesky Krumlov and checking into our rather amazing hotel. The city centre was picturesque and we were left to our own devices to explore the tiny town.

Beautiful day for an adventure

Cara and I, cameras at the ready, explored the castle, tried to look for the bears and then made our way back to the centre for some local fare. Delicious potato pancake, sausage and mulled wine. Yum! Along with Courtney, we bought some sweets (which..seem to have gone missing along the way, oh well!)

Fud! Eat all the sausage and potato pancake and drink
all the mulled wine!

We decided to go sans on the Torture Museum as it looked rather kitsch, so we wandered back to our hotel to await dinner that evening. For dinner we walked as a group back through the city centre to the Eggenberg Brewery. For me, it was the traditional pork neck with sauerkraut and potato dumplings for dinner. From here, we made our way to a local pub where the poor bartender was clearly overwhelmed by so many orders and serving slowly. I ordered two drinks so I didn't have to go back to the bar, had another drink bought for me by a strange Czech man and chatted the night away.

Beautiful by day, stunning by night.

This was the only time we were going to spend in the quaint little town so it was back to packing and getting ready to set off early in the morning again, this time for Vienna.

***
That's the end of the Czech Republic and takes us a couple of days into the tour.

Next up: Vienna.

xx

My family for the next 11 days

Let's get nutcracking

“It won't be Christmas without going to the ballet,” they said. “Go see The Nutcracker."

Well, I think a few of my Christmases came at once with those gentleman ballet dancers and their shapely bottoms.

When the opportunity to see The Nutcracker came up, I jumped at it. I’m not entirely certain why I was so excited - I was more apprehensive that I wouldn’t enjoy it as dance is not normally an area of the arts that I am particularly fond of. But, when in Rome - or London, as it were - the ballet and The Nutcracker are synonymous with Christmas and so I ended up at London’s Coliseum.

You see, I was a ballerina, once. My poor long suffering mother has sewn thousand of sequins and battled yards of tulle to create my costumes. I think my stand out performance was the time I took to the stage as a duck.

Professional ballerina

So not only am I a skilled dancer, The Nutcracker is also one of my favourite suites of music. I studied it in high school, played it on the piano and as part of the orchestra on the cello. In all my time, though, I had never realised that the music and the ballet were devised together - that the ballet was not choreographed to fit the music, but that they were written as a whole.

And so, ticket in hand and friends at my side, we pushed our way through the crowd to take our seats.

The sheer strength, agility and precision of the dancers was incredible. The children, too, were impeccable, and I couldn’t help but think how much of their lives must be dedicated to dance.

When the two primary dancers took to the stage - I could see why they won the starring roles. Not even the slightest of wobbles when up on pointe (and please forgive me as my terminology will be completely off), legs at complete and perfect right-angles; not too high, not too low.

Granted, I was somewhat fixated on the gentleman dancer’s supremely muscular upper thigh region. They must pour themselves into those tights, or they are spray painted on. Either way… The ladies costumes were beautiful too, long flowing dresses for the first act, which moved to sparkly tutu-d numbers for the 2nd.

When it comes to the finer points; I cannot discuss these as I do not know enough. I was surprised at how much I had to concentrate (again, I’ll be honest, I was very tired and a little worried I may have to fight sleep). I had researched the basic premise and could follow well enough, but it was interesting to have to focus so strongly on the body language to know how the ballet was progressing. And another thing that I found, which is going to make me sound like an utter fool, is how much of a story there actually was. I guess I had always considered ballet…just…to…be…dancing? It had never crossed my mind that they are actually telling a story. 

And so I’ve been to my first ballet. I’m quite sure it won’t be my last, but I think I will stick to ballet’s where I know the music so I feel more of a connection to the dancers and storyline.

As the wonderful, late Robin Williams once said:

Ballet - Men wearing pants so tight you can tell what religion they are.

I can’t get their scrumptious bums out of my head.

xx

Christmas in London: Winter Wonderland

London does Christmas. In the lead up, I was told, “London..nah, nothing really happens at Christmas, they don’t really get into it.”

Whoever said that was an idiot.

(NB, I can’t remember who it was…so uh…sorry if I like you and just called you an idiot)

London does Christmas. As it is dark by 3pm (a slight exaggeration, it’s about 3.30pm), this truly is the city for Christmas lights. Even the littlest of county’s are decked with sparkles; the little orbs in Hammersmith are particularly lovely. The shopping centres are filled with massive twinkling tree-like structures and ice rinks - and I don’t know if it is because I am so over-excited for Christmas, but I have barely even noticed Christmas carols being played on repeat in the stores. 

Ugly Christmas sweaters. Christmas themed hand warmers, gloves, scarves and beanies (mostly a la Primark). Christmas socks, pyjamas, pants (that’s underwear for all you Aussie folks). Everything you could normally get, there is now a Christmas version of it. And it is all so delightfully wintry. 

In a Christmas bauble!

A foreign concept to a warm-weather creature such as myself. 

Winter Wonderland is a culmination of all things festive. Situated in Hyde Park, it spans a huge area full of rides, markets and food and drink stalls. It’s the Royal Adelaide Show, but free - and Christmas themed. I almost died of happiness.

Throw the ball, Christmas style!

I visited on Wednesday night; a night so chosen as to try to avoid a painful weekend crowd. Becki, Nicole and Cory in tow we met in the freezing night air all ready to go iceskating. I was alternating between clapping my hands with glee like a child and lamenting “Oh, what have I done?”. After some german sausage (everyone needs some german sausage), I skulled a mulled wine  (for confidence) and we made our way onto the ice.

Zoom, round and round

I approached the ice like a baby giraffe. I felt like my legs would go every which way, as I stumbled with shaking legs around my first couple of laps. I stayed close to a wall, skirting it so I could reach out to grab at the moment it looked like I were to go head over heels. Cory, Canadian, took to the ice like he’d been born for it. Becki, much practised, hands clasped behind her back swirled around the rink. Nicole, confident, zoomed past me.

To be fair, I hadn’t ice skated since my second knee reconstruction (or my ankle injury for that matter) so I was worried how my legs would hold up and, knowing me, if I did fall over I had the potential to do some serious damage (coz that’s just how I roll).

Lo and behold, there was not a single stack. Not one of us went arse-up. Soon, the mulled wine settled in and I gained in confidence, seeing how fast I could get around the loop, flailing my arms wildly when I started to wobble. The main problem was the sheer number of people on the rink - at times it bottle necked and with my wonderful ability to stop (read: I can’t stop) meant that I ran into the back of someone. 

I belted out the Christmas and non-Christmas tunes. I skated as fast as I could. I went cross eyed looking at the frost dragon of my breathing. The fairy lights above me. The tree decked out in the middle. The hubbub of the crowd around. 

Ice skating, outside, in the cold night air at Christmas time. Perfection.

***

I will miss my family and friends this Christmas, but between London and its sites and all the activities I have to distract myself, I think this Christmas will be incredible.

It’s not long now.

xx

Complete with Christmas sweater!