Christmas Letter

Christmas time already – the year has well and truly disappeared! The fantastic girls I am living with at the moment are doing a stellar job of organising Christmas Day for all (twenty five plus) of us for our Orphan Christmas – which we are holding out hope of being a white one too. It's certainly been cold enough for it lately!

I'm lucky it's only been just over a month since I last wrote one of these – I was struggling to remember what I had been up to. Luckily that is what phone photos are for... although some things are probably better forgotten. Anyway, in this month or so, I've managed to squash a lot in. Changing temporary address's was one of them, but all this really means is that for the time being I am taking over space in someone else's room/house for a while – until I am politely, or otherwise, moved on.

Work has been frantic and what started out as a joke last year about me being back to organise the Christmas Party again this year turned out to be the reality – be careful what you wish for! We spent Friday afternoon crammed into the London Mayor, Boris Johnson's, favourite restaurant for a traditional Christmas dinner which wouldn't have been complete without its Turkish twist – nothing says festive like Kalamari and Baklava. But all jokes aside, the food was delicious and it was a great afternoon away from the office wearing stupid hats and exchanging useless Secret Santa gifts.

The weeks fly by in a flurry of catching up with friends in all parts of this city, forever trying to make a dent in the never ending quest to get to every pub in London. The elusive top spot at the weekly pub quiz is still just outside our grasp but we're getting closer! I'm still cycling to and from work each day and am finally starting to figure out how this whole city fits together – it's a lot smaller than you might think! In theory the lunch time running should be making me fitter but the sometimes negative temperatures make me question my sanity and seriously doubt that there has been any change at all.

Weekends have been spent discovering the delights that are the markets of London. One weekend Beatsy and I decided we would mission it on our bikes eastward to the Bermondsey Markets – this was a cute little row of delectable treats set under the arches of an old rail line. After drooling our way up and down the lane we returned to our bikes to go and meet up with friends only for me to discover I had a flat tyre as far away from home as possible - damn Murphy and his law! Fortunately for me the only shop as far as the eye could see was a bike repair shop. So we dropped Delilah off to get patched up and continued on to our favourite Borough markets to collect a few treats – namely the mushroom pate. Must find out what the recipe to this is!

I sometimes head to the Leather Lane market, a week time favourite, when I need to escape the office for a bit. I spent last Sunday roaming around a little market in Marylebone full of fresh and organic (yes right up my alley!) meats, veges and cheeses. Then made my way to Liverpool St which is home to the huge and bustling Spitalfield markets to catch up with friends and purchase a woolly winter jacket – success! This weekend just been, think Notting Hill, and I spent the majority of Saturday walking up and down Portobello Road sightseeing everything significant in the movie and delighting in all the weird and wonderful things these famous markets have to offer.

But besides visiting copious amounts of markets I have actually made it out of town a couple of times. First weekend away was over to Rome for the All Black's vs Italy game. We soaked up as many sights as we could in the 48 hours we were there – Pantheon, Colosseum, Trevi Fountain etc. We visited the Pope briefly in Vatican City (actually some of the group did see the Pope when they went back the next day) before making our way to Stadio Olympico for the whole reason for the weekend – rugby! The atmosphere was phenomenal and the amount of photos we Kiwis were requested to be in was ridiculous – world famous right here. We gorged ourselves on pizza, pasta and red wine and returned to London amping for the next game the next weekend.

It was Cardiff's turn to play host next so we made the pilgrimage to watch the AB's take another win in the spectacular Millenium Stadium. Celebrations ensued and the rest of the night was lost on the dance floor of many a Welsh pub. So it was with a lot of excitement that we headed along to the Kiwi House - a pop up bar, that popped up especially for the final game against the English - to cheer the AB's on to their final victory! ...or not. The rest of that night was lost commiserating on the dance floor of many a London pub. 

Other excursions have included a day trip to the picturesque city of Oxford. We wandered around the colleges for a few hours, entertained ourselves by trying to break the ice on a frozen over lake and then spent the remainder of the day supping on mulled wine and cider at The Eagle and Child - a pub made famous by JRR Tolkien and CS Lewis who wrote and first spoke many of their literary creations here.

I braved the freezing cold to participate in a monthly cycle around the city of London known as Critical Mass. Hundreds of cyclists converge at Waterloo Bridge and then disrupt the traffic for a few hours while cycling around in a mass group - not sure why everyone else participates but I just enjoy getting amongst it and seeing new parts of the city. 

But the highlight of the month goes to Alanis Morrisette - she put on a fantastic show at the O2 and rocked our socks off with all our child hood favourites which we belted out alongside her, completely out of tune of course.

That's me for now, until next time. Have a very Merry Christmas - I'm going to try my hand at making some egg nog! 

London Cycling with Beatsy!

Colosseum by night - best view while stopping for a chat on the way home!

Cave and Katie chilling with the Pope at Vatican City

Stadio Olympico

Millenium Stadium

Cardiff by morning

Runs along the canal, so pretty!

Critical Mass down Oxford St with the Christmas Lights

Oxford - strolling through the parks and colleges

Colourful houses in Notting Hill.

Life is good in London

Despite my protests that "I'm only living in London now, you don't want to hear about boring day to day life", I've been roped into continuing to write. But I actually enjoy it, if only someone would pay me for my comedic wit and musings on my life... no such luck.

Some of you will have seen the FB update after Oktoberfest weekend - our trek to London was a hefty one at any time, let alone after a large weekend - a 20minute walk, a U-bahn, an S-bahn, a ridiculously large and slow border control line, a flight, a bus, a train, a tube and then another walk (via McD's for a cheeseburger for our efforts) we arrived at home from Munich nine hours later. I let myself relax for what was left of the day as it was straight into job hunting for me on Tuesday. First up though, to do something about the state my appearance had gotten itself into over the past three months. Gumtree is my new best friend and I replied to a girl wanting hair models to practice cutting on for free "perfect" I thought, "I have no money, or care about my hair, let's give it a whirl" - I wanted a fringe, this was going to be disastrously interesting... but as it turns out my freebie haircut is pretty sweet, and against all odds am enjoying the fringe, even if it means I have to actually put some effort in each day.

I had decided that I was going to start work on Thursday, despite the minor detail of not actually having a work to go to - it wasn't looking good as I woke up on Thursday morning with nothing more to do except plan my costume for a Best of British party, but late that afternoon I got a call up for Friday start. I temped with the loveliest people for eight days and even managed to coordinate my morning tube commute with Hilary for some much needed catch up time on life over the past nine months. A seamless change in jobs midweek saw me start back at TCS (The Children's Society, where I was last year) for what started out to be three weeks, then five and now until mid Jan.

Living arrangements have been fun as always. I started back dossing with Beatsy and Cave but a generous offer made by Kent and the 51 Averill crew saw me with my own bed for ten days while Jen was away. After god only knows how long of having someone encroaching on my personal space I really couldn't come to terms with having my own room and struggled to sleep properly. I even had to remind myself in the morning as I fossicked in the darkness that I could turn the light on if I wanted! 

The first weekend was full of promises from all of us to just have a quiet one - save money, give livers a break yadda yadda. As the week went on we decided that maybe we could just have a medium one. This meant we would just go to the local for a couple of hours. But being London, "locals" are definitely not few and far between and as we hadn't actually specified one local we had to try a few. Medium night, slight success but really a fail. We've kept very busy each weekend, after all "if you are bored of London then you are bored of life". We've had a birthday dinner to a Speakeasy restaurant where you actually had to pull a book off a bookshelf to let the door swing open, after stating your case for the detective (our Liger, Clive, was missing). Dress up (of course!!) house parties, strolls along the Thames to make the most of the last of the sunshine, missions to markets, brunches with new friends met in Europe, catch up drinks with friends from all over in various pubs, a weekend down in Brighton wandering the shops in the lanes, partaking in the carnivals on the pier, pub crawling by night, and enjoying our little hostel located above a male only sauna. Pub quiz each Tuesday night where we fluctuate significantly in the rankings - the elusive number one spot is yet to be achieved. 

I've started running again, but after receiving my rejection letter for the London Marathon morale isn't as high as it should be. But have managed to hustle together a small group at work to run at lunch time, all guys and all of whom are much faster and fitter than I am, they are killing me slowly. Focus now is on the Copenhagen Marathon in May – watch this space. This week I borrowed a bike from some very lovely and trusting friends and started cycling to work, why have I never done this before?! It's faster than the tube, its free, I get to exercise, I get to see London and I get to dice with death while playing in traffic – twice a day! Fantastico!

I have delighted in having my clothes back again. Jeans! Jerseys! Wellies! (It is winter after all) and everything ever made by Kilt. Amazing. I've shed some tears having to say goodbye to my sister and other friends already – I've only been here a month! Stop leaving! And there is a lot of news coming from back home that really makes it the hard part of being all the way over here. I do accept sponsorship from anyone who wishes to fly me home and back again though, so bear that in mind. Photo's are at a minimum, I will try to take more. This weekend sees us cycling all over London to visit markets, then its Rome for the AB's games, Cardiff for the AB's and then its December and Christmas. Year has gone too fast!! Email me back, I promise they will be replied too xxx

Europe - that's a wrap

Oktoberfest was as amazing as always. My great friends and current flatmates - Beatsy, Cave and Lynchey flew over from London to see the final weekend of my travels out with me. On Saturday morning after finding our spot inside one of the best German tents (rather than the frequented tourist tents) we were disappointed to be told that we would need to move in an hour as the table had been reserved. Too late it was for us to stake a claim on another part of any other table so out of the entire biergarten we were. We decided it might be a good idea to go into a beer hall in the centre of town and return later on that evening. We never quite made it that far. Cue: finding a pub five minutes walk away and spending the next 12 hours there on a Welsh stag party complete with a particularly nasty cactus plant that two weeks on we are all still digging the little pricks out of ourselves from. The next morning was a definite struggle to get out of bed, there was only one reason we got up and on our way that morning, thanks Lynchey, otherwise we may never have moved. We took our place in the line in the rain for an hour before finally being let into Hacker tent, promising each other that we'll just be there for a couple of hours, "we've come all this way, we have to actually spend some decent time in a beer hall", before we can go home. Again, twelve hours later, countless amounts of steins, two giant pork knuckles shared between us, hoarse voices, and hair and makeup that had certainly seen better days, you would be forgiven for thinking we were actually German as, dressed up in our dirndls, we danced on benches and sang to the oompah bands just like the Bavarians do (disclaimer: maybe not "just like"). Over all too quickly as usual, we hauled ourselves to the airport and boarded our plane that looked like it had been privately chartered to bring back runaways from an NZ and Oz AA meeting. There were more Country Road bags on this flight than would be left back in Oz and the struggled chatter of strangers swapping entertaining stories filled the air before everybody fell into a slumber for the next two hours. As just one tiny little speck arriving on Friday afternoon amongst the six million others who come to Oktoberfest during the sixteen days that it is on each year I vowed this would be my last. It won't be.

Now, with my feet firmly planted back on the ground in London like they never left I've had a bit of time to reflect on the past three months. What an amazing trip - if you've been following these European blogs you've now read over 16,000 words of my drivel - here's another thousand or so, I promise this will be the last for a while.

Since leaving NZ in July I've touched down in 25 countries - none of which I would never go back to, most of which I would go back to in a heart beat, and some of which I have begun planning trips back to already. This world is such a huge place and most of us don't even come close to scratching the surface of it. I knew when I started out that I would be traveling fast and wasn't going to have enough time but even I had no idea that for the majority of the places I went I wouldn't want to leave. I've been completely overwhelmed by how much there is to see and do everywhere that I've had to realise that no matter how long I spend in a place there will always be more to discover and I will never get to it all, try as I might.

I can't quite put my finger on what it is that makes me want to keep on traveling - its certainly not the meagre supply of clothing for months on end, strictly adhering to a budget, or constantly looking like I hadn't been to bed (which may or may not be due to the fact that frequently I hadn't, at least not for very long). (And I do realise this was all my own choice, of course.)

 

So what is it, the food? the sights? the local people? the general been there done that? nightlife? meeting fellow travelers? sharing and talking about travels? trying new things? seeing things in the flesh that you have heard so much about? recognising places you have been when you see them post-travel? The list goes on. I think it's a little bit of everything all rolled into one - but most of all being prepared to get out of your comfort zone and getting used to the constant feeling of helplessness when you first arrive somewhere and have no idea what you are doing to experience all of this to begin with. As much as it evokes fear in me, I love the feeling of stepping into the unknown of a completely new place for the first time; and then the feeling of familiarity and of being a part of something that comes with finding your way around, spending time, and getting to know that same place even for just a brief time. I love discovering the delights that are off the beaten track as well as visiting everything quintessentially touristy and then unwinding with gorgeous views, brews and barbeques at the end of each day with new friends and new memories.

I try always to take time out. To ask questions. Get lost. Eat every new food put in front of me (it still amazes me the people who travel so far and don't even attempt the food, apologies if this is you - but you should change). People watch. Listen to the other languages being spoken around me. Learn those languages - even just a little bit, it's amazing how far a smile, some hand signals and just one word will go. 

 

Traveling you learn that one of the greatest pleasures of life is actually having clean laundry (and that in itself is a first world problem) - but also that the mythical in-your-bag-and-out-again-a-few-days-later washing machine isn't a myth at all. Though those around you might not agree.

I've found that the cheapest hostels are the best ones that will always go the extra distance - they have the friendliest people managing them, they take time out to tell you about their city and to show you around, the place is smaller and more intimate, your bed is made, you get a towel, the best breakfasts and quite often they chuck dinner and drinks on that too. All for 12 euro a night. Get to the bigger ones though and they'll take your 25 euro, your rooms on the third floor, breakfast is cereal and is an extra three euro, bring your sheets down when you check out, oh and here's you map.

 

I've traded in dina and euro and floren and kuna, krone and lita and lats and zloty, leke and mark and lev and leu, with a sprinkling of pounds and lots of different dollars; but at the end of the day it doesn't matter in what form it was spent, there's none of it left now. Swapping currencies every few days makes it a nightmare for budgeting though. An art I'm becoming very skilled at.
 
I will staunchly hold onto the fact that I wear jandals and not thongs or flip-flops (until they break at the supermarket three kilometres away from home and then they are something else that I can't write here).
 
My number one travel essential is my big scarf - a sarong when you don't have one, a scarf when you actually need one, a blanket for those overnight buses, and a skirt when you inadvertently step into a puddle of mud up to your waist at the beginning of the day.
 
And now that I've used the word amazing far too much for one blog I should probably sign off and get back to this temporary job I have for just one week... If anyone knows of anything permanent, I'm in the London market, available immediately!

Shutzen Festzelt tent

Girls looking forward to the second day...

Pork Knuckle!!!

Hacker tent by day

Hacker tent by night

Had to stick this in here, doesn't happen very often - Trafalgar Square in the glorious sunlight!

 

Cesky Krumlov

 After my taste of the mountains in Slovakia I was hungry for more outdoors. Planned time for Cesky Krumlov was two nights – I stayed five. With Jens – who I met in Slovakia – in tow we headed to CK and arrived late at night hoping like hell we would be able to get into our hostel (the whole town pretty much shuts down after about nine in the off season). Success. The weather forecast wasn't looking fantastic for the next couple of days – in fact when I woke up the first morning it was raining – but by the time we got our A's into G it had stopped and we'd decided upon a stroll up the highest mountain around the town. Reaching the top of Klet, at 1,084m, a couple of hours later we were disappointed to find the restaurant open but not serving food...?? so headed up the tower for some panoramic views - not so great on a cloudy day.

Back that afternoon and we lazed around eating at the restaurant back in town for lunch then heading out for traditional cuisine in the Old Town later. A couple of quiets with some others from our hostel at the world's smokiest bar rounded off our day quite nicely.

Day two saw us strolling around the Old Town, the Castle and it's gardens and dining at a highly recommended vegetarian restaurant for lunch – while delicious I still very firmly hold onto my “it's not a meal unless it's got meat in it” philosophy. Up to the supermarket to buy supplies for the next couple of days – including dinner, fourth and fifth time cooking on this trip in total. Poor effort – but I much prefer the locals to do it for me.

Mountain biking was on the agenda for the following day, and after choosing bikes whose brakes actually worked we were off back up Klet. We wound our way up and around the mountain and through some villages and the forest as my very low fitness levels rapidly deteriorated. Bike riding up hills is hard yakka! After recouping and lazing in the sun it was time to make our descent. Fair to say there were a couple of hairy moments but I only completely came off once. “You count that as a success?” the people at the hostel gaped at me as I recounted my efforts. “Yes, of course! I mean I only fell off once!” And I did, and I did it very elegantly in a dazzling display of acrobatics over the handle bars and landing on my feet. The only thing hurt was my pride. It could have been so much worse.

So what do you do after a day of mountain biking in Cesky Krumlov? You watch the horror movie 'Hostel' in the town that it was filmed in. I was feeling very on edge walking through CK by myself to the pub on my last night after that!

The next and final morning, feeling like I'd done seven hours of back to back intense spin classes the day before, there was only one thing for it... (tender) bum back in the saddle. I ogled the map for a good hour figuring out a route that would be less of the up and more of the around for that day. This was counteracted by the distance we covered, and still included a lot of inclines. We had a little picnic for lunch before beginning the 25k journey back to CK. Ambling through the forest paths we stumbled across some castle ruins and decided to check them out for another well earned break. I headed out that night with a great big bunch of Aussies – turns out besides me (kiwi) and Jens (Danish) everybody else in the hostel pretty much the whole time we were there were Aussies. They're not a bad bunch but they sure are everywhere!

So that was it, my last full week. But I had a lot of firsts in it – I played chess properly for the first time, said the name of my home town properly for the first time, mountain biked for the first time, had a sword fight for the first time and came across bed bugs for the first time. Yick. And with that it was off to Oktoberfest for the grand finale of three months traveling.

Cesky Krumlov from the Castle

In the forest

View from Klet

Castle Ruins

Austria

 By the time I arrived in Vienna I was knackered, arriving in the middle of nowhere on my train and having no idea (again) how to get to my hostel, I saved my brain the stress of actually having to think and just jumped in a cab. Emma was waiting for me at the hostel again and collectively all we could muster was a hug good night – this traveling caper is tiring!

The next morning I was up early and eagerly awaiting Kent's arrival so we could begin our Austrian adventure! First up we headed straight to a biergarten for Schnitzel and beer and a mighty big catch up A miscommunication resulted in a very happy waiter as he was excessively tipped a mere 35% of the bill. Onwards to the Sigmund Freud museum – very underwhelming (turns out everything of importance is in London) and after twenty minutes in there we stepped outside feeling displeased with Vienna for taking all our money off us and not giving much in return! We decided to hunt out the cemetery where Beethoven was finally laid to rest. As we entered the 600ha property with around 3.5million graves we were handed a pamphlet that was a. in German and b. only stated that Beethoven was a composer and that he was here. Great, where? Lets just walk we decided. Nobody we asked knew and we finally saw some gates that we decided might give us a greater insight, as we walked towards them Kent spotted Beethoven – what are the chances? Literally one in three point five million I think. Mission accomplished.

Back to the hostel to catch Emma for happy hour before heading out to dinner - more Schnitzel plus an array of other Austrian delights, yummo. After intensive research on where to go and what to do in Austria (about two hours worth over beer) we picked up our car the next morning and with me behind the wheel on the wrong side of the road, headed west. We decided baked treats were in order and after about an hour of getting used to Autobahn driving deviated towards a village where we began the Krapfen (basically a doughnut) count. We realised we had forgotten to name our little VW Polo and thought it only appropriate to give it a German name – Kinder! We just hoped he wasn't full of surprises. With Jane the GPS set for Lake Worthersee we stopped off to buy hiking shoes and a picnic lunch. Once in Maria Worth we found a spot on the jetty down by the lake to scoff our picnic and then headed off for a few hours on a hike up a hill to take in the panoramic views. Stunning.

We meandered through the mountains as the sun began to set in hopes of finding a bed somewhere in Salzburg. We had found a B&B the night before but hadn't booked as we were just seeing where the mood took us, turns out it took us to where we thought we wanted to be and as we knocked on the door were disappointed to find there was no room at the inn that night. Not to worry though, her sister probably had space next door, excellent. There's something awkwardly odd about knocking on a strangers door and asking if you can stay the night – Lindner was very accommodating though “sure” she said “there's the room, there's the key, see you for breakfast in the morning”! Very trusting, no name exchanging, no payment required up front and no passport details to hand over here – the complete opposite to which I have found to be the norm upon arrival over the past couple of months.

The next morning the highlight of any trip to Austria was here for us – Fucking! Fucking (said Foo-king, but pronunciation doesn't need to be right all the time) is a small village, population 109, about half an hour north of Salzburg. The photos, jokes and general hilarity were worth every minute of the massive detour. We saw a Fucking cat, some Fucking people laughed at the stupid tourists taking Fucking photos and I just about drove into a Fucking tractor. When looking up what there is to do in Fucking there are only two things: one; have your photo taken by the Fucking sign – tick – and two; steal the Fucking sign – cross – too many people were stealing the sign and they have taken extra measures to prevent this happening. What are we going to do with a giant Fucking sign anyway?

On the way back to Salzburg we were rewarded with another great name for a town (by town I mean cluster of houses) – Eggenham – we whipped a U-turn and headed for more photos. Back in Salzburg we were off to Mozart's house followed by a stroll through the Mirrabell Gardens for Sound of Music sightseeing and photos. After seeing the gorgeousness that was the countryside and lakes the day before we decided to head back to them for the afternoon – having a car is brilliant! We made our way to Hallstatt and wandered around the cobbled village paths before having the traditional Austrian lunch of Donner Kebabs down by the lake. I fed the ducks and swans and we searched for more strudel and krapfen only to be disappointed. It was getting to that time where we needed to find a bed again for the night – we had previously found that Linz was completely booked out so had essentially written off going there. We tried a few of the villages around the lake but to no avail. We needed a beer and more schnitzel so stopped off at a restaurant where we admitted defeat and decided to find a parking spot by the lake and sleep in the car.

Suddenly a bright idea occurred to me – if we're going to sleep in the car why don't we just go to Linz anyway, I just found this Irish bar on the WikiSherpa app, have a few drinks and a good night out then sleep in the car there? OK, Kent agreed and so he plugged Domstrasse 5 into Jane and Linz-bound we were. We found a parking building close to the pub that was to be our home for the night, got spruced up and headed out for a couple of pints. Deep in conversation at about 1am both our ears suddenly pricked up at hearing a very familiar sound – the Haka!! Apparently one of the lads behind the bar is partial to a bit of the haka and had flicked it over from the football, this was all working out very well. Obviously our couple of pints had now turned into a rather large night of AB watching and I think we got more than our fair share of stares as we reveled in the game.

Determined to outsmart the parking system we'd set the alarm to wake up stupidly early so we could get out of the parking building without a massive price tag. Fail. Must have switched that one off and woke up mid morning after the most comfortable nights sleep in a car that I've ever had. We needed breakfast and a stroll around Linz before heading to our third and final funny named town on the list – Rottenegg. We love Austria and have become quite the German speakers (that last part might be a lie). It was time for Kent to drop me at the Linz train station and head back to Vienna and as I sit here writing this I realise that maybe using Kinder as a bed doesn't give you the greatest nights rest – I'm feeling a little worse for wear.

It was a great break from trains and buses having the car and it provided us with a lot of laughs. My left hand has hit the door countless times in search of the gear stick, we've had indicators for window wipers and window wipers for indicators, and I don't know if I will ever get used to the Autobahn – I comfortably sit in the slow lane on 130kph (speed limit) only to not just be overtaken but absolutely blitzed by cars (people movers even) at speeds upwards of 160kph. Trying to keep up for even a few seconds is pointless as the next car appears behind you from nowhere – no wonder these countries seem so small!

Beethoven's grave

Kent and Kinder

Me picnicing at Lake Worthersee

Brilliant

Egg and Ham

Me at the Mirrabell Gardens in Salzburg

Pretty mountains

Lake Wolfgang

Rottenegg

High Tatra's - Slovakia

 Having heard about this stellar little place called The Ginger Monkey in Zdiar, Slovakia from several people during the week, I decided that was where I needed to head next. Catching the train at stupid o'clock was well worth it once I arrived – sunshine! And lots of it! I had big hopes of arriving at this place high in the Tatra mountains and doing nothing for the afternoon except chilling out, out of a city, writing for all you lot to read with a gorgeous mountainous backdrop. Suffice to say, I was definitely not disappointed.

The following day the weather was not looking good – rain! So much for our plans of a seven hour hike across the saddle... I'd begged, stolen and borrowed shoes, socks, pants and a jacket (as hiking in the mountains was not on the original agenda) and because I only had the one day here was determined to head out regardless. Brecht and I disappointingly heeded everyone's warnings and decided against the biggest walk, choosing a shorter one instead. Once embarked on this however, we still had our sights set on heading up rather than around the mountains. About two hours in and with clear skies (well, it hadn't rained since we'd left the hostel and wasn't forecast to for the rest of the day anyway) we gleefully discovered that we could switch routes and continue with our initial plans for the big hike. With our renewed mission in mind we set off towards the snow. Unfortunately we knew that altitude rather than spectacular vista's was going to be the only thing gained today but every now and then the cloud cover would shift and we were rewarded with some stunning scenery. Photo's below.

Seven hours later we arrived back to the Ginger Monkey – hungry and thirsty we cooked up dinner and washed it down with wine, beer, and Tatratea while wearing onesies until the wee hours of the following morning. I had high hopes this morning of getting up stupidly early (again) and heading to Bratislava for the day. This was quashed by the partying the night before and also the continued lure of the mountains for just a few more hours. I took Wally the dog for a walk and lazed around before deciding to completely flag Bratislava and head straight to Vienna instead.

Gorgeous day and gorgeous view

And then the cloud came...

Me with the cloud - but 1933m up.

And sometimes the cloud would shift

Onesies - they should make a come back.

Wally Dogstar

Krakow

After just a day in Warsaw I was very eager to get to Krakow (that's Krakov, to you) as I had heard great things, so up early to get on the first available train. Being familiar with where the central station now was I grabbed my ticket and then had a bit of a wait. Decided to look through the adjoining mall and had just about chosen a dress when I remembered I had vowed never to shop at H&M ever again. Uneventful train ride to Krakow but arrived in time to join the Jewish Quarter walking tour that I was aiming for. This was a tour around the area known as Kazimierz, where the Jews had been driven out of the city centre (and all over Europe) to go and live - the tour had quite a Schindler's list focus. Was it really Schindler's List? No one actually knows but the general consensus is no. We were shown the remaining walled confines of the Ghetto – where hundreds of thousands of Jews were forced to live during theWWII before being sent to the nearby Plasvow Concentration Camp. We finally finished up at the museum in Schindler's Factory for another guided tour.

Once back at the hostel and having hungrily devoured the free Polish dinner on offer, I inadvertently woke my new room mates up who were napping before heading out “oooh can I tag along?” I asked the two obviously awesome American boys... and they didn't get rid of me for the next three days. So we bar hopped ourselves around the Old Town Market and after dancing on top of some tables decided it was time to head down to the infamous Singer bar in the Jewish Quarter – a lively little pub where all the tables are old Singer sewing machines. Like any good night out we were in search of food by the end of it and the WikiSherpa app delivered as always – we navigated our way to a local Kielbasa Van (Polish sausage) where we chowed down on possibly the best after town snack I have ever had.

Early the next morning (why oh why did we go out last night?) we embarked on the Auschwitz tour – obviously a must for any Krakow visit. After an hour long history video we were guided around Auschwitz I followed by Auschwitz II Birkenau – I'm actually struggling to write this bit... there are no words to describe being here, sobering is about the closest. You can absolutely not even begin to imagine the feelings or thoughts that these people who were sent to these concentration camps had going through their minds. And then remembering that they were all under the impression that they were going only to work in the camps when the reality was that three out of four people were immediately sent to the gas chambers upon arrival. Death was the punishment for anything and everything and living conditions were atrocious at an absolute best. To walk along the same roads as the prisoners both sentenced to death and liberated, even in silence to absorb the notion, doesn't begin to compare as in an hour we got to walk away with as much freedom as when we arrived. Even those liberated were pretty much given a life sentence after being subjected to such hell. To try to put this into perspective, one and a half million people were killed in the three Auschwitz camps alone in eighteen months. Definitely the most emotional part of the trip.

So we had a quiet afternoon to absorb all that before heading out for a repeat of the night before with one notable difference – karaoke! This is a special shout out to the latest sensation known as “Nipple City” and the two lead singers Brian and Carter. I was especially lucky to not only be present but to participate in their international debut. But don't Google this one (work might fire you), we hold the rights to the only video's ever made, watch this space though – they'll be world famous one day...

I was especially excited the next day as my sister Emma randomly happened to be in Krakow at the same time as me. So after a day of post drinking banter and wandering around the Old Town and its very pretty Wawel Castle I headed out to the Salt Mines to meet up with her. We spent the next three hours being guided around only about 1% of the huge mines 130m underground – very grandiose, an actual city down there complete with shops, restaurants, ballrooms and several churches, and that's just in the part that we saw.

It was time for the boys to finally be rid of me, so we cheersed our last Zywiec Piwo (fave Polish beer) to only being able to speak English (or is that American?) and inhaled a giant traditional meat platter. A couple of quiets out with Emma and her boyfriend Dan and his sister Tessa and we called it a night reasonably early.

I packed my final day full of walking tours – six guided tours in four days! Haven't I been stating (definitely not complaining) about being walking-toured out? First was the token Old Town tour but with our very entertaining and knowledgable guide, Maciek, it was a lot of fun and didn't get tedious like so many of the others can.

I signed up to his next tour as well because after all these weeks of war talk I felt like I needed to learn some more – Communist Tour! About half an hour out of the central city we were taken to Nowej Huty a community that has been designed and built to be the ideal communist city and able to withstand any attack that may happen upon it including nuclear. Eye opening to say the least – apartment blocks built so that all amenities are within the pentagonal shaped walls of the complex which are designed not to allow tanks to pass through them. Neighbours are able to spy on one another and the walls are thick enough that you can just step to the side once you have thrown a grenade at your attacker. Being in Poland, vodka is compulsory and so we rounded off the tour at a typical communist pub – unfortunately for me this came with some unwelcome attention from the local drunk who insisted on me dancing with him, lucky for me he is “known to the establishment” and after the obligatory one dance the surly waitresses were having none of it.

Utterly exhausted I made my way back to the hostel having booked a ticket on a 630am train the next morning – not my smartest move, but I had an idea on what was awaiting me at the other end and have not been disappointed – but it sure is good to be out of the city for a while.

Schindler's Office

Fence surrounding Auschwitz I

Auschwitz II Birkenau. Buildings now destroyed and reused elsewhere.

The entrance to Birkenau.

Gas Chambers that were destroyed when the Nazi's realised the war was nearing an end.

I will never complain a public toilet again...

St. Mary's Church in the Old Town Square of Krakow. A bugle call every hour on the hour from the top window.

Walking around the Planty - the strip of garden surrounding the Old Town where the old walls used to be. 

Just a casual memorial outside of this apartment block