Five weeks into it, and i now have a tan like a roadside beggar in the Sudan and an ever growing boep that would make the most robust of Blue Bull's supporters envious, the good life is taking its toll on the chisseld'ness of my features...bugger.
So...Poland, an interesting place. To summarise, we had planned to hit the Great Lakes where one could apparently go on a days canoeing where a bottle of Vodka is included with your canoe. However due to the lack of English spoken in the North of Poland and the bus system being more confusing than a contraceptive in a township, we didn't end up getting there.
We then ended up in a place called Gdansk on the Polish coast, a great little spot that, if it hadn't have rained non-stop would have been my favourite place so far - we were deeply unlucky in Poland, but as always seemed to be the case in that country, I came off slightly worse than the others....After growing my hair for the last 6 months trying desperately to resemble something of the wild, rough, chiseled features of that ever appealing ¨Camel Man¨ look i decided enough was enough and realised that i was kidding nobody. It was time to get it cut. I selected the hairdressers and as i entered, with my two friends sniggering behind me, i had a passing thought that this may not be the most sensible place to get it done...
She was red haired, fiery eyed, looked like the Devil's sister and spoke not a word of the Queen's good English. As i nervously explained, with my best polish accent, that I'd like a little off the sides and a slight trim on the top i caught a look in her eye that resembled excitement crossed with wicked pleasure - i wasn't going to get my way.
She started with the top and carelessly hacked away with no real intention at my patiently grown curls, cigarette hanging from her mouth she involved herself in full conversation with the other ladies in the salon. I think the topic was on different ways to boil cabbage, but i cant be sure. Once she had satisfactorily destroyed the top of my head with genuine contempt, she decided to go to town on the back and sides. Her weapon? a pair of clippers that looked like a petrol-engined weed strimmer - and had a similar effect. About an hour later and with both Will and Beau in fits of laughter, i left Cruella De Vil's lair looking like, well...shit. Please refer to the photos uploaded on Facebook for the proof.
From the North we took the sleeper train down to Krakow - it wasn't a pleasant journey but went without incident, which was lucky as we had heard some bad stories about that route. Krakow turned out to be a fantastic place, we had 4 nights there and every one of them, thanks to the two Aussies i was with, were lined with the blurred and sporadic memory that accompanies a good night out. The City, although packed with tourists was beautiful and still somehow quaint.
The highlight though and i know it may seem odd, if not wrong to say, was our visit to Auschwitz. The only way i can describe it is sobering, vast and truly harrowing in its industrial capacity to destroy human lives, not more than 60 years ago. Important to see.
Both the Aussies flew out of Krakow on the last night and left me to gather my dignity and name from the gutter of Krakow's nightclubs and move on to the Czech Republic.
I spent a week in Czech and enjoyed almost all of it. I stayed in a small student town called Olomouc that resembled and felt exactly like Grahamstown. I then moved onto Cesky Krumlov which was a real highlight - picturesque beauty surrounded by a slow moving river that allows and invites a laid back attitude. One of the days was spent floating down river on a raft, with a couple dozen beers, two pommies and 16km's of ever increasing drunkenness capped off with a final leg of rapids that defeated three drunk men and a flat raft. Happy days.
Prague, beautiful, but not worth the effort of the crowds and the prices.
I then flew to Bulgaria and embarked on four days of heaven and one of hell. The first day saw me take a three hour bus to Golden Sands, where i had booked a night in a hotel (the absent 'S' in that word making such a difference to a backpacker wanting a goodnight sleep...). It turned out to be Blackpool with a lot more heat, more red skin and probably an extra measure of tackiness thrown in. After a night of listening to screaming kids, swearing mothers, drunken brawls and the odd vomiting tourist i was ready to put a black mark through Bulgaria and move on.
As luck would have it i didn't and decided to move to Varna (the town next door) to a hostel called, "Gregory's". Que my 4 days where the fun police were not present... some say it's not always the destination that makes a place great but the people you meet there, this was the case here. Four days that saw spear fishing, of which i now hold the Hostel record (had to get that in there) cocktail drinking, sun lounging, and casual conversation that almost always ended with watching a new sun rise. A great place and some even better people.
As i sit here now i can breath a sigh of relief, having caught up with the present day on my blog (Mum hope you're happy now). I have spent two nights in Macedonia at a place called lake Ochrid - it took 12 hours on a bus that saw me sandwiched between two Os du Randt lookalikes that didn't seem to realise i was there (how I missed that old lady with the sweets...), but it was worth every armpit-chewing mile of the journey as lake Ochrid is a little pearl of a place, that I'm sorry i have to leave.
Stay well and happy travels...on the tube.
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