Too Much Italy Is A Good Thing - Rome

In September, I found myself in one of my favourite countries - I had been to Italy before and I will definitely go back again. For some reason, I never feel like I have seen or experienced half as much as I should have when I spend time in this gorgeous and magical country.

My first visit to Italy was when I was just eleven years old - I went with my sixth grade class (I was attending an International School you understand) and we spent a week in Florence. Each student was given an assignment before we left - prepare an oral presentation about a piece of Renaissance art. And while we were in Florence, we each had the chance to present our findings in front of the said work of art. I chose the Gates of Paradise (doorways to the Baptistery) by Lorenzo Ghiberti. What I remember most from that day was the crowd of confused, yet pleasantly surprised tourists that gathered around us to listen in on my presentation. Everyone seemed delighted to be there and astounded by the sights around them - this seems to be a common occurrence for visitors to Italia!

When my brother Sean and I went to Italy last September, it was a completely different experience. We arrived by ferry from Croatia (Direct Ferries, Dubrovnik to Bari). Let me explain something about ferry travel - when you first board and the sun is shining and you don't have to struggle to find a seat, you can't believe how wonderful this mode of transportation is. You sit outside, feet propped up on the railings, looking out at the shimmering Adriatic sea and entranced by the group of middle-aged Italian women singing traditional songs on the upper deck. However, after five hours, when you've been scorched by the sun and you're sick to death of seeing nothing but the sea, the endless singing loses its appeal and you desperately wish you knew the Italian for 'Please. Just shut up'.

Ferry ride from Dubrovnik to Bari

 We arrived in Bari, a port on the Southeastern coast of Italy, just before 10pm and waited for the bus (only one an hour) to the central station to await our night-train to Rome. For any new readers, I should explain that Sean and I had already endured a night train earlier on in our travels... let's just say, neither of us were particularly looking forward to this second attempt at night travel. Before we boarded the dark and gloomy train, I asked an attendant if our tickets would be valid for the journey. I do not speak Italian, and he did not speak English. But we managed to convey that we wanted to get to Rome and he seemed to think our Interrail passes would be fine. He did not ask for passports, or try to lock us into a cabin so already this experience was better than Budapest to Belgrade! 

We did our best to sleep, despite constant stopping and a rotation of passengers in and out of the cabin, as the train rumbled along to Rome. We arrived at 6am, and although I had planned to get an early start, after the seven hour ferry journey and six hours on the train, we were both exhausted. Finding a hostel at that time of the morning wasn't easy, but thanks to one very friendly desk attendant and an old Italian man who was happy to have paying customers, we found ourselves climbing over strangers to crawl into bed-bunks for our first decent sleep in over 30 hours. You won't find it in Lonely Planet or Rough Guide and it might not be the fanciest place on earth, but I can highly recommend the Hotel Corrallo for great value and a great vibe. Located next to the popular Yellow hostel, but far cheaper. Just make sure you ask them for their hostel rooms and you'll be pleasantly surprised.

When I finally woke up and looked around at our fellow travellers, I noticed a man in the bed across from me who looked just like 'The Dude' from the Big Lebowski. When he woke up and said hello, I couldn't help myself from telling him who he reminded me of. He had no idea what I was talking about. Now this might have been normal had he been from Eastern Europe or Asia but Brad, as it turns out was his name, is American, from Texas, and has never seen nor heard of 'The Big Lebowski'. This really should have told me something about him, but he made us coffee and was very friendly, so I didn't think twice about it. As it turned out, Brad was a devout catholic, a conspiracy theorist and had been in Italy desperately trying to re-connect with his girlfriend for the past four months. He was sure 'they' were keeping her away from him. When I asked how long it had been since he had seen his lost love, he answered 'three years'. Hmmmm. Not really the type to watch Coen brothers' films then.

Sean and I headed out to explore and found ourselves wandering down the Spanish Steps in the blazing sunshine. It felt amazing and, despite the crowds of tourists, I felt incredibly happy. There's something about the air in Italy and the vibrancy of Rome that makes you feel unbelievably alive. I wish I could bottle up the feeling and take a swig whenever I'm blue. 

The Spanish Steps

Next on the list of sights was the Trevi Fountain, an incredible sculpture depicting Neptune in all his glory riding his sea-horse pulled chariot. We sat and looked, alongside at least 1000 other tourists, packed into the tiny square.

Trevi fountain - a definite favourite for tourists

We walked around the Pantheon, sat down and were promptly kicked out by a nun who informed us the service was about to start. Startling, as I thought that anyone could attend a service in the Pantheon but nevertheless, we were told to move on out. 

The sun shines down on the Pantheon

 Last on the list for the day was Rome's most famous monument, the Colosseum. Despite having seen it before, and the image being plastered on posters and pictures around the world, it is still a phenomenal sight to behold when you actually stand in front of it and think about how long it has been there. The Forum Romanum too, as you wander along the old Roman road past ruins of once great buildings, captures the imagination and takes you back to a time most of us now probably associate with films or TV shows rather than actual history.

The Colosseum - still standing, still stunning

 As we headed back to the hostel, with plans to indulge in a lot of delicious and yet reasonably priced red wine, I thought to myself 'I will never tire of visiting Italy'.

Next post - from Rome to Milan, and everything in between.

Thanksgiving in Barcelona

"How come there are no ovens in Barceloneta??" This was my hourly cry as I spent the last Thursday in November preparing for and cooking an American style Thanksgiving dinner in Barcelona last autumn.

When my brother and I decided to go travelling around Europe, we knew we wanted to spend a considerable amount of time in Barcelona. And we did. We rented an apartment in the beach community of Barceloneta and settled in relatively easily. That is, until we needed an oven.

Barceloneta is a great community to live in - it feels like a village within a city, not to mention you get to live on the beach, with the Mediterranean as your neighbour. We made quite a few friends in the area and really felt we had been accepted by the locals. We knew the men who lived on the beach and designed the sand sculptures. We were recognised and greeted by all of the local store owners. And most importantly, we were very well looked after by the two barmen, Joe and Victor, in our local watering hole, Ryan's Irish pub.

By the harbour in Barceloneta

Throughout the two months we were in town, we hardly ever needed an oven for anything. Sure, we couldn't make frozen pizza but that's hardly the worst thing in the world. However, it's impossible (honestly, it is) to make Thanksgiving happen without an oven and no one in Barceloneta seemed to have one. Not the bars, not our neighbours. All we could find was a microwave/oven conversion which was never going to be sufficient for a whole bird!

I was planning to serve up the traditional casseroles, side dishes and a turkey to a group of friends in our local bar. But there were several problems. 

I am a vegetarian so the meat wasn't all that important to me. But clearly anyone who has ever heard of Thanksgiving has heard of the turkey. Well, finding a turkey is not as easy as it might seem. Spanish and Catalunyans don't really eat very much turkey. And when they do, they don't eat it whole. We settled for a chicken instead.

Luckily, my friend Jodie had decided to come visit us for the weekend, and though she isn't American, she loves all kinds of meat so she saved the day by showing me how to prepare a roast chicken. Now all we needed to do was cook the blasted thing.

Jodie - the 'chicken chef'

Our hero of the hour was James, a local musician and bizarre bling t-shirt salesman that also frequented the local pub. Amazingly, James was the only Barceloneta resident with an oven... and he was willing to let us use it! 

So Jodie and I spent the day peeling potatoes, chopping broccoli, making cheese sauce for the macaroni and preparing a large chicken before setting off across town with our platters. We delivered the goods to James' kitchen and set the timers.

Thanksgiving preparations

And at 8:30pm on the fourth Thursday in November, we delivered an entire Thanksgiving meal to the punters in Ryan's pub on the beach. There were ten of us eating in total, only two of whom were American, and the feast went down very well indeed!

Lining up to get served

Enjoying Thanksgiving dinner in Barcelona!

Just goes to show that no matter where you are, and no matter how tricky it is to find an oven, with a little perseverance, a meat-eating friend and a very friendly t-shirt salesman, you can make Thanksgiving happen anywhere!

Coming home again

I think the hardest part about travelling, by far, is the moment you come back to 'reality'. While on my own travels, I discussed this at length with a new friend: Camilla and I met in a hostel/hotel in Milan. We were staying in the same room, just the two of us (my brother was staying in Venice an extra night) and decided to go for a quiet drink.
We talked about a lot of things, but the discussion stayed with me because of something Camilla said. She had been travelling for over a year and many of her friends back home in Norway were asking her when she was planning on going back to 'real life'. Real life. Strange concept. Once you've decided to pack in your day job, start heading around the world and see where life takes you, the idea of any other life seems restrictive to say the least. Camilla and I agreed that other people's concept of 'real life' is very different from our own.

Now I am back in Florida, a place that I left over ten years ago and it doesn't feel like 'real life' one bit. I'm so happy to be spending time with my mother, to be back with my family, but the idea of looking for a job and settling down is completely terrifying. How do people manage this part? I suppose my case is slightly different as I was living in London and working in a busy office, whereas now I am living with my parents again in a very small American town. But the idea of settling down is the same whether I am in London or Florida. It's just awfully difficult to make a decision about what I want to do and where I want to be.

The plan for the moment is to venture north, stay with family in Illinois for a while before taking a road trip out west. Hopefully in the next few months, I'll get more of the travelling need out of my system and clarify my own ideas about what I'd like to be doing. But 'real life' is still a concept I can't quite grasp. If anyone has the answer, I'd love to hear all about it!

Montenegro, my new favourite place

If you haven't already, please read my brother's excellent recounting of our night train from Budapest to Belgrade. As he mentions, we did not stay in the Serbian capital for long as we were only there to catch a connecting train down to Podgorica, in Montenegro.

Leaving Belgrade

This was the part of our trip we were least informed about. I knew I wanted to get to Montenegro - my favourite restaurant in Ixelles, where my dad lives, is run by two brothers from Montenegro. One autumn, when they had recently returned from their summer home, they showed me pictures that convinced me to visit this beautiful little country as soon as I had the chance. So I added it to the itinerary.

The thing about Serbia and Montenegro is that the trains do not run to a schedule. They arrive when they do, they take as long as they please, stop pretty much wherever they choose and pull into the final station at an undetermined hour...usually far later than expected. Our train journey was supposed to take 7 hours. In the end, I think we were on the train for just under 10. There is a very limited catering service on the train; this means plenty of booze with unfamiliar brands and very little in the way of food. At every stop, random people get on the train carrying rucksacks or sports bags offering you beer and mini liquor bottles. Great entrepreneurial minds in this part of the world!

Luckily, the countryside we were going through was absolutely stunning. Southern Serbia looks gorgeous, lush leafy valleys that seem completely untouched by the pollution that has affected a lot of Western Europe. The train went across bridges that were high up in the hills, meaning the view to either side was of a sheer drop, against a background of greenery. If you love the outdoors, this is the place for you. It was absolutely stunning.

Serbian hills and valleys

When we pulled into Podgorica just before 10pm, our journey wasn't over. There is hardly any budget accommodation in the Montenegran capital, and very little to see there to boot. So we hopped on the bus (very frequent and very uncomplicated) heading to Kotor. This was the best decision we ever made.

Kotor is a little town right at the top of Kotor bay at the southeastern end of the Dalmatian coast. The Old town is surrounded by medieval walls, in a similar fashion to Dubrovnik. The difference here is that there are far fewer tourists. And the tourists that do go tend to be Serbian, Croatian or Bosnian, making for a very different, but very friendly and laid-back ambiance.

From the bus station, we made our way to the hostel, at the center of the walled old town and were greeted by pumping techno music... It was Saturday night after all, and the crowds were still very much in holiday mode. We were completely exhausted from our sleepless night on the train to Belgrade and our 12 hour journey to Kotor, so we found our beds and crashed.

The next morning, I awoke to this:

This was the view from the hostel's reception. Kotor is nestled in between the mountains along the coast which are stunning in the morning light. To the other side of the town is Kotor bay, which we didn't get to explore but which provided absolutely gorgeous views as we walked around the harbour.

I found a bakery selling croissants and stuffed my face. The train ride the day before hadn't been too vegetarian friendly so, understandably I think, I was completely starving. When Sean woke up, we sat on one of the terraces and soaked up the sunshine. We had finally made it to the SUNSHINE! Later on, we took a little tour of the old town with one of the other guys from the hostel who introduced us to 'cat square' which was populated, not too surprisingly, by cats. I don't think that this is the actual name of the square, it's actually a plaza near St Mary's Church near one of the bridged entrance points to the town. But there sure were a heck of a lot of kitties around. It's the thing about Kotor that you won't learn in guidebooks. It is a city full of cats.

I love cats, so I found this to be a good thing. I'm guessing you wouldn't feel the same if you were a dog lover. In any case, one particularly fierce cat stood his ground, despite being surrounded by a guided group of tourists. He was sitting where he was sitting and nothing would move him. I felt very proud of this stubborn little feline. That was one tough little dude. Or lady. I didn't check.

We were leaving that afternoon, so we didn't get a chance to walk up the hill that overlooks Kotor to the fortress above. Apparently, it takes about an hour and a half and the views across the fjord from here are breathtaking.

We saw the church in the main square, whose bells had woken me up that morning.

I will definitely come back to Montenegro; after all, we only saw Kotor and the little bit of the coastline between this town and Dubrovnik, our next destination. There's so much more to see and do in this country. But I can highly recommend it to anyone wanting to visit the Montenegran coast on the cheap. Our hostel was just 13 euro a night and we were in the heart of the old town. Get here quick before the prices go up!

Sean emailed a friend...

My brother's friend asked for advice about planning a trip to Europe. This post is Sean's response--the pictures are what I felt corresponded:

If you want my personal feelings about the trip, listen up... or read up.

I started by moving to London, so that doesn't really count as a stop on the trip. Although, if you want to go there you should. It's pretty cool, but the weather is rough, and unless you have a lot of money, you're going to end up drinking wherever you are staying. (there is a bar near Oxford Circus called The Cock (not making it up), which is actually really cheap, go there!). The picture is of Little Venice, where my sister lived.

Things to see in London if you are touristy are Buckinham Palace, Parliament, the London eye, Covent Garden,  etc. Otherwise just take the Tube around the city and you'll find some cool places. Again, VERY expensive.

Next we went to Brussels, Beglium to see my dad. If you go there on a good day (weather wise) it is amazing. Great night-life if you know where to go (I recommend O'Reilly's, an Irish bar which also has a mini 'club' next door called Nua O'reilly's.) Cool people, good vibe, and you can sit on the terrace and look at some epically old architecture. I grew up there, so I love the place, but again, it's more about who you go with and when you go. Beer capital of the world!!!! Must see's are La Grand Place, Mond des Arts, and the maniquin pis... all spitting distance from each other.

Next stop was Berlin. Go with friends, and go to clubs, otherwise the place is BORING and not very scenic. I was there with my sister and was bored out of my mind. Avoid commercial hostels at allllll cost. Go to private ones, they're funner and better value. (That goes for everywhere if possible)

From there we went to Prague, which is pretty epic, has a nice Bridge and river, but again... not toooo much to do. (see blog for more details).

Budapest, Hungary is pretty sweet. First real fun I had on the trip since Belgium! Stay at the Maverick Hostel... it's AMAZING! I would live there if I could afford it. and go out to Buda (across the river) and see the old town... pretty stunning. At night, there is plenty to do, but I recommend a bar called Szimpla. It is the sweetest bar ever...trust me, if you are in Budapest... go there.

DO NOT GO TO SERBIA... (see my post on sister's blog)

There is a place in MonteNegro called Kotor which is beautiful and has a surprisingly good night-life, though I don't know if it's worth going to because it is out of the way. If you go, stay in the Old town. That's where its all at.

GO TO DUBROVNIK!!! It's in Croatia, and it's friggin sweet. Nough said. It is the most beautiful place on earth, and everything is dirt cheap.

OK, now I will go into some of the places you might actually go to haha.

ITALY:

Rome: go there. It is overwhelming, and go on a pub crawl... you will have the time of your life (they're illegal, but just meet at 9pm at the bottom of the Spannish Steps. EPIC.) Everything you see is older than time, and is still unbelievable. See the Vatican.. see the Sistine chapel... see the Colisseum. Trust me, it's a must see.

Florence: Unless you like art a LOT... skip it. It's only fun if you do what I did; find a group of Aussies, a group of Irishmen, some pretty girls, and roam the city at 4am.

Venice: Go. Don't argue, just go.

Now back to some more obscure places...

Milan is the fashion capital of the world, which means everything is very stylish, and too expensive... not my thing. Bologna is the food capital of the world, but be careful where you eat, because everyone there is competing for business, and we ended up somewhere rather disappointing.

Next, I went off with a bud to Nice, on the French Riviera. I was there two nights and it just kept getting better and better. Whoever claims that it is boring and filled with old people is an idiot. By that logic, avoid Florida while you're at it. I had an amazing time, both at night and during the day... it's awesome.

From there, we went to Toulouse to see some friends. It's kinda ugly, it's kinda dirty, there's not much to see, but I had a good time. I think the prettiest people in the world got collected up and thrown into Toulouse for an experiment... maybe to see if an ugly city could produce ugly people despite the best genes available.

Paris is Paris. I didn't go on this trip, but I've been before. Just ask anyone and they'll tell you you have to go. So listen to them, because my opinion is skewed by prejudice.

I went to the countryside in the South of France next. This was more of a necessity than a choice, because we have some family friends there that we had to see. It's really nice and quiet, but that's not really my thing either...

Spain! Spain is awesome and full of Spaniards... they don't speak English, they don't even speak French, and they don't like people who don't speak Spanish (understandibly... being from Florida where it's the exact opposite.) Just make an effort and they'll be nice enough. Didn't see Madrid, heard it's great, but it's landlocked... which is fine, unless you've heard of Barcelona.

BARCELONA! Go to Barcelona. I had never heard a bad thing about it, and I don't think I ever will. Go, stay wherever... best bet might be the Surf Hostel in Barceloneta, purely due to location. This is where I live, and I wake up with a smile on my face every... afternoon. (Living hours are rather strange here... wake up at 12, siesta at 2, then work til 11, go out at about... the next day). I love this city... walk around, it's not too big... see everything, or don't. Whatever, it's the chillest place on earth.

Places I didn't go to on this trip but have been to before are... well, several. I'll just mention Amsterdam because that's what you probably want to know about. It's ok. That's right I said it. If you're a pothead, you'll just appreciate the legality, not necessarily the quality of the weed. If you're not... well there's not much else to do. Drink... avoid hippies on their bikes, and try and find an umbrella to deal with the crappy weather. Night life is fine.

Umm... other places I would recommend  are Edinburgh, Scotland. It's really old and dark and scenic and I love it. I personally like Glasgow, but mainly because I have family there. Never been to Scandinavia... so I can't help you there. Dublin is cool... OH GREECE! Never been, but desperately wanted to. Shame, looks amazing. Haven't been to Portugal either, but I imagine that Lisbon is nice.

That's about it. If you have any questions, let me know. Have fun! Go with friends!   

Hell train

Hello readers, Sean here! As mentioned in previous entries, I (Stephanie’s younger brother) have been accompanying her on this epic quest into the unknown (to us, that is). Stephanie decided that I should make a contribution to her blog, and so here I am, typing away in the comfort of my own bed in my own room, spitting distance from the beaches of Barcelona. I mention this because in order to attain this luxury I had to endure a series of events which I could never have foreseen occurring. I am not suggesting that we had any life-threatening encounters; however, we did experience some excessive shadiness. 

Normal, happy people in Budapest before a night on the hell train

The particular event that I will share with you began late at night in a train station in Budapest. As you may already know, Budapest is rather notorious for hobo-theft. Before you ask, no, there is no epidemic of kidnapped homeless folk, but the occasional bench-dweller has been known to strip travellers of loose belongings in the city. For us, it was a drunk, frail old woman attempting to sneak a bottle of iced-tea from the side of my bag. I saw her and bravely exclaimed, “Umm... I can see you” before she cowered away in shame. Admittedly, it was rather sad, but alas, I was thirsty and on a strict budget. This particular narrative is simply a prologue in order to generate the mood for what was to happen next. 

As we sat, tired and anxious to be snuggled in our beds on board the overnight train to Belgrade, we finally heard a sound in the dark distance. Our train arrived. Stephanie and I approached our chariot with uncertainty due to the fact that there were no lights on in the carriages. We decided that this was, indeed, a NIGHT train and that sleeping might be difficult if lights were to come on at every stop (though I suppose the screeching sound of whistles wouldn’t disturb the comfortable passengers). We were wrong. As we stepped into the train, a man in no identifiable uniform approached us and kindly offered to show us to our compartment. All was dandy until he mentioned that we needed to leave our passports and Interrail tickets with him overnight; something about customs officers needing them in order to check everything without waking the passengers.  Needless to say, this seemed odd and slightly terrifying so we both shook our heads at the prospect and suggested, trying not to sound too rude (or American), that we would feel more comfortable if we kept them with us. Apparently this is not allowed, and so there we were, reluctantly giving our most valuable possessions to a man we had never met, praying that we were not the victims of the least subtle con-artistry of all time. But what could we do? (Other than NOT get aboard hell-train and instead spend another night in a hostel in order to leave Hungary with our documents, pride, and peace-of-mind). Helplessly, we wandered into our coach-class cabin. I must mention that I have been on a fair amount of trains, and even a few overnight ferries, so I had a rough idea of what to expect. Again, WRONG. We stood there peering into the dark of our cabin waiting for our eyes to adjust enough to stow our bags away and lock them up. We took our beds and sat there looking at each other, or at least trying to, with a mirrored look of bewilderment on our faces. Then, as if directed to, we both slowly looked up to see two eastern-European men peering down at us from the darkness of the bunks above. The cabin door was slid closed by the man with our lives in his hands, whose name we had insisted on knowing, as if somehow if this was a scam, we could always report “Henry!” or whatever he had said his name was.

Stephanie had once referred to me as her ‘trip bodyguard’ to a friend somewhere, and I had dismissed it with a chuckle until this very moment. Suddenly, my sisters’ life was possibly in my hands and so, reluctantly, I took the role of Man and pretended that all was gravy as I began to set up my ‘bed’ (which might as well have been a piece of plywood wrapped in cloth) in order to get some sleep. I did this all the while keeping a watchful and still-adjusting eye on our neighbours above. I put in my head-phones and tried to imagine myself in a more peaceful and tranquil place; the dentist’s perhaps. I soon removed the headphones in fear that I may doze off and not be able to hear the sound of my sister being stabbed two feet away from me. As I lay there, not sure if I was indeed already dreaming, I could hear a sound from Stephanie’s bed next to me. I was desperately afraid that she might be crying. Unfortunately, it was worse.

You see, my sister has always had a funny way of dealing with tough moments. When others would shout or cry or punch, Stephanie giggles. It is a very distinct giggle that I have learned to detect. I have seen her giggle away all sorts of bad situations by appearing to be the bigger person in the matter, thus inevitably forcing the other party to back down. The problem here was there was no other party. I tried to calmly explain that there was no reason to be afraid, and that it was “all going to be ok because your brother is here and he’s not going to let anything bad happen to you”. What I actually ended up whispering, however, was more along the lines of “Stephanie, shut the hell up. What are you laughing at? Lunatic!” 

Miraculously, at some point I fell asleep, probably due to the draining of adrenaline earlier in the night. I was awakened (at roughly too early in the morning) by customs officers shouting in some undecipherable language. Our passports and tickets were returned to us, as Henry had promised, and the daylight uncovered the faces of our fellow travellers, who looked just as alarmed as we did. We had survived the night! Stephanie and I later exchanged imagined scenarios that we had envisioned happening. We both had decided on escape methods in the event of a stabbing/robbery, and they were surprisingly similar. I would tackle the man with the knife as Stephanie unlocked the cabin door, enabling us to make a hasty escape. All very plausible, we decided. 

Stephanie recovering from her giggling in the light of day

The train was approaching our destination, Belgrade. I was not even aware of this city’s existence before Stephanie had added it to the list of “must-sees” on our itinerary, much less prepared for what we saw. Momentarily I suspected that we may have boarded a train for Bagdad by mistake, but was reassured only by the lack of time which had passed in the night. 

As the trained slowed along the last stretch, Stephanie and I sat staring out the window at a series of homes that looked more like Alabama chicken coops, with tin roofs and no walls. We passed tenement buildings and porta-potties...

We had finally arrived. We had escaped the clutches of the sketchy men, retrieved our belongings and had at long last arrived at our destination! Our next step? ...Leave!

PS: Note from Stephanie - after reading Sean's entry, I googled this trip to see if other people had similar experiences... why not try it yourself? The results are enlightening!

Budapest, Szimpla the Best.

Let me tell you what's fun about travelling on a budget: you get excited by the smallest things in the world. And despite being surrounded by impressive architecture, fascinating history and a whole different culture, sometimes finding a great bar is the single most important thing about a new city.

Well luckily for Budapest, there were lots of great things, it wasn't all about the bar. Still, it's the place I remember the clearest from our stopover in the Hungarian capital. We arrived in the evening again, after a long train ride from Prague and our hostel, the Maverick was fantastic. It´s located in a grand old mansion house where the rooms on the main floor are each named for a character in the Big Lebowski. That's when you know you're in a fine establishment...

The receptionist at the hostel was wonderful. She was incredibly friendly, told us all about the city and when we asked where the best place to go for a drink was she answered, 'That's easy. Szimpla. Definitely. It is the best bar in Budapest.' I gotta tell you, she was not wrong. 

This place is central, but it's hidden down a little side street in the Pest side of town. You walk through a dodgy looking door in what looks like the frontage of an old warehouse building and into possibly the best bar I've ever had the pleasure of spending an evening in. 

The atmosphere is great, the kitchy decor inside is perfect, the beer is cheap and there's a great big outdoor area with old cars converted into seating pods. 

My description cannot do it justice. You'll just have to go there yourself. It's easy to start chatting with new people in this place as everyone is in an instant good mood the minute they walk in! This was the first night my brother and I really talked to anyone other than each other and it was great to have a conversation with someone who wasn't related to me. Obviously. We ended up in a group with Dutch, American, Hungarian and Spanish and I'd say this was the night that I really started to enjoy my travels.

Obviously, the next day we did all the sightseeing. There is lots to be seen in Budapest, which I would go into great detail about if I were writing an article for the Times, but as this is my own personal blog, I will tell you instead about the chestnut. I dragged Sean out in the rain, across the river Danube into Buda, the older part of town, to see the Castle district, which sits at the top of a great big hill. It's true, you can ride a funicular up to the top. Or, if you are cheap like myself, you can walk up a long and winding and cobblestoned pathway which curves up the hill towards the Palace and Fortress above. I convinced Sean to walk with me, so up we went and on our way, we started kicking around a couple of fallen chestnuts. This is something our dad used to do with us, the point being to kick it back and forth, keep it ahead of you and not to lose it in the bushes. 

Well, we kicked one chestnut (bruised and battered as it was) all the way up and around to the very top of the hill! In the rain (note Sean's umbrella in the picture above)! I can't tell you what a fabulous sense of achievement I got from this act. Like I said, it's the little things.

We wandered around the Palace for a while and had fun with a statue:

And from up there the views were pretty spectacular, even in the rain and the fog, including a great vista of the Hungarian Parliament building through the walls around Buda Palace:

We liked Budapest, we both agreed it was the best stop on our travels so far. The only trouble was not having enough time to sample the baths which we had been told were amazing. The Hungarian girl we met at Szimpla told us about one of the most popular baths, The Szechenyi Spa in the East side of town in the middle of the city park, where you can sit in a bath outside and watch the sunset. It'll just have to wait until the next time I'm in Budapest...