A Transitory Existence (Part I)

A Transitory Existence

Budapest, Hungary

When long hours need filling and unoccupied minds need stimulating it comes as no surprise that the majority of travel journals are written whilst actually in transit.  With patience it can provide the greatest of entertainment, even whilst awkwardly sat in a stuffy train carriage and logged between the highlights of ticket checks, passport checks and expeditions to the bathroom.  Recent travels need documenting essentially when the senses, smells and tastes of a place are still fresh and ripe.  Even brief notes made in a scrubby notebook can allow for a plethora of description to emerge.  When reading an old travel diary, sprung from the depths of my own subconscious mind, and carved from my own memories were imaginative accounts, the likes of which I had not initially realised existed on these scuffled pages.

On the evening of September 3^rd, 2007, our party of five nineteen-year-old English girls trawled under beaten raincoats to Krakow’s Dworzec Glowny train station.  Through the sodden streets the heavy bellowing rain bounded at the ground and bounced off the pavement to soak our flip-flopped feet.  So far our stay here had been smothered in speckles of sunshine and sprightly breezes.  This unexpected turn in the weather welcomed the 182.35 mile journey south that Fiona, Tash, Ursula, Catherine and I were about to embark on.  Failing to feel disheartened by the rain and in the hope of escaping the dark grey clouds we dried off on the train, read our wearying novels and enjoyed each other’s company.  The dynamics of a five-girl group frequently became complex or strained with such a high number of people.  All with strong yet entirely different personalities, we wanted to do different things, we disagreed sometimes and the group would often happily split into twos or threes to suit everyone’s needs and tempers.  Other times and particularly when travelling from place to place we became a unit, with the same destination in mind.  On this twelve-hour night train the combination worked, we consumed Tyskie lager and a group of rather cheery, rather giddy Belgian boys in the compartment next to ours invited us in.  They were slightly younger than us, and plentifully poured out plastic cups full of cherry vodka whilst we struggled to hide our amusement at their goofy manners and Belgian accents.

At six the next morning we were woken up by a woman from Tourist Information.  Still an hour away from Budapest we grumpily declined her offer of answering any questions about the city, and then on arrival walked in the completely wrong direction.  In the rain that had followed us from Poland, what we saw of Budapest felt like a combination of a number of contrasting worlds, modern and stylish yet definite and traditional.  Classicalist and gothic architecture contrasts with Art Nouveau and Turkish forming an eclectic mix of styles, and provoking the feeling that Budapest really is at the heart of Europe.  The capital features a mass array of creations from the tranquil manmade lake of Millenar Park to the odd sculptures of the CowParade exhibition; the world’s largest public art event which included rubixcube, zebra and watermelon cow sculpture designs. Budapest is swamped with architectural, artistic and visual variety.

The view from Gellert Hill, Buda

The city itself is divided into Buda and Pest by the Danube River.  We booked two nights at Eleventh Hour Hostel in Pest where I noticed a sign reading ‘I’d rather be a good liver than have one’ and instantly diagnosed this as our sort of place.  The small, dark-haired amiable girl who ran the hostel made us tea, coffee, popcorn and even brought us vodka.  Her upfront friendliness was endearing.  She wanted to be involved in the activity that surrounded us and made a great effort to please her guests.  I felt this rather unlike the prim, boring sort of people I had previously met in these sorts of establishments in England.

Thermal Roman Baths at the Gellert Hotel

The next day the weather was still awful so we got a bus to Buda to the thermal Roman baths at the Gellert Hotel, which perches on the north bank of the Danube.  Gellert Hill boasts vast views of the river and the turquoise Turkish domes of the city; breathtaking despite the drizzle.  The baths are the perfect idea for a rainy day.  The walls and ceilings are lavishly decorated and boldly gold in colour which complements the strong cerulean blue of the pools, a simultaneous air of royalty and communality simmers about this place.  The pools vary from those cool in temperature, to those with bubbles that swell beneath swimmers, to hot ones where both locals and tourists relax with eyes closed at the edges.  The minerals in the water are thick and cloudy causing a floating sensation, going from the cold plunge pool to the hot pools causes the skin to tingle and rejoice in the experience.  Various water fountains, sauna, eucalyptus steam room and massaging power showers complete an invigorating afternoon, and I had never felt so clean.

A Traditional Poland

A Traditional Poland

Krakow, Poland

“Ten przewóz do Warszawy.”A small yet vital piece of information meant that we could have ended up in the wrong Polish city.  The five of us reassembled in the Czech darkness, now on the correct carriage to Krakow I sat and contemplated our destination.    With Poland’s recent economic boost I pondered how different these two cities must be, having visited Warsaw before I knew it as the sky-scraping capital; metallic and dry.  With every building site, construction worker and flourishing business its beauty seems to diminish.  The scales are being tipped towards more Western European ideals and away from the appeal of the Old Town.  I yearned for the real Poland, for the friendly, traditional culture of my family’s rural farms and villages.  On the train the jolly Pole in our compartment chatted and offered us bottle after bottle of beer.  He reminded me of my older male relatives and this familiarity was comforting as the carriages clattered by in rolling slow-motion. As the others snoozed the only light flickered outside the compartment.  Hours elapsed as I squinted to read tales of wizards and wands, rickety train journeys, castles and lakes, of cobbled streets and the snow, and I fell asleep to the excitement of finally exploring a traditional Polish town.

When we woke up a new world had cracked open, and as with a runny egg we were the surplus bits of shell that poured from the station into the town.  Krakow is Poland’s third largest city and former capital, but unlike Warsaw it came out of the Second World War reasonably unharmed, and so today it maintains its medieval architecture.   Krakow’s sheer essence draws in the arrival of hundreds of thousands of tourists every year, and against the peaceful early-morning backdrop of this attractive, historical city we waddled through with backpacks and maps: a common eyesore.  It seems the appeal of a place can sometimes transform its image.  As travellers, other sightseers tend to become loathsome, yet we consider ourselves as dissimilar to them, as having more of a right to visit anywhere we please because we are young and deserve to see the world, and yet even in thinking this we are conforming to typical tourist cognition.

Krakow is divided into eighteen districts including the Old Town (Stare Miasto), the Wawel District and Kazimierz (the Jewish quarter).  Particularly when wandering through the Old Town I felt a sense of real Polish ambience; locals and tourists bustle between Polish cuisine eateries, buskers and flower-sellers dot about the tread-ways, tobacco stands prop up every corner and housewives line every street selling homemade bread and cakes.  In the centre of the Rynek Glowny (Market Square) the beautiful arched architecture of the Old Cloth Hall separates this from any other square.  This centre of activity is the city’s meeting place where both young and old come together, the satisfying September sun casually highlighting this scene made it all the more radiant, and all the more unique.

Rynek Glowny Old Cloth Hall

In the Wawel District, Wawel Castle and Cathedral sit on the top of Wawel Hill next to the Vistula River.  The castle’s history dates back to the eleventh century and is a former residence of the Polish kings; the surrounding buildings have Romanesque, Gothic and Renaissance features.  The arcaded courtyard is bright and spacious, built in the Renaissance style it glows like a ‘Casanova’ scene.  My imagination ran away with me as I pictured couples parading sweetly together here under the courtyard’s white arches, flooded with romance and curiosity.  In the castle gardens deep and rich purple tulips from the flower beds and leaves from the trees shuffled in and out of sync in the breeze.  With a drawbridge entrance and a view over the river it’s no surprise that this romantic setting is subject to so many weddings.  A set of spiral steps lead to the ‘Dragon’s Den’, according to legend the Wawel dragon lived here until it was defeated by a poor shoemaker.  The underground cave passages are a satisfying exit from the castle and leave a wizardly, medieval impression especially upon those blessed with a child’s imagination.

View of Wawel Castle from the Vistula River

Taking a darker turn, an hour’s bus or train journey away from Krakow is the town of Oswiecim, better known as Auschwitz.  Visitors are taken on a tour around two of Auschwitz’s three camps.  Auschwitz I was the original camp and today various exhibitions depict its history through portrayals of the sufferings of prisoners, and the gruesome gas chambers and crematoriums that they perished in.  A shuttle bus goes to Auschwitz II; Nazi Germany’s largest concentration camp.  The majority of Jews that arrived at Auschwitz’s specially built train station were imprisoned here.  Having been told they were heading for a better life they were brought to their slaughter or enslavement on arrival.  Auschwitz is a very serious, very morbid day but a necessary visit especially for someone with Jewish or Polish roots.  I felt amazed at my Polish grandparents who had suffered and survived through these experiences during the War: without their bravery my family and I wouldn’t be here today.

Auschwitz II

It is easy to spend quite a few days in Krakow as there is so much to do in and around the city.  In the right season days can be spent in Zakopane, a village and popular skiing resort at the foot of the Tatra Mountains.  Failing that the mines at Wieliczka provide a fascinating few hours.  One hundred feet underground the rocks are embraced in salt.  Some of the caved passages are burnt and indigo from numerous candle fires, and reconstructions of horse-drawn machinery display Wieliczka’s 900 year-old mining methods.  Within the mines is St. Kinga’s Chapel where the chandeliers, altar and wall mural of Da Vinci’s ‘Last Supper’ are all completely carved out of salt.

We spent our favourite and least touristy day just out of town.  Deep in a park of fern trees winding paths brought us to sheer cliffs which enveloped an abandoned quarry. Walking around this astonishingly gorgeous dark blue lagoon the slope crumbled and we clambered and jumped by the water’s edge.  The risk was worth the still fresh water slicing at our faces.  It was even worth the rocks bruising our skin and pondweeds licking and playing with our nervy senses.  The cold liquid got darker and deeper the further we swam, but when the sun beamed and the water shimmered we surfaced from the depths and babbled and splashed back to the edge.  The lagoon was transformed from a magnificently dark, exciting, unknown place to a bright, blinding, sundrenched spectacle.

'The Blue Lagoon'

To conclude our stay in Krakow we ate a delicious dinner at Babcha’s restaurant just off the Rynek Glowny.  This endearing little place felt quintessentially Polish, and when stuffing my face with Pierogi I felt that this whole visit had quenched my thirst for an essence of traditional Poland.  Krakow itself does seem to display a pinch of Warsaw’s cosmopolitan influence, yet this is only really present in shops and outlets.  Of course the city of Krakow is not like the rural Polish villages of my childhood memories, but visually and atmospherically this alluring place feels very traditional with its relaxed, old world charm.  Krakow attracts an influx of tourists; this is apparent but it only blemishes the surface.  The appeal of Krakow is far too strong for this to detract from its delights. 

We did the expected touristy things like visit Wawel Castle, Auschwitz and Wieliczka’s salt mines.   We did unexpected non-touristy things such as swimming in the quarry, and simply wandering with no procedure.  The admittance of being one of those puzzle-faced foreigners means that one can learn more about such a wonderful place and its history.  The bottle to explore just that little bit further can lead to glorious encounters never even contemplated.  Combining the two approaches makes Krakow a very memorable experience, and I have never felt so proud to be Polish.

Czech-in / Czech-out

I am going to begin this blog with a few articles which I wrote some years ago. This is going back to when I first discovered my love for backpacking whilst 'inter-railing' around Europe. Let me take you there...

Czech-in / Czech-out

Prague, Czech Republic

In the late evening of August 29^th 2007, Tash, Ursula, Fiona, Catherine and I landed at Ruzyne-Prague Airport.  The Eastern European travels of five excitable teenage girls had begun.  Unleashed upon a dark and musty Prague, the ambiguity of the night and this new place swelled our curiosities and we rejoiced in our choice of first destination.  With each of us owning very strong and very different personalities, this three-week tour was to determine how we would cope and develop as a group of first-time travellers.  Tash is a fun-loving and easy-going character, Ursula is passionate and opinionated, Fiona is organised and outspoken, Catherine is friendly and enthusiastic, and I am eager and determined.  I had lived with Tash for a year at University whilst the other girls were friends of hers from secondary school.  I had only met Fiona and Catherine a few times before but as we soon discovered, meeting and befriending new people is a large and very significant part of travelling.

So after hassling over the 119 bus and various metros from the airport, we dumped our unnecessarily heavy backpacks at a hostel where the staff were frustratingly slow and needless to say we had only one thing in mind – BEER.  Prague is divided into ten different districts and this number expands further outside the main part of the city.  Our hostel was an inconvenient tram-ride away from Prague 1 and with it being too late to head into the centre of town, we found a quirky smoke-filled pub around the corner instead.  Elaborate pictures, posters and mirrors displaying various lagers and tipples bedecked the walls of this place.  The Budweiser lamps, licence plates, murky windows and sooty fireplace all added to the delight of fifty pence pints and eighty pence cocktails, which tasted all the sweeter for their purse-pinching prices.

In the morning we visited Prague 1 which consists of the Old Town, New Town and Little Quarter; the area between Prague Castle and the Vltava River.  In the New Town we walked along the 750m long Wenceslas Square which has been subject to a great deal of Czech history including various protests against police brutality, one of which led to the end of communism in Czechoslovakia.  Although this had been the scene of violence and hostility we saw no evidence of it on this bright and perky day. The bustle of the town centre did distract somewhat from the beautiful architecture of Prague. The museums, small squares and ivy-clad courtyards are easily missed when trying to weave between the tourist masses, but under inconspicuous archways lay quaint pizza places and eateries that hide away from the crowds and are cheaper than those on the square.

Turning off the square into Jindrisska Street we came across Jindrisska Tower, the highest belfry in Prague.  Eager for views we headed up its creaky wooden steps to look out on a sea of red and white houses; pausing as the red rooftops seemed to soak in the Eastern European sun, and the white reflected its subtle orange.  The view felt heart-warming.  I imagined all the feet that pattered in-between these buildings and the people they belonged to, seeing how vast Prague was I felt my feet itching to go and patter alongside them.  The tower dates from the late Gothic era, it was constructed in the 1470s and has been rebuilt and reconstructed several times since.  The beams and floorboards reverberate with every chime of the bell, showing an older, more rustic side to Prague. Today the clock-tower maintains its gothic style.

The view from Jindrisska Tower

We found the Old Town more visually and spiritually pleasing than the New.  The Old Town Square started life as Prague’s central marketplace and dates from the 10 century.  The buildings and churches that line the square are Gothic, Romanesque and Baroque.  The Old Town Hall Tower has stood proud at the centre of the square since 1338, the famously intricate green and gold Astronomical Clock was added a century later.  The clock ticks its mechanical dance by uniquely combining an astronomical dial with a calendar dial, and with the strike of every hour twelve figures of the Apostles perform a procession for their watchers’ pleasure.  Below this piece of clockwork artwork are twelve pendants of the signs of the zodiac.  The Old Town itself is plumped out with cobbled lanes and alleyways that snake towards the riverside, laced with cafes, vintage clothes outlets, boutiques and handmade toys stores; and not forgetting the oh-so-essential souvenir shops.  Perhaps it was the remnants of a world gone-by seen in the architecture, the essence of local tradition apparent in the native people and the Czech cuisine of goulash and dumplings.  Or perhaps it was the outdoor living and the exciting atmosphere that seems to go hand-in-hand with the older parts of a town that pleased us so.

The hypnotising melodies of a gypsy folk group carried on the breeze as we strolled over the Vltava River, looking at various paintings and crafts for sale. On the famous arched Charles Bridge we felt a sense of ease and happiness.  It was easy to get lost in this postcard photo, peering out over the wooden canoes that tranquilly bobbed to and fro on the blinding sapphire shimmer of the river.  I felt mesmerised and enchanted by this stunning picturesque scene, and by Prague.  On reaching the Lesser Town on other side we found a gorgeous grassy spot on the riverside. In the shade of a tree we watched life on the river go by and shared our late afternoon picnic with the geese.

A folk group playing on the Charles Bridge

Dusk was arriving so we walked beside the banks alongside a sleepily setting sun.  In the outskirts of Prague the sense of tourism flopped somewhat, and as we walked towards the Prague 7 district the streets felt significantly emptier.  In the darkness we found ourselves following the captivating sounds of classical music.  Searching for its source we scrambled over walls and through gardens having slightly lost our way in the shadows and in our eagerness.  The mischief of the night seemed to inspire us to succeed and eventually we found the looming, magnificent grounds of the Vystaviste Fairgrounds.  A concert was talking place so we climbed onto a wall to get a better look, the sight that met our eyes was a remarkable one; the huge Krizik Fountain was exploding into liquid colour.  The fountain is also known as the ‘singing fountain’, the music and the water were timed so exquisitely that the water itself seemed to create the sugary music.  The light display, the shooting water and the heavenly singing was spectacular and we felt so fortunate to have stumbled across such a scene.

We ended the night at Cross Club.  Like nowhere I have ever been to before or will see again; the club seemed to be made entirely out of steel, junk and scrap metal – all intricately meshed together to form mass sculptures and contraptions that whirred and clicked in perfect sequence.  When wandering through this establishment we got lost easily in its endless mazes and quarters.  The whole place was reminiscent of the Crystal Maze television show.  Every room had a different vibe; the Reggae Room was like a jungle with ominous green lighting and spinning artificial foliage on the walls.  The Electro Room churned and clanked with your own imagination as metallic contraptions twisted around the seating area, the music blurred and blended in with the odd water and electrical features that clashed side-by-side.  In the basement the Drum ‘n’ Bass Room felt like a medieval chamber. We were stunned by this collection of contradictions, a paranormal land fuelled by sound and vision, an unexpected masterpiece and an excellent night lasting until a mere six in the morning.

Cross Club interior

We checked out and spent our last day walking up to Prague Castle to take in the views of the Lesser Town, an area less affected by recent history.  Prague Castle is one of the biggest castles in the world dating from the 9^th century.  It had a different feel to the medieval English fortresses that we were so familiar with, rather than a castle in our minds it resembled a vast courtyard that contained various buildings including St Vitus Cathedral, the Basilica of St. George, a monastery, palaces, gardens and defense towers.  We found the Lesser Town to be less touristy than the Old and New Towns.  Its quieter streets and cafes felt far more relaxed, and as we five girls rested in the park I thought about how quickly we had bonded and formed a group identity already.  When spending all day everyday together I assumed it wouldn’t take long for friendships to strengthen or strain even further.  Two nights and two days seemed like enough for us to be able appreciate Prague; we visited no museums as our aims were specifically visual.  We had concentrated more on soaking in the beauty of Prague and finding those little known places, those secret courtyards and gardens that we could appreciate so much more than any museum or church. We did Prague, and we did it our way.