Nothing (much) To Report

Now with extra longness and spelling mistakes!

This is going to be a long one, so if you don’t have a cup of tea now - best go put the kettle on. I decided to keep a diary of my travels, so what you read was happening “live” as it were. It’s my own pathetic attempt to become a travel writer, because that would just be the bestest job in the whole world (I reckon)

OK:

Sitting on the plane, it’s hard to describe the anticipation right now. For all my bravado about travelling around Europe on my own - I’m cacking it right now. The only way I can placate my brain at the moment is by saying: “OK, if you hate Bratislava so much, and you’re too scared to even go outside - then at least we can spend the next 2 1/2 days sleeping and wanking in a hotel room”.

It works for me. Let’s go.

Plus - it’s also far too late to change my mind. They’ve shut the doors, done the cross checking and all that malarky. Whatever that is.

 Baaaah!

Trying to break the monotony and sooth my eyes from the garishly branded “Ryanair yellow” cabin, I decided to read the safety instructions. In the event of a crash etc etc

• No shoes
• No jewellery (shame, but OK)
• No glasses

And what looks like

• No false teeth - but it could just as easily be no burgers. Why you would want a burger in an emergency situation, I don’t know (excluding Americans, obviously)

My mind is boggling.

I’ve decided to stop writing now, as the inside of an aeroplane isn’t really the best of topics to muse on.

Am very keen to land now, with the prospect of seeing some snow to look forward to. Ooooo.

Bratislava airport was pretty unremarkable as airports go. What was great though was travelling only with hand baggage - I must have landed and been stood outside (looking bewildered) within 5 minutes.

I was reliably informed, before I left (from a Slovakian person, via a Pole) that the ticket machines *do* take slovak notes. They were wrong (or perhaps just never travel on a bus?) I will never doubt you again, internet!

The problem is that nowhere wants to give you any coins for these damn  machines. I wanted the 3 day ticket, which costs 210 Koruna and the machine does sell these. How the hell you get 210 in coinage I don’t know. I managed to get 2 10 Koruna coins and bought myself a 30 minute ticket. I wasn’t entirely sure it was enough to get into the centre - but it was all I could get…so I spent the next 1/2 hour pooping myself incase one of the ticket inspectors (that the internet had scared me to death about) appeared. They didn’t, and I didn’t. Therefore arriving at Hlavna Stanica unsoiled.

Now, directions to the hotel said 1.2km from Hlavna Stanica in a straightish line. Having no more coins, and no means of getting any more (Bratislava is not a 24 hour city) I decided to take a wander. How hard could it be, I said to myself?

The answer to that is: very hard. 1.2km was more like 2 miles and the straight line was mostly straight although with a confusing amount of other straight looking roads to try and tempt you from your path. I shook my fist at them!

The plus side to all of this is that I got myself quite acclimatised to the local area and ambient temperature in a relatively short space of time. I didn’t let the lact of deep snow that I’d been promised dampen my spirits, because you could still find some on the verges and I rather childishly gave into the temptation to jump up and walk through it - much to the amusement of any Slovakians still wandering about at 11pm. And it was good.

When I finally made it to the hotel (after I stocked up on strange 24 hour petrol station bounty), I was slightly irked to say the least when I realised that the very bus that I had travelled on to Hlavna Stanica had actually stopped not 50 metres from the hotel a good 45 minutes ago. D’oh! Hindsight is a wonderful thing.

I can sum up the hotel in 2 words:

Very. Soviet.

Any hotel that hands you the TV remote control with your keys and tells you not to move the furniture around in the room has got to be seriously worried about its cliental.

But anyway - what do you expect for a few pounds more than a youth hostel? There was hot water, Russian films on the telly and a bed. More than enough for now.

Day Two

I’m sure it’s not as dark and dreary here as it is back in Blighty- even allowing for the time difference. I woke up early to sunlight streaming through the nylony curtains, and got ready to face the day (and not just to sleep and wank)

I feel intrinsically at home in Bratislava - which is a surprise as I haven’t even been here 24 hours yet. Walking through the London suburbs after 10pm at night would have made me very nervous, but here it seems just fine - other women were wandering about too (just not looking so touristy and lost as me)

I think it’s also got something to do with it feeling familiarly eastern bloc for me, plus I can understand many of the words and posters. All that time spent in Russia wasn’t wasted.

And so here I am right now, sat on a train bound for Vienna using a ticket I’d bought in Slovakian. I’m so proud of myself right now I could burst.

I bought a “vegetarianska” bagette in Billa (another familiar store for me) opposite the hotel, but looking at it now through the cellophane - I have a sneaky suspiscion it contains ham. It’s like France all over again.

Some interesting news: 6 people were just taken off the train on the Slovakian-Austrian border for not having their passports. Opps. Surely they should have realised that they needed them? Oh well. I got to gawp at the lovely border patrol guards in their uniforms for just that little bit longer *sigh*

OK, so sudbahnhof is not the best thing to judge Vienna on - but it was really easy to firstly locate the ATM and then buy a 24 hour Vienna card. They rather sensibly accept notes in their machines here. *cough*

Stepping out from the station, I knew I had to get on a tram - in which direction I didn’t have a clue - so I plumped for the stop with most people at. (Moosh logic: if there’s a queue, it’s probably because it’s for something interesting)

My logic failed here for this very reason: it was locals, fresh from the station with suitcases - they were going home i.e. to the suburbs. I realised this when the stations started to look a bit, well, untouristy. I let my doubt well up for a good long time though, as I was munching on my bagette at this point - being ecstatic that it didn’t actually contain any dead pigs.

I jumped off at what I thought was a busy intersection and just got myself hideously confused. From my understanding Vienna has: a tube, buses, trolleybuses and trams. But sometimes the trams go underground (does it then make them tubes?) and each of the symbols used on the signs for each of these methods of transport I only later figured out. At about 6pm. Bums.

Eventually I found a tram going somewhere touristy (by pure luck really) so that’s exactly where I went. And I did all manner of touristy things like: going up St Stephan’s Dom (where you could still smell the horses from), drinking mulled wine from a stall in st michael’s platz and just generally was in awe by the amazing architecture. The internet wasn’t lying when it said Vienna was breath taking. It is. Everyone should go here! The locals are friendly and cheerful - I dredged up my best German from my school days to ask for stuff, only to be replied at in English with a smile.

Vienna

Great view of Vienna

I resisted a very touristy thing: going to the loo that plays Mozart at you. I thought, what a waste of 50 cents…only to need the loo 10 minutes later and had to go in some tube station - paying the same 50 cents and being shown into the cubicle by the toilet woman. It’s a good job I didn’t need a shit - I would never have been able to go with her outside!

Lovely xmas lights

I did however want to go to the Christmas markets. I stumbled upon one outside the Rathaus. I also stumbled across a lost Brit too, who came wandering up to me pointing at his map. From that point on - I had a friend.

His name was Bobby and he was a city banker earning scary amounts of money. He’d snuck out from a works conference and wanted to see Vienna. He was very friendly and all that, but he seriously hampered my shopping. Ah well, he probably saved me from buying lots of Austrian tat. Cheers bobby!

He’s supposed to come to Bratislava tomorrow to see the castle - but given that I spurned his advances, I don’t think he’ll show up somehow. It’s weird isn’t it - I always thought I wanted to be propositioned by some rich dude in a suit in some foreign land, but when it happened, it all just felt so Pretty Woman to me, I just didn’t fancy it. I guess I just have more morals than I thought ( shut up Bea, before you even say a word ) Bet the jewellery, clothes, fancy restaurant and posh hotel were bloody nice though. Damn, what was I thinking!

I missed the train that I was going to get back to Bratislava (some things never change). Thankfully there was another one in an hour, so I just mooched around the station buying tat and wine and talking to some nice pizza dude. (The dude was nice, not the pizza. Mind you, no one ever said that train station pizza is nice)

I never thought I’d say it, but I’m glad of the smoking ban in Blighty. Cafes and bars in Vienna, quite frankly stink. And I never realised just how much they do until now.

Here I am, sat on the train again, just had my ticket inspected by what looks like Dave the Fwappers younger brother! I’ll be sure to ask where his Dad was about 18 years ago when I get back.

I’m also wondering why the Austrians have such strange stickers on their trains (as if eating burgers in an emergency wasn’t enough)

To me, this looks like:

Please give up this seat for

• Pregnant women
• Women with children
• Jews on crutches
• Uncle Albert

Or it could just be me

Bratislava

Well. Lets just say that I shouldn’t have done Vienna first.

The day didn’t get off to the most brilliant of starts, by meeting possibly the most surly luggage attendant ever (outside of Sheremetyevo). I  simply wanted to leave my rucksack for the day; lots of smiling, lots of “dobry rano”, but it wasn’t reciprocated. Mr Hvlana Stancia luggage man was not impressed. He was even less impressed when i tried to pay for it upfront (not knowing the ettiquette of these things). I had to admit, in Slovakian that”I haven’t the foggiest what you’re saying”.

He simply muttered “English or deutche?” I had to say “English” and he spat “pay later” at me. I thanked him and skuttled off, quite scared to have to return later to pick it up.

I then set off for the trams. My lonely planet guide clearly states: take tram number 1 from Hvlana Stanica to the old town.

No such trams stop there…or anywhere near - and I am 100% sure of this. For the record, you need tram 13

After wasting a good 30 minutes fruitlessly searching for tram 1, I gave up and started following road traffic signs for “Historical Centre”. 2 buses later (after following some Americans, I’m ashamed to say) I found myself at the castle.

Bratislava
Don’t be fooled by tourist book write ups about the castle. I was spectacularly underwhelemed by the place. OK, so it was basically rebuilt in the 1950s…but thats no excuse for being so souless. It’s nice enough form the outside - take a few pictures etc, etc but for god’s sake don’t waste your 200 Koruna by going inside. I never thought it possible to have such a dull set of museums as that - but trust me: the Slovakians take boredom to a whole new level. I think I was there 30 mins max. I got fed up up of staring at unenthusiastically arranged stuff in cabinets long before that though.

The write ups, although in English, contain such gems as: “these coins were found from an unknown source at an unknown time”. Great.

There wern’t even that many coins! Enough to fit the whole collection in my front room, ffs.

The musical museum was no better. It wore down my will to live and I had to leave. I was going to go to the loo before I left - but considering that they charged 50 Kurona (£1) I thought they’d had enough money off me for the day, so I settled for just blowing my nose instead. (my silent protest)

I did wonder why so many people were outside and not in. I know now, so let me tell you: Don’t bother with the castle at all - you probably even get a better view of it from Novy Most anyway.

The next delight was the historical centre. It was OK. Well, alright then - if pushed I’d call it “lovely”. Cobbled narrow streets, and in the main square was a German market (or the Slovakian equivalent)

God knows what the place is like without this though - just a big empty, dull space. I guess maybe in summer they fill it with cafe tables, who knows. In October though, before this market - it must suck.

I was feeling a little Christmassed out by now, after Vienna, but forced myself to have a mosey. I wasn’t tempted to part with any cash for anything and I LOVE tat.

Disillusioned with both Bratislava and myself I wandered off. The wrong way, (Note this for later) towards the scummy part of town, which is always where the bus station is in *any* town.

It’s like the chicken & egg thingy: did the area become scuzzy because of the bus station, or did they put the bus station in a scummy area? Who knows. But that was exactly where I was.

It was also where Tesco was. I couldn’t resist it - I *had* to go inside. Appart from the odd Tesco value candle or Cherokee branded coat, it was nothing like our Tescos. I was almost relived somehow. Tesco shouldn’t be taking over the world.

I finally found tram number 1, and curiousity got the better of me: I needed to know where it went. It was just at this point (3pm) that I seriously considered getting on a train and going back to Vienna.

Anyway, persevering, I took tram 1 and got off where most of the other people went: a dull shopping centre on the edge of town. Still hoping that tram 1 went somewhere important or interesting, I got back on it after I’d trudged around the overpriced stuff in the “mall”. Tram 1 actually goes to the middle of bloody nowhere. It was bleak. I didn’t want to get off the tram, but the driver made me get off until it was ready to depart back to civilisation.

It’s hard to admit now, but this is when I actually found the rest of Bratislava. All the nice bits that I’d lost earlier. I blame my sense of adventure and unwillingness to get a proper map. I also discovered some lovely mulled wine. It was very strong. I staggered off to the main street and went into a shop - it was when I was staring at the bras that I realised that I was too pissed to do any kind of shopping and should take myself away from garish clothes and accesories.

I reluctantly went back to the train station man to get my rucksack, not trusting Bratislava not to sneakily close at 6pm. (it actually closes at midnight FYI) and I may have been mistaken, but I’m sure he managed a smile this time. I was sure to thank him heartily.

Sceptical that the Bratislavan fayre might have meat in, I opted to dine in a Chinese restaurant that night. I rather Britishly waited at the door to be seated; being very much ignored by all the staff, until the finally wondered what I wanted.

I got my table, and some lovely food too. Highly recommended: I think it was called “Panda” restaurant. I imbibed much more beer & a strange hot spirit here too. Smashing.

Had to stagger back to Hvlana Stanica with stupid grin on my face and find bus 61 to the airport. I had some great drunken ideas on the way: YouTube for hindsight - you get to watch the many possibilites of your life, from the comfort of your PC: i.e. what would happen in my life if I say, decided to throw my job in and become a monk. Lovely idea, shame about the lack of connections to reality with that thought. Also gave all of my spare change to some drunken tramps who spoke Russian.

Once at the airport, I did my next Random Act of Kindness for the day: leaving my 3 day ticket (2 days remaining) on the bus ticket machine for any weary travellers. I got stared at hideously by the taxi drivers nearby - maybe they thought I was vandalising it?

On the flight back, I shared an aisle with some Slovakian chavs. Yes, they do exist. Unfortunately. Except these were slightly more classy, getting pissed on Ryaniar £10 a pop for a small bottle of crappy champagne. Anyway, there was no time for quiet contemplation and to be hungover here.

Final thoughts: Slovakian girls.

As with most Eastern European girls - just the mention of them gets Brit guys (and other nationalities) salivating. Quite frankly, I’d like to set the record straight: they’re not really that different looks wise. I think we’re on par.

Take Gloucester out of the equation though - I’m sometimes surprised at the amount of ugly men and women there wandering about of an afternoon. How can a whole town be beaten with an ugly stick? Small gene pool I guess - everyone with any sense has left the place already.

Anyway, back to the girls.

The only real difference is this:

They make more effort. Full stop.

You wont spot a Slovakian girl with chip greasey hair and dirty tracksuit bottoms scuffing through town.

They’ve probably got loads less cellulite too - although it wasn’t short skirt wearing weather, so it’s only a speculation and a little glimpse at my own insecurities

The end! (phew)

-moosh