Part Two: The Way Back
Munich
A final sleeper train dumped us at Munich station at a most unnatural time of the morning, and we wearily explored the city; I have to admit I was exhausted, as the train had been rough and we had been woken up twice for our passports to be checked. Having not pre-planned or researched any of the places we visited, preferring instead to be carefree and figure it out as we went along, we perhaps didn’t make the most of Munich in our limited time; regrettably we only acquired a tourist map late in the day, so had to content ourselves with visiting places with intriguing metro station names, with some success. The 1972 Munich Olympics Park was good, and still in use as a sports facility, as well as the Allianz Arena, the home of Bayern Munich. In the centre there is a huge cuckoo clock, which makes a tremendous racket every hour, which was definitely worth a look. Having extensively sampled the famous German transport system, I can conclude that Munich’s metro lives up to its reputation, and a police raid on the metro, checking everyone had a ticket, was a bit of unexpected excitement.
The weather continued to be great, and our hostel was again clean and sufficient for our needs. In the evening we did what most tourists do and toured the beer halls and gardens. Getting beer in litres is amusing, although the prices are unfortunately quite sobering. More organisation and time needed, but I liked Munich overall.
At this point I appreciate for half the places I’ve said more time was needed, but the point of this trip was to take in a lot of places cheaply and quickly. Of course staying at each destination for longer means you can do it more thoroughly, but it also limits the number of places you can visit. I personally liked rushing to a new place, seeing it and moving on to somewhere new and exciting, but others may prefer a more sedate pace. Dunno why, but people are different.
Rome
To get to Rome, the place I was most eagerly anticipating, we had to endure 2 train journeys over 13 hours, which was not the most fun I’ve had in my life. It didn’t help that the train was late arriving, but the worst part of that journey was yet to come. To keep costs down, we’d booked to stay in a holiday tent park/ camp thing on the outskirts of the city. The place itself was great, with a shop and restaurant, nice showers and facilities, as well as a laundrette (until this point we’d washed our clothes in sinks) and the tent was actually a big square construct, with a locking door and three beds in. But getting there was quite an experience. A few metro journeys brought us to the outskirts, but from that point we were at the mercy of the Italian bus system, which is awful. Most buses have a set route and time, but Rome appeared to operate a system where the driver does the route whenever he or she feels like it; which was not very often. It is pretty infuriating just standing around for an hour, with no guarantee that the bus has even left the station. But, for all the waiting, it was almost worse when it arrived. This route was a very popular one, so many hundreds of people were impatiently waiting by the time the driver decided to do his job, and the crush in the bus was suicidal. The first time we also had our huge bags on our backs, although I can’t decide if it was an advantage or not; on the one hand, it makes it an even tighter squeeze and you are conscious of hitting people round the face and knocking them over by accident, and yet at the same time you can clatter yourself some breathing space, so, while being conscious of broken noses and missing teeth behind you, you’re not as bothered as you’d normally be. Matt did have the unenviable experience of being pushed onto a baby by the sheer crush of people herding onto the bus, and having to use his body as a human shield to protect it whilst avoiding sitting on it himself. Even I must admit that sounds quite difficult. Then as it gets moving the heat starts to hit you, but you don’t worry about fainting and collapsing, because there was no way you could fall in the press of bodies. The bus could have rolled over a cliff and no one would have moved an inch, so I suppose it’s a nice safety feature. But we survived it, albeit battered, overheated and very angry by this point.
We divided our time into a Roman day, a Vatican day and a random walking around day. The legacy of the Romans is everywhere in the centre of the city; ruins, statues, arches and Roman architecture are scattered liberally around. The Coliseum was of course the great highlight. It was surprisingly cheap to visit, and is far bigger and more spectacular than you’d expect a 2,000 year old building to be. The underground labyrinth of rooms, storage and the like are exposed, where the arena floor would once have concealed it, and adds a mightily impressive size to the place. In its heyday it could hold 50,000, and must have been a phenomenal sight. The forum and palace, both nearby and included in the Coliseum ticket, are equally worth visiting, and leave you with a fascinating glimpse into the epicentre of the ancient Roman world, an integral part of European history.
The following day we decided the Vatican would be a good thing to visit. Well. The other two did, I was pretty unimpressed with the idea. We rocked up to find a ludicrous queue of people waiting around for hours to get heatstroke, as it was midday and about 35C. Needless to say I was even less impressed by this point, and was happily thinking of other places to go when the others found a tour guide to haggle with. Eventually we ended up paying an inordinate amount (to me, the others thought it reasonable) to join a tour and skip the queue of slowly cooking imbeciles and their rapidly melting brains. The tour was overly long and took us around a lot of early modern and Renaissance art by the likes of Michelangelo and Raphael. There was simply too much in the way of art, and none of it was particularly impressive or unique. In fact, to my untrained eye there seemed to be no difference at all in the various paintings, murals and tapestries, even though I spent several excruciating hours staring dumbly at them. The Sistine Chapel was worth a look, although there were so many people crunched into it it was hard to enjoy. There’s also something quite comical about a room full of people staring at the ceiling, though I am still not quite sure why. St. Peter’s Square was also quite interesting, and it’s fun to stand in a place you’ve seen a dozen news reports coming from. Overall though the tour was expensive and about a week too long, there was too much art and were so many people I felt like fish in a shoal, although it was possible to stop walking and let the tide of humanity propel you to the next room, which was humorous for a few minutes.
Our final random walking day took a lot in, from the Pantheon and lots of miscellaneous roman ruins to the Medici family house and several scenic squares and plazas. Overall we spent an engrossing three days in Rome, and the ruins, culture and weather kept us constantly entertained. There was undoubtedly much we missed out, and Rome, perhaps unlike other places on this trip, could easily entertain you for a longer stay, maybe five days or a week. The heat wasn’t so bad at night, at least not in our tent, and the drinking fountains dotted around are good to help cope with the temperature.
“Our heroes, better rested, took to the tracks once more, and none could honestly claim to have not missed the experience. The past melted into memory, and for one of the party the road ahead was no longer unknown, as he guided his comrades to his secret home from home, the sanctuary of family ties present in even this faraway land. He led his friends on…”
Torre Del Lago
As you may have gleaned from the rather over-the-top story interlude, we were heading to stay with a relative of Alan’s, who had kindly agreed to let us stay for a while. It may seem a little bit like cheating, but we were on a budget and free board, and as it turned out free food as well, were things we couldn’t turn down. Alan’s grandmother (embarrassingly, because her English wasn’t the best and my Italian and French are non-existent I never found out her name) has a nice holiday home in the Tuscan coastal town of Torre Del Lago, meaning ‘tower of the lake’ (okay I said my Italian is non-existent but they are the only words other than Ciao I know, honest). It was very peaceful and picturesque, and gave us a chance to settle for a few days by the beach without the need to rush around finding things to do. It also proved a great place for me and matt to get both ill and sunburnt; it seems stupid to have a glowing red face and be sneezing at the same time, but I had that pleasure. Of course we had to do it in different ways, so I decided (decided is the wrong word) to be more ill than sunburnt, while made did it the other way round, with hilarious consequences. Having sat out in the sun without covering up, Matt came back and resembled a joint of pork. His skin was beyond the red stage and was nearer purple in places. I must admit we found it hysterically funny; I distinctly remember lying on the floor desperately fighting for air after a solid 15 minutes of laughter, so obviously I wasn’t much comfort. If ever there was an advert for sun cream he was it. For days afterward he could barely walk, and later his skin peeled in such large chunks it was like watching a snake shed its skin.
Aside from the beach, being ill and laughing at Matt, I also had the experience of riding the oldest bike in existence (probably) and definitely the most unsafe, which I used to get to the beach and back. I nicknamed it the clown bike. It was immensely heavy, and must have been iron or perhaps steel, with a seat four inches off the ground that couldn’t be raised, pedals, handlebars and wheels that were out of line, no brakes and one gear. When riding it I got the distinct impression I was not the only thing dictating the direction it was travelling. This did mean I was all over the road, and, with Italian drivers being renowned for their reckless driving and dismissal of cyclists as asking for it (which is how Alan’s gran describes their attitude, I would never generalise obviously) it is still astonishing I survived. For all that I loved it and wanted to bring it home with me, or ride it back to England, but I resisted the temptation. We also visited the lake which gives the place its name, which was beautiful, cool and tranquil, although our local guide Alan couldn’t remember where the tower was supposed to be.
Florence
While based in Torre Del Lago I found I was suffering train withdrawal; having been on one pretty much every other day for a few weeks you become surprisingly attached. So we decided to visit the romantic city of Florence which is in the vicinity. Despite being ill, I really liked it; the Renaissance streets, all cobbled and narrow, and the architecture from or redolent of the period were beautiful. The highlights included the elaborate and spectacular cathedral, and a bridge laden with shops, which was strangely pleasing. A climb also brought us sensational panoramic views of the city and the surrounding countryside.
Pisa
On our way back we opted for a quick look round Pisa. No surprises about what was the major, and as far as I could tell only, attraction in Pisa, the Leaning Tower. It was actually quite an imposing building, with neat columns and arches. It is, however, very aptly named, and does lean over at a ludicrous angle, and is definitely worth the effort to go and see. A slight dampener on the day was when I was napping on the grass beside the tower and some hateful friendless lowlife decided to turn the sprinklers on. He or she would switch one on, wait for me to move and settle somewhere else, and then turn the next one on. But never mind, it gave the other tourists something to chuckle at, and also goes a long way to proving my stubbornness for not getting the hint and leaving the grass as soon as the sprinklers started.
Torre Del Lago and its neighbouring cities were immensely enjoyable, although my illness was a hindrance and prevented me from doing as much as I wanted. The experience was largely a good one because of the generosity of Alan’s gran, who let us stay free of charge, as well as cooking and cleaning for us. The Tuscan region is immeasurably beautiful, with golden sand beaches and romantic mountains. (Can you tell I like mountains yet?) Beautiful architecture combined with natural beauty is a hallmark of the region. The train journeys in that region give you so much to enjoy through the window, and it is a place that needs exploring in detail; seeing these sleepy villages and towns, and staggering castles and manor houses fly past the window made me yearn to get out and explore each one. It is certainly a place I’d recommend and was one of the great sustained pleasures of the trip.
“Happiness is a wine best savoured, and our champions did just that. But there was something lurking beneath, that insatiable yearning for the new, for mystery and the unknown. At last they could fight it no longer, and set out for a new horizon…”
Interlaken
Our next stop was the Swiss town of Interlaken, nestled deep in the Alps. Our journey required a couple of train switches, and as we went deeper into Switzerland the searing sun of Italy slowly gave way to the ominous clouds of Switzerland. As I watched the spectacular scenery through the window, I also noticed the t shirts, shorts and sandals of the Italians giving way to the trench coats and scarves of the happy Swiss. This alarmed us, bedecked as we were in the Italian style, and the others, being weak and feeble creatures, changed into jeans, jumpers and even a raincoat on Alan’s part. I, as you can guess, am made of sterner stuff, and persevered with t shirt, shorts and sandals. It was when we got off the train at Interlaken, and I caught a glimpse of the first cagoule on a local, and felt the wind and the rain nipping at my bare limbs I regretted my decision. But, determined to hide my rapidly-blueing lips from the others, I marched on bravely. We found our hostel, a large building with a hostel on one side, hotel the other, and hurriedly checked into our bland, minimalist room, where I spent the next 45 minutes trying to revivify the feeling in my legs. The hostel was adequate, although the room was a little sparse and lacking in personality for the price. The tables on the bar downstairs also had ‘no picnic’ signs on, which is the best thing I’ve ever seen; it has a blunt, to the point meanness to it, but also says something quite profound. It may seem strange but I found it so amusing I took one, which currently resides in my room.
The town, a ski resort in the winter (which didn’t feel too far off the first night) and hiking/activity place in the summer, was charming and attractive, but expensive, so we didn’t warm to the town as much as we had with other destinations. The scenery we’d travelled hundreds of miles to enjoy, supposedly of dramatic mountains and glistening lakes, was completely obscured by cloud. Feeling disappointed, we went to bed early.
When I looked out the window the next day, however, I was stunned into near silence by the breath-taking panorama outside; the clouds had gone, replaced by the dramatic mountains, bold and imposing on the skyline (yay mountains again). With the happy change, Matt and Alan insisted on us becoming mountaineers for the day. This, coupled with my determination to limit walking (I was still recovering from illness, that’s my excuse) drove us into getting a train and then a cable car as high up the mountains as we could reasonably afford and proceeding on foot from there.
The train afforded fine views, and the cable car, a small square thing that could just about hold four underweight people was fun, particularly when Alan and I childishly made it sway violently from side to side to test how strong it was, while Matt looked on scathingly.
The views improved with every foot we gained, and when we finally got off we climbed a nearby rock and had lunch perched above a gushing stream, which was idyllic in the extreme. We then proceeded to scale the mountain we were on, looking out onto the large mountain range of Jung Frau opposite, passing many cows along the way. I always thought the Swiss association with cows would be a silly cliché, but there were hundreds of them, all clanging away with bells round their necks. It was so postcard perfect it has to rank as the most naturally beautiful place I’ve ever been. We continued up along defiantly steep paths to the lofty height of 7,113 feet, which was not a bad accomplishment. The summit boasted a café and a place to rest, although the benches outside were overshadowed by a huge ‘no picnic’ sign painted on the side of the building. The way back down was harder work, and Matt managed to once again get sunburnt, while Alan got electrocuted on the cows’ electrified fence, but we safely reached our hostel just as the weather turned sour again.
Switzerland then was a visual treat, and was quite rejuvenating; the air was pure and refreshing and everything felt clean. The only criticisms would be of the prices there, and the fact none of the locals were friendly towards us, although it could be they didn’t like us rather than being generally unfriendly, it’s true. But the beauty and magnificence of the location made any complaints insignificant. I really enjoyed it.
“Our champions set off once more, with a shadow in their hearts. They sensed their pilgrimage was drawing to a close, that the journey was in its dying breaths, and they were sad. But, fortitude swelling them, they went on, determined to negotiate whatever challenge would threaten to slow their way, or to stop them completely…”
Paris
I have heard that the French trains are the best in Europe, but, while the first one we caught was modern, clean and working, the second succeeded in breaking down for about two hours, making our journey from Interlaken to Paris longer still. Eventually we arrived in Paris to find our hotel (there were no hostels we could find) and settled down for our final, and all too brief night. The room was rather small, and, while it claimed to have three beds, it actually had two, with a third mattress which slid out from underneath one bed to lie between the two beds on the floor. Matt was the unlucky one who had to contend with being kicked and slapped all night by stray limbs falling out of bed, completely accidently of course.
Our final night was shortened by our late arrival, and our activities the next day were somewhat curtailed by the necessity of finding somewhere to leave our bags; this was not a problem in most places, but Paris has a high concern for terrorism, so most lockers are not accessible, and the one station we found where we could leave things required an x-ray scan of the bags. That finally done, we embarked on a whistle-stop tour of the major attractions. Our day was too short to enjoy anything properly, but we managed to take in the Eiffel Tower, the Louvre, opera house and Notre Dame Cathedral. We were also treated to an impromptu military flypast, as well as a flag-waving ceremony thing under the Arc du Triomphe, as France was in the build-up to Bastille Day.
We enjoyed our final meal, a picnic in a small park off of the Champs Elysees, and afterwards headed to the gardens and fountains between the Eiffel Tower and Louvre to watch the sun literally and metaphorically set on our three week Odyssey. Overall Paris was too brief as usual, and our touring was tinged with the sad knowledge that it was our last place before another excruciating bus ride home. Alan’s decision to sulk all day was also a slight dampener on the mood. Bur Paris was pretty and relaxing, and was a fitting finale.
With the sun gone and storm clouds heading in, we made our way reluctantly to the bus park to catch another Megabus home. This one was to go overnight, and we all knew it was going to be horrible. I managed maybe 25 seconds of agitated sleep, but the persistence of some brainless, witless idiot jabbering on at the top of his voice in front, and the need to get off for the ferry meant it was a deeply unpleasant experience, without even the comfort of bringing us to a new place, as had been the case before. If we did it again I’d probably say screw the expense and get a train back. London was of course freezing when we arrived back, and I instantly missed my time in Europe.
Final Comments
To summarise then, I would classify the trip as a resounding success. Some things were not ideal, and I know I complained a lot the whole way round, but there was such a lot I felt we achieved, so many new places and cultures explored and worlds visited. I enjoyed it a lot, and would happily spend my life doing it if I could afford it, even if it did mean taking the sodding megabus everywhere. My favourite country was Italy, for its natural beauty, history, warmth and variety. Poland was undoubtedly the biggest surprise, and Interlaken my favourite single place. I would recommend anyone to visit all the places featured here, as there was not one day where we did not find entertainment and fascination in something. It did at times feel like a comprehensive review of Europe’s train networks, with the occasional detour to a famous place, but the highs more than cancelled out the lows and it was well worth the effort. At least my wallet was lighter afterwards, which is a relief. I’ll leave you with the final thoughts of Alan and Matt, who, despite being irritating almost all of the time, were an essential part for an enjoyable trip.
Matt; “Even though at times Jamie had to go and have a wander whilst Al and I argued, it could have been unbearable if we had run out of money and Al had been hungry. Rijeka, Rome and Interlaken were great, and everywhere else worth visiting”
Alan; “The trip was a great experience. My favourite places were Krakow, Rome and Interlaken, for their cheapness, great history and fantastic scenery respectively.
“And so our three wise men finished their pilgrimage and returned safely back where they started, none the wiser but considerably poorer and lived out their days hoping one day to return to the unknown and mysterious, and would always yearn once more to be on their adventure.”
hmm manifesto 