Bye sun, hello rain - Strasbourg

Strasbourg was a very strange place for me. After a whole weekend of sunshine and friends in Munich, the drizzle of Strasbourg and the lurch away from familiarity left me fed up and with absolutely no desire to explore the town. Usually, when I go away with friends, returning to normality and not having everyone around me anymore leaves me feeling incredibly lonely. It wasn't like that in Strasbourg; I just felt bored. The hostel didn't help either, being incredibly impersonal and lacking any character; it needs to decide what it wants to be, as it advertises itself as a hostel but also claims to be a conference centre. The guy on reception said they didn't have internet, which I couldn't quite believe; every other hostel I've been to in the past month has had internet, even the one where it was broken, and it makes no sense for a place offering conferencing services to not offer such a basic one.

I had been recommended Strasbourg by a few people as they had said the old town was incredibly beautiful. They weren't wrong there, with so many of the medieval timber framed buildings still standing, but, unlike most of the old towns I've seen on my trip, nothing very much seemed to be happening. I arrived about 2 o'clock but there was hardly a soul around, with everything seemingly prepped to open later in the evening. I decided to head back to the hostel and, with the bar not opening until later and no entertainment and no internet, I went for a sleep instead. Back in the old town at half 6, the weather had cleared a little and there seemed to be more life to the place. Well, a bit. I spent ages wandering around trying to find somewhere that had WiFi and ended up having the most expensive beer of my entire trip just to be able to get online.

The evening in Strasbourg never seems to pick up. As soon as cafes and restaurants start putting out their tables and chairs, they're packing them away again. I managed to find a bar Peter had recommended, Academie de la Biere, and ended up having a goats cheese sandwich as it was the least American thing on the menu. The bar was a pretty cool place, with a huge selection of beer not just from France but from all around the world. I didn't see anything from England on the menu, however. With little else I could see to do in town, I just waited it out there until it was less of a pathetic time to go to bed.

The hostel bar, which is supposed to open at half 6, was still closed when I got back. The only good thing about the place was the night watchman, who was very pleasant and chatty and insisted on opening the bar and getting me a beer, even though I kinda just wanted to sleep. Back in my room, no one else had arrived and I looked forward to a night with the place to myself. Unfortunately I was woken at God knows what time by someone arriving, who then proceeded to unpack their bag in the dark with what I assumed was some sort of hammer. After a good 10 minutes of farting around, including having a pee with the toilet door open, they finally settled down to sleep. Then they started snoring. Great.

The shower in the room didn't have a door, just a curtain, and I was woken by my late-arriving room mate using it in the morning. It was one of those stupid timed push-button ones, so after every 10 seconds or so it cut out, meaning there wasn't even running water to mask all the other sounds. I'm no snob, but I don't think it's pleasant to be woken by the unmistakable coarse scratching sound of someone lathering up their pubic region.

I could have given Strasbourg another go today, but with my Interail ticket running out and the Eurostar prices doubling on Thursday until well after the weekend, I'd decided to bring my trip to an end and head to Paris. On the train I got seated next to an American girl who was obviously the sort of person who would describe herself as a 'free spirit'; she had the obligatory Chinese tattoo, spiritual symbols and the phrase 'Purpose of Unity' on her T-Shirt, and I'd be willing to wager a fair bit that she had a Dream Catcher in her bag. She got out her right-on MacBook Air, her anti-corporate Beats headphones and started throwing shapes right there in her seat to some dubstep music like she was at her own private rave. After a while she got out her spiritually-themed book, Tears of Love, of which she had already made it all the way to page 31. I spied a quote from it that went something like this; "Think of a piece of paper. One side faces you and one faces the beloved. You can read the side that faces you, but more importantly you should be able to read the side that faces a true friend, the beloved." Fuck. Right. Off.

After 4 pages of that, she went back to her MacBook music and had a little snooze to such classic hits as 'Healing Frequency Sounds', 'Native American Earth Drum', 'Chakra Balancing Meditation Music' and 'IQ - Intelligence Increase Tones'. When she woke up she spent some time putting on a fair bit of her (I assume organic) make up, then, when she saw what I was reading and realised I spoke English, bent my ear for the last 15 minutes on what she's been doing on her travels. She told me that she'd spoken to the universe and asked for one of her 'bitches' to be sent to visit, and, like, 2 days later one of them got in contact and said she was coming over to meet up. What an arsehole.

Hottest day in Munich in 9 years

I've been staying with my awesome awesome friends Peter and Anne, who are two of the nicest people you could ever hope to meet, and they always come up with fun stuff to do. Peter and I went to the BMW museum, then up to a beer garden on top of the hill next to the Olympic Park for a couple. Later in the day we headed to a Greek restaurant with some of the gang from Friday and also our friend Merik, who was also happened to be in Munich. Afterwards, Niño and Silke, friends of my old colleague Marcel, invited us back to their house where plenty of wine, grappa and English bashing was to be had. It was a really fun evening and Niño and Silke are wonderful hosts. It didn't feel like we'd done a whole lot, but with the heat, we were absolutely knackered by the end of the day.

On Sunday, after a traditional Bavarian weißwurst breakfast (boiled white sausage, pretzel, sweet mustard and a weißbier - trust me, it's amazing) we headed to the Allianz Arena to watch 1860 Munich play FSV Frankfurt. It reminded me of going to see Brentford vs Carlisle in the Johnson's Paint Trophy final at Wembley, because the ground was just over a quarter full, but it meant we got the premium seats, almost on the half way line and 3 rows back, only the day before. I came up with the genius idea of checking where the sun would be during the match so we could sit in the shade, for which Peter was very grateful. I know they're a second tier team, but it still makes me want to puke that the most expensive seats in the place are £35 each while the cheapest seat at White Hart Lane is around £40. The Premier League needs to buck its ideas up.

The busy home end

Fair play to the guys on the pitch, because, with the temperature peaking at 36 degrees, you could really see it affecting their game, but they run their hearts out nonetheless. I was very impressed with their number 29, Yannick Stark, and the number 10, Moritz Stoppelkamp, and they combined to score the winner in the last few minutes. They're both new signings as well, so maybe this year will be a good one for München. Oh yeah, and FSV are a bunch of dirty bastards.

We got back to Peter and Anne's and the guys were kind enough to let me use their apartment block's washing machine, as I suddenly realised I had nothing left to wear. Then we headed out to a beer garden about 20 minute walk from place for a quick drink and some food. That's when the wind began to pick up, the clouds rolled over and I saw my first rain since leaving England 3 weeks ago. It didn't last all that long though, and we were able to take a nice stroll, with a lovely cooling wind instead of a hot one for a change, back to the flat. We were all pretty wiped and after some ice cream (vanilla, of course) it was most definitely time for bed.

If you're ever in Munich, look Peter and Anne up, because they're truly special people. I feel bad for taking up their time on a weekend so hot, all they probably wanted to do was absolutely nothing, and also because I know I would never be as wonderful a host as them. But no one ever wants to visit Slough, so it works out for everyone.

Friday - Salzburg to Munich

Normally I avoid sightseeing tours because I prefer to explore a city on foot; it's a more leisurely way to experience a city, instead of speeding through it on a bus and being bombarded by info from a tour guide as they desperately try to keep up, and I think you get to see more of how a place really is. I most certainly wasn't going on foot today however, and instead took an hour's guided bus tour of Salzburg to get as much in in as little time as possible. It wasn't your average impersonal open-top bus journey though; our guide drove just me and a girl from Turkey around the city in a beautifully air conditioned people carrier, in which we were free to ask as many questions as we'd like. He was such a nice guy, very funny and chilled out, and he treated the Austrian rules of the road with a charmingly laid-back attitude. My ticket also got me up the lift to the cafe at the Museum der Moderne, high up on one of the hills, for a free coffee and applestrudel, and from there I was able to enjoy one of the best views of the city. In the shade thankfully, as it had got to 33 degrees by lunchtime.

My strudel view

Back in town, I walked around the Mirabell palace and gardens, featured in The Sound of Music, then sat in a cafe in town for a couple of drinks while waiting for my train. I like Salzburg a lot, as there always seems to be something sweet going on, and everyone seems genuinely happy and glad to be living there. As I mentioned before, it is an incredibly beautiful place, and that goes for many of the people as well; I challenge any straight man to see a smiling girl wearing traditional dirndl cycle past on her basket-fronted bike and not want to instantly marry her.

The palace

The fountain from that famous scene in The Sound of Music.
So I'm told, I've never seen it.

I realised I'd left myself too little time to walk to the station (that, and I didn't want to) so I found a cab, which was just dropping off a little old lady, and the driver said he was free to take me. But with time ticking down, the old lady took her sweet goddamn time getting out of the cab, stubbornly refusing the cab driver's offers of his arm to help her out or to take her bag for her. I continued to smile politely as she gradually eased herself out over several minutes, but the urge to scream some key German phrases I'd learned from old war films at her was almost too much.

Eventually I was able to get in and made it to the station just in time. The train journey was another wonderful trip though the Austrian and Bavarian countryside, and the view of the Alps as we rolled past them was absolutely stunning. I've only ever seen them from the air before, so it was nice to finally get to see them up close. That was until the stupid old bitch sat over the way pulled down the window shade. "What are you playing at?!" I wanted to shout, "they're the fucking Alps!!!"

I had a wonderful evening in Munich. I'd aimed to make it here for this weekend as my pal Mike has quit his job with my old company and I really wanted to see him and his lovely wife Erin before they move back to Seattle. It was great to see so many other old work colleagues too, catching up in a Bavarian beer garden well into the evening. I've realised the best thing about traveling is that when I meet people I haven't seen in ages and they ask what I've been up to, I actually have something more substantial to say other than "oh, y'know...working n'that". Am I becoming interesting?

Edelweiss! Salzburg

The A&T hostel in Vienna was a very nice place; new, clean and with very friendly staff. The only issue was that the cleaners were very persistent about entering my room, way before the allotted 10am to 2pm slot, and I had to tell 4 different women to go away before I was ready to leave. I don't think so many women have seen me in my underwear in such a short space of time before, but it was all very sexy, trust me.

Due to some very enthusiastic recommendations, I made my way to Schönbrunn, via the train station to lock up my luggage, to visit the palace there. Built by the wife of the Holy Roman Emperor Ferdinand II (not all by herself), the 1441-room palace is so exuberant and vast in size, it would have taken many hours to experience it all. All I really wanted to do was check out the gardens, but it was utter pandemonium there and the ticket office was like a disorganised cattle market, only with less shit on the floor. The ticket purchasing system seemed overly complicated for most, with several different combinations of attraction passes on offer, and each person spent a good 5 minutes at the ticket machines trying to work out what they wanted. After 20 minutes of queuing, having hardly moved at all, I decided to knock it on the head as I was hoping to get to Salzburg early enough to at least see some of it during the daytime.

The journey through Austria by train is a very pleasant one. It's the stuff postcards are made of. Chalets scatter the incredibly lush countryside, either collected together in little villages or standing all alone and proud in the middle of nowhere. I imagined some bearded lederhosen-wearing Austrian father deciding that that spot was the perfect place for his family's home and just built it, free of planning permission applications, civic ordinance or a care in the world, and I liked that.

Salzburg nestles beautifully within the Alps, and is definitely the most scenic city I've visited so far. I thought my blisters were easing, but the walk to the hostel, due to the public transport being jammed up by some tie-dyed hippie-led protest in the city centre, enraged them further. The hostel is a lot further from the centre than they'd have you believe, and I was in a bit of a sweaty bad mood by the time I got there.

It was later than I was hoping for by the time I was ready to head out again, and I knew I wasn't going to get to see anything cultural when I got back into the city. I certainly wasn't up for the walk again. Thankfully the hostel rented bikes, and I hopped on one of them to make it back to the centre of town. It was the best decision I'd made all day, because it gave my feet a rest and also got me into town within 10 minutes.

I made my way to one of the cafes by the river to get drink, enjoy the scenery and get some much needed people-watching time in. Heading down the cycle path, some dozy bint stepped right into it without looking, causing me to break suddenly. She shrieked unlady-like and shouted "achtung!" at me. I thought "you bloody achtung!"

A drink by the river

I had some amazing food at a nice decked-out garden bar called Zirkelwirt; smoked pork with white bread dumplings in broth and a side sauerkraut with bacon and chives that was swimming in oil. Pretty epic. They had a very nice beer called Kaltenhausen, and I had a few of them while I watched the world go by. Its a phrase I've used again and again in this blog, and I'm not sure if it's just one of the exclusive perks of being an Englishman, but there is a wonderful amount of pleasure to be had in just 'being'. The comedian Mickey Flanagan talks about the joys of doing fuck all (not 'nothing', but actually 'fuck all'), and sitting alone with a pint just staring at existence is the next step on from that.

One thing that's almost as good as just 'being' is cycling through a European city in the summer at sunset. Much cooler than during the day but still pleasant, I actually thought for a brief second "I could happily do this for the rest of my life". I got a little lost through the winding old town streets, but that was ok because I was just having too much fun. Eventually I found my way back, but I suppose nothing good lasts forever.

All things considered, I've been pretty lucky with my hostels. Until now. I don't know in which hostel they took the photos they used on their hostelworld webpage, but it definitely wasn't this one. Looking like a communist leisure centre/ministry, there is nothing welcoming about the Muffin (?) Hostel, and the lengthy check-in process felt more like applying for a soviet block visa than anything else. Only accepting cash is getting rarer in hostels, and, if you do only accept cash, make sure you're near a cash machine or actually have plenty of change when people do give you cash. Alternatively, don't make every price require stupid amounts of change - round those prices off! Also, I've never had to mess about with my internet proxy server settings to get on to WiFi before, but apparently that's just the done thing here. Even after following the stupidly complicated instructions it didn't work, and the lobby is full of people desperately trying to get online.

At least the hostel has a bar, which they proudly advertise on the hostelworld website. What they don't tell you is that it doesn't open until 10pm, and it resembles the most desperately pathetic working mens club you've ever seen. There are hundreds of miniature bottles of something called 'Klopfer' pressed into the polystyrene ceiling tiles as if many a crazy party night has happened here before, but the lack of any other booze behind the bar apart from warm cans of beer and one lone bottle of Bombay Sapphire suggests that's never been the case. They hadn't switched on the oldskool DJ traffic lights by the time I'd left though, so it could've all kicked off later. But I doubt that.

Party central

A very long day in Vienna

Discovering Vienna on foot is a very nice experience, but it comes at a cost; mega mega blisters. I had to chuck my old shoes out as they were just about to fall to pieces, and my new ones have very nearly destroyed me. I am 5 minutes away from just cutting my legs off, and anymore sightseeing, at least for the next few days, I think will be done exclusively via open-top bus.

Priscila (did I mention she is very lovely?) recommended that I explore the centre by walking, so really it's her fault. The Austrians go all out for the Roman classical style architecture, and its Imperically disconcerting but incredibly beautiful all the same. You don't have to plan your route all that intricately to happen upon the Burggarten, Volksgarten, Rathaus Park and Sigmund Freud park, along with all the stunning museum buildings and the Austrian parliament, in one extremely pleasant stroll. For a city in which he only lived for 2 years, Vienna goes a little overboard with their Mozart connection, and every street in the city centre has a 'Simply Mozart' souvenir shop on it. It makes me very curious about how crazy Salzburg will be with him.

The national library. Or uni. I dunno.

The parliament building

Dude punching a horse

There's currently a film festival running in the evenings outside the city hall, and throughout the day the world food stalls and beer tents continue to operate. It was a lovely place to sit for a while taking in the setting, and, more importantly, some beer, while listening to the local radio station play British hit after British hit. I didn't realise Making Your Mind Up by Bucks Fizz was even a thing outside the UK anymore. Then I walked up to the Votivkirche church, which unfortunately is under major renovation work, so there isn't much to see inside apart from a load of sweaty shirtless workmen hammering and slinging scaffolding about. I don't know how people managed to pray with that going on.

Heading back into the centre of town, I walked through what appeared to be the main shopping district to the Stephansdom. The strange thing about the cathedral is that it is a lot less ornate than the first church I visited, lacking the intricate stained glass windows and surrounding murals of the Votivkirche. Along from there, the buildings and statues of the Hofburg, the former imperial residence, continue the classically violent theme, with many depictions of heroic beatings, courageous slayings and general historical shit-kickings.

Stephansdom

Brave.

I jumped on the U-Bahn to Prater, which is the location of the world-famous Ferris wheel and surrounding gypo-like fairground. It would have been a right laugh with some mates, in an ironic way, but I just felt a little bit of a weirdo wandering round a fairground by myself, like some pervy Scooby Doo villain. I went on the Ferris wheel though, purely because it was the setting of one of the most iconic scenes, and speeches, in movie history; Orson Welles explaining his logic behind his penicillin racket to Joseph Cotten in The Third Man. Watch it now. WATCH IT, I SAID!

or if you can't see it, click here

I got back on the U-bahn and headed to Alte Danau: the Old Danube. The canal is famous for its purity and, on a day like today, filled with peddleboaters and swimmers. I felt like finding a shop to buy some trunks and a towel, because the urge to jump right in was almost overwhelming. Instead I sat alongside it for a couple of beers and some pretty good schnitzel, and tried my very hardest not to stare at every bikini-clad girl that walked past. I need to buy the inventor of sunglasses a drink.

Back at the hostel, I watched the first half of Bayern Munich vs Barca, then went for a shower. I thought I'd end up going out to see more of Vienna in the evening, but, after my massive trek today, I just went to the hostel bar again. It involved a lot less walking. I chatted to Priscila and the hostel owner's daughter for a good while, then ended up talking to a very nice couple, James and Lily, from London, and shared a few stories from our respective trips.

After a while Lily went to bed, and James stayed for another drink. A group of young Russian lads came in and generally made nuisances of themselves; they were loud, boorish, obnoxious, and when they started pissing about in the women's toilets, Priscila went to kick them out. James and I went with her as backup, but there was really no need; she well told them where to go. She marched after them down the corridor shouting, and for one minute I thought she was going to get in the lift with them so she could shout some more. What a girl.

I am still alive!

Turns out they've never heard of wifi in Salzburg, but I will post something substantial when I get to Munich, in a proper country.

Budapest to Vienna

I wasn't hungover when I woke up, but I was definitely not 100%. I don't recommend staying out until dawn when you have to checkout at half 10 the next day. I decided to at least try to find the ruin pubs, even if I didn't get to go on the pub crawl. While I was searching for them, I stumbled across a little street market, selling the general tourist crap that's found everywhere in Budapest, but which had a funky little beer shack and it was nice sitting in the sun listening to the chillout house music they were playing through their sound system. I was sure the ruin pubs were just round the corner from there but it took quite a while to find them, because, as I slowly realised, the street names on my map were different to the actual road signs for some mental reason. I ended up walking around in circles like a dick for a while.

It's a bit cheeky to still advertise the ruin pub area as an attraction, as it's clear that most of the area has been redeveloped in recent years, and I very much doubt the remaining places will exist in a couple more. I did find a nice beach-type bar, which reminded me a lot of Yaam in Berlin, where I had a drink and some lunch. BBQ beef and potato salad - nice.

I picked up my bag and jumped in a cab to take me to the station. My taxi driver wasn't anywhere near as crazy as the other I had, but spoke a lot less English. We managed to cobble something together though and, through some shouting, thumbs-up motions, chest pounding and other passionate gestures, I got the impression his favourite Premier League team is West Brom because of the Hungarian player Zoltan Gera, even though I think he's just been released by them.

It's nice to be back in a German-speaking country, where I feel a bit more comfortable talking to people. I got to Vienna at around 6 and headed straight for my hostel. After a much needed shower I went down to the hostel bar as, with an entire day in Vienna to follow, I'd decided to just relax indoors for a while, do some writing and get an early night. I got chatting to Priscila, the very lovely Spanish barmaid, then sat through the mad rush of happy hour; it was easier to do that than fight my way out of the bar, honest. I was just about to finally go once happy hour cleared out when I got talking to a couple of Danish guys. I didn't end up leaving until the bar shut at 2. I had my 4 bed dorm room all to myself, which was awesome.