Interrail 6: Copenhagen

Copenhagen is great. I loved the idea of it before I went and I love it even more now that we have met face to face. To Copenhagenise is to make a place more cycle more cycle friendly. Get where I'm coming from now?
The locals I spoke to are the friendliest strangers I have ever encountered. Thinking back on it, I think it was the genuine smiles that made the biggest impression, there was no perceivable social guarding. Very unbritish.
At a Café named after the bosses' rabbit (apparently annoying, the rabbit that is) I met a very friendly waitress who helpfully translated the menu. She listed the pasta, sandwiches and burgers in English. I'm just glad I turned a few pages through the menu and enquired about something in Danish that looked decidedly non-American or British, to which she replied "I think it's a Danish thing..."
I didn't need to hear the rest.
Lunch was an open beef sandwich garnished generously with horseradish, capers and raw egg yolk. Delicious.
On asking her what was worth seeing I was told to go to Christiana. It was apparently like nothing else and you "can smoke weed there. Legally. Well, it's not legal... But it's different there."
Before renting bikes to cycle in the bike capital of the world I decided to go into a guitar shop that had a bucket full of broken guitar bodies and necks for sale in the door. This intrigued me and I made the decision to go in, despite my experience of small music shops to be generally "try and buy or get out".
The guitars were beautiful. I'd say all of them were at least 20 or 30 years old. Two of them were labeled "Unik" and were beautiful wood carved custom jobs.
The owner greeted us and I asked if he built those guitars.
"No," he said. "My son built those. Feel free to try them. If you want to try, just take..."
A attitude a world away from music shops in the UK.
I really liked the one I played. I hope it's still for sale when I get my first paycheck.
I asked for the son's name so I could look up his work. It turns out he only ever made the two for fun while at his dad's workbench. His dad, the owner, repaired every instrument on sale in the shop.
Much like my penchant for charity shop clothes, I think I'll only buy repaired or used instruments with character from now on, if only to support lovely guys like him.
He did give me the name of his son's media company to see his videos. His son is now a tour guide in Kashmir.
After meeting more friendly helpful people we rented bikes and zipped round town.
Cycling is great. Just getting that out of the way.
Copenhagen has cycle paths better than Britain's roads. It's so well organised. Every road has a wide bike lane, with its own lines and signals. Bikes also have right of way.  I loved riding round and seeing the city on wheels. Met a nice Canadian guy who got me back on the right track after getting lost.
I made some faux pas (still not sure how to properly and legally make a left turn), but on the whole did quite well. The little three speed Raleigh I rode let me overtake most of the commuters.
























Eventually got to Christiana. Yeah. It's different.
It's also known as the Green Light District.
Basically it's a weed haven. It's a grassy woody park like place, covered in arty graffiti, about the size of Roath park. It's filled with stalls and galleries and smoking bars. There was the occasional skate park.
There are also residential homes and children's play parks. It really is another world. A green world.
There were three rules on entrance:
1. No photos.
2. No running.
3. Try and have fun.
Wackiness aside, I witnessed an incredible human moment.
A beggar asked an Australian chap for some spare change. The guy gestured to his cap of coins and said that was all he had left after losing his wallet, to which the beggar apologised and offered to give him what he had instead.
I don't know the full deal on the place, it's a tiny patch on a small island of Copenhagen. I have no idea why the government turns a blind eye. Look it up.
I like Copenhagen. My only regret is that I didn't have more time to enjoy it, I didn't really do much in my 6 hours other than eat and cycle around.
To Amsterdam then. You've a lot to live up to.

Interrail 3: Ahoj!

The night train was pretty bad. The beds had all been taken so we settled for seats. The train was old, we sat in compartments Harry Potter style. We didn't get much sleep.
Arriving in Prague, we felt dead. Got in at half seven and we decided to hit a McDonald's for the Wi-Fi to find our hostel.
We came to the decision to wander around town for a few hours before Czeching in.
My, my have I missed Prague. I genuinely think it's the most beautiful city I've been to.
The castle district and the Charles bridge were the first stops and were pretty as ever.
Saw a Salvador Dali exhibition. Flipping weird.
Food consisted of Trdelnik (wound sweet pastries) and yet more goulash. I'm beginning to wonder whether "authentic Czech food" isn't just another tourist ploy.
The Wenceslas Square was disappointing at first. The massive Marks and Spencer's and Debenhams put me off. It was only after returning for the second time that I appreciated it's scale.
We were contemplating going to a concert in the St Climent cathedral. On our turning away the ticket guy mistakenly thought we weren't interested and reduced the price by a hundred crowns. Unintentional haggle win.
It was magnificent. The seven piece chamber orchestra (Prague Baroque Consort) were fantastic. The excellent acoustics of the cathedral really set them off. The intro played on the cathedral's organ of Bach's Fugue in G
Minor instantly elicited a grin.
I will say that I found the chatty Italians to my right to be rather annoying. Lewys' heavy breathing/sighing less so.
We met an Australian, Mark, in a bar. Nice chap, had been traveling for six weeks before returning to study. He extolled the benefits of guided walking tours and of making international friends. A good end to the evening.
A word about Czech beer. Those of you who know me know that I like my beers dark and with plenty of flavor. Pilner, local lager, is refreshing but so pathetically light for my tastebuds. Even their ales haven't been that great so far. In fairness I've yet to find a bar that hasn't been tainted by tourist leanings.
Nashledanou!

Auschwitz and leaving Krakow

Today we visited Auschwitz. I felt pretty sick throughout. That may be partially due to the 2 hour bus journey in what felt like a boat. I'll only say a few things about it, starting with the fact that I'm glad I went and that I found it extremely humbling.

This quote was on a wall:
“The one who doesn't remember history is bound to live through it again" - George Santayana

Pretty much justifies my visit. Hearing about the atrocities is bad enough, but being there gave a more visceral appreciation of the reality of what the Nazis committed and the extent of the suffering they caused. For me, the worst was the sight of thousands of murdered children's shoes piled high.

As a Christian I came away praying that such an evil act never happens again and was thankful that ultimately there will be justice, perfect godly justice one day where all sin will be accounted for.

The capacity for human evil is huge and the capacity for my own personal sin is huge. Praise God that Christ, by his death and resurrection, has paid for my sin and bought me new life. Through nothing on my part but faith alone.

I've almost finished John Stott's The Radical Disciple while traveling and found the reminding challenge of living a life that reflects the transforming work of in all areas of life to be particularly timely. Do I live as a Christian in regards to the environment, personal expenditure and wider social issues, or am I being a hypocrite? Do I proclaim the gospel while living like it hasn't made any effect on me at all? What responsibilities to prevent suffering do I have?

Moving on.

The remainder of our time in Krakow was pleasant. I tried more local food; sour rye soup, a sour cabbage soup and grilled cheese with honey and jam.

I was warned about the local's penchant for boiled rice with stewed strawberries and yogurt.  Weird to see.

There was a pretty tight jazz band playing in the market square that I'd neglected to mention from the night before. They played a translated version of King of Pain by The Police. Loved it.

Let's finish with Americans. We'd met a guy called JW from South Carolina. Nice chap.
Then there was Miles and Eric at the station. Also nice chaps who filled us in on the fact we'd actually been amongst a festival in the city and not noticed. Ah well.

Currently writing in Prague after a rough night on the train. No sleep and poor suspension made the fact that the carriage door was open while at full speed all the more terrifying during a trip to the toilet.

Time to soak in some more Prague. See you.

Interrail 1: "Maybe, Krakow?"

Stepping off the plane after a pleasant flight, Lewys and I arrived to a grey and bleak Krakow. I had expected blue skies and sun, the forecast predicting temperatures of 30 degrees. I must have read it wrong.

After figuring out tickets and boarding a bus from the airport to the centre (to the inevitable bemusement of the locals).
We wandered around for a bit after booking our night train to Prague tomorrow (no beds left, rage). Lewys had admitted he was slightly apprehensive at first, I was less so, but shared some misgivings. So far it looked like Manchester, only we couldn't understand the signs.

We knew we were staying in the Market Square and so followed the road signs. After turning a corner and seeing the tower of St Mary's Basilica I just grinned. It shone brighter than the McDonalds and KFC we had just walked past.

The square is beautiful, as you can see from the photo. 

Joe Simms, thank you.

Later we were accosted by a man in weird chef's uniform who proceeded to ply us with his wares and lured us into his restaurant. Dinner was delicious, service was lightning quick and the food ridiculously cheap. The whole meal came to about 70 zloty, around 14 pounds, including a pint of Okocim, yet another european lager (Hoppy, not too bubbly and sweetish. Served with a massive head, as is the case the further east you go).

The highlight was my starter - Steak Tartare. A beautiful portion of raw beef (or horse, i'm not sure) topped with a raw egg yolk and garnished with paprika, capers, onion and pickle. Delicious.

 I just hope I don't get food poisoning. 

That was followed by Goulash with Potato pancakes. I think I'm going to avoid anything with paprika in for the remainder of the trip, it's in flipping everything here.

The rest of the night was spent wandering the city. I especially love/hate the way every club promoter begins their art with "Maybe...", as in "Maybe you come Gold Club?" or 'Maybe Strip Club?"

I burst out laughing in one poor girl's face as their hesitant suggestions bounced off us harmlessly. I had half a mind to take a flyer and reply "maybe", but I wasn't sure I could keep a straight face. They've a lot to learn from the Cardiff lot.

A trumpeter plays from the tower of St Mary's every hour. His tune is broken off suddenly to commemorate a 13th century trumpeter who was shot in the throat while warning of an impending Mongol attack. History there for you.

To bed! Tomorrow, Auschwitz. 

Sammy