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Andrew JeromeAndrew Jerome
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Andrew Jerome

Andrew Jerome

I was born in Newcastle, Australia but now live in Adelaide, Australia with my husband Ted.
I currently work as a Flight Attendant for Qantas, and as an ESL teacher.
I have traveled to over 68 countries so far, and am hoping to visit many more. Les mer🇦🇺Adelaide
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    • Andrew JeromeReisendeThe Med to the Midnight Sun
      St. Stephen's Church
      Buda CastleBuda CastleMatthias ChurchReflecting on BudapestFisherman's BastionGreat Market Hall (Nagyvásárcsarnok)Heroes SquareVajdahunyad CastleVajdahunyad CastleVajdahunyad CastleVajdahunyad CastleAnthony Mackie on set

      Day 12

      28. mai, Ungarn ⋅ ☁️ 23 °C

      The morning kicked off early — not by choice. Turns out staying directly across from a major cathedral comes with a less-than-silent alarm system. The bells of St. Stephen’s Basilica are beautiful, but not at 6 a.m. If you’re planning to stay in the square, pack earplugs. Trust me.

      We had grand plans to start the day with coffee and a wander through the famous Great Market Hall, which technically was open when we arrived, though most stalls hadn’t opened yet. No problem — we figured we’d return later. We ducked into a nearby café called Mia’s for coffee and croissants, only to suddenly realise something felt off… no backpack. That triggered a fun five-minute debate over whether we’d lost it, left it, or hallucinated bringing it in the first place. Spoiler: it was right where we left it — back at the apartment.

      Eventually, we took a couple of buses over to Buda Castle. The trip up felt like a bit of a maze — elevators, paths, winding walkways — and we never really knew where we were until we were right at the top. The castle itself sits proudly over the Danube, with manicured gardens, wide courtyards and some serious architectural presence. Just walking around the grounds gives you a good sense of the place’s scale and history.

      Instead of taking the funicular back down (which felt like a bit of a tourist trap), we strolled down the hill on foot. On the way, we noticed just how many tour groups were clustering around — likely from the river cruises docked below. It’s the kind of spot where people follow a little flag and an umbrella and try not to lose their group.

      We pressed on uphill again (Budapest has a thing for hills) to Matthias Church and the Fisherman’s Bastion. From the street, we weren’t expecting much beyond another grand church and maybe some views — but we were wrong. The whole area is stunning, like something plucked from a storybook. The church’s colourful tiled roof looks like it’s made of dragon scales, and the Bastion itself is straight-up fantasyland. Pointed towers, sweeping staircases, and arches that perfectly frame the city below. We took our time here — it’s easy to see why it’s one of Budapest’s most photographed spots. From the lookout, the Parliament building sat proudly across the Danube, and the city just sprawled out in every direction.

      The Hospital in the Rock museum was meant to be our next stop, but it hadn’t opened yet by the time we got there. Not a big deal — we’d already done a fair bit of climbing, walking, and accidental backpack-forgetting.

      So, we headed back across to the Pest side and returned to the now bustling Great Market Hall. It was alive with energy: stalls of paprika, meats, fresh fruit, lacework, and souvenirs, all layered over two levels of organised chaos. Ted grabbed a hearty Hungarian sausage and sauerkraut combo, while I stuck to the vegetarian stuff — potatoes, veggies and dumplings. Not the most balanced plate, but satisfying — and mercifully free of deep-fried dough. We were still recovering from yesterday’s lángos.

      Whilst out sightseeing, I spotted two little signs that reminded me of Hungary’s quirky cultural contributions to the world. One was a Rubik’s Cube shop — an entire store dedicated to the colorful, infuriating little puzzle invented right here by Ernő Rubik. The other was the “House of Houdini,” a museum about his life, which gave me pause until I remembered: Harry Houdini was born in Budapest. There’s something fun about spotting these quiet nods to Hungarian icons — kind of like finding Easter eggs in the city.

      After that, we headed back to the apartment for a bit of downtime. Since being out, the square had undergone a full transformation. What had been a regular day outside St. Stephen’s Basilica now looked like a snowy Christmas wonderland, glittering with frosted lights and twinkling trees — even though it’s late May. Turns out they’re filming a TV series called 12.12.12, starring Anthony Mackie (yes, that Anthony Mackie). We could see him walking around the set a few times between takes, but most of the filming was roped off behind barriers, so it was mostly glimpses and overheard directions. Still, not every day you casually watch Hollywood in action from your window.

      We headed out for dinner at Frici Papa, a casual Hungarian joint that felt a bit more local and less tourist-priced than where we’d eaten the day before. I ordered the mushroom goulash with mashed potatoes — rich, earthy, and comforting — and chased it with a Nutella crêpe and a strong coffee. Ted had a classic chicken and vegetable soup, which he rated pretty highly. The place was busy but service was fast, and the food hit the spot without the usual hit to the wallet. Some of the dishes’ names were lost in translation though, such as “Boiled Smoked Clod” and “Dumps with nut and vanilla sauce.” 😄

      After dinner, we took a tram out to Heroes’ Square to stretch our legs and soak in a bit more of the city before wrapping up the day. The square was dramatic and mostly empty by then, which made it even more impressive — statues of Hungarian leaders towering under moody skies. We wandered into the parkland behind it, discovering the grounds of Vajdahunyad Castle — a mix of Gothic, Baroque and Romanesque architecture that felt straight out of a fairy tale. The place was mostly quiet apart from a few ducks and late-evening strollers. A peaceful wind-down from a packed day.

      By the time we got back, the movie set was still filming. Same scene. Same lights. Same snow. Whatever it is they’re working on, they’re definitely taking it seriously.

      Time to start packing again — tomorrow we fly to Milan, and a whole new vibe awaits.      Les mer

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    • Andrew JeromeReisendeThe Med to the Midnight Sun
      Onboard Spoon the Boat
      Crewfie with LOT attendantRoom with a view - St. Stephen's BasilicaView over the DanubeChain BridgeShoes on the DanubeParliamentLiberty SquareView over the DanubeView over the DanubeParliament

      Day 11

      27. mai, Ungarn ⋅ ☀️ 23 °C

      We kicked off the day with a 5:50 a.m. alarm in Kraków to finish packing, and our surly Uber driver (clearly not a morning person) whisked us off to the airport. We dropped our bags quickly and were on our way — though not before nearly fainting at the cost of two coffees and croissants: 97 złoty, or about $37 AUD. That’s one way to wake up fast.

      Our flight took us via Warsaw, where we changed planes — or rather, stayed on the plane, since it was the same aircraft and crew for the Budapest leg. After a short 40-minute wait, we reboarded. Before taking off again, I grabbed a “crewfie” with one of the flight attendants (handsome, naturally — I work in the same field, after all, it’s practically professional networking!).

      After landing in Budapest, we hopped on the 100E express bus straight into the heart of the city — a cheap and seamless ride that set the tone nicely. Budapest immediately struck us as grander and more open than both Warsaw and Kraków. Monumental boulevards, historic buildings, and that shimmering Danube cutting right through it all. You can feel its layered history just walking down the street.

      We checked into Pal’s Hostel and Apartments, though our place is completely separate from the main hostel. It’s spacious, with tall windows, parquet floors, antique furniture, and a direct view of St. Stephen’s Basilica. When we arrived, the square below was buzzing — crews were actually setting up for a film shoot right outside our window. Not a bad welcome.

      Feeling pretty wiped from travel, we wandered down to Molnár’s Lángos for a late lunch. Lángos, if you haven’t tried it, is deep-fried dough — basically Hungary’s take on pizza. Mine came loaded with shredded cheese, while Ted went for the sausage-topped version. Molnár’s hit us like a carb-loaded cannonball: hot, chewy, cheesy, and… let’s just say we were glad for the walk afterward. Delicious? Absolutely. Regretful? Slightly. There’s only so much oil one man can take.

      We set off on foot along the Danube promenade, enjoying the fresh air and views. We stopped for a beer at Spoon the Boat — an actual floating restaurant — before heading to one of Budapest’s most moving landmarks: Shoes on the Danube.

      This memorial, a line of iron shoes sculpted right on the riverbank, commemorates the Hungarian Jews who were executed by Arrow Cross militiamen during WWII. Each pair marks where victims were lined up and shot — forced to remove their shoes first, since footwear had value even in death. It’s hauntingly quiet, even with the city bustling nearby. Some visitors had left flowers, candles, or stones in the shoes. A few silent minutes there was unavoidable. It’s one of those places that says everything without needing to speak.

      From there, we circled around to Liberty Square, home to a controversial monument about the Nazi occupation. The official statue shows Hungary as an innocent victim — but nearby protest displays tell another story: one of complicity, cover-ups, and the voices of survivors. The surrounding posters, photos, and pebbles placed by civilians add real weight.

      We grabbed groceries nearby (I was genuinely craving a salad — a rare event for a half-German bloke who rarely eats anything leafy), and rested at the apartment for a while. As golden hour hit, we jumped on one of Budapest’s iconic yellow trams toward Gellért Hill.

      After climbing what felt like 200+ steps, we reached the Liberty Statue — sadly fenced off for renovations. Still, the views from the hillside lookout were incredible. Even behind scaffolding, the statue stood tall: originally erected to mark liberation from Nazi forces, now a broader symbol of Hungarian freedom through turbulent times.

      From the top, Budapest stretched out beneath us: the Parliament glowing across the Danube, spires dotting the skyline, boats sliding like clockwork along the water. One of the most scenic views we’ve had.

      On the way up, we passed the grand Hotel Gellért — a stunning old building under heavy restoration — and the church built into the rock face, understated outside but fascinating.

      After descending, we crossed the Chain Bridge, which was beautifully lit up at night. No buskers or crowds — just a gentle flow of people soaking up the calm evening air. It was one of those rare city moments that feels both cinematic and personal.

      To cap off the day, we looped back to the Parliament Building, now fully illuminated. It genuinely took our breath away — the kind of view you try (and fail) to capture with your phone. Framed against the night sky, it looked like something out of a storybook.

      First impressions? Budapest is bold, beautiful, and effortlessly walkable — a city that doesn’t try too hard to impress but totally succeeds anyway. Ted’s first time, my second — and already, it’s showing us both something new.      Les mer

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    • Andrew JeromeReisendeThe Med to the Midnight Sun
      Jewish Cemetary
      Jewish QuarterSchindler's List PassageWieliczka Salt MineWieliczka Salt MineWieliczka Salt MineWieliczka Salt MineWieliczka Salt MineWieliczka Salt Mine

      Day 10

      26. mai, Polen ⋅ ☁️ 19 °C

      Our final full day in Kraków greeted us with more glorious weather—warm enough that we finally traded jeans for shorts. Well-rested, we set out with a sense of quiet purpose, returning to the Jewish Quarter, Kazimierz, determined to understand more of its layered history.

      We began with a walk to the New Jewish Cemetery, established in 1800 on the grounds of a former monastery. Though it was closed when we arrived, we paused at the historical plaque affixed to the brick wall outside. It explained that the cemetery had been destroyed during the Second World War, only to be restored in 1957 with help from the American Jewish Joint Distribution Committee. Today, it serves as a resting place for prominent figures like the artist Maurycy Gottlieb and Rabbi Ozjasz Thon—and as a solemn memorial to Holocaust victims.

      From there, we traced the Jewish Heritage Route through Kazimierz. The route winds past synagogues, former prayer houses, and old community centres, and their faded façades offered quiet reminders of the once-thriving Jewish life in this part of the city.

      Perhaps the most powerful moment of the morning came at Schindler’s List Passage, tucked into a shaded alley off Józefa Street. This narrow walkway is lined with photo displays and plaques recounting personal wartime stories. One that struck us described a man who hid for days under floorboards during the ghetto’s liquidation. Another told of a woman’s separation from her family at the Plaszów labour camp, and how she eventually survived and bore witness. The silence in that passage was profound—each story a reminder of how close this history still feels.

      Our final stop in the Jewish Quarter was the Tempel Synagogue, a beautiful building that really stood out with its warm red brick and decorative detailing. Even from the street it looked impressive, with arched windows and intricate stonework.

      By late morning, it was time to head out for our visit to the Wieliczka Salt Mine. We’d booked tickets in advance and disembarked the train a stop early to visit a nearby supermarket and pick up supplies. After a quick pizza lunch at the small bistro next to the mine, we joined the growing queue. The wait was about 20 minutes, and our English-speaking guide soon appeared—carrying herself with a voice reminiscent of the SBS “Viewing Highlights” announcer from Fast Forward.

      Once inside, the experience became something truly extraordinary. The Wieliczka Salt Mine, over 700 years old, stretches more than 300 metres beneath the surface. This isn’t just a mine—it’s a subterranean masterpiece. As we descended over 800 wooden steps, the air cooled, and salt crystallised across the walls in natural veins and glistening patches.

      The further we walked, the more interesting it became. Entire chapels and corridors have been carved from salt—walls etched with religious scenes, caverns opening into vast underground halls. One of the most astonishing highlights was the Chapel of St. Kinga, a soaring underground cathedral where every element—from the chandeliers to the altar—is sculpted entirely from salt. A rendition of The Last Supper carved into the wall stood out for its haunting beauty. Even more remarkable is that all of this was created not by artists, but by the miners themselves, in their spare time.

      As we continued, the tour revealed salt lakes with glassy surfaces, sculptures of figures like Copernicus and Piłsudski, and whimsical scenes of gnome miners toiling away in the rock. The scale of it all was astonishing—not just in beauty, but in sheer ingenuity.

      Halfway through, we stumbled upon one of the mine’s more unexpected features: a full-blown underground gift shop and café. Tables, shelves, and even the snack bar were embedded into the walls of salt. Sitting deep underground with salt chandeliers overhead was one of the most bizarre travel moments we’ve had.

      The final stretch of the mine was even stranger. To reach the exit, we walked nearly a kilometre through winding corridors that passed museum exhibits, modern artworks, and what looked like an underground conference centre. The spaces were polished, almost corporate—another reminder of how many lives and purposes this mine has held. Eventually, we reached the final elevator—a compact metal lift that shot upward with rattling speed, echoing like a rocket launch.

      Emerging into daylight again felt like surfacing from another world. Rather than wrangling with transfers or connections, we simply paid the small fare for the return train to Kraków. It was worth it for the smooth ride back.

      Back at the apartment, we had a well-earned rest before heading out for dinner. After so many heavy Polish meals, we opted for something quick and light from the shopping centre food court. Not glamorous—but exactly what we needed.

      With our bags now packed for an early Uber to the airport tomorrow, we end our time in Kraków with full hearts. Today, more than any other, wove together memory, wonder, and reverence. This city has revealed itself in layers—just like the salt mine below—and has left us with an appreciation deeper than we expected.

      Next stop: Budapest.      Les mer

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    • Andrew JeromeReisendeThe Med to the Midnight Sun
      Juliusz Słowacki Theatre
      St. Florian’s GateWawel CastleOskar Schindler’s Enamel FactoryOskar Schindler’s Enamel FactoryGhetto Heroes SquareGhetto WallSt. Joseph’s ChurchSt. Joseph’s ChurchVistula riverSt. Joseph’s Church

      Day 9

      25. mai, Polen ⋅ ⛅ 17 °C

      We managed to sleep in until 6 a.m. today, which—given our track record lately—felt like a small victory. The sun was already up, and we grabbed our first coffee at Consonni Szpitalna, perfectly positioned to admire the grand Juliusz Słowacki Theatre. This Baroque beauty, completed in 1893 and modelled after the Paris Opera, remains one of Kraków’s most ornate landmarks. Although the morning air was still cold, the sunshine quickly turned intense, and we had to move inside before the outdoor seating became uncomfortably warm.

      From there, it was a short walk to St. Florian’s Gate, one of the city’s original medieval entrances. Built in the 14th century, it marked the start of the Royal Road—the ceremonial path once used by kings and dignitaries. The fortified gateway, with its vaulted ceiling, stands opposite a stretch of the original city wall, now used as an open-air art gallery. We returned in the evening to find it transformed—bright canvases lining the ancient stones, turning the whole scene into a striking blend of past and present.

      Knowing we’d be visiting the Wieliczka Salt Mine tomorrow, we picked up a 48-hour public transport pass using the same app we used in Warsaw. It came in handy straight away as we made our way to Wawel Castle. The setting alone made the trip worthwhile. Perched above the Vistula River, Wawel’s architecture is a patchwork of Romanesque, Gothic, Renaissance, and Baroque styles—a testament to Poland’s long and turbulent royal history.

      Next stop: Oskar Schindler’s Enamel Factory. We were hoping to visit the museum, but all the tickets were sold out for today and tomorrow—a bit of a letdown. Still, even standing outside was moving. One of the most striking features was the wall of black-and-white portraits displayed across the windows—images of Jewish men and women saved by Schindler during the Holocaust, many of whom worked at this very factory. Even without stepping inside, the sight of those faces—each a life narrowly spared—was deeply affecting.

      Determined to honour Kraków’s wartime history, we continued on to Ghetto Heroes Square, where oversized bronze chairs are arranged across the plaza. Each one represents the thousands of Jews who were deported from the Kraków Ghetto during WWII. Just around the corner, hidden among residential buildings, we found a surviving fragment of the ghetto wall. Crumbling and cracked, it now bears a small plaque, quietly commemorating what once stood there. It’s easy to overlook if you’re not paying attention, but once you see it, it stays with you.

      Our mood lightened again when we reached the neo-Gothic marvel of St. Joseph’s Church in the Podgórze district. Its towering green spire and white-trimmed red brick façade made it one of the most photogenic buildings we’ve seen so far. Behind the church, the gardens were even more impressive—lush, tiered, and dotted with contemplative bronze sculptures. It felt like stepping into a peaceful open-air museum.

      We crossed the Vistula via the Father Bernatek Footbridge, a modern pedestrian bridge known for its wire acrobats suspended mid-air. It links Podgórze with Kazimierz and offers a great vantage point over the river.

      We explored Kazimierz, Kraków’s historic Jewish quarter, which had a rougher edge than expected—some areas felt run-down and heavily graffitied. Still, it added a gritty kind of authenticity to the day, reminding us that cities like Kraków carry layers of past and present in every street.

      Ted was keen to experience a traditional milk bar, and Bar Mleczny “Pod Temidą” didn’t disappoint. These no-frills, Communist-era canteens offer hearty Polish comfort food at budget prices. We ordered pork cutlets with mashed potato and cabbage, gołąbki (cabbage rolls with mushroom sauce), and placki ziemniaczane—crispy potato pancakes with buttery sautéed mushrooms. Simple, satisfying, and well-earned.

      The weather held up beautifully all day, so we strolled along the Vistula afterwards. The riverside was buzzing with life—cyclists, sunbathers, and kids clambering over the Wawel Dragon statue, which famously breathes fire every hour (though we managed to miss it).

      After a break back at the apartment, we wandered out again for a drink at Café Lindo. Despite its charming look, it was a bit of a flop—rude service, no crowd, and warm beer. Not exactly one for the return list.

      We finished the day back in the Old Town, where I finally gave in to temptation and tried a chimney cake rolled in cocoa. Hot, sweet, crispy on the outside and soft inside—it was so indulgent it ended up being my dinner. The sunset bathed the square in gold, rounding off what felt like a full, reflective, and surprising day.      Les mer

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    • Andrew JeromeReisendeThe Med to the Midnight Sun
      Kraków Main Square Town Hall Tower
      Kraków Main Square (Rynek Główny)The Cloth HallKraków Main Square (Rynek Główny)Juliusz Słowacki Theatre

      Day 8

      24. mai, Polen ⋅ ☁️ 15 °C

      Even though we had a late night… we were still awake at 6:30 a.m.! At this point, I don’t think it’s jet lag anymore—it’s probably the extra-long daylight hours, and me waking up each morning already thinking about everything we want to do.

      We were both feeling a little dusty, so after breakfast we wandered down to Zywioły Café, a more polished pedestrian area, for coffee and croissants. I’d noticed our train tickets didn’t include seat allocations, so we stopped by the main station. After a short, mildly confusing conversation in broken English, we were reassured it wasn’t a big deal.

      Back at the apartment, we packed up and cleaned before heading out again. With about an hour to spare, we grabbed lunch at McDonald’s (not our finest moment)—though I went for a salad and veggie roll. Even with rocket (which I still can’t stand), it felt like a decent choice after a solid week of hearty eating.

      A quick reminder of how different things are here: the station bathrooms required a small payment—something you rarely see back home. Our platform was easy to find, the train arrived with time to spare, and when I asked the conductor about seats, she told us to sit anywhere. The carriage was about 80% empty, so that worked out just fine.

      Even in second class, the seats were roomy, with tray tables, luggage racks, and big windows looking out over the Polish countryside. The 2.5-hour ride was smooth and direct, and the stretch from Warsaw to Kraków gave us time to appreciate just how green and wide-open much of the country still is.

      Google Maps told us our accommodation was a 15-minute walk from the station—it turned out to be five. The apartment itself is compact but cleverly designed. Smaller than the one in Warsaw, but clean, modern, and functional. The bed is tucked into a timber loft above the kitchen, reachable via a small staircase. Once you’re up there, you’ve got to crouch or crawl—it’s not tall enough to stand—but it’s cosy and kind of fun.

      I tried to get a nap in, but the people upstairs were stomping around too much for that to happen. So, we gave up on resting and headed into town. Kraków feels more compact and relaxed than Warsaw. Ted admitted he’d pictured Poland as a bit bleak—like something out of the ’80s—but this place changed his mind fast.

      We headed straight to the Main Market Square, which was packed (hardly a surprise for a Saturday). At 40,000 square metres, it’s the largest medieval square in Europe—framed by elegant townhouses and buzzing with activity. It’s been the heart of Kraków since the 13th century, and you can feel that history underfoot.

      We ducked into the Cloth Hall (Sukiennice), which dates back to the Renaissance and was once a major international trading post. These days it’s full of amber jewellery, folk art, and fridge magnets—but it still has charm, especially under the vaulted ceilings and wrought-iron lamps.

      Outside, St. Mary’s Basilica towers over the square. One of the spires is currently under scaffolding, but it’s still impressive. Every hour, a trumpeter plays a short melody from the higher tower—a tradition that’s been going strong since the 14th century. Legend says it honours a city guard who was shot mid-note while sounding the alarm during a Mongol invasion.

      Nearby, we spotted the enormous bronze head lying sideways in the square—Eros Bendato (Eros Bound), a sculpture by Polish artist Igor Mitoraj. It looks both ancient and modern at once—and, strangely enough, it’s become one of the most popular meeting points in town.

      We browsed the many food stalls lining the square, offering everything from grilled cheese and sausages to towering pork knuckles. Ted finally gave in to temptation and went for the latter—it wasn’t cheap (thanks, tourist prices), but he loved every bite.

      By late afternoon, I was starting to crash, so we grabbed some groceries and headed back. I managed a solid two-hour nap before we got changed and went out again for dinner. Neither of us was hungry for anything too heavy, so we settled on a warming bowl of soup and fresh bread at Drevny Kocur. Simple, satisfying, and perfect for a cool spring evening in Kraków.

      At night, the square was far less crowded. There were still food stalls open and plenty of people out, though the vibe had mellowed. One slightly less charming aspect? A few hawkers trying to pull tourists into casinos or strip clubs—not quite our thing.

      We considered a nightcap at Lindo Bar but decided to save it for another day. With three nights here and plenty of sights still to explore, we’ve got time to soak it all in.      Les mer

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    • Andrew JeromeReisendeThe Med to the Midnight Sun
      Łazienki Park
      Łazienki ParkPalace on the Isle (Łazienki Palace)Orangery at Łazienki ParkWilanów PalaceKazimierz Palace (part of the University of Warsaw)Wilanów PalaceWilanów PalaceWilanów PalacePalace of Culture and ScienceView from Palace of Culture and ScienceWarsaw Ghetto Wall Memorial

      Day 7

      23. mai, Polen ⋅ ☁️ 15 °C

      We were up early again—5:30 a.m.—which gave us a solid head start. The morning air was noticeably colder, so after a proper coffee from Etna Café just near the apartment, we mapped out the day and got moving.

      Our first stop was Łazienki Park, one of the city’s most beautiful public spaces. Commissioned by King Stanisław August in the 18th century, the park blends manicured gardens, classical architecture, and open woodland in a way that feels more royal estate than urban park.

      The standout was the Palace on the Isle, perched right on the water and perfectly mirrored in the lake’s surface. We also explored the elegant New Orangery, with its landscaped forecourt guarded by stone lions, and wandered along paths lined with marble statues of mythological figures. Even without sunshine, the setting was impressive—lush, expansive, and carefully curated. A few shots from the amphitheatre and gardens might end up being some of our best from Warsaw.

      From there, things got a little chaotic. Determined to track down the remnants of the Warsaw Ghetto, we pieced together a plan involving a bus, a tram, and the metro… and got absolutely nowhere. Frustrated and empty-handed, we detoured to the Palace of Culture and Science, but with school groups swarming in, we decided to come back later.

      Back in the city centre, Ted picked up a T-shirt for me at H&M—one of those unexpected holiday finds that’ll probably stick with me long after the trip. We eventually made it to Old Town for lunch at a small restaurant called Gościniec. I went for placki ziemniaczane (crispy potato pancakes with sour cream), while Ted had gulasz wieprzowy—a rich pork stew, slow-cooked with paprika and onion.

      We considered heading back for a rest, but when we noticed a direct bus to Wilanów Palace, we decided to press on. Despite a few lingering school groups, Wilanów turned out to be one of the highlights of the trip. The palace is grand and vibrant, surrounded by some of the finest formal gardens we’ve seen anywhere. Built in the late 1600s for King Jan III Sobieski, it somehow escaped the wartime destruction that levelled much of Warsaw. Its French-style gardens, sculpted hedges, and decorative statuary gave it a distinctly Versailles feel—only quieter, more relaxed, and arguably more charming. Honestly, it made Berlin’s Charlottenburg Palace look a little modest by comparison.

      We’d bought tickets to see the interior, and while the exterior had already wowed us, the rooms inside took things up another level. Unlike many European palaces that can feel overly staged or repetitive, this one felt lived-in and layered with character.

      Each room was colour-themed and distinctive—the Yellow Room gleamed with gilded stucco and ornate ceiling mouldings, while the King’s Library was lined with leather-bound volumes in Polish and Latin. Much of the original furniture has either survived or been beautifully restored, and you could still see parquet floors, decorative plasterwork, and period wall coverings that felt authentic rather than overly polished.

      A more sobering aspect came from small signs describing the looting and destruction during the Nazi occupation. Many priceless artworks were stolen; while a few have been recovered, many remain missing to this day. It added a poignant layer to what was otherwise a majestic, richly preserved window into Poland’s royal heritage.

      The trip back wasn’t smooth. My phone died, we missed our stop, and ended up stuck on a slow loop through the suburbs. Eventually, we found a tram line and made it back to the apartment for a well-earned break.

      Later that evening, we made a second—and this time successful—attempt to visit the Warsaw Ghetto Memorial. Tucked into a quiet street corner, it includes a bronze map marking the former ghetto boundaries and a plaque honouring those who lived and died within its walls. Between 1940 and 1943, over 400,000 Jews were forced into this walled area under horrific conditions. Most were eventually deported to extermination camps. Standing there, reading the words, was sobering—but important.

      From there, we wandered into a nearby park and were completely caught off guard by how peaceful and beautiful it was. It turned out to be Krasiński Garden, which wraps around the equally impressive Krasiński Palace. The formal flowerbeds, fountains, and long walkways created a calm and elegant atmosphere. Even better, it was full of locals walking their dogs—big dogs, small dogs, all of them joyful—which gave the space a warm, lived-in feel that balanced out the weight of everything we’d seen that day.

      We finished with a laid-back dinner at a nearby Mexican restaurant, followed by a drink at Lodi Dodi, a chilled-out bar close to home. We made it back around midnight—legs sore, batteries drained, and minds full.

      Today was about contrasts—palaces and playgrounds, history and everyday life, grandeur and grit. Warsaw’s story is layered, but it’s that complexity that makes it such a rewarding city to experience.      Les mer

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    • Andrew JeromeReisendeThe Med to the Midnight Sun
      The Old Town Square
      Palace of Culture and ScienceOn the way to WarsawThe Presidential PalaceRoyal Palace and Sigismund's ColumnOld Town Square

      Day 6

      22. mai, Polen ⋅ ☁️ 18 °C

      It feels like we’re extending our sleep-in time by an hour each day—we made it to 6:30 a.m. today! We hadn’t booked hotel breakfast, figuring we’d just grab something at Berlin Hauptbahnhof before our train to Warsaw. The station was its usual whirlwind of travellers, but a quick coffee and croissant seemed easier (and cheaper) than hunting down a sit-down café.

      Our train pulled in on time, though naturally, our carriage was the furthest one from where we were standing. After a bit of a jog, we made it—and ended up scoring an entire six-seat compartment to ourselves for the five-hour journey. A comfortable way to cross another border.

      The carriage attendants were all Polish (we were now on a PKP Intercity train), and when one asked if we wanted coffee, I fumbled to ask if they had oat milk—unsuccessfully. Only later did I realise I could’ve just used Google Translate. When the bill arrived, I had a brief moment of panic: 26.50 for two coffees?! Then I remembered—Polish złoty, not euros.

      Later, the same attendant returned with complimentary water, juice, and chocolate bars—unexpected and appreciated. Despite a slight delay, the ride was smooth and far better than some of our rail experiences in Vietnam or the U.S.

      We checked out the dining car, which turned out to be a nice surprise. WARS, Poland’s long-running railway catering service, has been serving meals since the 1940s, and the quality has definitely held up. Ted went for a classic combo of eggs, bacon, and Polish sausage, while I opted for pierogi ruskie—traditional dumplings filled with potato and cheese, topped with fried onions, and easily one of the country’s best-loved comfort foods.

      There was even zupa szczawiowa (sorrel soup) on the menu—a tangy, spinach-like soup made with sorrel leaves and usually served with egg and potato. I was tempted… until I read the ingredients and wasn’t quite ready to be that adventurous.

      We rolled into Warsaw about thirty minutes late due to technical issues. The crew kept us informed and were apologetic, which made a difference. Warsaw Central Station was calmer than Berlin’s sprawling chaos, and we were soon outside.

      Despite the rain, our first sight of Warsaw was the massive Palace of Culture and Science. Built in the 1950s as a “gift” from Stalin, it’s part Soviet skyscraper, part symbol of Warsaw’s ability to reframe its past. Some see it as a symbol of Communist oppression, others as an iconic part of the skyline. Either way, it’s impossible to miss—at 237 metres, it’s still the tallest building in Poland.

      The walk to our apartment took about ten minutes, with a minor delay caused by my confusing the first floor with the third. But it was worth it—the apartment is spacious, modern, and a definite step up from our compact hotel room in Berlin.

      After unpacking, we headed to a local supermarket to stock up. I’ve been to Warsaw before, but for Ted this was a first. His initial impression? Bigger, grander, and more elegant than expected.

      By late afternoon, with the weather still grey and wet, we decided to explore Warsaw’s Old Town—a part of the city known to be charming in any conditions. The area was almost entirely destroyed during World War II, but painstakingly rebuilt using old paintings and architectural records. Today, it’s UNESCO-listed for exactly that reason.

      We bought a 24-hour transport pass through the Jakdojade app, which made navigating the tram system easy. Even in fading light, Old Town was stunning. The cobbled streets, colourful buildings, and detailed facades felt like a step back in time. We stopped at the Royal Castle, once home to Polish monarchs, and admired Sigismund’s Column—erected in 1644 to honour the king who moved the capital from Kraków to Warsaw.

      Nearby, we saw the statue of Jan Zachwatowicz, the man behind the city’s extraordinary post-war reconstruction efforts. Thanks to him, much of what we see today is a faithful recreation of what once stood.

      On the way back, we accidentally got off the tram one stop early—which turned out to be a stroke of luck. The Palace of Culture and Science was glowing in the evening light, and we got the perfect nighttime photo.

      Tomorrow’s forecast looks overcast but dry. With one full day left in Warsaw, we’re hoping to see as much as we can—between palaces, parks, and maybe a bit more pierogi.      Les mer

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    • Andrew JeromeReisendeThe Med to the Midnight Sun
      East Side Gallery
      East Side GalleryEast Side GalleryEast Side GalleryEast Side GalleryEast Side GalleryEast Side GalleryEast Side GalleryEast Side GalleryEast Side GalleryCharlottenburg PalaceCharlottenburg PalaceCharlottenburg PalaceVisiting my cousin SimoneVisiting my German cousins Martin, Sandy and Roman

      Day 5

      21. mai, Tyskland ⋅ 🌬 21 °C

      Jet lag is finally loosening its grip—we managed to sleep through to 5:30 a.m. today, just in time for the 6:00 a.m. breakfast downstairs. Judging by the number of early risers in the dining room, we’re guessing our hotel also caters to a crowd of business travellers (or fellow jet-lagged tourists).

      Before leaving for Europe, I’d sketched out a detailed list of landmarks and neighbourhoods we didn’t want to miss. After a few days of trekking across Berlin, we decided to slow the pace slightly and check out a few final highlights. Berlin is a city of extremes—gritty and grand, sharp-edged and soft—and today’s destinations captured that contrast perfectly: the bold colour and raw emotion of the East Side Gallery, followed by the chandeliers and cherubs of Charlottenburg Palace.

      We began our morning at the East Side Gallery, a 1.3-kilometre open-air art exhibition painted on the longest surviving stretch of the Berlin Wall. After the Wall fell in 1989, artists from around the world came to Berlin and transformed this once-feared border into a living canvas of peace, protest, satire, and remembrance. Today, it features over 100 murals and stands as both a vibrant creative space and a solemn historical monument.

      It’s hard to believe this slab of concrete once split the city—and families—in two. We took our time walking along the wall, admiring both the iconic pieces and the lesser-known works. We stopped at the famous Fraternal Kiss mural of Brezhnev and Honecker, which somehow remains both hilarious and unsettling. Further along, the wall explodes with symbolism—stick figures dancing, doves breaking chains, cosmic visions. Some works call for peace or environmental action; others are simply playful, abstract, or defiant. It’s a vivid reminder of how art can transform even the bleakest structure into something deeply human.

      We passed the Oberbaum Bridge on our way out—a neo-Gothic icon that connects Friedrichshain and Kreuzberg across the Spree. Sadly, heavy traffic and a coat of less-than-artistic graffiti meant we didn’t get a great photo, but even through the chaos, its red-brick arches and towers offered a glimpse of old Berlin charm. Maybe next time, at a quieter hour.

      From there, we navigated Berlin’s (surprisingly manageable) public transport system and made our way west to Charlottenburg Palace. It took a bit of figuring out, but we made it—and I was pleasantly surprised by how many German words I could still read from childhood. Speaking them is another matter entirely, but I’ll take the small wins.

      Our visit began with a bit of drama: a tourist having a very vocal disagreement with an older German man who wanted her to move so his wife could take a photo—from what looked like a full ten metres away. Nothing like a heated photo dispute to remind you you’re in Europe.

      Charlottenburg Palace, built in the late 1600s for Queen Sophie Charlotte, is the kind of place that takes opulence to another level. Gilded cornices, frescoed ceilings, embroidered walls—it’s all very “if Versailles had a younger cousin.” One ballroom in pastel tones was absolutely stunning, filled with cherubs, chandeliers, and enough decorative flourishes to make your head spin. Another room, in rich reds and golds, felt like it could host a royal meeting—or a very fancy board game night.

      It’s hard to imagine living in such grandeur without feeling like you were trapped inside a frosted wedding cake. Unlike some European palaces that feel cold or roped-off, Charlottenburg was elegant but approachable. It may not have the imperial scale of Versailles or the grandeur of Schönbrunn, but we loved wandering through its rooms and peaceful gardens.

      Afterwards, we caught a direct train back to Berlin Hauptbahnhof, picked up some lunch from the station, and returned to our hotel nearby for a break before an evening with family. First, we visited Simone, my cousin on Dad’s side, who’s been living and working in Berlin as an opera singer for the last ten years. We caught the tram to her place and had tea and cake in her cosy apartment with her kids, Clara and David. It was relaxed and a great way to start the evening.

      Later, we took the train to Friedrichstraße to meet my mum’s side of the family—Sandy and Roman, along with Sandy’s husband Martin. To be precise, Sandy and Roman are the children of my mother’s cousin—so technically my second cousins, but either way, family is family. Roman had kindly booked us a table at Hans im Glück, a well-known burger chain named after a Grimm fairy tale about a man who trades away everything he owns in search of happiness. Thankfully, no one had to part with their wallet or phone for a side of chips.

      Even though I saw Sandy and Roman just last year, it’s always a joy catching up—and it was especially meaningful that Ted could join too. It was his first time meeting Roman, and his first time seeing Sandy and Martin in over 18 years. He also hadn’t seen Simone since her wedding in Australia, so it felt like a mini reunion on all fronts.

      Plenty of laughs, a few beers, and suddenly it was after 10 p.m. Tomorrow, we leave Berlin behind and cross the border into Poland. But for now, we’re grateful for a day filled with murals, monarchs, and familiar faces—and for a city that somehow makes it all feel perfectly natural.      Les mer

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    • Andrew JeromeReisendeThe Med to the Midnight Sun
      The Reichstag
      Brandenburg GateHolocaust MemorialBerliner CathedralThe TV Tower (Fernsehturm)Alte NationalgalerieDDR MuseumCheckpoint Charlie

      Day 4

      20. mai, Tyskland ⋅ ☀️ 14 °C

      As hard as I tried, I still ended up crashing at 8 p.m. last night—which, of course, meant I was wide awake by 4:30 this morning. We both knew we’d be slightly out of sync thanks to the time zones, but at least breakfast here started at 6 a.m., so we could start the day early (and well fed).

      When we checked in yesterday, we’d planned to find a better breakfast spot nearby, but in the end, we went with the stress-free option and ate at the hotel. Turned out to be a good call—it was a solid spread and very typically German: plenty of bread, cucumbers, tomatoes, cheese, and cold cuts. What stood out, though, was the dining room crowd. It was almost entirely men… 🤔

      We set out to explore Berlin on foot, aiming to cover as many of the city’s iconic sights as possible in a single, sunny day. With clear blue skies and a light breeze, the weather couldn’t have been better—and thanks to our early start, most places were still fairly quiet. We had a brief moment of confusion at Hauptbahnhof—Berlin’s central station is a maze of S-Bahn, U-Bahn, and regional trains—but we figured it out eventually and got moving.

      Our first stop was the Reichstag, home of the German Bundestag. One of Berlin’s most recognisable buildings, it mixes classical architecture with modern symbolism. Originally completed in 1894, it was badly damaged in WWII and stood unused during the Cold War. After reunification, it was completely restored and topped with a striking glass dome—meant to represent government transparency. Even from the outside, it’s a powerful and elegant structure.

      Just a short walk away is the Brandenburg Gate. We arrived while it was still quiet, which gave us time to take it in properly. Built in the late 1700s, it’s witnessed everything from Napoleon’s march to Nazi rallies, Cold War tension, and now tourists and bike tours. During the Berlin Wall era, this area was part of the so-called “death strip,” where many lost their lives trying to cross into the West. It’s surreal to stand there now, surrounded by people posing for photos.

      Next was the Holocaust Memorial—formally the Memorial to the Murdered Jews of Europe. More than 2,700 concrete slabs arranged in a sloping grid create a disorienting, silent space. Walking among them is sobering. There are no plaques or signs above ground—no names, no dates—just silence. That lack of explanation somehow makes it even more impactful.

      Around the corner we found the Berlin Cathedral (Berliner Dom), the city’s most impressive church. Built in 1905, it blends Renaissance and Baroque styles, with distinctive green domes towering over the city. The exterior alone—especially in the morning sun—was enough to appreciate its scale and detail.

      Nearby, we stopped by the Alte Nationalgalerie, one of my favourite buildings in Berlin. Sitting on a high pedestal on Museum Island, it feels like something straight out of Vienna or Paris. The neoclassical architecture, framed by manicured gardens, gave the whole area a surprising sense of calm.

      We then headed to Alexanderplatz to check out the TV Tower (Fernsehturm). Built in the 1960s by East Germany’s socialist regime to flaunt their technological progress (and allegedly spy on the West), it’s now a slightly kitschy but unmistakable part of Berlin’s skyline. At 368 metres, it’s visible from almost anywhere. The view from below, set against a cloudless sky, was more than enough.

      From East Germany’s towering pride to its everyday reality: our next stop was the DDR Museum—and it turned out to be a highlight. Unlike most museums, this one encourages you to interact with everything.

      You could flip through magazines in a recreated 1980s living room, open drawers full of GDR propaganda, and even sit in a Trabant (the East’s famously fragile car), which felt more like a plastic toy than a vehicle. The museum covered everything from surveillance and rationing to school life and fashion. What made it so compelling was how ordinary—and occasionally endearing—some of it was. It wasn’t just about control; it was about the lives people lived within that system. It made me think of my cousins who grew up in East Germany.

      By this point, we were starving. We caught the U-Bahn to Schöneberg for lunch at Pitaya, a casual Thai fusion spot that hit the spot. After hours of walking and museum-hopping, it was good to just sit and recharge.

      On the way back, we made a quick stop at Checkpoint Charlie—the Cold War’s most iconic border crossing. Yes, it’s touristy now (complete with souvenir stands and actors in uniform), but the original “You are leaving the American sector” sign still packs a punch. A stark reminder of just how recent all this history really is.

      After such a full-on day—and my early start—we returned to the hotel for a bit of downtime. Later, we caught a tram to Prenzlauer Berg, a neighbourhood Ted had read about. And he was right—it was leafy, laid-back, and full of charm. Quiet streets, old buildings, and cosy cafés made it feel like the Berlin locals love best.

      We ended up at Zweistrom Falafel, a small Turkish eatery serving up incredible food in a relaxed, no-frills setting. The kind of place that makes you wish you were a regular.

      Still not quite ready to call it a night, we wandered over to The Tipsy Bear for a drink. It wasn’t busy (school night, after all), but it was exactly what we needed to wind down.

      Tomorrow’s another full day in Berlin—and if it’s half as good as today, we’ll be in for a treat.      Les mer

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    • Andrew JeromeReisendeThe Med to the Midnight Sun
      The beautiful Finnair lounge
      On the Finnair aeroplane doorTravelling on the Flixbus!

      Day 3

      19. mai, Tyskland ⋅ ☁️ 15 °C

      Today was certainly interesting, to say the least! We arrived in Helsinki early after our overnight flight from Singapore, and even before the doors opened, there was a PA announcement warning unsuspecting passengers about the situation awaiting them at Helsinki Airport. Ted and I were the first passengers off the plane and made a beeline for baggage claim.

      As it turned out, we were told our bags would be offloaded—but that it could take a while. They weren’t kidding. We ended up standing in the baggage hall for well over an hour. Still, we consoled ourselves with the fact that at least we’d be getting them today, not tomorrow.

      While we waited, we weighed up our options for getting to Berlin. Seats were limited, so I suggested flying to Hamburg and catching a train from there. Ted thought it would be better to just buy full-fare tickets directly to Berlin, since the price difference wasn’t that significant. I initially baulked at the cost—until I realised it was much of a muchness either way.

      Relief quickly turned to panic when we realised Ted had accidentally booked the flights for the 19th of June, not May. Given how strict many airlines are about cancellations, we assumed we’d just kissed that money goodbye. We had an anxious wait before we could speak with someone at Finnair—but their staff couldn’t help either, since the booking was too far in the future to show in their system yet.

      I jumped on Finnair’s live chat, bracing for bad news. To my surprise—and immense relief—because the booking was for several weeks ahead and had been made within the last hour, we were eligible for a full refund. Phew!

      After all that excitement, we headed to Starbucks to regroup and enjoy a surprisingly decent coffee. Hamburg now looked like the best option, so we bought staff travel tickets and were upgraded straight away. After clearing security, we weren’t sure if we were eligible for the Finnair lounge—but we were, and it turned out to be a very comfortable place to wait.

      The flight to Hamburg was about two hours, although due to the industrial action, catering was minimal. Once we’d collected our luggage, we dashed to the S-Bahn to buy train tickets to Berlin. Unfortunately, neither of us could figure out the ticket machine. We asked one of the station staff for help, and he pointed us toward a better option: instead of paying €96 each for the train, we could catch a Flixbus for just €17. It would take a little longer—but that sounded like a bargain to us.

      We bought single tickets to Hamburg Hauptbahnhof and easily found the bus station nearby. We even had time to grab some cheese pastries and water for the three-hour ride.

      Now, Flixbus isn’t exactly glamorous—especially after our recent Business Class streak. The seats were tight, the drivers looked thoroughly unimpressed with life, and the tray tables could barely hold a bottle of water. But at that price and level of efficiency, who’s complaining?

      Once we arrived in Berlin, we took an Uber to our hotel, which is perfectly located near the Hauptbahnhof (Central Station)—ideal for both sightseeing and our upcoming journey to Poland. We had a quick look around the station and picked up a few groceries, as we were both keen for some fresh food rather than another restaurant meal.

      I think it’ll be an early night tonight—I’m barely staying awake. Considering we’ve been in three countries in the last 24 hours, I’d say that’s fair. There’ll be plenty of time for late nights later in the trip! 😊      Les mer

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