• Day 69

    Soviet Gift Giving and Resistant Statues

    September 17, 2023 in Poland ⋅ ☀️ 26 °C

    In comparison to the cities I’ve explored so far, Warsaw dwarfs all of them. I was starting to worry that I was getting a bit bored of cities however Poland jolts me awake. Warsaw is an eclectic mix of architectural styles.

    I only really have a day to explore so my first stop is the Palace of Culture and Science. The huge building, which wouldn’t look out of place in New York, was a gift to the people of Warsaw from Stalin. In 1952 they were given the choice of a metro system of a building. Warsaw chose the metro, and Stalin gave them the building. Clearly his gift giving left a lot to be desired. The building has been a controversial one with calls up to this day to demolish it due to the reminder that it’s left of the suffering inflicted on the Polish people thanks to Soviet influence.

    From here I walk to see the statue of the Polish (albeit Prussian at the time) astronomer Nicholas Copernicus. When the nazi’s invaded Warsaw, they replaced the plaque on this statue with one saying ‘To the Great German Astronomer’. The Polish Resistance weren’t having it and in disguise as workmen, they removed the plaque. It took the Germans 10 days to notice their missing plaque and in retaliation they issued proclamations decrying the incident and removed a statue of a famous Polish resistance fighter, Jan Kilinski, who had led the fight against the Russians in 1794, and stashed the statue in the vaults of the national museum. The next morning, someone had scrawled ‘People of Warsaw, I am in here! - Jan Kilinski’ on the side of the museum.
    Shortly later new proclamations appeared, but this time rather than being signed by a Nazi general, they were signed by Nicholas Copernicus and stated ‘Recently criminal elements removed the Kilinski monument for political reasons. As a reprisal, I order the prolongation of winter on the Eastern Front front for the term of two months.’
    The statue of Copernicus still stands today, a nice reminder of the Polish sense of humour and resistance against nazi occupation.
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  • Day 67

    Best laid plans

    September 15, 2023 in Czech Republic ⋅ ☀️ 24 °C

    Leaving Bratislava proves to be a little more difficult than planned. It’s a public holiday, a day commemorating Our Lady of the Seven Sorrows, who just so happens to be the patron saint of Slovakia. Slovakia’s highly religious with over 70% of the population being Roman Catholic.

    Since it’s a holiday, it seems everyone and their mother currently has somewhere better to be than Bratislava and so the train station is mobbed, filled with revelry and cheer as people meet family and friends and quite a few folk seem to have already had a meeting with the pub. Apparently the train drivers also have somewhere better to be, as trains are cancelled left, right, and centre. Thankfully mine just seems to be horrendously late and although there’s mention of a bus going to my first transfer point instead of a train, no one seems to know anything about it. Eventually I find my way onto a train and we’re off trundling through the Slovakian countryside towards Breclav. I spot the conductor in our carriage and pop up to ask him about the next connection. ‘We don’t know lady, we see’ is his response. Fair enough. Eventually he passes back through the carriage avoids eye contact with me and speaks to a stern looking couple across the table. Shortly later the man in the couple asks if I am getting a train to Poland, I tell him that I am. He explains that they’re getting the same train and that the conductor doesn’t know if we will make the train in time. We move up to the train doors and as we get off the train in Breclav, our next train is long gone.

    The gentleman speaks in Slovakian to a guard on the platform. There’s a lot of head shaking and huffing and puffing from the guard, and then eventually nodding and the gentleman turns round and explains to me that we need to go change our tickets. I thank him and his wife smiles and motions for me to go with them.
    I pick up my suitcase and the rest of my luggage and trundle along after my new found Slovakian parents.

    The gentleman speaks fantastic English and explains to me that he and his wife are Hungarian but live in Slovakia. She is a singer and so they travel frequently and know Krakow well. He recommends things to do in Krakow and tells me I need at least a week. They take me with them to the ticket office and translate for me, not leaving until they’re sure I’m sorted and have a new train ticket. I am ever so grateful and their kindness reminds me just how much good there is to be found. Without them I’m fairly sure I’d still be stuck in Breclav. They’ve been put on a different train and so I thank them with the one word of Hungarian I can remember and we say our goodbyes.

    With that it’s on to Krakow for the night before vaulting on to Warsaw.
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  • Day 67

    Blue churches, and the KGB pub

    September 15, 2023 in Slovakia ⋅ ☀️ 25 °C

    When I arrive in Bratislava, I don’t immediately see the appeal but after a walk around, I’m sold. For one, it’s grey and rainy and the bulk of it feels rather run down. Compared to its well known, richer neighbours, the city is one of Europe’s smallest capitals and receives significantly less tourism than the big draws of Prague or Warsaw. That being said, Bratislava manages to mix it’s classically pretty old town, with a more gritty feel to it’s less touristy areas and I find myself disappointed that I don’t have more time to explore. I do however find time to see the castle which sits perched above the city, overlooking the Danube. I’m told that on a clear day you can spot Hungary from the lookout point but today it’s rather obscured by a blanket of cloud.

    I do have time to find the ‘Blue Church’, a distinct church built in ‘Hungarian Succession’ style which looks a lot like art nouveau and designed by an architect from Budapest, the church is funnily enough blue almost from head to toe. The amount of Hungarian influence in Bratislava is stark, a reminder of its Austro-Hungarian history, Pre World War One, almost half of the city’s population was German, while 42 percent were Hungarian, leaving only 15% of its population as Slovak.

    Walking around the less touristy bits, there are remnants of soviet architecture all around. In cities like Budapest and Prague, the soviet architecture is a little less blatant but in Bratislava it’s unavoidable as soon as you set foot out of the touristy heart. I guess that’s what gives it a more gritty, lived in feel. Whistle stop tour complete, i head back to my hostel which lies opposite ‘the KGB pub’,
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  • Day 64

    Prague 🏰

    September 12, 2023 in Czech Republic ⋅ ⛅ 29 °C

    I leave Denmark, headed for Prague, Czechia which means I need to cross the entirety of Germany in a day- not my smartest move. Despite Deutsche Bahn’s complete disregard for punctuality and train timetables, I miraculously don’t miss a single connection in Germany… largely because every single train I have to catch is so late that the delay of the last one doesn’t prove to be a problem. I arrive in Berlin at 14:48 just in time to catch the 14:49 to Prague when it eventually appears at 16:30 and roll into Prague late and exhausted and very glad to collapse into a comfy bed for the night.

    Czechia, formerly known as the Czech Republic has a rather chequered history (pun fully intended). Historically the city of Prague played an important role in both the Holy Roman Empire and the Hapsburg empire (later the Austro-Hungarian empire). Following the First World War and the collapse of the Austro-Hungarian empire, Czechoslovakia became a state. It remained a state through various occupations from both the Nazis and the Soviets until it split in 1993 to become Czechia and Slovakia, my next two countries.
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  • Day 60

    Aarhus

    September 8, 2023 in Denmark ⋅ ☁️ 24 °C

    I’m sat on a train in Denmark looking at landmarks I passed 10 minutes ago. I’m sure this is the way we’ve just come. My train was supposed to stop as Esbjerg and change number before carrying on to Aarhus… Maybe it just goes back a station and then carries on? That could definitely be a thing right?

    No… as it turns out my train that supposed to go straight on to Aarhus, has in fact about turned and is now careering right back to where I started. Bugger. I jump off at the next stop and find myself stranded on a train platform in rural Denmark with another family and a group of 4 students all in the same position.

    After a bit of rerouting I catch a train which takes me back to the station we about turned at and then I managed to catch another train which is once again apparently going to an intermediate stop, changing number and carrying on to Aarhus. I settle in for a bit and then as we sit waiting at the station where the train is supposed to change number, I find myself holding my breath as we start moving again… once again going back the way. Just as I’m cursing Danish railways, the monitor overhead updates to Aarhus and the next correct station (apparently doubling back is a normal part of this route) and there’s an audible sigh of relief from those around me who are clearly also trying to reach Aarhus.

    Aarhus (pronounced closer to Aros rather than ‘Ar-hoose’ as I’ve been wrongly pronouncing it) is a slightly strange city. It’s a hodgepodge of modern minimalist design that the Scandinavian countries are known for and quaint, little buildings that date back centuries and look like they come straight out of a Hans Christian Andersen tale. Makes sense given that he was born just a couple of hours up the road.

    Originally founded by the vikings over 1250 years ago, the name means ‘river mouth’. Nowadays it’s known within Denmark as ‘the smiling city’ and on days like today when sun streams down and autumn colours are just starting to peek through, it’s not hard to see why.
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  • Day 57

    Bremen 🇩🇪

    September 5, 2023 in Germany ⋅ ☀️ 28 °C

    My accommodation for the night is in an old East German Caravan decked out with Finnish flags and even a wooden Viking sword and shield. I’m in Bremen, Germany, staying in a rather unique ‘indoor campsite’. Inside an old wearhouse, caravans and huts have been set up, each one themed to a different country. It’s far from glamping but it’s a lot of fun and means I have my own space for the next few nights which has become a rare event in the past few months.

    Bremen itself is a city in need of a little… TLC. Its Germany’s second largest port and as my accommodation is out at the docks, I get to see a fair bit of it walking into town. It’s very much a ‘working’ city and I sort of get the impression it might be the Dundee of Germany in the sense that it’s not the most aesthetic city but it does what it says on the tin.
    That being said, the old historic centre is home to some beautiful buildings and rather odd statue with a cockerel standing atop a cat which stands on top of a dog, who in turn stands the back of a donkey. It’s an ode to the Brother’s Grimm fairytale, ‘the Musicians of Bremen’ in which the four animals, having been neglected and mistreated, decide to run away and become musicians in Bremen. In the original tale I don’t believe they ever make it to the city of Bremen but why let that stand in the way of a good story… or in this case, statue? A short distance away from the statue, there’s a manhole cover, known as Bremmer Loch, which if you’re daring enough to pop a coin into, you’re rewarded with the sound of one of the musicians. The money goes to charity and they must collect a fair bit if the flock of tourists surrounding it at all times is anything to go by!

    On my potter around the city I stumble across a windmill which has me wondering if I’ve ever actually left the Netherlands. Turns out Bremen is home to five windmills, all of which were working mills in the past and a hint at Bremen’s Hanseatic heritage and trading past.
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  • Day 55

    Amsterdam 🇳🇱

    September 3, 2023 in the Netherlands ⋅ ☁️ 23 °C

    According to my coffee swilling, Istanbullian fortune teller, it’s all waiting for me in Amsterdam… only I’m assuming he means on a different trip. This time around the only thing waiting for me is a date with Vincent Van Gogh.

    I make it into the city early enough to join the queue for Van Stapele cookies which were a firm favourite my last time here. I kicked off my 30th trip around the Sun with these cookies not far off this time last year and it strikes me just how far I’ve come in a year.

    Cookie in hand, I amble through the streets before most of the city is out of bed. It might be a quiet Sunday morning but aggressive bell ringing from bike riders still fills the air while tourists are shouted at for wandering into the bike lanes. Ahh… Amsterdam.

    I reach museum square and make a beeline for the Van Gogh museum. I missed this one last time and I’m
    so excited to finally see it for real. The exhibition is a walk through Van Gogh’s life as much as his work. From his earliest paintings, his friendships with other artists of time, to his most famous paintings and his mental health. It’s a beautiful ode to the artist, albeit a melancholy one which is hauntingly fitting giving that the artist was partly diagnosed with ‘melancholia’, what would nowadays be classed as severe depression.
    The art is shown along side letters and correspondence to and from Van Gogh. It shows his thoughts and perspective on the world, a glimpse into the man and the inspiration behind some of his most beautiful works.

    Van Gogh museum done, I start to venture towards the train station until I spot a Pathé sign. Pathé are a film company, you might recognise their logo from the start of a huge number of British/American films, especially kids films like chicken run, but here in the Amsterdam, they’re a cinema chain that just happens to own one of the oldest cinemas which happens to be just around the corner. The Theatre Tuschinski opened in October 1921 and has retained much of its original art deco style. It’s a beautiful building inside and out and will come as absolutely no surprise that it’s the home of most red carpet events in Amsterdam.
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  • Day 54

    Bikes, Height and Other Dutch Sterotypes

    September 2, 2023 in the Netherlands ⋅ ☀️ 22 °C

    The moment I step through the ticket barriers in The Hague, I’m hit with the strong smell of weed. It might be the seat of the International Criminal Court (ICC) but it doesn’t stop Dutch stereotypes being in full swing.

    My hostel is tucked away just off a busy square full of cafes and bars and by extension, it turns out to be the noisiest hostel I’ve stayed in yet. Thanks to a lack of foresight, my base in the Netherlands is The Hague, however my few days in the country are eaten up in other cities and unfortunately it means I don’t get the chance to see much of The Hague itself which is a bit of a shame. Given the geopolitical importance, I’d quite have liked to explore the ICC, especially as hearings are open to the public. The USA even has a piece of legislation nicknamed ‘The Hague Invasion Act’ which allows the US president to authorise the invasion of the Netherlands in order to protect and/or rescue US citizens from custody or prosecution in The Hague. That being said, I’ve got a busy few days planned and I’m very excited to explore the Netherlands a bit more!

    When I hop on the train on the Saturday morning, it’s heaving. Full of people with rucksacks and camouflage trousers, making the journey to Arnhem for the annual pilgrimage that is the Airborne March. The Airborne March is an annual event that commemorates the Battle of Arnhem during the Second World War. Starting at Oosterbeek just outside of Arnhem itself, the routes lead past some of the most important wartime landmarks in the area. For now though, I bypass Oosterbeek and head directly into Arnhem where a familiar face is waiting for me.

    I meet my resident Swiss expert, Flying Dutchman, and long time friend Ben at the gates of Arnhem station. He guides me round the city, pointing out important sights including John Frost bridge (quite literally the Bridge Too Far for anyone that’s seen the movie), Arnhem cathedral, and taking some detours for good book shops and record stores.

    After lunch, the plan is to head out to Oosterbeek to visit the airborne museum. Ben, in an attempt to give me the quintessential Dutch experience, produces a bike for me, unfortunately failing to take into account that Dutch bikes are designed for Dutch people, who just so happen to be the tallest nation on earth, and not for short legged Scots. Seat lowered to the very lowest it’ll go, I jump (jump being the operative word here) on it, to discover that I can’t quite get my toes to reach the ground. After 10 minutes of faffing around and and a lot of laughing, we decide that there’s no way in hell I’m riding that thing anywhere but straight to A&E, and so we ditch the wheels and set off on foot.

    The Airborne Museum is housed in an old hotel that was used as headquarters by the British Paratroopers in the Battle of Arnhem and as we walk into Oosterbeek we’re greeted by the sound of military marching music as we run into the thick of the Airborne March participants. There’s a cheerful atmosphere as people in military gear, civilians, military bands, and Dutchmen in Kilts with bagpipes pass by, all on their way towards the same place we’re headed. We cut through and loop down a side street to eventually reach the museum. Ben asks for two tickets in Dutch and the woman at the counter presents us with audioguides, speaks to me in fluent Dutch, quickly realises I understand nothing as I blink at her blankly and then kindly offers me an English audio guide which I accept somewhat sheepishly.

    The museum itself is a wonderful albeit somber ode to both the brave airborne soldiers who played their part in the battle of Arnhem, and the local civilian population such as Kate ter Horst who was known as the ‘Angel of Arnhem’ for the role she played in helping the allied soldiers. While we’re there there’s also a temporary exhibit on Jewish Germans who left Germany and joined the allies as soldiers. It’s a serious and heavy subject but covered so well by the exhibit. It talks about British immigration policy on the eve of World War Two and the attitude towards Jewish German refugees in the run up to and during the war. The exhibit doesn’t pull punches in discussing British attitudes towards the refugees and as I walk around I notice echos in the current UK government’s immigration policies. Just before we finish up at the museum, we down to the final exhibit.

    In the basement lies ‘The Airborne Experience’ and suddenly we find ourselves ushered into a room set up like the interior of a glider. We sit on the benches around the side while we’re briefed on our mission and our ‘plane’ leaves England, coming into land in the occupied Netherlands. A door opens and to shouts of ‘go go go’ we suddenly find ourselves entering a walk through that’s set up to give you an idea of what soldiers in the battle of Arnhem would have seen. It’s complete with shouting in both English and German and sounds of bullets ricocheting overhead as we pass through shells of buildings and scenes of war. It’s a somber look into what these often young soldiers would have faced, and quite a thing to have quietly hiding in the basement.

    From the museum we take the Airborne approach and head for a pint before it’s time for me to hop across the country back to The Hague for a good night’s sleep (assuming there’s no US citizens up for prosecution just down the road 😉).
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  • Day 51

    South, Central and The Grand Dutchy

    August 30, 2023 in Luxembourg ⋅ 🌧 16 °C

    It’s 7am and I’m on a train heading to Brussels Midi (Central) as rain bounces off the window. The conductor checks my rail pass, spots my name and informs me his ‘first girlfriend was a Dempsey’. I have no idea what he expects me to do with that information while still half asleep at 7am on a dreary Wednesday morning and so I smile awkwardly and insist I’m definitely of no relation, all while praying it wasn’t a bad breakup otherwise I might be getting kicked off a train. Presumably they ended on good terms as he wishes me a good journey and moves on cheerfully.

    I notice suddenly that my train seems to be going to Brussels Zuid (south), and Brussels Nord (north) but not to Brussels Midi. I panic, and start trying to come up with alternative routes so I don’t miss my connection in Brussels only to discover that Brussels Zuid doesn’t seem to exist on the app… I stop in my tracks and flag down the other-Dempsey’s-ex who then explains to me that Brussels Zuid and Brussels Midi are the same station, but ‘Zuid’ is the Dutch name and ‘Midi’ is the French. I thank him and wonder briefly which nation couldn’t read a map properly before it’s time to grab my luggage and hop across to the train to my next country.

    Country no. 19- Luxembourg, or to give it its full title, the Grand Dutchy of Luxembourg, is the only territory in the world to be ruled by a Grand Duke. And the tiny little micro-state that just so happens to be home to the seat of the European Parliament's secretariat, the Court of Justice of the European Union, the European Court of Auditors, and the European Investment Bank… quite a lot for the worlds 7th smallest country and somewhere that’s usually over looked for it’s neighbours.

    It’s capital, Luxembourg City is a UNESCO heritage site (Yep, the whole city) due to its preservation of the old quarters and fortifications. The country passed through almost every large empire in Europe, from the Holy Roman Empire, the Hapsburg empire, the House of Burgandy, even the French and the Prussians, so elements of these can be seen in many of the buildings, acting almost as a time capsule of Luxembourg’s history.

    Despite all the grandeur on paper, I’ll admit that Luxembourg City doesn’t really blow me away. I’m not really sure what I was expecting but what I find is a city much like any other. The walk from the station to the old town takes me past Macdonald’s, Five Guys and Sephora, I cross the bridge and find myself in the old town which is pretty enough but not entirely spectacular. At this point I’m not sure if it’s just city fatigue starting to set in, especially having torn myself away from the rural paradise of Switzerland, or if it’s just that Luxembourg City is somewhat underwhelming especially given the grey, miserable weather that hangs over head.

    The one thing that I am struck by is the poverty that seems wide reaching in a country known as the world’s second most affluent country, and I find myself reflecting on the disparity and inequality given that Luxembourg has the highest minimum wage in Europe and the highest GDP per capita in the world.

    (On account of the torrential rain bouncing off my head the whole time I was there, I seem to have taken next to no photos… sorry!)
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  • Day 47

    Castles, chocolate and ‘fairytale stuff’

    August 26, 2023 in Belgium ⋅ ☁️ 19 °C

    I arrive in Bruges late evening after a long day of travelling. I venture out for dinner and end up combining two of Belgium’s most known delicacies, waffles and chocolate… healthy eating can wait.

    The town itself is beautiful. It’s old and quaint and has a medieval feel, with its cobblestone streets and colourful buildings, although in reality most of the buildings only date back to the 16th/17th century but were built in a Neogothic style which has managed to preserve Bruges’ medieval feel. It’s led to a pretty, little city which could easily be the setting for a Disney movie. The city alone has 50 castles within its borders. It’s a beautiful little place to get lost in outside of the main tourist drag.

    The touristy bit centred around two main squares, the Markt (or Market in English) and ‘De Burg’ which houses an old court house and the Basilica of the Holy Blood which holds a relic of (surprise, surprise) the holy blood, allegedly collected by Joseph of Arimathea.
    The tourist centre of Bruges is busy, with more English accents than anything else. It’s an assault on the senses as the smell of chocolate wafts from shops left and right, luring you in, until a horse drawn carriage passes by and the smell of dung hits wakes you rudely from the chocolate based fantasy. Horsey smells aside, Bruges quickly charms me and I spend much of the time just walking around, taking it all in and practising my Dutch.

    Belgium has 3 official languages, Dutch (technically Flemish), French and German in that order. Apparently my Dutch passes for Belgian as people respond to me in fluent Flemish to which I’m at a total loss with. In the Netherlands everyone just responds in English 🤷🏻‍♀️

    From Bruges it’s on to Ghent which seems to be a more functional city despite its medieval flourishes. I take in castles and more of Belgium’s quaint antiquated buildings before realising that I need to do some admin. The woman at my hostel reception informs me that there’s a laundrette with an inbuilt bar just round the corner called ‘Wasbar’ and I’m instantly sold. Clothes in the machine and drink in hand I relax for a little while before commandeering a dryer. Two hours later and my clothes still aren’t dry. I throw them in again and take a wander round to my hostel where one of the girls in my dorm warns me not to expect much from the Wasbar dryer.

    I catch up with editing and planning and a few hours later I settle into my bunk, close my eyes and try to ignore the forest of wet clothes hanging on the slats of the bed above me…. Wasbar strikes again!
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