Re-evaluation of the Polish train system

From Augustow the plan was to catch a night train to Malbork, spend a few hours there and then continue by another 6.5 hour train to Szczecin. This journey has proved to be a little nightmare of its own.

The first leg of the trip was relatively comfortable and took me from Augustow to Bialystok in the company of Grzesiek and Dorota (kayaking group members). There we managed to sprint of the train and swap onto the Bialystok-Warsaw train quickly enough to secure seats. Having left Augustow at 6pm, I arrived in Warsaw and 10:30pm with my night train scheduled to leave at 11pm and arrive in Tczew at 6:20am. As it turns out that particular train originated all the way in Krakow and was beyond full. I had entertained the hope of finding a sleeping car to get my rest for the next day’s worth of sightseeing; however, there was not even any seating room. All the compartments were completely packed. The corridor was so full that there was barely enough room to stand. Eventually everyone managed to find a little bit of floor space and crouched/sat/squatted/lay down in any way possible. As those in the compartments got up to go to the washroom, everyone was tossed/kicked/stepped on/woken up over and over throughout the night. At 6:45 we finally arrived in Tczew where I quickly hopped onto my next train to Malbork (thankfully with empty seats) and arrived in Malbork at 7:40am to find the train station under renovation and absolutely nowhere to leave my baggage.

I started walking towards the center and poked my head into the first hotel I passed gladly paying the 5 zloty fee to leave my backpack in their care. I then spent the next few hours touring the amazing Malbork fortress and crusader castle and headed back to the train station to catch the 1:45pm train to Szczecin.

I had honestly expected it to be half empty and when I finally climbed on board and found even more people than on my night train, all I wanted to do was scream. The first 1.5 hours I spent standing in the hallway with my backpack crammed between my legs and little room to move in either direction with the sun beating down on us. Thankfully at that point we reached Gdansk/Spot/Gdynia where many of the passengers were getting off and I managed to snag a seat. The train immediately filled up again and is continuing on in this overfilled fashion. It is insane the amount of people traveling by train here. Even if you exclude all the school/kindergarten/scouting trips that are all commencing right now, the mass of people packing themselves into virtually every train heading to virtually every corner of Poland is simply amazing. Hopefully by 8:20pm I will arrive in Szczecin for a much needed shower, dinner, and R&R.

On a side note, I saw more wildlife from the train than I did during my trip out to the wild Bialowieza Forest: a couple of deer and does as well as a fox. Aside for that the fields of poppies and wildflowers that we passed were one of the few highlights on this train journey.

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Kayaking in Rospuda

My original itinerary had included a couple days in the Masurian Lake District spent either kayaking, hiking, biking or simply soaking in this world renowned area. However, given the general shortage on time at my disposal I had started considering joining up on an organized weekend kayaking excursion. The problem was that all the starting points around the Mazury Lakes were incredibly difficult to get to by public transportation. Given this I opted for the next best thing: the Lakes in the Suwalki and Augustow Region and their interconnecting network of rivers.

In recent years the most famous of these has become the Rospuda Valley given to a massive uproar that erupted amongst nature lovers and environmentalists when the government decided to construct a highway through this fragile region. The end result was that the highway construction was stopped and plans are in the works of restarting it several (or several dozen) kilometers past the Rospuda Valley. Given the supposed beauty of this region I opted for a three day camping/kayaking excursion down the Rospuda River.

This entailed two nights spent in a tent (which I had to rent and which sets itself up. Yes, you heard me right, all I have to do is unzip the case for the tent and the tent pops open on its own fully erect with nothing left to do but to pin it into the ground. It is quite the ingenious contraption, but a little inconvenient to carry around.) The trip also included 30 km worth of paddling down the river and lake, a visit to a forest sauna and a couple camp fires.

The catch was that aside for the sleeping bag and the rented tent, I had no other camping gear. This meant that the nights were spent on the very hard and often quite cold floor and food had to comprise of sandwiches since I had no pots or pans to cook anything else. But this in no way affected the enjoyment level of the trip.

Our group ended up being 12 people including the guide. Everyone was paired off into kayaks with the exception of me and was forced to paddle all the way on my own while most girls relaxed and tanned while their partners did most of the work. (Maybe that’s a bit of an exaggeration, but a few breaks would have been nice). The first day was approximately 14 km down this little forest river with trees quite often encroaching on the river itself offering entertaining obstacles to avoid (or to plow directly into). The second day was primarily marshlands where for about 10 km the river snaked a tiny narrow path between fields of reeds. And when I say snaked, I truly mean it, as on this stretch there were exactly 100 very sharp turns. It concluded with the last few kilometers on a much wider river and then on the lake.

We had a fantastic group of people and ended up having an absolute blast, and although two days was a bit short, I truly don’t think my arms and shoulders could have taken any more.

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Augustow & Rospuda: back in Poland

The couchsurfing might be over and done with, but the hospitality is never-ending. I said bye to Dalius and Armin and got on the train back to Poland. With the school holidays having begun, the crowds were quite impressive. I don’t think that there was a single seat free in the final train across the border and into Poland.

Once in Augustow I was met by Ania, not a couchsurfing host, but in a way similar. She is the sister of some family friends back home whose contact information I had received a few days earlier and who kindly agreed to pick me up at the train station and look after me for the few hours before my kayaking tour. Again, the hospitality offered by complete strangers on this trip has absolutely amazed me. I was immediately sat down at the dinner table, where a huge selection of food was put in front of me, I was told to eat, then given towels, and told to make myself feel like at home. Thereafter I was ushered into the car and given a tour of the town and the surrounding countryside, including an exclusive stop at a private golf course. Once the tour was done it was time to head back to the house so that I could be fed some more just before being driven off to my starting point for my kayaking excursion.

The hospitality continued after my trip with a pick up at our finishing location, access to an amazing shower (after 2 days in a tent), more food as well as food packed for my night train ride to Malbork.
In instances like that there are simply no words to express the thanks and gratitude.

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Vilinus and Lithuania: my last country and most northerly stop ever

With absolutely stunning weather, skies that never really went fully dark at night, and a gorgeous blue sky by 4am, it is difficult not to have been impressed by my short stay in Lithuania. We looked it up, because I seriously could not remember such short nights in Edmonton, and in fact Vilinus is the most northerly point I have ever traveled to (by a full degree).

From Bialystok I crossed the border by train to my last new country of this journey. It seemed I was playing yo-yo with 1 hour of time, having lost it entering into Ukraine, regained it for a few days in Poland, and now again lost it upon entrance into Lithuania. Once in Vilinus I headed for the apartment of my new couchsurfing hosts, Dalius and Armin and their two high energy cats (They should reconsider using cats in place of the Energizer Bunny. These two would be prime candidates for that role.)

With it still being fully bright outside at 8pm, we headed into the Old Town wanting to make the most of the absolutely amazing weather. We strolled through the little streets, past monuments and cathedrals, churches and basilicas (I’m not sure I have ever seen more churches and church-like structures in one city) and eventually found a nice little restaurant that still had patio seating available. The food was delicious (including the cold borsch-like soup) but the service left a lot to be desired. Apparently that is a norm in Lithuania.

Round midnight we started heading home and although the sky had darkened and the buildings were all beautifully lit up, the horizon remained pale, the darkness not quite complete.

The next morning was filled with a visit to the KGB (Genocide) Museum. As much as I have had enough of museums by this point in time, this one is highly recommended. It had very unique and well thought out displays, intermixing a variety of different media, including artifacts, documents, films, videos and sounds and was incredibly informative of the struggles that the Lithuanians faced from before the World Wars, to the time period immediately following them (where hundreds of thousands got deported, faced imprisonment and execution), all the way up through the 1990s at which point they finally declared their independence from Soviet rule which was not recognized until a year later. One of the most depressing parts of the museum, aside for the statistics about all the lives lost and affected, were the KGB prisons in the basement, including the tiny cells, horrible living conditions and the execution chamber.

After the museum I was met by Armin and we meandered throughout the old town, taking in the various sights and eventually heading towards Uzupis, the Montmarte equivalent in Vilinus. This bohemian and artistic district has declared itself to be an independent republic, created its own flag, elected its own government, and formed its own constitution which includes provisions such as:

• Everyone has the right to die, but this is not an obligation.



• Everyone has the right to be undistinguished and unknown.



• Everyone has the right to look after the dog until one of them dies.



• A dog has the right to be a dog.



• Everyone has the right to cry.



• Everyone has the right to be misunderstood.



• Everyone has the right to be individual.
  

On April 1st, the bridge into Uzupis is closed down, border guards are placed at its entrance, passports are stamped and customs has to be crossed. On our visit there, no such restrictions were placed upon us, but it was nevertheless a pleasant walk through an unrecognized republic. (Am I to consider it another visited country, maybe half of one?)

On a hill above Uzupis we sat on a gorgeous little patio overlooking the entire city sipping the restaurant’s own brewed beer and nibbling on Lithuanian garlic encrusted/fried bread sticks. From there it was a hike down then up to the Hill of Three Crosses and eventually back into the Old Town where we swung by Eastern Europe’s oldest university before heading back home where Dalius prepared a fantastic dinner of potato pancakes followed by some delicious wine.

The following day it was time for a road trip to Trakai, a tiny little town about 30km south of Vilinus boasting a beautiful lake and a picturesque castle on an island. There we were befriended by two elderly Austrian ladies who noticed Armin’s Austria t-shirt and immediately asked whether he was originally from there. We chatted with them for a while, parted ways only to bump into them again and by joined by them over a delicious traditional Lithuanian lunch. I think we spent a good couple hours chatting with them. (They had driven up together from Vienna and were heading up towards Estonia and Latvia along with their 12 year old golden retriever).

And that was Lithuania in a nut-shell. The entire visit was made so much more memorable due to the amazing hospitality of my couchsurfing hosts.

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Puszcza Bialowieska: Poland’s highly acclaimed wild forest

The Bialowieza National Park is Poland’s oldest national park. It is recognized by Unesco as both a Biosphere Reserve and a World Heritage site and boasts over 100 species of birds, along with elk, wild boars, wolves and the European bison (zubr). Given these descriptions I had high expectations and purposefully adjusted my itinerary to see this amazing forest and the bison (not a small feat given that it was at least 4-5 hours out of my way).

Well, the only way to visit the Strict Nature Reserve (the area of the forest where nothing can be touched or done, where the trees and nature are left to do their own bidding), is via a 3 hour guided tour. After my 2.5 hour bus ride to Bialowieza I was lucky enough to be able to join a group of 10 others on this tour (thereby keeping my costs down to a mere 11 zloty). Well, the tour first took us through the Palace Park, where I was shown Canadian Pines, American Ash, and Weymouth Firs (I might be mixing up the tree species, since botany is not my strong point). However, these exotic trees were a highlight as they are not known in Europe. We then proceeded into the Strict Nature Reserve which is a mixture of coniferous and pine forest that has been allowed to grow in its natural fashion for the last couple hundred of years. Again various plants and trees were pointed out, including a 300 year old pine (swierk???) that was a couple meters in circumference. We were shown one that had fallen over 12 years ago and whose roots still created a round disk in the air, and a dab that had toppled in 1975 and was slowly rotting away. Oh, and I must not forget the one dead mole and one dead frog that I saw.

Now, I know that this is cynical, but compare such a tour with a hike around Buntzen Lake, where some of the trees would take at least 5 people holding hands to reach around, where the stumps of old trees form the home for new trees, where the forest has ran its own course for countless centuries. Well, Butzen Lake is about a 10 minute drive from my home. Drive a further few hours and you will find yourself in the midst of the West Coast Rainforest which would put Bialowieza to shame. Consider the oldest and widest tree we saw on the West Coast Trail which would take 10-15 people with hands outstretched to surround it. Consider the ancient Sequoias in California, one through which a car can drive through and the other which was used as a bridge for cars to drive over. Bialowieza still has another 1,000 years to go before its wilderness could even begin to compete with our back yard.

But I’m forgetting the European bison for which this Reserve is so famous. There are apparently 451 running wild in the reserve, havi

ng been painstakingly reintroduced into the reserve. Between 1919 and 1929 there was no bison left alive. In 1929 the reintroduction started with the purchase of 5, from which their numbers have slowly multiplied. Well, we didn’t see any on our tour (not surprising). I was, however, told to go to the European Bison Reserve where I could see them in a zoo like setting. I did go and I did see them. 8 or 10 were hiding in the grass some 50 meters from the fence.

Now again, I might be a little unfair in comparing, but consider Yellowstone National Park. There along the river we saw a herd of bison grazing, cooling off in the water and in the sand. The following morning when we woke up and stuck our heads out of our tent we realized that our campground was surrounded by a heard of grazing bison. One was maybe 5 meters away from our tent. Later on by Salt Lake City we nearly drove into one in our attempt to find our camping spot at night. We have photos (one of them attached here) posing in a bison like stance with the beast several meters behind us.

With all that said, I must admit that I was impressed by one thing: the amount of mosquitoes there. I don’t think I have ever been devoured to that extent, even through the long pants I was wearing and the sweatshirt that I put on despite the heat.

Overall, my advice is as follows: if you have done any kind of hiking in western Canada, you can easily skip a visit to Bialowieza; if in addition, you had seen bison somewhere in the wild, whether in Alberta or the US, then you can definitely skip Bialowieza. The only proviso I would put on this is in winter time. I think that a sleigh ride through this forest would be quite magical. Also, if you do spend a night there, try to organize a tour very early in the morning, even before dawn. Head out either on a sleigh or on a walking tour (if in summer) some time around 4am, see the forest wake up, see the mist slowly lift, and that is also your best chance to see the bison grazing in the wild. If not, then go for a hike around Buntzen Lake, on Vancouver Island, or anywhere else along the west coast and truly appreciate the beauty that surrounds us on a daily basis.

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Rzeszow: A city full of surprises

Rzeszow was not pretty or important enough to find its way into my guidebook, nor was Lancut, and yet I am incredibly glad I made a stop there.

I was hosted by Robert and was immediately made to feel right at home. He took time off from writing his master thesis to show me around Rzeszow and the surrounding towns. But mostly, he made me regret the fact that I travel with such a big pack. He’s a hitch-hiking fanatic. Well, maybe not that extreme, but he has taken part in hitch-hiking championships between Sopot and Munich and has an endless array of amazing stories and experiences. During my two days in Rzeszow we managed to hitch three rides, one in absolute record time, where I barely had enough time to step on the sidewalk, stick out my thumb, and had a vehicle screeching to a halt. But on my longer journeys, as much as I would love to travel in this fashion, the large bags are simply not conducive to it. It is not so much the fact that people won’t stop for me because of a big bag. However, there are times when you might go hours without being able to get a ride and sometimes find yourself needing to walk a kilometer or two, or eight or nine. With a little backpack that wouldn’t be an issue. Maybe next time round. A young couple, Kinga and Chopin, managed to travel around the world by hitch-hiking, so why not (they have a book out describing their journey).

My first day in Rzeszow was spent meandering through the Old Town. It is not very large, but nevertheless very charming. It’s got a beautiful city hall on one end and is surrounded by gorgeously restored old facades and an endless array of cafés and restaurants that spill right out into the square. Truth be said, there is not much more to Rzeszow. They do have a tour of the underground tunnels, but I must admit I did not go on it. The river running through the city provides kilometers worth of strolling options and it seems that we did quite a bit of walking. In the evening we came back to the city center to watch Justyna Steczkowska (a well known Polish singer) perform for free in the town square.

The following day we headed out to Lancut to see the beautifully maintained and decorated castle as well as their wagon hall (Powozownie). Not quite sure what you would call it in English, but it’s a beautiful garage in which they exhibit all the old wagons used by the castle inhabitants as well as those collected by the museum since then. They have everything from hunting wagons, luggage carts, sleds, limousines to speed wagons. Quite the impressive collection.

From Lancut it was back to Rzeszow and from there off to Kolbuszowa where we wanted to visit the Skansen museum (akin to the Zaanse Schans near Amsterdam). It was a very quaint and peaceful setting. There was virtually no one there and we could wander around the fields and old historic houses as we pleased. It was from there that we managed to catch a ride in record breaking speed. I seriously thought that the little car’s breaks would start to smoke given how quickly and forcefully the elderly gentlemen stepped on them.

When back in Rzeszow we headed towards the center to grab a bite to eat, passing the empty stage in the city square that was playing Sting and joked about how funny it would be if he were to perform there that night. Well, after dinner it turned out it wasn’t Sting, but yet another big name in Polish music. This time round it was Grzegorz Turnau who sat at the piano, accompanied by a small orchestra and his band members. It was an absolutely amazing concert in a beautiful setting that was made even nicer by the fact that the menacing rain clouds of the morning had all but blown away and the night sky was strewn with stars.

I truly could not have wished for a better two days in Rzeszow.

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Train travel in Poland: And they say North America is the land of milk and honey

So if I was impressed by the buses in Turkey and the night trains into and out of the Ukraine, I am now in awe of the new Regional Train service in Poland. Newly implemented and with the lowest prices, the RegioExpress is a brand new set of fully airconditioned trains which includes the following: TV screens that tell you what stops are upcoming, when you will be arriving there, and how fast you are traveling; little electric displays above every seat that welcome you aboard; electrical plugs for your laptop under every seat; free wireless internet connection (so long as the network isn’t overloaded); washrooms where everything is sensor-controlled, fully wheelchair accessible and spotlessly clean; and racks for bikes that store all bikes in a vertical position before entering the compartments. And did I mention that these trains travel on average 120 km/h, have priority on all the tracks and cover the distance between major cities probably quicker than you could by car? And I know for a fact that I mentioned that these are now virtually the cheapest train tickets you could buy (my trip from Rzeszow to Warszawa would have cost about 40 zloty or $13).

Now, in contrast, in the land of milk and honey, the continent that is continuously imitated and held in awe by Europe, what do we have? One single company of Greyhound buses that offer miserable, uncomfortable, slow and expensive services across the country? One passenger train line across the nation which so expensive, that unless you are a train nut or want to sight see via the rail, you would never choose that option of transportation? Or Air Transat where you pay hundreds of dollars to be cramped into little seats, told to pay for your blanket, headset and any food that you wish to buy? North America still has a lot to learn.

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Lwow: Almost home but not quite

There is something Polish about Lwow that goes beyond the mere similarity in language (aside for the alphabet). I can’t put a finger on it, but once I arrived, I felt that I was close, albeit not exactly at home. It may have been the look of the Old Town, or the food (lots of pancakes, cabbage, perogies and borsch). Maybe it was simply the fact that Lwow used to be a Polish city.

However, whatever similarities I felt, there was also a simultaneous sense of difference most apparent in the evident poverty that still encompassed the city. Walking the 3 km from the train station to the hostel I would have been hard pressed to find a meter of smooth street or sidewalk. The roads were warped, the cobblestone laid almost in waves. The trams clattered down these streets noisily as did the endless array of little buses, some oddly narrow. Taxi drivers stood at the front entrance to the train station trying to snag some customers for the $2 ride into the center. Old ladies were hurrying to and fro with various goods and bags, getting ready to set up somewhere at a market or on the side of the street. The buildings along the way were in need of a facelift or at least a decent scrub. Simply put, you could see that the changes that had been taking place in Western Europe and in those Eastern European countries which had already joined the EU had not yet commenced in the Ukraine. I do not want to imply that this was an impoverished city, but it was most definitely one in need of an influx in investment and infrastructure.

That being said, it was also a city that has not been on any kind of main tourist circuit and as such the tourists were few and far between. The hostel I stayed at had several dorm rooms and private apartments in which it could probably accommodate about 50 people. The night before it had one guest. When I stayed there might at most have been 15 people staying there. When asked if business would pick up later on in the season, I was told that it depended on whether there would be any large groups coming by, otherwise they generally expect a few individual tourists throughout the summer.

Due to the general lack of tourists, it is not a city geared towards sightseeing or your usual touristic activities. Rather, it is much better to simply soak in the city, the atmosphere, and the people. The Old Town and its central square is a beautiful UNESCO World Heritage site. It is beautifully restored with the city hall in the center and gorgeous old facades all around. Plenty of benches along all its little streets allow you to do as the locals do: sit down, soak in the sun and sights, and watch the world go by.

During my time there I roamed the city center, the smaller streets leading away from it as well as the few parks surrounding it. I also made the excursion out to the Lychakiv Cemetery which is home to the Cmentarz Orlat, or the Cemetery of the Little Eagles. The whole grounds of this Cemetery are quite beautiful as they are located in an old growth forest, with the graves hidden amongst the big trees and hills, some of the older ones slowly being reclaimed by nature. However, the most touching part of it for me was the Cmentarz Orlat, a small section of the cemetery where the Polish soldiers who fought for Lwow’s freedom in 1918 are buried. The grounds are immaculately well maintained with the gravestones glistening white and a short wander amongst these stones is enough to bring tears to anyone’s eyes. Of the 3000 or so Polish soldiers who lost their lives, the vast majority were under 19 years of age. There was a grave of a boy a mere 6 years old, many of 10 and 12 year olds including one who was awarded the Victoria Cross. With most of the Polish army fighting elsewhere, there was no one else left to defend Lwow and this battle therefore fell into the hands of children and retired soldiers. All those who fought and died are buried in this part of the cemetery.

Not to leave Lwow on such a depressing note, I will also mention that Lwow, and from what I heard the rest of the Ukraine, are insanely cheap. Had it not been for the expensive train ride that I had to book back to Poland, I would have spent under $20 per day in Lwow. Food, at the Puchata Hata, a cafeteria style establishment where you could load up on borsch, cutlets, cabbage, perogies, pancakes, fish, chicken and whatever else you wished, was some of the cheapest I had come across. My dinner on the first night which comprised of borsch, a salad, cabbage, chicken, mashed potatoes, pancakes and a drink totaled a mere $7 and that was already splurging.

I left Lwow after two days on a very early morning sleeper train and once again was amazed at the
clean bed sheets and covers and the service provided. On top of it the Polish managed to change the entire train suspension in about 45 minutes (as opposed to the 4 hours it took when entering the Ukraine). And yes, I managed to confirm that they do indeed lift up the train cars, detach the suspension, roll it out, roll in the new suspension and lower the train cars onto it. Quite a fascinating process.

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Ykpaiha

No. I have not become dyslexic. It was back again to the Cyrillic alphabet for a couple of days, so the y’s are u’s, the p’s are r’s and the h’s are n’s, and that’s the easy part. Truth be said it wasn’t too bad and nothing in comparison to the fantastic train journey from Eger.

First, however, I should start with the purchase of my train tickets. I had the exact times and connections on my iPhone, having looked them up on the internet ahead of time. So all I needed was to go to the train station, ask for the connection from Eger to Lwow via Fuzesabony and from there to Nyiregyhaza from where I could finally catch my train to Lwow. This turned out to be easier said than done. The lady and gentleman at the ticket desk spoke no English, and well, Hungarian, as I’ve already mentioned, is not very familiar. After about 15 minutes of flipping through various manuals, some several inches thick, and with the assistance of a lady who spoke some Russian they informed me that they were unable to sell me my ticket as it had to be purchased in Budapest.

Dismayed I considered my options as they continued flipping through various charts and manuals and talking to someone over the phone. Finally they got back to me saying that yes, indeed, they could issue me the ticket. The whole process took another 45 minutes or so, largely because everything had to be done by hand, ever code looked up in some other form of manual, every price checked in another binder and every seat verified by yet another phone call. Overall, nearly $60 and over an hour later I had my ticket to Lwow which would take me via the aforementioned route on a 15 hour journey.

The most interesting part of it was in Nyiregyhaza where the train from Budapest and heading to Moscow was scheduled to stop for exactly a minute. My car was supposed to be 434. Thankfully the train didn’t have that many cars, but it was much longer than average and I could tell that none of the cars that stopped in front of me were the right ones. Thankfully a conductor stepped out of the train at precisely that moment and I was able to ask him where to go. As we proceeded along the platform in search of the appropriate car, the train began to whistle, not caring whether there were more people wanting to get on. The conductor quickly backtracked to the first car with an open door, told me to get in and to follow him along the inside, through locked doors which he had to unbolt, others which he had to pound on to get the other conductors to open, and eventually 10 or so cars later told me I was finally in the right place. The train had seriously stopped for just one minute. Had it not been for the conductor, I would likely still be sitting in Nyiregyhaza.

The other interesting part of the journey was the border crossing. The Hungarian side went quickly enough. The Ukrainian seemed to go likewise, but the border control lady managed to disappear with my passport. Afraid of the train leaving before my passport was returned, I desperately tried to stay away. Then the train began to move, but the conductor told me not to worry. Then the train stopped. Then the banging started; then the drilling; then the shoving; then more banging. This went on for probably 3 hours. When I finally poked my head out the window I could see these vise-like devices along either side of the tracks and a seemingly endless stack of spare train suspensions stacked on the tracks next to us. Turns out that the rail gauge in Hungary (and Western Europe) is different from the one in the Ukraine and Russia. As such when you cross the border they have to conduct the adjustments. Whether this entails swapping out the entire suspension or simply readjusting the wheels, I have no idea. All I know is that it was very time consuming and that since I still didn’t have my passport back, I could not go to sleep.

Eventually around 4am, we began to move again, went back into the station, and my passport was handed back to me with a nice red Ykpaiha stamp in it. About six hours later, we arrived in Lwow exactly on schedule.

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Fashion Crimes

During this trip I’m sure that I committed my share of fashion crimes and I most definitely saw my share of them: the half a dozen mullets I saw in Lwow; the orange hairdos and the 80’s style hairdos (take my word for it, they were truly taken straight from the 80s); the shimmering golden jumpsuits; the pink leopard tights; and the list goes on. But truly, a government imposed fashion crime is a first. The hats that the Ukrainian police and army have to wear could not be any more ridiculous. Why would you make them so large? Would purpose aside for shielding you a bit from the rain could such a wide rim serve? Wouldn’t they catch the wind easier and fly off? More space for the birds to poop on. Tell me why?

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Eger: The highly acclaimed Hungarian town that fell short

When in Budapest, our hostel attendants could not stop raving about how beautiful Eger was; that it has an amazing old town as well as a castle that manage to hold off the Turks that is still standing, etc.

In reality, it is a relatively small town, with a pretty but relatively unimpressive old town, Europe’s northernmost, but slightly unimpressive minaret, and the remains of an old unimpressive castle. So, just in case anyone still has not caught on, I found Eger to be just a bit unimpressive.

Maybe I’m simply getting jaded by all the old towns and old squares. They all begin to look the same and you begin to compare them to one another, not just within an individual country, but also between the countries. And some places are simply hard to compete with, whether it would be Ljubljana, Split or even Sarajevo.

Maybe the weather had something to do with it as well. It was a bit rainy, quit windy and slightly chilly. This all resulted in a town that was virtually deserted. The cafes were empty, there were few people on the streets and there simply was a lack of any kind of atmosphere.

But there was the most quintessential element: a drive through McDonald’s window in a pedestrian only zone. As per Rob, these are designed for the Segue’s (those two wheel little scooters). According to me, that is the epitome of healthy living: not only are you too lazy to walk, but you are also too lazy to actually go into the McDonald’s.

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Budapest

Just to wrap up Pecs I should also mention the insane storm that rolled through the city in the early morning hours. The rain was so hard that it woke me up even with earplugs in. This was still before the thunder and lightning began. Once that started, there simply was no way to sleep. You could see the flashes with your eyes closed and the strikes must have been incredibly close to earth since I did not even have time to think “one” between the lightning and the thunder. If every second is 1 km, then these strikes were probably a couple hundred meters away. The entire apartment shook.

From Pecs we were lucky enough to get a ride to Budapest with one of Tamas’ friends (also Tomasz). Once there, there was no time to be wasted. We found a really nice hostel (Home Made Hostel), with the quaintest dorm rooms ever and a fantastic atmosphere and immediately began our exploring. Having read about the beautiful opera house we made that our first stop and were lucky enough to get box seats for that night’s performance of Mozart’s Don Giovanni.

Since the forecast had been for rain and yet we had gorgeous blue skies, we decided to make the most of it and headed for the Danube. The views from the Chain Bridge up to Buda, the Fisherman’s Bastion and the Palace were amazing as was the view of the Hungarian Parliament Building (which was built to resemble the Parliament in London). We could not stop oogling at all the gorgeous buildings. I think that it would be difficult to find one ugly building in the heart of Budapest. Everything is built with such amazing detail. Whether it is a hotel, an official building, a school or simply an apartment building, the finish is amazing. There are carvings on the walls, columns and cornices by the windows and doors, and architectural details whose names I do not know: all resulting in some of the most stunning end of the 19th century architecture I had seen.

St. Stephen’s Basilica, one of the largest cathedrals in Europe, was breathtaking as was the view from its giant copula. So were all the various statues and monuments strewed around the city. You could simply wonder aimlessly and never stop admiring the sights. I guess the one exception to this was the Hilton Hotel which we discovered on our second day. Built next to Matthias Church and the Fisherman’s Bastion it was supposed to incorporate the old Dominican ruins and to blend in stylistically with the surrounding buildings. Well, unlike the Four Seasons Hotel which is built in classic Hungarian style, the Hilton is a butt ugly building made of peach colored glass, attempting to look modern but failing miserably. For those who are familiar with our old law building at UBC (the bunker) try picturing this: instead of the cement, replace the walls with peach colored reflective glass and make it 10 floors high. It looked like a glass bunker and it in no way matched or blended in with the surrounding, unless you were to refer to the reflection of the church that you could see in the glass windows. Truly a horrid sight and if I could, I would boycott the Hilton chain for having constructed such an atrocity. On second thought, the boycotting should be quite easy since I can’t afford to stay there anyways.

The opera in the evening was beautiful, both the building and the performance. Julita and I had seats across one another on the 3rd floor in little balcony booths. The only downside to the whole experience was that speaking no Italian, and especially no opera Italian, we had no idea what the story was about. The translations being displayed above the stage were of absolutely no assistance since they were all in Hungarian. As such, all we could do was enjoy the beautiful singing and music and then read about the plot once we got back to the hostel. I guess the other downside of it was our attire. It was nice to go to a high class event, but when backpacking, I tend not to pack evening dresses. Wearing dark jeans and a nice shirt I felt woefully underdressed amongst all the suited gentlemen and finely dressed ladies. Julita, oddly enough, did not fare much better. Suffering from a badly sprained ankle she was forced to wear her hiking boots which are not very conducive to skirts or nice outfits.

Our second day in Budapest started with an informative walking tour where we found out that:

1. Average government wages in Hungary are 500 Euro per month. This would also be the wage for a government doctor.
2. Income tax is 50%.
3. Tax evasion has become Hungary’s national sport.
4. Due to the low wages, most “smart” Hungarian’s tend to move overseas. As a result a standard joke asks how a smart Hungarian talks to a stupid Hungarian. The answer being via a long distance phone call. 18 Nobel Prizes have been awarded to people of Hungarian background; however, most received the Prize while abroad.
5. Hungarian’s love to party. A beautiful historic building which used to be the National Theater was turned into a club/rave locale because the acoustics were simply not good enough for classical concerts.
6. The Hungarian Parliament was build to resemble the British one, but purposefully made 1 meter longer.
7. The Parliament building and St. Stephen’s Basilica are both 96 meters high and no building Budapest can be higher so as not to ruin the skyline.

Following the tour we wandered aimlessly through the city, but tried to take it easy so as to spare Julita’s foot. In the end, we wrapped up the day with a visit to one of Budapest’s famed baths where we soaked in the saunas and hot pools relaxing for a few hours before calling it a night.

On the 3rd day I set Julita off in a taxi for the airport and myself headed to Szentendre, a little town some 16 km north-east of Budapest. This was highly recommended to me by the hostel staff as a picturesque little village. Well, it turned out to be quite little, not overly picturesque, but very touristy and the hour journey in each direction was hard to justify when after ½ hour I had had enough.

On my way back, with plenty of time still before my train to Eger, I decided to visit Momento Park. Sometimes referred to as Monument Park or Statue Park, it is a dumping ground on the outskirts of Budapest for all the various communist statues that were deemed unsuitable for the city. Everything from busts of Lenin, to workers marching in arms, the park definitely makes an interesting sight. Back in the city center I swung by the Central Market (which had been closed when Julita and I went there), savored the beautiful smells of all the fresh produce and cold cuts and as usual found myself unable to resist the freshly baked pastries. Then it was time to head back to the hostel, pack up and hope on the tram to the train station.

One neat sight which I completely didn’t expect at the train station is all the old gentlemen playing chess as they wait for their train. There are a number of them set up with their boards along the wide railings, simply waiting for playing partners. Someone who shows up at the train station and has time to kill can simply go up to them and enjoy a friendly, but at times slightly boisterous, game of chess.

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Hungary: A country of the most indecipherable language ever.

Our train ride to Pecs did indeed turn into a relaxing journey. Julita managed to fall asleep on the benches at the train station (and would likely have slept through the arrival and departure of the train); she then fell asleep across the seats in the train; and she somehow always managed to fall back asleep between the respective border crossings (i.e. after having the Slovakian border agents come by and before the Croats could do the same). According to her, she did not sleep at all that night, I on the other hand watched all this with amusement in a half dazed state, desperately trying to fall asleep after every wakeup.

We made it to Pecs exhausted but had another 5 or so hours to kill before we were to meet up with Tamas, our next Couchsurfing host. Within an hour of roaming the town the headaches kicked in and almost everything turned into a big blur. One thing is sure, Pecs, although pretty, did not make much of an impression on us, especially not after having been glorified in the guidebook as the second best place to visit in all of Hungary (after Budapest). It does have a nice center core, a lot of pedestrian streets, some interesting/beautiful architecture including an amazing cathedral, but it is nothing to rave about. The heart of the city seems half asleep, even when filled with a decent share of locals and tourists.

Despite having been named the Cultural Capital of Europe for 2010 (along with Istanbul), we felt that the honor should have been bestowed on Ljubljana instead. Yes, there were plenty of festivals and events going on, some for free, but it, like Istanbul, was missing some kind of element that seemed through pulsate through the streets of Ljubljana. Maybe it’s because we didn’t manage to see any great performances while there, although we did listen to some of the music being played. And we also cannot write off our disappointment with the city to the headaches since by the second day they were completely gone.

On day two we went up to one of the local parks/mountains for a beautiful panorama view of the area and then planted ourselves along with Tamas in one of the numerous wine stands right in front of the Cathedral and took the time to enjoy a glass of Hungarian wine, followed by another, followed by another and followed by some more (interspersed with some very tasty home-made cheese). These quickly multiplied when more of Tamas’ friends showed up and it turned into a very pleasant evening that was brought to an end after midnight only because the next morning would have to be an early start.


PS: To briefly allude to the title: Hungarian is apparently the 5th most difficult language in the world. Its closest relative is Finish (the world’s most difficult language), and only distantly so. By this point in time there are virtually no similarities between the two. As such, there is nothing that you can fall back on. The words might just as well have been written using Chinese characters or Arabic script for all that you get out of them. If you don't believe me, consider the longest Hungarian word: 'megszentségteleníthetetlenségeskedéseitekért' (a mere 44 letters long). It means "because of your continuous pretending to be indesecratable" and contains a mass of inflexions, prefix, suffix, etc. The core of the word is 'szentség' means "sainthood".

And the pronunciation! Good luck is all I have to say. I’ve mastered cheers and thank you, as well as two other words learned over some wine and cheese. We were informed that when you meet someone, it is polite to give them “pussy” (puszi). After such an exchange you might be invited to eat some “shite” (sajt). The first refers to a kiss on the cheek. The latter is cheese

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Exploring Slovenia

On our following day in Slovenia we decided to rent a vehicle. As good as public transportation is, there simply are no buses that go over high mountain passes, along scenic routes or cover the entire country in a matter of two days. Turned out that we tracked down a fantastic deal through a company called Sixt. We got ourselves a brand new Hyundai (with 1500km only) for a mere 80 Euro for three days.

First we headed south to the Skocjan Caves which are noted on the UNESCO World Heritage List primarily because they contain one of the largest underground canyons. While walking the 3.5 meters underground we had to cross a bridge 45 meters over the river that flowed at the bottom of the canyon. Quite the impressive sight. It was not necessarily the caving experience I was looking for, but still quite different from the cave in Lebanon and “civilized” enough for Julita to have enjoyed it.

From there we drove further south to the Slovenian coast and the tiny town of Piran. It was truly one of the most picturesque coastal towns we had seen – and much nicer than most of the towns in Croatia. Situated on a peninsula that juts into the Mediterranean Sea it has water on three sides of it. Although there is no real beach, there are plenty of access points to the crystal clear water and paved docks where you can stretch out, suntan and simply relax. The water was so amazingly warm that you did not want to climb out. It must have been at least 3 or 4 degrees warmer than the Red Sea.

In Piran we roamed the little Venetian Style alleys, admired the churches and chapels as well as the clock tower which was constructed to mimic the ones in Saint Marco’s Square in Venice, had the most delicious dinner for 10 Euros and then relaxed at the sea until the sun went down.
The most amazing part of this day is the fact that we went from the northern/central part of Slovenia all the way to its southern coast in 1.5 hours. Everything here seems to be within arm’s reach, especially in comparison to the distances at home.

The following day we started bright and early and traveled north. The journey took us into Italy for long enough for Fido to track my movements and to send me a welcoming text message into yet another country. Within 20 minutes we were back in Slovenia and heading toward Bovec, a little town that is likely the adrenaline capital of Slovenia. From here you can go on white water rafting trips, kayaking excursions, caving, canyoning, paragliding and I have no idea what else. My choice this time round was to try out canyoning.

So while Julita rested her swollen ankle in a café I went for a two hour hike along the Soca river and then on a 3 hour canyoning excursion. Photos from this might follow as I was joined by a Dutch couple with a waterproof camera. For those who might not know what canyoning involves the recipe is as follows: (1) freezing cold glacier water (probably about 5 degrees); (2) a wetsuit and helmet; (3) a ½ hour steep hike upstream; and (4) some momentary insanity which results in all common sense being thrown out the door. The 4th element is absolutely crucial since no one of a sane mind would decide to make their way back to the starting point sliding and jumping off of boulders inside the river. The return journey involved a combination of walking in the narrow river, swimming in it, sliding down natural rock slides and jumping off of cliffs. Some slides were innocent enough, a meter or two long and nicely slanted. However, others were 5 – 8 meters high, nearly vertical so that the guide had to hold you by your wetsuit while you got in the correct position, then release you into the unknown. Most of the time you would go on your back (arms and legs crossed), but at other times you’d slide down head first either on your belly or your back. Some slides went into caves, others had really narrow “landing” ponds where you were instructed to make sure not to reach out with your arms because that would result in them being smashed against the rock.

The slides alternated with jumps: spots where the rock was not smooth enough for you to slide down, but where the drop off was too high to simply climb down. In those places you had to find your own courage since the guide could not give you the necessary push, and for someone like me, who is terrified of taking that leap, it took quite a bit of willpower to jump off the 6 or 7 meters.

But I must admit that I chickened out of the last slide. This one was again virtually vertical and 12 meters long. I just could not get enough courage to go on this 3 second ride.

From Bovec we returned back to Kranj via a mountain pass route that took us along 50 serpentine turns from about 650 meters to 1650 meters. There were 25 turns going up and another 25 going down. Despite the massive rain clouds the views from this road were stunning. The greenery in this country is insane and if not for the rain hiking in these mountains might have been irresistible. Slovenia’s highest peak can be summated in a day or two, so there definitely is no shortage of hiking options, from the easy strolls to more challenging mountaineering.

Back in Kranj we went out for some drinks with Florjan and his friend then returned to the hotel to chat late into the night. Our following day was spent with an excursion to Lake Bohanj, were we again got caught by a massive storm. This was followed up with an incredibly entertaining conversation with Florjan’s father (in what must have been 5 languages). Florjan’s father asserted that since Polish and Slovenian languages are so similar, we should be able to understand each other if we spoke in our respective languages. This was often interspersed with German and English when Florjan would come to our assistance and translate and augmented by Serbian which at times had more appropriate vocabulary. Apparently many Polish words are not Polish enough: diabel (devil) is too Italian; urlop and wakacje (vacation) were too German and to English respectively. There is also some word in Slovenian for peach which is something similar in Serbian and apparently refers to woman as well but the Polish equivalent for it evaded us, so we are not sure what it was. Florjan was too hesitant to translate this part of the conversation.

After our multi-lingual conversation we headed a couple villages over and took a nice stroll with Sana’s dogs then packed our bags and headed back to Ljubljana were we are currently sitting and waiting for our train to Pecs, Hungary. This won’t depart until 2am and will take us back across the Croatian border (where we will be woken up by the border guards), into Zagreb, from there on to the Hungarian border (where will again be woken up by the border guards) and then into a town on the Hungarian side where we have to change trains and eventually arrive in Pecs after what is promising to be a rejuvenating and sleep filled night.

The next post will be from Hungary.

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Slovenia: From Ballet to Tractors

From Ljubljana we headed to Lake Bled where we were picked up by Florjan, our next couchsurfing host. He took us around the lake where we got to photograph what must be the most prolific postcard setting ever: a little island with a church in the middle of the lake. We also got to go up to the castle to have the traditional view of the lake from up above. However, as per Florjan and his cousin, there really isn’t much at Lake Bled and the locals don’t really understand why all the tourists seem to always go there.

So the rest of the day’s itinerary was left in their hands. We first headed to what used to be his family farm. Now the farm serves only their needs as opposed to being a business operation. There we were greeted by his grandma and grandpa (93 years old) where I got interrogated by his grandfather in German about how we know him, what we do, where we are traveling, the political situation in Poland and my relationship status. We also met his mother, uncle and aunt as well a number of other cousins.

After a delicious snack of homemade juice, fresh bread, good cheese and homemade salami we headed out into the fields on their tractor. Since Julita had mentioned earlier that she used to drive a tractor when she was younger, he insisted that she give it a go and later on made me have a go on it as well. It was truly the last thing I ever expected to do in my life, and definitely not on this trip, much less a mere 12 hours or so after watching ballet in the main square of Ljubljana.

From the stunning views of the fields, with horses in the foreground, church towers somewhere in the distance and the Alps in the background, we were taken up to Kravecen, their local ski resort. The views would have been stunning if not for the clouds that had rolled in. Nevertheless we went on a walk through the green ski slopes and admired the number of chairlifts and routs available (all for a mere 20 Euros per day).

With the evening upon us, we headed back down and were told that we’d be picking up Florjan’s brother from somewhere. This turned out to be a mere rouse to get us up on yet another hill. Here, instead of chairlifts at the summit, there was a beautiful hotel. Turns out that it is a family business and that this would be our accommodations for the following three nights. (From the top of the hotel you can see nearly 20% of all of Slovenia.) We even got to go into the local chapel, climb into the bell tower and ring the giant (and incredibly loud) bells so that our wishes could come true. After a dinner with his cousins and his mom we retired into our luxurious accommodations and went to sleep still in awe of the hospitality that we had been shown and the entire day’s events.

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Ljubljana: A fantastic introduction to Slovenia

Well, Zagreb might have free public transportation in its city center, but Ljubljana has the free concerts and festivals in its main squares happening throughout the entire summer.

I did not mention it before, but yes, Zagreb did have completely free public transportation in its city core: this included all buses and trams and was introduced to decrease car traffic. However, this failed to compete with Ljubljana. When we arrived at 10pm, we found the city center alive with classical music only to find out that they were having a Ballet Festival lasting the entire week. We caught the tail end of the contemporary ballet performance that night, but on the following evening were privileged to watch a beautifully choreographed ballet opera to Tchaikovsky’s Swan Lake. All this takes places right on the banks of their river and starts at sunset.

When the Ballet Festival is over, it is followed by the Jazz Festival, then the Ljubljana Festival, then some other festival etc. etc. etc. The free performances simply do not end and most of the time you actually have to choose which event you want to see on any given night. Couple this with the fact that the garbage man wear black dress pants, black dress shoes, a white shirt, a bowtie and white gloves while walking down the street with brooms and those dust pans on a stick, there truly can’t be a better capital than Ljubljana.

Like Sarajevo it is a relatively small capital city, but then so is Slovenia. It is a tiny country, about half the size of Switzerland with just over two million people. Pretty much from anywhere in Slovenia you will not be more than 50 km as the crow flies from the border of a different country, whether it would be Austria, Hungary, Croatia or Italy. They call it “Europe in Minature”, “The Sunny Side of the Alps” or “The Green Piece of Europe” and all of them seem quite appropriate, especially the last, given that with more than half of its total area covered in forest, Slovenia is one of the greenest countries in the world.

We were hosted about 8 km outside of Ljubljana and as a result got to spend an entire incredibly hot day roaming and enjoying the town. The cleanliness, the cute little streets, the great service, the smiling people, the fantastic food and the absolutely amazing ballet performance made it a fantastic day.

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Croatia in Closing

Given the amount of hype Croatia gets as a fantastic tourist destination, I must say I expected more and am not sure whether it would place anywhere near the top of my must see or must return to list.

First and foremost we found most Croatians that we encountered to be quite rude. A perfect example of it was the hostess in a highly recommended restaurant. We wanted to see the menu prior to deciding whether or not to stay. Since there was no one around and I saw the menus lying on a stool just inside the door, I stepped in and started looking for one in English. The hostess then came towards us, abruptly stated that she would give me one and then told me to get outside the restaurant and wait outside. When we finally decided that we did want to stay we asked her if she had room for three. She turns to us and says: “Does it look like there is room for three?” (All tables were full in the garden that we could see, but since we couldn’t go inside we didn’t know if there was more to the restaurant than that). Too stunned to respond to a comment like that we kept our silence and the hostess finally turned around and said: “But there is room inside across the street.”

The rudeness extended to store and bank clerks as well as some of our bus drivers. By no means am I saying that all Croatians are like that, but our general experience over the 11 days was that they were stuck up, thought themselves better than everyone else and considered it too much effort to have a smile on their face and to address others politely.

As for the beaches and towns along the coast: yes it is a beautiful coast, but so is the rest of the Adriatic and Mediterranean. Put together with the fact that many of the old towns look very similar Croatia seemed to be a nice enough place to visit if you have a chance to, but not necessarily a highlight, and especially not given that it is relatively pricey compared to its neighbours. If I had to choose, Slovenia would be much much much higher on my must-see list than Croatia.

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The end of Croatia: From a pleasant jungle to a concrete jungle

After 8.5 hours, 16 lakes, 18 km and nearly 500 photos we can finally say that we saw Plitvice Lakes National Park. It was definitely one of the highlights of all of Croatia and a place not to be missed.

The Plitvice Lakes National Park lies between Zadar and Zagreb and is comprised of 16 lakes that are separated by natural dames of travertine. Encrusted plants and bacteria accumulate on top of each other forming travertine barriers which grow at a rate of about 1cm per year and thereby continuously change the landscape.

The lakes are separated into an upper and lower cluster from by runoff from the mountains, descending from an altitude of 636 to 503 meters. One of their greatest appeals is the distinctive colours which range from azure to green, turquoise, grey or blue.

As mentioned we spent the majority of the day wandering along the boardwalks and trails connecting these lakes loving every moment of it. It was a kind of cross between a miniature Iguacu Falls and Niagara Falls but different. So, as the Thai would say it, “Same same but different.” Every corner you poked your head around greeted you with yet another fantastic sight: a different color of the lake, a different kind of fish that you could spot swimming in its depths, a stunning waterfall or simply another cascade that meandered its way along and underneath the boardwalk you were walking on. We walked for well over 8 hours that day and did not feel the least bit tired. It was the most rejuvenating day I’ve had in all of Croatia.

What makes this park so much better is how easily accessible it is. I have traveled a lot through various parks both in Europe and in North America and quite often unless you have a vehicle and a tent they cannot be accessed or at least not easily. Here there are regular buses between Split and/or Zadar and Zagreb that drop you off right at the park’s entrance (although if coming from Split or Zadar you would want to be dropped off about 1km before the park entrance in Jezerce). Secondly, Jezerce contains an endless array of little alpine-like houses each offering rooms and apartments for rent and quite often at very reasonable prices (if you know how to bargain). As such, with both transporation and accommodation not being an issue, the park becomes an easy stop of point on any backpacking circuit. Furthermore, the park itself is incredibly well organized and maintained. The info desk provides you with various walking itineraries depending on how much time you want to spend in the park, there are little trains and boats that take you to various starting points along the trails and everything is incredibly well signposted. As such, Plitvice should be a stop for anyone traveling on this route.

Zagreb on the other hand has turned out to be a concrete jungle. Maybe our first impression is biased by the insanely oppressing heat and high humidity that have made walking amongst all the concrete simply unbearable. However, the city does not seem to have too much to offer. Its old town is desperately lacking, there seems to be a shortage of pleasant little cafes or restaurants, and an incredible shortage of trees (in the Old Town). The end result of this oppressing heat wave is that we’ve spent some of the time roaming the town, but mostly just trying to avoid the heat by going to the movies, visiting the museums and seeking any shade possible. Tonight it’s off to Ljubljana where hopefully it will not be this humid.

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Split: Where modern meets traditional

Split is Croatia’s second-largest city with a population of over 180,000, yet when in the Old Town you feel as if it is a city of several thousand. It is free of the mass tourism that plagues places such as Dubrovnik, but it is nevertheless always buzzing: whether hosting fashion week with its runway shows (which we got to see), or open-air operas and concerts in the Old Town (which we unfortunately will not get to see). The Diocletian’s Palace is a Unesco World Heritage site and one of the world’s most impressive Roman monuments. It faces the harbor and was built as a strong rectangular fortress, with walls measuring 215m from east to west and 181m wide at the southernmost point. Situated in the heart of the Old Town it becomes one with it. The residences, mausoleum and temples are all sprinkled amidst these walls and the narrow alleys.

The Old Town is in essence a vast open-air museum. But it is not a museum that you would ever think of. Rather, around every corner, tucked into every ancient corner, amongst the crumbling buildings and the cobblestone streets are a myriad of cafes, bars and restaurants. The old and the new intermingle with absolutely no dissonance. The harmony is what adds character and atmosphere to the old walls and you truly see that life in Split has gone on in similar fashion for thousands of years.

And if we thought that the marble streets of Durbovnik were slippery, we quickly reconsidered that assertion upon our arrival in Split. The cobblestone here is polished to such an extent that walking down stairs and stepping onto slightly slanted stones will immediately result in you sitting on your ass and trying to figure out what happened, and it hasn’t even rained. I cannot imagine what kind of safety hazard these stones are when they are wet. I wonder if you can hold the city liable if something were to happen to you.

Unsurprisingly we love Split. We love the atmosphere and the architecture, and in Julita’s case the endless designer stores as well as the pasticada (a traditional Croatian gulash like dish served with gnocchi). The only downsides of our stay here have been the insanely stifling temperatures (it must have been well over 35 degrees today) and the fact that our little apartment with a kitchen has a malfunctioning stove which means that it is merely a little apartment, minus kitchen.

Tomorrow morning Paulina will be splitting from us (forgive the bad pun) and heading up to Poland. Julita and I will be continuing on to Plitvice Lakes National Park with the hopes of cooling off in 16 supposedly very picturesque lakes.

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The Croatian Coast

Over the recent years, Croatia has become a massive tourist destination and deservedly so. With over 1700km of coastline and over a thousand islands dotting the turquoise waters of the Adriatic, there truly aren’t many places that can compete with it.

We started our last day in Dubrovnik with a 4:30am wakeup and were greeted by a gorgeous morning. The streets of the Old Town were deserted. Seagulls and pigeons were fighting over various crumbs and leftovers that had been dropped from the numerous cafes and restaurants lining the main street the night before. They had to make quick work of it as by 7am everything was cleaned up and polished by the garbage man that came out in force. The swallows danced in the hundreds in the sky above us, chasing one another between the buildings and along the red shingled rooftops. Aside for their chatter the city was quite, all its inhabitants still asleep and all the tourists still safely cuddled up in their beds.

At 6am a few of the café staff began to appear and slowly begin to open up their premises, pulling out the tables and chairs. By 7am the garbage man were wrapping up their work and some of the local market vendors were beginning to haul in their goods. By 8am a few adventurous tourists began to appear, some with suitcases, clearly just having arrived, others with their cameras, hoping to get some early morning shots.

At 8am we were the first to get our tickets for the fortification walls and to climb to the top of them. These walls are deservedly Dubrovnik’s main claim to fame. Overall they are over 2km in length and offer stunning views into the city as well as over the water. They hug the cliff’s edge then proceed inland with giant defense towers encircling the entire town. We spent over an hour exploring their length snapping endless shots in every direction.

From Dubrovnik we caught a 3 hour bus to the Island of Korcula (via a short ferry ride). Korcula is a relatively small town with an even smaller Old Town. We found accommodations in the heart of the Old Town in a little three story apartment. From here there are endless options in terms of occupying your time: you can rent a sail boat, you can go kayaking, you can head on an excursion to one of the nearby islands, there are mountain biking trails, vineyards to visits, cafes to sit in or beaches to lounge around. If you want something more extreme they can arrange diving trips, donkey safaris or trekking excursions. We opted for a semi relaxed combination of beach bumming and hiking (or rather walking along the coast to the beach where the rest of the day was spent alternating between cooling oneself off in the amazing waters of the Adriatic and lying on the beach like a pancake that is slowly being melted away).

Tomorrow morning will hopefully entail some more beach bumming followed by a 4 ½ hour ferry ride to Split.

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Dubrovnik: Croatia’s southern-most gem

It’s Thursday evening and the sun is about to set. I’m sitting on the windowsill of our little room looking west. If not for one house in front of me I would have a clear view of the Adriatic and the setting sun. But life is not perfect so I won’t complain if the tip of its roof covers the last bit of the setting sun. To my left I have Dubrovnik’s harbor below me. The sunlight is playing off of the white and cream facades of all the buildings and shimmering in the water as the clouds progressively become more yellow, than orange and finally achieve a shade of purple. Just behind the harbor are more green mountains as the land loops in on itself creating a little bay in which all the little boats can calmly dock. When the mountain slopes descend a bit the Adriatic Sea and some nearby islands are revealed. If I poke my head out and look behind me (East), the Old Town should be visible, but my position on the windowsill is a little too precarious to attempt such a maneuver.

The house in which we managed to secure a “Sobe” (a room), is situated on a relatively steep hillside overlooking Dubrovnik. Like in Veliko Tarnovo the two main directions seem to be up and down and there is no shortage of stairs.

This will now be our third night in Dubrovnik and our wish for nicer weather was only partially fulfilled. When we left Kotor the prior night’s storm had all but disappeared and we were greated by a gorgeous blue sky and a shimmering bay. Our drive north-west along the Adriatic coast was simply mesmerizing and this weather kept up on our first day in Dubrovnik.

After securing our accommodations we headed to the Stari Grad (Old Town). It was much larger than Kotor’s and in a way much more pretentious, but deservedly so. The light glistened off of its marble-like pavement that was so polished by the thousands of feet that crossed it daily, that one could organize sliding competitions on it. The glorious cathedrals and churches appeared around every corner and all of this was encompassed by the magnificent fortification walls that surrounded the entire city. Sitting on the patio of a restaurant in one of Dubrovnik’s many squares, the city reminded me a little of Venice, minus the canals. It had the same grandness to it, an ageless quality that takes your breath away.

Maybe Dubrovnik would not have made the same first impression if the weather had not been so perfect. But the white stones of the old city, its grand clock towers and walls all set against the crisp deep blue sky dotted with little white fluffy clouds made the city appear fairytale-like. The sun reflected off of the turquoise water and the buildings and at times was bright enough that you almost forgot the thousands of tourists jostling in the streets alongside you. I think that was Dubrovnik’s main drawback: the endless busloads of tourists that inundate nearly every corner of the Old Town’s little streets (and it’s not even high season yet).

We decided that we had to see the city without the crowds and planned on waking up before sunrise and making our way down to the Old Town to see it empty and then to explore the fortification walls before the arrival of the crowds (since they charge 10 Euro to climb them, we figured we’d better be the first ones there).

Unfortunately on the following morning the weather was not very cooperative. Rather than heading into the Old Town we decided to catch a ferry to the nearby island of Mljet famous for its Salt Lakes, National Park and the numerous hiking and biking trails. Without the sunshine the Adriatic lost most of its appeal but the weather seemed to be good enough for a bike ride along the island.

So once there we rented ourselves some mountain bikes and proceeded up hill and towards the lakes. Once there the water proved enticing enough to warrant a swim, although I was the only one to do so, and as per the warning sign, I made sure not to do this in a “natural” fashion since no naturalism was allowed. After the swim we continued biking along the lake shore, past the little lake and along the large lake, only to come to the edge of the Adriatic. Apparently their name is only partially accurate. Yes, the lakes are indeed salty, since they are connected to the sea, but given this connection, it seems a little bit inappropriate to call them lakes. But semantics aside, it started raining, and not just a little drizzle. We managed to wait the worst of it off under some bushes and then proceeded to make our return journey as quickly as possible. Once back in the port we returned the bikes and warmed up over a delicious lunch in a little restaurant overlooking the tiny harbor.

Four our third day in Dubrovnik the alarm was set for 4:30am, yet the unrelenting splish-splash of the pouring rain outside of our window resulted in its resetting to 6:30am. By that time the rain had eased up to a drizzle and we began to entertain thoughts that it might indeed clear up.
We headed out around 8:30 arriving in the Old Town when there still weren’t too many tourists and roamed its streets for a while. However, in the colder and grayer weather the town had lost some of its charm. The rest of the day was spent exploring the less touristy corners of Dubrovnik and visiting a fantastic photo exhibition entitled Troubled Islam and Ex-Jugoslavija 1991-1999. The photos of Ziyah Gafic were essentially short stories from the aftermath to recent conflicts in Bosnia (tales from the dark valley), Palestine (land without people for people without land), Lebanon (against all odds), Iraq (Saddam city), Afghanistan (damaged people, damaged landscape), Pakistan (short notice), Chechnya (the scariest place on earth), and Northern Ossetia (love thy neighbor). As powerful as these photos were, they provided a sad reminder of the ongoing struggle for daily life, whether it be a struggle to stay alive, for food, electricity, a home or the security from prosecution.

Tomorrow we’re off to the Island of Korcula but first will make yet another attempt to see Durbovnik at sunrise. Hopefully the weather will cooperate and for now I’m optimistic. Although the sky behind me is dark with clouds, but in front of me the setting sun had just turned entire patches of it an amazing purple color. The benefits of traveling in off-season are lesser crowds and no need to book accommodations in advance. The downside of it is the unpredictable weather.

PS: I'm posting this post at just after 6:00am while sitting on a terrace patio in a yet to be opened cafe and watching Dubrovnik slowly wake up as the birds still have the rule over the streets and the sky. We could not have wished for a nicer morning.

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Montenegro: Kotor and the Adriatic Coast

From Mostar we headed via Dubrovnik straight on to Kotor, a little town on the shores of a fjord-like inlet. There truly could not be a more picturesque setting. The steep mountains start virtually on the shoreline leaving the town to hug the small sliver of land at their base. Surrounded by fortification walls that then continue up the steep slopes to a dizzying height, the Old Town is a maze of tiny cobblestone alleys, numerous churches and endless cafes and restaurants.

We managed to find a gorgeous little apartment right at the south gate to the Old Town and made this our base for three days of exploration. The first of these was spent recovering from the previous day’s miserable tour around Mostar and roaming the Old Town.

The second day started with a 5am wakeup and an ascent up the 1350 steps to the peak of the fortification walls to watch the sunrise. Unfortunately although we found ourselves at the top by 6:30am, the sun remained hidden by a cover of gray clouds.

Given the early hour we figured there was no point to commence our descent immediately. Instead, we found a little whole in the fortification walls with markings of further trails and proceeded to visit an adorable little church built on the mountain. From there we found signs for Lovcen peak, one of the highest peaks in Montenegro. Unfortunately none of the markings included distance or time calculations. We continued climbing for another 3 hours but having reached the summits of the local hills and having views of the entire fjord-like peninsula and beyond, we decided it was time to turn around. Lovcen’s peak was, according to our best guess, at least another 3 hours hike and we did not have enough food or water for such an endeavor.
We returned back into the Old Town just as all the tourists were starting to emerge from the recently docked cruise ship. After a delicious breakfast and some well deserved relaxation we caught a local bus to the little town of Persat. This proved to be even smaller and quainter than Kotor with two little churches on tiny islands a hundred or so meters off shore.

Our third day was an excursion to the nearby town of Budva which was to have a similar reputation to Kotor. However, we found that it lacked Kotor’s charm. It had greatly outgrown its tiny Old Town and the development of large scale hotels, apartment blocks and shopping centers greatly detracted from any charm that it may have once possessed. But it did have some pretty nice beaches that for now were not yet crowded. After a bit of beach bumming and a short swim we headed off to Sveti Stefan. This tiny island resort, although quite picturesque in its own, did not make much of an impression on us. Maybe the fact that we were not able to enter it played a role, but once again, the charm possessed by Kotor simply seemed to be missing.

We managed to return back to Kotor just in time. It had started to drizzle and by the time we were done eating our home-cooked spaghetti on the patio, it had began to pour.

Hopefully the weather will be nicer in Croatia as the plan is to head to Dubrovnik tomorrow morning.

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Sarajevo & Mostar: More food, relaxation and frustrating tours

Our second morning in Sarajevo started with an attempt to wake up for the sunrise. Our alarm was set for 5am assuming that sunrise was closer to 6am. Unfortunately this assumption was based on our experience in Istanbul and failed to take into account the 1 hour time change. We managed to hike across town and up a hill arriving at about 7am, so two hours after sunrise. However, the view was still gorgeous and it was nice to see the city slowly come to life.
After descending back into the streets of the old town, we spent a few hours in a café people watching and relaxing. We followed up by lunch and a tour of the Sarajevo History Museum with its touching exhibit of photos and items from the civil war.

After that it was time to catch a train for Mostar. Again the scenery that we drove through was simply amazing. As the train meandered along mountain ridges, high above valleys on both our sides, we lost count of the number of tunnels that we had to go through. While it remained light outside there was really not much point to sitting down, as every few minutes we would jump up to the window pointing out yet another gorgeous view.

Mostar was one of the most devastated cities in Bosnia following the war. By 1995 it resembled Dresden after WWII with all of its bridges destroyed and all but one of its 27 Ottoman era mosques utterly ruined. As such there is a stark contrast between the quaint cobblestone streets filled with endless millhouse restaurants and trinket sellers and the ruined buildings still lining many of the side streets.

Mostar’s chief attraction is the “Stari Most” or old bridge. The original survived 427 years including both world wars, but was eventually destroyed November 1993 by Bosnian-Croat artillery. It has since been rebuilt and forms a picturesque arc over the turquoise waters of the fast flowing river Neretva River and the medieval towers on either side of the bank.

We spent a day wandering these cobblestone streets and then headed towards what had only a decade earlier constituted the front line. There we managed to climb up the remainders of a staircase in a multistory bank that served as a sniper nest throughout the war. The building was completely gutted with parts of it burned out, all the windows blown out and much of it devastated by bombing and shelling. I think the photos speak for themselves. What was most amazing to me was that a mere meter or so from this building life continued as normal. As I ascended the windowless stairwell I could look into the apartments of the people living next door: I saw their tables set for lunch, the laundry hanging out the window, the things cooking on their stove. The scars were ever present and to them a constant reminder every time they looked out their window, yet life continued.

Our following day was to be spent with a much raved about tour of the countryside. Our hostel was ran by the fabulous Majda and her brother, Bata, organized these tours that everyone seemed to praise everywhere from Sarajevo down to Dubrovnik. The tour was to start at 10:30 am and to go until about 10:00pm if not later and was to take in the major sites in the vicinity including Medugorje (a pilgrimage site where the Holy Virgin apparently spoke to six local teenagers in 1981), the Kravice Waterfalls, Pocitelj fortress and Blagaj with its Dervish House.
Bata turned out to be an over-the-top, crazy, insane Bosnian. He was loud, did not stop with the rapid-fire jokes and puns and was simply a Bosnian reincarnation of Robin Williams on speed. As entertaining as this was for the first half hour it got a bit tiring when you had 19 people crammed into a cargo van that should officially have seated 10 or 12 people. Add to this his insistence to drive the van to the beat of the music, jerking on the gas and breaks respectively, blaring Serbian Turbo Folk music at absolute max with a subwoofer right under our seats making any kind of conversation with your sandwiched neighbor absolutely impossible and his determination to keep us all awake by swerving the vehicle from side to side tossing us against one another, the 14 hour tour without air-conditioning more closely resembled a nightmare than a highlight. I’m not quite sure how but others were surprised that we did not enjoy it, especially since some of them had done it three times already (at 25 Euro per tour where a vehicle rental for the day might have cost a maximum 50 Euro divided between the number of passengers). As informative as Bata was the tour simply dragged on and could easily have been completed in 6 hours.

The waterfall was a very miniature version of Iguacu Falls in Argentina/Brazil, quite pretty but not quite breathtaking. The fortress at Pocitelj offered spectacular views but we weren’t even given the opportunity of walking down to the base of the mountain to visit the mosque. The Dervish House at Blagaj was amazingly located, at the foot of soaring cliffs topped with the Herceg Stjepan Fortress and at the mouth of the Buna River emerging straight out of a gaping cave. However we arrived there when it had already become dark, were not given the opportunity to go into the Dervish House or to climb up the fortress. We arrived at the hostel just before midnight exhausted and disappointed vowing not to do any more tours on our trip.

From Mostar it was off by a 7am bus to Kotor, Montenegro. However, more about Kotor in a day or two after we have more to say about it aside for mere exultations on how beautiful it is.

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