Heiho

Ok, after a bit of a downer of a blog entry last time, now I get to chat about something fun. Through our travels, when sitting around camp fires or having a few beers, we are often ask where our favourite place has been so far, and its always a tricky question. The fact is we cant pick a favourite place. We can talk about which city was the most beautiful, for different reasons, which was the most unique, which had the best food, the friendliest people, or just where we had the most fun. Sadly, Poland was none of these. But, the time we had there was incredibly special, and every time I think about it I have a little chuckle to myself. And the strangest part, for some reason it always sounds like little 20 year old girls giggle.

In my last post I introduced Kinga, our young uni student CouchSurfing host who so generously invited us into her life, albeit for only two days. Well, she had organised for us to stay one night with her family in Oswiecim, then the next night in Krakow with her friends. Well we had stayed with her family before visiting the Auschwitz concentration camp, and were now on our way to Krakow. Well, actually, I'm going to have a little bitch first, which could possibly pass as a lesson in cultural sensitivity.

So, after Auschwitz, Kinga and her mum so wonderfully picked us up, with our bags in the boot and dropped us into the train station. The three of us would of course go in together. As it happened, we were a few minutes late for the train into Krakow, so had about an hour wait for the next one. Coincidently, another tourist was also a few minutes late. We noticed the tall, grey haired American man purely cause we had no other choice. He was talking to himself loudly about train times and tickets and god knows what other crazy old man ramblings. Truth be told, I was still in a state on introspect since the camp not half an hour before, and I had barely spoken a word since. Well, seeing three young foreigners who had no escape, he started asking questions to us. Actually, he was probably just being friendly, and seemed a bit lonely. Anyway, he soon realised Kinga was a Polish native, as the girls answered his questions in the politest of ways, Mel speaking for me and Kinga providing some local knowledge. Well, the retired Colorado man proceeded to tell us all about his life, his opinions on certain countries, and general chit chat that is the social norm. It wasn’t until his next topic of conversation that I felt the need to interject. This old man, who I would normally respect for his time on the earth, assuming he had seen some shit and acquired a knowledge with which only experience can bring, this man proceeded to tell us how disappointed he was with Auschwitz. Now I feel I must point out here, that in the past I have made complaints about the insensitivity of other travellers, and in most cases they have been American. Let me state that I have nothing against American travellers. During our time we have met some really cool ones that we got along great with, and I am sure there were plenty more that just strolled on by unnoticed. However, the ones that have really shit me, have really just flawed me, have happened to speak in the great American drawl. Ok. Well when this guy told us why he was disappointed, it was a real slap in the face. Basically, his complaint was that he had to use his imagination. To actually have to think about it. He wanted there to be wax dummies, and re-enactments, and whatever else could facilitate in entertaining him. I may be paraphrasing, but he pretty much said that he wanted Michael Bay to direct “Auschwitz” complete with explosions and fake blood, and maybe a gigantic robotic Hitler that is finally taken down by an elite team of commandos sporting matching American flag jumpsuits. The reality of the place bored him. Actually disappointed him with how boring it was. He had snuck in his bag of potato chips and big gulp cola, he wanted to sit down and be entertained for christs sake! What an absolute fuckwit. I'm sorry to say, but here he was, sitting in front of a young Polish woman, and two other strangers who had just come from there, wishing aloud that the remaining evidence of the largest attempted genocide was more thrilling. It made me pretty mad. In fact, I was more mad afterwards, after I thought about it for a bit, but at the time it was enough for me to speak up and try and talk some sense into him. Of course it was pointless. Later Kinga told me that from a Polish standpoint, there was no way he should have said that stuff in front of her. She was absolutely correct.

Moving on, we got on the train and headed to Krakow, to Kingas friends place where we would be staying. At the tiny apartment that we were to call our home for the next night, we were greeted by the massive welcoming smiles of the three young girls who were to be our hosts. Marta, Magda and Ola prepared some tea for us and we all sat around, introduced ourselves and had a awesome chat. The girls werent too confident with their English, which was actually fine, but nonetheless it seemed effortless to communicate and soon we were all laughing and getting along great.

We found out that that night we would be invited for drinks for Marta's birthdays at their favourite bar. Seeing as there was still some time till nightfall, Mel and I got a head start into town to try and get some sightseeing done and get a feel for the city. When we got in, which was a short tram ride, the grey clouds that had been threatening all day decided to let loose. Not with a real heavy rain, more like a soft drizzle, enough to be annoying, but it give the old town a really cool misty atmosphere. It actually worked out ok, cause the girls suggested going to an underground museum that was in the main square. The museum was on the site of a massive excavation of the old medieval Krakow, so we got to walk through the ancient streets and get a taste of life from the old trade capital. Too be honest, it wasn’t a particularly spectacular museum, but it was different and had some neat interactive displays which made it interesting and ended up being a good change of pace.

Well, by the time we had to meet the girls, it was a little cold, we had eaten a kebab, and I was getting mighty thirsty. The place was called Indigo, and it was this funky, underground student bar hidden right on one of the main tourist streets. I would've walked past it ten times and not known it was there. When we got down, the party was in full swing.

We met some more new friends and became grateful conversation partners for those wanting to practice their English. One of the strange things we noticed was that all the girls were drinking their beers with a straw. Apparently its just how the girls drink it, not the dudes, maybe it was more dignified or something. Well, choosing country pride over cultural integration, Mel put one away like the Aussies do. Man I love that woman. Maybe sensing the air of friendly patriotism that was floating around, the girls decided to bring out the Polish Vodka. It was pretty good. Apparently drunken on special occasions, of which they have many, the drinking of Vodka carried many traditions and customs, that we were filled in on on the fly, the most important of which was to have fun. And we really did. It is amazing how quickly barriers can break down between strangers and you can feel like your talking to long time friends. And what I found also amazing, was that we were at a party in a bar full of 20-22 year olds, and no one got stupid drunk. In Poland, the idea is just to have a few drinks and laugh and share good times. In Australia, parties like this end up in people passed out in their own vomit, maybe a fight, lots of loud mayhem, and waking up next to someone you shouldn't have. So it was incredible. I learnt a lot about Polish culture, both of the past and of the youthful present. I had great chats with a bunch of cool people, particularly a dude named Ruddick I think, who so please that I shouted him a beer, ended up going back and forth buying the next few, while regaling me the current state of Polish politics (cooler than it sounds), then insisted on buying me this crazy shot called “crazy bitch” if I remember correctly. I don’t know what was in it, I think maybe Tabasco and a bunch of potent spirits, but it was a yummy and a speciality of the bar, and more importantly, a gift from a friend I had just met. The whole night was just a great blast.

The next day it was still raining. We were having trouble getting in contact with our next CouchSurfer host in Warsaw where we had planned to head that night, so we decided to take the extremely generous offer from the girls to stay an extra night. I mean seriously, we had met like 12 hours before, and sure we had talked and laughed and drank together and it felt like we had known each other for way longer, they pretty much opened up their home to strangers. People are just awesome. So Mel and I took the opportunity to explore Krakow some more. We explored the Great Square some more then headed to the Castle, which was a great big structure housing several halls and living quarters and a cool church. The most interesting part by far though was the armoury, that had a great collection of weapons and armour spanning throughout the Atrso-Hungarian, Turkish, French, Roman and Persian Empires. Oh, and exiting the Dragons Den was worth it too.

After the Castle we grabbed some traditional Polish pork chop, then after walking past the main event office for it, decided to check out one of the films from the Independent Film Festival that was happening in town. Featuring works from all over the globe, we took a punt and went and saw the next one that was on. It was an American film called “Electick Children” and was quite good. It was in English with Polish subtitles, which meant that there were a few occasions where the audience would start laughing before the characters said a line, and vice versa, which was funny in itself. Oh, and despite them selling popcorn in the theatre foyer, you werent actually allowed to take it inside with you. No food at all inside in fact. Well, hypocritically ignoring my own lessons on cultural sensitivity, I violated the rules and snuck in some local handmade chocolate. I'm not proud of it, but it was delicious.

We went back and spent the night at the girls place. They hadn’t moved since we left them in the morning, still recovering from the night before. We talked for a while, had more tea I think, and another shot of this really nice Vodka. We talked local music, and I even pimped some heavy Sydney bands EP, Lomera, you should look them up. Mel then went to sleep as she was exhausted, I wrote some of this blog, and the girls all gathered around watching romantic girly clips on YouTube. This was all in the same little room I might add. Now my Polish isnt great, but I think Marta had some boy trouble the night before, so the girls were trying to get her to hold onto to the hope of love by watching clips from Scent of a Woman and other Hollywood junk. I say junk, but when they asked me if I knew any good movie dance scenes, I may have suggested the Dirty Dancing “nobody puts baby in a corner” bit. To my defence, they already watched Uma and Travolta in Jack Rabbits Slims Twist Contest, plus its Swazye, so don’t hate. Anyway, after watching it, I offered to re-enact the famous leap and catch part, but none of the girls were keen to catch me.

(Sorry girls, it had to go on)

Anyway, the next day we sadly had to leave. I say sadly, because in the short time we spent together we really felt close to the girls. They all had such amazing big hearts and were all beautiful people in their own way. To invite us into their lives the way they did and show us the kindness and hospitality they showed is beyond amazing. I will never forget the way they giggled and laughed and just enjoyed being themselves. It was super cool. I really hope they come to Australia one day so we can return the favour and back up my claims that they'd have a better shot finding a nice boy in Oz. I guess I better find some first. And a super big thank you to Kinga, she is an amazing person and we feel so lucky to have met her.

Well our tour of Poland wasn’t yet complete. The guy who said he would host us hadn’t come through despite our attempts to contact him, so we were heading to Warsaw with nowhere to stay that night. We posted a message on CouchSurfing, as it has a group where you post emergency or last minute requests on. We wrote the message saying that our host had flaked out, hoping that by the time we hit Warsaw, a few hours by train, that maybe someone had replied. Well we arrived in Warsaw station, its was raining and shitty, went next door to an awesome shopping mall, found some Wifi, and to our delight, several people had offered us their couch with only a few hours notice. Pretty cool right, to say “help, Im stranded in a new city” and have multiple people invite you into their lives. I'm still blown away. Anyway we ended up staying the night with a nice local dude called Mario, who had a spare bed and a shot of Vodka waiting for us at the untimely hour we arrived. The next morning, we got up early, said goodbye to our saviour host, and made tracks for the Warsaw airport. Our destination would be St Petersburg Russia, a place I've always wanted to go. Full of excitement and a little bit of fear for the unknown, we were ready for Mother Russian, but we almost didn’t make it.

Auschwitz.

Yep, if you're any sort of human being, this word has some pretty serious meaning. The feelings and images that just ran through your head are probably the same that runs through mine. The word alone brings images of death, suffering, cruelty, and incomparable evil. The site of mass persecution and violent hatred, this place has become a symbol for the atrocities that
occurred during WWII. In fact, atrocities is too soft a word. In the past I have studied the events and witnessed numerous films, photos and historical accounts on the infamous concentration camp, and with each time have always felt a mix of emotions. From extreme sadness through to extreme hatred, I would learn the when and hows, and always question the whys, trying to put myself in the shoes of all those who experienced it, but never under the delusion that I would ever come close to understanding it.

And this was the main reason I came to Poland. This place. To match those images that I knew to things I could touch and see for myself. I went there expecting to see this hard hitting reminder of just how cruel and evil humans can be, but it would be the acts of kindness, love and generosity that I would take away most from my time there, as well as probably the most surreal emotional experience of my life.

The journey to Poland wasn’t fun. We left Budapest catching our first train at 6:15am and would arrive at our final destination at 9:30pm. This trip involved 5 trains, each having to be on time to connect to each other, otherwise the whole thing would fall apart and we would be stranded in some random country rail station, which once you see one, isnt a promising prospect. Put it this way, there was some running, sweating, and just a little bit of stressing out. But we made it, and once again, hooray for CouchSurfing!

Our host Kinga, along her father, picked us up from Oswiecim station in pitch black darkness. I guess its easy to say now, but almost immediately we felt comfortable with her. Even late at night, with two smelly, exhausted strangers in the back of her car, she was bubbly and lively and really seemed genuinely excited to have us as her guests. Despite Dad not speaking English, he went out of his way to take the long route home, which would pass around the Auschwitz camp. The first time we saw the fence was pretty sobering. There it was, the wire electric fence that frames the terrifying portrait. And admittedly, up until that point it was a dream, something of legend, but now it became real. And in the middle of the night, it came out of nowhere, illuminated only by the moonlight.

The site was an obvious catalyst to discussion, whether intentionally or not, but I got the feeling that Kinga and her father were somewhat relieved with the realisation that their guests came to visit with the utmost respect and with open minds, which is how we try and experience every destination, but for a native Polish family that was there during the whole thing, I guess you never know what to expect from foreigners, or what kind of preconceived ideas they might bring. But, of course, we were charming as ever, and we got along great. We arrived and met the rest of Kingas family, who again, at 10pm, had prepared their home with food and drink, a beautiful room for us, and a warmth one can only get from being showered with selfless hospitality. Kinga would later downplay it as “Just Polish hospitality” but it really was extraordinary. It would be phenomenal if this was the way people always treated one another, but there is nothing normal about it sadly. Anyway, we ate dinner, wild boar which Dad had killed on one of his hunts, delicious, had some tea and some laughs, then went to bed, waking up to be spoilt again by a full breakfast. The whole thing was really sweet and we absolutely loved spending time with a real Polish family, learning their characters and their history, and experiencing those things you wont find in a hotel or guided tour. It was truly wonderful.

Then it was time for the camp. I'm going to try and not tell you too much detail about the place itself, cause you probably know most of it or can research and look up the facts. But basically, apart from the wire fencing and a few small towers and military remnants, it could be a small modern public housing complex, which is kind of what is was prior to the extermination attempt, except the occupants were mostly prisoners of war. Many of the buildings insides have been turned into a museum of sorts, giving an onsite history lesson in the form of facts, photos and varying paraphernalia. But the rest looked pretty normal, which to me made it feel even more daunting, that the things that occurred, did so in the most normal looking of settings. I didn’t feel the same disconnect that I thought had it been some smoldering ruins, or some fire pit of hell with torture instruments hanging from the ceilings. It felt real.

We were grouped together in tours, one of many that were wondering through the site, and were taken through all the historical accounts, mainly dealing in living conditions and day to day life, through to individual accounts of torture, death and vial oppression. In fact, I think the tour was designed to progressively get more confronting, as we soon approached the solitary confinement cells, the torture rooms and then to the lab were children were experimented on for horrific things such as poison trials to injecting dye into their pupils to try and change their colour. It was then that I was feeling the height of my usual reactions, a mix of hatred, disbelieve and sadness. But then something changed. We entered a square, through a large metal gate, and I felt different. A sort of calm came over me but an uneasy one. At the end of the square was a memorial to the execution wall, where those who were chosen were lined up and shot. And I felt strange. I knew bad things had happened here. Not cause we were told, or that it was assumed, I knew. Like I could smell it in the air. Like experiencing a new sense for the first time I was drawn to parts of the square, random spots in the dirt, certain areas of the brick surrounds. Somehow I was telling myself a story of which had no detail, just feeling.

The tour continued on out of the square and around the next corner. The tour guide was silent and walked ahead. I froze. At the foot of the barbwire fence and the opening that led around the next corner, I found myself unable to take a single step. Everything around me went blurry and I realised that now I was seeing through my tears, which had, unnoticed, started delicately flowing down my face. I didn’t feel like I was crying. There was no sobs, or change in breath. Just tears. I was afraid to walk further, my legs moving only at the slowest speed. Again this new sense was in control, yet now it was a thousand times more intense. I once again knew what was around the corner. I felt a fear that was old, borrowed from another as though we were breathing the same air. Standing there, trying to move forward, there was some sort of dimensional shift that occurred around me. Those people that were in my group past me as shadows, but those who normally went unseen slowly made their presence known. My now detached body crept inch by inch forward, face drenched in the tears that had been left to run, with no attempt to wipe them away. My mind was sharp, focused almost, but it seemed a passenger, somehow being led. I remember hearing “bad things happened here” running over and over again in my head. I knew they had. I felt them. I say I felt but really it was like I empathised extreme sadness and extreme fear. Empathised because they were not for myself, I wasn’t scared, but I could feel the feeling of being scared. At this point, in a state I've never been before, I heard a young girls voice, reassuring me that it will be ok. She said that they were things I had to see, that this was something everyone had to see, to experience. Somehow she was almost begging that all people have to know what went on here.

Of course I was coming up the last surviving gas chamber and crematorium at Auschwitz 1. The brick building built into a grass mount was the terrible place that hundreds of thousands of people, mothers, daughters, fathers, sons, brothers and sisters, drew their last agonising breath of Zyklon B gas, the poison eating away their insides in a excruciating process that would take 20-40 minutes to slowly and painfully eat the life away from its victim. It was also the place, where their naked and contorted remains were shovelled into giant ovens like coal, to be reduced to ash and dirt.

The group moved silently ahead of me, through the entrance into the chamber. Silently out of respect for the dead, but also unacknowledged by my current psyche. In this state of sub-concious being I moved into the main chamber, feeling what I can only describe as the support of a thousand faceless souls. The tears that had never stopped continued to flow, but now the emotion had intensified. I started feeling the shortness of breath, the heaving of the shoulders. My body seemed to curl into itself as I felt the scratches in the walls, the fingernail marks on the floor, and hole in the roof where the cans of evil and hate were dropped through to consume any light of hope. At this stage I had lost all control. I started to feel like a prisoner myself, being forced to feel these emotions, to see the images that were flying through my head, to feel pain and fear for loved ones that I did not know. I was then taken into the chamber with the ovens, where in front of me I could make out the rusted relics of body disposal, but in my minds eye I could see them in full use. Piles of bodies upon bodies being heaved around like rag dolls. The scrapping of shovels on cement, the roar of the fires, the slap of dead flesh against the iron, I could see it all in front of me.

Although I could feel the ones driving me, I had little idea of my surroundings. I couldn’t tell you if anyone else was in that room or even how long I spent there. It wasn’t until I was outside that I found Mel, who wrapped her arms around me as I crumbled into an emotion mess. I had regained myself, but the feelings were now my own and they weighed me down hard. Mel and I stood there for a while, not saying anything. I'd say it was after about 15 minutes or say that I stopped crying, and the feeling like I had been punched in the chest started to dissipate.

Now, some of you may think its strange, but this wasn’t my first encounter with spirits from another world, that wasn’t the weird part for me. The hard hitting thing was actually feeling their emotion. I often can sense what they are feeling (mostly confused or shocked if you're interested) , but never had I had such empathy. It really cut me to the core. And really, whatever you choose to believe from this, whether you would like to psychoanalysis it, describe as the brains way with dealing with stress, maybe high imagination, maybe I told myself I would get emotional prior and this was the outcome or you may just think its bullshit, either way you cant base this stuff on merit. The truth was I felt something, and whatever it was was a deep and personal experience, that I am now trying in some way to share with you.

Fuck me, how did that happen? I told me myself I wouldn't write that much. To me Auschwitz is a place without words, but I seem to have blurted many. If you read from the start, you may remember I mention acts of kindness, love and generosity, well they will have to wait for the next entry. So to wrap up, I still think that in no way will we ever know exactly what those people experienced. I was never under any delusion that I would. What I can take away from being there though was knowing that I got just a little bit closer, that now its not just a photo, or a nightmare set in a far off land, that I have stood there where they stood, felt the same dirt at my feet, the same air in my lungs, as they suffered in a way I wish no one to suffer.

So I guess I will leave you with a few photos. They really pale in significance to the actual experience, but hopefully it helps give you an idea. As you will see they don’t have people burning in them, and I didn’t process them in black and white to add dramatic effect. This is the place as it stands now. Dirt, brick, trees and wire. A place I went to learn more about the past, and ended up learning more about myself.

Three nights isn't enough in Budapest. I know that now. In fact I think I knew it as soon as I stepped off the train. The place was filthy. The main station looked rusted as if it would collapse at any moment, men were trying to sell us hotel accommodation or taxi rides, others just looking us up and down in a shady way. The streets outside were unkempt, overpopulated. The environment made me think that the Soviets had left yesterday, and no one had started the rebuilding process. But somehow there was charm, and excitement. Coming from the imperial Vienna before that, this middle class, comparatively privileged traveller got his first real taste of Eastern Europe, and I liked it.

We came in pretty late to Budapest, well it was night time anyway, and proceeded to figure out how to get to our CouchSurfing hosts place, which would be our home for the next 3 nights. I must admit I always enjoy this part, coming into a new town completely unprepared, except for an address and a shonky hand drawn map. It makes my brain switch on to a level where all the senses are heightened. I have to figure out where we are, observing the surroundings, I have to figure out the metro system while getting an overall sense of all the citys public transport, how to buy tickets, whilst concentrating on speaking the little bit of the language that I studied on the train over. I have to keep an eye on Mel, and be diligent of any kind of scams or extortion attempts. And as my brain does this its also taking in everything around me, the people, the scenery, what the locals are doing, and remaining aware that I am experiencing a new city for the first time, and try to embrace that and play tourist while doing the tasks at hand. I think its great as I see it as a real time of focus for me, an escape from the usual chaotic tornado of ideas that normally curse my day.

Anyway, loosing focus, I told you that happens. We arrived at Helga's place. And for the first time since starting CouchSurfing, we had met our host previously. If you can follow, while we were in Paris, Helga was couchsurfing at a French couples place, who had previously couchsurfed at our place in Sydney. When we had arranged to meet our former guests for dinner, Helga came along as well. We didn’t get to talk much then, as that was the night Mel got sick after ingesting some pine nuts hidden in the lasagne, but within the brief time we did chat, upon hearing our plans to visit Budapest, she had very generously extended an invitation to stay with her while we were there.

Well invitation accepted, and we found ourselves at Helgas. Greeted by herself and her housemates, we had discovered they had cooked a big dinner for everyone, which included the use of some sort of garlic leaf Mel and I had never experienced. It was like a vine leaf that tasted exactly like garlic, and it was amazing. It was the start of many new discoveries we would have during our stay. So, needless to say we felt very welcome. We chatted over dinner, getting to know each other. They were all very cool. Helga was intelligent, funny and insightful, and passionate about showing us the best parts of her city. Her housemates Balasz and Lila were great. They had both travelled Australia a few years back, and both were very welcoming. Balasz spoke more English and really seemed genuine in wanting to help us out when he could, and Lila was a little less confident in the language so seemed a little shy, but she was a photographer and was reading Game of Thrones, so we had some things in common. Later we would find out it just took a few beers to get her talking. But all three of them stayed up and talked and shared their experiences and really made us feel so welcome in their home. Again we couldn’t believe our luck with CouchSurfing in giving us the chance to meet some really cool people we could get along with so easily. We immediately felt comfortable, and being so far away from home I really think thats a special thing.

We set off the following day to explore. As far as cities go, Budapest is pretty small. We decided to split our days to Buda in the West, and Pest to the East. It didn’t quite turn out like that, but lets just say that we took it pretty carefree. Being that we were staying in the heart of everything, we set off on foot towards the famous Danube River, which splits the town down the middle in an elegant curve. Our first stop on the way was the Parliament building. Not knowing what it looked like we came across this old, ornate looking structure, a building that looked like it held dignitaries of some kind, if not parliament, then maybe an embassy or something. Well, no. It was MTV headquarters. Man I love Europe.

If not embarrassed already, the real parliament building made us feel really stupid. An Eastern European version of its London counterpart, this residence was large and intimidating, yet delicate and beautiful at the same time. Resting on the riverfront, we admired its columns, spires and detailed sculptures that adorned its facades.

From there we strolled over the Danube via the Chain Bridge, and caught the cablecar up to Castle Hill, a massive complex that overlooks the city, and houses the Royal Palace, a few museums and Matthias Church, the gorgeous structure seen from mostly everywhere in the city. We got something to eat there, found some quiet places away from the tour groups, and took a thousand photos. There really is something surreal about overlooking an entire city. Imagining its people both past and present, feeling like some sort of bird observing silently from above. I mean I feel disconnected from humans most of the time, but doing so over an incredible view feels very calming to me, as if somehow escaping the world. Plus, from that height, you can really hock a loogie on someone. (Waynes World reference, no one was spat on in the making of these images)

We walked back down the hill and back over the bridge to the Great Market. It was an old building filled with stalls of food and ornament vendors, all offering traditional Hungarian wares. To be honest, I didn’t like it too much, it was just a bit sterile.

Now, as I have mentioned before, CouchSurfing is great for a number of reasons. One of those is that locals give you ideas and insights of where to go and things to do that are very helpful for people like us who call ourselves flexible and easy going, but really just suck at planning anything. Well, that particular day, our hosts imparted three pearls of wisdom upon us that would be absolute highlights of our stay. The first one was convincing us to visit the Hungarian Baths. We took their recommendation, but came to the realisation that Mel didn’t bring any swimwear. So, although not the most interesting piece of literature here, we spent the next hour or so in search of a bikini. Exciting stuff I know. But, it did mean that we passed through the main shopping district, which is as colourful and interesting as most. No suitable bikini was found that day it may be noted.

Second pearl of wisdom gifted upon us. Helga suggested for lunch we try an establishment called Hummus Bar located on October 6 street. I mention the address, because if anyone goes to Budapest who enjoys, um, eating, and doesn't go here is missing out. I am going to go so far as to say we experienced this as crack cocaine for the tastebuds. To say this meal had flavour, is to say that the Louvre has some paintings in it. And it was really cheap as well. On their menu they have written “Hummus is sexy” and I'm not ashamed to say that I did feel slightly aroused.

Food drunk and intoxicated with flavour, we stumbled around the corner to St Stephans church. It was the middle of a service, so the place was lit up and looked very nice. We didn’t stay too long, but were happy we went. Its pretty cool.

Third pearl of wisdom for the day. Local bands and a cool club. In fact I may have heard the “coolest club in Budapest” but that may have just been because I was there. Anyway, Helga, Balasz and Lila invited us to tag along to see their other nomadic housemate who we hadn’t met yet play bass in a band in a special location. Helga went off earlier than us to meet some other friends, so the rest of us went in together, which gave us a chance to get to know each other better and learn a bit more about the Hungarian psyche. The bar was revealed to be an old Soviet ship, now moored on the bank of the Danube River, the inside converted into a live music venue which also held some pretty loose parties from the sound of things. The band we were seeing tonight was described as Hungarian folk-jazz, which was kind of a mix Bjork, Dream Theatre and Herbie Hancock. They could all really play, busting out the chops when they could, but laying down the groove when they needed to also. I really dug it. And another thing that made the night special, was beers were cheap in Budapest. I'm talking I could buy a round of 4 or 5, for what I could buy 1 beer for in Sydney. Not that we drank heaps, but it helped loosen everyone up. It was great to meet new people again, Helgas friends were cool, and as she promised, with a few beers under the belt Lila was busting out the English to everyones delight. In fact, they even bought us some traditional Hungarian spirit, Palinka, to shot at the bar. To be honest, it wasn't great. I thought Mel was going to gag or throw it back up over the bar, but she kept it down. It was just very raw and a bit nasty on the throat. I didn’t mind it. The taste of experiencing new cultures I guess.

The next morning we miraculously found a bikini for Mel, then made our way to the Citadella, which was a fortress/battlement nested on top a green hill overlooking the city. At the start of the ascent, we came across a church built into the side of the hill. Literally inside a cave. The history was kind of interesting, but it all felt a little fake.

So we then made the hike up to the top, and were blown away by the view. There were a few monuments that were amazing, but the city itself was the real star of the show. We sat for a while just taking it in, then trekked back down through the lush green trees. It was really cool because there was so many different paths leading up and down, that we were pretty much alone, and with the density of the trees you could easily imagine it being in some jungle or forest away from any civilisation, but then some of the beautiful city skyline would poke through and you were glad that you weren't.

We found that all that walking and well, sitting down, really took it out of us and worked up a hunger. So we went back to Hummus Bar. And to be honest, this made me feel really guilty, because I don’t like going to the same place in the same city twice. I would much rather try a few different places to get the experience and feel for the local cuisine. But guilt never tasted so good.

So, what do you do after stuffing your face full of falafel? Go swimming! Yes, we made the journey to the 19th Century Szechenyi Baths, a massive complex of traditional Hungarian baths of different types, located in City Park. And it was incredible. I cant really explain how amazing it is, after a month and a half of living out of a backpack, staying in other people houses, and just being on the go everyday, to just get pretty much naked, and sit in a hot spring pool, outside in fresh air, and just chillax. It was heaven. Not to mention the fact that the building was just gorgeous. Mel and I just shut up, put our heads back and embraced the waters healing powers. I even indulged in a nice massage by a firm yet gentle Hungarian man who I didn’t quite get a good look at come to think about it, so I hope it was a man, or maybe not, I'm not sure now. Anyway, the whole thing rocked. Mel's eyes didn’t open more than half way for hours after, and our skin looked like dried fruit, but it was totally worth it.

Tip for travellers wanting to travel from Budapest to Krakow, plan it a little earlier than the night before! After our swim we realised we hadn’t made plans for our departure for the next day, so thought we'd quickly look it up. Up until this point, this tactic had pretty much worked for us, but this time it didn’t. Turns out that rather than the 1 train that we thought might take 5 hours max, the best we could do was catch 4 trains, taking 14 hours, and every connection has to be on time or we were stranded somewhere. And anyone whos experienced European trains, isnt going to put their money on them running to schedule. Now at this point we could’ve freaked a little bit, but instead, we decided to go for a drink.

It was our last night in the city, and with our CouchSurfing hosts. They had talked about Budapest's famous ruin bars, which were old, partially damaged buildings, many from the war, that instead of being fixed, just get converted into bars and clubs. Despite obviously being tired, Helga, Balascz and Lila took us out once again to a bar that I think used to be a Dentist office pre-soviet collapse. Now, the place wasn’t in ruins as expected, but it was a really cool vibe. It was like an artsy student hang out, and there were some photo exhibitions by local artists in each of the rooms. We had a few beers, met some new friends again, and even battled it out in a few games of Fooseball. We let the girls win a few times, but the boys were still the clearly dominant sporting species.

More beers and a few slices of pizza later and we were off home. On the way we got a little sad thinking it was our last night here. It really felt like we had just started to discover the place, just started to get to know some new friends, and kinda started falling in love with another city all over again (I know, we'll never learn). Budapest was truly a city that had a flavour for all the senses and for the soul. It was yet another unique taste in our degustation tour of Europe, one that will stay on our tastebuds for a long while, and one we hope to experience again very soon.

A Symphony for Vienna in D Major – Second Movement

Composition by Claytonius Von Idathoven
Accompaniment by Melis Mi Amore

She seems sad today. Her tears of snow glide weightlessly through the sky and the winds icy lips place gentle kisses upon the face. The flutes widdle sporadically as the strings howl and swell. But again Vienna is subtle, nowhere in the extreme, and rugged up and ready for the day our three enter the streets together and embrace her altered mood as a gift, as another picturesque side of herself she wants to show off. Its snowing in Vienna.

Despite the cold, the trio head out in exploration. Their first stop may appear strange to some, but those familiar with the characters will appreciate, they stop for ice cream. And what ice cream it is, guided by Masha and her secrets of Vienna, they go to the best. And the purchased cups of heaven don't last long.

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The work becomes whimsical, playful, almost carnivale. The Vienna Three journey to Hundertwasserhaus and Kunsthauswein. The famous Viennese artist and architect Friedensreich Hundertwasser becomes the captain in the journey through his mind as they witness the practically bizarre and the understandably insane. His designs and work glimmer with madness on the surface, yet underneath is a strong philosophical intellect and dedication to human relationship with nature that is both inspiring and thought provoking.

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Back to tradition standards, they explore culinary culture in the form of Weiner-Schnitzel. Nourished with food the travellers also receive nourishment of the mind as Masha explains the finer details of Viennese politics and historical happenings, after which they separate and the two go off and visit the Museum of Music, an interactive experience in sound and influential Viennese personalities. Much to their delight, the two contemplate on the day of art, architecture, culinary experience, history, music, new friendship and new discoveries.

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The following day begins in light travel, a journey just outside of the main part of Vienna, to the Klosterneuburg Monastery. Again the travellers are surprised at the uniqueness of another religious establishment. This one visualised through the exuberant display of a golden interior. The religious relics housed within provide some interest but most importantly highlight a lifestyle in a time and place not widely known. Again, the two thank their host, without whom this place would not be discovered.

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We then return to the adventure overture, as the couple make way for Schloss Schonbrunn. Imperial extravagance pulsates through all senses. Wonderment abounds and like little children the two run through decadent halls, pristine gardens, phenomenal fountains, and even a lush green labyrinth. Monuments offer spectacular views of the city, and of the lifestyle of the 16th century's rich and famous.

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From glitz and glamour to flash and trash, the ensemble launches into a roller-coaster of aural delights, as the wanderers experience the visual. The weird and wonderful are on display at Prater Amusement Park, a strange yet wonderful juxtaposition within the boundaries of Vienna's normally conservative and classical nature. And as the majority of the Viennese are at home sipping tea and listening to Mozart, the two are face first in fairy-floss and fluorescent wonderlands, reaching sky high within the iconic Wurstelprater.

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From the highest point in Vienna, the next day brings the lowest. It is the day they must leave. Sadness fills the chamber. Farewells are said to their wonderful host and the remaining hours are spent within the Kunsthistorisches, admiring in particular the amazing work of Gustav Klimt.

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Again beauty is all around but they know their time is fleeting. They find solace in the reassurance that they will return, but for now they must take leave. The music has been with them since their first steps, each sight, smell, touch and sound resembling its own unique instrument. And while they elicit admiration on their own, it is when they come together as a whole that they arouse euphoria. In this amazing place they become one, Vienna's orchestra and the symphony of the city.

A Symphony for Vienna in D Major - First Movement

Composition by Claytonius Von Idathoven
Accompaniment by Melis Mi Amore

Trumpets announce the arrival of guests as they take their first steps within Vienna.

A slow swell of the strings enters slowing in ¾ time. The tempo is slow, relaxed, mirroring the pace of the travellers weary after a five hour long train journey.

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Flutes enter in a curios dance. Eyes bounce and glow in marvel at the new, as the brain works to navigate and discover. Each path, each tree, each stone is viewed upon for the first time, like a baby born or a blind man healed. And the beauty of such holds true.

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Tentatively the wanderers go to meet their host. The strings of the cellos gently caress every fibre of their bows. The tension builds until the the fifth bar, when the ensemble bounces with jovial relief. Their host is Masha, a talented Chemist and Pianist from the land of Russia, who's hospitality and couch are both warm and welcoming. Upon Miss Mashas display of extravagant adoration for the famous composers, The Beatles, the orchestra breaks into a brief but passionate rendition of “All You Need Is Love”. The original bounce continues into the night as chats and laughs ensue.

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The ensemble comes in full as a steady pace returns. The sun rises on a new day and the couple waltz down the crisp Austrian streets. Around them the sun awakens the buildings of old, displaying their age and wisdom with the same majestic entitlement as those who created them. The crescendo spikes with each turn. Excitement marches for several beats, then bam, the crash of the cymbals announce the decorative University building, the march continues, then crash, the Rathaus, crash the Opera. With marching in between, the crashes continue in higher ferocity with the Parliament building, an ode to Greek mythology and philosophy. Again with the KunstHistorisches and the Naturhistorisches Museum their minds marvel and their souls ignite with the encompassing flames of the beautiful, of the ornate, of the art.

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The next phase pulses with chaos as the two enter the neon glitz of the tourist strip. Like members of the herd the music pushes and pulls against the rhythm, the crush seemingly never to end. They wish to find refuge within the church, however it does not offer sanctuary. The Stephansdom is poor in light but rich in admirers. The solemn walls weep at the ignorant, the loud, whos camera flashes fire without connection, without emotion, and whos disregard is evident in the trail of startled bodies barged out of the way, left only to perform the post-mortem of human decency.

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Escape. The horns rejoice once more as the two continue their exploration. They are joined in a movement by the piano in the theme of the royal waltz, for the two have found themselves at the footsteps of Hofburg Palace, the pompous summer dwellings of the rich rulers who have gone before us. In wealthy exuberance their legacy is left in the statues and figures that grace the grounds. In the decadent and the opulent they display such wealth as a sign of strength, of majesty, and of un-opposable power.

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Enter ecstasy. Apple strudel, Kardinal cake, pudding in custard and afternoon coffee. The two meet their host in Vienna Museum Quartier, a cultural hub in the middle of the city. The ensemble bounces again with playful artistry as the three dance with the colours and forms of the creative minds housed within the Mumok, a massive structure seemingly dropped from space.

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As the sun fades and the day of the moon approaches, the couple contemplate on the day. A soothing and relaxing interlude begins. There is joy and happiness upon reflection of the adventure, and the prospect of more to come. The city in all is elegant is her appearance and likewise in her manner. She projects a calm nature, but with a flirtatious smile. You can hear it in the music that magically fills the city, you can breath it in the air, and you can see it reflected in her people. It can not really be described as romanticism, as its not what she is looking for, but it is something, something alluring.

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Fade out