How To Travel The Land For

Less Than A Grand

Tom Norman & Ryan Lindsey

Cover design by Lottie Photography

Copyright 2014 by Tom Norman & Ryan Lindsey

Pizza

All rights reserved. This book or any portion thereof

may not be reproduced or used in any manner whatsoever

without the express written permission of the publisher

except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

First Printing, July 2014

ISBN 978-1500370244

All Rights Reserved

3 . 1 4 1 5 9 2 6 5 3 5

Contents

Introduction

Section One Our Journey

1. Krakow-I Could Get Used To This 13

2. Berlin- Socially Awkward Soul 21

3. Wroclaw- Drunken Dj Vu 24

4. Bratislava- How Not To Use A Krakow Map 32

5. Vienna- Losing My Couchsurfing Virginity 35

6. Brno- Batting For The Opposite Team 39

7. Krakow- Farewell Social Skills 43

8. Budapest- Cheap As Chips 47

9. Walking to Austria- My Journey Of Enlightenment 51

10. Ljubljana- In Love For 18 Minutes 54

11. Vienna and Bratislava- The Boot Theory 60

12. Bled- Perfection? 64

13. Prague?- The Perfect Mistake 69

14. Zagreb- Its Date Night 73

15. Dubrovnik- Ive Got A Golden Ticket 76

16. Soll- Arse Over Tit 81

17. Sarajevo- Carrot King 86

18. Mostar- Nicest Beggars Ever 91

19. Innsbruck- Beauty & The Buffet 93

20. Kempten- Quebecs In Asia, Right? 97

21. Split- Worlds Worst Drug Mule 102

22. Hitchhiking Home- Eggers In Paris 105

Section Two Your Journey

23. Introduction 111

24. Where The Fox Should I Go? 114

25. Transport 117

26. Accommodation 122

27. Things To Do 133

28. Eating 138

29. Friends Or Solo? 144

30. The Last 168 Hours 147

31. Money 150

32. Were Not Perfect 154

33. The Grand Finale 155

34. The Discount! 156

Introduction If only Two words that should be avoided at all costs. Two harrowing words which represent the stark opposite to a life well lived.

Bronnie Ware, an Australian nurse, worked for many years with patients

suffering from incurable conditions at the very end of their lives. She kept a

record of their dying epiphanies and discovered some of the most profound

regrets were:

If only Id had the courage to live a life true to myself. If only Id had the courage to express my feelings. If only Id let myself be happier.

Each of these are real regrets. They belonged to real people in the face of

death. Yet, despite how captivating and applicable each of these regrets are,

we still restrict ourselves with the second type of If only

If only I had more money

If only I had more time

If only I had a better job.

These are the things we tell ourselves that keep us in a state of inertia. They

are the little lies that separate us from becoming all that we can be.

Just Do It

This book came from an attempt to settle our own If onlys. We were desperate to avoid the inevitable If only Id travelled while we still suffered with the immediate If only I had more money.

We wanted to go and see more of the world. We wanted to gain a greater

perspective about our futures, and meet incredible people from all over the

planet. We wanted to grow, and learn, and broaden our outlook. We wanted

to explore the world for ourselves, and not have to settle for the opinion of

the media.

We wanted to prove that it was possible to have this incredible,

life-changing adventure with a not-so-incredible budget.

So we set off to travel Europe, and there were just three rules:

- We couldnt spend more than 1000.

- We couldnt stay in one place for longer than a week.

- We couldnt earn money.

Who are we?

The first part of the book tells the stories from our trip. Youll find our flattering pictures at the beginning of each chapter to show you whose story

it belongs to.

We share how between us we skied in the Austrian Alps, bathed in thermal

spas and partied throughout Europe. Not to mention the fact that we lasted

over fifty days and visited eight different countries; all for less than

1000.

The second half of the book shows how you can do it. Were at a unique time when its cheaper and easier to travel than its ever been before. We go into detail about how you can take advantage of this opportunity and explore

Europe for yourself.

Before we move on, a note from Tom

Im going to let you into a little secret. I was seriously disappointed when the Harry Potter films came out, and I found out Id been pronouncing Hermiones name wrong. After years of reading Her-Me-Own in my head, it turned my world upside down to discover it was pronounced Her-My-Oh-Nee. To avoid the same disappointment when our film is released, Id like to point out that in Europe lots of names contain a J but its almost always pronounced as a Y. Maja = Maya

Wojtek = Voytek

Matej = Matay

And the city Ljubljana is pronounced Lyooblyana not L-jubbly-jana.

I hope this saves you from any future disappointment. Thank me later :)

Tom Norman Ryan Lindsey

In Bratislava ...und ich scheien berall! The table erupted in laughter.

...and I shit everywhere! Sophia translated for me after finally stifling her laugh. Her Grandad had explained how hed been caught out at somebodys home after eating bad food when he visited Mexico.

He was a jolly man, who wore a bright red jumper and had a very well-kept silver beard. He had filled the table with jokes and funny stories from the moment I arrived. Sophia handed me a piece of bread from her own plate. Shed been sharing her dinner with me since the moment I arrived too. She had short dark blonde hair, big brown eyes and a friendly face. Over the table from us were two other German girls, Marieke and Simone, and Sophias Nan who was a little quieter than her husband, but equally as jolly as she sat with a smile permanently etched on her warm face.

We were in a traditional pub in the heart of Bratislava in Slovakia, but at that moment it could have been anywhere in the world. The room was filled with the same hearty buzz of conversation indistinguishable from any other pub. There were dark wooden tables with chequered tablecloths, large paintings on the walls and even Guinness available at the bar.

Unlike any other pub Id ever been to, I was sat at a table of Germans, none of whom Id even known just twelve hours before.

Look, heres Germanys jump! Sophia said, and the entire table spun around to watch the Mens Ski Jumping in the Sochi Winter Olympics. As they did, her Grandad returned from the bar, and passed a shot of Borovika to each of us. I hadnt bought a single drink all night, each time I pulled my wallet out to offer to pay for a round, he pushed it away and said in a thick German accent Its my treat!

After the jump, everyone grabbed their shot and held it up in the air for a toast. Prost!

I raised the glass to my lips and threw the harsh liquor back. As I felt its warmth trickling down my chest, I sat back and considered the absurdity of the situation

This doesnt happen in real life. Since when is it okay to stroll up to people you barely know and have dinner with them and their grandparents?

But after pinching myself, I realised that was exactly what I was doing. My trip didnt start here though, it began eight days before when I landed in Krakow.

Krakow I Could Get Used To This

stared intently out the small tic-tac shaped window. The plane tilted gracefully left and right as we prepared for landing. One minute I was

staring at sporadic mounds of snow on the ground that became visible through soft wisps of cloud. The next minute I found myself blinded by the bright white of the morning sun.

Shortly after I landed, I stood queuing at a ticket machine to buy a bus ticket to Krakow City Centre. I was lost in thought, caught somewhere between Holy shit my trip has finally begun! and I really dont need the four layers Ive got on!

As I drifted back into the present, I saw the girl in front of me standing at the ticket machine with one hand on her hip while the other was frantically pressing buttons. She appeared to be having trouble with the note she was trying to pay with. She was a pretty girl with light brown hair, and wore glasses and a thick brown coat. She continued to struggle, so I stepped forward.

Whats wrong? I asked. Oh, Im so sorry, She said in a sweet Canadian accent. Ive got no notes

smaller than twenty zlotys and the machine is refusing to accept it. She took a few steps away from and was about to re-join the back of the

ever-growing queue. Hold on! I stepped closer to the machine and inserted my own twenty

zloty note. Unsurprisingly the machine rejected it. I tried again, but selected to buy two tickets instead. The machine whirred, then out fell two tickets.

I handed one to the Canadian. Thank you so much, she spluttered, But I have no change to repay you!

I

14 How To Travel The Land For Less Than A Grand

Its my treat! I said, happy to know that my first purchase had been to help somebody out.

A few hours later, I stepped into my room at the hostel for the first time, and four smiling, yet somewhat shy, faces looked back from inside. Following typical hostel etiquette, I introduced myself and they reciprocated explaining that they were from a small town in Poland a couple of hours away, and were in Krakow for a spontaneous weekend away. They were just about to head to the city centre to try and make some money, and invited me to join them. Intrigued, and aware of the long trip on a small budget ahead I accepted the invite and explained Id catch up with them shortly.

An hour passed, and nightfall began to descend on Krakow. Before they left, the Polish students explained that they were going to be doing tricks with Poi balls in an attempt to make money. After Googling what Poi balls were, I discovered they are glowing balls on either end of a thick piece of string and they're modelled on the tool that fire performers use. I arrived in the city centre and immediately spotted the glowing orbs in the distance.

Hey, how are you getting on? I said, deliberately leaving out their names. They all had Polish names, with no similar alternatives in English so I struggled to remember them.

Hey Tom! Dammit, they remembered my name, now I felt bad. We made, uhmmm, 17 Zloty now.

I stood and watched as they performed some more. They explained that they made most of their money from parents who would pay a few zloty at a time to let their kids have a go at playing with the Poi balls. Now it was dark, parents were less willing to stop and let their kids play so it was time for them to change their game plan. One of the group was a short girl with dark black hair and pale skin. She had a pretty face, and I would later re-learn her name was Marta. She bought a single rose from a local stall and put on a pirate hat (I have absolutely no idea where that appeared from). Her and Milosz stood up on a bench and began to recite poetry in Polish at the top of their voices. Milosz had long brown hair that fell below his shoulders, a young face and wore a khaki jacket. Although he lacked the pirate hat Marta was wearing, he made up for it in his enthusiasm. I was stunned. They were belting out poem after poem to the bustling Krakow centre without a care of what people thought. And sure enough, people walked past and enjoyed their performance and continued contributing money to their fund. A pair of American tourists even walked past and yelled You guys are awesome!

Afterwards we sat in a bar together. It had stone walls and was dimly lit by a solitary candle on each of the tables and a few electrical lamps scarcely scattered about the walls. Despite those, it still felt as though Id stepped back a few hundred years.

Wow, you guys were amazing! I said. They explained how they enjoy doing things a bit differently, and how

boring life is when you hold yourself back and worry about what people think of you. As we chatted and shared stories with one another, I gazed around the quiet bar. Im finally here, I thought to myself. All the anticipation that had

I Could Get Used To This 15 been building up was for this moment. From the minute I first decided to quit my job in 2013 to my final day in the office just the week before, it all was leading to this. My life had just entered the next chapter. That chapter, I am pleased to say, began with me sitting in this bar, with a group of new friends Id made just a few hours before, indulging in conversation that slipped effortlessly between English and Polish, the latter of which I couldnt understand so just laughed and nodded along.

The following afternoon I sat on a bench biting into the warm, crispy bread of a Zapiekanki. Its greasy cheese and ketchup topping left my top lip shining in Krakows sunlight and Martin sat opposite watching and laughing as I desperately tried to maintain my dignity as I ate. Of course, this was completely in vain, and large debris came tumbling from my meal and onto the floor below narrowly missing my jeans each time. Martin and I had met at the hostel. We sparked up conversation as we both sat on our laptops cradling one of the free hot drinks available. Martin was from Belgium and spoke with a soft French accent. He was good looking with dark hair and a short stubble, and sat wearing a thick fairisle jumper and a woollen scarf.

I told him about the series of challenges that we created for ourselves. Go on a date with a girl. Get her to pay. Stay in a five star hotel.

Maybe you could meet a rich Polish girl who would be happy to pay for your date, and take you back to a five star hotel with her! he said.

Yeah, and maybe shell have a group of adoring fans I can make a speech to as well, I said, reflecting on another challenge. Do a speech.

Later that evening we were sitting in the same spot in the hostel, continuing to take advantage of the free hot drinks on offer, and two Dutch girls invited us to join them as they went in search of a bar. We all walked towards the city centre, and Martin brought up the subject of the challenges came up again.

Oh, I see where this is going, one of the girls said with a smile in reply to Go on a date with a girl, Thats why youve joined us this evening! She was an attractive girl. She had wavy dark blonde hair, a light husky voice and beautiful blue eyes. I couldnt tell if she was joking or not humour tends to be one of the last things thats translatable between languages.

Oh, uhmm, a, but I mumbled. I suppose there was an element of truth in what she had said. I would hardly stop the evening if it started to become a little date-like.

Somehow she saw past my inability to be able to form functional sentences under pressure, and proceeded to tell me about her studies to become a youth worker, and help kids back in Holland who had had a tough start in life. As she spoke, deep down I was still hoping she didnt think I was a weirdo.

It was cold, and not just roll your collar up and tuck your neck into your jacket cold. Krakow had been warm during the day but as soon as nightfall arrived, the warmth was replaced with a wintery bite. As we walked I became increasingly aware, and not to mention increasingly embarrassed, of my thermal insoles that had begun to work their way out of my shoes. My family

16 How To Travel The Land For Less Than A Grand gave me all sorts of items to combat the cold weather before I left the UK, and these insoles had a shiny silver layer that had managed to slip its way from the sole of the shoe and now sat exposed for the world to see. Any attempt Id made to slyly bend over and tuck it back in was completely futile, and eventually I was able to tug it straight out and discard it in a bin, luckily no one appeared to notice.

We walked past a bar that was teeming with people, spilling out the doors despite the bitterness outside. I peered through the window.

Oh, thats why its so busy. Beers are just 4 zloty each. I said. That was enough for Martin and I, and we headed towards the door and

joined the crowds inside. The girls followed, but after a few minutes of waiting in line for a beer they pulled us out again.

Shall we go somewhere else? Its going to take forever to get served in there.

Moments later we entered a jazz club. Live music came spilling through the place as soon as we began to make our way down the spiral staircase and into the club. The walls were lined in red brick and the place had black leather furniture scattered throughout. We all walked to the bar and eagerly glanced up to the drinks menu.

12 zloty! Martin yelled to me, mimicking my own thoughts. Beers are 12 zloty here. I dont know if I can do it Tom.

We agreed to remain dry and the girls bought a wine each and joined us at a table. It was tucked into a tight corner, and so we all sat awkwardly stuck up against each other. It was loud, and difficult to hold a decent conversation without leaning in just centimetres away from one anothers faces. Martin and I shared a glance that I can only describe as universal body language for, Hey man, lets go back to the other place!

We left them and walked into the other bar again, this time a little emptier than before, and it wasnt long before I was being served. Four beers please, I asked.

Thats eight Zloty, the young barmaid replied, as she handed me the last of the beers. I paid and walked away in bewilderment. We had paid two Zloty per beer, when the sign had read four Zloty each and I couldnt fathom why.

I explained what had happened to Martin. Hey, dont complain. Just celebrate! he yelled, and we clinked our clear plastic tumblers together, but both of us were a little disappointed by the lack of actual clink that followed.

We walked back into the hostel shortly after midnight. Martin and I dispersed, and I walked past the reception in the direction of my room. Sat behind the reception desk was an attractive girl with dark red hair and bright blue eyes. She wore a striped jumper and a leather jacket and she had smiled as I walked past so I diverted back to speak to her.

Hey, do you know if Ive got anybody else in my room tonight? I asked, as I knew the Polish students had left that morning.

Uhmm, nope. Youve got it all to yourself, she said. A little excited by this information, I continued chatting with her. She introduced herself as

I Could Get Used To This 17 Mariola, and explained how she was currently studying, and worked shifts at the hostel in between her studies.

Wow, how do you find working all different shifts affects your studies? I asked.

Well, sometimes it can be tough, but I believe that if you really want something bad enough, and you willing to work hard to get it, then one day you will! she said. Her eyes shone even more brightly as she spoke, and immediately she followed with a confident smile. I paused to reflect exactly what she said and smiled gently back admiring her tenacity.

We chatted for a further ten minutes with voices growing in volume and enthusiasm.

In the days that ensued my meeting with Mariola, I tried to make a point of looking out for her and looked for opportunities to learn more about the cute Polish girl who shared my drive and passion for life.

***

I looked out of the window and all I could see was white spots falling aggressively from the sky. Straight ahead there was a thin grey layer settling on the road. The bus sped onwards, and the driver hardly even appeared to notice the snow. I watched as we calmly overtook a lorry and reflected that the Polish must be more accustomed to handling the snow than the British. I suspected, the country would have come to a standstill in the same conditions back home.

I stepped off the bus at Auschwitz and I was immediately submerged in snow several inches thick. I wore three layers, including a thick black coat and a woolly hat. On my feet however, were my running shoes the only shoes I decided to take away with me. I waddled for twenty metres in an attempt to prevent my porous shoes from getting damp. But I surrendered to cold wet feet as soon as I heard a soft squelch from my socks with every footstep.

I walked into Auschwitz Birkenau, the larger and most deadly of the two extermination camps. From the moment I walked through the gate I forgot all about my damp feet and felt completely taken aback by just how vast the camp was. Snow continued to fall and made the camp feel like it went on forever.

When prisoners originally arrived at the camp, they would step off the train carriages and be sorted into two rows, one for men and one for women and children, the tour guide explained. If you were a prisoner then your fate would be completely reliant on just the flick of a wrist. You would be inspected by the doctor, who after just a few seconds of assessment, would flick his wrist either right or left. One way meant you looked fit enough to work so your life was spared for now. The other well, it meant you looked unfit and you would be prepared for the gas chambers!

There were just three of us in the group and we stood aghast at the tragedy we had just heard. With the snow creating a bleak background, it had been too easy to picture exactly what we were being told. I stood there able to relive the crimes in my own imagination. Nobody could muster any words. Not even a nod of acknowledgement.

18 How To Travel The Land For Less Than A Grand

We were walked around the camp and showed the barracks that made up the living quarters for the prisoners. We were shown the remains of two of Birkenaus gas chambers that laid at the end of the camp, which had been destroyed by the Nazis at the end of World War II in an attempt to hide the evidence of the killings.

It became even more shocking when we were told the numbers. Each of these chambers could murder 2000 people at a time. There were

six of these chambers in the camp, with several crematoriums that were able to dispose of 1500 bodies every 24 hours.

Victims were dehumanised. The camp felt like a farm. Prisoners were treated like little more than just a number, and this is how they were referred to. Upon entry to the camps, prisoners were shaved and put into striped pyjamas. After just a few weeks of very little to eat, and horrible working conditions they barely resembled their previous self and were only recognisable by the number inscribed on their pyjamas.

We walked into one of the first gas chambers that the Nazis used. As we did, images of turmoil flashed into my eyes. I saw the pain. I could see the hundreds of people frantically grasping onto every last breath. It was cold. As a sign of respect you werent allowed to talk, but I couldnt have talked if I tried. The pain and terror experienced within that room had never left.

I couldnt believe the devastation that people in the camp had endured. Just 70 years ago it was full of people and the murders continued day after day. I had never felt more blessed to have my freedom, and more determined than ever to make the most of it.

***

A day later I was stood with soggy feet again. This time I was at the base of a snow-covered hill in the Tatra mountain range. I had come to visit Zakopane, a small town tucked at the south of Poland on the border with Slovakia. I looked up and watched some of the other people climbing the hill. Then I looked down at my feet and noticed the difference. They had ski shoes on, or at worst a thick pair of boots. I was stood there with my already drenched running shoes.

I asked some of the locals what the best way up the hill was, and they explained that Zakopane had had a big snowstorm the day before so I was best to get the cliff railway. I walked in the direction of the railway, but when I got close enough to read that it would cost 19 zloty my mind was made up I was going to walk it instead.

I started climbing the hill. How bad can it be? I thought. I followed the footprints of other climbers whod been up there during the day. I figured that they must have found a safe way to the top I so decided to stick to their route. At that moment, I lowered my foot onto a piece of snow that had been trodden down into a thin piece of ice, and began to slip slowly backwards. Shit! I yelled aloud, as I clambered to a sturdier piece of snow. Right. When has snow ever been sturdy? As I continued I decided to vary my route between the

I Could Get Used To This 19 footprints of other climbers and blazing my own trail as I ascended. Basically, I was winging it!

The sun was falling gradually in the sky and fog began to settle around the mountains. I started to realise I wasnt going to make the top before nightfall and I felt a sudden what goes up must come down moment. I whirled around to look at my route back down again. It was one thing navigating a path up the hill in the daylight, but something told me that finding my way back down again in darkness would be no easy feat.

I stood motionless, full of indecision. Should I continue to the top? Will it be worth it? Will I even be able to see anything with the fog and darkness that will inevitably ensue?

I glanced up at the mountains. Wow. They looked so perfect with their white body standing proudly against the dark blue sky. A bed of fog clung just beneath the peak, making them look more angelic and beautiful than ever. Id never seen mountains up close before. The closest thing to mountains from where Im from in Essex are the mountains of fake tan and foundation that some Essex girls find a necessity.

I had been so caught up in worrying about what to do next that I nearly missed this incredible view. I suppose that happens far too often in life. Its easy to get so caught up worrying about what might happen that we forget to take the time to appreciate exactly where we are.

With that, I turned around and started making my way back down the hill. Id seen my mountains.

***

Urrrrgggghhhhh! I heard from below me, followed by a slow frustrated movement. It was part of a sequence that had been repeating for the last hour. It included coughing, spluttering, sneezing, groaning and the occasional inaudible utterance that I can only presume went something like God damn fucking cold! This was happening directly below me, less than 40cm from my face. I could hear every last wheeze and could almost feel it every time he sneezed. I still couldnt help but feel sorry for him. Hed introduced himself to me earlier in the day as Ken, a fellow Essex man who now lived permanently in this Krakow hostel. He looked haggard and had deep sunken eyes with giant black bags beneath them and a dishevelled grey beard. He was wearing a faded blue fleece which had hung off his gaunt body.

I had returned to Krakow from Zakopane earlier that day and rather than return to the Good Bye Lenin Hostel, where I had originally stayed, I went for one which was a short walk away from the bus station as I had to be up early in the morning to catch a coach to Bratislava. It also happened to be one of the cheapest beds I could find. But now, as I lay in the middle of a triple bunk bed with Ken grappling a ferocious cold below me, I couldnt help but wish Id gone back to Good Bye Lenin again. It had been the perfect start to my trip, with a great atmosphere and common room that always seemed packed with life. Thered been many spontaneous foosball matches Id played, some of which had been with people where only mutual language was a series of cheers and grunts.

20 How To Travel The Land For Less Than A Grand

Urrrrgggghhhhh! Ken roared. He was at the moving/groaning stage again. This time he broke the routine slightly by following it with a hideous coughing fit.

This is ridiculous! I can sit here analysing Kens every cough, splutter and sniff whilst secretly praying that he doesnt pass his cold on to me, or I can get up and do something!

With that, I waited until Ken had finished his coughing fit, lunged out of bed, grabbed my things and staggered into the common room. I sat down and made myself comfortable, sharing glances with the man who was sat on reception. For some reason he looked at me suspiciously as I got up and made myself a tea before tucking into some chocolate. So what if it was 01:33 in the morning.

I caught my bus to Katowice at 05:15. There wasnt a direct bus from Krakow to Bratislava, so I had to stop off in a city named Katowice before catching a second bus that went the rest of the way. To save a bit of money I decided to book an early morning bus, but at 06:45 as I sat in a dingy Katowice bus station, I started to question if it was worth the extra 1.40 Id been able to save. After all, my next bus wasnt due until 13:30 and all I had was an uncomfortable plastic seat and a feeble looking coffee machine for company. There wasnt even a plug socket where I could power my laptop from.

Just as I began to accept my fate, a seven hour wait until my next bus arrived, I glanced down at my phone. I noticed it was still clinging onto the wifi that I had connected to on the bus (oh yes, it was one of those posh buses with wifi). The bus was just manoeuvring in the forecourt of the bus station so I frantically darted to Google Maps to see if there was a sanctuary nearby that could save me from bus station boredom.

Then I saw it. The one word that breathes comfort into the lives of travellers, workers and teenagers throughout the world. This word isnt just a word, its a culture. Its not just a brand name, its a life style. Its emblem is recognised worldwide as a glimmer of hope for the day ahead.

That word was Starbucks. Making connecting bus routes better since 1971.

I sat inside, my weary head perched on my hand whilst the other periodically lifted black coffee to my mouth. It was in vain though. The coffee was about as useful a stimulator as a defibrillator is to someone who has been dead for 100 years. I tried hard to combat sleep, and the battle that ensued was a hard fought one, but the next six hour onslaught resembled little more for me than a series of microsleeps strung together by a jerk reaction whenever I was aware of myself drifting off.

Unfortunately, to the amusement of the spectators watching this ongoing combat, sleep managed to land the final strike.

Berlin Socially Awkward Soul

arrived at the hostel a sweaty mess. I neednt have bothered with the pair of gloves, scarf and several layers of thermal clothing I was wearing.

As I waited in line at reception, I glanced up at the walls. There was sign after sign about how the hostel accepted no responsibility for any lost belongings and there were others highlighting additional costs you could expect on top of your room expenses. Wow, what a welcome!

I made my way to the common room and sat with my laptop perched on my thighs. The common room was full of people, yet hardly anybody spoke. They busy were tapping away at their phones or writing on their keyboards.

There was a girl sat to my left with blonde hair and a black jumper. She had a pretty face with blue eyes, and glanced up from her phone as I looked over.

Well thats awkward, she must think Im a weirdo now! Where are you from? I asked with a smile in an attempt to appear less

creepy. As it left my lips, I immediately realised that it possibly made me seem even creepier.

France, she replied hastily, And you? Oh cool. Im from England, from a place called Essex, uhhmmm, near

London. Have you heard of it? She shook her head and glanced back to her phone. I tried the same procedure a few times with others in the common, but

except for sparking up a little small talk, the conversation always died quickly and people returned to their phones.

***

The following day I found myself at the front of a large crowd. There was a protest, and from what I could make out between the broken English and the noise of the crowd, it was in support of allowing more refugees into the

I

22 How To Travel The Land For Less Than A Grand country. I carried my big Nikon camera around my neck and managed to negotiate my way to the front of the crowd. They must have thought I was somebody from the press because every time I lifted the camera to my eye somebody would stop and pose. Little did they know, I had only recently got the camera so half of the pictures I was taking were too dark or blurry.

After the dismal community in the common room, Id spent the morning wandering around Berlin by myself. I visited the famous Checkpoint Charlie and the East Side Gallery, but what fascinated me the most was the mass of posters that the Germans pasted onto walls and around telephone poles. Some amounted to almost a foot thick, and I spotted one with what appeared to be a birds nest in the centre.

***

A day later, I stood pacing up and down a street on the outskirts of Berlin. Ryan, hey! a voice called out from behind me, Over here! I lurched around and saw a girl stood in the doorway of a small flat with

a big smile on her face. Vana, great to meet you, I said as I walked towards her. She had a pretty face and dreadlocked hair. What immediately caught my attention was the glowing Pikachu onesie that she was wearing so elegantly.

I held out my hand for a handshake and Vana leaned in for a hug, which resulted in an awkward combination of the two. She ushered me inside. The apartment looked like it hadnt changed since post-war Germany in the 1940s. There were mismatched chairs, dark furniture and old paintings that clung to the walls. To one side of the living room, I noticed a harp perched close to the wall.

Oh wow, you play the harp? Thats amazing! I said. Thats not me, she chuckled, It belongs to Klaudia who owns the flat.

Shes a professional opera singer and is great at the harp. Shes performing in Vienna today, but youll probably meet her tomorrow.

Over the next few days, Vana showed me around Berlin and made sure I felt extremely welcome. I spent the first day asking whenever I wanted to use the toilet or have a drink and I didnt even use the shower because I felt too shy to ask. But quickly, I started to learn about the Couchsurfing etiquette and felt myself relax around Vana.

One afternoon, she took me for a bike ride to show me around the suburbs of Berlin. I followed her on a bike that looked even older than the apartment did. It had a rusty frame and light-grey weathered tyres. Even the brakes were like nothing Id ever seen before. The back brake was operated by pedalling backwards rather than the standard lever on the handlebars. I couldnt get used to it. As a result whenever Vana stopped to point something out, I just threw my legs down on either side of the bike while gently caressing the front brake until I came to a dramatic, ineligant stop.

Socially Awkward Soul 23

We stopped by Berlins famous Brandenburg Gate. There were swarms of tourists taking photographs with the gate and the various street performers that filled the square.

Vana was crouched over, squinting, holding my camera just a few centimetres from the floor. Her blue eyes filled with complete concentration. Ryan, give it another go!

With that, I threw my hands towards the floor and launched my feet into the air. I was used to seeing Berlin upside down, with people often pointing and staring at me as I did handstands in front of the Gate. Hows that? I yelled.

Hmmm, lets do one more! I obeyed, and was joined by a Spanish guy as I did another handstand. Perfect. said Vana with excitement. She had the shot she wanted. I

loved her commitment to getting it exactly right. She walked proudly towards me and showed me the photo, using her hand to shield the screen from the glare of the sun. It was a great photo. Vana had even captured a man dressed as Darth Vader ogling at us in the background.

That evening I sat in one of the mismatched chairs in Vanas apartment. I was engulfed in the chair as I sipped on a glass of wine with my laptop on my thighs. Vana laid on her chest on the floor beside me, with her legs kicked in the air like a school girl. She was putting together cue cards for me with loads of travel tips and was totally immersed in making them perfect. She was a perfectionist, and made the cards with the same attention to detail as she had with the photos earlier that day. Her perfectionism was evident in her cooking too. She only ate organic food, and prepared every meal completely from scratch. It had been the healthiest few days of my life.

Vanas flatmate, the opera singer, had returned from Vienna. She sat beside us playing the harp. I gazed in awe as her hands floated on either side of the harp as she gently stroked the strings. Sweet, delicate music filled the room. Berlin is known for its all night raves, exclusive clubs, drugs and heavy drinking after all, they have an entire month dedicated to drinking beer yet what I was experiencing was in stark contrast to those expectations. I loved it.

Little did I know, the heavy drinking would begin in Poland the following day.

Wroclaw Drunken Dj Vu

usic once again filled the room. This time my body trembled as loud guitar riffs and drumming shot right through it. The basement walls

were concrete and the entire room was dimly lit with just a few fluorescent lamps scattered across the low ceiling. I sat on a sofa staring across the room at the band performing in front of a giant square pillar that stood in the centre. They were surrounded by what appeared to be a sea of instruments.

There was a pile of beer bottles at the side of the room as a memento from previous band practices. These guys sure know how to have a band practice. I took another large swig of my own beer. I was desperately trying to keep up with the guys in the band who had the incredible ability to get through an entire bottle in between songs.

Tomasz, one of the band members brothers sat next to me on the sofa. Every so often he leaned over and shouted something in my ear. I could never hear anything he was saying so just nodded and smiled back each time. To make things worse, when I was six, I fell out of a tree and landed head first onto concrete. I was knocked out completely for several days, and the fall broke my neck in two places. It also burst my left eardrum, and as a result, Ive never been able to hear well from my left ear which always made situations like these particularly awkward. On one occasion Tomasz looked puzzled after I nodded to one of his inaudible statements. Im guessing perhaps a nod wasnt the appropriate response.

I watched Michal, my Couchsurfing host, as he played the bass guitar and sang backing vocals. He had short hair, a closely shaved stubble and a full sleeve of tattoos inked up his left arm. This guy, who currently leapt aggressively around the room totally engulfed in the music looked completely different to the person who had given me such a warm welcome when I first arrived at his flat a few hours before. Inside of his studio apartment empty

M

Drunken Dj Vu 25 beer bottles had been lined up against a wall from a party hed had that weekend. Sorry about the mess, he said, as he closed his laptop and turned down his music. He invited me to sit on the sofa and asked me all sorts of questions to get to know me. He made me feel really important as he nodded, and listened intently to each answer. A song by Rise Against, a favourite band of mine, started playing and I stopped talking in mid-sentence.

I love Rise Against. I exclaimed. Michal said nothing, but smiled back with a grin that I felt could only be interpreted as Were going to get on well!

The band finished practicing, and chatted as they packed their instruments away. At the time, there was a NekNomination craze sweeping social media where people had to film themselves downing a beer before nominating a few friends who would then have to make their own video doing the same. The craze had hit Poland, and they told me I had to do one. I popped open a bottle, and poured the lukewarm beer into my mouth while Michal filmed. They were laughing and cheering as I finished the last dreg of beer from the bottle and I got an even louder cheer when I shouted I nominate Tomlins Mum at the end. I have no idea why I decided to nominate my friends Mum afterwards, but after several beers already it felt like the appropriate thing to do.

Afterwards we sat in a pub nearby. It was small, but busy and filled with a gentle hum of Polish. There was a dark mahogany bar where several metallic levers stood side by side and there wasnt a Fosters, Carling or Carlsberg in sight.

What do the British think of the Polish in the UK, Ryan? one of the band asked me. Unsure of how to appropriately respond to this, I tentatively explained to him that a lot of Polish had a bad name in the UK, because they supposedly come and take a lot of the jobs that are available and are willing to do it for a lower wage than the British would.

A lot of the time, those who leave Poland are the ones that are uneducated and have been unable to find a job in Poland. They leave for other countries, especially the UK, because the rate of pay is so much better there. The minimum wage here is just 8 Zloty an hour, yet in the UK you get more than triple that.

8 Zloty worked out to about 1.60 an hour a ridiculous amount. The next thing I remember was biting into a piece of greasy chicken and

staring at the box below. I couldnt eat it fast enough and debris poured out of my mouth and littered the table in front of me. Everyone was deep in conversation, but I was oblivious to anything else except my food. The room was spinning, and I ravenously tore the flesh off each piece of chicken barely even taking time to breathe in between. I glanced up as Michal as he curiously watched my battle with my fast food.

***

I woke up at about 11am the following morning thinking, my God, my mouth is ridiculously dry.

I slept beneath the skylight window in Michals apartment. The sun shone through the glass directly onto the bed where I lay on my back, with my

26 How To Travel The Land For Less Than A Grand mouth wide open. My head was throbbing. I clambered to the side of the bed in search for my phone. Each inch that I moved felt like a mile, and left me feeling even more fragile as I grabbed my phone delicately.

I read a message from Michal. Hed got up at seven to go to work, and left me his spare keys. He also told me that after the state I was in the night before, he expected Id have a disgusting hangover so recommended a place to eat nearby, and what to order, and even how to pronounce it if ever I made it there. I didnt.

How the hell did Michal manage to get to work, when I can barely make it to the edge of the bed without feeling like Im going to throw up? Im never drinking again.

That evening, I sat in another bar cradling a beer. Id joined Michal and a few others to go bowling, where I met Joanna and Alex. Alex had blond hair with dark blue eyes. He was originally from Ukraine, and wore a cream blazer with a high collared shirt beneath it. He had both ears stretched and smoked an ornate looking electronic cigarette, which I thought resembled a Harry Potter wand. I watched him throughout the night as he periodically held the wand to his mouth and released a strange, wispy vapour into the room.

Joanna was really cute. She had dark blond hair, light brown eyes and had a really simple, but incredibly contagious smile. She was confident, yet spoke with a soft, gentle voice which sounded both sophisticated and hypnotic as each syllable left her mouth.

Before he departed, Alex told me that we needed to meet up again before I left Wroclaw. This was something that I hoped would come to fruition.

I also spoke with the old lead singer of Michals band. When I left the band last year, I filled up my car with 50 of fuel and

drove to France. There I had the best summer of my life. he said. I would wake up every morning and spend a few hours playing the guitar and harmonica on the streets and people loved it. I would make 120 or more a day which was enough to go out partying, fill up my tank once again and move onto a new town.

That sounds incredible. It was, trust me. he said, leaning forward slightly. There are so many

pretty girls in France. I was there in the middle of summer, where they would walk around every day in little more than just a bikini. Its fair to say I made lots of girlfriends along the way! He winked.

There was one girl where we couldnt even talk to each other. She knew no English or Polish, and I knew no French, so we communicated entirely through Google Translate. It was the best relationship ever.

***

The following morning I was lying in bed, with the same dry mouth that I was becoming quickly accustomed to. There was the same bright sun, illuminating the room and the same pounding headache that attacked me whenever I tried to move. I still couldnt understand how the hell Michal had been able to get up and get to work once again, when I struggled with just getting out of bed.

Drunken Dj Vu 27 Whenever I asked him how he did it, he just smiled and said Thats rock n roll man!

I guess Im just not rock n roll. I thought disappointedly as I laid full of self-pity and unable to move without the anxious urge to vomit.

In the days that followed I managed to refrain from getting quite as drunk. One evening, I sat in a pub named Spiz with my new Couchsurfing host Krzyszstof and Wojtek, one of his flatmates. The pub was dimly lit and had deep crimson walls. By the bar sat huge copper barrels that glistened in dim light. It was full of people when we arrived, and we sat in the last three remaining seats at the bar. I took a huge mouthful of a caramel beer that Id been recommended. It was amazing. It had an almond brown colour and felt thick like a Guinness but tasted very light like a lager. After I swallowed, it left a sweet aftertaste that lingered in my mouth. I was in love.

Krzysztof was a confident guy. He had short, light brown hair and always wore an enthusiastic smile. As I would find out the next night, he was also quite the ladies man. Wojtek was the opposite. He had messy brown hair, and came across a lot shier, but we got along really well.

The next day, Krzysztof took me ice skating. I waddled cautiously onto the ice, gently edging one foot in front of the next. It had been many years since I last skated and it showed in my constantly wobbling legs. Krzysztof flew straight past me. Before we arrived he told me he loved getting out and doing things and that he was alright at ice skating. As I watched him speeding across the ice 10m ahead of me, I feel he may have under-exaggerated just how good he was.

I quickly adapted to the ice and within fifteen minutes I was feeling confident, but Krzysztof still skated well ahead. I watched as he appeared to glide effortlessly across the ice whereas I more or less stamped my way across. It intrigued me how he performed an elegant skid whenever he wanted to stop, and just like that hed be stationary. I decided to try it and so rushed forward stomping my way over the ice. Once I reached a good pace I tried to swivel and skid the way Krzysztof had. I didnt skid. My right foot stopped in the ice and my left continued hurtling towards it causing me to tumble over my own feet and land with a thud. I quickly got back to my feet and tried again at the next corner. And the next.

On one occasion, Krzysztof laughed as he skated past me as I laid defeated on the floor. He slowed down just ahead and waited for me to catch up, and pointed slyly to some girls who were skating just a little in front of us. In a soft voice, barely audible over the busy scratching of the skates, he said You should speak to them. Theyve been watching you, and they let out a cute chuckle every time you end up on the floor. Then, just like that, he skated off.

Needless to say, I didnt end up talking to them. I was gradually opening up and coming out of my shell more, but I still lacked the confidence to just go up and start talking to girls out of the blue.

28 How To Travel The Land For Less Than A Grand Later on, there were about eight of us sitting around a table in Krzysztofs

flat. In the centre were three bottles of vodka and four cartons of juice. The bottles of vodka were passed around and we each poured a generous amount into our glass.

Cheers, to Ryan and the rest of his trip! Wojtek shouted, and everybody lifted their glasses and downed their contents. This was followed by a glass of juice that we drank between each shot. Even the vodka was surprisingly satisfying and much tasted better than the paint-stripper-esque vodka that we have at home.

With every round of shots, we toasted something new and when we eventually ran out of things, we started toasting arbitrary things like oranges and tables.

Conversation floated between English and Polish and it began to get cruder. Who would you rather sleep with? A Polish guy or an English guy? somebody asked.

Yeah, who has a bigger dick? somebody else added with a laugh. The poor girl they were asking turned a bright shade of red, and stuttered

shyly I dont feel obliged to answer that. It began to approach midnight, and already I felt like there could be

another of my famous Wroclaw hangovers coming on, and wed not even left the flat yet.

When we finally reached the club, I was a mess. I staggered behind Krzysztof and followed him through the crowds of people. American dance music filled the club, and it was tightly packed with hundreds of Polish people grinding and dancing with one another. Every time the strobe lights flashed and lit up the room, I jumped like a fox in front of headlights. Krzysztof was a metre or two ahead gently negotiating his way through the crowd and I saw him approach two girls who were stood dancing on their own. I watched as he whispered in the ear of the blonde girl, and they both turned and started talking to him.

How the hell does he do that? I stood next to him, gently swaying from side to side. He introduced me

in English to the girls who both offered a little wave, but all I could manage was a big toothy grin in return. Krzysztof danced confidently and continued to chat with the girls meanwhile I moved awkwardly from side to side in a feeble attempt to copy his dancing and my mind began to wander. I looked around the club and saw a girl who looked like somebody I recognised from home. I watched as she danced with her friends and sipped the cocktail in her hand. It was strange that dotted across the world were two people who looked eerily similar but living totally separate lives. Perhaps we all have somebody who looks identical to us out there somewhere, yet most of us never come in contact with our non-biological twin. Perhaps there was another Ryan look-a-like out there somewhere.

In my intoxicated state, I made it my mission to find him one day.

I woke up the next morning with a dry mouth. I found myself spread out on my back yet again, but this time there was no bright morning sun piercing its way into the room. I fumbled around on the floor beside the bed, almost

Drunken Dj Vu 29 knocking over a glass of water, and picked up my phone. As I swiped through my pictures I began to piece together the last of the night before. I scrolled past a picture of me clinging desperately onto a vertical handrail in the tram, trying to keep myself upright. I found a picture of Krzysztof chatting with a few girls at the front of the tram, and instantly remembered my attempt to have a picture with one of them.

Come on youre missing out! I slurred. Im an international adventurer! She hadnt been as impressed as I thought she would.

I stumbled upon a video of Krzysztof and I performing our very best rendition of the chest humming song from The Wolf of Wall Street film, to the amusement of a number the other passengers on the tram, some of whom joined in.

Im so sorry liver. Im so so sorry! I said as I locked my phone with a click, dropped it beside me on the bed and fell into another alcohol induced daze.

***

A few days later, I found myself crawling through a small hole in a fence of wire mesh. There was barbed wire at the top of the fence, so something told me it wasnt an official path we were taking. Magdalena was just ahead of me. She was very beautiful, and had wavy brown hair that flowed behind her in the gentle wind.

Apparently she was completely oblivious to the overgrown grass, burnt out cars, and broken glass as we walked through fields that ran adjacent to some run-down flats.

We arrived at a yard where there stood several abandoned trains covered in graffiti.

Shall we go in? she asked. Before Id taken the time to answer she had started climbing into one of the abandoned carriages. Apparently, some of these trains were the ones that transported people to the concentration camps during the war.

I stepped inside the carriage behind her. There were broken beer bottles littering the dirty floor. It was clear from the remnants of clothing and food wrappers mixed among the debris on the floor that there had been squatters. Look, theres a half full beer bottle over there, Magdalena pointed across the dark carriage, I wonder if somebody has been here recently.

As we explored the trains I grew increasingly restless and began hopping from foot to foot. Magdalena must have felt that she unleashed a hidden interest in abandoned trains as I bounced with joy at the experience, but in reality I was doing everything in my power not to wet myself. I only met Magdalena a few hours before, and didnt want to appear a disgusting slob by peeing in the bushes. She was my Couchsurfing host for the next few nights, and the last thing I wanted to do was make a bad first impression. Yet, as we walked through the cramped interiors of the abandoned trains, I couldnt help but panic that I wasnt going to be able to hold on much longer. When we went

30 How To Travel The Land For Less Than A Grand back outside again she caught me doing star jumps. Im just trying to warm myself up! I said, as she raised an eyebrow in confusion.

We finally returned to Magdalenas flat, and I was able to relieve my bladder in what became both the longest and most satisfying wee Ive ever had.

That evening, Magdalena and I found ourselves taking part in a real-life escape game called Let Me Out, joined by Alex and Joanna who I met at bowling on Tuesday. We stood in what appeared to be just a normal apartment except for a small sign on the door that read Let Me Out. There was a woman standing opposite us who explained the rules of the game. Since she knew I was English, she handed me a piece of laminated paper with three or four rules on it while she read out the rules in Polish to Magdalena, Joanna and Alex. I was slightly dumbfounded at the fact she was speaking for nearly five minutes, animating her conversation with exaggerated hand gestures and facial expressions, and yet the translation Id been given was just a few simple rules and came to little more than fifty words in total. According to my sheet of rules, the aim of the game was to solve the clues inside the room to escape within the time limit.

After another five minutes, of drawn out introduction to the game, we were ushered into the room we had to escape from. It was small and there was an old wooden desk in one corner and a large cabinet in the other. It was full of different objects none of which were untypical for an ordinary home. There were suitcases, an old radio, a bookshelf lined with dusty books and a guitar case that was leaned up against the turquoise wall. A digital timer was mounted above the door that we entered through. In giant red LEDs it showed the 45 minutes we had to escape the room.

Everything was locked with a combination lock, and since they could scheme and strategise a lot easier in Polish, I had been given the role of designated clue-finder so I rummaged through the room in search of clues that could help us. There were numbers printed on the side of books, and on the bottom of other objects. There was a pack of cards that I shuffled through in search of other clues. Whenever I found something, I put it on the table so the others could use it to work out our escape.

After a little while, Joanna managed to get into one of the suitcases which enclosed a jacket. She held it up, searched its pockets and found a piece of paper with more numbers and symbols on it.

After I exhausted all the clues I could find, I spent about five, maybe ten minutes deciphering a combination and managed to get into another suitcase, which held yet another code.

I glanced up at the clock and there were two minutes left. How the hell were we going to escape? I looked at the others. Alex was looking up into the corner of the room. I could tell that despite how calm he appeared on the outside, on the inside his brain was in overdrive trying to work out the last of the clues. Joanna and Magdalena were in conversation with each other, both uttering short sentences back and forth in Polish while rearranging the clues that we found on the table.

One minute. I looked around the room. Was there anything wed missed? Was there a

link that we had not made? Or a clue that wed not found?

Drunken Dj Vu 31 Thirty seconds. I gazed at the various pieces of paper that were laid out on the desk. There

was a picture of an elephant, different shapes and a plethora of different numbers littering its entire surface.

The door creaked. We all spun around and the woman from the beginning was stood at the door. Sorry guys, time up!

Ahh, I dont believe how close we were. Alex said dejectedly as we sat in a bar after the game. The woman had explained that we forgot about some coordinates that wed found early on, and with these coordinates it would have helped us to solve the rest of the puzzle.

Cheers, to a great game! yelled Magdalena, who had already got over our defeat and had begun the nights toasts.

Cheers! we all agreed, and took our first shot in unison followed by a glass of juice. I could get used to this way of drinking vodka.

I didnt quite feel the same way about the vodka four hours later. After we left the bar we headed back to Magdalenas and sat in a circle on the wooden floor in her bedroom.

Im anyones if they give me pizza, Joanna said. She had grown more and more confident as she became increasingly drunk, and by now even her soft and hypnotic voice sounded more powerful than ever. She continued confessing her undying love for pizza for another minute or more and finally drew it all to a climactic finale by yelling Cheers, to pizza!

We all agreed and threw the vodka down our throats. I winced as I swallowed. It had lost its appeal now, and grew sicklier with every shot I did.

Joanna and Alex left shortly after 5:00am. Magdalena turned around from seeing them out the door, and I remained standing in the doorway to her bedroom. There was silence and I could feel a massive smile beaming across my face. She looked beautiful. She wore a loose fitting red shirt and tight blue jeans. I stared at her lips that were exaggerated by a thin layer of red lipstick that she wore.

I had a million things rushing through my mind. All night, Id admired her from afar. We all spent a great evening together and it had been little more than innocent admiration. But as I stood between her and her bed, I wondered if it was more than that. I kept looking at her lips. They looked big, soft and juicy against her pale skin. Both of us stood for a moment, slightly intoxicated, enjoying each others company in complete silence. She was smiling back. Was she thinking the same?

I was the first to break the silence. I had a really great evening I paused. So, I guess, Id better head to bed. Its late. Ill see you in the morning. I smiled at her again, and leaned over to hug her. We held for a few seconds, and then I turned around and walked to my room.

Bratislava How Not To Use A Krakow

Map ou can really taste the hops in this one. You taste that? And its got a malty taste too. Its completely different to the one we were drinking before.

I nodded. It tasted like typical dark ale to me, thick and beery. Hrabren, was an amateur beer taster. He and his girlfriend Anja, were from Croatia and were currently on a beer tour around Europe, stopping at various pubs and breweries along the way and trying the local specialities.

Hrabren had long dark hair and a thick beard. He had a gruff voice, but spoke in a friendly tone. Anja had a warm face and an enthusiastic smile. She also had dark brown hair that was tied up behind her head. I met them at the hostel, where I struck up conversation as they sat down on the sofa opposite me. They lived in Zagreb, and as soon as I mentioned that I would be visiting, Hrabren ripped out a piece of paper from his journal and began scrawling a detailed list of everything that I needed to do, including his Facebook details, email address and even his phone number.

By midnight, the hour and a half of sleep from the night before had caught up with me and I was fighting against my heavy eyelids.

Im going to call it a night, I said reluctantly.

***

They left the following morning to the next city on their beer tour, and it would be over 24 hours before I properly spoke to anybody again. Despite being big, clean and well decorated, my hostel lacked the vibe that Id experienced in Krakow. The common room remained mostly empty so I was forced to walk around Bratislava on my own.

Y

How Not To Use A Krakow Map 33 Under normal circumstances, this wouldnt be an issue. I enjoy my own

company, and sometimes look forward to spending a bit of time to myself. But in Bratislava, it left me feeling restless, so I decided to change to a smaller hostel hoping for a brighter, livelier atmosphere. After dropping off my things, and briefly chatting to the girls working there, I left to wander Bratislava on my own once again. It was a grey day which left Bratislava draped in a dreary veil. As I sat in a park to eat my lunch even the green of the grass looked bland and dull under the miserable neutrality of the sky above.

That afternoon, I was close to my previous hostel so decided to pop inside to use their wifi. I walked past the reception confidently, even lifting my hand with a wave, so they thought I was just another guest.

Im a little embarrassed about what happened next. I was tempted to leave out of the book, but I figured that its important to include the glamorous and not-so-glamorous aspects of travel. This is definitely the latter!

After my brief interlude online, I decided to use the toilet before wandering around Bratislava once again. As I finished I went to grab some toilet roll.

It was empty! In my big backpack at the hostel I knew I had a pack of tissues, but as I rummaged through my small drawstring bag I could find nothing that would suffice as a replacement.

I ran through various possible scenarios in my head. Maybe I could waddle to another toilet without anybody noticing. Or maybe I could just call out and hope somebody walks past nope, too embarrassing. I bent down over my exposed legs to my pockets and looked for anything even slightly resembling toilet paper. After delving into my pockets I finally pulled out a map of Krakow that I still had from the week before. I glanced at it, very aware of the big staples in the centre. This is going to have to do! I said aloud.

So one rule for all aspiring travellers, no matter what, no matter where you are, no matter what you are doing, just pack some damn tissues. Just in case.

That evening, I walked into a pub and saw Sophia, Simone and Marieke, the girls who were working in my hostel. They were sat at a table in the corner of the busy room. Id only spoken to them for a few minutes that morning, but after a lonely day I was relieved to finally see somebody I could chat with. Without thinking I made my way over to them.

Hey, do you mind if I join you for a bit? I asked. Of course not, pull up a seat! Sophia said. My grandparents have also

come to visit us, so theyre here too. In that moment, I suddenly noticed the smiling faces of her Nan and

Grandad staring kindly at me. Id been so excited to see somebody I recognised that I was completely oblivious of them as I approached. I gingerly pulled up a seat and slid into a gap between Sophia and her Grandad a little reluctant at first as I didnt want to encroach on their evening.

The grandparents spoke very little English, but through simple sentences and with the help of the girls translations, they told all sorts of stories about their life. The Grandad had had his own business and over the years hed

34 How To Travel The Land For Less Than A Grand travelled all over the world so he was full of funny anecdotes. After he finished one story, he patted me on the back. For you, Major Tom he said as he passed me a beer.

I stared back at him with a beaming smile. Thank you so much! Repeat after me, Sophia said a little later, Ich will sechs biere! Uhmm Eek.. weel.. sex.. bira? I struggled. What does it mean? Hmmm, kinda. It means I want six beers. she comforted me. Eek weel sex bira. I repeated proudly. Eek weel sex bira!

At two in the morning, I laid on my back looking up at the slats of the bunk bed above me. The room was spinning. Id had my fair share of six beers and several shots on top. Sophias Grandad had continued to treat me all evening, and refused whenever I tried to buy a round in return. After we said our goodbyes and I showered the grandparents with dankeschns, I laid on the common room floor with the girls. We played board games, ate fresh fruit and listened to Bob Marley. Every evening should end like this, I thought.

Thanks to the unprecedented kindness Id been shown that evening, my conversation drought was finally over.

Vienna Losing My Couchsurfing

Virginity he next day, I stood in a rainy Vienna, clutching a damp map of the city. Id made my way to the road where Ruth, my Couchsurfing host, lived. I slid the map into my back pocket and pressed hard on the buzzer of the

apartment block. The door clicked as it unlocked. I pushed but stumbled as I tried to open

it and it locked again in my face. Great start Tom! I gingerly buzzed again, but this time successfully made my way into the building like a normal person.

Inside it was dark. Ruth lived in the second building so I followed the corridor and walked through a door at the end into a little forecourt. I walked slowly into the second building, which was equally as dark as the first. I made my way up the stairwell to her apartment on the third floor and reality sank in. Here I was, making my way to a complete strangers flat in the middle of a city and country Ive never been before. Had I lost my mind? I thought of Ruth, waiting for me in her apartment. Surely she must be even more apprehensive than I was. She was letting a male with no Couchsurfing references sleep on her couch, so I figured if either of us had the right to be feeling nervous about our encounter it should be her.

A gentle glow began to illuminate the stairwell. After I turned another bend in the stairs I saw an open door ahead. In the doorway was a silhouette waving at me.

Hey Tom, come in! As I drew closer, I could see the silhouettes smiling face emerge from the

darkness. Ruth had mousy brown hair and gentle blue eyes, and she spoke timidly. Youre just in time for dinner.

She was studying for her Masters degree in music and lived in a small apartment a thirty minute walk away from the centre of Vienna. Her main living room doubled up as her bedroom and as I walked in, there was already put a pink duvet and pillow on her couch ready for me. There was a desk at

T

36 How To Travel The Land For Less Than A Grand the far end of the room, and next to it stood her recorder and music stand. We sat down at her table, and chatted over dinner.

I awoke the following morning to the sound of Ruth pottering about in the kitchen. Morning Ruth, do you mind if I have a shower? I said sheepishly, as I got up and joined her. I still wasnt sure of the Couchsurfing etiquette yet.

No of course not, she chuckled. But Im heading out soon, so Ill leave the spare key on the table for you!

Fifteen minutes later, I came out of the shower to an empty flat. After grabbing my things I walked over to the kitchen table, where Ruth had left the key and there was a steaming bowl of porridge that Ruth had left me for breakfast. Amazing!

After I wolfed down my breakfast, I noticed there was a counter full of dirty dishes, so I washed them as a small gesture of my gratitude.

I spent most of the day following the annotations Ruth had scrawled on my soggy map which highlighted some of the cheap things that she recommended. Needless to say, there werent many cheap things in Vienna, so after a few hours I found myself sat with my laptop at a small table in Starbucks.

I held my coffee to my lips, seduced by its captivating aroma. I gazed around the room and noticed a foreign man walking from table to table. He had dark olive skin, short black hair and dressed in dirty clothes. He appeared to be trying to sell one of the dozen magazines that he clutched in his stained hands. He reached the table beside me where there were two young girls sat. I watched him in my peripherals as he leant over their table aggressively trying to persuade them to buy a copy. After repeated refusals, he accepted defeat and rushed outside. I focused on my laptop once again and normality appeared to resume within Starbucks.

Nooo! One of the girls on the table next to me sped towards the door, quickly followed by her friend. I saw them pacing up and down frantically outside the door. They were both attractive Latina girls with dark hair and beautiful dark eyes. The shortest girl was about five foot five, and I noticed her dark eyes were now red and overflowing with tears. She walked through the door with her hands either side of her head, tugging aggressively at her hair in desperation. Her friends face was also panic-stricken and she had her arm over her companions shoulder.

People from all over the store jumped to their feet and rushed over. There was a chorus of Whats wrong?

He stole my phone, she wept, unable to utter more than a syllable between each flustered sob.

I knew he looked suspicious! an American chimed in. You mean the guy with the dark skin, who wore that red shirt and light jeans who was trying to sell the magazine? I couldnt help but feel he must have been in law enforcement back in the States because he had noticed much more about the man than I had. What a bastard!

A member of staff walked over. Hey girls, Im so sorry for what happened, she said. Would you like me to call the police? And please let me get you both something to drink. Would you like a latt each? The girls nodded, seemingly answering both questions with the single gesture.

Losing My Couchsurfing Virginity 37 Thank you! they added. A group of five or us sat by their table trying to console them. The girls

explained that theyd landed in Vienna that morning. They were both from Mexico, and it was their first time travelling in Europe. What a start theyd had now. After the initial shock of the robbery, the girl who lost her phone rationalised that the most important thing to her was the data on her phone. She didnt really care about the phone itself, she could get another, but she didnt want the bastard to be able to get to her data.

Use my laptop! I insisted. I had been listening somewhat passively to the conversation up until then, but at that moment I realised that the girl would be able to change all her passwords from my laptop and protect her data.

As she did, I tried to comfort them and explain that the world is actually a kind, caring and generous place, but it was just the work of one asshole. It was the first day of their trip to Europe, and I didnt want to think of them cowering in fear for the remainder of it.

Its funny, said the victim through a bit more of a smile, We come from Mexico, where its supposedly full of drugs cartels and gang crime, but Ive never had any issues there. Then the minute we step into one of Europes most cultured cities, I get my phone stolen.

After she finished, I walked them to the police station to issue a statement about the robbery. We exchanged hugs, and with a grateful smile she thanked me for all Id done to help.

I left the police station upset that the two innocent girls, who had been so friendly and kind, were taken advantage of in such a way. It came as an unwelcome reminder that despite all the kindness and generosity I had seen and experienced over the last two weeks, evil still persists to rear its ugly head every day. I began the walk to Ruths and thought back to a moment in the film I Am Legend when Will Smiths character explains how Bob Marley had been shot two days before he was due to perform at a peace rally. The shot hadnt been fatal, so two days later he still showed up to perform. When Bob Marley was asked afterwards why he still showed up, he calmly said The people who are trying to make this world worse are not taking a day off, so how can I? Light up the darkness!

I reflected that its the same today. The people who are making the world worse show up every day rain or shine. In the same way weve got the responsibility to show up every day and do the opposite. Its not good enough to spend time being complacent. Just because were not doing evil doesnt mean were doing good. The people who are making the world worse dont do it through complacency.

Weve all got the responsibility to bring our best self to the world and actively make it a better place. We must do good, and we must do it often!

***

A few days later I found myself right in the heart of Viennas labyrinthine streets. My next location was Brno in the Czech Republic, and Id arranged a lift there using BlaBlaCar. I was meeting a Polish guy named Witold on the outskirts of Vienna in two hours time.

38 How To Travel The Land For Less Than A Grand The trouble was, I still needed to get there. During my three days there,

Id quickly learnt that Vienna was incredibly difficult to navigate around as a pedestrian. Each street looked almost the same as the next, and none of them seemed to resemble the streets that I had on my worn out map. Today was no different. I walked around flittering between my map, the GPS on my phone and the street signs. I had to make it to the train station to get a mainline train out of the city centre to the spot where Id arranged to meet Witold. There was just one train that I could catch that would get me there on time, and it left at 13:18. I glanced at my phone; it was 12:56. Shit!

I approached two Austrian men who were sat having a beer and asked for directions. Oh, you wont make that in time if you walk, youll have to take the tram. He said and pointed towards a tram station across the street.

A tram was just slowly pulling up, so I thanked them and leapt across the road, narrowly missing another tram that had appeared in the opposite direction. I jumped on, made my way to the ticket machine, which was on the tram itself, and opened my wallet. I didnt have any money for a ticket. The tram only accepted coins, and except for about thirty cents, all I had were notes. I looked at my phone, it was 13:03. Shit!

I stepped back from the machine and held onto the handrail with bated breath. I couldnt help but feel that everybody knew that I hadnt bought a ticket, and thought it was only a matter of time before the driver would turn around and ask for it. We passed one stop. Then another. Then another.

At the fourth stop, I jumped off and ran into the train station. It was busy, and I darted around hopelessly looking for a ticket office where I could ask which ticket I needed to get. There wasnt one. At least, none that I could find in the short space of time that I had, so I sprinted to one of the ticket machines. There were three or four pages of ticket options to choose from, and none of them resembled the station I needed to go to. Vienna was proving more difficult to escape from than Azkaban.

I glanced at my phone. 13:16. Shit! I picked a random ticket. Paid. And ripped it out of the machine. I shot down a leg of stairs faster than I thought humanly possible, and saw the train in the station. I sprinted towards it, jumped on and slumped onto the closest seat I could find. Moments later the doors closed. 13:18.

Brno Batting For The Opposite Team arrived in Brno a few hours later. Witold had been a really great guy in his late twenties. We chatted the entire ride and he dropped me off even closer to the city centre than wed initially arranged. At my new hostel I met two

girls named Irene and Miriam, who worked together in Slovakia. Irene was from Spain, and she was very beautiful with long brown hair and dark skin. Miriam was from Austria, and she had fair, shoulder-length hair, a pretty face and a very warm smile.

It was ten in the evening when the three of us left the hostel in search of a bar. Wed already shared a few beers and were barely 100m away from the hostel when we saw a police car turn its flashing lights on and come screeching to a stop just next to us.

What the hell is going on? I said. I was even more confused when the policeman leapt out the car and made

his way quickly towards us. Give me your IDs! he demanded. We complied and he returned to the police car, leaving us standing bewildered and ID-less in the street.

Minutes later, the policeman once again re-emerged from the car. He spoke in bad English, but managed to utter You cross ze road when ze man is ztill red, and he pointed to the pedestrian crossing to his right.

But it was completely clear, I thought bemused, but decided against voicing my opinion. Instead I remarked Im sorry. In the UK its not illegal to cross when the man is red!

With that, he handed back our IDs not before doing a double-take at mine. He glanced down at my driving license where I have long hair, a young face and a little stubble, and he glanced back up at my slowly receding hairline and messy ginger beard.

Yeah, Ive changed a bit since then! I added with a laugh.

I

40 How To Travel The Land For Less Than A Grand I still cant believe we got stopped by the police! Irene laughed as I

handed her a beer. I still cant believe this entire round came to only 2.25! I said with a

huge smile. After our encounter with the law, we made our way to a quirky alternative club. We entered through a relaxed bar area, and made our way down some steps to the club in the basement below. It had low ceilings and white walls, and except for glowing lights under the bar it lacked your typical strobe lights you tend to find in a normal club. In fact, I think thats why I liked it.

Soon, we had also bought Becherovka, a Czech cinnamon liquor, to accompany our beers. After less shots than Id like to admit, I found myself dancing like a crazy man to the lively dance music that filled the club. Everyone was. It was only small, and must have held no more than thirty or forty people, but everybody bounced around wildly, to celebrate their Friday night.

Cheers! yelled Peyton, over the loud music. He was a bubbly black guy who was part of a French group wed befriended. He passed us around another shot of Becherovka and we knocked it back with his toast.

Drinks continued to reappear in my hand. As soon as Id finish one, thered be another waiting for me. I found this partly due to one guy I met. He was a local, and before he opened his mouth he looked like he should speak with a cockney accent. He had black gelled hair, chubby cheeks and would have fit perfectly in the cast of Eastenders. That was until he opened his mouth and then his Czech accent was undisguisable.

He sometimes worked at the club, so periodically popped behind the bar throughout the night and re-emerged with several glasses of drinks.

I dont understand, he keeps getting me drinks! I said to Miriam. We think he likes you, she winked. Weve been watching him. My face

dropped a little. Id been oblivious. Sadly, one of the French girls had been the opposite. She was short with

brown hair and beautiful dark eyes. She had a really cute face, and spoke with a husky, seductive French accent. Despite my best efforts to chat with her, they amounted to little more than drunken murmurs on my behalf.

We continued drinking. The room was filled with cigarette smoke, which hung in the air thick like fog. Or maybe things were just getting very blurry.

Then there came a crash from behind me. I spun around, and there, lying on the floor, was the DJ who had sent a table toppling over as he lost his balance and fell to the ground. He was completely motionless, his wide pupils staring absentmindedly into the corner of the room. It was time to go.

A few days later, I found myself in a little caf. I sat at a small table with one of the locals. Earlier that day, Id contacted a girl named Lucia on Couchsurfing, and even though she was out of the country, she had arranged for her flatmates to host me until she returned. Her flatmates both worked at the caf, so I was waiting until they both finished and closed up for the night. Jara had short hair and a pristine beard totally the opposite to my messy, unflattering and increasingly ginger travel beard. Teresa was very sweet, and had short brown hair and a friendly face. She spoke with a soft, soothing voice that reflected unwavering kindness.

Batting For The Opposite Team 41 Small tree branches were being used as coat hangers and hung from the

unpainted walls. There were lights sculpted from old beer bottles and mismatched furniture throughout. Loud chatter filled the caf and continued perpetually into the night.

After a few hours they began to pack up. I offered to help and asked to pay my bill for the soup and the beer Id had. No, dont worry. Its on me! Teresa said. I smiled back gratefully.

Most of my week consisted of the same routine. I would spend some of the morning chatting with my Couchsurfing hosts over breakfast. This began as Jara and Teresa at the beginning of the week, and by the end Id moved onto another host named Dany. This was usually followed by a brief walk into the city centre, where I would wander to one or two of the sights to tick them off, so to speak, before finally retreating to a coffee shop, a little before 11:30. There, Id stay sipping coffee for a more generous part of the day. Finally, each evening Id retire back to my Couchsurfing hosts place and spend the evening chatting over tea, chilling out or playing board games as was the case with Dany.

Sometimes, I would mix things up a little. When Lucia returned to Brno, she took me along with her to a special event at a caf. We joined a small crowd of people and gathered around a projector to watch a documentary called Roadmap to Apartheid. Lucia was a short, attractive girl and had large dark eyes. Events like this were a regular part of her agenda and she was passionate about helping raise awareness to overcome injustice and inequality in the world.

Most of the documentary was in English, but every so often it slipped into Czech, deeming it completely uninterpretable for me. So I was astounded when Lucia leaned close to my ear and whispered the English translation whenever it did.

On one afternoon, I sat in the beautiful park by Brno Castle. It had benches scattered along a long winding path which took you from the roadside all the way up the hill to the castle. On this particular afternoon, the sun shone brightly in the sky and made the entire park glow a refreshing shade of green. It was late February, but the weather made it feel like spring had arrived. I wasnt the only one who thought so either. As I rested on one of the parks many benches, I watched it slowly fill up with others who were out to enjoy the first glimpse of spring.

I heard a man talking English on a phone a few metres away. I watched, as he hung up, swivelled around and began to walk past me.

Hey, I said with a nod of the head. Where the hell did that come from? Without even thinking, Id just inadvertently greeted a random stranger.

As a child, Id always been extremely shy, and would often feel anxiety or pressure speaking to my peers let alone complete strangers, but apparently my subconscious was more outgoing now and decided to just spark up random conversation with strangers.

Hey, he said. Its a beautiful day isnt it? He spoke in a strong, gravelly Irish accent. He introduced himself as Colum and told me that hed recently

42 How To Travel The Land For Less Than A Grand moved to Brno to live with his girlfriend who he met whilst he was travelling in Australia. He was currently looking for work, and in fact hed just got off the phone with a potential employer. He took a seat and we chatted for a while.

Take my number, well go and grab a drink before you leave Brno, he said as he got up to leave, and with that, I jotted down his number, and returned to my book. I began to realise that the boundaries that we feel between us and other strangers tend to be self-imposed. Really, theres a whole world out there of good people, those who want to laugh, and smile, and make genuine connections.

In this smartphone era, we tend to lose ourselves in our phones and guard ourselves with headphones while we tune out from the world around us. Were completely disconnected with the people were rubbing shoulders with on the tube or sharing a bench with in the park. Instead were more focused on getting to the next level on Candy Crush or seeing how many of our friends have shared yet another picture of their Nandos on Instagram or tagged themselves in the gym on Facebook. Its a sad reality but as I just learned, true connection is still out there, and while the rest of the world might be lost in their mobile devices, its a better time than ever for us to start making a difference.

On my last night, I did indeed meet with Colum again and finally, after a week with enough coffee to keep a small horse awake for over a year, my very laidback week in Brno came to an end. My next stop, Budapest, where I was about to bump into someone...

Krakow Farewell Social Skills

t 9:30pm the following day, I was crouched over in a street in Krakow with my laptop out, trying to hide its glowing screen so I didnt draw too much

attention to myself. I had arrived by coach and carefully followed directions on my tablet from the bus station to the hostel my phones battery had already died en route to Krakow. I stood in the street where my hostel was supposed to be and looked up and down the dead-end road. This makes n