Thursday 13 December 2012

On Frozen Roads

I was roughly shoved in the back and told to follow the other men outside. We walked through the snow to a small garage crammed with saws and axes and a noisily buzzing fridge. I had no idea what we were here for but I smiled my best smiles and nodded my best nods. A grizzled man with a drunken red face reached down and produced a bottle of some vile reeking poison, 'home-made!' said another. Was it a Molotov cocktail? Was I about to be axed to death in a cellar? Where even was I? Well, I'm afraid the answer to the first two questions is rather disappointingly 'no' and the answer to the third is 'at an 80th birthday party in Slovenia'. It greatly amused me that the men retired post-dinner to pass noxious spirits in the garage, perhaps the flavour of rosemary brandy just isn't the same unless accompanied by the scent of man and power tools. Though I'm not usually into such gender apartheid, I was very glad I wasn't inside with the women, watching a two-year-old and a four-year-old perform plays, so I took my slugs of spirits gladly and grunted (and shoulder-punched) with the best of them.

We were staying with a family just outside the Slovenian capital of Ljubljana in a world of pine and snow and wooden houses. We had left Italy a few days before having decided to end our trip on one last mad wee jaunt through Europe. Ljubljana itself was a great little city where we stayed in a great little hostel that was once a prison (our window was still barred). The hostel and many of the graffiti smeared surrounding buildings were saved from destruction by squatters years ago and now form the area of Metalkova, a kind of free-state within the city. After Italy's conformity to fairly conservative norms, it was great to be in a place that revelled in quite the opposite. As the snow piled upon the recycled artworks of Metalkova, we walked into the old town and drank mulled wine as the sun slipped down the icy sky and the streets glowed with a thousand Christmas lights. With our breath like smoke and our feet like stone we decided we needed a hot bath. Where better to fulfil such a desire, we thought, than Budapest?
Metalkova, Ljubljana, Slovenia
After a seven hour train journey through snowy fields we steamed into the Hungarian capital. Here too the streets were a twinkle with snow and fairy lights and the wind blew icily down the grand boulevards. The next morning we had found our bath and were slipping into the steamy waters of an antique pool. While fat Hungarians in Speedos played chess, we lay back and looked up at the winter skies and watched the steam roll away past the statues and curlicues and breathed sighs of a contentment that was surely fathoms deep. It's been so long since we've had a proper hot bath that I fancy there may have been Indian train grime washed away by those waters, not to mention Chinese desert dust and Kyrgyz kebab grease. That was supposed to come out sounding like a romantic recall of our journey but has actually just left us sounding quite dirty. Still, it's probably also quite accurate.
The baths at Budapest, Hungary
Budapest was an extremely beautiful city and we really enjoyed our time there, but there was somehow an air of sadness. The grand streets seemed sparsely populated, people in cheap clothes huddled against the cold, the glory of the architecture hovering like a faded dream above their heads. As in many formerly-communist countries in this time of failed capitalism, people often speak with great nostalgia of the social security they once had and the bleak uncertainty of the future. So, having had quite enough of whinging poor people we headed west to Vienna.

Note: just in case it wasn't clear, that last line was intended as a joke. I have nothing against people who whinge.

I was very interested to visit Vienna as it, along with Budapest, filled a hole in the history of our journey. Not only was it the seat of power that ruled over many of the lands we passed through back in January (the Habsburg Empire) but also the furthest westerly point reached by the Mongol hordes who raged west from Central Asia. However, though it was only days ago, my only concrete memories of Vienna are of intense cold. The cold had seemingly scoured the streets of all life and was busy chilling the joy from us too. It certainly seemed nice but I do clearly recall us standing in front of that famous ferris wheel after a long, cold stomp through the city and Nic saying with genuine feeling 'This is sh*t' and me having to cajole her back to happiness with an oversized wurst. That was genuinely, genuinely not meant to be innuendo but, reading it back, I can understand it could perhaps be read as such.

Anyway, I'm going to get us all out of Vienna before this all descends into filth. We took a train to the Slovakian capital of Bratislava and, though I can't put my finger on exactly why, it was really lovely. Maybe it was the snow falling oh so prettily, maybe it was the small lanes winding up to the castle, maybe it was the fact that a beer cost 50cents. Mostly though, it was the people that we met that have made it special. From documentary makers and Olympic swimmers to doctors of poetry we met some fascinating and wonderful people in that lovely little town.
Bratislava, Slovakia
After Bratislava we decided we had truly had enough of old towns and castles on hills and Christmas markets and people called things like Zoltan, so decided to cut across Europe to that capital of cool, Berlin. The icy winds were not in our favour however and due to various factors (mainly the ticket price) we were blown instead to Prague. We really had had enough of such places but thought we'd deign to give it a try (I'm sure your hearts bleed for us). But do you know? Prague is amazing! Who'd of thought? I thought it would be one of those things like caviar or Frank Sinatra or Forrest Gump that everyone seems to think is good when actually it's just sh*t. But no! I can't describe how beautiful it was to step out onto the Charles Bridge with the snow falling, with the Gothic spires and statues all frosted white and the gargoyles drooling icicles. Even at this late stage, it seems this trip still has surprises in store for us. Can't be too many though, we're going to be home in a week. Bloody hell.
Prague, Czech Republic

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