Cordoba to Granada

SIGHISOARA: I keep wanting to update my blog more but it seems like my travel companions are incapable of organising anything so I'm left grabbing snatches of time to blog something. I've been wanting to add something about the bus journeys for ages so here goes.

Coming from Cordoba to Granada I wasn't expecting too much but as the bus pulled out of town and across the river into the countryside I was astonished by dusty fields that seemed to roll around the hills. The land looked dead though at the same time it was quite obviously farmed and cultivated. Occasionally it was broken up by groves of small hardy olive trees. When towns came into view they were invariably a mosaic of white, carving up the hill like cubists. Known as pueblo blancos, and as often as not topped with castles, these villages are a sight to behold.

But perhaps the most astonishing part of this journey came as we climbed still higher, cutting in and out of the hills like an expert knitter with her thread. And then, as we rounded one hill, the enormous Sierra Nevada reared up between the hills dominating the skyline. It was at once like an American desert scape and like nothing I'd ever seen. I had my headphones on to soak up the Leone-esque atmosphere and all I could do was stare with my jaw hanging loose.

Saxon Churches and Wild Dogs

SIGHISOARA: Still in Romania, actually will be for most of the week. We've spent the last two nights, with two to go, in the town of Sighisoara in north western Transylvania. There's not actually a great deal to do here - we sat up and watched a crap Kim Basinger movie last night - but it's a great base to explore the surrounding area.

On the first day we explored Sighisoara's citadel which is the oldest continually inhabited citadel in Europe. The citadel is kind of like a citizen's castle and includes fortified walls and a number of chuchs. Perched atop a hill it gives you fantastic views and a real sense of what life must have been like inside the fortified city. After wandering up and down the dusty lanes checking out the ancient houses we stopped in for some palinka and wine at a local distiller, before knocking back a couple at Dracula's (Vlad Tepes) birthplace, then rolling down the hill for the biggest pork knuckle I've ever seen. We were, or at least I was, celebrating the election win.

Yesterday we rented a car off some local chancer who has connections to our hostel and toured the surrounding countryside checking out the fortified Saxon churches. Now if you haven't read the relevant Lonely Planet pages, these churches were turned into mini-castles during the Middle Ages to protect themselves, and their villagers, from marauding Ottoman's and Tartars. Basically inaccessible by public transport they are found at the end of dirt tracks in the midst of ramshackle villages. At different times we were forced to dodge horse and carts, turkeys, cows, horses, goats, sheep and dogs. At several stops we also had to bribe little gypsy urchins with chewing gum and fake M&M's to leave us alone. We also had the chance to drive through a gypsy village though that was a little disappointing.

If I get a chance to post some pictures I will. They paint the scene a lot better. Basically what you've got is a little valley, nestled between some rolling hills, surrounded by flocks of sheep, harvested corn and fallow fields, smoking rising from the chimney's of the shacks that make up the villages, various old women in shawls and languid men walking or lounging around and in the midst of this is a church with several bastions and some impressive walls. Most of them were closed but one or two we could walk around inside.

Today we visited another UNESCO listed one at the end of ten k's worth of dirt road but unfortunately the tracks seemed to muddy so we couldn't get closer but we still had fun. Tomorrow we're off to see Sibiu and then to the Bucovina Monasteries before heading into the Ukraine on Friday.

Castles

BRASOV: Another day, another castle. This morning we started with a local bus to Bram Castle famous, for a reason we can't entirely discern, as Dracula's castle. It had nothing to do with ole Fangy, but somehow a connection was forged and the owner's, and the local town, have used it as an excuse to print money and tacky Dracula t-shirts ever since. Unfortunately the castle is - what's a polite way of saying this - probably most likely to win piss weak award 2007. Kind of quaint inside with lovely wooden ceilings, a nice hidden staircase, and a charming collection of small rooms and the occasional view but unfortunately not really worth the trek out there.

Luckily we were also due to visit Rasnov fortress. Rather than being a monarch's castle, this particular citadel was built by the townsfolk to protect them for marauding Turks and Tartars. Originally just a collection of rubble, it had been bought by some business interests who are currently in the process of restoring the castle. It has stunning views of the surrounding hills (think Cold Mountain), an archery enclosure (which I utilised), a little museum and some surviving walls. I probably can't be bothered getting eloquent in my description but I've got pictures. It would probably be in the top half a dozen castles I have seen and was accessible by a particularly, given the snow and ice on the ground, treacherous goat track.

We had a picnic lunch - we're poor backpackers. And were accosted by two donkeys who chased us into the citadel.

In other news we've finally got our Trans-Man tickets sorted so we'll be sitting beside Lake Baikal sipping champagne come Christmas morning. Off to drink three pints for two quid.

Brassed Off

BRASOV: Our wheeler dealer train conductor found us a room. We walked around the town, saw the churches, walked the city walls, checked out the square and took a cable car to the top of a mountain high above the city to look at all the snow covered roofs. I would say more but I just did my last post, I barely slept last night on the train, and I'm absolutely shattered. Off to see a couple of castles tomorrow.

Oh and Katie would be upset if I didn't tell you all that she clumsily managed to smash a full wine bottle that I was carrying in my day bag yesterday drenching not only the entire bag, most of my books but also most of the floor of the train station as we waited, painfully, for our international train.

Bring Me the Finest Wines Known to Humanity

BRASOV: After a boozy evening in Budapest we fled the city towards Eger in the heart of Hungarian wine country. Famous for a number of wines, including the evocatively titled Bulls Blood, it is also one of Hungary's most beautiful small towns renowned for its abundance of baroque castles. Upon arrival we hiked into town, no small ask, eventually located a private room and then lunched on yet another goulash. I set off to try and locate a thermal bath in the next town over but when that proved too difficult I settled for one in Eger and lounged around in a steaming outdoor pool for a couple of hours.

The next morning we climbed the rather disappointingly castle, looked around the town a little more and then headed to the town's number one draw, "The Valley of the Beautiful Women". Rather than a holdout for high street honey's, it's a series of little bolt hole style wineries carved into the sides of mountain. Ranging from big professional jobbies to home brew type of outlets it's a brilliant place to try and buy. Needless to say we tried a lot and purchased some, in plastic two liter bottles, that we've been lugging around with us for a couple of days. The best places were those run by little old men who speak no English, smoke quietly in the corner, and make their own wine from vines they grow out the bag. In the evening Kate and I dined in some flash restaurant on game.

The next day we headed north to Tokaj in search of some of the deliciously sweet wines for which the region is renowned. However nobody told us it is almost completely shut down in winter. Draped in a thick, soupy fog and virtually deserted of life the village evoked a Lynchian atmosphere which, despite being somewhat interesting for a while, failed to quell our bacchanalian desires. We eventually did find a winery open unfortunately it was devoid of character and we were forced to conduct the tasting, according to guidelines laid down in our trusty LP, ourselves. Still some of the wine, mainly desert wines, was sublime. We retired early to watch Hungarian cable TV, in Hungarian. Dull winter town.

Yesterday we hiked into town with full knowledge of the days train strike but determined to get to Romania. After waiting at the station for almost three hours, and discovering some lovely wineries that would have been perfect the previous day, we hopped our first train, changed en route to our international connection, arrived and that's where our problems began. A three hour delay and some very strained, though somewhat enjoyable, Hungarian-Romanian-English conversation later and we were well on our way to arriving at a motel in Cluj Napoca, four kilometers across town, that no one wanted to stay at.

Thankfully we managed to strike a deal with the conductor (I'm pretty sure the cash went straight into his pocket) to stay on till Brasov figuring we would make it back to our original destination, Sighiosora, at a later date. That was how we came to be, waking up to an odd sunrise in the plains that sit high up in the sky somewhere in the Carpathian Mountains.

Granada

SPLIT: Because I'm so far behind I thought I'd bash out four minutes worth of thoughts and reflections from Granada, where we were about a week or so ago.

Two of the nights we spent staying in a converted cave carved into one of the hillsides overlooking the city. Smoking a cigarette from a scenic outlook, the city shimmered in the cold night sky like an American desert town. It also provided a great opportunity for self catering though that seemed to turn bad when the power failed, with eight pork chops on the stove. Luckily the owner Ravey Davy turned up with his Bit to save the day.

The big draw in Granada is the Alhambra, a palace built by the Moors and still currently standing. A testament to Islamic craftsmanship and architecture it stands atop a hill dominating the skyline and features multiple gardens, palaces and fortifications. This really is an Andalusian theme. Courtyards, fountains, gardens and mosaics. We spent the afternoon walking the gardens and checking out the various palaces before retiring for an evening of raciones and tapas.

This is the conclusion to an early post so I'm going to move quickly in the interests of catching up. We walked the hills and checked out the old buildings. Cooked. Ate. Walked.

Los Apuljurras

BUDAPEST: On the first full day in Grenada we hired a car and drove up into the Sierra Nevadas. Quickly rising above the treeline, the snow capped peaked were just beyond us. We'd come up over 3000 metres in less than an hour when we were turned away. It's a national park at the top and we didn't realise. So we drove back down then around the mountains towards Los Apuljurras a smaller mountain range. A road winds up and along the mountains, at times falling away dramatically to the valley floor. We took pictures of the stunning countryside and stopped at a couple of villages that had been built, like precarious mountain goats, into the sides of the mountains. On the way home we visited a rustic Spanish village where Rob's parent's had once purchased a pile of bricks. Proper Leone country.

Croatia

BUDAPEST: Did a whistlestop tour of Croatia. After Venice and Trieste but I want some time to devote to the Biennale so I'll do that later. Caught a bus from Trieste to Rijeka, got to pass through Slovenia, changed on a bus to Karlovace and then through to Plitvice Lakes. Stayed in a Tito era apartment building. Got up, walked the Plitvice Lakes. Absolutely stunning network of lakes featuring aqua water and huge, interlinked waterfalls, wooden walkways that take you, literally, over the waterfalls, stunning views, even some caves. Google it. Words, especially these brief ones, don't do it any justice. Caught a bus from the roadside to Split. Walked around Diocletian's Palace, watched the Champion's League, caught a bus to Dubrovnik. Walked the city walls in the driving rain, ate an amazing meal of calamari, stayed in a house that had been rebuilt after the shelling, walked the narrow streets and was charmed by this beautiful place.

The bus journeys in Croatia, and the bus from Cordoba to Granada, are worth their own post so I'll do that next. Suffice to say that scenery, rugged hills, mountains falling into the soft blue of the Adriatic, bullet holes, endless battle scars, is amongst the most moving I've ever encountered. But I'll say more about that at a later date.

Off to Eger tomorrow to drink wine.

After Granada

BUDAPEST: Hired a car, drove through some gorges, stopped at an almost deserted beach and ate delicious fish. Drove along the ocean towards Malaga. Caught part of the end of an All Souls Parade. Kind of like a scene from that Bond film set in New Orleans. Masks and music that seems spook because of the solemnity with which it's played. Got drunk. Said goodbye to Rob and Karen. Got up caught a plane to Milan airport, bus into Milan, train to Venice.

Cordoba

BUDAPEST: Arrived in the rain. Got soaking wet. Got off at the wrong bus stop. Got even wetter. Ate dinner in the courtyard restaurant at our hotel. Watched cable which included a 24 hour a day horror film channel. In Spanish. But I'm easily pleased. Walked the Jewish quarter, the various old squares and plazas, wandered, got lost, looked at courtyards and mosaics, saw a statue and building that featured in Don Quixote. Tried to go to the football but it proved to expensive so instead stood in a dusty carpark and watched the cheering fans. Went to a flamenco show but it got canceled because Kate and I were the only people who turned up. Visited the Mezquita, an old Mosque that was converted into a cathedral. Features the ubiquitous orange garden and a stunning network of vaulted arches. Went to a hamman and bathed in reconstructed Arab luxury. Three pools, candle lit, very relaxing. Then had tea and Turkish sweets on a roof top terrace.

Seville

BUDAPEST: Not their now. Obviously. But loved it when I was. Very strong Andalusian feel, complemented by the Moorish flavor. Lots of walking down streets and peaking into the courtyards of houses with beautiful mosaics, fountains and gardens. Drinking at bars on small squares. A lovely cathedral. The Real Alcazar is a stunning Moorish palace with some of the most amazing gardens. Did a tour of the Bullring. Got drunk on a bar that was floating on the river. Went to Pilate's House, a proper Moorish house. Stunning mosaics and gardens. Is there a theme here? Ate a lot of tapas and drank Cruzcampo. Walked through the Gypsies quarter where we tried to order two sandwiches. Instead we got a plate of meat (pork chops, pork fillet, chicken, ribs, etc. served on a bed of chips) for about twelve euros. Walked around in shorts. Checked out the city walls and the art gallery which includes stunning courtyards and paintings by Zubaran. Maybe we did more but what I remember best was walking around in a sunny daze knocked out by the stunning architecture.

Hungry in Hungary

BUDAPEST: Kate has been wanting to make that dreadful joke for weeks so I thought I might as well save it for posterity. Since I last blogged we left Sarajevo at seven in the morning and caught a twelve hour train that took us to Budapest. On two cars, with at one stage only four people on board, it was one of the oddest train journeys I have ever taken. It didn't help that we spent the first couple of hours shivering in an unheated compartment while the conductors laughed at us. A search for clean toilets revealed that the other carriage was heated. We also got to pass through three separate border crossings and enjoy some of Bosnia's best scenery. Parts of North are the industrial heartland of the country and the northbound journey winds alongside a lovely river that would be beautiful if it wasn't clogged with plastic bags and other detritus. Their are also numerous factories pumping sundry pollutants into the waters.

But the journey was worth it when we finally arrived in Budapest. The first day was spent walking in the rain/snow around the castle district. This region, in Buda on the other side of the Danube, gives fantastic views of city however most of these were obscured by the rain. Nevertheless the architecture, ranging from medieval times to a fairytale monument built for the Fisherman's Guild, are a welcome diversion. We spent much of the rest of the day searching for Lonely Planet's and visiting St. Stephen's Basilica. The big highlight, however, came when we rocked up at the State Opera House and secured tickets to Tosca.

One of Puccini's most famous opera's was performed in a bog standard way but the fact that our tickets (we'd asked for the cheapest available) were in a box and we could quaff Hungarian wines in the two intervals made up for any of the deficiencies in the performance. Capping the night of in style we came home and dined on two minute noodles and enjoyed the spectacle of eight college kids (all girls) smoking a hookah in the living room of our hostel.

Day two we walked around central Pest which definitely deserves it's sobriquet "Paris of the East". With well preserved buildings and beautiful streets it is easily the equal of Prague. We also visited the Museum of Fine Arts which includes a good Raphael and a superb Brueghel then capped it off with a spectacular bath in one of the cities biggest bath complexes. Relying on natural thermal water, you are able to bathe outside, in a cloud of steam, despite the temperature in the air approaching freezing. Inside a huge bath hall are a number of saunas, mineral pools and even a big whirlpool.

To finish the evening we feasted at a fantastic restaurant called Menza which was populated by a unique mix of Budapest's bright young things and an army of guide book readers. It was fantastic food, great wine, and an unbelievable bill.

Today we visited the Hungarian National Museum, which has a comprehensive range of exhibits on Hungarian history and the caught the Metro to the Terror House which recounts the various atrocities committed, first by the Nazis and their proxies, and then by the Soviets and their proxies. Know we're sitting around drinking more Hungarian wine waiting to feast on another bowl of goulash and pork knuckle.

Snow in Sarajevo

SARAJEVO: Another day in the Jerusalem in Europe. We woke up to an uncomfortable sleet that, as we ascended towards the mountains that surround the city, turned into driving snow. It meant our Siege of Sarajevo Tour was cut short however we did visit the tunnel which the Bosnians used to transport fuel, weapons, people, medicines and supplies during the war. The tunnel is accompanied by a brief video and museum concerning aspects of the siege. Afterwards we visited a World War 2 memorial with stunning views of the city, albeit almost completely obscured by the snow. We also visited the Olympic bobsleigh sight which had been partly destroyed by Serbs and we were supposed to go and visit another site however the snow turned us back. This afternoon we wandered through the Turkish themed old town, did a bit of shopping, indulged in the dreadfully rich and creamy cakes that seem to be a speciality, supped Turkish coffee and relaxed. Tonight its off to dinner and then the brewery.

Leaving Madrid

SARAJEVO: We picked up a hire car in Madrid and drove south, first through the plains of La Mancha which were, disappointingly for Kate whom I'd spoken so highly of them to, covered in a relentless drizzle. After we climbed through a mountain range marked with eucalypts that quenched our dormant homesickness, we finally arrive in Guadalupe. We weren't sure why we were visiting but I'd heard of it for some reason. Turns out it has a really famous monastery there. We didn't have time to visit it but we did visit a local church and then dine on a delicious three course meal with wine and spirits (that I couldn't drink much of) that cost us a song.

In the afternoon we drove through the empty lands of Extramadura with their stone walled pig farms. I stopped for a while to watch the Iberian pigs, from whom the wonderful Jamon is produced, as they grazed on their acorns. Then it was on to Truijjlo where we played in a historic castle for an hour or so before embarking on the remaining five or six hours to Seville. We arrived late, exhausted and then were abandoned by our taxi driver on some random piazza. Luckily some stranger on a BMX was able to direct us to our hostel.

Things I Did in Madrid

SARAJEVO: This is kind of like my own travel diary/memoirs, so that explains why I'm going to the effort to update things I did three weeks ago. So, from memory...

Madrid: visited the Reina Sofia and was impressed by Guernica and the Germans again; visited the Prado and was struck by how many of the Velazquezs were used in the National Gallery show and also the disparity between the two strands of Goya paintings and finally at how awesome Bosch is; visited the Thyssen-Bornemisza gallery and enjoyed being impressed by pictures I'd barely look twice at in another gallery.

And for stuff that wasn't art galleries, walked through the Retiro, but it started to rain; visited the Don Quixote statue; lunched on cheese and ham in a scuplture garden; drank at a wicked bar with an awesome soundtrack and jihad action figues in the window; drank at some more bars; did laundary; moved hostels; walked in on and then yelled at two naked Swedish girls having a shower in our dorm room at three in the morning.

The Istanbul of Europe?

SARAJEVO: After getting the bus here we explored the old part of the city which feels like nothing else in Europe. Probably the cities Muslim history. The minarets that dominate the skyline, like Prague's spires, are probably another clue. We walked around, looked in some shops, drank think, syrupy Bosnian coffee, ate some type of meat pastery thing called a Burek, visited the spot where Franz Ferdinand was assasinated in 1914 to kick off WW1, walked to the top of one of the hills to get a good view (the city sits in a valley surround on three sides by imposing hills, all the better for Serb snipers) then walked back to a coffee to indulge in cakes and books.

The city itself still bears numerous marks of the conflict, from bullet and shrapnel marks, the derelict bomb damaged buildings that seem an essential part of the Balkan landscape to the various memorials to the dead. Other than that the overriding sensation is of otherness. No other European capital is so culturally orientated towards the East. But at the same time it is a heterogenous city with ample signs of Christian and Orthodox culture, all comingling with a healty dose of European, to produce the most original cultural miasma. I'm bashing this out as quick as I can think so if the grammar or the sentiment is a little off please forgive me but I'm so far behind I have to do something to catch up. As Kerouac said (incorrectly, some may argue), first word best word.

A Train Too Far

SARAJEVO: Another day, another post. Hopefully I'll finish this one. We started the day in Mostar and then hopped onto a train at 7:50. The train station in Mostar is perhaps the most dilapidated I have ever seen. Only three or four trains pass through it every day. When we emerged on the wrong platform a station offical directed us to the correct one. When we tried to walk back down the stairs the correct way he dismissed us with: "Just walk across the tracks, it's okay." I mean this train station is so useless that, in a town that was so utterly devastated by the Balkan conflicts neither the Serbs, Croats or Muslims saw any point in blowing it up.

The train itself comes highly recommended in the LP. It starts out winding along beside an emerald river, dramatic, semi-barren hills threatening to dwarf it on either side. Every so often you pass a mixture of semi-rustic houses, abandoned cars, bombed out buildings and entire abandoned towns that really give some meaning to the term ethnic cleansing.

Rising towards the snow capped mountains in the distance, the train then winds it way up, around and through various mountains towards the capital. The villages grow ever more rural while occasionally the train thunders across a viaduct and all the ground seems to disappear from beneath you. Farmers tend to their work, while various animals graze in their fields. We even saw a cow skinned, trussed up and being gutted by a group of men in a field. The whole thing seems like an impoverished Switzerland. (Not that I've ever visited!)

Finally a vast, impromptu second hand car market, various abandoned factories and the endless procession of bullet marked buildings and bombed in rooves signals your arrival in Sarajevo. And after all that, the train station is almost as bad as the one in Mostar.

A Post I Started a Long Time Ago

MALASANAS: So this blog entry finds me in Spain, the Australia of Europe. After half a day of Belgian lunacy, a train ride to Amsterdam and then, obviously, two days of bars, coffee shops and trawls to the red light district I´m finally in Spain. I just picked Kate up from the Metro and as soon as she´s checked in it´s off to the park for jamon y queso y pan.

But what have I been up to so far? After a spectacularly early flight to Brussels I managed to screw my head on with a couple of coffees and headed up to the Musées Royaux des Beaux-Arts and it´s fabulous collection of Bosch, Brueghels and Moderns. After almost four hours in the labyrinthine gallery I was back on the streets to sample that Belgian speciality, pommes frites. Fucking chips. That´s all they were. I mean I knew that but I was hoping for something more. The PissWeak Awards for 07-08 may already have a winner.

After sampling a range of Belgian beers on the town square I set out in search of dinner. Steering clear of the streets and streets of tourist places offering mussells and chips I opted for Little Africa, a small enclave of streets way off the main drag recommended by my tourist map. So I located said street, found a restaurant, plucked up the courage to enter and was confronted by a host who didn't seem to believe I wanted to eat. When I finally convinced her I wanted a menu, and crossed the signifcant language barrier, she wouldn't let me order half the things on the menu, finally settling on a goat curry. She bought me a beer, the goat curry and two older looking blokes with Robert Mugabe style glasses decided to start a conversation with me. Lisa and Elerig will testify to my atrocious French pronunciation, so it was little wonder the conversation failed to progress. Somehow I succeeded in making friends and after I'd paid the bill the wouldn't let me leave, instead they insisted on buying me beers.

Unfortunately I never did get to seek out my special Belgian beer cafes, but I did get drunk and I did wake up with a minging headache.

Every Angel is Terrifying

TRIESTE: Another busy day for this Aussie Bogan and the last in Eastern Europe so, while I've got bucketloads of backposting to do, I thought I might as well bring you up to speed on today. At least while I sitting here waiting for my wonderful combination of Penne Arabiatta, Veal (ordered with the help of a 50+ waiter who thoughtfully mimed Bambi) and Gelatti to digest anyway.

As my byline reveals I'm in Trieste, a lovely little Italian port city on the edge of Western Europe, so far east that it has in fact often been part of Slovenia and, in some of the villages near here, the street signs are in Slovenian. Much like San Francisco, though about a third the size and much more genteel, it's a port city carved into a hill side. Famous for being one of the locations where James Joyce began Ulysses, I spent an hour the evening visiting a Joyce statue and various other locations marked out on an itinerary obtained from tourist information.

Buy Joyce isnt't the only famous writer in these parts. Poet Rainer Marie Rilke penned his Duino Elegies in a castle of the same name about forty-five minutes from here so this morning we dutifully trekked, via local bus, to the castle that had also house Mark Twain, Prince Charles, a Greek Prince and Marie Bonaparte. We arrived around lunch time so we feasted on a freshly prepared risotto marinara before diving into the hodge podge of displays inside the palace. It includes a whole lot of shit, some wonderful views of the Adriatic, a terrace where Rilke composed the elegies and an excellent bunker dug by the Germans during Second World War. After a castle visit we hiked up along the rocky cliffs enjoying the views of ocean and the reddening autumn leaves before hitching a bus back to Trieste.

Then this evening I solved the restaurant problem by unearthing a wonderful trattoria. It was only when we got inside and sat down - we were the only diners - that we realised there was no menu. But with some slow speaking, miming and lots of patience we walked away, our wallets barely lighter and our belts somewhat looser.

Tomorrow we head east on three different buses towards Plitvice Lakes in Croatia and then on to Split. Hopefully at some stage soon I'll have a chance to fill you in on Spain and Venice. Best wishes to you all.

Please Wait...

TRIESTE: Zurich - Paris - I'm in Trieste. If this blog still has any readers (I hope it does) I'd like to assure them that I will update this space with my Andalucian/Venetian ramblings soon. Hope you're all well.