Category Archives: Museums

Visitor from abroad

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After my stupidly late night / early morning I had to force my eyes open at 9:45 to check out of the hostel and move all my stuff to a hotel a 15 minute walk away. Viv, a friend of mine from back home, was having a weekend in Prague as a break from life’s daily grind and we’d opted on sharing a hotel to keep the costs down and to make things a little nicer for her. After all, this was a holiday!

The new place was quite nice but the evils of free internet meant that I didn’t get a nice 2-hour nap as I’d planned. Instead I replied to mails, got depressed with the news back home and walked down to KFC on the corner to console myself with a Zinger menu. I then jumped onto a Metro, transferred to a bus and arrived at the airport to catch Viv arriving on her (early, amazingly) flight.

As ever, it’s good to see a friendly face from back home and we sat and plotted the conquest of Prague with the guide books she’d brought with her. A quick stopoff at the hotel to drop her bags, and off into the sunshine for an explore.

Between my hostel and the hotel is a brick structure being built for charity. It’s 1000 Crowns per brick, and you can draw or paint anything you like on it. I vaguelly recall this just starting when I was in Prague a couple of years ago. There are now three or four structures, one double-layered, with many crazy designs on. Superb idea.

Picking a street at random – or so Viv led me to believe – we ended up walking past and then into the Sex Machines Museum. I swear she had this planned. As it happens, Talia had begged me to go there and get photos of the corsets they have on display so I grudgingly agreed to walk around (ahem) and we spent a little over an hour in a fairly enjoyable walk, giggling like schoolkids at some of the items on display. I think Viv walked off with a silly number of ideas and a mentally dwindling bank balance for when she got home.

The aim of the weekend for Viv was to relax, so we just took a stroll over the beautiful Charles Bridge in the baking sun and around the Old Town Square. A huge crowd had gathered around the Meteorological Clock to watch the figuers pop out on the hour and we joined them.

We pretty much spent the afternoon walking around admiring how beautiful a city Prague is. Everything’s so clean, but also now quite expensive. I swear things are pricier than they were when I visited for Colin’s stag party.

We picked a nice-ish restaurant for dinner and sat watching the passing people. Ice cream and a baked pastry doughnut kind of thing were munched as we walked around. Prague changes “tone” later at night as the more risque nightclubs open up. Stag parties trailed from one to the other as I was – for once – roundly ignored by the scary men trying to convince lone males that they really really wanted to part with a huge sum of money for one beer and a semi-naked wrinkly woman gyrating on their lap. It’s handy have a nice lady with you so you look like a couple!

Amazingly, despite the silly lack of sleep the night before, I made it to 1:30am before the need to sleep crept up and coshed me violently over the back of the head. I’ll get him for that. Ow.

Auschwitz, Birkenau, and curry – and a TIP or two

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A strange combination, but that’s how the day went.

Again, we slept later than was originally planned before our group gathered (the same as yesterday but the ranks swollen with the two Danish girls, the Swedish lass who’d arrived overnight and a German girl and Aussie girl who were travel together). We walked to the bus station and forked over our 7zl each for the 90-minute ride to Auschwitz.

TIP – don’t buy your bus ticket from the Tourist Information. They charge 20zl return, whereas the bus is only 7zl each way.

TIP – don’t get a tour guide at Auschwitz. They’re good, but you will see more if you get a guide book for a couple of Zloty and walk yourself around. Much cheaper and better value for money.

What can I say about Auschwitz? Well, it was the largest extermination camp in the Nazi “regime” during the war. Jews (and other dissidents) were ferried there under the pretence that they were being relocated to a new area. Around 80% of those who arrived were killed within hours; gassed then cremated, their ashes scattered in rivers.

The others – those reckoned as being fit enough to work – were put to forced labour and made to live in the most horrific conditions. Up to 15 people on a bunk designed for one, with three layers. Those below would be covered in the mess from people above as dysentery was rife.

Punishments were frequent and cruel, experiments and torture carried out on prisoners on a regular basis. And the sheer scale of the operation simple mind-numbing. The view from the guard house at Birkenau (Auschwitz B-camp) shows buildings as far as the eye can see, or at least their remains.

Some of the exhibits are really harrowing. The 2 tonnes of human hair. The countless thousands of shoes and suitcases. I couldn’t even bring myself to look at the huge collection of childrens’ clothing.

So in all an educational but depressing day. But like so many other similar places I’ve been, it does drive home how damn lucky we are to live how we do today. And that we shouldn’t forget the past – we should learn from it. So if you find any Holocaust deniers, give them a clip round the ear and force them to see sense so we can prevent this kind of horror in the future.

Away from all that, we returned to Krakow and arranged to have dinner at a recommended Indian restaurant with some Geordie girls I got talking to. Unfortunately, with everyone on different schedules, people wanting to shower, some wanting to eat sooner and so forth, our large group ended up whittling down to myself, Tommi and Michael.

Well, it was everyone else’s loss. The food was superb and very reasonably priced. So if you’re in Krakow and you want an amazing curry: Bombaj Tandoori is the place to go. Michael and I had a madras and a vindaloo respectively (“as hot as you can make it”) while Tommi settled on a more mild tikka masala. All were top notch. And the waitress was a cutie, to boot.

We were supposed to meet the girls in town later, but they didn’t show – I assume Laura was navigating… Instead we went back to the hostel and – for a change – drank beer before going to bed.

Dzien dobry, Polska!

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I staggered to the airport bus stop as the time drew near 4am and hopped into the express which would wing me to the distant Frankfurt-Hahn. Worth noting if you get a budget flight to/from Frankfurt – check the actual airport. Frankfurt Airport itself is barely 15 minutes from the city centre. Not that it made much difference to me. I was asleep within three minutes of buying my ticket and didn’t open my eyes again until we pulled into the airport parking lot.

Unlike on the bus, I could barely sleep a wink on the plane. No real reason, I just couldn’t nod off. We landed early, and I made my way through the immigration at Wroclaw (pronounced Vrotswahf) and onto the number 406 bus, getting off at the main train station and waiting for my guide and hostess, Gosia. Gosia and I worked together at Matrix / Soft Solutions for a couple of years and I’d not seen her since some time before I left the UK. It didn’t take her long to appear and it was great to see another friend again after so long. This European jaunt is turning out to be full of reunions!

Gosia loves Wroclaw and it shows. We spent a good day walking around, from 10am until after 9pm. Basically, dig out the Lonely Planet, look up Wroclaw and we did everything. And then some.

The church off the main square (though we couldn’t get up the tower), the two small buildings in front, beer in one of the oldest bars in Wroclaw, ice cream in a lovely little restaurant, KFC in a mall (yay!), the beautiful town hall, the university buildings with their stunning painted walls, street statues, the museum (which wasn’t that great to be honest), the Panorama (which was), cheap internet (this is where the Berlin idea bit the dust)… Wroclaw’s got a lot, particularly if you like churches. There are some fantastic buildings, and some near bridges.

I apologise to Gosia for rushing this post and not giving all the proper names of places. I’m just so far behind on posts right now I’ll need to return to this one when I have more time and beef it up! Even better if I can get to somewhere where I can easily insert Polish characters for that authentic “I know what I’m talking about” feel. Even though my attempts at speaking the language sound like a lisping man trying to speak with a mouthful of water.

I will rattle on a bit about the Panorama of Raclawicka. This is a huge circular painting created in 1894, showing details of a battle which took place 100 years earlier. The building in which is is housed was erected in the 1970s (if memory serves) and really showcases this 114m x 15m artwork well. “Real” objects lean up and “into” the painting, some so indistinguishably (there’s a new word for you) as to look like they just ooze from the canvas. It gives the whole thing an amazing sense of depth.

Entry isn’t cheap at 20 Zloty (around UK3.50 – expensive by Polish standards) but includes a mandatory guided tour and entry to the museum over the road as well. No photos or video allowed at all. Shame, as it really is something special – but if it encourages more visitors then that’s fine by me.

By the time we had one last beer in a street cafe, it was getting cold and dark. We just squeezed onto the last bus to Jelenia Gora for the 90 minute ride to Gosia’s home town. And indeed the very house she grew up in!

It was definitely dark by the time we got there, but her granny was still up to welcome us home. You couldn’t meet a more stereotypical grandmother – shorter than either of us, hair drawn back with clips and a lovely granny smile. I felt welcome the second I walked through the door. Of course, we were fed and watered before bed. A whole room to myself – luxury!

Paris by bike and foot

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I wouldn’t like to guess how many miles I travelled today. Actually, knowing would be useful regarding The Walk as I’m only tired from the neck up.

I tried to make as much noise as possible when I got up around 9-ish. Yeah, I’m petty but I don’t like being woken at silly o’clock unless it’s by someone demanding my body and that’s not happened in far longer than I’d care to calculate. Breakfast was OK but not as varied as I’d have liked. Still, it set me up well and at least I ate.

I gathered my daybag and set off for the La Motte-Piquet Grenelle station, and from there to the office of Fat Tire Bike Tours. For EURO 48 I signed up to both the day and night tours (4 hours apiece) and did q uick email check which cost over £1.20. Ouch. There are cybercafes in London for £1 an hour – this place was EURO 1 per ten minutes.

Just before 11:00 I arrived at the south pylon of the Blackpoo Eiffel Tower. Well, they both look the same. The guide there gave us some lovely trivia and then we walked back to the office to saddle up. I was lucky enough to be Austin’s “bum boy” or “ass man” or whatever. Basically, it was my job to make sure we didn’t leave anyone behind. How he knew that bribing an Englishman with beer would work is beyond me.

We hit many interesting places – l’Ecole Militaire, Place de Concorde (containing the oldest object in Paris, a 3300 year old obelisk stolen from Egypt), Les Invalides, the Grand and Petit Palais, the gold domed building housing Napoleon’s tomb… and some busy streets with psychotic French drivers on them who have no regard for road regulations or cyclists. We couldn’t go to the Arc de Triomphe as the roads around it ar ejust far too nuts to even contemplate as a cycling tour group.

We had a good group and conversation over lunch in the Jardin de Tuileries was fun. At 3pm, we returned to the office and scattered in our various directions. I decided to pretty much wander about randomly starting back at the Black Eiffel Tower. No way was I waiting 90 minutes in a queue to climb it, so I took some more photos then went walking down the side of the Seine to see the Statue of Liberty. No, I’m not mad. They have a fairly large replica of the original near the Radio France building. It was a gift to France from the US on the 100th anniversary of France’s gift of the original one. The one in New York is crafted around a framework designed by Gustav Eiffel, trivia fans.

Finally, I was peckish. Being ill plays havoc with my appetite. I decided to look for a KFC (of course). Around two hours later I found a McD’s on Rue de pennes. No KFC anywhere, and only glimpses of Pizza Hut. Trust me, these are some of the only ways to eat economically in Paris. I was bursting for the loo so I rushed in, headed to the downstairs toilet and was foiled by a combination lock! I had to buy dinner first so I could get a code for the loo. Unreal. Hopping from foot to foot while ordering a Big Mac Meal elicited no sympathy from the evil McServer and I bolted my food so that I could sprint to the loo… as someone walked out so I didn’t need the code.

Back at my table, I spotted someone on a laptop so I got out my PSP and had a tinker. It turns out that every McD’s in Paris has free wireless. So I have to pay money to go for a pee, but I can download gigs of music for free. Sensible. The sites I can view on the PSP are limited due to memory issues, but I could make a quick email check and look at the news before deciding that the weather still sucked (it had been raining for almost 4 hours by now), so I kept my night biking token and decided to chance it for tomorrow night instead.

I pulled out my map and plotted a route to the Moulin Rouge. Or more specifically the Musèe de l’èrotisme along the street. Well, I ddi one of these places in Barcelona and this one was bigger and cheaper with a coupon I’d got from the hostel.

The walk took me around ninety minutes and past some more wonder sights, the Opera Garnier probably being the grandest. I also discovered how stupidly expensive Paris can be by popping into a pharmacist’s for a regular packet of Halls cough sweets – EURO 2.90. That’s a shade under two quid. They’re a quarter of that in the real world.

The museum was pretty good and different from the Barcelona one with two art exhibitions on the upper floors as well as all the weird and amusing stuff elsewhere. One floor was predominantly dedicated tot he story of prostitution in France and the phases it had gone through. Interesting stuff. Back outside, I dodged the men (and women) trying to convince me to go into the variouis peep shows. I almost punched one guy who grabbed my arm, but settled for wriggling free and giving him a “try that again… go on” look. He didn’t.

I spotted another McD’s and was considering a McFlurry until I saw the prices – significantly more than the other branch I’d been in earlier. I guess dirty old men who frequent peep shows don’t mind paying a premium for their fake chicken burgers.

Instead, I caught the Metro “home” and settled for an enormous chicken sandwich, chips and a litre of mile from the local shops. Same price as McD’s but twice the sieze and somewhat more like real food.

Then to bed with two Paracetamol in my belly and a few drops of Eucalyptus oil on my pillow. I had an early start and 700 steps to climb tomorrow.

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Any old excuse to look at pr0n

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With Sharon gone I had no excuse not to. I got up early (earlier than I wanted) and packed my bags for checkout, wolfed as much breakfast as my snot-filled head would allow me and stepped out into the depressingly overcast and cool day.

I decided to mix filth with culture and paid a visit to the Erotica Museum. This is where the friends get annoyed and the family egt relieved that I can´t post pictures at the moment. It’s towards the top end of Las Ramblas and costs EURO 7.50 to get in. There isn’t a huge collection in there and most of it consists of prints if the Kama Sutra, wood engravings from India and some interesting artwork.

Some of the stuff is graphic – I can see British middle aged couples going mad if their kids got in – but a lot is simply interesting like the 1950’s condom machine from Holland. The most graphic thing they have is a constantly running restored pr0n video made in 1923 for one of the kings. Now I´d obviously not know how it compares to today’s stuff (honest) but let´s just say that Queen Victoris would very rapidly have changed her mind about not setting an age of consent for gay female activity had she seen it. And survived the following heart attack.

I’d also considered going to the zoo, but the weather looked a little iffy. Also, I only had my dinky camera with me (the one with the 10x zoom is in Cardiff) and four hours or aso just isn’t long enough for me. I usually get thrown out at closing time, and run out of space on my memory cards.

So back to the hostel to plan some more stuff. I now have accommodation in Frankfurt and Mons courtesy of some fellow Couchsurfers. My bus is booked from Paris to Mons on Tuesday afternoon, and I´ve mailed the hostel in Paris to extend my stay by one night. In French. I´m dead clever, me.

I have to go and repack now, so my next post will likely be from gay Paris!