BerWIN

Berlin is possibly one of the best cities we visited interrailing, actually scratch that, it is the best city we visited interrailing. Possibly. Maybe. Ah I just can't decide, it’s a top contender anyhow. Before jumping into the highlights of visiting Berlin, I feel there's something I need to address: the German accent. I don’t care what people say, the German accent is sexy. German men are equally as sexy. Sexy accent + sexy people = sexy city. I am not joking. Ok, so that’s not really the greatest thing about Berlin (although it’s definitely a strong factor), in fact it’s hard to summarise in a sentence or two what exactly it is that makes Berlin so wonderful, if anything it’s the sheer amount that’s going on in this city that makes it so appealing, unfortunately I won’t be covering all of them in this post, but here are some of the best bits.

Perhaps one of the main reasons I look back on Berlin so fondly is down to the hostel we stayed in: Helter Skelter. Tip #4, if you’re going to Berlin, go to Helter Skelter (http://www.helterskelterhostel.de/). Helter Skelter is by far the best hostel we stayed in, it literally ticked all the boxes. The location was ridiculously good (5 minutes walk from the station), the price was astonishing (€6/night!) and the facilities were great: small bar, a kitchen with plenty of dining room and a chill out area. To sound like an absolute twat: the ambience was magnificent. It should be noted that although smoking is prohibited in the rooms, you can smoke in the kitchen/bar area (this was great for me, but obviously not for the non-smokers, which btw aren’t that common in Europe!)

Because we had 3 nights in Berlin, we thought we’d take our first day easy, have a little wander and hit they hay pretty early – we had roughed it up at the train station the night before don’t forget. But as often seems to be the case when you’re an alcoholic interrailing, we had a gander about the sites, got a feel of the city, ended up befriending a lovely group of fellow travellers, had one too many and decided to the hit the town. I really do think that this is what interrailing is all about, going to places you’ve never visited, bonding with a complete group of strangers and thinking you’re going to be friends forever. I thought this was going to be the case with a particular Italian man - well less friends and more lovers.  I’m not sure what it was about him, his long hair, his cooking us authentic Italian food, him not being able to speak a word of English?  I never did find him on Facebook, he did buy me a pint though… (For €2! Cough Amsterdam).

Look at those eyes...

Our first full day in Berlin and we knew exactly where we wanted to visit: the Berlin Wall. It has got to be one of the first things you associate with Berlin, and unlike Amsterdam’s cyclists and red-light district, it most certainly did not disappoint. We decided to start at the East Side Gallery and end at Check Point Charlie, which at a slow stroll takes up a good few hours, the gallery stretches for 1.3km and covers over 100 pieces of artwork! You can get the S-bahn (Berlin’s answer to the tube), to Warschauer, which is a few minutes walk from the gallery, and even better the S-bahn is included in your interrail ticket (the U-bahn is not). I don’t consider myself an art-buff by any means, in fact, I find art on the whole rather boring, but even I would struggle not to be impressed by the East Side Gallery. It’s especially hard not see the irony in the East Side Gallery, a wall which once segregated - figuratively and literally –  the German people, has now been transformed into one of the most (in my opinion at least) interesting canvases for modern art, something which can only been seen as the ultimate middle finger to those who had the wall built all but 60 years ago.

Cheeky

On our third day we decided to leave the city behind, and experience a bit of German nature. I don’t know what it is about visiting the continent that screams out to me au naturale swimming. But it does. And nowhere did the fantasy of swimming in the great outdoors feel as right as it did in Berlin – to those of you who’ve seen The Reader, you’ll know what I mean. To those who haven’t, shame on you. Now let’s just clarify something here, yes I know that pretty much every holiday you go on you can go swimming in an outdoor pool, most of the time you can even go swimming in the sea. First off, pools aren’t natural. So they’re out of the picture. Second off, the sea? Hello saltwater, we’re looking for some of that freshwater shit. Prior to beginning our journey around Europe, I had a vision of what al fresco swimming would entail: an open expanse of still fresh-water, clusters of old oaks littered around the lake bed, handsome German men bursting out onto the lake’s banks, towelling each other down and greeting me with ope – wait scratch the last bit - you get the picture. Lake Schlachtensee (http://www.visitberlin.de/en/spot/schlachtensee) offers just that and more. Well, except the German men, if ungroomed women in their late 50’s do it for you though, there’s sure as hell plenty to see. The journey is about 20/30 minutes on the S-bahn (free again with your ticket!) and stops right at the park so there won’t be any aimless wandering about. Of course, if you fancy the outdoor swimming but not so much the lake (yes I am judging you), there’s always Berlin’s famous riverbank lido. (http://www.arena-berlin.de/badeschiff/)

Mmmm currywurst

My interrailing partner and I somewhat differ when it comes to our love of food, I’m what one refers to as a ‘foodie’, whilst Kay, as much as she enjoys food doesn’t exactly get as… excitable as I do. Being on a budget we had to come to an agreement about how much we could spend on good food, and came to the tough decision that in each city we visited we could have one authentic meal out and the rest we’d cook ourselves. (Tip #5 as hard as it sounds, cooking for yourselves really does save money, especially in Western Europe) However, sometimes rules are meant to be broken, and when it came to Berlin this was exactly the case, after all, who in their right mind could choose between the McRib and Currywurst, both of equal grandeur on the food hierarchy. Now I know what you’re thinking, McRib. Really? Who on earth is bothered about McDonalds when their travelling through the culinary highlights of Paris, Rome and Prague? Well I’ll tell you who. ME. Prior to beginning our journey around Europe I did my research, and by research, yes, I do mean I went on every European McDonalds website and listed the countries which had the best that McDonalds had to offer (I don’t want to ruin future reading, but here’s a little teaser: Pistachio McFlurry. I know, shit the fucking bed). Anyhow, currywurst is a crazy-ass combination of traditional German sausage and a curried-tomato sauce (see you get it now, curry-wurst) and McRib, well McRib is a McRib. Words can’t do it justice, let’s just say both were phenomenal, and at €2.50 and €6 a pop, who can complain? That’s 2 authentic Berlin meals for just over €8.

                                            

And there you have it, a post on this blog that wasn’t bitchy, well done me. Of course, that wasn’t all we did in Berlin, there’s much more to do and see. The Holocaust Memorial is beautifully poignant, the Death Strip is a brutal reminder of Berlin’s troubled past, and the museum quarter offers some astounding architecture. One last tip (#6), if like us you’ll be catching a ‘sleeper’ train from Berlin and don’t want to lug those backpacks around all day, the lockers at the station are only €5 a day – bargain. All I’ve got left to say is if you’re going to do Europe, do Berlin. Oh, and one other thing, make sure you take lots of photos with bears.    

    

                                         

AmsterDAMN

I wish I could say that Amsterdam was everything I expected it to be: strolling through the red-light district taking in the ‘views’, enjoying coffee in bohemian cafes and admiring the laid-back nature of the Dutch natives. Unfortunately this was not the case; in reality the highlight of our trip was seeing a double-decker train, which quickly lost its novelty after the realisation that pretty much every country in Europe bar Britain has them. It seems negative start to this blog with such a bitchy post, and to be fair I’m sure the negative experience is as much to do with our planning – or lack thereof – than the city itself, which leads me to tip #1: book a hostel for your first AND last night way in advance, especially if you’re flying from/to Western Europe. We made this mistake, and thought to ourselves ‘No need to book a hostel, we’ll have a wander and find one for a snatch’, this is definitely not the case, especially not in Amsterdam. 

You have to admit, pretty exciting

Determined to stick to our €35 a day budget, we traipsed the streets and canals of Amsterdam for six hours straight, not to sound dramatic but I’m pretty sure the experience was similar to that of Mary being rejected from every room in the inn. Carrying a 9 month baby, Mary? Try a 10kg backpack. Okay, so we weren’t rejected per se, but with the best rate we could get being €70/night, what were we supposed to do? Now I know what you’re thinking, ‘traipsing around the streets of Amsterdam, that hardly sounds like a bad thing’, and before this I’d have felt obliged to agree with you. We’ve all seen the postcards of Amsterdam: rows of tulips, flea markets galore and coffee shops with a freeze-frame of the jolly Dutch cyclist passing by. We’re all familiar with the saying ‘a picture says a thousand words’, what we’re not so familiar with is that sometimes these words are outright LIES. Dutch cyclists are not jolly. They are not quaint. And they are most certainly not patient. Every road crossing, every turning, every time you step out on to the street you are permanently dodging cyclists, whether man, woman or child, Amsterdam’s cyclist are unforgiving. The first few times this is quite amusing ‘oh what a tourist I’m being’ you’ll say to yourself, this wares off after an hour and nearly a dozen near-death experiences. You think I’m joking? I’m not. I’ve got more than one witness who can vouch for this. To this day the ring of a cycle bell resurfaces the same feelings of fear, anxiety and is wholly responsible for my irrational rational hatred of cyclists.

Having established that the best rate we were going to get for a hostel - apparently being located next to a brothel and a particularly stagnant stretch of canal equates prime location - we decided that a hostel for the night was out of the picture. Alternative? Train station. On hindsight, sleeping in a train station is never a good idea, especially in a foreign city you’ve never visited before, but with our budget and a tossup between €70 for a hostel or €3.45 locker fee, it wasn’t a hard decision to make - some say risky, I say economically determined. Backpacks secured (the locker wasn’t for us!), it was now time to see what Amsterdam’s nightlife had to offer, strolling through the idyllic streets of Amsterdam is definitely memorable, no one can deny its cutesy feel, and the city’s pubs and bars are nothing but delightful, it’s just a shame the a same thing cannot be said for drink prices. €8 a pint and that was a cheap one. Okay, so you’d expect to pay that or more in Britain, in London that’s cheap – but come on this is Amsterdam, Europe and we were students (Tip#2 Western and Eastern European prices vary dramatically take this into consideration when budgeting and planning your route. We did not). Instead we decided to hit the local convenience shop, buy some of the cheapest-wine that Amsterdam had to offer, telling ourselves that we were off to see the ‘real’ Amsterdam, when in reality we were aware that we were doing nothing more than reverting back to the days of being 14 and drinking in the park. Some might say uncultured, but it turns out that on the continent it isn't only topless bathing that is encouraged, al fresco drinking is a must too. After steadily getting through the two bottles of wine and pack of Marlboros (€10 the lot, bargain) we decided to head back to the centre and cash in on one of those pints. (Tip #3, when drunk you will not care about your budget, in fact you will purposefully sabotage any plans of a budget you had). 

Classy, right?

After befriending some Americans who were couchsurfing through Europe (not for me, but each to their own), we decided to hit the night scene, not before taking a quick leak in the pub. Now I don’t know if I‘m stingy, or if we Brits are just plain privileged when it comes to bathroom facilities, but to take a leak in pubs and clubs actually costs you, €1 - €2 to be precise. Okay, that’s hardly going to break the bank, but if you’re expecting some boozy nights, we all know that once those floods gates open, they won’t easily be closed. So two or three toilet stops easily costs you a shot or two, and even worse, what if you’ve run out of change? I won’t bore you with the details of the clubbing scene, I could tell you that I drank too much, horrendously embarrassed myself, and post a photo of me trying to put my legs behind my head on an authentic Dutch dance floor, however if anyone is truly interested in that they can simply look at my Facebook profile and be done with it. That isn’t to say clubbing in Amsterdam wasn’t fun, it was, however it isn’t anything worth spending more than a line on. Stumbling out at 4am with no hostel requires a significant amount of sponteneity and innovation, so when it was suggested we take a nosey at the infamous red light district, we jumped at the chance. With our two new American best friends in tow we were finally seeing the ‘real’ Amsterdam. I’d always found myself an advocate of Amsterdam’s stance on legalised prostitution, unfortunately, as is often the case, I found that in-theory and in-practice are by no means the same thing. Perhaps visiting in the daytime leaves one with a different experience, but witnessing the naked prostitutes in the windows, urging clients in whilst simultaneously shunning the previous one out, leaves you feeling like these women are still caught in a profession which is ultimately degrading, the fact that they parade themselves in shop windows homing on the hard truth that they are still being conceived as nothing more than objects to be sold. The whole experience was a world away from the previous notion I had of empowered, 21^st century prostitutes working in an environment which was both safe and under their control.  Half an hour in, and we were more than ready to head back to the station, which consider it was fast approaching 6am wasn’t too bad an idea.

Nothing like a drunk selfie outside the station

I’d like to say this was the first time I’d slept at a station, but when you live a £60 taxi ride from Manchester, sometimes you’ve got to do what you’ve got to do. It’s really not that bad, WELL depending on how drunk you are that is. After a brief stop at McDonalds, we collected our bags, headed to the right platform where we awaited the arrival of our 7am train. Come half 7, the alcohol was wearing off, the train was 30 minutes late and we were well and truly pissed off that we’ve now had to wait another hour for the 8.15 train. Sensing our anger we were approached by a passer-by who informed us that the train had in fact arrived, and that in our drunken state we had fallen asleep and missed it – cheers for that kind sir, but why not wake up when the train came in instead? Now, I’m not one for believing in fate, and God knows waiting that extra hour for the train was by no means fun, but if it hadn’t of been for us passing out at roughly 6.45 and missing our train, we wouldn’t have crossed paths with what could possibly be the greatest taste sensations of my life: Febo. Okay I lied, the double-decker train was by no means the highlight of Amsterdam, it was Febo. If you’re going to remember any word for your stay in Amsterdam, make that word Febo; say it to yourself over and over: ‘Febo. Febo. FEBO’. Whether a food connoisseur or junk food whore, Febo caters for everyone.  A potato croquette style snack which is stodgy, loaded with fat, and available in original, satay and veal. Febo makes the whole Amsterdam experience worth it, even staying up until 6 in the morning.

No photo will do these justice

Many of you probably think I’ve sold Amsterdam short here, and I’m sure I have. Given the right planning and the opportunity to spend more than one day here I’m sure the experience would have been a much better one. But still I can’t help but feel that given my aversion to smoking the green stuff (I’m anxious enough as it is), and the uneasiness I felt when wandering the streets of the red-light district, even with a bit more foresight I still maintain that Amsterdam just isn’t all it’s cracked up to be. Then again, perhaps my real issue is with cyclists, and nothing to do with Amsterdam at all. Still at least we’ll always have Febo.



So you want to interrail?

So you want to go interrailing around Europe? The only worthy response to that: do it. Hell, even if you don’t want to go interrailing around Europe, just do it. If you’re on the fence and not sure whether travelling Europe around train is for you, ask yourself what’s stopping you, and I can guarantee they’ll be more reasons to do it than not.

Firstly, let’s clear something up, yes Europe (Western especially) is much more expensive than South-East Asia and South America, but that doesn’t mean you can’t travel around Europe on a budget. For a month we spent £1500, that’s including flights, train journeys, excursions, EVERYTHING. How much did your last holiday cost? Week in Magaluf? That’s easily £750. £750 on a week-long piss-up.

Secondly, a month in Europe can give you a solid amount of ‘city break’-esque holidays all in one, whilst a month in South-America or South East Asia is barely enough time to cover one country. That’s not to say interrailing around Europe is better than touring any other continent, God knows my next plan is to spend 4 months travelling around South East Asia, but for first-time travellers, those who can’t afford take 4 months off (money/time reasons), then interrail around Europe is for you.

Thirdly (especially to those Brits out there), yes you can go and visit Europe when you’re ‘older’, but that is by no means a reason to discourage travelling around it now. I can guarantee the experiences you’ll have as a young adult, sharing a hostel with 6 strangers you don’t know for 3 nights in Berlin is most definitely going to be a world away from a week-long holiday chaperoning the kids when you’re pushing 40.   

Anyway, rant over. This is my blog, I hope you enjoy it.