Beautiful Stranger

To say Belgrade is the new Prague, or the new Budapest (itself the new Prague to many lazy travel hacks), or even the new Ljubliana, would be a lie. After a number of years of political, ethnic and political turmoil, though, Belgrade is, in many ways, a new Belgrade.

It's not a stunningly beautiful, picturesque city, and I don't think most people expect it to be. The words and phrases most people still associate with Belgrade - political despots, war-torn and troubled – are uniformly bleak. Which, I suppose is why, when we stepped off the overnight train at 6:30am this, quirky, vibrant, fun loving city, and welcoming city was quite a surprise.

I'm not sure what I expected from Belgrade, but with an eclectic mix of architecture, every corner is a different surprise. Beautiful Baroque Hapsburgian edifices stand side by side with turn of the century Art Deco masterpieces, while a street away sixties Communist monstrosities and sky scrapping modern buildings housing multinational corprorations rub shoulders. There is the  crumbling and historical next to the fantastically graffitied, clean and new next to bombed out buildings, which have stood for a decade, unchanged still with the concrete hanging. A stark reminder of Serbia's recent history. Just walking around this city is an education in itself.

Whilst I'm not sure it's quite reached weekend break territory yet, Belgrade is fast becoming a very popular backpacker destination. As one of Europe's safest cities, with a young and vibrant feel and a fantastic nightlife, it is easy to see why. Indeed, staying at the simply wonderful Manga Hostel as we did, was reason enough to visit. Superbly located, brilliantly kitted out and the first real home-from-home we've found on our journeys so far, it well deserves its status as Serbia's best. And Igor's Turkish Coffee will blow your socks off.

We arrived early on Sunday and were delighted to find out that it was the last day of the Belgrade beer Fest. I thought how lucky we've arrived just in time for a local festival. I've since found out that they seem to have a different festival every week. That said the beer festival was massive (with the most visitors of any European festival this year) and great fun. Entry was free, beers from across Europe were around £1.20 a half litre and the best Balkan DJs and Yugo Rock bands performed til 4am. A good time was had by all.

Feeling a bit worse for wear we hit the sightseeing trail the next day visiting the fantastic fort with beautiful views out over the Danube and Sava rivers and visited a selection of stunning Serbian Orthodox churches, including possibly the largest Orthodox church in the world, which, more than twenty years in the making, is still being built.

Belgrade has a small selection of museums, of which we chose to visit the rather wacky Nikola Tesla museum, dedicated to this national hero, a Serbian who invented an array of things by all accounts, from an early version of the internet to the remote control. Sadly, he seems to have never got the credit for many of those achievements. He does, however, have a truly barmy museum bearing his name, which is not too bad a legacy.

It's fair to say Belgrade does not have as much in the way of traditional sight-seeing as other European capital cities. With a city so rich in hundreds of years of history you would expect it to have a few more galleries or museums, a  sign maybe that some of that history is still to recent to be confined to a museum.

The real joy of Belgrade is just walking about and soaking up the atmosphere. From the Bohemian cobbled streets of Skadarska, to the narrow streets of the Baroque old town, from the underground maze of shopping centres to the old market, and from sitting in one of the hundreds of street cafes to drinking Serbian beer in to the night in one of the many clubs and bars, we found it a fascinating and positive city.

And despite it's recent history Belgrade has the feel of a city looking very much to the future.

See you in Bulgaria...

Luke and Louise

(Posted by Louise)

Hungary like the wolf

It's always a temptation when you are travelling to think that the last place you visited was the best – so much so, that I even seem to remember being fairly complimentary about Brussels a few weeks back. In the case of Budapest, though, I think the temptation is justified. It's a city that gets under your skin from the moment you arrive, surprising you constantly and defying any attempt to try and pigeon-hole it.

After checking in to the “love shack” double room in the comfy, but slightly tired, Back Pack Guest house in Buda, we caught a tram into Pest for a balmy evening stroll. The streets were bristling with an energy I've not felt in any city before, edgy but safe and welcoming at the same time. I've lost count of the number of times I've heard Hungary's capital described as “the new Prague”, but the brothels, sticky-fingered thieves and packs of pissed British sex tourists that scarred Prague were gladly missing. Instead, we found great food (at an embarrassingly good price), a warm welcome and, in Tuzrakter, the best former school turned open air bar, restaurant, street art extravaganza and performance space I've ever been to. Okay, the only one.

Some pretty fantastic planning on our part (namely, utter chance) meant that our second day in Budapest was also St Stephen's Day, a national holiday across Hungary and an excuse for a massive street celebration across the whole of the capital. A lunch of traditional Hungarian fare set us up perfectly for a hike up to the Citadel atop Castle Hill, and the delightfully random church, turned mosque, turned church again that is Matyas Church.

That evening we did what any self-respecting traveller should and jumped in with the thousands of locals lining the Danube, gulping Hungarian red by the tankard and waiting for... well, we didn't really know what. Bang on 9pm, we got our answer, in the form of a truly majestic firework display, played out in symmetry from underneath both Budapest's main bridges. The shonky video here does it no justice, but does show how excited I was!

Our last day came too soon, and were it not for our booked train, we would doubtless have stayed longer. After getting a hefty fine for some inexpert and almost accidental fare-dodging on the tram, we bundled our backpacks into left luggage (note to visitors – the lockers fill up early) and spent a day in the Szechenyi thermal baths in one of the many beautiful parks that dot the city. A handy remnant of Ottoman times, the baths are as much fun inside as they are architecturally impressive outside. Sharing eighteen pools of different temperatures with locals of all ages, along with a fair few bemused travellers, was a real joy. The heated outdoor pool was a particular highlight.

After a trip back to the station , where we finally managed to get our bags into a locker, we had time for another stroll around St Stephen's square, and an ice cream cone sculpted into in the shape of a rose (an impressive, if not particularly transferable, skill), before jumping on an overnight sleeper to Belgrade. We'd no idea what Belgrade would be like, but were agreed on one thing – it would have to be bloody good to beat Budaest.

Stay warm,

Luke and Louise

xxx

(Posted by Luke)

...It means nothing to me

People say that just walking round Vienna is like walking around a museum, and they're not wrong. With its buildings, statues, decadent churches and baroque architecture -it's full of history. You can lose yourself for days just wondering about this very pretty city. A good thing for the discerning "shoestring" traveller, as Vienna was our most expensive stop so far.

So expensive, in fact, that you even had to pay to join the throngs of tourists standing in the middle of St Stephen's Cathedral in central Vienna. A magnificent gothic building, Luke was very disappointed it had lost its religious feel,  both with the huge number of tourists and by the fact that most of it was gated off, with hefty prices to get into each section. That said the architecture was still very impressive, particularly its geometric patterned roof tiles (the Austrian's do good roofs generally!) There were an array of other impressive, less touristy churches, all very baroque and all dripping in gold.

At the heart of the city is the Hofburg Palace, the winter residence of the Hapsburg dynasty. This vast structure is more than just a palace - it's a maze of buildings which form the centre of the city, now hosting an array of museums, as well as housing the current Austrian president. This beautiful palace fits right in amongst a wealth of historic buildings including the Greek revival parliament and the impressive neo Gothic Rathaus (Town Hall). And it's not only the important buildings which are impressive - even Vienna's H&M was housed in a breath-taking baroque edifice, quite a step up from Centrale in Croydon.

Vienna doesn't simply trade on its past, though; it also has an array of impressive modern buildings and galleries, such a the Museum Quarter - a selection of fantastic modern buildings around a square hosting an array of museums and galleries. Across the city, Vienna has no shortage of galleries and museums; you could spend weeks here and not get round them all. As we only had a day, we chose to go to the Wien Museum, a lovely boutique museum, giving a good history of Vienna, along with a special exhibition on Vienna in Film.

A highlight of the day, was (as ever) lunch which we had at the Nachtmarket, a fantastic food market where you good buy an array of food from fresh fish to kebabs, from exotic fruit to sweet of all kinds.

At the end of a busy day sightseeing, we went to a wine cellar to sample some of Vienna's white "new wine" which is brewed on the premises, served in mugs, it's refreshing but very strong We then retired to our hostel, a real gem, the lovely Hostel Ruthensteiner, which amongst other things had a giant chessboard in the garden. After a carton of Viennese wine (unlikely to catch on in the same way their cakes and waltzes have), and it was off to bed – an early start next morning for the train to Budapest.

Louise and Luke

(Posted by Louise)

xx

Hard Rain

We'd fallen so in love with the bucolic charms of Bacharach, that the next stop was always going to have a tough time competing on the aesthetic front. Luckily for Munich, we'd planned to spend most of our time in town drinking beer, eating lard and playing cards. That this compact, funky little city had some beautiful parks and architecture as well was an added bonus.

The weather during our three days in town was singularly foul; so much so, that we looked forward to the moments when the rain was fairly light to hang our washing out. Sunday afternoon actually offered up an afternoon of sun, though, so we took advantage and walked round much of the city, and strolled through the vast Englischer Gardens. German trading laws mean that virtually no shops are open on a Sunday, which while no bad thing in itself does render city centres eerily quiet. When you added in all those pesky church services, which kept picture taking tourists like us out of most places of worship, and our sight-seeing options were a little limited.

We did, however, scale the 36, 000 (give or take a few thousand) steps to the top of the St Peterskirche tower. The vistas of Munich that the circular  balcony at the top afforded us were worth the visit alone; churches dotted residential areas, industrial developments cropped up out of nowhere, rivers and rivulets duelled throughout, the whole view hemmed in by the dark, looming Bavarian ranges in the distance. I only hope that the ample Japanese lady we saw gasping for breath on our way down – she was about a tenth of the way up – lived to tell the tale.

The real gem of our stay, though, was perhaps the most unlikely - “The Tent” campsite and bunk space that we stayed in for three nights. Located a 20 minute tram ride from the centre of town, it somehow managed to be both endearingly bohemian and laid back, while at the same time offering the cleanest facilities, cheapest and best food and warmest of welcomes we've enjoyed thus far. A bit like a mini-Glastonbury, with hanging lights, nightly camp fires and a familial party atmosphere, I kept smiling even though we were camping for three nights in near hurricane. Which is more than I manage most days.

Such was the welcome, that we only tore ourselves away from their bar and into a Bavarian Beer Garden one evening – though what an evening it was. Huge steins of amber, laughing tables of all ages, smoked sausages and fish and the German Foster & Allen trotting through folk songs and hits of the day, including (and I shit you not) Shine A Light by the stones. What more could you ask for?

The honest answer was “not much”, so we duly packed up the tent in a force ten gale, bid farewell to “The Tent” and jumped on a train to Vienna.

Lotsa love

Luke and Louise

(Posted by Luke)

Mmm Bop

After the delightful but slightly bizarre melting pot of outlandish kitsch and awe-inspiring scenery of Altenahr and the wider Ahr valley, the simpler Germanic charms of Boppard, in the Rhine Valley, welcomed us after a few hours on the train. The scenery was lovely, and the town itself unfailingly pleasant, if a little “Rhineland Germany by numbers”; painted houses, local Rieslings and quiet back-streets were  all present and correct, but none was particularly memorable.

That said, the Severuskirche in the market square is as beautiful a local church as any, with a ceiling that has to be seen to be believed. We also bore witness to the bizarre sight of a (frankly piss-poor) brass band from York playing to an audience apparently made up entirely of Yorkshire locals on the banks of the Rhine. Their hapless mangling of “You Raise Me Up” was a particular highlight; the weird boy/girl combo stood at the front doing a strange dance with rope and cymbals was just scary.

We passed a lovely evening, drinking more white wine than was strictly necessary and scoffing Currywerst from a small concession sometime around midnight. Truth be told, my Boppard highlight was probably the comfortable bed, hot shower and lavish breakfast that our cheap but cheerful hotel gave us. After best part of a week in a tent, my camping enthusiasm was strong as ever, though the same could not really be said of my back.

We travelled to our second – and last – Rhine Valley stop in Bacharach courtesy of one of the many tourist ferries that run along the Rhine. The journey itself, in scorching sunshine, was quite something, though nothing compared to the treasure trove of sights, sounds and smells that waited for us in Bacharach itself. For £12 a night, we got a shady pitch next to a small sandy beach on the Rhine, no more than a metre from the river itself and next to a family of swans.. Magic.

The town itself, hidden behind a centuries-old town wall, is an absolute gem, fill to burst with half-timbered houses, cobbled streets, hidden little corners and cracking eateries. The Youth Hostel is also damned impressive, housed as it is in a fairytale castle housed on the side of an imposing hill. What makes Bacharach so special, though, is the lack artificiality. While undoubtedly a magnet for the discerning tourist, the place is not preserved in aspic, and its 2000 odd residents go about there business much as they would in any of the new-build towns that dot the area. Any visitor should pass over the pricey picks in the guide books eating tips, and grab a Schnitzel and chips from one of the restaurant cafés. And wash it down with a local Riesling. Or six.

Far too soon, we were once again packed up, and winding our way to Munich with the briefest of stops in Heidelberg and Stuttgart. Apart from sharing a train carriage with a gang of pissed teen Bayern Leverkusen fans, the journey was pretty unevemtful. I'm typing this on a (very, very cool ICE) train, about an hour from Munich. We are due to stay in some sort eco camp-site in the town centre  tonight. If we survive the tofu and dreadlocks, we'll let you know what Munich was like soon.

Luke and Louise

(Posted by Luke)

Red, Red Wine

Our guidebook informed us that Cologne seems ridiculously proud to be home to Gemany's largest Cathedral, (bit like Bristol and their bridge) a huge blackened gothic building which dominates this mainly modern city. Visiting the Cathedral on Saturday it's not difficult to see why they are so proud. As big churches go, it's up there, covered in gargoyles, with two towers 157 metres tall, and some truly magnificent stained glass - it is simply awe inspiring.

The Cathedral isn't however, all that Cologne has to offer. We visited the Ludwig Museum, before which holds a vast collection of modern art courtsey of their titular patron. They currently have a fab Lichtenstein exhibition, along with their usual Picassos, Warhols and other masterpieces.We also used our student ISIC cards for the first time and got a tidy discount – which will be doubly amusing to anyone who actually knows us.

We left Cologne to go somewhere altogether more rural and off the beaten track. Obviously this being Germany, such places are easily reached on clean, efficient and regular public transport. Our chosen destination was a small village called Altenahr, in the Ahr valley, which has a lovely campsite by said river Ahr.

For anyone who thought it would all go wrong when we tried living in a tent, I've been massively impressed by how well we've not only managed this whole camping thing, but enjoyed it. Its fair to say, however, the Germans do camping big and better than us. Our little tent was dwarfed amongst campervans, caravans with plastic conservatories, and an array of  furniture and gazeebos, along with a selection of BMWs, Audi TTs and vintage Mercs. Everyone else had electricity, and many of them had sky dishes-and no they weren't all semi-permanent some of them packed up at the end of the weekend!

Altenahr feels German. A small picturesque village, with Germanic font used on every 'Weinhaus' and 'Biergarten', and a stall selling a selection on sausages. You can imagine our delight, then, when we were out eating “flammkuchen” and drinking the local “Rotwein” when an Oompha band errupted into song on the bank opposite.

Altenahr clearly does a good tourist trade with Germans, and a few Dutch, but English guests were clearly a bit of a novelty. Strange really then, that it reminded me of a small town English tourist destination. Pubs, little cafes, an America n line dancing themed bar, an old hotel where people over seventy do karaoke surrounded by lampshades, flower pots on every window sill, and chintz, chintz and more chintz from doilies to little statues of dogs.

We came to the Alt Valley for two reasons, for the countryside (perhaps even do some walking) and because it's one of Germany's few Red Wine areas. What better way to combine those two things then, than with the “Rotwienwanderweg”.

For anyone not familiar with German this is the Red Wine Hiker route, a 36 K trek through vine yards with wine bars and wine sellars all along the way. No we didn't walk the whole thing, but we did walk over 6 miles (mainly uphill) enjoying some spectacular views and a good few litres of German red wine.

And so finally, to answer the questions any decent person (red wine drinker) will now be asking... No its a lot better than Hock, but no it's not like Chianti. Germans take a different attitude to red wine, with sweet, medium and dry -dry being like  French red  and the sweetest being more like a Rose. We were surprised by all three. I think our favourite discovery of the day though was a sparkling sweet red called Do Secco.

And with the taste of Do Secco still tingling in our mouths we jumped on  yet another clean and efficent train to Boppard, in the Rhine Valley -home to Germany's best white wine.

Luke and Louise

(Posted by Louise)

I Started Something I Couldn't Finish

Right then - where were we?

After a short break back in the UK (losing elections, getting married - usual stuff) Lou and I are now back on the road as man and wife. And where better to kick-start another whoknowshowlong of globetrotting madness than... er... Belgium. Home of waffles, frites and mayo, bier, Tin Tin and Poirot. It's not exactly Russia I agree, but in it's own very Belgian way, it's been a pretty pleasant way to ease ourselves back into the travelling groove.

As we are camping for the European leg, home for our first two nights was in a camp-site tucked behind an evangelical church in central Brussels. The entrance, via a car park, was about as welcoming as an Ed Balls leadership direct mail, but the site itself was small, well equipped and pleasingly boho.

As for the city itself, we did what most people seemed to be doing, namely eating waffles, scoffing chips and may (from Antoinne's - truly sublime) and drank beer. We also got very wet in the appalling weather, and discovered that the Belgians actually won World War One courtesy of a military museum stuffed with more lifeless dummies than your average GC meeting (apols, non-Labour types).

And so, having eaten our body weight in lard, we find ourselves on a high speed train to Cologne, from where I'm typing this. As the Wi Fi will doubtless cut out just before I post it, I'll do it now.

(5 hours later)

Well, so much for the much vaunted German efficiency. The Wi Fi went down the moment we hit Cologne. Rats. Anyhow, said city is very lovely. In the few hours we've been here, we've drunk far too much beer, and seen an elderly man arrested for drug dealing outside by secret service agents in an unmarked BMW. I shit you not.

Tomorrow, after a whistle stop tour of the city, we are off to the beautiful Ahr Valley. See you there.

Cherio,

Luke and Louise

(posted by Luke)