Looking back on not just the past weeks, but on the past year, what can I do but repeat these words, written down by Charles Dickens onehundred-and-fifty years ago?
It was the best of times, it was the worst of times,
it was the age of wisdom, it was the age of foolishness,
it was the epoch of belief, it was the epoch of incredulity,
it was the season of Light, it was the season of Darkness,
it was the spring of hope, it was the winter of despair,
we had everything before us, we had nothing before us,
we were all going direct to Heaven, we were all going direct the other way–in short, the period was so far like the present period, that some of its noisiest authorities insisted on its being received, for good or for evil, in the superlative degree of comparison only.
So you’re bored stiff on a wednesday night in Prague. Sounds crazy, but that’s how it is. So what do you do? Correct. You join this group of German schoolkids and go to a bar and a club. Then, at the club, you meet with three people from your old highschool, who went there independently, are still bored, and go home. That’s easier said than done though. I could’ve taken a taxi for about 250 Kc (about 12 euro), but why do that if you can use the public transport for free?
It took me about forty minutes to find the right tramstop, and then I had to wait for the tram itself. They only go once every half hour, and I had to wait for a quarter of an hour. It came, and I asked the driver if he was going to Holesovice. He muttered no and pointed in the opposite direction. So I waited for the tram in the opposite direction. And then I got on the tram in the opposite direction. But after 15 minutes, I realized I didn’t recognize any of the surroundings. So I asked the guy in front of me if this tram was going to Holesovice. He said he didn’t think so. So I asked the driver. He said no, it’s the opposite direction. At 03.15, I knew defeat. I just jumped into the nearest taxi, asked him to take me to were I was staying, and soon we were racing through familiar surroundings. 90 on the cobblestones, my god. He did as I asked though, and dropped me of right in front of the hostel. For 300 Kc.
Wenen, 6.7
Niemand wil er graag uitzien als een toerist. Ik ook niet. Maar er niet uitzien als een toerist is zo makkelijk nog niet. Maar ik moet iets goed doen als er tegen me in het Sloveens gepraat wordt en me de weg gevraagd wordt als ik door Wenen slenter, als alle Amerikanen denken dat ik uit het UK kom en iedereen uit het UK dat ik een Australier ben als die vervolgens de cirkel rond maken door te denken dat ik uit Amerika kom. Ha.
Alleen reizen is leuk. Je ontmoet zo ontzettend veel mensen: in Bern waren er de vier Ierse studentes, in Innsbruck de Zwitserse man van 75 die ogenschijnlijk willekeurig wisselde tussen Frans, Duits, Italiaans en Engels, in Ljubuljana there was a group of Scots and a hairdresser from Newcastle, and then here in Vienna I met those two blokes from Nottingham and the American dude that used to drive three hours to Canada to get a drink. And many more.
Natuurlijk zijn er de momenten dat je wilde dat er iemand anders was, iemand aan wie je kon vragen ‘goh, 4 euro voor een was is wel erg veel, weet jij nog hoeveel het in Nieuw Zeeland kostte,’ iemand die een schouder aanbood om half zeven ‘s ochtends op treinstation in Slovenie als je de hele nacht niet had geslapen omdat een of andere half wit je bed had ingepikt en de staf niets anders wist te verzinnen dan ‘zoek maar een ander bed’ (om 05.30? Daar betaal ik toch zeker geen 20 euro per nacht voor), iemand tegen wie je hardop kon zeggen dat die Sloveen met z’n overmatig acne ontzettend vervelend is door de hele tijd op meetingsterkte met die andere Sloveen te zitten praten terwijl het godverdomme toch overduidelijk is dat ik probeer te slapen, iemand met wie je het er over kon hebben hoe unbelievably annoying all those Chinese are for getting up at 6 A.M. and then going around talking loudly in the dorm and then slamming the dorm’s door shut when they leave and then slamming it shut when they enter again and then slamming it shut again when they leave and so on and for continuously boiling eggs and slllluurrping up their god damned noodles. Maar dat is uiteindelijk maar mildly annoying. Alleen reizen is leuk.
