Istanbul

From where I am standing my eyes narrow from the dazzling light reflecting from the sea of Marmora. Turning my head to the left I can see the Bosphorus and the Golden Horn. The score of ugly commercial vessels lying at anchor were moving against the relentless tides, failed to distract from the past glories of this place - this meeting of waters and of 2 great continents with their widely divergent cultures, we are of course in Istanbul.

The most exotic and enduring of our destinations it is also sadly, where this particular journey must end. As usual Jonny has selected our hotel wisely, since it is in easy walking distance of the 4 'must see' places: The Great Bazaar, Aya Sofia, Topkapi Palace and the Blue Mosque, I wont bore you by describing them all in detail.

The atmosphere that most distinguishes Istanbul from all that we have experienced before on this journey is the bustling trade. This city of 14 million souls is a heaving mass of commerce: new produce being delivered up alleyways by hand carts, servants running with trays of tea and coffee to merchants who don't dare leave their shops, incessant but good humoured approaches from shoe shiners, shoe sellers, carpet salesman and even restaurateurs to convince us of their best intentions for our welfare.

And weaving through all of this like a miasma are the complex aromas of the Orient: roasted chestnuts, coffee and a world of spices. The experience cannot of changed in 5 centuries.
For anyone who wants to understand the background to this remarkable country, you could hardly do better than to read "Inside the Seraglio" by John Freely. This wonderful book describes the inner life of the Sultans that ruled over the Ottoman empire for 500 years. At its zenith this Turkish empire extended from the eastern borders of Persia across much of North Africa and the Middle East and to the fringes of Austria.

Absolutely Bazaar

My first experience with a Bazaar was a terrible 80's night club on the waterfront in Bristol called Harpars Bazaar, I was 16 and the experience then was probably not far off the way you feel walking into the Grand Bazaar of Istanbul. Great hordes of people everywhere bustling and jostling to buy things (fortunately not alco-pops or warm larger!) At the busiest time of the day you can't move for the people and the din is overwhelming, the guidebook says that there are between 300,000 and 400,000 visitors here a day!

I have been told that there are at least 4000 shops here, tucked away in a warren of passageways and tiny avenues. An amazing collection of goods adorns each shop front from stunning Turkish carpets, meerschaum pipes, copperware, intricate tiles, leather goods, jewelry as well as the typical Hookah or water pipe.

Every shop master sits outside his shop and accosts you just as you think you have made it clear and is desperate for you to come into his store and see his carpets or whatever, they are so polite and inoffensive that it is sometimes hard to decline, especially when they are offering you a wonderful cup of apple tea.

They are not pushy or intimidating but wonderfully gregarious, you feel that if you smile and respond politely, that, actually you don't have a house/apartment and so nowhere to put a 30m square rug, they seem happy with your rebuttal and let you pass.

One chap accosted Dad and not happy with his answer, that he didn't need to buy anything, immediately replied with "well come in to my shop and buy something you don't need!" The name of the game here is haggling and usually you can get people to come down to well under half price from their printed or starting price, but it may take some time and some deadpan stares. I found getting my cash out to pay and then walking away usually did the trick, as they could never allow you to leave once they saw the colour of your money and so you usually got what you wanted.

The Bazaar dates back from the 15th Century and was the brainchild Mehmed II 'the Conqueror' as a way of ensuring the successful commercial identity of this fabulous region – for me the whole experience of the place was a highlight to this wonderful city.

International Incident - Railway Carriage arrested

It is 3am and we have been ensconced on the Bulgaria/Turkish border for several years, buying visas (with US $) having our passports stamped and greeting an endless parade of border guards and customs officers from both nations. Finally we learn that we must leave our carriage immediately because it has been arrested along with our steward. Both are carted away and we see no more of them. We hope the carriage at least will be allowed its telephone call and has been appraised of its rights in the proper fashion.
No explanation has been given for this extraordinary turn of events, but the rumour running through our newly adopted carriage is that alcohol may have been at the root of all this trouble. However we suspect the unevenness of the tracks was probably a more likely explanation for the rolling about we had been experiencing in the preceding hours. Still, the authorities would have more experience in these matters and should be able to recognise an inebriated railway carriage when they see one.

Top tips for passing 20 hours on a train without a dining car

Subtitle - How to put up with your 36 year old son in a 4ft by 6ft box for 20 hours

Do not read on unless you are significantly under the influence or bored senseless and life is devoid of otherwise simple pleasures

Written jointly by JB jnr and JB snr

1. Chilling your drinks (no refrigeration or aircon on Romanian trains)
After thoroughly drenching your Son's technical climbing socks in expensive Carpathian mountain mineral water, put the bottle of liquid that needs to be cooled into the wet sock, then using a complicated system of bunk-bed hanging straps to rig a hammock, hang the aforementioned device through the open window (preferably on the shady side of the train) so that the wind chill factor of the moving train can reduce the temperature of the bottle to that of a pleasant rain-cooled Taittinger - within an hour or so.

We know this works as we have done it. We believe the chilling effect is due to the coefficient of evaporation being greatly enhanced by the increased surface area with which water can evaporate from the surface of the sock, thereby extracting the latent heat from the contained vessel. Once the liquid (in our case Nestle Peach Iced Tea) is at the correct temperature, add a generous tincture of Vecchia Romania Black Label brandy (no other brand will do) to the glass of your choice (if you don't have one see below) and enjoy.

2. Make your own travelling wine glasses
Fashion a range of fine wine glasses and assorted tableware by cutting small plastic bottles in half and joining the bottoms together with surgical tape. We can particularly recommend the use of a spare Nestle Peach Iced Tea bottle, as it is then possible to design a bowl of the correct shape to deliver Moldavian Cabernet Sauvignon 2004 to the correct part of the tongue as per the Reidel range of specialist wine glasses. You will also need the following: Swiss Army knife (not only to open the bottle of wine) an Opinal Fine Knife (blade size no. 3 with sharpening steel), AA European road Atlas (to prevent unauthorised ingress of the aforementioned blades into your son's thighs.) Zinc Oxide Surgical Tape from the mandatory travelling First Aid kit.

While this specific reworking of a plastic water bottle is not specifically mentioned in any of the Blue Peter programmes, the fundamental principals involved should come easily to a regular viewer. Children make sure you ask an adult to open the blade for you and pour the brandy.

3. Make friends with your neighbours in adjacent compartments
They are probably American students travelling in Europe for the first time, so they need to be indulged - just don't mention the war! Offer them some of your Moldavian nectar in your personal hand crafted work of art, as a symbol of friendship and if you are particularly unlucky you may receive a slice of sweaty Romanian sausage in return from their backpack.

4. Invent classic 80's board games but with a twist - Pretzel Pick-up Sticks. Take one box of out-of-date (preferably pre-Cold War)"straight" Pretzels and empty onto your bunk and see if you can remove the individual Pretzels without getting the salt crystals snagged. This will keep your children amused for ages (particularly if they have recently turned 36!). If irreconcilable differences ensue as to whether the sticks moved because of the jerky movements of the train or by cheating, then hastily consume the same amount each and then move onto the next item in the list below

5. Help the time pass more quickly by listening to ipod music with travel speakers
Suggested tracks are:
The final countdown - Europe
Mix some water with the Wine - Joan ArmourPlating
Matey Kahlua - 10 million nicked bicycles in Brasov

6. Older people should always ensure that they sleep on the lower bunk and that the upper bunk is wide enough, so that when the body reposing thereon is ejected from it during the dramatic Bulgarian brake stops, he will fall onto the floor and luggage and not onto the frail individual below.

7. Always buy your "tic-tacs" from the mini-bar in the hotel, as they will always cost 10 times more than in a local shop and consequently taste much better.

8. When the train enters Bulgaria and when it stops for no reason in the depths of the countryside, take a quick turn outside to see if the rails are of a continuous welded type, or the older jointed variety. The latter will create a continuous clicketyclack that will penetrate your auditory apparatus over the next 20 hours, and from which you can enjoy a lifetime of mild tinnitus - assuming that is, that you are able to get back on the train and not be bitten by a 3 legged rabid Bulgarian hound. Under no circumstances should you attempt this in Romania as it is the proud possessor of 80% of the wolves and 90% of the bears in Europe - in that case just put up with the noise.

9. We only have another 12 hours to go, so we should be able to find atleast another 1 Top Tip to complete a Top 10 list - if not you get on far too well with your siblings and you need help.

10. Please note as a general hint to train travel through Romania, a certain guide book to Bucharest advised us that if you arrive by bus or coach into the city, something has gone fundamentally wrong in your life and no guide book in the world can save you.

Photos to follow tomorrow.

Jonathon

Sent from my BlackBerry

Rear ended by the Brides of Dracula!

Written by JB jnr
It took an hour to get out of Bucharest and nearly 3 hours to make the 150km journey up to the city of Brasov (see Dad's entry on the city).

We were in the non too salubrious suburbs of Brasov (pronounced Brashofv), stopped at traffic lights and all of a sudden our car lurches forward and sideways, and my head hits the side window and then hard on to the head rest. Dad swears and I cannot believe we have been driven into. A car crash, in a hire car in the middle of Romania – bar serious injury there isn't much worse than can happen on holiday.

I am a bit dazed and in shock, head hurts a bit and so does my neck but I am fine, Dad is fine also and so we get out of the car and are confronted with a 3 car accident, where a woman in a Skoda has hit a Ford and then crashed into my hire car, we have a crumpled rear end and flat tire. I don't understand a word anyone is saying, the whole road is queuing up with cars and everyone is honking their horn and this is in the middle of a busy main road.

The woman who has hit me (Angela) asks if I am OK and says she has called the police, as in Romania any accident must have the police present. They arrive in 5 minutes and all the cars are pushed off the road. Angela tells me we have to go to the police station and give statements, her friend will give me a lift and my father must stay with our car and luggage.

Amazingly everyone is quite calm, no-one is shouting, I am playing quite dumb as I have no idea what happened, so just happy to go along with what the police tell me to do. I was more concerned about leaving Dad on the side of the road in this dreadful suburb not speaking any Romanian for what could have been hours....and it was getting dark....and we were in Transylvania! I had visions of coming back to him in his boxers on the pavement and blue from having the blood sucked out of him.

As your parents get older you feel this sense of responsibility for them especially when they are on your turf, traveling to remote and unusual places, I was genuinely more worried about him and how he would fare as the sun set and it got dark than I was about the car or me.
I call the hire car company and tell them the good news, then jump in the strangers car with 3 Brides of Dracula including the one who rear-ended me) and head to the police station, we nearly have 3 more crashes on the way, the state of the driving was so bad and I was with a local! At the police station there are no computer systems everything must be hand written in triplicate, I need everything translated and every 5 minutes everyone has to leave the room to have a smoke (I have been amazed at how many people smoke here and in Hungary!) Actually I was very impressed at how efficiently the police handled the whole situation.

Finally after 2 hours of paper work and breathalyser tests (not that long really) I am given the documents to say it was not my fault and the hire company can get the car fixed (in Romania the police decide who is to blame not the insurers) and then on the way out the woman who caused the fuss says she is sorry for spoiling my holiday......very sweet! Good job I cant say you stupid blind cow in Romanian!

The Brides of Dracula agree to give me a lift to the hotel (where Dad in the meantime has cleverly managed to change the tyre and limp back to the hotel) and on the way back I pick up from the smattering of Romanian I have learnt, that they have recently returned from Italy on holiday and so speak some Italian to them to which they all respond fluently and we have a great laugh as the whole process could have been so much easier if I had said I spoken Italian.....well sorry for it not crossing my mind earlier!

After you have been pummeled by Olnj the Hungarian masseuse, you can't let a bit of whiplash and a car crash ruin your holiday!

Romania

Written by JB snr
This journey was designed to provide increasing exposure to challenging environments as we progressed and this was driven home with our arrival at Bucharesti Nord station. This is the real 3rd world in Europe, shabby and dirty, everyone milling about with countless beggars, peasants and shady looking characters trying to get our attention. Eventually got our tickets for the next leg of the journey to Istanbul and then our rental car to Transylvania.

Every second car in Romania seems to be a Renault 12 this was a successful model in the 1970's and I have fond memories of driving one in Newfoundland, Canada in 1972 (Jonathon suck on that one you were 1 year old!) Here they are still going well 35 years later, even if like me they too, are looking the worse for wear.

So now we have the latest Renault (Dacia over here) thank goodness for SatNav, it brought us straight to the door of our hotel, well it brought me to the door of the hotel, an unauthorized and uninsured driver (Jonathon was at the police station....read on!) and this was on countless crowded highways and unlit back streets. I shouldn't be too surprised at this, as my SatNav on the boat gets me through equally scary conditions on the Solent on a sunny afternoon to a specific berth at the Lymington marina!

We are now in Brasov, in the Carpathian mountains (Transylvania) of central Romania. We spent the first morning strolling through the old town, it has some excellent treasures, such as Orthodox churches and 13th Century garrisons and some shabby back streets glowing in the morning sun. As a serious photographer, mostly black and white and infrared, I lingered while Jonathon went in search of yet more Illy coffee.

In the afternoon we wandered deeper into the mountains to Bran castle of Count Dracula fame. Perched on a craggy outcrop and dating from the 14th Century, the rooms are well furnished and presented and it was used by Queen Marie of Romania well into the 20th Century. There are many original photos of her and the rooms she used, looking much as they do now. In the grounds there are several traditional rural dwellings. The whole place is a gem, despite there being no evidence that Vlad the Impaler (Dracula) ever stayed there.

Mercifully there was no evidence or commercialisation of the Dracula legend here, just as well then that we brought our own garlic, silver crucifixes and wooden stakes (no silver bullets needed as they are only for Werewolves!)

The simple if hard rural life,is still prevalent in much of Romania, with horses and carts everywhere and peasants wearing Caciula hats and serious hardship in their demeanor.
As we set out to do, we continue to sampled local dishes wherever possible, tonight it is traditional Romanian cuisine, Pork in a mushroom sauce for me and Pork in a Carrot sauce with Polenta for Jonny, both were excellent. The wine is the local Prince Mircea 2004 (100% merlot) rich and smooth but dark and purple like the puncture wounds on the neck of sleeping Dracul virgin. I have had more disappointing expensive Clarets.

Footnote:
Jonathon's response to our unbelievable incident with the car is very reassuring, he was calm and business like in the handling of the other drivers involved and relished the “new experience” factor of his time with the Romanian State police, the good humor with which he saw it all through, is a lesson to us all. It is almost the ultimate nightmare – an accident in a rental car in Transylvania.

There is a line from an insurance company advert that springs to mind “Don't turn a drama into a crisis” he didn't and neither, thankfully did the Romanians. Considering that I am a risk adverse Irishman in the “prime” of life, fatherly pride is well to the fore, after that, also but don't tell him this, I am less apprehensive than I was about his plans to cross the Greenland icecap towing the sledge in August, but once a parent always a parent.

A sleeper in Romania

Written by JB jnr
10:30pm at 'Keleti Pu' train station in Budapest is not the best place to hang around with your Dad, it doesn't feel the same place as it did in daylight a few days earlier. The nighttime tends to bring all sorts of undesirables to train stations.

Our 'sleeper' arrived a bit late, but we found our comfortable couchette and settled in for the mammoth 15 hour journey to Bucharest Nord station. As we were quite tired (and I was still sore from the massage) we bunked down quickly and the 'Wagon Lit' attendant came and told us that at 2:15am we would have our passports checked by the Hungarian police and then half an hour later by the Romanian Police. Dad gave me his passport and said I was in charge and not to wake him!

I awoke at 7:00am to the sunshine trying to eek its way through the blinds and the compartment was heating up. Dad was asleep so I opened the blind and lowered the window to let in some fresh air, as I was on the top bunk I could lie and look out the window and watch the remote lowlands of North Eastern Romania click by. It was warm under the duvet as the fresh cold air blew in through the window. I could smell the smoke from the scrub fires and the indisputable perfume of spring that comes as winter falls away. I was still groggy from the long previous day and a fitful nights sleep so this was a great way to enjoy the countryside.
We were still more than 5 hours from Bucharest and this is a region of the country that few tourists would ever get to experience, too far to drive from the capital on unsealed roads and no airports up here so really only available to train tourists or hardy travelers. For the next hour, before Dad awoke I got too see some of the poorest villages and the most rural way of life that Europe probably has to offer.

At first count I saw 12 horses and carts before I saw 2 cars, fathers taking their kids to a school no doubt miles away, the horses looked strong and rugged and were often accompanied by a foal, trotting to keep up. Old women bent double in the fields with hoes and tills working the soil, wearing the traditional woolen skirt, thick tights and heads covered in scarves colourful. Skin tanned and leathered from a hard life in the outdoors. Old men asleep in the fields tending their animals, some with a single horse, sheep and cow all grazing neck to neck. In the distance I could see the snow capped Carpathian mountains on the edge of Transylvania. I couldn't help but visualize Dracula's castle and wondered if his coffin was hidden somewhere on the train to be returned to one of his Brides. Stupid I know but the tale of Dracula left a strong imprint on my childhood memory, as I was always allowed to stay up and watch the horror movies on ITV in the 80's – Peter Cushing and Christopher Lee portrayals of Vlad Tepes scared me so much that Mum had to put the camp-bed up in their room as I was too scared to sleep in my own.
More fields swept by, more ploughed with horse than with tractor – as we stopped at some of the larger stations, I saw a man walking his cow on piece of rope and talking to it. Probably the most important thing he owned.

As the train passed through the mountain and snow capped peaks of Transylvania, I thought I was back in the ski resort of Val Gardena, where I had left only 3 weeks or so before. We passed very close to Poiana Brasov – Romania's most successful ski resort.

Then the lowlands of Southern Romania appeared and then the suburban rundown industrial sprawl of Bucharest. Oh yes we had left the Europe I was familiar with and this would be a new chapter to the rest of our holiday.

Multi-ton Socialism

Written by JB snr
Described in the guidebooks as “Statue Park” or Szoborpark – these are gigantic monuments of communist dictatorship and a glimpse behind the Iron Curtain. Gathered together on a site a few miles out of Budapest where most of the big scale statues from the communist era were moved.

These massive but somehow moving relics are brought together with other memorabilia including a Trabant car. The statue of Lenin, Stalin's boots and the heroic sculpture (shown here) evoke a period that seems far in the past. This place is well worth a visit.

We spent the afternoon in a sunken outdoor cafe below Deac Square in the centre of Pest. Waiting for our next meal(s) and the overnight train to Romania, we chilled and watched Budapest at work and play. The vibrant youngsters with their mobile phones, student bags and budding romances could have been anywhere in the world and the preparations for the evening rock concert in the background affirmed that the past is dead and gone.

We found some wonderful food in Budapest and overall the city is charming and sufficiently different to be a delight....full marks!

A visit to the Hungarian meat market

Written by JB jnr
Dad and I agreed to go our separate ways for the morning (a week with his son was obviously too much for him and so needed some time alone!) Whilst he went to experience the symbolism and schisms of sculpture of the communist era, I wanted a massage and to relax and soak up the experience in some Hungarian thermal baths and see if the medicinal waters could rejuvenate some tired feet.

There are several famous thermal spas in Budapest and all sounded fabulous so I went in search of advice. I asked the young lady receptionist at the hotel which baths she frequented, and got a very quizzical look, a subtle rephrasing of the question and she told me she didn't go, but her father went 3 times a week to the Szechenyi baths in the park north east of Andrassy. So I packed my trunks and got onto the metro line 1 and journeyed the 10 minute ride to the park. On existing the subway I was presented with the most fabulous building with huge ornate facade, looking more like the Brighton Pavilion rather than the expected Tooting Lido.
Walking up the polished marble stairway and into the atrium I thought for a second I was at Champneys for the day but the look of the woman (more Man the Wo) at the ticket hatch put rest to those thoughts.

£4.50 later I was walking through a corridor clad with white tiles, and felt I had stepped back into a 1920's hospital (when this place was last refurbished), all the stewards were dressed in white and looked menacing and clinical. Everything was white porcelain, brass and wood. On my way to the changing rooms I caught a glimpse of one of the main pools through a doorway, filled with 20 or so large elderly women floating on their backs, not wanting to be too rude but I was minded of a river cruise on the Zambezi in 2000 watching the hippos cool off from the intense African sun.

I was roughly ushered into the mens changing room by a monosyllabic mustached Hungarian, who showed me to my locker and asked if I had a swim hat (you have to have one over here – so I had to hire one.) I tentatively walked out into the main pool area and just followed others that had recently arrived, as I knew nothing of thermal bathing protocol.

There were 3 indoor pools with brackish coloured water and steaming hot with faint whiffs of sulphur. All were of varying degrees of heat, and were filled with locals over the age of 60 jabbering away and floating on their backs or sat over the jets where the water that had been heated miles below the surface of the earth, obviously trying to absorb the mineral goodness to soothe rheumatic aches. Obviously by the colour of their skin they came here often as they had taken on the same yellow tarnish from that of the water.

I moved outside to one of the beautiful heated uncovered pools, where old men sat up to their shoulders in the warm water playing chess. After a few laps in the main pool and a telling off from the steward for my hat floating off. I didn't have my goggles and so could only manage a feeble breast stroke. No fellow triathletes here doing 'chicken wings' or 'catchup drills!'
After my fingers had pruned I went inside for my alloted 20 minute massage. I had booked the £5 Medical Massage after having explained I had sore legs and needed a “hard” massage (I didn't know the Hungarian for deep tissue!) I was shown to Olnj's cubicle – “she very good at hard massage” I was told! I kid you not, my expectations were spot on – a 80's Hungarian Female Wrestling champion in the 120kg category.

Her cubicle was 6ft square, white walls with a white plastic covered table in the middle and barely enough room for her to work her way around. For those readers that have visited cubicle no.6 at the High Wycombe 'special' clinic in the early 90's you will know what I mean (for the record I never went to the place but had several friends who were there so often that I feel I know the place well!)

Olnj – smiled as I entered, not a calm reassuring smile but more of the way a henchman smiles before he is about to do you in. She curtly told me to put my head there and my feet there. As I lay down I turned to look at her as she lubed her hands up from an industrial sized pot of cream, and she 'smiled' again and said “You want strong massage?” she held out her hand and showed 1 finger and said “for very soft” and then showed 5 fingers for “very strong” and rolled her eyes and then tightened her bicep and it bulged through her white cotton surgeons coat.

I asked for a 4 – thinking that all the guys here were old and wrinkly and I could stand it - and then she laughed and I really wished she hadn't!

When I awoke later that day......no I'm kidding, as soon as she started I screamed and my body started to convulse on the slab. This woman must have gone into training the Hungarian Secret Police in non-invasive torture methods, after winning the Olympics.

Scrap the word non-invasive, she roughly pulled down my trunks to just below my cheeks, I was quite surprised by this, being a well brought up country boy and quite shy in front of strange women, but within 30 seconds I was screaming again and the massage table had moved across the floor and my toes were now trapped between the table and the walls of the cubicle. I had a moments respite as she lifted us both back into the centre of the room, with one hand. As she put us back down (me and the table!), I gathered the strength to ask for a number 3 on her personal Massage Richter scale. She cackled again and then smiled, presumably at my pain and for a short moment, I saw a small glimpse of a compassionate person beneath her harsh exterior, a mother, a grandmother maybe; with real feelings and sympathy for someone in pain – I was clearly delusional.

As she worked her way up from my calves, legs and backside (bare), back and neck, I had to ask her again to reduce the effort to a whimsical 2 – this was all I could bare as she put all her weight into the small of my back. I wanted to pass out!

I am glad I only paid for the 20 minute back massage, I don't think I could have coped with a full frontal assault.

My family and other 'Pests'

Written by JB jnr

Dad seems to be giving this blog the cultural credentials that a travel blog deserves and I seem to be left to describe my thoughts on traveling in close proximity with ones father for 2 weeks. A state of affairs that I think may even one day warrant its own website or possible novel – at least a session on the couch with my counsellor. I am only joking, so far he has been impeccably well behaved and hasn't embarrassed me once, but then again we haven't had the inevitable stressful situation that can turn a normal functioning father/son relationship into a full blown battle of Carthage. I feel though that there is plenty of opportunity for diplomatic relations to fall apart as we move further away from Western Civilization as the food, plumbing and linen become more indigestible.

Tomorrow however, our last day in Budapest, we have agreed to go our separate ways for a few hours. Dad is off to visit the Communist era statue graveyard and I have elected to try out the local Turkish Baths, the thought of being pummeled and rubbed raw by former Olympic Hungarian weight lifter and then plunged into hot and cold pools repeatedly, didn't appeal to Dad. Must be something to do with my more progressive outlook on life.

However as it is my Blog, I do feel I have some 'valid' observations to make on the places we are visiting. As we left Vienna from the Westbanhof station on the 'Avala' train, I realised I am not used to clean, comfortable and uncrowded trains that leave on time. The 3 hour journey passed quickly and I enjoyed watching the largely flat Danube floodplain shoot by completely engrossed in my own thoughts. I have had long enough now since leaving work to not think about it and can concentrate more about what lies ahead as opposed to what I have left behind. Its at times like this that my brain starts turn creative as it has been unleashed from its former captor and the future seems so much brighter and filled with opportunity.

What we are trying to achieve is pretty hectic, 2 weeks through Europe (Southampton to Istanbul) spending enough time in key places to do them justice but we have a schedule to keep. We have agreed to spend 3 days in Romania and 3 days in Istanbul, with 2 days each in Vienna and Budapest. We then have 3 ,15 hour plus overnight train rides between the major countries. The most exciting of which will be the Bucharest to Istanbul journey which passes through Bulgaria and we have a 2am stop at the border to arrange Visas to enter Turkey – looking forward to setting the alarm for that one!

I have warmed to Budapest I feel it has a progressive spirit, everyone seems keen to embrace the modern Western culture, certainly evident from clothes, cars and language – everyone we have spoken to speaks perfect English. Not really sure why the city shouldn't be all those things, I suppose I am surprised as it hasn't met with my expectations which was rather more hardcore East European.

Three parts of the city have been declared World Heritage Sites so that Andrássy Avenue, the Castle district and Danube embankment now hold the award, all three are stunning sites.
The Castle district on the hill is the core of the historic part of town and contains some of the most important historical monuments. I have read that the Citadel has endured every disaster thinkable - earthquake, fire and world war – but it seems to have survived and the medieval monuments are a tremendous. We entered through the north gate and you get the feeling you have traveled back in time to a different era, where there is an eclectic mix of Baroque architecture interspersed with Roman foundations.

ps. for those that didn't know Budapest is actually 2 cities, Buda and Pest!

Vienna to Budapest

Written by JB snr

This train goes on to Belgrade from Budapest so perhaps it should be called the Milosevic express, but we hope there wont be much evidence of previous atrocities en route, although with our mixed ethnic backgrounds I remain a little uneasy.

As I sit awaiting our departure we are surrounded by dozens of different languages, all unrecognisable. Considering that Austria is surround by the Czech Republic, Slovakia, Slovenia, Hungary, Bulgaria, Romania, Serbia and many more, I suppose that shouldn't be too surprising! What is reassuring is that they all look much like we do and all wear the same clothes. But now I hear English (Barnsley) being spoken – how dare they copy our route, have they no ideas of their own.

And so to Budapest. I have been here before for a couple of days, giving medical lectures in the mid 90's. It was forward looking then and it will be interesting to see if it has changed at all. My enduring memory is of a completely indigestible meal at a posh restaurant. As we hurtle across Eastern Europe we see the Audi train, bearing a 100 or so brand new Audi TT's and wonder where they were built and to where they are bound. Parades of officials in various national uniforms pass throughout the train as we cross the Hungarian border. They check passports and tickets, several times but it is all very cordial and efficient – one doesn't get the feeling that the Secret Police are involved. We gradually begin to notice a scruffiness in the railway stations as we speed across the former Austro-Hungarian empire. This scruffiness however was not evident in Austria but the open countryside is beautiful and we saw a giant wind farm, possibly with several 100 turbines.

Budapest is a fine city with an excellent and cheap metro, fine open spaces etc. We walked through the commercial centre in the afternoon where C&A, M&S and Tescos all have a significant presence. We then walked back along the Danube to the Parliament building, a massive Gothic confection inspired by Westminster. We had an excellent lunch at the restaurant called Box utca opposite the Arany J Metro and dinner in the outstanding Cafe Kor, where goose liver pate, goulash, duck and fine local wine Villanyi was fantastic and excellent value with great service.

Parts of the city and the countryside on the approaches, are shabby and derelict but there is a great sense of rebirth since they have been able to leave their Communist past behind.

Yes it has changed for the better and is less “clinical” than Vienna.

A day in Vienna

Written by JB Jr.

Not having traveled alone with my Dad for over 13 years, I didn't really have too many expectations of what it would be like. I think of myself to be the seasoned traveler as this is the 2nd year I have had off in 7 years and so consider it my job to look after the old man, as he is now into his 60's – roughing it, sleeping in hostels and eating cheap junk food isn't really his thing – thank goodness for that as I am a bit tired of that travel style too and I will have enough roughing it for the rest of the traveling this year.

We walked a lot yesterday and too my surprise, Dad was up and at it this morning and raring to get out of town to the Schloss Schonbrunn, one of the highlights of Vienna, this is the summer palace and hunting lodge of the Hapsburgs, who were the imperial family and was constructed for the Empress Maria Theresa. A stunning palace and formal gardens about a 20 minute Underground ride out in the suburbs.

Dad being an excellent photographer, this is a great opportunity for me to pick up some tips so that I can make use of the new camera I purchased in the US in January. I have already learnt the framing technique today and can see the benefit in some of the shots.


This is a 2 week trip and we don't want to peak too early so have limited ourselves to only one sightseeing trip today and a stroll through town as well as the mandatory coffee and Viennese cake stop. We have just spent £16 on two bits of cake and 4 Nescafes – a bit steep (no joking really the Cafe Diglas was fantastic, I recommend the Chocolate Banana cake – outstanding!)

I have realised that I know nothing really about Austria other than there is some good skiing, Mozart, some good looking horses and the Austro-Hungarian empire. It is a well-off country but I have no idea why, what are its main exports? Wikipedia here I come!

Tomorrow we leave for Budapest in the morning on the “Avala” train, only a 3 or so hour trip.

Pic: Its a good job the minature railway wasn't running!

Lots of photos available here

Southampton to Vienna

Written by JB Sr.

A 2 hour delay on flight to Paris CDG, but Orient Express (the real OE not the overpriced steamer with Louis Vuitton clad aristocrats) left on the minute and arrived in Vienna 15 hours later also on the minute! Sleeper compartment was compact and bijou but very comfortable, great scenery in Eastern France as the sun went down and in Austria as the sun came up.

We brought our own dinner – baguettes and fine Brouilly; one of the 9 Crus of Beaujolais – who can name the other 8?. My son managed to name 6, so his vastly expensive education wasn't entirely wasted! We slept really well and had a good breakfast in our sleeper, included in the price, but the packets of rye bread, like most things that we know we ought to eat because they are so good for us, were totally inedible, possibly an incorrect packaging of nylon pot scourers!

Vienna is simply excellent, but then I guess most cities are if you see them in the sunshine. The underground railway, is modern, clean efficient and cheap and the city itself is very fine with lots of street cafes, with a thoroughly authentic Austrian feel.

Most impressive of all was that our hotel room was ready for occupation at 9:00am – how often does that happen? We walked much of the historic centre that morning, but this was punctuated by multiple coffee and consequential toilet stops (the old guy isn't the one with the bladder problem – I have had the operation.)

We managed to escape from Mozart's house without being tempted to buy the golf balls bearing his immortal silhouette.

We set out on this trip to sample at least 1 humble dish a day, with cheap wine. Lunch was a fabulous Wiener Schnitzel with wine spritzers as they didn't serve beer and dinner was set in a fabulous 'Keller' in an old part of town (The Zwolf-Apostelkeller) where they served fabulous wine and a large plate of typical Austrian cold cuts.

Only one of us climbed the Donautrum tower for some panoramic views of the city, as someone had to stay down and stand guard of our belongings.

The train across the Danube to the hotel for tea. A great first day in Wien.

Abuse of the elderly

Dragging my father by train to Constantinople. Unfortunately due to Eurostar being a complete rip off it was cheaper to start our trip by plane to Paris from Southampton. I should have been wise to the fact that the French would strike and therefore we are delayed 2 hours or so. Clearly a French plot to shaft the English but we feel unfairly treated as I am Welsh and Dad is Irish.

We are about to set off on an exciting 2 week tour of Europe on the train. We leave Paris tonight (if we get there) on the old Orient Express to Vienna, an overnight train. We have a few nights there and then we hop our way on more overnight trains through France, Germany, Austria, Hungary, Romania, Bulgaria and then finally Turkey. We are stopping off along the way in all the key cities as well as a 2 night stay in Brasov in the Transylvania Alps. The highlight I believe will be the final 3 days in Istanbul, a city that bridges East and Western cultures.

We are still deciding what the overriding theme to the trip will be, photography or food and drink, I think we should be trying to eat the most unusual local dish in each country so secretly hoping for Otter Tripe, Marsciano Bear Goulash and the classic Turkish cocktail "Bloodshot Smoothie", consisting of blended sheep's eyes and tomato juice and vodka.

Bring it on.......hope the old man can last the distance......already asleep at Southampton and we haven't left yet!