Nick Hall
Thought Leadership in Tourism
Nick Hall | Articles
2005
Final word
10/03/05 00:00 Filed in: 10 Mar 2005
As his budget-flight odyssey touches down, Nick says it's been an eye-opener - even the bits he didn't see.
Home at last... Nick touches down at Stansted. Photo: Nick Hall
It seems as though it was only yesterday. I was scouring the internet for cheap flights, and asking myself whether I could live up to my dream to travel around Europe using only budget airlines.
In the end, over four months, I travelled to 21 countries: from Tromsø in northern Norway to Agrigento in southern Sicily; from Cascias in western Portugal to Istanbul far to the east. Had I chosen to buy myself an adult rail pass, the travelling alone would have set me back a cool £1,660 - and I'd have still had to pay even more to get to Latvia, Lithuania and Estonia. Instead, for 35 flights, I paid just £868 and I was able to zip around the continent at jet-pace speed.
Netjetters has been a real eye-opener for me, and choosing the best part is impossible. When I think of all the incredible landscapes and natural beauty I've seen, I come back to that old question: how can people think of travelling the world before they've seen what's on their doorstep?
From the vast and dramatic fjords of Norway to the vast nothingness of Lapland, every country I've visited has its beauty. Even in bustling Sicily I was still able to find treasures away from the beaten track, the miniature volcanoes of Macalube. And away from nature, I found beauty in people, too. Helping me get off to a wonderful start were readers: Jess from Valencia with her bikes, beers and a home from home; Cat and Keith in Barcelona, who offered me five-star style with their unrivalled view and some delicious homemade dinners.
If I were to do it all again, though, I'd definitely make a timetable to ensure that, second time round, I didn't miss a thing. As well as being stunning, Norway was the site of my biggest disappointment: I had hopes of seeing the Northern Lights at Tromsø, five hours' drive from Narvik and well above the Arctic Circle, but didn't realise that timing is everything - and early December, beneath dark nimbostratus clouds, didn't offer ideal viewing conditions. Just to rub salt in the wound, later that week I learned from two marine biology students that I was leaving one of the best whale-watching sites in the world without seeing a thing.
But that experience did show me just how important it is to talk with everybody. My meeting in Norway with Kenneth, a Sami, produced the telephone number of the Sami president and a promise to meet with local reindeer herders. And as my travels went on I had many other memorable encounters. If I hadn't spoken to so many people, I'm sure I wouldn't have seen half of what I did.
There was also of course a wealth of cultural and historical places of interest in almost every village, town and city. I returned home wishing that European children could see what I saw when they're growing up and not just as adults - travelling around the continent has been a wonderfully illustrated art and history lesson, and I'll almost certainly be returning for a recap.
But perhaps the most personally meaningful part of my journey was following in the footsteps of my grandfather, who was held as a prisoner of war in Zittau, south-east Germany. Guided by a family that he had been corresponding with for a number of years, I was shown around the old coalmines, factories and lodgings where he used to work. It was wonderful and moving to have such a personal welcome to the place they called "Dreiländerdeckestadt", which means roughly "three-countries-corner-town", reflecting the fact that it sits near the borders of Germany, the Czech Republic and Poland.
Drinking also shaped the outcome of my trip. I found myself drinking beer on Swedish trains, hoping that it would make the journey pass quicker - but also that the guy supplying it would disappear. In Latvia, ordering a glass of water was sometimes interpreted as asking for a shot of vodka, while in Italy it became clear that drinking coffee was an art-form! And it was a rather overpriced Turkish beer - I was scammed in a bar in Istanbul - that wiped the smile from my face, and in fact brought an end to my journey.
But in the end, though, what made my netjetter's experience unique was being able to travel in the company of my own personal guides. I'm not talking about guidebooks (though those did come in handy), but the suggestions and recommendations from a well-travelled bunch of Guardian readers. Without your help, I wouldn't have ended up spending so many nights sleeping on islands in the Baltic Sea, for instance, or known where to start in big cities (or to escape from them). One reader even informed me about a very cheap airline I hadn't heard of - Avies, who fly between Tallinn and Saaremaa.
Europe by air - the verdict
It has to be said that in my view flying is best: taking to the skies has not only enabled me to travel to more places, but also to cover larger distances. How many people can say they have travelled to every corner of Europe in just four months? For the price of a return flight to Australia, I've flown a total of 30,605km - more than three quarters of the earth's total circumference. If I were to complete the equivalent journey with a car, using the most direct road routes, the cost of petrol alone would be nearly £2,500.
Although I used many airlines, all of which were very cheap and offered excellent efficiency and basic service, there were two clear winners for me: Ryanair and easyJet. Both have extensive route networks, so much so that a combination of the two can get you just about anywhere in western or central Europe, and in my experience have put a lot of effort into improving their customer relations (for example by easyJet's decision to equip its staff with badges displaying the languages they speak). Of the larger rivals, the Spanish Vueling set the standard for how seat-only airlines should be run, while among the smaller companies, Malmo Aviation was a pleasant surprise: I flew Stockholm to Gothenburg in business class for just £20!
Best of all, perhaps, was the fact that although I was travelling during autumn and winter, the seasons with the most adverse weather conditions, only one of my 35 flights was either cancelled or delayed.
How much has it cost me?
Overall, I paid £868 for 35 flights. Average costs per km, based entirely on my own bookings over the last four months, were cheapest with Ryanair and easyJet and generally more expensive with the smaller operators. Obviously this isn't a reflection of how much each company charges overall (which will be subject to availability and many other factors), just a quick calculation of how much I ended up paying for the journeys I wanted to do, when I wanted to do them.
The airlines I flew with were: AlpiEagles, Avies, Blue1, Corendon, easyJet, Estonia Air, Flyme, Malmo, Norwegian, Ryanair, Transavia and Vueling
And the environmental cost?
With support from readers who have been following our netjetters, Guardian Unlimited has agreed to offset the airline pollution created by Nick's flights across Europe. Using the Climate Care carbon calculator, Nick has worked out that his 35 flights expelled roughly 6.1 tonnes of CO2. We've picked up the Climate Care bill.
Guardian Newspapers Ltd offsets all business air travel booked through its main travel agent, and is trying during 2005 to extend coverage to staff flights booked through other suppliers. All reader flight offers through our marketing department now offer the option to offset emissions. For more on Guardian ethical policies, see our Social, Ethical and Environmental Audit pages.
Home at last... Nick touches down at Stansted. Photo: Nick Hall
It seems as though it was only yesterday. I was scouring the internet for cheap flights, and asking myself whether I could live up to my dream to travel around Europe using only budget airlines.
In the end, over four months, I travelled to 21 countries: from Tromsø in northern Norway to Agrigento in southern Sicily; from Cascias in western Portugal to Istanbul far to the east. Had I chosen to buy myself an adult rail pass, the travelling alone would have set me back a cool £1,660 - and I'd have still had to pay even more to get to Latvia, Lithuania and Estonia. Instead, for 35 flights, I paid just £868 and I was able to zip around the continent at jet-pace speed.
Netjetters has been a real eye-opener for me, and choosing the best part is impossible. When I think of all the incredible landscapes and natural beauty I've seen, I come back to that old question: how can people think of travelling the world before they've seen what's on their doorstep?
From the vast and dramatic fjords of Norway to the vast nothingness of Lapland, every country I've visited has its beauty. Even in bustling Sicily I was still able to find treasures away from the beaten track, the miniature volcanoes of Macalube. And away from nature, I found beauty in people, too. Helping me get off to a wonderful start were readers: Jess from Valencia with her bikes, beers and a home from home; Cat and Keith in Barcelona, who offered me five-star style with their unrivalled view and some delicious homemade dinners.
If I were to do it all again, though, I'd definitely make a timetable to ensure that, second time round, I didn't miss a thing. As well as being stunning, Norway was the site of my biggest disappointment: I had hopes of seeing the Northern Lights at Tromsø, five hours' drive from Narvik and well above the Arctic Circle, but didn't realise that timing is everything - and early December, beneath dark nimbostratus clouds, didn't offer ideal viewing conditions. Just to rub salt in the wound, later that week I learned from two marine biology students that I was leaving one of the best whale-watching sites in the world without seeing a thing.
But that experience did show me just how important it is to talk with everybody. My meeting in Norway with Kenneth, a Sami, produced the telephone number of the Sami president and a promise to meet with local reindeer herders. And as my travels went on I had many other memorable encounters. If I hadn't spoken to so many people, I'm sure I wouldn't have seen half of what I did.
There was also of course a wealth of cultural and historical places of interest in almost every village, town and city. I returned home wishing that European children could see what I saw when they're growing up and not just as adults - travelling around the continent has been a wonderfully illustrated art and history lesson, and I'll almost certainly be returning for a recap.
But perhaps the most personally meaningful part of my journey was following in the footsteps of my grandfather, who was held as a prisoner of war in Zittau, south-east Germany. Guided by a family that he had been corresponding with for a number of years, I was shown around the old coalmines, factories and lodgings where he used to work. It was wonderful and moving to have such a personal welcome to the place they called "Dreiländerdeckestadt", which means roughly "three-countries-corner-town", reflecting the fact that it sits near the borders of Germany, the Czech Republic and Poland.
Drinking also shaped the outcome of my trip. I found myself drinking beer on Swedish trains, hoping that it would make the journey pass quicker - but also that the guy supplying it would disappear. In Latvia, ordering a glass of water was sometimes interpreted as asking for a shot of vodka, while in Italy it became clear that drinking coffee was an art-form! And it was a rather overpriced Turkish beer - I was scammed in a bar in Istanbul - that wiped the smile from my face, and in fact brought an end to my journey.
But in the end, though, what made my netjetter's experience unique was being able to travel in the company of my own personal guides. I'm not talking about guidebooks (though those did come in handy), but the suggestions and recommendations from a well-travelled bunch of Guardian readers. Without your help, I wouldn't have ended up spending so many nights sleeping on islands in the Baltic Sea, for instance, or known where to start in big cities (or to escape from them). One reader even informed me about a very cheap airline I hadn't heard of - Avies, who fly between Tallinn and Saaremaa.
Europe by air - the verdict
It has to be said that in my view flying is best: taking to the skies has not only enabled me to travel to more places, but also to cover larger distances. How many people can say they have travelled to every corner of Europe in just four months? For the price of a return flight to Australia, I've flown a total of 30,605km - more than three quarters of the earth's total circumference. If I were to complete the equivalent journey with a car, using the most direct road routes, the cost of petrol alone would be nearly £2,500.
Although I used many airlines, all of which were very cheap and offered excellent efficiency and basic service, there were two clear winners for me: Ryanair and easyJet. Both have extensive route networks, so much so that a combination of the two can get you just about anywhere in western or central Europe, and in my experience have put a lot of effort into improving their customer relations (for example by easyJet's decision to equip its staff with badges displaying the languages they speak). Of the larger rivals, the Spanish Vueling set the standard for how seat-only airlines should be run, while among the smaller companies, Malmo Aviation was a pleasant surprise: I flew Stockholm to Gothenburg in business class for just £20!
Best of all, perhaps, was the fact that although I was travelling during autumn and winter, the seasons with the most adverse weather conditions, only one of my 35 flights was either cancelled or delayed.
How much has it cost me?
Overall, I paid £868 for 35 flights. Average costs per km, based entirely on my own bookings over the last four months, were cheapest with Ryanair and easyJet and generally more expensive with the smaller operators. Obviously this isn't a reflection of how much each company charges overall (which will be subject to availability and many other factors), just a quick calculation of how much I ended up paying for the journeys I wanted to do, when I wanted to do them.
The airlines I flew with were: AlpiEagles, Avies, Blue1, Corendon, easyJet, Estonia Air, Flyme, Malmo, Norwegian, Ryanair, Transavia and Vueling
And the environmental cost?
With support from readers who have been following our netjetters, Guardian Unlimited has agreed to offset the airline pollution created by Nick's flights across Europe. Using the Climate Care carbon calculator, Nick has worked out that his 35 flights expelled roughly 6.1 tonnes of CO2. We've picked up the Climate Care bill.
Guardian Newspapers Ltd offsets all business air travel booked through its main travel agent, and is trying during 2005 to extend coverage to staff flights booked through other suppliers. All reader flight offers through our marketing department now offer the option to offset emissions. For more on Guardian ethical policies, see our Social, Ethical and Environmental Audit pages.
Second chance
03/03/05 00:00 Filed in: 03 Mar 2005
Nick gives Istanbul another try - and is won over by the kindness of strangers. But, flying home, it's Eindhoven that catches his eye.
Straight lines... The Van Abbe Museum, Eindhoven. Photo: Nick Hall
Last week's account of an unfortunate scam and an eventful night in an Istanbul police station sparked immense outrage among the Turkish media. Public interest on this scale is something I simply hadn't prepared for, so it's important to bring my reports back to some kind of reality. The theme of my trip was travelling around Europe using budget airlines, and what happened when I arrived in Istanbul was unfortunate and nothing more. The bar scam is common enough and takes place in many other cities - including London, Amsterdam and Budapest - and although I was cautious, I clearly wasn't cautious enough.
A two-day visit to Canakkale was the perfect remedy to rid me of any bitter feelings. People in this small town seemed to be really welcoming to visitors, and any misconceptions about Turkey were soon put right. Even before I reached the place, I was shown just how friendly Turkish people can be. On the six-hour bus journey out of Istanbul, I met Ezgi, a pleasant and friendly girl from the south-east who, despite the fact that her sick mother was in hospital, made time to meet each evening. She not only suggested places to visit nearby but also told me all about her country, making me promise that if ever I return I allow several weeks to really do it justice. In the meantime, I had to make do with the ancient ruins of Troia and tea plus backgammon by the quayside.
Ezgi and many others restored my faith and trust - and to trust nobody, as some readers' emails have suggested, would have made for a rather unadventurous four months. So I took an overnight bus back to Istanbul ready to give the city another shot. When I arrived at the bus station, though, I was alarmed to discover translations of last week's report spread all over the papers. Intent on putting a stop to all the speculation and quotes out of context, I gave a full account to Vatan, one of Turkey's leading newspapers.
So came my second attempt at Istanbul, this time staying in Taksim, where many of the 12 million inhabitants of this sprawling city choose to meet, shop, drink and relax. There is rarely a quiet moment on Taksim's main drag, with plenty going on at every hour. For me there were countless clothes shops with fashionable jeans and jackets on offer for as little as 10-20 lire (£3-6), as well as many splendid rooftop cafes, restaurants and bars, all offering great views of the city.
Other excellent places I visited included the labyrinthine Grand Bazaar and the spice bazaar, rich in flavours and aromas. The fresh-food markets bustle with trade in fresh meats and goods from all over Turkey and Asia, and the streets are rich in excellent food of every kind. Istanbul is far from Westernised, but it has something of a European feel - only with minarets instead of church spires jutting out above the roofs. Having missed the last boats around the Bosphorus (the water connecting the Black Sea to the Mediterranean and dividing Europe and Asia) as well as the boats up the Golden Horn, a long narrow inlet of water on the European side, I took a bus to Ortakoy. This is a small area, only a stone's throw from the action of Taksim but somewhat more relaxing. In the morning people come to relax and have a coffee by the waterside, while in the evenings the streets are alive with a market full of jewellery and fortune-tellers.
I never did get my bearings in Istanbul - there simply wasn't enough time. My flights were booked on to next and final stop, Eindhoven in the Netherlands, worlds apart from Turkey.
It may be hard for some to understand what the appeal of a small city like Eindhoven may be - especially when many people haven't even heard of it, let alone considered visiting. But the city is modern, stylish and harmoniously successful, and boasts its own international airport. It's unlike anywhere else I have visited - the streets are perfectly designed to ensure pedestrians, buses, cars and bicycles are all considered equally, and everything runs like clockwork. Perhaps this is appropriate, because Eindhoven is a city supported by the high-tech industry created by Phillips and DAF. As well as two gothic churches, the place is dominated by DeWitteDame, the old Phillips factory, and Eindhoven Technical University.
For all that, the first thing I noticed was the thousands of bikes glistening in the sun outside the central station. If it wasn't for the fact that walking around the city's main sites only takes half an hour, renting a bike for €6.50 would not be a bad idea.
For those who enjoy modern art and architecture, Eindhoven would make an excellent day-trip from London. The most important site and place of interest is probably the excellent Van Abbe Museum. The building itself, recently redesigned and expanded by Amsterdam architect Abel Cahen, is exceptional - and so too is the collection, with over 2700 woks of modern art. They encourage visitors to contribute their own art, or just leave their mark, so you find hundreds of multicoloured sticky labels on the posts outside the museum.
Eindhoven is not big by any stretch of the imagination, but with so many large offices and modern buildings it certainly has that feeling. Anybody who is considering buying some funky lighting should certainly consider taking the afternoon off work and hopping over De Bijenkorf, a stylish department store, for their elaborate display. Indeed, if art and shopping holds no interest, there are plenty of pavement cafes to while away an afternoon drinking Dutch beer and watching the bikes go by.
Despite my experiences last week, I feel like I've managed to find solitude and tranquillity in the Netherlands. I'm off home now on my last Ryanair flight, having done Europe by air (with the exception of a small handful of countries) on a shoestring. Thank you, Eindhoven and thank you, Ryanair - without you both I wouldn't be returning with a smile on my face.
Flying this week
I flew to Eindhoven a day earlier than scheduled, not because of the media attention in Turkey and not because I didn't enjoy Turkey but because of a cancellation. It's a shame that in four months of travelling, and over 30 flights, my second-to-last booking had to go wrong.
It's bad enough that Corendon's website only works in Turkish despite having English and Dutch sections, but when I received four emails just before my flight, all in Turkish, I was somewhat concerned. After having them translated, it turned out that my original flight was first cancelled, then reinstated and finally redirected to Amsterdam. When I called the airline, explaining that this kind of service wasn't acceptable, they explained that they weren't selling enough tickets to fill the flights. No apology was given, no reimbursement for my trouble was made and the Turkish call centre advised me to call the Netherlands because they didn't know how to change the flights.
If you choose to ignore my bad experience with Corendon, you can pick up a flight for €50 from Istanbul to Amsterdam or Eindhoven. The only competitor in terms of price is German Wings, who now have a sale on. Return tickets are as low as €30 including taxes, but only from Cologne/Bonn and Stuttgart.
I'll end my trip how I started, with good old Ryanair. I've found them to be utterly trustworthy - they're the only airline I've used regularly who have never once cancelled or been late. And they've put small towns like Eindhoven on the map. If you're not too snobbish to sit on a plane with no-frills service for 45 minutes, then you can find reliable and punctual service to somewhere you'd never even have considered going.
Flights
Istanbul - Eindhoven: £60, Corendon Eindhoven - London Stansted: £14, Ryanair
Straight lines... The Van Abbe Museum, Eindhoven. Photo: Nick Hall
Last week's account of an unfortunate scam and an eventful night in an Istanbul police station sparked immense outrage among the Turkish media. Public interest on this scale is something I simply hadn't prepared for, so it's important to bring my reports back to some kind of reality. The theme of my trip was travelling around Europe using budget airlines, and what happened when I arrived in Istanbul was unfortunate and nothing more. The bar scam is common enough and takes place in many other cities - including London, Amsterdam and Budapest - and although I was cautious, I clearly wasn't cautious enough.
A two-day visit to Canakkale was the perfect remedy to rid me of any bitter feelings. People in this small town seemed to be really welcoming to visitors, and any misconceptions about Turkey were soon put right. Even before I reached the place, I was shown just how friendly Turkish people can be. On the six-hour bus journey out of Istanbul, I met Ezgi, a pleasant and friendly girl from the south-east who, despite the fact that her sick mother was in hospital, made time to meet each evening. She not only suggested places to visit nearby but also told me all about her country, making me promise that if ever I return I allow several weeks to really do it justice. In the meantime, I had to make do with the ancient ruins of Troia and tea plus backgammon by the quayside.
Ezgi and many others restored my faith and trust - and to trust nobody, as some readers' emails have suggested, would have made for a rather unadventurous four months. So I took an overnight bus back to Istanbul ready to give the city another shot. When I arrived at the bus station, though, I was alarmed to discover translations of last week's report spread all over the papers. Intent on putting a stop to all the speculation and quotes out of context, I gave a full account to Vatan, one of Turkey's leading newspapers.
So came my second attempt at Istanbul, this time staying in Taksim, where many of the 12 million inhabitants of this sprawling city choose to meet, shop, drink and relax. There is rarely a quiet moment on Taksim's main drag, with plenty going on at every hour. For me there were countless clothes shops with fashionable jeans and jackets on offer for as little as 10-20 lire (£3-6), as well as many splendid rooftop cafes, restaurants and bars, all offering great views of the city.
Other excellent places I visited included the labyrinthine Grand Bazaar and the spice bazaar, rich in flavours and aromas. The fresh-food markets bustle with trade in fresh meats and goods from all over Turkey and Asia, and the streets are rich in excellent food of every kind. Istanbul is far from Westernised, but it has something of a European feel - only with minarets instead of church spires jutting out above the roofs. Having missed the last boats around the Bosphorus (the water connecting the Black Sea to the Mediterranean and dividing Europe and Asia) as well as the boats up the Golden Horn, a long narrow inlet of water on the European side, I took a bus to Ortakoy. This is a small area, only a stone's throw from the action of Taksim but somewhat more relaxing. In the morning people come to relax and have a coffee by the waterside, while in the evenings the streets are alive with a market full of jewellery and fortune-tellers.
I never did get my bearings in Istanbul - there simply wasn't enough time. My flights were booked on to next and final stop, Eindhoven in the Netherlands, worlds apart from Turkey.
It may be hard for some to understand what the appeal of a small city like Eindhoven may be - especially when many people haven't even heard of it, let alone considered visiting. But the city is modern, stylish and harmoniously successful, and boasts its own international airport. It's unlike anywhere else I have visited - the streets are perfectly designed to ensure pedestrians, buses, cars and bicycles are all considered equally, and everything runs like clockwork. Perhaps this is appropriate, because Eindhoven is a city supported by the high-tech industry created by Phillips and DAF. As well as two gothic churches, the place is dominated by DeWitteDame, the old Phillips factory, and Eindhoven Technical University.
For all that, the first thing I noticed was the thousands of bikes glistening in the sun outside the central station. If it wasn't for the fact that walking around the city's main sites only takes half an hour, renting a bike for €6.50 would not be a bad idea.
For those who enjoy modern art and architecture, Eindhoven would make an excellent day-trip from London. The most important site and place of interest is probably the excellent Van Abbe Museum. The building itself, recently redesigned and expanded by Amsterdam architect Abel Cahen, is exceptional - and so too is the collection, with over 2700 woks of modern art. They encourage visitors to contribute their own art, or just leave their mark, so you find hundreds of multicoloured sticky labels on the posts outside the museum.
Eindhoven is not big by any stretch of the imagination, but with so many large offices and modern buildings it certainly has that feeling. Anybody who is considering buying some funky lighting should certainly consider taking the afternoon off work and hopping over De Bijenkorf, a stylish department store, for their elaborate display. Indeed, if art and shopping holds no interest, there are plenty of pavement cafes to while away an afternoon drinking Dutch beer and watching the bikes go by.
Despite my experiences last week, I feel like I've managed to find solitude and tranquillity in the Netherlands. I'm off home now on my last Ryanair flight, having done Europe by air (with the exception of a small handful of countries) on a shoestring. Thank you, Eindhoven and thank you, Ryanair - without you both I wouldn't be returning with a smile on my face.
Flying this week
I flew to Eindhoven a day earlier than scheduled, not because of the media attention in Turkey and not because I didn't enjoy Turkey but because of a cancellation. It's a shame that in four months of travelling, and over 30 flights, my second-to-last booking had to go wrong.
It's bad enough that Corendon's website only works in Turkish despite having English and Dutch sections, but when I received four emails just before my flight, all in Turkish, I was somewhat concerned. After having them translated, it turned out that my original flight was first cancelled, then reinstated and finally redirected to Amsterdam. When I called the airline, explaining that this kind of service wasn't acceptable, they explained that they weren't selling enough tickets to fill the flights. No apology was given, no reimbursement for my trouble was made and the Turkish call centre advised me to call the Netherlands because they didn't know how to change the flights.
If you choose to ignore my bad experience with Corendon, you can pick up a flight for €50 from Istanbul to Amsterdam or Eindhoven. The only competitor in terms of price is German Wings, who now have a sale on. Return tickets are as low as €30 including taxes, but only from Cologne/Bonn and Stuttgart.
I'll end my trip how I started, with good old Ryanair. I've found them to be utterly trustworthy - they're the only airline I've used regularly who have never once cancelled or been late. And they've put small towns like Eindhoven on the map. If you're not too snobbish to sit on a plane with no-frills service for 45 minutes, then you can find reliable and punctual service to somewhere you'd never even have considered going.
Flights
Istanbul - Eindhoven: £60, Corendon Eindhoven - London Stansted: £14, Ryanair
Wiped out
24/02/05 00:00 Filed in: 24 Feb 2005
Spaced in Amsterdam, fleeced in Istanbul - it's been quite a week for Nick as he journeys to the outer limits of Europe.
The grass is greener... Nick does his best to resist Amsterdam, but things get a bit hazy. Photo: Nick Hall
This week my travels have taken a turn for the worse. In a bizarre series of events, I passed out, got into some trouble with Turkish gangsters, was robbed of 140,000,000 old Turkish lire (£56) and had three credit cards swiped, cloned, and maxed.
Landing in Amsterdam, I swore solemnly to myself not to do the inevitable. For two reasons: the first being that everything available there is readily available elsewhere, albeit less openly; and second, because I actually wanted to see the city for its beauty and culture.
But things didn't quite go to plan. Arriving in Amsterdam at 1am, I checked into the Flying Pig hostel, the first port of call for most travellers, and pushed my way through a crowded downstairs bar filled with a potent smell of hash. As I entered the lift, an American girl staggered through and subsequently collapsed. "Welcome to Amsterdam" was all she said.
24 hours later, I too found myself in a similar situation. To ensure that I stay away from - or at least not succumb to - the red lights of Amsterdam, I had surrounded myself with two shockingly responsible girls from California and a handful of schoolteachers from Britain. On Valentine's evening we had a commiserative singles dinner in a rather posh but inexpensive Dutch restaurant in the centre of town.
I couldn't understand why so many teachers had chosen to visit Amsterdam for their holidays - my initial reaction being that they were fed up with trying to discipline unruly children in London and had chosen the Netherlands as a place where they can chill out during the school half-term. And chill out we did: five of us went off to check out some of Amsterdam's coolest coffee shops. But my request for a "normal cappuccino" seemed to have been misunderstood at the Cashmere Lounge coffee shop in the south of the city. It was 36 hours before I found myself rising into a hazy consciousness.
I decided that seriously productive tourism was the path forward, and the best way to finish seeing Amsterdam. I bought myself a Museumkaart for €17 and now have unlimited access for a year to any national museum or gallery in the Netherlands.
Even so, off to Turkey I went. I left the airport - passing through more metal detectors than I could count - and made my way to a hostel on Istanbul's modern metro system. The efficiency and cleanliness of the public transportation came as quite a surprise and, staring out of the tram window through the drizzle, I suddenly realised how exciting it was to have finally reached the edge of Europe.
But my good mood wasn't to last. It's sad to have to tell this story, but it's occupied most of my time here in Istanbul and caused me more grief than any budget airline. What happened is this. I met a Turkish man who coaxed me into a cunning scam whereby I got invited to a bar that was seemingly picked at random, although obviously prearranged. We had a couple of beers before being joined by a pair of innocuous-looking girls. At this point I realised something odd was going on, so I got up to leave - and was presented with a bill for no less than 349,000,000 lire. Naturally, like every other victim of this scam, I refused to pay. I even demanded they call the police and have me arrested.
At this point they got angry, very angry, and their well-rehearsed routine entered another level. I was pushed into a small office surrounded by eight large guys doing their best show off their weapons. I'm then threatened repeatedly, robbed of all my cash and given an hour of verbal abuse while my credit cards are copied.
You'd think things couldn't get much worse, but they did - I then had to deal with the police. At first they told me they could get my money back, but only half of it (I'm assuming that the other half was their cut). I refused, and two hours later they reluctantly allowed me make a written statement. They then decided that it would be a good idea to go and confront the proprietors, taking me on this little adventure with them. Swapping their handguns for semi-automatics, they grabbed some bulletproof vests and set out to resolve the problem - with little success.
Then at 5am I was driven to Istanbul's main police station, and was sat down in a chief's office next to two men in custody. When one arrestee started shouting, the police in charge took the decision to empty his pockets - from where they pulled a handgun. A little later, the officers left the room and the arrestee attempted make a run for the door! And it was another hour before they brought in the owner of the bar where I was robbed. After this, they throw me in the back of a police car and drive me back to my hostel. It's clear they had no intention of prosecuting him, and had most probably made a deal.
It's been pretty much impossible to let go and forget about this awful night. To make a bad situation worse, I found the shop and hotel owners in the vicinity of Sultanahmet (where I was staying) to be among the rudest people I have ever encountered: it took me an hour to find someone who'd allow me to make a simple toll-free call and cancel my cards.
Later on, however, I met a guy who did help me restore some of my trust in the city, showing me and two other hostellers around various parts of Istanbul. We visited the sights - in particular the spectacular Blue Mosque - but also learned how to deal with hustlers (simply humour them). We also ate a delicious meal of fried mussels in one of the city's hundreds of rooftop terrace restaurants.
What I saw of Istanbul was beautiful - a city where two continents meet and two cultures mingle. Then again, no matter how much time I spent looking around and admiring the vibrant culture, sounds, smells and sights of the place, I found it difficult to escape the fear that someone was trying to scam me. A few days later, I left for Gallipoli with an Australian traveller who's on a pilgrimage to commemorate the campaign during World War I.
Flying this week
This week I've used a Turkish airline that even the Turks don't seem to have heard of - Corendon. They operate only two routes, from Istanbul to Eindhoven and Amsterdam in the Netherlands. Knowing nothing about them, I discovered at Amsterdam Schiphol that they are actually a charter airline and most of their passengers are Dutch and Turkish holidaymakers who've booked package holidays traditionally through travel agents.
One down side to flying with a Turkish charter airline is that the cost of the flight works out a little more than I was comfortable paying. Even so, Corendon unquestionably offer the cheapest flights between Western Europe and Turkey, and are only rivalled by the likes of German Wings and Air Berlin. Plus, being served chicken curry on a budget airline was an unexpected and welcome luxury.
But beware: the English and Dutch language versions of Corendon's website don't seem to work at the moment, so you have to make bookings by trying your luck at Turkish. Ticket prices start at €19.
Flights Amsterdam - Istanbul: £60, Corendon
The grass is greener... Nick does his best to resist Amsterdam, but things get a bit hazy. Photo: Nick Hall
This week my travels have taken a turn for the worse. In a bizarre series of events, I passed out, got into some trouble with Turkish gangsters, was robbed of 140,000,000 old Turkish lire (£56) and had three credit cards swiped, cloned, and maxed.
Landing in Amsterdam, I swore solemnly to myself not to do the inevitable. For two reasons: the first being that everything available there is readily available elsewhere, albeit less openly; and second, because I actually wanted to see the city for its beauty and culture.
But things didn't quite go to plan. Arriving in Amsterdam at 1am, I checked into the Flying Pig hostel, the first port of call for most travellers, and pushed my way through a crowded downstairs bar filled with a potent smell of hash. As I entered the lift, an American girl staggered through and subsequently collapsed. "Welcome to Amsterdam" was all she said.
24 hours later, I too found myself in a similar situation. To ensure that I stay away from - or at least not succumb to - the red lights of Amsterdam, I had surrounded myself with two shockingly responsible girls from California and a handful of schoolteachers from Britain. On Valentine's evening we had a commiserative singles dinner in a rather posh but inexpensive Dutch restaurant in the centre of town.
I couldn't understand why so many teachers had chosen to visit Amsterdam for their holidays - my initial reaction being that they were fed up with trying to discipline unruly children in London and had chosen the Netherlands as a place where they can chill out during the school half-term. And chill out we did: five of us went off to check out some of Amsterdam's coolest coffee shops. But my request for a "normal cappuccino" seemed to have been misunderstood at the Cashmere Lounge coffee shop in the south of the city. It was 36 hours before I found myself rising into a hazy consciousness.
I decided that seriously productive tourism was the path forward, and the best way to finish seeing Amsterdam. I bought myself a Museumkaart for €17 and now have unlimited access for a year to any national museum or gallery in the Netherlands.
Even so, off to Turkey I went. I left the airport - passing through more metal detectors than I could count - and made my way to a hostel on Istanbul's modern metro system. The efficiency and cleanliness of the public transportation came as quite a surprise and, staring out of the tram window through the drizzle, I suddenly realised how exciting it was to have finally reached the edge of Europe.
But my good mood wasn't to last. It's sad to have to tell this story, but it's occupied most of my time here in Istanbul and caused me more grief than any budget airline. What happened is this. I met a Turkish man who coaxed me into a cunning scam whereby I got invited to a bar that was seemingly picked at random, although obviously prearranged. We had a couple of beers before being joined by a pair of innocuous-looking girls. At this point I realised something odd was going on, so I got up to leave - and was presented with a bill for no less than 349,000,000 lire. Naturally, like every other victim of this scam, I refused to pay. I even demanded they call the police and have me arrested.
At this point they got angry, very angry, and their well-rehearsed routine entered another level. I was pushed into a small office surrounded by eight large guys doing their best show off their weapons. I'm then threatened repeatedly, robbed of all my cash and given an hour of verbal abuse while my credit cards are copied.
You'd think things couldn't get much worse, but they did - I then had to deal with the police. At first they told me they could get my money back, but only half of it (I'm assuming that the other half was their cut). I refused, and two hours later they reluctantly allowed me make a written statement. They then decided that it would be a good idea to go and confront the proprietors, taking me on this little adventure with them. Swapping their handguns for semi-automatics, they grabbed some bulletproof vests and set out to resolve the problem - with little success.
Then at 5am I was driven to Istanbul's main police station, and was sat down in a chief's office next to two men in custody. When one arrestee started shouting, the police in charge took the decision to empty his pockets - from where they pulled a handgun. A little later, the officers left the room and the arrestee attempted make a run for the door! And it was another hour before they brought in the owner of the bar where I was robbed. After this, they throw me in the back of a police car and drive me back to my hostel. It's clear they had no intention of prosecuting him, and had most probably made a deal.
It's been pretty much impossible to let go and forget about this awful night. To make a bad situation worse, I found the shop and hotel owners in the vicinity of Sultanahmet (where I was staying) to be among the rudest people I have ever encountered: it took me an hour to find someone who'd allow me to make a simple toll-free call and cancel my cards.
Later on, however, I met a guy who did help me restore some of my trust in the city, showing me and two other hostellers around various parts of Istanbul. We visited the sights - in particular the spectacular Blue Mosque - but also learned how to deal with hustlers (simply humour them). We also ate a delicious meal of fried mussels in one of the city's hundreds of rooftop terrace restaurants.
What I saw of Istanbul was beautiful - a city where two continents meet and two cultures mingle. Then again, no matter how much time I spent looking around and admiring the vibrant culture, sounds, smells and sights of the place, I found it difficult to escape the fear that someone was trying to scam me. A few days later, I left for Gallipoli with an Australian traveller who's on a pilgrimage to commemorate the campaign during World War I.
Flying this week
This week I've used a Turkish airline that even the Turks don't seem to have heard of - Corendon. They operate only two routes, from Istanbul to Eindhoven and Amsterdam in the Netherlands. Knowing nothing about them, I discovered at Amsterdam Schiphol that they are actually a charter airline and most of their passengers are Dutch and Turkish holidaymakers who've booked package holidays traditionally through travel agents.
One down side to flying with a Turkish charter airline is that the cost of the flight works out a little more than I was comfortable paying. Even so, Corendon unquestionably offer the cheapest flights between Western Europe and Turkey, and are only rivalled by the likes of German Wings and Air Berlin. Plus, being served chicken curry on a budget airline was an unexpected and welcome luxury.
But beware: the English and Dutch language versions of Corendon's website don't seem to work at the moment, so you have to make bookings by trying your luck at Turkish. Ticket prices start at €19.
Flights Amsterdam - Istanbul: £60, Corendon
Mile high
17/02/05 00:00 Filed in: 17 Feb 2005
Aloft in the Italian Alps, Nick dodges the smog in Bergamo, test-drives cable cars - and finds how to do a skiing daytrip from London for £50.
I landed at Milan Linate, ready to pick up another Smart car hired from the German company Sixti for €5 a day. But as I arrived to collect my bargain machine I was greeted by two grave faces: it wasn't available. "We're very sorry to have to tell you this, but we don't have any Smart cars available... in fact, you reserved a group A car and all we have left are group G cars." I was supposed to be disappointed, but explained that I would happily take my free upgrade if that's all they could offer. So off I drove, straight down the autostrada, in a car that normally can't be rented to anyone under 25.
My first stop was Milan Orio al Serio airport, better known as Milan Bergamo to anyone who uses budget airlines. My destination was a little ironic: as a budget flyer I rarely have the opportunity of flying directly to a city's main airport, yet in Milan I'd done just that - and now I was heading in the opposite direction. The reason I was driving to Bergamo was to meet my dad and his partner Arlene, who he'd decided to take away to celebrate her birthday in the Italian Alps.
After my disgruntled comments about Christmas in Slovenia -they stayed in an ultra-modern hotel while I slept in a hostel converted from a prison - they generously offered me a room in the hotel they'd booked. The unoriginally titled Hotel Moderne is almost the last building at the very top of a mountain in a place called Fuipiano in the Valle Imagna near to Bergamo. Fuipiano is only 20km from Bergamo, but it took us an hour every morning to drive along winding roads that only just cling to the mountain's edge.
All Arlene asked for on her birthday was to see snow - yet although our mountain position offered a scattering, I think it wasn't quite what she'd hoped for. I guess this was another symptom of the extraordinary irregularities in European weather at the moment: having only just arrived in northern Italy from Naples with an odd combination of sunburn and influenza, I'd sooner gamble on her chances of finding snow to the south. While everyone in the north is complaining that it's the warmest winter on record, everybody in the south moans that it's the coldest. The hospitals have declared a flu epidemic in sunny Naples.
Anyway, we drove the scenic route to Lucerne in Switzerland, where we knew all of Arlene's wishes would come true. Impressive views of the mountains and a long drive through San Gottard followed, with a beautiful lake at the other end. Even a bit of culture was thrown in, with a brief education about the town's medieval bridge and how it kept getting extended over the years, only to be destroyed by fire.
The actual journey time was six hours, around three times my dad's original prediction - this is quite normal - and soon after we arrived in Lucerne, it was time to return again. We had a quick look around the shops, withdrew a meaningless sum of Swiss Francs (not knowing their value), and did our best to spend them in one of Lucerne's dog-friendly cafes.
Back at Hotel Moderne we ate traditional food from Bergamo over three filling courses, and celebrated Arlene's birthday with an enormous profiterole I'd brought up from Naples. The owner of the restaurant was somewhat bemused at the sight of such a cake, and knew immediately that I had bought it in the south - such barmy things can't be found anywhere north of Rome.
We spent the week getting the best value out of our €5-a-day Renault Scenic and heading in search of the highest mountain passes nearby. Apart from the natural buzz of being on top of a mountain, there were two other things that tempted us to get as high as possible. Bergamo, beautiful though it is, suffers from extremely bad air pollution: if there isn't any wind or rain for a few days, smog settles in the valley and develops to the point where the landscape is blighted by a disgustingly thick haze. Despite this rather depressing fact, it is still a wonderful little town. It's split into old and new, the old quarter sitting at the top of two funicular railways, is uncharacteristically clean and orderly, and is definitely worth considering as an alternative to Milan.
The other reason for driving upwards was to satisfy my dad's obsession with cable cars and chairlifts. Every holiday he's ever been on he'd come back talking of scenic cable cars swinging over the mountains. But he's yet to really sell the idea, despite persuading me to brave a swinging chair nearby. We were the only ones taking the lift who couldn't actually ski, so while everyone else skied back to the bottom, we had to take the ski lift again. How embarrassing! The worst experience of all followed at Piazzatorre, a ski lift that involved stepping into a blue bucket loosely bolted to a cable: it's 15 minutes before you're given a chance to escape. But in the end even I can admit that it was quite a thrill - though for most people in the region it's simply a means of transport.
On the last day we were together, the winds came and the sky cleared, a little late perhaps, but we were still able to enjoy a morning coffee by the beautiful Lake Lecco before dropping the car back in Milan. I think it'd have been a crime to go to northern Italy for a week and not spend any time by a lake - surely an institution for Italians and foreigners alike. After a long lunch in Milan on our final day, our journeys had to continue. Dad, Arlene and me were all leaving from Bergamo airport at the same time, but bound for different cities.
After these high-altitude experiences, my dad has come up with a budget plan for skiers: take a 99p flight to Bergamo at 6am, rent a car for €5, pay €6 for a lift pass, then get the last flight back at 10pm. A new cheap day return from London, under £50: skiing in the Alps!
Flying this week
I still haven't properly recovered from my extremely bad landing in Palermo two weeks ago. Turbulence no longer thrills me; in fact it's done quite the opposite ever since Ryanair almost nosedived me into Palermo.
I took AlpiEagles for the second time between Naples and Milan Linate, and I still can't get over the excitement of being allocated a seat number and a nice comfy leather chair. This is another airline that brags about 90 cent flights, but there is a catch - when they add the taxes they seem to be about double everyone else's. Although not the cheapest flight, the journey was unquestionably better value than the alternatives and AlpiEagles are a good airline for hopping around Italy, especially after Italian budget airline Volare went bust a couple of months ago.
The biggest surprise this week has been my most recent flight, which exceeded all expectations. I flew with Transavia.com, the new face of the Dutch budget airline Basiqair. They want to be taken more seriously as an airline that businesses can reliably use, and it showed. When the pilot said to watch the safety demonstration video, I was a bit puzzled - until LCD screens suddenly lowered from the panels between each row! Perhaps this technology is standard on more traditional airlines, but it was a truly exciting surprise for me. And as my dad and Arlene headed off on Ryanair, perhaps still contemplating buying one of their "fly-to-win" scratchcards, I headed to Amsterdam watching Tom And Jerry, and wishing only that I'd booked more flights with Transavia.
Flights
Naples-Milan: £31.49, AlpiEagles Bergamo-Amsterdam: £31.49, Transavia.com (formerly BasiqAir)
My first stop was Milan Orio al Serio airport, better known as Milan Bergamo to anyone who uses budget airlines. My destination was a little ironic: as a budget flyer I rarely have the opportunity of flying directly to a city's main airport, yet in Milan I'd done just that - and now I was heading in the opposite direction. The reason I was driving to Bergamo was to meet my dad and his partner Arlene, who he'd decided to take away to celebrate her birthday in the Italian Alps.
After my disgruntled comments about Christmas in Slovenia -they stayed in an ultra-modern hotel while I slept in a hostel converted from a prison - they generously offered me a room in the hotel they'd booked. The unoriginally titled Hotel Moderne is almost the last building at the very top of a mountain in a place called Fuipiano in the Valle Imagna near to Bergamo. Fuipiano is only 20km from Bergamo, but it took us an hour every morning to drive along winding roads that only just cling to the mountain's edge.
All Arlene asked for on her birthday was to see snow - yet although our mountain position offered a scattering, I think it wasn't quite what she'd hoped for. I guess this was another symptom of the extraordinary irregularities in European weather at the moment: having only just arrived in northern Italy from Naples with an odd combination of sunburn and influenza, I'd sooner gamble on her chances of finding snow to the south. While everyone in the north is complaining that it's the warmest winter on record, everybody in the south moans that it's the coldest. The hospitals have declared a flu epidemic in sunny Naples.
Anyway, we drove the scenic route to Lucerne in Switzerland, where we knew all of Arlene's wishes would come true. Impressive views of the mountains and a long drive through San Gottard followed, with a beautiful lake at the other end. Even a bit of culture was thrown in, with a brief education about the town's medieval bridge and how it kept getting extended over the years, only to be destroyed by fire.
The actual journey time was six hours, around three times my dad's original prediction - this is quite normal - and soon after we arrived in Lucerne, it was time to return again. We had a quick look around the shops, withdrew a meaningless sum of Swiss Francs (not knowing their value), and did our best to spend them in one of Lucerne's dog-friendly cafes.
Back at Hotel Moderne we ate traditional food from Bergamo over three filling courses, and celebrated Arlene's birthday with an enormous profiterole I'd brought up from Naples. The owner of the restaurant was somewhat bemused at the sight of such a cake, and knew immediately that I had bought it in the south - such barmy things can't be found anywhere north of Rome.
We spent the week getting the best value out of our €5-a-day Renault Scenic and heading in search of the highest mountain passes nearby. Apart from the natural buzz of being on top of a mountain, there were two other things that tempted us to get as high as possible. Bergamo, beautiful though it is, suffers from extremely bad air pollution: if there isn't any wind or rain for a few days, smog settles in the valley and develops to the point where the landscape is blighted by a disgustingly thick haze. Despite this rather depressing fact, it is still a wonderful little town. It's split into old and new, the old quarter sitting at the top of two funicular railways, is uncharacteristically clean and orderly, and is definitely worth considering as an alternative to Milan.
The other reason for driving upwards was to satisfy my dad's obsession with cable cars and chairlifts. Every holiday he's ever been on he'd come back talking of scenic cable cars swinging over the mountains. But he's yet to really sell the idea, despite persuading me to brave a swinging chair nearby. We were the only ones taking the lift who couldn't actually ski, so while everyone else skied back to the bottom, we had to take the ski lift again. How embarrassing! The worst experience of all followed at Piazzatorre, a ski lift that involved stepping into a blue bucket loosely bolted to a cable: it's 15 minutes before you're given a chance to escape. But in the end even I can admit that it was quite a thrill - though for most people in the region it's simply a means of transport.
On the last day we were together, the winds came and the sky cleared, a little late perhaps, but we were still able to enjoy a morning coffee by the beautiful Lake Lecco before dropping the car back in Milan. I think it'd have been a crime to go to northern Italy for a week and not spend any time by a lake - surely an institution for Italians and foreigners alike. After a long lunch in Milan on our final day, our journeys had to continue. Dad, Arlene and me were all leaving from Bergamo airport at the same time, but bound for different cities.
After these high-altitude experiences, my dad has come up with a budget plan for skiers: take a 99p flight to Bergamo at 6am, rent a car for €5, pay €6 for a lift pass, then get the last flight back at 10pm. A new cheap day return from London, under £50: skiing in the Alps!
Flying this week
I still haven't properly recovered from my extremely bad landing in Palermo two weeks ago. Turbulence no longer thrills me; in fact it's done quite the opposite ever since Ryanair almost nosedived me into Palermo.
I took AlpiEagles for the second time between Naples and Milan Linate, and I still can't get over the excitement of being allocated a seat number and a nice comfy leather chair. This is another airline that brags about 90 cent flights, but there is a catch - when they add the taxes they seem to be about double everyone else's. Although not the cheapest flight, the journey was unquestionably better value than the alternatives and AlpiEagles are a good airline for hopping around Italy, especially after Italian budget airline Volare went bust a couple of months ago.
The biggest surprise this week has been my most recent flight, which exceeded all expectations. I flew with Transavia.com, the new face of the Dutch budget airline Basiqair. They want to be taken more seriously as an airline that businesses can reliably use, and it showed. When the pilot said to watch the safety demonstration video, I was a bit puzzled - until LCD screens suddenly lowered from the panels between each row! Perhaps this technology is standard on more traditional airlines, but it was a truly exciting surprise for me. And as my dad and Arlene headed off on Ryanair, perhaps still contemplating buying one of their "fly-to-win" scratchcards, I headed to Amsterdam watching Tom And Jerry, and wishing only that I'd booked more flights with Transavia.
Flights
Naples-Milan: £31.49, AlpiEagles Bergamo-Amsterdam: £31.49, Transavia.com (formerly BasiqAir)
Eye openers
10/02/05 00:00 Filed in: 10 Feb 2005
Moving north through Italy, Nick takes in the ancient ruins and volcanoes of Sicily and the less-than-legal streets of Naples.
Everything must go... the markets of Naples are an experience not to be missed. Photo: Nick Hall
Seven nights in Palermo, braving the cheapest hotels, on with a consistent diet of panini and pizza is more than the body can cope with. And after arriving in the midst of a storm the weather was still showing no signs of improving by the end of the week.
The two elderly owners of Hotel Paradiso allowed me to stay in their living quarters on the top floor for a reduced price of €20. Having knocked a little off the price of the hotel, asking for extra blankets, hot water or a radiator was absolutely out of the question.
In a surprisingly short amount of time I seemed to have learned a great deal about the Italian approach to living. In my experience, Italians, or at least those from Naples and Palermo, have an amazing ability of being completely inconsiderate of others or anything around them whilst at the same time being amongst some of the kindest and most hospitable people I've ever met. Anybody who has experienced Palermitan or Napolitan driving will understand what I mean.
During my week in Palermo I became well acquainted with - and a marketing tool for - the owners of Shah Malum, Palermo's only Indian takeaway. But introducing Indian food to the Sicilians was extremely difficult. When offered naan bread many simply turned up their noses in disgust, unable to differentiate between a plain pizza base and traditional Indian food.
Eventually I found the weather and the cold hotels unbearable and decided to leave Palermo for Agrigento in the south of Sicily.
I was keen to see two things whilst I was in Agrigento, the Valley of Temples and the Vulcanelli di Macalube. The Valley of Temples is scattered with some of the best preserved Greek temples in the world. It is truly an eye opener and one of the most important archaeological sites in Europe. I came back on two consecutive days just to see it all again.
I also made the time to see Agrigento's archeological museum, which holds hundreds of thousands of objects dug up from decades of excavations in southern Sicily, with fascinating objects from Greek pottery and kitchenware to Roman helmets and weapons.
Although I was advised not to try and find the Vulcanelli di Macalube unless I had a car, I could hardly believe that something only 50km north of Agrigento could possibly be so inaccessible. So I took a bus to a small village called Aragona from where I had to walk for another 2km. After two and a half hours of walking the wrong way a farmer gave me a lift on the back of a tractor. Finally, I made it the Macalube.
Amongst the incredible landscape are a number of small craters about a metre high which bubble about every 10 seconds. Warm clay pours down, shaping and changing the landscape. As it hardens over time, the landscape cracks and forms a surface of soft hexagons, some of which peel in the sun.
I returned to Palermo to take my flight to Naples. Before leaving Palermo I had a quick look around Palermo's huge cathedral that has been changed a number of times over the years and was once used as a mosque. On my last night I was keen to see a performance by music students at Palermo's jazz school in the cultural centre. The cultural centre is set in the remains of an ruined church where open-air displays also take place. On the roof of the church is a semi-wild garden. Unfortunately, as it was still raining, I wasn't able to see a performance.
I went to Naples the following morning, making sure not to forget the strong words of caution that had been told to me by so many people living in Palermo. "Be very careful crossing the road" and "people will not slow or stop for anyone or anything". I simply took all this as hearsay, which turned out to be very foolish. Crossing the road in Naples' main piazza I naturally assumed that the cars would, eventually try and stop when they see somebody crossing a zebra; far from it, they actually speed up to hurry pedestrians out of the way! Road rules are completely ignored and people will happily drive down the pavement if the traffic on the road causes an inconvenience for them.
My first problem was finding somewhere to stay, again. There is a considerable lack of hostels, but I did eventually find one. The staff at Hostel of the Sun were very quick to warn all their guests to be careful at night and not to buy anything from the markets, as nothing is real or genuine. I was told by Carla, who works at the hostel, "if you buy a video camera or mobile phone in the markets don't be surprised to find a brick in the box when you get back, these people are magicians". But the markets are an experience not to be missed, if only just to take a look around and be amazed at the hustling and open sale of everything conceivably forgeable or illegal.
From what I've been told, many people will stay in Naples and visit everything except the city itself. With the Carnival in Venice coming to an end this week staying in the city doesn't sound like much fun. Children spend their evenings on the streets celebrating the carnival by throwing eggs at passers-by. I've been a witness to this!
Flying this week
This week I've chosen the Italian airline AlpiEagles who fly all over the alpine regions of Western Europe. The flight was very satisfactory and certainly not typical of most budget airlines. AlpiEagles are clearly aiming to attract the business customer and not a scruffy traveller with an overweight backpack like me! Nonetheless I was still able to enjoy the 40-minute flight and was thoroughly entertained to see someone take their puppy, kitted in the latest Italian doggy sweater, onto the plane for its first ever flight.
Unlike most cities I travel between, Palermo and Naples are two cities that are spoilt for for options. Many people take the overnight ferry, which takes 12 hours, whereas others take the 12-hour train journey. A bus also runs between the two cities - probably also taking 12 hours. All journeys seem to cost roughly the same price with flying being the cheapest of the three options.
Flights
Palermo - Naples: £35, AlpiEagles
Everything must go... the markets of Naples are an experience not to be missed. Photo: Nick Hall
Seven nights in Palermo, braving the cheapest hotels, on with a consistent diet of panini and pizza is more than the body can cope with. And after arriving in the midst of a storm the weather was still showing no signs of improving by the end of the week.
The two elderly owners of Hotel Paradiso allowed me to stay in their living quarters on the top floor for a reduced price of €20. Having knocked a little off the price of the hotel, asking for extra blankets, hot water or a radiator was absolutely out of the question.
In a surprisingly short amount of time I seemed to have learned a great deal about the Italian approach to living. In my experience, Italians, or at least those from Naples and Palermo, have an amazing ability of being completely inconsiderate of others or anything around them whilst at the same time being amongst some of the kindest and most hospitable people I've ever met. Anybody who has experienced Palermitan or Napolitan driving will understand what I mean.
During my week in Palermo I became well acquainted with - and a marketing tool for - the owners of Shah Malum, Palermo's only Indian takeaway. But introducing Indian food to the Sicilians was extremely difficult. When offered naan bread many simply turned up their noses in disgust, unable to differentiate between a plain pizza base and traditional Indian food.
Eventually I found the weather and the cold hotels unbearable and decided to leave Palermo for Agrigento in the south of Sicily.
I was keen to see two things whilst I was in Agrigento, the Valley of Temples and the Vulcanelli di Macalube. The Valley of Temples is scattered with some of the best preserved Greek temples in the world. It is truly an eye opener and one of the most important archaeological sites in Europe. I came back on two consecutive days just to see it all again.
I also made the time to see Agrigento's archeological museum, which holds hundreds of thousands of objects dug up from decades of excavations in southern Sicily, with fascinating objects from Greek pottery and kitchenware to Roman helmets and weapons.
Although I was advised not to try and find the Vulcanelli di Macalube unless I had a car, I could hardly believe that something only 50km north of Agrigento could possibly be so inaccessible. So I took a bus to a small village called Aragona from where I had to walk for another 2km. After two and a half hours of walking the wrong way a farmer gave me a lift on the back of a tractor. Finally, I made it the Macalube.
Amongst the incredible landscape are a number of small craters about a metre high which bubble about every 10 seconds. Warm clay pours down, shaping and changing the landscape. As it hardens over time, the landscape cracks and forms a surface of soft hexagons, some of which peel in the sun.
I returned to Palermo to take my flight to Naples. Before leaving Palermo I had a quick look around Palermo's huge cathedral that has been changed a number of times over the years and was once used as a mosque. On my last night I was keen to see a performance by music students at Palermo's jazz school in the cultural centre. The cultural centre is set in the remains of an ruined church where open-air displays also take place. On the roof of the church is a semi-wild garden. Unfortunately, as it was still raining, I wasn't able to see a performance.
I went to Naples the following morning, making sure not to forget the strong words of caution that had been told to me by so many people living in Palermo. "Be very careful crossing the road" and "people will not slow or stop for anyone or anything". I simply took all this as hearsay, which turned out to be very foolish. Crossing the road in Naples' main piazza I naturally assumed that the cars would, eventually try and stop when they see somebody crossing a zebra; far from it, they actually speed up to hurry pedestrians out of the way! Road rules are completely ignored and people will happily drive down the pavement if the traffic on the road causes an inconvenience for them.
My first problem was finding somewhere to stay, again. There is a considerable lack of hostels, but I did eventually find one. The staff at Hostel of the Sun were very quick to warn all their guests to be careful at night and not to buy anything from the markets, as nothing is real or genuine. I was told by Carla, who works at the hostel, "if you buy a video camera or mobile phone in the markets don't be surprised to find a brick in the box when you get back, these people are magicians". But the markets are an experience not to be missed, if only just to take a look around and be amazed at the hustling and open sale of everything conceivably forgeable or illegal.
From what I've been told, many people will stay in Naples and visit everything except the city itself. With the Carnival in Venice coming to an end this week staying in the city doesn't sound like much fun. Children spend their evenings on the streets celebrating the carnival by throwing eggs at passers-by. I've been a witness to this!
Flying this week
This week I've chosen the Italian airline AlpiEagles who fly all over the alpine regions of Western Europe. The flight was very satisfactory and certainly not typical of most budget airlines. AlpiEagles are clearly aiming to attract the business customer and not a scruffy traveller with an overweight backpack like me! Nonetheless I was still able to enjoy the 40-minute flight and was thoroughly entertained to see someone take their puppy, kitted in the latest Italian doggy sweater, onto the plane for its first ever flight.
Unlike most cities I travel between, Palermo and Naples are two cities that are spoilt for for options. Many people take the overnight ferry, which takes 12 hours, whereas others take the 12-hour train journey. A bus also runs between the two cities - probably also taking 12 hours. All journeys seem to cost roughly the same price with flying being the cheapest of the three options.
Flights
Palermo - Naples: £35, AlpiEagles
Storms and teacups
03/02/05 00:00 Filed in: 03 Feb 2005
Moving through southern Europe, Nick meets a grumpy Portuguese horse, survives a scary plane ride and soaks up some Sicilian coffee-shop culture.
Blazing saddles... Nick gets an introduction to life on the hoof; but the horses at Vale de Ferro had ideas of their own. Photo: Nick Hall
My journey through Portugal with Evih, a friend from London, continued southwards to Faro in the Algarve. With great difficulty, we both finally managed to pull ourselves away from the lavish surroundings of Pensao Sintra where we stayed in a grand room within an equally grand stately home for just £10 each.
With so many circles drawn on our road map of Portugal, deciding which town we should head towards was anything but easy, not least because we'd forgotten why most were circled to start with.
We drove down to Sagres at on the most southwesterly tip of Portugal. Sagres is unquestionably a surfer's town, even in the winter. Before doing anything we searched high and low for a hotel we'd been recommended called Monte Velho. Eventually, we found it, 3km from the main road via a dirt track amongst the largely uninhabited hills near Carrapateira, Aljezur. It wasn't long before we both realised that the €90 tariff was absolutely non-negotiable. We had a quick look around the beautifully converted stables and were quickly reminded that this was out of our price bracket when the owner began making arrangements for us to stay at the local lifeguard's surf camp instead.
As promised, the lifeguard met us some 5km along the main road from Monte Velho and led us, this time down an almost impassable mud track through cornfields, to a camp comprising of three wooden huts and an outdoor kitchen. Although I thought the offer of staying in a surf camp for free was the best offer both Evih and I were likely to have, the decision had already been made on my behalf. We spent the next two nights in an apartment in nearby Carrapateira.
On the day a local told us was the coldest day in Portugal, we made a wise but somewhat cowardly decision not to take the surf lessons. Instead, we chose horse riding at the Vale de Ferro riding school, situated just off of the main road between Lagos and Portimo. Taking one-hour beginner lessons, we began with a trot around the arena to familiarise ourselves with the horses before heading out into the mountains.
Two friendly instructors, one German and the other Portuguese, taught us the basics. We headed into the nearby mountains where, my horse, Chamon, decided that she was fed up with carrying me and did her best to kick me off, violently! After getting more than we bargained for from a €25 introduction to riding both we made our way to Faro.
With only a few hours to spare before catching our flight back to London, we decided we'd give Faro a chance and headed for Praia da Faro, a beach sitting directly at the end of Faro's airport runway. Faro itself and the long stretch of coastline either side is lined with holiday homes, hotels, and resorts. Praia da Faro, in stark contrast, is slightly detached from the mainland at the end of a connecting road. We spent a rather pleasant last few hours only a stone's throw away from our departure point.
Evih returned home to relax for a few days before returning to work while I continued my journey to Sicily.
When I arrived at Palermo the temperature was a rotten 3°C. The small mountains in the background were covered in snow, and by the end of the first day my feet were itching so badly from the rain that I simply couldn't stay out any longer.
I'm no stranger to Italy, having visited the country eleven times during the last year. One place I was keen to return to was Palermo, which is in my opinion one of the greatest and least known cities in Europe. I wasn't about to let bad weather ruin my trip.
On the plane I met two Americans, Jason and Andrew, who were studying at LSE in London and had decided to make a day trip to Palermo. Given what short time they had, I offered to show them around parts of the city that I already knew.
One of my favourite places to visit in Palermo is without a doubt 'Kursaal Kalhesa', a trendy bookshop that doubles as a bar, albeit an expensive one. Away from the hustle and bustle of the city, Kursaal Kalhesa, which bears no name on its front, is hidden within the city wall facing the port. We happened to arrive during a reading the Sicilian author Lugli Bernardi, and we all enjoyed Kursaal Kalhesa's speciality liqueur coffees, or Café Corretto, as it's better known to the Italians.
Palermo is mostly an outdoor city and doesn't lend itself well to cold and rainy weather. With few indoor sights to choose from we decided to take a tour around Teatro Massimo, Palermo's recently renovated and reopened opera house - the third largest in Europe. Tickets in the stalls begin at €100 so seeing an opera wasn't an option for any of us. Luckily we had a better excuse - there were no performances until February 15.
I told Andrew and Jason a few stories about how the Mafia operates in Palermo, most of which had been passed to me from other Sicilians. We visited Villa Garibaldi, next to Piazza Marina, where the famous Mafia assassination of Joseph Petrosino, a New York police commissioner, took place on March 14, 1909, beneath an incredible tree with exposed roots dangling from its branches.
We each went our separate ways. For the Americans it was back to their studies in London and for me it was to find somewhere to stay for the week in Palermo, where I'll be taking each day as it comes.
In no particular rush to leave Palermo, I hope to improve my Italian to the point where I can talk my way out of paying for things whilst at the same time get a good feel for Palermo and the Western part of Sicily. Given how hospitable Sicilians can be, this shouldn't be too difficult a task.
Flying this week - lucky to be alive!
Ryanair's approach to Italy is anything but shy. "Arrividerci Alitalia" is audaciously written on a number of their Italy-bound aircraft. Like it or loathe it, Ryanair alone flies to no less than 13 destinations in Italy and their message to rivals is simple.
It very almost became arrividerci Ryanair, Netjetter, and 200 other unsuspecting passengers when stormy weather forced the pilot of a full flight from Stansted to Palermo to make a last-minute decision, cancelling landing only seconds from touchdown. When we could see the runway beneath us, the engines suddenly went on full power. Not knowing whether we were accelerating downwards or upwards a state of panic arose and finally a use was found for Ryanair's sick bags that double up as film processing envelopes! We flew straight over the runway at Palermo airport and steeply up again into the clouds.
I realised how religious Italians are, at least in times of possible disasters. With people either side of me saying Hail Marys and praying aloud I began to wonder what was happening. Of course, it wasn't the work of terrorists or any problem with the plane's landing gear; it was simply an unexpected flash storm.
"It was too dangerous to land," the pilot told us. "We'll give it a second shot and fingers crossed, everything should be OK this time."
As long as you make it from London to Palermo it's one of the best value budget routes around. For 99p (before tax) you'd be lucky if you could by two postcards of Palermo, let alone a three-hour flight!
Flights
Faro - London Gatwick - £20 easyJet London Stansted - Palermo - £21 Ryanair
Blazing saddles... Nick gets an introduction to life on the hoof; but the horses at Vale de Ferro had ideas of their own. Photo: Nick Hall
My journey through Portugal with Evih, a friend from London, continued southwards to Faro in the Algarve. With great difficulty, we both finally managed to pull ourselves away from the lavish surroundings of Pensao Sintra where we stayed in a grand room within an equally grand stately home for just £10 each.
With so many circles drawn on our road map of Portugal, deciding which town we should head towards was anything but easy, not least because we'd forgotten why most were circled to start with.
We drove down to Sagres at on the most southwesterly tip of Portugal. Sagres is unquestionably a surfer's town, even in the winter. Before doing anything we searched high and low for a hotel we'd been recommended called Monte Velho. Eventually, we found it, 3km from the main road via a dirt track amongst the largely uninhabited hills near Carrapateira, Aljezur. It wasn't long before we both realised that the €90 tariff was absolutely non-negotiable. We had a quick look around the beautifully converted stables and were quickly reminded that this was out of our price bracket when the owner began making arrangements for us to stay at the local lifeguard's surf camp instead.
As promised, the lifeguard met us some 5km along the main road from Monte Velho and led us, this time down an almost impassable mud track through cornfields, to a camp comprising of three wooden huts and an outdoor kitchen. Although I thought the offer of staying in a surf camp for free was the best offer both Evih and I were likely to have, the decision had already been made on my behalf. We spent the next two nights in an apartment in nearby Carrapateira.
On the day a local told us was the coldest day in Portugal, we made a wise but somewhat cowardly decision not to take the surf lessons. Instead, we chose horse riding at the Vale de Ferro riding school, situated just off of the main road between Lagos and Portimo. Taking one-hour beginner lessons, we began with a trot around the arena to familiarise ourselves with the horses before heading out into the mountains.
Two friendly instructors, one German and the other Portuguese, taught us the basics. We headed into the nearby mountains where, my horse, Chamon, decided that she was fed up with carrying me and did her best to kick me off, violently! After getting more than we bargained for from a €25 introduction to riding both we made our way to Faro.
With only a few hours to spare before catching our flight back to London, we decided we'd give Faro a chance and headed for Praia da Faro, a beach sitting directly at the end of Faro's airport runway. Faro itself and the long stretch of coastline either side is lined with holiday homes, hotels, and resorts. Praia da Faro, in stark contrast, is slightly detached from the mainland at the end of a connecting road. We spent a rather pleasant last few hours only a stone's throw away from our departure point.
Evih returned home to relax for a few days before returning to work while I continued my journey to Sicily.
When I arrived at Palermo the temperature was a rotten 3°C. The small mountains in the background were covered in snow, and by the end of the first day my feet were itching so badly from the rain that I simply couldn't stay out any longer.
I'm no stranger to Italy, having visited the country eleven times during the last year. One place I was keen to return to was Palermo, which is in my opinion one of the greatest and least known cities in Europe. I wasn't about to let bad weather ruin my trip.
On the plane I met two Americans, Jason and Andrew, who were studying at LSE in London and had decided to make a day trip to Palermo. Given what short time they had, I offered to show them around parts of the city that I already knew.
One of my favourite places to visit in Palermo is without a doubt 'Kursaal Kalhesa', a trendy bookshop that doubles as a bar, albeit an expensive one. Away from the hustle and bustle of the city, Kursaal Kalhesa, which bears no name on its front, is hidden within the city wall facing the port. We happened to arrive during a reading the Sicilian author Lugli Bernardi, and we all enjoyed Kursaal Kalhesa's speciality liqueur coffees, or Café Corretto, as it's better known to the Italians.
Palermo is mostly an outdoor city and doesn't lend itself well to cold and rainy weather. With few indoor sights to choose from we decided to take a tour around Teatro Massimo, Palermo's recently renovated and reopened opera house - the third largest in Europe. Tickets in the stalls begin at €100 so seeing an opera wasn't an option for any of us. Luckily we had a better excuse - there were no performances until February 15.
I told Andrew and Jason a few stories about how the Mafia operates in Palermo, most of which had been passed to me from other Sicilians. We visited Villa Garibaldi, next to Piazza Marina, where the famous Mafia assassination of Joseph Petrosino, a New York police commissioner, took place on March 14, 1909, beneath an incredible tree with exposed roots dangling from its branches.
We each went our separate ways. For the Americans it was back to their studies in London and for me it was to find somewhere to stay for the week in Palermo, where I'll be taking each day as it comes.
In no particular rush to leave Palermo, I hope to improve my Italian to the point where I can talk my way out of paying for things whilst at the same time get a good feel for Palermo and the Western part of Sicily. Given how hospitable Sicilians can be, this shouldn't be too difficult a task.
Flying this week - lucky to be alive!
Ryanair's approach to Italy is anything but shy. "Arrividerci Alitalia" is audaciously written on a number of their Italy-bound aircraft. Like it or loathe it, Ryanair alone flies to no less than 13 destinations in Italy and their message to rivals is simple.
It very almost became arrividerci Ryanair, Netjetter, and 200 other unsuspecting passengers when stormy weather forced the pilot of a full flight from Stansted to Palermo to make a last-minute decision, cancelling landing only seconds from touchdown. When we could see the runway beneath us, the engines suddenly went on full power. Not knowing whether we were accelerating downwards or upwards a state of panic arose and finally a use was found for Ryanair's sick bags that double up as film processing envelopes! We flew straight over the runway at Palermo airport and steeply up again into the clouds.
I realised how religious Italians are, at least in times of possible disasters. With people either side of me saying Hail Marys and praying aloud I began to wonder what was happening. Of course, it wasn't the work of terrorists or any problem with the plane's landing gear; it was simply an unexpected flash storm.
"It was too dangerous to land," the pilot told us. "We'll give it a second shot and fingers crossed, everything should be OK this time."
As long as you make it from London to Palermo it's one of the best value budget routes around. For 99p (before tax) you'd be lucky if you could by two postcards of Palermo, let alone a three-hour flight!
Flights
Faro - London Gatwick - £20 easyJet London Stansted - Palermo - £21 Ryanair
Beach addictss
26/01/05 00:00 Filed in: 26 Jan 2005
After weeks of snow and low temperatures, Nick finally gets a taste of the sun on Portugal's north coast, as he catches the first ever budget flight to Porto.
Striking view ... 'We've visited a number of beautiful cities and towns in Portugal, but none quite as picturesque as Porto.' Photo: Nick Hall
Ryanair's inaugural flight to Porto on January 19 was the first budget flight to the north of Portugal and is a destination that until now has been deprived of cheap flights.
On my very short stopover back in London I met with Evih, a friend of mine from university who had decided some while back to join me when I reached somewhere warm. Evih is new to budget flying and was a little dubious about using Ryanair after hearing so much bad press. But this flight couldn't have been a better introduction. On our arrival in Porto we were all given gift bags from the northern Portuguese tourist board. Inside each was a small bottle of liqueur, a large bottle of wine, a chrome luggage tag and books unnecessarily romanticising Porto and the surrounding regions.
Without further ado, Evih and I both hopped on the bus into the city centre and spent the rest of the morning looking for a budget hotel that we'd reserved online. Our first meal in Portugal has so far probably been our best. We headed down to the river bank where we found a number of restaurants all serving a range of seafood dishes which Portugal is best known for. But we both settled for an odd combination which I can only assume is Portuguese - beef steak covered in chips and runny egg.
After a filling lunch we decided that it was time to explore Porto. The city is built on the steep banks of the Douro river. Exploring the city is confusing, tiring and at times quite embarrassing when well-aged men were reaching the top of steep hills in half the time that we could. It wasn't long before we found ourselves ditching our jackets and sweaters in the surprising heat of the January sun.
Since Porto we've visited a number of other beautiful cities and towns but none quite as picturesque. There are many points from where you can look down over the city. One visible feature of Porto is the many enormous bridges crossing the river, but also a noticeable lack of tourists.
Depending on how you look at it this is either a really good thing or a really bad thing. For us it has been a definite good thing. Travelling out of season promises at least one thing; hotels cost around €30 a night for two people sharing and these can often be quite luxurious. We stayed for one night in our own private villa in Ericeira, which was rented to us by the most adorable little old lady, and three nights in an old 18th century house in the gorgeous surroundings of Sintra, near Lisbon, among Sintra's many palaces.
To make the most of our time in Portugal we decided to hire a car and make our way to the south. Although the rental wasn't as cheap as last week's Smart car, we did still get a very good price that worked out around £10 a day each for a substantially bigger car.
First on our list of places to visit outside of Porto was the Douro valley and the Alto Douro. This is a lovely drive along the river almost as far as the Spanish border. The valley is rich in natural everything and seems to be spoilt by almost nothing. Lush green river banks, beautiful vineyards and awesome landscapes seemed to await us around every corner. We reached a point where stopping so frequently was actually preventing us from making any progress and decided to return to Porto.
After our afternoon drive through the Douro valley we began to make our way southwards down the motorway making Aveiro our first stop after reading that the town was supposedly the "Venice of Portugal". The statement was perhaps a little overstated as the only thing vaguely Venetian was the town's two or three canals and a handful of giant colourful Portuguese gondolas. Aveiro is however very pretty and near to miles of white sand dunes. Sitting on the beach having a picnic, we watched the sun go down as if it were the end of a long summer day.
Discovering that Portugal's Atlantic coast is lined from top to bottom with beautiful and unspoilt sandy beaches we soon became beach addicts, avoiding the extortionate toll prices of the motorway and opting for the minor road that hugs the coast instead. Our one-hour journey on to Lisbon subsequently took two days as we stopped off at so many places along the way. In Ericeira we travelled from beach to beach in search of body boards and wetsuits to rent as well as some good surf, unfortunately we were out of luck.
A little south of Ericeira we stumbled upon Obidos, a town that's built within the original walls of a castle, almost all of which is very much intact. Driving in and around the city's steep cobbled streets was quite extraordinary when it occurred to us that we were actually behind the original castle fortress.
We finally made it to Sintra, which we chose to use as our base for exploring Lisbon 20km away. Little did we know, but Sintra seems to have more to offer than its big city neighbour. Most of our time was spent walking around Sintra's palaces, historical centre and nearby beaches in search of good surf.
Whilst the cost of having a car is quickly building with petrol being almost as expensive as in the UK and tolls costing around €8 an hour, one cost we won't be complaining about is the optional extra insurance on the car. Europcar will certainly be worse off when we return their car in Faro with a few extra marks than we started with, and the car looking like the inside of a sandcastle!
Our stay in Portugal is far from over, in just under a week we hope to make it to the south where we will leave on a flight from Faro, a place we've been warned to steer well clear of for obvious reasons. Continuing our journey, two activities have reached the top of both our itineraries; horse riding and surf lessons. Leaving Portugal without at least doing one of them is not an option.
Flying this week
An inaugural flight is always an exciting thing for me, particularly when the destination is scarcely served with any cheap airlines. The news of Ryanair's arrival in Portugal's second largest city was also big news for the Portuguese. We were greeted by a handful of photographers and film crews who didn't know where to look when I turned my own camera back on them. The other plus of an inaugural flight is of course the free goodie bags.
Surprisingly, northern Portugal seriously lacks low season tourism, and this is reflected with the ludicrously low hotel prices. Perhaps this is all set to change as Ryanair continue to embark on a massive network expansion. It's clear that they have big plans for tourism in the north with new motorways being built alongside other vast building sites everywhere.
Now is probably the time to visit the north of Portugal before it becomes like the Algarve. Unlike almost every region of Europe where budget airlines have succeeded in ensuring that hotels and restaurants are kept busy throughout the year, Portugal seems dormant in the winter despite the daily temperature being a pleasant 20°C.
Flights
London Stansted - Porto £14 (including all taxes) - Ryanair
Striking view ... 'We've visited a number of beautiful cities and towns in Portugal, but none quite as picturesque as Porto.' Photo: Nick Hall
Ryanair's inaugural flight to Porto on January 19 was the first budget flight to the north of Portugal and is a destination that until now has been deprived of cheap flights.
On my very short stopover back in London I met with Evih, a friend of mine from university who had decided some while back to join me when I reached somewhere warm. Evih is new to budget flying and was a little dubious about using Ryanair after hearing so much bad press. But this flight couldn't have been a better introduction. On our arrival in Porto we were all given gift bags from the northern Portuguese tourist board. Inside each was a small bottle of liqueur, a large bottle of wine, a chrome luggage tag and books unnecessarily romanticising Porto and the surrounding regions.
Without further ado, Evih and I both hopped on the bus into the city centre and spent the rest of the morning looking for a budget hotel that we'd reserved online. Our first meal in Portugal has so far probably been our best. We headed down to the river bank where we found a number of restaurants all serving a range of seafood dishes which Portugal is best known for. But we both settled for an odd combination which I can only assume is Portuguese - beef steak covered in chips and runny egg.
After a filling lunch we decided that it was time to explore Porto. The city is built on the steep banks of the Douro river. Exploring the city is confusing, tiring and at times quite embarrassing when well-aged men were reaching the top of steep hills in half the time that we could. It wasn't long before we found ourselves ditching our jackets and sweaters in the surprising heat of the January sun.
Since Porto we've visited a number of other beautiful cities and towns but none quite as picturesque. There are many points from where you can look down over the city. One visible feature of Porto is the many enormous bridges crossing the river, but also a noticeable lack of tourists.
Depending on how you look at it this is either a really good thing or a really bad thing. For us it has been a definite good thing. Travelling out of season promises at least one thing; hotels cost around €30 a night for two people sharing and these can often be quite luxurious. We stayed for one night in our own private villa in Ericeira, which was rented to us by the most adorable little old lady, and three nights in an old 18th century house in the gorgeous surroundings of Sintra, near Lisbon, among Sintra's many palaces.
To make the most of our time in Portugal we decided to hire a car and make our way to the south. Although the rental wasn't as cheap as last week's Smart car, we did still get a very good price that worked out around £10 a day each for a substantially bigger car.
First on our list of places to visit outside of Porto was the Douro valley and the Alto Douro. This is a lovely drive along the river almost as far as the Spanish border. The valley is rich in natural everything and seems to be spoilt by almost nothing. Lush green river banks, beautiful vineyards and awesome landscapes seemed to await us around every corner. We reached a point where stopping so frequently was actually preventing us from making any progress and decided to return to Porto.
After our afternoon drive through the Douro valley we began to make our way southwards down the motorway making Aveiro our first stop after reading that the town was supposedly the "Venice of Portugal". The statement was perhaps a little overstated as the only thing vaguely Venetian was the town's two or three canals and a handful of giant colourful Portuguese gondolas. Aveiro is however very pretty and near to miles of white sand dunes. Sitting on the beach having a picnic, we watched the sun go down as if it were the end of a long summer day.
Discovering that Portugal's Atlantic coast is lined from top to bottom with beautiful and unspoilt sandy beaches we soon became beach addicts, avoiding the extortionate toll prices of the motorway and opting for the minor road that hugs the coast instead. Our one-hour journey on to Lisbon subsequently took two days as we stopped off at so many places along the way. In Ericeira we travelled from beach to beach in search of body boards and wetsuits to rent as well as some good surf, unfortunately we were out of luck.
A little south of Ericeira we stumbled upon Obidos, a town that's built within the original walls of a castle, almost all of which is very much intact. Driving in and around the city's steep cobbled streets was quite extraordinary when it occurred to us that we were actually behind the original castle fortress.
We finally made it to Sintra, which we chose to use as our base for exploring Lisbon 20km away. Little did we know, but Sintra seems to have more to offer than its big city neighbour. Most of our time was spent walking around Sintra's palaces, historical centre and nearby beaches in search of good surf.
Whilst the cost of having a car is quickly building with petrol being almost as expensive as in the UK and tolls costing around €8 an hour, one cost we won't be complaining about is the optional extra insurance on the car. Europcar will certainly be worse off when we return their car in Faro with a few extra marks than we started with, and the car looking like the inside of a sandcastle!
Our stay in Portugal is far from over, in just under a week we hope to make it to the south where we will leave on a flight from Faro, a place we've been warned to steer well clear of for obvious reasons. Continuing our journey, two activities have reached the top of both our itineraries; horse riding and surf lessons. Leaving Portugal without at least doing one of them is not an option.
Flying this week
An inaugural flight is always an exciting thing for me, particularly when the destination is scarcely served with any cheap airlines. The news of Ryanair's arrival in Portugal's second largest city was also big news for the Portuguese. We were greeted by a handful of photographers and film crews who didn't know where to look when I turned my own camera back on them. The other plus of an inaugural flight is of course the free goodie bags.
Surprisingly, northern Portugal seriously lacks low season tourism, and this is reflected with the ludicrously low hotel prices. Perhaps this is all set to change as Ryanair continue to embark on a massive network expansion. It's clear that they have big plans for tourism in the north with new motorways being built alongside other vast building sites everywhere.
Now is probably the time to visit the north of Portugal before it becomes like the Algarve. Unlike almost every region of Europe where budget airlines have succeeded in ensuring that hotels and restaurants are kept busy throughout the year, Portugal seems dormant in the winter despite the daily temperature being a pleasant 20°C.
Flights
London Stansted - Porto £14 (including all taxes) - Ryanair
Whispers from the past
20/01/05 00:00 Filed in: 20 Jan 2005
Nick heads east to Zittau where his grandfather, as a prisoner of war, once unknowingly preserved some of the city's historic treasures.
His grandfather's tracks ... 'Ingrid took me to the railway sidings where my grandfather worked during his time as a PoW.' Photo: Nick Hall
"Ich bin Nicholas Hall, Ernest Hal von Clacton on Sea ist mein Grossvater", is how I introduced myself when I knocked on the door of Frau Kulke's house in Zittau, eastern Germany.
I took a cheap flight to Erfurt, about 200km west of Zittau, and hired a car to make a more meaningful but still just as hurried trip, this time around eastern Germany and the Czech Republic.
During the second world war my grandfather became a prisoner of war and found himself living and doing heavy labour work in Zittau for two and a half years until the war ended in 1945. My grandfather had written an article in a local paper about his time as a PoW and much to his surprise was indirectly put in contact with Frau Ingrid Kulke and her family from Zittau.
I knocked on the door of Frau Kulke's knowing only that my grandfather had been in contact with her, and that the Kulke family had been extremely helpful and generous in helping my grandfather to recall his memories by sending him up to date tourism literature and pictures of the town.
After coffee and cake and a number of telephone calls to translate our conversations, I ended up staying for three days and two nights. Coincidently, I showed up on Frau Kulke's birthday, which we celebrated later that night at a small restaurant in the mountains nearby. I couldn't have asked for a better introduction to German culture and hospitality, whilst at the same time being warmly introduced to almost an entire family of whom I knew nothing about despite some knowing a fair bit about me.
During the first two days language caused a great deal of difficulties. Frau Kulke speaks very little English, though her mother, 92, speaks some - and my German was limited to my brief introduction and "ich habe einen Hamster", which is all I learnt in school and not very useful in the circumstances.
I spent my first full day in Zittau driving in the nearby mountains and touring the sights under the very strict direction of Frau Kulke, who sat next to me in my €5 a day two-seat Smart. Most of the time I had little or no idea why or where I was being sent, but I did learn two more German words, "Links und rechts" for left and right.
On the second evening I met Frau Kulke's daughter, Ingrid. This was a much needed introduction on both parts. Ingrid speaks fluent English and was not only able to translate and bring sense to the many conversations I'd had with Frau Kulke each in our own languages, but also Ingrid was able to enlighten me about how this unlikely rendezvous had come about.
During the following and final day in Zittau, Ingrid took me to the railway sidings, factories, and a heavily excavated coal mine which now sits on the Polish side of the border; all places where my grandfather worked during his time as a PoW. Visiting these places, many of which seemed to have changed very little in recent years, brought an almost indescribable feeling knowing all that I now knew.
Of course I was profoundly fascinated seeing everything, but the most interesting place that Ingrid took me was to see the Veil of Zittau. My grandfather unknowingly rescued this sacred piece of history and took it, along with other items from Zittau's museum, to a protected area in a derelict castle and monastery in Oybin. In his article he describes this as the hardest thing he did during his time in Zittau. The veil was later seriously damaged when the communists discovered it after liberating eastern Germany from Nazi occupation; they thought it would make a good tarpaulin for their outdoor sauna!
I left the Kulkes after a delicious home-cooked meal and an introduction to egg liqueur, used for pouring over ice cream. This was before learning that the alcohol allowance for driving on Czech roads is no more than 0%.
Driving from Germany in to the Czech Republic required a 1km drive through Poland. Soon after crossing the border I was confronted with an unexpected surprise, the 1km between the two countries is nothing more than a no man's land with end-to-end street markets selling everything from samurai swords to garden gnomes. I wanted to take a closer look but what appeared to be the sight of aggressive street vendors and skimpily dressed women quickly surrounding the car made me decide otherwise, I made a speedy getaway.
On to Prague, I was once again amazed that yet another eastern European city had surpassed my expectations. Wonderful bridges and architecture can be found everywhere and a beautiful castle offers an unprecedented view over the city, all things that unsurprisingly make Prague such a popular destination. Unfortunately there is another side to Prague. Not the sleazy stag night city of cheap beer, strip clubs and hookers (although there is all that for those who seek it), the problem is simply mass tourism. From what I saw in two days, it seems there is no genuine Czech culture anywhere in the city centre (apart from one small cafe that I accidentally stumbled upon). Every business has a sole and common interest - serving or ripping off willing-to-pay hordes of tourists.
I met some scandalous Aussies named Sharon and Megan on my last day in Prague and strolled around the city with them for a while. Realising there isn't much else you can be in Prague we all became absolute tourists, visiting souvenir shops, making wishes on the bridge and watching a military procession in the castle. It was fun but not somewhere I'd care to spend too long in, unlike a number of foreigners I met in the hostel who'd practically immigrated to Prague.
Prague to Erfurt turned out to be a good deal further than my initial prediction. Stopping in Dresden to sleep for the night, I finally made it back to Erfurt with no time to take a good look around. I can however reveal that Erfurt does look very beautiful, modern and civilised and whilst most Germans don't seem to have even heard of it, let alone foreigners, it seems a pleasant and relaxing place to spend a weekend.
Flying this week
This week I've thrown in a long run of easyJet flights and decided to give their direct rival Ryanair another chance after having found it within myself to forgive them for taking me to Torp and not Oslo some while back.
The flights were an absurd £12 and that even included the extra charge for booking with a credit card, a ryanair.com credit card if you must know! As we all know, Ryanair are a very successful airline and have recently massively expanded their fleet. As if their planes weren't already big enough to carry large numbers of passengers relatively short distances around the continent, their new 747 800's have been designed to maximise capacity and keep running costs low.
I once remember a while back overhearing somebody commenting that the new planes look like the inside of a plastic bucket. The seats are made of easy to wipe leather and the back of each seat is bright blue and yellow plastic. They certainly know how to take the glamour out of flying! When I shared the same joke with a member of cabin crew she didn't seem to share my sense of humour.
Nonetheless I have no complaints, the flight was as comfortable as any other and I've often sat on buses for longer periods with no complaints.
You'll probably agree by now that I'm having no difficulty travelling around Europe on cheap flights and that any other mode of transport would certainly turn out longer and more expensive.
One bargain I have found to complement my budget flying is renting Smart cars for €5 a day. No, Ryanair haven't moved into car rental, Sixti offer ridiculously cheap car rental at many destinations over Europe but only from booking at sixti.de. If you book early and trust your driving enough not to take insurance then it really is possible to find cars for €5.
Flights
London - Erfurt £12, Erfurt - London £12 , both Ryanair.
His grandfather's tracks ... 'Ingrid took me to the railway sidings where my grandfather worked during his time as a PoW.' Photo: Nick Hall
"Ich bin Nicholas Hall, Ernest Hal von Clacton on Sea ist mein Grossvater", is how I introduced myself when I knocked on the door of Frau Kulke's house in Zittau, eastern Germany.
I took a cheap flight to Erfurt, about 200km west of Zittau, and hired a car to make a more meaningful but still just as hurried trip, this time around eastern Germany and the Czech Republic.
During the second world war my grandfather became a prisoner of war and found himself living and doing heavy labour work in Zittau for two and a half years until the war ended in 1945. My grandfather had written an article in a local paper about his time as a PoW and much to his surprise was indirectly put in contact with Frau Ingrid Kulke and her family from Zittau.
I knocked on the door of Frau Kulke's knowing only that my grandfather had been in contact with her, and that the Kulke family had been extremely helpful and generous in helping my grandfather to recall his memories by sending him up to date tourism literature and pictures of the town.
After coffee and cake and a number of telephone calls to translate our conversations, I ended up staying for three days and two nights. Coincidently, I showed up on Frau Kulke's birthday, which we celebrated later that night at a small restaurant in the mountains nearby. I couldn't have asked for a better introduction to German culture and hospitality, whilst at the same time being warmly introduced to almost an entire family of whom I knew nothing about despite some knowing a fair bit about me.
During the first two days language caused a great deal of difficulties. Frau Kulke speaks very little English, though her mother, 92, speaks some - and my German was limited to my brief introduction and "ich habe einen Hamster", which is all I learnt in school and not very useful in the circumstances.
I spent my first full day in Zittau driving in the nearby mountains and touring the sights under the very strict direction of Frau Kulke, who sat next to me in my €5 a day two-seat Smart. Most of the time I had little or no idea why or where I was being sent, but I did learn two more German words, "Links und rechts" for left and right.
On the second evening I met Frau Kulke's daughter, Ingrid. This was a much needed introduction on both parts. Ingrid speaks fluent English and was not only able to translate and bring sense to the many conversations I'd had with Frau Kulke each in our own languages, but also Ingrid was able to enlighten me about how this unlikely rendezvous had come about.
During the following and final day in Zittau, Ingrid took me to the railway sidings, factories, and a heavily excavated coal mine which now sits on the Polish side of the border; all places where my grandfather worked during his time as a PoW. Visiting these places, many of which seemed to have changed very little in recent years, brought an almost indescribable feeling knowing all that I now knew.
Of course I was profoundly fascinated seeing everything, but the most interesting place that Ingrid took me was to see the Veil of Zittau. My grandfather unknowingly rescued this sacred piece of history and took it, along with other items from Zittau's museum, to a protected area in a derelict castle and monastery in Oybin. In his article he describes this as the hardest thing he did during his time in Zittau. The veil was later seriously damaged when the communists discovered it after liberating eastern Germany from Nazi occupation; they thought it would make a good tarpaulin for their outdoor sauna!
I left the Kulkes after a delicious home-cooked meal and an introduction to egg liqueur, used for pouring over ice cream. This was before learning that the alcohol allowance for driving on Czech roads is no more than 0%.
Driving from Germany in to the Czech Republic required a 1km drive through Poland. Soon after crossing the border I was confronted with an unexpected surprise, the 1km between the two countries is nothing more than a no man's land with end-to-end street markets selling everything from samurai swords to garden gnomes. I wanted to take a closer look but what appeared to be the sight of aggressive street vendors and skimpily dressed women quickly surrounding the car made me decide otherwise, I made a speedy getaway.
On to Prague, I was once again amazed that yet another eastern European city had surpassed my expectations. Wonderful bridges and architecture can be found everywhere and a beautiful castle offers an unprecedented view over the city, all things that unsurprisingly make Prague such a popular destination. Unfortunately there is another side to Prague. Not the sleazy stag night city of cheap beer, strip clubs and hookers (although there is all that for those who seek it), the problem is simply mass tourism. From what I saw in two days, it seems there is no genuine Czech culture anywhere in the city centre (apart from one small cafe that I accidentally stumbled upon). Every business has a sole and common interest - serving or ripping off willing-to-pay hordes of tourists.
I met some scandalous Aussies named Sharon and Megan on my last day in Prague and strolled around the city with them for a while. Realising there isn't much else you can be in Prague we all became absolute tourists, visiting souvenir shops, making wishes on the bridge and watching a military procession in the castle. It was fun but not somewhere I'd care to spend too long in, unlike a number of foreigners I met in the hostel who'd practically immigrated to Prague.
Prague to Erfurt turned out to be a good deal further than my initial prediction. Stopping in Dresden to sleep for the night, I finally made it back to Erfurt with no time to take a good look around. I can however reveal that Erfurt does look very beautiful, modern and civilised and whilst most Germans don't seem to have even heard of it, let alone foreigners, it seems a pleasant and relaxing place to spend a weekend.
Flying this week
This week I've thrown in a long run of easyJet flights and decided to give their direct rival Ryanair another chance after having found it within myself to forgive them for taking me to Torp and not Oslo some while back.
The flights were an absurd £12 and that even included the extra charge for booking with a credit card, a ryanair.com credit card if you must know! As we all know, Ryanair are a very successful airline and have recently massively expanded their fleet. As if their planes weren't already big enough to carry large numbers of passengers relatively short distances around the continent, their new 747 800's have been designed to maximise capacity and keep running costs low.
I once remember a while back overhearing somebody commenting that the new planes look like the inside of a plastic bucket. The seats are made of easy to wipe leather and the back of each seat is bright blue and yellow plastic. They certainly know how to take the glamour out of flying! When I shared the same joke with a member of cabin crew she didn't seem to share my sense of humour.
Nonetheless I have no complaints, the flight was as comfortable as any other and I've often sat on buses for longer periods with no complaints.
You'll probably agree by now that I'm having no difficulty travelling around Europe on cheap flights and that any other mode of transport would certainly turn out longer and more expensive.
One bargain I have found to complement my budget flying is renting Smart cars for €5 a day. No, Ryanair haven't moved into car rental, Sixti offer ridiculously cheap car rental at many destinations over Europe but only from booking at sixti.de. If you book early and trust your driving enough not to take insurance then it really is possible to find cars for €5.
Flights
London - Erfurt £12, Erfurt - London £12 , both Ryanair.
From bar to bath
12/01/05 00:00 Filed in: 12 Jan 2005
Nick finds hidden nightspots, thermal spas, and solemn reminders of the communist era as he visits Budapest.
Checkmate... Sz&ecute;chenyi spa has a range of different treatment baths as well as some excellent saunas. Photo: Nick Hall
I've spent seven nights in Budapest's Yellow Submarine Hostel, slap-bang in the city centre. What do I get for paying for an overpriced, well slept-in dormitory bed, cold showers and a week of forcing myself to stomach the cheap bread and chocolate spread for breakfast? A T-shirt to make sure I never forget the worst hostel in Europe.
In spite of all the bad points of this hostel, it also provided much of the entertainment for my stay. The city seems to attract a truly international crowd of visitors from weekenders to backpackers and a surprisingly large number of Americans made it this far on their Eurail passes.
My Italian has gone from basic to almost fluent after spending the first few nights drinking with a couple of highly charged Italian guys, both named Luca, who drove 18 hours to Budapest to drink the town dry and leave. I've also met countless others from all over the world, in Budapest with the same common interest.
Luckily the drinking wasn't confined to Yellow Submarine's kitchen table. I found myself regularly seeking out the underground bar scene, consisting of a handful of well hidden chilled-out nightspots, each playing host to stern and sober table football contests with guaranteed defeat for anyone not born and bred in Hungary.
Budapest's bars are really something. On the first night I was given an exciting introduction to Hungary, drinking in a bar called Sark to the sound of loud and live gypsy music, watching in disbelief as Hungarians got up and stomped their feet to the sound of home-made instruments. Other surprises amongst Budapest's nightlife included seeing a dog enjoying the clubs just as much as I was, and stumbling upon a bar that doubled up as brothel.
Most nights have begun in Pot Kulcs (Spare Key) a low-key, studenty bar hidden behind a rusty unmarked metal door in a garden wall. It's surprisingly popular for somewhere so discreet. A handful of other hostellers and I were almost arrested when a local phoned the police as we knocked on doors trying to find Pot Kulcs. Five minutes later and much to our disbelief a police car actually rolled up: we managed to divert their attention by asking for directions.
I don't know how many more cities can be described as 'Paris of the...' but describing Budapest as the Paris of Eastern Europe is not a bad portrayal. Either side of the Danube are Buda and Pest. Pest is the heart of the city with all the hustle and bustle, Buda hilly and home to a large world heritage sight with castles, palaces and churches.
On the outskirts of the city is Statue Park, which houses a collection of monuments from the forty years of communist dictatorship in Hungary. In 1990 the people of Budapest made the decision to uproot these gigantic solemn reminders of the past and put them all in one area outside of the city for people to visit.
Also on my itinerary for Budapest was the House of Terror museum at 60 Andrassy Avenue. Now fully renovated, the former headquarters of the Hungarian ultra-right Arrowcross party houses a detailed and well compiled museum of the decades of communism in Eastern Europe and is an absolute must for any visitor.
The House of Terror was last on my itinerary but in hindsight should have been first. I left the museum stunned and moved by the immense detail of so many years of murder and torture of the Hungarian people. The last two rooms 'The Hall of Tears' and the 'Farewell' room, end the exhibition with the names of all those who were executed for political reasons, as well as video documentation of the 1989 demonstrations. It's impossible not to think about how different Hungary must have been just fifteen years ago.
In contrast to the decades of communism Budapest today seems to be trying to win awards for having the highest concentration of McDonald's and Burger King restaurants in Europe and is busy building some colossal indoor shopping malls.
Between drinking and sightseeing I've been relaxing in some of Budapest's many thermal baths. I'm not sure about the science of these thermal baths but I've been told it's to do with Hungary sitting on a fault line in the Earth's surface. Whatever the cause of this extraordinary natural wonder, it's hard to resist taking a dip at least once a day, usually in the most famous Széchenyi Spa, which has a range of different treatment baths as well as some excellent saunas. These baths were built as medical treatment centres but are also used by dedicated chess players and prowling single girls to play their field.
Budapest is a city with a lot of everything and definitely deserves a second visit, if only just to do it all again. Thank God for cheap flights!
Flying this week
I have taken just two flights this week: Berlin to Budapest and Budapest to London en route to Erfurt in Germany the following morning. Both flights in and out of Budapest have been with easyJet and once again I've continued to be impressed.
Of the budget airlines I've sampled in Europe, easyJet without question have the most professional and courteous staff. Customer satisfaction is a top priority for easyJet, which is not something this industry is known for. The people at easyJet HQ even seemed to listen to my criticisms about staff speaking nothing but English - staff now wear name badges with their spoken languages marked and demonstrations are all translated.
January's easyJet magazine succeeded in providing me with excellent insider advice on Budapest as well as being a surprisingly good read once again. On my flight out of Budapest the pilot took us through a town-by-town description of the route and made the point of thanking passengers for choosing easyJet.
There were many choices for flying out of Budapest, but for me it all boils down to price. Unfortunately flying between Eastern European countries is expensive, as none are connected with budget airlines. Wizz Air are set to change all this in early spring with flights connecting cities like Budapest, Gdansk and Krakow.
Flights
easyJet: Berlin - Budapest: £11.73 (including all charges) easyJet: Budapest - London £22 (including all charges)
Other options include Sky Europe, Wizz Air, German Wings and EU Jet who fly to a place called Kent International!
Checkmate... Sz&ecute;chenyi spa has a range of different treatment baths as well as some excellent saunas. Photo: Nick Hall
I've spent seven nights in Budapest's Yellow Submarine Hostel, slap-bang in the city centre. What do I get for paying for an overpriced, well slept-in dormitory bed, cold showers and a week of forcing myself to stomach the cheap bread and chocolate spread for breakfast? A T-shirt to make sure I never forget the worst hostel in Europe.
In spite of all the bad points of this hostel, it also provided much of the entertainment for my stay. The city seems to attract a truly international crowd of visitors from weekenders to backpackers and a surprisingly large number of Americans made it this far on their Eurail passes.
My Italian has gone from basic to almost fluent after spending the first few nights drinking with a couple of highly charged Italian guys, both named Luca, who drove 18 hours to Budapest to drink the town dry and leave. I've also met countless others from all over the world, in Budapest with the same common interest.
Luckily the drinking wasn't confined to Yellow Submarine's kitchen table. I found myself regularly seeking out the underground bar scene, consisting of a handful of well hidden chilled-out nightspots, each playing host to stern and sober table football contests with guaranteed defeat for anyone not born and bred in Hungary.
Budapest's bars are really something. On the first night I was given an exciting introduction to Hungary, drinking in a bar called Sark to the sound of loud and live gypsy music, watching in disbelief as Hungarians got up and stomped their feet to the sound of home-made instruments. Other surprises amongst Budapest's nightlife included seeing a dog enjoying the clubs just as much as I was, and stumbling upon a bar that doubled up as brothel.
Most nights have begun in Pot Kulcs (Spare Key) a low-key, studenty bar hidden behind a rusty unmarked metal door in a garden wall. It's surprisingly popular for somewhere so discreet. A handful of other hostellers and I were almost arrested when a local phoned the police as we knocked on doors trying to find Pot Kulcs. Five minutes later and much to our disbelief a police car actually rolled up: we managed to divert their attention by asking for directions.
I don't know how many more cities can be described as 'Paris of the...' but describing Budapest as the Paris of Eastern Europe is not a bad portrayal. Either side of the Danube are Buda and Pest. Pest is the heart of the city with all the hustle and bustle, Buda hilly and home to a large world heritage sight with castles, palaces and churches.
On the outskirts of the city is Statue Park, which houses a collection of monuments from the forty years of communist dictatorship in Hungary. In 1990 the people of Budapest made the decision to uproot these gigantic solemn reminders of the past and put them all in one area outside of the city for people to visit.
Also on my itinerary for Budapest was the House of Terror museum at 60 Andrassy Avenue. Now fully renovated, the former headquarters of the Hungarian ultra-right Arrowcross party houses a detailed and well compiled museum of the decades of communism in Eastern Europe and is an absolute must for any visitor.
The House of Terror was last on my itinerary but in hindsight should have been first. I left the museum stunned and moved by the immense detail of so many years of murder and torture of the Hungarian people. The last two rooms 'The Hall of Tears' and the 'Farewell' room, end the exhibition with the names of all those who were executed for political reasons, as well as video documentation of the 1989 demonstrations. It's impossible not to think about how different Hungary must have been just fifteen years ago.
In contrast to the decades of communism Budapest today seems to be trying to win awards for having the highest concentration of McDonald's and Burger King restaurants in Europe and is busy building some colossal indoor shopping malls.
Between drinking and sightseeing I've been relaxing in some of Budapest's many thermal baths. I'm not sure about the science of these thermal baths but I've been told it's to do with Hungary sitting on a fault line in the Earth's surface. Whatever the cause of this extraordinary natural wonder, it's hard to resist taking a dip at least once a day, usually in the most famous Széchenyi Spa, which has a range of different treatment baths as well as some excellent saunas. These baths were built as medical treatment centres but are also used by dedicated chess players and prowling single girls to play their field.
Budapest is a city with a lot of everything and definitely deserves a second visit, if only just to do it all again. Thank God for cheap flights!
Flying this week
I have taken just two flights this week: Berlin to Budapest and Budapest to London en route to Erfurt in Germany the following morning. Both flights in and out of Budapest have been with easyJet and once again I've continued to be impressed.
Of the budget airlines I've sampled in Europe, easyJet without question have the most professional and courteous staff. Customer satisfaction is a top priority for easyJet, which is not something this industry is known for. The people at easyJet HQ even seemed to listen to my criticisms about staff speaking nothing but English - staff now wear name badges with their spoken languages marked and demonstrations are all translated.
January's easyJet magazine succeeded in providing me with excellent insider advice on Budapest as well as being a surprisingly good read once again. On my flight out of Budapest the pilot took us through a town-by-town description of the route and made the point of thanking passengers for choosing easyJet.
There were many choices for flying out of Budapest, but for me it all boils down to price. Unfortunately flying between Eastern European countries is expensive, as none are connected with budget airlines. Wizz Air are set to change all this in early spring with flights connecting cities like Budapest, Gdansk and Krakow.
Flights
easyJet: Berlin - Budapest: £11.73 (including all charges) easyJet: Budapest - London £22 (including all charges)
Other options include Sky Europe, Wizz Air, German Wings and EU Jet who fly to a place called Kent International!
Living dangerously
06/01/05 00:00 Filed in: 06 Jan 2005
From Belgrade to Berlin with border troubles, robberies and explosions in the streets, Nick sees in 2005 in sleepless style.
Big Bang theory... Berlin goes ballistic as the new year approaches. Photo: Nick Hall.
A week in Slovenia wasn't enough time to see the whole country, and four months isn't enough time to see the whole of Europe. The New Year marks the halfway point of my travels and I'm realising that seeing, let alone experiencing the entire continent in such little time is a near impossible task.
For the first time I abandoned the budget airlines for a train! It's simply not possible to fly to Belgrade cheaply. The night train took 10 hours and cost me 15,000 Slovenian Tolar (£45) return, the cost of two or maybe even three flights.
My first impressions of Belgrade were miserable, but the continuous rain and grey mist was more to blame for this than the city itself. After spending half a day catching up on missed sleep because of absurd and unnecessary grief at Croatian and Serbian border controls, I checked out the city with two other travellers. Despite having no itinerary and a serious lack of tourist information we were personally shown all the wonders of Nikola Tesla at the Tesla museum, which sadly doesn't get the numbers of visitors it deserves.
I spent my second day in Belgrade wandering around crowded markets filling my already full rucksack with black market DVD's - £1 each. It's difficult to buy legitimate goods of this kind in Serbia because the people are so poor.
The 'In Your Pocket Guide' suggests what they call the 'UN Tour', which is basically a tour of all the buildings bombed or damaged by the UN raid on the city just five years ago. I decided against it. Visiting a handful of recently damaged buildings, which are the direct result of decades of bad leadership, disputed land, and general turmoil in the entire region is surely irresponsible or at least inconsiderate tourism.
As I discovered in Slovenia, the best way to learn about a country's past is to talk to the people who lived through it. Of my hours in Belgrade, many were not spent sightseeing but in bars listening to Serbs tell me in passionate detail about their turbulent and eventful history.
I've been told time and time again that Yugoslavia was once one of the most progressive and prosperous countries in Europe. How different things are now. Behind the street markets and in between rows of banal ex-communist housing blocks there is some interesting architecture, but it is unfortunately hard to appreciate in such grim weather conditions. One local told me that those who visit Belgrade in the rain usually vow never to return.
Time was running out, so it was back on the night train to Ljubljana to catch my Easyjet flight to Berlin for New Year's Eve. The return journey left me even more deprived of sleep than my outward leg. The first three hours were spent passive smoking in a non-smoking compartment - the only thing keeping me from an asthma attack was the thought of sampling Serbian hospital treatment. The rest of the journey regrettably confirmed other travellers' stories that I'd previously dismissed as hearsay.
In broken English a Serbian girl apologised for the other passengers who were inconsiderately "smoking cheap cigarettes that smelt bad". Later on the police gave us both the usual grief. They threw her passports back in her face when they discovered her dual Croatian and Serbian citizenship, then shouted at her when they discovered a Bosnian stamp in her passport. An hour later we were robbed, waking to find her passports, cigarettes and money had been stolen and her bag discarded in the toilet. The police shrugged their shoulders.
Hours later I landed in Berlin Schönefeld for the third and last time. I forced myself to mingle with some Estonians I met at Berlin's (superb value for money) 'Heart of Gold' hostel where the staff knew my name even before I checked in!
We headed on foot to the Brandenburg Gate where Berlin's main celebrations take place each year. I wasn't sure whether my reaction was British, unadventurous or simply frightened, but Berliners celebrate the New Year very differently to Londoners. Armed with firecrackers, rockets and even display fireworks people fill the streets and simply set them all off throughout the night. Trying to avoid being hit is difficult, especially after midnight when people are drunk and insanely fighting each other with lit fireworks or throwing them under trams, whilst ambulances rush around collecting the casualties.
New Years day was spent catching up on sleep. The following day was a Sunday, which meant the shops stayed shut, and on the Monday, my last day in Berlin, many shops still remained closed without any sign of January sales.
No other city has had me behaving like more of a typical tourist than Berlin. Until Easyjet, Ryanair and Air Berlin connected the city it was always that little too far to visit, despite its important place in world history. But there is so much to see - the remains of the Berlin Wall, Checkpoint Charlie, war-torn churches, museums and memorials.
Outside the newly relocated German Parliament a memorial is being built. "The Field of Stelae" remembers the Jews murdered during the second world war. This, as well as the colossal Easyjet ad just around the corner marks a significant and historic change. Easyjet has chosen to make Berlin Schönefeld a new base connecting important and newly welcomed EU cities in Poland, Hungary, Czech Republic, Slovenia and the Baltic countries to the city where Germany and Europe were divided into East and West.
Sixteen years after the 'Iron Curtain' lifted, the budget airlines are playing a key part in bringing the two sides of the continent closer together again. At €15 a flight its hard to find a reason not to travel, so off I went to Budapest!
Flying this week
Well, there hasn't been much flying - just Easyjet to Berlin, again! Before setting off on my trip I had never flown with Easyjet, my plan being mostly to use Ryanair. But as my curiosity draws me more to Eastern Europe I've discovered that Easyjet serves the region cheaply and well.
Initial impressions led me to believe that Easyjet was the more expensive of the two airlines, but this is not true. Booking early with Easyjet guarantees ridiculously low prices. In Scandinavia I tried many different and mostly unknown airlines, but Eastern Europe is so far limited to Air Baltic, Wizz, Sky-Europe and Easyjet.
Anyone who regularly checks the Ryanair route map, as I do, will see that they've added Brno and Wroclaw to the list. Perhaps when they start flying in spring these will provide interesting alternatives to the Eastern Europe's bigger cities.
After my terrible experience of travelling by train I have to conclude that there is no competitor to the skies. Flying seems cheaper, quicker (even after transit and check-in), and safer. My experience is that travellers are increasingly turning their back on rail, particularly in the UK.
It's taken a full day of research, comparisons and decision-making and I've now booked up the rest of my trip. Missing out large chunks of Europe, I'll spend two weeks travelling from Sicily to Milan via Naples, two weeks travelling through Morocco by train after flying to Jerez in the south of Spain, and a few weeks in Erfurt, Dresden, Prague and Budapest.
Flights
Grounded - return train - Ljubljana to Belgrade £45
Easyjet - Ljubljana - Berlin £11.73 (including all charges!)
Big Bang theory... Berlin goes ballistic as the new year approaches. Photo: Nick Hall.
A week in Slovenia wasn't enough time to see the whole country, and four months isn't enough time to see the whole of Europe. The New Year marks the halfway point of my travels and I'm realising that seeing, let alone experiencing the entire continent in such little time is a near impossible task.
For the first time I abandoned the budget airlines for a train! It's simply not possible to fly to Belgrade cheaply. The night train took 10 hours and cost me 15,000 Slovenian Tolar (£45) return, the cost of two or maybe even three flights.
My first impressions of Belgrade were miserable, but the continuous rain and grey mist was more to blame for this than the city itself. After spending half a day catching up on missed sleep because of absurd and unnecessary grief at Croatian and Serbian border controls, I checked out the city with two other travellers. Despite having no itinerary and a serious lack of tourist information we were personally shown all the wonders of Nikola Tesla at the Tesla museum, which sadly doesn't get the numbers of visitors it deserves.
I spent my second day in Belgrade wandering around crowded markets filling my already full rucksack with black market DVD's - £1 each. It's difficult to buy legitimate goods of this kind in Serbia because the people are so poor.
The 'In Your Pocket Guide' suggests what they call the 'UN Tour', which is basically a tour of all the buildings bombed or damaged by the UN raid on the city just five years ago. I decided against it. Visiting a handful of recently damaged buildings, which are the direct result of decades of bad leadership, disputed land, and general turmoil in the entire region is surely irresponsible or at least inconsiderate tourism.
As I discovered in Slovenia, the best way to learn about a country's past is to talk to the people who lived through it. Of my hours in Belgrade, many were not spent sightseeing but in bars listening to Serbs tell me in passionate detail about their turbulent and eventful history.
I've been told time and time again that Yugoslavia was once one of the most progressive and prosperous countries in Europe. How different things are now. Behind the street markets and in between rows of banal ex-communist housing blocks there is some interesting architecture, but it is unfortunately hard to appreciate in such grim weather conditions. One local told me that those who visit Belgrade in the rain usually vow never to return.
Time was running out, so it was back on the night train to Ljubljana to catch my Easyjet flight to Berlin for New Year's Eve. The return journey left me even more deprived of sleep than my outward leg. The first three hours were spent passive smoking in a non-smoking compartment - the only thing keeping me from an asthma attack was the thought of sampling Serbian hospital treatment. The rest of the journey regrettably confirmed other travellers' stories that I'd previously dismissed as hearsay.
In broken English a Serbian girl apologised for the other passengers who were inconsiderately "smoking cheap cigarettes that smelt bad". Later on the police gave us both the usual grief. They threw her passports back in her face when they discovered her dual Croatian and Serbian citizenship, then shouted at her when they discovered a Bosnian stamp in her passport. An hour later we were robbed, waking to find her passports, cigarettes and money had been stolen and her bag discarded in the toilet. The police shrugged their shoulders.
Hours later I landed in Berlin Schönefeld for the third and last time. I forced myself to mingle with some Estonians I met at Berlin's (superb value for money) 'Heart of Gold' hostel where the staff knew my name even before I checked in!
We headed on foot to the Brandenburg Gate where Berlin's main celebrations take place each year. I wasn't sure whether my reaction was British, unadventurous or simply frightened, but Berliners celebrate the New Year very differently to Londoners. Armed with firecrackers, rockets and even display fireworks people fill the streets and simply set them all off throughout the night. Trying to avoid being hit is difficult, especially after midnight when people are drunk and insanely fighting each other with lit fireworks or throwing them under trams, whilst ambulances rush around collecting the casualties.
New Years day was spent catching up on sleep. The following day was a Sunday, which meant the shops stayed shut, and on the Monday, my last day in Berlin, many shops still remained closed without any sign of January sales.
No other city has had me behaving like more of a typical tourist than Berlin. Until Easyjet, Ryanair and Air Berlin connected the city it was always that little too far to visit, despite its important place in world history. But there is so much to see - the remains of the Berlin Wall, Checkpoint Charlie, war-torn churches, museums and memorials.
Outside the newly relocated German Parliament a memorial is being built. "The Field of Stelae" remembers the Jews murdered during the second world war. This, as well as the colossal Easyjet ad just around the corner marks a significant and historic change. Easyjet has chosen to make Berlin Schönefeld a new base connecting important and newly welcomed EU cities in Poland, Hungary, Czech Republic, Slovenia and the Baltic countries to the city where Germany and Europe were divided into East and West.
Sixteen years after the 'Iron Curtain' lifted, the budget airlines are playing a key part in bringing the two sides of the continent closer together again. At €15 a flight its hard to find a reason not to travel, so off I went to Budapest!
Flying this week
Well, there hasn't been much flying - just Easyjet to Berlin, again! Before setting off on my trip I had never flown with Easyjet, my plan being mostly to use Ryanair. But as my curiosity draws me more to Eastern Europe I've discovered that Easyjet serves the region cheaply and well.
Initial impressions led me to believe that Easyjet was the more expensive of the two airlines, but this is not true. Booking early with Easyjet guarantees ridiculously low prices. In Scandinavia I tried many different and mostly unknown airlines, but Eastern Europe is so far limited to Air Baltic, Wizz, Sky-Europe and Easyjet.
Anyone who regularly checks the Ryanair route map, as I do, will see that they've added Brno and Wroclaw to the list. Perhaps when they start flying in spring these will provide interesting alternatives to the Eastern Europe's bigger cities.
After my terrible experience of travelling by train I have to conclude that there is no competitor to the skies. Flying seems cheaper, quicker (even after transit and check-in), and safer. My experience is that travellers are increasingly turning their back on rail, particularly in the UK.
It's taken a full day of research, comparisons and decision-making and I've now booked up the rest of my trip. Missing out large chunks of Europe, I'll spend two weeks travelling from Sicily to Milan via Naples, two weeks travelling through Morocco by train after flying to Jerez in the south of Spain, and a few weeks in Erfurt, Dresden, Prague and Budapest.
Flights
Grounded - return train - Ljubljana to Belgrade £45
Easyjet - Ljubljana - Berlin £11.73 (including all charges!)
Christmas sights
01/01/05 00:00 Filed in: 01 Jan 2005
With a new cheap route open from Berlin, Nick decides to soak up the festive atmosphere and natural beauty of Slovenia.
Natural beauty... Slovenia captures many of the best bits of Europe in one small place. Photo: Nick Hall
I've been in Slovenia for the past week enjoying the Christmas atmosphere and natural beauty.
Berlin to Ljubljana is a new route for Easyjet and has only been made possible since Slovenia joined the European Union earlier this year.
Having travelled here last year using Ryanair to Klagenfurt in Austria, and then a little further by train, I knew that there would be no better place to spend Christmas. The reason? The Christmas lights. No jumping reindeers or waving Santas, just simple lights lining the buildings and bridges, with flickering candles illuminating the hill up to the castle. Plus everything runs as normal on Christmas day - restaurants, bars, and cafes - and the streets are bustling with festivity, a far cry from the shut down and stay at home culture of northern Europe.
When my dad and his partner asked for a recommendation on where to spend a white Christmas, I persuaded them to join me for a few days. While they checked into Ljubljana's new and ultra modern Grand Domina hotel, I chose to stay in an old prison recently converted into a hostel. Hostel Celica is the perfect place to meet friendly Slovenes who'll happily tell all about the former prison and how it had been used as a place to silence people who opposed communist rule.
We hired a car and pretty much drove through every small village in western Slovenia, including the highest mountain pass in the Julian Alps. Surprisingly for a country so small, Slovenia really does seem to have the best of every part of Europe - an alpine landscape, Mediterranean coast as well as Italian, Austrian and Russian cultural influences.
Five carefully planned days was only enough to scratch the surface, but it's now time to leave and visit Belgrade for two days before celebrating New Years Eve in Berlin.
Natural beauty... Slovenia captures many of the best bits of Europe in one small place. Photo: Nick Hall
I've been in Slovenia for the past week enjoying the Christmas atmosphere and natural beauty.
Berlin to Ljubljana is a new route for Easyjet and has only been made possible since Slovenia joined the European Union earlier this year.
Having travelled here last year using Ryanair to Klagenfurt in Austria, and then a little further by train, I knew that there would be no better place to spend Christmas. The reason? The Christmas lights. No jumping reindeers or waving Santas, just simple lights lining the buildings and bridges, with flickering candles illuminating the hill up to the castle. Plus everything runs as normal on Christmas day - restaurants, bars, and cafes - and the streets are bustling with festivity, a far cry from the shut down and stay at home culture of northern Europe.
When my dad and his partner asked for a recommendation on where to spend a white Christmas, I persuaded them to join me for a few days. While they checked into Ljubljana's new and ultra modern Grand Domina hotel, I chose to stay in an old prison recently converted into a hostel. Hostel Celica is the perfect place to meet friendly Slovenes who'll happily tell all about the former prison and how it had been used as a place to silence people who opposed communist rule.
We hired a car and pretty much drove through every small village in western Slovenia, including the highest mountain pass in the Julian Alps. Surprisingly for a country so small, Slovenia really does seem to have the best of every part of Europe - an alpine landscape, Mediterranean coast as well as Italian, Austrian and Russian cultural influences.
Five carefully planned days was only enough to scratch the surface, but it's now time to leave and visit Belgrade for two days before celebrating New Years Eve in Berlin.
