16 July 2015

Eight weeks ago, a friend and I flew over some snowy peaks in Turkey. Eight months ago, I could not have imagined myself writing this sentence.

Europe was always on the mind when I thought about travelling, but it was definitely something I thought I'd do in the distant future.

"Imagine sitting like this, only in Italy," aforementioned friend, Libby, nudged me gently as I sat lazily licking the hollandaise sauce off my eggs benedict. It was post-New Years', we were still on holiday, and we were allowed to dream. Dreams turned into a recurring discussion topic, add a visit to the travel expo, subtract some weeks from work and hey, I'd a plane ticket and a spot on Topdeck's European Odyssey.

Ever since I booked my trip, I've searched and read a lot of blogs on the tour, and general tips on Europe. They were certainly helpful, and I thought I'd pay it forward, writing my experience here. I hope it helps at least one person, and I hope it doesn't sound like a damn novel, I can get carried away writing sometimes . . .

Paris, Day One

Wait, what, I'm in Paris...? What if this is a big mistake? Why did I decide to do this on my own? Why doesn't it feel like Paris? Is that person looking at my bags? Okay I'm in Paris... somebody pinch me? But what's that gross smell? Oh god, I can't read a word of French. Showerrrrr.

After our super exhausting 24 hour plane ride, I'm about ready to burst into tears at the Denfert-Rochereau metro station. However, with a firm grip on all our bags, we make it to our hotel and collapse on the bed. Our hotel is in Montparnasse, which is a pretty quiet area. By the time we shower (the bathroom is tiny), the stomach starts hollering, so we leave to find our first Parisian dinner. This we find at a little creperie, not very far from our hotel. Our waitress is very patient (and vegetarian!), and helps us understand the menu. My galette contains a strange mixture of goats cheese, lettuce, walnuts, tomatoes and. . . honey! It is very odd, but in a good way (and cheap). Courtesy of an Indian chef, no less.

Giddy with food coma, we walk back to the hotel and I promptly fall asleep. Libby is jetlagged, poor thing!

p.s.: I've this little obsession with checking out grocery stores in new cities I visit. I'd searched up Monoprix, and went to a few different ones while in Paris. It's kind of like Countdown in New Zealand, except the Champs-Élysées one also sold clothes.

Paris, Day Two

"Libby, I think we're lost, I can't see it anywhere,"

Then, Libby points in the one direction I'd somehow missed. I turn around, gasp and curse my map-reading skills (which are generally pretty good, okay?).

And there it is. Tour de Eiffel. Looking magnificent in the morning light. We abandon our maps and make a beeline in its direction. We have already bought tickets (1st and 2nd floors only), so we don't have to wait in line. Huzzah Libby for thinking ahead! It's a sunny day, and I spot Arc du Triomphe, Sacré-Cœur, Montparnasse Tower and Notre Dame, amongst other things. Thanks to the zoom on my camera, I spy on a roadworkers meeting in a nearby park. I buy a few postcards, and sit writing and eating a delicious mozzarella-tomato-pesto panini. Who said it's difficult to find vegetarian food in Europe? Not only am I spoilt for choice, but the food here has been some of the most delicious* I've had.

There is lots more of Paris to see, so reluctantly we make our way down the Tower. I'd heard of the so-called scams that happen in Paris, especially around the Eiffel Tower, and keep a vigilant eye out. A few of the hawkers try to get us to buy miniature Eiffel Towers, but subside after a firm "non, merci." The rest of the day passes without incident.

We take a metro to Arc du Triomphe, and then walk down Champs-Élysées. The craziest piece of clothing I spot is a python skin jacket. Shopping in Europe is great . . . for people with lots of monies. Still, I get a few things because Champs-Élysées! And... I know this topic has been chewed over, but man, those Parisians! So classy. Just looking at them makes me want to dress better.

After what feels like a very long day, Libby and I metro back to Montparnasse, and have yet another delicious* dinner - this time, Italian. Ah, but that Pomodoro Arrabiata is good.


*I feel like I'm going to abuse the word 'delicious'. . . but, you know, Europe.

Paris, Day Three

Our third day in Paris is a Saturday. The friendly guard at the metro station asks me if I'm 25 or under, because it means that I can get a cheap day pass for the metro. Win! Why don't they have such discounts in New Zealand? Hmph. At the metro station, Libby and I print a photo at the Photomaton – one of my must-do's of Paris, ever since I've seen Amélie. I wear a striped tee and red lipstick. So very French of me ;-)

Anyway, this particular Saturday starts off how I wish all my days started – with a discount (as mentioned earlier) and a Nutella crêpa. 4 Euros from a quirky street side vendor – who wouldn't let me take a photo of it till he'd prepared it properly – it has a generous heaping of Nutella, and is very hot. We were supposed to go to Versailles, but since both Libby and I are tired from the day before, we wander around to Printemps, an upscale shopping mall.

Printemps has a free accessible terrace, and the views of Paris are, well, grey. Most of the old Parisian buildings have grey rooftops, plus the sky has clouded over. I don't care. It's Paris, it's beautiful, and I'm snap happy.

Later, we get the metro and walk over to the Notre Dame, which is actually located on an island. The walk there is very calming, and we sit under some trees overlooking the Seine River and devouring the macarons that I purchased at Ladurée.

Notre Dame is enormous, but the line to go inside stretches half a kilometre. Non, merci. Libby and I take a few selfies, and bus back to the hotel, where our Topdeck family has started arriving. We say hello to a few people, and wait for dinner, which is provided by Topdeck. It is mediocre Italian food, but the meat eaters (hah) get to try snail. Libby says it tastes chewy and garlicky.

After dinner, it is time to go on our night tour of Paris, and we hop on to the coach. Our tour guide, Marta, tells us about the places we're passing. We stop at the Eiffel Tower, to see it lit up. I can't get enough of the view, but we are on a schedule now, Libby reminds me as we run back to our coach.

Paris, Day Four

Ancient porn is now art.   
                                         – Libby's accurate description of the grand artworks at the Louvre.

This is our last day in Paris (sob). It is a free day as far as our tour is concerned, so after a breakfast that may or may not have consisted of a considerable quantity of crepes, croissants and cakes, we metro to the Louvre.

The trick is to get there early, and use one of the side entrances. The line is not very long, and once inside, we follow the map straight to see our friend Mona. It's sad, but I take one photo and one selfie before I'm shoved out of the way. Oh well. After this disappointing affair, Libby and I pick an area of interest each to see at the Louvre. Libby picks sculptures, and I pick Egyptian. It is so odd, I am a graphic designer, but art history bores me like nothing else. I try to give the museum my best shot, but the amount of people, the amount of walking, my broken audio guide . . . it's just insane, and neither of us enjoys the museum. It is time to leave.

It has started raining by this time, and I haven't got a jacket, an umbrella, or a rain coat on me. I need not have worried, however, because as soon as it starts raining, hawkers selling umbrellas pop out of nowhere. We take a few photos outside the Louvre, and then metro to Champs-Élysées.

Now it's raining even harder, and we walk the entirety of the avenue as quickly as we can. The plan is to warm up inside Galaries Lafayette, but . . . it is Sunday, and we find out that Galaries is closed. Wop wop. We metro around and end up behind the Notre Dame.

It is drizzling now, and I am outside this gorgeous building covered in wisteria, on this little cobbled street in Paris. And then the bells at the Notre Dame start ringing. I have a moment. One of those unexplainable, beautiful moments that make you want to weep. I don't want to leave this city.

But leave we must, as we're supposed to meet our tour group at the Eiffel Tower for a picnic. Then, we happen to go across the front of the Notre Dame with a negligible entry line. Hallelujah! Goodbye picnic, hello Notre Dame! I feel very small inside the huge cathedral, and it smells of incense. People light candles and pray. There is a Sunday service on, and a smiling elderly chap with missing teeth comes to shake my hand after the service.

Later that evening, we walk along the Seine and find Shakespeare and Co., a well known bookshop. It's a quirky place, but we are not allowed to take photographs. Inside the bookshop, it is cramped, but cosy. Upstairs, there's a little nook with a typewriter, where people have left all sorts of sweet notes. There's also a little area for the Book Club. In another alcove, a father is reading a book to his child. Someone starts playing the piano. Gosh, I can spend hours here.

Outside, there's an alleyway that we see a few restaurants in, so we follow it but I'm not hungry and Libby ends up getting McDonalds (oh, the blasphemy!). We rush back to our hotel as it's getting dark, and pack our suitcases as we watch The Amazing Spiderman in French.

The whole day, we explore without a map, following our instincts and letting the streets of Paris lead us around. We are not disappointed.

Engelberg and Lucerne

How many times in my life will I turn around and go. . . I just had a shower in the Swiss Alps? Yeah. That happened.

We count down as we cross the border from France to Switzerland. Before this, I've never crossed country borders via road, so this is quite a moment for me. Did you know that in Switzerland, most of the tunnels are curved so that in the olden days, enemies would not have been able to fire cannons through?

We reach Engelberg in the evening, and I breathe in the crisp mountain air. Switzerland feels pure. We are in a ski lodge (called Ski Lodge Engelberg – how very inventive) at the foothills of Mt. Titlis, and I'm giddy with excitement. Switzerland is one of the reasons I booked the tour (the other being Venice), and I've been wanting to visit ever since I saw it in an old Heidi anime.

Our hotel room is very spacious, and every single window gives us generous views of the Alps. The wifi is waaay better than Paris (you can actually stream videos). They have left us chocolate. Our beds are soft, my mind foggy from the shower, and belly full of unidentified salad food and decadent chocolate mousse. It is time for bed.

After a breakfast of the thickest whipped cream and marmalade on a fat slice of the softest bread, we are a little late getting ready, and run to catch up with the group for a trip up Mt. Titlis. This is a free day, and the Titlis excursion is an optional activity. It is raining in Engelberg, and snowing up the mountain. We can't see a thing, which is just as well given my fear of heights. We slip in the ice caves and we tread on the highest suspension bridge in Europe. The air bites as we walk – I struggle – to the other side of the caves. I pose with a Bollywood movie cutout, and about four different Asian women grab my hand and ask for a photo. It is hilarious, and I feel like a celebrity.

Sandar, Thu Thu (new Topdeck friends) and I have a business proposition. We want to bring flavoured syrup up the mountain and sell snow cones. The snow is – wait for it – delicious. I should know; I have had about five mouthfuls by now. After more frolicking, singing, making snow angels and paying for possibly the most expensive lunch I've had, we make our way down the mountain.

Engelberg is snuggled high up in the Swiss Alps and it is charming, but small and sleepy. We still have half the day left, so Libby and I decide to take the train down to Lucerne. The train ticket is not cheap, but completely worth it as the views are gorgeous. Lucerne is what I imagine east Europe, or Germany to look like.

We only have a couple of hours, so we look around the town centre, and then it's an hour long ride back to Engelberg. We make it in time for dinner, which is an incredibly rich cheese fondue. I stuff my face because I think that's all we're getting, and then comes the main dish, the richest, creamiest bestestest pasta I have ever had. If I could marry food, I'd marry this pasta, it is flipping AMAZING.

Italy, your move.

Florence

Italy brings a little change in that Libby is really looking forward to it, and me, not so much. Our wake-up-and-get-off-the-coach song, Jubel by Klingande, comes on, and we scramble to find clean toilets and our first pasta in Italy. Both are disappointing.

We pass through Carrara, and find out about the famous marble that is quarried there. We find out that Italy is famous for more than pasta and wine — motorways, cable cars, trains, batteries and even the humble reading glasses are all Italian inventions.

We stop at Pisa, and after an hour and a half of avoiding the selfie-stick and designer bag wielding men, admiring the Leaning Tower and refraining to take that photo, we make our way on to Florence (or Firenze, as it's referred to by the Italians). The landscape has changed drastically in the last few days – from the bright yellow canola fields of France, to the lush towering Swiss Alps, to the flat lands, earthy colours and wineries of Italy

Florence is shabbier than our previous cities, and I miss the biting mountain air terribly. Our hotel room is not that great, but we're surprised to find three beds in our room. Two singles joined together to make a double, and a single one by the window. Since I got to pick my beds in Paris and Switzerland, we decide that Libby should get the double bed. I flop on my single by the window, and it smells funky. The decor is musty, and the shower curtain paper thin. Oh, and there's wifi, but not available to our group. Did I say I missed Switzerland?

The only good thing about this hotel is its location. I can peek out our hotel window and look at the famous Cathedral. We are right in the heart of Florence. Not wanting to stay in this room any longer than we have to, we drop our bags and gladly walk out for dinner. We pass the Cathedral, and the green, pink and white (Carrara!) marble makes it look otherworldly in the evening light.

The dinner is an optional Florentine steak for our meat lovers, but I'm told there's a veggie option. Not wanting to explore the city by ourselves just yet, we sign up. The steak is literally still bleeding. I don't know, and I don't want to know what such a thing could taste like. The caprese salad I receive is literally four pieces of tomato, mozzarella and basil leaves with a drizzle of olive oil. The ravioli is bland. I woefully hand over my 20 Euros, trying not to think of all the amazing options I would have had, had I not come to this dinner. I hate sounding negative, but I also hate spending money on disappointing food. We also get to try saltless bread, which tastes like what I imagine cardboard to taste like. Half the group goes to a karaoke bar afterwards, and a few of us walk back to the hotel.

The next morning, we have an included tour of Florence with a local guide. I'm not keen on going, but Libby wants to go, so I tag along. It looks like the tour guide is local indeed, but her accent sounds very mixed and interesting. The tour runs for about an hour, and we look at the Cathedral, Ponte Vecchio and Uffizi Gallery amongst other random things. We learn that Tom Hanks will be filming Inferno here in a couple of weeks (why not now, darn it). Libby and I ditch the group going for the leather presentation (included by Topdeck), which sounds like a marketing spiel.

We wander around by ourselves, and are struck by how compact and vibrant this city is. We can walk everywhere, and we do. We visit a little leather shop tucked away in a corner near the Cathedral, and I'm absolutely in love with the bright orange leather gloves that I buy. We are enjoying walking around, and after last night's dinner, we are not in the mood to go to the Topdeck included fiesta at the Tuscan winery, no matter how charming Christian, the owner, is supposed to be. We walk for hours and I fall in love with a trench coat at Zara. We finally decide to have dinner at a restaurant in Piazza della Signoria, where the food is good and they charge us 3.50 Euros for water.

The area surrounding Piazza della Signoria is brilliant. Here is a mass aerobics session, there's a glittering carousel going round and round, here are hawkers with their light-up toys that leap metres up in the night sky, and right over there is an open-air museum with ancient statues. You know, life. I can't believe I'm having dinner here, me, little old Gandhali who used to be afraid of crossing streets without holding someone's hand. Somebody pinch me?

Rome

All roads lead to Rome, I suppose.

Except our road takes us to Orvieto first, where we are stopping for lunch. Orvieto is a charming little town based on top of a volcano in Umbria. We take a funicular up the mountain, and are taken aback by the pretty views. I wish we had longer time here, but alas it is another one of those dash-and-eat's, except I don't do any eating because I'm so busy looking at the town.

Big mistake, as I am majorly hangry by the time our walking tour ends in Rome. The tour is three hours long, and I can't really take any information in, I'm so tired. It is a labour day weekend, and Rome is packed. There is an abundance of scaffolding, tourists, and walking. It is also rather hot, so it's just as well Marta takes us to a gelateria with no less than 150 different types of gelati available. Again, the shop is so crazy packed that I just blurt out the first three flavours that I see, which are mango, banana and pineapple. The gelato is divine. Then we walk, and we w a l k, and w e  w a l k, and finally reach the Colosseum. I'm sorry to say I'm already over Rome. We metro back to the hotel, which thankfully is very clean and cosy, and collapse on the bed after a warm shower (and I mentioned the towels in my review, didn't I, the towels I almost stole?).

The next morning, Libby and I opt in for the three hour Vatican Tour, which we are told is great because tour groups get special entry and skip the line. Big whoop. There are twenty other such groups, already lined up before us. After 45 minutes or so, we make it inside the Vatican City, the guide talking to us through our headphones. After some sightseeing, a lot of shoving and the guide repeatedly asking us to please return the audio guide back once finished, we head out again into Rome.

Libby forgets our Colosseum tickets at the hotel. After some to-ing and fro-ing, we go back and get them. We visit the Colosseum, which sure is ancient, but I'm not that impressed with it. Maybe it's the crowds, maybe it's the heat, but I'm not feelin' this city. And after a very tiring day including walking for up to, or more than seven hours, I'm ready for bed.

Rome was not built in a day, people.

Venice

Ciao, Venezia!

Ever since I've been to The Venetian in Las Vegas, I've been wanting to go to Venice. So this day is very exciting to me. I've also seen Letters to Juliet, so I am looking forward to be swept off my feet by Verona, where we have a lunch stop.

After about twenty minutes of walking in Verona, we reach the city centre, and visit Juliet's balcony. I can't believe that this was the same courtyard from Letters to Juliet. There are so many people in this small place! How can people find it romantic? We leave the little courtyard, and I try on the trench coat I've been eyeing in Zara since Florence. Tres chic, but I shake my head and keep it back on the racks.

We want to see more of Verona, but are really pressed for time, so I grab a slice of pizza and some chips, and run back to our meeting place. We reach Mestre, the mainland off of Venice in the evening, and go out for an included dinner. The dinner is nice, and we sing happy birthday to one of the girls on the tour. I get a bowl of salad with my vegetable souffle, which a few of the omnivores are eyeing because none of our recent meals have included any greens, and try as we may to stay away from them when we're back home, we miss them. I find out that I have a strange reaction to rocket anyway (where is the lettuce? Do they not like lettuce in Europe?!) so I pick at the carrots and offer the rest of the greens to a few friends. It is a good dinner, and we laugh long and hard when Libby mentions a funny incident from Rome. Our Venice hotel also has three beds, and we decide it's my turn to take the double bed.

The next morning, we catch a bus into Venice. I'm kind of mind blown by the fact that they built this city on marshlands. Marta takes us through a labyrinth of little streets, explaining to us where we are, and telling us to not worry, 'you'll remember the way back'. Uh, I don't think so! Marta also explains how a few of the bridges have collapsed in the past, and had to be rebuilt. I don't understand why they don't build wooden bridges instead, but they must have a reason. We stop for photos by the Grand Canal, and pass the Rialto Bridge, which, like most things in Europe, is covered in scaffolding. We end our walking tour at St. Mark's Square, and are warned of the cafes and restaurants in the Square, they are quite expensive. We wait around the Square for people to go to the toilet before our lace demonstration.

Two – amongst many other – things about Venice that are quite striking to me: it smells like salt, and there are a lot of pigeons. I have half a mind to swipe at them, annoying little buggers, and then Marta tells us that in Venice, pigeons are considered holy. Holy pigeons. Hah! These pigeons are not allowed to be fed, but there are a lot of men around that have pocketfuls of seeds for people to feed them and take photos with. Also, the selfie-stick wielding men are everywhere, just like the other Italian cities. They say weird things like "looky looky", "sha la la Lady Gaga", and a cheeky one also tries hollering to me in Hindi.

Our lace demonstration is another one of those marketing spiels, but I stay partly because I like lace, and partly because we have a gondola ride straight after. One of the sales women compliments me, and I feel compelled to buy a little something. Ah well, I'm sure my grandma will appreciate the hand-embroidered hanky. I'm surprised to see a lot of people from our group buy lace things.

The gondola ride is nice and relaxing, and afterwards we wander and have lunch at Rosa Rossa, which we find is Johnny Depp's favourite restaurant in all of Venice! Seriously, what were the chances. I try a Bellini for the first time, and love it! Libby and I separate for a while to have some me-time exploring. I write a few postcards*, and walk back to St. Mark's Square, shaking my head remembering the multitude of gorgeous Pinterest photos I've seen of this place looking absolutely mysterious and empty. How are these magical photos taken? Why does every photo I take contain at least 50 tourists?!

There's more wandering, getting lost, and getting annoyed at a shopkeeper who was getting annoyed at tourists (ahem, me) who just look at things, with no intention of buying them (shock horror). Well, good luck with your business.

Evening approaches as Libby and I start making our way back to Piazzale Roma, where we are to catch our bus back to Mestre. I'm so very proud of us when we walk back the same way Marta brought us into the city, without a map. :D


*Postcards that never reach the intended homes :'(

P.S.: Happy update! Postcards do reach the intended homes, albeit weeks late.

Kirschberg in Tyrol

We are only supposed to be staying in Austria for one night instead of the usual two, so we leave extra early in the morning to get to Kirschberg on time. Chris detours from the usual motorway, and takes us through winding roads that leave little for the imagination. We're back in the Alps, and I'm very happy about it. Everywhere is green, dotted with bright yellow dandelions. I'm surprised to find we're still in Italy, but learn that the Tyrol area is actually spread out over Italy, Austria and Germany. Honestly, all these motorways and roads joining the countries are so marvellous; big kudos to the road mappers and makers!

Anyway, the drive is not super long, and we reach our destination by 3pm. The big attraction in Austria are the optional adventure activities, which... I opt out of.

At Haus Alpenblick, we are up three flights of stairs, and there is no lift. Thankfully, some of the guys help Libby and I with our bags. Looking at the snowy peaks in the distance, I think the temperature's going to be fairly cool. It's hot. Like, 30 degrees hot. The adventurous folks go off adventuring, and Libby and I explore the sleepy town. Everything is closed, and there is literally nothing to do here. I grumble about it because it feels like a waste of a day. Libby is not feeling super, so she goes back to the Haus, and I manage to climb up to a little chapel to take some photos. Did I mention it was hot? Now I'm positively boiling.

There aren't many people around the chapel and the cemetery, so I come back to the house. Our dinner is a little late, as we have to wait for the people who had opted in for the adventure activities and the beer tasting. After dinner, which is a delicious Austrian fare, Chris (the owner of the house, who's from Wellington, NZ) comes up with a few shnapps flavours for us to try. I think I surprise everyone (and myself) when I put my hand up to try one. I can't remember what it's called, but it comes in a little ice cream cone, and I have to eat it off the table. I think it tastes like Baileys Original Irish Cream.

After dinner, a few people do shots shouting "Prost!" every time they take one. A few of us play Hammerschlagen. It's so addictive, hah! My day might not have been super exciting, but I have a good night, staying up till 1:40am chatting with a few friends and Chris.

Prague

Bummed that we didn't really get to see Austria, we get ready for Praha. We drive past Salzburg, and learn that not only is it famous for The Sound of Music, but also for being the headquarters of Red Bull! A few of the girls are excited about this, but we don't stop till we reach Mauthausen, a Nazi concentration camp, and an included landmark on our tour. The atmosphere on the coach is sombre as Marta recaps some of WW2 history.

It feels like a very long drive and it's pouring, but as we get closer to the camp, the rain clears up. The visit is a sobering experience. None of us speak as we take in our surroundings. It is hard to go with our smart phones, pockets full of snacks and the knowledge that we'll leave this place in a little while, to really and truly grasp what atrocities were committed here. Last night, Chris had told me about the quarry and how prisoners carrying large blocks of stone up the steep stairs would be pushed down by guards. Now, looking at the quarry overgrown with vegetation and listening to the chirping of birds chokes up my throat and brings tears to my eyes. It is silent, peaceful. I want to go to the stairs, but there isn't enough time.

Back at the camp, Libby and I find a basement crematorium, and it chills us. The air is cold and dank, and the place feels untouched since a long, long time. The sleeping quarters supposed to hold hundreds of inmates are so small, and I have to read the plaque twice to make sure I'm reading correctly. I feel odd taking photos, but I want to preserve memories. There is a museum displaying the horrific instruments used for torture and murder, and it honestly feels like a work of fiction. As we leave the gas chamber, it starts raining again. I scramble to cover my hair, and immediately think about the thousands of people made to work here in every condition. I definitely appreciate my life a lot more.

After yet another long drive (including two Jump Street movies to lighten the mood), we finally reach Prague. We immediately set out for a walking tour and the included dinner, and meet up with three new tour-mates. After dinner, a few of the group makes their way to the five-story nightclub, but a lot of us walk back to the main centre to catch a tram back to the hotel. We pass the famous Charles Bridge, and goodness, the view. On one side of the bridge is the Prague Castle in its glittering glory, and on the other is the biggest, brightest moon I have ever seen in my life. Another one of those moments. Gosh, what an emotionally heavy day this has been.

The next day is a free day, and we're armed with the knowledge that shopping in Prague is cheaper than the rest of the cities we've been to/will go to. In the morning while eating breakfast we find out that the Duchess of Cambridge has had a baby girl, Charlotte. I drop off my clothes for laundry purposes (freaking finally), and Libby and I take the tram to Prague Castle. We get lost as usual (let's be honest, we don't really like following the map), and end up in these lush gardens. We spot the castle on the other side of this small ravine-like thing, hidden amongst some trees. Fear not, fair prince, I have come to rescue thee!

We end up not going into the castle (sorry, fair prince) as we're pressed for time, but we look around St. Vitus Cathedral and cool off at a nice cafe overlooking the entire city. Remember how I said that Paris was grey? Well, Prague is orange! It is a stunning day, and I kind of feel like a princess sitting here. :-)

By now I'm really itching to check out the cheap shopping everyone's on about, so we leave for the Old Town Square. We find that we need to cut through some gardens for the quickest way down the castle and towards the city. These turn out to be the Palace Gardens under the Prague Castle. We pay 2 Euros to go through the terraced gardens, which I think are two of the best Euros I've spent on this tour (the official currency of Czech Republic is Koruna, or Crowns, but many places seem to accept Euros). The city looks different on every platform of the garden. Then we cross Charles Bridge to come into Old Town, and watch the Astronomical Clock chime 3pm.

After that, we randomly walk through the city and do a bit of shopping till the evening. I finish up the memory on my phone. Too many selfies, I tell ya.

Berlin

To Berlin we go! But not before stopping at Dresden, for lunch.

I didn't know that Dresden was bombed at the end of WW2, and has been built pretty much from the ground after that. Marta guides us through the streets of Dresden, and we see buildings that are burnt and blackened by the fires. We don't have a lot of time here, so we just walk around some markets and get back to the bus.

Before getting to our hotel, Marta and Krzys take us for an orientation tour of Berlin in our coach. We stop at Treptower Park, where a few people are singing and handing out flyers. A part of Treptower Park is a Soviet War Memorial, and these people are celebrating Victory Day (end of WW2, start of the Soviet regime), which falls on May 9th. We also drive past a lot of museums and the Berlin Wall, which is a lot shorter than what I imagined it to be. I also spot one of these fun things.

Our hotel is situated on the East side, and is about a kilometre from the East Side Galleries. The shower in our hotel room is big and hot. It's funny, the difference little things like clean laundry and big warm showers can do to your mood. My appreciation for the washing machine has definitely grown during this tour.

We get ready for Hopfbrauhaus, a traditional German beer hall, for tonight's included dinner. And what an atmosphere it has! There is live music, dancing, and the hall is full of people drinking beer out of large steins. Sometime during dinner, a group starts banging their steins and jumping up on the tables. I'm someone who likes quiet nights usually, so I grab the opportunity and wiggle my hips (haha) at the music. It is so much fun, and I feel so alive! When I come back to Berlin, I'll definitely be going to the Hopfbrauhaus again. Back at the hotel, we're in a room overlooking a main street that is quieter at 7am than it is at 3am.

Our free day in Berlin starts with an intense – but optional – walking tour. Krzys leaves us by the Reichstag, and a tall young man coolly smoking a cig saunters over. This is our tour guide, Jess. He's a student here in Berlin, and he's from America. At first, his manner is so casual – and then he starts talking. Man, he's like a human Wikipedia!

There is so much history to take in, as we visit the Reichstag, Brandenburg Gate and Holocaust Memorial amongst other things. We learn how the WW2 was bookended by the Reichstag, starting with the burning of it and ending with the Soviet flag being placed upon it, hours (or was it minutes?) before Hitler's suicide. It's incredible how we walk right over where the Berlin Wall used to be, but doing so before November 1989 could get you, well, killed.

I like the Holocaust Memorial. I like how it's designed so you're completely overwhelmed by the tall structures around you. Inside the memorial, you lose your friends, you lose your way. You feel insignificant. I like that the 2,711 concrete slabs look the same at a glance, but every single one is different in their own way. All these things of course correspond to the Holocaust victims' lives.

After visiting the memorial, we walk over to a patch of grass in the car park of an apartment block. Jess asks if we're wondering why we're randomly standing here, but I know where we are. We are at the site of Hitler's bunker. I know this because I'd seen the photo in a Wikipedia article, but apart from an informational plaque, there's nothing to suggest that this is indeed the place where Hitler lived out his last months.

We look at a few other important buildings and finish the tour at Checkpoint Charlie. I'm bummed to learn from Jess that the Berlin Wall pieces they sell at souvenir shops are not real, but I'm too late to warn Libby.

Having had an intense history lesson all morning, Libby and I just spend some time walking around and shopping. The Ampelmann makes me smile every time I see it, and it's fascinating to get from one place to the other with the Berlin Wall crisscrossing our path. Every other woman in Europe wears a trench coat, and after eyeing a smart trench at Zara pretty much in every city since flipping Florence (yeah I'm weird), I finally decide to buy it. I spot Primark, and I flip out when I get a nice t-shirt for 3 Euros. 3 Euros, y'all! Later, a Dutch guy that reminds me of Prince William gives us directions back to our hotel, and we walk over to stroll along the East Side galleries.

And so our fabulous day in Berlin is over, only one more destination on this tour awaits (plus London!). It feels like the tour has gone fast and slow at the same time. Does that make sense? Probably not.

Amsterdamage

Onwards to the low countries – er, I mean the Netherlands.

We've another long driving day in front of us, so I get comfortable in snuggly clothes. After three hours, we stop for lunch. I'm disappointed with the lack of vegetarian options, and invest in a bottle of chocolate milk. It keeps me full, gives me energy, and tastes great (I promise you that no chocolate milk company is sponsoring this post!). I also stock up on the last of German Haribo lollies (I've heard the German ones are the best), and get a little tub of Kaktus for Friends – which are ice cream bites, coated in chocolate. Yum! Marta hands out Ampelmann keychains. Like everything else we choose, Libby and I pick the opposite designs. :-)

We're on the Autobahn, but there's a speed limit of 120 (same as the rest of Europe). I don't get it... I thought Autobahns were speed-limit-less. Our bus can't exceed 100 anyway.

An hour or so away from Amsterdam, we stop at a Cheese and Clogs factory (one of those Topdeck inclusions) where the farmer (owner?) keeps saying things like "little Indian woman hee hee hee". He shows us his wheels of cheese and how he shapes the clogs. It literally takes seconds to shape a block of wood into something clog-like. A few of us feed his calves, and then march over to the windmill to take the corny Hey-I'm-in-Holland shots.

One thing about Amsterdam that I didn't know before planning this trip was that it is built very similar to Venice. It's built on a lagoon, and around 90 islands make up the city. The other thing I didn't know was that it is one of the two places in the world where you can see flying cows (the other being Switzerland). ;-)

We are staying in Zaandam, which is just outside of Amsterdam. The hotel we stay at is by far the coolest looking one, and we stay in the Mustard Poeder room. After quickly freshening up, we bus into the city, and are given a little orientation tour by Marta. We walk through the red light district and to be honest, I was expecting it to be more... I don't know, wilder. A woman yells at one of our group members for standing outside her window. There is an optional activity on tonight – the famed Show. After saying goodbye to around 98% of our group at the show, four of us wander around Amsterdam. The smell of weed is everywhere, and it makes me want to gag.

After dinner, we don't really feel like waiting around for the rest of the group, so we walk to the Centraal station. After a little panic attack where we can't get the train door open, we get off at Zaandam and retire for the night.

It's the next morning, and get this: for breakfast in Amsterdam, they eat bread with butter and chocolate sprinkles! It's called Hagelslag, and it's legit a thing people do! So of course I have do it, too. :-)

I have plans to go on a bike tour this morning, a Topdeck optional activity. Libby doesn't, so we plan to meet in the city. The bike tour is – unexpectedly – a lot of fun. The tour guide Karl, who is British, is hilariously inappropriate. He takes us through the narrow streets of Amsterdam, over the canals and under the Rijksmuseum, blowing bubbles and ringing bells, through Vondelpark, to a little cafe which serves apple turnover to die for, and past the Anne Frank Huis, which has a very long queue outside (I guess Libby and I won't be going there today). Huffing and puffing, I make it back to where we started. Good ol' Karl gives me a bike bell to keep as a souvenir.

I wait around outside the Rijksmuseum, but it looks like Libby and I have missed each other by minutes. I cannot see her in the crowd, and decide to explore the city on my own. I wander around the shopping district, and get to the flower markets. One of the places in the market has hundreds of dried flowers hanging from the ceiling. It's mesmerising.

I am all museum-ed out, I don't feel like shopping, I can't get into the Anne Frank Huis, and I am not sightseeing by my lonesome in the red light district. What to do?! I buy Diary of a Young Girl, and pick a quiet canal. And I sit on the canal's edge reading Anne Frank's diary. It is peaceful. Quiet. The petals from the Elm trees dance on the breeze. The canal is quite busy, but I can get used to the gentle lapping sounds of this traffic.

After spending a couple of hours in this blissful fashion, I decide to come back to 2015. I get a juice in a swish department store, and chat to the girl that serves me. She's Indian, but she was born and brought up in Amsterdam. She's super sweet, and we end up becoming Facebook friends. The locals here seem quite chatty, actually. I'm sitting on the terrace sipping juice when a couple of women next to me start up a conversation with me because they find my eyes very interesting!

In the evening, I meet everyone at Centraal station and we go for our canal cruise for our last ever dinner together as a group! The cruise is nice, but the dinner is terrible! It's some sort of asian food, and the vegetarian options are seriously lacking. After dinner, everyone heads out for a night out, and Libby and I train back to Zaandam. It feels like a very cruisy day overall, and I do up enjoying it.

- an interlude -

So. Today is a pretty special day. I have breakfast in Amsterdam, lunch in Brugge, afternoon tea on the English Channel (after boarding the ferry in Calais, France), and dinner in London! It's not every day I can say that hey, I've been in four countries today!

I wake up late, so breakfast is rushed, and I help myself to a couple of packets of Hagelslag for snacking later on. I wish we had time to visit the famed Tulip fields, but oh well, that's something I can look forward to the next time I'm here ;-) We stop at Brugge, which is the last of those rushed lunches. It's about 40 minutes in total walking in and out of Brugge, and we get an hour for lunch and sightseeing. Blerghh. Libby and I get some waffles (when in Belgium...), look around and get back to our meeting point, loaded with chocolate.

Our next stop is Calais, where we are to board the ferry to go to England. I have (more than) half a mind to run away and go to Paris. Hah, if only! Anyway, back to reality, the Topdeck family says a teary goodbye to Krysz and gets on the ferry. It's sadder than I thought, to watch him and the Topdeck bus driving away. But at least Marta will see us through to London. Man, I hate goodbyes.

Our first sighting of the famous English countryside are the stunning white cliffs of Dover. I wasn't aware that the ferry lands in Dover, so it's a pleasant surprise. I've always wanted to see those cliffs. Once off the ferry (which is posher than I thought, complete with a duty free shop), we get on another bus, but this one is not as nice as our Topdeck coach. The seats are uncomfortable. It's hot. Libby is very sick, and doesn't feel like swapping her window seat. We're no longer in Europe. The bus stinks like someone pooped a week's worth of poop in there. Everything is poopy.

Admidst this hullabaloo, we land in good ol' London-town. More hugs and goodbyes are in order, and everyone scatters to find their hotel. A few of the Topdeckers are staying in Earls Court like us, and decide to meet up for dinner. Dinner is a hearty Cauliflower soup (which I never in a million years thought I'd like, but it's actually pretty good) counterbalanced with a big glass of Coke and a nice conversation with a couple from Australia who are high school sweethearts.

Aaand we're pretty pooped (hah!) so it's time for bed soon after.