Why not rent a car for the day...what's the worst that could happen....

I was in Crete, I had met some really nice people at my hostel, a group of people with a very similar mental attitude as myself. Something I found out fairly quickly after we started playing 'Duck, Duck, Goose' on the beach at midnight before heading back to the hostel to play 'Wink Murder' with a couple of made up stories created by me in between. This was all on the first day I'd met these people, yet another example of how crazy life in a hostel can be but anyway the day after playing children's party games we decided to rent a car. As I was the oldest and seemingly most mature of the group, even though the games were all my idea, I said I would take on the driving responsibility. One of the reasons for this was because I hadn't driven for nearly three months and I'd never driven on the right side of the road before. It would definitely be an experience, one I would surely never forget and I don't think I ever will after the events of the day.

We received our car at about 11:30 and as there was seven of us we were given a people carrier...another first for me as my car at home is a small three door hatchback. I was told by the hire company that I would be covered by the insurance as long as I wasn't driving under the influence of drink, drugs or excessive speed. Fairly sure I could keep to those stipulations we all bundled in and we were on our way. The route to our destination, a beach about two and a half hours away called Balos, was very simple - get on the highway and stay on until you see signs for Balos. Well that's easy enough I thought, we drove to the edge of the little town we were staying in and saw the sign for the highway so we followed that...only to realise I'd taken the road too early and we were going down a road adjacent to the highway. After a quick three point turn I set off back down the road we'd just driven and eventually found the way to the highway. This time we really were on our way. As I said the route was very simple, it was just one long straight road. The journey there was very enjoyable, we had a round of 'The wheels on the bus go round and round' continuing the children's party theme from the night before and a very short rendition of 'Old Macdonald had a farm' before I pulled over to get some fuel. After the fuel stop the conversation turned to a much more serious nature: 'what were we going to name the car?' This sparked a number of different suggestions but in the end we decided to plump for Bessie due to the size and colour of the car. Bessie started off as a big white people carrier but it wasn't long before the dust from the road gave her some nice brown patches, similar to that of a large cow so Bessie was the most apt name. Bessie trundled on towards the destination and after a couple of hours we saw signs for Balos. We followed them and it was only when we started to climb up a mountain that we thought we might not be going the right way to the beach. We pulled over and asked a sightseeing couple to point us in the right direction and they told us we'd passed the turning about a kilometre back. So once again I was required to do a three point turn, this time it was made slightly trickier by the fact it was on a narrow mountain road but I achieved the aim with success...if I hadn't I don't think I'd be writing this now somehow! Anyway we set off in the direction we were redirected, found the turning and made our way towards the beach. En route we went through some very narrow streets that I think I would have struggled to drive down in a smart car let alone a massive bovine styled people carrier. Having said that we got through and made our way to the entrance of the beach. We were required to pay 1 euro each to enter and were then told the car park was a further 7km away. 'That's fine' we thought, 'ten minutes and we'll be there'. Half an hour later and we're still trundling along this road, the reason being it was an unpaved dirt road with large rocks protruding out of the road surface ready and waiting to throw you off track. Eventually we found the beginnings of the car park and while looking for a place to park we were distracted by the sight of a goat sat on the side of the road looking out over the fantastic view off the side of the mountain. When we got closer we realised the goat wasn't sitting, it was in fact squatting, it was literally having a pee with a view, apparently even goats realise that if you have to go to the toilet then you might as well do it in style. Leaving the urinating goat to it's view we found a space for Bessie, the only problem was the necessity to parallel park on the edge of a mountain in a car about as maneuverable as a fat person on an EasyJet flight. I actually managed to park it on the first attempt, I think the thought of certain death if you fail is quite a good motivator! Anyway we parked up and made our way to the beach. We spent a good few hours in one of the most beautiful places I have ever seen although we did make sure we played 'Duck, Duck, Goose' and 'Stuck in the Mud' in the water before we had a little round of the 'Hocky Cokey'. It's a good job the hire car company didn't see this behaviour, they'd have most probably had us sectioned instead of letting us loose in one of their vehicles! By the time it came to leave, we'd had a very enjoyable day and the sun was just starting its fairly rapid descent to the horizon when I got back to the car. I said I'd pick the others up so I got back into Bessie and drove down to the others, they suggested I turn around and seeing a fairly spacious car park I thought it would be easy. It would have been easy as well, my third three point turn of the day, the one least likely to cause an accident...well that would have been the case if the sun wasn't in the most awkward place in the world. It was literally just below the sun visor and my sunglasses were about as useful as a chocolate teapot. I was fairly blinded and not seeing any cars in front of me I guessed it was clear in front. A thought which lasted all of two seconds as I managed to drive right on top of two extremely big rocks, obviously the reason for the lack of cars in front of me. The massive 'bang scrape' was enough to stop me in my tracks and the bumper swinging off as I reversed back suggested that I'd done a bit of damage. On closer inspection we found the bumper hadn't been screwed on at all, it was just pushed and held in place by the wheel arches by the look of it. Seeing this we decided to push the bumper back on as best we could, I managed to successfully turn the car around and we set off down the dirt road again. After about 5 minutes of driving we stopped to inspect the bumper again and it was starting to come off again so we got out to repair it. We'd pretty much just got it back in place when we heard shouts from inside the car...it was rolling down the mountain without anyone at the wheel - the handbrake clearly doing a fantastic job! One of the guys jumped into the driver's seat, yanked the handbrake up as far as he could and the car stopped once again. We went back to continue fixing the bumper and this time we heard a fairly satisfying click when we pushed it into place. It took about an hour to complete the short 7km stretch over the dirt road, routinely checking the bumper was still in place before we made our way back to the highway to drive the two hours back to our hostel. Thankfully the bumper held firm although the guy in the passenger seat did check the bumper every so often...we didn't stop, he just lent far enough out of his window to be able to see. One of the reasons for this was we were up against a time limit to return the car. By the time we arrived back in the town we'd started from we had one last check of the bumper and all seemed fine, the company didn't quibble it either, even if they had I'm fairly sure I would have been covered by the insurance...I wasn't drunk, I definitely hadn't taken any drugs and considering the bump occurred whilst the car was moving at 2mph, I think I qualified for the not excessive speeds part!

Just don't miss the boat....

There's a fairly common expression about the missing the boat to mean a missed opportunity or chance to progress your life in some way. I'm pleased to say that I'm fairly sure I haven't missed any boats in that way...I did however manage to miss a physical boat. It was during my 'mini break' from travelling, by which I mean I spent three weeks sat on a sunbed by a swimming pool with my very good friend from home; Sally. It's not really what people go travelling to do but then what are you supposed to do whilst travelling if you're not enjoying yourself and those three weeks were very enjoyable and relaxing...apart from perhaps the unfortunate luck with the boat.

It was at the end of the second week when we decided to go on a couple of boat trips, one up to the north coast of Kefalonia, the other to visit the island of Ithaca. The trip to Ithaca came first and we needed to catch the boat at 9:15 and we were told to wait at the port, I was given a fairly vague description of where to stand - 'opposite the ferry place' were my instructions. Knowing we had to be at the port for 9:15 we thought we'd get up in plenty of time to get up and out of the door so we didn't miss the boat. With this in mind we got up at about 7:30, considering our earliest wake up to this point had been about 10:00 it was a bit of a shock to the system. Anyway, we got up, got ready and left for the port at 8:15 giving ourselves plenty of time to amble through the quiet streets down to the port. It turns out we had completely misjudged the distance as we made the walk in about 15 minutes and had plenty of time to kill. We went into a small souvenir shop and had a look at the area around the port before we went to sit in a sheltered waiting area. The waiting area was next to the ticket offices for one of the ferry companies so I guessed this was the 'ferry place' from my instructions. We sat and waited for about 45 minutes before we heard the horn of the boat blaring out as it neared our location. I had a look out over the water and saw the boat so made our way to the water's edge which was 'opposite the ferry place'. We stood there and watched as the boat completely by-passed our position and was stopping on the complete opposite side of the port; realizing our mistake we set off walking around the port as the boat got closer and closer to the dock. We thought 'It's that far to walk and they obviously need to allow other passengers on, the boat will wait for us - surely'...surely not was the result. We got to within a stone's throw of the boat, just about to signal it down when it starts to back up, before we can walk another two paces the boat has swung itself around and is motoring off on to its destination of Ithaca. If we'd been late waking up or if we'd got lost on the way to the port it might have been easier to accept but the fact we'd been waiting in the complete wrong place for the best part of an hour definitely left a sour taste in the mouth. This was made worse by the fact that all the way back to our hotel we could see the boat slowly moving through the water, a boat that we could have been on if not for the fairly appalling instructions. When we got back to the hotel I rang up the company and re-booked the trip for another day, this time we knew exactly where to stand.

The new trip day arrived and we knew we could get up slightly later this time and so we did. We walked to the correct part of the port where we were intercepted by a drunk Greek guy - I say he was drunk but I'm not sure that's the right terminology when someone is quite clearly never sober! The reason I knew this was because it was just before nine in the morning, he was fairly well gone and his morning tipple was a bottle of homemade wine. He encouraged us to sit with him and chat while we waited for the boat so there we were sat at a table in the shade while a drunk Greek guy regaled us with stories of his homemade wine...he only stopped talking to say Kalimera (Good Morning in Greek) to a passing car that clearly wasn't beeping at him. Thankfully we heard the boat blow its horn and we hurried to the water's edge eager not to miss it this time. We started walking to the place the boat had stopped on our last attempt and were slightly shocked to find it pulling in to a completely different part of the port. It was at this point when a white haired man came running out of nowhere, literally, yelling 'Follow Me' so we did. The drunk Greek guy was hot on his heels and we weren't far behind...we weren't missing another trip! We boarded the small vessel and were told we could pay on the boat and that one of the staff would find us. The woman who had told us she would find us kept walking past, almost as if she'd forgotten we hadn't paid. Sally and I looked at each other to suggest that we thought we might be getting a free ride...that was until our good old drunk friend pointed us out, what a joy that man was to meet! I shouldn't begrudge paying too much as the trip was very good and we got to see some parts of the island we wouldn't have been able to see otherwise but after all of the confusion with the poor instructions and boat deciding to change its docking point everyday it would have been a sweet end to the day. I know someone who got a very sweet end to the day...our Greek friend, he disembarked and set off in search of his remaining wine reserves, I doubt he remembered much about anything by the time he went to sleep!

The real thieves of Naples...

When I said I was going to Naples, I had a number of warnings about being careful to avoid getting mugged, robbed or pickpocketed while I was there. I am happy to announce that none of these things happened to me during my stay...that's not to say I didn't leave with a bit of a dent in my pocket. It wasn't through being robbed, it was through willingly handing my money over the counter to the numerous 'tourist' activities. Almost everything has a price attached to it which is understandable but when the average entrance price is €10, the amounts soon add up.

I think the biggest money earner of them all is travelling to the top of Mount Vesuvius, you get charged €10 to get taken to the car park then a further €10 to walk from the car park to the top. Although, I think I got my money's worth out of the trip just through entertainment value alone. It all started with what was probably a very stupid decision but it worked out in the end so that's all that matters...right? Anyway I had just visited the remains of the City of Ercolane, also known as Heculaneum with four other people from my hostel and we were walking up to the top of the hill to get the Vesuvio Express, the company recommended to us by our hostel owner. On the way we get stopped by a man called Salvatore, he was a taxi driver who said he would take us to the top of the mountain, well the car park, wait for us then bring us back down to the bottom again. We should have said no straight away but there was something about him that made us think this would be a good idea to go with him. It was the energy he had that was drawing me to say yes, the other part that drew me to say yes was the fact he would be leaving when we wanted and the other thing that was drawing me to say yes was he was offering a good price. Whatever the eventual reason was, we said yes and we all climbed into his taxi, it was a big white people carrier that had about 10 seats and no seat belts...a good start I would say. Within seconds of us getting into his car Salvatore demonstrated what his horn for going around the corners would be. It was the tune of 'Just One Cornetto' and this basically set up the basis for the rest of the journey. He talked non-stop, again showing off the energy that drew me to say yes and when we were about ten minutes into the journey he says do you like music? We all said yes and what a good decision that was...well it wasn't good for our ear drums as it was being played at full volume but it was great for entertainment. It was a mixture of Italian pop, drum & bass, house and a couple of songs by Psy so it was a real mixture. Salvatore's dance moves didn't change however, it was always the same; one hand on the wheel (most of the time) and the other hand moving to the beat either pointing out of the window or rocking from left to right at shoulder height. I'm fairly sure he was trying to get the whole taxi doing his dance moves and as I was sat in the front right next to him, I thought 'what the hey' so there was me and Salvatore dancing along to the music that was blarring out of the taxi as we're going round the tight corners up the mountain. The music was occasionally interspersed with 'Just One Cornetto' as we came to the very tight corners but that just added to the crazy situation that I was in, it was when he took his eyes off the road and hands off the wheel that it became a bit hairy but all in all it was a very fun journey. When we got to the car park he dropped us off and gave us a time to be return to him so we trudged up the mountain, paid our extra €10 to walk to the top, looked around then trudged back down the mountain. I was quite surprised we didn't get charged again to walk down but that part was free and when we got back to Salvatore it was time for another journey similar to the one on the way up. The only slight difference was that he gave us each a postcard from Napoli/Vesuvius as a thank you for choosing him. The way down started with music and at every restaurant or shop we passed he would beep the horn to try and get them dancing too. A couple of them joined in although the majority of people just looked in utter confusion at this sight of a big white people carrier literally rocking with music and absolutely awful dance moves...and lets not forget 'Just One Cornetto'. All in all, what was probably a ridiculously idiotic decision to go with Salvatore turned out to be one of the highlights of the day and the trip so far. We paid Salvatore and said bye to him before going to get what was probably the worst meal I've ever eaten, I didn't think the Italians could get Spaghetti Carbonara wrong but when its presented on a plastic plate swimming in butter with chunks of un beaten egg in the middle, they can get it pretty hideously wrong.

Overall my time in Naples was a very successful one, especially looking at the warnings I was given before I went. Although one thing I will say is to be careful about where you eat, go to the right place and its stunning, go to the wrong place and you'll be paying over the odds for pasta swimming in butter or a panini that's eitherburnt or raw. Pizza is good though, they know how to do good pizza. The title of this piece refers not to the muggers, robbers and pickpockets but to the restaurants that charge stupid amounts for quite simply awful food with worse service and to the countless of museums that charge a high entrance fee to only supply one or two rooms filled with a couple of fairly ropey pictures and sculptures. I would definitely recommend going to Naples but I would advise you to check out the restaurants or museums before you go in...also be wary about your personal safety, just because it didn't happen to me might just be because I had some pure dumb luck...I definitely did on the way up to Mount Vesuvius.

Anything is possible...

From my month of travelling, I've learnt how to survive in social situations on my own; I've learnt how to navigate foreign public transport systems, some of them far more complicated than they need to be and I've also learnt how to adapt to whatever situation is put in front of me. The occasion I'm referring to relates to my time in Innsbruck. On arrival I was told there was a fully working kitchen and when I'd passed through the kitchen, I saw there was some electric hobs. On seeing the hobs, I just guessed there would be a main oven as well...a guess that would prove to be incorrect but by the time I found this out, I had already bought a 'cook at home' pizza. I know the meal wasn't very Austrian but I had had Weiner Snitzel on three occasions and I wanted some cheap and easy food. So I buy my pizza, take it back to the hostel, go into the kitchen and see no main oven; I went to reception and asked if there was anywhere else in the hostel that would have a main oven. Their response was predictable but disappointing, basically they said all they had were the hobs so I now have a pizza I can't cook and no way of buying more food as the nearest supermarket was at least a half hour walk away. I weigh up my options and think I could head out for food but again this would be a half hour walk or I could try and make do with what I have, so that's exactly what I did. I had an uncooked pizza, an electric hob and a combination of saucepans and frying pans. I decide my best option is to try frying the pizza because I think it will be easier to use than a saucepan because of the low sides. The result was surprisingly successful. I wasn't expecting much, to say the least, and what I had as a result was a tasty and nicely cooked, to a point, pizza. The way I did it was to cut the pizza into quarters and put two of the pieces into the pan base down. I felt there was no need for oil or anything like that because the bread shouldn't stick...and it didn't. I left it cooking base down on the highest temperature until the cheese started to melt on top...actually it was as the base started to smoke that I thought it would be done, a quick tap of the base confirmed it was crispy. I quickly flip the pizza over for literally 5-10 seconds then onto the plate. The flip gave the toppings a quick blast although the downside was using a spoon to collect the toppings from the frying pan again but if you do it quick enough they come away easily enough. I do the same with the other quarter in the pan, eat those two pieces then cook and eat the other half of the pizza and pleased with my efforts I go to wash up the pan and utensils I'd used. While I'm washing I hear a strange ticking sound somewhere above the hobs, I look to where the ticking is coming from and I find a mini microwave oven that has settings for standard, non microwave cooking. I stood looking in shock for a couple of seconds and can only laugh that I'd gone through the hassle of frying my pizza when a closer inspection of the kitchen would have shown me an easy and productive way of cooking my dinner. Although had I done the easy way, I wouldn't have found out how easy it is to fry a pizza. I'm not saying I will adopt the method for all of my pizzas but it is always good to know.

The other thing I've found out while travelling is how easy it is to have a conversation or even spend the best part of two days with a person without knowing their name. When meeting someone travelling, the first question isn't 'Hi, what's your name?' It is usually 'Hi, how long have you been *insert place name*, how long have you been travelling? Where are you going next? etc.' It is easy to forget such trivialities as names when you're heading out of the room to find some food with a person when you're hungry after travelling. The name part usually comes as part of a slightly embarrassed conversation from either side or if you're able to overhear it. Other than that you're left with generalisations such as mate or just accepting the fact that you may never know this person's name...that is unless you become facebook friends, in which case you hand over your phone, tell them to write their name in and voila, one name and one new friend request waiting on your account. Everyone wins! Although chances are you may never speak to that person again and eventually you'll end up deleting them but for the short term: Everybody wins!

And its Goodnight Vienna...

Vienna ... I'd heard so many things about it before I went there. I heard it was the City of romance, the City of elegance, art, sophistication ... something I wasn't told was how boring it would be! Truth be told, visiting Vienna probably came at the wrong time of my trip. I am now one month into my travels and for that entire time I've pretty much jumped from mainland European City to mainland European City and after a while they all end up merging into one and trying to distinguish between them can be very tricky. Don't get me wrong, each City has it's own nuances and each is unique in it's own way but all of the places I've been to so far have an Old Town that was bombed in the war and then reconstructed in one way or another, tall buildings and lots of history that dates back hundreds of years. Finding out about the history of a place is fascinating but when its your eleventh City without a break, it gets a bit tiresome. Had Vienna come at the start of my trip, I probably would have loved it and thought it was great but it came just after I'd been to two excellent cities in Prague and Budapest. The latter being the place of the trip so far. There are a number of reasons for this, some of which I will come onto later. One thing that Vienna did allow me to do was it showed me that I am bored of mainland European cities, I need a change and that change has started with my trip to Salzburg, where I am now. Instead of there being high rise buildings all around me, there are mountains and trees and grass. I've been here for two days now and I haven't once felt the need to go into the City centre aka the Old Town. It is far more fun to climb the hills and enjoy the views over the top of the City.

As I said, my trip to Vienna came just after I'd been to Prague which is very picturesque and beautiful, although it claims to have a Castle that isn't a Castle...its more a cathedral surrounded by lots of building. It's very nice to visit and to look at but it isn't a Castle from what I could see. I'd also just been to Budapest which for me is a stunning City, nice surroundings, nice people and a very good atmosphere although the latter might have been the people I was with, something else I've found out is a place is made by the people you're with. Also in Budapest I found a hidden gem of a place called Cafe Jubilee. It is a Pub/Restaurant just down the road from Budapest Nygati Train Station and is part of a chain that can also be found in Malta. I spent most of my time in Cafe Jubilee with the friends I met on the train from Prague to Budapest and we had a great time. The place is run by Aldo Mercieca, an enterprising man who currently oversees the running of 8 Pubs, a newly renovated Holiday home in Gozo and is planning to have 5 properties under his belt over the next two years. Aldo and his staff worked around the clock to ensure all of the guests to their establishment were treated like royalty as they were served some of the best food and drinks I've ever had. On one of the nights there I was even invited to join the staff for their midsummer party which was a fantastic experience and one I would hope to have again. I would recomend Cafe Jubilee to anyone and if ever you're in Budapest then I suggest you seek it out because you won't be disappointed.

Great customer service isn't something I've been treated to everywhere though, there was one awkward incident when I stayed in Krakow that left a lot to be desired in terms of quality. I arrived at my hostel and checked in, the receptionist at the time didn't seem to know what she was doing but she just about bumbled through and showed me to my room. Anna was already in the room and she had just been checked in by the same receptionist and we agreed she had no idea. Anyway, we had both booked to stay three nights in this hostel, whereas most of the other people in the room were leaving after two nights. After the second night most of the beds were empty once again because everyone else had checked out and Anna and I decided to head into the centre of Krakow to explore the city. We were out of the hostel for a good few hours and returned some time in the afternoon. What greeted us was a bit of a shock, we went into our room and noticed that all of our stuff had gone. There wasn't a trace of anything, no bags, no bed linen, no towels, everything that we had in the room had been taken. We instantly went up to the reception and demanded an explanation as to where our stuff was; we were told we were supposed to check out earlier in the day. We argued that we had booked for three nights and when they re-checked the system, they realised they had made a mistake and tried to cover it by saying we just needed to change rooms. Something they said we should have been told at check in. Whether it was the truth or not, we weren't told and we were still in a position of having no stuff. We were assured that all of our stuff was safe and waiting in the staff area but when asked the question how they knew what was and wasn't our stuff, they went a bit sheepish. Their only attempt at compensation was to offer us a 6 Person dorm instead of an 8 Person dorm, a difference of about two pound fifty. Hardly compensation, especially when the day after this incident my backpack broke and I had to buy a new one. I'm not saying the staff at the hostel did anything to damage my bag but it is a bit of a coincidence that a day after my bag is moved without my permission, it breaks. I can only hope that for the rest of my trip I'm treated to the type of customer service I received at Cafe Jubilee in Budapest and less like the customer service at the hostel in Krakow. Unfortunately I have a feeling the Cafe Jubilee and it's customer service skills might be a rarity, one thing I've found on my trip so far is that travellers are treated with a similar disdain at times to that of students...the only difference being, you don't get any discounts for being a traveller!

8 Cities, 4 Countries, 2 Weeks and 1 Unfortunate Incident With A German Flag

So, as the title suggests, this is the first of hopefully many travel blogs to document my time on the road. I started two weeks ago today on Tuesday 10th June and since then all manner of things have been happening. The most recent of which happened in Germany and involved a German flag...I'll come to this later on in the post.

First I need to go back to my first couple of days, I think it was my first full day in Bruges and I was walking around in the sunshine when I entered a small arcade of shops. It was quite a narrow arcade so when a man stood in my way, I wasn't able to get past him. This was the first part of his sales technique because he was, of course, a shop owner who was trying to get me to enter his shop to buy things inside...at least that was what I thought would be the case. This man was not a normal man, not that I'm saying he was abnormal but for starters he was dressed in a full cavalier outfit making him look like the lost musketeer. Instantly he knew I was English before I spoke, I guess the shorts, t shirt and sunglasses inside was a bit of a give away...or it might have been the pasty white legs but either way he knew. He asked where I was from and when I said Cambridgeshire he stood staring at me blank for 5 seconds, it was as if he hadn't understood what I said. Then all of a sudden he burst into life again but started reeling off various facts about Cambridgeshire saying it was part of East Anglia and was bordered by Suffolk and Norfolk and that one of the big cities was called Ely. While I was confirming what he said to be true he was gesturing into his shop and said that he had postcards from all around the world in his shop and pointed out ones from different places from the UK, I guess because he thought I would be impressed to hear places I knew...I wasn't but anyway he then asked what football team I support and so I replied Newcastle United. As before he stood staring blank for 5 seconds, I thought he hadn't understood me so I repeated myself but then he sprang into life once again. He was throwing various facts about the team and the city, it was at this point I realised he had some form of photographic memory and could probably reel off facts about almost every city in the world. A very clever sales trick to have, I thought. Once he finished talking about Newcastle he started telling me he was an artist and this was when I realised there was a patch of wall without any postcards on it, an area he told me to stand in front of but only after I took my bag and sunglasses off. He kept repeating the phrase 'I am an artist' as he shut the door to his box room of a shop and while he put a piece of white cloth across my chest. He then told me to smile and relax as he pointed what can only be described as a make shift camera in my direction. I felt like I was being prepared for the firing squad, that it was only a matter of time before the white cloth across my chest was put over my eyes. Well in a way he did 'shoot' me but with the camera instead of a gun. In the picture he took, I had the most uncomfortable smile, I really don't have a good poker face! He brought the image up on a computer that was so old, the pixels had started to run because there was brown strips coming out of my face on the screen. Then he pressed print, alarms bells were really starting to ring now. He printed off two A3 sheets of paper, the first contained a historic picture of Bruges and had a calender on it, the second was my uncomfortable looking face, this time without the brown lines. When he started to roll it up I was waiting for the price he was going to charge me, I had no intention of buying this thing off him but he wasn't listening to anything I was saying. He charged 7euro50 to which I gave a resounding no to, he tried to drop the price to 5euro but again I declined telling him that 5euro could buy my dinner for that evening. With that he let me go but it got me thinking about how good his act was, at every stage he acted with confidence and was able to talk his way through most things...well, dressed in a cavalier outfit in the middle of Bruges and I guess you have to have some confidence.

From Bruges I headed to the Netherlands and during my time there I had a 100m race against a walking tour guide and I won (for anyone who knows my sporting prowess will know how unlikely that is!!). I was also witness to an emergency situation in the house next to my hostel. It was 2:30 in the morning and we were about to play our last hand of cards when we saw flashing lights stop just outside from two fire engines and an ambulance. When we went outside it appeared somebody had collapsed on the first floor of a house and the only way to get them to the ambulance was to use the cherry picker of the fire engine, the speed of everything was the most impressive thing because I know how vital speed is in those situations. Also during my time in the Netherlands I was able to watch some beach volley ball as two courts were set up in the middle of Amsterdam.

After the Netherlands, Germany was next port of call and this is where the unfortunate incident involving the German flag comes into things. I have been in three German cities over the past week, all very different but the one thing they all had in common was how patriotic everyone seemed to be, although this might have had something to do with the World Cup being on. Almost everywhere you turned in Germany you could find a television playing the world cup or a re-run of one of the matches or you would find a German flag. Basically the whole country (well the cities I was in) seemed to have gone football crazy especially when it came to Germany playing.

So, I was in Berlin, in the middle of the Hyundai Fan Park, which is basically a long road that leads down from the Brandenburg gate and is full of massive TV screens and various eating outlets set up just for the World Cup. It is quite an impressive sight even if it is full of mass commercialisation. Anyway, I was quite hungry so I decided to get some bratwurst and chips, the vendor didn't seem too impressed with having to cook chips because all of the bratwurst was ready to go but he did it anyway. After a few minutes it was ready and the question was put to me 'Do you want mayo?' Now I should have answered no simply because I wouldn't have said I'm overly clumsy but I have my moments...this was no different. I get my food and stand next to the stall and put my food on the little stand off the side. Before I know it the wind picks up and starts blowing a flag that was tied to the bottom of this stand about; it goes near my chips but I manage to block it...on the first time. The second time it happens the flag completely covered my chips and subsequently the massive dollop of mayonnaise that was proudly protruding off the top. By the time I'd managed to wrestle the flag off the chips (the wind was very strong...honest), the red part of the flag was fairly covered in a massive white mayonnaise stain. At that point I quickly picked up my food and walked away as fast as I could without looking back, I thought that if the vendor was grumpy about cooking the chips he would be absolutely livid by the state of his once pristine flag.

That is pretty much it for now, I'm in Poland for the next few days, although the train ride from Berlin was quite interesting when the brakes under my carriage started to smoke and burn but after twenty minutes of men looking and poking the side of a train with a walkie talkie we got on our way again and here I am. I head to Krakow tomorrow and then to Prague on Saturday. I'm sure they'll be just as full of stories as the last two weeks have been, hopefully I won't be disgracing too many other national flags...

Now just wait your turn!

So I work in a shop, a petrol station to be precise, and within that shop we sell pretty much everything under the sun and that includes newspapers, as you would expect from a convenience shop. Now I have spoken about these papers, or more the customers who refuse to take the top copy, before and once again they are the basis of this blog post and once again it is the customers who annoy me. I'll set the scene, it's early in the morning, still dark outside, I am serving a customer with fuel, shop goods, whatever they're coming in to buy and I'm probably half way through the transaction when I see him. He's a queue jumper but one of those that is so blatantly obvious that other customers will get annoyed. He'll come in, pick up his paper and because he does this every morning he has the correct change and for some reason he thinks this grants him permission to leave the money on the counter and walk out of the shop. This would be fine if he was at the front of the queue but he isn't, I'm already serving a customer, a transaction that if left to it's own devices would be over within a matter of seconds. It's the same if a customer has put in say £10 worth of fuel, they think that having the correct money in their hand constitutes them the right to jump to the front of the queue and these people are more daring; they'll normally do it two maybe three people in a queue already. And more often than not they've gone over by a penny, so not only do they think they have the right to jump the queue but they think they can short change me, I don't think this is very on but of course I won't say anything in the actual situation because it's just easier to let it go. But do not despair, I've worked out a solution to this problem and so far it seems to be working, it is very simple really, you just don't look at them. For some reason by not looking at the person, this queue jumping correct changer, they don't feel as though they can just jump the queue. Almost as if looking at them is an acknowledgement from me that I'm condoning their actions and wanting them to do it. I can see them there hovering, correct change in one hand, paper in the other (held in such a way they think they're helping by thrusting the price in my face) and at times quite literally shifting their weight from one foot to the other. Well once my peripheral vision picks this up, that's when I start to get some payback, this is when I slow down, especially if I have to fill a bag with shopping. If they want to be ignorant and rude to the other customers and quite frankly to me then when I have a bit of power they will have to wait longer. Now I know what you're probably thinking, why have I just wasted about a minute of your day where you could have been doing other things, reading a proper news story for example, and they only answer I have for you is that I wanted to get this off my chest. It was also an opportunity to get back into blogging, for too long this page has been dormant and some of you may be thinking that is a good thing especially if they only thing I'm entreating you to is a small story (essay) about getting annoyed by customers who let's face it are just trying to spend as little time in the petrol station as possible. But my argument to that is this, I have to be there so you're just gonna have to wait there too, even if it is just for twenty seconds longer than you originally intended.