The Republic of Meat and Mead (Prague, Czech Republic)

Prague is a fairy-tale looking city that is all about eating fatty meat and drinking beer. I had to have put some weight back on here.

From Warsaw I got a 10hr bus to Prague, passing some great snow covered scenery and several idyllic, small villiages with mediaeval looking townscapes and steep, pointy rooftops, necessary to prevent a ceiling collapse when it snows this much.

I had five nights in Prague to get to know it. This picturesque city is the capital of Czech republic, former capital of Czechslovakia, former capital of Bohemia. The reason it is so nice is that it didn’t have the shit bombed out of it in the wars. A nice river runs through the middle of the city, and on a rise on the left bank sits the biggest mediaeval castle in Europe. There’s also nice town squares, bridges and unique architecture.

I got especially luckily because it snowed  a couple of times during my stay and turned the whole city into something out of Christmas fantasy.

The sad side of all this glory is that it is very touristy. The old town is lined with shop after shop of tacky souvenirs, with dumbass tourists who have just a day here spending all their time looking at junk instead of exploring the cool parts of the city. There is a Hooters, and a TGI Fridays, and if you want something even more authentic be sure to visit the restaurant off the main square that is named ‘Typical Czech Restaurant.’ 

Did someone say beer?

Prague is, according to Anthony Bourdain, the world capital of beer. The Pilsner Urquell is the hottest beer in town, and it literally translates to ‘original pilsner.’ It has been brewed and drunk in these parts since 1842. It’s a fact that nine out of ten beers produced and consumed in the world are derived from this original Pilsen beer.

Other beers that I took the time to familiarise myself with were the original Budweiser, one called Gambrinus (my personal favourite), the non-alcoholic beer, and even a cannabis beer (no, it doesn’t get you high). I know it sounds like a cliché, like when I said the Russian vodka was the best I’d ever had (it was!), but these beers were just so good. I’ve had beers all over the world now, from Mongolia to Malta, but the pilsners of Prague are the only ones I consciously savoured.

Prague also has a big absinth heritage and following, with shops all over town offering the spirit that is so strong it’s said that if you drink enough you’ll hallucinate and see a green fairy. Drinking beers alone in laid back pubs was where I drew the line - I wasn’t about to start doing shots of absinth by myself.

So how would you accompany such fine beer? That would be with food, or should I say, meat.

The food highlight for me was the ‘pig knee.’ Think endless moist meat falling off the bone. Oh, and lots of thick blubbery fat. Some people leave this part to the side. Not me. Put some mustard and horse radish with it all, half a cherry tomato and a couple of chillis and you have a feast fit for a mediaeval king. The first night I finished it and said to myself it was good but I didn’t need to put myself through that again; it was a challenge – took me 45 minutes and lots of sweating to finish.  Three nights later I went back and did it all over again.

Hotdogs are also something of an institution here. And I’m not talking frankfurts. I’m talking big, fat meaty sausage, several varieties of which you have on a bun with sourcrout, mustard and curry ketchup. With these ones, it’s not the sauce that runs down your fingers, it’s the bubbling fat from when you puncture the tough skin of the sausage. Oh yeah! There are street vendors selling them everywhere, and it’s cool to see the sausages hanging up. It’s Prague street food.

I also liked the chicken with cheese sauce and classic goulash with bread dumplings. Notice the absence of vegetables?

 

Prague was a nice way to say goodbye to Europe. Who knows when ill be back, ten, maybe twenty years? I left Prague and got on a plane to fly over the Atlantic, to start the next stage of my trip.

Back to the Edgy Eastern Bloc (Poland)

Rin and I said yet another sad goodbye and parted ways in Paris. She flew home to move to New Zealand, and I flew to Poland.

Poland was a necessary chaser for the likes of Spain and France. And I’m glad I got a chance to get back into the eastern bloc once again on this trip. 

I like depressing countries in the same way I like depressing music and books. In Poland I faced gloomy weather, gloomy people, and their extraordinarily gloomy past. Melancholy by the truck load. This was the country that was spitroasted by the Nazi’s and the Soviets – and that sort of thing will leave you feeling bitter and sore.







Krakow, the mediaeval capital, was my first stop. I had eight days here to get to know the place and do some planning for the coming months. I arrived just in time for the final nights of their Christmas festival, and the first night I wandered the town square and ate spinach, meat, potato, and cheese dumplings, and other local dishes. Above me was the big cathedral with its sharp, pointed spires and the moon looming behind it.

 It didn’t take too long to notice the general sour demeanour of the locals. It reminded me of Russia actually.

On the final night of the Christmas festival there was a rock concert on the main square and I drank beetroot soup while watching a death metal band perform. The whole thing was in polish, but I was surprised when the lead singer started doing the hail Hitler gesture mid song. This, I later found out, is highly illegal, so I guess it must have been anti-nazi lyrics that I couldn’t understand. The shaved head threw me.

Maybe the reason people are so grumpy here is because an hour away is the location of the most notable mass murder atrocity of human history. Or maybe they haven’t forgotten the soviet reign that immediately followed. Or it could be the intense cold weather. Or all three?

I went out to Auschwitz, the biggest and baddest of all the Nazi run concentration camps, referred to as ‘death factories,’ by the Polish. When Hitler went on his mad rampage, the Jewish population of this region were rounded up and sent here and the only way out was through the chimney. 1.1 million people died in this single concentration camp, 90% of whom were Jews. Families arrived together, then the men and strong women were taken one way to work for a couple of months (at most) while the elderly, most women, and the children were led directly to part of the camp that acted as a waiting room for the gas chambers. Some were walked straight from the train to the gas chambers, being told to get undressed and go and wait under the showers that weren’t connected with any plumbing.

We were taken into the gas chambers, and saw the big ovens where the bodies were burned after they had died. We also saw a room with 2 tonnes of hair cut off girls and women before they were killed (Nazis intended to sell it). There were big piles of suitcases, glasses, and shoes. It was such an intense experience that some people on our tour of the facility started to cry.

 

What happened at Auschwitz is one of the most shocking things I’ve ever had to contemplate. But what affected me the most was not the sheer number of deaths, or the horrific way and which they died (the gas was slow and extremely painful). It was seeing the everyday things they had to deal with while still alive, like the squashed sleeping conditions on hard wooden shelves and the toilets (pictured) where they were all marched twice a day to go and were given 20 seconds each. If they were any longer they were yelled at ‘this isn’t a café’ and beaten.

There were a few brief and unsuccessful uprising by the Jewish prisoners who knew they would never get out alive, but generally they were so worn down and utterly dominated that they just followed orders and staggered down into the gas chambers knowing they were about to die.

Auschwitz was liberated by the soviet army who came in from Russia and sent the Nazis packing. Cause for celebration? Yeah, kind of. But just when Poland though it was out of trouble, so began the long and harsh soviet rule. Germany had had its turn, now it was the Russia who could have its way with lady Poland.  Sure, there was no mass murdering to extent of genocide, but life was far from pleasant.

Situated right next to Krakow is Nowa Huta, or ‘New City.’ It is though most distinctly communist place I think I’ve ever seen. It has rows and rows of identical grey apartment blocks for the industrial workers. I’ve seen these apartment blocks all across the former soviet union lands, from Mongolia to Bulgaria, and these were no less depressing. But the thing about Nowa Huta, is that the whole area was designed by the communists from scratch. Its just such an alien way for people to live. In a place like this it would be easy to assume the role as a non-thinking cog in the drear machine. It’s a sickly combination of depressing and boring, exactly what I’d imagine life under communist rule would be like. Its retro dystopic; a George Orwell nightmare.

Back in Krakow I met up with some Australian guys and we went out for a big beer and pork knuckle on the cheap.

Next was Katowice. I’m not sure why anyone would come here. I visited purely to give the bigger, historical towns of Krakow and Warsaw some contrast. I wanted basic Poland working class and I got it. The place had enough of a communist hangover feel that I was happily occupied for a couple of days, and I also had some great food ordered from menu’s I could read. Always fun.

 

Warsaw, the capital, was my final stop and I hit the jackpot. I rented a room in the apartment of a young local guy for three nights and it turned out he lived in one of those depressing communist buildings. Having looked at so many of these ‘human filing cabinet’ apartment blocks in bewilderment, I was finally able to live in one for a few days. In fact, the whole area of the town where I was staying was built in the 50’s and had that same strange vibe as Nowa Huta. By the end of my stay I got so excited when I came around a corner and saw a distinctly depressing building block that it made me feel a little weird. I don’t know why I like seeing this so much. They had become gloriously ugly to me, the drearier the better.

The centre of Warsaw was nice, and the snow dusting on the buildings made some areas look like miniature Christmas town set ups. It all looked quite old but was actually relatively new, seeing as 85% of the city was destroyed in WW2.

It got so cold here that I nearly passed out. It was -14 maximum and despite putting layer after layer of clothes on it quickly became obvious that I did not have the right gear for the conditions. At first my hands and feet stung like they were being scalded, then they just went totally numb and I couldn’t feel or move them. I wore several pairs of socks on my hands (on top of my gloves) the next day.

 

A highlight of Warsaw was the milk bars, which sold cheap, homely Polish food for crazily cheap prices. Apparently, these milk bars are a left over from the communist days (milk for good communist comrades, not alcohol) and are basically the same now as they were then. Typical highlights included pork schnitzel, fried cabbage, potato soup and buckwheat cooked in lard.

The first couple of times I went in the one near me I had to point up randomly at the menu on the wall I could not read, and having to turn her neck to look what I was pointing at was obviously well above the cashiers pay bracket because she was pissed off about it. I decided to take a photo of the menu, and on my final visit I handed her a piece of paper with everything I wanted written down – copied from the menu photo.

And then it happened, after all my time in Poland I finally saw it! In the country of dreary weather and people and past, in the most devastated European city of WW2, in a crumby soviet milk bar filled with people who remember harsh communist regime, the stone faced cashier looked up at me and smiled.

Classic or Cliché? (France, Part 2)

Paris, the biggest tourist destination in the whole world. It is, with New York, the most celebrated city on earth.   I couldn’t tell if I was going to love or hate it, but I knew I was going to feel something when I got there. Of all the things we did in Paris, I’ve decided what is tourist trappy cliché, and what is undeniably classic:

The EIFFEL TOWER

This is the most famous building in the world, and seeing it is person is pretty amazing - partly because of the size and style of the structure, but also because of how often it appears in pop culture and then suddenly it’s right there in front of you for real.

Sure, most Parisians haven’t been up it since they were kids, but it is without a doubt the biggest symbol of Paris, and something that sits, has always and will forever sit, in the background of daily life here.  

Eiffel Tower…CLASSIC

THE LOUVRE

We were there when it opened and made a B line for the Mona Lisa, hearing about how crowded it gets. It was just us and a few other people, so we certainly got a good look – as good as you can five metres away and from behind two panes of what I assume was bullet proof glass. It wasn’t long before the few people swelled into a big crowd and I was glad that we had soaked it in in the few moments we had with it.

Yeah, it was okay. But completely overhyped. Certainly wasn’t my favourite piece.

We spent 3.5 hours in the Louvre and it was the highlight of Paris for me. The still life paintings capturing European life of old were particularly cool, and I could of gone back day after day had I the time and money. The art itself, as well as the endless rooms and beauty of the museum, totally blew my mind.

Mona Lisa…CLICHÉ, but the Louvre in whole…CLASSIC

MOULIN ROUGE

Everybody has heard of the Moulin Rouge. It used to be the hottest place in the city, a burlesque show that drew the rich and the famous from all over Europe. It used to be edgy and exciting, and somewhat stylish. Now it seems to be nothing more than a tacky caricature of its former self, geared entirely towards tourists. Boo.

It’s the least seedy part of the seedy red light district filled with sex shops and peep shows. There’s even a Starbucks right across from it for god’s sake.

There are other nearby venues doing burlesque shows, all claiming to be the more authentic version, but I doubt you’d find single local in any of them.

Moulin Rouge…CLICHÉ

 

LOVERS BRIDGE

This is a bridge whose wire fencing has been completely filled up with padlocks, most of which have the names of two lovers. The thing to do is go there with a lover, lock the padlock on together and throw the key in the river Siene, thus locking your love together forever.

It’s a shame that these are regularly cut off or trimmed by the local council because the bridge wasn’t designed to take that sort of extra weight. Kinda makes the whole thing seem superficial and pointless. (No self-respecting Parisian would be caught dead putting a padlock on). But sometimes a cliché like this can be fun, so me and Rin put a padlock on, threw the key in the river, and left instructions for Mum and Dad to come find when they rock up in Paris in a few months.

Lovers Bridge…CLICHÉ (but in a good way)

THE ARC DE TROMPHE

The Arc de Trompe was built by Napoleon to welcome his soldiers back into the city, and it’s one of the city icons. The fact that its covered with people taking photo’s isn’t a turn on, but it is somewhat impressive as a structure, and instead of being isolated for preservation it is at the centre of one of the cities busiest round about at the top of a long avenue.

Arc de Tromphe…CLASSIC

FRENCH CUISINE

We ate well is France, but especially Paris. It is considered one of the top cuisines in the world. Yes, it was expensive, but thats just Paris. The food was quality and eating in the little bistros was nice. We tried duck in many different ways (we ordered it in every restaurant we went to in France), onion soup, fois gras, casserole, and good old steak frites. We even bought some nice cheese, only to bin it thinking it was off. Then we ordered the exact same thing after our meal one night at a bistro, and it stunk just as bad. Turns out the cheese we threw out wasn’t off, it was just living up to the French reputation for stinky cheese.

In addition to the fancy stuff, we ate plenty of banquets and croissants, macaroons and éclairs.

French Cuisine…CLASSIC

 

SACRED HEART

This cathedral sits on a hill overlooking the city, and houses some great mosaic works. It’s the first thing we did when arriving into town, and just as we made it up the hill the sun came out and shone on it with a  rainbow in the background, as if the old dude in the sky with the bushy beard was welcoming us.

Sacred Heart…CLASSIC

 

THE NOTRE DAM

I gotta say, this one was a disappointment. I guess I was expecting something epic, something that lived up to the impossible reputation. But truthfully, I’ve seen more impressive cathedrals in most European countries I’ve been two (even other towns in France). Instead I have put a photo of another part of the city.

At least it was free.

Notre Dame…CLICHÉ


PARIS

Paris overall was a hoot. I never intended or expected to come here on my travels. But now that I have I understand what all the fuss is about, I get it. This city has so much soul, so much distinct personality, that not even hordes of tourists have been able to corrode its character. Paris is a classic.

 

 

 

 

 

 

The Japan of Europe (France, Part 1)

20 minutes over the border from Spain and the grass was literally greener. The landscape seemed more idyllic. It sounds too good to be true. But this was France, and France is France.

The way I characterise France in my head is this; it’s the Japan of Europe. The most elegant, progressive, got-their shit-together, scenic, idyllic, fashionable, cultured and yes, a little bit elitist and snobby, country of their continent.  Like japan, it has distinct culture recognised the world over, and is a powerhouse in global politics and economy.  People live with grace here.

Toulouse was our first stop. It was a city in the guise of a town, and was perched neatly next to a river that was so still you could see the sky reflected off it. Some locals sat down by the rivers edge at dusk, while others had drinks at cool little bistros.

It was in Toulouse that we went to a restaurant and ordered duck; starting the trend of ordering duck (at least one of us) at every single restaurant we went to in France.

Next was Bordeaux, famous for the surrounding vineyards. Bordeaux comes from Bordeaux, like Port from Porto. It is the industry which led to the establishment of the city, and is a primary industry today. Of course we had to try some.

We also had some macaroons, the famous French sweet. We started off with ‘Lavender and Peach’, tried ‘Avacado and Balsamic Vinegar,’ and also, ‘Salted Caramae and Ginger,’ but the best was ‘Passionfruit and Chocolate.’ There was even a salmon flavoured one, but we kept well clear of it.

Here we spoke to girl, not much older than Rin and I, who was a true wine expert. She told us the oldest drop she’d had the pleasure of tasting was a Bordeaux from 1947.

This was just the beginning of my discovery of how much these French folks know food, wine, music and literature.

In Portiers, we rented a room in the house a young couple. He was a professor at the local university and she was a singer who travelled around France to perform. It was such a great experience being able to live with them briefly. They had pack bookshelves with proper writers (no crime fiction), practiced piano during the evenings, and spoke about movies in terms of the director not the title. One night we had dinner with Nimo, the professor, because Juliette was in Paris for an audition. We had a great time chatting with him about everything from travel to science, writers to religion. He is a member of the Skeptics Society, who put the scientific theory as humanities crowning achievement, and offer 1 million dollars to anyone who can use it to prove anything supernatural, fortune telling, hypnotism (the act like a chicken type) and astrology. Furthermore, this group isn’t shy about attacking what they think are the immoral and consequential aspects of superstitions, such as the Anti-Vaccination movement, homeopathy and religious fundamentalism.

Nima was a fun and smart guy, and sleepy Portiers was a nice contrast to the big cities in France. We spent our days going to produce markets, walking along the river, and wandering through the old town, which had some great original medieval buildings.

But this was just the beginning. We were on our way to Paris…

 

 

 

 

For the Love of God and Pork - and Rin (Spain)

 

Back into Spain and we weren’t wasting time. We had been in Salamanca only a couple of hours and we were already in a Tapas bar with a drink and a couple of plates of food. If for no other reason, Tapas is why I would come back to Spain.

Salamanca was my favourite town in Spain. It has a nice old town area with impressive cathedrals and university buildings, and has a bridge across a picturesque river that was built by the Romans in year 89 AD.

 

The Spanish are almost religious about eating pork. Its served everywhere, in all different ways; sliced off the bone, cured and sausaged, grilled and barbequed, and served whole. We saw plastic wrapped piglets in the supermarket. 

The reason they are so pork centric is in fact a religious one. Back in the days of the Spanish inquisition, it did you a whole lot of good to show that you were a devoted pork eater. The muslims and the Jews were being driven out and killed all over Spain in a big cleansing effort. And what are the Jews and the Muslims forbidden to eat?  If you had a cured ham hanging up out the front of your house it meant you were a good Christian.

And Pork is not the only steady devotion from the olden days. Christianity is stronger than ever. So much so that the government, backed heavily by the church, has just made abortion illegal after it was made legal half a century ago with the big push for women’s rights. Also, the church is publishing manuals on how to be a proper (stay at home) housewife which are somehow popular. Worst of all, the government has just banned public protest. We were told that if you swear at a cop you will get in far more trouble under this new law than if you punch him in the face. It all seems like a big step back for a country that is supposed to setting a good example for nearby developing countries.

What the hell Spain? Too much sangria?

But in Christianity’s defense, this particular religion did give rise to the most wonderful time of the year. Rin and I spent Christmas in Madrid. In our little apartment we had a Christmas tree (of sorts) and presents under it (too many for people travelling with backpacks). We made it a special day, and I certainly had the Christmas cheer. We opened presents, ate finely sliced ham and cheese in bed, called home, and wandered around the empty streets of Madrid. A memorable Christmas, but it was never going to be as good as Christmas at home.

 

Madrid itself had some great Christmas lights and decorations around town, and it has been good to be travelling around Europe at this time of year.

We went out to the coast to the city of Valencia, which has a nice old town quarter and is famous for its paella. We wandered around to see the big entry gates to city, and went up top for a view over town. We also leather tramped it out to the harbour and beach, not particularly ideal in the cold, and wandered back through a slummy area.

Another cool thing about Spain is the big Bull silhouettes by the sides of freeways.

 

Barcelona was our final stop in Spain. I was somewhat disappointed by Barcelona. Like Lisbon, it’s just a big western European city, and I couldn’t really sense that the place had a soul of its own. What it did have though was long lines of cruise ship tourists (the absolute worst) and exuberant prices for marginally interesting attractions. I don’t get what all the fuss is about for this place.

 Barcelona is said to be the world capital for pickpocketing. I folded a map and some brochures and stuffed it into my back pocket looking like a fat wallet, and after five days in the city I didn’t attract the interest of a single would be thief. This city couldn’t even live up to a bad reputation.

There were interesting things to see though, it wasn’t all a total waste of time. The produce markets, supposably among the best in Europe, were cool. The abundance of fruits, vegies, hams, sausages, cheeses, animal carcasses and skinned heads, and fresh fish were visually dazzling, and I could have walked around in there for hours just soaking it all in.

 

The Sagrada Familia, a quirky old cathedral that is still being build was also a highlight. Its world famous and most people have heard about it. It was originally designed by the architect Gaudi, and has a strange, almost fantastical design. The inside was the highlight, and looked like something out of a science fiction movie. It was just strange. I’ve put a photo of it here but the photo doesn’t mean much – you have to be in this epic room to feel its eccentric grandeur.

Things I learnt in Barcelona:

1.       Christopher Columbus was a fool who brought back natives from Latin America, walked them into the royal courts at Barcelona, and said they were from India. Now all indigenous people from Canada to Chile are called Indians. Furthermore, after his accidental discoveries, he was brought home in handcuffs and stripped of his wealth for treating the natives so bad. Douche.

2.       Barcelona is the capital of the Catalonia region. Catalonia wants independence from Spain, and on a lot of balconies in the city you can see the Catalonia flag of yellow and red stripes, with a blue triangle and star at one end, which is a call for this independence. The locals are passionate about it, they refuse other Spanish customs such as flamenco and bull fighting, and Catalonian is the official language of Barcelona, not Spanish. Catalonia could very well be its own country in the future, but there would be an interesting path to this independence because Spain has no interest in giving it up.

We had New Year’s Eve in Barcelona and went to a big square in the centre of the city to watch the fireworks. I thought to myself, what a year 2013 was. What a year 2014 is going to be!

Spain was great (except most of Barcelona), but the real highlight of this part of my trip was my travel companion. Having Christmas and New Years with Rin over here made it special. It would have been a strange and slightly sad time of year to be travelling alone, and we got lucky in that she was able to come over for it. But it wasn’t just those big days. It was all the other days we have been lucky enough to have together this year, from Turkey to Morocco, Albania to Portugal. She has been the cherry on top of my trip, and my 2013.

With a final chococlate con churros (another reason to come back to Spain), we started 2014 together, looking onward to exciting times this year in New Zealand, and more immediately, France.

EK4NZ2014