pictures would improve this post

In these days of instant communication over the inter-tubes, people having the interwebs in their pockets, and taking pictures on the digitals, all i had was a bike and a notebook, and a grocery list. That is not to say that the grocery list really mattered. But it does indicate that I had other things to do, namely, make fajitas. This is not about fajitas. This is about the the recently announced resurfacing of Woodrow Wilson Drive.

Talking about municipal public works is boring. This is going to be very boring because of that. Also, i forgot my camera, thus, no pictures to liven the mood. Please forgive me.

Yesterday I saw a JFP (and JFP-Local) tweet about a press conference Mayor Johnson would be holding announcing the resurfacing of Woodrow Wilson Drive. I figured this would be a good chance to go and ask a question or two. Conveniently, I could combine trips and hit the grocery store afterwards, pay attention, this is almost a theme of the post.

I arrived at the corner of Peachtree and Woodrow Willson to see a small clutch of news-peoples, police officers and people of some local significance standing behind some orange traffic barrels by the park. I walked over to the cameras and leant on my bike waiting for Mayor Johnson to arrive at the podium. He announced the work to be done: a resurfacing of Woodrow Wilson, done with assistance from the MDOT Intermodal Connector Program. Work has also been approved on Mill and Pascagoula streets, presumably under the same program. Work had already been approved, and is presumably now to start, on Pearl streets. These are all being done under the guise of improving access to Union Station (which I absolutely and enthusiastically support!).

The details of the resurfacing program are as follows: The contractor is Superior Asphalt. As Woodrow Wilson is an important corridor, the work will be done to minimize disruption. The work will take place on one lane at a time, mostly at night. There will not be any work undertaken during Jackson State or JPS football games at Memorial Stadium or Newell Field, respectively. The work should start “in a week or so” and be done within three months. It is the undersanding of the Mayor that the work will take only 60 working days.

Three news cameras showed for the “turning dirt”: Fox 40, Wlbt 3 and Wapt 16. The Mayor was joined by a representative from Superior Asphalt, the City Council President, a doctor from the hospital across the street and probably somebody else. I think he mentioned that an MDOT representative could not make it.

While the photo op was going on I got to talking with an Officer Brister (im pretty sure thats his name). After opening with the standard “who are you with” we got to talking about the road and pedestrian access. We both had noticed that many people working for the hospital cross the road to get to their cars parked near Murrah. He asked me how the crossing was and said that he thought it looked scary – fast traffic on and off the interstate. I suggested a crosswalk with a warning light was needed but he said it would only make people speed up. We decided that the best option would be a pedestrian controlled red light. He encouraged me to ask the Mayor about any pedestrian accommodation they may have made.

Johnson said that there would be work done on sidewalks and crosswalks along the road. I am not sure if this is new or existing sidewalks. He did indicate that pedestrian facilities were important to development. I overheard him talking to one news man about a new development coming to Jackson. He spoke of a mixed use development where people could “work play and stay in one place” which was the trend of developments nowadays. I think this is fairly exciting for an American city, but i did not catch where this would be. He said that it would bring an estimated $2 million in tax revenue to the City when fully developed. This would be land that did not generate any tax revenue currently. Hopefully this is on a brownfield site, rehabilitating abandoned buildings is far better than paving over valuable, if unruly, greenspace.

Then he got to my real curiosity. I was wondering what sort of study was done on life cycle costs of road surfaces. A resurfacing is just a temporary solution to bad roads. I asked about different paving methods or materials and if they were studied to see if they could extend the life and value of the road. Johnson replied that they are not done on a case by case basis – suggesting alternatives to merely paving were not studied at all – but from an overall standard based on the type of road. He did mention that some alternative road materials (recycled glass or rubber) are used sometimes, but necessarily being used in this case. He did say that the standards they applied were designed to get the most bang for their buck. Without looking more deeply into the issue or studying alternatives more carefully, we may not know if we could get more bang out of that buck.

So. Speaking of road surfaces. I went to the grocery store. I got, among other things, eggs (and was told to wash them by the cashier – not necessary due to USDA regulations on egg producers). I rode my bike home. On these rough streets, my bike and I can absorb most of the smaller bumps, but the larger ones – not so much. Thankfully my eggs all remained intact – but it did get me thinking about the importance of smooth roads. Having less traffic on residential streets would certainly help slow the onset of potholes and ruts. This is one of the further, gestalt issues that should be looked at.

Improving sidewalks is important for pedestrians. Sidewalks, especially along busier roads give people a safe place to walk (ok, you knew that). In my neighborhood, in the evening, it is generally lovely and traffic free, so people walk in the streets everywhere (we also have very few sidewalks). Cyclists should not ride on sidewalks. This is dangerous for pedestrians and does not help raise visibility of cyclists on streets – which is what should be done. The most effective cycling improvements that I have noticed are cycling only streets (cut off to cars) and cycling catches at stop lights – allowing cyclists to filter out of the stopped traffic and get ahead of the cars. Motorists don’t notice cyclists amongst the cars, and its a horrible place to sit in between two cars with engines running. Cycling catches make sure the motorists see the bikes and get to the other side of the lane once the cyclist gets going.

I am a bit torn about bike lanes. They are great when they are respected – cyclists can easily fly through stopped traffic and not worry about a lane changing car not noticing them. the problem, however, is when they are not respected. People park in them, walk in them and drive in them. This is not safe for the cyclist. Additionally, merging back into traffic tends to be harder from a cycle lane than from within traffic. For example: a cycle lane on the right side of a four lane road is very difficult to move from when you need to turn left – if you were in the right lane, this maneuver would only require you to shift to the other side of the lane before changing – but without constant signaling and looking backwards (both unsafe to that extent), this is not easy to do from a bike lane. Integrating with traffic is difficult from segregated lanes. Cyclists need to move with the traffic – no salmoning! Riding on the side of the lane usually allows room for a motorist to squeeze through, and spaces between stopped cars allows the cyclist to race to the head of the queue at a stop light. Its all about maintaining smooth efficient traffic flow.

Perhaps instead of bike lanes, safe routes should be marked. Signs indicating that a road is also a key bike throughway may help. A wavy line of green paint in the lane (where it won’t get worn down by cars) with the occasional bike stencil could indicate to cyclists as well as motorists that that road is ideal for cyclists, and cars should be wary. It is the visibility of cycling that needs to be raised.

where the burnsides at?

From Senatobia, take highway 4 east to gravel springs road, go south to O B McClinton road and take a left. Within a mile, you will see the cars lining up on the street and neighbors renting out their driveways and yards for $3-5 per parking spot. The marching band, consisting of up to two snare drums and three bass drums led by a fife, marks the Turner family homestead. Two dollars gets you a long night of food and music. This is the Otha Turner Memorial picnic, started by the late Otha Turner in the 1950’s as a labor day goat barbecue, it is now an open barbecue and blues party.

Some little girls were dancing around as we arrived:

We walked around the house to the back yard, which had been transformed into the perfect venue for a blues show. An open shed had a menu posted which revealed that a barbecue goat sandwich could be had for only $3.50, pork was $3 and pickled eggs only fifty cents. The goat sandwich was excellent: thick white bread, plenty of sauce, and delicious meat. A trailer directly behind the house held the huge barbecue smoker where freshly cooked meat was being kept warm. As people came in, the chef at the barbecue snuck out some tender ribs and offered them to whoever was standing around.

This is who you sneak ribs from:

A tractor trailer was set up with a stage in the back of the yard, blocking view of the horse pen. One of the Turner women shouted out for the Burnsides, who seemed to be running a bit late. A young man who was enjoying the festivities thoroughly took it upon himself to climb on stage and assure the crowd that the music would start soon “Its definitely gonna jump off soon, and because you had to wait, we gonna make it real good.” He made a number of these announcements in only a few minutes before a blues guitarist came sat down on stage, flanked by Dexter and Garry Burnside, who supplied the drum and bass guitar for the performance.

The picnic drew one of the most diverse crowds I have seen at a musical event in Mississippi. Some elderly ladies and gentlemen from the Turner family sat on a bench near the food shed. Country neighbors were joined by young people of all description from the city. Red-necked men stood next to borderline hipsters. People from Memphis, Jackson and Compton swayed to the music alongside everyone else.

It got packed later in the night, but there were plenty of people gathering at the shack early on.

In between each artist, the marching band would strike up. The fife sometimes just seemed erratic, but made for an entertaining set. The people behind the instruments was always changing, sometimes a drum would be played by someone from the crowd. The snare drummers held their drums sideways and played casually, while the bass drums would dance around, putting on a show. Throughout the whole night, the drumline was excellent. When they started playing, the crowd would rush from the stage to surround them tightly. People closest would always dance while everyone else angled for a better view. The band often got so caught up in playing that they could not hear the calls for them to get back to the stage to kick off another set – they had to be physically pulled and pushed at least once to get them to the front.

Throughout the evening, a number of artists came to the stage, always supported by some member(s) of the prodigious Burnside clan. Otha’s sixteen year old granddaughter Sharde came on stage late in the night for a few songs, including an amazing fife rendition of ‘Ride Sally Ride.” Sharde was an excellent fife player, and it was announced (i think) that she has a CD on the way. R.L. Burnside Jr. turned up on stage to play “just one song.” It turned out that he had another song he wanted to play, before he played one last song. That last song was followed by several other last songs before one of the Turner women tried to kick him off stage. He played one more song after that. His trademark seemed to be just that – one more song.

It is really impossible to do justice to the experience in a blog post. The only lighting was a partially clouded moon and a single street light in the middle of the yard. 200 speed film and a no-flash philosophy don’t turn out good pictures in these conditions. The displayed pictures were taken on E’s digital. It was a wonderful experience, capped off with camping below the Sardis Dam.

For a video of Sharde, Otha and the Rising Star Drum Band in the Turner’s back yard, check this video. This is what happens as people arrive, but they dont park in the back yard anymore.

For a full recorded song:

i like trains too.

Some people bemoan the lack of train connections in the US, some just complain about the lack of alternatives to the car or plane. People often ask why it is that Europe has a better (presumably defined as more dense, accessible, and frequent) rail network than the US. I am pretty sure that this question is often asked rhetorically, but I’ll answer it anyway: After World War Two, European countries invested heavily (yes, with monetary help from the US) in their damaged rail networks.

With that out of the way, I can introduce the issue at hand. There is currently a lot of excitement over the prospect of high speed rail in America. Californians passed a bond issue to finance a high speed link from LA to SF; a cabal of governors in the midwest signed an agreement to promote high speed rail; and the federal stimulus plan includes money for developing high speed corridors in several places in the country. This is all very exciting, and has undoubtedly lead to a massive surge in articles of dubious accuracy extolling the joys, benefits and statistics of high speed rail.

For clarification, I really like trains. Trains are my favorite form of transportation. I look forward to reading train industry journals online – the ones filled with advertisements for ballast tamping machines and in depth analysis on the different types of track and sleepers available. Some of my friends at university thought it was weird how much I liked trains – I could only explain my interest by saying that since I had been deprived of trains as a child, being exposed to so many made me go over the edge. It was an infatuation. One might expect me to be very excited by the prospect of having high speed rail in my own country. I’m not really.

For all of the great things that can be said about high speed rail, it is not really what we need. We need a solid, extensive, well served passenger rail network first. High speed rail would serve a few cities, when a train is traveling at 186 mph and above, it is not practical nor efficient to stop very often. Services of this speed would only serve major cities spaced over a hundred miles apart. High speed rail is designed to compete with air travel. While this is great, it limits the users of the network to those in major cities. What is needed is an expanded network, not a slimmed down one. Access to train travel needs to be increased, not restricted.

Right now, Amtrak has 44 routes. 31 of these routes only have service daily, if that often. The number of route miles served more than once daily is hardly 14% of the number served only daily (3,934 route-miles served more than daily, 28,233 route-miles served daily or less. source.). A network like this does not serve its potential customers well. What is needed is a serious attempt at making rail travel a viable travel option in the US. A more complete network would be able to feed into the inter-city routes that make money for operators.

A successful rail network could consist of three parts: Local, Inter-City and High Speed.

Local trains could share track with Inter-City trains. These would be slower, smaller trains which stop more often. Capable of speeds up to 80 mph, these trains would serve the sprawling urban areas and smaller communities along the Inter-City routes. Services could run frequently during the working day to maximize the usefulness to commuters. It should be noted that may local and state authorities already operate services like this.

Inter-City trains would run faster and stop less frequently. Routes for these services could follow major transportation corridors, and current Amtrak routes and serve cities too small for high speed service. These could run fairly frequently throughout the day. With double track, these trains could operate around 125 mph and share tracks with the local trains.

High Speed trains would run on dedicated high speed lines. Modern traction technology such as exhibited in Alstom’s AGV allow for these trains to operate at up to 220 mph. Services of this speed would compete directly with air travel and serve cities over 100 miles apart. The slower services would feed passengers into the service at major cities.

It would not be easy to build such a national network. Unfortunately, it has been a long time since American had an extensive network, and many of the miles of track have been taken up or fallen to low standards of maintenence. After all, standards for track built pre 1940’s would not be the same as the precise engineering required for high speed lines. Amtrak shares track with freight trains. Much of this is single track, and even though Amtrak gets a two hour window for travel, a single delay on a long distance train may set the train back for longer farther down the line. The tracks need to be upgraded so that Amtrak can operate at its most efficient speed. Or better yet, the government could take over the ownership of the train tracks themselves. This would allow a single body to oversee the construction and maintenance of track. Depending on the conditions of such a deal, rail operators may actually like the idea: they get to stop worrying about track maintenance, handing over cost and liability to the government; they may get an immediate cash infusion (most large train operators have high debt loads) as the government buys the track and land from them; all they have to do is subject themselves to a timetabling authority, where they could be guaranteed a slot close to when they need it.

Many people object to the idea of the government playing such a large role: owning the track, operating the trains… As far as owning the track, it does not really matter who owns it, so long as it is maintained to high standards. Most people are happy to tacitly consent to the governments ownership of roads, so the government owning other transportation infrastructure really shouldn’t bother anyone. Privatization of rail is possible, if it can be first established well enough to turn a profit. Privatization may not be needed though. State ownership of train operations is less relevant in Europe now with open access of one country to another. By this I mean that one can catch a German train in France, a French train in Italy, a Polish train in Hungary, and many other great combinations. It doesn’t matter that it is a government owning the company that owns the train, pays the conductor and picks out the decor – it is free market competition amongst government owned operators. So long as there is effective, efficient management, it does not matter that the government plays the role of sole shareholder and regulator of one or more train operators. Local and state governments could play a more active role in local and regional services, providing line with its own flavor and democratic ideal.

High speed rail is sexy, no doubt, and building an excellent network is a noble goal. With an average speed of 86 mph, the Acela, America’s only ‘high speed’ service, is laughable. It would be much more impressive to see an American Iron Horse splitting the countryside at 220+ mph. Before that is done though, we need to ensure that the rest of the passenger rail network will be strengthened. It is no use building a high speed rail network if the rest of the network falls into decay and passengers turn their backs on it due to lack of accessibility. High speed trains would certainly raise the profile of the train network, but that would be lost when potential passengers look at their options only to find that they have none.

Accommodation in Ukraine

“I’ve had many a good blanket on this trip.” -Ste

And so I present a review of the accommodation encountered on our trip to Ukraine. Disclaimer: There is one hostel in Poland, and one hostel we didn’t actually stay in.

PTSM Hostel, Rzeszow

Our first night was spend in Rzeszow, Poland (pronounced shay-shouf). There is one hostel in town, cracking location right on the main square. We went to our excellent local Polish restaurant, Chopin, to book the hostel – they have no online booking, so we needed someone who spoke Polish to do the calling for us. They found this fairly amusing, and were perplexed at why we would want to go to Rzeszow, but excited we were going anyway.

We arrived in town late. It was about 22.30 before we got to the hostel. At 32zl each for a night, it was a bit more expensive than we expected. Bit of confusion paying, somehow ste lost about 20zl. We dropped our stuff off in the two private rooms and headed out for food. The lady at the reception, who spoke very very little english let us have an hour to get food – there was a 22.00 curfew! That was lovely of her. The rooms were very basic. Basically a standard Soviet style concrete building. A bit old and maybe crumbling in the corners. The eight of us shared two rooms of four. Bedding was included, but the mattresses were poor, one bed looked like a cannonball storage shelf. The rooms were plain, other than a negligible attempt at putting artwork on the wall. Nothing special, nothing besides the bare minimum for furnishings. Comfortably empty.

Location: 5/5 Excellent, on the main square!

Price: 2/5 cost 32zl for a night, but it is the only place in town.

Staff: 3/5 well, there was only one person there, very nice, but not much English.

Owner: n/a we never saw the owner.

Beds: 2/5 a bit better than sleeping on a stoop in the Netherlands, but bedding included.

Quality/Cleanliness: 3/5 Was pretty much like a worn down hotel.

Amenities: n/a there aren’t really any.

Retro Hostel Shevchenko

Our local questionable cafe across the street from the hostel.
Our bus dropped us off at the train station where we emptied the cash machines of their cash. We caught a cab to the hostel (40 hiryvna per car) Retro Hostel Shevchenko. Again, it was getting late so we dropped our stuff off and wend out to get food. Marushka (sp?) gave us advice on where to eat and pointed to a few things around town before we headed off. Her advice for food was spot on. It was a chain buffet restaurant, but served legit Ukranian food, cooked right in front of you. Returning to the hostel later we found that the toilets were still under construction. It was quite tricky to flush, having to fill the tank manually and then pull up the seal on the bottom of the tank, also by hand. Replacing it was a delicate act, and refilling it meant it would leak out before the next usage.

The dorm we stayed in was at the top of the building, a bit if a trek, but pretty much fine. There were bunk beds packed in, with perfectly acceptable beds. Nothing really of note here. There was rumored to be free wifi throughout the building, though we could not test this. There were two old computers in the lobby which provided internet for us. During our stay Marushka worked and worked and worked. She seemed to be the only person employed there. She was constantly cleaning or doing some admin work for the hostel. Even though she was constantly busy, she was always willing to have a chat or give advice to us about our trip. It is difficult to describe how lovely she was to us. She always offered help and chat when we were around. On the last day we stored our bags behind the reception desk, and she didn’t mind us hanging around in the evening. There was a ping pong table that we played on a bit. They only had one ball left though; we would have bought more but it was a sunday, and the sports shop was closed. Besides the remodeling in progress (apparently it has been in an unfinished state over a year now), the only downside was a strict closure of the hostel from 12-14:00. Apparently this is a throwback to the origins of hostels when they would be closed for cleaning and to force the young’ns out. This is the only hostel I have ever encountered to keep this rule up.

Location: 4/5 Minutes away from the old centre.

Price: 5/5 dirt cheap as far as I know.

Staff: 5/5 Marushka will probably do anything in the world for you.

Owner: n/a never encountered owner, rumored to be a vicious Siberian.

Beds: 3/5 they were fine.

Quality/Cleanliness: 4/5 toilets under construction.

Amenities: 3/5 cheap drinks/free juice when you leave and partial ping pong.

Hostel Kosmonaut
Whilst chatting with M, Ste and R(1) one night the owner of another hostel in L’viv came and joined our table. He was an Australian who ran Hostel Kosmonaut. He had a bit of a rant about the treatment of the workers at the hostel that we were staying at. He had a massive go at us when we let slip that we came because it was cheap to come here – “you come here because it is cheap? … you dont even know man …” He also got angry when I asked the difference between two pronunciations of the currency, I said that I noticed more Russian and older people said Gryvnia, while younger and more English speakers said Hryvnia. He responded by yelling that I shouldn’t even think about saying Gryvnia and “these people have been oppressed for a thousand years … and you say Gryvnia?!” Obviously there was some deeper meaning, but he didn’t seem to have any intention of actually answering my question. His passionate, close-minded anger was not restricted to just talking about Ukrainians he even got angry when i mentioned that I was heading back to the hostel to use the toilet – he angrily directed me to nearby toilet facilities (“don’t pee in the hostel man! Just go over there!”). On the bright side, he turned absolutely timid and sneaked away when a few young Ukrainian chaps showed up to join the chat.

Location: 3/5, not as near centre, but closer to a tram line.

Price: 3/5 more expensive than our hostel.

Staff: n/a they work 8 hours a day and are probably lovely.

Owner: 1/5 angry man.

Beds: n/a

Quality/Cleanliness: n/a never saw it.

Amenities: n/a.

Overnight train to Kiev


It was easy enough to get to our overnight train to Kiev. Just a little walk to a tram stop, then a 1 hiryvna ticket on the number 2 to the station. Last stop. Wonderful station, beautiful at night, and possibly the nicest waiting area in the world. Men’s toilets are free, women’s are 1 hiryvna.

The train was new and pretty much the nicest train ever. Second class, two compartments with four beds each. Everything we needed was in there. Sheets, blankets, pillows, towels, mattress covers, secure storage under the bottom beds and storage over the corridor for the top beds. A light to indicate which toilets were occupied and personal lights over each bed, as well as dim settings on the main lights and a volume control for the radio. There was a bit of a problem of no A/C for a while, though it cycled on a times during the night. It wasn’t too hot on the top bunk, but we certainly didn’t need the wool blankets we were provided with. It was quite a noisy night, and the train rocks a lot as it is fairly fast on poor tracks. This oddly didn’t provide any barrier to me getting to sleep easily and having a long sleep all night. It was a bit of a short trip (about 8 hours), so I didn’t really have enough time for a full nights sleep. All in all though, it was wonderful.

Location: 5/5 Its a train! L’viv AND Kiev!

Price: 4/5 good value at 164.05 hiryvna, transportation and accommodation.

Staff: 4/5 they offer tea and coffee in the morning.

Owner: 3/5 Ukranian state trains, seems fine.

Beds: 4/5 nice bed, mattress cover, and you wake up in a different city!

Quality/Cleanliness: 5/5 perfect, new!

Amenities: 4/5 hot drinks and a light in the compartment to tell you which toilet is free!

Kiev Lodging Hostel
We arrived in Kiev and got a taxi to drop us off at the hostel. We were taken exactly to the address and found the number. We could not find any sign indicating that there was a hostel. We looked up and down the street thinking that maybe were were dropped off at the wrong place, no luck. Plenty of restaurants and a couple of travel agencies, no hostel sign. It has been my experience that hostels do not always advertise their presence more than a small sign, but there was nothing to be seen, not even on the names by door bells. Finally, with the help of a man in a five star hotel down the road, we were able to find the door code and details of how to get in. We went through an anonymous door and up some stairs, to find a tiny piece of paper that said only “Backpackers” next to a door, so we rang the bell.

Shoes are not allowed past the entrance corridor, as the hostel is kept very very clean. Possibly clean to an obsessive point, but this should not be a problem for the short term visitor. There are showers and bathrooms near the entrance, and you may be able to get away with shoes in there. There are a couple of large dorms, and a staff closet to stash bags before checking in and after checking out. The staff are fine people to get along, but do not make the effort to talk to you. This is in contrast to many other hostels with bubbly, extroverted staff who immediately offer help with your stuff, advice and sneaky hints for the city and ask about your travels. Some people may like this more reserved breed of staff; but I find having a good bit of chat with people who know the area is much appreciated on any trip. There is a full kitchen where slices of ham disappear one at a time, but this is to be expected in any hostel really.

The owner of the hostel may offer a free drink around every now and then, but don’t get too excited. After following some of his strongest recommendations we were massively disappointed with the results. A local place to eat (with a large spoon out front) turned out to be a buffet with dismal food which was probably days or weeks old, and microwaved as you watched. The food was some of the lowest quality I have ever eaten, and was not even fully heated. Probably the least safe food I ate on the holiday (less safe than uncooked sausages, moldy bread and that strange beverage from the large metal tank on the side of the road). A market he recommended turned out to be a tourist tat market. A book he had prepared on the city mentioned wells found around the city as excellent places to drink. I had not seen any of these and asked about them, where I might find them. He only said something to the effect that I would not find them, and could not go to them. So I asked if the book was wrong, to which he looked blank. I asked “was it a lie?” that the book said they were everywhere (a more universal word?). He said there were none (for me at least?) and I said off hand that my hopes and dreams of drinking from the wells were smashed. Bad call. He kicked off on me immediately. He got very angry and assumed that I thought myself a university educated “big man” (a term that makes me shudder because of the connotations with warlords) and that he was stupid because he was a hostel owner at the age of 40. I will spare the details, but the idea here is he completely kicked off on me in a fairly unrelated manner. He later told the others in the group that the water would not be any good for us for biological reasons, as we were not used to the organisms in the local water. When I returned moments later to give an apology for any misunderstanding, he responded with a fairly blank look.

On the basis of the poor quality of the hostel owners recommendations, I drank some water from a fountain I found in a cemetery. It pretty much tasted like the tap water, which I read is fine biologically, but may have high levels of lead in it. We visited hidropark later as he had told us that it was disgusting. The water was somewhat clear and cold (sure, Chernobyl drains there, but thats less of an immediate threat than the agricultural waste in the Mississippi River that may have exacerbated a staph infection I once had). Hidropark was lovely, and had free beaches, so was again, the exact opposite of what the owner said.

Back to the accommodation review, the hostel was pristine. The dorm we slept in was fairly nice. It was a bit easy to tip the bunk beds over when climbing to the top, if nobody was weighing down the bottom. The mattresses were fairly poor, and rested on s hard but thin slab of masonite, or something similar. There was air conditioning, which was pretty lovely after a hot day out in kiev. No food allowed in rooms, but drinks are.

Hard to find hostel, but really nice, just keep a low profile around the owner and staff.

Location: 5/5 cant argue with dead central, even if it is hard to find.

Price: 3/5 more expensive than most, but cheapest in kiev.

Staff: 3/5 seemed fine, nothing special.

Owner: 1/5 makes horrible recommendations, thinks everyone is calling him stupid.

Beds: 2/5 completely shot mattresses on top of Masonite.

Quality/Cleanliness: 5/5 pristine.

Amenities: 5/5 ticks all the boxes, +free drinks, big telly and air conditioning.

Overnight PKP train from Kiev to Rzeszow

We exchanged our last hiryvna for dollars and euros and spend our change on food. Our train from Kiev to Rzeszow was our most expensive bit. Around 762 hiryvna, it was a 17 hour train ride which involved an international crossing, two customs inspections and a gauge change. There may be cheaper options, such as only taking the train to Przemysl but changing there before the gauge change. Also, stopping short of the border, taking a different train or a bus across the border may end up much cheaper (after all, it only took us roughly £20 to make it to Kiev). Taking a bus or walking across the border would be much more hassle (it was trouble free on the train) but much much cheaper. Also, it would be possible to take a lower class carriage if not going beyond Przemysl.

The carriage conductor was a lovely man. He escorted us to our compartments and provided us with a washcloth and soap. The compartments had a bottle of water and a sink. Three beds stacked on one wall, the middle one folded down to make the back seat of the bench when not sleeping. When we found a problem with keeping one of our beds stable, the conductor solved the problem – by swapping our compartments. At night when people wanted to have a drink before bed, we just had to ask the conductor, and he directed us to someone on the train who was willing to share their smuggled drinks for a cheap. The train was quite hot. It didn’t take long before all the guys had their shirts off leaning out of the windows as we went along. Thankfully we were able to lower our windows in the compartment, but you have to hold them down for some time to make sure they don’t spring back up. We were able to keep ham cool by dangling it out of the window as we went. The carriage was nearly empty besides us, or at least nobody hung out in the corridor or with their doors open as much as us.

The train was excellent. Being a bit sweaty just added to the ambiance, but it cooled down well as the sun went down. It was a great train. Excellent trip, plus pretty much the nicest sleep all holiday. Surprisingly, even with the window open, I think it was quieter than the other night train… not sure how that happened. It may be the case that our previous train was multiple units, while this one was locomotive driven. That is just pure speculation, though we definitely had a locomotive the second time around.

Location: 5/5 exactly where we wanted to be. Its a train!

Price: 0/5 pretty much the most expensive thing on the trip, next time take a lower class and get off before border crossing.

Staff: 5/5 lovely guys, free tea or coffee, sorts out problems in rooms happily, shares stash of smuggled goods if you ask.

Owner: 4/5 I generally rate PKP trains highly.

Beds: 5/5 quite possibly the best sleep I got all trip.

Quality/Cleanliness: 4/5 tidy, clean compartments, thoughtful interior with everything we needed, plus a few nice surprises.

Amenities: 5/5 had pretty much everything we could (and did) ask for. Ensuite sink, washing kit included.

Captains Log

Arrival. 4 June 2009.

Arrived in Poland. Ryanair flight from Bristol to Rzeszow (pronounced shay-shouf): £10 return, no pesky card fees thanks to M having a visa electron. Eight of us found our way to the hostel in the centre of town at about 22.30. Set our stuff down in the room and headed out to eat. Apparently there was a curfew of 22.00 but the lady at reception indicated that she would give us an hour to go eat. Ste appears to have lost £20 in a kerfuffle over paying for our rooms. We head to a kebab shop across the rynek and get some food. After staying up late talking R(1) finds a massive hold in his sheets, Ste decides to eschew the bedding and curl under his leopard print blanket. Sheets are tiny.

5 June 2009. Day one.

I was very perplexed this morning when my phone alarm went off, only once, at 8.00. This perplexed me as the phone was turned off. Apparently it is meant to do that.

On the way to the station we stopped by a supermarket for some food. Two sausages, bread, yogurt and water came to about 7zl. The lady selling the tickets was lovely, working out the best price for us, a single for 14zl, and the next three for 10zl each. Better price than we expected. It was a slow stopping train to Przemysl (pronounced pshi-mish) which meant that there were loads of tiny stops in the middle of the countryside where maybe one or two people would get on or off. The conductor didn’t wait around though, giving as little as 8 seconds from stop to go. The countryside was generally unruly and unpopulated. There were long strips of farmland instead of more regularly shaped fields. Small patches of land near the tracks and stations were converted to allotments. There looked to be a rather large market in Przemysl when we arrived. Didn’t go there, tried to find some lunch. I stuck with bread and some surprisingly nice peaches from a little vegetable stand near the bus station.

We bought bus tickets to L’viv, Ukraine, and waited in the station. We saw our bus pull in, and almost immediately people started loading it down with goods. Some cars and vans pulled up to the bus and carried things in out of view. This was all very suspicious, not made any less so by the amount of American Dollars exchanging hands. By the time we got into the bus, there were boxes of strawberries filling half of the seats that we had to move out of the way. The rear of the bus was stacked high with spools of nylon string. There were bags of walnuts under seats and mysterious boxes in a secret compartment behind the front bumper.

I sat down next to J in the back and soon got to chatting to a Polish lad about our age whose name may have been Bartlett. He and his friends were traveling to Ukraine as it was cheap. He advised against taking the Ukrainian mini-buses (which apparently are dirt cheap and go just about everywhere). We should stick to the main coaches and trains. Walking across the border is possible, but sometimes gets busy and you may end up standing in a crowd in the rain for hours before being let across. Our border crossing did not go quickly though. At the first stop, before the Polish passport control, we were stuck waiting at the border while lots of money changed hands at the front of the bus. After about half an hour, we made it to passport control to leave Poland. Didn’t take too long and we crept towards the Ukrainian control. This took much longer. Passports were collected, and we were given travel documents to fill out and keep with on us throughout our travels. The older Ukrainian ladies next to us advised we write down that we were visiting for tourism, but laughed when I asked if ‘revenge’ or ‘espionage’ would be acceptable.

That turned out to be the quick and easy part of the journey. M had a closer inspection because his passport photo didn’t look like him. Border guards lead out bus to a garage where they started pulling out and inspecting items from the bus, discovering the illicit packages of meat hidden in the front. They pulled the smuggled goods out and took loads of pictures before making us wait for quite some time, inches from the road to freedom. It was maybe over three hours for the whole ordeal. This didn’t set good precedent because apparently it is more common to be held up for a long time when trying to get back into the EU, when cigarette smuggling is rampant. This is when we decided that we would have to take a train the entire way back.

Once we were finally released (in a bizarre rush back to the bus) we sped across the border. Finally in Ukraine, I looked out to find simple suburb-spaced houses with front yards converted into miniature farms. No wasted space. Every now and then a shrine, a cross, or a statue of the Virgin Mary would appear on the side of the road, evidence of a strong Orthodox church.

Once in L’viv train station, we emptied a few of the cash machines of all their hryvnia (which has been massively devalued in the recent economic excitement). Bartlett recommended we get a 40 hryvnia taxi to the hostel and went off with his group. We quickly left to go to “Fat House” (translated) before it closed. This was a chain buffet restaurant which is cheap, filling and Ukrainian. On the way back to the hostel, we found a questionable cafe which had coffee, food and a broad selection of drinks. Ste and I ended up talking to an old Russian man who claimed to have fought in Afganistan – somehow, Ste ended up giving the man some money to buy some chicken from the cafe and never got his change back.

6 June. First full day in L’viv.

J and I got up around 9 and headed to the cafe for a questionable coffee. Went back to the hostel to find everyone getting ready to go out for the day. Went to Double Coffee, a posh sit down coffee and food chain which was actually more expensive than eating in Britain! After breakfast, we checked the time of the England v. Kazakhstan match and looked up trains to Kiev. Walking around J, S, Big L, R(2) and I found a book market, where I bought a cheap pin to put on my camera strap. We found an art and junk market later which was an excellent find. Most stalls were set up with artwork and textiles, but some were just tables laden with old stuff. Silverware, cameras, cutthroat razors and cigarette cases in abundance. I bought a necklace and looked at a number of cameras (“good soviet quality!”). There was a wicked large format camera with a fogged glass viewer, broken shutter cable, for only 200 hryvnia. I also saw a number of old leather suitcases. These are some of the things that i somewhat regret not buying.

Got some pizza for lunch. Went back to Fat House for dinner. Tried in vain to find a place to watch the England Kazakhstan match.

7 June.

Nice and Sunny day. Bought sausage, yogurt and two litres of multivitamin juice for breakfast. We all went walking together, up a large forested hill, didn’t find anything interesting except a man who had apparently fallen asleep there the night before lying on a log. Lay around in a park near the university for some time. Lunch was a bit of a mix up when the waitress didn’t remember who ordered what, and didn’t know any english. As we didn’t know what exactly we had ordered (things with english translations like “Combined Team of Meat”) it was difficult for us to sort out what was whose.

It poured down rain all afternoon so we stayed in the hostel playing Ping-Pong. We headed to the train station around 9 to catch our overnight to Kiev. Guy in station saw my camera and wanted his picture taken.

8 June. Arrival in Kiev.
Our train got in at about 7.40. Pulled in next to the Kiev-Vladivostock train, one of the longest scheduled trains in the world. We immediately went to book our tickets back to Rzeszow. We were given two options, not cheap. 761 hyrvnia for one train the whole way. We didn’t really discuss our options and just went ahead and bought the tickets.

R(2) noted that people were very trusting in Kiev. He said, about the taxi driver “There were 8 of us, we could have taken his car.” But… he was a taxi driver. This was delirious early morning talking. At any rate, it took us a while to find the hostel, having not written down the door code and there being no signs on the door. Finally found it and dropped our stuff off. It was a bank holiday of sorts so the main street near Independence Square was blocked off to traffic. Grabbed a Mr. Snack (translated) for breakfast before exploring further.

J pointed us to a food market that was excellent. One large covered market with tables piled high with vegetables, spices, sweets, nuts, fruit, raw meat, fish, and sausages. The sellers would vie loudly for your attention, and money. The ladies selling cooked meats would offer random samples from their tables to entice a sale. I ended up getting a chunk of ham and some bread.

We regrouped at the hostel and planned a short sightseeing tour. M and I attracted some local who kept yelling excitedly about something in Ukranian, the only things we could make out was “fascist” and “hitler kaput.” Moved on to Dynamo Kiev stadium, which we could not get in. This is where Soviet POWs who had formerly been Dynamo Kiev players regularly thrashed Nazi military teams.

9 June.

We started out with some more sightseeing, going back to the St. Sophia national preserve, which we visited the day before. We went in today, 2 hryvnia to get in, 3 more to climb the bell tower. This was well worth it for the view, it was much higher than it looked from the outside. We walked down a street towards St. Andrews cathedral where there was a market recommended by the hostel owner. Turned out to be tourist tat. Not quality junk. Shame. Went to Chernobyl Museum and Botanical Gardens. Had a disgusting dinner at a place recommended by the hostel owner. Looked up some markets to visit the next day.

10 June.

Struck out early to go to some markets. Traveled far and wide in Kiev, but only found food markets and new goods markets. Nothing really good and classic like L’viv. Headed to Hidropark to meet up with the others. Walked around on the beaches of the Dnipro river until they spotted me, as i didn’t have enough credit to text to meet them. The beaches were packed with people. It was a nice sunny day, and the water was freezing cold. Swam around a bit and let the current move me slowly down the beach before swimming back in. Headed back to the hostel, grabbed some dinner and headed to the station.

We had to change money out of hryvnia before leaving. With no pounds available, I got 50 dollars for my 350 hryvnia. Purchased some last minute food and drink for the upcoming 17 hour train journey and climbed aboard. It was an immensely sweaty train and it didn’t take long for the boys to strip down to trousers only.

11 June. Final day.

Morning was passport control in the Ukrainian station at Mostiska. The carriage conductor came by and offered tea and coffee. We picked up some Polish passport inspectors and customs agents in the middle of nowhere on the way to Przemysl where we would change gauge. My previous post has the details on that change.

Finally we arrived in Rzeszow. We left our bags at the station and walked out. It was oddly quiet as we walked back to the main square. We found the tourist information centre was closed, and learned it was a public holiday. There were restaurants open, but not much else. People were out drinking and having ice cream in the beautiful weather. We had a good walk around, discovering that Rzeszow is actually really nice! There were lovely buildings and interesting places all over. We ended up settling down for a meal around 14:00 and staying there for quite some time. We headed to the main square for a sit down just before massive rain clouds moved in. A downpour ensued and we were forced into a heavy metal bar where we waited out the weather before returning to the station in time to catch a bus to the airport.

Changing Gauge

I’m going to kick this off with a video I have compiled of the train changing gauge from Ukrainian wide gauge to Polish standard gauge. This is also my first experiment with Vimeo, a high quality video sharing site. So let me know how the quality of the video looks on this host.

The gauge change took a couple of hours total, and we were in the train the whole time. The first couple of seconds show us going by the machines which do the lifting, and you can see that the track in the middle is actually two tracks, the outer being wide gauge, with standard gauge in the middle. So in our case, the train rolled in on the wide gauge, the bogies were unbolted from the carriage, these machines lifted the carriage straight up, new, standard gauge bogies were slid in, pushing the others out of the way, and we were set back down, ready to roll. I think they just replace the locomotives with the proper one.

So, without further ado, the video:

Oh, beware watching Vimeo videos on non-Intel macs, apparently it will always be choppy sound and video. Not sure why.

More to come on the post exam trip. Captains log is being typed up now. Travel info for Kiev and people to avoid in L’viv, as well as a review of several accommodations along the way. Stay tuned!

continental takes me for a ride

this is late.  as are most of my posts. but well, it is about lateness.

so i left home fine.  short flight to houston went well, and while it was quite busy there, i had plenty of time to get across the entire airport to get to my next flight.  I took my seat in the back and watched the luggage get loaded onto the plane – this is the third most exciting thing about plane journeys, behind takeoff and turbulence, just ahead of free juice.  i noticed two boxes branded with bright biohazard stickers that thankfully didnt get loaded.  just some donated human tissue, but warnings on the side that they hadnt been tested for disease were not comforting.

we got out onto the runway a bit early, to wait.

and wait.

as we learned, newark was too busy and we would have to wait a bit for clearance to take off. the pilot turned off the engines to wait.  when we were cleared to take off, the right engine just didn’t come back on.  the pilot casually informed us that he would have a mechanic come out and look at the engine.  this eventually turned into us getting towed back to the terminal to have a ‘closer look.’

“there is a man in a red suit who is telling me that we have to get you on another plane.”  so we deplaned and showed the man in the red suit our boarding passes, and were directed back across the airport.  already an hour late, i figured that i could easily miss my connection, i went ahead and called the parents to get them to warn E i may be on my way.  little did i know, the first thing they did after dropping me off at the airport was high-tail it out of town.  i left a message and figured that mom would coordinate something while i was sitting on the next runway.

the man next to me on the plane was enjoying his second sneaky six-inch subway sandwich, couldn’t argue, we were already over two hours late and I was hungry too!

i took to watching the luggage being loaded up, and couldn’t help but think the pilot was being a little optimistic when he declared that it would just be a ‘few more minutes’ before the luggage was loaded and ready to go, as I saw that thirty minutes had passed and there were still about 5 carts of luggage to go, only two had been loaded.  he also cheerily informed us that out flight time was shortened from three hours to “two hours and fifty nine minutes, i put extra fuel in so we can go as fast as this airplane will go!”

finally, after everything was loaded, the pilot happily announced that we would be on our way, when everything promptly went wrong.  as we learned, the auxiliary power unit had failed.  a mechanic was dispatched to see what could be done. tests were run, and our plane failed them.  as cheerily as he could at this point, the pilot informed us that we would just have to fly without the AUP.  he reassured us many times that this was a perfectly legitimate thing to do (i later consulted an aeronautical engineer housemate who assured me it was fine) and we would be off in no time.

but we weren’t.

right after he announced push back from the gate, our fearless leader informed us that his time had run out, and the crew could no longer legally fly us.  he wished us the best in our journey and swapped places with another crew.  the new pilot was not so keen to keep us informed to the woes of the plane as the previous pilot, thus, it was not until we arrived in newark that we were told that they had to hand crank the right engine. hand crank a plane engine?

in the five hours of delay, i saw this a lot:

we were delayed late enough that EWR was pretty much completely empty for us. we were sent all around looking for an open customer service desk, driving a few of the passengers crazy.  we were finally redirected to the help desk at baggage claims where we learned we would not get our bags that night, they would be kept ’safe, out on the runway.’ there were also flights from guam and puerto rico waiting for answers too.  this meant that there was a massive queue, and when i got to the front, no hotels available.  i told them i knew someone to stay with, and they offered a taxi.  i gave E a ring and left a message, only later realizing i was calling at one in the morning.  i gave the cab driver the address and he asked “what is the best way to get there?” what!? i had to admit that i didn’t know, and suggested he get to brooklyn “the normal way” and it would be near “a big road” he got into brooklyn and asked another cabbie for directions, dropped me off fine.  i rang the bell.

once. twice.

i tried holding the bell down for a while. ringing multiple times.

so then i went out in search of a pay phone. got change in a late night takeaway and called again.  no answer, and i was freezing. i headed to the warmth of the twenty four hour subway. i rode up, i rode down, up some more, and then down down down to penn station.

it was lively enough, and very warm indeed.  it was about three or so in the morning when a train bound for Ronkoncoma departed with a crowd which appeared to be exclusively girls in really high heels and the boys who tagged around with them.  standing around long enough means that you meet people.  torrance mathis, a martial arts choreographer for Berry Gordy’s The Last Dragon took interest in my photography and had a chat while he was changing trains.  not too long after, i struck up a conversation with Lamonte (sp?) a chess master/teacher who didn’t have anything better to do that night than hang out at penn station, like me.  as it turned out, he had a chess student who was a philosophy major, and he told me how the skeptical problem drove him mad.  i gave him a different view of the problem, and proposed he use stephen hetherington’s degrees of justification/knowledge to challenge his student/teacher.

we became friends over this philosophy and chess banter and headed to a shop for a snack.  on the way back in, we met his friend e.  e seemed to do nothing all night but hang around the entrance of the station on his phone, seems like a good living.  lamonte, e and i wandered around the station, discussing the history and varied regulations and jurisdictions as we passed from amtrak to NJ transit to the subway to PATH ruled zones. in the morning, before heading back to the airport, lamonte and i headed out for some sightseeing on the free ferry to staten island.

we took the subway back up to penn station and parted ways. I bought a ticket to the airport and got on the next train.  i got back and got as much breakfast as i could on my $6 continental voucher. after security, i learned a sneaky hint for free wi-fi, to let E know that i was safe and back at the airport.  she had me return to the city so we could play for the day.  she rushed out of work, and i caught the next train in, met her at penn station and headed back to her ‘hood.  she (not having a continental food allowance) took me to a diner for lunch, which yielded plenty of leftovers, which we completely forgot on the way out.  after looking through seed catalogues and books at her house we picked the food back up and headed to the library to explore farming books. well, she did. i fell nicely asleep in the well heated library.

before long it was really time for me to head back to the airport.  i had plenty of time to redeem my $12 voucher on plenty of greasy chinese food and a plate of sushi (for desert)

finally, 24 hours late, i boarded my flight to bristol. i promptly fell asleep.  after about an hour of terrible sleep, i woke up to fine that we had not moved and the pilot was saying something vague about mechanical trouble.

i knew the drill.

deplane, shuffle around the airport, and depart. late. late late.

stopped by the bike shop for a cup of tea on the walk back from the bus station. delirious.

thank you continental. i now have a blog post.

the second most famous philosopher from malmesbury was meant to be our lecturer for epistemology

With a run of two gorgeous days in a row, we bet on a third and planned to cycle to malmesbury. the fog at 9 in the morning was thick enough to hide the arches as i approached them half a block away. the train to chippenham would only take a half hour, for about £4.30, and went through Brunel’s Box tunnel, impressive. Malmesbury is only 10 miles from chippenham, although, the A road will take a bit of a longer route, mainly due to a major one way road in Chippenham centre. We took the B4069 through a slew of villages before turning off onto country lanes in Sutton Benger, quite a nice town. In sutton benger there was s church. on the door to that church was a price list. a baptism can be had for only £12, weddings run at £254 a piece, and funerals are a bit less at £240. I don’t remember if there was a reference to group discounts, advance bookings or student prices…
 
We continued on to cross the motorway, finding a few good views and noting that the fog was still strong around noon.

A few more less charming towns and a long stretch of hills and farms led to the A road that took us right by malmesbury. we did a bit of bantering around on the bypass before turning down a little lane that led across the river and up the hill into the town centre. we parked our bikes and pic-nic’d on the lawn of the abbey. we went in and enjoyed a little exhibit upstairs which had a lot of old photographs and paintings of the abbey “before restoration” of crumbling down parts, but nothing ever explained why it was falling down.  was it just lack of use? war? vandalism? politics? nothing mentioned why they had to restore the abbey, but around the back was evidence they didnt bother to restore everything, but did try to keep it out of the public eye:

As per tradition, we had tea in a local tea room, not welsh prices, but £4.50 for tea for two, a huge pot in a posh hotel bar. (for anyones reference, afternoon tea at the Bell Inn – next to the abbey – is served starting at 3, but they are happy to serve you tea at any time). it was a gorgeous hotel, with the ground floor just full of different rooms for dining, tea, reading and relaxing. the sun was streaming in and the fire next to us was burning happily, so we threw on another log before leaving.

It was a 2 hour door to door trip, cycling from redland station to temple meads, catching the first train out, and cycling up to Malmesbury, including photo ops. 

we didnt have anything else to wear

Jailbreak. Dinner Jackets.
To get as far away from Bristol as we could in 36 hours, all we had to do was secure a ride to the airport, which came quickly as a hitch with a guy willing to go out of his way a few minutes for the banter. There, having begged for enough money to book a ticket to Katowice, Poland, Marcus and I waited around for the flight. Being Bristol students, we had to pick up the Economist and NewScientist to enlighten ourselves in the meantime.
There were about 4 english people on the flight to Katowice, and only the American got a stamp in his passport. Trying to find out the easiest way to get into town, an English man offered to pay our minibus ticket to the train station in town. After checking train times, we tried to hitchhike out of the coal capital of Poland. After at least a half hour of snow and low traffic, we gave up and started the hotel search, unfortunately, in stark contrast to the bleak Eastern Bloc appeal of the town, all of the hotels were four and five star western style hotel towers. The only one star in town was even more expensive than the four star that referred us to them, and was all booked up as well. Out of options at an hour to midnight, we had to take a night train to Budapest – the nearest place to find cheap regular flights back home. When we asked the conductor when we would get to Budapest, he could only say “… i, dont know.” We settled into a compartment and laid down for the night.
Our first ticket check came right as the train pulled out of the station, then came the border controls. Crossing into Slovakia generated mild excitement over my passport, while the British one passed without question or stamps. The snowed in station was in perfect peace, eerily Soviet with the gruff border guards tramping through the train.


The train proceeded through the mountains, passing villages and through thick forests. We stopped at many dark empty stations, and had more ticket checks. Bratislava was our first memorable station in the light of morning, looking as tragic as i had come to expect. Most stops were a combination of passenger platforms and freight yard. Well used rail networks – we passed trains made solely of gondola cars loaded with turnips on more than one occasion. Another border crossing was made before we travelled through the flat countryside of Hungary.

We finally arrived in Budapest almost twelve hours after leaving Katowice, and went on a search for internet, to book flights back home. The only one available was the next day, so we had to find a hostel, which is where the internet stepped in to provide correspondence:

in budapest.
we flew into katowice last night, and a guy who was on our flight paid for us to get into town on this minibus (scam) all the hotels were booked up for the night, so we took the train out to budapest, only about 40 pounds. so eastern bloc, it was snowing at one border crossing, into slovakia. it really lived up to all of my steroetypes of eastern european business. so now were in budapest, waiting till tomorrow night for the only flight back to bristol. found a cheap hostel (fiver a night) with free tea and chocolate and stuff.
got invited to dinner by some americans. what a life.
be back soon.
xxxx xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

the hostel is awesome. a fiver a night, warm, free internet and tv. kitchen, breakfast included. unlimited supply of tea and coffee and drinking chocolate it seems. mmm. really good location as well, with a five star hotel just a block away, and a tram stop outside the front door.
wowie!

so were in our hostel now. its actually pretty nice, good location as well.  going to do a little sightseeing before dinner on the buda side of the river (even though its snowing). its getting a bit cold without proper trousers, and the dinner jacket is a bit uncomfortable for any amount of time as my shirt seems to mysteriously rise up and bunch about my chest. but hey, its the price i pay for looking classy.

oh, by the way. so of course, i loved the train ride. went through snowy mountains, remote train stations in the middle of the night, scary snowed over border crossings with gruff guards, and a weak sunrise over the flat countryside in hungary. it was really nice, and oh man, trains loaded with turnips! what a laugh! it was just so so so neat! really. thats what happens when you get on a train for almost 12 hours. but i decided my new favourite town is Tata, hungary. i just thought it looked nice from the train. the train station was kind of big, and it was countryish looking.

so we had a gorgeous meal. went to this classy place, menza (sp?) and there were five of us, so that meant we got five main dishes, and passed them around. soo ssooooo good. i wish you were there to share more with us! we only had three desserts, which were good, but, i have had much much better. the food though was some of the best i have ever had. had some wine, and it was good fun talking with the people we went out with. lots of traditional hungarian food, boar stew, veal stew, crispy goose, and some more. woah.

The food was some of the finest i have ever had, in a very classy restaurant, maybe helped because I hadnt eaten properly since breakfast the day before. The desserts might have been lacking, but at under two grand per dish (>£5 or $10.50) there was no reason to complain.

We spent a day being tourists in dinner jackets in Budapest, starting with a tram ride and the walk up to the citadel. It was packed with tourists on the high wall overlooking the river and Pest. The park was clear of snow (we had been the night before) and the ground was swept clean. After walking along the wall and checking out all of the monuments and grand buildings, we headed across the river towards the largest covered market in the city. The market had a blend of touristy tack upstairs, and fresh meat and produce for the locals downstairs. A few rolls, oranges and the cheapest sliced meat we could find made a wonderful lunch, for about 20p each.

After lunch, we headed to the baths, where 2400 Florints (£6) would get you as much relaxation as you wanted. So we dipped from pool to pool, hot to cold, showers to jacuzzis for about four hours before drying off with all we had – free jailbreak t-shirts – and heading to the airport.
It needs to be said that Budapest has the cutest Subway system in the world. The second oldest (right behind London) the oldest route it just under the ground level, and has trains only three cars long, barely wider than the trams, stations within a two minute walk of each other sometimes. Stations are small, low ceilings and done with such class in wood and tile. We were certainly in place in our Dinner Jackets.
Plenty of stamps in the passport for a charity holiday.

Paris: i need it three times a day

Eurostar needed me.
The only line from London to Paris has been changed. Upgrades on the English side of the deal will raise the speed to 186mph the whole way. St. Pancras station will host the start of the event. Newly remodeled (or, still under a lot of work) the platforms doubled in length.

We were issued three tickets to go to paris that day. Mine and Marcus’s were all first class. While we didnt make it very far out of the station each time, it was still good fun to board the train and stretch out in first class. On the first trip we found that the Chief Executive of Eurostar was right behind our coach, and came in to speak with us after he made an announcement.

We were plied with plenty of tea and refreshments, as well as a packed lunch for our troubles. The train left the station, stopped, waited, and turned around. We checked out the museum dedicated to the development of the line as well as a photo exhibit of the people who worked on it.
After the testing, we had a few hours to kill, so we did one of the few things available in london… nap on the circle line. One and a half loops got us to St. James Park, where we walked past the Met office, with police waiting in vans, on call for the King of Saudia Arabia. The Queen was flying her flag and silver Mercedes with tinted windows were streaming into the palace.
It was a lovely, if long and tiring, day in London. I indulged in a bit of trainspotting and should soon be the proud owner of a return ticket between London and Paris.