The Great Train Debacle

The strangest thing: I could completely disappear (let’s just ignore that I've been blogging my whereabouts all over the Internet); no one has checked my passport since leaving Spain. I went through no checkpoint at the Vienna airport and on arriving in Prague, I could have been invisible.

I spent my last days in Vienna with an insatiable appetite: I mulled over the great art collections in Kunsthistorisches, confirming my feeling that I don't like Brueghel’s or Rubens', or even Rembrandt's (though I have read a terrific book titled Rembrandt's Daughter). For all those horrified people - I look at these paintings and think, these boys sure could paint, but nothing echoes inside of me, nothing compels me to stand for hours staring in wonderment as it does others. I do like Greek statues and carvings, however, and while I want to run away from Egyptian mummies, I covet their jewellery and marvel at their ingenuity.

I went to the opera to see Medea with American Dina and just as I was beginning to loathe the whole experience - standing for an hour hemmed in on all sides by great beasts of human beings with scissor-sharp elbows - Dina had the brilliant plan to venture to the top floor and see if we could commandeer spare seats. Not only did we find these empty luxuries, we also uncovered the light-shedding English translation machines. I suppose I shouldn't complain about standing: we only paid 4 euro whereas the people in the front rows, according to the program, parted with 240.

I had lunch with another of Doris' friends, the incredibly friendly Katrin, who took me to a Chinese restaurant for a buffet lunch, where we tested the all-you-can-eat theory, and I discovered some of the best Chinese food around. I also went to the famous Hotel Sacher for the Sacher Torte (thank you, Trav). This establishment is the very height of opulence. They demand (very very politely) that you take your coat to the cloak room (a cost of 1 Euro to retrieve item) and then you are seated in a room where gold and crimson colours blind you with their brilliance. The coffee is served on a silver platter and the torte on a plate that rivals the room for shininess. I left some time later so spellbound that I didn't take note of the price I paid to play princess.

I liked Wein so much I'm going back for three nights over Easter; I have to be in Austria then as I'm meeting Mum in Salzburg! and needed to be in throwing distance so I could compete with the hoards of Europeans travelling the railways over the holiday.

In my eagerness to avoid calamity I was an hour and a half early for my train to Prague. I made it to the correct station (number 7) and at 12.43 (the train was due to depart at 12.33 but was running ten minutes late, the board told me) I boarded a train leaving from said platform. It still baffles me that I boarded the wrong train, heading to the south of Austria. According to the very nice man who helped lift my whale of a pack to the top shelf in the cabin, the main train station in Vienna is under construction and so all the lines are being diverted to Meidling, where I boarded, and one of these diverted trains made its way to my station just before the Prague train arrived.

Still there are worst fates than being lost in the Austrian countryside, and one (small) block of chocolate later I wasn't too anxious. I was redirected to another train at the next stop, easy enough, but on boarding this I learnt that it was a reservation only train. The conductor assured me this was fine, as I could buy one in the Czech Republic for 50 euro! or get off at the last stop before entering the country to catch a later train - which at the time seemed an excellent, if stingy, idea. Thankfully, it turned out that I could stay on my train for a mere 8 euro, a happier prospect than waiting 4 hours on an ice-licked platform for the next train (at one point I'll look back and curse this decision: 8 euro, what on earth was I thinking - that's a book; that's my week's washing, that's a day's meals). We travelled at high speeds through storms of snow - I saw animals fleeing for cover – but Prague seems empty of the white stuff, for which I am thankful. It’s cold enough.

I finally made it to my hostel, bag and all, and decided to head out again as I'd noticed a Thai massage place on the corner, and my back and rest of self has been in a perpetual state of soreness. After being manipulated into every conceivable position - she sat on me, stood on me, pulled my arms and yanked my legs this way and that way - my body feels remarkably better if my head does not (I'm getting a cold and I have that niggle in the throat). Any one that knows me well knows how much I complain when I get sick and how much I like to complain so having no one around to complain to is very hard indeed. I must have known that I’d fall sick as I've booked seven nights here so I have plenty of time to be sick and still explore the city.

Love to you all – I hope none of you have a niggle (I have American Chad to thank, who from the bunk opposite me must have projected his germs into the air currents, lovely thought).
Mad xox