Hello Readers,

We've just got back from my Birthday trip to ---- Venice!


Rialto


San Marco Square

There's a tradition we've established that my Birthday is never to be spent in a country of residence. Nobody likes violating a tradition so we had to pick somewhere. The best time to see Venice without the army of yanks is November, so we didn't want to miss the chance.


Waiting for the train in Budapest

The train left from Keleti Pályaudvar where we'd bought tickets for a sleeper train. After ending up in a Romanian peasant wagon in July, we didn't want to risk an open ticket for a second time. Fourteen hours locked in a carriage with cows and sacks of rice would not be a relaxing birthday jaunt.


Our spacious couchette

When we got on the train the MÁV chap told us that not only was there nobody else in our compartment, we also had the entire carriage to ourselves! It was like travelling first class. After about an hour, the train stopped for a short while and started moving backwards, which it continued to do for the entire journey. We were convinced that we hadn't left Hungary at all, but were just going 'round in circles.

The border control woman wished me a happy birthday when we reached Croatia at about midnight. That was really friendly - quite unlike the Slovenian boarder. When we got to it, it was very much a "Passporto!", "Where are you going?", "What affiliation do you have with the Face of Boe?" and "Why are you travelling through Slovenia?" type of affair. Well, the answer to the latter would be "We're on a fucking train," but it's best not to try anything with the Slitheen.

After the passport checks a customs officer came round. We assume that's what he was because he shouted at us in generic foreign. I said "anything to declare" but with such an intonation and authoritative RP accent that it sounded like I was questioning him. Luckily he didn't shoot us or shout "Vee vill ask zee kvestions!"

After all that fuss we were able to get about three hours' sleep before we got to the Italian boarder. The bridge over the lagoon into Venice is good fun and the train station has a brilliant Italian Fascist Mussolini ambiance to it, with a golden globe on the front. When you walk out you're straight onto the grand canal and it's bloody impressive.

It took us a few moments to find out hostel as it was down a tiny back street which even a ferret would consider a challenge, but we found the small green door as described in the e-mail, and rang the buzzer. It was a nice big clean room. After we unpacked we decided to do the normal Venice thing -- just walk around and get lost. And my God did we get lost.

We ended up stranded and on the wrong side of the island, where the only logical thing we could do was get the water-bus, though it was a ridiculous five Euros each! So we rode it right down the grand canal to get our money's worth, which was amazing. It then seemed a good idea to walk back up towards San Marco.


San Marco Square

Peter got attacked by a pigeon which, at this time, we thought was original. Soon however, we noticed that everyone was getting attacked by the vicious flying rats.







Despite it being low season, there were still quite a few Americans. Now, we're not the type to generalise all those from the USA as uncultured scum, but when we heard one say "So do you think there's another Pope here too?" we couldn't help but laugh.

When we were sitting looking at the islands thinking about what to do next, a mad beggar woman walked over, looked at me and asked for some money. I didn't have any change and couldn't be arsed to stand up. What did she do next? She ever-so-slowly picked up my bottle of water and drank from it, as Peter and I watched in slight shock, and just strolled off with it. She had a massive cyst on her lip, so I had no intention of grabbing it back. I was well pissed off. Still, we got a picture of her:


Stop! Thief!

Evening set in, the locals came out for dinner, and Venice looked even more stunning.







On the next day we went to the Guggenheim gallery which I really enjoyed, though I'm not sure about Peter. He sometimes gets pissy about modern art claiming that "art must have work put into it". He knows he's wrong, but that doesn't stop him having a moan. But there was no "Young British Artists" stuff, and that's where Peter's hate really starts.


A strange mirror illusion thing





By late afternoon we had done everything we had intended to do, so we had six hours to kill before catching our train to Budapest. Our only option was to walk around aimlessly and take in the surroundings. A lot of Venetians own small dogs, which can be a bit of a hassle with the cramped alleys. However, one woman has found a revolutionary new way of carrying her dog:



Every shop in Venice seems to sell masks. You can buy anything from a long-nosed diamond-enencrusted gaudy monstrosity, to Trevor McDonald:



By 8pm it was time for us to collect our rucksacks from the hostel, head to the train station and wave goodbye to Venice. As with most things in this world, pleasure often comes with pain, and our train journeys were no exception. The ride to Venice was quite pleasant, but we weren't happy to find our return couchette already kitted out for six people. Peter asked the train guard if he knew how many people would be in our couchette, and he said six. Shit. Peter also asked him that since there were only 18 reservations in our carriage, why they couldn't be split up into more cabins, rather than three cabins crammed full. At this point the guard started shouting, in Hungarian, "This is how things work! It is not up to us where you sleep! You sleep where your ticket says you sleep! Don't tell me the rest of this carriage is empty! A new TV with no channels programmed in is empty, but this carriage isn't!", so we shut up and closed the door.

In the end, only one of the four passengers turned up: an American called Kevin, who was visiting a friend in Budapest. We discussed politics and world affairs for several hours. The night was, as per usual, full of passport checks and changes of direction (we're sure we never left Hungary at all), but we slept well. The train pulled into Keleti Pályaudvar on time, we wished Kevin a pleasant stay and headed home.

Here's some video footage of the trip:



Click here to view more photos of the trip.
(To download these photos in full size, check back here in a day or two, and a link will have been added)

- Philip + Peter