Holiday Memoir

Location 1: Sheffield/Manchester, England

Time period: 14^th of June

 

The journey began in Sheffield where I met up with my faction of travellers. This consisted of myself, Miles, Krishnan, Spike, Will, and Callum. Callum was our faction’s chief organiser for the whole journey, with him being the one to plan and book accommodations, flights, trains, and busses. Will arguably was not in our faction as he was only present for the first leg of the journey (location 2 and 3) and planned his arrangements separately to our group. However, he travelled with us at this interval.

 

This period of travel included getting the train from Sheffield (our hometown) to Manchester Piccadilly, then from Piccadilly to Manchester Airport. The whole journey took roughly an hour and a half. Once through the various regular airport security checks at Manchester Airport, we got our first pint of the journey: a £6 pint of Becks at 11am. This, and this alone, would provide ample fuel for the forthcoming flight to Amsterdam, a short flight taking approximately 55 minutes.

 

Location 2: Amsterdam, Netherlands

Time period: 14^th – 16^th of June

 

In Amsterdam, we took a swift train from the airport to the central station, and from there an equally swift tram to our hostel. The hostel was the worst of all the hostels, being a tall and thin building with very tight stairs. Apparently, although not seeing a sign indicating it so anywhere myself, the hostel was rated one star. The rooms were two triple decker bunk beds housing our faction, minus Will and plus Sam, someone who had been travelling with the main group of backpackers until now (main group consisting of long-roaders Lucas, Hugo, Sam, Mo, and Euan). We dropped off our bags and began exploring, walking around numerous identical streets. The people of Amsterdam were noteworthy in their sense of sophistication and overall debonair attitude. All the residents were attractive and thin people, like the types of people you see on yoghurt adverts. The golden afternoon sun shone just for them, highlighting each well-groomed dark hair on their head. We supposed at the time that this unusual attractiveness was simply a product of the city; streams of cyclists lined each cobbled road; gentlemen sat outside dimly lit bars smoking and chatting in a picturesque, old-world kind of way.

 

Food was the current priority with many of us, me included, having consumed nothing since the first beer. Callum, our chief coordinator, had heard of a decent sounding possibly Turkish place nearby, so we headed there. At this possibly Turkish place, I had the nicest wrap I had ever had. It contained a type of yoghurt sauce mixed with a tender beef stew, all contained in a crispy pitta. Safe to say I made light work out of it. Here too we met up with everyone else. All 15 or so of us, plus a few unexpected extra faces. This was a significant moment as it was the first time seeing some people there in months as their journey began long before my own. We promptly got a drink and went to an open park to lie down. I do not remember much more from this evening.

 

The second day began as all days ought to with hot black coffee and pastries. Our faction decided to split up and do our own objectives today. I had heard of a vintage market that was on so headed there. When there, I found an oddity of a size 76 waist pair of vintage selvedge Levi’s jeans. Fantastic find. Hanging in front of the jeans, as if to highlight the enormity of their scale, was a men’s size large winter coat. It was completely dwarfed by these jeans. Looked almost like doll’s clothes. Unfortunately, at the time, I assumed that they were not for sale; display only. This may or may not have been true as when I returned later in the day, I do not recall seeing them again. Ah well, they wouldn’t have fit in my backpack anyways. On from the market, I looked around to see attractions were near me. Bingo. The zoo.

 

The zoo was 26 Euro entry fee, which felt a little steep, but it didn’t really matter. I love zoos and wanted to see what this one had in store, despite being on my own. I did call the others to ask if they wanted to come, but they were far too far away to make the journey worth it, and we needed to meet later in the day anyway. Zoos are a rare place where the whole gimmick is something that should normal. Animals which exist and have always existed. That’s it, but we keep going. It’s the manifestation of our curiosity towards the unknown I suppose. It had the usual animals: monkeys of different shapes and sizes; elephants; giraffes; zebras; goats. Something it did have which amused me greatly was a large section for koi carp. The pond area was designed in such a way that the lip of the pond was at around pelvis height as the walkway dipped down. This mean the view of the carp was more intimate, with several coming right up to the surface as if to say hello. Maybe they were regularly fed by punters and thought that I would do the same. I didn’t.

 

Unfortunately, I only spent around an hour and a quarter at the zoo. I don’t think that this is exactly getting my money’s worth out of it, but it didn’t really matter to me at the time What matters is that I went and experienced it to an extent I felt satisfied with. The objective was cut short due to a call to travel to one of Amsterdam’s many canals for a paddle boat tour. This was a 30-minute walk away which suited; however the end point was obscure on the maps and resulted in confusion (luckily quickly resolved).

 

This boat was fun, and fine. I was a little nervous, but I relinquished the responsibility of driving to Lucas and Mo. Lucas was exceptionally good at driving this little boat. He could manoeuvre like a master; other boat’s passengers were not so fortunate. One major downside was that our boat was gaining water on one side. Not bad as in we would sink, but in sodden feet for the rest of the day. This activity was naturally followed by drinks. The drinks in Amsterdam were particularly expensive, at least at pubs, with a pint costing over 8 Euros at one point. This caused discomfort, possibly surpassing that of the damp feet. We did find a reasonably priced pizza spot next to our hostel and secured some equally reasonable pizza. Here we witnessed the character of Amsterdam unadulterated. A woman who couldn’t have been taller than 3ft 5 dressed all in pink waltzed out of our hostel’s front doors. We imagined she was some kind of prostitute but were so stupefied by her dream-like uncanniness that we didn’t think too much of it. The rest of Amsterdam however is blurred in what we did.

 

Location 3: Berlin, Germany

Time period: 16^th – 19^th of June

 

We departed Amsterdam on the 16^th via train to Berlin. This was an unsurprisingly efficient train, but took around 6 hours making it the longest single railway journey of my life. This was done with no food and very little drink for an unknown reason. For some reason, I refused to meet up with my fellow companions during the train journey who had congregated in the food hall compartment. Instead, I sat alone in my designated seat for the whole 6 hours. This is a decision I haven’t come to regret, but rather question the logic of myself at the time. Maybe it was brought on by the whirlwind of the last two days. My brain perhaps hadn’t shaken off the alcohol brine just yet

 

The Berlin hostel was a serious upgrade: free coffee and water at the front desk, spacious rooms, comfortable beds, relatively well stocked breakfast supplies, and an inviting courtyard space. Here we mulled around for too long unfortunately, rising at around ten or eleven AM to actually set off for the day at way past noon. We explored the Reichstag grounds, went through Brandenburg gate, and drank beer. Our first full day was spent absorbing the rich and troubled history of the city. A comment made by Krishnan: “Berlin might be the most interesting city in the world”. This was a point I considered and came round to agree with in light of its complicated history seeing it embroiled in world wars and cold wars.

 

To capture this, we went to a panoramic art piece as per Lucas, our native German’s suggestion I found the art deeply moving as it was uniquely immersive in its scope. There was an accompanying short film too which aided the mental comprehension of the piece. This was followed by a characteristically bleak SS tour which was equally fascinating. Cheap and delicious Currywurst quickly lifted the mood. 6 Euro for that too, brilliant. We then went to a supermarket, Lidl I think, for a big bottle of fruit juice to keep us going, before meeting up for masse (basically a huge 1 litre glass of beer). After 1 masse I felt heavy and lethargic rather than drunk to my disappointment so headed back to the hostel for a lie down. This was the brief beginning of the illness period. Afterwards, we met up once again outside the Reichstag for some tinnies in the park, an expression some began to loath. This was followed by some with an attempt at the Berlin clubbing scene, but I didn’t bother due to its infamously pompous and negative attitude. Surely a club ought to be a fun environment where people have a good time, not a mission to get into? I couldn’t be arsed frankly for mastering techniques to get in, so I went to bed. Those who did go returned at around five AM, waking me and making me question if it was time to get up or to go to sleep. Briefly my half-sleeping confusion matched their come down.

 

The last day in Berlin was a scorcher. 36 degrees celcius I believe. We had to make the most of it. Someone had heard of a lake hotspot out of town so we were on the first metro to get there. There was a 9 euro unlimited travel card which could be used around the whole of Germany at the time, so travel was no worry. We could have gotten away without even having it really because no one ever came to check on us, but none of us knew that at the time. The lake was absolutely packed with people of all ages wearing as little as possible. We walked for what felt like hours trying to find a semi-decent area to settle down, which we eventually found on a hillside above the main path. Here we sat, ate lunch purchased at the nearby supermarket, and watched happy Germans enjoy the hot weather. There were surprisingly numerous amounts of topless women and all-round general nudity here. I suppose Germans have different social thoughts around the matter, or maybe it was just that the city held more iconoclast, break-the-norm punk types. Either way, power to them. It was too damn hot for clothes.

 

The lake itself was nice at first, but quickly we realised the water was incredibly vile. After a while you noticed a sticky sludge form along your skin which was stubborn to remove, adding to the general groggy discomfort which maintained as a common feeling amongst the group due to a high daily intake of booze. Also, the water was home to unexpected animals such as a snake which swam past us and half fed-on bird carcasses. This quickly turned what was a refreshing break from the heat into an anxious moment of displeasure.

 

The train back was full to the brim, but as reliable as ever. All the places in Europe which we visited put the public transport of the UK to shame. Even in places such as Manchester and London which seem to pride itself on these factors, neither could hold a candle to any of the European cities we visited. This would mark the end of my time in Berlin as I had to regain strength. The low-level sickness had set in; a soreness of the throat and a mild headache had taken hold. It was probably due to the booze circulating around mine and everyone else’s systems, but it was booze which was also the remedy.

 

Location 4: Prague, Czechia

Time period: 19^th – 22^nd

 

Prague was reached by coach this time. The air conditioning was on, and the ride was a double decker complete with a cramped but usable toilet. Trying to piss here was a test of coordination and balance because of speed bumps, turns, and other road-related obstacles. The weather in Prague was devastatingly hot. Melt the roads if it were the UK levels of heat. Approximately 36 degrees Celsius. The hostel was a short tram ride away from the bus terminal which was lifesaving. Walking in this heat was fatal, as another faction found out when they took a wrong turn resulting in an hour up-hill in the wrong direction.  The hostel was spacious with a shared cooking and lounge area connected to two separate rooms. We were room number 2, with number 1 being occupied by a young-looking couple who I only saw once or twice during the stay. Bags dropped off, we looked for food and booze. A bar/restaurant was just around the corner where we purchased traditional Czech food (lots of breads, dumplings, cabbage, and stew) and cheap beer. Very cheap beer. Beer so cheap it made me feel emotional before I had even had a drop of it. Not only was the beer cheap, it was also fantastic. Pilsner called Urquel it was called. It came with a large head on it, which initially frustrated me until I realised that, in fact, this benefitted the flavour, texture, and overall enjoyment of the beer. This beer would become my most trusted ally during my stay in Prague, and possibly the whole trip, with its memory forever seducing me back to the city.

 

We ended up on a small island underneath a bridge which had portable outdoor toilets and the urinal kinds you see at festivals along with a nice seating area, live music, and bar. This bar to my delight sold the pilsner, of which I purchased and drank numerous. It was a perfect remedy for the blazing evening heat. We attempted to meet up with other groups, and I think we did at least to some extent, but it was short lived. We were all too tired, too hot, and too drunk to bother to do anything more than lay about and drink more. So that is what we did.

 

The next day was an expected thunderstorm caused by the previous day’s deathly temperature. During the downpour, the castle grounds was explored, and we entered the cathedral. Apparently, this dated back to the 14^th century which was impressive considering how good Knick it was all in, but I suppose heritage sites like this really get top-class preservation. We bought a ticket and entered. As we progressed through the grounds, we realised that our tickets were yet to be checked. It was only when entering the cathedral that they were. Ok, fair enough. Out the impressive cathedral, into the library. Nope, need another ticket. Another 9-euro ticket. A 9-euro ticket per building of note in the hamlet. A rip off.

 

We left the castle’s enclosure. I, along with Joab, Marcus, Charlie, and Leo, went to the opposite exhibition space which was showcasing art related to electronics. These art pieces had a focus on interactivity and dynamism which intrigued me, even if they were not all to my taste. Some highlights were a was a room with reflective floors and ceilings which had a projection of an oscillating wave-like pattern cascade within. Another was a tangle of wires with a corresponding headset which, when equipped, would provide the different electronic frequencies of different parts of the jumbled wires, encouraging you to walk around it to listen to the varied tones. This was followed by a walk to a waffle house for lunch where I had bacon and egg waffles with very tart onion compote. This didn’t feel especially regional, but it was what we needed.

 

The rest of the day is a blur, probably because of the evening pub crawl. It was really more of a bar visitation, but we called it a pub crawl at the time. The Crawl kicked off at the Lokal, a fantastic bar which was shaped like a medieval longhouse. The toilet’s wallpaper was magazine cut outs (either actual ones or imitating the style of a scrap book collage) of 3 things: naked women, cars, and football. After that, we went for a pint at one of the many watering holes named the beer museum. This one had the most beers on tap I had ever seen, with the taps spanning the whole length of the bar. There must have been eighty or more different beers available. I had one called the Bernard which was nice, but tasted a little metallic. I couldn’t decide if this was the beer or my own mouth’s erosion. At this point, I was about 3 or 4 pints down and feeling good. The next step was by far the most significant however: a trip to an absinthe bar.

 

Hugo had heard of one which was just down the road so, around the middle of the night, we headed for it. You would be hard pressed even calling it a bar; it was more like a den or a dungeon. Ornaments from past people who didn’t make it out alive decorated the walls. The bar tender was asleep when we got there, so we just walked past him into the belly of the beast. After a few minutes he came down, explained absinthe as a drink, and took our orders. 13 absinthes please for 13ish people. He returned with 13 glasses and began the preparation process. The spectacle included sugar cubes, fire, and water, and was worth the price of the admission alone. The drink tasted like a very strong, sweet, and watery version of sambuca. I liked it rather a lot, but a few others despised it. We paid, left the bar, and searched for an American to talk to.

 

The smoking area of some neon flytrap of a bar was our best bet. It was meant to be because directly opposite the absinthe bar was one such place where we spoke to the smoking area inhabitants. I got talking to a bloke who was from Newcastle, going to study at Sheffield Hallam, and was called Ben too. Uncanny occurrences like these stopped phasing me at this point. They were far too common for us not to be living in the matrix. We did eventually find an American called Liam, along with his entourage of 2 German girls (one of whom, very talkative; the other, dead silent). Liam was a ball of energy, shouting and running around like some crazed speed freak which, he could well have been. I thought he was funny, as long as he remained a fleeting oddity rather than a fixture. He would certainly have proved irritating to the extreme had he outstayed his welcome. We wandered around, relatively aimlessly, getting more beer in an off license, the most expensive beer of the whole trip ironically. This ambling came to its conclusion when someone had the excellent idea to go to the Ice Bar, a room in a club where everything from the walls to the glasses was ice.

 

We had to wear these slightly sticky-feeling reflective ponchos when inside to keep us warm. They were somewhere in between a trauma blanket and a rug. They were quickly disposed of because the amount of alcohol in our system was a far superior form of insulation. Naturally all articles of clothing above our waist were also promptly disposed of. The ice bar operated on small time slots allowing the novelty to not outstay its welcome and for the guests not to get too cold. We then explored the rest of the club, which was a little bit pathetic, but we proceeded to make sure we had maximum fun. The dance floor located on the second floor seemed to be calling us at this point. Bland club music was distorted by our drunk minds to become a powerful siren’s call, making drunk dancing which any sane person would be ashamed of inevitable. A large ledge overlooked the main dance floor and seemed to be the perfect vantage point for sussing out the clientele. The mix of 16-year-old girls with too much vodka in them and 36-year-old men clinging onto something they knew was already gone summed up the arena’s sickly feeling perfectly.

 

Self-awareness had died in the bowls of this terrible prison. Our consciousness was hanging by a thread as we descended the staircase to some uncanny walkway, or maybe it was some kind of unconventional smoking area. The dry mouth was setting in fast, as was the lethargy. My brain was a raisin with no chance of rehydration. It had to be called a night, we were done. What followed was a sombre walk on my part back to the apartment, deftly followed by copious amounts of sleep.

 

The next day was a day optimised by indecision. It started with Spike and me going for an impromptu walk and talk which seemed to stretch the distance of Prague itself. We saw a memorial erected to remember those lost during the socialist oppression which looked like a figure striding down unreasonably sized steps. Each step taken, the iron figure regained a semblance of self, becoming more and more whole as he reached the bottom. Returning, I went for a stroll to meet up with a couple of people but accidently bumped into Charlie, so we went for a coffee in a central, reasonable looking restaurant. After a long time of waiting, we met up with others at a paddle boat place. I could tell that by this point Charlie was seething at the lack of action; looked ready for violence. To drive his annoyance home, it was decided to get a quick pint before planning action. We had splintered. A handful went in search of the superior paddle boat location. Charlie, I, Marcus, and Hugo proceeded to this new location without hesitation and with little remorse. Hugo lost a 500 CZS note equating to around £17, but he did let it get him down. The circumstances of the day meant that a general feeling of levity was the imperative at this moment.

 

This new paddle boat spot was everything. It was hot, but not as baking as other day had been. This was pleasant and perfect weather for plastic boat-based leisure. Danger slashed through the scene of serenity in an instant; promptly after hitting the water, I needed a serious piss. I was in an ironic hell. Here I was, all paid up in a picturesque boat tour, but all I could think about was getting off. Leaning over the side was an option, but I would hardly have been discrete. Maybe say goodbye to my trusted water bottle? Too outrageous. My only real option was to bear it. The others eventually caught up to us and rented their own paddle boats, however we were already ahead of them and finished significantly before they did. I obviously wasn’t the only one plagued by misfortune.  After hitting dry land, I desperately stumbled towards a public toilet located underneath a bridge which we passed before arriving at the paddle boats. It was a normal communal toilet with urinals on the left, and a family living room on the right complete with television, child’s cot, and kitchen. Were these the last decedents of trolls who ages past used to ask toll for the use of a bridge? All this was thought in an instant, I was sure I would die if I didn’t reach something close enough to a toilet as soon as possible. I moved so quickly I didn’t get eye contact with the people living there as to avoid a possible toilet fee which they could have argued for. That is something I despise most and believe to be entirely unlawful. How is it even remotely fair and just to have to pay to urinate? Everyone must urinate at some point; for most, regularly. Anyways, I digress.

 

The present gang returned to my apartment, and we talked politics for a bit. Charlie had a bit of a migraine I reckoned to be sun stroke, but he thought he had caught a tummy bug which Marcus previously had. After sitting still and silently for a while, he left to his own place, not to be seen again for the remainder of the day. Hugo, Marcus, and I then located a pizza place and got some great food and drink before meeting up with friends at the beer museum again for a couple of well-earned pints. To add to the list of unquestioned bizarre circumstances, we then encountered James, an old friend from high school who had not travelled with us, with some other of his friends in the main square shortly after which was pleasant. Despite the world being an undeniably big place, strange coincidences like these assure one that they exist. This chance meeting was the cherry on top of the very boozy cake which was the Prague experience, an experience that I won’t forget soon.

 

Location 5: Vienna, Austria

Time period: 22^nd – 24^th of June

 

We barely made the coach to Vienna, having to run to it and being told off by the driver for being late once we got to it. The supposedly late bus then proceeded to wait for another 20 minutes at a stop just up the road, making us feel slightly humiliated by the having to run to get it. The coach was significantly less comfortable than the one taken to get into Prague, but it was a little shorter clocking in at a tolerable three hours. Once touched down, we took an unsurprisingly efficient metro ride to the nearest stop to the hostel Happy Hostel Vienna, our refuge for the stay. The hostel owner was an incredibly old man with big features and was hard of hearing, or maybe just chose not to hear us. He knew Sheffield Wednesday as he said he had a friend from Sheffield which was a bit odd, but, again, not something considered especially unnatural. He showed us to our room which was a spacious apartment, complete with kitchen area and small dining table. It wasn’t like any other hostel we had stayed in on the trip; not dank or cramped, or generally felt like a prison cell. This one felt like an old woman had lived here and, by the style of décor being floral and pastel, recently died and the landlord hadn’t changed the style.

 

After acclimatising, we set off to a nearby park to meet with Lucas, Euan, Sam, Hugo, and Mo as it was their last few hours in Vienna. I could tell that the boys had gotten a bit irritable with each other’s company, but not to the detriment of their overall mission, just rather in the sense that they had been on the road for a month already (twice the length of my faction’s journey) with a month still to go. Me and Hugo slipped away to a small Ramen restaurant to avoid stagnation. We had a ramen meal each. It was pleasant, a little too oily, but the reasonable price and portion size acted to counterbalance it. Hugo (my neighbour when back in Sheffield) mentioned to me that him and his family were toying with the idea of moving out of the UK. Well, mainly his parents: Hugo would be off at university or travelling the world; Gretta (Hugo’s younger sister) would be staying in some sort of all inclusive ski lodge. This fascinated me as it seemed like a significant and noteworthy shift, something that would vastly distort the flow of our group. However, as is the way of life.

 

We left the ramen spot and met up again at the park. Now, all factions were present. We went to an Irish pub which just seemed like a pub to me, nothing especially Irish about it other than an apparent reverence for a George Best as his picture was on every possible surface. The clock was Best themed; the table clothes were Best; even one of the taps had Best’s likeness as it’s handle. We settled in for a final pint as a group. The exhaustion was tangible, especially amongst the long haulers. We said our fond farewells after a somewhat half-hearted cheers and went our separate ways. A single can of larger from the corner shop was our next stop, before going back to the hostel.

 

The next move was in the evening towards a local bar called the travellers rest, or something like that; could have even been the backpacker’s rest or any combination of those words. This spot was intense. A dance pole at the back of a miniature dance floor; cheap drinks; strange shots which came with bizarre conditions such as having your nipples twisted or being slapped in the face by the barman. We didn’t opt for getting assaulted whilst having shots, although maybe should have thinking back. We just had the usual many pints and a few shots. Joab doodled a good Aphex Twin logo on the table along with some in-joke scrawls done by the whole collective. The night ended with everyone belting along to Bohemian Rhapsody and chatting about Brazilian culture with a Brazilian Instagram influencer in the smoking area until half past four in the morning. This was one of the all-time nights out which perfectly encapsulated the feeling of the entire trip.

 

One of the more bizarre details of the night, a detail I doubt I will soon forget, is what happened when we arrived back at the hostel. The clock said quarter to five, the sun had begun to rise through the clouds. We were drunkenly fumbling with the lock on the hostel front door, trying to get it open so we could all go to bed. In our intoxicated ignorance we made little effort to keep it down, but we were not expecting any of the residents of the hostel to hear us all the way from down here on ground level. We finally get the door open. Inside, on the sofa directly in front of the door, lay a bald man, fast asleep who was only barely visible in the early morning half-light. Callum decided, to alert us of the sleeper’s presence, to shine his phone torch directly onto the man’s head and then proceed to get uncomfortably close to him. A cocktail of fear, panic, and amusement was rushing through my head. Before I had time to process the image of his shining scalp, we rushed upstairs towards our room. Utterly bizarre.

 

The next day Me, Charlie, who wasn’t present for the previous night, and Miles went to Vienna’s furniture museum which showcased a massive number of ages old furniture from the monarchy period and beyond. It came complete with a little device that had a keypad designed for you to input the numbers on corresponding information cards, resulting in the device having a further description emit from its little speaker. This was an interesting experience overall, despite the furniture in question being extremely far removed from my own taste. Saying that, at the end there was a wall of mid-century modern/art chairs which did fascinate and please me.

 

The rest of our crew had gone to visit the palace, which we assumed we were too late to stop by at. It is unwise to assume that our group has any semblance of pace or punctuality, thus meaning that we could in fact meet them outside the palace. We hardly stayed though, just had a look around the grounds. It was mainly tourist traps and gravel which left a bit of a bad taste in my mouth, but I suppose I hadn’t given the actual palace its fair shake. Next time. This was followed by a short bus ride up a hill. Despite breaking down halfway up, a replacement service was not far behind to carry us the rest of the way. Everyone thought that this was remarkable. No matter where in England, you would be stranded for hours waiting for a replacement bus. At the summit there was a pretzel stand with a jolly owner who engaged us in some light political debate surrounding Brexit and previous PM/clown/arguable serial killer Boris Johnson. Interestingly, his biggest point of reference for Brexit was the impact on the fishing tariffs, which wouldn’t have been the first thing I would have thought of. Next to the pretzel stand was a modest university campus which looked like some kind of born-again Christian church. The standout feature of the hill, and what really attracted tourists to it, was its view which let us see pretty much the whole of Vienna However, as good as this view was, the real highlight of this trip was the walk back down the hill as you had to go through numerous scenic vineyards. And where there are vineyards, there is wine. Cheap, good wine. We naturally stopped at one such vineyard to sample the food and wine; it felt like a higher power was willing us to do so as the weather in tandem with the view of lush, rolling hills was a uniquely spellbinding experience.

 

The walk back was equally pleasant, especially considering I’d had two big glasses of cheap red and a salted beef sandwich. The evening sun beginning to set around nine thirty gave us plenty of time to walk down the hillside and into the residential area at its foot. The area seemed rather affluent, most houses either having two cars parked in the drive or one expensive looking four-by-four. In some cases, both cars were actually expensive looking four-by-fours. The train was caught, we said our farewells to the other faction of friends as it was the last night that we would see them, and we returned to our hostel.

 

A key detail to this evening which I failed to previously mention is the nature of it. Unfortunately, due to timing issues, this evening would have to be an all-nighter. Our plane the next morning to the final destination of the trip was at approximately seven in the morning. To get this plane with ample time allowed for getting ready in the morning, getting the two trains to the airport, checking the bags in at the airport, getting through airport security, getting to the terminal, and finally getting on the plane, we would have to had left the hostel before we had even gone to bed.

 

Getting to the airport wasn’t much trouble. When we arrived however, the mood had shifted significantly. The giddy excitement of travel had quickly been replaced by a deep depression. All around us were fellow travellers unfortunate enough to have to stay the night at a closed concourse. It was a scene out of the Walking Dead: shuffling, half sentient zombies laid strewn about the floor, lining rows of seats. With great reluctancy, we assumed a similar state out of necessity. One thirty. Six hours to go.

 

 

Location 6 (Final Location): Crete, Greece

Time period: 24^th – 28^th of June

 

Greece, at least where we were staying at Stavros beach on the island of Crete, was exactly how one might imagine it: hot. The wave of dry heat knocked through us the moment we exited the airport. We knew at that moment that the holiday would be everything we wanted, everything we needed. A short taxi ride later and we are at our place of stay, a BnB like villa, a place that would easily be judged as the nicest place we had stayed on the whole journey. The whole point of the Greece stay was to reward us. It was only my faction going here, it was the end of our communal travels. This was simply a moment of rest. Because of this, I will choose to omit an amount of detail where I deem it uninteresting; I will say on this, a large amount of the time in Greece was spent doing as little as possible. This was not something regretful but rather rewarding because this was a time for nothing, a time for clarity.

 

The day of arrival was predominantly lying on the beach, with the discovery of a beach bar which sold a bottled beer called Mamos served glasses tinted with most welcomed condensation. This was a rare respite from the unending heat, bugs, and sunburn (I don’t think, as a traveller at least, that I am built for summery beach holidays spent lying in the sun). That evening we went to a local restaurant which Krish had heard of. The food was reasonably priced and served in big portions. More importantly however, the waiter (and owner of the restaurant, or so he said) was the friendliest man on earth, and probably a drunk. He said once we ordered that, upon completion of our meal, that he would join us for shots and ice cream on the house. He held true to his word and came later with a small vile containing clear liquid, raki I think. We estimated that he had given us around seventy euros worth of shots and ice cream free of charge, and for that he deserved a sizable tip. Despite our good intentions, he refused the tip and simply said “come back and spend it tomorrow.”

 

The next day was met with a mission: a large cliffside overlooked the town of Stavros where we stayed and on that cliff face was a visible small cave. The way looked steep and rocky, but doable. It was a serious undertaking as, for a majority of the way up the hill, we had lost the path and were scrambling up however we could. This was in blazing heat, an unwavering kind of deathly heat which stung your bones and dried your eyeballs. However, the view of the whole town from the cave was worth it, even if we were oiled from sweat. Incredibly strangely, almost cosmically so, we encountered a familiar face on the way back down the hillside. He was someone who I recognised from Sheffield, but Miles knew him and struck conversation. This night, and the night before, upon returning to the BNB we watched a comedy special on Netflix. These set a good mood. I am the sleepiest and cannot stay up to the early hours every day, so usually I was the first to sleep in Greece.

 

The final day was originally a boat ride captained by Spike, but to be frank, we were too lazy to get it organised in time so instead we decided to explore the main city of Chania. It was quite an old town, with numerous ancient looking brick buildings complete with an Egyptian lighthouse that marked the coastline. The exploration was dotted with nice food, drink, and sit-down breaks. Miles and Krish also decided to get their left ears pierced. The final meal of the night was at an apparent fancy restaurant, but the service was slow, and the food was mediocre. The waiter did give us free drinks like the previous place which was nice. He also asked if he could give his opinion on a specific football team and when asked by Miles and as a result with give us another couple of rounds of free shots, which he obliged him to. The waiter then said that he could “shove it up your arse!” This was the last significant memory of the night at Chania as, when we returned to our BNB, we drank copious amounts of Vodka.

 

The next day was a slow start, bit of a tidy up, bit of a last-minute pack, then a minibus to the airport. This was a bit of a sombre moment as it was the final day which our band would be together. We had all gotten used to the feeling of waking together, dining together, and spending every moment largely together. A rather long flight and an almost missed train later, we’re back in Sheffield and getting a ride back to our respective homes. Thus concludes the epic summer journey.