“Where there's a will there's a way”.

          Recently, I watched the Paralympics’ 100m semifinals. In the track closest to the camera run a guy who had no legs from the knees down and also his arms were amputated at the elbows. I think he ended next to the last and did not make it to the final. However, it does not matter. It made me to think about that if a man with literally no legs and hands can run 100 meters in 11 second, what the hell are we all making excuses?

      Overall interest in physical activities is falling; it is a well known fact. As a former P.E. teacher I have palpable evidence in form of the stagnating performance standards of pupils. The phenomenon can be also observed in the increasing level of obesity and related health problems. As always, there are several factors to take in, but it does not prevent me from being apprehensive.

      Sport and physical activity can have positive effects on human organism. It depends on the character of the particular activity which can increase the vital capacity of the lungs and effectiveness of the circulatory system as such, strengthen the muscles, reinforce the bones’ density, helps to maintain optimal body-weight. Also, regular exercise was proved with positive effects on blood pressure, blood cholesterol levels and production of hormones. Maybe the ideas are too distilled to their simplest form, but all of that helps us to live better and conduct our duties more efficiently. Or at leas it should…..

     Many people claim that they would join in some sport activity, but

        1, they have no time because of work load and other duties.

        2, they have some medical condition and the doctor advised them not to exercise.

        3, they are too tired after the work and other stuff.

Those are the three major reasons that support our excuses. I will deal with them in detail in the next article.

     According to many, the Paralympic Games are good evidence of what is the mankind capable of, and that our limits are far beyond our perception. Our modern lifestyle does not force us to try the limits of our reserves. Therefore it is only our motivation that can persuade us about the merits of physical exercise. Disabled sportsmen support the saying “Where there's a will there's a way”. Even if I always give my best in the gym or the swimming pool – sometimes I approach the point when the intensity of sport activity starts to be detrimental – after having seen the Paralympic run I questioned myself whether I should try little harder.  

The maritime city of football and the Beatles

    I wanted to visit Liverpool since long ago. I am a football fan and I like rock music. Local FC is one of my favourite teams and everyone is familiar with the story of the Beatles, one of the most influential bands (not only) in the early era of rock music. Moreover, Liverpool used to be a significant port and trading centre. Taking the opportunity of a day off, me and a friend of mine took a train with return ticket to the Liverpool Lime Street Station.

We had some time to the departure so we bough some newspapers. Apart from that, I found an almost full pack of cigarettes. I was happy, because as a very occasional smoker, I will have tobacco supply for months. Cigarettes and alcohol are quite expensive here in Britain, due to the excess duty. Money collected in taxes in invested into anti-smoking campaigns and similar initiatives. 

Anfield

     From Lime Street we headed right to the Queen Square bus stop. All day ticket costs 3.80 and you can travel as much as you want. We are both football fans so there was no doubt what would be our first stop – Anfield Road. We spent there approximately 2 hours; therefore I covered it in a separate article here. http://erik209.blogspot.co.uk/2012/09/youll-never-walk-alone.html

The Bombed Church   
       From the stadium we took a bus back to the station. Originally we wanted to change for another service towards the cathedral. But after we realized that it was within walking distance, we decided to walk. Once again I have mistaken the cathedral with some ordinary church that we came across while walking. For that reason I took a photo. Only during my third visit in Liverpool I realized that the church had no roof. It was bombed during the Second World War and now it serves as a meeting place for the youth.

    The Cathedral

      The cathedral is really big, I think t is the second biggest in England. Although it was built in the late 20^th century, it has the atmosphere and façade of a Gothic church. It was built in neo-gothic style, as I learned from the minister with whom I had a little talk about the faith. 

Chinatown
Not far from the cathedral is the China town with the typical arcade, like the one in the Forbidden City.

Albert Dock

     Graduatelly, we straddled down to the Mersey River and reached one of the city’s quarters, Albert Dock. Originally it was a docking system for the ships. In the colonial period Liverpool boasted the reputation of one of the world’s largest ports. In 19^th century, 40% of all trade passed through Liverpool, as well as majority of the slave trade.

    The Beatles

     The Museum of Beatles – ‘Beatles Story” is also located in Albert Dock. Beatles started playing in Liverpool in the beginning of 60's but later they recorded in Abbey Road studio in London. (I have been there as well) Their songs were played in the museum and the fan shop, which was absolutely not surprising. What else would they play, Justin Bieber?

   The Liverpool Eye

     Opposite to the Beatles Story is some kind of Liverpool Eye and the Echo Arena, which hosts important cultural and sporting events. Lady Gaga, Muse, Oasis, Coldplay and Elton John have all played there, but oddly none of the former Beatles. Together with Ringo they are the two surviving members of the band.

     The Royal Liver building

     From the dock we headed for the centre. For a while we stopped at the Royal Liver Building. On the top are two “liver birds”. This medieval cock has become the symbol of Liverpool, even part of the FC logo. Two birds are on a patrol over the city. According to a story, the cock is checking the local pubs, whereas the hen is oriented towards the sea, waiting for young sailors.

Liverpool offers much more to visit. For example another football team – Everton, another cathedral – Metropolitan, and another musician – Elvis Costello. We focused only on the most important things. And some shopping, of course. Maybe, with all of the people moving out in the aftermath of the industrial decline,  it is the city of yesterday, but anyway in Liverpool, you'll never walk alone. I will definitely come back, if not move in, because I can imagine my life in this city.

You’ll never walk alone

     Recently, I and my friend set up on a trip to Liverpool. Both of us football fans, the first target was clear. Anfield Road. We spent there approximately two hours, therefore I devoted an entire article to the ‘the Reds’ experience. Rest of Liverpool with the Beatles, Cathedral, docks and the Liver building patrolled by the Liver birds will be covered in a separate article.

     Right in front of the stadium we received an open-arm welcome by Bill Shankly, one of the best managers in team’s history. After initial photo shots we purchased the tour tickets and headed for the fan shop. Prices were comparatively high, but the offer was really high-grade. You can get even sweets with player’s names engraved into the jelly, stickers with the name of particular person (I could not find Erik) and the team logo, and similar accessories. Of course vide variety of jerseys – home, away, retro – is a must. Also Liverpool FC various casual wear that you can’t find anywhere else. 
 

     It was almost twelve so we decided to go out and wait for the tour guide at the Bill Shankley’s statue assemble point. After a while, our group was approached by two of them. One bald, wearing a red dress-coat, the other one in a black jacket with engraved FC Liverpool logo. Both disposed of great enthusiasm and Liverpool accent which is sometimes difficult to pick up. Initially, we were ushered to some kind of hall of fame. The walls were decorated by the pictures of famous players. We learned few interesting facts, for example that the best shooter in Liverpool’s history Ian Rush scored total of 346 goals.

 

     After the brief history lesson we went on to the press center. It is here that the manager has to face the media after every single match. The room was rather small, but it could take in over 50 journalists. Originally it used to be the boot room and Bill Shankly would explain the pre-match tactics here. Since it was changed into the press center, Liverpool has not conquered the Premier Ship title. Some claim it is a curse.

     From the press center we walked over to the dressing rooms. Player’s t-shirts were hanging on the walls. Discovering Martin Skrtel’s 37, we boasted to the guide that he is our country mate. The bald men knew him in person; he has met most of the current squad.

     In general, the dressing rooms were modest, but nice.  Unlike Valencia, where Rafa Benitez would not allow too much comfort for it interferes with player’s pre-match concentration, in Liverpool the home dressing room was better maintained. Away team do not even have air conditioning. Interesting enough, because for a certain period Benitez managed also the FC.

 

     A corridor runs from the dressing roams directly to the pitch. There are small cavities in the walls, where player undergo one-on-one interviews. Above the tunnel to the pitch is an inscription “This is Anfield”. It was arranged by Shankley himself; the red colour should frighten the opponents. Home players follow a ritual that they touch it before every match. Peter Crouch could even kiss it, smaller players like Michael Owen or Luis Garcia had to be lift up to reach it – the guide had a joke.

     The tribune and the pitch appeared to be smaller than they really are. I would not believe that stadium can host 45, 525 onlookers. It was strictly forbidden to enter the pitch and the authorities really mean it. (In Valencia I managed to walk on the lawn barefoot). Even the home team does not train here. Only the opponent in European cups is allowed one training session a day prior to the encounter. Usually, they are accommodated in nearby Radisson hotel. Oddly enough, you must be from an away team to train on the home ground.

      Although Liverpool is a famous team, the stadium was full of family atmosphere. The tribunes are close to the pitch, unlike those at some top teams where man could hardly spot the players. Guide mentioned a moment form the past with record 26, 000 people cramped at one of the tribunes, cheering up their team.  At that time there were no seats and reservation tickets. You had to queue, sometimes even two hours, and then share the close quarters with others. To get some refreshment during the match was out of question. Who was hungry, should have had breakfast. Who needed a toiled, should have used imagination - the guide concluded.

     Bearing to this, he mentioned the Hillsborough tragedy from 1989 when 96 Liverpool fans died pressed by the crowd. Thence the reinforced security measures and long procedures with tickets. Newspapers were full of the disaster and according to the latest investigation; it was not fault of the drunken fans. Moreover, police and security forces could have saved about half of the victims if they acted more appropriately. However, everyone would jump the gun to blame the English rowdies who have long “criminal record” of clashes and disturbance all around the Europe.

     Finally, we visited the museum. It was full of team’s history, famous players, the authenticity reinforced by original jerseys, trophies and video projections. It was the end of our tour. Maybe they are bearing under the financial problems, but the many fans and achievements guarantee that FC Liverpool would never walk alone. We are absolutely positive on this after having watched the highlights from the 2005 UEFA Champions League final, when Liverpool raised from the death against AC Milan.
 

Grasmere - where I realized what does it take to be a poet...

      Today I visited the Dove Cottage in Grasmere, Lake District. For over fifty years it was the home of on of the British foremost poets, William Wordsworth. Alike other Lake Poets, he was taken away by the beauty of the place and decided to seek inspiration for his poems here, on the shore of the lake Grasmere.
 

     Outdoor shops and gingerbread

      First however, we had a walk through the village. It is nice. Few outdoor shops are embedded in the tiled houses, thence do not interfere with the colorit. You should try the traditional gingerbread in local bakery. It is different from the sponge cake we deem gingerbread in Slovakia. This is more that of small, spicy biscuits. Gift shop across the street offered variety of cuckoo clocks. I should get one when I live in my own cottage. Or yacht, the cuckoo will wear captain‘s cap. Another shop displayed authentic paintings, some priced over 2800£. Around the corner is a church dedicated to St Oswald, dated back to 7th century. It is surrounded by the typical churchyard with stone tombs. At night someone would call it frightening. 

     
The Dove Cottage and my the creative centre

       A stroll down the street finally took us to the Dove Cottage. Here Wordsworth really lived out his name because the words written in the waste cottage with wooden roof are relay worth reading. 

Next to the cottage is the museum, tea room and family centre. I covet to mention the comics version of ‚The Rime of the Ancient Mariner' by Samuel Taylor Coleridge that is to be found in the centre, together with other books by the Racists. The visitors, meant children, can draw pictures and try their hands on poetry. Actually, I used the contemporary rolls of paper to put together a few lines. Here realised that merely coming to Lake District is far away from becoming a poet. A layman might think that it is enough to put together few lines of rhyming words, interwoven by from-time-to-time alliteration or another figure and add some plot. My lines, although they meet all the attributes, backfire this presumption.

“Ancient mariner shot the albatross,

And sentenced the ship’s crew to the eternal loss.

Crew condemned the course of discontent,

Their decision ain't lest transparent.

Thence all the awe of every fishing boss.

Thou honour the memory of albatross.

Original poem inspired by captain cook.

Short of time can’t get more rhymes of the hook.”

     On poetry

     As you might have experienced, it does not read well, nor contains any witty idea.

It is lacking the inspiration, something that turns the mainstream lines into something unique. A good poet should experience the outer world very vividly to kick start his imagination. But he must be very considerate of how much if his heart he would put on the paper. Originality of the poem lies on the thin line between the rationale and emotion.

      One can be influenced by his childhood, credentials form an elite university, affairs with famous actresses, cleverness in tax evasions, disappointment that his work can not oversell even Justin Bieber; but eventually the reader does not care a thing. Nor does the critique, lest he should because it his job to be consistent. He sees only the poem and its message and that matters.

Edinburgh

     I can not omit my visit to Edinburgh. It was back in 2009, but this city deserves to be mentioned on my blog. I don’t wanna amaze you with some historical fact, boasting how much I know on the Scottish history. Instead, this is Edinburgh the way I remember it, from the very moment I walked out of the station into the pleasant rainy weather.

       Summer of 09
      In the summer of 2009 I was working in London. But I also wanted to visit other places in the UK, attracted mainly by York and his connection with the British history and Vikings. Many people from my neighbourhood were speaking highly of Edinburgh, literally one of the best places they had ever visited. Next day I went to the station to book the tickets to York. However, I came back with a return ticket to the Edinburgh Waverley Station. Train leaves from the Harry Potter station (King’s Cross) and the track runs through York. I will try to take a snap of the cathedral from the train.

Waverley, Whisky and the writers

    The journey takes about four and half hours. I set out at seven in the morning, spent my time on the train reading a National Geography tour guide on Britain – I highly recommend. It includes map of Edinburgh with detailed walking tour around all the sight. I had exactly six and half hours to catch as much of the city as possible, therefore I synchronized my program with the guide. Soon, the train approached the Edinburgh Waverley Station and I walked out to the street, to be welcomed by the typical Scottish weather: moderate but biting rain called „drizzle“. Another tourist might have been outraged, but for me it only added to the historical, slightly mysterious atmosphere. So did the tones of the piper who was playing on the street.

      Edinburgh has a population f about 500,000. City is divided into two parts. The modern, where you can find shops and branch offices of big companies. Nevertheless, I was interested in the historical city. My first stop was the Monument of Walter Scott, Romantic writer know for his historical novels. From there, I climbed the stairs to the castle. There was a stage and tribune in the process of construction, because it was few days to the Military Tattoo festival held every August.

       The Royal Mile

       From the castle I got down to the main street, the Royal Mile. On the right, I visited the Museum of Whisky and could not leave out the Writer’s Museum. Apart from Walter Scott, it is devoted to the work and life of  Robert Louis Stevenson and Robert Burns. Stevenson wrote the Treasury Island - the story with the one-legged pirate. Robern Burns is the Scottish national poet. Once I listened to a  Scotsman reciting one his poems and the man was almost crying.

     Slowly, I approached the city centre. McDonalds, Starbucks and various recognized brand outlets that belong to the colourite of any metropolis. But there were also many shop where you can buy the traditional Scottish garment. The street was full of people and emitted lively atmosphere. Yet it was different from the critical mass of London, where, time to time, you have to make your way by pushing people aside. 

     

     The Heart of Midlothian

    I was looking for the „Heart of Midlothian“. Walter Scott wrote eponymous novel. It is a heart-shaped mosaic built into the pavement of the Royal Mile. In the past, it marked the doorway to the jail. I could not find it, because it was covered by the feet of the people. During my search, I managed to see the show of an Australian artist. He was about to perform backflip from a ladder across a hoop of fire. But all his preparation and showmanship was so awesome that it deserves separate article, as well as he deserved all the collected money - none of which would be spent on drugs – as he assured.

      Finally, I discovered the heart, not far from the St Giles‘ Cathedral. On the other side of the street is a statue of David Hume.

You might think that I am switching between the sights too fast, but the historical centre really offers exciting suggestions at every turn. Feeling hungry, I stopped at a small fast food restaurant. Prices were lower that in London. I went for the traditional Scottish haggis, a sheep stomach stuffed with pluck (heart, liver and lungs), vegetables, oatmeal and spices. However, it looked like the hash-and-crumb sausages we make in Slovakia after killing a pig. I am not sure about the authenticity of the haggis, because the restaurant was not of highest standard. To tell the truth, the guy put my haggis into a take away box with chips and ketchup. After my coulinary experience, I visited the Museum of Edinburgh, to ingest something of the city’s history. 

Little bit of history and monarchy

       Edinburgh is the capital of Scotland. Foundations of the settlement are dated back to the iron age. During the middle ages, it served as a royal burgh. In 18th century, the city experienced it’s renaissance, being the focal point of the British Enlightenment. Thence the nickname the ‚Athens of the North‘. Now, it is one of the main business centres in Europe and the seat of the Scottish Parliament. Many important personalities were born or worked in Edinburgh. For example, Adam Smith, the father of the modern economy; and Robert Adam, the architect. The already mentioned philosopher David Hume, writers Irvine Welsh, Ian Banks, J.K. Rowling, Robert Louis Stevenson, Walter Scott and the doctor who wrote Sherlock Holmes – sir Arthur Conan Doyle. Even the recent British prime ministers Tony Blair and Gordon Brown come from Edinburgh, or the nearby area.

     From the museum I walked to the end of the Royal Mile. There stands the Palace of Holyrood, one of Queen‘ s residences in Scotland. Opposite the residence is the new Scottish Parliament, an disaster of architecture criticized by many. Really, the ultramodern building with the roof like that of a hockey stadium only hurts the historical panorama of the city.

      Highlands in small

       Behind the city, towering the Firth of Forth, is an oasis of hills, lakes and cliffs – the Hollyrood Park. It resembled the Scottish Highlands, although I know them only from pictures. Rest of my time in Edinburgh I spent by climbing the cliffs and taking pictures. Few minutes to five, I rushed to the Waverley Station to catch my train to London. Yer, the six and half hour were worth it. Edinburgh really is a nice city and I will come back, once. There are few more things to see and visit, for example the coffee house, where J.K Rowling started writing Harry Potter. Apart from that, I did not manage to make a picture of the York Cathedral. 

Milan

       

     I have already mentioned how I spent my first two hours in Milan looking for my hostel. Tough job, but around midnight, I could finally hit my bed. Yet I did not sleep well, maybe because of the warm weather, maybe because of the hunger. In the evening I had to eat in McDonalds, so I went for the maintenance piece of meat and salad. The bigger was my surprise next morning at the reception, when I found out that breakfast was included in the price. I got only croissant, Nutella and juice, but I did not complain as I intended to shop at a supermarket later. However, I did not know that in Italy, most of the shops are closed on Sunday. City with 1,3 million inhabitants, two football teams, fashion centre; and not a single grocery, where one can buy some food. Never mind, I set out for the sights. Maybe I will discover some supermarket that is open.  

    Duomo

      I took the bus towards the Central Station. There I changed for metro, yellow line. I got off at the Duomo station, named after the famous cathedral, which was my object of interest number one.  Construction started in 14th century in original, Gothic style, but it took almost 600 years to complete. At the top of the 108 m high spire is a statue of the Virgin Mary. You could enter the church, but every visitor was checked by the soldiers and police standing at the door, supervising the appropriate dress code (no shorts or sleeveless shirts), and looking for any forbidden items. Flash-less cameras of the tourist were drowned by the priest reading out the Bible, because it was the time of the Sunday service. I said my little prayer.  There was a souvenir shop inside the church, which was surprising, but I would also call it blasphemous. Such commerce, evokes the scene from the Bible, when Jesus banned the vendors and collybists from the Jerusalem church.

         Duomo is surrounded by an eponymous square with many important buildings. On the right, you can see the Royal Palace. In the past it was the seat of the Italian government, later cultural centre with many exhibitions and concerts. One of the most famous performers of all time was Mozart. I walked around the Duomo, still looking for some grocery store. All of a sudden, I was approached by an African, who started to tighten some self-made band around my wrist. He told me that he was from Senegal, and inquired about my homeland. Slovakia, nice country, he said. The wristband will bring me good luck. He give me one more, I should give it to my girlfriend. Of course, he asked for some change, five or ten euro. I gave him what we consider change in Slovakia, about 80 cents. Lest, I will have a good luck. As well as some girl, but I do not know which, yet.

Leonardo da Vinci and the Opera 

    On the left side of the Duomo Square is the Gallery of Victor Emanuelle II. A kind of covered arcade with many fancy restaurants and renowned outlets. I noticed Prada and Louis Vutton. The gallery is a short cut to the La Scala Square with the statue of Leonardo da Vinci in the middle. Standing there on a piedestal, together with four other scholars. But they did not make it to the piedestal. I like the guy, so I took a picture with the statue of Leonardo.

     La Scalla is one of the world’s  most famous opera houses. Once, I have to go there to watch an opera. But now, I just walked along to get to the Piazza Cordusio, and from there I crossed to the Dante Street, which leads right to the castle. Not far from there was a Decathlon sports shop which I knew from Hungary. I bought a protein bar in case I really won’t find any supermarket. Luckily, it did not happen. At the castle I bought a foccacia bread stuffed with bacon, cheese and lettuce, because I was pretty hungry. Further Africans stormed the place, but I did not want any more wristbands.

     Castle and the Last Supper

      I finished my focaccia and entered the castle. Castle Sforcezco is a renaissance fortress from the 14^thcentury. One century later, it was rebuilt by Francesco Sforza whose family ruled Milan at that time. The castle comprises several museums boasting some fine works of Leonardo and Michelangelo. Outside the castle walls, you could find many souvenir shops, like all around the central Milan. Behind the castle walls  lies the Sempione Park, one of the city’s parks. An oasis of natural beauty with many trees, bushes, flowers and people doing jogging, or just lying in the sun. I sat down just for a while, because there were few Milan musts to tick off.

     Navigated by the map I crossed the road to get to the Corso Magenta street. It took me all the way to the Dominican cloister Santa Maria delle Grazie. It’s refectory boasts the famous ‚Last Supper‘ by Leonardo. I consider this painting superior to the Mona Lisa.  Several great mysteries remain at the heart of this work of art which has experienced a little of history. Except ofthe painting, the cloister itself is of great architectonic value. There is a garden inside with flower beds and tree alleys.

       Pleased by the view, but still, I was looking for a supermarket frantically. None. I took the metro and got off three stops later, closer to the San Siro quarter. While walking, I saw a mother with a child and the child was carrying two packs of crisps. Where the hell they got them? Few minutes of hope followed by dissapointment, starring at the food machines in the local hospital. You could buy the chips in the machines, but I rather went for a mineral water, because I was really thirsty.

San Siro and food, finally

     Twenty minutes later, I arrived to the stadium. Enourmous metal and concrete construction, home of two Milan’s league teams , AC and Internazionalle.  Suddenly, a guy with a camera asked me to make a picture. I agreed if he would also take a picture of me. He was from Egypt, travelling around Europe. We made some pictures and went for the metro. Guy got off at the cloister, because he wanted to see the Last Supper. I went back to the central station. Desperate and hungy, I decided to buy three hamburgers in McDonalds. It would be enough for the whole evening. Just for the record, I walked into the news agents, where I bought my travel card the day before. You can not imagine the joy when I realised that they were also selling fresh baguettes, milk, sausages, yoghurts, fish and other basic foods. I did my shopping and went for the bus.

Killing time in Milan

      Following day was the final day of my holiday. I decided to spend it walking around Milan, because I had nothing to do to fill the gap between the hostel check out at 11:30 and my flight scheduled at 22:30. Finally, I came across an open supermarked and bought some food. The prices were quite reasonable, even if compared with Slovakia. Bakery really went up all around the Europe, because of the decrease in crops this year. Anyway, I needed some source of energy, because I would be walking for several hours carrying my bag with luggage and notebook. I took some Arabian bread and went to the cash desk.

        From the supermarket I headed towards the central station. I walked all the way from hostel to Duomo Square, stopping only in the public gardens (another park) to eat my lunch. At the square I visited some bookshops, clothes stores and walked round the cathedral enjoyng my last hours in Milan. Around six I took a train to centrale and after one hour spent reading Italian newspaper I got on my Airport shuttle. At the Caravaggio Orio al Serio International Airport (I like the name) I went to the toilets to wash myself properly to the degree the circumstances allowed me. Literally, I took of my pants to wash my legs. Dental hygiene was a must, as well. I looked like Tom Hanks in the terminal movie, where he got stuck at the airport. While waiting for my gate to open, as yet another flights were getting ready to take off, I was trying to make a video shot of a plane taking off, but they were too fast and visibility too dark. Finally, the gate opened and I left the Italian  ground, just to end up as a homeless in Budapest. But it is an another story.

Budapest at night

    My stay in the Hungarian capital was a must; I did not plan it at all. But I had a flight from Milan-Bergamo to Budapest, scheduled arrival at 23:59. From there I had a train to Sturovo in the east of Slovakia at 5:25 in the morning. Sturovo is just about 50 kilometres from where my parents live, so they would pick me up with a car.

     I intended to spend the five hour gap that occurred in Budapest getting from the airport to the train station and waiting there for my train. On the plane I met a cool guy from Milan. He had purchased the flight tickets 3 months prior to the departure for just 2 Euros. Now, he decided to board the plane and head for the Sziget music festival in Budapest. No accommodation at all, just a sleeping bag attached to his bag. Great, I have also nothing to do in Budapest. High five. We’ll go for a beer in the city.

      We talked for a while, some English, some Italian. After I while the ‚fasten youth seatbelt light went off and I was free to move around the plane. I started talking with one stewardess. Some inquiry about the night transport in Budapest, but also because she was attractive. She was from Hungary, in February Ryanair opened a base in Budapest - the final destination of the crew for that day. The pilot was excellent; we landed about 10 minutes earlier. But I lost my Italian friend. He must have left the plane while I was still engaged in conversation with the stewardess. She advised me about the night buses and shuttles, I will find out.

      Luckily, I run into Francesco, which was the name of the Italian guy, in the arrival lounge. We booked a seat in a special shuttle bus that would take me directly to the Keleti Palyaudvar Station, and him to the city. It was the best option. Night buses would take hours to get there. We had to wait about 20 minutes for the shuttle. Francesco went for a cigarette, I was, rather shyly, spotting the arrivals gate, fostering my false pretence that the stewardess would walk through the barrier with other passengers. Actually, there were some stewardesses travelling with the shuttle busses.

     Finally, my bus was due so I left Francesco and my hopes at the airport. I arrived at the Keleti Palyaudvar at 00:40. Just wanted to enter the building and lie down on the bench. Actually, I wanted to lie down somewhere else but go figure. However, the station was closed from midnight till 3:45 in the morning. Several people were camping at the front door. I did not feel like sleeping outside, rather went for a walk. For a few hours I was a homeless. Not so bad, but not enough to make a decent living.

      I met some guys, old rockers, at one of the near the station. While I was talking to them, I spotted the prices of the drinks. You could get a beer for 300 Forints, which is approximately one euro. Quite cheap. I left the rockers and walked along the Rakoczi Street. I met real homeless people, one of them had only one leg. Authentic experience. Two different worlds collide at night. The very poor who fed upon the rubbish, and those enjoying the parties and pubs. They are the source of the fresh rubbish.  

       Around the corner was some big square with a nice hotel, so I took a picture. There was a fast-food nearby. Prices were really low; the whole trip reminded me of the Bratislava experience from the Euro trip movie. I decided to go to a McDonald, to use the toilet. I had seen one before, still open. It was full of the typical 2 a.m. customers – drunken youth and few people who work late shifts. I got an ice cream for just about 50 cents, and 20 minutes of internet connection for 30. Amazing. Eating the ice cream I chatted with my friends about my homeless experience in Budapest.

     When my time was over I decided to retreat back to the station. While walking, I was approached by some woman sitting on the street. She was a hooker and offered me sex for just 15 Euros. However, she was so ugly that I gave her 50 cents if she leaves. At the station I met some guys from Austria. They arrived to Budapest at 22:00, for the festival. Assholes, had left their baggage in the left luggage office and headed for the city. They returned after the midnight only to realise that their baggage and clothes were locked up inside the station. It was getting pretty cold outside. Poor them. But I did not offer them my jacket. There are no rules when you live on the street. Survival of the fittest.

     I told them about my experience with the hooker. We talked in German for a while, walked around the station, actually it was nice night out. At 3:45, we lined up at the door. Finally, we were let in. I bought my ticket to Sturovo and lied down on a bench. After a while I was woken up by an employee. It is not allowed to sleep at the ticket office. Luckily, my train was already at the station so I got on and lied down in a coupe. I slept about 20 minutes, because I can not sleep on a public transport. My parent were waiting in Sturovo. I do not understand their logic. The drove the 50km to pick me up, but refused to drive the 80km to the Budapest.