#inter-railing

There and Back Again… an Interrailing Story

8 cities, 6 countries, 4 weeks, 2 rainbows, 1 camera

PART ONE — Budapest

June 11th, 2018

Despite the nap the day before we treated ourselves to a mini lie-in - what? we’re students. Opting for a relaxing park day I made us some breakfast - I slaved all day over those cocoa pops - while Meg made us a picnic lunch and we got ready for the day.

The first stop on our Budapest adventure was of course the well-known pharmacy - Bobert needed some TLC. We followed that big, glowing green cross like some sort of heavenly sign and hunted down some Bobert remedies.

Bobert tended too, we headed to a park behind the apartment block that looked good on google maps. Kids listen up, sometimes… the internet lies!!! The park that looked oh so lovely on the inter webs ended up being not so lovely in the real world. Too many paths stopped proper grass age and a lack of people using it as an actual park had us seriously questioning the legality of park lying in Budapest - what? Hungarians might just have something against grass, stranger things have happened.

We managed some sitting for all of 30 seconds before deciding we ain’t about this life. Deciding to tentatively put our trust back in google, we headed off in the direction of Margaret’s Island, a decision that ended up being on of our best (spoiler alert).

Just up the street, past 3 restaurants, 1 banks, 2 McDonalds and 1 mini golf course lays Margaret’s Bridge that aptly connects Buda to Pest and veer off to Margaret’s Island.

Now, for those of you who haven’t been to Margaret’s Island, just imagine Disneyland on speed and made of grass. Walking into the massive island, you’re greeted by a bus stop and a map of the island because the park is just that big.

First stop was of course the toilet, I’m not pointing fingers but the bladder has a Bobert. But, before we could even get there you find yourself at a big-ass roundabout which is surrounded by people selling pedal carts of various jazziness, because this is an island made for wizzing around.

Bladders emptied, we set up camp in a cute patch of grass nestled in some bushes, under a tree and opposite a big ole fountain. Now, remember how I called this place Disneyland on speed, well apparently, in Budapest the fountains sing. On the hour, every hour, for 15 minutes the fountains become a musical water show set to music from everything from Rolling Stones to Moana soundtrack to Dua Lipa. Budapest Disney be wild.

Time flew by as we lay on the grass and had our picnic. The musical show and general park and fountain-ness proved to be a wonderful backdrop to writing and reading. I can honestly say I have never had a more relaxing or enjoyable time - you can’t go wrong with a good park, especially one complete with a musical fountain.

The magical adventure continued as we said adieu to our picnic spot and continued our trek through Margaret’s Island. Just behind a bank of flower beds and a line of sunbeams is a big ole ‘Budapest’ sign - just in case anyone forgets where they are. Like the proper travelling tourists we are, we took a photoshoot worth of pictures in front of the sign so everyone knows exactly where we went on our travels.

The rest of the day was a wide assortment of various things that Margaret’s Island has to offer - I still don’t know who Margaret is, but I would like to thank her for her great taste in Islands. Passing by a BnB and a zoo, because what park is complete without a zoo enclosure just for chickens - we continued the trick to the other side.

Margaret’s Island ends as most parks do; at a massive hotel overlooking a great water tower. With thoughts of ‘ah what an Island’ we headed back down via the other side. Stopping for ice cream and a quick piss in a bush - DofE trekking expeditions have prepared me well - we walked past a big pool and some old ruined - again, this is an island and a half - before once again finding ourselves at the magical musical fountain.

Seeing that the fountain was lit up all colourful we sat and waited for the next musical number. It was a wonderful experience and a very fitting end to such a lovely day.

— MiraSophia

There and Back Again… an Interrailing Story

8 cities, 6 countries, 4 weeks, 2 rainbows, 1 camera

PART ONE — Venice —> Budapest

June 10th, 2018

After very up and down night, we arrived at our layover stop in Vienna. Hopping over to the next platform we awaited the next train to Budapest. On the train we immediately felt at home as we seemed to have found ourselves in a carriage solely for inter-railers. Feeling reassured that we were at least on the right train, we settled in for a seemless journey to Budapest - alas not as comfy as the Italian trains, now they really know how to rail.

After buying a ridiculously cheap metro ticket - seriously Budapest is the place to be if you’re broke - we easily navigated our way to the apartment - we’re honestly getting so good at this navigating public transport thing, it’s almost like we’re basically adults or something.

We met Peter outside of the apartment and he showed us the complicated key arrangements before saying goodbye. This apartment may be dinky but god was the building grand. The outside courtyard was lined with flower pots and iron balconies giving the whole thing a very big fairy tale vibe, in one word: magical.

Exhausted from a turbulent sleep and long day of travelling. Meg quickly fell into a long blink - it’s a nap, we all know it’s a nap - and I attempted to write for a bit before unexpectedly tumbling into the first non-transport nap I’ve had in a long long time - definitely a magical place.

After the unexpected nap, we showered and I made us dinner as we planned our next couple of days in Budapest.

Oh…

Oh…

Oh…

                                       Ohhh….

How could I forget the greatest part of this day. So, Meg is white, like White™, and to accompany her streaky sunburn was a new friend.

A glorious combination of mosquito bites, pressurised cabins and 48 hours in a hot stinky sock created a wonderful rash and swollen foot. We fashioned an ice pack out of a water bottle and a hair tie and just sat around admiring the mighty beast that was Meg’s new foot - seriously this thing was probably where they got Bigfoot from: he ain’t no hairy ape just Meg’s foot. Oh… and we named him Bobert.

— Mira Sophia

There and Back Again… an Interrailing Story

8 cities, 6 countries, 4 weeks, 2 rainbows, 1 camera

PART ONE — Rome —> Venice

June 7th, 2018

We left Rome today and made our way to the third city stop along our travels. Packing up and checking our in record time, we boarded a train to Venezia Mezetre. The three and a half hour train passed by quickly with only brief annoyance, yet an abundance of amusement, from a very American family. The speedy journey was entertained and aided by puzzles, books and a single poem (beware the rough edges!!).

Dashing past the bending trees,

Bowing down to whispering wind.

Buildings gone,

Lives lived,

Hopes and dreams flutter by.

Rushing past the steel bar tracks,

Resounding echoes of journeys past.

Another quick train ride found us in Mogliano Veneto, our home for the next two nights. Barbara - our host, not just a generic old lady - was at work so her neighbour Paolo greeted us. After a mini tour conducted in minor part English, small part Italian and mostly charades, we settled into our new home. Not sure when Barbara would return, we flopped on the uber comfy bed and settled into wait - Meg having her customary nap and me updating my neglected queue new with the return of wifi!

Barbara ended up being the sweetest lady who was so kind and thoughtful. She greeted us cheerfully and gave us lots of recommendations of where to eat, before providing us with an antipasti platter and cocktails: the ingredients of a happy student = free food and alcohol.

After several aborted tries, we found a cute little restaurant to eat at. Mogliano Veneto is a sweet little town if not baffling at times. Thursday nights seem to be hot sh*t, as all of the town’s youths were out and about - needless to say, we quickly swerved away and found nice place to eat away from the youths. I had my typical pasta dish and true to form the Carbonara in Italy is better than anything served at Frankie and Benny’s - who would’ve thought it?!

Bafflement continued as the youths remained active well past eleven pm - including one concerning case of an apparent three year-old - but who are we to question the Italian parental guidelines and frankly questioning when someone’s bed time is, is making me feel a tad too old.

Horrendous service aside, the meal was excellent and I got to try a Delicia Limone which was wonderful. After a lovely walk back through this quintessential Italian village, leaning towards the retirement side, we settled in for an early night as Venice beckons tomorrow.

— Mira Sophia

There and Back Again… an Interrailing Story

8 cities, 6 countries, 4 weeks, 2 rainbows, 1 camera

PART ONE — Venice

June 8th, 2018

Where to begin with our Venice adventure, the only thing I’ll say for sure is that it’s clearly the greatest city in the world and I want to live here forever. Barbara’s bed is the comfiest thing ever, and despite the dull day before we treated ourselves to a well deserved lie in - what? we’re students!

Emerging into the Italian day we went in search of a bakery and soon discovered that all of Italy decides to snooze on a Friday, and honestly? Mood. Deciding ‘who needs a well balanced breakfast?’ - see above ‘we’re students’ - we went to the geleteria that was open last night well past 11pm. We had the most Italian student breakfast ever a mega ice cream and cheesecake - lilikoi for me of course - that turned out to be the best ice cream an cheesecake either of us had ever had - that justifies it right?

The floating city of Venice is only a quick 30minute train ride away, quickly passed in one of the most comfortable trains ever - Crewe would never! The approach to Venice via train is magical in itself. The train track spans across a bridge allowing you a crystal clear view of the floating city and its many boat-owning inhabitants. As the buildings slowly get larger, we finished our approach into he city and set out for what would be one of my favourite days yet.

The train stations exits directly onto the boardwalk spanning the Grand Canal. For miles all you can see is boats, bridges and evidence of a bumbling tourism industry. We walked across the great stepped bridge that greets you and adeptly swerved around the characteristics paddlers who only seem tot know the words “selfie sticks”. On the other side of the bridge we visited a couple of gift stands and purchased another lot of leather bracelets because let’s face it, are you really a traveller if you don’t have at least three bracelets on at al times. A quick top for the toilets at one of the grandest burger kings I’ve ever seen - where I proved myself as an able pickpocket to get to the toilet code - we started our Venetian Ventures.

Venice is without a doubt one of the greatest and most beautiful cities ever. Already I’m hatching plans to get super rich and buy the whole island, but something tells me that might not exactly be plausible - plots of world domination never seem to work in the movies.

We spent an absolutely lovely day simply walking up and down the streets of Venice. My Duke of Edinburgh leader would’ve been proud as I easily navigated us all around and back again with having a map.

Along our adventure we stopped in lots of different shops ranging from masquerade specialists to Murano glass makers to the run of the mill tourist shops - you know, you’re post cards, magnets and cheap knock-off products that fall apart as soon as you get home bu try then what’s the point? The journey was also broken up by many photoshops as each bridge, building and canal combination got better and better - not to mention our branded rainbow pictures, can’t be neglecting the aesthetic.

As few hours into the Venetian venture, we found ourselves in the wildest of situations, we went into a masquerade mask shop and had a cheeky look around before spotting the shop keeper. He was a sweet little Italian man who makes all the masks in his shop and he showed us the one he was working on at the moment. It was all very sweet and really interesting and I brought a small hand-made fridge magnet off him as a sign of appreciation and a memento of the lovely city. Now, here’s where bizarro-land descends. He kept showing us masks to try and sell them to us, which fair enough that’s just tactics. But, at one point he got Meg in a mask and proceeded to drag a big ‘ole cloak around her in order to show us how you would dress for an actual masquerade festival.

 Following this, he took my phone and Meg unexpectedly found herself i the middle of a Venetian fashion show. We left the shop with one fridge magnet gained, yet several questions raised. As I said, wild.

Escaping the unexpected bambeezling shop, we continued on one Venice exploration with yet more breathtaking canals and bridges. It was around the seventh bridge and third patch of canal that we truly started to fall in love with this magical place and move our plans of retirement - after world domination of course - to this beautiful city.

Another ultimate selling point of Venice is their apparent obsession with cats - who can blame them they truly are the greatest. Every shop seemed to be selling a variation of cats dressed in elaborate outfits like some sort of Assassin’s Creed stealth mission : Cat Edition. I sent one such fancy-shmancy cat postcard to my parents which showed Perseus’s - again the cat not the demigod - new career or potential past life, who knows what that jazzy boy got up to.

Moving on from the cat shrine a couple more bridges and canals later - and about twenty gondola sitings - we stumbled upon one of Venice’s most well-known attractions. Let’s be honest by this point my confident navigation was basically a charade, or a masquerade *wink wink*, so I was as surprised at finding the Rialto Bridge as Napoleon was at being defeated by a little chill - read harsh Russian winter but that analogy doesn’t work as well so it’s being changed.

Taking the required pictures of the Rialto Bridge, we climbed over and spent some time admiring the beauty that is Venice.

Now that concludes the first chapter of our picturesque Venetian Venture. You know how part twos are always slightly disappointing and not as good as part one or three; see. Lord of the Rings, Star Wars, all of Twilight - well brace yourself for a story of hardship, strife and woe.

It all started with a restaurant called Ganesh…

Earlier in the day, between the fourth and sixth bridge, we found a cute little restaurant that had a terrace by the river, all the pasta and pizza and most of all… student prices. Meg somewhat successfully navigated us back to the restaurant, and really our first clue should have been how empty it was. Deciding that it was still a bit early and someone has to be the first person, we went ahead and sat down. We ordered and settled in by the river surrounded by potted plants.

The food was amazing, but that is very much a side note to this epic saga. This place doubled as a curry house and all the other guests seemed to be Indian and they all got a curry menu that was not offered to us. When we finished the meal, we must have waited an hour for the plates to be cleared - a couple who arrived and ordered food after we finished left before we got served. Asking for the bill we gave up waiting and just walked up to the bar to pay - there was another British family there looking very baffled and I almost wanted to scream to them to ‘run, save yourself’! Getting the check they charged us €5 for two and a half breadsticks. We went to the toilet before we left, and had our revenge by smuggling out all the paper towels that will serve us well during our picnics.

Overall, a good meal but not worth the money and would be much nicer with some service - preferably but just some old greasy man and a lady in just a bra.

  Licking our Ganesh wound, we headed off in pursuit of ice cream. Finding an adorable gelateria by the river, we had a grade cone each and sat on the pier to enjoy the nighttime lights of Vencie.

Venice is absolutely magical at night, with dark blue lights and lanterns reflected by the Grand Canal. We wandered up and down the river soaking in the beauty as we waited for our train home. I will always maintain that one of my favourite things is European holiday nights.

A quick journey saw us back at the apartment and we quickly packed before Meg made herself a map blanket and we settle din for our last night in Barbara’s little AirBnB.

- Mira Sophia

There and Back Again… an Interrailing Story

8 cities, 6 countries, 4 weeks, 2 rainbows, 1 camera

PART ONE — Rome

June 3rd, 2018

Today was the perfect Roman day and as I write this an old lady (who we’re calling Maria) is starring at me from her balcony and I can hear someone playing the flute: scene-set.

Today we journeyed as the ancient Romans did centuries ago and travelled via the very authentic metro. Using the high class skills that university has taught us, we deduced that the stop ‘colosseo’ was most likely the stop for the colosseum - I know, we’re just crazy smart like that. The metro system in Rome is simple and amazing - definitely the best we came across - and walking out of the station we immediately found ourselves at the foot of Rome’s somewhat popular destination for the swish swish sword fight peeps.

We were immediately bamboozled by a seemingly endless stream of people trying to sell us fans, umbrellas and “free information! I give tours!” Weaving in and out of the growing crowds and resisting the urge to shout at the pestering tour guides - “we don’t need tickets it’s free” and “no thanks, no tour guide; I’ve read the Asterix comics” - we followed an Australian lady and made it to the right queue. Now these tour guides are all preaching bollocks because the two hour wait time we were promised ended up being a sweet 10minutes - so screw you rip-off Rome, these bee gals have gots this.

The colosseum itself is as amazing and wonderful as you would imagine it to be. It was a blistering hot day and weaving through the catacombs of this Modern Wonder of the World made withstanding 30℃ heat more than worth it. It’s just so incredible to be standing in the same place that centuries ago attracted crowds from all over to watch gladiators fight each other an starving lions - like much of history, this too is a monument drenched in blood. But leaving the morbid element behind, the sheer amount of history and architectural  brilliance that we found ourselves surrounded by will never fail to leave me awed.

Bucket list ‘Colosseum’ : check [x]

Escaping the heat briefly we sniffed out some gelato and made a short attempt at visiting the ruins before the blistering heat drove us away. Instead we weaved back through the crowds and had a cheeky gander up some cute and very Italian streets where I proceeded to continue my documentation of every leap of faith I could spot - lets be honest by this point my main knowledge of Rome comes from Assassin’s Creed.

We made our way back towards the colosseum - very hard to get lost with landmarks like that around - and stopped to have dinner in a cute little cafe across a bridge from it.

 Dinner itself was a slow affair as it turns out that it doesn’t matter how good the pizza is, looking at the colosseum can be a tad distracting: who would have guessed? Still I must say, eating pizza in front of the colosseum, when three days ago you were picnicking under the Eiffel Tower, not a bad life at all.

Our journey back home saw us having a quick photo break at a very conveniently placed bridge just opposite the colosseum - opposite also a church that just made you long for a real life ‘r1’ and ‘x’. After another brief stop to take some pictures for a very American trio we made our way back to our little apartment - saying goodbye to one of Rome’s most treasured sights.  

- Mira Sophia

There and Back Again… an Interrailing Story

8 cities, 6 countries, 4 weeks, 2 rainbows, 1 camera

PART ONE — Rome

June 4th, 2018

After dragging ourselves out of bed we split the last bowl of cereal and had a kinder-brioss each. The biggest fault of Italy? Many would say facism, or the mafias, or Mussolini himself, but they would all be sorely wrong. Italy’s biggest crime is their lack of kettles. I mean, the Leaning Tower of Pisa and the Colosseum are nice and all, but have you ever had a nice cuppa in the early morning. Not to be defeated by the Italians and determined to bring some semblance of english propriety to this Roman visit, I old-fashioned boiled water in a pan and threw some teabags in. The second fault of Italy? Their love affair with espresso. Which leads to a consequential lack of normal sized cups. Let me tell you, you haven’t truly lived until you’ve started your morning with with an espresso shot of earl grey that you brewed in a pot.

Surviving the trauma of the morning tea extravaganza, we were forced to cower like frightened, baby deer as Claudia brought a new guest into the apartment. After hiding under the bed sheets like the confrontation-avoidant Brits we are, we finally got our arses into gear. We left the apartment and successfully navigated the bridge between Rome’s two metro lines and found ourselves at Piazza del Spagna aka the Spanish Steps.

After a brief trot up the steps and down again, we treated ourselves to more gelato - we are in Italy after all - before weaving up an down Rome’s artsy streets on the way to the Trevi Fountain. 

The journey was broken up by quick pops into shops - where we quickly discovered that everything is always cheaper and better in the last shop. One remarkable event saw a lady try to buy a bottle of water and a single can of coke with a 50 euro note, to which the cashier just *looked into the camera like [he] was on the office*.

Our Italian meanderings ended a the Fountana di Trevi. This is an incredibly impressive piece of architecture and well deserving of its fame. I first visited this fountain 13 years ago when I was six, I guess the myth that tossing a coin in the fountain means you’ll return to Rome is true. 

The steps were jam-packed like Piccadilly Circus - or the circle line at rush hour - but we successfully fought our way to the front and a boomerang a piece, serves as proof to our coin-tossing skills. We spent a moment just sat at the side of the fountain reigning in our dreams like Poseidon and his hippokampus (or Neptune I guess - silly Romans). Deciding it to be a good day well spent we once again navigated Rome’s public transport system home.

We finally briefly met the resident of Room One - we still don’t know his name so we’re calling him John. After a dinner of tortellini and cheap wine - seriously, you could taste every cent - we found ourselves here. Me writing these banging words of wisdom and Meg knitting on the sofa - quite picturesque really. Well it’s off to the Vatican tomorrow, so I’ve got to find something to cover those pesky knees and shoulders.

— Mira Sophia

P.S. Oh yeah, a KO country of clumsy yours truly may have restyled in a twisted ankle but we shall see. Oh well, what’s a holiday without a little injury.

There and Back Again… an Interrailing Story

8 cities, 6 countries, 4 weeks, 2 rainbows, 1 camera

PART ONE — Paris

May 29th, 2018

Well… what a day. The summary of said day is definitely: rain, bombs, thinking, rain. Really that about sums it up, don’t know if I even have to write this entry, but I suppose it gives me something to do while I wait for the pasta to boil. So here we go… section one: rain.

After waking up to our alarms and promptly deciding ‘fuck it Morpheus take me’, we managed to leave the apartment at a reasonable time, definitely compared with the 16:00s of Edinburgh, though thats another story for another time. In juxtaposed dresses and corresponding white cardigans we left the apartment and immediately opened our umbrellas - seems last nights thunderstorm wasn’t done with us yet. Managing to buy the right RER train ticket this time, we made our way to Saint Michel’s Notre Dame.

We emerged from the underground towards the surface of Paris for our first day in the City of Love, and of course… because life hates me like that, it was pissing it down. We managed to snap a few snaps of Notre Dame and the Seine River before, belly rumblings reminded us that humans tend to need to eat. Our noble quest for sustenance took us down quaint little market streets, boasting a never ending supply of restaurants; a surprise number of which were Greek but none a simply good old-fashioned french bakery.

Continuing on our quest (I’m warning you it’s about the length of the second Lord of the Rings movie… extended edition), we were quickly put on alert by thresher amount of police riot vans and general police presence. Shrugging it off as a potential quirk - you know, Paris: bakeries, Mona Lisa, frog legs, Eiffel Tower and police vans - we continued in the direction of ‘that-a-way’. As with Egg Man yesterday, a spotting of a Deliveroo driver kicked our student instincts into gear; and after a quick search (on the ready installed app) we headed in the direction of Smith’s bakery, but not before a quick stroll through a park with bicycles strategically placed to create the best aesthetic.

Smith’s bakery itself was an adorable slice of flour heaven and we came out bearing one cheese and ham toastie, one baguette sandwich and two eclairs (chocolate and caramel for precise recollection). Deciding it best to find a nice park somewhere and eat our breakfast-cum-lunch, we headed in the direction of Luxembourg gardens.

Now, here’s the thing. Macron? Apparently not a nice guy. Remember that police presence I was talking about? Yeah, apparently ‘bad president + police riot vans = protest’. Our first view of Luxembourg was through the clouded view of tear gas and smoke bombs interspersed with hi-vis vests of police and to the cadence of protest. Not exactly a situation ripe for two young girls from Cheshire. we aimed to skirt around the protest - our travel insurance doesn’t cover political uprising I don’t think, although I always did fancy myself an Enjolras. As we got closer the smoke bomb warning *bangs* caused us to back track and head away. No harm, no foul as we found a cute little bench to eat our Smith’s bakery delicacies.

Side-note: those eclairs where amazing and Tescos seriously needs to step up its eclair game.

We plotted a route to the Museum D’Orsay and detoured quickly though a cute photography market and exhibition. Along the way, we purchased our snow globe and shot glass collectibles before continuing ‘on to Art’. This particular museum’s lines were ridiculously long and so, deciding that life is too short we instead plotted a course for one of my main picks: Rodin’s Museum.

Rodin’s museum ended up being a sculpture garden and all it took was a trip to the toilet to bring the sun back in full force (rip Meg’s shoulders). Getting in for free (all EU students) was a lovely bonus that you Brits will regret after Brexit. First stopping the aptly named sculptor garden: The Thinker.

Created by Rodin, The Thinker is a mighty big old geezer sitting on a rock in his birthday suit having a good old think in a pose recreated by me every time I have a shit. This work of art was the first test to the previously mocked selfie stick to varying degrees of success. Regardless of our white-girl selfie skills, the sculpture itself is breathtaking and the first thing on this trip to be ticked off the bucket list. After a quick snap of our rainbows, and several ‘thinking’ puns later, we continued on our way. 

The whole gardens are beautiful: sculptures scattered around, a beautiful fountain and capped by the Thinker and the Gates of Hell on either side. The Gates of Hell being another highlight for me and a breathtaking piece of art.

Leaving the sculptures, Hades’ world and thinking puns behind, we spotted the Eiffel Tower and decided ‘yep’. A quick detour saw us walking past the Grand Plais and the snazziest bride you have ever seen.

 We also undertook a pilgrimage of sorts for Meg as we visited The Flame of Liberty, erected in honour of Princess Diana above the tunnel where she died.

Tourist worthy pictures were taken on the bridge opposite the Eiffel Tower (complete with our bee rainbows pictures of course), before we ventured over to Paris’ crowning jewel. Countless lyrics have been waxed poetical and thousands of yarns spun about this iconic sight so I’ll keep my descriptors short and silly say my first thought: ‘didn’t realise it was brown’.

A quick bench stop outside the tower saw us realising it was 7pm and we should probably start hustling. After waiting for 30minutes at a public restroom, that cleaned itself after every use - a good idea but not exactly economical or environmental - we went to one train station to find it closed so ventured to the next. After a quick stop to get some postcards - 10 for €2 don’t mind if I do - we got on our double decker metro and headed home. A shower each and two heaped bowls of pesto pasta saw us flopped down like beached seals. So here we are 22,604 steps and 14.4km later, bone-tried and in need of a nap. I’ve rambled on and on and it’s time to embrace Morpheus so I shall wish you goodnight.

— Mira Sophia

There and Back Again… an Interrailing Story

8 cities, 6 countries, 4 weeks, 2 rainbows, 1 camera

PART ONE — Paris

May 31st, 2018

Sleeper trains are one of the more unusual quirks of travelling around Europe. I thought travelling the Trans-Siberian Railway was preparation enough for the experience but it turns out, Mongolia? not quite like France. Anyways, more on that adventure later.

Getting ready for checkout today was done in record time. The bees are getting speedier, you would be very, very proud (whoever ‘you’ are). After a slow start getting out of bed, we dragged ourselves away from Morpheus’ embrace and into the land of the living, bemoaning our aches and pains as we went. Needless to say, by this point in the adventure our feet are a-hurting. Nevertheless, we managed to quickly pack, tidy and get ourselves ready for the day (and check-out) in a hot 30minutes, and before we knew it, we were ready for the day.

Lugging suitcases across the Paris metro system is an adventure in itself. With only minor bumps and bruises, we managed to make it to Paris Gare-de-Lyon and navigated our way to the luggage lock-up. Now I know Europe’s a it economically screwed right now, but €9.50 for one medium sized locker is a bit ridiculous! - what are they trying to fund another fancy-shmancy tower … I’d like it known now that if they are I want a huge-ass plaque written in my name; I think the Tower a-la Mira has a nice ring to it.

Despite going broke on a locker, we managed to navigate ourselves out of the metro system and, after procuring some baguette sandwiches and pastries, we made our way once again to the Louvre. Idealistic picnic spots seem to be a thing with us as we saw ourselves having yet another picturesque picnic in the gardens spanning out from the Louvre. Apart from the fact that it seemed to be the day for every school trip to visit the Louvre, we had a relaxing and wonderful time in our little cranny of garden.

The cute bubble of calm was only briefly interrupted by the oh-so-normal occurrence of four girls coming up to us and pestering us to donate money to orphans - you know, the usual course of events. I’m pretty sure we were inches away from adopting about seven orphaned children, but a quick bribe with a stale pack of gum seemed to be enough to push them along and they went on their way. The sun was fully shinning on our last Paris day and the fitting conclusion fuelled our spirits and boosted us onto Port de Arts aka the love-lock bridge.

At this point, I’d just like to send a letter out to all of Paris - subject: why? message: why?? You see, two years ago the French government saw it in their infinite wisdom to remove all the locks from the bridge and put up a glass barricade so that no one would be able to put up new ones. This didn’t stop the lovers of the world from drawing on the glass and locking onto lamp posts, but it’s besides the point. Was there really and need? Who were these acts of love hurting? Okay fine, the bridge railings were folding under the weight of the locks and there was long-term structural damage blah blah blah, but still. This beautiful simple act that united lovers from all over the world has now been haunted. And you what’s really the worst part? Ben and Leslies’ eternal love story is lost somewhere amongst all the rest - *moment of silence for the ending of the greatest, most wholesome show there ever was*.

We stopped to sit on the banks of the Seine to wallow in our sorrows, curse the French government and tend to our pilfered souls. Deciding not to let the whims of the Parisian Council get us down, we plotted a course to the Pantheon in order to get us an eye-full off snazzy pendulums and feminist tombs.

However, like many many things this holiday, that too didn’t go to plan as we, along our route, looked up and remembered oh yeah… Notre Dame’s a thing.

The queues to get into the cathedral itself were long and promising of a stretched-out hot wait, so we bypassed the impressive gothic monument for the crypts that lay below. The crypts themselves bear the carcass of the cathedral’s catacombs and digital reconstruction videos allow you to visualise the way of life back then. A roundabout history lesson later, we emerged back into the heart of Paris and began our outward journey.

Gare-de-Lyon is a massive building with endless halls intersection into each other and a mass of people seemingly moving as on entity in the exact opposite direction of your own destination. After several wrong turns, we managed to make it to Hall 1 and plonked ourselves down in free real-estate to await the platform announcement.

The train was delayed by 10 minutes and the platform was only designated 3 minutes before it was due to leave. Nevertheless, we made it to the platform and elbowed our way through the crowds - can’t wait to get back to the queuing lifestyle of the Brits - and found our carriage 85 and bunks 63 and 65.

Well there you have it. The first leg of our interrailing adventuring complete - it’s Facebook office and everything. Right now I’m sat in our sleeper carriage with three others - one being ‘Hi I’m Gregg from the Isle of Wight. We get into Milan at 6am tomorrow so I think it’s time for me to catch some zzz’s. Until next time, I’ll write from Rome….

- Mira Sophia