Statues are not my friend.

Day 4 - 6

Prague, Vienna, Budapest

Statues are a great way to see what historical figures would look like covered in bird shit. Pigeons have no sense of history.

Australians don't really get off on statues, I can't think of more than three statues in Sydney. I guess convicts were more concerned with staying alive than building things praising mother England. Beaches are more attractive to look at anyway. But as central Europe is nowhere near the beach (i checked my map) it's littered with statues. Actually, i don't think my beach/statue theory is holding much water. I'll stop.

Anyway, point I was trying to make was that Prague, Vienna and Budapest have a lot of statues. Wow, talk about a long winded way to make a boring point.

So I spent the remaining day in rainy Prague, stumbling around clenching my arms and cursing that i left my jacket at the campsite. The Czechs found this very amusing, they pointed and laughed at a wet, grumpy Australian. Maybe i just don't get Central European humor. How is someone being wet funny? Maybe my fly was undone? Or that i just look funny and my friends and family have been too kind to tell me.

We left rainy Prague and drove a few hours into Austria. I did my introduction to the rest of the group on the bus microphone ("Hi, my name is Andrew, and i like holding hands, long walks on the beach..."), and we had a contest to see who could tell the worst joke. I lost. I should have told a different joke than "What's long, brown and sticky?"

We arrived in Vienna, and i spent the afternoon wandering the streets. My prior knowledge of Vienna was confined to it being the birthplace of Mozart, and the setting of the 1995 romance film 'Before Sunrise". In the film a young Ethan Hawke randomly meets french student Julie Delpy and they spend the next 12 hours walking the streets of Vienna talking and connecting. It's a terribly romantic film, but unlike Ethan, i didn't have a beautiful foreign stranger to walk the streets with - I had pigeon shit encrusted statues. They would pop up at every turn. I've nothing against statues. They have historical value and can be good to look at, but please, you can go overboard. Maybe the residents of Vienna should create a man made beach instead.

I met up with the other tour members at the only Aussie pub in Vienna. Ignoring the fact that i'd travelled across the world to get away from my culture, I proceeded to get horribly drunk on Australian beer.

On our tour is a 21 year old Irishman, he is incredibly funny and incredibly horny. After a few beers he appointed himself "Group wing man" and introduced (or forced) himself onto every female Austrian at the bar. Seeing that i was content to just sit there and binge drink, he introduced (forced) me onto a group of girls. He said that I was famous in Australia, as i was a former child star on the Australian soap Neighbours, I was a good friend of Steve Irwin, and I have a pet Koala named Blinky. His lies somehow worked as they all simultaneously expressed curiosity. But i couldn't be asked to keep up the lies... Which is a shame.

Girls think lying guys are hot, especially the drunk ones.

After the bar a certain 21 year old Irishman decided that it was time to go to a strip club. (Geez, there is a theme developing here.) I was sitting down minding my own business, watching some bad choreography (and careful not to take any happy snaps), when a girl named Martina came down and sat next to me. She started to make conversation, Ie "What are you doing in Vienna? Wow your belt makes you look sexy (???)"" In my limited history i freeze up like an Austrian statue when strippers make conversation with me. So to signify that i had no intention of taking her up on her offer, and out of boredom of watching bad dancing, I used a universal icebreaker - trivia.

I said " What two countries start with A but don't end with A? "Instantly her face lighted up and she said.... "Afghanistan and Azerbaijan". Impressed with her speed i replied with " Who was the only US president to wear a Nazi uniform? After a brief thought she shouted "Ronald Regan". This continued for several more questions before her boss came over.

Seeing that i was taking away his business, he barked at her in German and she timidly stood up and started conversation with the next customer - an middle aged, overweight Welsh tourist (who instantly had his fat left arm wrapped around her shoulders).

Admittedly, I thought the best part of the whole club was sharing trivia with one of it's employees.

Today we crossed over into Hungary and i have spent the afternoon wandering around Budapest. It's very picturesque and yes, it has some statues. Apparently, the thing to do is go to a health spa. They're supposed to be really cheap and the big Hungarian guys that rub you down are supposed to be fantastic masseusers (sounds a bit homo-erotic to me.)

So we (all the guys) had dinner and went to the premier spa in the city. It was near the tourist area and was located in a prestigious hotel. We got there at 5:45pm to realize that it closed at 6:00pm. The decidedly dodgy doorman told us that his "friend" knew a good spa in another area of town and would take us there for a good price. Instantly a taxi turned up and he went over and opened it's door and beckoned us in.

My spidey sense was tingling We had been warned of safely in some parts of the city. I declined. Half of the group dived into the taxi (including a certain Irishman) and i walked off to find an Internet cafe.

I don't know. If i got in the taxi, the best scenario would be that i would have a great massage. The worst scenario would have me being driven to a housing estate and mugged by some locals. Thinking about it, although my shoulders are tight from sitting on the bus, i think they look ok without any stab wounds. But that's just me.

Oh, by the way i hate, hate, hate camping. Did i mention i hate camping? Oh, i said that in the previous sentence. I will bore people to tears with my problem in another blog. But when i die (hopefully not from a massage related death) please don't bury me in a tent. Even as a joke.

PS:

Q. What's the capital of New Hampshire?
A. I hate camping. (that's my new answer for everything.)