Mark did come in and steal a breakfast in the morning, and we were joined by Candace too. The three of us agreed to head out to see the palace at Versailles. First though, Mark and I have to go and move our car. We find a parking house a reasonable distance from the hostel, drop the car off and forget it.
The train ride to Versailles is about half an hour long, but it takes you to just a couple of blocks from the palace.

Versailles is gorgeous. Even from a distance the first view of it is impressive. Entry isn’t too expensive, and you get free audio guides to take you through each of the rooms. The guides talk about the grandeur of the palace, the meaning behind art works and tells day-in-the-life-of stories about the Louis’ and Ladies who lived there. I particularly enjoyed the Royal Chapel, the Herculean Ceiling, the Hall of Mirrors (the signing of the peace treaty ending World War I was signed here!) and the art work in general. What the audio guides don’t talk too much about is the means for the opulence of the kings and the stories behind why the people revolted, though it doesn’t take a Bachelor of Arts to look around and connect the dots for yourself.
The gardens that start at the rear of the main palace are simply huge. They span as far as you can see from the balcony of the palace (which is on a hill) and there are a couple “small” holiday palaces (seriously!) and a Queen’s retreat house/palace made for Marie-Antoinette.
Even around the gardens there are more beautiful works of art. Most of them were to do with mythological deities and I wish I could have heard the stories behind them all.
We left before we got to see too much of the gardens, or hire a boat to paddle around in, and we caught the train back into Paris to kick off an evening bike tour.

A bike tour is a great way to see Paris. I attested to this last year when I took the daytime tour, and it’s just as good, if not better, by night.
If nothing else, there are many beautiful things to see in Paris. The day and night tours don’t cover much of the same ground so you do get to see a decent spread. And on top of that you get to meet decent people as well. We met sisters from Texas, a family from Atlanta, a Finish bloke called “Per” who was living in and offered us accommodation in Florence, and a few Aussies whose accents were refreshingly welcome.
The evening bike tour (with Fat Tire – yay for a free plug) includes a boat cruise along the Seine, with lots of free wine. This, dear blog, is a marvellous way to enjoy Paris. Along parts of our ride we’d seen Parisians decked out along the roadside, or along a certain bridge, with food galore, more than enough wine, and a free and happy spirit. They sit and sing, talk and laugh and the atmosphere is great. It was great for us then to jump on a boat, sample the wine and enjoy the company of people we’d just met. Or had spent the day with and were coming to know, as was the case with Candace and I. We got close, and were able to appreciate the scenery (there are two Statues of Liberty you know) in the company of each other if none other.
Everyone finished their drinks and took their photos and we disembarked to ride (yes, free alcohol and ride yourself back please) to our destination.

The leader of the tour (a certain Nick from America) took a fancy to a few of us and invited us for drinks under the Eiffel Tower after the tour. Of course Mark and Candace and I willingly accepted, and bought ourselves what would count for dinner and some French bottles to share on our way to this monument of art and romance.
There is an almost magical vibe about the parks around the Eiffel Tower. We’d all been there before, but this time, in different company perhaps, we laughed and chatted and enjoyed our time together. Mark and Per went off to play soccer with some others nearby, around 1am. Candace leaned over on my shoulder as we gazed at the glittering tower. “I’m sorry, but I can’t give you more.” I tell her.
“That’s ok, this is perfect” she answers.

After a fly’s flitter we (Mark and Candace and I) rose and bade farewell to our newfound friends to return to our hostel before the 2am curfew. Really, 2am is only lightly enforced and the receptionist on duty was still up so we three resolved to crack and enjoy the last bottle of wine we’d bought for the evening.
Still the receptionist isn’t finished with chatting up other hostelees, so Candace and I make a break for an ATM to get some cash out. Together. Alone. After … well a few bottles of wine.
Nearly, we nearly get ourselves (OK, just me) in bad territory, but we don’t. I’m taken with how easy we can turn on and off (especially off) the romance, and still be so cool and fun together. I bid her goodnight with “Candace Cross, you rock”.

We knew we’d have a big day of driving ahead of us, so after not a really early morning we first head down to an Internet café. To grab addresses of hostels in Paris.
On the road and we’re driving through the alps and through France, and really feeling it in our back pockets. We spent AU$150 in tolls on this day alone, it really is crazy.
We hardly stopped except for half an hour to have luke-warm sausages and old chips for “lunch”.
The last of the tolls we passed through was a bit of trouble. We’d been paying by Visa card for all the previous ones, but this lady flatly refused to take it, saying that none of the booths at this toll would. This was a real problem because Mark and I had only a couple of Euro between us, and needed to make 18! On go the hazard lights and we franticly search through pockets in bags and all sections of suit-cases to find all the Euro we could scrounge. When we were humble and sorry and funny about it the lady in the booth saw the humour in it and was friendly towards us – I think she was about to give us a slight discount before we produced the last few coins to make up the total.

Driving into Paris we go to look up the address of one of the hostels, and I realise that I’ve forgotten to change TomTom’s maps around and we don’t have any detailed maps of Paris at all, only highways in and out of the place! Great, now what? Well the traffic’s terrible so we have a bit of time to think about it.
We remembered that the hostels were near to the Eiffel Tower, so we started there once we found it (it’s big, but not that big ya know). After driving around it for about 20mins we randomly happened upon one of the streets we were looking for. Or at least drove past it and spent 5mins driving round the “block” (there is not a single square or rectangular block in the whole of Paris it seems) to get back there. Once again the luck of the Irish (Mark must be Irish) came through in full flight because the first street car park we saw in town was right out the front of the hostel we’d just found. Amazing, and quite handy later on.

We rock in, pleased as pie that we’d actually stumbled upon something we were randomly driving around searching for, but our spirits were soon slightly dampened when the friendly receptionist told us they were well and truly booked out. She suggested another place that “always has rooms” and showed us how to get there by train. We told her we had a car and that if there was a chance we’d get a room the next night we’d just as soon sleep in it. She suggested that we do that very thing, and by the way the showers are up those stairs and breakfast is downstairs wink-wink. She also said that if we come back after the 2am curfew then there’s likely to be a bed or two available where someone has booked but not shown up.

We head on out towards the Eiffel Tower (taking a long way of course cos it’s our first go) in the hope of a big screen being there with the France Spain game on. Nothing. Then Mark and I eerily re-enacted what a few of my tour mates and I did the previous year in trying to find a train way from the Eiffel Tower to a few stops down where we were told a decent night district was, and there was likely to be a screen.
45mins later we arrive at the end of the 15min train trip. Our main problem was that we didn’t have any Euro, having spent it all on the last toll we’d just passed. Oh well, we finally made it, and once again there was no big screen but there were lots of excited Parisians flowing out of pubs all around.

Pretty interesting game. We were slightly disappointed to see the French get up, but it made for a great vibe after the match. We were quite famished, and it really is great how you can go out for a meal at 11:30pm at night (and we weren’t the last to arrive) in Europe – it’s a top lifestyle.
I ordered duck and Mark steak. I was somewhat surprised to see them both come out in the same sauce, and somewhat disappointed to see it was a pepper sauce that suited Mark’s steak perfectly (his was a lovely meal) and mine like a bill does a platypus.

After knocking off a delightful bottle of wine at the same place we made our way back to the hostel and were half in luck – there was one bed available! Mark had already said he wanted to be the one to take the cheaper car option and I wasn’t keen on that idea so it worked out tops.

Getting ready for bed in the dorm a certain girl came in and we started chatting. Her name was Candace, she was from Canada and the two of us hit it off from the start. We shared a few stories before agreeing to meet over breakfast and going to bed.

We didn’t need to sleep in after a decent early night so we hit the road for the big day ahead.
It must be said that neither of us were upset at the prospect of leaving Croatia. This was the only place in the whole of Europe where we really felt this way at all, and we certainly felt it here. It seems unfair to the (still majority perhaps) members of the population who are genuinely friendly people, but Mark and I experienced at best idle ignorance of us from any member of the Croatian public that we didn’t pay money to, with only a small handful of exceptions. And this includes a decent smattering of people, and no end of friendly greetings from us.
I wasn’t aware of a Croatian (or Yugoslavian as it seems to be) stereotype to this effect before I went away, but am certainly able to contribute my experience of the same now.

Our drive took us through a small but pleasant section of Slovenia. Snooze and you’ll miss it – it was all of 20mins long. Somewhere in Italy was our intended destination, perhaps around Turin, but we had no really solid ideas.

Around the right time of day we entered Milan, wanting to make the Piazza del Du Duomo for the Australia Italy game. (We’d been tipped off by a friendly local at a roadhouse who’d heard us give the language a good solid yet pathetic attempt. Once again glad to be somewhere not Croatian.)
In a bit of a hurry we parked the car in a paid car park area that ended up being over 3km from the piazza, so we really had to hustle to make it in time.

For the first half Mark and I stood on our own near the back side third of the people gathered. Early on we were approached by a girl who told us she was a journalist and would like to ask us questions. We gladly agreed but were a little stumped by her first one: “Why are you here?” Simply enough we answered that we were watching the game, and where better to do it than Italy if not in the stadium or back home. Fair enough it seemed, until her next question: “And you don’t feel unsafe?” This made us take another look at our surroundings. Suddenly the couple of blokes in front of us whose looks we interpreted as “check out these palukas” became the testy sussing out for what might conspire after the game.
At half time we sought out the main Aussie contingent that we saw from a distance. This was more fun now we had someone to cheer with. A couple of them were a little too toasted for comfort given the circumstances, which wouldn’t have been as much of a problem except the Italians didn’t know what to make of “We’re happy little Vegemites” and the Skippy theme song, and so assumed they were insults to them. Most of the Aussies were too scared to chant or sing though, and again the locals who were friendly came and asked us why we were there. We said we’d encountered pretty rough crowds in Croatia and that the police came to our aid, but this bloke responded with “Oh no, the police don’t attend this sort of thing here.”

The game is now infamous in Australian soccer history. This isn’t the forum to speculate as to what the outcome should have been, but I will say that it was a terrible way to lose. And the walk to the car was quite an ordeal with all the Italian celebration going on right down the main road we walked along. But we stood up straight, jerseys proud and flags flapping on our backs, and sucked up the jeers and leers of the supporters of a country who play to act.

On the road then, to Turin. We had actually collected the addresses of a couple of hostels in the area, but when we came to look for them we came to find we’d lost them. Great so we drive around randomly and randomly come across a few hotels. Last minute rooms are not cheap here; the best we find is a dodgy old room for 60 Euro.
The room taken care of we head out for a feed. I wasn’t going to let our only night in Italy pass without a great meal, and we happen to find one just around the corner.
That night was just tops, we had an absolutely fantastic meal, with beer and wine to suit each course perfectly, sitting at the back of a restaurant with a TV in the corner where we watched Switzerland play Ukraine, chatting occasionally with the staff, and having a great time overall.

Our last full day in Pula was even lazier than the first. We went down again for a swim to the beautiful Adriatic that was just about at our doorstep, and then for a walk around the shoreline, as recommended to us by the guest house owner.
I should mention that ladies here are quite liberal when it comes to swimwear. Whether or not it is aesthetically pleasing for them to do so, many of them will lose their tops at some stage during the beach trip. Mark went off for a swim off on his own, and somehow never strayed too far from the shore…

We drove into town and saw the sixth largest arena built by the Romans which was there in the centre of Pula. This area of Croatia was part of Italy up until World War II, and the common greeting in the street (from those who will talk to you if you’re obviously foreign) is still Ciao.

With not much else to occupy us we enjoyed a large burger with an ice-cream chaser, and then headed back to our room for more football and sleep.

We slept in good and proper on our first morning in Pula. We ambled around, going for a swim, a bit of a walk, bought some groceries (bread, eggs, bananas, milk and wine).
In the afternoon we drove over to the hostel to use the Internet there. Getting out of the car we figured it would probably be safe enough to put the Aussie flag back up on top of the car (it sits inside a window). Less than two hours later when we came back, it had been snapped off! This was seriously disheartening to the both of us – why would someone go and rip off the flag!

Later in the evening we kicked back on the couch and snoozed while watching the first game of the night. After the game we went to dinner at the same place as the night before, making sure to order nothing the same, except the complimentary schnapps. Mark and I had a fantastic time this evening. We laughed and reminisced (what little had already happened) and thought of people and things back home, and made a great time with each other.

The son of the people who own the guest house had offered us the previous day to take us out this night, saying if we go around 10pm he can take us to a party that’ll go until morning. We eagerly accepted, but sought him out as we were coming back from dinner to say that we’d like to watch the end of the second game before going out. He was already pretty wasted so it was no surprise that when we came back down after the football that he was gone (off his face gone, as we confirmed the next morning) and didn’t even answer the door.

So then it was up to us to find our own party. No worries, we hadn’t had any trouble previously. We headed into town, parked the car where we guessed was something closely resembling action, and wandered around. The place that looked most promising had a hefty entry charge, and everywhere else we went there didn’t seem to be anything much going on, and people rudely stared at us as we went past too.
After about an hour of this we left the city quite frustrated and almost disgusted.

I had a terrible sleep that night, but was at least amused by the first non-email contact I’d had with my girlfriend since leaving. She was in the USA leading a summer camp, but this night was away from camp and getting quite sozzled. At least someone found a decent party!

We woke late the next morning, missing breakfast, packed our gear and shipped out bound for Pula. On the way we saw some beautiful views of Rijeka, but kept going without taking photos for some reason that escapes me and would have been quite pathetic anyway I'm sure...

So we rock into Pula with no idea what to expect or where we might stay. We stop off at a tourist information stand where the curt lady told us the directions to the youth hostel - just follow this main road straight on until you get to the beach then turn right.

Somehow we got lost going straight on, and within 10mins we're well out of Pula and passing through another nearby small town! OK then fine, we turn on TomTom and keep driving. When TomTom boots up we follow the turn it tells us to take, and find ourselves on a dirt road in the middle of nowhere.
Not to be foiled and not to admit defeat we defiantly follow the road to its end, ignoring further instructions from TomTom (telling us to turn down non-existant roads anyway) and found ourselves on the road that we took out of town.

By black magic or common sense or dumb luck we found the Youth Hostel. Booked out. OK then, let's use the Internet to find addresses of other hostels or boarding houses. This came up with nothing, it was quite disappointing really.
Right, let's drive around then. A short drive away we find a guesthouse (normal house with a small sign out the front saying "Zimmer Frei" in a couple of languages), and there's even something available, but for some reason Mark's just not interested.

Still driving around, we stop off at Hotel Pula to check if just maybe there might be anything free. We're in luck, there is one room available. 100 Euros. We gag and leave.

Across the road is another guesthouse. We go in to check it out, but it's a double room and we don't really feel like sharing a bed for a few nights.

Around the corner, yet another option. At this one the lady tells us she's full up, but says there's another house nearby and she can come with us to show us. Driving down the road she waves to her mildly amused husband who's just now walking up the road. Nearby we're back at the previous option, bah. But wait, one more chance a few doors down.

Bingo! We've got a winner, an attic room (penthouse we prefer to say), with everything we need, brand new gear and a patio with a view of the ocean! Sweet, we're booked in for three nights.
The people who own it are great, they invite us down for coffee out the back, take us for a short walk to the beach and point us in the direction of some good restaurants. We take the advice and have a top dinner at one of the places, but only after watching both games.

Walking past the car in the morning we were quite surprised to find a parking ticket! A friendly local told us to pay for it at a Post Office, which we did on our way down to the river where we took some sweet photos of the castle and citadella by day, with Luiz.
Luiz was a decent guy, but taught us one important lesson: lock your young girls away from Brazillians. He openly quoted to us "How old is old enough? If she can cross the street on her own, she's old enough for sex". No wonder Brazillians girls are known for sexual prowess, they've been practicing for 8yrs longer than anyone else.

With that, we left for Zagreb, and stopped along the way at a town called Nagykanizsa (Hungary: your country for weird language and impossible place names) to watch either Japan and Brazil or Czech and Italy. We found a place that had a nice big flatscreen on the street and plenty of empty seats up front, and both games on the one screen! Wonderfully satisfied, we settled in, and ordered beer and pizza.
20minutes later the power goes out. Unbelievable! We wait around for a bit to see if it'll come back on, but it's no banana, so Mark waits for our pizza and I head off down the road to see if there are other options. Not too far down I find one where the girl says they also have a big screen and yes can turn it on the football. Great, back down to Mark and we swap roles - he takes our stuff up to the new place while I wait around for the pizza and finish my beer. But before the pizza comes out Mark's back. Apparently there's no broadcast!
Shocked and dismayed, we sullenly dispatch of our pizza and get back on the road, to Zagreb.

Entering Croatia, we had an Aussie flag sticking out the top of the car, another large one draped across the front dash, and of course we're wearing our jerseys. The border police found us most amusing, and asked where we were going. When they heard we were hoping to watch the game on a public big screen in the main sqaure of Zagreb they were surprised and warned us to be careful. Hmm....

Our first go at a hostel wound us up on a dirt road, so we scrapped that one and went on to find another one that looked decent, and also had available beds and a fair share of Aussies to boot. Great, a quick settle in and then on the tram to the main square.
We're waiting on the side of the main road for the tram and getting lots of bemused faces, friendly laughs, thumbs up and tooting of horns - our chests swelled up with pride, and we were further heartened by the chat on the tram we had with a bunch of high-school age boys who were quite cool.

We arrived in the main sqaure pretty early and dressed up like this:

Not long later the square was chockas - looking like this:

Mark and I were a bit nervous.
Luckily we found a few other Aussies (who happened to be staying at our same hostel) and about half a dozen poms (that's never good news...) and we all hung together. Before the game, and especially while Croatia were ahead the people round us were quite friendly and shaking hands, telling us how game we were and all the rest. We weren't afraid to let out a cheer and a chant, we sang the Aussie Anthem loud and proud, and the pommies went fairly balmy as they tend to do. Half time was a little hairy, we gave a rousing Aussie chant which ended abruptly when one of us was narrlowly hit with a bottle. That settled us down pretty quick.

Well we all know the final outcome - 2 all, which mean Australia went through. We were simply ecstatic, but let out a half-hearted chant and then went very quiet, quite wary of how the mood of those around us had changed. All good so far. Next thing a TV crew come over and encourage us to make some noise, so we cut loose! Chanting and screaming and whooping, we let them hav it! Then the sky tore apart and it rained bottles. Well, sprinkled maybe, but still bottles. We shut up again and ran across the road/tram lines to where there was a contingent of police standing.

Here we were slightly safer, and really it should be said that the majority of Zagrebians were really nice. One very large Croatian bear (it was more unusual for him to be human than hibernating) came up to us and said "Hey! Australians!" at which point we were poised to soil our durps before he continued with "PHOTO!!!" and we collectively sighed with relief and posed for him.
At the other end of the intimidation spectrum was a quite small fella who came up to me and said "Hey, Australians!" at which point I offered him my hand to shake. This was the most insulting thing I could have done, as he was here to taunt and start a fight, not to be amiable. And the group behind him looked pretty dark about it too. He gave me a mighty shove, which set me back all of 3mm I think, so I turned my back in his face (to hide my strange mix of trembling and sniggering as much as anything). At this time the police came over to us to talk with one of our group who was fluent in Croatian.
Soon later we were all ushered onto a tram - already fairly crowded before our contingent of a dozen Aussies/Poms and 4 or 5 cops. Just before we pulled out the same weedy Croat came up and tried to get on the tram, but he was kept out by the police officer stationed at the door, so as we were leaving I thought it entirely appropriate to blow him a few kisses and watch him explode.
We were instructed to leave the tram at a stop near our hostel where we noticed a police 4WD had been following us also. We all walked together to the hostel, we sang "For they're jolly good fellows" for the cops, and went inside for the merry making.
I offer you this photo as evidence of evening's outcome. Note the only men in colours are Mark and I who are also waving flags, right at the back. Crazy.

Drinking games ensued, which somehow tapered into singing Disney theme songs and being told to shut up and go to bed by a tough looking "woman" with more hair under her arms than on her head. We eventually did.

As a nice postscript, we later found out Mark had his photo published in the paper:

Not long later we woke. Our mates the hostel owners told us Kasha had come last night and waited for us. We felt bad for missing her, but left our e-mail addresses and returned a book we borrowed from her before hitting the road southbound.

Driving with the Carpathians far on our left we made for Slovakia where we stopped at Zvolen and found a pub to watch the football at. We were also treated to one of the hotest and nicest waitresses of the trip so far.
Slovakian toilets are weird. Well this one was. I pushed the button to turn on the lights, and found the only toilet in the men's. It was in such a tiny room that you couldn't stand infront of the toilet and have enough space to get your pants down and sit. So, thankful that noone else was around, I had to perform all this on the side of the toilet halfway out the door and then pivot on the seat. Also, whoever put together the room must have been a posture freak, cos you can't lean forward on seat or you whack your head on the toilet paper dispenser. And as I'm sitting there pondering all of this, the button I pressed for the lights pops out and next thing I'm sitting in the world's smallest toilet in the dark.

On the road again and we made it to Budapest at not a bad time, but got really badly caught in traffic. It was unbelievable, it wasn't a normal traffic jam because after sitting stopped for 5mins there was still no sign of movement. Not one. Literally a car park, but only in our direction. We later found out that G. Dubya had arrived in town, which I guess means an automatic shutdown of the place.
We made our way to the first hostel address that we had, but after driving past it a couple of times we couldn't see anything remotely hostelish about it, so we went on to the second address, where we were having the same problem until two very tourist looking girls went up to the door. Turns out there was a hostel there and they were staying at it, so we followed them up. The place was small, to the point where we mistook someone eating at a bench in the kitchen to be the receptionist behind his counter. When we did find the guy running the show, it was like he was in a dream daze - he was bewildered that we were able to be inside the hostel without him having let us in, and amazed that we would like to stay there. They didn't have beds anyway, but we sat down on a couch next to a cool Brazillian guy called Luiz and watched most of the Netherlands Argentina match. He told us there were beds at the hostel he was staying at (it didn't have a TV so he was here) and after the game we walked over with him and booked ourselves in.

We walked back to the car, admiring the city, then drove the car back to the hostel and took a wrong turn on the way. Next thing you know we're driving across the main bridge, and infront of us is a large statue lit up, and to our right is a massive lit up palace, and to our left are more massive statues on the top of a hill. We were completely and utterly flabbergasted, it was amazing and gorgeous. We dumped our stuff at the hostel, and the three of us and Luiz went out for a drive. We stopped at the citadel (the hill with big statues) and took photos of the night. So fantastic!

Big day.

We started out going to Auschwitz. There are two main camps you visit - Auscwitz 1 and Auschwitz 2 called Berkinau. By mistake we drove to Berkinau first, and were appalled by a young bloke in the parking area who came to wash the windscreen, then demanded money. I thought Mark was generous by giving him 5 Euro, but he wanted 15! I went to get out of the car to give him a serve but his mate came over and said it was alright. Unfreakingbelievable.

We soon discovered out mistake and drove over the Auchwitz 1, bought a guide book and wandered around. We went into all of the main blocks and most of the others. Rooms full of personal effects and hair gave scope to the scale of this camp. Rooms showing living conditions showed the dying conditions. We saw the prison within the prison, with a firing squad wall next to it and cells inside where people would suffocate, and others where 4 people were kept in a room too small for one person to lie down. We saw the gas chamber and crematorium that was mostly disassmbled (by the Nazis when they new they were being overrun) but what was intact was equipment designed and built with the purpose of being efficient at killing many people.

Back over to Berkinau which is just massive. A train line goes down the middle, at the end of it all the passengers got off, were sorted into those who could work (30% or less) and those who couldn't. Those who couldn't were marched straight into an underground area where they were told to take off their clothes for a shower, then they were crammed together into another much smaller room. Lethal gas was injeted for 15mins or so, and after it cleared men came in and brought the bodies out one at a time, shaving the hair (for a nearby textile factory) and pulling gold from tooth fillings before putting them in a furnace, one at a time.
There are ruins of the two gas chamber/crematoriums either side of the two platforms at the end of the train line and an international monument betwee them. There was some light rain on us when we walked past it.

We spent about 4 hours between both camps. It's an experience that is hard to write about so soon (even more than week!) after.


Heading back to Krakow we ignored TomTom's directions and followed signs (having been fooled by TomTom before into driving down dodgy back roads), but this time it was the wrong thing to do again, as they took us through a dozen villages and behind many a tractor.

Into the main square where we thought we'd be able to watch the Poland Costa Rica game, but there was no big screen! Jeez. Oh well, to a bar!
After the game we went to Dominium for dinner (it was quite good) then back to the hostel for a shower before once again going off in search of night life.

Wandering down the square I could have sworn I heard someone calling my name (in a funny accent). I turned around and sure enough, there were Greg and Stuart the two guys who left their party to show us around a couple of nights earlier! They call some mates (girls) and we all go out clubbing once more. It was a top blast, we hardly even realised the time was flying, and only eventually returned to the hostel at 5:30am.

We took the liberty of sleeping in, seeing as we were the only ones in our room. By the time we got up and had breakfast we were ready for another snooze, but our mate Kasha from the previous night had the day off for some random reason (the kids at school all decided to not show upor something...), so she volunteered to take us for a tour around Krakow.

We saw the old university, St Mary's cathedral with its gorgeous altar and colourful insides, Florencian(?) St and quickly walked through the strangest and most beautifully decorated restaurants I've ever seen, which was there. On to the Pope John Paul II window, along the oldest street in Krakow, and up to the castle where we had lunch before going into the cathedral. Pretty trippy to walk through the crypt where kings of centuries ago were laid. Even the guy who discovered Australia's largest mountain is buried there! (It's actually pronounced Kovchusco or something). Lastly, down below the castle to the mythical dragon that breathes fire whenever a virgin walks past... must have been on the blink though...

Back at the hostel we saw the end of the Saudi Ukraine gam, and all of Spain and Tunisia, then headed out again. A place called Dominiums was recommended to us by the Aussie we met the other night, but it was closed (again) so we just returned home and crashed.

Today we left the known quantity (ie, I'd been there once before haha) of the much loved Prague, and ventured onwards into what was the great unknown of Poland, and Krakow specifically.

Getting out of Prague was a bit of an ordeal. With TomTom not being hugely accurate, we (ok I was driving) took a wrong turn, and to do a u-turn and get back on the original road took us 20mins!
There were some gorgeous places along the way - so picturesque you just have to stop. Green rolling hills with quaint towns all along the way. Nature's visual hangover cure.

The border police at Poland had perhaps not seen Australian passports in a while; they certainly took their time looking us over. But soon enough we were through, and hooning down the road to get to Krakow in time for teh Aus/Brazil game, before running into a horse and carriage on the highway! It's a crazy place is Poland.

We found Krakow, and a place to stay, and went for a wander through the old town square to find a bar from which to watch the game. No Aussies around at all, but we soon ran into two Brazillians who actually turned out to be one Brazillian and one Pole wearing a Brazillian flag. Together we found a bar and became more interesting than the game itself to the locals who thoroughly enjoyed our antics. At the end, a group of girls came up and asked for a photo with Mark and I. Gotta love these Polish chicks.

Back to the hostel for a bit, and the hostel owners invite us out to the balcony for a BBQ with him and a couple of friends! Quite gernerous really, we'd just wandered in off the street that evening and already he was shouting us beer and food.
We had some fun with these guys, including lots of cross-language misunderstanding and even some cross-sexuality confusion when the owners (who are gay Poles, what else can you say), wonder out loud (in Polish) if Mark and I might also be (we were both wearing bright yellow jerseys, and laughing a lot together). Kasha (our new best friend as she was) soon alerted us to this, despite them telling her not to, but she did it in a way they didn't understand. Mark and I left pretty soon after that.

Left and went into town where we were going to meet our Brazillian mate at a club called Prozac. Turns out he wasn't there and we didn't like the place too much, so we wandered across the square looking for other options when we were stopped first by some poms who wanted to tell hear us say how good Brazil were, and then another couple of blokes who took us under their wing. One was a big Polish bloke, the other an Aussie, and they'd just then wandered off from another party for a brief moment to buy some food (even leaving a beer on the bar). But plans change, and next thing we know they were leading us all around trying to find a decent late night bite, and then on to a club where there we were promised no end of gorgeous Polish girls.
And right they were! There are gorgeous Poles for every appetite, from nymphs to amazons, and here was a great cross-section. Cheers to those fellas; Mark (especially!) and I (abstinantly!) went home more than satisfied, and quite exhausted.

Back into Prague for our last full day. We made our way to Wencesles Square, snapshotted a few sights we hadn't yet seen and then spent a bit of time shopping for gifts, and pants for Mark.

The previous night we'd met a couple of Americans at Pet Penez, one of whom was keen on going to see a church made of bones about an hour's drive away. Mark and I were keen so headed back out of the city in the early arvo to see if we could meet with her (we'd left a note at her hostel that morning). Turns out our note must have missed her, and we had no idea where to go, so we went back to our hotel, moved all of our stuff out to the new hostel, had a shower and then went back into the city to see Czech play Ghana. A great upset for us (as Aussies) to see, but the Czech folk weren't too impressed.
The atmosphere was nothing on the Germany Poland game in Dortmund, but it was still pretty good to be there.

We wandered around, looking for Sip and Joe who we missed catching up with, but then later found a nice underground bar with a big screen showing the night's game of USA vs Italy, along with a cute waitress out the front, and some American fans in the basement whom we could cheer against.
Even just the two of us making usual game-time noises must have been a bit much for the yanks, one of them gave us the finger when they scored, which we found hilarious, especially when we saw the replay and found it was an Italy own goal anyway!

Dinner done with, we went out the largest night club in Central Europe. This was quite a bit better than I remembered it, it had been cleaned and the top story was opened; a chillout bar which was a good place to go to get warmed up.
Mark and I danced the night away with various girls and the odd (one) queer Swede, spending most of our time on the 60's-80's floor just to be daggy.


Gotta love Prague. I'm glad Mark's going back on his Contiki tour so he can buy me a painting!

Feeling a bit jipped by the hotel we were staying in we wandered down the road to a hostel and booked our third night to be there. The place was pretty dingy actually, but it seemed solid and clean enough, the people were friendly, and it was quite cheaper.
Walking back to the hotel I looked over at PugPug (our car) in the hotel car park (behind a secure fence) and noticed it had its wheels clamped! Inside to sort out the drama, and they gave me a form to fill out that should have been put on the dash of the car the first time. Not to worry, not harm done thank goodness.

Next was sussing out the public transport to get us into the old city. It's easy enough to use and pretty much everywhere, so we had no trouble catching a tram into the city and then part way out of it again. D'oh. Have an argument and then catch the next tram back in.

Prague is really such a lovely city. We went into the old sqaure and saw the churches there, including the clock tower. Then over the Charles Bridge and found a place off the main road to eat a traditional Czech meal of roasted duck with potato dumplings, bread and two different types of cabbage.
Mark's camera died, so instead of climbing the hill to the palace we thought we'd head back to the hotel to have a shower (it was well over 30 degrees and were sweating like madmen) and then head back into town to watch the football from there.

Back at the hostel, we ran into a couple of other Aussies - Sip and Joe whom we go on great with, so we sat down to watch England just beat Trinidad & Tobego, went to our new favourite place for dinner "Pet Penez", and then back to the hotel for Sweden and Paraguay. By the end of that we'd had enough beer to just be ready for sleep, and what do you know, our beds were only a lift ride away so off we chuff and lights out.

Not a hugely eventful day today. We left Hagen fairly early, bound for Prague. Along the way were some perfect driving conditions: overcast and cool, open 3 lane autobahn; and we got the car up to 180km/hr with only a slight decline (a record we have yet to break...)

TomTom took us through Nuremburg (on the other side of the country to Nurburg) where we were yesterday), a city was vaguely familiar with (read: have been given a short tour of once before; not ever driven around it) so we pulled in for lunch and to check e-mails.

Back on the road and we were soon entering the Czech Republic. We made good time to Prague, and quickly discovered another problem withour whole sat-nav idea - the maps of Eastern Europe seem to be a little more than slightly off. Turns out it's not a showstpooer, but it requires whoever's not driving to be following the map and to know where you are, and to give directions rally driver style.

OK so we make it to the Exotl Inn alright in the end - with sme help from a local Czech driver who was already on the phone and who also manaed to honk his horn and point us to not turn down this particular street, but to go forwards more and down the next one. And watch out for that tram.

Anyway, this inn, it's nice and seems fairly new, but the prices are rip-off tourist traps and our bathroom is falling apart and isn't drained, so when some dope showers with the door open the floor is satched for a day and a half afterwards.

Staropramen beer is my fav so far.

Today was Mark's 21st birthday!
We left Pünderich (as we found out it's called) after a large breakfast and another long-but-with-minimal-content conversation with the sweet old landlady, on our way to the Nurburgring.

The tracks were closed because of a race the next day. This was a slight disappointment at first, but we soon saw that there was still heaps to do apart from sit and watch flash cars all day.
We started at the F1 track. The museum there was quite good, and it was a shame we had to race through it to make the tour. But the tour was worth it - it took us over through the 'paddocks' as they call them, and because of the race the paddocks were full of cars, and beautiful ones at that, and were being tuned. We got to go up into the media room, and also up onto the roof of the control centre/pits building, and down through the whole pits. Lots of great photos and just a top atmosphere of everyone running around like crazy getting their cars going for the race.
Next we went up to Nordschleife, the larger road circuit that we were really more interested in anyway. There's an M5 BMW taxi you can get to race you around the full circuit and we were hopefull to get in without any booking. But again, because of the race the next day the whole thing was booked out. Oh well, we did get to see a few flash cars doing test laps at least!

From Nürburgring it was to be over to Dortmund, and off we went, TomTom leading the way. Unfortunately we got caught in a large traffic jam - nearly doubling the time it should have taken us to get there, and we didn't even make it all the way. My PDA (mini-computer that runs TomTom) went flat just when we really needed it, and we discovered the car charger for it wasn't working the whole time.

Bugger, so we took the next exit and found a shopping centre where we were going to see if we could find a map and something to drink. We walked into a travel agent and were treated once again to generous hospitality German style - he phoned up places for us, tore a couple of maps out of his phone book and gave us directions to a nearby hostel and instructions on how to get into Dortmund.

Sweet, so off we go to dump the luggage and onto the train, making sure to walk in the completely wrong direction for the train station, just to stop us feeling clever.
Dortmund was just about in a state of riot. By the time we got there (about half way through the first half) there were gangs of police roaming some areas, the main square had the big screen torn down, and everyone was crowding around smaller screens in other pubs. Glass and rubbish (rubble even if it sounds better) covered the streets, and we even saw some stormtrooper-cops.
Finally we found a decent sized big screen, downstairs in a food court, with hundreds of people piled on top of each other. Perfect! In we get and join in the going nuts for the last half of the game. It was great timing - we were just able to help shield a couple of fraulines from the storming masses (they were quite.. appreciative) and still had 45mins of tension before the Germans actually scored and won the game.

Such a top and unique experience.