Having woken up the next morning, I decided to embark on a wee walking tour of Prague before things got busy. I was based not far from the old town, by the Nový Smíchov shopping centre, and so it was a short ride there on the Metro from Andel station. The Prague Metro is very much an ode to the 1970s and 80s, with refurbished Russian-built trains operating on two of the lines, and the stations often being very deep underground. That said, it’s cheap (around £0.80 single for a 30 minute journey, £1.05 for 90 minutes) and trains are clean and frequent.
It was already getting warm as I did the usual thing of wandering over the Charles Bridge and around Wenceslas Square, though there were few folk around at 7am on a Sunday, apart from a police officer who wanted a cigarette lighter. He didn’t take too kindly to being told no! After my legs had said enough is enough circa 8am, I took myself through the infamously rough park outside of the main station and boarded a service to Hradec Králové, which was formed of a rather long rake of carriages with old-school compartments.
This was where I started to trip up, as I marched along to the first class carriage to find little slips in all of the reservation holders that declared “Express Reservation” which I thought meant that the entire carriage was reserved rather than that reservations were possible, and I ended up slumming it in second class for the journey. It was an awfully social affair as around six of us squeezed into a compartment and conversation was certainly flowing. Well, not with me, as I spoke absolutely no Czech at the time (and even now, it’s still pretty limited!)
Having no real plan for the day, I then hopped aboard a local service to Pardubice, which was situated on the mainline towards Ostrava/Katowice/Warsaw and Brno/Bratislava/Budapest. The first service out of there on my arrival was the EuroCity “Metropolitan” to Budapest, first stop Brno, so that was my natural destination. I managed to get myself a seat in first class this time, and this was to be my first taste of proper European dining on a train. Flagging down the host, I paid around £3.50 for a bowl of goulash and a pint of beer, as the train did no more than 50mph, hugging the Svitava River for most of its journey.
When I arrived in Brno, it was a bit of a hike into the city proper, though I can’t exactly recall why as Maps would have you believe that you spill straight out into the centre. It’s certainly a pretty place, like a Prague in miniature, with a Chronometer marking the resistance of the city against Swedish invasion in 1645. I ended up being lazy on the return and catching the tram back to the station, where I was intending to travel down to Břeclav, right on the southern tip of the country, bordering Slovakia and Austria.
However, when I boarded the railJet service bound for Graz, it was absolutely rammed, so I gave up on that idea and crossed over onto an imminent departure for Plzeň. Not a bad plan I thought, until I brought up the timetable and saw that it was a six hour journey with two locomotive changes en route. It would be 8pm by the time we wheezed and spluttered in. The first stop was 45 minutes away in Náměšť nad Oslavou, so I unceremoniously hauled myself off there, relieved to see a stopping train ready to go back in the other direction.
It wasn’t all bad though, as the scenery was pleasant enough and the trains were peaceful enough. After about 40 minutes or so, I left the train at Brno Horni Herspice station, to the south of the city, for a connection to Břeclav once and for all. The issue with this station though was, well, the lack of it. There was a rather abandoned looking station building and an assortment of narrow slipways that were the only thing protecting me from the crack Berlin-Budapest expresses, and no real information on which one of the 10 or so tracks my train would stop at.
Thankfully, the train did at least arrive, and it was just a case of looking both ways and running across the tracks before climbing up onto the train. I spent most of the journey stood at the back, watching the tracks and scenery disappear behind us, before realising that it was getting on for 4pm and that I needed to be back in Prague at some point today. Hence, it was straight across the platform at Břeclav onto a train for Staré Město u Uherského Hradiště, and onwards to Olomouc, completing a sort of loop around the country. The first train’s conductor was the most miserable man in existence, pushing my Interrail pass back into my hands as I tried to show it. A jolly young lass covered in tattoos with neon pink hair brightened things up later on. There is still very much a divide between staff who’ve joined in the past few days and old hands from the communist “Statni Drahy” era.
The final train of the evening was to be a service from Warsaw, with its’ only First Class carriage being absolutely rammed full, so I headed all the way to the back of the train for a rather beaten-up open carriage that was completely empty at least, giving some lovely views of the sun dropping as we ate up the miles back towards Prague. I ended the day in Tesco once again, sipping a couple of beers in my hotel room as I planned out the next adventure.
I was up early the next morning and in a rather foul mood as the long days were making hangovers worse than ever. This morning I was travelling on the SuperCity train back towards Olomouc, the intention being to sample what was the “premium” service in the Czech Republic. One feature of this service is the fact that everyone is served a sparkling glass of Bohemia Sekt, no matter what the hour of the day is. So, being incredibly clever, I necked some of that wine at 7am before I’d even eaten anything. Thankfully, something resembling breakfast followed shortly afterwards.
It wasn’t a smooth journey at all. We ended up slowing down and stopping for around an hour en route, due to a person being hit by a train, made incredibly obvious by the literal body bag slumped by the tracks. That wasn’t exactly a good start to the day and my stomach wasn’t appreciating the Sekt breakfast. On arrival in Olomouc, I saw that my connection to Puchov (SK) was also delayed by about 45 minutes so I’d be down an hour later on. While I was pondering this, an old man decided to fall down the station escalator so I found myself vaulting over a wall to kick the emergency stop while other folk made sure he wasn’t too injured. As you can tell by my slightly sarcastic description of him, he was unhurt.
Eventually the EuroCity bound for Žilina arrived and I was screamed at for daring to sit in First Class by the bloke on the buffet counter. While it was a pretty journey across the border, all of the staff on board had attitudes like they were trying to start an argument with somebody and I was glad to be off in Slovakia to the echos of “STANICE- PUCHOV!” as I awaited my connection to Bratislava hl.st. It was a fairly calm trip and pretty easy to forget, as the rain fizzled out in time for arrival in the Slovak capital. However, it would be another year before I would visit the city itself, as I had a brisk walk over for a train to Devinska Nova Ves, purely to kill an extra 10 minutes as the Vienna train would be following behind afterwards.
I made a slight error leaving the train here, as I blindly opened the door on the left hand side and ended up stepping straight into the middle of a busy, active freight yard rather than onto a platform. Thankfully, this being Central Europe, I just stood back from the train and gave the driver a thumbs up to depart, the stationmaster being completely unfazed by me appearing from behind a moving train. The train to Vienna pootled in behind, and I had soon dumped my bags before catching a local train to Wien Mitte station for a spot of dinner (ie McDonald’s) and went for a wander.
All I can say is wow. I suddenly felt very at home in the warm summer sunshine roaming the pristine streets and milling around the likes of the Volksgarten, with different rosebushes being named after nominated people. There was even a film festival going on across the road, so I had myself a beer and soaked up the atmosphere. I was especially pleased that after a couple of days, I’d be back here for a second time.
The next morning, it was an early start as I caught the train back to Bratislava followed by a Rychlik (fast) train across to Leopoldov, essentially retracing my steps partway from the previous afternoon (the line to Leopoldov then continuing towards Puchov and Žilina). The connection to Nove Zamky was awaiting across the tracks, and so naturally we all jumped down and climbed back up onto the other platform. This was a faff and a half of a journey, with it being advertised as terminating at Lužianky where there would be a connection. In fact, when I jumped off at Lužianky, I found that the train merely connected to another portion and continued onwards, so I sheepishly jumped back on board.
That wasn’t the end of it though, as we in fact terminated at a station called Ivanka Pri Nitre, for a replacement bus to Komjatice, a couple of stations down the line. Usually, a replacement bus service is a farcical affair, but the Central European approach is quite efficient. All of the train-crew abandoned the service and caught the bus with us, which raced down the road to try and keep time with the train timetable. The same had been done in reverse with passengers going the other way, meaning that an abandoned train was awaiting us at the other end, which we all jumped aboard, having lost two minutes on the usual schedule.
We then arrived in Nove Zamky where I could have joined the EuroCity train to Budapest but instead caught the Osobni Vlak (stopping train) to Komárno for a rather unconventional way of crossing the border. It was a short trip to the end of the line behind a rather antiquated Czechoslovak locomotive, with the presence of the border being rather obvious as indicated by the bilingual station signage at Bajč/Bajcs and Hurbanovo/Ogyalla.
I now had around an hour or so to stroll over the border, on foot. I stopped en route at a Spar for a couple of drinks, and took in the rather charming little town. Once, this had formed a hard border between two Communist bloc countries that weren’t exactly enamoured with the Soviet Union, lying at the confluence of the Danube and Váh rivers. It would be the Danube that I crossed, having attained a few suspicious looks for photographing the Slovak side of the town. It was a rather eerie crossing, with the abandoned border infrastructure lying silent, and me being the only pedestrian walking over into Komarom, a rather less aesthetically pleasing place as I walked down a side street into Komarom Station, over a rickety bridge and onto a platform awaiting the twice-daily train to Esztergom.
This was an odd one as it stopped at many stations, all of them deserted, yet still complete with stationmasters giving the driver the right away, though it seemed to be the case that most were jumping in their cars and going elsewhere, just popping in to wave their batons. The names were also rather uninspiring. After all, who decides they’re going to pay a visit to Tat? Hungary has gone through a phase of closing lines like these, but some are reopening again after only a couple of years after a great deal of backlash. Hence, it was me, myself and I hugging the south bank of the Danube and arriving into Esztergom.
You can actually cross the river here into Sturovo, the border station between Slovakia and Hungary on the crack expresses between Prague and Budapest, but the station itself is a far kilter out of town, being on the line that instead crosses into the town on Szob (pronounced Shob) on the north bank of Danube. Thankfully Esztergom has plentiful trains to Budapest, and it took around an hour to reach Budapest-Nyugati.
I spent the evening on the banks of the Danube, taking in the absolutely gorgeous architecture of the city. Budapest surprised me as it was actually not dissimilar to Vienna, rather than the down-at-heel Central European capital you’d expect. It was clean, cheap and had an excellent public transport system, being around £3.63 for a day pass that would get you on anything. I ended the day by catching the Metro to Kobanya-Kispest, complete with giant Tesco, for some supplies.
The next day, I actually wasn’t really using my pass at all, instead heading up to the Budapest Childrens’ Railway. This was a legacy of the communist era that’s continued into the present, with it being equal parts impressive and a little bit weird. No doubt, back in the day, it was a good way of getting yourself in good kilter for a job on the big railway. It wasn’t terribly difficult to reach, being on the hilly Buda side of the city but linked by regular tram services. I rocked up in time for the first service of the day, and was served in perfect English by the only adult in the ticket office, before boarding the train.
Before the service departed, the children all lined up on the platform and seemed to say some sort of pledge of allegiance to working hard for the railway and doing their best that day (I’d imagine that back in the day it was to the Communist Party of Hungary!) We then departed, and my conductor can’t have been more than about seven years old. It was slightly adorable having this wee kid, fully adorned in a smarter uniform than his adult counterparts at MAV-START, turning around to me and barking “Következő megálló…!” everytime we pulled into a station. All other things aside though, it was a gorgeous little run along the hillside with views of Budapest through the trees.
A connection was then made down the hill by using the Cogwheel Railway, which is every bit as bumpy as it sounds. Just imagine an ancient clunky Metro-type train bouncing you down a hill a little faster than it probably should, and that’s the Coggy. I spent the rest of the morning exploring the city some more before having a spot of lunch and then catching the Szemelyvonat (stopping train) out to Vac. This is a pretty little town not too far out of Budapest, lying on the banks of the Danube, and it was a nice little break from the hustle and bustle.
Having taken in the scenery, I boarded another stopper back into Budapest, the conductor trying to tear my pass in half in the process. There was only one thing left to do really, and that was to climb the Citadella. This is an old fortification lying at the top of Gellért Hill, which these days provides a gorgeous viewpoint over the city. In 1956 though, it was used by Soviet-led troops to overthrow the Nagy-led government of the time. I of course wasn’t going to walk up the hill, and caught the adorably tiny bus around the winding streets up to the top, taking in the marvellous views and ignoring the people selling ludicrously expensive bottles of beer.
The next morning soon beckoned, and I was off to Nyugati Station to catch the 06:28 fast train to Debrecen. The train was actually continuing to Zahony, on the Ukrainian border, but several hours at what felt like jogging pace was enough for me in one go. I had a rather battered compartment to myself for the first hour or so to Szolnok, with the conductor being completely befuddled by my Interrail pass. An old man then joined me up to Debrecen, and this is where my faith in humanity went up a little. He clearly wasn’t well off, but having watched me neck the last of my water, he pulled out a 2L bottle and handed it over. He knew I didn’t know the words in Hungarian to thank him, but he seemed unbothered. It was just the done thing to share with others.
Debrecen was a beautiful wee city, with the centre-point being the vast “Debrecen-Nagytemplomi Református Egyházközség” or Reformed Great Church, fronted by a statue of Lajos Kossuth, the Statesman and revered orator who spent his life at the forefront of the fight for Hungarian Independence. It was however rather quiet, as the trams seemed to be off, with a few being parked, rather trustingly, not far from the church. Aldi and SPAR were a little further on, so I stocked up on supplies before the rather long walk back to the station and embarking on a wee loop around the rest of Eastern Hungary.
I joined the 11:53 fast train to Zahony as far as Nyíregyháza, where I’d just missed the train bound for Miskolc. I’ve no doubt that the town itself is very pretty, but due to the immense heat and the fact that it was at least 20 minutes into the centre, I spent my 59 minute waiting time in the air-conditioned station hall. The train was only going as far as Szerencs, and my god it was even more ramshackle than the last. I climbed up from the platform and slumped into the brown leather seats that would have passed for a British Railway carriage circa 1960, and hung out of the window at waist height for most of the journey, taking in the breeze as we didn’t seem to get much above 40mph.
The train from Szerencs to Miskolc was much the same, except there was a belching old Diesel Loco at the head. That said, I encountered much the same issue with Miskolc-Tiszai Station, in that it was absolutely miles from the much-renowned city itself, and with time getting on, it was then time to head back to Budapest and take in one last view of the Danube before it was time to move on the next morning.
I didn’t have a particularly good start though, as my 06:40 RailJet to Vienna didn’t manage to get anywhere, having broken down before departure. Much to the bemusement of the passengers, the conductor insisted on only explaining the issues in Hungarian, with the message gradually filtering through in German from my fellow travellers that the locomotive was zonked. Thankfully, the 07:40 service did bother to work, and we departed an hour behind schedule.
I’d booked a Business Class upgrade for this leg all the way through to Graz, which was only an extra 10EUR for a private compartment with a massive seat that was essentially a lie-flat bed. The scrambled eggs and mushrooms on toast (extra cost) were alright, though a wee bit sloppy for my liking. That said, Budapest-Keleti doesn’t exactly have many other food options, so you’re better off just having whatever’s on offer on the train. It was then an easy enough transfer onto another train in Vienna, this being a Czech RailJet that was the 04:40 from Prague, complete with a different Business Class that had me sat opposite (albeit a fair distance away) a bloke who promptly moved himself elsewhere.
It was a beautiful journey over the Semmering Pass, though the weather was starting to close in as we descended into Graz, and I realised that I had about an hour and a half to give the entire city a fleeting visit. Such was the rain, all I can remember is that it was rather pretty but I was becoming evermore frustrated with lugging my bags everywhere and getting soaked! Hence, jumping on the train to Spielfeld-Straß was somewhat of a relief. Less of a relief was the fact that my train over the border into Slovenia was now a bus!
It didn’t take any longer, certainly, but it was rather strange being dumped in a new country without using my legs or the train. What would Maribor have to offer?
To be continued.
The Lone Bon Voyager 