The furthest point away from home

Bucharest is the most eastern point of my trip, it’s getting hard to believe I’ve been through so many different places during the last month and this is one of the final stops of my European adventure. It was very annoying that I had to spend most of the 29th in a train, but there were some really nice views of a sunset as we crossed a bridge over the Bulgaria-Romania border.

I met up with two friends from the German school in 2004 and we had a nice dinner, but there was hardly any time that evening to see the city. Before entering the restaurant weather had been quite clear, but when we came out after the meal I was surprised to see a thick mist had descended and things were a lot more obscure.

So I only had one day to explore. It’s always my fate with transportation that things work the wrong way round. The train I eventually caught to Bucharest was over half an hour late and I was there on time, but the previous night’s service had run perfectly to schedule when I had been praying for a delay.

Walking around the Romanian capital with one of my friends, I noticed a large amount of people selling fireworks at market stalls in the streets. At home there’s nothing like this; licensing laws to deal in that kind of thing are strict, as are regulations regarding the age at which they can be purchased. In Bulgaria there are apparently similar laws, which are often disregarded by merchants because they simply want the money.

We visited the Parliament next, which is actually the world’s second largest building after the Pentagon – a fact the Romanians are clearly quite proud of. It’s also constructed using one hundred percent domestic materials, with nothing brought in from outside, although the construction isn’t yet finished. Our guide looked extremely irritable, becoming annoyed when people asked her questions and seeming to rush through the tour at the fastest possible speed. I thought that was really stupid – why work in such a job if you don’t want to provide information and answers to the visitors?

The building itself was architecturally very grand; a rookie 28-year-old architect had been given this massive task and, with the help of a design team, risen to it spectacularly. It’s all very cleverly done, with patterns on the floors acting as maps of the entire structure and lots of matching motifs in different rooms on features such as floors, curtains, windows and fireplace grates. Where there are no windows, ventilation holes are neatly incorporated into the ceiling layout and false skylights provide the main illumination. Lots of architectural styles have been used, with variance from room to room, so there’s always something new to take in.

And even more fascinating is the fact that the palace extends to the same extent underground as it does above. New areas are discovered quite frequently and no one but the original designer has exact plans; apparently a swimming pool was found quite recently. I suppose this is a bit like the British Parliament at Westminster, which has an extensive network of secret corridors and doorways that politicians can use to make a dramatic entrance. However, I think one difference is that our Parliament isn’t rented out as much to commercial clients for big events and conferences.

After leaving the parliament and walking out to be greeted by pouring rain, we headed for shelter near an apartment complex off a large street, busy with wet-weather traffic and devoid of pedestrians. I’d forgotten an umbrella, unusual for a native of England to do. As we waited in vain for the conditions to brighten, a stray dog wandered up to join us and a few minutes after another had arrived. When finally we decided to move on, they followed us a long way down the road, having obviously enjoyed the attention we gave them. The dogs weren’t really unhealthy or anything – they probably feed off scraps in the garbage and things like that – but people clearly don’t have the money to maintain them as pets and that’s a sad thing.

As I write this now, I am again on a night train. But it’s not as comfortable a journey as it should be, since there was a massive unfair confusion which meant I got kicked out of the sleeping car compartment I reserved and forced back into second class, where I am sharing a small space with four other people. I had paid the supplement fee on the platform to an attendant, who informed the train porter I had done so. Then the porter seemed to have memory loss and started demanding I pay again, which I refused to do. We didn’t speak the same language and had to call on a couple of other passengers for interpretation, but the situation ended badly and it’s very annoying.

But I’m looking forward to returning to Belgrade, where I will celebrate the new year with a few friends I met at the World Youth Congress in Scotland. My original plan had been to spend it in Budapest, their home city, but they then decided Belgrade would be a better option. We’ll be heading to Hungary on new year’s day, so that should be interesting as well.

Extended stay in Sofia

Right now I’m sitting on a train supposed to be heading for Bucharest, but there’s a great deal of confusion in the atmosphere due to several contributing factors.

Firstly, none of the staff speak English. A few different people have come round checking tickets but they aren’t wearing any kind of uniform. There’s a short man with thinning grey hair, a youngish woman and another large bloke carrying a stick. I’ve also been passed by a couple of uniformed police officers and noticed one guy in green trousers with a gun strapped around his waste, clearly visible to anyone nearby.

Secondly, there’s the fact that I didn’t sleep at all last night. After missing the train I wanted to take at 7.30pm by one minute because of a late taxi, I had nowhere to sleep and spent around eight hours at the cheapest internet café in Sofia (under £5 for the whole stay). It was a surreal experience and surprisingly I wasn’t the only person there: several gaming freaks were online until the early hours.

Spending a day in the train rather than a night is very annoying. Now I’ll only have one day in Bucharest, when I’d wanted to have two like I’ve been doing with all the other places. It’s not the end of the world though and hopefully this train will be OK…

But what about Sofia? The busy capital of Bulgaria was definitely a fascinating place and I had great guidance from my host Dejan, one of the kindest guys I’ve ever met. He’s a friend of someone I know from the German course last year, who unfortunately wasn’t around himself this week. It was Dejan’s suggestion to visit the internet place: his brother was coming home that night so there was no space for me there anymore and nearly all his friends were out of town.

On the first day I saw just about everything there is to see. Sofia has many beautiful churches, due to the Bulgarian people’s enslavement by the Ottoman Empire for 800 years. Many of the Orthodox or Catholic ones are build underground because the Turkish rulers decreed that their churches had to be the tallest. The Alexander Nevsky Cathedral, a main landmark, was grand and impressive, but what wasn’t so impressive was the swarm of beggars clamouring for loose change all around it. One woman even had the nerve to follow us down the street for a couple hundred metres and only went away when given money. It’s such a shame that people need to behave this way simply in order to survive.

Another point of interest was Sloveikov Square, an area of market stalls with an infamous reputation. Apparently you can find any book, film or computer software programme among the low tables, even if it means pirate copies of unreleased movies. From that perspective it’s similar to London, where shady vendors carrying rucksacks of dodgy DVDs make their living from selling under the table in pubs or other places they can escape the eye of the law.

Someone told me there had been snow at home and there also was in Sofia a couple of days before I arrived. Temperatures were sub-zero and the white stuff everywhere, although increasingly degenerated to a dangerous icy slush in many places. Not wanting my travel insurance premium to increase, I had to tread carefully to avoid slipping – and it was especially risky when hurrying around before missing that train last night.

Bulgaria must have the best currency name in all Europe, if not the world: Lev and Stotinki. A popular joke is to imagine the Bulgarian version of rapper 50 Cent, who would be called 50 Stotinki – a much better name in my opinion.

A minor culture shock I had came from Bulgarian head gesturing. I’m used to a nod signifying ‘yes’ and a shake meaning ‘no’, but they don’t use nodding here. Instead they have two slightly different ways of shaking the head from side to side. It seemed strange to me when, for example, a waitress shook her head after we asked to pay at a restaurant – I thought she was refusing. But I got used to it eventually and there’s an interesting story about how this mannerism developed historically.

During the Turkish rule, when many innocent civilians were being cruelly slaughtered for the reason of religion, it was common for Ottoman soldiers to ask the question “are you Catholic?” They would do so while holding a knife, sword or spear to the victim’s throat, so when they nodded their head in affirmative they met an untimely end. So to avoid this the current system of shakes for both yes and no was adopted.

Enforcement of tyrannical laws such as this during the slavery period were common, but today the situation is apparently very different regarding police. They are often brutal in their methods, but that’s only when they’re actually doing their jobs. Most of the time they are moaning about bad pay and not upholding the law in the ways they should. This seems to be a bad situation of two extremes: they either do absolutely nothing or go too far. And, similar to London, there’s also a lot of unfair discrimination towards young people.

As well as seeing Sofia’s historical heritage, I also visited what is very much a symbol of the modern age. ‘Sofialand’, a large entertainment complex just outside the city, has arcades, bowling, food, drink and a small fairground at the disposal of visitors. It seemed to be quite a popular place; there were lots of people around even though much of the outdoor area was closed and this is a time of year when many are on holiday.

My train had a couple more stops, including quite a long one we only just left. Outside I can see endless countryside, which is fairly pleasant as these things go, and bright sunshine is giving a summary look to the scenery. Haven’t crossed the border yet and I think there’s at least another three hours to go before reaching Bucharest, but it’s hard to be sure because of the language barrier problems.

Welcome to the East

My first impression of Belgrade was the recognition that this would probably be very different to everything else I’d previously seen. The passport control officer on the train gave me a few nervous moments when she said my name into a walkie-talkie and had a brief discussion in Serbian with a man at the other end. Thankfully it was OK though.

As we approached the main station, I noticed what looked like a shanty town out of the window; its existence was later confirmed. There had been no ‘cardboard city’ in any of the other places I’ve visited recently. It was quite a shock to see something like this blatant symbol of abject poverty, definitely the worst living conditions yet on my journey through Europe.

After meeting my friend’s friend at the station and getting all that stuff sorted, we headed out to meet a few other people at a club in town. It was an underground location, apparently one of three similar venues, and that created an interesting atmosphere. It was quite small and the fact it was full of people further enhanced that effect. Very different to anything I’ve seen in London or anywhere else, but all in all I’d say it was definitely a good place for Saturday night.

The next day, Christmas for me, I ventured out into the unknown, slightly intimidated by the city and its people. A lot of the signs were in Cyrillic, which is the country’s official alphabet – so this included all street names. I’m so glad I decided to learn it a few weeks ago, otherwise I’d have been completely lost and confused. The map I borrowed was all in Latin text, so it took me a while to make the translations, but in the end I found my way to the city centre.

Before reaching this, I deliberately took a walk in the opposite direction in order to avoid the commercialisation and modern environment I expected. On the streets I saw many sellers of multicoloured pet fish and even a couple with rabbits and dogs. I also stumbled upon a bustling marketplace; it was one of the ones where you can find absolutely anything if you look hard enough or know where to go. All kinds of food, electrical goods, clothes and household items were available and, although there was some basic layout, things weren’t brilliantly arranged. You could find a stall with kitchen and bathroom taps located next to a fish booth, with live specimens on display in a tank.

The streets around this phenomenal area were all very poor. Outside lots of them were parked old, dirty, dusty cars, some of which looked like they hadn’t been used for years. One of the most common models is the ‘Yugo’, which is not equipped with safety belts in the back seats. People I spoke with told me Serbia is where the “East” begins – Zagreb is a lot more prosperous than Belgrade, which was bombed by NATO in 1999. The Serbian currency, the Dinar, is exchangeable at around 125 for a pound, which made everything seem very expensive although it really wasn’t.

After leaving this part of the city and heading back towards the centre, things steadily became a lot more developed. There’s a large pedestrian area of shops and entertainment near the Republic Square and everything you’d ever see in London, Rome or New York with regards to technology can be found. The same mobile phone culture seems to be everywhere: people just can’t live without one anymore, wherever they are, and wouldn’t want to think about what life was like before the items became widely available. Internet cafes were a lot more uncommon than in, for example, Rome – I had to ask in several shops and luckily a few employees could speak good English so told me where to go.

When telling people about my trip through Europe they became greatly envious. It’s a lot harder for them to travel anywhere, with a visa process involving dozens of documents and lengthy amounts of time and effort. Only now have I learnt to fully appreciate being part of the EU and the freedom of movement this entails. Our brothers and sisters in Belgrade and throughout the Eastern bloc have very limited possibilities to leave, even if they want to study, and many must harbour dreams of being able to get out and live somewhere else.

So, this was a Christmas very different to anything else I’d ever experienced. No celebrations, no presents, no realisation of the occasion for me. I spent the day wandering around a new city, in the same non-festive state of mind which has been going for a few weeks now. It’s strange to have “missed out” on it for 2005, but this pays testament to the crazy year I’ve had and is also, I suppose, a consequence of travelling around so much and wanting to explore. Interestingly, they celebrate New Year twice: both on December 31 and a few days after their own Xmas on January 7. A couple of my friends from Hungary are planning to be in Belgrade for NYE and I may well return and celebrate with them, then move on to Budapest after that. Hopefully the weather will clear up a bit from how it was today – torrential rains reminded my of being back in England.

As I write I am sitting on a sparsely occupied night train to Sofia, the capital of Bulgaria. It’s been a very uneventful journey so far, with not even a visit from the ticket inspector, and I have used the luxury of a compartment all to myself to unpack and repack my bags, which were getting quite disorganised and messy. I don’t really want to go to sleep yet, although I’m feeling quite tired, because I’m not sure when we’re scheduled to cross the border and don’t want to be woken up by passport controllers. I’ve just discovered there’s no working sink facility in this carriage, which probably means no toilet as well – not the best thing to find out with over six hours left til we reach the destination. The terminus of this service is Skopje, Macedonia, so I have to be careful not to miss my stop and end up there by accident. I do plan to visit, just not on this excursion.

Zagreb

The train at Ljubljana station was about 45 minutes late – I at least could understand the basic message of PA announcements as I sat on the freezing platform, my breath creating metre-long steam trails as I exhaled.

And if that wasn’t annoying enough, there was a big commotion getting on because hardly any space remained in nearly all its six-seated compartments. I formed an alliance of desperation with the nearest person and we searched through the train to no avail. Luckily he was a talented negotiator and managed to persuade the ticket inspector to let us into his dark, empty compartment.

It turned out my companion was a disillusioned Croatian artist who spoke good English as well as several other languages. He was returning to Zagreb for a family Xmas from his home in Ljubljana and talked about the fascinating travel experiences of his life so far.

His father had been a diplomat (perhaps that’s where the negotiating skills came from) and as a result he’d lived in a few different countries during childhood. But apparently all this travelling had caused fractious relationships with the family – just imagine a complete change of setting when moving countries, then as soon as you’re nearly settled down there it’s time to leave again. Although I love travelling, I wouldn’t want it to happen like this.

It’s true that time can pass quickly when speaking to other people during journeys – before I knew it we had arrived. I had two new stamps in the passport, after the artist (whose name I never knew) kindly asked the inspectors to put them in. My friend from Zagreb, who I met at a German summer school in 2004, was there on the platform and first we went back to his place so I could leave my backpack there.

The 23rd had been his last day of school before the Christmas holidays and he planned to celebrate with a few people at a bar in the centre. It had pool tables and we played a few games, but apparently the main nightlife happens only on Saturdays. Unlike at home, Croatian culture is that Friday is usually a quiet one, even if it’s the end of term for so many people.

I wasn’t really sure what plans would be for the next day – originally I had intended to take a train to Belgrade at 11:10 and arrive around 17:00. But I wanted to see more of Zagreb and meet up with someone else from the even in Vilnius, so the second option was to leave at 16:45, arriving about 23:00.

In the end that was the choice I made; we were going to wake up early and see the city, but that didn’t really work so we needed more time. Also, I discovered the person I’d be visiting in Belgrade wasn’t actually the there, so alternative arrangements needed to be made. Spending most of Saturday evening – also Christmas eve – on a train wasn’t going to be exciting, but it was the best option available.

The weather in Zagreb was wonderful. I awoke and opened the blinds to be greeted by bright sunshine, which promised a great day. It’s so unusual for me to have such a luxury in December, I think this is another factor in my non-Christmassy frame of mind. Rome also had unseasonable sun and if at home I’m pretty sure it would be the usual grim, grey English scenario.

One thing I didn’t realise was that war in Croatia only ended in 1995. We don’t get taught much about the Balkan conflicts, perhaps because so many effects still remain and the events can’t yet be consigned to history.

But although these may remain in the hearts and minds of many alive during the time, Zagreb city centre doesn’t give any clues at all. The new Mayor has apparently been doing a good job since his recent election, but even without this I doubt I’d be able to tell Zagreb was part of a nation in conflict only ten years ago.

It’s a very modern place, with lots of shops and entertainment possibilities and a good transport system consisting of buses and trams. Many of the main streets were alive with last-minute Christmas shoppers, including my friend Filip who bought eight boxes of chocolates. Traditional music was playing in the city square and there was a really nice atmosphere.

We walked to the appropriately-named ‘upper town’ so I could see the historical side of Zagreb. One church with an amazing roof design instantly caught my eye, colourfully displaying national symbols. The whole compound had been a fortress in medieval times and they had done all the usual witch-burning antics common of the era.

After a visit to the city museum where, surprisingly, most of the information was only in Croatian, we walked around a bit more before meeting my other friend. He’s actually from another (unpronounceable) city quite nearby, but studies in Zagreb and goes there a lot on weekends.

Seeing him again so soon after we’d met in Vilnius was pretty crazy; it was strange to realise how quickly the time has gone since then. That was the week of November 28. Now it’s nearly a month later, I’ve been to a few more countries and conferences and time is running out on 2005.

The train, where I am right now, is incredibly cold. For some reason the heating system is failing us, maybe it froze. Passport inspectors have just come round, as we’re about to leave Croatia, and the vehicle is not moving. Two other people are sitting silently with me in the compartment and another man was here earlier; we have been communicating in German, they don’t speak any English. There’s longer than two hours before we reach Belgrade...

Ljubljana

As a native if of the United Kingdom, I’m not really used to the concept of being able to just hop into a car and be in another country. But that’s what we did and in under half an hour were in Slovenia – the small industrial town of Sežana from where our train to Ljubljana would depart.

Its driver curiously chose to keep the glass door to his cockpit wide open (something which would never happen in London), but compared to some of my previous rail journeys this wasn’t such a long one: we arrived a little after 11.30. Unfortunately this was too late to meet someone I knew from the conference in Vilnius – she was waiting at 11, but then had to rush off and do other things. Two people is still a good number to explore a city though, so we ventured out into the cold – it had clearly snowed very recently and lots of it was piled up at roadsides.

Despite the fact it’s the capital of Slovenia, Ljubljana is a very small city and it has that atmosphere. At this time of year, so close to Christmas, the streets are decorated with glowing lights and there is a market in full swing.

One of the main landmarks is the castle, situated at the top of quite a large hill – it was a good thing I left my backpack in a locker at the station. From the top we had what would have been a spectacular view, had it not been for the cloudy and foggy weather conditions. On the way up we passed through a residential area, but it must be a real pest hiking to and fro every day.

Currency and language in Slovenia were both sources of great confusion for me. There is some kind of complicated equation to convert Slovenian “Tolarjev” into Euros and I then had to make another conversion into pounds to fully understand prices. And if my understanding of French is bad and Italian worse, Slovenian has to be the new rock bottom – somewhere down with Czech and Arabic.

Even though we can count the hours to Christmas day, for some reason I’m just not in the spirit of the occasion. Actually, I think it’s a combination of factors…

First, there’s the fact I won’t be really celebrating it anyway. Since the planning stages of this trip I’ve known about the differences in calendar between the UK and Serbia – their Christmas isn’t until January 7 because they use the Orthodox system.

Secondly, there was the conference in Campobasso. If at home during that time I wouldn’t have been working nearly as intensely. Xmas has just snuck up in all the busyness and now it’s just around the corner.

Finally, I still have the feeling there’s a lot more of 2005 yet to come. Everything has happened so quickly in the last few months and life has been hard to keep up with at times. I can’t quite believe this crazy year is about to end.

Maybe this will change in the next couple of days when I’ll be visiting another friend in Zagreb. The thing with Ljubljana was that I didn’t have enough time to form distinct impressions of the city. It doesn’t just “hit” you in the same way as Rome or Venice and I’d need longer to construct my views.

I should have this in Zagreb though, that will be another European capital crossed off the list. I’ve heard the weather can be quite random and unpredictable there, especially at this time of year, so am prepared for the worst. But surely it can’t be colder than Ljubljana…?

Firenze, Venezia, Trieste

After an amazing few days in Rome I was looking forward to exploring the renaissance wonderland of Florence. Unfortunately there were several factors which combined to greatly restrict this possibility.

First of all there was the lateness of my train. Although I had anticipated this to happen, in accordance with my other experiences of Italian timekeeping, it was nevertheless disappointing when I arrived at the main station around 9pm – nearly one-and-a-half hours later than scheduled. Once I’d found my hostel of choice, the Archi Rossi, selected because of its inexpensiveness, and sorted the accommodation arrangements (€19 for one night, perfectly acceptable), the streets were dark and deserted with little possibility for sightseeing.

I still went out though and had quite a nice walk around. Even at night some of the landmarks are stunning – although probably not as good as in daylight. Surprisingly, I heard a lot of American (or Canadian) voices in the ancient streets, which mere more crowded than the modern city centre.

This area was largely unspectacular compared to the famous architecture and well-preserved monuments. Litter was scattered around the pavements and the only possibility for eating was a fast food place where I had one of the worst tasting pizza slices ever, all plasticky and horrible.

Since there had been no time for proper exploration that evening, I planned to rise at the crack of dawn to look around some more. My train to Venice was due to leave at 8.39 and, despite the fact it was blatantly going to be late, this still left hardly any time in the morning. And it was restricted even further when the presence of a loudly-snoring fellow traveller in my shared hostel bedroom meant I couldn’t sleep til the small hours and was resultedly incapable of waking again at 6am.

So it was in a frenzied hurry that I jumped out at 8, silently scurrying around in the darkness with a torch in my mouth trying to prepare for imminent departure (and wishing I’d selected the other possible accommodation option, a single room for only a few more Euros). Only just caught the train, but at least managed to catch up on sleep for a while during the three-hour journey.

When I woke we were nearly at Venice and I was very excited. After seeing numerous pictures of and TV shows about the city at home, I couldn’t wait to discover it for myself. I was also meeting a friend here and looking forward to that as well.

And what a perfect day it was for going around. Beautiful reflections shimmered in the waters and the tourist hotspots were relatively quiet and peaceful. The concept of having a town build with canals instead of roads took a while to set in: public transport and ambulance services were boats. There was even a kind of traffic system in place with mirrors and signs dotted around.

As well as a breathtaking waterway structure, Venice also has a good road system for pedestrians with lots of charming bridges and narrow streets. I really enjoyed the non-presence of cars and other motor vehicles, especially after the chaos of Rome’s dangerous drivers. Lots of shops selling artistic, but slightly monotonous and boring, glass products from one of Venice’s islands were everywhere; these were interesting at first but then it was like you couldn’t escape them.

Venice is a city renowned for expensiveness, but it was funny comparing this reputation to some of the merchandise we found in one marketplace. If Rome is capital city of the fake garment trade, Venice is equivalent for fragrances. A few of the best were ‘Lacostimento’, ‘Lugo Ross’ and ‘Jommy Girl’. How can the vendors of such products maintain any shred of dignity in the sales industry? The answer is: they don’t, shamelessly pedalling their wares and targeting short-sighted people in particular. But I wasn’t surprised to see largely untouched piles of these boxes of blatant imitation.

My day in Venice was truly excellent and it was also very nice to have an Italian speaker with me. No more five-minute confusions trying to order pizza in Spanish with an Icelander (don’t ask, that’s another story – and not really too interesting).

We caught an evening train to Trieste, where I would be staying a couple of nights with the same friend, and I was warned this town would be a bit of a humbling experience after the glorious beauty of Venice.

But I wouldn’t say Trieste was a bad place, it’s just that nowhere in the world can possibly compete with Venice. Apparently the former has the oldest population in Italy, but also the best quality of life rating. As I wandered around the next day, both of these seemed to be true. Everyone was looking satisfied and contented with their existence and there were quite a few elderly citizens on the rampage with their lethal wheely trollies – how I’ve missed that from my local highstreet back in London.

When it came to young people, I encountered a large group letting off small fireworks outside what must have been a school, or somewhere nearby to one. It was their last day of term, so why not celebrate with a few purple-smoke-emitting tubes and showers of bright sparks, both of which had diminished effects during daytime? I was actually quite worried: these kids clearly hadn’t read the safety handbook, as they were standing in close proximity to the literally money-burning initiators of spontaneous combustion.

Even after I’d left this scenario behind, the air was occasionally shattered by loud bangs – and I feared each one might bring a collapsing pensioner.

The industrial territory of Trieste has actually had a very interesting history, cycling through different owners in quite a short space of time. One of the largest minority groups is Slovenians; the country’s borders are very close and this was to be my next destination.

I’ve never gone as far into the east of Europe as I will on this trip and it should be interesting to observe the cultural differences. Trieste has some nice history, but can’t really compete with the sheer grandeur of Rome, Florence or Venice. It’s just a “normal” place I suppose, but there’s nothing wrong with that and it gave me a taste of typical life in Italy.

It’s been great to see the country properly, although with Italy there’s always more waiting to be explored. In future I hope to visit Milan, Torino, Sicily and others, as well as having a lot more time to see Florence.

There's no place like Rome

So, I spent three days here overall – with the OBESSU student convention sandwiched in between. It’s probably one of the most written-about cities in the whole world, so I don’t expect to come up with any really new observations, but there’s so much to say that I don’t know how long this is going to be…

I originally arrived from Switzerland on the night train, which I shared with a massive posse of football fans coming in to attend a Champions’ League match between Roma and FC Basel. They took up nearly the entire platform and much carriage space, making lots of noise with drinking antics. It was going to be the longest train journey of my life so far and didn’t get off to a good start when the bearded attendant shouted in my face that I needed to have a reservation or pay a supplement fee. I didn’t have quite enough cash for the full amount, but thankfully he appreciated the situation and let me off a few Euros.

The next morning, after sleeping in a compartment with two Basel supporters who didn’t really say much, I spent most of the time staring out of my window at the Italian countryside, thinking about how different this would be to what I expected was coming up in Rome.

This was a correct prediction. As soon as I walked outside into the unseasonably sunny weather, after many complications trying to find the tourist information and deposit my backpack, I was hit by the impressiveness of the city. First on my agenda was to eat, so I bought something and went to sit by a fountain in the middle of a traffic roundabout near the station. It had a spectacular design, but what caught my eye more was the amount of people sitting around doing nothing in particular. Throughout my time in Rome I noticed a lot of beggars and unemployed people on the streets; something needs to be done to help them out of these unfair living circumstances, they can’t just be left as they are.

Historical grandeur is commonplace in Rome’s central areas. Ancient ruins were illuminated stunningly by afternoon sunlight and my next target was the Tomb of the Unknown Soldier, a very sacred area. Outside the gates there are signs with rules for entry, which include no eating or sitting down and a condition of general respective behaviour. Two soldiers stand silently motionless on either side of the tomb itself, with never-ending rotational cycles so it is always guarded.

Gradually I walked up the giant monument’s endless steps, with each level adding another dimension to the truly awesome views over Rome. I could quite easily have spent all day there, staring down and watching the world go by, but instead settled to take lots of pictures and move on towards the Coliseum.

There is a very clear law of the highway in Rome, based on a system of hierarchy. At the top are the cars, famous for their Italian parking methods, and large vehicles like buses and vans. Next are motorbikes and mopeds, nearly equal in number to the cars, which can appear from nowhere at any time, rapidly weaving their way through traffic and other assorted obstacles. Right at the bottom are pedestrians, forced to face a combined assault from the two other main groups in order to cross a road – even if there is a set of traffic lights. Speaking of which, it was amusing to observe that the red light was notably bigger than the other two, but I don’t know how effective this is. I was quick to learn that, in order to get anywhere fast, people on foot need to be brave and challenge the traffic – otherwise you could be waiting forever for any driver to stop out of courtesy and let you by. Similar to Prague, green lights at zebra crossings barely last ten seconds so that doesn’t exactly help.

As for public transport, it seems like a pretty efficient system. The train coverage is quite limited, with carriages covered in graffiti, but buses fill the gaps and make the city accessible. But you’ve got to watch out for pickpockets and bagsnatchers, both on transport and in the streets: it can become pretty crowded so keep hands near to valuables.

I didn’t actually go inside the Coliseum, for the good reason that it has been divided up into three sides with a separate fee for each. Now if that’s not a blatant scam to manipulate tourists I don’t know what is. The Vatican wasn’t much better; we could enter all the main buildings free of charge, as I would expect in a religious institution when worshippers need to get in, but in order to see other rooms additional charges apply. I managed to cope with this limited access, however, and there’s always next time to see the rest of it.

Vatican regulations are quite strict: sufficient clothing must be worn to enter the building, which means no bare arms or legs far above the knee. Swiss guards are on the lookout in case anyone violates these, although I don’t know what they can really do aside from kicking you out. Architecturally, both exterior and interior were great to look at and I even got to see part of a service taking place inside one of the big churches.

Trawling through the streets of Rome, there were several things which grabbed my attention. For starters, there are large amounts of vendors everywhere selling all varieties of merchandise. From camera tripods to souvenirs to practical items, you can find nearly anything fairly easily, but the salespeople are often very aggressive with their marketing strategies and I don’t like that at all. Trade in imitation items of well-known designers is one of the main business areas – I found it bizarre to see people selling fakes only a few metres down the road from expensive genuine shops.

Pickpocketing is a big problem in Rome as well, so I wasn’t surprised to see lots of police around. Apparently trading in artificial designer garments is illegal, so it was strange the police weren’t all over street sellers. There were a couple of officers standing by the Trevi Fountain – I’ve read that a lot of people try to steal money thrown into it, which can accumulate to high amounts during tourist season.

That was a beautiful landmark, but I was disappointed by the famous Spanish Steps. They are situated in one of the most popular shopping areas and this was clear from the larger-than-life Versace poster hideously looming over them. It would have looked a lot better if left untouched, I don’t like commercialisation spoiling history and heritage.

Unfortunately this also applies to the souvenir industry in Rome. Nearly all the useless dust-collecting items you could possibly imagine are available and can be found both in streets and shops. A favourite of mine was the series of multicoloured flashing glass laser engravings showing all the main landmarks. One aspect of the whole thing I greatly detest is the religious trinket strategy. In the Vatican and surrounding area it became quite ridiculous to see how people’s faith was being manipulated to make money from selling Catholic-themed garbage.

On the night I was with a group of people who had attended the OBESSU convention, we were treated to one of the world’s best ever waiters, a man named Orlando. He was a little extravagant and spontaneous, but friendly and charismatic at the same time. Unlike many Italians he also spoke decent English, something I suppose is pretty important working in a job like that.

Moving onto the wider point of language, I was actually quite surprised at the amount of people who seemed only to know Italian. Representatives of UDS in Campobasso were always complaining about the state of their education system and now maybe I can see why. Not that I automatically expect everyone to speak English or anything like that, I think this is a broad observation and applies with teaching of other languages as well. In, for example, Finland and Sweden, I found a lot more people could speak at least basic English, usually with another language as well – unsurprisingly these nations are renowned for good education, as is Scandinavia in general.

Something else which really surprised me was the presence of bats in Rome, which came out in large numbers at night. Near the ancient ruins we struggled to work out what the noise was – too loud to be insects and too late in the day to be birds. Only when approaching Termini station did we realise what it was: we could see their shadowy outlines fluttering between treetops. I’m really interested to know where they go during the day, because there aren’t many caves or cavernous dark places around.

Was Rome how I expected it to be? The answer is probably yes, but there were many surprising things as well. I did anticipate wonderful historical attractions, a hotbed of tourism and the resulting omnipresent emphasis on commercial business, but to witness the way some services are run was quite disappointing. In order to simply send postcards I was required to stand in a queue for about ten minutes – and that was at a quiet hour. The economic situation seems to be worse than I first thought as well, especially for a capital city.

I know I’ve been a tourist myself for these few days, but there was so much to see and still more remains for next time – although I think it’s wise to avoid high season. I can quite easily imagine the city being jam-packed with foreigners and tourism taking over. There were several buildings which contained five or more hotels, spread out on different levels, and when these are all full up things must get a little crazy. This must be vexing for residents of central Rome; despite the fact I’m from London, living in the suburbs means I’ve never been exposed to the legions of visitors on a daily basis.

My mini-tour of Italy has three more stops. I spend one night in Florence before moving on to Venice for a day and then Trieste, where I will stay with a friend for two nights. Can’t wait to see Venice especially, it’s such a celebrated place and seeing TV shows about it just made me want to go even more. Florence also has a global reputation for its splendour. The thing about Italy is that it’s a country with so many unique cities. There are so many destinations I can say I’d like to visit; sadly it’s not possible to see them all in such a short time, but this is a good start.

An unconventional convention?

The Organising Bureau of School Student Unions (OBESSU) is an umbrella organisation for all school student unions in Europe and many were represented at its first ever School Students’ Convention, which was jointly organised with Unione Degli Studenti (UDS), the Italian umbrella students’ union. Countries as near as France and as far as Cyprus sent young activists to the event, which I went into with an open mind since I’d never done anything similar before.

I attended as an observer for the English Secondary Students’ Association (ESSA), with the basic mission to find out what OBESSU was all about. ESSA is a very new organisation and is considering applying for membership of the umbrella body, but of course it’s best to see how everything works before doing so. Originally I was supposed to be joined by another Executive Council member, but unfortunately she was unwell so it was only me representing English students.

Although I arrived in Rome from Basel on the night train, the conference venue was actually Campobasso, a bit further south, not far away from Castropignano, where our hotel was situated. While Campobasso was a fairly large city, Castropignano was a little village on a hillside surrounded by green, which gave me a real taste of rural Italy. There were some great views of the area from our hotel, which seemed to be one of those old-fashioned family businesses and not very busy this time of year (a swimming pool with green water, which looked like it was carrying several diseases, was a good indicator of this).

One thing I learnt about Italian culture in general from this experience is that they are incredibly relaxed about everything time-wise. When sitting down for lunch at the hotel, we would often wait longer than half an hour before any food actually arrived. Unfortunately this seemed to become contagious onto all at our conference, as buses meant to leave at 8.30 in the morning often were delayed as well.

The first day was always going to be a long one, especially since the hired bus from Roma Termini station I was on arrived at the hotel around 2.30am the night before. Our main morning agenda item was a panel discussion featuring student representatives from some of the participating countries, who discussed differences between their school systems. It was quite interesting and I realised how much variation there is between them all.

Quite a few camera crews showed up for this opening session and I was very surprised when one reporter wanted to interview me. He asked questions largely off the topic of the convention, about the EU and if I favoured integration, and was clearly trying to catch me out so I said something controversial. Luckily I didn’t, choosing instead to talk about our event, but I hope nothing was lost in translation. It was quite funny to see myself on local news a bit later but the whole thing was good publicity for OBESSU and UDS.

In the afternoon we split into separate groups tackling prominent educational issues, for example ‘democracy and school student rights,’ ‘lifelong learning,’ ‘the Lisbon Strategy’ and my one, ‘privatisation and globalisation of education’. It was a fascinating topic and I didn’t really know that much to begin with, but one fault of the workshop was that for most of the first day, and much of the second, we worked on largely irrelevant tasks which didn’t really add anything to my knowledge of the main subject. Next time I would definitely recommend there to be more relevance to the overall theme of the group.

We worked in groups for the best part of three days, with the eventual result a declaration document. It’s a fine idea, but there was one major sticking point for me: no real system of procedure was in place for a lot of the negotiations and meetings we had as a whole group to thrash out the declaration’s content. The main one was incredibly messy, with around three hours of debate on the privatisation issue with endless proposals and an eventual end time of something like three in the morning.

It is things like this which need to be worked on for future events. There should have been a set of defined protocols in place for the meeting, which would clearly set out the role of chairperson, how OBESSU board members should participate and a deadline system for making proposals on the text. Everything would run a lot smoother and more democratically this way.

So do these points make the event an unconventional convention? In my view they do, because I strongly believe things should be better organised and managed, especially from a body as experienced as OBESSU. This may have been the first conference of the type, but it’s not the first event it has ever organised.

I don’t mean to be overly critical, but to provide points for future improvement and evaluation of what happened in Campobasso. Feedback is often the most important part of any event like this, which are of course very hard to organise, so I hope ours will be constructive. Actually many of the organisational difficulties were caused by massive snowfall in the area, thicker than anything I’ve ever seen, which meant buses had to drive a lot slower on the narrow, winding country roads in Castropignano.

My next destination is Rome, where I actually spent a day before arriving at the conference. In total I will have only one night there, although nearly three days and I’m really looking forward to it. Ever since learning about the Romans when I was much younger I’ve always wanted to see the city and all its history, so I couldn’t wait to get there.

Worlds apart

After leaving behind all the wealth and glamour of Geneva, I couldn’t have visited anywhere more different. The tiny village of Biel-Benken in Basel was the complete opposite and probably the most rural area I’ve seen for a long time. Although used to everything being a little more busy, I really didn’t mind the peace and tranquillity – it made a nice break from the normal hustle and bustle.

Houses greatly varied in design in the hillside village where my relatives live. To me it seemed a place where people construct their dream homes after years of saving. They were all pretty big and a few even had swimming pools or large gardens.

At the top of the hill there is a large woodland area and I enjoyed walking around there, despite being slightly worried about getting lost. When you don’t keep a close eye on the exact paths you take, they can all start to look the same very quickly – and there’s no one around to help you out. During over an hour’s wandering I only saw something like three people.

Biel-Benken is also right on the border with France and there are boundary stones in the forest. I didn’t actually realise that was what they were until I showed a picture to my uncle, so it appears I visited France without realising. Unlike Geneva the main language is German, but Swiss-German seems so different to me as a non-native speaker that it’s almost like another language at times. Signs and text weren’t so bad, but when it came to listening to conversations or TV I only could only get a few words. Most are spelt similarly, but the pronunciation and accent create difficulties.

It started snowing during my walk and the landscape looked really great. Flakes of ice fell but luckily that was as strong as it got. Heavy snow would have been extremely frustrating and disorienting – it could have taken much longer find the way get back. And since it gets dark fairly early during winter, who knows what could have happened…

That was the main event of my first day, since I’d slept off some of the tiredness from all the early mornings of our evaluation meeting. On the 13th I woke up earlier and decided to explore the city of Basel itself. I got a bus and a tram into the centre and observed the police strategy of using undercover ticket inspectors to crack down on people who haven’t paid (‘Schwarzfahrer’ in German). Thankfully I had a daily pass so didn’t have to fork out the cash.

The modern centre was mostly shops, with a few older churches and one interesting fountain of sculptures squirting water, parts of which were frozen from the cold weather. But after venturing through a large crimson gateway of a building with a Christmas tree in the courtyard and walking through to the other side, it was like I’d stepped into another city. No traffic, no shops, hardly any people. The architecture was much more authentic, with artwork decorating some walls, and the whole place a lot smaller in scale. I think I vaguely remember seeing parts of this area before on a previous visit, but now I’m in a much better position to appreciate everything.

I walked round yet another Christmas market for a while before using the same route to get back. My night train to Rome was leaving at half past nine, but something else was planned before that. After packing my stuff away and eating dinner, I went with my aunt to a session of the Biel-Benken ‘Gemeinsrat’. It was a meeting to which all local residents are invited, where decision-making takes place on governance of the area. Switzerland is a republic and every region has this system; I was very interested to attend and see how it all works.

Unfortunately I could hardly understand anything the people were saying, but I knew what was on the agenda and I guess it was all going fairly routinely in the first few items, which included general welcoming and financial matters. Just before I left, a sticking point seemed to arise on the issue of advertising regulations: a farmer was questioning the need for such strict guidelines on the basis that they were a waste of time, money and effort. His example was that every year he held a breakfast for locals at his home and, in order to put a sign out showing the information, he had to go through a lengthy application process. In my opinion that’s too much bureaucracy, so I’d like to have seen how the debate continued and what the eventual decision was.

My stay in Basel was a very nice break, but next it’s back to work at the first School Students’ Convention of the Organising Bureau of School Student Unions (OBESSU) taking place in Campobasso, Italy. I will be attending in my role with the English Secondary Students’ Association (ESSA) working on the international liaison sub-committee. Since ESSA is a new organisation, we only have observer status at the convention; member status is a different thing. I’m looking forward to meeting more new people and finding out about the student empowerment mechanisms where they live – hopefully I can get some good ideas on how to move ESSA forward and make lots of useful contacts.

A world of wealth

I caught the train from Stuttgart to Basel and then another on to Geneva, to attend the UN youth delegates’ evaluation meeting which the Swiss national youth council kindly agreed to host.

Since I actually arrived the night before our event began, I took the opportunity to look round this fascinating city. Geneva is a playground for the rich and famous; one of the world’s best-known tax havens, it is full of exactly what I’d expect to find in such a place. Casinos, designer fashion outlets, “Private Banks” (branches of international firms dealing with only a handful of carefully selected clients), luxurious apartment buildings, private yachts and grand hotels were everywhere to be seen. One of these is named after former US President Woodrow Wilson, quite a fitting title in my opinion: as one of the world’s most idealistic ever leaders, he would surely have loved the world of glitz and glamour Geneva is today.

After finding the hostel and getting arrangements sorted out, I had a long walk around the local area. There were no real specific destinations: I simply headed in the direction which tempted me most, usually towards well-lit landmarks near the vast and impressive Lake Geneva.

Although cold, it was a very clear night and I got some great photos of the illuminated attractions. There were a couple of very interesting modern-arty things, but from an architectural perspective Geneva definitely isn’t as grand as Prague. However, this is compensated for by the sheer sense of wealth and luxury that permeates the atmosphere – unfortunately this didn’t extend to the hostel, but it was at least a friendly place and there were no major complaints.

The next day our meeting began. Other youth delegates arrived and we had lunch at the hostel before visiting the UN. This is the original location of the organisation – the main headquarters before the move to New York. It’s a lot smaller in scale than NY, but the building has a much nicer design and there are some wonderful views of the lake from inside. The grounds are also very pleasant; land was donated from a rich philanthropist, who made the condition that peacocks be allowed to roam freely. Many of the numerous UN branches (or “arms”) dealing with different issues are still based in Geneva, although most of the main legislating activity is now across the pond.

One of the topics mostly dealt with in Geneva is human rights. Its main base is the Palais Wilson by the lake and when going past there we stumbled across a group of protesters from Tibet, demonstrating against China and saying they wanted justice. From what I read in the literature thrust upon me, the situation is very complicated and Tibetans are not being treated fairly.

Our evaluation meeting was very successful; it was well-organised and there was a clear emphasis on concrete action points. Unfortunately the numbers were relatively low, especially compared to the massive amounts of youth delegates in NYC, and there were a few which had been confirmed who sadly cancelled at the last minute. But having a smaller group can bring advantages: we managed to get through the agenda in good time and everyone had the chance to make meaningful contributions.

Another activity planned into our schedule was a tour of the city. Rather than having an actual guide or anything like that, we just wandered around up into the old town and about. It was particularly interesting to do this on December 10, because the Genovese were celebrating 'Escalade'. This annual festivity marks a victory in 1602 over French soldiers trying to occupy the territory. Its well-known symbol is a cooking pot, resembling one of the first acts of the conflict: the soup a Genovese woman threw on invading forces from a high window.

Natives indulge in fine chocolate and there are ceremonial concerts, staged shootings and fancy-dress parties all over the city. It was a nice coincidence that our meeting was taking place on the same weekend as Escalade as this gave a fascinating cultural aspect to the trip. The French-speaking Genovese people are clearly very proud of their heritage.

However, to me there seems to be a slightly paradoxical situation. There are huge celebrations for a victory over the French, but in many ways Geneva and its people are like just another part of France. Linguistically and culturally, it seems they are trying to duplicate the country; it definitely seemed more like being in Paris than Switzerland.

Then again, Switzerland is a very diverse country. For a start, there are three official languages: French, German and Italian – which are all spoken in different places. A few years ago I visited the lakeside resort of Lugano, which is on the border with Italy and uses that language, so very similar to Geneva in that it seems less like Switzerland and more like somewhere else.

It was great to see some of the people I’d worked with in New York again and we had a good time at the meeting. A report has been produced, which will be sent to all UN Missions, containing our recommendations for the youth delegate process in future. Hopefully it will become a valuable lobbying tool and stimulate the inclusion of many more young people in national delegations.

Weather-wise, it will be nice to escape the blistering winds of Geneva. The town has little protection from seemingly gale-force conditions, which turn the normally tranquil lake into a frenzy of waves and threaten to lift people off their feet. This especially applies when walking near the water – many were holding onto their hats or clinging to nearby railings for reassurance.

Next stop for me is Basel, a German-speaking area, where I will stay for two nights with my aunt and uncle. I have visited before, but that was a few years ago and I’m looking forward to having another chance to see the place. Unsurprisingly, I can’t really remember much because I was quite young, so it will be good to explore properly this time. It’s also a nice way to relax again for a couple of days, before moving down south to Italy for a students’ convention event.

Five hours in Stuttgart

This isn’t nearly enough time to explore a place properly, or get to know anything very interesting about it. And the fact I arrived at around 7am on the night train didn’t exactly help: there was nothing to see during the early hours of darkness so I waited for the sun to rise in a café at the station.

After that I had a nice walk around the city, famous for being the nerve centre of Mercedes Benz. My main impression was that central Stuttgart is very similar to Berlin, but a smaller version. There were lots of shops, people and some nice buildings to see. Streets were busy with cars and there was generally a lot going on.

My favourite part of this short excursion was the discovery of what I would call a real Christmas market, or “Weihnachtsmarkt” in German. It was full of little stalls and shops with friendly owners, all selling something different, and I enjoyed browsing around. The fragrance of fresh pine trees was a nice touch. This was such a contrast with the market I’d found in Prague a few days earlier. It wasn’t a tourist trap, not cheesy in the least and full of native people rather than visitors – I think I was one of the only non-Germans there.

In fact, during the whole time I only saw one other blatant group of tourists, they were Japanese. Stuttgart obviously isn’t as popular a destination as Prague or other places in Germany, such as Berlin. So that means it’s actually quite refreshing to visit: you can get a real sense of how the people live and you don’t get blinded by the false face many major cities put on for people from abroad.

Sadly, I didn’t have any more time to explore Stuttgart because my train was leaving at 13.11 and I couldn’t afford to miss it. Last night’s journey was fairly unspectacular and luckily I managed to get in a good few hours’ sleep; I’m going to need the strength and energy for my journeys ahead.

"A historical Disneyland"

This term is frequently used to describe Prague and, even after only a short stay, I can fully understand it to be justified. However, at times I also perceive it as a city too caught up in the past the past and struggling to move into the present.

The tourist industry is massive. Wandering through the main streets, I could hear a lot of people speaking English and other non-native languages. Little booths advertising and selling tickets for tours of all variety litter the pavement. Currency exchanges and shops offering a huge range of visitor services are taking over large segments of property. With one glance at the city map, it’s easy to see the “H” symbol for hotels is a dominating force across the local landscape, with the little house symbolising hostels a close second. And even in one of the coldest European winters for a long time, the historical hotspots are still bustling.

But what I don’t like is when the whole concept of tourism is blown out of proportion. Personally, I find it quite overwhelming and unnerving. A good example is when I walked to one of Prague’s numerous formerly charming old town squares, where a Christmas market was in full swing. But why formerly charming? Because everything has been completely commercialised. Cheesy festive tunes, which reminded me of working in a local supermarket last Christmas, droned out in the background and there were more foreign customers than Czechs. When a place’s traditional heritage is distorted in such a way I find it incredibly distasteful and dissatisfying. I suppose this is one consequence of visiting such well-known destinations: you will not be able to escape this manipulation and exploitation of what would be perfectly pleasant attractions if left untouched.

It is, of course, a beautiful city in its own right. There are many points where you can find wonderful views of the famous imposing Gothic architecture, during both day and night. Prague Castle and the Charles Bridge look even more impressive after dark. Even after lugging around my enormous backpack for a day, I still found the strength to clamber up what must have been at least 200 steps to Prague’s strange giant metronome, which appeared to be non-operational. There was hardly a soul to be seen at the top, but the sights were spectacular. I spent nearly an hour sitting peacefully, both to rest my aching back and enjoy watching the world go by from such an excellent position.

Later that evening I eventually found my way to the Strossomayo Nameste, where I was supposed to be meeting the friend of a friend’s friend I would be staying with. He was due back in town at midnight but had given me directions on where to wait, mentioning a “nonstop” bar near the local KFC. Having arrived in the area quite early, I decided to check places out; it was interesting to discover a comparative small amount of what I would call traditional pubs and bars compared to the number of small, dimly lit “hernas”, which were full of gambling machines with the actual bar a side distraction. This is the exact opposite of English establishments, which have some such equipment but the main focus on drinking. Which is better? Both are crippling vices, I’m struggling to answer this question – it’s like trying to pick the lesser of two evils.

When I found a suitable location, an actual pub rather than gambling den, I was about to settle down for a few hours’ solitary contemplation when I had a text message from my generous host George, who was coming in earlier than expected. This was a great relief and later we actually discovered the place closed at 11, so it was fortunate he’d turned up when he did. What wasn’t so fortunate was that he lives in a shared loft apartment, so that was another five flights of steps for me to haul the backpack up. However, it was definitely a worthwhile investment, since his part of the house was incredibly pleasant and comfortable.

The next day I decided I wanted to avoid Prague’s buzzing hive of tourism in the centre, so opted for a few less well-known places on recommendation of George. First was supposed to be the TV Tower, but after stepping on the number five tram which would take me there, I realised it was just about the worst possible day for such an activity. The skies were misty and foggy, so any aerial views over the city would have been obscure at best. When I found the tower, I couldn’t actually see the top, so decided instead to have a walk around that part of town and discover what Prague was really like.

Answers leapt at me from all angles as I rambled through the winding streets. For a start, there was absolutely no sign of tourism and hardly any shops at all. It must have been a residential area, but it was a cold day so there weren’t many people out and about; this was actually quite refreshing after the mayhem of Monday. Walls and doors were decorated with graffiti and some buildings looking quite dilapidated. They weren’t quite to the level of a few I saw in Vilnius, but compared to the glossy sightseeing areas this was very different indeed.

After a while I stumbled upon a small football stadium, belonging to FK Viktoria Žižkov – a second division team. Groups of young people were dotted about the surrounding area; this is obviously one of the places 13-year-old smokers can escape detection. Litter was strewn everywhere and, to my surprise, the stadium gates were open. I walked inside fearlessly and had a look around. It was all pretty spooky, with row upon row of empty seats and the stands overlooked by buildings that almost seemed to be crumbling before my very eyes. The four sets of floodlights on their tall masts, which were how I’d detected the stadium’s presence, towered above me looking like bizarre insect creatures with closed eyes and devoid of life. Silence permeated the air.

Continuing the idea of this “real” tour of Prague, I walked from the stadium in the direction of the centre through a series of more plain streets. On one side of the road these were flanked by sections of grim wasteland, full of assorted litter and debris. Empty wine bottles, a smashed computer monitor and shoes were all to be found amongst the weeds and long grass sprouting from dull brown turf, soft underfoot. When I reached the perimeter of broken, rusty fences there were good views of Prague’s central railway station, which I would be using the next evening.

In the middle of this area I unexpectedly discovered a tennis club, with several clay courts in a state of winter maintenance and the site empty. Planks of wood, tables and umbrellas were lying around, along with a blue paddling pool full of dead leaves and dirty water, but I had the impression this would be a nice place in the summers.

St. Wenceslas Square, where I had planned to end up, was like being thrust into another world. The area was full of people taking pictures, shopping and generally having a good time. But I don’t believe these tourists were actually experiencing anything worthwhile. Yes, they are seeing the history, which I don’t have a problem with, but they are not discovering what it’s like to live in Prague, to be part of the city itself. My morning excursion was only a mere snapshot into this other dimension, but I still found it more interesting than visiting the attractions.

The next day, my last in the city, I was relieved to see clearer weather conditions and decided to go up the TV Tower. I took the tram again, after buying a ticket for 14 Crowns (about 30p, much cheaper than London transport), and got out to find the site again pretty much deserted. The tower’s design is trying to be artistic, with sculptured miniature babies crawling up it. But I suppose that’s more interesting than just having a plain cylindrical structure like most others do. When I reached the top there was hardly anyone there, but I didn’t understand why. Vistas stretched as far as the eye can see; I always love watching what’s going on with a bird’s-eye view.

When I got back to the apartment on the night of my departure, I was quite shocked to discover that George had that day purchased a large number of children’s toys, including ten remote-control cars. He said it was part of his occupation as a party organiser; this week he’s doing one for the employees of a major bank and is planning to give them a “chill out session”, in which they can play with the toys and relive the joys of childhood. He was predicting the virtual snowboarding game to be a big success: “When they have drunk a bit it could be very funny.” Now that’s a cool job.

So this is the end of my two-day break, but the real adventure starts now. I won’t fly again until January; trains will be the method of transport and I hope it all runs smoothly. The first is this evening, a night service to Stuttgart. Tomorrow I will take one from there to Basel and then onto Geneva. I’m also getting back to business, attending a meeting and a conference until the end of next week.

Youth action in Vilnius

Right now I'm sitting in the lobby of a Lithuanian hotel in the capital, Vilnius, watching a lady trying to restrain a large dog from barking. Yesterday I saw the same people giving the same dog beer. It appears there's some kind of premier dog competition going on here at the moment, the building has been full of them for a good few days.

However, this is not the main event. Over the past week I have been attending the wordily-named European Union Regions Youth Leaders' Summit 2005, which is being staged for the first time this year. Around 40 young people from nearly 30 countries took part and, as the name suggests, a heavy emphasis was placed on how to ensure national youth policies can be implemented equally in countries which have large amounts of differences between regions. These could include governance, geography, funding, structures and many more. It's been very interesting to meet so many new people from a great variety of countries - I was really looking forward to this event and that has been justified.

We also learnt a lot about the participation system in Lithuania, which appears to be well-funded and very effective. A fine example of this was on Wednesday, when we staged a protest outside the Belarus embassy in Vilnius against restrictions the country's government is placing on freedom of movement. One particular case was highlighted recently: Tatsiana Khoma, an economics student, was expelled from her university and evicted from her residence because she was elected to the Executive Commitee of ESIB, the umbrella organisation for national student unions in Europe. Her university gave the excuse that it was because she missed three days of school.

This is a totally unacceptable situation. Action is being taken across Europe to isolate the university in question and try getting it to allow Tatsiana back in. The Norwegian students' union has started an online petition, which currently has over 7000 signatures. Please add yours: click here to visit the site.

But moving back to the youth structures of Lithuania, the way this example links to the high efficiency is that there were several camera crews and other journalists waiting for us as we reached the embassy. Our demonstration was featured on the national TV news that same evening. It was a real achievement and hopefully we've helped make a difference by raising awareness of this problem.

As for Vilnius, it's quite a nice town - although incredibly cold this time of year. We had snow on two days and ice drifted along the river. Wandering around, I found it similar to Tallinn in that there is a clearly visible contrast between old and new. Architecture dating back centuries is in close proximity to towering plasma TV screens and garish riverside lighting features. However, one big difference I noticed was in the general standard of maintenance. Rundown apartment buildings with glassless windows, peeling paintwork and walls of cracking cement lie within yards of imposing government ministry offices, one of which had a very new-looking large pointless sculpture directly in front and rows of shiny cars parked neatly around it.

By contrast, popular tourist spots – such as one tall bell tower resembling a lighthouse – glow monotonously as dusk settles and a tackily illuminated Christmas tree in the town square threatens to induce epileptic fits from oblivious onlookers. But surely something needs to be done to preserve the everyday heritage of this historical town? Venture even a small distance away from the main streets and you’re greeted by a chorus of decay and despair from sites which should be well looked-after.

Tomorrow I fly to Prague for two nights, with the plane departing at 6.45am - just over seven hours from now. I've never been there before so am looking forward to discovering this new place, although in my opinion you usually need a bit longer than two days to really know somewhere. After this, I will begin my month on the European interrail network and go to Switzerland for the UN youth delegates' evaluation meeting in Geneva next weekend. It's a very important one; we will discuss plans for our follow-up work and arrangements for the youth delegates of 2006, among other things. And of course it will be nice to see people again.