Of headaches and other miseries

Sometimes preplanning is essential when going on a road trip abroad. But the delight of Czech ale has a way of dimming the senses and replacing them with wild euphoria. The next day is always the worst, and a lot more damn worse if you hadn't thought to pack headache pills into your luggage. But ever the intrepid and courageous traveller, one dismisses these things and moves on. And move on we did, destination - Slovakia. In particular; its capital, Bratislava! Sounds all very exotic and all that... but it ain't. But we'll get to that later, first the woeful tale of how everything went so horribly pear-shaped. We set off around 8am after a continental breakfast - the hotel gives the minutest plates to dish up on and mostly it's just cold meats, cheeses and breads on offer - there is also scrambled eggs and what appears to be bacon bits. The eggs are strangely runny and have the appearance of having being nuked in a microwave; the bacon is crispy, but cold and oily. Never mind though, the grub and a glass of orange juice reduces the headache from sledge-hammer painful to a dull throb that settles itself in behind the left eyeball. That aside, we were still in great spirit as we hit the road and Lilith again suggested we avoid the tolls and took us on a scenic route through Prague's suburbs, which was very nice. Prague drivers are lunatics though, but having experienced minibus taxi driving, I was well equipped in dealing with the renegades. Although it took some restraint to hold back the middle-finger, which wanted desperately to physically manifest the thoughts going through the alcohol-mangled brain that controlled it. It was rush hour, but patience prevailed and before nine it was open country roads again. By ten the dull throb was back to a blind ache. Fortunately there was A Tesco supermarket at one of the little villages we passed through and Paulo turned in, much to Lilith's chagrin and she expressed this with the usual "Make a U-turn as soon as possible" rebuke. This Tesco's was less a supermarket than it was a cafe. There were no headache pills in the toiletries aisle but there was a friendly, but extremely ugly, manager-type fellow near the entrance who looked as though he might helpful. "Do you sell headache pills," I asked, pointing to my forehead. He shook his head and said something unintelligible. Strange thing this language of theirs, it's all flowery when written down - the letters have all sorts of little decorations; like little circles, slanted dashes and little inverted 'v's on them, but it doesn't sound very pretty. Very hard on the ear it is. I tried a bit of charades: I pointed to my forehead, said a meek 'ouch' and then I motioned with my hand as if putting something in the my mouth then cupped my hand and made as if to drink. A light seemed to go on, and the man smiled - making him even uglier - and motioned for me to follow. I duly did, but was a little taken aback when we arrived in the liquor aisle. Just looking at those rows of wine and beer made me nauseous all over again. 'No, no,' I said and again pointed to my head, this time I gave a pained expression when I said 'ouch', then I made like I was pouring pills into my hand, which I then threw into my mouth. 'Tablets!' he exclaimed. I almost hugged him in relief, but simply nodded with a stupid grin on my face. He took me back to the toiletries section where he too came to the conclusion that there weren't any in stock. 'Moment...' he said, and scurried off. When he came back he pushed a solitary capsule - still in its plastic packaging - in my hand, making motions that suggested I could have it for free; that obscene smile on his face again. I thanked him and no sooner was I outside when I popped the pill, silently wishing he given me two. It eased the pain, but it would return an hour later. Only worse. It was after 11 when we crossed the border into Slovakia - all the border posts are vacant, this is sad because there's no one to stamp my passport to prove that I've visited all these places. There's pros and cons to have a European passport. I was very impressed with the country. Every little town I passed was beautifully manicured, the houses neat and well maintained - that horrid orange colour still well in prevalence, but there were also pastel shades of blue and yellow ochre. All very pretty indeed. The roads too were excellent. Obviously, I thought, Slovakia is a lot wealthier than the Czech Republic. Certainly, instead of Skodas (mostly a dark green colour) that were so evident on the other side of the border, the folk here seemed to prefer VWs, Mercs and Beamers. In fact, they seemed to have adopted a very German set of values. Even their writing was unadorned, and decidedly Germanic. One frustration though was the number, and close proximity, of all the little villages. No sooner had we left one and Paulo had revved up to 55 miles per hour, when we were upon yet another urban area and reduced to 30 miles per hour again. This went on for ages. Soon it became apparent from the sign boards that Wien is a major town en route to Bratislava and I was looking forward to passing it by with a thought of stopping in and taking some photos. About twenty miles from Wien I got to looking at the vehicle registration plates and saw that they all had the letter A on them. I wondered if maybe I had to pass through Albania before getting into Slovakia? If that was the case, then I was rather enjoying the Albanian countryside. Before reaching Wien, I stopped at a filling station and was pleased to note that they use Euros in Albania and I still had a wad of them in my wallet. I purchased a ham and cheese sandwich and a Red Bull. It was only when I was looking at the beers - I've been forced to buy samples from every country by my brother, that the realisation dawned - I was in flippin' Austria! Wien, I realised, is actually Vienna! I cursed Lilith, how could she have gotten us this far wrong Getting back into Paulo, I consulted the atlas and said sorry to Lilith. She didn't care, she just wanted me to make a U-turn again and follow the signs to some place called Bood-ah-Pest. I obliged. Wow, Vienna looks amazing and one wishes we could have stopped, but time was dragging on and we'd already booked ourselves into a hostel in Bratislava and we were expected by two. Amazing, the highway doesn't take you around Vienna, it takes you under it! It's like the Underground, only it's for cars. While being amazed and impressed by the ingeniousness of the tunnel under the city, an aching head could not help but think of the weight of all those high-rise buildings baring down and it all began to feel a bit claustrophobic. Soon enough we were threw it and Lilith said that Bratislava was only 20 miles away. Again the frustration of a vacant border post went past and the reality that is Slovakia came into view. It ain't pretty and it's a lot like East Germany. Bratislava might as well be Leipzig for all it's graffiti, except no one's making an effort to remodel the place. The hostel is in a back street and there's no parking anywhere nearby. Paulo will sleep two blocks away, and I probably won't sleep a wink out of concern for his safety. Lilith will sleep with me tonight; she hasn't made any comments about that because I've switched her off. On the plus side, Edo - who manages the hostel - has given me a map of the city and the best places to visit. There's also laundry facilities and that's good because I'm wearing my last pair of clean underwear. There's also free wi-fi which I've already used to book into proper lodgings in Budapest - it has free, secure parking; so tomorrow should be a better night altogether, if not me, then for poor Paulo. For now though; the sun has set, the clothes are almost finished in the drier and I'm keen to try out 'Halusky' washed down with 'Zlaty Bazant' (these words should come with fascinating adornments on, but I wouldn't know how to put them there, and frankly I couldn't be arsed to find out) at the local restaurant that Edo has pointed out on the map he gave me. I'll take my camera with me, because maybe this city looks better in the dark. We are better prepared for our travels tomorrow, and tonight, well, we won't quite indulge in the local brew regardless of how good it tastes.