transit

6:03 pm : We arrive in Prague, after a 3 hour bus journey. A short metro ride later, and we are absolutely no closer to being where we want to be: Slovakia. We settle for a more modest goal: the central train station. Got any idea how to say 'central station' in Czech? Us neither.

6:50 pm : After some guesswork, several fruitless interrogations of bewildered metro staff, and a bit of backtracking, we find ourselves inside what does appear to be the central station. This is where the REAL trains come and go. We queue to book for a ticket, and wait as a heated but very slow argument plays out in front of us. In desperation we change lines, only to see rapid progress in our former location. We finally get to the window, buy a ticket. Would we like a reservation with that? Yes please! You cannot get reservations here. Pardon?

8:40 pm : Having located the right platform, we walk the entire length of the train to find some kind of staff member. We were cryptically informed that we could only get reservations ON the train, not before. This makes zero sense, but we put it down to bizarre European customs. The friendly guy informs us that if we'd like the luxury of a couchette (a kind of bunk bed) we'll have to pay extra. I'm all for this – an 11 hour night trip sitting up does not appeal to me at all. We pay our money and are shown to our cabin. Scarcely have we made ourselves comfortable when there's a knock on the door – he's put us in the wrong cabin, if we stay in this one we'll end up in the wrong town. We move to the next carriage, where a far grumpier fellow shows us to our new accommodation. The only thing about a bunk room is that there's simply not room to sit up – so we lie down and watch the Czech Republic begin to slide away.

12:34 am : I am awakened by a particularly rough rattling of the cabin, only to find that it's as humid as an indoor swimming pool. There are two choices: deal with it, or open the window and deal with the resulting noise. Neither is particularly appealing.

6:30 am : This time I awaken to the sound of a sharp knock on the door. I try to open it, and fail. Several attempts all result in the same inability to open the door. The knocking continues, before the door is roughly shoved open by Grumpy. With a scowl, he informs us that we're to get off in 20 minutes. We thank him, and he grunts as he hands over our receipts. As James peers out our cabin window, I pull aside the curtain in the carriage passageway. In an excited spluttering, I call him over – he's looking out the wrong window. On my side, snow capped mountains spring up out of the otherwise dead-flat landscape. The sun is just coming up, and we're in Poprad, Slovakia.

7:25 am : A bus arrives to carry us away from Poprad, which in these early hours is populated by an incredibly diverse lot of people. The station itself feels like an 80's sci-fi spaceport set. On the bus, we strike out towards the mountains. Zdiar, here we come.

8:30 am : Dumped in Zdiar, we follow our directions to the hostel. We can't find it. We wander the streets until an old Slovakian lady deduces from our backpacks that we're headed for the only hostel in town, and points us in the right direction. Thank heavens for friendly old Slovakian ladies. We're at the Ginger Monkey Hostel.