Now that airspace has been cleared over Euroland, I’ve managed to get all my accommodation & train tickets booked. It took much longer than I’d thought – reading reviews, checking maps, comparing cost, daydreaming about how it’ll be over there. (The last bit, I reckon, was the most time-consuming part.) Gosh, at this rate I’ll probably hype myself up so much that the actual trip will feel like an anti-climax, like chi Hoa said. But no matter, it was time well spent, I’ve already learnt a fair bit about the cities just from poring over Google maps and railway operators’ websites until I went cross-eyed. Because had I rushed through the whole selection process, I wouldn’t have nailed a quaint little hostel right on the river bank, smack bang in the middle of Prague! 6 days to wake up to a sight of gothic castles swathed in the morning light. Oh joy of joys! And that’s not it, 5 nights spent in a place 5 minutes to the Sacre Coeur & Moulin Rouge in Paris. Woohoo!
So does it matter that I’ll have to work my little butt off to pay back this massive credit card bill? Does it?
(Rhetorical question, of course.)
I said: I’d like to go to Prague!
Our gorgeous Ukrainian said: But you’re gonna be in Europe. You have to check out Kiev & St. Petersburg! April / May is the best time!
Another lovely Ukrainian German said: But Berlin is only 2 hours away by train and also, Hannover is amazing! And Autumn’s not bad either.
Mum reminded: Yes, and don’t forget you’ve got a cousin in Germany too. End of Spring is beautiful.
A Dutch friend said: But Amsterdam! Surely you cannot NOT come here. Winter is just as fine! Snow everywhere. White Christmas.
Mr. Man felt like he HAD to chip in: You know what? You just can’t get past London! And down to Brighton. Watching summer fields along the way…
A friend in Paris offered: And since you’re already down South, just hop across the channel, I’ll have it all planned out for you when you’re here.
And so my head spinning, my eyes watering, my heart thumping, all I heard is Blah Blah Bloody Blah. I wanted to yell at them. That this is NOT helping! That it’s not like I can just blow my nose and 24K gold would come squirting out like a broken tap! That you guys had better stop all this name dropping and show me how to rob a bank, or else, JUST HAND OVER YOUR WALLETS QUICK SMART!!!
But of course I didn’t yell. Instead, I went over to a corner to stare at the (coloured!) map at the back of my diary. And sulked.