What to do when faced with the ordeal of having to get to Budapest for a weekend stag do? Make it an even bigger ordeal by deciding to drive a rickety camper van from Leeds to there and back... and thus began another European adventure. My mate Ol had just bought an old camper van and seemingly wanted to test its capabilities so off we set a week before our other friends were due in Budapest.
An early warning sign of future troubles was given to us when we were stopped on the motorway down to Dover by the traffic police. The lights on the van weren't working and they said driving in the darkening skies was against the law. Of course we knew this but having followed the traffic car into Leicester services and been given a talking to we tried to come up with a plan; we could wait till the morning and drive in daylight and miss our ferry, spending a boring night in the service station car park or try to use our severely limited mechanic skills in fixing the problem. We decided on the latter and using a screwdriver, some sellotape and lots of luck we managed to get the van back on the road. We made the ferry and were on our way across the Channel to Dunkerque.
We pulled into a motorway lay-by on the other side so that Ol could get some much needed sleep after driving all day and settled down for the evening. The next day we started our journey again; we didn't really have a plan, we just knew we had to get to Budapest and drop off Ol's girlfriend Clara, who was travelling with is for the first bit of the journey, at Budapest airport so she could get home to Spain. The drive passed through Belgium and we decided on a stop off in Ghent. We tried to find a bar and walked around for ages trying to find a suitable one. Belgium is known for its production of good beer, especially fruit beer so we thought the task would be an easy one but we were unable to find anything that didn't look like a large Costa Coffee and after about an hour gave up on the idea and decided to head back to the van and get back on the road. The problem, we soon realised was we didn't know where we parked the van, didn't take a note of the street name and had no idea where the hell we were. Two hours later, more by luck than design we bumped into the van again. Relieved we set off again heading for Germany.
The van had been making strange noises on the trip through Belgium and after starting on the journey again the noises got even worse and we all started stressing out, tapes of Hootie and the Blowfish and Joan Armatrading (it's difficult to pick up tapes nowadays, even charity shops don't sell them any more) couldn't deflect the feeling of impending doom. The van couldn't climb any type of hill, not even at a gradient of about five degrees. Articulated lorries were overtaking us on the motorways and we decided to pull in to give the van a rest and attempt to formulate a plan. To do this I left all the decision making to Ol and went outside for a cigarette. After a nap Ol decided to give it another go and we set off again deciding to stop at the nearest biggish town we could find on the map. All roads led to Aachen, I can't believe pen has put that to paper many times before.
We trundled into Aachen to the sound of a very poorly van screaming to be put out of its misery when it finally fought back against its human masters by deciding to die; disaster, the gear stick stopped working, Ol tugged and pulled on the stick but it was fucked, we started rolling down the road. Ol managed to pull the van in and we pushed it to a safe side street where we could formulate a new plan. We decided to go to a pub and get pissed and worry about it in the morning. Sometimes it's the only good plan, often it's certainly the best plan. Luckily we were parked up near Aachen jazz rock café and we sat at the bar watching a great band featuring a El Hefe lookalike play two or three sets of weird indie jazz or something. We were tired, drunk and a little delirious. Tomorrow could wait till then, we bought some more beer and went back to the van. Unluckily now night had descended we realised we were parked outside a brothel and one of the prostitutes tried to climb through the window to get to Ol. We locked the doors and tried to get some sleep. I woke up a couple of hours later with my bladder bursting and a large dose of the fear. I was going to go in a bottle but realised there'd be too much liquid so set off to find a suitable place to dispense all of the previous nights fun. I couldn't find anywhere; the fear took over as I skulked from one doorway to the next getting ready to take the plunge but then I'd hear a noise; some footsteps, a voice and kept shooing myself away, the fear was taking over. Half an hour later I found a secluded grass area and a tree and had one of the best pisses of my life.
I needed a drink but when I arrived back to the van I realised we needed to actually formulate a plan to get the van fixed and then formulate another plan to make sure that I never have to go through the search for a suitable outside toilet ever again on this trip. After a few hours we found a tow company and the relevant garage we needed and were all good to go and were given a lift on the tow truck to the outer suburbs of Aachen. Luckily it was by FC Aachen's stadium so whilst Ol and Clara waited at the garage I went and had a look round the big yellow eyesore and talked myself out of buying various nonsense in the club shop.
After a few hours the van was patched up, Ol was charged a very reasonable thirty Euros and we were good to get back on the road again. We looked at the map again and realised we had no idea where we were going so Ol just started driving again. By nightfall we had driven across a large part of Germany and ended up in a town that I can't recall the name of, Bad something or other. It was the Rotherham of Germany, perhaps even worse. Not a place you set out to visit, would ever re-visit or would want to come to by chance. We went to a casino to use the internet and then I was sent on a mission to find a couple of beers before bed time leaving Ol and Clara in the van. I got lost, I always get lost, I'm quite proud of the fact I've been lost in every city, town and village I've ever been to but at that time I just wanted a beer, some bread and some sleep. Luckily I found a supermarket down some dodgy looking back street and instead of buying a couple of beers for a night cap bought a whole crate.
In the morning we were shouted at by an irate shopkeeper whose shop we were parked outside who as well as being pretty angry seemed baffled that foreign people were visiting her town; we quickly got back on the road. We decided to head to Czech Republic and on the way Ol had a light bulb moment; he remembered there was a hole in the middle of the van that you could screw a table into, but more relevant to us you could unscrew the piece of metal that the table leg is inserted to and you have a four inch wide passageway to the ground below. Pissing, lying on your front with your dick hanging out the bottom of a moving van on German Autobahn's is something I recommend you do at least once in your life. It's nothing anyone would have on their list of things to do before they die but it does mean you can carry on drinking without stopping on any journey you may be making.
We arrived In Brno, a rather boring Czech city and after a bit of exploring plumped ourselves down in an arty bar and quickly gave it up as a bad job and went back to the van to sleep. In the morning we set off for Budapest and after dropping Clara at the airport found the hostel the stag party would be staying in and went off to one of the many spas Budapest has and soaked away the stress and hangovers we had accumulated over the last five days. After that Ol had some work to do so I set off to explore the city by myself, which meant I went to lots of pubs; by the time the rest of the stag party had arrived I was already far too drunk and knew that the weekend would quickly descend into drunken stupidity. It was nice to have a proper bed though.
A couple of days later the stag party left leaving Ol and I deliberating our next plan of action. We wanted to get up to Krakow in Poland to visit some friends and having consulted the map saw the most direct route was through Slovakia where we could stop off for a night and banish the weekends hangovers with some garlic soup, a couple of pints and some much needed sleep.
We chose Banska Bariska as our stop off point, parked up and went to explore the city and look for somewhere to eat. After eating we went and looked for some bars and came across a place called 'Tirish Bar'. Thinking it was a Slovakian take on a Yorkshire Irish pub we went in and soon found it was just a rock bar dive which housed the local alternative students and settled down for a couple of pints before we agreed we'd head back to the van for an early night. Somehow it didn't end up that way, we soon became friends with the barmaid and her friends and Ol showed off his punching power by having a go on the punching machine. He got up to second on the leader board and was told he'd never get up to first; that a “fucking gypsy” was first and no-one can beat him. They wanted Ol to knock him off the top so much they kept putting in money to give him another go, it turned out to be thankless task as predicted though. Having quickly made new friends we found ourselves in the middle of a lock in and decided to see where the evening would take us. After a few more drinks in the bar we ended up in a casino until early morning. Our early night had become one of the latest of the trip and we decided to keep it going; getting a couple of bottles of wine and inviting the barmaid and her two male friends back to the van. We all walked back along the deserted streets, reached the van and then all hell broke loose, I was fed a tab of acid (I say forced, Ol says less so), one of the guys punched Ol in the face and then the police turned up to ask what the fuck was going on. The Slovakians managed to get rid of them and I awoke hours later wondering what the hell had happened, where the hell I was. I was still tripping and needed a shit and a walk; a hole in the van isn't no place to take a number two and there was no McDonald’s in the town for a McShit so I made do squatting in the park as people strolled by.
When Ol came round, luckily acid free we set off to Krakow. When we got on the motorway we saw a load of police cars in a lay by pulling cars and vans over. If I was anywhere near conscious thought I'd have been more worried than I was, if we were pulled over Ol would be put in a Slovakian jail for being over the limit and I'd be alone in a god forsaken town trying to get him out of there when I could hardly use two syllable words. Two syllable English words. They waved us through, we think we deserved the luck.
We got to our friends house in Krakow and they asked me why I was a very strange shade of purple. I went to bed and slept and slept till I felt somewhere near normality and my skin colour returned to an off pink hue. Magda and Asia looked after us and took us to their parents house so their 'worker' could patch up the van again; it still wasn't working properly and the lights were still a problem. The worker and Magda and Asia's Dad managed to sort out the lights and made the whole thing sound a lot more smoother and we were good to go again.
We set off for Dresden and having reached there set about finding a bar to drink in. Most of the bars seemed reliant on fluorescent lighting and charging ridiculous prices but we managed to find an old mans pub and settled down for a drink. The rather drunk man on the next table from us overheard us talking and quickly became aggressive, putting his feet on our table and spouting gibberish. He then stood up, shouted at us and did the hail Hitler hand to top lip salute and we decided to get the hell out of there.
Next stop was Düsseldorf and after getting lost trying to find the strip of pubs and bars we located it and found a nice rock bar to get drunk in and unwind; we were on the last leg of the holiday now and were happy to stay out of trouble, we talked to a few locals and I noticed a poster promoting Leatherface were playing round there soon so told everyone to go see them. The rawness of drinking non stop for almost two weeks was taking its toll though, it was time to bed.
Our last European stop off was Bruges; a nice place for a romantic weekend but a pretty boring place if you want a final blow out. That was for the best though. After seeing some tourists recreating scenes from the film In Bruges we stopped off at a pub with the tallest woman I've ever seen serving the customers and then went to a rock bar to finish things off.
All that was left was driving to the ferry, getting the ferry and driving back to Leeds, a trip that was surprisingly without any chaotic incident and then we stopped in a local pub for a 5.9% pint of Thornbridge Jaipur IPA; nice not to be drinking a lager, it all tastes the same after a while; nice to be pissed after one pint; nice to be able to go home to my own bed. Not as nice to realise I'd have to go back to work in two days time, now I really did need a holiday.
