The following morning we actually got up reasonably early considering our long night, and decided to finally sample the delights of NEMO, somewhere I’d been before but was so impressed by that it demanded a second viewing. NEMO is essentially a giant science centre for kids near the main rail station in Amsterdam. The closest equivalent in the UK is probably @ Bristol if you know what that is, but NEMO is much cooler. We set off with a girl we had befriended at the hostel that morning, and were treated to the worst weather yet, torrential rain and extreme wind almost snapping my brolly in half and soaking us all before we’d even got there. Understandably we were a little deflated by the time we reached the iconic ship-modelled building, but we soon warmed up and got into the spirit of things. It’s one of those ‘learning can be fun’ sort of places, but it can actually back up its claims for once with all these computer programmes (like one where you can age yourself or change your gender), cool simulations and interactive experiment things. Of course, it was Amsterdam, so there was an extensive sex section in NEMO, which was a little disconcerting with all the kids running about. In addition, there was a hilarious demonstration of what happens when you give spiders drugs, with the pothead spider’s web resembling a torn fishnet stocking and the LSD spider’s web looking a little bit intense and tight. Only in Amsterdam.

After the place closed (we’d been there hours and still hadn’t seen it all), we lost our new friend as we decided to Take Art Seriously in the Stedelijk modern art museum. Now I’m not a big art guy, but I’ve been to a few places with my family and an old girlfriend who was an artist so I can walk around the installations pretty cheerfully. They had a couple of Mondrians which were pretty cool, and on the whole the installations were quite interesting. Some were a bit pretentious of course (all rotting bananas and floating screens and stuff) but there was some pretty inspired stuff too and a couple of modern oil paintings that I really liked. Our cultural palettes securely sated, we had a quick dinner then went off to the last activity of our trip, a canal boat tour. As we sat down in the mood-lit boat with a small aromatic candle on our table we realised that perhaps this was a BIT romantic, but decided to go with it. The tour was an hour and a half but it flew by really, and it was really interesting. I learned that Amsterdam’s massive rail station had had nowhere to be built, so they had constructed land in one of the canals for it to sit on, just where we had been earlier that day at NEMO as it turned out. We were also witness to the countless ‘houseboats’ which offered riverfront property at easier rates, but which were actually often luxury apartments inside (and people really didn’t close their blinds. Ohhh, no). There was a bit of a turf war going on between the people with actual houses who thought the boats were impacting on their house prices, and the ‘Yuppies’ (as our guide called them) who resisted, and also tried to sue canal tours like ours for invasion of privacy. I was also relieved to learn that the Amsterdam fire department have a mechanism for pulling horses out of the canal. Y’know, just in case.

We learned loads more on the boat, too much to put here, and got to see Amsterdam at night which is truly beautiful. The buildings are all lit up and shining and the light casts into the water where it ripples and shimmers in the tide as people walk alongside, the city if anything getting busier at night. That was our last night, and although we went to a bar later (Which was a little An American Werewolf in London, if you catch my drift) I think I prefer to leave Amsterdam like that —beautiful, dark and bursting with life. My friends and I had a great time, different to what any of us were expecting but probably better too. I think we saw loads of sides to the city and really got to grips with the culture there, and we met some great people. I suppose you could say that we didn’t dig too deep into the darker side, the reason most lads would go to Amsterdam, but I think our way was just as fun, and just as worthwhile.

Although to be honest, if we had done loads of really debauched things, do you think I’d write about them on here?

What happens in Amsterdam….

Our arrival in Vienna was a little short of smooth: bowling into the city at half eleven meant half an hour before the hostel (which was, helpfully, in an unknown location) closed check in for the night. Thankfully, after twenty five minutes of tripping over various tram rails with our bags, we managed to find it and crash out for the night: it’s amazing how tiring train travel is, and how sitting in a chair for five hours becomes exhausting!

Vienna was a short stop, but we got a chance to see a lot of the city: it’s clean, modern and full of unexpected things for the casual tourist to see. Our first day consisted of being soaked in torrential rain as we walked around the old Hofburg palace and buildings in the MuseumsQuartier of the city; such a contrast to the baking heat of Croatia. The British summer returns, then! Coming to Austria also meant going back to real prices and “real” money- it was all too easy to wantonly spend, feigning a misunderstanding of the Croatian Kuna.

We quickly found out that there are quite a few unmissable things to see in the city, despite Vienna not being one of the more obvious places in Europe to visit. Blagging our way across the baffling S-Bahn system (with, worryingly, only my broken GCSE German to help us) on our Interrail passes, we visited Prater, a huge park which is also a permanent fairground. Admittedly, eight euros is a little painful in exchange for a wooden London Eye lookalike, regardless of the view of the city, but the area is pretty amusing for a couple of hours. Vienna also boasts the Hundertwasser Haus, a crazy architectural feat built in the late eighties: we wandered for about an hour to find it, despite it being dubbed as the “most visited monument in Vienna”. Right. It is, however, astounding: a block of social housing made up of uneven floors painted in an array of bright colours, with fluid lines of metallic brick criss-crossing it, and the odd tree sprouting from a window to boot. It’s eccentric, vibrant and really worth a see! Witnessing all this artistic splendour works up an appetite; we gave into temptation and ate Schnitzel: an escalope which is suspiciously like a chicken burger, but made good preparation for the five hour train to Prague awaiting us that evening.

The Czech capital is raved about by almost everyone who has visited, and I definitely did not want to be let down by this one! Our hostel, the Old Prague Hostel, was a real find, located just a ten minute walk from the main square. It’s amazing how much public transport costs, and it was definitely the time to tighten the budget (what budget?!) three weeks in to the trip! Freed then from the burden of the rucksacks, venturing out into the old town failed to disappoint. Despite crawling with tourists (the most amusing being the large German group taking the segway tour of the city, quoted as “the coolest way to see Prague” by one naive user), the central area is truly atmospheric, and possesses a northern feel which really suits the overcast sky, much as we regretted the lost days of sun behind us.

Climbing the clock tower was an ideal way for us to witness a view of the city, which is so beautiful with terracotta tiled roofs next to sooty stone towers and spires: really evokes a sort of gothic, fairytale feel to the whole area. Prague castle and the cathedral were well worth the visit, sitting on top of a hill across the river, which we crossed via the old bridge: rows of impressive, if slightly scary, statues of saints line the sides, whilst imposing gates with spires frame each end.

Our experience in Prague at night was equally atmospheric, after a near-disaster cooking dinner in the hostel kitchen (a cheap option, granted, but not exactly easy with three groups of six trying to prepare meals at once around one stove and one work surface, with ten plates between us all). Our main focus, however, was on the beer, which was sold at the equivalent of 98p per half litre. And was, unbelievably, very good! We decided to avoid the slightly embarrassing British alcohol-tourist look by ditching the recommended bar and pub crawls which suck in hundreds of tourists each evening in the city, but after experimenting with the supposed local tradition of beating tankards on the table with each new drink it became clear that we were just as cringeworthy.

Booked onto a night train to Amsterdam, we spent our last day in Prague seeing the Communism Museum: a slightly bizarre choice, but a really interesting insight into the history of Czechoslovakia which only split a few years before we were born. The days spent before boarding a night train are always slightly like purgatory, as we were working towards a deadline: the only option we could see was to eat more filling and delicious Czech food and indulge in more of the cheap beer, before buying some additional food for the train (not that we needed it!). In true student style, we were won over by hare pâté at a French market: add a couple of cartons of red wine, and some dark chocolate, it’s the perfect range of, ahem, budget snacks. Or, the bill of fare of several wannabe eccentric academics: perhaps not the best idea of the trip!

The night train was largely uneventful, even if a six person couchette is a huge squeeze. Having never visited Germany before, it was surreal to go through Dresden and Berlin in the evening and to wake up having just left Dusseldorf in the morning, yet this was all part of why the night rail journeys are so important (although making the most of the interrail pass and booking a bed is absolutely essential!) We reached Amsterdam, groggy and hungry, at 10am, where we were escorted as the last ones off of the train by an angry guard, who began by barking “Aus” as it became apparent that we were in no way ready to get out of bed. Nevertheless we soon met another friend from Pembroke who lives in the Netherlands, with whom we would be staying for the weekend: a great opportunity to see the city without panicking over directions!

Amsterdam is picturesque with its network of canals (all of which look exactly the same): this is rather incongruous as streets open up into the red light district, with women in windows even in the morning! Equally surreal was moving on to the Anne Frank house, a completely moving exhibit of Anne Frank’s diary and the hidden annexe: despite having become a clichéd destination for tourists, it was desperately sad and thought provoking. We spent some time in the Van Gogh museum, too, which shows the life of the painter through a chronological exhibiting of his works. It’s a very well thought out exhibition, in fact, as certain famous paintings such as “Sunflowers” do not stand out, whilst you find other brilliant works, such as some of Van Gogh’s oils which take influence from older Japanese artworks.

Staying with our friend’s family meant home cooked meals (heavenly after three weeks of surviving on our own) and great hospitality, but also an experience of the rural area of the Netherlands that is actually known as Holland. Canals are everywhere and the landscape is, as expected, totally flat: we witnessed a change as a huge thunderstorm moved in overnight, in which I saw the most forked lightning that I have ever seen- a really inspiring experience!

Our final leg of the journey took us to Brussels, in which we stayed in the house of one of the companions travelling with us. People have mentioned to me that Brussels is “boring”, but this certainly wasn’t the case! The city centre alternates between modern (and very dominated by the EU presence there) and historic, with the main square being made up of overwhelmingly ornate buildings. Even in September, it seemed Christmassy! The famous sights of the city such as the strange manneken-pis and the atomium pale, however, in comparison with the Delirium Café: a huge multi-story pub which stocks 2004 different types of beer. Quite an experience and a definite crash course in Belgian-beer-for-dummies!

The final visit that we made was to Bruges, an hour’s train away from the capital. The city is most like Toledo and Prague in being very preserved in a tight and quaint historic style, and we saw quite a few old churches: not necessarily the most fun way to spend an afternoon, but the Basilica of the Holy Blood in the centre of the town is really worth a look. We completed the day with a boat tour in what was, essentially, a teacup which was alarmingly tipping at the rear where I was sitting, and more draught Belgian beer in a recommended student pub (having a friend who lives locally is such an advantage!). Such a fairytale city was a fitting way for me to leave the trip, boarding the Eurostar (with a discount ticket procured through a chance last minute booking) back to Britain, home comforts, and the reality of the majority of a reading list and assorted other chores to complete before the next term begins. It’s true, however, that interrailing is an opportunity that you can really make the most of as a student, and I’m sure that the experience will seem like a beacon to me in the middle of an essay crisis next term. Any tips that I can give? Overbudget, as you will spend everything. Always book hostels with provide free breakfast. Do drink the local beer. And always, always wake up on time when on a night train!

Now, I’ve been to Amsterdam before, but under quite different circumstances, and with my family. Understandably, this particular jaunt avoided Amsterdam’s more infamous attractions, and focussed rather more on museums and historical sites (apart from one memorably awkward instance when my granddad and I wandered into the red light district, but that’s another story). But this time would be different. This time I was going with my friends Will, Dave and Mark, staying in a youth hostel and exercising our independence in one of the most exciting and debauched cities in the world.

It sort of worked.

As soon as we arrived, we tried to get to grips with the public transport system, and found it infinitely confusing. We found that on the trams you could only buy an hour return ticket, but there was no real mechanism to prevent you from just getting on the bus and then just leaving without paying. Obviously we were good citizens and didn’t take advantage, but I was struck that this was a very different kind of place — where in Britain would they trust you like that? Soon we were at the hostel, The Flying Pig Uptown, and this too was a new experience for me — I’d never stayed in a hostel before. I’ll be honest, I found the relaxed attitude and informality a little jarring at first, but soon I got used to it and really enjoyed the friendly, casual atmosphere there. After a brief unpack we hit up a cheap Italian place for some food, then went to one of Amsterdam’s ‘Brown Cafes’ for a few drinks and some cards. We found this great little place (it didn’t seem to have a name) full of both locals and a couple of tourists, and we stayed there until closing. During our time there we sampled a drink unique to the Netherlands and Belgium, ‘Jenever’, a potent drink distilled from Juniper berries. English gin evolved from the drink, and I quite enjoyed it — it was very strong but malty, and warmed me up for the evening.

Upon returning to the hostel, hoping to get acquainted with our room-mates, we were surprised to find them all tucked up in bed. Instead, we went down to the hostel bar (which was also pretty quiet) before we called it a night.

The next morning we got up at an almost unholy hour for teenage males (10!!!!) to take advantage of our included breakfast, before taking to the pavements to explore the city a little. Unfortunately we’d picked a week of poor weather to travel, so torrential rain put paid to our cheerful ramblings, and after we’d seen the War Memorial in Dam square (and one sodden magician attempting to perform) we took shelter in the ‘Oude Kerk’ (Old Church) of Amsterdam. This church was first consecrated in 1306 but now placed rather incongruously in the main red light district. The Oude Kerk has this massive carved wooden infrastructure, very different from anything I’d seen before and very impressive even though it was going through one of many renovations due to years of disuse. Much of the stained glass had also obviously been pretty beaten up, but it was still quite engaging (although admittedly we paid more attention to avoid the rain outside). Once the rain had eased off a little we headed out and accidentally (honest) plunged straight into the heart of the red light district. Admittedly it was a Tuesday afternoon, so it wasn’t exactly the last days of Rome out there, but we still saw an awful lot of what Amsterdam had to offer. If I’m entirely truthful, I found it a bit off-putting having all these scantily clad women staring at me from less than a metre away behind glass. It was hard not to feel like a bit of a perv just by being there. The rest of the district was a mass of sex shops, sex theatres and weed cafes, but mixed in with very ordinary homes and businesses. I thought that there was a great sitcom idea in the man who opened a bike shop in between two brothels. Make him a strict Roman Catholic and we have a series!

The next day was our day of debauchery, starting with us taking a swing at The Sex Museum. The result was slightly harrowing, not helped by the pneumatic dummy of a flasher or the overweight, naked prostitute dummy that shot out of a wall screaming at me (but didn’t seem to be triggered by ANYONE ELSE). I was also slightly traumatised by all the ancient plates and artefacts decorated with sexual images and phalluses, realising the extent that museums had concealed from me over the years. Still, the Victorian porn was quite funny. Great muttonchops! After all this excitement we reckoned we could use a stiff drink, so we undertook a seven-hour bar crawl. Maybe a bit of overkill, but it was a lot of fun. We flitted between six different clubs and bars, taking what free drinks we could, even if it was just a manly white wine or a cinnamon shot. It was a great night, with loads of great happenings like Dave’s success with some young ladies from Sheffield uni (one, a Cambridge resident, seemed determined to tear into me for being an Oxford student — does the rivalry extend to residents? I didn’t think it did), and Will taking two stomach punches from bouncers for free drinks (one of which he gave to a tall Australian girl like a chump, who disappeared straight afterwards). We found ourselves scraping the barrel of what burger king had to offer at 3 in the morning before we retired to our hostel to further demonize ourselves in the eyes of our room-mates by being noisy. An appropriate end to the night, I think.

To be continued…