Last Train from Katowice

Just as the weather was improving in Krakow we were off in the bus to Katowice to pick up the train to Prague. Yes, there is a perfectly good train station in Krakow and no, I do not know why we did not get the train from Krakow and change at Katowice.

It was certainly the last train I will ever get from Katowice. What a dump! The Polish countryside and the historic cities are beautiful but some of the modern towns are dire. Katowice station was disgusting, a vile concrete box from the communist era with all the allure of Bognor Bus Station c.1973 but with none of the charm.

A selection of kiosks on the station concourse, all shabby but all with the usual weird and wonderful selection of goods that are considered de rigeur by Polish kiosks. The chains have not reached Poland yet so there was not a Starbucks or a McDonalds to be seen.

The second hand book for the train kiosk. I quite fancied this one and wish that there was one at Paddington station instead of the boring old W.H.Smiths. I did have a browse but all the books were in Polish. Funny that. Love the way he's done the display; cardboard boxes are quite the thing in Katowice.

Katowice station is well known as an information disaster zone; the big board on the concourse lives in fantasy land and no one waits on the platforms as they are not announced until a minute or so before the train is due to arrive. Announced in Polish, of course. Meanwhile you wait in a dingy subterranean tunnel under the platforms and when your platform is called you frantically leg it and lug your bags up the stairs.

When the train arrived, we were all standing at the wrong end of the platform so there was another frantic struggle of the bags down to the other end and we all piled on. Progress was slow as the guard had only opened a single door and there he was berating us for being slow, tapping his watch and looking impatient. "Open another door, you muppet!!" we chorused. Don't mess with the Brits on holiday.

Never mind, the sun was out and it was a beautiful day and everything looked up when we were on the choo-choo. Katowice to Prague is around two hundred miles as the crow flies, high-speed rail has not yet reached Eastern Europe so we were facing a journey of about five hours. We had stocked up on all the usual suspects for a long train journey; tartan blankets, flasks of coffee, bread rolls, boiled eggs, tiddly-winks and books and magazines etc.

None of these were needed. What a wonderful train ride. A leisurely slap-up lunch in the dining car followed by a gentle coma in a comfy seat. I have never dined on a railway journey before but have, jealously, seen others do it. A great experience and one to be throughly recommended.

Round One; goulash soup and a rather large bottle of chilled Czech Budweiser. Lovely.

Round Two; chicken kebab with vegetables. The sun was rather strong and as Hils was flown with Budweiser I just could not get her to sit back and get her lunch out of the shadow for my photograph. Dear old thing, she does get so excited after a bottle or two. As in leaning forward and waving your hands about a lot excited.

Round Three; chocolate pancake and some coffee.

Crossing the border into the Czech Republic. We thought that crossing the border was going to be a bit of a palaver involving pulling out the passports etc. Not a bit of it. A couple of jobsworths with big bottoms came on board and ambled around for a bit then buggered off. One of them had a fierce dog who looked like he had lost his sausage.

The beautiful people in the elegant First Class dining car. The dining car was ruled over by a rather stout-looking young lady who can be seen in the doorway at the end. If you have ever wondered where the shot-putters go between Olympic games then now you know.

The chocolate pancakes with the whipped gunk were a universal success and greatly admired.

Our new found friends, Christine and Ian. How these poor old souls put up with my drunken drivel for hours on end is beyond me.

Fatboy and Hils pose for their portrait. Slightly flushed in the face, Fatboy? Bin at the bottle?

Prague station. Off we go on round two of our hols.

All change! We can't believe that five hours have passed so quickly. A thoroughly enjoyable train journey is disrupted by the awful reality of having to drag our luggage through the station onto the bus.

We are staying in another communist era relic, the Top Hotel and Conference Centre. Built on a hill to the south of central Prague, it's a huge place with hundreds of rooms, long corridors and massive public halls. Our rooms were very comfortable and about the size of a tennis court.

A hearty dinner and a few more drinks were all that we needed to ensure a good nights sleep and fortify ourselves for the morrow when we off on our walking tour of Prague.