When I woke up, It seemed as though I had never fallen asleep, like I had closed my eyes long enough to turn off the brain, but only for a moment, and then it turned back on. The first thing I did was roll to one side for a chance at going back to sleep, it was then I realized how much pain I was in, but from what? This question filled my head as I got out of bed and walked to the kitchen for some tea, where I ran into the Hungarian girl.This is where she told me all about Zane and I’s behavior at the Brew Pub last night. With every word being a small revelation. I decided to take a long hot shower and just sit at the bottom of the enclosure as the water ran, getting out and laying back down right after.It wasn’t long after that we both got up and walked back into the main plaza for something to snack on.We met up with a huge couch surfing group at a bar across town after that and this is where things got hairy. The starting lineup consisted of 4 different local beers in succession, each 1 Liter of course, and all pushed gingerly by the couch surfing host who organizes and manages this weekly group of around 30-50 people. A group we joined and got to know wanted to go to another bar, we were fine with that, so a 10 minute taxi drive later we were there.By the time we got everyone there they wouldn’t let Zane and I in because we didn’t have the correct change for the cover at the door… strange way of telling us to sober up, if that’s what it was. Anyways Zane didn’t like the place after that and went home, I stayed and danced with one of the Czech girls I met. We ended up staying up all night and before I knew it, it was 6 am, and our flight was supposed to leave at 7:20! The Czech girl and I rushed back to the hostel, waving off the person at the front desk telling me that non-guests weren’t allowed in the dorm.I woke up Zane, who had only been sleeping an hour at most, and we rushed out of the dorm as fast we could, shoving clothes in every free spot in our bags. I said goodbye to my dance partner in a blur and we got on the tram. Once at the bus station we had something like 30 minutes before our flight left, I was totally sure we’d miss our flight, totally.. Our bus was late and once on board I validated my ticket in the machine and told Zane to do the same. He checked his pockets half-assedly and shrugged, “can’t find my ticket.” “I just handed it to you, check for it.” “Nah, it will be fine.”Two seconds later the ticket police come and asked for our validated tickets, I give him mine and Zane looks for his with more serious focus and finds it, invalidated. The “officer,” or 40+ year old guy in blue jeans and a blue knitted sweat shirt that was probably gifted to him on his 30th birthday party, tells us to pay him $10, we don’t have the money, but I would refuse out of principle anyway. We tell him we just got on the bus and didn’t know. “You validated, why not him?” he asks. “He’s pretty much asleep I tell him.” Then he gets angry and tells us to pay him $40, to which I try and snatch the ticket out of his hands and go up to the driver to settle it. This really gets him going and he gets on his phone, making gestures and comments to let us believe he was calling the police.“I call police, they will wait for you at the airport” He said with a crazy look in his eye, his partner looking shrewdly at us then back at his associate. We just ignored them. When we got to the airport we got off the bus and went inside the terminal undisturbed, hearing the pair’s curses to us as they went the opposite direction.It was a straight sprint to our check in desk from outside. Of course check in was over almost an hour ago, but we soldiered on regardless. I ran to some official looking desk and asked them about our airline. He told me that the counter was closed, but if the flight was still there we might be able to get on if we went to the right desk, so I found Zane and took us to the place he pointed out. They told us that miraculously the flight was very late in taking off and if we ran the whole way we might make it aboard. We skipped straight to the front of a huge line waiting for another flight on our airline, checked in, and ran to our gate, making it with less than 2 minutes before they closed the door, what a rush!Our flight to Sweden went by without comment, except that neither of us slept. During our 5 hour layover in Stockholm however, we were approached by a young man working for some agency that was suing the airline for not notifying the passengers about the layover though,he told us we might get a few hundred out of the deal, which we thought was cool, so we signed his papers and boarded the plane to Bangkok. I can't believe we made it! Four crazy weeks in Europe, and now 6 weeks in Asia? What will happen next?
The Hungarian Baths
When your waking up earlier than you should because you can no longer take in air without damaging your already completely dry throat, your probably dehydrated and should make the effort to save your own life. I reached this point by 5 AM and drink water continuously till 9, talking to the staff and eventually the hostel guests as they woke. Zane gets up at around 10 and stays in bed till 11:20. We gather our wits, make up a vague plan as to what were trying to do, our usual M.O. and then set off in search of food. We go to a Vegan restaurant I had looked up online, there we order a Vegan pizza, with spelt crust and cashew something cheese. The crust and other toppings were excellent, but the cashew cheese was unappetizingly sticky and extremely hot for quite a long time. Overall I'm happy with it though. 
Next we take a ride through the oldest, simplest and yet most beautiful subway system I've ever experienced. The entire cabin was super small and made of rich old wood, glazed over by many years of constant use. It was also very rickety and made a loud buzzing sound every time the doors opened or closed, like those you would hear in a factory. We got off at the hall of heroes stop and walked around the square where statues of these heroes lined a raised stone platform. 
They were mighty looking men indeed, one looked like a naked angel holding a sword being held back by a woman, another a fanatical priest in flowing garb holding a christian staff, but most were steel wielding warriors. Behind the statues is a big park where the Hungarian Baths are found. It is accessed from our location by a bridge that you can cross by foot or car. As you cross there is fair size ice skating ring to the right of the bridge, and an elaborate water fountain to the left. We walked past the bridge and into the park where we blaze up before entering the grand establishment, architecture wise at least. It has several rings within the structure that are subdivided into other segments where special pools with varying temperatures, ingredients, and even abilities are to be found. Some were whirlpools, others saunas, infinity pools, jacuzzi's, cold plunges and of course private massages from the experienced professionals there. We went into this one sauna that was so insanely hot and humid we left in less than one minute. We were also in a sauna that changed between three different color lights, Red, blue, and yellow, we left that one in less than three minutes because the seats were burning our butts so much. The place has a lot of people there too, from all over the world. It wasn't the cleanest pool that much is sure, but the experience is well worth your time in Budapest. We stayed a little more than four hours and then returned to the hostel after once again getting a bottle of jin and juice. Once we sat down to start drinking our Canadian friends joined us, they got a bottle of white wine which they unanimously agreed was atrocious and were thus put off from continuing to drink much else. Zane and I went our own way to a multi story super club, with cave like caverns, themed rooms, and interesting bars, filled with drunk dancing people of all kinds. We stayed out till 1 or so and went to sleep, waking up at 6:30 to make the 8am train back to Slovakia. Which luckily for us, entailed no further security checks.
The Roommate
Since arriving at our hostel we have enjoyed the beds and the rooms, the staff and the price to stay here, but one thing sticks out as the prime example of a bad hostel experience, and that is a terrible roommate. This guy was a virus. First and foremost he's an obsessive compulsive liar, and egotist. He never left the room and was always watching Italian soap operas or listening to Italian screeching hate music at full volume for all to be subjected too. The first time I met him was when he was in the shower with the water on for 45 minutes, that I knew off, while I was waiting to use it. We only had one shower and one toilet for a 12 person room so you can imagine the rudeness of this. I knocked and asked him when he'd be done and he told me he was washing, I told him I already knew that, when would he finish? He told me 5 minutes and took another 20. He got out and turned to tell me something I wasn't interested in hearing and I got in, finishing in about 8 minutes total. Not my usual time of 12 but I did it to make a point for our friend, whom I imagine didn't notice, even in the slightest. The next incident he was in the toilet for 40 minutes, I knocked and he cursed at me in Italian. Telling me to wait 5 minutes, after 10 I knocked again, "Can I go to the bathroom now? 11 minutes again "Can I go to the bathroom now?" Wait! And again, "Can I go to the bathroom now?" OK Ok! Che casso?! Another Italian came over and told me he was smoking in the toilet, which is immediate grounds for being kicked out of the hostel. He came out and after talking to the other Italian he rushed over to me to explain how he wasn't smoking, how he had intestinal problems for a long time now and it was hard for him to go to the bathroom. A cunning deception but irrelevant, or patently false take your pick. He always went in the bathroom with his backpack which we saw him keep his bong in, and it always reeked of drugs covered up by the bathroom disinfectant spray when he came out. "I don't care that your smoking in there I told him, I want to be able to use the bathroom, if you have intestinal issues change your diet, I had the problems before as well, now they're all gone." He asked me how long Ive been on my diet and I told him 4 months, he was shocked at this, and walked away. From this period on he always smoked the bong at the window in plain sight, with the shower and the toilet free from his clutches. Everyone in the dorm room told us flatly that they couldn't believe his behavior, even before we had met or said a single word to each other, the first response was inevitably, "what an asshole." Only then did we get to know each other, funny how strangers come together isn't it. The best part was when he realized how fucked he was when some conservative young girls from somewhere walked in as our new roommates and there was no one on his side even remotely. He then proceeded to sulk over to me in a perfect slinky fashion that looked like it belonged in an early 1990's Saturday night live skit, which he hid with what he thought was no doubt sincere confessional grace. "My friend, I am a good man, I think of everyone, before myself, you know?" If I wasn't so extremely interested in his current line of thinking I would have exercised extreme prejudice and destroyed him then and there myself, but alas my interest was peeked, and I didn't interrupt. "I come here to have good time and make friends, just want peace, you know?" I put my hand on his shoulder and nodded my head, and in that nodding head I was thinking "ohh yes, I know. I know how exactly.. Just how twisted you are right now, how no matter who or what you thought you were, the drugs got ahold of the show now." Then, with my voice I told him that I did understand and it was all good, which was all true. Hugged him and smiled. To this he seemed as though a great weight had been lifted. Another friend in his vacant lot of garbage and dirty clothes piled in the corner. Zane and I walked out of the room and a day later he was no longer in the hostel, Somebody finally called him out I guess, can't imagine why...
Venkel
I was hung over In the am, by mid-day we strolled out the doors heading for the tram station, stopping at the store for water.The tram we took was supposedly going to get us pretty close to this place I read up on online named Venkel, the reviews said that they made wonderful, locally sourced salads, so I was keen to try it. Although I had picked the right train number, It was going in the opposite direction, and so, before realizing this, we came to the end of the line on the other end of the city. Zane was apt to point out my failing, especially since I had been poring through my map and the transit system grid lines the whole time without once being able to definitively tell us where we were, or where we were going.The large, red hair dyed Italian conductress was not the least bit enthusiastic about her job. As she sat there behind tempered shatterproof glass, absentmindedly handing out the tickets customers requested, she was filing her already ridiculously sharp fake nails, which were much the same color as her dyed hair. When I asked her how to get to where we had intended to go she told us to go back to Bos en lomnerweg. I tried to clarify further and her response was that of unbridled annoyance, "You didn't understand me?! You go back!" She snapped, and that concluded our foray into the conductresses world. Once we figured out where to go, from a much more approachable conductress, they all seem to be women on the trams in Amsterdam, we got off on the outskirts of city center and walked to Venkel. We got the first two items on the menu and were very pleased with our choices. The establishment was run by a woman, and she had two young ladies helping her out. It was peaceful, clean, and very nourishing. Once recharged, we set off into the heart of the city, yet again walking every avenue that drew us in, looking for a Coffee Shop that would suit us. Which in our case meant quite, clean and in possession of a bong. For those of you who think this is an easy list to satisfy, think again, we went into several places and none of them had a bong, were all packed and loud as hell. Eventually though we ended up on the same street we took the night of our arrival in Amsterdam. There was a neat place there that had upstairs and downstairs seating, with a central floor area for eating food they made behind a small kitchen and a place for buying the strains you wanted from the desk in front. It was quite, in that there was no music blasting over us, so we could hear each other, and they had a wall of perfectly clean bongs. Before I knew this for a fact and before we even ordered anything I went in back to ask if they had one, as I had in the other establishments that met the other two requirements, being clean and quiet, and the lady disappeared, came back with a bong, still with a carb, filled it with ice, to cool down the smoke for a more enjoyable experience, and handed it to me. Zane saw this and ordered a gram of something, while I went upstairs and found us a spot at a long dark table placed to the left of a wall surrounded by comfy padded seating build into the wall. We smoked there until we were both twisted, leaving in a haze and coming out somehow worse for wear into the busy streets of Amsterdam. I say worse for wear because somehow Zane's foot was in a lot of pain and my stomach was cramping tight like my fists were during my Sapo (frog poison immunity) experiences in Peru. It was as if I was having a panic attack, in truth I think I was... Marijuana does this to me sometimes, especially when my tolerance is low and Im in unfamiliar circumstances. Within a minutes of really painful cramps I finally got my breathing right and they vanished, just like that. Zane wasn't so lucky, his problem was getting worse. Not wanting to drag him around for a place to eat that suited my diet, which he has insisted on, I chose a place with nice decor and a warm atmosphere nearby. We both had the coconut tomato soup and I ordered veggie spring rolls with a greek salad. We took the bus home and decided on a game of pool in the lobby before bed. Zane was sweeping the floor with me until he missed the 3rd to last ball, then I sunk 5 in a row and missed the 6th. He sunk his next shot but missed the next and I finished with the 8 ball corner pocket shot. Another fun day in the this wild city.
Welcome to Amsterdam
For the first leg of my journey to Amsterdam I had to transfer from Stockholm to Oslo and then Oslo to Amsterdam, altogether it was only a few hours and mostly painless. When I arrived I took the train into the city for 5.90 Euros, and then a bus at the central station to what I hoped was the correct area of our hostel.I told the bus driver where I needed to go, Boss en lommerweg its called, and when we passed it I asked if that was my stop, he asked me, “where you want to go?” Wow hostel I replied, and he opened the doors at the next stop and said, “that way, and after some time to the left” while pointing straight at the face of a building, after asking 3 more people for directions I found the place. It’s a 4 story building, probably not designed as a hostel to begin with but converted for such a purpose after the fact.I checked in, paid the 96 Euros that remained over after the online deposit and then had to wait several hours before I could check in. The first person I meet after sitting down in the lobby was a chap from North Whales named Maff, who runs a homeless rehabilitation center there. Before, during and after our conversation he asked if I knew where to Get Marijuana nearby and left me with the impression that smoking it was all that was really on his mind.After searching online for a raw vegan place within walking distance I found the Alchemist Garden, a sweet little place with a wide selection of choices. As much as I would have liked to walk in ready to look through the menu and choose carefully, I had business to attend to in the bathroom, so I ordered 2 random things on the menu, asked where the bathroom was and flew downstairs, passing the owner and his working desk in a flash and quickly landing on the throne.When I came back upstairs my food was already ready, a trademark of Raw food indeed. I had a sandwich made with dehydrated flax seeds and filled with onion, tomato, lettuce, avocado and a light chili sauce. And to finish it off I had a cold African soup. The man behind the counter was originally from Sicily, moved to London in the early 80’s and then in the 90’s moved to Amsterdam where he’s been ever since. I actually really liked him, he was very funny and well informed about a great many things.The owner came up a few moments later and introduced himself, he was very cool as well, and was very interested in speaking with me when I told him I managed an Organic Raw juice and food bar. I suppose that’s how all business is, networking and learning from other companies is pivotal for an infusion of new ideas.When I got back to the hostel it was ok to check in and so I did. The first thing I did when getting into our room was to accidentally cut my head on the lockbox metal flap, I thought it might bleed but wasn’t too worried about it, so I took a shower, and then a nap. When I woke up there were stains on my pillow and a patch of dried blood in my hair, it only bothered me because It was such an easily avoidable injury, and that I looked rather beat up. The jet lag at this point was still causing me a good deal of grief in the energy and healthy look department, a situation I hope to rectify via some newly acquired skill sooner or later.The time came to meet Zane at the airport, and so I left for the main station and bought a 3 day all public transport card for 25 Euros, a great deal if you’re there that long. Zanes flight was an hour late, having to circle the city due to windy conditions. So I found myself a seat and continued to read Tropic of Cancer.Zane came through the gate and we greeted each other with a solid hug and pat on the back, “welcome to Holland,” I said. “good to be here” he replied. I showed him where to buy a three-day transport ticket and then we rode the train and then bus to our hostel. He checked in, put his stuff away and by this time it was already 11:30pm. Zane wanted to see the town, get some water, beer or both, so we took the last bus into the city, walked around for hours, everything was mostly closed, it was a Monday night after all. We did get some water, but no Beer. We also saw the half-naked ladies standing in their red lighted windows beckoning in anyone they chose to spend time with. Some of the more beautiful ladies were quite picky, we saw a few men that had approached the windows be rejected, for being too drunk or not their type, who knows.Finally, I told Zane I was tired and we should really get home. There were supposedly night busses that ran until morning but we couldn’t find them. So, not having any idea how far we really needed to walk, we walked the whole way home. Which was something like 2 hours from 1am to 3pm. This, and It had already been a long day. By the time we got back to the hostel the doors were locked and we stood their dumb founded watching the doors immovable and lifeless. Until they opened as if by magic and we flooded in to the warmth of the temperature controlled building, it was freezing outside after all, literally 32 degrees. We were greeted by the night desk guy who informed us that our keycards would have let us in, to which we shook our collective heads in acceptance and went to bed after splitting the pear and apple I got from my USA to Sweden flight.First impressions of Amsterdam are good in that it’s one of the most unique places I’ve ever been too. But the real test, as always, lies in the many days ahead of us…