What not to do when inter-railing...

As it is our last day as a foursome (Han and Amy head home and Jess and I make our way down to Croatia) I thought I would blog - though I am mainly
blogging because we are a tad to hungover to move. This post is on what not to do when inter-railing.

1) Send an 'I love Berlin' postcard from the Aushwitz post office.
2) Insist you have lost your bumbag with all your money init but then find it in your bag the third time you search through it.
3) Leave your pyjamas in Prague.
4) Leave your inter-rail pass on the train.
5) Ask what is veggie on the menu - the waiter will just suggest: fish, chicken, apple pie and fish.
6) Trying to use the Birth of the Royal Baby as a legit reason that you deserve a discount.
7) Eat paneer in Prague.
8) Get on the tram before working out what direction you want to go in.
9) Spend all your change so you have to beg in the metro station.
10) Include Sofia in your route.  They will start protesting and you will have to find an alternative way to get to Croatia.
11) Do shisha with some Norwigeon men and end up puking in the streets of Budapest.

Unfortunately all of these things have happened to us. They may not be ideal situations but they have been entertaining.

Love EuroRuch xxx

How not to use the metro in Prague...

If you don't know me, I am often one to burst in to song. I can't sing. Sometimes I sing original songs about what I am doing at the moment, such as looking for olives in the supermarket.  I like to think I am the star of a musical. So in Prague I founded The Song For All Occasions: Take Two. I am going to share a bit of it with you before sharing the oh so classy meaning behind it.

It is to the tune of the Conga and inspired by the Train Line Advert.

It goes:

Choo choo  choo
Begging on the Train Line
Choo choo choo give me a Corona

If you haven't guessed I ended up begging on the metro in Prague.

We were on our way to the main station to get our first night trian. We pooled all our change together.  We were 1 ckr short. What do you do? As head of logistics it was my duty to make sure we had the money.  And I failed. It was  time to right my wrong...
Instead of choosing the lets go break a note by buying crisps amd getting change method,  I choose the begging approach.

I scooped out the potential targets.  First I asked 2 girls. They rejected my desperate plea. Then I chose a nice man. He looked friendly. He didn't understand my need, as instead of asking for 1 ckr I was asking for 1 corona.  Alchoalhic.  After some more sweet talking he gave the crazy tourist with a massive backpack some money and we were able to buy our ticket and get the night train to Krakow! Logistical success right there.

Short girl problems and the effects they have on your inter-rail experience...

If you haven't gathered from the title of this post I am what I like to call a short girl.  If you don't know what this means, let me explain - I am a girl and I stand a mere 5.1 feet from the ground, thus I am a short girl. Being short has its benefits,  such as when it rains you are the last to get wet so have more time to run for cover. However we short girls also suffer from what I like to call short girl problems. Whilst inter-railing I have experienced some of these problems - which if you haven't guessed already, I am going to share with you along with some solutions I have thought of...

1) You can't put your bag on the over head baggage shelf as it is too high.

2) You can't get your bag down from the over head baggage shelf.

3) Your feet don't reach the floor when you use the loo on the train as the loo is too high off the floor.

4) It is a struggle to get on to the top bunk when there is no ladder.

5) Your short legs can't walk as quick as your leggy friends and you often fall behind.

6) When standing,  your friends who are all sitting on bar stools are still taller than you - they get to sit, you have to stand, where is the justice in that?

7) You have to stand on your tip toes when ordering food from fast food / alcohol joints.

So as you can see being short is rather problematic, but never fear as here are some solutions I have devised to help other short girls  out there.




1) Carry a step-ladder with you every where you go.
2) Ask a nice tall man, preferably one with a beautiful accent, to help you.
3) Get over it.

I hope my solutions are of use to others suffering short girl problems.

That is all for now as we are pulling into Prague...

Love EuroRuch xxx

How not to socialise in Berlin...

One of the things I love about travelling is that you get to meet people from all walks of life and from every corner of the globe. As someone who is not shy and rather loud, I like to think I do this well. Last night we went to the open air  cinema in Berlin (Freiluftkino Kreuzberg - I recommend you all go) to watch The Beasts of the Southern Wild. It was the most amazing thing ever.  Anyway after that, we went to the ' Electro-beats' night at our hostel bar... Here we started a game of pool (nb: not snooker) - Tom and I vs Tomford and Jess. I perfected the skill of not hitting the ball. Some Aussies and a South African man came to give me tips and be my
very own cheer squad. I soon improved and managed to get two balls in a row. So as you can imagine we spent the evening with these lovely people playing pool and drinking beer - what a hoot. So here is a list of things to not do when playing pool and drinking beer with fellow travellers:

1) Don't tell an Aussie you love Neighbours and think it is the best show ever.

2) Don't decide you can't be friends with a girl you just met based on the fact that they don't like Harry Potter and Lord of the Rings - then inform her of this.

3) Don't turn your 'Desi Diva' on when your team mate tells you they don't want you to take the most vital shot of the game and then react by taking your shot and hitting the security guard with the cue which you then throw on the floor instead of passing it to the next player like a kind lovely person.

4) Don't get drunk and then scare your new friend by getting tongue-tied and instead of saying 'we have similar personality traits in regards to that' you say 'you're my type of guy...'

I hope my adventures are some what of an interest to you.

Peace out

EuroRuch xxx

#geographersontour

So I know I haven't blogged in forever as I have been busy enjoying the sun and what not. However, I am now in Berlin - day 2 of 3 weeks interailing through Eastern Europe. And so I was thinking my blog will temporarily become a travel blog, documenting the things I do and the things I learn about life on my glorious European Adventure...

This post is entitled '#geographers on tour' for 2 simple reasons. 1) I dislike #ing on any other media form but twitter...this is my attempt at irony. 2) We are geographers and we are on a tour of Europe.
A nice and simple explanation by a simpleton.


So during my first day this is what I have learnt about travelling/life/stuff:
1) Prudent packing can be achieved by those with a terrible case of over-packing syndrome.
2) Early morning flights are not fun,  regardless of how much cheaper they may be.
3) I am thankful that my skin tolerates the sun to a significant amount.  4) Bike tours are always more fun than walking ones - just imagine all the fun you can have riding a bike through a European city and singing songs from The Sound of Music -a hybrid of Victoria Pendleton and Maria can be achieved.

Here is just a selection of important life lessons I have learnt during the short time I have been on the continent. Make sure you keep a look out for my future blog posts to find out what is going down in Europe!

Love EuroRuch xx

Amy Lockwood: Earplugs are  gods gift to the world.
Hannah White: Beers should only be drunk in litres!

Coca-Cola: Resurfacing the feelings of exclusion and upset…

I made my own named coke bottle! 

Coca-Cola has branded their bottles with the 150, which apparently is now 250, most popular names in Great Britain. I am sure all the Johns, Sarahs, Gurpreets, Emmanuels, etc out there are having a swell time looking for the bottle with their name on it. Sounds so fun! For me it is not so fun – there isn’t a bottle with my name on it.

For people like me, who have only ever personally come across one other person in their whole 21 years of living with the same name as them, it just causes us to re-experience the feelings of exclusion and upset we had as a child. I was always so jealous of all my friends with their personalised mug or key-ring; they could all find countless products with their name on it. My cousin Tash even had a black headband with her name on it that she wore every day for ages. I didn’t have one. Social exclusion much? These feelings of exclusion and upset have resurfaced by Coca-Cola’s new marketing campaign. They are just not considerate of people with unique names. I can’t search the shelves for hours on end to find a bottle with my name on it like Harry, Amy, Amandeep and Kofi can. I just have to drink a bottle with any old name on it.

There has only ever been one other time in my life were I have found a ready-made product with my name on it. It was a bracelet. I found it at a jewellery stall at Chokhi Dhani (family translation: Crazy Village), Jaipur, Rajasthan, India. I made my dad buy it for me. I was 20. It made me so happy. It filled that gap in my heart from my childhood. I wore it every day, until I lost it. It was a sad day, I had so much love for that bracelet. Perfect example of why people like me have so much more appreciation to give to a coke bottle than Josh, Ben and Rachel have.

So yeah, I don’t like Coca-Cola’s new marketing campaign. But will I change my name? No. Because, although 9/10 people can’t say my name properly and it isn’t on a coke bottle, it is unique. I don’t need the first letter of my surname said after my name so I know people are talking to me (I believe I went to school with a Robyn O). I don’t even need the ‘ita’ in my name. I like to think that I am like Beyoncé and Adele – I don’t need a surname to define me. 

Why I can now see Thestrals: An Ode to my Ba…

So, I haven’t actually blogged since I have moved home due to going on Brownie Pack Holiday and what not. My next post was going to be titled ‘The Train Journey to  my Future…’ as I started to write it on my train ride out of the small university town of Aberystwyth, my home for the past three years, and back into the ‘real world’ located inside the M25. Unfortunately, I fell asleep half way through writing the post and it is no longer relevant as a lot has happened since then.

So, instead I am going to write about why I can now see thestrals. Thestrals, for all those who are not fans of Harry Potter, are magical creatures that are invisible to everyone except those who have seen death. I can now see them.

At the start of this month, my Ba (grandma) passed away whilst watching Star Plus (the Indian channel) in my living room. My parents, little sister and I were all present; we can now all see thestrals. It was a traumatic experience. Something that is still quite hard to believe at times, even after seeing her body in the hospital, dressing her in that lovely purple sari and feeling the heat of the furnace on my face before the coffin went in at the crematorium. These are all experiences that people simultaneously don’t want to deal with but probably will at some time in their life.

People say that Ba is in a better place now, which in one way I agree as she is no longer suffering and passed away before things got even worse for her. But on the other hand, I am quite sceptical about the after-life. So where Ba is or is not now will always remain a mystery.

Enough philosophical stuff, because for those who know me, know that I think philosophical stuff only belongs in a healthy but heated debate. So, instead I am going to share some of the wonderful things about Ba – some of which may have been taken from the speech her grandchildren gave at the funeral but I wrote the speech so it isn’t stealing.

Ba was a kind and caring lady, she always put everyone before herself and nothing made her happier than making a home for her family, known as ‘Mota Ghar’ (Direct translation: big house. Shah family translation: the main house of the family). My favourite part of ‘Mota Ghar’ was her ‘Nasta Cupborad’ (snack cupboard) stocked full of ghatiya, chivda, suva dana (various types of Indian snacks) and my personal favourite ‘Ba Biscuits.’ If you had the pleasure to taste them, count yourself lucky.

Ba was also praised on her ability to provide food; some favourites included her homemade popcorn and endless platters of sliced and diced fruit. I will always remember one morning whilst I was staying at ‘Mota Ghar’ in the holidays when Ba told me that we would have spaghetti for dinner. I was looking forward to it as it was a change from the regular dal, bhat, shak, rotli. Dinner time came. I went downstairs and sat at the table. Ba dished up. What did she give me? Spaghetti and dal (lentils)! Not a winning combination. I ate it, though, because if you didn’t finish your food Ba would say ‘matha ma bhushi nakish’ (I will rub it in to your head).  

These memories of Ba I have shared with you seem to have a common theme, food. I love food, so did Ba. And I have most definitely inherited her sweet tooth.

I will finish by sharing with you the most important life lesson I learnt from Ba: ‘Cereal is not just for breakfast!’