Who told me Poland would be warm? I must've been the only man in the country to wander around in shorts and a t-shirt yesterday. So as you may have gathered Barcelona... done. Well. Sort of. Now I've been there like. See the hangover accompanied me from Tenerife for the entire two and a half hour plane journey, the half an hour at the baggage carousel, the forty-five minute bus journey and the fifteen minute stumble around central Barcelona. It wasn't all the hangover's fault, after all I had encouraged it with a Burger King diet. So late in the day, seated in the classiest fast food joint of the classiest Spanish city we began devising a plan. Pretty centrally hinged on finding a cheap bed for the night. Our old friend the internet gave many options and we opted for the €15, centrally located, two star Hotel Barbara just off La Rambla. Funny how the description didn't mention the alluring feature of being the fulcrum of the city's red light district. Left to my own devices, I found it best to appease the hangover demons with a few hours of Spanish TV. Around midnight I thought it a fitting time to take in some of Barcelona's sights. Well we are all used to be harassed on tour but five solicitations in one hundred metres - I'm sorry nobody's that good looking. And while your at it no mate I don't want beer from you, no nor cocaine tonight thanks. After battling through the jungle I found a real symbol of the city. The marina. As fish literally jumped out of the water and people drank beer on the promenade the boats bobbed up and down. All sorts of boats from small yachts to the biggest private cruising yacht I've ever seen, all five decks of it, oh, and it's private security. After an hour of wandering I battled back through the crazy people on the streets and made it to bed with plans of great exploration the next morning.

The next morning however never came. After a 3am battle with a mosquito (I lost) neither Rob or I woke until just before midday. Our flight was two and a half hours away. We managed to make a balls of transport to the airport, arriving an hour before departure, only to find when getting there that Wizz air were not quite whizzing on that day. After an hour and a half delay it was Spain... done.

I didn't know what to expect from Poland. Beautiful women and cheap beer I suppose. There is that but as well it's a pretty cool place. A lot greener than I thought. Huge forests. We arrived in Katowice without much idea of how to get where we were going. In a series of flukes, chance and good luck we found a minibus to Krakow and from there another almost straight-away to Kielce. This second bus was pretty jammed and there was some of us standing in the aisle looking on into a two hour journey when the driver abruptly swings off the road. Just to make sure you fully appreciate the bizareness of this we had NO polish and nobody had ANY english! A few seconds later we were joined by a larger bus and it became apparent that we were swapping buses so we all had a seat. Very considerate indeed! So at the end of our 11 hour journey we arrived in Kielce. Me, still in shorts but now sporting a light jumper. Not knowing where we were staying we went in search of a payphone in a nice hotel central to the town and the receptionist said something I may never hear again. The conversation went like:

"Hello, do you speak English?"

"Yes, a little."

"Would you have a payphone or a telephone we could use to call our friend?"

"Where are you calling?"

"A Polish mobile." (I took out my phone and pulled up Greg's number.)

And then without any introduction: "Ah, you are staying here tonight. Your passport please and here is your room key."

It was clear the town had been expecting the paddies.