So I'm chilling in Amy and Anna's hostel with them when we meet two guys who have just come from Krakow, Poland. I'm heading there next and ask them how it was. They tell me, then ask me how I'm getting there. The overnight train from Prague to Krakow, I tell them, and then they give me looks of horror. They tell me about two guys they met in Krakow who said they were gassed on the train and had their daypacks stolen.
Are you kidding me?
Another person in the hostel, and Australian, confirms the rumor with her Lonely Planet guide: a blurb says that there are many reports of theft on the overnight train, including a couple of people who say they were chloroformed while they slept.
Talk about having the fear put in you. I had already bought my ticket, though, and was determined to go. "What are you going to do?" asked Anna. "I'll lash the door shut," I said. "What if they're already in the cabin with you?" asked Amy. I thought about it for a moment. "I'll duct tape everything of value to my legs," I said. It was meant as a joke, but I actually did it. While the people in the hostel's bar looked on, Amy duct taped my camera to one leg in the bar, my mobile phone to the other. I put some grivnas in my wallet and money belt and put the rest of my money and my check cardin my shoe. "Anyone who is robbing you is going to get in and out quick," I said. "They're going to go for the wallet and the money belt, not go feeling up your legs." Amy and Anna still looked dubious. They suggested I go to Paris with them. Had I the time or money, I would have. As it was, I had to go to Krakow to meet my friends Sean and Seth, threat of robbery or not.
"Well," said one of the guys. "If you do get robbed, at least you'll get a whole new wardrobe." "What do you mean?" I asked. "Travel insurance," he said. "I don't have travel insurance," I said. His friend laughed. "Wow," he said. "How retro."
Which brings up why people get travel insurance while in Eastern Europe It's because you're likely to get robbed blind.
The rugby team in Budapest? Three of their daypacks were stolen while the slept on an overnight train in Croatia. Another one of the rugby members had his camera stolen while we were dancing at Rio. It was a bit of his fault: he dropped it. But it no sooner hit the ground then someone had picked it up and it was gone forever.
Jenny, the Scottish girl that went to the five-story club with us had her purse stolen while she was there. She was too drunk to remember how; she thinks she set her handbag down on the bar or something. In any case, in the morning her handbag was with her, her purse was not. Luckily, the guy that came back to the hostel with her gave her 100 crowns to get her through the week before she flew back to Scotland.
And then there was me. I'm anal and paranoid about my stuff while traveling. Everything of value: my mobile, my camera, my checkcard and my passport, stays on me at all times and I'm really careful in crowds. My whole backpack could get stolen and I could still finish out the trip with minimal hassle as long as I have those four things. Still, despite my precautions, something near and dear to me was stolen in Prague: my socks.
In Slovakia, in the mountains, there were sporting goods store on every block to supply the mountain trekers. My wool hiking socks, three years old now, were shot. I bought a $10 Slovakian-made pair (I believe in paying good money for good socks) for climbing to the top of Poland and they were fantastic, better than the SmartWool ones I buy at home. In Prague, I left them hanging on my bunk to air out and they were gone the next day. Possibly someone knew the value of good wool socks. Possibly the guy below me just thought they were his and took them with him when he left.
In either case, grrr. But still, small loss.
As far as getting gassed and mugged on the train? Well, I found out it was an urban myth. I checked the State Department website for Poland and read that while train robberies were common, there were no reports of people being cholorformed. Had it actually happened, it would have been in there. A borrowed Rick Steves' Travel Guide said the same thing: the cholorforming was an urban myth, probably told by people too embarassed to admit that they slept right through being robbed.
By the way, I've asked to see and flipped through a lot of travel guides while in Eastern Europe, trying to find which brand is the best. The only guide I had were the torn out pages of a 2000 Let's Go guide that was left on the Peace Corps shelf. Having looked through Rough Guide, Let's Go, Lonely Planet and Rick Steves, I would have to say Rick Steves was the best for both accuracy and layout. The hand-drawn maps are annoying, but you can't have everything. Also, for off-the-beaten track places (i.e. Ukraine), Brandt's Travel Guides are the best. They specialize in the areas the tourists don't normally go. When I go through Turkey, Georgia, Armenia and Aizer Baijan next year, it will be with a Brandt.
Anyway, when I arrived at my coupe on the Prague-Krakow train, I found I was sharing it with five women: three Americans, an Australian and a Finn. In other words, no rough Hungarians to gas me in the night. I announced my attention to lash the door shut for security, which they readily agreed to, having heard the rumors themselves. One of the girls loaned me a canvas belt for the job and, viola, we were safe.
Actually, someone did try to open the door around one A.M. After a couple of tugs, though, they left. Whether it was a robber or someone at the wrong coupe, who knows?
I arrived in Krakow safely the next morning, with all my things accounted for. Let me tell you, though, it was a bitch getting that duct tape off my leg hair.