This is Dresden. It's beautiful, even in the freezing cold.

I got back from Hong Kong and China on the weekend. I tried to write my blog from China but I couldn't access it. Either because the internet was too slow, or the People's Republic don't like blogs.

China and Hong Kong don't really fall into the realm of a Euroblog, I know, but they were too amazing not to write about.

Hong Kong is a city sprawling up into the air. Bright lights, noise, hundreds of people on every streetcorner... open markets with live fish (and birds)... Starbucks and Ben & Jerry's crammed in with noodle shops selling Bird's Nest Soup...

I went to Stanley Market on the bus (a double decker, no less) and walked from the old Officer's Mess (which is now a mall - there are malls everywhere in Hong Kong, even Victoria's Peak) along the waterfront to a temple. A dog ran out and tried to bite me on the leg. It was terrifying. I have a horrible fear of rabies jabs. I yelled at the dog and it went away, but I was still shaking even after I was well away.

A great thing, I found, about Hong Kong was the feeling that you're living in the sky. I've never really had the skyscraper experience before (I'm from Europe), and staying in an apartment on the 36th floor was unreal, lying in bed at night looking at the harbour and all the lights.

Hong Kong island, and the islands in the New Territories, are also amazingly verdant and beautiful, and so accessible. I can't imagine how much cooler London would be if you could hop in a taxi / ferry / speedboat on a Saturday morning and be on paradise beach in half an hour, swimming in the sea.

Versailles, je t'aime

Exactly ten days ago I went to France. I've been back in Berlin for three, but I've barely been able to put pen to paper (or finger to keyboard) to describe in non-hyperbolic terms the effect the Palace of Versailles had on me.

Without wishing to embark on a long rant about art, architecture, Louis XIV, Renaissance art and so forth, all I can really say is that it was gob-smacking. Not just because of its enormity, beauty, opulence and the sheer number of tourists (here's a travel tip: never visit French châteaux in August, unless you enjoy being crushed into majestic rooms and only being able to see about 3 square metre corners of them at a time for all the people standing in your way). I'm surprised the fabrics at any French châteaux have any colour left for all the flashes that constantly bombard the priceless paintings, tapestries, curtains, embroidered wallpaper and bedspreads.

I visited 3 châteaux whilst I was in France: Château de Villandry (amazing garden), Chenonceau (ruined for me by too many screaming children and their parents incessantly taking photos) and the Palace of Versailles.

So what's so amazing about the Palace of Versailles? It's almost too amazing. It's so huge, and so over-the-top, that it's almost impossible to imagine life there. It's a dream world. Everything about it was totally mad: the court etiquette, the ceilings depicting French monarchs as Roman gods, the "outdoor living rooms" of the gardens - with every twist and turn it just gets better and better. Each chandelier, each fireplace, each piece of furniture, each fountain is more incredible than the next.

And then there's the size. It's so enormous that you can't fit it into a camera frame from nearly half a kilometre away. The garden was so big that I didn't even make it to Marie Antoinette's Hameau (the little village she built in the palace ground to escape the formality of court life, small wonder) as I had to leave for the airport.

As I walked around, I just couldn't understand how people could live like this. A palace is one thing. But Versailles is like the gargantuan palace that ate all the other palaces. Life there seemed like eighteenth century Big Brother, with Louis XIV holding court from his bed. The place made my head spin, I haven't stopped thinking about it for days.

I want to go back, not only for Marie Antoinette's house, but just to try and make sense of it. And hopefully next time in winter when I can soak it all up without the stampeding mob of tourists. They almost seemed like the mob that stormed the palace in 1789 - but nowadays they're baying for snapshots instead of blood, pushing and shoving to get a photo they can take home and keep forever - of a life lived in an age of extravagance and extremes of wealth. Seems like everyone still wants a piece of the French royals, alive or dead.

I just got back from a short trip to Poland. Gdansk (or Danzig as it's know in German) is one of the Tri-cities on the Baltic coast.

Gdansk is a real gem. The people are friendly, and most spoke English, or understood the universal language of pointing and making hand signals that has served me so well in countries where I don’t speak the lingo. The old town is like a picture-postcard, with beautiful, atmospheric streets laden with market stalls selling amber and carved goods.

Gdansk reminded me of Prague, but minus the throngs of beer swigging, devil-horn-wearing Brits on their hen- and stag- nights. There were a lot of tourists from cruise ships during the day, but in the evening the city is much emptier. There’s a beach at the nearby city of Sopot, which is a rather smarter than Gdansk and makes for a good day trip. It’s supposed to be the party capital of the Tri-cities, but my friends and I couldn’t afford to stay there! I’ll come back next year with a tent, there’s an annual music festival and, if this year’s line-up is anything to go by (Norah Jones and Sophie Ellis Bextor, as well as 70s legends like Gloria Gaynor, The Village People and Hot Chocolate), it looks good: http://sopotfestival.onet.pl/

The Poles claim to make the best vodka in the world, and I’m now backing their bid wholeheartedly. Even the regular, inexpensive brands are incredibly smooth, the beer is great too.

Gdansk also now rules as the city with the funniest menu translations. Here’s a selection of my favourites, they either came from the menu at the restaurant at Malbork Castle or from a Pierogi (Polish dumplings) restaurant in Gdansk.

Whet your appetite with:

Slugs
Village Grease and Pickled Cucumber with Bread
Poultry Collars in Sauce
The Little Cellar Chop
Pork Bite
Pork with a Little Pocket
Roasted (or Boiled) Hand of Pork
Neck of Pork in an Innkeeper’s Style
Throttled Trout

Throttled trout - the poor trout! Does the manner of death really have to be specified on the menu? I don’t even want to think about what’s involved in the “Little Cellar Chop”.

I went from Berlin to Gdansk by train. Outbound I took a night train, which was very comfortable. On the return, I squashed myself into a carriage with a Polish family and fell asleep - it was a nine hour trip to Berlin. I was sleeping so deeply that the ticket inspector had to shake me awake.

After he left, the Polish girl sitting opposite me told me she and her family were getting off at the next station, and that I absolutely must not fall asleep again. I was alarmed. She told me she suspects a mafia works the line, robbing tourists and solo travellers. She said she’d been robbed on that very train from Gdansk to Szczecin (Stettin) whilst travelling on her own. Someone opened the door of the cabin while she was sitting alone and sprayed her with sleeping gas, she suspects. She vaguely remembers being drowsy, then four men coming in. When she woke up properly all her valuables were gone. The girl told me I should never sit alone in a segregated compartment on a train, and told me to find some other travellers to sit with.

But that was the only time I felt unsafe in Poland, on the streets and everywhere else I felt fine. Poland was great, I can’t wait to go back and travel some more.