Europe toasts absinthe friends

PARIS to Prague: a time-honoured coach tour of Europe was just the ticket for Vanessa Santer, who discovered absinthe does make the heart grow fonder.

Amigos ... 26 travellers on a bus trip through Europe - you soon become friends and when you arrive in Prague, someone inevitably suggests a round of 'absinthe' / Lonely Planet Images

TRAVELLING with strangers on a two-week coach tour is a surreal experience. Coupled with culture shock every two days as you enter a new country, and sustained fatigue, it can become like a dream.

But at some point on a group tour, you bond. And our moment came in a little cavern of a bar somewhere under the old streets of Prague. It turns out, all we needed was absinthe.

Everywhere you turn in Prague is a tower steeped in gothic, and a bar reminiscent of Dracula's lair; it's the perfect place for 26 travellers to have their first big night.

But there's a choice to make on tours such as those organised by Topdeck: you do the day, or you do the night.

Our group, Australian and New Zealand couples and singles in their early 20s, mostly chose daylight hours to have their fun. Being a hotel rather than a hostel tour, it attracts a crowd more focused on quality than quantity.

Paris in the Spring

When my head hits the pillow about midnight after our first day in Paris, I can't recall when I've packed more into any other 24 hours of my life.

There's something satisfying about this, but also a sense that the real city – the one I've glimpsed before – somehow eluded me this time.

Still, Paris in spring from a bike is amazing. How free you feel riding the wrong way up a one-way street with the wind in your hair.

We cycle through blossom-filled parks and past Paris's icons, extracting smiles from the French, who seem to appreciate the chaos of 30 bikers swerving every which way.

Our guide is a hoot: a serious, bearded American student with Ray-Bans and a hoodie who assures us everything will be all right when cars begin beeping us.

The three-hour tour is designed to take in all the city's hotspots, but I find myself enjoying the sunny beer stop in the beautiful Jardin des Tuileries more than the history lessons.

After hours of pedalling, a champagne picnic under the trees adjacent to the Eiffel Tower is like manna from heaven. And the heavens do open for us.

Cold rain confirms that Paris in May experiences three seasons in one day. We're treated to a lightning storm as we feast. The plates and glasses may be plastic but the food is carefully prepared and exceeds everyone's expectations.

Swiss sizzles

There's the same sense of pleasant surprise as our coach travels one of the longest and most beautiful journeys next day, past glistening lakes rising into other-worldly alps.

We marvel at the vista over Switzerland's Lake Lucerne as a cablecar climbs to our accommodation, 1750m above sea level.

The Rigi Hostellerie is the best accommodation on the trip. The view from my balcony over the misty mountains seals the deal, but the cosy bar, open fire, comfy doonas, bath and authentic fondue dinner don't hurt either.

After a two-hour trip on Lake Lucerne, a hearty pork and potato lunch in one of the taverns washed down with Eichof, the local brew and a mind-blowing hot chocolate, is just the ticket.

In Florence, don't call me baby

In less than 24 hours our woolly jumpers are replaced by T-shirts. We are in Italy and 28C heat. Of all the accommodation, my room at the Albergo Arno Bellariva, in Florence, is the strangest: a slightly dilapidated, two-star place where excellent chianti is served in large shot glasses.

I'm shown to a room with a 10m-high ceiling and no windows; I try not to think of it as a cell. But the location's good: a 20-minute walk to the beautiful Ponte Vecchio.

It's easy to get lost in Florence, and that's precisely my aim. While the others set out for the day in groups, I wander alone.

Being blonde, harassment is a concern, but a "Ciao" is all that's needed to respond to friendly greetings on the streets.

I find a small restaurant filled with locals on Via de Servi, away from the main piazza, and order an excellent broccoli pasta.

Do as the Romans do, until you arrive in Venice

In Rome, we make the mistake of eating with other tourists. We emerge ravenous from the Vatican (note: there's no line at midday, when everyone else is at lunch) and spend triple what the locals would at the pizza place across the road.

Rome is a city you love or hate.

I loved its gelato (five flavours, and the best I had – and I had a lot); sitting on the grass at the Colosseum at sunset; St Peter's Basilica (which I found more inspiring than the packed Sistine Chapel); the gorgeous Trevi Fountain; stumbling on ancient ruins around every corner; and the sense that this is the real Italy.

We're in Venice by the next afternoon. The city is warm, hazy and only mildly overrun with tourists and pigeons.

I spend the day buying Venetian glass and discovering possibly the best pizza in all of Italy at the Ristorante al Due Vescovi, 100m from Piazza San Marco.

A gondola ride is costly, but it's worth seeing this sinking city from some of its 150 winding canals.

Leaving Italy, where the majority of our trip has taken place, is sad. Justin, our guide, preps us with his entertaining potted history of the next country, as we pass through fields of poppies between Venice and Austria.

This is the adventure part of our trip: whitewater rafting in cold alpine rivers, skydiving, mountain biking and caving.

Czech mates share a beer or three

As we enter the Czech Republic the next day, the houses change from neat villas to worn-out cement facades – evidence that communism was here recently.

A half-litre of beer at a service station costs $A1, and we're all mildly drunk on arrival in Prague.

With its wired-in balconies, it's not a stretch to imagine the Hotel Dum being used as communist housing. Spookily, a whole family once lived in my hotel room.

Absinthe with thujone – the substance that makes you hallucinate – has been banned elsewhere for years. We're fascinated by the ritual, which involves stirring in lighted sugar and downing it in one.

I'm not sure if it's because our trip is winding up, the effects of Europe's anointed party city, or whether it's the green fairy working her magic.

However, sitting on Prague's beautiful Charles Bridge with a huge hangover, I think I've cracked the group-tour code: forget about sleep.

The writer was a guest of Topdeck.

The Sunday Telegraph

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