Not seen the sun since the second day, our first in Prague. Today no different, awoke at about 7.00am to the rain on the tent and mud on the ground for the first time. Thankfully not too bad but perhaps a little taster of things to come.
This weather is seriously testing my lack of organisation. Need to plan everything well in advance or be exposed by the elements. Spent the night in Prague freezing because of the sudden weather change. Usually find that whatever I want for the day is in my rucksack somewhere under my backside in the side holds. Camera battery still flat, only consolation the weather is reducing the scenery to a wet cold English type scene.
Left late at 9.00am because of the incident the night before. Took an hour and half to get out of the city because of the rain and traffic and slowly made our way to the Romanian border and the unknown. Arrived at the border at 2.20pm, Still raining. Heading for Cluj-Napoca and a hotel bed, a beer festival and the furthest point east we have ever ventured. My first impression is one of poverty and large open expanses of farmland waiting to be utilised.
Arrived at the Hotel Cluj-Napoca also the name of the town about 9.00pm. The last kilometre spent following a paid taxis. The section to seriously test the resolve of the group. Passed through the Romanian border with little fuss in pouring rain and headed for Cluj just 127 k down the road so not one of the long sections. Just down the road came to a small junction with a diversion sign and petrol tanker blocking our progression. After a toot on the horn we followed him to the right. Our first real mistake, over two hours later we came back to the main road with 97 k still left to. We had taken a long winding road through an impressive Mountain range rising to 1790 metres. Didn't see much of the scenery because of the weather. The driving rain was the significant feature of the whole section. It was great to see the wooden, horse-drawn carts plodding along road but there was so many, returning from the field that they seriously slowed us down. Although the journey dragged on it was made easier by playing games and listening to some good music: Snow Patrol, Bob Marley, Neil Diamond, Clash, Bob Dylan and finally the Beatles. We enter Cluj to Lucy in The sky With Diamonds.
After being allocated room 414 along with Noreen from Ireland we were given 15 minutes to clean up and get back down for dinner. Didn't hear anyone complain, we were all very hungry. Devoured a goulash soup exactly like the one Budapest but unfortunately out of a packet. This was followed by cabbage and tomato salad in a very nice sweet dressing. Main course consisted of boiled potatoes served cubed and a pork and chicken winleshinzel.
Met later the lounge before going to look at the town. Met Scooby on the stairs as he was going for the left. Told me the hotel wouldn't exchange his dollars for Lei the currency. Lent him 50 euros. He emmediately set off to the bar to buy beer. Later saw him and the rest of the party gang with crate of beer. Told me they had anoher crate in the cooler for later and they'd given him 30 euros change.
Set off in the torrential rain to see the main town square with Maz who was, once again, guide and leader. The September Beer Fest in soggy ruins in the square with Mathias and his party gang looking down simpathetically. Talking to Maz I learnt she actually worked for a month in Cluj on a teaching exchange. Conversation came about after she'd stopped two young women and asked directions in Romanian. Made our way into a bar called Deizel. Very pretentious establishment sold very expensive, for Romania, canned beer which we washed down with canned music that played for over an hour without changing tempo, melody or rhythm. By far worse bar so far by a mile.
Returned back to the hotel to find the lads partying in full throng. They were down to the second crate which they were sharing. Stayed with them till just gone 3.00am. Best part of the whole day. Language, loud constantly, foul very frequently but fun to be with all the time.
Saturday 29 September 2007
Day 5
Day started very early at 6.00am. By breakfast, 7.30am, the lads had slept for a whole two and half hours. Scooby and Co left the Oz bar at 5.00am having paid a drinks bill totalling 500 euros. This was after they had negotiated a special deal with Barry, one of the oz waiters, who did not charge them for bottle beers and provided a free 2 and 3 metre towers. The bar must have thought it was Christmas. My first thoughts were for the poor Australians they are going to stay with on arrival but Fe told me later that she couldn't get into the campsite launderette for very, drunk ozzie teenagers who had also thrown everyone's drying clothes out of the tumble dryers were also staying on the site while travelling around Europe with a company called Top Deck. Top Deck 1 Ozbus 0. I found out, even later still, from Viv, that the bar manager had approached Leighton about bringing future Ozbus partys' in the future. So much for my comments as we headed into the capital about high culture. In this world profit always takes precedent.
Breakfast finished and cleared away, bags all stored on the coach everyone's attention turned to the topside of the site where Sue was banging on a camper van and a tent and screaming in German at the Ozzie occupants who kept them awake until 3.00am. When one of them emerged from his tent she threw the contents of coffee mug in his face. All of this was done to clapping and cheering from the others whose night sleep had been destroyed but did not have the bottle to strike back. After two meetings between us and Top Deck I think it now stands 1 nil to the Brits.
Arrived at a rundown looking site in Budapest at about 12.30. Set up camp and headed in the centre. Budapest no different from every other city, because of the traffic it took an hour to negotiate our way to the slots besides Elizebeth Bridge. Spent a short hour paroosing the market while Leighton went off to source lunch.
Finally had dinner at about 4.00pm, every very hungry. Hungry in Hungary.
Had a reasonable meal of Goulash soup, chicken paparika and a beer. This was followed by a further pint in an unusual bar called For Sale. The roof once again like Hermies was absolutely covered with messages of kinds: notes on beer mats, business cards, tarjettes, cigarette packets etc, etc. The whole place was designed to be different and attractive to the kind of bohemian type of person and yet the waiters especially unwelcoming. After just the drink we all headed for another bar where the staff were completely opposite. Barman asked me where I came from and then said that McCabe had attempted to buy an some Hungarian team. Rest of the time spent drinking and talking. I bought two glasses of Unicum for the group to taste and with the exception of Ian (Kwok) who knocked it back in one all the rest found it foul. Strange that tastes can be so regional. After a trip up to the Citadel to take photos looking straight down the river and finding the battery in my camera was flat (no shots) we headed back to the campsite to park the bus and go for some more beer down by the river and just 10 minutes walk away.
Got off the bus last to find Mark cuddling Lucinda who was crying. As I made for my tent it became apparent that the tents had been broken into and possessions stolen. I was relieved to find ours was still in tact. Immediately there were shouts, flashlights in the wooded area of the site, shouting and the sound of people running. The 'party gang' led by Barry from Nevin was branding a rather large torch had disturbed the culprits and were in full pursuit without considering the consequences. I certainly would have thought twice about following a group of thieves into a dark wooded area late at night armed with one large torch. Amazingly to their credit they quickly found Lucinda's case with the belongings scattered along the path. Unfortunately or perhaps fortunately they got away with Ted's rucksack which was locked. Mac lost his supply of condoms but not the wad of dollars he pulled out of the tent. The boys spent a good hour scouring the site for the sack. It became apparent the thieves were going to go through all the bags in the safety of the tents and left with Ted's bag because it was locked. Thankfully all they got was clothes and no one was injured in the pursuit. Ted, Leighton and few others still went to the pub (now 11.50) to try and cheer Ted up but surprisingly the heroes' of the night turned Leighton's offer of a drink instead going for a shower and a bit of boy bonding. I think the bridge between the Navan boys is reducing. Whlst we were searching the area for the bag I asked Barry why he'd brought such a large, heavy powerful torch. 'I didn't' was his reply. 'I had to spend all my spare useless Czech money on something before heading into Austria' He happened to see the torch in the supermarket the day before. While we were eating that beautiful garlic soup Barry was making the purchase of the trip so far and with the look on his face he new it. Barry 1 Leighton 0.
Before we managed to get into bed the heavens opened up and quickly followed by our first storm of the trip. I found it very easy to go to sleep even though Anne was worried about the lighting and our position under the trees. I was more concerned about having to pack a very wet tent away for two or three days. Even the good news that we are to spend the next three nights in Romania and Bulgaria in hotels was offset by tonight's incident and poor old Ted. This was the first night that the whole party went to rest feeling a little down. Hope tomorrow and country number six has better things to offer.
Breakfast finished and cleared away, bags all stored on the coach everyone's attention turned to the topside of the site where Sue was banging on a camper van and a tent and screaming in German at the Ozzie occupants who kept them awake until 3.00am. When one of them emerged from his tent she threw the contents of coffee mug in his face. All of this was done to clapping and cheering from the others whose night sleep had been destroyed but did not have the bottle to strike back. After two meetings between us and Top Deck I think it now stands 1 nil to the Brits.
Arrived at a rundown looking site in Budapest at about 12.30. Set up camp and headed in the centre. Budapest no different from every other city, because of the traffic it took an hour to negotiate our way to the slots besides Elizebeth Bridge. Spent a short hour paroosing the market while Leighton went off to source lunch.
Finally had dinner at about 4.00pm, every very hungry. Hungry in Hungary.
Had a reasonable meal of Goulash soup, chicken paparika and a beer. This was followed by a further pint in an unusual bar called For Sale. The roof once again like Hermies was absolutely covered with messages of kinds: notes on beer mats, business cards, tarjettes, cigarette packets etc, etc. The whole place was designed to be different and attractive to the kind of bohemian type of person and yet the waiters especially unwelcoming. After just the drink we all headed for another bar where the staff were completely opposite. Barman asked me where I came from and then said that McCabe had attempted to buy an some Hungarian team. Rest of the time spent drinking and talking. I bought two glasses of Unicum for the group to taste and with the exception of Ian (Kwok) who knocked it back in one all the rest found it foul. Strange that tastes can be so regional. After a trip up to the Citadel to take photos looking straight down the river and finding the battery in my camera was flat (no shots) we headed back to the campsite to park the bus and go for some more beer down by the river and just 10 minutes walk away.
Got off the bus last to find Mark cuddling Lucinda who was crying. As I made for my tent it became apparent that the tents had been broken into and possessions stolen. I was relieved to find ours was still in tact. Immediately there were shouts, flashlights in the wooded area of the site, shouting and the sound of people running. The 'party gang' led by Barry from Nevin was branding a rather large torch had disturbed the culprits and were in full pursuit without considering the consequences. I certainly would have thought twice about following a group of thieves into a dark wooded area late at night armed with one large torch. Amazingly to their credit they quickly found Lucinda's case with the belongings scattered along the path. Unfortunately or perhaps fortunately they got away with Ted's rucksack which was locked. Mac lost his supply of condoms but not the wad of dollars he pulled out of the tent. The boys spent a good hour scouring the site for the sack. It became apparent the thieves were going to go through all the bags in the safety of the tents and left with Ted's bag because it was locked. Thankfully all they got was clothes and no one was injured in the pursuit. Ted, Leighton and few others still went to the pub (now 11.50) to try and cheer Ted up but surprisingly the heroes' of the night turned Leighton's offer of a drink instead going for a shower and a bit of boy bonding. I think the bridge between the Navan boys is reducing. Whlst we were searching the area for the bag I asked Barry why he'd brought such a large, heavy powerful torch. 'I didn't' was his reply. 'I had to spend all my spare useless Czech money on something before heading into Austria' He happened to see the torch in the supermarket the day before. While we were eating that beautiful garlic soup Barry was making the purchase of the trip so far and with the look on his face he new it. Barry 1 Leighton 0.
Before we managed to get into bed the heavens opened up and quickly followed by our first storm of the trip. I found it very easy to go to sleep even though Anne was worried about the lighting and our position under the trees. I was more concerned about having to pack a very wet tent away for two or three days. Even the good news that we are to spend the next three nights in Romania and Bulgaria in hotels was offset by tonight's incident and poor old Ted. This was the first night that the whole party went to rest feeling a little down. Hope tomorrow and country number six has better things to offer.
Day 4
Thank goodness the rain had not returned during the night but there was not enough sun to undo what the rain had created: everything wet and damp except our spirits. The breakfast crew had the food on the table and cleared away in 30 minutes. Had to run from the toilet to get on the bus for Vienna as the engine hummed for take off.
Journey started with the usual morning briefing: today a short journey, passports out in five seconds, countdown starts immediately' everyone has them in the air in no time except Anne and myself, 'all things are what?' 'changeable' and finally four new members arrived late last night. Leighton announces we're now a complete family before inviting each in turn to introduce themselves as we have all done now with our names, reason for picking Ozbuz, favourite mythical creature (?), which place most looking forward to seeing and finally plans after Sydney?
The first up Fergal a 26 year old doctor heading to take up an appointment in Melbourne. First one to get an applause for his occupation but I can't help feeling out of relief. Always good to have a doc abroad even if so young. He's followed by Paul a construction worker who gets loud cheer from Leighton who sees the potential if we need to dig the coach out. Next to take the mike is big John Paul Duggan a farmer from Ireland who delayed his trip to play in the final of a gaelic footbal final. The draw makes it possible that he will have to fly home for the replay. He must be good the club paying for his flight from Turkey and back. Last one up ? From America. Been working in advertising, now returning to Oz to get thee necessary quals to become a lawyer. Looking forward to India.
After a short drive the coach pulls in to a small supermarket to stock up with food for lunch. Panic sets in when it becomes apparent there's no toilets. Sue finds a corner behind the shop, the young party group head down the road to the next supermarket. Anne notices a sign for a restaurant with parking and toilet symbols and a large group of us make towards it. We all feel guilty at using the clean free toilets and so a mass order is taken for soup and beer. The garlic soup was memorable and will some beating especially for the princely sum of 15 krouna or 40 pence. Arrived in Vienna at about 2.00pm.
After an excellent lunch of salad, sliced meat loaf and chicken followed by a fruit salad we headed off into the capital for some high culture. After a good hour in the natural history museum we headed towards the opera house and the St Stephens church. Lastly we dropped in an Australian bar recommended by Leighton just to find Scooby, now firmly established as the leader of the lets get drunk brigade, and the rest of the gang downstairs going at it as though they were enter Iran tomorrow. It was obvious they had been there since leaving the coach three hours earlier. Finished up having two pints of a delicious local wheat beer and a very tasty beefburger. At about eight joined the party gang downstairs who were by then in full flight much to the delight of the pub's manager and the amusement of the two Ozzie waiters serving them. In the middle of the table were two glass towers, with pouring taps at their base, of beer. One was a 3 metre and the other a 2 metre and with all the screaming and shouting, laughing and gaffawing, pushing and shoving it was a microcosm of what Babel must have been like just before it fell. When we left at 9.15 to get the coach the lads were in heaven and Babel was still in tact.
Finished the night off sitting in the campsite kitchen drinking wine and hot chocolate. Went to bed reasonably early but many found it hard to sleep for the noise being made by a group of Ozzie campers.
Journey started with the usual morning briefing: today a short journey, passports out in five seconds, countdown starts immediately' everyone has them in the air in no time except Anne and myself, 'all things are what?' 'changeable' and finally four new members arrived late last night. Leighton announces we're now a complete family before inviting each in turn to introduce themselves as we have all done now with our names, reason for picking Ozbuz, favourite mythical creature (?), which place most looking forward to seeing and finally plans after Sydney?
The first up Fergal a 26 year old doctor heading to take up an appointment in Melbourne. First one to get an applause for his occupation but I can't help feeling out of relief. Always good to have a doc abroad even if so young. He's followed by Paul a construction worker who gets loud cheer from Leighton who sees the potential if we need to dig the coach out. Next to take the mike is big John Paul Duggan a farmer from Ireland who delayed his trip to play in the final of a gaelic footbal final. The draw makes it possible that he will have to fly home for the replay. He must be good the club paying for his flight from Turkey and back. Last one up ? From America. Been working in advertising, now returning to Oz to get thee necessary quals to become a lawyer. Looking forward to India.
After a short drive the coach pulls in to a small supermarket to stock up with food for lunch. Panic sets in when it becomes apparent there's no toilets. Sue finds a corner behind the shop, the young party group head down the road to the next supermarket. Anne notices a sign for a restaurant with parking and toilet symbols and a large group of us make towards it. We all feel guilty at using the clean free toilets and so a mass order is taken for soup and beer. The garlic soup was memorable and will some beating especially for the princely sum of 15 krouna or 40 pence. Arrived in Vienna at about 2.00pm.
After an excellent lunch of salad, sliced meat loaf and chicken followed by a fruit salad we headed off into the capital for some high culture. After a good hour in the natural history museum we headed towards the opera house and the St Stephens church. Lastly we dropped in an Australian bar recommended by Leighton just to find Scooby, now firmly established as the leader of the lets get drunk brigade, and the rest of the gang downstairs going at it as though they were enter Iran tomorrow. It was obvious they had been there since leaving the coach three hours earlier. Finished up having two pints of a delicious local wheat beer and a very tasty beefburger. At about eight joined the party gang downstairs who were by then in full flight much to the delight of the pub's manager and the amusement of the two Ozzie waiters serving them. In the middle of the table were two glass towers, with pouring taps at their base, of beer. One was a 3 metre and the other a 2 metre and with all the screaming and shouting, laughing and gaffawing, pushing and shoving it was a microcosm of what Babel must have been like just before it fell. When we left at 9.15 to get the coach the lads were in heaven and Babel was still in tact.
Finished the night off sitting in the campsite kitchen drinking wine and hot chocolate. Went to bed reasonably early but many found it hard to sleep for the noise being made by a group of Ozzie campers.
Day 3: Prague
Day three started at the now regular time 7.30am with the most beautiful dawn. Those from the drinking party who managed to emerge very briefly for breakfast very quickly disappeared back to their pits. Ben climbed out of his sack at 5.00pm and missed Prague.
After the now typical 10 minute breakfast of cereals, toast and a lukewarm cup of tea set off into the centre. Parked behind the palace I disembarked in shorts and tee shirt overlooking a sunny skyline. As the coach slipped away back to the campsite the sky turned grey and then black. Within 60 minutes it was pouring down. Spent most of the day in two bars with Gordon, Ted and Mac. After we'd been driven into a bar come pizzeria had an omelette and the first beer of the day. Had the second in the Café Monmatre once the haunt of Franz Kafka and the second, third and fourth in the an old communist bar. After a very short look around the wet and cold streets leading from the bar to Wenceslas Square we were driven back to the bar by the cold and my prostate. Did manage to find an internet café and check my mail before surrendering to the weather. We had gone from autumn to summer into winter all in a day. I was totally unprepared. Had a further beer in the commy bar to wash down a perfectly cooked sirloin stake in a cream, mushroom source accompanied the potato scollop's and french beans wrapped in ham. Finely before returning to the tent we retreated to a fancy wine bar and had a couple of palatable bottles of Caberngen Sauvignan from the Morava area. Arrived back at the campsite to find no bus. John Paul had to take it to have the thermostat replaced. Not a good sign after only three days.
All in all, despite the weather we had a very rewarding day. The inclement conditions afforded us the opportunity to get to know more about our three travelling companions. Mac was taking 3 month paid leave from his job as an engineer based in Dublin. Been doing his job 15 years and has spent most of the time travelling the world installing turbines. Has not touched alcohol for three years: didn't reveal why.
Gordon is far more revealing and surprisingly similar to me. After gaining a degree and getting his ideal job as the Cultural Director of a theatre in Glasgow he was sacked because he said he was not up to the job. I suspect Glasgow for him was a return to his family roots, his father had left, as many Scots did, to work in the steel mills in Corby Northamptopshire. Later his father was lucky to find employment with the post office after Thatcher had woven her spell on the area. We agreed we would have a party if she was to die while we're on route in homage to Corby and South Yorkshire.
Grimethorpe
Grimethorpe
You dug to survive like a mole underground, risking your life just to keep the bills down And what spare cash you made well you spent in this town You were born and brought up in this place
Chorus
There’s a hole in the ground where the money came from There’s hole in this town now the old mine has gone and the shop fronts are bordered from dispair and fear With no chance of work and no signs of the old winding gear
Chorus
One man knew a decade ago, that the mines would be dead along with king coal So its time to stand firm don’t give into the dole
Remember your sons and your daughters
Chorus
So you fought like a dog to keep the old ways,
for the nurses the workers and their rights to a say
But the times little change as back in old days
Betrayed by all trades and their leaders
Chorus
And the Grimethorpe band played the miners’ anthem,
as a tribute to halcyon days
Sing follow the horses oh Johnny my laddie
And the miners were forced out to graze
There’s a hole in the ground where the money came from,
remember your past and the things you have done
And don’t ever forget your part in that year
And the name and the faces of those who shut the old winding gear
The third Muskateer is much more reserved and less forthcoming than the other two. He's taking three months unpaid leave from his job as a programmer in Dublin and is very quitely spoken making it very difficult for me, with my failing hearing, to follow much of what he said.
After the now typical 10 minute breakfast of cereals, toast and a lukewarm cup of tea set off into the centre. Parked behind the palace I disembarked in shorts and tee shirt overlooking a sunny skyline. As the coach slipped away back to the campsite the sky turned grey and then black. Within 60 minutes it was pouring down. Spent most of the day in two bars with Gordon, Ted and Mac. After we'd been driven into a bar come pizzeria had an omelette and the first beer of the day. Had the second in the Café Monmatre once the haunt of Franz Kafka and the second, third and fourth in the an old communist bar. After a very short look around the wet and cold streets leading from the bar to Wenceslas Square we were driven back to the bar by the cold and my prostate. Did manage to find an internet café and check my mail before surrendering to the weather. We had gone from autumn to summer into winter all in a day. I was totally unprepared. Had a further beer in the commy bar to wash down a perfectly cooked sirloin stake in a cream, mushroom source accompanied the potato scollop's and french beans wrapped in ham. Finely before returning to the tent we retreated to a fancy wine bar and had a couple of palatable bottles of Caberngen Sauvignan from the Morava area. Arrived back at the campsite to find no bus. John Paul had to take it to have the thermostat replaced. Not a good sign after only three days.
All in all, despite the weather we had a very rewarding day. The inclement conditions afforded us the opportunity to get to know more about our three travelling companions. Mac was taking 3 month paid leave from his job as an engineer based in Dublin. Been doing his job 15 years and has spent most of the time travelling the world installing turbines. Has not touched alcohol for three years: didn't reveal why.
Gordon is far more revealing and surprisingly similar to me. After gaining a degree and getting his ideal job as the Cultural Director of a theatre in Glasgow he was sacked because he said he was not up to the job. I suspect Glasgow for him was a return to his family roots, his father had left, as many Scots did, to work in the steel mills in Corby Northamptopshire. Later his father was lucky to find employment with the post office after Thatcher had woven her spell on the area. We agreed we would have a party if she was to die while we're on route in homage to Corby and South Yorkshire.
Grimethorpe
Grimethorpe
You dug to survive like a mole underground, risking your life just to keep the bills down And what spare cash you made well you spent in this town You were born and brought up in this place
Chorus
There’s a hole in the ground where the money came from There’s hole in this town now the old mine has gone and the shop fronts are bordered from dispair and fear With no chance of work and no signs of the old winding gear
Chorus
One man knew a decade ago, that the mines would be dead along with king coal So its time to stand firm don’t give into the dole
Remember your sons and your daughters
Chorus
So you fought like a dog to keep the old ways,
for the nurses the workers and their rights to a say
But the times little change as back in old days
Betrayed by all trades and their leaders
Chorus
And the Grimethorpe band played the miners’ anthem,
as a tribute to halcyon days
Sing follow the horses oh Johnny my laddie
And the miners were forced out to graze
There’s a hole in the ground where the money came from,
remember your past and the things you have done
And don’t ever forget your part in that year
And the name and the faces of those who shut the old winding gear
The third Muskateer is much more reserved and less forthcoming than the other two. He's taking three months unpaid leave from his job as a programmer in Dublin and is very quitely spoken making it very difficult for me, with my failing hearing, to follow much of what he said.
Day 1: London to St Gaor.
Sunday 23rd SeptemberWoke with a start to Chris's banging on the door, a blackout of a bedroom, with the time and a cup of tea. Thanks to Chris and Jo we made it safely across London to Cleoptra's Needle, the bus and the awaiting media from the BBC. After introductions with Mark, Andrew and our fellow travellers we were interviewed for the One Show with our backs to a beautiful emerging dawn across the Thames illuminating of all things The Festival Hall. Ironical that our bus journey should start with our backs to the building where Grenoside danced in 1951 to celebrate peace. Our journey is destined to end in Boston dancing with Grenoside.
The trip down to Dover went smoothly, caught an early ferry and France passed by unnoticed. After a long journey past Brussels, Brugge, Aachen and Trier we arrived at 6.45 at a very quaint campsite in St Gaor on the river Rhine. When I walked into the bar the owners wife, a celebrity in the area, through her hands in the air exclaiming Joe Cocker. Didn't no whether to take it as a compliment or an insult. My 25 years of teaching surely hasn't had the same effect as the plumber from the top of our roads bingeing on drugs, fags and beer. However, the river, site, food and accommodation all lived up to exceptions: for an extra 2 Euro we upgraded to caravan. All in all a very pleasant day passed as skirted by the birth places of two of my favourite historical figures .i.e. Chalamagne and Carl Marx.
With very little ceremony we enjoyed a hearty menu consisting of a tasty salad starter, pork, peas and fritz and peaches and ice cream and all washed down with copious anounts of passable German wine and excellent larger. After, we experienced a surreal session in the night club under the restaurant that brought back memories of a similar session in the Ecuadorian Amazon. On this occasion instead of UB40 singing Re, red wine Hermie the campsite owner played a selection of Umpa music through box of speaker while equally as loud some opera singer stood arms under her breasts singing Wagner as the backdrop to a tv presentation about Rhine wines. This kind of evening is obviously a regular occurrence because the ceiling of the club is covered in beer mats containing messages posted by previous travellers and revellers. Just as on Facebook Lucy Allen dominated with a message for all of us that 'the first bus is better than ours'
This appropriatetly leads me on to the crew and our fellow travellers. Simon Caudels observations in the Independent that the trip could become a big brother of wheels is a lot closer thaa even he could image. The bus consists of, at the moment, 35 travellers and three crew members. The crew, strangely enough, seem more normal than theose us sitting behind them.
The bus is being driven by John a coach driver from Brugge, Belgium. Over a beer last night he told me the story of how he came to be here. Earlier in the year he was fined 750 euros for breaking some EU driving regulation and was so pissed off that he handed in his notice in to his boss. His boss then asked him if he would like to reconsider his decision and drive a a coaches to Calcutta. After little convincing that the boss was not taking the piss he jumped at the opportunity. After a day and bit of driving us I'm very glad he agreed to because he's a very steady driver and a thoroughly nice person. However, daren't ask him what the offence was for just in case it changes my opion of him. The backup driver Marcus is a returning Kiwi after working in Edinburgh. However, normality stops with the leader of the bus Layton an Irish Pakistani ex PE Teacher with striking dark eyes and a very strong County Down ascent.
On the other hand the travellers are something very different to your normal coach party and I use the term 'party' very wizely because a certain small section are intent on doing exactley that all the way to Sydney much to the annoyance of Leyton who is at the moment adopting a similar approach to another of my heroes (all in one day) Napolean and as that great figure attempted to bring France in line after the Revolution Leyton is trying stear bus such anarchy and chaos. At the moment the trip is more resemblant of Animal Farm than Big Brother, although I suppose they are similar. I am convinced the outbreak of violence is more imminent here on the bus than up the road in Iran and Pakistan. Can't wait!
First day
Arrived at the station on time to find out that someone had stolen the electrical signal cables at Clay Cross. Perhaps they would have not need to if Thatcher hadn't closed the mines in area.
So we started our 15,000 mile journey to Australia by catching the train to Cleethorpes and changing at Doncaster. To make things even worse the train was infected by a group of foul mouth West Bromwich supporters who constantly reminded me why I am leaving this cultureless country. God bless Thatcher and Blair for lining their pockets at the expense of education and transport. This journey of lifetime couldn't have had a poorer start.
We were told to catch any London bound train by the porters in Sheffield. When we arrived at Doncaster chaos ensued, we were shunted from one platform to another as train after train failed to materialise. Eventually we bordered the 14.35 to Kings Cross just to be told via the train intercom to leave the train. When we made our way back to the platform an irate porter told everyone (literally hundreds of people) to get back on the train and ignore any further instructions. Phew! On the bright side of things we bonded with a couple nice people. Anne even wished they were coming with us but sadly they were not. Had an interesting conversation with one of these nice people as I ordered food. While waiting for my order of cappuccino, a can of Stella and cheese and ham and egg and Red Leicester toasties we attempted to calculate the cost using, signs, body language and facial expressions. His estimate of 26 pounds was slightly more expensive than my meagre 11 pounds. A couple minutes later I was relieved to pay 12 pound 10 pence. Anne, looking over my shoulder, has just chastised me for writing such content, being convinced, no one will be interested in such trivia.
Found our way to Chris and Jo's, had a lovely meal before making our way firstly to The Ilford Spoon and the then to the highlight of the first the day:the Ilford Catholic Club for of course, a couple of pints of Guiness or the latest gossip about the community and finally the all important raffle which fortunately we did not win: a joint of meat for Sunday dinner.
Finally went to bed about 12.45 am well inebriated, tired and very, very happy.
Arrived at the station on time to find out that someone had stolen the electrical signal cables at Clay Cross. Perhaps they would have not need to if Thatcher hadn't closed the mines in area.
So we started our 15,000 mile journey to Australia by catching the train to Cleethorpes and changing at Doncaster. To make things even worse the train was infected by a group of foul mouth West Bromwich supporters who constantly reminded me why I am leaving this cultureless country. God bless Thatcher and Blair for lining their pockets at the expense of education and transport. This journey of lifetime couldn't have had a poorer start.
We were told to catch any London bound train by the porters in Sheffield. When we arrived at Doncaster chaos ensued, we were shunted from one platform to another as train after train failed to materialise. Eventually we bordered the 14.35 to Kings Cross just to be told via the train intercom to leave the train. When we made our way back to the platform an irate porter told everyone (literally hundreds of people) to get back on the train and ignore any further instructions. Phew! On the bright side of things we bonded with a couple nice people. Anne even wished they were coming with us but sadly they were not. Had an interesting conversation with one of these nice people as I ordered food. While waiting for my order of cappuccino, a can of Stella and cheese and ham and egg and Red Leicester toasties we attempted to calculate the cost using, signs, body language and facial expressions. His estimate of 26 pounds was slightly more expensive than my meagre 11 pounds. A couple minutes later I was relieved to pay 12 pound 10 pence. Anne, looking over my shoulder, has just chastised me for writing such content, being convinced, no one will be interested in such trivia.
Found our way to Chris and Jo's, had a lovely meal before making our way firstly to The Ilford Spoon and the then to the highlight of the first the day:the Ilford Catholic Club for of course, a couple of pints of Guiness or the latest gossip about the community and finally the all important raffle which fortunately we did not win: a joint of meat for Sunday dinner.
Finally went to bed about 12.45 am well inebriated, tired and very, very happy.
Saturday 22 September 2007
The Road to Oz
Well it's 7.30am on the 22nd of Sep and on opening the curtains this morning for the last time for a while I notice the cars on the road have had their first taste of frost and like this blistering summer the prologue is over and the journey starts. I have a vivid if not accurate idea of the first stage of the journey. I've always had a vivid imagination but never in any sense accurate. But as a friend would say "Smithy don't let the truth spoil a good story" but then I think it was Keats who said "Truth is beauty, beauty truth. Perhaps I'll try and steer a middle ground. So what follows may not be accurate both factually or grammatically but to quote this time an old work colleague who use to say 'you've got to have something to say before you can learn to write'. Perhaps my lesson is just starting.
The following impression is how I see the first part of the trip and I'd like to try and present it as a ballad in the tradition of Raglan Road or The Ballad of Reading Gaol, however, the outcome may be more McGonagall. Hope you enjoy it and I find the reality of the road not too dissimilar or disappointing.
The Road to Oz
Chorus
It's farewell to Sheffield and England
As we head for new vistas abroad
Foresaking the work and the wages
For our dreams down that long winding road
We're bound for Sydney Australia
With conviction, no pomp nor a band
Just the strains on the chains from the hammer
As we strike out for Van Deaman's land
Chorus
From the west, celtic shores of the channel
To the lands of the Magyars and Huns
Past that cold, cruel road Sarajevo
To Islam, the east and the sun
Chorus
See the delights of old Constantinople
The city of the minaret and Dome
To the place of the face and the Trojans
And the far flung reaches of Rome
Chorus
To the exotic world of the Persians
And the ancient capital Esfahan
Take a magical trip care of Sinbad
Down the silk route from Shiraz to Bam
Chorus
Travel on to the land of the Indus
Through the desert of Balochistan
Like the Mughal lords and their armies
Raising the pillars of Islam
Leave the men of silly walking
Into Sikhdom and a temple of gold
Through Delhi onto Agra and romance
Varanasi the Ganges, sacred home for the old
That's it folks! Let the journey begin.
The following impression is how I see the first part of the trip and I'd like to try and present it as a ballad in the tradition of Raglan Road or The Ballad of Reading Gaol, however, the outcome may be more McGonagall. Hope you enjoy it and I find the reality of the road not too dissimilar or disappointing.
The Road to Oz
Chorus
It's farewell to Sheffield and England
As we head for new vistas abroad
Foresaking the work and the wages
For our dreams down that long winding road
We're bound for Sydney Australia
With conviction, no pomp nor a band
Just the strains on the chains from the hammer
As we strike out for Van Deaman's land
Chorus
From the west, celtic shores of the channel
To the lands of the Magyars and Huns
Past that cold, cruel road Sarajevo
To Islam, the east and the sun
Chorus
See the delights of old Constantinople
The city of the minaret and Dome
To the place of the face and the Trojans
And the far flung reaches of Rome
Chorus
To the exotic world of the Persians
And the ancient capital Esfahan
Take a magical trip care of Sinbad
Down the silk route from Shiraz to Bam
Chorus
Travel on to the land of the Indus
Through the desert of Balochistan
Like the Mughal lords and their armies
Raising the pillars of Islam
Leave the men of silly walking
Into Sikhdom and a temple of gold
Through Delhi onto Agra and romance
Varanasi the Ganges, sacred home for the old
That's it folks! Let the journey begin.
The Road to Oz
Well it's 7.30am on the 22nd of Sep and on opening the curtains for the last time for a while I notice the cars on the road have had their first of frost and like the impending winter the prologue is over and the journey starts. I have a vivid if not accurate idea of the first stage of the journey. I've always had a vivid imagination but never in any sense accurate. But as a friend would say "Smithy don't let the truth spoil a good story" but then I think it was Keats who said "Truth is beauty, beauty truth. Perhaps I'll try and steer a middle ground. So what follows may not be accurate both factually or grammatically but to quote this time an old work colleague who use to say 'you've got to have something to say before you can learn to write'. Perhaps my lesson is just starting.
The following impression is how I see the first part of the trip and I'd like to try and present it as a ballad in the tradition of Raglan Road or The Ballad of Reading Gaol, however, the outcome may be more McGonagall. Hope you enjoy it and I find the reality of the road not too dissimilar or disappointing.
The Road to Oz
Chorus
It's farewell to Sheffield and England
As we head for new vistas abroad
Foresaking the work and the weather
For dreams down that long winding road
We're bound for Sydney Australia
With conviction, no pomp nor a band
Just the strains on the chains from the hammer
As we strike out for Van Deaman's land
Chorus
From the west, celtic shores of the channel
To the lands of the Magyars and Huns
Past that cold, cruel road to Sarayevor
To Islam, the east and the sun
Chorus
See the delights of old Constantinople
The great mosque Hag and its Dome
To the place of the face and the Trojans
And the far flung reaches of Rome
Chorus
To the exotic world of the Persians
And the ancient capital Esfahan
Take a magical trip care of Sinbad
Down the silk route from Shiraz to Bam
Chorus
Travel on to the land of the Indus
Through the desert of Balochistan
Like the Mughal lords and their armies
Raising the pillars of Islam
Leave the men of silly walking
Into Sikhdom and a temple of gold
Through Delhi onto Agra and romance
And Varanasi the Ganges and the journey
The following impression is how I see the first part of the trip and I'd like to try and present it as a ballad in the tradition of Raglan Road or The Ballad of Reading Gaol, however, the outcome may be more McGonagall. Hope you enjoy it and I find the reality of the road not too dissimilar or disappointing.
The Road to Oz
Chorus
It's farewell to Sheffield and England
As we head for new vistas abroad
Foresaking the work and the weather
For dreams down that long winding road
We're bound for Sydney Australia
With conviction, no pomp nor a band
Just the strains on the chains from the hammer
As we strike out for Van Deaman's land
Chorus
From the west, celtic shores of the channel
To the lands of the Magyars and Huns
Past that cold, cruel road to Sarayevor
To Islam, the east and the sun
Chorus
See the delights of old Constantinople
The great mosque Hag and its Dome
To the place of the face and the Trojans
And the far flung reaches of Rome
Chorus
To the exotic world of the Persians
And the ancient capital Esfahan
Take a magical trip care of Sinbad
Down the silk route from Shiraz to Bam
Chorus
Travel on to the land of the Indus
Through the desert of Balochistan
Like the Mughal lords and their armies
Raising the pillars of Islam
Leave the men of silly walking
Into Sikhdom and a temple of gold
Through Delhi onto Agra and romance
And Varanasi the Ganges and the journey
The Road to Oz
Well it's 7.30am on the 22nd of Sep and on opening the curtains for the last time for a while I notice the cars on the road have had their first of frost and like the impending winter the prologue is over and the journey starts. I have a vivid if not accurate idea of the first stage of the journey. I've always had a vivid imagination but never in any sense accurate. But as a friend would say "Smithy don't let the truth spoil a good story" but then I think it was Keats who said "Truth is beauty, beauty truth. Perhaps I'll try and steer a middle ground. So what follows may not be accurate both factually or grammatically but to quote this time an old work colleague who use to say 'you've got to have something to say before you can learn to write'. Perhaps my lesson is just starting.
The following impression is how I see the first part of the trip and I'd like to try and present it as a ballad in the tradition of Raglan Road or The Ballad of Reading Gaol, however, the outcome may be more Magonicle. Hope you enjoy it and I find the reality of the road not too dissimilar or disappointing.The Road to Oz
Chorus
It's farewell to Sheffield and England
As we head for new vistas abroad
Foresaking the work and the weather
For dreams down that long winding road
We're bound for Sydney Australia
With conviction, no pomp nor a band
Just the strains on the chains from the hammer
As we strike out for Van Deaman's land
Chorus
From the west, celtic shores of the channel
To the lands of the Magyars and Huns
Past that cold, cruel road to Sarayevor
To Islam, the east and the sun
Chorus
See the delights of old Constantinople
The mosque of Ysofa and its Dome
To the place of the face and the Trojans
And the far flung reaches of Rome
Chorus
To the exotic world of the Persians
And the ancient capital Esfahan
Take a magical trip care of Sinbad
Down the silk route from Shiraz to Bam
Chorus
Travel on to the land of the Indus
Through the desert of Balochistan
Like the Mughal lords and their armies
Raising the pillars of Islam
Leave the men of silly walking
Into Sikhdom and the temple of gold
Through Delhi onto Agra and romance
Varanasi, the Ganges and the journey alone
The following impression is how I see the first part of the trip and I'd like to try and present it as a ballad in the tradition of Raglan Road or The Ballad of Reading Gaol, however, the outcome may be more Magonicle. Hope you enjoy it and I find the reality of the road not too dissimilar or disappointing.The Road to Oz
Chorus
It's farewell to Sheffield and England
As we head for new vistas abroad
Foresaking the work and the weather
For dreams down that long winding road
We're bound for Sydney Australia
With conviction, no pomp nor a band
Just the strains on the chains from the hammer
As we strike out for Van Deaman's land
Chorus
From the west, celtic shores of the channel
To the lands of the Magyars and Huns
Past that cold, cruel road to Sarayevor
To Islam, the east and the sun
Chorus
See the delights of old Constantinople
The mosque of Ysofa and its Dome
To the place of the face and the Trojans
And the far flung reaches of Rome
Chorus
To the exotic world of the Persians
And the ancient capital Esfahan
Take a magical trip care of Sinbad
Down the silk route from Shiraz to Bam
Chorus
Travel on to the land of the Indus
Through the desert of Balochistan
Like the Mughal lords and their armies
Raising the pillars of Islam
Leave the men of silly walking
Into Sikhdom and the temple of gold
Through Delhi onto Agra and romance
Varanasi, the Ganges and the journey alone
Thursday 20 September 2007
The Route to OZ
Most Sheffielders, of my generation anyway, will have visited Tip's Grave which is situated by the side of Derwent Reservoir - of Dam Busting fame - just outside the city boundaries in Derbyshire. It commemorates the devotion of Tip the dog to his master. For you not from Sheffield and younger than sixty Tips master was a shepherd who died out on the moors. Tip refused to leave and died by his side. So I am including a photo of Ben our house dog for the past eight years who sadly died last Thursday. He will remind us to respect all the animals we may come into contact with especially the Tigers, Komodo Dragons and all the various and deadly snakes and spiders.
People keep asking for the route we will be taking and so here is the intended plan but of cause it may change depending on political and environmental factors. Here is the yellow brick road to Oz: Uk, France, Germany, Czech Rep, Austria, Hungary, Romania, Bulgaria, Turkey, Iran, Pakistan, India, Nepal, China, Laos, Thailand, Malaysia, Indonesia, Australia.
The first section is by bus but once we get to Sydney we're on our own and we will spend a month or so travelling up to the Cairns area and then fly to New Zealand for five or six weeks before going onto New York and Boston and then home.
I see the journey to Oz in two stages, the first taking us to the roof of the world in the Himalayas and then back down to earth and the beaches of East Asia and finally Oz. I have no doubt I will take hundreds of photos of the view from the Himalayas (hopefully Everest) and so I thought it would be a good idea to start with the view from the roof of our house which I just happen to have because we have just had a new roof.
When we tell people the route it tends to be in terms of countries and cities when it is more interesting to break it down into the deserts and the rivers. Here are some of the rivers I think we'll be crossing: the Rhine (820 miles), Danube (1771 miles), Tigris (1,180 miles), Indus (2000 miles), Ganges (1,560), Brahmaputra (1802 miles), Irrawaddy (1350miles) and hopefully the Murray (1,600 miles). We'll have to negotiate a couple of deserts including the Balochistan on the borders between Iran and Pakistan and we'll have to do it in daylight with no stops because of bandits etc. We shouldn't have the same problems crossing the arid interior of Oz and we should see plenty of Camels seeing there are more in Oz than the Sahara etc. As for mountains well there are the well known ones like the Alps, the Carpathian, the Himalayas and the Blue Mountains in Oz but the there a number of ranges in Iran that I have never heard of and all between 3000 - 5000 metres high.
The first section is by bus but once we get to Sydney we're on our own and we will spend a month or so travelling up to the Cairns area and then fly to New Zealand for five or six weeks before going onto New York and Boston and then home.
I see the journey to Oz in two stages, the first taking us to the roof of the world in the Himalayas and then back down to earth and the beaches of East Asia and finally Oz. I have no doubt I will take hundreds of photos of the view from the Himalayas (hopefully Everest) and so I thought it would be a good idea to start with the view from the roof of our house which I just happen to have because we have just had a new roof.
When we tell people the route it tends to be in terms of countries and cities when it is more interesting to break it down into the deserts and the rivers. Here are some of the rivers I think we'll be crossing: the Rhine (820 miles), Danube (1771 miles), Tigris (1,180 miles), Indus (2000 miles), Ganges (1,560), Brahmaputra (1802 miles), Irrawaddy (1350miles) and hopefully the Murray (1,600 miles). We'll have to negotiate a couple of deserts including the Balochistan on the borders between Iran and Pakistan and we'll have to do it in daylight with no stops because of bandits etc. We shouldn't have the same problems crossing the arid interior of Oz and we should see plenty of Camels seeing there are more in Oz than the Sahara etc. As for mountains well there are the well known ones like the Alps, the Carpathian, the Himalayas and the Blue Mountains in Oz but the there a number of ranges in Iran that I have never heard of and all between 3000 - 5000 metres high.
Tuesday 18 September 2007
Prologue: Why I'm Travelling to Oz
I started out by trying to work out when this journey started and of course I failed. However, why it starts is probably a little easier and more relevant. We all have some of the nomad in us or as my mum called it the 'wander lust' and all it needs to kick start it is some catalyst.
In my case this was the sudden death of a very close friend in April this year. We had a drink on the Friday before Easter, as a little farewell, before he and his partner went off to play music in Majorca for a folk group and we went to stop with friends in France. The flimsy nature of life comes as a cruel and bitter lesson. Looking for some rationale, as humans tend to do in such times, everyone agreed if you're going to go this was the model: instantly and painlessly, doing what you love most: in Barry's case playing English country music. Although we have no control over the type of death waiting round the corner we have the option to attempt to realize our dreams or at least do what we want to do. For me that's seeing as much of the world as possible in the time left without, hopefully, doing too much damage to it: hence the reason for traveling as far as possible by bus. But to be honest flying scares me to death.
Although I only really knew him for 20 or so years for me Barry Callaghan was one of the finest individuals I have known for the simple reason he enriched the life of everyone he came into contact with; in stark contrast to the politicians of this period (Thatcher to Blair). It seems to me that the democratic process, in at least the UK and America if not the rest of the west, is about separating the good from the bad and then empowering the latter politically and economically. The rest of us seem to make this process even smoother and certain by our inactivity.
After Barry's death my mind went back to a holiday we had together with a large group friends a few years ago in the French Alps, just outside Annecy. My wife decided she was going to try parapenting i.e. jumping off a mountain top strapped to a Frenchman (Philippe in this case) and nestling between his thighs and putting all her faith in the strength of his lower torso and a single piece of material called a parachute. When we informed the group that she intended to do this early the next morning the response was split between 'you must be mad' (my feeling exactly) and 'oh I'd love to do that followed by a but……….excuse, excuse, excuse. I suddenly realized there are those who do it and those who are content to dream and I sadly was one of the latter. Not that I have ever dreamed of subjecting my life to a flimsy piece of cloth but I have wanted to see the world since the nineteen sixties and now's the time before it's too late. I wrote a little silly song about this experience and Barry helped me sort the tune out. I will always visualize him sitting drinking claret on the campsite and writing the tune down as I sang it to him.
The chorus summed up my feelings at the time:
Dancing so high like a prima ballerina
Sailing the sky like a clipper on the sea
We reach as we try to join them on their journey
Then watch our lives drift by from the safety of our dreams
It was whilst thinking of this incident that I decided, come what may, I was going to retire and travel at least some of the world before it was too late.
Above is photo of Barry and Linda playing music as we sailed down the Douro in Portugal couple a of years ago.
Prologue Cont...
Health Issues
Now had all the vaccinations except the final Rabies. Thanks to Jean our Nurse Practitioner and the National Health Service this has been a painless exercise and not too expensive. So far had Polio, Typhoid, Tetanus, Hepatitis A/B, Rabies 1 and 2 and all were free except the last ones which have cost £210 for both of us. This of cause does not include Malaria tablets which will cost £36 for 200. Had we decided to go for Malaron then the bill would have been in the £100s. Also there are tablets for Delhi belly and various other things. At this point we would like to give a big thank you to Jean for her skill and professionalism. Furthermore, she's going to spend her main summer holiday on a hospital boat off the coast of Liberia, West Africa. There she will be assisting in a couple of thousand operations to people who have no acces to a heath service. What would the World be like without such individuals?
The Legalities
Our visa applications to Iran, Pakistan, India, Nepal and Australia have now been submitted and I gather we have been granted entry into India: they could hardly turn me down we're the same age. As for Australia it seems they are manually checking my application because I belong to a rare group of souls with extraordinary common surnames such as the likes of Smith, Brown, Wilson, Murphy etc. It seems I would have been ok if I was a Justin or Gabriel Smith but not a common Peter. So far the visa exercise has cost £550.
The Equipment
So far bought new light weight tent, walking boots, waterproof jacket and mosquito repellant trousers and shirts. Also sleeping bags not so light in weight but warm. Still need to buy carry mats, head torches, mosquito nets, silk inners etc. Our thanks go to the intrepid assistants at Foothills in Sheffield and Craghoppers and Mountainlife on the outskirts of Pontefract who stand their ground each time we enter their respective outlets. Also a big thank you to our friends Debbie and Jeff in Knaresborough for providing us with rucksacks - two less things to buy. We'll see you in Whitby next week and share a beer or two.
Now had all the vaccinations except the final Rabies. Thanks to Jean our Nurse Practitioner and the National Health Service this has been a painless exercise and not too expensive. So far had Polio, Typhoid, Tetanus, Hepatitis A/B, Rabies 1 and 2 and all were free except the last ones which have cost £210 for both of us. This of cause does not include Malaria tablets which will cost £36 for 200. Had we decided to go for Malaron then the bill would have been in the £100s. Also there are tablets for Delhi belly and various other things. At this point we would like to give a big thank you to Jean for her skill and professionalism. Furthermore, she's going to spend her main summer holiday on a hospital boat off the coast of Liberia, West Africa. There she will be assisting in a couple of thousand operations to people who have no acces to a heath service. What would the World be like without such individuals?
The Legalities
Our visa applications to Iran, Pakistan, India, Nepal and Australia have now been submitted and I gather we have been granted entry into India: they could hardly turn me down we're the same age. As for Australia it seems they are manually checking my application because I belong to a rare group of souls with extraordinary common surnames such as the likes of Smith, Brown, Wilson, Murphy etc. It seems I would have been ok if I was a Justin or Gabriel Smith but not a common Peter. So far the visa exercise has cost £550.
The Equipment
So far bought new light weight tent, walking boots, waterproof jacket and mosquito repellant trousers and shirts. Also sleeping bags not so light in weight but warm. Still need to buy carry mats, head torches, mosquito nets, silk inners etc. Our thanks go to the intrepid assistants at Foothills in Sheffield and Craghoppers and Mountainlife on the outskirts of Pontefract who stand their ground each time we enter their respective outlets. Also a big thank you to our friends Debbie and Jeff in Knaresborough for providing us with rucksacks - two less things to buy. We'll see you in Whitby next week and share a beer or two.
Prologue
For anyone out there who is seriously contemplating doing something similar here are our observations so far.
Even though Ozbus has now put this journey well within the grasp of anyone who's prepared to sit on a coach for 12 weeks with 20-30 strangers, nevertheless, there is still a great deal to do and the cost does not stop with the £3,750 single fare and the spending money.
There's the hassle of visas photos, the pain of vaccinations and the confusion of what gear to buy. At the moment we're still sorting out the finances, aching from just two of seven injections and trying to get our heads round the visas or in Anne's case trying to get a scarf around her head to appease the Iranian officials. As for the gear we've already bought too much and could be sponsoring Ebay before leaving.
Even though Ozbus has now put this journey well within the grasp of anyone who's prepared to sit on a coach for 12 weeks with 20-30 strangers, nevertheless, there is still a great deal to do and the cost does not stop with the £3,750 single fare and the spending money.
There's the hassle of visas photos, the pain of vaccinations and the confusion of what gear to buy. At the moment we're still sorting out the finances, aching from just two of seven injections and trying to get our heads round the visas or in Anne's case trying to get a scarf around her head to appease the Iranian officials. As for the gear we've already bought too much and could be sponsoring Ebay before leaving.
Prologue
For anyone out there who is seriously contemplating doing something similar here are our observations so far.
Even though Ozbus has now put this journey well within the grasp of anyone who's prepared to sit on a coach for 12 weeks with 20-30 strangers, nevertheless, there is still a great deal to do and the cost does not stop with the £3,750 single fare and the spending money.
There's the hassle of visas photos, the pain of vaccinations and the confusion of what gear to buy. At the moment we're still sorting out the finances, aching from just two of seven injections and trying to get our heads round the visas or in Anne's case trying to get a scarf around her head to appease the Iranian officials. As for the gear we've already bought too much and could be sponsoring Ebay before leaving.
Even though Ozbus has now put this journey well within the grasp of anyone who's prepared to sit on a coach for 12 weeks with 20-30 strangers, nevertheless, there is still a great deal to do and the cost does not stop with the £3,750 single fare and the spending money.
There's the hassle of visas photos, the pain of vaccinations and the confusion of what gear to buy. At the moment we're still sorting out the finances, aching from just two of seven injections and trying to get our heads round the visas or in Anne's case trying to get a scarf around her head to appease the Iranian officials. As for the gear we've already bought too much and could be sponsoring Ebay before leaving.
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