Day 15: Egirdir to Goreme

Sunday 7th October

Slept reasonably well and awoke to voices talking about the showers being cold. Lucinda announced later they had warmed up and so I partook. The earlier voices were correct but it did wake me up. Have been suffering from a dickey stomach for the past two days. Caught short after a picnic in a garage forecourt and had to use a stand up for the first time in many a year. Das accompanied me to the loo, telling me was desperate, took one look and declared he'd sooner mess his trousers. I suspect he'll use the bus and be in more trouble with Leighton over the vehicle's condition. The back of the bus is the sanctuary of the young party goers' and a tip compared with the front seat area.

We've just heard that Barry's had some bad news from back home. His best friend died during the night. It seems he was an electrician and involved in a works accident and unknown to Barry had been on a life support machine since and the family decided to have it turned off in the early hours of today.

This journey from Egirdir to Goreme is some five hundred plus kilometres and has taken us through some varied and at times stunning scenery. Leaving Egirdir we followed the lake up the valley with its backdrop of mountains, for many miles. The valley is very fertile with apple orchards running the lake's length and a few hundred yards beyond the road on up the lower slopes. Every few feet piles of apples lay in mounds waiting to be weighed and taken to market. Eventually the valley ran out and we had no option but to climb the mountains blocking our progress. The road rose very sharply and in no time we were looking down a couple of thousand feet below to a new wide valley floor below. The road snaked up until the tarmac gave way to hardcore and then gravel and sand and had the effect of quietening the bus.

We came out of the mountains as abruptly as we enter them and travelled along one of the straightest roads I have seen with bare fields but of the colours you see in a Dulux autumn colour chart of barley browns and faded yellows with the solitary tree every few hundred yards now and again.

After lunch on the forecourt of the Turkish equivalent to a British transport café we suddenly without warning came to Goreme and the stunning scenery of Coppaddocio. This amazing terrain of basalt plugs was created some fifty million years ago by volcanic action. Many of the plugs have been cut out by dwellers over the years. Tomorrow Anne goes hot air ballooning over the area. I have decided to give it a miss, saying it's too expensive at one hundred pounds a piece but everyone knows it's because I scared of heights.

Last night was a bit boring, we went into Goreme to eat and watch Scotland playing Argentina at rugby. Food nothing to right home about, game even worse and the noise from the kids and the loud music made it virtually unbearable. Managed to get the mini bus driver to take us home and went to bed early only to be awoken by the drunken screaming and shouting of the other group returning at 2.30am. Even in a beautiful environment they have to turn into a normal Saturday night in any typical British town.

Day 14: Selcuk to Egirdir via Ephesus and Pamakkali

Saturday 6th October

I was awoken by Noreen shuffling things in her rucksack. Outside another fine warm day emerging but not one for photographs. Although the weather has been a great improvement since entering Turkey it has been very hazy. It's almost two weeks now since we set out and yesterday was the first time I heard anyone commenting about feeling discomfort. I have to say, that so far, I have had no problems with the long journeys and if the tall ones on the bus have then they have kept it secret. I know it's still early days but those of my friends who said we would be bored out of our minds couldn't have been more wrong. The scenery is constantly changing and although it is a bit difficult writing these notes on the move it is possible and very time consuming and when all else fails there's always someone new to talk to.

I should say something about the roads which have varied as expected. It was not until we entered Romania that things deteriorated although we did loose the congestion. Bulgaria started out poor but improved as we got further south and got even better once we entered Turkey. The road leading into the city was very good but once again very congested and manic which may have had something to do with it being teatime and Ramadan. The road from Istanbul, down The Straits of Marmara to Gallipoli was quite scary, dropping all time and narrow for a main road but also in a picturesque way interesting. It stretched out in front like a long winding country road passing through gentle sloped fields and had the feel and texture of an impressionist watercolour. The roads around the battle sites and cemeteries were well kept although narrow.

Strangely the roads improved when we entered Asia Minor and even broke in to a dual carriageway and later a motorway as we got nearer to and skirted round Izmir once the home Homer. Once we left Selcuk, near to Izmir which is the third largest city in Turkey, the roads quickly declined and once again we are being buffeted about like a cowboy on a bucking bronco. If you want to get some idea of how frustrating it is inputting text into a blackberry type device then imagine a cowboy, both hands on device typing text style, while being thrown about on the back of some mad steer. Just one severe bounce and whole paragraphs disappear never to be seen again. The paragraph about the Grand Bazzar was my second attempt having lost the first as the bus bounced back to the road on our way down to Gallipoli.

Today's' journey is quite short but it will take all day because of the stops we're making. Our first stop was only ten minutes away from last night's stop.

I have heard many comments about Ephesus but they didn't prepare me for the reality. This is an amazing archaeological site and the two hours we spent there was not really sufficient to do it justice. Being the largest city and commercial centre of Asia Minor with a population of Two hundred thousand people, not much smaller than modern day Rotherham, it consists of latrines, temples, Library of Celsus and an enormous amphitheatre seating over twenty thousand. The city was dedicated to Artemis and the temple was thought to be one of the Seven Wonders of the Ancient World. Unfortunately the whole site was swarming with tourists from all corners of the globe. The army of tourists made their way down the site, leaders hand held high with stick, pole or umbrella to aid recognition, men clad in baseball hats and Japanese women in white gloves and all camera clicking and probably doing as much damage as the Mongols who brought the empire to its knees.

Our second stop was the magical and beautiful natural site at Pamukkali. I have wanted to see the thermal spring waters cascading down the limestone cataracts and basins since seeing it in geography books at school. I didn't realize it was on the itinerary it until I talked to Andrew in Istanbul and so it came as a very pleasant surprise. Unfortunately it doesn't quite look like it does in the brochures thanks to all the tourists who have visited it over the years and done great damage in the process. Much of the site is now cordoned off to allow it to recover. Just like Ephesus, before it, the place was congested with human movement and I have to say it spoilt it for me. I know it is selfish but it would be nice if all other tourists stayed at home. However, we will start to loose the tourists as we go further east and get closer to Iran.

We got to Egirdir late, in the dark, after perhaps the most tiring journey so far. We were met by one of the Hostel' managers whose name sounded like Muslim. I was too tired to check my hearing and each time I called him he responded promptly with good English. We followed him from the bus up a dust track to a building with the outside walls painted and then we were separated into two groups, our names called first, and led down to an annex with very sparse facilities: one toilet to twenty two people and two showers but at least we did have a double room although it was more like a kitchen with a bed.

We quickly made our way back to the main hostel to check emails, drink beer in the rooftop bar and eat. The bottle beer was appreciated (Efus) and the freshly caught trout and salad was delicious. As we came down out of the mountains we could see a large freshwater lake with the lights of the town twinkling in the edges of the water. Sat with Barry and Leighton and listened to Paul Brady sing Arthur McBride and talked about Irish music and the singing of Christy Moore before making our way back to the annex and tomorrow's long journey to Goreme.

Day 13: Gallipoli to Selcuk via Legendary Troy

Friday 5th October

Out of the campsite by 8.00am and quickly bordering the ferry that will take the bus out of Europe and carry me back into my old history and geography lessons and the evocative land called Asia Minor.

Once on the other side after a pleasant thirty minute crossing we were quickly handing over our ten lira entrance fee into the ruins of the city that launched a thousand ships and gave Brad Pitt immortality. I was surprised, reading one of the information sheets, that the real battle that Homer based his mythical story on was between the inhabitants of Troy and the Persians who were pushing towards Europe. Nothing really seems to change, two thousands years later lads from our final destination attempted a similar operation. I noticed at the museum the epitaph shamelessly inscribed, below the commemorative plaque by lying politicians Lest we forget. However, I enjoyed my glimpse of Troy and found the site interesting and well worth a visit

A little further down the road we were sent off to buy food at a Large Carrefour supermarket and were amazed to find a traditional open air market stretching from the supermarkets car park, a good couple of hundred yards, up to the mosque. If this is a sample of what is to come then we are in for a treat: fruit and veg arranged in pyramids, baskets of peppers and spices surrounding and embracing a smiling, weather beaten face that may also have encaptured the heart of some 20th Centre Paris before the sun and toil took its toll.

Arrived at Atillah's at 7.00pm and again after much confusion we were upgraded from camping to a chalet with Noreen again. Had no time to wash or dress before a plate of mashed potatoes, salad and barbecued chicken was laid out around the pool area. We had been told by Leighton, on the bus, that tonight is party night and everyone must be in drag or no food and booze. Most people entered in to the spirit, especially the party gang who took the opportunity to expose has much of their bodies as possible skinny dipping in the pool. They eventually told by Atillah to put their clothes on. The evening then went very much as normal with the lads drinking themselves in to unconsciousness and the rest of us have a good time. Good fun later in the pool. Leighton was not happy when Jim threw him in dressed in his drag outfit.

Day 12: Istanbul to Gallipoli

Thursday 4th October

Instead of the briefing as usual when we set off on the bus we were treated, as a warning to all travelling fools, by Andy and how he was relieved of his money by four or five Turkish gorillas in night club. It conspired that he and a New Zealand backpacker, who'd joined our group on the cushions earlier, had set off to find a club and were stopped by what they thought was a Turkish businessman, expensively suited and driving a big car, who offered to take them to a club with girls. Once they arrived they were surrounded by Turkish girls who did not speak English but these were quickly replaced by others from Belarus. On realizing they were in the company of prostitutes they quickly got up to leave but were confronted by a barman who presented both of them with a bill for five thousand lira. On saying that they didn't have that kind of money they were roughly led to an office where four large Turkish gorillas began to frisk them. After taking their money and credit cards they were allowed to leave poorer but wiser for the experience. So far we have been lucky not to have more of these stories to tell.

After a, frightening at times, drive down a long winding road that meandered its way around an open field system that arose and fell towards the Sea of Marmari and the Dardenelles we arrived at our next home for a night a campsite on the shores of Gallipoli.

The tents were erected in double time and a meal of mushroom soup, salad, chips and meat balls and spaghetti in a tomato sauce were prepared, tabled and cleared away in the time it takes to order the meal of the day in French bistro. In less than hour we had made camp, eaten a four course meal and were seated back on the coach to pay our respects to the young lads who'd forsaken their lives half a world away from their homes on the beaches of Gallipoli. I couldn't help thinking that if the ANZAC forces could surmount the stones, briers, bushes and shrubs while dodging bullets and shells from superior Turkish numbers position on the heights above then poor old England stands no chance on the manicured fields of Eton. A rather sobering place to be, irrespective of nationality or age, sitting there as the sun sets below the horizon of the Dardenelles and stretches its warmth over the wind swept graves nestling amongst the pines and trenches.

Get back to the campsite in darkness and quickly make our way down to the beach to sing a few a songs and drink tubes of beer: Turkish not Aussie. Get Mac to sing 'And the Band played Waltzing Matilda',

When I was a young man I carried my pack
and I lived the free life of a rover.
From the Murray's green basin to the dusty outback
I walzed my Matilda all over.
Then in 1915 the country said son
better stop all your rambling there's a job to be done
and they gave me a tin hat and they gave me a gun
and they sent me away to the war.

And the band played Waltzing Matilda
As we sailed away from the key
and midst all the cheers hand waving and tears
we sailed out for Gallipoli.

Can't help wandering whether any of the young lads laying out there in the dark spent any of their young lives night clubbing like their fellow countryman sitting on our bus happily telling his story of our lived to survive. Nevertheless, thanks Mac, a fitting end to a day to remember.

Day 11: Istanbul.

Wednesday 3rd October

Fell in love with the city the moment I stepped out onto the cobbles of the Sultanahmet district and stood outside the Orient Hostel, our home for the next two nights. On the surface it's just another mad, bustling, chaotic jungle of cars, yellow taxis, buses and trams all vying for the same space and often overspilling and invading those small areas allocated to the people. The area surrounding and separating the two great mosques is an amazing community consisting of little alleyways of cafes, bars, street stalls and people all eager to sell you something. It seems as though every single inhabitant of this place is intent on selling you something and each prospective transactions starts exactly the same with the seller first establishing the buyer's nationality: a barrage of welcomes: bonjour, hello, hola etc.

Nowhere is this technique more horned than in the Grand Bazzar. I have heard and seen many programmes about the place but none of it had prepared me for the reality. I expected a dirty market of discarded boxes and packages, rotting smelly food and aggressive selling techniques and the reality couldn't be more stark. The architecture alone is worth the visit, from outside another fine old building like many surrounding it but on stepping inside one of the main entrances and looking down the main thoroughfare is breath taking. The vaulted roofs are a mosaic museum of coloured tiles setting off all that lies below. The main street is a series of jewellery shops and stalls all glittering silver and gold and meticulously hand placed to maximise the overall impact. Running of this main alley at 90 degrees is a warren of further alleyways each reflecting colours like giant kaleidoscopes. Carpets of every size, colour and quality, sparking lamps showing every coloured shade imaginable , antiques and pottery of every green, blue and jade, headgear to suit everyone from a Tommy Cooper to a Lawrence of Arabia, leather goods from wallets to overcoats like ones worn by the SS in Hallo! Hallo!, musical instruments hanging like curtains and meerschaum pipes of Turks and horses heads, and of course, spices of every hue and smell, completing the dimension of the place and intoxicating the senses. Standing outside each establishment like a sentry guard on duty waiting patiently to question 'who comes there' and then commence transaction irrespective of creed, colour, nationality or language. 'Feel the quality of my hand made towels', do you want to come inside and see my full selection of rings and bracelets?' and all at the very best prices. A very business looking shop keeper takes me towards his shop, lined with carpets of every pattern and quality. Pointing to one small example he says in near perfect English 'guess the price of this lovely hand made carpet correctly and I'll give you it for nothing' In order to help me further he tells me that it took a single individual months to make and then writes the correct price into his calculator and holds it away from my prying eyes. 'guess to the nearest dollar and it's yours'. Smiling at his little game I utter '300 dollars'. He smiles as he turns the calculator's screen towards me. 'You see' he says 'it is much cheaper than you thought'. The screen clearly shows two hundred dollars. We part like old friends, me saying as I slowly walk away 'it's too heavy to carry around the world', he 'retorts give me your address and I'll post it'. I respond not wanting to be too final 'I'll visit next year and buy it' and he replied from a distance 'I'll look forward to seeing you'. Nothing in this alli Baba wonderland hinders the act of final exchange. I left the bazzar the owner of a Lawrence of Arabia head scarf for fifteen lira and two Turkish towels to replace the tatty one I brought from home.

The visit to the bazzar came after a morning amazing at the two great mosques. Firstly Ayasofa, once a Christian church and now a museum of awesome proportions. The central dome, some 30 metres across, fifty four metres above the ground and the fourth largest in the world and held up by a series of semi circular arches traversing the walls bellow. All the arches are covered in frescoes which were only saved because the church was converted into a mosque and instead of being destroyed they were whitewashed over and uncovered when it became museum.

After the mosques we made our way to what is left of the Hippodrome: three columns; one with a base of figures from antiquity. Mohamet our guide then led us to what I thought was the old sewer. His English was pretty poor, although better than my Turkish, and I left the mosques knowing little more than on entry. Many of the group drifted away to explore forsaking the mixed up broken sentences. It surprised me that an academic didn't have the English skills of most of those selling in the bazzar.

Anyway on paying our 10 lira and entering the expected sewer I was gob smacked to walk down into a cavernous underground water cistern built by the Romans two thousand years ago to provide fresh water for Constantinople.

The Cistern is an underground temple consisting of three hundred columns stretching for as far as the eyes can see in the dimly lit chamber and supporting the roof some thirty to forty feet above a solid stone floor which now lies under a foot of crystal clear water. The pool is now the home for a collection of aged carp some very large indeed. After traversing the raised stone walk ways we eventually came to a column with the ancient sculpured upside down face of Medusa. As I attempted to photograph the blue lit base I was engulfed by a crowd of Italian and Japanese voices and bodies who then, positioning themselves firing squad fashion with their backs to me, block my view and opportunity of a good shot.

Had our first real scare as we sat to have dinner close to the Grand Bazzar's entrance. Being concerned about my head being in the sun we moved tables as one in the shade came free. In the rush to gain the table I left my rucksack at the previous table which contained my PDA with all our bank information, phone addresses and nearly two weeks observations for my blog. It also contained the camera and all its minicards. A sudden feeeling of sickness overwhelmes and adds to the confusion. Anne very quickly asked the waiter and he indicated that he'd picked it up and placed it inside the café. Relief fills the senses and settles into a feeling of grovelling gratitude. I tip the waiter thirty lira to try and obsolve my stupidity and I suspect embarrassed him in the process. Later when we enter a tea (chi) shop nestled in the grounds of a synogogue and a 19th Century grave yard I am conscious of making the same mistake. Before returning to the hostel we stop for Anne to buy a ring for Lucy outside a Muslim grave yard. All the graves have stone columns of varying size ring from them. John tells me he believes the size of the column is the height of the deceased incumbent. Before returning to the hostel we decide to eat dinner at a fast food café displaying all the exotic dishes in the window and a man outside on, establishing we are English, began reciting 'yummy yummy yummy we need food in our tummy'. I had beef and vegetables wrapped in a kind of cheesy membrane and an auborigine stew. Anne and John both had what looked like a Spanish omellette, stuffed auborigine and coucous. Food looked great but the taste was a little disappointing. Found an internet café which turned out to be as slow as my Virgin account at home and only had time to check and delete email. I'm finding it very hard to upload my blog and download photos. Life on the road is very much wake, wash, eat and take down tent and shoot lots of photos through the coach windows before putting tent back up, eat, drink and sleep. Hopefully things will improve when we enter Iran in a few days.

Arrived back at the hostel to find everyone across the road outside the bar, all seated crossed legged on cushions drinking beer and smoking from three or four of the hubble bubble things. We stayed here until bedtime at about 12.0pm. Some of the more adventurous went off to explore the night life.

Day 10: Kazanak to Istanbul

Tuesday 10th October

After another breakfast of cheese and meat we set off only to stop after ten munutes or so with water pump trouble again. Removed thermostat and went on our way. The road to Istanbul is little more than a series of patchwork bumps, potholes and appalling camber. Can't help thinking we have taken the wrong road.

The coach seems to be very quiet and subdued today, perhaps we're becoming a little travel weary or just sad to leave such a fine hotel. Leighton looks quite ill with hay fever and this must add to the stress of his role.

We arrived at the Turkish passport control at 12.30pm to experience our first border farce. Leighton had told us to place either a ten pound note, fifteen euros or twenty dollars in our passports to cover the cost of the visa. When we eventually paid after first showing them to an officer who bordered the bus we were charged a range of fees depending on nationality. The English and Aussies paid on the ratio 10, 15 and 20 whilst the Irish only paid ten euros and the Kiwis went through with no charge. Once this was completed another officer came on to the coach and collected all the documents again and went off to check them against the passenger list. This completed we drove to another checkpoint and a police officer with a sly smile on his face checked all the passports again. We then preceded to the next checkpoint and were turned back apparently to get a custom stamp. Stamped and official we entered Turkey at 2.45pm just two and a quarter hours later. Perhaps the EU are keeping them waiting to join the union to get their own back for all the poor travellers who have had to stand and wait as Marcus did today whilst an official sat and read his paper and watched TV. Just two hundred and twenty kilometres to go before we hit the gateway to Asia and the biggest traffic jam on either side. Been warned it may take a couple of hours to get across the city to our next hotel.

Had a late lunch in a picnic area with tables etc and as usual the lads played a combination of football and rugby. Fergal told off by lorry driver who was suddenly awoken by his stray shot. The ball bounced off his windscreen, much to the announce of the driver who was probably asleep. We have just got our first glimpse of the sea since leaving Calais, at a place with the strange spelling of Siiivri. Must be looking at the Sea of Marmari and the Bospherous. I think I fell asleep for the first time today whilst travelling. I don't know why I should feel so tired but every night since we left London has been a party. When I awoke it seemed as though we were driving along an avenue of fluffy clouds slowly floating down to Istanbul. Quite a nice sensation!

With just twenty kilometres to go we hit a traffic jam. As Leighton says 'you've got the sea to your right, high rise flats and villas to your left and the madness straight ahead'. 'Welcome to Istanbul'.

Arrived at our hostel at about 8.30pm and were deposited in a basement double room with toilets and shower a few yards away across the corridor and a single window above the bed, half open to all the street life outside. A group of us (12) set of to find food which is not hard. Restaurant ok but a little expensive and I got very cold sitting outside on a corner between two alleyways. A strong wind was a welcome whilst the sun shone but once dark fell it seemed to haunt the cobbled ways with and English type chill.

After the meal we went to meet up for a drink at the Star Bar. Eventually most people seemed to turn up much to the delight of the owner who spent most of the time dancing around in Red Indian fashion. Pints were flowing at a phenomenal rate and being delivered in fistfuls. I think the hubble buuble water thingy pipe had something to do with it but it may just be the intoxicating atmosphere of this city of three household names: Byzantine, Constantinople, Istanbul.

Day 9: Bucharest to Kazanak, Bulgaria

Monday 1st October

Best nights sleep so far in our little blue chalet. Anne awoke with a start thinking she could hear the bus engine running outside. Went for breakfast to the restaurant we'd visited last night: sliced bread, a tomato and two types of reconstituted meat; both not to my taste.

Arrived back at the chalet to see Scooby and Barry trying to awaken Daz by thumping the side of the chalet. This went on for some time with little response from the inhabitants. A few minutes later I opened the door to see Daz starkers, except for his money bag appropriately placed in front of his bits and pieces, staggering around and gibbering. I think the healing lotion had worked.

Set off for Bulgaria at about 9.05am with the intention of calling into a supermarket to buy food for a picnic lunch somewhere rural and use up everyone's Leis. Bought two nectarines, two kiwi fruits for Barry, two bottles of water, some small plasters to supplement our first aid kit and four hot chicken legs for Barry who is diabetic and needed something to eat.

Passed from Romania into Bulgaria without fuss or cost. We crossed the Danube for the last time and I couldn't decide which country it is in because of its proximity to the border and the length of no-mans land. According Simone's Pocket World Atlas it is the border.

Next part of the journey took us through the beautiful Balkan Mountains with all the hills covered with deciduous trees. Once over the top we descended down an amazing gorge and into our destination. At one point two gorges crossed each other at 90 degrees, the second consisting of old houses built into the cliff face high above a fast flowing river. Unfortunate the coach was moving too fast and I didn't even have enough time to get a photograph. As we approached the town Leighton gave us some basic information about the place. Kazanak stands at the entrance of the Shipka Pass and has a long tradition of growing roses but has prospered since the WW2 making weapons including Kalashnikovs. He made the observation about 'guns and roses'.

Kazanak lays in a very wide bowl of a valley and although of Roman origins we only saw evidence of Soviet architecture of the high rise type. Coach stopped to ask the way to the hotel and she (Daniel) climbed aboard to direct us to it. When we arrived there was some confusion about whether it was the right hotel. The 3 star Hotel L3ophuua stood on a hill overlooking the town and consisted of white buildings laid out more like a Roman villa with patios, verandas and a pool which alas was empty. We arrived just in time to witness a beautiful sunset over the mountains. Made our way to our room with some trepidation after the last two nights capers. The rooms were already allocated in advance and we were gob smacked to enter a suite with double bed, couch, chairs, TV, mini bar, phone, a beautiful marbled bathroom and a red rose on the pillow. Jackpot! This was luxury by our standards. After a refreshing shower we had a good dinner consisting of a bowl of fresh salad sprinkled with goats cheese, followed by a very tasty meat stew and fresh fruit to finish. Consumed two bottles of a very well balanced Bulgarian Merlot with Simone and Noreen while Anne, Fe and Viv stuck to a rose. Night finished off with beer and dancing to a duo who somehow managed to do impersonations of Bob Marley 'No Woman No Cry', Sting Message In a Bottle' and La Bamba with Spanish accent and all.

Day 8: Brasov to Bucharest

Sunday 30th October

Today the seven day anniversary of our voyage, awoke early feeling queasy, may have been the dish of sausages cooked in beer that I had last night. Didn't taste too good when eating them and then spent the first hour of the morning repeating on me.

Spent my first night not sleeping with Anne. It seems for some reason, poor communications, Leighton thought we wanted to sleep apart. I said we would be happy to sleep apart if the room equations didn't workout. I wasn't well pleased!

My new sleeping partner, Gordon, drew back the curtains to let in a beautiful hazy blue morning. At last, the weather has turned. Breakfast was good, mainly because of the presentation but I didn't feel like it. Forgot totally about my stomach as we boarded the bus, even before numbers were counted it was clear that Ben was missing. It emerged very quickly that he was about at 3.30am, in the hotel, sitting very drunk trying to play the grand piano in the lounge. It was obvious that he was asleep somewhere in the hotel once all the young women in the group had been counted in. Just as we were about to leave, as Leighton threatens to every day if anyone is late, Ben comes staggering out of the hotel assisted by Geof who had found him asleep in the cellar. On being awakened by loud and desperate shouts of 'Ben' he opened his eyes fearing the worse. He cried out to Geof 'I thought I was in prison. I want England'. Bus very quiet in antıcipatıon of forthcoming ranting from the boss. I suspect he was just relieved to see him safe and well. He was eventually hauled out to the front: his penalty coachyoki or miming with headphones on to a song from Leighton's Ipod. I think his punishment might have been swifter and more severe if our leader had not clashed with the party gang in some way most days over the last and Sue and me in the last twenty four hours.

We spent a very enjoyable morning at Dracula's castle. Very touristy. Bought a little chanter pipe for 35 lei about six pound. Carried on with our route through the Carpathian Mountains. The scenery is absolutely incredible. I can see why people rave about Romania and this particular area. Valley after valley with few houses and little sign of people. Main mode of transport still the horse drawn cart and the Romanian equivalent of a Renault.

Eventually got out of the mountains and on the road to Bucharest. Had to have lunch at a service station, the local feral dogs feasted on the groups' leftovers. Our first view of the capital did not inspire me, the main road was one long testimony to concrete. One block of awful flats after another stood as the consequence of misrule and the earthquake damage. After a few turns around what looked like a poor man's version of the Arch de Triumph we arrived at our campsite.

As soon as I got of the bus the camp had a great feel about it with a central area with tables surrounded by brightly painted chalets some with pointed roofs like those in the Alps. Everyone relieved not to be camping. Once again the allocation of rooms lead to conflict and yet again it was between me and Leighton. The argument did not quite lead to blows but it did bring things to a head. After a 10 Euro meal consisting of coke, plain salad with no dressing, some kind of schnitzel and six chips - on everyone's plate - followed by almond ice-cream and an half hour show of traditional music, dance and song we assembled outside on the restaurant patio for a meeting to clear the air. Pleased to find it wasn't just me and the party gang that had grievances. A wide range of issues were exercised and changes promised with regards to allocation of rooms (Emmett to arrange for one week), more information about length of journeys, lunch breaks in the countryside not garages and by the road in towns and finally Leighton to improve the tone of briefings. Things could have been much worse. General consensus was that Leighton was taking on too much responsibility and needed to delegate relieved. Many felt they were being treated like school kids and I have to say some acted like they were. Meeting ended in congratulations and hugs all round. We had travelled through France, Belgium, Germany, Czech Rep, Austria, Hungary and Romania safely and on time and mainly due to the skills of a 26 year old from Naven. I do think if anyone can get us to Sydney then he can. However some of us are aware that the easy bit is over and the next 9 to 10 weeks are the real test of all of us.

After the meeting we all headed back to the campsite, to sit, drink and have a good old sing song. Maz had brought a brandy flask and a bottle of Polinka to the table and Daz seemed to be taking most advantage through innocence and in an attempt to forget the bad day he'd had. He'd broken his camera and was feeling a bit homesick after speaking to his mum and girlfriend. I think he may regret his actions.