Fight or Flight

Travel stories about the fantastic scenery, beautiful sights and more beautiful sights are yeah, yeah, yeah. What we really want to hear about is the horror and gore, the grizzly bits, discomfort and mess, to pick over the crumbs of others' fragmented lives strewn all over the terminal floor and pay pity and ooow and ahhh and be glad it was not us, glad they overcame adversity and somehow think we have grown through their experience.

 Friends overseas recently had such an experience. Stress, turmoil and airport mayhem retold in softened terms with a glorious ending (because there was no bloodshed and they were thankful) made for all the "I don't ever want that to happen to me", oooohs and ahhhs and a few glad-it-was-not-me-thoughts. Great story though. Everyday life is not that eventful, not so story-worthy or entertaining.
While pondering the airport story of my friends, it occurred to me that micro planning travel went a long way to avoiding angst and extreme panic, however some parts of any trip are not so easily controlled and planned and foolproof. Nor does planning itself prevent the need for crisis management that can just happen.

The eastern Bloc part or our planned trip is rich with such pickings - cannon fodder for those who like a good story. Fraught with possibilities and potential problems. Public transport, buses meeting trains, planes to Russia, foreign language problems and different countries every other day. Huge expectations and frantic sighteeing packed days. I suspect there may be a few foetal positions and crying in corners to be had. I suspect that patience will be tested and panic will set in all too quickly.

I hope that we can rise to the occasion and behave as well as our friends did, honouring precious beliefs and faith.
I hope there are good stories to tell without too much gore.
I hope we do not fight.
I hope we catch the flight.

It's in the Bag

Bag research starts (shoe research never ends) and it is harder than one would think especially if special size and colour is required. Isn't a bag a bag a bag?

Soft or hard....big or medium.... dark or light......wheels or not.......one or two......or three or four.....it is not so easy. Nor is it  easy to find one once those decisions are made. So it is soft and medium, dark and wheels and old and tried and true and not expensive, however there is the handbag and on board bag to consider and also the bags to hold the outfits inside and the shoes.

My packing is organised so that each outfit is packed into a light organza bag (so that I can find it easily, not have to rummage for the top or bottom) and each pair of shoes is placed in a lightweight bag that protects the clothes from dirt. Toiletries are in plastic and personals (journals, scissors and camera) in leather. Outfits can be mixed and matched and most weather conditions catered for. The organza is organised, drawstrings drawn, plastic poised and the leather whipped into many shapes.
Some items are to be purchased - a bag big enough for a coat and a bottle of water, with back pack straps and outside pocket in a dark colour preferably in leather and a boy back pack for the man with sturdy straps, nicely padded and no gaudy colours or brand names. You would think.... well we were wrong.

None to be had. Too little, too bright, tooo brand-y, tooooo tan, way toooo ugly, way way way too strappy and none with style. No girl bag yet - heading for Hong Kong and shopping if I must. Must make do with bags within bags within bags. Organza in drawstring in canvas with leather. Packets in pockets and strapses enzippered. An inside and outside and sideside and topside to put all the thingses and bitses and pieces. One little success...boy back pack bought - nicely padded and pocketed. Would you like that in a bag sir?

Shredded or Chipper?

A friend came back from the UK a day or two ago. Straight to work. Very chipper this morning. Shredded by this afternoon. I am so glad we have decided to break our journey - Hong Kong on the way over and Singapore on the way back. Two stops that have not features much in our excitement and micro planning. Sort of like the well behaved student in the classroom - appreciated but glossed over.

Hong Kong is a new destination for us - an old trade centre - a small but vital shipping port; 'fragrant harbour' that although is just a rest shop, may hold pleasant surprises. Some recommendations are to ride the cable cars to Victoria Peak, see the zoo, visit the actual island of Hong Kong and travel by tram and train. One full day there seems not enough. Thank you to some special people for tickets for the tram and trains and direction as to what to do.

Singapore will be a very short stop over - more for sleep than sight seeing. There is so much to see there but it will be what comes our way while walking. Clean, pretty, colourful and vibrant by day and by night.

While the rest of the trip is being meticulously planned these few days will be totally unplanned - spontaneous; a respite from the long plane trip and intense travelling. Here is your chance to have your say - what did you find interesting, valuable, a must do while in either place? What advice would you send our way?

The plan is not to have a plan except to come back home not too shredded.

A Blessing or a Curse?

Micro cleaning the house in preparation for being away has been underway for weeks now. It seems never ending and no one would notice or care, but it must be done. It would appear somewhat ludicrous that humans are so subservient to inanimate objects. We dust and polish and wash and clean, condition and display thing that could not care let alone care less. Beautiful days have come and gone and we serve our belongings.

If we had fewer things our lives may be simpler. We crave the simple life - indeed go 'bush' and live in tents for fun. Camping and caravanning hold delight for so many of us. What is for dinner - beans, beans or beans? How many of us have such happy memories of making cubbies, constructing tree houses, sleeping under the stars, doing the pretend running away from home (but just until it gets dark) with the most precious belongings tucked into our suitcase. One son once packed his bag to run away from home - contents of suitcase - matchbox cars, teddy, crayons and slippers.

Simplicity is great but the self righteousness that may be felt in hand washing clothes, hand sewing clothes and hand beating cakes may glow less brightly after just a little while. Should we only eat what we grow? Life would be simpler without cars - should we walk everywhere - great exercise and good thinking time. The questions reflect a greater tension that we all struggle with at some time - labour-saving services are fantastic - a boon to modern men and women and enjoyed for most of the time but need our tending. One of the greatest labour-saving devices ever invented was the sewing machine. Mine is sitting beside me. How to balance the labour saving with care and tending is a modern day skill. Whereas in other times the flocks and herds and waterholes needed tending to, for me it is the washing machine and vaccy. Is that labour less important, less valid?

So a micro cleaning we will go - get ready for a house sitter maybe. Be a good steward of this little patch of earth. Methinks it is all sound work, and honest labour - perhaps the sounding board is what is our intention. Honouring the things or honouring the life we have been given by looking after the bountiful riches that have been afforded us.

So teach us to number our days

“So teach us to number our days, that we may apply our hearts unto wisdom” so the psalmist says. There are 50 days to go until we head off. There will be no day-by-day countdown but still plenty to do and write about.

Each day is precious, often 'wasted' and parts of - rather best forgotten about. Work is good and the bits inbetween even better when savoured and special. So much pleasure to be had just watching the bird fly or shadows racing each other over the hills. It was during such shadow watching time that we mused on what sort of guests we may be in the numerous bed and breakfasts in which we will be staying. As B&B owners ourselves we have to play the people as they come. Some want to spend time with each other and need no fussing over, others are in for the full on entertain us and delight in spending time getting to know new friends. Firm friendships have been made and we are much richer for it. We have had burning things in kitchens while being caught up in the chat. The joy we have on hearing laughter from the strangers sharing pleasantries in our dining room! What pleasure is there in welcoming those 'new' friends back as 'old'.

We are content to serve and require nothing in particular from our guests other than common courtesies and respect for other guests staying at Montclare.....but we wonder what will we be like as guests? We tend to be quiet and not demand attention from our hosts. We arise early and like to be active; out seeing as much as we can. Will we be churly surly quiet ones...or hustle bustle busy ones...or chortly chirpy chipper ones...or housey mousey boring ones...or nerdy werdy geeky ones who don't know what to do? We tend to be observers of life for the most part, respond to the situation, happy to flit and fit into the occasion. We can be quiet, we can be bustly or chipper or pretend that we do not exist and eat our meal and tiptoe out and leave the more needy to feed on what they crave most.
What we do want to do is leave a nice taste in the mouth of those who feed us. Pray that be so.

Montclare Bed and Breakfast

Richard's Choice.

Shoe shopping, legitimate research. Walking in shoes and testing them out and checking the style against the latest European styles. Eight weeks walking all over Europe and the UK requires thought and preparation. The feet must be catered for. The shoes have to be bought. It must be done, but this time.....just for a change....... it was Richard doing the shopping.

It is always good to test out the shoes before embarking on a trip. Break them in and mould them to measure. Ensure they are up to the task and suit the weather. Make them old friends. Unlike others who have many pairs to choose from, Richard has few. So all over Wollongong, all over Shellharbour and anywhere else.... but alas, nothing was suitable. This has been going on for a little while. Not quite sure of what he wanted, the process of elimination helped to narrow the field until articulation was possible and parameters defined. Found just the right pair but not in his size and none could be ordered in. He is a man of distinctive style and is determined to get exactly what he wants, no temptation of cost or good value will dissuade. No second rate or good enough. The master ever of temperance and discipline the miles were trod and possibilities dissolved. I found at least 10 pairs of shoes I did not need but would have liked, to add to my already extensive wardrobe. More than a little dispirited the last foray was completed and we returned home empty handed (or footed). No, he insisted (like he does with everything...) that it was better to get exactly what he wanted.

He eventually found what he wanted on line and they will arrive soon. While some may have been frustrated accompanying the very selective chooser, it was comforting to know that this is typical of his nature and his way of doing things. Richard's example is an encouragement to resist being the ultimate consumer, a role model of restraint and a reassurance that he would not be with me unless I was exactly what he wanted.

Listen to the Heartbeat.

Listening to foreign news programs is great to familiarise the ear to the sounds and flow of another language and has sometimes given insights into the content of the broadcasts. A certain fondness has arisen for the Russian news reports all hard and stern and then to look and not just listen, and find a heartwarming cat rescue or helping disadvantaged people story. Interest is piqued and prompts further investigation into what may be happening in the countries we will be visiting. Are there floods, fires, strikes or festivals? Is there an axe murderer on the loose or places to avoid? What are the people having to endure or enjoy?

Paris is in Paris along with other famous people. She has rented a seriously expensive apartment. Some singer (Beyonce?) has renewed some vows in the city of romance, but there is also bleaker news. Body bits and canals are featured. Must avoid canals. Public transport further east is praised, looking good for our eastern bloc travel as it will all be public. The British news is royal in England - all fuss and fluster and frantic anticipation of the wedding. Faded confetti in the gutter may be our only reminder by the time we get there. None of that such nonsense fanfared in Scotland and Ireland. Corrupt and clean government features first and foremost. Green is the colour of one such flag and party interest. Apparently clean and green - or cleaner than the rest. There is a really expensive road that leads to nowhere and nary a sign to warn you. The murders, neglect and spouse assaults are everythere - all shocking and would be foreign, except we have our share and all too close to home.

The ebbs and flows of all our lives laid bare in one such shape or form. The glossy picture postcards seem a little less likely - as if we live that here. What postcard would you have to represent your life - the best, the real or just a little of what might be nice? What news would you project from heart and head and mind? Does the snippet really represent a fact or send us wide off course? The news it seems reflects the line that must and should be drawn. The mothers, fathers, friends and foes have feelings and beliefs held dear that echo over miles and mountains, oceans, seas that resonate with us. Some same, some strange but common ground be found in sensational, serious, strange and silly. We draw it out and sing it loud to keep the keel a-steady and rock and roll between the waves and try to ride the current. The effort such extends ourselves and sends the pulses racing, and so much so, we hear all too clear, the echo of our heartbeat.

How many EEKs for a dollar?

Collecting coins has been an interest from childhood. Uncle Junior sailed the seven seas and upon his return would jangle his pockets and produce all manner of oddities - funny shaped coins and realyo, trulyo notes from foreign lands. Unearthing the motley collection stirred up dust and memories - wonders and imaginings - the promise of easy riches, of wealth beyond all measure. A thousand of anything meant palaces and treasure chests, freedom and endowment. With a hundred everyone could have a Frosty Shake when the van arrived (when it took a year to save the tuppences). The musty notes unfurled and still pronounced on one Singapore dollar note - the word 'real'.

There will be a fair bit of quick-change-money times in the countries that we will travel through - at times a  country in a day. The Euro will be fairly common but other countries have their own currencies.
Austria has 100 groschen to the schilling and a schilling is about 10 cents.
Czech Republic has 100 hellers to a Koruna and 17 of those will make a dollar.
100 senti in Estonia makes a Kroon - the abbreviation being EEK and 12 EEKS equal a dollar.
France has the Franc with 100 centimes and there are 4 Francs in a dollar.
Eight Hong Kong dollars apparently equals one Australian dollar but the Singapore dollar is closer to ours - being just a little under -SGD $1.36 = AU$1.
Take a Punt in Ireland (the other name for the Irish pound) with 100 pingin or pence and that is about half a dollar a pound. I hope I get to see a Punt.
Latvia has 100 santimes to its EU Lat and two LVLs will buy a dollar.
Lithuania has 100 centu to the Litas - LTL2.5 to a dollar.
Poland has the Zloty - there really is such a thing as a Zloty - not that it was ever doubted - but to think that they are more than just the words in books! and that there are 100 groszy that make the zloty! Three of them will make a dollar.
Russia has the Ruble and a hundred Kopecks but 30 of those are needed for our dollar.
And England has the Pound and pence. Almost two to the dollar.

While it all looks good on paper the reality will differ more. The bits and pieces, rates of change, opportunism and must have now will leave a mark not true, of what the price for what we want is, and what it is at home. The relative value of goods and services is still a mystery and confounds a jaded mind. The line all musty and confused. How much is labour worth from here to there and what is something lost. The precious pieces - flotsam now in floods and crushed by earth and gone in death; the labour hard, and earnings sucked so easily from our hands by life itself and fees and bills and food and room and board. It seems so flimsy, foreign, trite to to quantify the value down to bits of tin and strips of paper, yet even so the wealth it brings of lands and cultures, folklore fat and songs and sights - for bits of silver, and pieces of eight - a-jangling in the bag. Not quite sell the soul, not 30 in the purse, but must be careful still. And while true riches are not found in chits and kopecks I still will bring some home.

Visa for St Petersburg

To be read with "There's a Hole in my bucket dear Liza..." running through your mind.

So we need a visa, a visa, a visa,
so we need a visa for Saint Petersburg

So first get a letter, a letter, a letter,
so first get a letter from one who lives there.

We ring and arrange it, arrange it, arrange it,
we write and we email and soon it is done.

We must have a photo, a photo, a photo,
we must a photo but don't know the size.

So off to the office, the office, the office,
the office knows nothing so let's have a guess.

They fiddle and diddle and fumble and mumble,
they print us the copies and charge us the fee.

And now for insurance, insurance, insurance,
so health and all cameras but not kitchen sink.

Now tell us the serial, serial numbers,
and tell us all details and pay us the dough.

Then fill in the form, the form, the form,
and fill in the form and pay them more dough.

We add all the photos, the numbers and passports
attach all the copies and write out a cheque.

Now that's just for starters, for starters, for starters
we wait for the next bit and save up more dough.

die a critic

When travelling, borders are often less obvious than language changes. Borders, sometimes barred, often unguarded, unnoticed and irrelevant without the threat of hostilities can be blithely crossed, occasionally tolled but brought to the unwary traveller's attention with signs heralding a different script. When spoken jangling, guttural grunts and plosives distract the mind and ears for a while and forms and shops then lead onto other shapes and strange letter combinations. It is very disconcerting to be faced with new frustrations of communication. Wouldn't it be easier if everyone spoke the same language? But then we have been there before and look what happened. So a new language is a assaulting - a puzzle - and puzzles can fun but it helps to see the form before being thrown the challenge of having to catch a bus or meet a ferry and no idea of what the squiggles on the page mean.

The alphabetic scripts for the countries we will be seeing for the most part use our letters. The combination of sounds a little different and then there are all those strange little marks - the diacritics - the accents, graves, umlauts and cedillas. The squiggly tilde, macron, caron and superdot sound more like cartoon cult heroes rather than the clues to saying sounds. Russian has the Cyrillic letters - boxy and capitalised and much less approachable to guess at or decode. The others maybe look a bit less daunting. French and German are more familiar and most of us can have a go at those - albeit clumsy strine-y affectations. To hear the language lessens the abrasiveness and after listening to the foreign news on SBS, looking at the text and trying to pick out the words, the ear becomes accustomed to the sounds. Borrowed words add import and pictures help a lot. Pass over first hostility and rebuff the jaded judgements and practise passive listening. Embrace the polyglot of past endeavours to trade and fight and overtake and see the trends and similarities. Romantic Irish-Gaelic script with Tolkien overtones, to say is more like Scandinavia and Old German, a great surprise and not at all like faerie tongue. So many tongues make many consonants and sharper shushy sounds and slidy back of throat projections meld as if they're one. I have not got to sort them yet but they're more familiar now - a little warmer, a little more like friends.

The richness of the flavours dips toes into a past and opens tiny cracks to peer into and maybe even glimpse a bit of other lives and minds like ours and hearts that grieve and joy and laugh. The foreign tongues speak sadly now of great big waves and horrors near and far, of Fukushima and moving earth, of Queensland's loss and Christchurch's pain. The ear attunes to what's behind the different sounds and the critic dies to reach the heart and mind and soul of brothers far and wide.

manna to manners

Hat off at the dinner table, eat with your mouth closed, don't talk while you are eating, no burping and finish what is on your plate. All good Aussie table manners. All obeyed so as to be bright shining examples of a good upbringing. All rules obeyed by every child I have ever brought into this world - except for the burping. The loudest burp champion is youngest son who still proudly holds the record to this day.  Would go well in....which country is it? Maybe China or Japan - or so the saying goes - surely an urban myth perpetuated by the burpiferous. However common sense may wave the flag it may be helpful to check out some cultural preferences before sitting at another's table.

It was always breakfast dinner and tea at my place growing up. It caused much confusion as an adult when inviting people around for dinner and they had not turned up by 5. Took a while to work out some called the meals breakfast, lunch and dinner. So even the complacency that might be felt while in English countries still may bear a little thought and reading.

Apparently in Austria when clinking glasses one must look the other in the eye - as acknowledgement that they exist. In Poland do not flip the whole fish that you are having for dinner (or is it tea) or you will capsize the fisherman's boat. Never cut your bread but always peel and cut your fruit. Do not insult the French chef by asking for condiments. Do not stare at a Russian plate but know that a finger flick on the neck means come have a drink of vodka. Use a knife and fork to eat your Czech sandwiches but only use a fork to cut the Austrian dumplings. Diversion from the accepted could mean all manner of strife - whole flocks of people known to exist simply cease to be because of an averted eye, capsizing boats and miffed Frenchmen causing mayhem, flicked necks and tough dumplings running rampant.
No hands on laps
(lest dogs be fed)
no this, no that
Salut be said
or Sante, Prost?
Shall we be fed
our image lost?

Let's all be calm and settle down,
just look around and watch and see
and carry on as others do
and try our best to not offend
and watch and smile and reassure
that they may laugh or scorn, deride.
We've given all those food for thought
and meat for talk and fodder for a mindless chat.
But rest assured
no matter where,
we do not mind
our manners well
when we join in
accord...
applaud.

Kissel, Curd, Kama and Faggots

Hearing about culinary adventures of friends overseas causes me to break the commandment 'Thou shalt not covet...' and makes me question my 3-2-1 resolve. They are not eating like peasants; potted pigeon pie, pickled pork, pheasant under glass, plenty of other pies and puddings and pastries made by the farmer's wife from freshly laid eggs.

The food research had prompted the idea that there are some foods that must be savoured in the country of origin - some are too important they are not to be missed, and yet others, it is very important to miss. Sausages and yoghurt are two foods that are on my 'could not eat even when starving' page. No Bear Grylls here. Well...maybe sausages but not yoghurt. So the line is drawn - straight down the middle - 'Must Eat' and 'No Way Eat'.

Soups and dark, rich breads, pickles and forest fare are appealing in their earthiness and rustic nature. The lack of pretension seems endearing and sends the daydreamer into Fiddler on the Roof times and conjures Babushka over milk churn images to meld with glories of empires of bygone ages. The savoury Zeppelins and herrings, fried crumbed cheese, dumplings and roast pork sound manageable but then there is the Latvian grey peas and bacon dish and that Lithuanian slab of pork belly fat sandwich with raw onions (no butter) and the Welsh Faggots - liver rissoles - clear line there. Apparently these are relished by the respective countrymen. But then there are Vienna Schnitzel and Irish Stews, Yorkshire Pud and Haggis (deserving of Capitalisation) and Welsh Cawl that should be suffered for the cause - some sort of compensation for the soured milk and cold fish soup.

Sacher Torte (eaten in the Sacher Hotel would be nice) and Linzer Torte; and, a must to be tried - the lingon berries that are not found outside Lithuania. Red currant jelly kissel, all manner of curd-ish desserts and one called kama, and dumplings and poppy seed pastries and so much on the 'Must Eat' side that the page is lopsided.
We will be rustic and walk over the many cobbled streets and through ancient forests, traipse through medieval villages, peruse palaces and play the tourist and walk off all the calories. This justifies this peasant  and princely fare but there seems to be a blurring of the line. Not so distinct is the heavy divide now as first was thought. Some dishes seem so bizarre as to warrant respect and deserve at least a curious bite, just a little taste, honour times gone by and play at being 'one of them' - just for a little while and know that Aussie fare could appear very shallow and unencumbered with the necessity of hardship and make-do, uninspired by palaces and princes and cultures steeped in history, unscarred by continental wars and brave invention.

Australia has had its share of feast and famine, used what we can breed and grow and 'make-do' seems to be the mantra of our forebears. The hospitality and generosity of those whose lands we travel to must not be shunned. To share a glimpse of others' lives will be a privilege and so the line is gone between the faggots and the curd.

Fruhstuck

Breakfast options and what to expect travelling bears research. The reality will be far different I am sure but it would be good to not display the ignorant face pull and 'What is that?' when faced with the fare.

Austria sounds like a lovely place to have breakfast. "Fruhstuck" is important - the most important meal of the day. Cold cuts, bread, cheese, eggs, bread, butter, jams, bread, Semmel roll, Kipferl (like a croissant) and dark grainy breads. Give us today our daily bread - Austria is an answer to prayer.

Czech breakfasts appear to favour rye bread, rohlik, spreads, cheese, salami, ham, sardines, chicken liver, garlic or cottage cheese, yoghurt, tea, coffee (hot chocolate for the kids) or cake. An alternate authentic country breakfast is kale soup and bread with lard soaked in chickory, milk or buttermilk. A rohliking good time to be had with kale and lard  mmmmmmm.

Poland offers eggs, pancakes, jam or fish paste sandwiches, sliced pickles, black pudding, tea, coffee or soured milk. The curd cheese with herbs or milk soup is the dairy option. So.....eggs and pancakes or black pudding and soured milk.....I curdle at the thought.

Lithuania has more cold cuts, cheese and bread and maybe cold smoked fish and vegetables. Smoked salmon and a light Jarlsberg may be the choice.

Latvia likes fish sandwiches, eggs, cheese, curds, sour milk, salty, sour curds or light oatmeal. Gruel is good.

Estonia sounds much the same with pickles and bread, cheese, tea, coffee and milk. Estonia appears to be a bit neglected. Not Haute cuisine methinks?

Hot oatmeal in Russia, eggs, sausage, rye breads. Hearty food for cold climes.

Paris - the place for food - but breakfast is single minded - coffee and bread. All sweet, no savoury. No pickled products proffered Madam.

English full cooked breakfasts; bacon, eggs, baked beans, lots of baked beans, must have the baked beans, sausages, tomatoes, mushrooms, toast, fat, red, brown, not a pickled kale soup shred to be found. Crumpets and jam and butter and tea. Comfort food. A meal to trek over the moors on....alone.

Scottish breakfast - porridge, black pudding, oatcakes. Porridge was fed to kings at banquets. For dinner. With meat if they were really important kings. One was killed after his dinner, a long time ago.....

Irish breakfasts - Irish bangers, mash, black pudding (goody goody yum yum), white pudding (black pudding without the blood) , eggs, tomatoes, mushrooms, Irish beans, boxty (Irish potato pancake) and Irish soda bread. In Northern Ireland you can have an Ulster Fry........

A bowl of cereal in front of the tele and dash off to work is half a world away and flickers dimly. Other-culture breakfasts all princely fare and fascinating. Shall I practise the pickles and pudding?

Pauper, peasant, prince - 3, 2, 1.

Travelling assaults the mind. We do without so we can go and do; cry 'poor' to live without working while on our journey; serve and wait in order to be waited on, play pauper in order to be prince - if only for a day - indulge in feasting Babette style.

What sort of feasting is to be had? Research continues - next port of call - food.

Most of our accommodation will be Bed and Breakfast lodgings. Very rustic in the Eastern Bloc countries to lighthouses and castles in England. Big, full, cooked breakfasts are familiar territory. Montclare has a menu of 17 courses from which to choose and varies all the time.....but that is for others - not the cook. The saying 'eat like a king at breakfast, a prince at lunch and a beggar for dinner' will become the new maxim. Not only to manage our finances well and make the most of what we have already paid for in the tariff, but to work our nutrition and bodies well. Neither do we want to look for food at night with no transport, or pay for expensive restaurant meals when a bite will do. Even so the scale may be more princely than king size. So we start to practise now - go the portion sizes - 3 for breakfast, 2 for lunch and 1 for tea. Eat up well and work it off. Think of all the poor people - they could live on what you leave...did your mum ever say that to you?

Memories of childhood come clashing. Meal times and simple pleasures; hard times and dreams and fantasies - a song I made up when I was very young - looking up at the jet above...."One day I'm going away....." The utter impossibility of a trip around the world by one living in a housing commission area - the daughter of a steel worker - did not bear thinking about. The yard next door was the foreign country. New neighbours were the culture clash. A spare penny to spend at the shops (a teaspoon of musk lollies) was the splash-out indulgence. Mum cooked wonderful traditional Aussie fare - meat and three veg - dad worked hard and had a garden (still does) and caught fish or prawns in rare spare time. The once a year chicken for Christmas (from the pen in the back yard) was such a treat. When we were older we went to the Chinese for our birthday celebration. It was like travelling to a foreign country with wonderful flavours, strange writing and bright colours. What would I choose next year....

We never wasted anything - and still try not to - think of all the poor starving Africans. We knew how hard it was to get the meal on the plate. To start out the 'pauper' and end up 'the prince' is sobering. Yet the solid and resounding  richness of my childhood leaves all promise of princely fare a little empty.

researching the trip - turning over a new leaf

Thought it would be a good idea to test out walking shoes. Good research? Walked an hour and a half  in crocs - 'sueded Alice' shoes - proven before on walks, but getting old. Blister 20 minutes into the walk so the testing of  'how to protect a blister without a bandaid' was the next bit of research. A $10 note folded up worked well with occasional adjustments but best of all was a new leaf. Nice and soft, didn't slip, no adjustment needed. (Note to self - pack bandaids in pockets - or foliage - customs permitting. Second note to self - test out other shoes.)

Love the idea of information at the ready. Previous trips have been blessed with minimal stress by much collecting and organising of relevant facts bound in a book kept conveniently within reach. Accommodation, time of arrival, phone numbers, transport timetables, directions, where to next - a page dedicated to each stop. Dates and days are a blur without 'the book'. Started said 'book' today - up to page six.
Found maps, pictures of accommodation, points of interest, currencies and summarised it all onto a page per place. Feel like the places are familiar already and we will be revisiting.

Learned how to draw our route on a map using photoshop and have a better idea of the scope of the journey. Such cultures! So many adventures to be had.

While the internet had made this job so easy, the musty atlas was beside me to remind me of my sense of reality. Cyberspace and hyper-reality is all to familiar and deceptively easy and convenient - but travel - the stuff of childhood dreamings and imaginings is found in the detail, the slow and deliberate musings over the scrawly lines of faded pages, savoured best when leaves are held together with twine, remembered well when the land is seen in the mind's eye nestled between those countries, near that sea, talked about, imagined, studied on rainy days. Research benefits of the day......dig out the books and turn a new leaf.

travelling

This adventure begins with charting the waters of the internet - being familar with one set of laws and posting blogs dedicated to the journey then being shipwrecked and without a craft for some time. The new vessel is sleek and modern and new plastic smelly. The lappy may not go with me overseas but some form of the technology will. For those who read the old blogs - you shared the preliminary planning. For the new passengers, welcome. All old entries lost to the sea.

This is not a holiday - this is travelling.
Holidays are soft and mellow, lazy and idyllic - laden with overtones of luxury and undertones of private pleasure. Reading, wallowing, savouring, layering the fat.
Travelling is pushing past the comfy pillows and turning the nose up at the hammocky slumbering. No comfort and daydreaming on this journey.

Richard's turn to choose the destination (but it happens to be my choice too).
Somewhere reeking of cultural ancestry and steeped in culture. Somewhere oozing art and the romantic book backdrops of Austen landscapes and Tolstoy tapestries. Art and libraries and museums to build the wealth and knowledge of our craft. England and Eastern Europe, Estonia and any other 'e' places.

52 days away and microplanning each day to hold the most rewarding forays. The quick overview has us in Hong Kong then on to London, Vienna, making our way through the Czech Republic, on to Poland, Lithuania, Latvia, Estonia, Russia, France, England, Wales, Scotland, Ireland, Singapore and home.

Our love of real rather than artifice has led us to choose accommodation that we think may suit the feel of the places we are peeking into. A castle in Scotland, a lighthouse on the coast of Wales, an apartment in Paris, a hostel in London, Beatrix Potter's farm in the Lakes District.

A rifle range in Riga, trekking in the forests to reach medieval villages, linen factories and whiskey distilleries, churches and arty things, hot and cold, old and new - all part of the bumpy ride. Buses, planes, boats, trains and Shanks' pony...and much of the latter with a not so little bag.

A blog a day to keep boredom away.

Hope to hear from you ..... keep posted.

planning itinerary

started to micro plan the trip