If I were young, I'd flee this town

I arrived in Beijing 23 days ago. I had someone meet me at the station so it was a stress free ride to my accommodation. No trudging through the rain, no misinterpretations of my phrasebook, just plan sailing...makes for boring reading really...However the sights were pretty amazing for me. It all seemed so foreign at the beginning, little did I realise that I'd be making my own way there on foot in the not to distant future.

Looking back, most of what happened in Beijing is a bit of a blur. I guess I was very much caught up in the life there - too caught up to blog at least. The hostel ( 9 Dragons Hostel) is one of the best I've styed in to date. The staff were super. Really friendly and happy to cook me my required 3egg breakfast. I sucked up all the sights from the city and have to say that the vibe on the street is what made Beijing special for me. Walking through Beijing as the rain lashed down was a great experience. Warm rain and Chinese people doing everything humanly possible to get avoid it( let them taste an Irish sumer and see how they like it. Actually given the service most of them give in the shops in Dublin I reckon its pretty obvious how they feel bout Irish weather).

I was stunned at how easy it is to get by in a city where I know only 2 words of the language (thank you and hello) . The Metro makes it easier I guess - that and obscene amounts of smiling and nodding. The Beijing accent is quite unique, loads of rrrrrrrrs - imagine a growling dog sucking on a marble - I love it. Most everyone I met hated it. I think its the Chinese equivalent of the Dublin accent ( except I don't love the Dublin accent).

I took a 10km hike on the Great wall with two Chinese speaking Americans. It was a great day and although I wasn't that excited about the trip the night before I was euphoric by the time we finished up - looking back over that vast expanse of wall. We celebrated by taking the flying squirrel back down the mountain side. I did my bit for global marketing and drank a Coke Cola(thank Microsoft for that particular dependency) on this thrilling ride.

The excitement wasn't to end there. On the way back to Beijing our taxi driver managed to make a friend on the road. He cut someone off, the person he cut off weren't none too happy about this so they decided to over take us and then pull in front of us and start jamming on their breaks. This drove our driver insane and well the nutty driving that ensued was one of the most terrifying experiences of my life. What was initially just a display of Chinese bravado soon turned into a James Bond'esque car chase - without the Austin Martin, instead we were travelling in the equivalent of a breadbin on wheels. It was surprisingly nimble, which added to the terror. There were some classic maneuvers such as - the triple car overtake - so at one point there was 4 vehicles driving down the same road( not a motorway!!) in the same direction heading towards the same crane/truck/bus. Take your pick as the quadruple was just going to be one of many he'd pull. There was also the undertaking a crane on this inside as we came round a bend - I call that the tickler, because I'm pretty sure we tickled the cranes front wheels as we finally shot out past its massive berth. This went on for about 20 minutes. Not even the drivers wide could calm him down( yep she was there too, this fool was ready to take us all to hell with him). He eventually caught the other driver by ramming him off the road. They had a polite exchange of words and fists as we sat in our mini van facing oncoming traffic on the wrong side of the road. At one point the police appeared and then simply rolled by. Didn't seem to be enough of an issue for them......possibly on the trail of some free thought that they needed to suppress.

Another highlight of my time in Beijing was Bei Hai park. It is simply beautiful and a definite must if you are there with a partner. Beijingers congregate there(as they do in other parks) and socialise like no other culture I've experienced. There is singing, game playing, talking, walking, people sitting together holding hands, kissing - all in all a really precious place to be.

In total I spent 10 days in Beijing - third of my entire day budget for China. Its hard to put into words what I liked so much. I think the best word to summarise would be alive - hot, humid, cheap, smelly, busy, crazy. these words simply don't do it justice and only give you pointed definitions for such an experience rich place. Could I live there? You betcha! Do i recommend it as a place to live? Most certainly! You've not lived until you've taken to the streets of Beijing on a bicycle!

I'm not sure what you are waiting for - this city has it all and is far more accessible than you think. If you get lost you can either get the metro to a station you recognise or just grab a cab( worst case it'll set you back 5 euros....not exactly Dublin rates!!)

Onwards to Shanghai! ( oh wait I'm wring this retrospectively - I'm already in Shanghai!!)

Memorable things I saw/did/experienced in Beijing-

• A short movie( propaganda) featuring Mr. Mao projected onto a fine spray of water outside the Forbidden city


• A trip to the White Rabbit, arriving at 2am, bopping about with more ex-pats than locals and leaving the next morning more worse for wear that I'd care to admit. Music (although techno) was dull. Not something I would recommend to the true affectionado


• Staying in an old Brothel which is now a hostel


• Getting to the aforementioned hostel on foot in torrential rain. Walking through the hutongs(alleyways) laughing our heads off


• Squat loos...

Labels: travel

Latest update - I hate conditional CSS. Managed to get my old tempalte back and have decided not to tinker with it until I'm in a place where I'm willing to put more time in. Possibly a beach in Laos ;) So for now i'll keep the posts short and sweet.

UPDATE: So I f*cked my blog over by updating to the new blogger beta. Damnit, I loved that old template. I'll try to get it back up and running asap. But for now its sunday night and I'm having a beer so progress will be slow at best...

Caused by a conflict between the template I'm using and my excessively long posts! I'm working in it!! :)

For your ongoing patience in this matter I reward thee with the ancient and secret Irish tradition of Summer Love.

Summer love

• Throw a can of Guinness in the freezer until it reaches a thick slush stage.
  
• Then, release the gas so it forms a head in the can.
  
• Pierce the bottom of the can and insert the stick.
  
• Return the can to the freezer and let it freeze solid.
  

Now get the hell out of here and go enjoy your first Summer Love ( aka the Guinness Popsicle)

Labels: Blog tasks, Technology

On August 11th 2007 I committed facebook suicide. This actually coincided with alot of online articles about others doing the same. While I arrived at the point of self destruction( digitally speaking) on my own it seemed as if others throughout the interweb were also going through the same lifestyle resurrection.

I was a casual facebook user, I briefly maintained 2 accounts in an attempt to separate my personal life from my work life. I think it was when these two accounts began to overlap that I realised it was time to end it all. I'm not a particularly private person ( I'm writing my thoughts online for the world to read aren't I?) but I do enjoy a certain degree of separation between worklife and private life. The idea of 'watching my step' in the online world really bothered me. Possibly because I worked in a corporate environment and was surrounded by colleagues rather than life long friends. ( Not saying that some aren't friends now..but you all know what I mean)

Facebook sells itself as the mechanism for establishing and maintaining friendships. Users build a list of people whom they wish to remain in contact with and then proceed to 'poke', 'shuffle', 'tag' or whatever them whenever the thought occurs. I don't enjoy this redefinition of friendship. For me a friend is someone who chooses to be in your life, enriches your life and is someone whom you trust enough to let go should they go 'silent' for a time.

The services Facebook provides are of the lowest calibre of contact. A nudge here, an open party to everyone in the 'cool chums list' invite there - In my opinion these 'services' do nothing to feed the human soul infact quite the opposite, only serve to feed our innate fear of being alone. A friend is someone you should have no expectations of, someone you can relate to but not need anything in particular from. In Facebook you send a poke and you expect one in return - otherwise we're at war, right?

The dilution of the friendship definition will (once again my thoughts, my speculations here) will only serve to increase the neurosis conditions that drive us loopy in our day to day existence. Time and time again I meet people who question where their time goes. Think for moment when was the last time you just sat, by yourself and truly experienced time. No distractions, no communication - just you and the infinite space of the universe around you? This is the true sense of time, the true meaning of here and now. Whilst Facebook is just one facet through which our lives are being clogged up and robbed of time it is one so prevalent I personally chose to cut it out.

There is so much to write about with this subject, another example would be the removal of friends - an in your face denial of your previosly 'solid' relationship. People post delicious photos of themselves onto facebook in the hope that everyone will see them as they are( a minor celeb right?). Someone everyone wants to add because they've got a catchy tagline..

As I travel I'm beginning to feel the pinch. People I've met readily exchange facebook details and vow to keep in touch. I'm left on the outside and quite frankly I like it that way. If you want my friendship then I'd like something more that a 'poke' and 'smiley'. My life is too precious to while away hours scanning someone elses Facebook for photos of us 'Pissed up in Ulan Bator'. I'm not above Facebook, I just recognise that my nature is particularly susceptable to its darkest side and have tried to nip such an indulgence in the bud.

Yesterday I spent an amazing day climbing the Great Wall with two others(read more in my Bejing blog entry), we didn't get to exchange emails yet I consider the memory of that day (and the conversations about our life experiences) a richer reward than yet another 'add' on my Facebook profile.the fact that our contact ends there leaves this chapter closed. An encapsulated experience for me to enjoy as opposed to an open 'sore' in the world of Facebook.

I honetly fear the worst for society as the Facebook definition of friend becomes the norm. I think about my nieces and wonder what the hell kind of world they'll mature into. I can't help but think of the book A Brave New World, but whenever I do I promptly try to shake such thoughts from my mind, but they remain there all the same, silent - feeding my Facebook denial.

"take me back to the old skool,
cos i'm an old fool who's so cool,
if you want to get down let me show you the way,
WHOOMP there it is! "( sorry, i couldn't resist!)

Labels: my Thoughts, Technology, technophobe

Having arrived in Mongolia in the early hours of the morning I was not very surprised to have been greeted by some pretty unwelcoming weather - I imagined it to be an unforgiving place, the weather confirmed this. The locals however were quite friendly and representatives from each of the local guests houses were there to pick up their clients..that is, all the guest houses except mine. Not to worry though, I plodded on through the rain( in my cool new allweather sandles I may add.) After multiple misdirections I eventually came across my hostel, one by the name of Mr. Gomez ( not exactly a Mongolian name is it?) I took a quick stock of the situation and realised that Mr. Gomez wasn't my kind of place. It was so shitty not even the stray hell-hounds( of which there are many here) would even take shelter under its canopy. I flagged a cab and thought myself lucky until this 'decent' fellow clocked the situation for what it was and read my indecision on a destination as a big green Go sign to fleece me. Eventually we agreed on a location and a price. I wasn't exactly happy with either. The guest house was in a location not too different from how i imagine the Ballymun flats would look after a nuclear war. Anyway, to cut to the chase, the guest house was infact an apartment. (Which unknown to me is the norm here.) Initially I was going to bail but figured I'd check it out atleast. I'm glad I did because no sooner had I knocked on the door than I was given a nice pair of slippers, promptly offered breakfast and given a chance to freshen up. Score! Thank you fuckhead taxi driver, you may have won the battle, but i won the war! ( btw, those dollars are not legal tender anymore - according to my Russian border guard colleague that is ) Mwahahaha!


Not long after I'd finished breakfast I met one of the fellow guests. A Scottish guy named Hugh who was(given the time of day) surprisingly full of beans. He spoke about his time in UB and also described a place he'd visited which sounded pretty interesting. Based on my intial impressions of Ulan Bator( its a massive shithole) I decided I wasn't going to stay put for long. I spent the next 2 days ducking and diving through traffic shopping for various wares. The cars seem to adhere only to the Mad Max rules of the road. To be honest it was kind of fun nursing my balls in my throat each time I crossed the road. So having stocked up on camping gear and having gotten over my 5 days on a train I set about spending 12 hours on a bus. Had I known it was going to take that long in advance I can't say I'd have gone ahead with this folly.


I'm still not sure how I managed to get a ticket for the bus as the ticketing system seems to have been masterminded by the safety planner for Aeroflot, his mate Jeb who has a ferocious case of tourettes and possibly one of the criminal kids from Mad Max ( there'll be lots of Mad Max references in here - tough shit if you haven't seen the movies. But its the closest approximation I can find.)

···So the wheels were set in motion at the cost of maybe 6 of the seven gears the poor bus had available. Not far out of UB the 'road' turns into a dirt track, "wow, this is quant I thought", for the first 10km. Another 100km and I was beginning to grasp the enormity of my own stupidity. -- Actually, let me put this trip into context, although it sounded cool the idea of it scared the shit out of me. Hugh had mentioned that he had encountered wolves face to face on one of his trips out into the wilds. I also had my own fears, greater than the mere fear of wolves - I was worried about the locals :) Couple this information with the time lines involved, I had 3 days to play with, 2 of which were going to be eaten up with bus journeys. All in all I calculated I'd have 2:1 hours of funtime to shit time. Oh how those figures were grossly under estimated :) -- So now you have context. About 2 hours into the journey the bus took on another load of passengers. The girl I was sitting beside recognised one of them and in true Asian neglect for human personal space invited her to join us. I say that as if its a bad thing, this girl had a smile that left a person feeling as if the first ray of morning sun had just washed over their face. They chatted and I thought about how much more comfortable I would be if I'd ignored all those prompts to eat more food and allowed myself to dwindle into a 5 stone willow tree. swiiiishhhhhhh.... So we took turns dozing, on the seats in front, the window, each other. Eventually the new girl started chatting to me. By chatting I mean we managed to establish in 20 minutes what would normally be written on a nameplate in Starbucks. Nevertheless we persevered. It was a worthwhile endeavour and while we couldn't really discuss our own feverent opinions on the Chavez regime(for example) we did manage to pass the time.


So time passed, 8 hours more to be precise. ( by the way - the bus stopped only once throughout this entire journey) I arrive in Tsetserleg and find my guesthouse. A place called Fairfield, run by two expat brits. A decent place with a strict set of rules for its customers. " Rule 8. Rooms shall not be rented by the hour" - just as well, sitting on my arse for 12 hours had left me jaded, I had a wee stroll and then slept until morning.

Tseterleg is a truly beautiful place. It reminded me of the Black Forest, but then again it's a world apart. Ovoos( piles of stones placed by shamans as offerings to the gods) scattered the landscape, trees had lengths of silk tied to them (more offerings), blowing lazily in the wind. Wild marauding dogs carrying with them a menace usually reserved for serial killers or angry primary school teachers. Gers( typical Mongolian nomadic circular homes) mixed in with more permanent structures - the latter a definite sign of the changing of ways here in Mongolia. Anyway - my first morning in Tsetserleg I set about exploring the place, meeting some locals and trying to get a grasp on what life there must be like. It's odd, people sit around as if they have nothing to do, however all the while its looks as if they are doing something - small trades of goods, waiting for a pickup to bring them to the next town or even eyeballing the latest westener to happen into their village. I had a plan for the day. To scout around in the mountains surrounding the village in search of a good place to camp that evening. I spent most of the day in the north of the village following dirt tracks that led me to herds of yaks. At about 5pm I decided I'd faffed around enough and went east, ignoring all my earlier days work :) As I walked up through the village (no matter where you go you always have to walk a hill. Thats what happens when locals thoughtlessly settle in a valley) I was chased by a few of the aforementioned hounds of hell. I recalled my rabies jabs from earlier in the year and drew upon them as if they gave me some sort of magical forcefield. My simplistic denial of the dogs potential human shredding ability seemed to have worked and after one or two staring matches I was left to go on my way. Grrrrrreat!



As i walked with intent the clouds above me also made their own intentions clear. With a force I've never witnessed before they sucked themselves upwards into one dark ominous bastard of a cloud. Lightening flashed and I thought to myself whether it was such a good idea to have paid homage to so many shamanistic and buddhist shrines in one day. I hoped whichever side I had most appeased was in control of the weather dial. I climbed onwards, determined that my personal journey was not going to be cut short by some a trifle such as poor weather. As the rain grew in intensity I decided to hedge my bets and set camp under a rock face in order to gain some wind protection. I set up camp, digging a trench around my tent in preparation for the imminent doomsday rain and lit a tidy little campfire. By this time it was 7pm and the weather looked a if it was easing off. The sun came out and I gave thanks to Buddha, by eating a snickers. 9pm rolled by and I decided to call it a night. Cimbing into my tent my total lack of camping experience came into play. I had bought a nice new mattress to protect me from the permafrost lying wait beneath the soil, thinking all the while, "what a clever clogs I am". Little did I realise that when I lay in my sleeping bag inside my tent( which was pitched on a 45 degree incline) I would take on the attributes of a snooker ball in a sock. I tried to convince myself that this was a tolerable way to sleep and held space for about 10 minutes. Eventually I decided that enough was enough and went about relocating my camp. I guess in my own way I was staying true to the nomads, moving camp no matter what the time, in response to the weather or the movement of their animals.

Camp number 2 was further up the mountain on a cliff face. Perfectly flat but close to the edge of the mountain. I relocated my fire too as I figured it would provide a nice background noise for me to focus on as I slept. (Better than the imagined howling of wolves or stomping of bears). All went well and I was asleep in no time. However about 2am I woke to see little airy lights flying by my tent. Like glowworms only lighter in movement and more orange than green. Once the noise of my beating heart subsided I figured out that the wind was picking up again and that it was whipping embers from my 'extinguished' fire. My first fear was that the tent might get burned and thus break my impenetrable barrier, my only protection from any potential rain. This fear was soon overtaken by the fact that the wind was now pressing my tent to the gound like a giant finger trying to pop bubblewrap. Never fully going ahead with the motion but seemingly enjoying the interim pleasure just as much. For about an hour I tried to doze through this storm. Thanking every kilo of my body weight for keeping this desperate kite grounded. Once again this test of my will eventually subsided and I managed to doze off. Sweet blissfull sleep.


I woke to the sounds of birds I'd never heard before. ( imagine, not a single starling to be heard!!) I packed up camp and set off back down the mountain. Secretly delighted that I'd gone ahead with this challenge, also freezing my knackers off because Mongolian weather doesn't favour westerner fashion folly. Shorts?? Honestly Richard, what were you thinking?

the return to UB

I woke early in order to get to the bus stop in time. Arriving there like some smelly campfire hound the locals seemed to be amused to see my skinny white legs at such an early hour of the day. Atleast thats how I interpreted their grins. They might all have also shared a joke just before I stepped into view - markedly less likely...

So I hopped on the bus and nestled in for the long trip ahead. 12 hours and counting. I dozed for a short period once we set off, but the bumpy route quickly had me sitting upright. I was looking around the bus and I noticed the guy sitting opposite me gesturing to move over one seat. I presumed he was being friendly but declined as I didn't want to lose my window seat. He seemed to understand and left it at that. Then a few miles down the road he hopped over and sat in the seat next to mine.

We started off with the usual exchange of pigeon English/Mongolian. Hitting the limits of our abilities in a pretty short space of time. Although pretty wrecked from a rather sleepless night I decide this is a nice opportunity to flavour my experience Mongolia ( oh how right I was there!). I produce my Mongolian phrasebook and we start rattling through the small talk section. I now recall thinking how nice it was to encounter someone with such an interest in a foreigner.( I've become increasingly disillusioned with my 'fellow' westerners - ignoring one another seems to be the norm on the road. Even despite my winning smile:)) Once we'd finished the small talk section I let him loose on the book to see if he could come up with any other conversational pieces. I remember he pointed to the phrase "I have been raped", and wondering what the hell kind of sense of humour he had. Putting it down to that of an adolescent I let it drop.

I started to doze as we journeyed on, waking every now and then for a drink or a snack. We chat again and he has found the relationships section of his new bible. He quizzes me about my situation and I mention that I'm single ( although point out that I had a girlfriend before I left..just to be safe.) He holds on that page for a bit and I figure I know whats coming next. He eventually points the the word "Gomeks" which is, yup you guessed it...homosexual!! Huzzah, we'd broken through the linguistic barrier and figured out I'm straight and he's gay. That was that, so I thought.

Further down the road he asks me if I want to visit his home. I assumed (as the message was pretty clear) that he knew I was straight and that this was an innocent expression of hospitality. An invitation to a Ger I thought,"cool", but not willing to mix things up and given that I had to get the train in the morning I declined. He "casually" persisted with the invitation until I eventually looudly and clearly said, "NO!!!".

"Great", I though , now I've offended him. But he didn't seem phased. In fact not long after he quite openly offered to let me bum him. "Fucking nightmare!!" I thought. He also made some other gestures, which I won't describe - but suffice to say my freak out factor was now at maximum. I wholeheartedly declined and tried to visually display my dissatisfaction, as the language barrier was far too great to explain how I was really feeling. Bloody offended, if you are wondering. I have no problem with homosexuality, in fact some of my best friends are gay( ok I'm kidding here, I just love to throw this bullshit statement into conversations. Such as on being called a racist you retort with "why some of my best friends are black"..but thats not the point...) Sooo...anyway, I'm rattling my brain for an escape plan. Making a point of avoiding eye contact with Captain Lewd of the Mongolian Hospitality Brigade.

Whilst sitting there thinking about the situation a thought occurred to me, (as I didn't either have the inclination nor the physical presence to smack him upside the head) I wondered if this is how girls feel when they are the focus of unwanted sexual attention. I lament the aggressive nature of man. If I had the option of either speaking Mongolian or being built like Stallone in Rocky, I'd gladly opt for the former as I would love to have had the chance to explain to this tool exactly how badly he'd offended me. I guess it was my own naivety that left me open on this one.

Once we arrived at UB I quickly found a taxi and threw a few dollars at him to get me the hell out of there before our friend caught the scent. I do regret one thing though. Early in the trip, as a gesture of good faith I offered him my phrasebook - (What the hell, Mongolian isn't going to be on the junior cert curriculum anytime soon)..I've equipped this tool with the ability to hassle other tourists in future. Maybe I should have eaten those pages from the book...

My night ended beautifully, me with a double bed to myself - bed bugs don't count do they? Soooo loooong Ulan Bator.

Labels: travel

After the 24 hours I'd just spent in Moscow I was bouncing in my box by the time the train began to move. On the platform there was a party mood amongst the 'tourists', the locals looked on with understandable scorn - why the fuck would anyone voluntarily spend 5 days on a train. Its the equivalent of traveling between Dublin and Carlow 24 times for 5 days in a row. Although that said, its not like we were traveling with CIE.

I promptly found my cabin and so too my roomie for the next 5 days. A sun kissed Londoner who like me was soon approaching 30 and maybe avoiding some sort of life crisis. Tom was a decent bloke, we chatted and laughed throughout the course of the trip. neither of us reaching the point of cabin fever I predicted at the beginning of our trip.

The journey on the train was looooong but thankfully punctuated with intermittent stops. Stops which we relished as it gave an opportunity to stretch out and also meet the locals. Stops were brief so our encounters with the locals usually involved us bargaining for beers and the Russian equivalent of pot noodles. Uuuurgh, pot-fucking-noodles, if I never see another it'll be too soon.

Day to day life on the train was fun. Basically living the life of a cat eating,sleeping,prowling(ignoring the fact that cats don't usually read, take photos and drink beer). You cross several time zones as you move from Moscow to Ulan Bator. In doing this you build up a serious sleep credit. As we adapted our watches to the local time zone and went to sleep at the appropriate local time. By the time we hit Lake Baikal it was night, but we were on a beer binge and wired from plenty of rest. Lake Baikal is the worlds largest reserve of fresh water - its something like a billion miles wide and a light year deep...ok its not, but if you are interested in facts just look it up! It does however contain enough fresh water to sustain the planet with fresh water for 40 years should every other source of suddenly evaporate.

We arrived at Irkutsk around midnight ( saying good bye to some of our troupe there - a danish guy who was wankered from a bottled of vodka he'd drank solo earlier and a Mexican who was a well travelled and seemingly decent sort). The train proceeded towards lake Baikal and as the sun rose we were given glimpse of this vast expanse of water. Maybe it was the beer, maybe it was the euphoria that randomly set in as part of our train trip - but that morning 4 of us ( 2 Mancs, 1 Londoner and a paddy) silently stared out the windows of the train each admiring the beauty of this glorious place.

I felt a pang of regret at not having planned a stopover in Lake Baikal, but recognised that this sort of regret will occur frequently on my travels as I see alternatives to the choices I make. I chose to simply enjoy what I had and snap as many photos as I could to inspire a return trip in future.

Not a lot happens in 5 days, but yet your days feel packed and boredom was never a problem. Tom and I had an ongoing bet - $50 for the first photo of a bear in the wild. He won on a technicality ( a shopping bag with Winnie the Pooh on it at one of the stations). We agreed that beer was reward enough and toasted our intrepid hunting skills.

Tom was on some sort of crazy mission to circumnavigate the globe in 3 months. An agenda so aggressive I felt dizzy even thinking about it. Whilst I could never undertake such a pressured trip I respect his mettle and ambition. I hope he's doing well.

The train itself was manned by a staff of pirates - not the kind that say "yarrrrr", so much as ones that say "Da" and then try to extort some silly price off you for a Mars bar or a pot noodle. I would strongly recommend bringing your own food on this train, I ate in the restaurant twice and each time was charged an extortionate fee for the paltry dish that was sered up. Although the chef( a large man who looked like he subsidised his own eating disorder by charging us 10x times the local price) did seem to like trance. A soundtrack that was particularly weird when we decided to go for beer breakfast after the Lake Baikal sunrise.

I loved the trip on the train, I think each of us in our group did (aside from Manc. Katie, who spent most of her time puking). I'd recommend it to anyone. I'd also like to take a trip in winter. But that might require a little more preparation...

All in all a fantastic life experience, a goal number 1 of 4 done! Suhweet!


Sub story: Morten the Dane
Morten the Dane was a happy young fellow traveling Russia on his todd. He was the first person I met at the station and by handing me a beer off the bat was quickly dear to my heart. He was put in a cabin with a local Russian. A lanky fellow with a pretty fucked up look in his eye. We were drinking that evening and Morten joins us in our cabin. He seems relieved to have escaped his colleague although he mentions that he's a decent sort. Apparently the guy works as some sort of mercenary with the Russian military and took great delight in showing Morten nice photos of his girlfriend and then also some nice photos of Iraqis with their innards spread across a road. Charmed!

I'm not sure how this event came about but later on in the night we ended up boozing in the restaurant. Beer + guys meant it was only a matter of time before the arm wrestling started. Who knows... Anyway, psycho Ivan was doing the rounds challenging anyone and any thing to an arm wrestling match( I wish he'd taken on Techno Chef). Tom gave him a decent run for his money but in the end conceded. It seems as if this victory boosted Crazy Ivans testosterone levels as events were about to take a turn for the worst, like only they can when you have a 185cm maniac hepped up on Russian vodka.( Blame Morten for the vodka, that was his tipple of choice. Ahh the folly of youth)

So we were back in our cabin when one of the Manchester crew came rushing in. Apparently "shit was hitting the fan" with the others and we rushed to see what was going on. At the scene the Russian was losing his mind shouting at everyone and everything, topless and filled with rage of course. The carriage attendant looked as if he'd just come back from a week long feed at a lipoplasty waste bank and was obviously ill equipped to handle the situation.

It seems as if Crazy Ivans passport had 'gone missing' and he was out for blood. Thankfully Morten was on good terms with the Russian so he wasn't the focus of the rage. Sadly, the quiet mexican next door wasn't so lucky and was getting a mega-interrogation from our dear friend. It was wild, and in the madness some details escaped me. I recall the police coming on board, wading in and then walking off the train again. Still not sure how we managed to randomly find cops in Siberia, I have my suspicions they smelled foreign dollahs...In summary they did nothing.

In the end the passport turned up, in Crazy Ivans money belt....thankfully his English wasn't so good, so my persistent references to the "russian twat" went unnoticed. It also seems that all the excitement took its toll on Morten, who had disappeared at some point during the fracas - Only to be discovered in his boxers passed out in the toilet....his shoes and clothes were to be found strewn along the various carriages between his and ours....His camera , now "lost" (undoubtedly in the possession of one fat bastard Russian train attendant) could be put down a lesson learned in vodka administration.

Choooooo choooooooooooo....

I woke up early on Wednesday to catch the flight from Frankfurt Hahn to (Moscow)Vnukovo Airport. Being the impressionable lad that I am I listened wholeheartedly to the persistent warnings I had received from others with regards to personal safety and Moscow. To say my mind was completely impregnated with fear would be an understatement ( thank you Elena,Igor and Co.).

On arrival at Vnukovo I took my time getting through immigration as I was trying to delay the next phase of the day( getting to my hostel from the airport in Moscow). I tried various different approaches with the official, such as nodding and shaking my head in an alternating sequence, rubbing my nose with my finger and then finally giving her the international sign for wanker. She was having none of it though. So onwards I went to face my new biggest fear.

The flight itself was nice ( I regret having to put a flight into what was originally a train only travel plan but needs must.) I was plied with sweets and the only thing of note was the sauce they served with the meal. Assuming anything that gets served on a tray is edible I dutifully applied the sauce to most of my food. Turns out that the sauce was a packaged for of excrement, to remind you of what food will turn into once you eat it I presume..I struggled, the staff smiled - those beautiful wenches.

All in all two thumbs up for Vladivostok Air, a flight I'd presumed would end as a terrifying earthbound ball of flames.

Prior to passing through customs I took up a customs declaration form and filled it out accordingly. I had very little cash with me so it did feel a little odd handing it over and demanding that they check my stuff. The guy in customs was pretty insistent that I didn't need to and after 15 mins of discussion( i.e. us passing the form between us) he ended up crumpling it up and ushering me through. Time will only tell if I will fall foul to the customs cash declaration scam.

Anyway, once I made it into the arrivals hall things become a blur. I remember noticing how the light outside was fading, how the fear inside me was quickly becoming noxious and in the end I resolved to take a cab into the city( ALERT - this is considered mistake number one in most handbooks) I paid at a handy little booth inside the terminal. Had a guy lead me to my cab and eventually help me in. I took all my stuff into the back with me so as to reduce the risk of the driver driving off with my stuff. So I was finally whizzing through Moscow in a beat down old Russian car with such a noticeable lack of safety features it almost as if Volvo needn't have bothered with their clever 'product ideas' all those moons ago. I did pass a night club which had two or three rows of ridiculously expensive cars outside. And some particularly fine human D&G mannequins undergoing face control at the entrance.

In the end I rolled up to my hostel(HM Hostel Moscow) without much hassle the trip so far was uneventful, no muggings, buggery or not even the vaguest reference to Mr. Richard. I settled into the Hostel and promptly went about buying some local wares. beers, sausage and some bread - the essentials basically. I spent the evening planning my attack for the next day - actually I didn't I started and then I just got distracted reading An Open Heart . Creeping into bed around 2 am local time.

I woke on Thursday bright and early in preparation of the big day ahead. I had a mission, I had 2 infact - but one at a time please..I had to collect my tickets from the Real Russia office. So me being me I decided to faff about and go for a coffee with one of my room mates. We enjoyed a decent brew and as has become the norm for me - went about discussing the feasibility of living in Moscow( take note - i had not yet been mugged, buggered or referred to as Mr. Richard.) The people walking the streets walked with purpose, some took the time to sit and have their portraits painted by local 'artistes', some just glided by like angels sent down from heaven to embody everything that is beautiful on his earth. Obviously Moscow had decided to send its best persuasion tools out in force to show me everything I'd heard about Moscow was false. I eventually upped sticks and got my ass in gear. I had a mere 7 stops to take to get to the Real Russia office. So equipped with my idiots guide to Moscow( self composed) I set about tackling the metro. Mistake 1 Equipped with a printout from the web that only had the station names in latin i struggled to figure out where i was supposed to be going or how the hell they correlated with the names I saw on the maps in the station. Then mistake 2 came into play, I'd cleverly brought a black and white map thinking to myself that the system looked basic enough, 'there'd be no need for a detailed map'. Anyway, I won't go into details, but this is a god point to mention the Moscow metro is a bit of a bitch(They don't bother with maps on the platforms for instance). I ended up hopping out to buy a map and after several misadventures I finally managed to make it to my designated stop. Equipped with my new map I forged ahead ( I'd spent 2 hours faffing around in the metro system ). At this point it was fast approaching 4pm. (the Real Russia offices close at 5pm). Their map showed them to be close to the metro stop so without much fear I went on my way. Needless to say I got lost( who'd have figured!!) not only did I get lost but I got F-lost, ending up down a one way street that certainly showed all the potential to fulfill my "Moscow-shamens" darkest prophecies. At this point time sneakily swallowed up 49 minutes of my life, to make things interesting I imagine. I finally got to the office, 20A for those of you looking for it in future...don't go into 20, the locals don't appreciate goofy fear stricken tourists knocking on their doors unannounced. Although I reckon if I'd stayed a while I would certainly have snagged some vodka.

Once in the complex I finally located their office through a maze of hallways. once back outside I was honestly overjoyed, I couldn't believe I made it in time. Offices in russia notoriously close early so catching the real Russia folks in time was pretty much a fluke, one that made my day. Safe!!

It was now 17:30( more time swallowing thank you..) and I needed to catch my train at 21:35. Plenty of time for the average traveller, a definite challenge for this intrepid explorer. Now a veteran of the Moscow-metro I made it back to the hostel to collect my bags( only getting lost once on the way) and then made my way to Komsomolskaya metro. Onwards to the Train station, giving that there are three in the area I was amazing that I naturally gravitated towards the correct one. The station was like another world. It had an outdoor market feel to it, mix in a drunkin poverty not to dissimilar to Ireland in the 1900s and you are getting close to the picture. i plopped myself down infront of the timetable, figuring it was a good place to catch any others travelling on the same route. My plan worked and I was soon approached by a young Dane named Morton, a rather buoyant young lad who quickly dished out the beers and instantly made a friend in me. We took turns scouting around for vodka and other essentials. ( Afterall I did have time to kill as I was 2 hours early for my train!!). No luck with the vodka, but it did afford me the opportunity to peek deeper inside the market. Locals trading, animals running amok and junkies doing junkie related business. It was all pretty strange to see, but no fear( no muggings or buggery or no Mr. Richards yet..), i guess after the stress earlier in the day I was relieved to be at the right place and with my young beer hound Morten on the case my bags were no longer a burden.

Time pretty much flew ( thank you time swallow!) and as I stepped on the trans mongolian express No. 6 from Moscow to Ulan Bator the excitement started the course through my body joined by a pretty happy crew of others here on board slugging beers and waving goodbye to Moscow. I was finally underway. Smile onboard and glee in heart.

After 24 hours in Moscow I can safely say that everything I'd heard about it being a desperate hellhole was either mistaken or ill informed. Without taking idiotic risks I can imagine its no worse than any other major world city. I would truly love to have had more time there. I will without a doubt return someday - It is beautiful, vast and steeped in a veil of mystery that not even 20 years of Bond villains could disspell.

Other things of note that I can't be arsed writing much more about

• Billboards on the motorway adverting Learjet planes as if they were the latest offering from Lidl - I'll take 2 please!
• Women so beautiful but so exceptionally vain it was laughable - Once again, I'll take 2 please...
• Everyone drinks on the street. 5pm = Miller Baltika time!

Labels: travel

It is always a fear as a guest in someone elses home that you may overstay your welcome. Trouble with my Belarussian visa meant that I had to spend a few days longer with the Guthor family than planned. At no point during my stay did I ever feel remotely unwelcome, quite the opposite - the welcoming smiles that I encountered every day made me feel just like part of the family. For that hospitality I will be eternally grateful and only hope to be in a position to return the favour someday.

Stennweiler is home to Daniel, my homeboy from back in the Dublin Microsoft days. Spending over 2 weeks in his home before taking the more adventurous step of heading east was a great way to start my travels. it afforded me the time to reset my internal clock. Waking when I felt like it and being given the space to do my own thing. I'd hoped for such an opportunity before facing more alien lands as the personal baggage I had left over from my days in London needed to be put to rest.

Whilst in Stennweiler i had the chance to cycle in the local countryside, an experience that re-established my love of nature. Waking daily and conversing with his mother in a combination of broken english and german was the first taste of how things are going to be in the coming months. I can only hope that the surroundings are as comfortable and the company so kind. in return I owe Marlene(Daniels mum) a copy of our dialogues in German/English - I'll get this finished off asap I promise!!!) Prior to leaving the UK I had noticed a slight loss of weight, possibly due to the stress of the change ahead. On mentioning this to Daniel he promptly sprung into action and placed me on what we were to refer to as the Wurst diet. Offered something to eat at every possible opportunity my slight weight grew by a few kilos. Now fattened like a little piggy Richard was equipped to tackle the world ( or russia/Mongolia atleast).

Day to day life with the Guthors involved me eating breakfast with Marlene, "boiled egs?", "Yes please!". Then maybe checking my mail, trying to sort out visa hassles and getting the blog tidied up. Here and there Marlene needed a hand with the garden, something I was delighted to help with. Mam and Dad have given me the gift of the joy in gardening. Whilst I may never reach their levels of expertise i know its a love that will always bring me closer to them. Mowing the Guthors lawn was fun and I even got to leave my very own mowing mark on the grass. Some might refer to it as a scutching, i prefer to call it a healthy and artistic 'styling'.

Daniel and I made a few trips into Saarbrucken and on one occasion had the pleasure of enjoying an 'Apartment concert' in Michaelas place. 2 musicians played on that particular night. A guy whose name I forget and a girl named Caro Sreck. the first guy was good and the fact that he sang in english was nice. Caro was pretty amazing. Also singing in english she demonstrated a knowledge of the language that was vast and amusing. Her lyrics were very cute and surprisingly honest. One of those singers whom when they sang you wished the lyrics were about you. Who knows were her music will take her, but I hope its to every place she could wish for. The general vibe at the gig was laid back and cool. People milling about chatting. Hats off to Michaela for organising a great night. I will of course be organising tour buses in future, for a extortionate nominal fee :)

It was really a great experience staying in Germany for such a decent length of time. It afforded me the time to evaluate it as a place to live. Prior to that I was 50:50 between living in France or Germany. France being marginally ahead due to my meagre grasp of the language. I can now say that Germany attracts me more. It strikes me as a place where things get done ( no jokes about the war please....okay, just one!) "Alles ist in ordnung" as they say. Also, the idea of learning a totally new language appeals to me. Only time will tell.

I was sad and nervous on my final day in Stennweiler. Sad to be leaving such a wonderful environment and nervous as hell about the road ahead. Thankfully it passed in a bit of a blur and no sooner had Hannah( Daniels youngest sis) dropped me off at the trainstation than I was standing at my stop listening to american tourists offer their opinions on the world. Ahhh - sweet familiarity! .

Top reasons to visit Stennweiler

• Its a beautiful part of the world, green, lush and peaceful.
• Because the locals might invite you into the local tavern for a staring contest
• The local teens throw a pretty mean techno party in the local forest.
• So Daniel can get the chance to demonstrate his green fists of fury.
• Because Sven lives there!!

Labels: travel