6000...

...kilometres and nine countries is what lies between Prague and New Dehli. It is my plan over the next six or seven weeks to make that journey. It starts tomorrow with a 35 hour bus ride from here, Prague, to Istanbul, Turkey.

The last couple of days here in Prague have been spent with Heather preparing my things for the trip and preparing to say goodbye to her for what feels like another eternity.

If not sure if anyone else got this feeling. But when I was a little boy and had plans to go and sleep at a friends house I was always really excited right up until the point when mum dropped me off and I was all of a sudden in a strange place without the comfort of someone I knew and loved by my side. Of course as soon as I was indoors and playing then all was fine. But that initial feeling of wishing I hadn't made the choice to leave my comfort zone used to pull on my heart strings. Well I'm feeling that now. There is a part of me that wants to get the next flight back to Brisbane and help Rob with the calves that are due soon and walk up to the top of our olive grove with mum at sunset and chat about stuff. But there is the other part of me that has been yearning for this challenge for such a long time now. And it feels like it will be the biggest challenge I have faced yet. I thought London was, but I always had Lucas by my side and the Walkabout on Friday nights to help me through. To be honest I am feeling quite nervous, initially about how I will feel tomorrow morning when I have to put Heather in a taxi to the airport - I'm familiar with that emotion when it feels like you are having your insides torn away from you, leaving just the shell. I hope that it won't be so bad this time.

But I am also feeling nervous of about travelling alone. Not for one instant in the past two years have I felt a moment of anxiousness or concern about any situation I've been in. Being stuck at a deserted border crossing from Guatemala to Honduras at midnight was a jolly old adventure when Lucas and I faced it. But travelling by oneself makes the scenario feel a little more desperate I think. Add the language barrier that wasn't faced in South America and I'm starting to take some deeper breathes to calm myself a bit when I imagine the same scenario but trying to cross from Afghanistan into Pakistan.

But....this is exactly why I am doing it. I love adrenalin and fear. Tearing down a mountain on a snowboard or mountain bike knowing that any mistake could result in serious injury makes the senses heighten beyond their usual dull acknowledgement of the world around them. And so it will be with bright eyes, bushy tail and loudly beating heart that I venture east, and continue east until I reach my sunny home.

A Souvlakian afternoon

Slovakian pics

Czech Republic pics

We left Zakopane in the middle of a downpour, the first real rain we have encountered on our trip so far. We were headed south into Slovakia (nicknamed Souvlakia as it kept coming out that way), but to where exactly we hadn't quite figured out. As it turned out, the bus to Poprad (nicknamed PopRadio) was leaving the soonest and was reportedly the quickest cheapest route, with Poprad being the major Souvlakian transport hub.

The Europe on a shoestring is pretty sketchy with Souvlakian information, I think the highlight of the country was reported to be a big meal at some pub and another couple of castles/churches, the big meal had me interested. On arrival in Poprad there was nothing that scintillated us, and there was an overnight train, we discovered, through to a town in Czech Republic called Cesky Budejovice, a stones throw from our highly recommended target of Cesky Krumlov. The train departed at 11:40pm so we had an afternoon to kill in the industrial town of PopRadio - with the new shopping mall which has been a feature of the emergent capitalism in these former Communist nations. We saw a sign to a steakhouse and went and gorged ourselves, hoping the meal would last us until midday the following day when we would arrive in Cesky Krumlov....

On cue, two and a half hours later, I was starving and all the shops in the station had closed, all that offered food was a chocolates and coffee machine that also did soup and hot chocolate. Soup sounded great to me, so I went through the correct procedures and was duly provided with a steaming cup of hot water - I did smell a faint hint of chicken flavour, and assumed the floaties in it were the source.

An hour later I found another similar machine, hoping the previous machine was broken, I selected 'soup' again. Only to be rewarded with another piping hot cup of water, the flavour possibly a fraction stronger with this one. At least the water kept us warm in the chilly station.

After another night on a train and groggy 3am border control procedures out of the way we arrived in Cesky B. just before midday, the next train to Cesky K. was about to leave so we grabbed a couple of sandwiches and leapt aboard.

Cesky Krumlov is a small old Bohemian town, with a castle spire being the centrepiece, that has the clear Vltava (I think) river wending its way through the town. Although being over run with tourist shops along the narrow winding cobbled lanes and over priced restaurants on every corner, it is a place that will stick in my memory, and not just because of the 5 games of bowling we managed to squeeze into an hour (pay by the hour). But one afternoon I was wandering down into the town from our hostel, about 7:30pm, the air had that late summer feel - you know Autumn is just beginning, the sun was low and hitting the tops of all the little (and big) and old Bohemian buildings with white walls and orange tiles roofs. I had no camera with me, just my eyes, so I stood and watched. One of those European moments that an impressionist painting would do more justice than any photograph.

Krazy Krakow and Zakopane

I am absolutely knackered. Decided that since it's been a while since I've done any serious exercise I would race up and down a mountain as fast as possible. Starting from about 900m altitude it took just under 2 hours to climb to 2185m (was determined to get above 2000m for the first time in ages). Using my last ounces of energy to climb over false peak after false peak I finally made it to the top. Much like other altitude climbs the scenery turns to a barren rocky landscape from about 1700m and above. And like every other mountain climbing experience, getting to the top is the sole focus, until you reach the top and realise that an even more painful and usually quite tedious descent awaits. This was no exception. Climbing nearly 1300m in 2 hours meant the slope was fairly steep for most of the way and then dizzyingly steep for the last 45 minutes of lactic acid lung burning struggle. And my trusty boots, trusty only because they are old, not because they are any good, didn't fail to make mincemeat of my toes and tenderise the soles of my feet. So after a 2 hour descent, with legs shaking from the pounding coming back down, and ankles still cringing after the five or six very close calls (most of you will know my ankle experiences of the past), I lurched onto a minibus and was dropped off back in Zakopane with no idea where in the town I was - 10 minutes of aimless walking soon had me reorientated.

Zakopane is the town on the Polish side of the Vysoke Tatry (High Tatras). The Tatras are the most western edge of the Carpathian range that cuts down though and around Romania before finishing in Slovakia and Poland. They are also the highest and most breathtaking (apparently) stretch of the range. So I've finally got a good hike under my belt.

We only chanced upon Zakopane as no buses or trains were going to the Slovakian side of the Tatras from Krakow. A nice little break before we have a quick jaunt in Slovakia before heading onto the Czech Republic.

Our time in Krakow was characterised mainly by fellow backpackers who seemed to visit the place only to go out drinking every night, but I slept through all their early morning returns and romances, so that didn't bother me (but Heather was woken by them on most nights). We also went our seperate ways for a day - Heather on an Auschwitz tour and me on a bicycle tour of Krakow - both with their own story to tell about the persecution of the Krakow Jews (and indeed other European Jews and other ethnic minorities). My tour went through the former Ghetto which is not generally set up for tourists and the locals there are less than welcoming to foreigners - we did get to watch a classy group of guys and their girl settling a drug deal - always a pleasure. I considered doing the Auschwitz tour but decided that I would learn more by doing the Krakow and ghetto tour - and indeed I did.

Polish photos are up

Some photos

The final days in Romania - Sighisoara

A couple of days in Budapest

And the Viennese splurge

Baths and bogs in Budapest

It feels like it´s been an eternity since my last post. So much has happened and a couple of countries crossed off the list as well.

Since the last entry in Sighisoara, we caught the overnight train to Budapest. Aiming for the 9pm train we were told it would be arriving at midnight, after the already sold out 11pm train. For some reason the woman in the ticket booth took pity on us and wrote us a ticket for a non-reserved seat - which could have resulted in an overnight trip spent in the aisles of a carriage hugging our bags (probably next to a toilet....). Luckily the sleeper carriages could be bought in consultation with the conductor and after some last minute scrambling between carriages we were allocated a narrow rack to share in a 6 berth room full of possibly drugged up Pragatians (my term for people who come from Prague - unless someone can suggest a better one). Once again I slept fairly soundly, despite my probable relocation to the bed across the gap if the train hit the brakes too hard.

Our two nights in Budapest were used to do a 15-ish kilometre walk around Pest, an afternoon at the cinema, a morning in the Schzezgeny (spelling not accurate) baths and generally looking at the squillions of monuments a beautiful old buildings without having a clue about their history of who they were. Unfortunately our only Buda experience was the view from the across the Danube. We also met up with some friends we had met a couple of times in Bulgaria and Romania and had a couple of the local brews (which includes watered down wine).

One of the highlights was a toilet flushing experience in our hostel. Much like the Perfect Storm, it seemed that the elements involved had all coordinated themselves to cause a near disaster. To start with we had just been gorging ourselves on cheesy foods and creamy coffees and my bowels were not performing optimally. The toilets in Hungary are designed so that whatever is put into them will sit in a small elevated dish - out of the water, until it is flushed. Third - the flush mechanism was broken. Fourth - it was a pull cord that attached to a cistern high overhead not even reachable when standing on the toilet. So you can see my dilemma when I had just had an emergency bowel movement. Luckily the walls were made from cement and were quite close together. So with my best rock climbing technique I wedged myself between the walls and worked my way up until I could see down into the cistern. I removed the lid and lifted the thing that allows the water to accumulate once more. Then I began the wait - about three minutes in total (felt like an hour) precariously perched above a toilet filled with horrendous excrement - praying that it would flush. It did. And I lowered myself to the ground without injury, bursting to tell Heather my exciting toilet story.

Being slightly ahead of our very tight schedule it was deemed possible to have a two night splurge in Vienna before heading to Poland. So we booked ourselves into a 5-star hotel and bought the appropriate attire for a night at the opera. Amazing how cheaply you can spruce yourself up - I even managed an extremely comfortable pair of half price Italian leather shoes. Although I don´t think I quite matched Heather for elegance and glamour - if only I had worn a pashmina too! Needless to say, the sounds of Mozart and Strauss drifted gently through the gothic towers during a starry Vienna night.

So after our two days of living in the lap of luxury, it is the overnight bus to Krakow this evening for the final 10 days of our little adventure together.

Black sea - Bucharest - Brasov

Some Romania photos are up

And some pics from Veliko Tarnovo in Bulgaria.

During a wander through this Transylvannian town of Brasov (Brashoff) we came across a Wild West style saloon - we planned to stop in there for a drink just for novelty value. Instead we spent the entire evening there, listening to Johnny Cash, Kenny Rogers and the like while sipping on cheap Romanian beer and listening to a painfully verbose Englishman blowing his trumpet. Credit where credit is due though - at least he didn't pronounce Bucharest - Booocharest - like almost every other pom we've encountered so far.

So we caught a train from Mangalia on the coast to Bucharest a couple of days ago. With our own seat this time, unlike our venture out there which was 9 hours of sitting on our packs at the end of the rattling carriage next to the pungent urine aroma of the most frequently used toilet on the heavily over-sold 20 carriage behemoth.

One night in Bucharest at a hostel run by a crazy as coconuts Canadian family for crazy as coconut travellers - but she did make good pancakes - which saved me from throwing up after a mouthful of the worst cheese in Eastern Europe - looks like fetta - tastes like rancid milk from the udder of a decomposing carcass of a goat with leprosy.

But we saw the big 'ol Palace - pretty big, but my jaw didn't drop. Add up the money spent on all the churches, expensive houses and other unnecessary constructions and you make something quite a lot larger than that Palace - and maybe even make it eco-friendly and house people in it.

A fast train to Brasov - a sweet medieval town (with modern town adjoining) in the foothills of Transylvanian peaks. One of which has a 'HOLLYWOOD' style, 'BRASOV' sitting at the top. Ran up there yesterday - then ate a sausage and chips - then cable came back down. Had to buy myself a top because we haven't done washing for so long.

Had a day trip the extravagant castle in Sinai this afternoon - vast amounts of intricate woodwork in every type of wood I can think of - including Walnut - which I'd never heard of before for carving. Also gold and crystal, coral and marble, and precious stone encrusting every spare inch.

In the medieval town of Sighisoara now and then overnight train onto Budapest tonight. And another country crossed off the list.

Thoughts on Romania....Not that different to Bulgaria - more poverty, more expensive, people a little less friendly. All of which I guess stems from the more oppressive and tyrannical dictatorship of ol' Nicolai. Although I can't see that he would have enforced horrendous techno music with the bass played at heartbeat interfering levels.

Nicholas Chowcheskew

Could the spelling of that name be any worse? I just like the name and it was my first introduction to the nation of Romania in 1989 as he toppled from the top of his terrible regime and was duly shot to pieces for his crimes.

Yes, we are in Romania now - where they speak a Latin derivative language with many words in common with Italian, Spanish and French - making some sign reading a little easier and the occasion phrase understandable - but it is still to far removed for me to be able converse in any coherent manner on the most basic of subjects - so we are still resorting to loud clearly spoken English (the universal language of course.....) and highly artistic charades. The other phenomenon that struck me as soon as I opened my eyes in the Romanian countryside was that the ubiquitous sunflowers so far encountered were all looking at their toes and shuffling their feet, unlike their proud Bulgarian neighbours who maintain an unflinching gaze at the sun.

It was an overnight train from Gorna Obyeskitvitzavtizathingo (note: not accurate name), which is actually the international train station that also serves the old town of Veliko Tarnovo (once capital of the 2nd Bulgarian Kingdom). Veliko was characterised by the previously mentioned huge old fortress and old town cascading down into the valleys. We also inadvertently timed our arrival with an international music festival and enjoyed an evening watching folk dance and music from various nations around the world - the Korean fan dancers were my favourite - although the Colombian-Congo joint performance seemed to be a crowd favourite.

Our train arrived in Bucharest just after 6am - expecting the guesthouse that we had arranged to collect us from the station - as promised - we were informed that we would have to use public transport to get there - not in the mood for lugging our gear around Bucharest (many bad reports from travellers coming from Romania warning us of Bucharest) we decided to get onto the next train to the Romanian Black Sea coast - Costinesti (Costi-neshti)to be precise. When the train broke down about 40 minutes from Constanta (Con-stan-tsa) - the main Black See port, we got chatting to a few Romanian lads who were on their way to Vama Veche - virtually on the border with the Bulgarian Black Sea coast. They promised a chilled out venue with free camping on the beach and not as many tourists as other places. Free camping on the beach was the only wish that came true, albeit among thousands of other tents squeezed onto the beach - loud blaring music from numerous bars thumping out a mix of old shockers and new horrors 24 hours a day. The icing on the cake was that most people were naked. Not something I am opposed to, but not something I enjoy when I step out of the tent in the morning - the fresh sea air and lap of the Black Sea being a little spoilt by the wide variety of Romanian genitalia.

So we stayed one night and packed up the tent the following morning - and headed for Mangalia - the nearest town served by the train to Bucharest. We are having two nights in a more salubrious establishment, before heading to Bucharest for a night - just so I can get a gander at the People's Palace before we head up to Brasov and Transylvania (woohoohoohahaha).

On the move again

Photos are up from the Plovdiv-Karlovo leg of Bulgaria....

We left Sofia last week, bound for Plovdiv - 2.5 hours by bus and 10 leva each (5 euro). Upon arrival we were immediately ripped off by a taxi driver and met an acquaintance from Sofia who had just had his (and his sister's) passports and wallets stolen by gypsies. Not the greatest of welcomes to our second town in Bulgaria - but it was a picturesque place and I soon forgot any Plovdiv angst.

A day trip to the Bachkovo Monastery in the mountains south of Plovdiv was a little underwhelming - a big wooden boarding dorm for monks was not particularly inspiring. The planned hike also was less than scintillating, despite the lovely scenery there was nothing overly adventurous about it. Although, the struggle to find the bus station taking us to Bachkovo probably raised the bar for what was needed for a satisfactory outing. The return trip in a dodgy minibus was probably the highlight - facing death in the form of oncoming traffic at every bend in the road.

We then moved on to Karlovo the following day with plans for more hiking and nature watching. Karlovo is a sweet little village which seems never to have faced hardship, all the residents seeming pleased to practice their english with the only foreigners in town. I attempted to hike up the mountain the village backs onto, only to stray onto the 'Adrenalin' track, which, to my delight, provided more adrenalin than I had anticipated. Traversing rock faces above rushing white water with only old iron rods to hang onto - and taking some photos at the same time, then going off the track up some rock face above a gorge really got the adrenal gland working.

Then back to Sofia for a night to collect my Romanian visa - the aforementioned gypsy incident occurring on arrival back in Sofia. A brisk walk to the Romanian embassy that afternoon, with a minor panic when they only accepted US dollars, and I had my Romanian visa.

We are now in Veliko Tarnovo - a huge fortress sitting atop a peak and surrounded by valleys and higher peaks - the old capital city (of the Byzantine Empire I think). Went for a run along the Eco trail this morning - nice views, but mainly just jogging along the grassy plateau above Veliko - also some adrenalin with stray dogs chasing me away as I got lost in a little village on my way up. Off to buy tickets to Bucharest this morning (train or bus - not sure) - not good reports of Bucharest - but mainly from spoilt westerners, we'll see....

Plovdiv, Karlovo and GYPSIES!

Just coming down from the adrenalin rush of nearly being robbed blind by a group of gypsy women.

Heather and I were hopping onto a tram from the Sofia train station (have returned here to collect my Romanian visa) when, as I was stepping up into the tram car a woman paused in front of me, I wasn't sure why and all these other women were crowding around like they were trying to get onto the tram as well. Then I heard some squawking behind me (which I later realised was one of women telling Heather to get her hands off her) and my small back pack suddenly being lifted. I pushed past the woman in front of me and put my bag on the floor, only to notice that the front pocket was gaping wide open and empty! I knew my toiletry bag had been taken but I wasn't sure what else had been taken or whether Heather had had anything taken or was even getting onto the tram okay, such was the crowd of people rushing about making noise. So I jumped off the tram again through the crowd of women (noticing my guitar going into the tram and hoping that was Heather with it). As all the gypsies starting dispersing quickly hiding their hands I noticed my toiletry bag sticking out from under the arm of a 10 year old girl. She wasn't running away so I only had to pace briskly up to her, grab her by the wrist and tear my bag back from her, which, thank goodness, and for her own benefit, she didn't object to. The tram was holding up as the driver or someone must have noticed the commotion and was waiting for us, so I jumped back on board hoping that nothing else had been taken. And I think that everything is still intact.

Only moments after the tram started moving the ticket inspectors boarded the train and started asking for tickets (we had been fined on the previous tram journey for not having a ticket and had made sure to get them this time). However, the ticket inspector began demanding we pay an extra 7 leva (a ticket costs 0.70 leva) for our packs - obviously fining us for not buying tickets for our packs. After some pretending not to understand and protests from Heather (determined not to pay the fine), some of the locals intervened and gave the ticket inspector a hard time, informing us that he was trying to 'rob us blind', and one of the women used her multi-trip ticket to pay for our bags (and we paid her the 0.70 leva for it). They also tried insisting that Heather sit down.

I might leave it at that for now, as there are some other stories from our little adventures to Plovdiv and Karlovo. But I thought it might be worth getting this down while still fresh and the post-adrenalin feeling remains. Had the lovely people on the train not gotten involved to save us the fine, I think this return to Sofia would have soured my Bulgarian experience a little, but if anything I am more enamoured with the Bulgarian people than before. But also going to be more cautious with my belongings, a timely reminder!