tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-884295506020202032024-02-07T04:12:24.578-08:00How The Mind Wanders...Wander [Verb] Walk or move in a leisurely, casual, or aimless way.How The Mind Wanders...http://www.blogger.com/profile/10774729802537761792noreply@blogger.comBlogger111125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-88429550602020203.post-2457771537948254002016-11-13T12:53:00.003-08:002016-11-13T13:09:20.029-08:00My Viewpoint on the World in 2016<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif;"><b>'Darkness cannot drive out darkness: only light can do that. Hate cannot drive out hate: only love can do that.' - Martin Luther King, Jr. </b></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif;">Never has a quote felt more apt. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif;">Every year, on November 11<sup>th</sup>, just like millions of others, I pause in whatever I happen to be doing and bow my head in silence for two
minutes, to remember those who gave their lives
in the two World Wars and those who continue to give or lose their lives to
this day for my freedom. Even when I was in New Zealand, I made sure that I
took a moment to reflect, although New Zealanders themselves have their own day
of remembrance on ANZAC Day and do not observe Armistice Day.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif;">It has always been somewhat of a
ritual for me to listen to the service of memorial at the Cenotaph and this
year was no exception. As I walked towards the Imperial War Museum, I kept my
headphones in and listened to Jonathan Dimbleby as he narrated the proceedings, as
the bands played the well-known songs, as Big Ben struck 11am and two minutes
of silence were broken only by the sound of seagulls and as familiar names then
proceeded to lay wreaths at the monument.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif;">It seemed fitting to go to the IWM
today. Not only is it Remembrance Sunday, but it’s also been a difficult week –
Trump was elected President and I fear that our world is plunging into another
dark period of history, overshadowed by racism, misogyny, sexism, fear, greed
and hate. It’s hard to stay positive when you are bombarded from all sides by
such worrying and sad news, not just about Trump but also about Brexit,
terrorism and extremism across the world.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif;">Upon arrival at the museum, I
headed for the Holocaust exhibition. It’s the part of the Second World War that
horrifies me and saddens me the most for obvious reasons, and since travelling
in Europe in June this year, I’ve become intensely interested in learning as
much about this terrible time in human history as possible. As 2016 has
unfolded, I’ve been struck on many occasions by the similarities that saw the
Nazi party rise to power and what I feel that I am seeing in the world today.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif;">The Holocaust exhibition at IWM is
comprehensive, in-depth and emotionally charged. It gives an eye-opening
account of the run-up to the Holocaust itself,
explaining thoroughly the post-World War One depression that helped to bring
about Hitler’s rise to power (among other things), providing education behind
the historic anti-Semitism across Europe and it shows Hitler as a frighteningly
charismatic and persuasive figure that the masses could and did rally behind.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif;">For me, the similarities between
Hitler and Trump are eerily accurate and whilst I won’t go as far as to say
that Trump will ever do such horrific things as Hitler (I sincerely hope!), I
will say that it is scary to see how people are once again rallying behind
someone who breeds hatred fed by racism, sexism and fear. And it’s not only in
the USA that we are seeing this.</span></div>
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Across Europe, far right leaders are waiting in the wings, ready to swoop in
and tell people what they seem to want to hear. For an interesting insight into
this, <u><a href="http://www.independent.co.uk/news/world/europe/9-elections-take-place-europe-far-right-stand-a-chance-donald-trump-brexit-marine-le-pen-geert-a7412506.html" target="_blank">you might want to read this article from The Independent</a></u>.
And whilst I’ve refrained from writing about Brexit in my blog before now, I
will say here and now that I can’t help feeling that for some, the vote to
leave the EU was partly driven by racism and a disturbing, growing hatred aimed at immigrants and refugees in
the UK. In times of financial hardship (we are still recovering from the
recession and the ‘everyday’ person is being squeezed and squeezed), people
become more selfish and in a bid to take back ‘what is ours’, those who appear not to belong or seem different or are
thought to be leaching from already strained resources are cast out and a
concept of ‘us and them’ is born.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif;">Today’s visit to the museum
compounded my current thoughts and feelings about how the world seems to me
now. What particularly struck me were the stories told by Holocaust survivors.
I sat and watched them talking, reel after reel, with tears in my eyes as they
described the horrors they encountered, the everyday struggle to survive and
finally, at the end of the exhibition, how they continued through life afterwards.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif;">For me, the final tapes were the
most interesting. These people, who have seen so much hatred and suffering,
went on to live interesting, hopefully fulfilling lives after the war. Although
they never fully recovered, they did move forwards. All of them have been
burdened by thoughts of ‘why did I survive and not my
sister/mother/brother/father?’ They question how they survived – they don’t
even know how they managed to get out alive. For many, you can clearly see how
hard it is to recount these stories, even decades later. One woman described it
quite eloquently and I quote her as best I can:</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif;"><i>‘It is as if you stand on the edge
of a lake and you throw a stone into the water. At first, the ripples are large
and very visible. But gradually they get smaller and smaller until there are no
more ripples and the water is calm again. But the stone is still at the bottom
of the lake. That is how I feel – the ripples may be gone but the stone remains
in my heart.’</i></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif;">Another woman said she looked at the
world and saw that humans had learnt nothing from the past. And I found myself
nodding along with her as she spoke to me from
the screen – her words echoing those of a German man we met on the train
between Prague and Munich back in June. We discussed the EU Referendum in
Britain and he recounted how he’d escaped from east to west during the Cold
War. He told us he feared that now the two World Wars were moving beyond living
memory, we were forgetting the suffering, the pain, the atrocities of war and
how hate breeds hate.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif;">So I say this. In the week when
Donald Trump was named President-Elect following a vitriolic campaign, in the
year which saw Britain vote to leave the EU after a campaign based on lies and
propaganda (from both sides), in 2016 which seems to me to be one of the
darkest years I have ever experienced, let’s remember.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif;">Let’s remember those who died to
ensure our freedom. Let’s remember the atrocities of our past and learn from
them. Let’s acknowledge the atrocities of today too. Let’s remember to be kind
to others, to respect others, to treat others how we would hope to be treated. Let’s
remember we are all only human and that no matter what our
religion, skin colour, gender, sexuality or ethnicity, we are all born equal.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif;">Finally, let’s remember that
although the ripples may have gone, the stone is still at the bottom of the
lake. Let’s not throw more stones </span><span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif;">in to join it.</span></div>
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<i style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif;">NB: If you're interested in going to see the Holocaust exhibition at the Imperial War Museum, the museum is open 10am-6pm every day and is located on Lambeth Road, London.</i></div>
How The Mind Wanders...http://www.blogger.com/profile/10774729802537761792noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-88429550602020203.post-65885779081617850762016-10-29T16:42:00.000-07:002016-10-31T14:27:22.329-07:00Sunsets and Their Stories<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjsEbMeIxEyW726cd2_lKBjVE4lb09KwpNA7h8lZZ5EyrWk-MbpKgeaGLiwUui91eH06dXcsIYIheGbijmrauTVH-xjhjXn2zs_dMz4jbF7VK_5Hlq0cIn2ucG9rhyZsxQ5IcM_sf6Wr2I/s1600/IMG_9872%25282%2529.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="426" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjsEbMeIxEyW726cd2_lKBjVE4lb09KwpNA7h8lZZ5EyrWk-MbpKgeaGLiwUui91eH06dXcsIYIheGbijmrauTVH-xjhjXn2zs_dMz4jbF7VK_5Hlq0cIn2ucG9rhyZsxQ5IcM_sf6Wr2I/s640/IMG_9872%25282%2529.jpg" width="640" /></a></div>
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<b>'The sky broke like an egg into full sunset and the water caught fire.' - Pamela Hansford Johnson. </b><br />
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Being a night owl rather than a someone who particularly enjoys the morning, I'm far more likely to see a sunset than a sunrise. I've been pretty lucky to have seen some amazing sunsets throughout my years, both when travelling and at home in Wales too. It's been in the back of my mind for some time now to collate some of the more memorable sunsets into a blog post, and finally, here it is. In no particular order, the some of the best sunsets I've experienced and the stories behind each one!<br />
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<a name='more'></a><b>Hokitika, New Zealand</b><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiMxcNn5X5PlciH11wq7sLHmGdw0jf6lcdtIG4X0weKFyGeQAwNZktKp9eRStKF9IhdT5QmZlz29u0fOpPJneuy-TNeWlFv_uDJg3g25lZxIjhakYtqOPESbJPU-JNRqG423K8ISF5tx60/s1600/IMG_4624+%25282%2529.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="426" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiMxcNn5X5PlciH11wq7sLHmGdw0jf6lcdtIG4X0weKFyGeQAwNZktKp9eRStKF9IhdT5QmZlz29u0fOpPJneuy-TNeWlFv_uDJg3g25lZxIjhakYtqOPESbJPU-JNRqG423K8ISF5tx60/s640/IMG_4624+%25282%2529.JPG" width="640" /></a></div>
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The early autumn air carried a slight evening chill. The sand trickled into my hiking boots and the sea-battered log I found to sit on protruded uncomfortably into me as time wore on. It was my final evening on the West Coast and my time in New Zealand was drawing to an inevitable close. This would be my last proper New Zealand sunset before heading east the next day.Yes, I still had eight more nights in the country after this evening, but this is the last sunset I spent the time to truly appreciate before leaving for my Long Journey Home. Once the sun had gone, I went back to my campsite and zipped myself into my tent for the night with cheese and crackers, a glass of wine and Modern Family on my laptop. Sometimes, it's the simplest things!<br />
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<b>Lake Baikal, Russia</b><br />
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We sat, gloved hands deep in pockets and coats zipped to our chins, largely silent. There was a peace between us that comes when you can be silent with someone without awkwardness. Occasionally, we lifted our cameras to take another shot, but I tried to enjoy the moment for what it was too. Our breath clouded in the icy air and we watched in awe as the colours shifted, from yellow, to orange, to red, to deep crimson and pink and finally, just before darkness, to purple streaks. The lake turned orange and glowed back at the sky. When it was all over, when our bodies were chilled to the bone, we walked back to our guesthouse slowly, talking about how different Russia was to what we had expected. <br />
<i>NB: I don't hide the fact that I edit my photos after taking them, but I'd just like to say that this photo has no edit or filter whatsoever, except that I straightened it slightly. The colours are all real and exactly as they were that night. Pretty amazing right?!</i><br />
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<b>Marloes, Pembrokeshire, Wales</b></div>
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The wind was blowing a gale and driving needles of cold rain into my face and exposed hands. I sheltered my camera under my jacket to keep it dry when I wasn't taking photos and squelched through thick mud to reach the coastal path to get unparalleled views across the Irish Sea. The clouds towered overhead, like mountains, and the sun broke through when it could, making the light unusually glowering and angrily red. At the clifftops, the wind took my breath away and sliced through my ineffective jacket like a knife. I bore it as long as I could and then beat a hasty retreat as darkness descended, striding back to my car to return to our rented cottage and the warm safety of tea, central heating and, best of all, my waiting mother, with whom I'd spend one of my last evenings before returning to New Zealand after the Christmas break. <br />
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<b>Somewhere near the Chinese-Mongolian border, China</b><br />
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Night was drawing in on our first evening spent on board the Trans-Siberian train as we sped north, making for Mongolia. It was still a fresh, novel experience and I kept my camera close, spending time with my nose pressed to the window as the world went past in a blur, the train snaking through the endless landscape, slowly bringing us closer to our destination. As the sun dipped below the horizon, turning the sky a fiery red, the temperature dropped and after hours at the border crossing, we slept under thick layers of blankets, trying to keep the chill at bay. The next morning, we awoke to find ourselves rattling through the tail end of the Gobi desert, and to discover that sand had managed to get through a crack in the window and coat several surfaces in a layer of course grains. </div>
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<b>Princess Bay, Wellington, New Zealand</b><br />
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It was my idea to go for an evening swim at Island Bay. We drove through Wellington, playing Hot Chip 'Dancing in the Dark' with the windows fully down, embracing the soft evening breeze and the late summer vibes. At the beach, I ran to the water and dipped my toe in, exclaiming at the icy bite against my skin. Despite my body's protestations, I pushed myself in deeper, slowly immersing myself, until I took a leap of faith and plunged underwater, head first. I came up spluttering, my skin on fire. The others followed, some more reluctant, until finally we were all in, gasping, spluttering and yelling. Just time for a quick selfie before the boys clambered back to shore and we three remained, shrieking at the cold. Afterwards, we wrapped towels around us, slipped our flip flops back on and pulled t-shirts over our heads. We drove a little way around the coast and, noticing a change in the light, pulled over to experience one of the most breath taking sunsets I'd seen in New Zealand. </div>
How The Mind Wanders...http://www.blogger.com/profile/10774729802537761792noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-88429550602020203.post-57915108512888193292016-10-15T04:02:00.001-07:002016-10-15T04:08:39.266-07:00On Trust and Gut Instinct<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhU131mvdMmEEwDkhgu70keLgv88OFc1xNbSJ5ZNNgslReJwofuXjQYh6wckwPVqejYLN2gltHQmoK-QtLjcC8yj5iSlEglxK-oE_MYvi9Vz-4h4UVXE9j5NSZohK-Nqn99JiXFHs5IE3Y/s1600/IMG_7031+%25282%2529.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhU131mvdMmEEwDkhgu70keLgv88OFc1xNbSJ5ZNNgslReJwofuXjQYh6wckwPVqejYLN2gltHQmoK-QtLjcC8yj5iSlEglxK-oE_MYvi9Vz-4h4UVXE9j5NSZohK-Nqn99JiXFHs5IE3Y/s640/IMG_7031+%25282%2529.JPG" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Above: the only photo I took in Krasnoyarsk!!</td></tr>
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<b>'Have faith in your intuition and listen to your gut instinct.' - Ann Cotton.</b><br />
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There have been many moments whilst I've been travelling when I've needed to put my trust in my gut instinct entirely and hope it's not leading me wrong. I find that it is one of the hardest things about travel - having faith in complete strangers and hoping for the best! I've been lucky so far and not had any trouble, but there can be moments when you wonder what the hell you've let yourself in for.<br />
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<a name='more'></a>Like the moment when our 4x4, filled to bursting with eight full-grown adults in a cab built for five, was driven into a deep river crossing on our way towards our camp in the middle of Mongolia and I wondered if we were going to make it across in one piece (we did, and through all the knarly sections after the ford as well!). Or the time when my plane was delayed in Beijing for eight hours and I left all of my most important possessions with a girl I'd met just an hour previously whilst I went in hunt of a toilet to freshen up* (she didn't steal a single penny). Or that instant when, in a busy, overcrowded bus station in the most dangerous part of Manila, three men come out of the throng to tell us that our bus was waiting and we didn't even know someone was looking out for us and the fact they'd thought of us made me want to cry (I didn't).<br />
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There are countless tiny, almost insignificant moments when you travel that you must decide, in an instant, whether or not you trust the person in front of you. A gut reaction, made in seconds, tells you whether or not they are going to get you somewhere safely, or guard your possessions and not run off with them, or just generally be all-round decent human beings who will help you and not try to fuck you over.<br />
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******</div>
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'I've got a screenshot of the hostel address written in Cyrillic,' I said, pulling out my phone, 'Let's go and get a taxi.'<br />
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We had just arrived in our second Russian city, Krasnoyarsk, and were hovering with all our bags outside the station entrance, taking a few moments to acclimatise to life off the train after another 24+ hour stint from Irkutsk. <br />
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As everything was written in Cyrillic and no-one spoke any English, we had taken to getting taxis from train stations when we arrived in a new city and showing drivers the address of our destination on screenshots we would take before we left the previous city. Now, as we approached the taxi rank, several drivers stirred and a couple of burly men came forward.<br />
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'Hi,' I said, both smiling and holding out my phone simultaneously, 'Please can we go here?'<br />
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Despite the language barrier, the question was easily deciphered with the address in front of them. Both men nodded, then turned to each other and launched into an animated discussion. At first, I assumed they were deciding between them who would take us, but it soon became clear that although the address was written in their language, neither of them knew where it was.<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Above: whilst P and I were eating breakfast one morning in St Petersburg, a large group of men and women dressed in military attire turned up and stood nearby. I summoned up the courage to ask for a photo, but unfortunately the language barrier meant that I couldn't ask them what the occasion was! However, throughout the day, we saw multiple other groups dressed in a similar fashion, so something was definitely going on!</td></tr>
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With much miming and stilted words in broken English, we established that I should try and find a phone number for our destination so that one of the drivers could call them and ask for directions. Thankfully, I managed to find a number listed without too much difficulty and I passed my phone to one of the men who smiled, baring a mouthful of gold teeth at me.<br />
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He had a brusque conversation on his mobile, apparently established where he needed to go and ushered us towards his battered taxi. As we had done so many times already on our trip, we put our trust into the hands of a complete stranger and surrendered ourselves to him, knowing that we had little choice in the matter. <br />
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To be honest, if P hadn't been travelling with me, I probably would have found it a lot harder to trust all the strangers that we met on our trip. As it was, we were in it together, we were a team and we had each other's backs. We made little jokes and laughed when we found ourselves out of our depth. Without P, I wouldn't have laughed, I would've have stressed out. It can be difficult to trust strangers when you can understand each other - it's even harder when you can't even communicate properly!<br />
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Our driver took us to a rough looking estate on the outskirts of the city. P and I glanced at each other as he pulled the taxi over and gestured for us to stay put whilst he went and found out where our hostel was.<br />
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'Looks a bit dodge,' P said, as we watched him walk off. Then, 'Did you see his teeth?!'<br />
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'Yeah, all gold! He doesn't seem to know where we're staying.'<br />
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We waited for our drivers return in silence. When he came back, we managed to establish that he still wasn't entirely sure where our hostel was, but that he thought it was in the building opposite us, so we grabbed our bags and followed him towards the entrance - an uninviting heavy grey metal door, with a keypad to gain entry. Our driver called out something to a man smoking nearby, who promptly stubbed out his cigarette and came over. He punched some numbers into the keypad and held the door for us as we filed past.<br />
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The hallway was gloomy and smelt dank. We climbed three concrete steps and stood in front of an ancient looking lift, which creaked and groaned in protestation as it descended the floors to reach us. Our driver and the other man were now conversing in rapid Russian, looking over at us every now and again. P and I glanced at one another.<br />
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'Imagine if they were plotting on how best to mug us!' P said, grinning. I rolled my eyes but smiled despite myself. <br />
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The situation was ridiculous - we were in a random city in the middle of Siberia, with our trust placed firmly in the hands of two men that we didn't know and to cap it all off, our hostel appeared to be located on a dodgy estate. But despite everything, I didn't feel overly concerned. The two men seemed to be saying to one another '<i>who the hell are these randoms and what the hell are they doing here?!</i>'. They weren't threatening or strange. I felt like I could trust them to get us where we needed to go safely. <br />
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The absurdity of our circumstances was compounded moments later when the lift arrived. With our luggage (two big backpacks, two smaller rucksacks and one plastic bag containing snacks), the weight limit of the lift seemed to be exceeded once all four of us had stepped in. A red light blinked angrily at us and the door refused to slide shut. Laughing, the man who'd been smoking exited the lift and we three remaining ascended ten floors in silence, as the lift lurched and shuddered around us.<br />
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The front door to the hostel was located directly to the left of us as we got out of the lift on the tenth floor. We thanked our driver profusely in both Russian and English and despite guessing that he'd already marked up the taxi fare, we paid him extra anyway to show our gratitude. He'd delivered us safely to our destination and our trust in him had paid off.<br />
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******</div>
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To every person who has ever helped me unquestioningly, in whom I have put my trust into and they have delivered, I am extremely grateful. It gives me food for thought now that I am back in my home country and living in arguably one of the most daunting cities in the world. London is vast and for someone who is new to the city, it can be a harsh, intimidating place. <br />
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Now if I see someone trying to decipher the tube map, I tend to ask if they need a hand. A couple of weeks ago, when the last train home was cancelled at 12.30am, a Kiwi woman asked me what was going on. She'd been in the city two days. I told her I'd get her home and was delighted when she put her trust in me, just as I've done countless times with others during my travels. I was able to help her get home and I felt as though I was somehow paying it forward - and indirectly repaying all those who have helped me when I was travelling in a brand new country.<br />
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So trust your gut instinct. If something feels bad, it probably is. If someone seems fine, they probably are. Listen to how you're feeling about a situation and do not ignore those feelings. They're what will keep you safe and ensure you get the most out of your trip!<br />
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*<i>Although my trust in my gut instinct was right on this occasion, I wouldn't normally recommend leaving a bag full of expensive electronics and your passport with a near-complete stranger!!</i>How The Mind Wanders...http://www.blogger.com/profile/10774729802537761792noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-88429550602020203.post-68358265901095487622016-09-26T15:46:00.000-07:002016-10-04T11:43:58.006-07:00How to 'Travel' when You're Not Travelling<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<b>'Travellers repose and dream among my leaves.' - William Blake.</b><br />
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There are those of us that travel constantly, never settling in one place for very long, always on the move and heading for pastures new. These people are usually the sort that have blogs and websites that make them cash on the road - self-employed entrepreneurs who've given up the nine to five desk job and now roam the world as full-time nomads.<br />
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And then there are those of us who have been well and truly bitten by the travel bug but are not ready or willing to give up the stability an office job affords - or the regular pay cheque! I fall under this category.<br />
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<a name='more'></a>The more I think about it, the less I want to try and make my blog into something more. I know me - if I were to try to make this blog into anything more than my favourite hobby, I would probably come to loathe it fairly quickly, and I'd probably start resenting travel too. Travel is my escape from the real world - if travelling and blogging about trips became my job, how would I ever escape properly? I read so many blogs where the author has burnt out in the past, or taken on too much and lost the joy associated with travel. I don't want that!<br />
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So, the long and short of it is, whilst I do bitch and moan about having to work in an office and about the fact that I only get a certain number of days allotted to me each year for annual leave, I won't be giving up the day job anytime soon. Which leaves me with one burning problem - how on earth can I satisfy my travel cravings when I'm doing my regular old week in London, chained to my desk and commuting every day? <br />
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I've had to find some answers, and I thought posting some of my solutions to scratching that travel itch might come in handy if, like me, you want to have the best of both worlds. <br />
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<b>Read Travel - Blogs</b><br />
It would not be an exaggeration to say that there are literally thousands of blogs out there that you could read to get a travel fix, including mine! The best are always the ones where stories get told and the ones with great photos (in my humble opinion). Refreshingly, not all the great blogs out there earn loads of money - two of my favourite bloggers don't make massive incomes from their blogs (as far as I can tell) and they actually prefer to do Masters degrees and work in other jobs rather than rely solely on their blogs for money. <br />
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I've previously posted about <u><a href="http://howthemind-wanders.blogspot.co.uk/2016/03/my-top-3-favourite-travel-bloggers.html" target="_blank">the three bloggers that inspire me the most</a></u>, but here are just a few more to whet your appetite...<br />
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<u><a href="http://www.adventurouskate.com/" target="_blank">Adventurous Kate</a></u><br />
<u><a href="http://www.nomadicmatt.com/" target="_blank">Nomadic Matt</a></u><br />
<u><a href="http://www.youngadventuress.com/" target="_blank">Young Adventuress</a></u><br />
<u><a href="http://www.expatedna.com/" target="_blank">Expat Edna</a></u><br />
<u><a href="http://www.angieaway.com/" target="_blank">Angie Away</a></u><br />
<u><a href="http://www.bridgesandballoons.com/" target="_blank">Bridges and Balloons</a></u><br />
<u><a href="http://www.expertvagabond.com/" target="_blank">Expert Vagabond</a></u><br />
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<b>Read Travel - Books</b><br />
A great travel book transports you to distant, exotic lands and indulges every sense. You could read fictional or non-fictional books, they can be equally as good as each other, but they must always make you feel as though you're in the country, experiencing everything alongside the author. A really excellent book will also teach you things that you never knew before - about a country's history, culture or politics, for example - and you should be left at the end with a desire to go to some far-flung country you'd never even considered visiting before picking up the book.<br />
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If you want some inspiration, check out the titles I've listed below.<br />
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<i>The Long Hitch Home: Tasmania to London on a Thumb and a Prayer </i>by Jamie Maslin.<br />
<i>Five Months on a Leaky Boat </i>by Ben Kozel.<br />
<i>The Art of Travel </i>by Alain de Botton.<br />
<i>One Man and his Bike </i>by Mike Carter.<br />
<i>Walking the Himalayas </i>by Levison Wood.<br />
<i>It's on the Meter: One Taxi, Three Mates and 43,000 Miles of Misadventures around the World </i>by Paul Archer and Johno Ellison.<br />
Anything by Bill Bryson.<br />
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<b>Browse </b><b>Travel</b><br />
Different to actually planning travel, this involves some miserable rainy Monday lunch time when you just want to be anywhere but at work, so you Google 'Bucket List Travel', 'Top 10 Places to See Before You Die' or you check out <u><a href="http://www.lonelyplanet.com/best-in-travel" target="_blank">Lonely Planet's Best in Travel for 2016</a></u>. <br />
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You then proceed to waste away an entire lunch hour drooling over humpback whales in Antarctica, gazing longingly at sun-drenched white-sand beaches with impossibly turquoise water and with your head in the clouds as you imagine scaling the epic heights of the Himalayas in Nepal. Sure, you come back down to earth with a bit of a bump when you remember you're definitely still in work <i>and</i> it's only Monday, but for a while there...<br />
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For ultimate browsing, check out <u><a href="http://www.wikitravel.org/" target="_blank">Wikitravel</a></u> or <u><a href="http://www.lonelyplanet.com/" target="_blank">Lonely Planet</a></u>, which also has the great <u><a href="http://www.lonelyplanet.com/thorntree" target="_blank">Thorntree forum</a></u>, where you can discuss travel to your hearts content with a multitude of other travel fanatics. <a href="http://www.nationalgeographic.com/" target="_blank">National Geographic</a> is another obvious choice for this pastime.<br />
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<b>Watch Travel</b><br />
Nothing captures the epic, sweeping African savannah quite like that helicopter shot, or shows you the breath-taking beauty of nature quite like a time-lapse camera set up to film the Northern Lights. It makes sense to indulge in watching travel documentaries from time to time - quite often, even when we do actually travel, we can't necessarily afford such luxuries such as a helicopter trip to see the landscape laid out below us for ourselves.<br />
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There are so many wonderful travel documentaries and films out there - my short list merely goes some way in pointing you in the right direction! I'd highly recommend checking out BBC iPlayer or 4onDemand, as documentaries are often stored on these for quite some time and they're usually pretty good!<br />
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Walking The Himalayas (Levison Wood)<br />
Walking The Nile (Levison Wood)<br />
Planet Earth<br />
Joanna Lumley's Japan<br />
Anything with Michael Palin<br />
Anything with David Attenborough<br />
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<b>Listen Travel</b><br />
I surely can't be the only one who listens to certain songs or music whilst I'm travelling, only to have the songs remind them of a trip or specific moment from my time abroad when I hear them again later on? If you need a trip back down memory lane, listening to the music that you played or heard whilst you were exploring is really great and can be very evocative. <br />
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Alternatively, if you don't fancy reading all the time, try listening to some of the great travel books in audio version. <u><a href="http://www.audible.co.uk/" target="_blank">Amazon Audible</a></u> has a fantastic selection of audiobooks and you get a free book of your choice when you open an account with them. Bonus!<br />
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<b>Eat / Drink Travel</b><br />
If you live, as I currently do, in a large, cosmopolitan city you're super lucky because, right on your very doorstep, there is a wealth of delicious foods from around the world to be had. Gone are the days of meat and two veg (at least here in the UK). <br />
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If you're stuck at home and are unable to travel, it has never been easier to head out to a restaurant for dinner or to simply pick up your phone and order takeaway to be delivered within half an hour. Greek, Moroccan, Thai, Italian, Chinese, Vietnamese, Lebanese, Turkish, American, Canadian, Mexican... The list is endless and these days, foods from all these countries and more are well within our grasp, without so much as having to leave our sofa, if we don't want to. <br />
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Alternatively, you could get your cook on and try to recreate recipes from your travels yourself. In Morocco, I practically lived on amazing cucumber and tomato chopped salads. When I got back to the UK, I spent about a month preparing cucumber and tomato salads like those that I'd had in Morocco on an almost daily basis. Eating them at home reminded me of our wonderful trip and allowed me to hold onto Morocco a bit longer. And nowadays, if I'm ever missing New Zealand, I definitely indulge in some good coffee, or a large glass of Marlborough sauvignon blanc, or go the whole hog with a huge brunch. The food and drink reminds me of my favourite times in NZ, so why not?<br />
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<b>Learn Travel</b><br />
You could just travel the world and never bother yourself with learning anything about the cultures, the languages or the histories of the lands you are visiting. But what's the point in that? If you're going to travel, you really ought to educate yourself a little bit about the countries that you visit, or plan to visit. <br />
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This could be as simple as downloading the <u><a href="http://www.duolingo.com/" target="_blank">Duolingo</a></u> app and brushing up on your French conversational skills before visiting Paris, or as complex as taking an in-depth study of the politics and foreign policies of Russia before embarking on a trip on the Trans-Siberian railway. It's entirely up to you and your interests. Personally, I find that my learning about places I visit tends to come after I've been - and my increased knowledge on a destination fuels a desire to return in future armed with a greater understanding and increased knowledge about that country. <br />
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<b>Plan Travel</b><br />
Some people don't like to plan their travels too extensively, and that's fair enough. I'm definitely not like that, however. I find half the fun of travel is in the planning - the moments to savour before heading off, getting excited about the places I'll go to, what I'll see and do, where I'll be eating and staying... It all adds to the build-up and makes the time before the trip go that bit faster.<br />
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Planning for a longer trip or even just doing some research into your next destination can help in the interim to keep your wanderlust at bay. If you know you have an incredible trip lined up, or at least some plans in the pipeline, it'll give you a focus and take the edge off your itchy feet. There are some fantastic resources out there for planning, including <u><a href="http://www.rome2rio.com/" target="_blank">Rome2Rio</a></u> to check basic routes and to find alternative transport options, <u><a href="http://www.skyscanner.com/" target="_blank">Skyscanner</a></u> for all the cheapest flights, <u><a href="http://booking.com/">Booking.com</a></u> for all your accommodation needs and of course, the old favourite, Lonely Planet. For specific advice on what to do at your destination, Google local travel guides or tourist boards for inspiration. In London, the best place to get great information on upcoming events and cool things to do is <u><a href="http://www.timeout.com/london" target="_blank">TimeOut London</a></u>. <br />
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<b>Actually... Just Travel!</b><br />
Travelling doesn't have to be a hugely expensive or time-consuming activity. If you don't want to use all of your annual leave up by the third month of the year, you need to be clever about putting your weekends and bank holidays to good use. You could go somewhere on a Friday evening and come back on Sunday night. If it's a bank holiday, make use of the extra day to squeeze in a trip somewhere (just make sure you plan in advance, as bank holidays can get busy and expensive!). Take one or two annual leave days and tag them onto a weekend to have a mini-break somewhere. You don't need to have months and months off at a time to explore the world. Little by little can work as well!<br />
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Additionally, don't think that every time you travel you have to even go abroad - there is bound to be a lot to explore in your home country. It can be a lot cheaper too - you don't need to book flights, get travel insurance or expensive injections to protect you against nasty tropical diseases if you stay in your home country! It's also more likely that you'll have family or friends you can stay with, which eliminates accommodation costs too. And I can guarantee that no matter where you go, there'll always be very cheap or free activities for you to do. So just bite the bullet and go somewhere if your craving is that bad!<br />
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How The Mind Wanders...http://www.blogger.com/profile/10774729802537761792noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-88429550602020203.post-78496754927406451122016-09-20T14:19:00.001-07:002016-09-24T08:15:51.399-07:00The Two Sides of London<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<b>'Every truth has two sides; it is as well to look at both, before we commit ourselves to either.' - Aesop.</b><br />
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There are two sides to London. Its public face, the one that the
tourists come here to see, and its private face, the one that the folk who
live here experience.<br />
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For various reasons, I've ended up sitting on the steps outside the National
Portrait Gallery at Trafalgar Square twice this past weekend. It isn't a hardship -
I love people watching and it's a really good spot for that particular
activity. Most of them are tourists - selfie sticks abound, people haul
themselves up onto the base of Nelson's Column for photo opportunities, kids
run about squealing between the fountains and crowds gather to watch the street
performers who juggle, joke and dance for loose change.<br />
<a name='more'></a><br />
This part of London is dominated by attractions - Big Ben, the Houses of
Parliament, Hyde Park, the London Eye, Westminster Abbey, Oxford Street,
Leicester Square, Piccadilly Circus, countless theatres, Starbucks and more
Prets than you can shake a stick at. The prices are sky-high as businesses
capitalise on tourists' hard-earned cash. Outside Buckingham Palace, throngs of
people converge to take photos of what is actually quite an ugly building and
the world-famous guards, bedecked in red tunics and topped off with their bearskins.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgib7ik_dCnQA7Xgfvk1UfKiklLumEdCNdzSE5N8tWTEweo3Nbu1iJtZH66tbXTXVp4Qt69OuI2lKuLyzWa6yCVI4_VP0FPOuXJqI5gBZdkY8PKx8NLP1EF_dpNeKRHrcbPVJnX18M47qM/s1600/IMG_9227+%25282%2529.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="572" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgib7ik_dCnQA7Xgfvk1UfKiklLumEdCNdzSE5N8tWTEweo3Nbu1iJtZH66tbXTXVp4Qt69OuI2lKuLyzWa6yCVI4_VP0FPOuXJqI5gBZdkY8PKx8NLP1EF_dpNeKRHrcbPVJnX18M47qM/s640/IMG_9227+%25282%2529.JPG" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Above: Southwark Cathedral and The Shard - past and present...</td></tr>
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Away from this central area of tourist activity, there are pockets of
attractions – around London Bridge where the Shard dominates the skyline and in
its shadow, Borough Market and Tower Bridge. Across the Thames, The Tower of
London and, a way down the river, Greenwich Park, the Cutty Sark and the
Meridian Line. <br />
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These things are the life-blood of London’s tourism industry – the huge
attractions that are on the covers of colourful brochures and bring in the
punters. These are the things that people pose in front of, two fingers held up
to their faces in the universal peace sign or with massive cheesy grins firmly
in place. This is the public face of London – photographed endlessly, putting
on a show. It is what the world sees, what people imagine when someone mentions
London to them. <br />
<br />
I don’t feel like I live in this London. I visit this London along with all
the other tourists, strolling down the streets, enjoying various
culinary treats from Borough Market, taking the DLR to Greenwich to experience
that ‘village feel’ and to wander through the park. I take photos of Tower
Bridge, get excited when I see it lifting to let a boat pass underneath. I
stare up at the Shard, longing to go up, unsure why I’ve not yet been. I visit
the museums and the galleries, join the ranks of tourists to take a photo of a
soldier in a bearskin and go to see the Serpentine Pavilion. I eat in Covent
Garden, am blinded by the screens at Piccadilly Circus and I gaze back at Big
Ben and the Houses of Parliament as I cross Westminster Bridge, heading for the
South Bank. <br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Above: the Serpentine Pavilion</td></tr>
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The London I live in is private. It keeps secrets and isn’t loud or brash
like the public London I visit. It shies away from the limelight and you must
spend time seeking out its delights, as they’re not instantly obvious. You have
to go further afield to find the hidden gems.<br />
<br />
Coffee off the beaten track, only five minutes from Oxford Street, in a
little café that was once an underground toilet. Strolling along North Bank, the
quieter counterpart to the bustling South Bank, steeped in history, so close
you can feel it, touch it, almost smell it. The quiet neighbourhoods with
excellent bars, the back streets where the pub on the corner feels like your
local and you can get a good pint. The hidden spots that are so close to the
main areas, but stow away down narrow, uninviting alleys that simply don’t lure
the tourists away from the bright lights and wide boulevards.<br />
<br />
It’s harder to spot these places. Harder to find them. I’ve barely scratched
the surface so far in my three months of living here. It takes time. It takes a
wrong turn. It takes getting lost in a maze of back streets. It takes walking rather
than catching a bus or the tube. It takes intimacy with the city, a level of comfort. It
takes a quick internet search for more unusual finds. It
takes local knowledge. It takes an interest in going further in, a desire to
see the real city, stripped back, behind the glitz. London, bare faced, so to
speak. The morning after the night before. You have to want to know the
secrets. <br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Above: leaving the Tate Modern</td></tr>
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The tourists don't come here. They don't see the side of London that is showing its face to me more and more often. The mornings when I walk to catch my train, sidestepping gaggles of children being herded along by harassed parents towards the school gates. The evenings when my local Sainsbury's bursts at the seams, people barging past one another with baskets in hand, eager to get in and get back out again as soon as possible. The every day rituals of life, the cram on the train home, the stroll through my local park with the view over the City and Canary Wharf. On Sundays when I meander home, it's so quiet and peaceful in this neighbourhood that I could be somewhere else entirely. <br />
<br />
I love both the two sides of London. I love being a tourist in my new home city,
but I love trying to get off the beaten track as well. I love the brash, the
bright lights, the glamour and the bits that are in my face. But I love the quiet,
hidden parts just as much. When I find those places, I feel like London has
given up another piece of itself to me, surrendered a new secret. My connection
to the city becomes a tiny bit more intimate. The city becomes a step closer to feeling like
my home.How The Mind Wanders...http://www.blogger.com/profile/10774729802537761792noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-88429550602020203.post-54817190746043950002016-09-10T08:24:00.000-07:002016-09-10T08:28:37.416-07:00On London (and why I never write anymore...!)<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<b>'There's nowhere else like London. Nothing at all, anywhere.' - Vivienne Westwood.</b> <br />
<br />
London is a busy place. It's a city that never sleeps (yes, I know they say that about New York, but it definitely applies to London too!). There is <i>always </i>something going on - the list is literally endless of all the achingly hip, cool places you simply <i>must </i>go to this week. There are new articles every single day in TimeOut London and Secret London about these new pop-ups, the next big thing, a hidden place that only real Londoners know about that you should go to quickly before it's too late and everyone finds out where it is.<br />
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<a name='more'></a>It's taken a quiet Friday night in and a day on my own to realise that I actually thrive on this rush. London and its tirelessness invigorates me and keeps my mind occupied. I like discovering new parts of this city, walking by streetlight around central London, watching the reflections of buildings that glow orange under a dark sky glitter on the Thames. I love going out and drinking in markets, bars, old-man pubs... The rush of adrenaline when there's someone more drunk than me on the tube, the streets lined with restaurants selling food from around the world. I love that the world is literally on my doorstep. <br />
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On the downside, the busy lifestyle I've thrown myself into since arriving has distracted me from things that I find important, like this blog and my photography, for example. I'm guilty of spending a lot of time probably not really taking as much care of myself as I should. I've somehow become a mid-week drinker, hangovers plaguing me as I pull myself out of bed in the morning at half past seven. Ironically, on the weekends, when I actually could have a hangover day, I more often than not stay in, exhausted after my busy week, and spend my Saturdays and Sundays exploring again, or out of London altogether, making the most of the good transport links.<br />
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It's hedonistic, a rush, I'm running on empty and burning the candle at both ends. It leaves me hardly any time to myself but all the time is for myself. I act more impulsively, hopping off trains when I'm halfway home to turn around and go back out for more drinks. I'm swirling in the middle of a blur of life, a scrum of people and activities and I love it.<br />
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Sitting at home today, the first day I've spent all day at home on my own since I can't even remember, I've actually felt a bit miserable. A bit deflated. I've told myself that I need this - an opportunity to recharge my batteries and have some 'me' time but truthfully, I think I'm different now to how I used to be. <br />
<br />
I used to thrive in these quiet moments, taking the time to think, to chill out, enjoying box sets, snacking throughout the day, just relaxing. Now, I know that today is enough, if not almost too much. Tomorrow, I must have human contact, I must go out and delve back into the busy city, drink flat whites in a trendy coffee shop somewhere, maybe be a tourist for the day or just wander endlessly, exploring far and wide. I could go on my own or with a friend but I cannot spend an entire day at home again. It's too much. <br />
<br />
I still have reservations about London and how my life here will pan out, but it also feels like London has me, whether I like it or not. For the time being, at least!<br />
<br />
<i>NB: One good thing about all this activity is that I've kind of been forced to take photos on my phone again, which is a challenge since the camera ain't all that good! I like a challenge... All photos in this post taken on my HTC, not a DSLR in sight!</i><br />
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How The Mind Wanders...http://www.blogger.com/profile/10774729802537761792noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-88429550602020203.post-20928653530682946342016-08-29T11:55:00.000-07:002016-08-29T11:55:35.390-07:00Summer Nostalgia <div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<b>'Aaah, summer - that long anticipated stretch of lazy, lingering days, free of responsibility and rife with possibility.' - Darell Hammond.</b><br />
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The national topic of conversation in the UK is the weather. <br />
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Waiting for your change from a shop assistant? Mention how cold and grey it is today. Got a meeting in work with people you don't know well? Talk about how wet it has been for the past three months and joke that we will soon need to start building an ark. Struggling with the small talk on a first date? Comment on the fact that we don't seem to be having a summer at all this year and ponder on whether or not it might be to do with climate change. If that sparks a conversation, it's been a win-win situation (no more awkward silences!). If nothing comes of these observations, it's probably not meant to be. Start swiping on Tinder again. <br />
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What really gets us going is the Great British Summer. Or lack of. Summer in the UK is fleeting and what vestiges we get we grab tightly and hold onto vehemently, afraid to let go even as the first fat, heavy drops of rain begin to fall again. <br />
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Summer is the echo of laughter and indistinct chatter from a nearby beer garden, rising like heat from soil at the end of a long hot day. A waft of smoke on the air, distinctive and tantalising, the scent of grilled meat charred and caught around the edges. It is the catch of a good song, blasting from speakers as you pass a row of houses, <u><a href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=vs_pnhxsEfw" target="_blank">Basement Jaxx</a></u> '<i>well wake up baby, you're so totally deluded...</i>'. <br />
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We like to be nostalgic about summers past and muse about the fact that 'when we were young, summers were never this wet and we always got a decent month of sunshine'. We reminisce about our childhood summers spent swimming in lakes and rivers, stained the colour of tea by the peat, dive-bombing into an icy shock of water. We indulge ourselves in memories of idyllic picnics under wide-spreading shady trees, an assortment of delicious foods arrayed on a checked blanket. <br />
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Ice-creams dripping down our arms, licking the sticky remnants off our hands, blissful. Warm, salty sea breezes tugging at our hair and cooling our skin as we emerge from the cornflower sea and curl our toes into the hot sand. The long dusty days, a drawn-out twilight, light seeping oh-so-slowly from the sky, candy floss clouds and pastel colours streaking the horizon. The short, hot, restless nights, without a breath of air, the room so stuffy we toss and turn, unable to get comfortable until dawn comes, promising another sizzling day ahead.<br />
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During childhood, summer is the season of freedom. Six weeks away from school bells, uniforms, packed lunches, buses, timetables, exams, <i>Maths... </i>It feels like a lifetime. The days go by in a haze, melting into one another. We never remember the rainy ones - only the ones that were filled with sunshine, when the water sparkled and the grass blew tall and green and we got treats for tea.<br />
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In reality, the summers past can't all have been long, hot and full of sunshine. Our memories stretch the truth, our minds distort and warp our recollections of our younger years and rose-tint them for us. Of course, there must have been rainy days, the sort that we remember more vividly in the present, the ones we moan about now. The endless drizzle, an autumnal chill, skies the colour of dishwater. As adults, we seem to remember the grey days more than the sunny ones. We never recall the last proper sunny day, only the last time that it rained. <br />
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I wonder if it is our perspective on life that changes. Our outlook becoming less rosy and more realistic as we move into adulthood and then on through life. We become more cynical and jaded with the world. Instead of the carefree, innocent conversation of our youth, we recount stories about our nightmare commutes on the tube, discuss world politics and talk about grown up stuff like washing machines, home decorating and other such everyday things. Our childhood is behind us, and so too are the summers that were long, hot and full of sunshine. <br />
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Grab what you can of the sunshine and be a child again, albeit briefly. Make the most of the dog days, as summer fades almost unperceptively into autumn. All too soon, the leaves will be on the turn, the days will be growing noticeably shorter once more and the first chills of a new season will have you reaching for your jacket in the mornings. So hold on now... To the sun and to the child inside you. It'll be all change again before you know it.<br />
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<i>NB: These photos may not all be the best quality, but just looking at them makes me think of summer days past and they make me instantly happier!</i><br />
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How The Mind Wanders...http://www.blogger.com/profile/10774729802537761792noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-88429550602020203.post-85300584916799899492016-08-22T14:20:00.000-07:002016-08-22T14:22:33.129-07:00What Travel Has Taught Me<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<b>'Life is a series of experiences, each one of which makes us bigger, even though sometimes it is hard to realize this. For the world was built to develop character, and we must learn that the setbacks and grieves which we endure help us in our marching onward.' - Henry Ford.</b><br />
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Whilst on my most recent trip on the Trans-Siberian railway, I spent three weeks in Russia. I had some serious misconceptions about Russia before I arrived in the country. I worried more than I'd like to admit about crossing the border between Mongolia and Russia, having heard / read some horror stories about the tough border guards and problems that arose if documentation wasn't meticulously in order. I saw a lot of Western media reports about Russia, most of them disparaging. And how could I miss the Ukraine / Russia dispute that is ongoing? <br />
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But do you know what? I was completely wrong about Russia. Sure, the country has its problems and I don't doubt that it has its difficult international relations and some pretty atrocious things have happened that probably get covered up or reported with a very one-sided bias by our media. But. And there is a big 'but' here. Everyone that we encountered (with one exception) was kind, friendly, welcoming and helpful. We couldn't fault a single Russian (with that one exception) on how they treated us. People went out of their way to make sure we reached our accommodation safely, ate well, went on good trips and didn't get lost. And all this while we spoke no Russian and many of them spoke no English. And do you know what? The border crossing was absolutely fine too. I never needed to have worried.<br />
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This brings me onto the first really huge important life lesson that travel has taught me. <b>Travel has shown me that people are inherently good.</b><br />
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When I've been struggling in a new country, people tended to want to help. If I've been destitute, people have shown me huge generosity and kindness. When I've gotten lost, people have gone out of their way to show me where to go (even when we don't speak each other's language and must resort to gestures and a lot of pointing). If I've been hungry, people have fed me, or at least pointed me in the direction of a good place to get food. I've generally only ever encountered people who have wanted to make me feel welcome and secure and happy in the country they call home, just as I hope that they feel welcome and secure and happy in my country when they pay a visit. <br />
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So I've learnt that what goes around comes around. I now always try to help the lost person find their way home. I've bought someone a coffee just because. I try to pay it forward. I smile more at people. Yes, even in London, where people do find a smile from a stranger a bit odd! Do you know what? I've been surprised by how many actually do smile back. Yes, even in London... It all sounds very sappy, but travel has shown me and led me to truly believe that humans are inherently good.<br />
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It can be hard to remember that when it seems that a day can't go by without another story in the headlines, telling of bloody violence and hatred somewhere in the world. It can seem like human beings do inherently hate one another. But it's worth remembering that people are often guilty of having misconceptions of others. I'm guilty of it myself. We all have internal bias that are exacerbated by what we hear in the news and influenced by what others around us think and believe. No one is immune.<br />
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This leads me neatly into the second really huge important life lesson that travel has taught me. <b>Travel has taught me to always look beyond the media.</b><br />
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Don't rely on your daily newspaper for all of your worldly understanding. Don't just watch the BBC News at Ten and then head off to bed. Look outside the box. That isn't the whole truth you're seeing or hearing. There's more to that story than meets the eye.<br />
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Until I travelled, I never fully appreciated this. Now that I have done some travelling, I fully understand the importance of looking beyond what the media <i>wants</i> us to see and believe and to delve deeper to get the full story, from every angle possible. <br />
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Now, I read travel books written by people that have been to the country and have spent time learning the history. I try to read from about four different national newspapers (across the political and ridiculousness spectrum). I do watch the news on the BBC (is it only me that finds the intro music a tad exciting and adrenaline inducing?!) but I also try and catch up on Al-Jazeera from time to time as well. I read blogs, I investigate, I seek out new information so that I can try and get a fully informed view. No, of course I don't do that for every single news story that comes out, but I do try to ensure my general world view remains rounded and not based on one or two media outlets.<br />
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And whilst travel makes me choose to take a more rounded view of the world, it also hasn't often left me with a choice when it comes to finding out who I really am either. My third really huge important life lesson travel has taught me? It's this - <b>travel has made me more aware of who I am - warts and all!</b><br />
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I've learnt a lot about my character through travel. The thing is, travel gives ample opportunity and space to think. So I do. I'm an over-thinker anyway so give me an opportunity and I'll be quick to think some more! And my thinking quite often turns to reflection and quite often, I reflect on myself. My life, my personality, my situations, my pathway and where I'm heading, what I want from the world and what I think I can offer the world. <br />
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So, thanks to the space and time that travelling provides me, I have been able to open my eyes and discover my limitations, my weaknesses, my strengths, the good about me, the bad about me and the downright ugly parts of me too. Not only that, but I've really tried to accept all those facets of me too. I want to improve on the less desirable characteristics and promote the good parts about me. I want to become a generally nicer, better person and to give something back to the people in my life. <br />
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I've learnt more about my ambitions too, although the courage I need to achieve my ambitions is still escaping me. Travelling makes me braver and more confident, so hopefully in time this confidence will become so deeply ingrained that I'll no longer fear my ambitions and I'll stop putting them off. Oh, and maybe I should be a bit more proactive. I've proven to myself time and again, through travel and the experience I've had, that I am more determined to achieve than I used to think. So I like to think that achieving my ambitions is a matter of when, rather than if.<br />
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<b>Those are three pretty massive life lessons. I've learnt a couple of less profound things too - like the fact that travel makes me fitter (although not necessarily healthier). </b>The mere act of not sitting at a desk for eight hours a day instantly makes me fitter when I'm travelling. The fact that I then do activities I wouldn't normally do, such as horse riding, kayaking, hiking up mountains, walking endlessly around cities, swimming and snorkelling, all adds up to equate to me being generally fitter when I travel.<br />
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I love that I can feel my clothes getting a bit looser and I can climb a hill without getting ridiculously out of breath because I've been exercising more without even trying. It's fun to exercise when that means walking around a new city, or snorkelling over coral reefs, or kayaking through turquoise blue water beneath bright sunshine. It doesn't feel like exercise then. It feels like FUN!<br />
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Travel doesn't make me necessarily healthier though. My diet always suffers when I'm on the road. I eat fewer meals but I eat fewer greens too. My fruit and veg quota takes a serious nosedive. I drink less water and more alcohol. My pizza intake doubles. But hey. I guess it all balances out, right?! Now that I'm back in a settled routine for the time being, my healthy food intake as skyrocketed, but my fitness has gone down again. I suppose one day I'll find a happy medium?<br />
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<b>And the second slightly less profound but certainly still important lesson from travel? Well, I've finally learnt the value of money. </b>I never used to be very good with money. I used to fritter away every penny of my monthly pay cheque on goodness knows what, and I'd never have anything to show for it at the end. Travelling has given my money a purpose and made me realise the value of having a savings account that isn't empty all the time.<br />
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I don't mean that my savings all go towards travelling (although, that's a lie, because lately that's all I've spent my savings on!). But I do find it so much easier to save nowadays, knowing that the money I put aside each month is going to be put to good use eventually. And I've learnt that there is satisfaction to be had watching a pile of cash grow and grow. <br />
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Now that I know that money is better spent on making memories than material items, I'm happier to save it up and go without for longer - whereas before I thought I could have it all, the clothes, the nights out and the holidays. Now, I'd much prefer to forego a new top or a new outfit in favour of putting the cash towards a cheeky weekend away or a day out somewhere. And the best thing? Whereas I used to get so guilty spending money, but I'd go and spend it anyway, now I feel much more in control and stronger about telling myself 'no'. The guilt is gone!<br />
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<b>I would like to point out that I have spent weeks working on this post.</b> It's been quite a difficult one to write - getting the right balance and finding the right words to explain myself. I've spent weeks editing this piece of writing - re-wording it, erasing entire paragraphs and re-writing them, stressing over how I come over and generally messing about with it to ensure I'm happy with what I'm saying. I'm still not 100% certain about everything I've written but the time has come to press 'publish'. <br />
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<i>What has travel taught you? Has it made you see the world differently to how you used to perceive it? Let me know your thoughts, I'd love to hear them!</i><br />
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NB: I'll end with a quick announcement. I have my next trip lined up *drum roll please!* I'm off to Berlin for a long weekend in the middle of October to spend some quality time with L and C and experience everything that Germany's capital has to offer. I can't wait! How The Mind Wanders...http://www.blogger.com/profile/10774729802537761792noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-88429550602020203.post-7695701060945183352016-08-14T07:24:00.000-07:002016-08-14T07:25:46.512-07:00Home Comforts That I Miss When Travelling<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<b>'Sometimes, I'll let little things get to me. Or I'll make a big deal out of little things.' - Jennette McCurdy.</b><br />
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My left side was aching. My knee was sore from being locked in the same position for too long. My hip screamed at me to turn over, to quit lying so still. I wanted to face the other way. Slowly, oh so carefully, I moved onto my back. So far so good. I shuffled my body over and the ancient metal bed springs screeched into life, creaking and groaning as they shifted under my weight, loud enough to wake the dead. I settled into my new position and sighed with relief as silence descended once more and peace reigned. It was 4am and as far as I could tell, none of the other four occupants in the room had been woken by the racket. Only me. I closed my eyes and tried to go back to sleep before I felt the need to move again and the whole process was repeated.<br />
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In the photos, the hostel had looked okay. A bit strange, perhaps, with its name 'UFO Hostel' and the paintings of said UFO's dotted about on the walls, but none the less okay. And cheap too. Oh, how a wide-angle lens can lie!<br />
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The harsh reality was quite different. P and I stood in the doorway to the room and looked around. There wasn't much to look at. Three bunk beds, all ancient, crammed into a space roughly the size of a large cupboard. At the end of one bed, a Formica table stood, littered with cosmetics, underwear and a wealth of other paraphernalia. The floor space (there wasn't much) was covered with shoes, puddles of clothes and handbags. Three women were living in the room long-term and the three bottom bunks had been taken. We chose the two top bunks nearest the window and made do with the little space that remained to us.<br />
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It was hostels like this that made me really miss the comforts of home. Thankfully, we were actually pretty lucky with the majority of places that we stayed. This was an exception rather than a rule, and although it was the worst hostel I have ever stayed in, it did teach me one thing: always pay attention to the price rather than the photos when booking somewhere to stay!<br />
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Having my own space and a comfortable, quiet bed aren't the only things that I miss when I'm travelling. Strangely, it's the smaller, seemingly more insignificant things that I long for whilst on the road. Things that I would never normally think about until I'm living out of a backpack again and then I remember the last time...<br />
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<b>When I'm travelling, I really miss the luxury of having two thick, large towels.</b><br />
Obviously, I can't fit two towels in my backpack. I travel with one thing, medium sized towel that I bought for $4 from a Countdown in Nelson when I lost my microfiber towel during my first month in New Zealand. It folds down nicely into a small net pouch and I squash this unceremoniously into the bottom of my backpack, sometimes still damp, until I reach the next destination and need to use it again.<br />
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Some of the places I've stayed in the past include towels in the room and those places always get great reviews from me! I love being able to step out of a shower and wrap my wet hair straight into a towel, before using a second, bigger towel to dry myself with. Having only one towel is a pain in the arse. Hostels should definitely provide free towels more to travellers. I bet I'm not the only one who misses having two when they're on the road!<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Above: on offer in the markets in Beijing. Seahorse on a stick, anyone? No takers?! Surely not...</td></tr>
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<b>Whilst we are on showering, I'd like to say that I get genuinely annoyed about having to cart my toiletries to and from the shower each time I use them whilst travelling.</b><br />
It's something you would never even consider until you travel, but actually, being able to leave your array of shower gels, shampoos, conditioners, moisturisers, loafers, soaps and assorted bathroom products actually in the bathroom between use is just fantastic. They belong there! The bathroom is their domain.<br />
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You get into the habit of it, but wiping down dripping bottles after each use and packing them away again (all the while carrying a grain of concern in the back of your mind that they may leak everywhere and destroy the contents of your bag) is just a nuisance. It's much nicer to leave them in the bathroom. <br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Above: it's the simple things that make travel good - afternoon beers on a beach at Lake Baikal. </td></tr>
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<b>One final bathroom problem whilst on the road? The toilets!</b><br />
Sometimes they're non-existent and you spend hours crossing your legs. Sometimes they're diabolically disgusting and unhygienic and I am one of those people who would prefer to hold it in than use a really gross toilet. Sometimes they're a long-drop in a shed and it's freezing outside and the last thing you want to do is pull your trousers down and pee. Sometimes they're a hole in the ground half full of sloppy human shit with a plank over the top and I'm the sort of person who'd rather have a stomach ache for two whole days than use one of those types of loos, thanks very much. Sometimes it's a go outside and squat jobby, where you run the risk of injury to your foot (me whilst drunk in Ghana, don't ask), or sitting on a tick (me in some woods in Mongolia) or peeing on your foot (thankfully I don't think I've ever actually done this). Sometimes you might accidentally use a blocked toilet unawares and have the embarrassment of not being able to flush it properly (me in quite a nice upmarket café in Puerto Princesa in the Philippines). Basically, toilets around the world can be pretty grim. And when they're grim, I really, really, really miss going to the toilet at home!<br />
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<b>I also really hate using travel plugs.</b><br />
I have a great adapter. Honestly, it's maybe the best $30 I've ever spent. It adapts to pretty much any plug in the world and there's even a USB socket so that I can charge my phone separately if I'd like to. It even accepts my rather dodgy camera charger set up.<br />
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But after a while, I really kind of miss just being able to plug into a socket using my usual British plugs. Despite my great adapter, I find that foreign plug sockets leave a lot wanting. Sometimes they don't leave enough space for cables to hang down. Sometimes there's not enough space for my adapter to fit properly. Sometimes the pins are loose in the socket and the adapter falls out under its own weight (which is ridiculous!). And there's obviously the problems surrounding voltage - my laptop and phone batteries are definitely worse off from plugging into sockets of varying voltage. So yeah, it seems really trivial. But being able to just use my British plugs normally again is great. <br />
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<b>And finally... I really, really miss cooking for myself.</b><br />
This might be the daftest one of the lot, but honestly, I really miss cooking when I'm travelling. Quite often, depending on the country you're in, it's cheaper just to go out and buy takeaway food or eat in a restaurant or café, rather than to buy the ingredients and cook for yourself. More convenient too - you don't need to lug around ingredients or get your hands dirty in the kitchen when you could be out exploring a new city. And quite often, unless you specifically look for it, places just don't have cooking facilities.<br />
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But I love cooking. Like, really enjoy it. And I'm a vegetarian too, so cooking for myself makes life a little easier (I don't have to try and decipher to menu to work out what I'm ordering - I can just browse the shops and pick up my own ingredients). So I miss cooking when I'm travelling. So much so that it drove me to be slightly more proactive about getting places with kitchens during our travels in Russia and Europe and I told P more than once to just chill out and leave me to cook on my own on the evenings when we didn't eat out. <br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Above: Mongolian meals, cooked for me by my guide and wonderful friend whilst in the country, Una. She was an excellent cook and her meals were always delicious!!</td></tr>
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But even when I did cook, I missed having my usual 'go-to' ingredients at hand - garlic, oil, salt and pepper, butter, onions... This is all basic stuff but you'd be surprised how hard it can be to find these things, especially in deepest darkest Siberia. I had to think outside the box to produce food that tasted good with what ingredients we could find. And carrying ingredients around gets a bit annoying as well. <br />
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In short, travelling and cooking for yourself just aren't always a great combination. And it's one of the greatest things about being home again - knowing where the utensils are in the drawers and cupboards, having a good sharp knife at hand, not having to lug heavy bottles of oil around from place to place... Bliss. <br />
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<b>I probably sound like a moany, ungrateful cow. </b><br />
I really don't mean to sound like that though. I love travel. I love the fresh experiences it brings, the new perspectives, the changes that come with each day. I love the larger aspects of travel, the bigger things, the things that matter, like meeting new people and experiencing new cultures and having amazing moments and making memories to last a lifetime. <br />
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These things that I mention are petty, minor parts of life on the road and as much as I embrace a clean toilet, the use of two towels and my own kitchen when I'm at home, I'd give them all up in a heartbeat to get out there, off again, adventuring. These things pale into insignificance when compared to the things I miss about travel when I'm at home.<br />
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In a bid to visit some more new countries this year, and keep exploring, I've got some minor travel plans shaping up for October, November and December... Nothing is fixed in place yet, but I'll keep you posted! And I promise I'll try not to moan too much about having to crack out the travel plug again...<br />
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<i>NB: I wasn't really sure what pictures to use to illustrate this blog, so settled on some of my favourites from the past couple of years... You've probably seen them all before but they're worth repeating!</i><br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Above: Embracing the travel life in Russia.</td></tr>
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<br />How The Mind Wanders...http://www.blogger.com/profile/10774729802537761792noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-88429550602020203.post-30127725658719051432016-08-03T13:32:00.003-07:002016-08-04T04:08:35.958-07:00The Long Journey Home: Exploring Architecture<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<b>'The mother art is architecture. Without an architecture of our own we have no soul of our own civilisation.' - Frank Lloyd Wright.</b><br />
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I blame P for the fact that, when I flick through my photo albums from our Long Journey Home, the majority of my photos are of buildings and architecture. His strong interest and enthusiasm for the subject has obviously rubbed off on me. Not that I mind in the slightest. Apart from food, something that I don't always experience to the full as a vegetarian, I think architecture is one of the easiest ways to experience a new culture as a visitor to a foreign country. And if I'm honest, I was growing a little tired of constantly photographing landscapes anyway*.<br />
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In honour of P's passion for the subject and for the fact it's clearly had an impact on my photography, I thought I'd share some of my more architectural photos taken on our trip. They help to showcase the different cultures in each country** that we passed through, and gives me an excellent opportunity to share a new love of mine: wooden shutters! Yes, you read that right. Wooden shutters. And to my joy, Russia was full of them...<br />
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<b>China</b><br />
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Above: ceramic tiles and figures on a roof in the Forbidden City in Beijing. I was actually quite underwhelmed and dare I say, even disappointed, by the Forbidden City. The roofs and their collections of figurines were maybe one of the highlights for me during our visit to the Forbidden City. Loved the colours and trying to imagine what stories are being told by the figures and the way they're placed. </div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjIrEeNtGnWwu1xks1inFHOiatH4ytI8h_-VxfY5MRiPfDf7_Xfx286MoCinyT1tpAoA7El0RtPTfZTCxUT__OObsm4pLwyipEtTNEwPWdTYBI1fGjAu6u-DyfTmdtuo3W0IckcRyNG9FA/s1600/Beijing.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjIrEeNtGnWwu1xks1inFHOiatH4ytI8h_-VxfY5MRiPfDf7_Xfx286MoCinyT1tpAoA7El0RtPTfZTCxUT__OObsm4pLwyipEtTNEwPWdTYBI1fGjAu6u-DyfTmdtuo3W0IckcRyNG9FA/s640/Beijing.JPG" width="342" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Above: When Old Meets New. I love how this timeless old pagoda is just there, right in front of the much newer and very futuristic / space age type building in the background. That building drew us from miles away and made us walk further than we had planned to try and see it better. It was incredible and weirdly enough, there was nothing about it on Google when we checked later... A mystery!</td></tr>
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<b>Mongolia</b><br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhnC5xhZPF81EYWRn9r-VQpaEhjfuX1-rHbIWjCaxf3A8ESVyOCyyXzioygovgTfP-QpcmhoIwFblJkeyMJ9lUfnCKJNpwrWXs4v5pEcU1SA4LwtOw0qCK98G8Hj7J6YQsIIhq84b5Mqbk/s1600/Mongolia+2.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="426" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhnC5xhZPF81EYWRn9r-VQpaEhjfuX1-rHbIWjCaxf3A8ESVyOCyyXzioygovgTfP-QpcmhoIwFblJkeyMJ9lUfnCKJNpwrWXs4v5pEcU1SA4LwtOw0qCK98G8Hj7J6YQsIIhq84b5Mqbk/s640/Mongolia+2.JPG" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Above: the colours and paintings on the Buddhist monasteries that we visited blew me away. They were so vibrant, bold and in your face. Many of the pictures told a story and all of the symbols hold meaning and importance. Nothing is there by accident. That 'swastika' you see there is an ancient Buddhist symbol meaning auspiciousness and good fortune.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiqNpIDH9PG2_0jt0Pw-guwikEbUY_kW4jp20PAkjbUATXhAEeovWrKszMlFHY-Ntg3wxbI00AIEOF8UgUV9g5-waZk588oqj5eUX3U9Y9VmakgDUQcm2U7EJ0WKTyiUMgPMkM31JEK3KY/s1600/Mongolia+3.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="404" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiqNpIDH9PG2_0jt0Pw-guwikEbUY_kW4jp20PAkjbUATXhAEeovWrKszMlFHY-Ntg3wxbI00AIEOF8UgUV9g5-waZk588oqj5eUX3U9Y9VmakgDUQcm2U7EJ0WKTyiUMgPMkM31JEK3KY/s640/Mongolia+3.JPG" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Above: Mongol 'architecture' is portable! Mongolian culture is nomadic, and their Gers are designed to be put up in three hours or so. Whilst I stayed at Steppe Riders, they put up several of these Gers, and I can confirm they are extremely quick to erect! </td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhanIicz0ceIiw2LV376-R7xJvg9eSNf601tFMcHQ4BqC5UIWY5ctd7nQ2gDgjZLvL_bANRHjRfomxFZJ70mT15GrWomRi2OqRhQ01y18WXh6_CVlVrjKCDcylmLgVo85619COtSqbtZEA/s1600/Mongolia.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="468" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhanIicz0ceIiw2LV376-R7xJvg9eSNf601tFMcHQ4BqC5UIWY5ctd7nQ2gDgjZLvL_bANRHjRfomxFZJ70mT15GrWomRi2OqRhQ01y18WXh6_CVlVrjKCDcylmLgVo85619COtSqbtZEA/s640/Mongolia.JPG" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Above: a functioning Ger with a beautiful sunset behind the hills. We stayed with a Mongolian family one night during our time in Mongolia and it was a fascinating and wonderful experience. They were welcoming and extremely generous, offering us food and beer as well as a roof over our heads for the night. We drank with them and shared stories as best we could, our guides translating for us and them whenever necessary, which was often!</td></tr>
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<b>Russia</b><br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjictSKF4nk02AezgU6cjXkPp5b_iuBmIP6Ly_abkkFqO_628UAJQnQQrZPdszTGjMPkgTVgXFFoR633XAPeI-JdsKgk2mJ_Abmkg0rHq6u1ICQ7cnk8Mjmj15BAAM5FgMk0UW5xgJA8ZU/s1600/Moscow.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="456" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjictSKF4nk02AezgU6cjXkPp5b_iuBmIP6Ly_abkkFqO_628UAJQnQQrZPdszTGjMPkgTVgXFFoR633XAPeI-JdsKgk2mJ_Abmkg0rHq6u1ICQ7cnk8Mjmj15BAAM5FgMk0UW5xgJA8ZU/s640/Moscow.JPG" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Above: the Cathedral of Christ the Saviour in Moscow. I loved these golden roofs and the interior was really beautiful. Unfortunately we weren't allowed to take photos inside! Some of my favourite architecture on our journey were the Russian cathedrals and churches with their domes and spires and bright colours.</td></tr>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhnmIdqWo_h3EKmHTC5tC7LxOgRtEH2UDULP_5J0-eNBUzUa_GVwbpPYEahuvUFDwDYImzessKb06fzyG2qcp73gAZnwvkT9TZFbL1YyRp5RlhExGOwY3b7meJLcgbKXaXISBP7f0JCHF4/s1600/Irkutsk+2.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="522" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhnmIdqWo_h3EKmHTC5tC7LxOgRtEH2UDULP_5J0-eNBUzUa_GVwbpPYEahuvUFDwDYImzessKb06fzyG2qcp73gAZnwvkT9TZFbL1YyRp5RlhExGOwY3b7meJLcgbKXaXISBP7f0JCHF4/s640/Irkutsk+2.JPG" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Above: In Irkutsk, we experienced another side of Russian architecture - the wooden houses complete with an array of colourful wooden shutters. I loved these buildings so much, especially the shutters...</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgekVQuTmMyEOiKD5-1yMgk-EtvLzU95HBb-2552-HgxyXFCOfTzS1v1JzFQi8ET0Nq2nViskr2iZZj68_HPHb9h1_7kqIx7g-GaKH-bxVChF8fQMonYJ5ISUOYZxS3zNrvIVzUtrp0Jto/s1600/St+Petersburg+3.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="364" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgekVQuTmMyEOiKD5-1yMgk-EtvLzU95HBb-2552-HgxyXFCOfTzS1v1JzFQi8ET0Nq2nViskr2iZZj68_HPHb9h1_7kqIx7g-GaKH-bxVChF8fQMonYJ5ISUOYZxS3zNrvIVzUtrp0Jto/s640/St+Petersburg+3.JPG" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Above: one of Russia's most famous cathedrals - the Cathedral of Christ the Saviour on Spilled Blood in St Petersburg. By this point, we were a bit 'churched out' (if that's a thing) and didn't pay to go inside, preferring to 'leave something to come back for'. But the exterior more than fulfilled our church quota for the day! Just look at those domes and the colours - like iced gems!</td></tr>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEht10FBBUmx1123YnmTjtvcy67E2zCdsYzEVelaK3-HC1ZnXKEIPoKDAdodZNCDWl7Xrp0rvilEHYHYfM4H47tSa4rIhiqVm83hnnF7gNE3q54H8ojgEcdR5j7y0WPEkYhM2WYX34aBE2k/s1600/St+Petersburg+2.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="370" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEht10FBBUmx1123YnmTjtvcy67E2zCdsYzEVelaK3-HC1ZnXKEIPoKDAdodZNCDWl7Xrp0rvilEHYHYfM4H47tSa4rIhiqVm83hnnF7gNE3q54H8ojgEcdR5j7y0WPEkYhM2WYX34aBE2k/s640/St+Petersburg+2.JPG" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Above: the light was beautiful when we walked down this street. I love how it picks out the yellow of the buildings and the gold on the dome of the cathedral. Just moments earlier, P found 1,000 rubles on the floor, two crumpled 500 ruble notes, and we ended up having a lovely evening - a nice meal out (we'd planned on pot noodles) and then a free opera at the Hermitage museum afterwards! </td></tr>
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<b>Poland</b><br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjmKCjRVIuvRFAo30_uCGb4TJk9UfBTX2VkPJjuDmzrDpD4kLjsaTbFy4iXiYQSXKA4_CKvk6lI_Jvt-LTp7StE_iFaea7P3sMIYQZ0Pb_iHVSXAmCiUe4f7uTjsfSvw9ppvX-ioXEToRc/s1600/Warsaw.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="318" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjmKCjRVIuvRFAo30_uCGb4TJk9UfBTX2VkPJjuDmzrDpD4kLjsaTbFy4iXiYQSXKA4_CKvk6lI_Jvt-LTp7StE_iFaea7P3sMIYQZ0Pb_iHVSXAmCiUe4f7uTjsfSvw9ppvX-ioXEToRc/s640/Warsaw.JPG" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Above: I really loved the architecture that we saw on our afternoon exploring Warsaw. The Old Town was quite charming and the contrasting colours on all the buildings made each one stand out vividly against the others. These ones surrounded the main square, where we enjoyed a great coffee each but got completely ripped off! They ended up costing us about the same as a cheap meal!</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj7FGnJ13O5HqKADmZeb6kpeCD2HSUH6lWmcTkIwhSVCo7HdKLgfLXcsx-rcjOSpsazHM7BSwtj7QjrsevyIe95n5YHaGOxX-in9Xd7516dMW-EW5mTNaz6AP00g8hPd04zPdmm-XdIYKE/s1600/Krakow.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="362" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj7FGnJ13O5HqKADmZeb6kpeCD2HSUH6lWmcTkIwhSVCo7HdKLgfLXcsx-rcjOSpsazHM7BSwtj7QjrsevyIe95n5YHaGOxX-in9Xd7516dMW-EW5mTNaz6AP00g8hPd04zPdmm-XdIYKE/s640/Krakow.JPG" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Above: in Krakow, we spent one afternoon trying to find the Jewish Quarter in the city. For some stupid reason, we completely missed it and ended up by the river instead. An interesting looking museum (see next photo) caught our eye so we headed in that direction, giving up the Jewish Quarter for lost that day (we found it the next day) and choosing instead to wander alongside the river before heading back to the Old Town. We spotted this massive piece of street art decorating the end of this rather drab building along the way.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiW9jvv8k3huTYRxF64JZl9U-hVcDB6kPvVvuFwi298nyDJDz3QC2iTIcS1D8_jlPbxK4XsylRKkxOcFvKFg6a1tJsX8Pk5GNGjo4FsR8IHUKoM6qWSG1TMfjAkiUSYAHUxNMbGPdGOS8w/s1600/Krakow+2.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiW9jvv8k3huTYRxF64JZl9U-hVcDB6kPvVvuFwi298nyDJDz3QC2iTIcS1D8_jlPbxK4XsylRKkxOcFvKFg6a1tJsX8Pk5GNGjo4FsR8IHUKoM6qWSG1TMfjAkiUSYAHUxNMbGPdGOS8w/s640/Krakow+2.JPG" width="446" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Above: the mirrored ceiling at the main square of the CRICOTEKA building in Krakow led to some interesting images and distorted reflection shots. I particularly liked how the newer building incorporated the old and the interplay between both.</td></tr>
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<b>Hungary</b><br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjZOh8mLzOPbMb77-u_t2VA5ExP567PD_ibL-DnP0lupZQV2YI-Nb-sG5oxZs5AJ82Nk-l-kihsaV5GIOrL5tAipL2fZpiuNMciH7RHdttTpEgpSeLLanjyD7FdnSUjbQOAmpFUQnyLV0I/s1600/Budapest+2.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjZOh8mLzOPbMb77-u_t2VA5ExP567PD_ibL-DnP0lupZQV2YI-Nb-sG5oxZs5AJ82Nk-l-kihsaV5GIOrL5tAipL2fZpiuNMciH7RHdttTpEgpSeLLanjyD7FdnSUjbQOAmpFUQnyLV0I/s640/Budapest+2.JPG" width="426" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Above: Matthias Church in the Castle District of Buda. The roof is made up of ceramic tiles and looks really beautiful. Whilst we were strolling around this most touristy part of Budapest, the clouds rolled in and thunder began to rumble in the distance. The storm gradually got closer and closer until it was right overhead and bolts of lightning flashed across the sky. It rained, fat and heavy drops, and we sheltered under a tree until the worst past over. The tourists scurried to shelter and for a short while, one of the busiest parts of the city was almost deserted.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgcFF1BuFD9zyrfvfBzL7-Ozkrk2TDv3tEsgEr_qXQa9eGS13FebpiLHKKkg8c6AlJ9a6yOz1k5L90e5JL1aUPTTX7IzWIiTZMMThtfhJECoCNu0cYdfWalknz8A1ToHUKpPqSECdwxxc0/s1600/Budapest+3.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgcFF1BuFD9zyrfvfBzL7-Ozkrk2TDv3tEsgEr_qXQa9eGS13FebpiLHKKkg8c6AlJ9a6yOz1k5L90e5JL1aUPTTX7IzWIiTZMMThtfhJECoCNu0cYdfWalknz8A1ToHUKpPqSECdwxxc0/s640/Budapest+3.JPG" width="484" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Above: just before the storm hit, the air was soupy and so close and moist that my clothes stuck to me. We walked along quiet streets and took photos of the colourful houses.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjqafzQO83z8nBjguLwFVI0wy6l6CwLgXPnCP9nkqsQAW3dcYQsv00CwfR6x6kXNwMeEMz5kAT0RXLGuBjARE1Qu_FoN1rCWH2FHxdNxEhfKqSypChKNW1SgwR5Vj76cygQJx0trhWLswg/s1600/Budapest.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="430" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjqafzQO83z8nBjguLwFVI0wy6l6CwLgXPnCP9nkqsQAW3dcYQsv00CwfR6x6kXNwMeEMz5kAT0RXLGuBjARE1Qu_FoN1rCWH2FHxdNxEhfKqSypChKNW1SgwR5Vj76cygQJx0trhWLswg/s640/Budapest.JPG" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Above: Budapest's beautiful Gothic style Parliament building as seen from Buda's Castle District. We tried to visit but unfortunately chose the wrong day when no tours were running! I'd love to go and do a tour next time I go. Budapest was one of my favourite cities that we visited, although it only grew on me slowly and it took all of my time there to convince me that it was a beautiful city with a fascinating history and culture and that it would be worth coming back to explore it further in the future.</td></tr>
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<b>Czech Republic</b><br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhxl7-CWzQxzYde6uZKdpP7yy9jSU3QU815NzvZRnQE-j0hJ_d0J9PaRaqRlQvJCkcJwj8JHM4aWX4UYC5VTcrNyhQvwigBfsFwp4pqZGwIiYnh2gy0efLJQ2Lc-NyQmJIdnirm8F2rz74/s1600/Prague+2.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="606" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhxl7-CWzQxzYde6uZKdpP7yy9jSU3QU815NzvZRnQE-j0hJ_d0J9PaRaqRlQvJCkcJwj8JHM4aWX4UYC5VTcrNyhQvwigBfsFwp4pqZGwIiYnh2gy0efLJQ2Lc-NyQmJIdnirm8F2rz74/s640/Prague+2.JPG" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Above: Gothic Prague Castle. This was the first afternoon that P and I spent some time apart voluntarily and I wandered through sun-drenched parks and enjoyed getting my bearings in Prague. This castle dominates the skyline on the hill above the city, and it was great to walk the circumference of it and enjoy it from every angle.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjbQhgXNMAEb4lqX_sokjn8hl4bUTIVpVahrj4CbepL5a5YCgwdKH9BL2dhVPPllRHoTTgchd55BBsH8dHcrldKjd_1lFeRTytNOF1Y_J8WWVqJBSP1zDSDTVHMIvvsbGxqvxcnp8wS55I/s1600/Prague.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="314" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjbQhgXNMAEb4lqX_sokjn8hl4bUTIVpVahrj4CbepL5a5YCgwdKH9BL2dhVPPllRHoTTgchd55BBsH8dHcrldKjd_1lFeRTytNOF1Y_J8WWVqJBSP1zDSDTVHMIvvsbGxqvxcnp8wS55I/s640/Prague.JPG" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Above: like Warsaw, Prague's central square has heaps of beautiful colourful buildings all around it. The architecture is slightly more whimsy and less practical, the colours more pastel. There is more ornament. All of it adding to the atmosphere on the square, where tourists mill around eating expensive food, waiting for the famous astronomical clock to chime on the hour and taking countless photos.</td></tr>
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<b>Germany</b><br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEglHf42jXkWrvmZi3VmTzWWzp6ogZS83n48nnR7wYkPWsz0R5Sn__NDwvAWirIKz53bZSrAS4REHA5ZdQj5GpGZc_s4zzRVZZUQLrWQmsRRmlf6ARFqWhpMzt5m4_JrkkGSzS_oZc_b9RU/s1600/Munich+2.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="566" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEglHf42jXkWrvmZi3VmTzWWzp6ogZS83n48nnR7wYkPWsz0R5Sn__NDwvAWirIKz53bZSrAS4REHA5ZdQj5GpGZc_s4zzRVZZUQLrWQmsRRmlf6ARFqWhpMzt5m4_JrkkGSzS_oZc_b9RU/s640/Munich+2.JPG" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Above: we climbed Peters Tower to see Munich from above. Sadly it wasn't the best of days - we could barely make out the Bavarian Alps in the distance due to low cloud - but the city itself shone due to the rain. I really loved the buildings and particularly like this photo... Not strictly of architecture but I like the geometric shapes of the umbrellas and the bright blocky colours.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiB4rzvw_2bSDqFrsR1gpxq_RJYXXd3S8u3_U6oIC_Zhilv3cjBz8Qo4J8OkhDpdekl4L9632ogWTl8lFtvJGow47l7ZyyxNi8atdeo1R3bN-4er_xnHvubLCus0l9HaFbxJCRMnPAZR_0/s1600/Munich.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="426" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiB4rzvw_2bSDqFrsR1gpxq_RJYXXd3S8u3_U6oIC_Zhilv3cjBz8Qo4J8OkhDpdekl4L9632ogWTl8lFtvJGow47l7ZyyxNi8atdeo1R3bN-4er_xnHvubLCus0l9HaFbxJCRMnPAZR_0/s640/Munich.JPG" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Above: the interior of a mall that we walked through whilst on our walking tour of Munich. I loved the modern feel with the glass and the endless reflections, all of which was softened by the hanging plants. We lingered behind the group, taking photos, and then had to hurry to catch up so that we didn't lose them.</td></tr>
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<b>And a few gratuitous shutter shots...</b><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiMGu_NfmvVKcs91WVJ2ibPTGyiKQ4XJcL1BPUSmFCUGMUu7Nye4OoGIPWkkDWR1XPaMIdMhSRhJgOC440jB9vp-ZLvfAdu-RdVxzkCSPf7yir0RIHTOZ4ayvNKAA4eVZeUMZfytz3dQTc/s1600/Shutters+7.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiMGu_NfmvVKcs91WVJ2ibPTGyiKQ4XJcL1BPUSmFCUGMUu7Nye4OoGIPWkkDWR1XPaMIdMhSRhJgOC440jB9vp-ZLvfAdu-RdVxzkCSPf7yir0RIHTOZ4ayvNKAA4eVZeUMZfytz3dQTc/s640/Shutters+7.JPG" width="444" /></a></div>
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*<i>I should note that I do still love taking landscape photos. I just felt like they were getting a little stale and after taking so many in New Zealand, it felt good to be taking photos of something other than mountains, lakes and rivers. Not that there's anything wrong with those...</i><br />
<i><br /></i> <i>**I have included photos from countries where we stayed for at least one night. That means that there are no photos from Belarus (we only spent one day there) or France (we spent six hours in Paris).</i>How The Mind Wanders...http://www.blogger.com/profile/10774729802537761792noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-88429550602020203.post-47853533859139908412016-07-20T13:19:00.001-07:002016-07-20T13:20:41.917-07:00The Long Journey Home: All The Trains<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjS1DzRtx9gIxkCSBfScZBsMGFB74I05GJ9_k8jujb_VxVTZtD8MHJW7n0hM3fPFyDnBn4WuPk47DLOuHus9izwcKPpLscXROPVnohx90_VmIYNmrCb5UqiEWbpaqcHjQSED1QO2WxfR9I/s1600/IMAG2747.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="260" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjS1DzRtx9gIxkCSBfScZBsMGFB74I05GJ9_k8jujb_VxVTZtD8MHJW7n0hM3fPFyDnBn4WuPk47DLOuHus9izwcKPpLscXROPVnohx90_VmIYNmrCb5UqiEWbpaqcHjQSED1QO2WxfR9I/s640/IMAG2747.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Above: the train on the China-Mongolia border. </td></tr>
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<b>'Faster than fairies, faster than witches, bridges and houses, hedges and ditches...' - an excerpt from Robert Lewis Stevenson's poem 'From a Railway Carriage'.</b><br />
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These days, I prefer to share stories about my travels and life, rather than the practicalities of how I did it. I write better when I am telling a story than when I am explaining how I did it. Having completed our Long Journey Home, however, I do feel the need to spend a little bit of time talking about some of the practicalities of the trip, just so that anyone out there who might be considering undertaking this massive adventure themselves has some sort of resource to turn back to and bear in mind when they're planning their trip. <br />
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In this post, I will be talking about the trains that we took from China all the way back to London. Our aim - to take trains all the way home - was unfortunately scuppered by some unforeseeable circumstances in Munich, but I'll get to that later on.<br />
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<b>The Trans-Siberian Railway</b><br />
The route we took was not strictly the Trans-Siberian. We actually took the Trans-Mongolian route, which branches off the Moscow-Vladivostok route near Irkutsk and travels south, through Mongolia and ultimately to Beijing. <br />
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This section of the journey covers an impressive 9,001km (so precise) from Beijing to Moscow. It crosses five time zones and some of the most remote and bleak landscapes in the world, from the Mongolian steppe and Gobi desert to the Siberian forests. You have to cross two borders (China-Mongolia and Mongolia-Russia) and unless the journey is broken down into sections, you can spend a week traversing the continent on the train without stopping. Even breaking the journey down can mean spending large amounts of time on the train - our longest period of non-stop time on board was a wearying 68 hours from Krasnoyarsk to Moscow.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhUmODvLFjHG7XAZdxeMKNlvezUb4BEZc3HNY5JhT9POkF_A2KXAvAguxKAkHR41OgxvJdC-ZKfVsN4nHIyIcBP6Gc4w3TkQWKY_aV17N9A9d28z6MvCm8HZS2W2AIVJpHvz7PRC3KaDxY/s1600/13179198_10153777662979563_2940075864007822289_n+%25282%2529.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhUmODvLFjHG7XAZdxeMKNlvezUb4BEZc3HNY5JhT9POkF_A2KXAvAguxKAkHR41OgxvJdC-ZKfVsN4nHIyIcBP6Gc4w3TkQWKY_aV17N9A9d28z6MvCm8HZS2W2AIVJpHvz7PRC3KaDxY/s640/13179198_10153777662979563_2940075864007822289_n+%25282%2529.jpg" width="360" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Above: train beers and a book to read on the China-Mongolia border. The beers cost 30p each and whiled away the five hour wait whilst our passports were stamped and the wheels were changed on the trains to fit the narrower gauge railway that runs through Mongolia and Russia.</td></tr>
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We booked all of our trains for this leg of the journey through <u><a href="http://www.realrussia.co.uk/" target="_blank">Real Russia</a></u>. We found their website extremely easy to use and booking our own trip, rather than one of their pre-arranged tours, brought the cost of tickets down to just £480 each. This was less than half the price that a tour would have cost, and we had the freedom to make our own decisions about where we stopped and for how long. I would highly recommend using Real Russia's ticket booking tool, <u><a href="http://realrussia.co.uk/Trains" target="_blank">found here</a></u>, when organising your own Trans-Siberian experience. <br />
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Real Russia issues tickets for each leg of the journey either as e-tickets or as tickets that you must go and print out yourselves to present when boarding the train. The e-tickets are obviously the most useful and I hope that in future, Real Russia move towards using these all the time. The tickets we had to print out were rather more annoying because most of our accommodation did not have printers and therefore, we wasted several hours during our trip just looking for libraries or places where we could print our tickets. It's worth noting that everywhere we did print didn't charge us a fee and were extremely friendly and helpful once we had made our request (using Google Translate). However, if I were to do this trip again, I'd definitely try to be more organised next time and print beforehand. <br />
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On arriving at the train, you must present the ticket and your passport to the guard at the door of your carriage. Your name (booking all correct) should be on a list that they carry and they generally check your passport before letting you board. After that, you're away! <br />
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<i>NB: Once you have booked your tickets and have an itinerary for your trip, you can start organising your visas for all three countries. Unfortunately, I didn't get my visas in the UK, but if you're a British citizen planning this trip in New Zealand, <u><a href="http://howthemind-wanders.blogspot.co.uk/2016/03/the-long-journey-home-visa-applications.html" target="_blank">check out my post about obtaining the necessary visas here</a></u>. For information on how to obtain visas in the UK, check out these links instead: <u><a href="http://www.chinese-embassy.org.uk/eng/visa/" target="_blank">China</a>; <a href="http://mongolia.embassyhomepage.com/" target="_blank">Mongolia</a>; <a href="http://www.rusemb.org.uk/" target="_blank">Russia</a>.</u></i><br />
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<b>Moscow to St. Petersburg to Minsk</b><br />
Since we had had such a good experience with Real Russia when booking our Trans-Siberian tickets, we booked the train ticket from Moscow to St. Petersburg and from St. Petersburg to Minsk with Real Russia too. All you need to do is use their ticket booking tool and enter in the cities you wish to travel between and the time and date you wish to travel. It couldn't be easier!<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhsw-gi7D5rybp9iEC_5iMsKIYzQwpHQFuGnDs9ZPjmNAOCIYumKJ3gdDzV_xxyrQWOI9V_7C3-d-Y5dTtjbjseXOFivjMq2ZdI56-XgfY36cfpyP0ko6pT4X6rvVUtFI4CDmvJXkDp1G4/s1600/IMG_6086+%25282%2529.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="312" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhsw-gi7D5rybp9iEC_5iMsKIYzQwpHQFuGnDs9ZPjmNAOCIYumKJ3gdDzV_xxyrQWOI9V_7C3-d-Y5dTtjbjseXOFivjMq2ZdI56-XgfY36cfpyP0ko6pT4X6rvVUtFI4CDmvJXkDp1G4/s640/IMG_6086+%25282%2529.JPG" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Above: the train passing through Mongolian steppe on our way to Ulaan Baatar.</td></tr>
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Obviously, because Real Russia are acting as agents, the tickets are more expensive than if you buy them locally, but it's a hell of a lot easier than trying to communicate with Russians at the station - in our experience, most Russians spoke little, if any, English and we were far from fluent in Russian ourselves!<br />
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The process with the tickets was identical to that on the Trans-Siberian - Real Russia issue you with the ticket via email and you must print it off to present it when boarding the train, along with your passport. <br />
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The journey from Moscow to St. Petersburg took approximately six hours and we paid the same amount for a ticket that included a meal as a ticket that didn't include a meal (work that one out!). The train from St. Petersburg to Minsk is an overnight train and there are no border crossings, so you can get a good night's sleep in! <br />
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<i>NB: Bear in mind that <u><a href="http://mfa.gov.by/en/visa/" target="_blank">you need a transit visa to pass through Belarus</a></u> from Russia to Poland. This cost </i><span style="font-family: inherit;"><i>us €40 each and we obtained ours in Moscow. It is a bit of a painstaking process - you need evidence of both inbound and outbound train journeys, a completed application form and a passport sized photo (we had fun trying to find a place for P to get his photo taken!). The embassy is a bit disorganised in Moscow too so you may need to exercise some patience! </i></span><i>The visa, once obtained, allows you two days to pass through the country (ours were the 30th and 31st of May) and you can do what we did - hop off the train from St. Petersburg in Minsk early in the morning and depart Minsk late the same evening for your next destination.</i><br />
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<b>Minsk to Warsaw to Krakow</b><br />
After A LOT of searching (and some input from the wonderful folks over at the <u><a href="http://www.lonelyplanet.com/thorntree" target="_blank">Thorntree Forum</a></u>), I finally found a website that would allow me to book train tickets from Minsk to Warsaw. For some reason, we had hell and all trouble with every other website we tried, but <u><a href="http://pass.rzd.ru/main-pass/public/en" target="_blank">I recommend using this one for rail bookings</a></u>. To book the Warsaw to Krakow tickets, we used <u><a href="http://www.intercity.pl/en/" target="_blank">the PKP Intercity website</a></u>. <br />
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For both these trains, I just downloaded the tickets onto my phone and showed my phone to the guard before we boarded. It was a lot easier than trying to find places to print the tickets and as long as they can still scan the barcodes if necessary, it shouldn't be a problem to do the same. <br />
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The train from Minsk to Warsaw was a night train and included a border crossing where we got woken up on several occasions by people checking passports, searching our compartment and so on. I'd like to note that this was also the nicest train that we travelled on, with the newest facilities and cleanest carriages. There was even a shower! Luxury. The train from Warsaw to Krakow was a day train that took approximately six hours. <br />
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<b>Krakow to Munich (via Budapest & Prague)</b><br />
In Krakow, we picked up our Interrail passes. P found these whilst we were researching the European leg of our journey in Russia - <u><a href="http://www.interrail.eu/interrail-passes/global-pass" target="_blank">we opted for the 5 journeys in 15 days Global pass</a></u> as we would only be on the continent for two weeks. The 5 journey option let us travel from Krakow to Budapest, Budapest to Prague and Prague to Munich (then theoretically from Munich to Paris, but I'll come to that shortly...). My pass cost me €264 and cost P just €200 as he is only 25 and still falls into the 'youth' category. <br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj4_rneJME2gK7aTDojl5Wn8fQTlOfnjDB81zcG9JRAkTvC0p3_xAvkqDGyPmXHKFkcU5CMdP3AxOyL0CS992GUT7JIfXQhPf4ZSwDfjrM2L7-KgZ_dpZu0R-QGhbnH9tjpolW1b9D8ndc/s1600/IMG_6042+%25282%2529.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="374" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj4_rneJME2gK7aTDojl5Wn8fQTlOfnjDB81zcG9JRAkTvC0p3_xAvkqDGyPmXHKFkcU5CMdP3AxOyL0CS992GUT7JIfXQhPf4ZSwDfjrM2L7-KgZ_dpZu0R-QGhbnH9tjpolW1b9D8ndc/s640/IMG_6042+%25282%2529.JPG" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Above: inside a typical 4-berth sleeping compartment. We travelled second class on most, if not all, of our trains and found the beds to be comfortable and the space just enough so that you don't end up going stir crazy! We usually got a top and a bottom bunk - P kindly normally took the top bunk.</td></tr>
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I remain unconvinced at the usefulness of these passes. We spent a bit of time doing some price comparisons and thought that buying these passes would turn out to be the cheapest option for us. Before you buy a pass, please bear in mind that you still need to reserve your seat or bed on each train prior to travelling, and at the very least that costs €5-10 per person. So on top of the cost of the pass, depending on how long and where you are travelling, you could rack up many more euros just reserving seats and beds as you go.<br />
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I also had issues with the way the pass itself worked - you are supposed to fill it out yourself with the date and time that you travel, which is easy enough. However, I felt that several of the guards on the trains we travelled on didn't really understand the passes themselves. We were fortunate that we hadn't planned on using all five of our journeys because one guard royally screwed our passes up by adding an extra trip onto the passes that we hadn't actually taken, just because we travelled overnight and he didn't fully understand the rules. Finally, if you are thinking of using your pass in France, be aware that the cost of reserving seats on these trains is approximately €30. That's quite a lot of money if you're on a tight budget as we were! <br />
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All in all, I felt that these passes do have their uses, but there are many shortcomings that need to be addressed by Interrail. Either that, or the instructions and rules of the passes need to be made clearer, not only to the traveller using the pass but also to the guards and conductors on the trains who stamp them and let you travel.<br />
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<b>Munich to Paris</b><br />
Unfortunately, in another major shortcoming, our Interrail passes wouldn't allow us to travel on certain trains through France. This was explained to us by a rather apologetic ticket officer at Munich train station who then informed us that all the trains we could have used with our pass were fully booked already and there were no trains for the date that we needed to travel.<br />
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With no trains available, we had to resort to booking a 19 hour <u><a href="http://www.megabus.com/" target="_blank">Megabus</a></u> from Munich to Paris. This cost us £30 each and irritated us immensely, as we had paid quite a lot for the Interrail passes only for them to be rendered useless in France because the trains that were available couldn't be booked with them. <br />
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The bus wasn't comfortable for sleeping overnight, but it did have free, good WiFi and plug sockets to charge electronics and it stopped long enough in Cologne for us to nip off and grab a McDonalds for tea, so it wasn't all bad. Despite running late after heavy traffic in Frankfurt, it made good time and we eventually arrived in Paris early.<br />
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhJ7dHu6ZowdgxQpHX2CMn-UCfx5JuCVpG58LO16uQA2qvSWhtVnZtN_G_WPunSZST0M4DJyG3-humOowLdTvw6NnBzRifrV7qQYQk2e1UKkN4VPAcvPU7qE2dAIylRrrD872MV1Db6MNY/s1600/IMG_6018+%25282%2529.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="426" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhJ7dHu6ZowdgxQpHX2CMn-UCfx5JuCVpG58LO16uQA2qvSWhtVnZtN_G_WPunSZST0M4DJyG3-humOowLdTvw6NnBzRifrV7qQYQk2e1UKkN4VPAcvPU7qE2dAIylRrrD872MV1Db6MNY/s640/IMG_6018+%25282%2529.JPG" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Above: a view from the train as we passed through China. In case you're wondering why these photos are all China / Mongolia heavy, the reason is this: whilst I do love trains and train travel, after using them for so many weeks you can get weary of them (as to be expected). Hence, early excitement in China (our first train etc) and then it gradually petered out as time went by... So apologies for that!</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<b>Paris to London</b><br />
We booked our <u><a href="http://www.eurostar.com/" target="_blank">Eurostar</a></u> train from Paris to London six months in advance. In fact, it was the first train we actually booked and it cost us £40 each.<br />
<br />
Booking so far in advance came with its advantages (the tickets were cheap) and disadvantages. It meant we couldn't be flexible about the date and time that we travelled back to London and ultimately meant that we had no option but to catch that bus to Paris, otherwise we would have missed the Eurostar back to the UK. If we had booked our train later on, we may have booked a later travel time, which could have led to a train being available from Munich to Paris. But this is all maybes and ifs and perhaps - it ended up being what it was and there's nothing we can do to change that now!<br />
<br />
The Eurostar was comfortable, the train wasn't busy and the journey went by remarkably quickly once we had bought our last train beers from the bar car. Border control on the French side was also easy and we passed through without problems. If you arrive in Paris from elsewhere and have a few spare hours to explore the French capital before boarding your train back to the UK, I'd recommend using their luggage storage facilities and heading out into the city. We paid €10 between two of us for 24 hours of storage and could fit our two big backpacks and two smaller rucksacks into one locker with ease.<br />
<br />
<i>I have not been paid by any of these companies to endorse them - these are just my honest opinions and insights into using Real Russia, Interrail, Eurostar and Megabus, as well as the other companies we booked trains through. If you'd like more in-depth information on catching trains throughout Asia and Europe, <u><a href="http://www.seat61.com/" target="_blank">check out The Man in Seat 61</a></u>. </i><br />
<i><br /></i>
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjCfNlcc9Jqa_hSh9wNZ23dDFcF_fjqZi_XSoIPCVyRoI2GNBoq12qMlxB1GEwAzthZWjhENfqBXNPUZ3dHC9EI9sldIh-R31nXtBWAFW9Q5j6a1SAd0OT440HxDGM9lNrBQ0DGxG_RfZ4/s1600/IMAG3214.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjCfNlcc9Jqa_hSh9wNZ23dDFcF_fjqZi_XSoIPCVyRoI2GNBoq12qMlxB1GEwAzthZWjhENfqBXNPUZ3dHC9EI9sldIh-R31nXtBWAFW9Q5j6a1SAd0OT440HxDGM9lNrBQ0DGxG_RfZ4/s640/IMAG3214.jpg" width="444" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Above: found this cheeky minx hiding in the toilet on the Eurostar train back to London. Wink wink!!</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<i><br /></i>How The Mind Wanders...http://www.blogger.com/profile/10774729802537761792noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-88429550602020203.post-85189132217058736422016-07-14T14:44:00.000-07:002016-07-14T14:45:23.120-07:00When Life Is Unexpected<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgBSpE3BDjLVTxu5vGtlmx5LkCKe5FhIby6H5aEHAfMlvH3lTN0hNwS54LDwRsAfSWYeJw4lLY8mJBUeIxQOBxTuKsVMSM_FhS-bpInYl_NN2TLM8hVqjp9_coHun2j7_FfQ2dYC19Uuhw/s1600/IMG_9048.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="264" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgBSpE3BDjLVTxu5vGtlmx5LkCKe5FhIby6H5aEHAfMlvH3lTN0hNwS54LDwRsAfSWYeJw4lLY8mJBUeIxQOBxTuKsVMSM_FhS-bpInYl_NN2TLM8hVqjp9_coHun2j7_FfQ2dYC19Uuhw/s640/IMG_9048.JPG" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Above: home long enough to walk Sybil a few times before leaving again... Facing off with a sheep!</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<b><br /></b>
<b>'I'm not a very fast-paced person.' - Patrick Fugit.</b><br />
<br />
Or, at least, I thought I wasn't!!<br />
<br />
When I got home from our Long Journey Home on the 17th June, I kind of thought I'd have a month or so to catch my breath before plunging into the next bit of whatever life threw my way. Despite being stone broke, the comfort of home, of being with my parents, the peace, the same bed every night, food on tap... It was so welcome (if occasionally a little dull sounding) after three months of non-stop movement and travel. <br />
<br />
Don't get me wrong. I LOVE travel and already can't wait for my next trip. But there's nothing like sleeping in your own bed. But I digress.<br />
<a name='more'></a><br />
I had expectations for that quiet month at home. I'd write every day, working on posts for this blog so that when I did eventually get a job, I'd be able to just come home, exhausted, and upload a post without any hassle. It'd mean I didn't have to worry about content for a bit, and you guys would still have stories to read. <br />
<br />
I also wanted to edit a lot of photos. Whilst I love the end result editing gives, I am not a huge fan of the process. It's fiddly and I'm still learning, so I have to concentrate and focus on my gut instinct and what it's telling me about a photo. But the photos after editing are always worth it, and I love sharing them.<br />
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEicgmw2_Mr2YhwbIpENGQYXx5NYVzDRdaccRKRwmtwHSTbIlCvoFgwpti2SlI92aZB7ICIANIQRfpI-B5gFBuPeTjgbY5qMOPJ6bFMbkoVaJrAfg9GqxvWb_Avaj9jbcsHZsVuG5zr0fOU/s1600/IMG_9035+%25282%2529.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="468" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEicgmw2_Mr2YhwbIpENGQYXx5NYVzDRdaccRKRwmtwHSTbIlCvoFgwpti2SlI92aZB7ICIANIQRfpI-B5gFBuPeTjgbY5qMOPJ6bFMbkoVaJrAfg9GqxvWb_Avaj9jbcsHZsVuG5zr0fOU/s640/IMG_9035+%25282%2529.JPG" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Above: home long enough to take some pretty pictures of flowers...</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
I was going to look for a job in London. I was going to spend some time helping out my parents with some jobs around the house. I wanted to do some cooking, maybe bake some cheese scones. You know, homely, comforting things. I didn't want to party hard or go out or spend money that I didn't have. I just wanted a bit of time to decompress.<br />
<br />
Life had other plans though. I applied to ten recruitment agencies and two got back to me almost instantly. Within hours, I had two interviews set up for the following Tuesday. That's just one and a half weeks after I stepped off the Eurostar in London and set foot back on British soil. It was a lot quicker than I anticipated, but off I went, back to London for the interviews.<br />
<br />
By the end of that day, I had a job. A month long contract starting the following Monday. So, less than three weeks after coming home, I'd be starting a new job. It certainly wasn't what I'd been expecting. It was a whirlwind! <br />
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhq8qBPedTN7AVk5LQdrWFIeZruPKKRSYDyr6p9kQ-72314KdMNv_b65utpL_Ot1bvX032i9Jw3kJAR6YZWbfcIL9aWA6gk_oTDPgby8m7teJBbJZ_EmwtJgbud0a93r-jiJwbAk7CFHY0/s1600/IMG_9141+%25282%2529.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="312" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhq8qBPedTN7AVk5LQdrWFIeZruPKKRSYDyr6p9kQ-72314KdMNv_b65utpL_Ot1bvX032i9Jw3kJAR6YZWbfcIL9aWA6gk_oTDPgby8m7teJBbJZ_EmwtJgbud0a93r-jiJwbAk7CFHY0/s640/IMG_9141+%25282%2529.JPG" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Above: the London skyline at sunset. It has a certain beauty!</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
So the blog posts I'd planned to so carefully line up to post once I got a job are not written. The photos I wanted to edit are still in their original format. I managed to do some jobs for my parents, but hardly any. I fitted a bit of cooking in (check out that cheesecake that I made!) but not as much as I'd hoped. The only thing I really managed to do successfully was actually get a job! Turns out I'm okay on that front... <br />
<br />
So, what now? <br />
<br />
Well, I'm here, in London. I have just spent my first week at my new job and it has been good. It's busy and the commute is a bit of a bitch (mainly because it takes like, an hour each way, stupid trains) and I don't usually get home before 7pm each evening, but it's great apart from that. I like London, I'm really enjoying catching up with friends and I'm lucky that two of my closest friends, T, and her husband O, have put me up in their lovely home in Honor Oak Park for the time being. It's lovely to feel welcomed and see a new area of London that I've not experienced before. <br />
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgMLE8loxqtAd3C3uDamd39dnoiPXVTPTHGpZIpsu_7iPMWx0LCA97QJO_x60sc_uLxhDJHR69UFcEVsW0IM2LTvbcN867A-UB8qeF7k9TIzAaFrv98D2xna8EkCXG_2DnUBSCd7MJI9ms/s1600/IMG_20160704_225353.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgMLE8loxqtAd3C3uDamd39dnoiPXVTPTHGpZIpsu_7iPMWx0LCA97QJO_x60sc_uLxhDJHR69UFcEVsW0IM2LTvbcN867A-UB8qeF7k9TIzAaFrv98D2xna8EkCXG_2DnUBSCd7MJI9ms/s640/IMG_20160704_225353.jpg" width="510" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Above: the Switch House at the Tate Modern - right next door to where I work (my building was directly behind me when I took this photo).</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
And for the future? London will be my home for the foreseeable future. I like the buzz and the drama of life here. I like that London is located so conveniently that I can hop on a train over to the continent, or grab a cheap flight somewhere, or simply step out my front door and go explore. It's such an international city I could eat Thai food one night, Lebanese the next and pizza the next, travelling from continent to country without ever leaving the UK. I can hear different languages spoken to the street every day. I can go to exhibitions and learn about other cultures without ever leaving the capital. How convenient!<br />
<br />
And for this blog? Well, I still need to find time (when?!) to switch this blog and its contents over to a WordPress platform. I have no idea when that'll be, but I promised changes this year and I want to keep that promise, for myself if for no-one else. Posting wise, you'll see plenty more stories from our Long Journey Home, never fear. I have a list as long as my arm of posts I want to write about our trip. They may come later than I anticipated, but they will come. And now, you'll get posts about my life in London too! And about any trips I may take in and around Europe and the UK (I definitely intend on getting out of the country at least a couple more times before the year is out!).<br />
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjNjewKX_Y9_LD5XHrtTni8SEmpXR_GRQOe9__BMyQy5xUvRDi9-VsKYE7LUQIXiFtOeHob2dD1vcjJphb4hzh_QB756jdoXleAZCLSHiuIVdiFK1J2a7SR-ZHjw_na45cGzNdd8Tk9ZIk/s1600/IMG_20160712_132954.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="636" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjNjewKX_Y9_LD5XHrtTni8SEmpXR_GRQOe9__BMyQy5xUvRDi9-VsKYE7LUQIXiFtOeHob2dD1vcjJphb4hzh_QB756jdoXleAZCLSHiuIVdiFK1J2a7SR-ZHjw_na45cGzNdd8Tk9ZIk/s640/IMG_20160712_132954.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Above: night time phone picture means it isn't the best quality - but I could definitely get used to views like this!!</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
There's plenty to come, but please bear with me whilst I get to grips with my new job and life in London. I am actually exhausted after my first week, and if it's anything to go by, I expect I will be for a while yet until I get used to it! The posts I had intended to put up so soon may be delayed but rest assured they will come. Eventually!!<br />
<br />
<i>NB: Unfortunately, due to the fact I found this job so quickly, I am now unable to attend the TBEX Conference in Stockholm next week. I am beyond gutted, since I really was looking forward to it and I couldn't wait to explore Sweden's capital either, it looks amazing! Luckily, my ticket is transferrable to the conference in Europe next year and I am 100% committed to making 2017 my year to attend the conference. It may actually be for the best - I'm hoping that my blog will be in a better shape and I'll have more of an idea about what I want from it too, meaning that the conference will be more useful to me! I'm already excited to find out where the conference is being held next year, so watch this space!</i><br />
<i><br /></i>
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiZRtaCJhCrBJe5Nacg1EIRFY5DdRxJPaM9u9kyqPE5Lc91VXfSMPuaTh_uVrsReymH9-Ws6WnhAQ3sihNVUqQm9fSUx4uvPy4_teqvcFCqdPCWNwwihADJjgwB0qAVPGzyj6-3zZDMcYY/s1600/IMG_20160713_231028.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="638" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiZRtaCJhCrBJe5Nacg1EIRFY5DdRxJPaM9u9kyqPE5Lc91VXfSMPuaTh_uVrsReymH9-Ws6WnhAQ3sihNVUqQm9fSUx4uvPy4_teqvcFCqdPCWNwwihADJjgwB0qAVPGzyj6-3zZDMcYY/s640/IMG_20160713_231028.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Above: could get used to views like this too!</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<i><br /></i>How The Mind Wanders...http://www.blogger.com/profile/10774729802537761792noreply@blogger.com0London51.388236845270761 -0.1608413457870483446.11717234527076 -10.487989845787048 56.659301345270762 10.166307154212952tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-88429550602020203.post-70137740428999446032016-07-05T15:43:00.000-07:002016-07-08T12:50:58.906-07:00On Wanaka<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhuze3HfNrctVonKy1nSzDptI4LdFZex700eX_CYUd_gwB_uhDxmsn8d_Vdq1NxkL0hgfnB7hFVnUhs9RVz8BF6t7tO-BDLJV4mUjp_O3aPt0Wx8yVQJmSGVsb_KFI1ogyUBsf92WKiCes/s1600/IMG_4060+%25282%2529.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="280" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhuze3HfNrctVonKy1nSzDptI4LdFZex700eX_CYUd_gwB_uhDxmsn8d_Vdq1NxkL0hgfnB7hFVnUhs9RVz8BF6t7tO-BDLJV4mUjp_O3aPt0Wx8yVQJmSGVsb_KFI1ogyUBsf92WKiCes/s640/IMG_4060+%25282%2529.JPG" width="640" /></a></div>
<span style="color: #666666; font-family: inherit;"><b><br /></b></span>
<span style="color: #666666; font-family: inherit;"><b>'You will never be completely at home again, because part of your heart always will be elsewhere...' - Miriam Adeney. </b></span><br />
<br />
<span style="color: #666666; font-family: inherit;">It's about time that I dedicated a whole blog post to the fact that
Wanaka is my favourite place in New Zealand. I have long been meaning to write
this post but for some reason I never got around to it before now. But
finally, here we go!</span><br />
<span style="color: #666666; font-family: inherit;"></span><br />
<a name='more'></a><span style="color: #666666; font-family: inherit;"><br /></span>
<span style="color: #666666; font-family: inherit;">They do say (whoever they are) that some places permeate you more strongly
than others. People will ask you in years to come which places you loved the
most out of all your travels and you'll probably have at least one stand-out -
that one place that, for no real reason and yet for every reason, tugs on your
heartstrings and calls you back.</span><br />
<span style="color: #666666; font-family: inherit;"></span><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhfA9mgXGNumwt6BU3rBf4BD5S5ReJhxeTlF88Zof1Z8QGwy6kSeSz6TPMsd-Ig_8jGSs9IRnursD79N5guLyTHN8ri5vuJ0NN_UF1PH5LjYs1CLFbbu-S3aLWdvLuLF2w0ZHwckmH9Iz4/s1600/IMAG1175.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="360" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhfA9mgXGNumwt6BU3rBf4BD5S5ReJhxeTlF88Zof1Z8QGwy6kSeSz6TPMsd-Ig_8jGSs9IRnursD79N5guLyTHN8ri5vuJ0NN_UF1PH5LjYs1CLFbbu-S3aLWdvLuLF2w0ZHwckmH9Iz4/s640/IMAG1175.jpg" width="640" /></a></div>
<span style="color: #666666; font-family: inherit;"><br /></span>
<span style="color: #666666; font-family: inherit;">It was only on my second visit to Wanaka that I realised how special it was.
I should declare that my first visit was basically a write-off as I was ill and
tired and determined to do nothing more strenuous than watch a movie in my room
and relax before we headed to Queenstown the next day. But the second time I
went, the spell was cast over me. As I walked along the lake front towards the
line of autumnal trees, glowing orange in the late afternoon sunshine, I
felt a sense of calm wash over me.</span><br />
<span style="color: #666666; font-family: inherit;"><br /></span>
<span style="color: #666666; font-family: inherit;">I sat for a while that afternoon on a bench underneath a bowed weeping
willow tree. At that time of year, it draped yellowing leaves down to the
ground, casting shadows that protected me from the harsh sun. I gazed
across the lake towards the mountains beyond, all lightly dusted with the
first snows of the season. They seemed to call to me, urging me to go and
explore. <u><a href="http://howthemind-wanders.blogspot.co.uk/2015/08/the-mountains-call.html" target="_blank">You may remember my love of mountains...</a></u></span><br />
<u><span style="color: #666666;"><br /></span></u>
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjcef41VRC5OG-5tOZZhGgMKclA-HrxVc-uNhcTUXXsih9xI85_VUapWv0QPq1oE-jMQhhrOiJI_IiMN0HnCMq_IYOkj7CrdhTJ8rBV0eSW0ml_zkkKlOGUSb8gBl6U_Enji-zqBSq-KrQ/s1600/IMAG1190.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="638" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjcef41VRC5OG-5tOZZhGgMKclA-HrxVc-uNhcTUXXsih9xI85_VUapWv0QPq1oE-jMQhhrOiJI_IiMN0HnCMq_IYOkj7CrdhTJ8rBV0eSW0ml_zkkKlOGUSb8gBl6U_Enji-zqBSq-KrQ/s640/IMAG1190.jpg" width="640" /></a></div>
<span style="color: #666666; font-family: inherit;"><br /></span>
<span style="color: #666666; font-family: inherit;">The next day, I obeyed the mountains and went deeper in, further in, to
explore the landscapes around Wanaka. I drove for miles along a pot-holed stone
road, rattled to the bones as my car felt every lump and bump. I forded nine
murky streams to get as far in as I could go by car, before leaving it behind
to continue on foot. My path wasn't untrodden, but few feet had touched it
before me that day. Many people were no doubt put off by the fords. I climbed
high into the mountains, taking a narrow, occasionally broken path that snaked
through thick beech forest. It was flanked on one side by a roaring torrent of
icy meltwater. Once or twice, I heard the splintering, crashing sound as a
chunk of ice broke off the glacier I was climbing towards.</span><br />
<span style="color: #666666;"><br /></span>
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEit8iDFiJ0rrHmOPUUaS5wWNg_uMfMe9EYUWzCozhsz5yalkyVeRZhVVk5Pp7v-gEl48jaNvIfthbGwpG4ThTGOy5kca828A5Be_ns6Wtx5m4DqeTYmSnGeBzpkKpIVNlA97JeyMRNcMQI/s1600/SAM_3676.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEit8iDFiJ0rrHmOPUUaS5wWNg_uMfMe9EYUWzCozhsz5yalkyVeRZhVVk5Pp7v-gEl48jaNvIfthbGwpG4ThTGOy5kca828A5Be_ns6Wtx5m4DqeTYmSnGeBzpkKpIVNlA97JeyMRNcMQI/s640/SAM_3676.JPG" width="640" /></a></div>
<span style="color: #666666; font-family: inherit;"><br /></span>
<span style="color: #666666; font-family: inherit;">I both revelled in and shuddered at my solitude. I was excited and scared by
my daring that day, and finally, awestruck by the glacier that opened out
before me as I finished my climb. Blue on white. Pure, fresh snow. It clung
precariously to the mountain side as it continued its slow, ponderous path
downhill. A waterfall smashed down one sheer cliff before the water was blown
away on the breeze - the fall too far for any of those droplets to ever
reach the valley floor.</span><br />
<span style="color: #666666; font-family: inherit;"><br /></span>
<span style="color: #666666; font-family: inherit;">The next day, I flew in a two-seater aeroplane over the very same glacier
and marvelled at it from above. The clouds rolled back briefly to allow me
glimpse of the virgin snow and ice, untouched by human hand. Our plane jolted
and dropped in an air pocket and my pilot advised that we turn back before the
weather rolled in properly. Below us, the river ran like threads of silver
along the valley floor, many channels woven together, apart, now narrow, now
wide, until it reached Lake Wanaka and fanned out, discharging impossibly blue
water into the shadowed depths.</span><br />
<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg-eCEyM_a6RbPyXLlXHZARgc8IJLVuEKGo_6J86Pkjn-d0IarRKSIOP7afR3e8Zb_7BNf6S5b6dBhXGLeHMXL7GD5r9Bn9br8xcAa-kXDnUuX41G4iA1fZzZBqWzhAkrdq2AgUmWPK7KM/s1600/SAM_3768+%25282%2529.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg-eCEyM_a6RbPyXLlXHZARgc8IJLVuEKGo_6J86Pkjn-d0IarRKSIOP7afR3e8Zb_7BNf6S5b6dBhXGLeHMXL7GD5r9Bn9br8xcAa-kXDnUuX41G4iA1fZzZBqWzhAkrdq2AgUmWPK7KM/s640/SAM_3768+%25282%2529.JPG" width="640" /></a></div>
<span style="color: #666666; font-family: inherit;"><br /></span>
<span style="color: #666666; font-family: inherit;">I spent three days in near solitude staying in an expensive chalet. I
revelled in my own space, working on this blog, drinking plenty of wine,
cooking in my own little kitchen, sleeping sprawled across a king-size double
bed, sitting in front of a roaring log fire each evening that warmed the room
so effectively I'd soon be sweating. I barely spoke to anyone save the odd
comment with the owner if I happened to see him. As I packed to leave on the
final morning, an overwhelming sense of sadness washed over me. I didn't want
to leave. When I drove out of Wanaka an hour later, tears beaded my eyelashes
before trickling freely down my cheeks. I wiped them away fiercely and told
myself I would be back.</span><br />
<span style="color: #666666; font-family: inherit;"><br /></span>
<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhAbxvwoKgyjyt0NvyEHqtQw8oU-y2FeosgoCKCpflU0cOpkGMkfiKw4KAyva0OmxcFA56fY25433AeJ7hTAb_bUQU00fLq4v-7RMEL1kD7uXRuZ0-ZvFVUKhCIz3a4e6mYtyKjUapCyeM/s1600/SAM_3652.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="302" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhAbxvwoKgyjyt0NvyEHqtQw8oU-y2FeosgoCKCpflU0cOpkGMkfiKw4KAyva0OmxcFA56fY25433AeJ7hTAb_bUQU00fLq4v-7RMEL1kD7uXRuZ0-ZvFVUKhCIz3a4e6mYtyKjUapCyeM/s640/SAM_3652.JPG" width="640" /></a></div>
<span style="color: #666666; font-family: inherit;"><br /></span>
<span style="color: #666666; font-family: inherit;">Eleven months later, I rolled into Wanaka in a little red car and
pulled into one of the lakefront carparks. From the driver’s seat, I could
see the willow I had sat under all those months before, the leaves clinging to
the last of their green before succumbing to yellow. The anxiety that had been
plaguing me for the past three or four days subsided slightly.</span><br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEik_UjPZwONs8t478TQPD-chZkP0stTmGod8HEBb553GX65DnYITvEXnbK_xjEIlE6ZQFtsURsbZCfyH-1JQvFDUAmVYQQTb7gNEwKaNUFPhoNzI7wpDftJYnzSZxk-zxOzh3siEE8nmhI/s1600/IMG_3862.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="426" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEik_UjPZwONs8t478TQPD-chZkP0stTmGod8HEBb553GX65DnYITvEXnbK_xjEIlE6ZQFtsURsbZCfyH-1JQvFDUAmVYQQTb7gNEwKaNUFPhoNzI7wpDftJYnzSZxk-zxOzh3siEE8nmhI/s640/IMG_3862.JPG" width="640" /></a></div>
<span style="color: #666666; font-family: inherit;"><br /></span>
<span style="color: #666666; font-family: inherit;">An hour later, puffing and blowing and clutching a stitch in my side, I
crested the top of Mt Iron and stopped to catch my breath and gaze back at the
scene spread out below me. Both Lake Wanaka and Lake Hawea glittered in the
afternoon sunshine and beyond, the mountains rose hazily in the distance.
Wanaka lay like a toy town at my feet, each individual metal roof shining.
I stood for a long time, admiring the view, feeling my whole body relax as I
slowly caught up with the fact that I was back in one of my favourite places in
the world. My anxiety had melted away as I'd climbed, each step taking me
higher and apparently further away from the concerns that had been hounding me.
A fragile glow of unexpected optimism settled on me. I strolled back down
swinging my arms and greeting climbers cheerfully as they struggled uphill.</span><br />
<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgpnKaV8i9Rrvgf0c3cYuEEwqhHN4Ww2do9_BeI3FBKZP6ZNwiNVl9aha8SmZPVbsW-PZKDRjci06PYQm1FB2yEztQqszYmDoCWdbj-zj18EJzh7QZF9zKr_OnfYIChAJDlnNeonjwy010/s1600/IMG_3878.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="252" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgpnKaV8i9Rrvgf0c3cYuEEwqhHN4Ww2do9_BeI3FBKZP6ZNwiNVl9aha8SmZPVbsW-PZKDRjci06PYQm1FB2yEztQqszYmDoCWdbj-zj18EJzh7QZF9zKr_OnfYIChAJDlnNeonjwy010/s640/IMG_3878.JPG" width="640" /></a></div>
<span style="color: #666666; font-family: inherit;"><br /></span>
<span style="color: #666666; font-family: inherit;">Two days later, I felt a similar glow of optimism and a sense of achievement
as I reached the very top of Rocky Mountain and flopped unceremoniously down to
eat the cheese and crackers I'd brought up as a snack. To my left lay the
national park, all brooding mountains with Mt Aspiring rearing above the rest,
half shrouded in thick cloud. Directly in front of me lay that river again, on
its steady course to empty into Lake Wanaka. To my right was Mt Roy and the
rest of Lake Wanaka, every bay and headland visible, the entire curvaceous lake
set out in all its glory to be admired. I sat in the same spot for nearly an
hour, long after I had finished my food. </span><br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgt7QODHZb44BrArzGdLPvf8uErRzs_ca2EoUM1cFK1twowgyylemDG_dh8UkaaYhtTFVTbKKfRfEYJ7hkaIn8Sg8AAjYsflYRJs7ycM6j6ZXbGZTvNBYL-CYUBjm-Jp9q6mgYFYpx3k68/s1600/IMG_4113.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="372" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgt7QODHZb44BrArzGdLPvf8uErRzs_ca2EoUM1cFK1twowgyylemDG_dh8UkaaYhtTFVTbKKfRfEYJ7hkaIn8Sg8AAjYsflYRJs7ycM6j6ZXbGZTvNBYL-CYUBjm-Jp9q6mgYFYpx3k68/s640/IMG_4113.JPG" width="640" /></a></div>
<span style="color: #666666; font-family: inherit;"><br /></span>
<span style="color: #666666; font-family: inherit;">A light breeze stirred my hair and made the short grass whisper softly.
A fly buzzed nearby. The couple sitting not far away chatted quietly.
Occasionally, I heard a stag roar in the distance. I revelled in my solitude
and in the satisfaction of the climb. It had been a tough one - up slippery
trails that were steep and required me to stop every now and again so that my
breathing slowed once more. Now, as I admired the panorama stretched out at my
feet, it all felt worth it. The view was a worthy reward.</span><br />
<span style="color: #666666; font-family: inherit;"><br /></span>
<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjcvfq7VqjYhvqKGn_tn8LKk_ZHq7j0bhlHnQgi7BInorlEfNtc5e1B2kPnnBtDoVjLaNpINmww5gfLncX8DzZuJMbGFxmhFWXMIRb1XwsJamA7bruHObfeqp3BbcpuyIdd0pzLUxf8BU4/s1600/IMG_4146.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="426" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjcvfq7VqjYhvqKGn_tn8LKk_ZHq7j0bhlHnQgi7BInorlEfNtc5e1B2kPnnBtDoVjLaNpINmww5gfLncX8DzZuJMbGFxmhFWXMIRb1XwsJamA7bruHObfeqp3BbcpuyIdd0pzLUxf8BU4/s640/IMG_4146.JPG" width="640" /></a></div>
<span style="color: #666666; font-family: inherit;"><br /></span>
<span style="color: #666666; font-family: inherit;">I spent another two days in Wanaka, quiet and reflective. I wrote a lot and
edited photos. I was camping to save money and when the kitchen got too busy in
the evenings, I retreated to my tent to watch episodes of Modern Family and
snaffle crackers and cheese and a plastic cup of white wine (keeping it classy!).
I would finally sleep each evening around midnight, earphones in to drown out
the campground noises, my tent softly lit from the outside by a glowing orange
garden lamp. It could get cold, but it was peaceful and secure and I liked having
my own space, albeit under canvas. </span><br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiP7GbILA-Nm0mEBsTuo9aUlpuk2wcthOwDWwU1zxfVKWEoGszftBgUgZb7e79DcAbybAlU9l3Yh4Gfid1IB7oYdJtanraIgBY-nhgauqghaZfL8CjThTroL4IO5hRmOJZ5Zmcn8bEEsi4/s1600/IMG_4177.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="380" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiP7GbILA-Nm0mEBsTuo9aUlpuk2wcthOwDWwU1zxfVKWEoGszftBgUgZb7e79DcAbybAlU9l3Yh4Gfid1IB7oYdJtanraIgBY-nhgauqghaZfL8CjThTroL4IO5hRmOJZ5Zmcn8bEEsi4/s640/IMG_4177.JPG" width="640" /></a></div>
<span style="color: #666666; font-family: inherit;"><br /></span>
<span style="color: #666666; font-family: inherit;">My next stop was Fox Glacier. As I drove away from Wanaka, the rain that had
been threatening burst from the sky in fat, heavy drops. I angled my car
towards the West Coast and skirted Lake Hawea for a final time. This time, I
didn’t feel particularly sad to be leaving, although this time I didn’t know
when I would be coming back. Instead, I felt calmer than I’d felt in days.</span><br />
<span style="color: #666666; font-family: inherit;"><br /></span>
<span style="color: #666666; font-family: inherit;">Wanaka has thrilled me, healed me, calmed me, quietened me, taken my breath
away (quite literally), pushed me and become a part of me. It has made me laugh
and cry, I have been contemplative there and I have been spontaneous there,
jumping into some things without regard for my bank balance or, once, for my
safety*. I have done everything and nothing there, tasted what is on offer and
already I know I will return one day. Give it a year, five, ten, maybe twenty,
but I’ll go back, because Wanaka is my favourite place in New Zealand and it
has a part of me now.</span><br />
<span style="color: #666666;"><br /></span>
<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiYNZulpUxflePZdX6jlqhRNPPRXVOLVYQk4pfgS6mm1FIS8Bh3GIeag0ESwY4VJl1UVsQ_HivacIXsozYrZEiQN8ZbkFp-FIanEexWKx_WDklBl-k_QWQyxpXebLsc525x3lOxPCq1c7o/s1600/SAM_3639.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiYNZulpUxflePZdX6jlqhRNPPRXVOLVYQk4pfgS6mm1FIS8Bh3GIeag0ESwY4VJl1UVsQ_HivacIXsozYrZEiQN8ZbkFp-FIanEexWKx_WDklBl-k_QWQyxpXebLsc525x3lOxPCq1c7o/s640/SAM_3639.JPG" width="640" /></a></div>
<span style="color: #666666; font-family: inherit;"><br /></span>
<span style="color: #666666; font-family: inherit; font-size: x-small;">*Always tell people where you are going before you head out into back
country anywhere, but particularly New Zealand. I didn’t on that occasion and
it was really stupid. If something had happened to me, no one would have known
where to look for me and I would have been waiting a long time for help to
arrive, especially because there wasn’t any signal. Don’t be stupid like me and
risk it – make sure someone knows where you’re headed.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="color: #666666;">NB: You can find the longer versions of some of the stories in this post here:</span><br />
<u><a href="http://howthemind-wanders.blogspot.co.uk/2015/05/going-it-alone.html" target="_blank"><span style="color: #666666;">Going It Alone</span></a></u><br />
<u><a href="http://howthemind-wanders.blogspot.co.uk/2015/05/sky-high-aspirations.html" target="_blank"><span style="color: #666666;">Sky High Aspirations</span></a></u><br />
<u><br /></u>
<b>And a couple of gratuitous #thatwanakatree shots...</b><br />
<b><br /></b>
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<u><br /></u>
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How The Mind Wanders...http://www.blogger.com/profile/10774729802537761792noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-88429550602020203.post-70714455139491999142016-06-29T13:14:00.000-07:002016-06-29T14:16:26.957-07:00The Long Journey Home: A Taste of Europe Part 2<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg_lyq1Q7UeHOgJCFhmkoynll4v-9GkLKKYOTPVjyzyaSix8kKagzIUl0x_blc2i_MuuJkrBhlxmHUtpJaSZCR7KZIbZcjA5UQS3-3udaqa7lXuOzc0bd_uFTRnUtyd3plWh9PQ6NWhRjw/s1600/IMG_9000+%25282%2529.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="294" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg_lyq1Q7UeHOgJCFhmkoynll4v-9GkLKKYOTPVjyzyaSix8kKagzIUl0x_blc2i_MuuJkrBhlxmHUtpJaSZCR7KZIbZcjA5UQS3-3udaqa7lXuOzc0bd_uFTRnUtyd3plWh9PQ6NWhRjw/s640/IMG_9000+%25282%2529.JPG" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Above: Eiffel Tower and the Seine. The mood of this photo matched mine that morning - not exactly glum or gloomy but definitely overcast and sombre! It's hard reaching the end of your travels and knowing you'll soon be parting ways with your best friend after spending so much together.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<b><br /></b>
<b>'Be happy for this moment. This moment is your life.' - Omar Khayyam.</b><br />
<br />
We travelled to six cities in Europe before arriving back in the UK on 16th June. After three weeks in Russia where there was a distinct lack of European tourists and no-one spoke any English, it was strange but kind of nice to return to a world where people mostly understood us and we were amongst other tourists once again. <br />
<br />
I liked every city we chose to visit during our two weeks on the continent. We deliberated quite long and hard over which to go to and in the end settled largely on staying in Eastern Europe to save money. Our final route went: Warsaw, Krakow, Budapest, Prague, Munich and Paris. In this post, I will tell you one story each from the final three cities we visited: Prague, Munich and Paris. For the stories from Warsaw, Krakow and Budapest, <u><a href="http://howthemind-wanders.blogspot.co.uk/2016/06/the-long-journey-home-taste-of-europe_25.html" target="_blank">check out Part 1</a>.</u><br />
<br />
<div align="center">
******</div>
<div align="center">
<a name='more'></a></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<b><br /></b>
<b>Prague</b></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
We bought cheap bottles of beer from the supermarket and made for the river. The headache that had plagued me all day still hung about, but I ignored it. Staying in the night before and drinking an ocean of water hadn't helped, so today I was trying a different strategy. We were going to drink 'park beers' and enjoy being outdoors as the heat of the day cooled and twilight drew in.<br />
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgAqsdIPgYnCShTiUyB5mLFvDtImaN0k1xsEJWkm7ZgvYLuaO4j-RCf6TINiijRgXZWIMd-Imu1cEKy9cRyjym1F0ESAxOw1521YKUUw5vuFnIzuLabgii8_dpgx2wYlCo-5znoD8kZFJA/s1600/IMG_8837+%25282%2529.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgAqsdIPgYnCShTiUyB5mLFvDtImaN0k1xsEJWkm7ZgvYLuaO4j-RCf6TINiijRgXZWIMd-Imu1cEKy9cRyjym1F0ESAxOw1521YKUUw5vuFnIzuLabgii8_dpgx2wYlCo-5znoD8kZFJA/s640/IMG_8837+%25282%2529.JPG" width="444" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Above: not park beer, but the much more photogenic and delicious IPA we drank when we visited the Strahov Monastic Brewery the next day.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
Our chosen spot was right on the banks of the Vltava, in a small park located on an island. Behind us, some sort of open air concert was reaching its crescendo. The river was peaceful though, despite the background noise, and the evening brought with it a freshness after the hot day. The beer wasn't terrible and we talked whilst we drank. The veil of darkness slowly drew over us and the lanterns on the peddlos that slipped past on the inky black waters bobbed and weaved, casting a trail of yellow light in their wake.<br />
<br />
'Look!' <br />
<br />
I stopped suddenly mid-sentence and pointed down the bank of the river, movement catching my eye. A creature, about the size I imagine a beaver to be, was scuffling along by the exposed rocks, nibbling on grass stems.<br />
<br />
'It looks like a beaver,' I exclaimed, after a moment, 'But the tail doesn't look like a beaver's tail.'<br />
<br />
As we watched, the creature slipped back into the water and cruised effortlessly past us. We deliberated - it was too big to be a rat, but weren't there such things as super-rats? Its tail was all wrong to be a beaver... Did rats swim? Did they really get that big? It obviously wasn't an otter. Not cute enough. If it is a rat, that would be really horrible... We resolved to Google the answer upon our return to the hostel.<br />
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgrLTeySww8vnjwH76MiU2cN3sDtyc5AXOfAtoKcfUNTkNan14Ba62ClG4nbwLLCSac_DPOuPO-dZDOgqvx1GHT6jqBo27xy__n-kKFjsVfGf_OvmdoB5SDYhFvqUbP6dvSF4oEFJt7POU/s1600/IMG_8839+%25282%2529.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="272" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgrLTeySww8vnjwH76MiU2cN3sDtyc5AXOfAtoKcfUNTkNan14Ba62ClG4nbwLLCSac_DPOuPO-dZDOgqvx1GHT6jqBo27xy__n-kKFjsVfGf_OvmdoB5SDYhFvqUbP6dvSF4oEFJt7POU/s640/IMG_8839+%25282%2529.JPG" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Above: darkness over Prague. The Charles Bridge lights up and the city lights reflect in the River Vltava.</td></tr>
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<br />
We got back at 2am, tipsy and chilly. Our park beers evolved to buying a beer in a cheap bar which evolved into finding a semi-comfortable bench next to another stretch of river and drinking until our bottles were empty. We forgot to find out what the creature had been and fell straight into our beds to sleep. We forgot to find out the next morning too. We even forgot after spotting the same creature the next evening, when we returned to the waters edge to drink beer once more in the gloaming. We forgot during the final days of our trip in Munich and Paris. We forgot, actually until I remembered it just now, as I wrote this short story.<br />
<br />
So, I just Googled it. The creature we saw is called a Coypu and is a species native of South America, invasive across Europe and known, in various languages, as a 'beaver rat' or 'little beaver'. So our confusion was well-founded. <u><a href="https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Coypu" target="_blank">Thanks to Wikipedia</a></u> for enlightening us - finally!<br />
<br />
<b>Munich</b></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
Our friend, C, recommended that we take one of the city's free walking tours as an introduction to Munich. She was unfortunately away when we arrived and unable to show us around herself, so this would be a perfect alternative. <br />
<br />
Our guide was Irish and extremely well-informed. He led us through the city, regaling us with stories of Munich's past and present, introducing us to important historical sites and generally being a great tour guide!<br />
<br />
Munich has a fascinating, and occasionally dark, history. In 1923, Hitler made his first bid of power in the Beer Hall Putsch. Although the coup failed (<u><a href="https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Beer_Hall_Putsch" target="_blank">read more about it here</a></u>), what really resonated with me was the fact that there were a couple of times during this period when the course of history could have been changed. <br />
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgKx_Wgz0gaOoNPuKcWncX1dcOFfMf8VROKHILK266pf48TIhn4HmXh2Amlw5VEjM_RJ21-X3G4bcIqfDZLALlZFrQ3i5h22CX4582lAVGHLCfHOyXYz7JdXkzhgVW668kM89HzbIalHiM/s1600/IMG_8930+%25282%2529.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgKx_Wgz0gaOoNPuKcWncX1dcOFfMf8VROKHILK266pf48TIhn4HmXh2Amlw5VEjM_RJ21-X3G4bcIqfDZLALlZFrQ3i5h22CX4582lAVGHLCfHOyXYz7JdXkzhgVW668kM89HzbIalHiM/s640/IMG_8930+%25282%2529.JPG" width="440" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Above: this may look like a boring photo of a pavement, but this is actually a subtle tribute to the citizens of Munich who did not want to make the Nazi salute as they passed a monument commemorating the deaths of Nazi sympathisers who died in 1923. If you passed and did not salute, it was very likely that you would be beaten by Nazi officers who guarded the monument. People chose instead to slip down this side street to avoid passing the monument, but the Nazi's soon got wind of this and set up a post here too - people who were passing through without a legitimate reason (e.g. going to their homes) had to give their names and again, were often beaten. Later on, the people whose names were on that list were likely sent to Dachau. Now, their path is paved with gold in their memory and so that we do not forget their risky silent protest. </td></tr>
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<br />
Hitler was wounded during the clash with police at the Beer Hall Putsch but he could easily have been killed if he had been a metre or two to the left or right. Instead, he was arrested and tried for High Treason, a crime usually punishable by death. However, the judge overseeing his trial was a Nazi sympathiser. As such, Hitler's trial became something of spectacle and he ended up being imprisoned for five years as punishment, of which he only served eight months before being released for good behaviour (he started writing Mein Kampf during this spell in prison). Imagine if that judge had been ill on the day of the trial, or a different one had been chosen, or... Another judge would have sentenced Hitler to death.<br />
<br />
Of course, on both occasions Hitler wasn't killed and the Nazi party ultimately came to power in 1933, with war breaking out five years later and the rest, of course, is a sad, brutal history. But isn't it extraordinary how much chance plays a hand in our lives? It got me thinking about the many chances in my life when things could have turned out so very, very differently. It was lucky chance that led to P and I meeting and ultimately, taking our trip together. And it often isn't until later that we realise just how much chance plays a part in determining the way our lives go. <br />
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh14bRHe7SW8rMg-O-CUSAmLAf1asCYB3Km-XbU8xiATY5pVWSW7AaIHzvg9O9z5cUJsrUEXKmfnxEiawuj4eDUEN6mDVnqAs1BIsR0MW72LfBARrOUcwKCwMxS8-YS4vctfQHMDiCo4QE/s1600/IMG_8964+%25282%2529.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh14bRHe7SW8rMg-O-CUSAmLAf1asCYB3Km-XbU8xiATY5pVWSW7AaIHzvg9O9z5cUJsrUEXKmfnxEiawuj4eDUEN6mDVnqAs1BIsR0MW72LfBARrOUcwKCwMxS8-YS4vctfQHMDiCo4QE/s640/IMG_8964+%25282%2529.JPG" width="476" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><div>
Above: the Angel of Peace, Munich. A reminder of the 25 peaceful years after the Franco-German war of 1870-71.</div>
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<b>Paris</b><br />
We had six hours.<br />
<br />
We walked from Gare du Nord Station towards the river. The streets were still relatively quiet at that early hour, and due to the ongoing strikes, rubbish lay piled up on every corner. Cardboard, sodden and swollen after the nights rain and plastic bags of trash, a ripe smell exuding from some. In doorways and under overhangs, people lay buried under blankets, still sound asleep. They were different to the average homeless person - these people had possessions and some of them were families with children. I felt a sharp stab of emotion when I realised that they must be refugees, camping out on the streets with nowhere else to go.<br />
<br />
We paused for ten minutes at the Louvre to admire the French street artist JR's latest artwork - a photograph that wrapped around the pyramid and made it 'disappear' into the palace façade. Afterwards, we paced alongside the Seine, which was running high, breaching its banks and overflowing onto the paths that ran alongside it. Across the river, the iconic Eiffel Tower rose above the rooftops, not exactly beautiful but far from ugly. A few nights previously, it had been lit up red, green and white in tribute to Wales winning their Euro 2016 football match against Russia.<br />
<br />
It was the last few hours we would be spending on the continent before returning to the UK. This was the first time P would be back on home soil for 18 months. For me, it had been six months. I felt emotional, close to tears. Our trip, so long in the making and so wonderful in the doing, was almost at an end. In just over 24 hours, I'd be leaving P to return to Wales. He had become my closest confidant, my ally throughout our month and a half travelling together. We had been nearly inseparable. I couldn't imagine anyone else I could spend that much time with, 24/7, just us two. I tried to avoid thinking about our parting but still I found tears welling unbidden in my eyes as we crossed the road and walked up Champs-Elysees towards the Arc de Triomphe. I brushed them away.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj1vdzdBdnZbxe95exeZRVUXQ_HqcPH96EGhz4tUY7z4lsHCy_8NVlW8QYNPsUnyuH8CzO269a5m5sbsKRLy_ZKaLQs7rVvVfR1oh7TS9CaQqVpAs6C1rTxEoOaUDQKaQMOM6uP-ni3FiI/s1600/IMG_8993+%25283%2529.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="366" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj1vdzdBdnZbxe95exeZRVUXQ_HqcPH96EGhz4tUY7z4lsHCy_8NVlW8QYNPsUnyuH8CzO269a5m5sbsKRLy_ZKaLQs7rVvVfR1oh7TS9CaQqVpAs6C1rTxEoOaUDQKaQMOM6uP-ni3FiI/s640/IMG_8993+%25283%2529.JPG" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Above: the pyramid at the Louvre 'disappearing' into the palace façade behind.</td></tr>
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<br />
After muffins and coffee and a good howl in the privacy of the Starbucks bathroom, we walked up to the Sacre Coeur through the Montmartre district. Street artists tried to grab our attention, armed soldiers weaved through the tourists, a show of protective strength. There were lots of football fans dressed in the shirts of their countries - Poland, Germany, England... No Welsh fans.<br />
<br />
We were both quiet. I was quiet because I was reflecting on our trip and feeling sad it was nearly over. These were our last few hours together just us. I think P was quiet because he was tired, having not slept on the bus overnight. So we sat on the steps with the Sacre Coeur at our backs and all of Paris laid out below us, reflective and comfortably, mostly, silent. <br />
<br />
By 2pm, we were UK bound on the Eurostar, leaving our adventures behind us, gone but never to be forgotten. </div>
How The Mind Wanders...http://www.blogger.com/profile/10774729802537761792noreply@blogger.com0Europe48.299554001325646 5.8781147003173828-25.209321498674356 -159.35626029968262 90 171.11248970031738tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-88429550602020203.post-87408395487793866692016-06-26T08:31:00.000-07:002016-06-26T08:31:46.734-07:00The Long Journey Home: A Taste of Europe Part 1<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgYX61aN33M2S6106S5KrtZM1LWQKGAj6ltW-URzJ551T_fjeC9EGkHgtpp0sji1nxn-iqbvpJSOT55fbNaSl3quT3EHtBhBmgYQpVdJUsQP9LiJBNpKeYf5er3-CJuHhKnrdRjuXzWWgM/s1600/IMG_8050+%25282%2529.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="426" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgYX61aN33M2S6106S5KrtZM1LWQKGAj6ltW-URzJ551T_fjeC9EGkHgtpp0sji1nxn-iqbvpJSOT55fbNaSl3quT3EHtBhBmgYQpVdJUsQP9LiJBNpKeYf5er3-CJuHhKnrdRjuXzWWgM/s640/IMG_8050+%25282%2529.JPG" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Above: self portrait of P and I from Krakow. We look a bit distorted and out of sorts because this is a photo of our reflection in the roof of an art gallery we went to see (it was very cool architecturally). </td></tr>
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<b><br /></b>
<b>'But a city is more than a place in space, it is a drama in time.' - Patrick Geddes. </b><br />
<br />
We travelled to six cities in Europe before arriving back in the UK on 16th June. After three weeks in Russia where there was a distinct lack of European tourists and no-one spoke any English, it was strange but kind of nice to return to a world where people mostly understood us and we were amongst other tourists once again. <br />
<br />
I liked every city we chose to visit during our two weeks on the continent. We deliberated quite long and hard over which to go to and in the end settled largely on staying in Eastern Europe to save money. Our final route went: Warsaw, Krakow, Budapest, Prague, Munich and Paris. In this post, and in Part 2, I will tell you one story from each city, starting with Warsaw, Krakow and Budapest today.<br />
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<b>Warsaw</b><br />
The weather broke just as we were starting the forty minute walk back to the hostel. All day, the air had been warm and humid and a weak sun had played between ever growing clouds. On the walk to the old town, I'd been sticky with sweat and quietly wishing I'd showered before we had left. As the air grew heavier with impending rain, we had strolled down narrow lanes and cobbled alleys, enjoying the architecture and atmosphere of the old town. The place had been thronged with tourists, our first proper encounter with them in weeks. <br />
<br />
Now, a strong wind had picked up, buffeting us and reminding us of Wellington. An empty pram, momentarily left by a woman, had been pushed along by a gust of wind until I'd caught it and wheeled it back. The heavy grey clouds that had settled low overhead looked menacing and stormy. Fat drops of rain began to fall as we reached the bridge back across the muddy, swollen river. Within seconds, the drops had become a deluge and we were soaked. A siren wailed and blue lights flashed past us, going in the opposite direction.<br />
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg5A5keB55IpHn64ZBdmI0TiJMI8uwNA7eUBLD5Q8i3QuSNsXFIjJOw6wlrOaRb1XcBSgGYnnfIdGN1i03J52q4X3EnmAStegetcOwJQuBcaOt5NDOTs_v_S7Q3Aaz3HfdyJU5aZAmwC7s/s1600/IMG_7906+%25282%2529.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg5A5keB55IpHn64ZBdmI0TiJMI8uwNA7eUBLD5Q8i3QuSNsXFIjJOw6wlrOaRb1XcBSgGYnnfIdGN1i03J52q4X3EnmAStegetcOwJQuBcaOt5NDOTs_v_S7Q3Aaz3HfdyJU5aZAmwC7s/s640/IMG_7906+%25282%2529.JPG" width="496" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Above: an empty lane in Warsaw, before the rain.</td></tr>
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<br />
As the rain fell faster, thicker, I threw back the hood of my coat and found myself laughing. My hair stuck flat to my skull and my coat hung heavy and useless around me, offering little protection. My jeans clung cold to my skin and my shoes began to squelch as we stepped through puddle after puddle. The rain was exhilarating and did nothing to dampen my spirits as we walked on.<br />
<br />
The downpour continued mercilessly for twenty minutes. Cars threw water over us as they sped past, and I was soon soaked to the skin. For some reason, none of it really mattered. We would be home soon and we could dry off then. We didn't rush, nor stop chatting as the rain continued to fall. As we walked, it gradually eased to a gentle patter and then stopped. Deep puddles were left behind in its wake, trees dripped onto pavements. People began to re-emerge from their shelter. Some eyed us as we passed, drenched to the skin. By the time we reached the hostel, the skies were clearing and my clothes were beginning to dry, and it was over just like that.<br />
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjKarlj0PG80bZ564DciN4p-u-enJ21xrBYDDz4z9QnsrGao3d5aMp_laBjynchO7UdPeoFQkHoiyvFf7rONt3RPExgz7s1T4Bm5zg8xJOyMJMar7wC9Jqt6fv7FHtpc3Zjidnx9mc1c6c/s1600/IMG_7937+%25282%2529.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="328" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjKarlj0PG80bZ564DciN4p-u-enJ21xrBYDDz4z9QnsrGao3d5aMp_laBjynchO7UdPeoFQkHoiyvFf7rONt3RPExgz7s1T4Bm5zg8xJOyMJMar7wC9Jqt6fv7FHtpc3Zjidnx9mc1c6c/s640/IMG_7937+%25282%2529.JPG" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Above: walls and rooftops in Warsaw.</td></tr>
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<br />
<b>Krakow</b><br />
'Let's go in here,' I said, pointing to a pub with a dark interior as the intensity of the rain increased, 'We can get one drink and go somewhere else afterwards.'<br />
<br />
We ordered cheap beer and sat at the back of the pub, across the table from one another. Despite the weather, we were both in good spirits and the conversation flowed, back and forth, moving from one topic to another as naturally as breathing. Before we knew it, we had finished our first pints.<br />
<br />
'Let's get another,' P suggested, and I agreed. It was still raining heavily outside.<br />
<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhKrqzkEUn0yGqq5WB87Dj1RzSMxCAx9eCEtuPxYdBIQLNXGqyNr8HmcDxP2iFQgEJ5x1Vql4gzl4hj79KJordjfFJaFMkc7p7rLJ9smEfUp96EtcinXUHmQbvp7iN064CNmVm5IWVvsn0/s1600/IMG_20160605_110321.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhKrqzkEUn0yGqq5WB87Dj1RzSMxCAx9eCEtuPxYdBIQLNXGqyNr8HmcDxP2iFQgEJ5x1Vql4gzl4hj79KJordjfFJaFMkc7p7rLJ9smEfUp96EtcinXUHmQbvp7iN064CNmVm5IWVvsn0/s640/IMG_20160605_110321.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Above: carriages and reflections in the rain in Krakow's main square.</td></tr>
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<br />
Five pints each later on, we left the pub to find a dry world outside. It had darkened whilst we had been drinking. We turned in the direction of our hostel, and passed a small bar playing loud music two doors down from the pub.<br />
<br />
'I don't want to go home,' P said, 'Let's go to this bar instead.'<br />
<br />
I didn't need any persuading. In fact, it was me that yelled into his ear two minutes later that we should buy three vodka shots each and down them with our next pint. P shook his head and bought us one each. Half an hour later, I went back downstairs and bought two more each, and more beer. We joined a group of mixed Europeans and I got quite passionate about why the UK should remain a member of the EU. My memory blurred, P's did too. <br />
<br />
Neither of us really remember going home but the next morning, we found ourselves safely tucked up in our beds, with raging hangovers. What had started as a quick pint to while away a rainy hour had turned into a night neither of us can particularly remember very clearly. And that's just sometimes the best way to go.<br />
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh3EvXqGdaMyHSVCIsFYAOd7IsfW90_TIingLnACNPFi9BES7Ho4OHlCeWbMvMlrYaV6SN7gmUeJNc8_WdfSIyvy1KBRhEsb-acV7pRfazKMeyGk_zQvkCL0Fj6zAmWVOHxCGl1byYWBjQ/s1600/IMG_8175.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="576" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh3EvXqGdaMyHSVCIsFYAOd7IsfW90_TIingLnACNPFi9BES7Ho4OHlCeWbMvMlrYaV6SN7gmUeJNc8_WdfSIyvy1KBRhEsb-acV7pRfazKMeyGk_zQvkCL0Fj6zAmWVOHxCGl1byYWBjQ/s640/IMG_8175.JPG" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Above: not my finest example of night photography - it's blurry because I don't have a tripod and the shutter speed was on slow. But I like it anyway - I like the shadows and lights and the shapes that they make together, so I thought I'd share it.</td></tr>
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<br />
<b>Budapest</b><br />
We had been wandering around the city for a few hours when P suggested we cross the Danube and climb the Gellert Hill to see the statue and fortress that sat atop. As we climbed, the vista opened up below us. Budapest spread out from the hill, a network of narrow streets and blocks of buildings, with the river flowing through the middle, spanned by several bridges. The park we walked through was dense and green and full of people admiring the view or climbing like us. Everyone seemed to be happy, many of them clutched bottles of wine or beer. We felt like we had missed a trick.<br />
<br />
'I don't even feel that out of breath,' I announced, elated, as we reached the top after countless steps, 'All this walking we're doing has definitely made me fitter!'<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhyIk2N8hmFpxQrTAjxdV524Kvmx2gm9QXQpUd1_4ee9arxkKX4V9JS4N3zp8dnP9qBWZ3WsTQP7DZLCBUIDfWZGVFNBK2auN-2Vci5SethspJhTLN-syiXXlRhU63HrK50d05A33vyznw/s1600/IMG_8220+%25282%2529.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="426" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhyIk2N8hmFpxQrTAjxdV524Kvmx2gm9QXQpUd1_4ee9arxkKX4V9JS4N3zp8dnP9qBWZ3WsTQP7DZLCBUIDfWZGVFNBK2auN-2Vci5SethspJhTLN-syiXXlRhU63HrK50d05A33vyznw/s640/IMG_8220+%25282%2529.JPG" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Above: Looking back across the Danube towards Pest.</td></tr>
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<br />
P, who has witnessed me struggling up hills back in New Zealand, nodded. We had an obligatory photo together at the top, with the panorama laid out behind us. We settled on a grassy ledge overlooking the old town and the river to enjoy the view.<br />
<br />
We didn't intend to stay until sunset. We'd gone up early in the afternoon and hadn't thought we'd be there that long. But time ran away, as it often does. We listened to music* and chatted a bit, but more often we sat in contemplative silence, locked in our own thoughts, admiring the panorama below and letting the music play out. Eventually, the sun began to sink below the horizon, We took photos and when it had finally gone altogether, we gathered up our things and descended the hill, back into the city. As we walked down, the city lights sprang on one by one, twinkling up at us until we were suddenly amongst them once more.<br />
<br />
We walked 41,000 steps that day (there is a pedometer built into P's phone). It was the most we walked in one day on the entire trip.<br />
<br />
*<i>If you're curious, here are a couple of the songs we listened to whilst we were sitting on the hill enjoying the view in the photograph below.</i><br />
<i><u><a href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=PyN_d28-sfw" target="_blank">Hot Chip - Dancing in the Dark.</a></u></i><br />
<i><u><a href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=pFptt7Cargc" target="_blank">Tame Impala - Let It Happen.</a></u></i><br />
<i><u><br /></u></i>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgUcgUE8OKgikPzM1c2_CuAZ1wN5vqyH5a_yYcEuVOOYBjd8dn8ltZZDPMeQ6IuJPBYHlIAlbrKxw-IO4TtU0b-WECFObG-XlQNjhJcyTsg0wTxKGB0HMa7GzZeGazLwELL7lkVHPrqo2o/s1600/IMG_8571+%25282%2529.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="374" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgUcgUE8OKgikPzM1c2_CuAZ1wN5vqyH5a_yYcEuVOOYBjd8dn8ltZZDPMeQ6IuJPBYHlIAlbrKxw-IO4TtU0b-WECFObG-XlQNjhJcyTsg0wTxKGB0HMa7GzZeGazLwELL7lkVHPrqo2o/s640/IMG_8571+%25282%2529.JPG" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Above: again, slightly blurry due to slow shutter speed and lack of tripod. This is the view we enjoyed whilst listening to the songs I mention above.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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How The Mind Wanders...http://www.blogger.com/profile/10774729802537761792noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-88429550602020203.post-14613982766776222052016-06-21T14:41:00.002-07:002016-06-29T14:21:53.353-07:00Mongolia: Before The Rain<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhL_XEsM3dCBd4uNLf9y8ZN82yzYAiAir-5XarDY9IjErwFRMS4e_nq1ikJFdeqNXP2mqhFSkvVIpwGKlj0apbldJe5DflVSL76yGW2iJDVhWiSlAX9NrXqoc09DVG_mDZK-t1LZjIqWrk/s1600/IMG_4784+%25283%2529.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="color: #666666;"><img alt="" border="0" height="244" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhL_XEsM3dCBd4uNLf9y8ZN82yzYAiAir-5XarDY9IjErwFRMS4e_nq1ikJFdeqNXP2mqhFSkvVIpwGKlj0apbldJe5DflVSL76yGW2iJDVhWiSlAX9NrXqoc09DVG_mDZK-t1LZjIqWrk/s640/IMG_4784+%25283%2529.JPG" title="Horse Grazing - Mongolia" width="640" /></span></a></div>
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<span style="color: black;"><span style="color: #666666; font-family: inherit;"><b>'I prefer winter and fall, when you feel the bone structure of the landscape. Something waits beneath it; the whole story doesn't show.' - Andrew Wyeth.</b></span></span><br />
<br />
<span style="color: black;"><span style="color: #666666; font-family: inherit;">At the end of April, I entered the 2016 National Geographic Writing Competition. Unfortunately, my entry was not successful and I won't be enjoying the free trip to Madagascar in October, nor will my piece of writing be published by the magazine. Oh well! It's good for you guys, because it means that I have decided to share it here for your enjoyment instead! It's only a short piece (the word limit was 500 words) but I hope that you find it interesting. </span></span></div>
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<span style="color: black;"><span style="color: #666666; font-family: inherit;">Mongolia is an beautiful, often bleak, country and it left a deep impression on me. I barely scraped the surface of this complex country when I wrote this piece. There are so many facets left to discover and this is just one interpretation. I hope to return one day and explore further. Until then, I'm left with wonderful memories of my time there, many of which I will share here on this blog in the coming weeks.</span></span></div>
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<span style="color: #666666;">******</span></div>
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<span style="color: black;"><span style="color: #666666; font-family: inherit;">The horse is grey and nameless. He is skinny </span></span><span style="color: #666666; font-family: inherit;">too; a</span><span style="color: black;"><span style="color: #666666; font-family: inherit;"> result of the harsh winter Mongolia has just endured, and the dry summer before that.</span></span></div>
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<span style="color: black;"><span style="color: #666666; font-family: inherit;">When we drove out of Ulaan Baatar, Mendee explained that the winters were getting longer and the summers drier. He recalled his childhood when it rained more and the grass grew greener and longer. I asked if he thought climate change was having an impact and he nodded seriously. </span></span></div>
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<span style="color: black;"><span style="color: #666666; font-family: inherit;">‘It is getting worse,’ he replied, as we passed a power station be</span></span><span style="color: black;"><span style="color: #666666; font-family: inherit;">lching clouds of thick smoke into the sky, ‘We lost a lot of horses this winter.’</span></span></div>
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<span style="color: black;"><span style="color: #666666; font-family: inherit;">I have come to Mongolia before the rain.</span></span></div>
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<span style="color: black;"><span style="color: #666666; font-family: inherit;">From between the ears of my nameless grey horse, I can see how tough life is. The grass is brittle and grows sparsely. Animals must roam far and wide to get what little nourishment they can. Strong winds flow unchecked across the land and whip the soil into angry dust devils that throw themselves at us, causing our eyes to sting and our mouths to clog. The ground is littered with rocks, pebbles and animal droppings. </span></span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj7j8h2Hr21THUohlR_0JCy9sz9wKzA2JSsFvY9kQ5aetN0opwUBfwJE7iIQ8inLj_Enu36dwm04Yc5vRFMCsC04RmwqAI6_1ikdb-CNDi8_zmyZVbdldWxfLbrCx9r2vm6JxTVD7_-8gE/s1600/IMG_4803+%25282%2529.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="color: #666666;"><img alt="" border="0" height="340" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj7j8h2Hr21THUohlR_0JCy9sz9wKzA2JSsFvY9kQ5aetN0opwUBfwJE7iIQ8inLj_Enu36dwm04Yc5vRFMCsC04RmwqAI6_1ikdb-CNDi8_zmyZVbdldWxfLbrCx9r2vm6JxTVD7_-8gE/s640/IMG_4803+%25282%2529.JPG" title="Horse Gazing over City" width="640" /></span></a></div>
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<span style="color: black;"><span style="color: #666666; font-family: inherit;">There is rubbish everywhere, the mark of our throwaway society even in these remote corners. A cardboard box bowls jauntily along on the breeze. Scraps of plastic, shards of broken glass and chunks of metal wink at me where the sunlight catches them. Occasionally, there are items of clothing – an odd shoe, missing its </span></span><span style="color: #666666; font-family: inherit;">partner, </span><span style="color: black;"><span style="color: #666666; font-family: inherit;">and once, a sad looking cap, lying in a sorry little heap in the dirt. </span></span></div>
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<span style="color: black;"><span style="color: #666666; font-family: inherit;">The long winter lingers on, icy fingers still gripping the land, slow to let go. We pass herds of withered cattle and starker reminders of suffering – horses skulls picked clean by carrion crows.</span></span></div>
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<span style="color: black;"><span style="color: #666666; font-family: inherit;">A tow</span></span><span style="color: #666666; font-family: inherit;">n appears</span><span style="color: black;"><span style="color: #666666; font-family: inherit;"> from nowhere. Bright blocks of colour cover the drab Communist concrete, the buildings reminiscent of the Soviet era not so long passed. Empty vodka bottles are strewn here and there. Tattered flags stream in the omnipresent wind. They remind me of the Mongolian people - resilient in these unforgiving conditions and defiantly clinging on, despite adversities that the steppe throws their way. </span></span></div>
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<span style="color: black;"><span style="color: #666666; font-family: inherit;">The rain will come soon. Life will be easier for both man and horse for a season. The rubbish will be washed away, soil will regenerate and the steppe will be green once more. The nameless grey horse will grow fatter and the cycle will begin anew.</span></span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg7LuXPhWIYGWjhUHXLUJ7slRG9fWf-TETeaznTWo4S2pHR8_hHrBMgYyOD22FudKWZpoQW9qdNSeiPXLxKVnTmKf1WgneXeZwIITc64FlCOorJqYwhj_5xivXKKwWmZ2XCQDg2RtO7_vs/s1600/IMG_4869+%25282%2529.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img alt="" border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg7LuXPhWIYGWjhUHXLUJ7slRG9fWf-TETeaznTWo4S2pHR8_hHrBMgYyOD22FudKWZpoQW9qdNSeiPXLxKVnTmKf1WgneXeZwIITc64FlCOorJqYwhj_5xivXKKwWmZ2XCQDg2RtO7_vs/s640/IMG_4869+%25282%2529.JPG" title="Horse Head - loaded onto horsebox" width="596" /></a></div>
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How The Mind Wanders...http://www.blogger.com/profile/10774729802537761792noreply@blogger.com0Mongolia47.076106281213676 98.500789403915421.308339281213676 57.192195403915406 72.843873281213675 139.8093834039154tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-88429550602020203.post-70956835019811921122016-05-31T23:48:00.000-07:002016-06-01T12:31:47.308-07:00The Long Journey Home: Five Memorable Faces<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif;">'We don't meet people by accident. They are meant to cross our path for a reason.' - Unknown.</span></b><br />
<br />
When travelling, it is a given that you'll generally meet a plethora of people, from many different walks of life, doing different things and going to different places. In some instances, you form a bond with a person that you meet and become friends. Yet more often than not, you tend to pass through these people's lives just as they pass through yours - quickly, politely and without a fuss. You will become to them what they are to you - a blurred face swimming amongst a pool of others, soon to be almost entirely forgotten.<br />
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Just a few of the faces you see will make it onto the 'memorable' list - a collection of people that you remember in years to come for one reason or another and think or talk about when you reminisce about your trip. <br />
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During our time on the Trans-Siberian and other trains, it has been no different. We have met many people, but most we have already forgotten, or we at least struggle to recall them properly (or we simply have really terrible memories...). Only a handful are going to be remembered beyond our trip. <br />
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Here are five of our most memorable encounters - the ones we are likely to recall in years to come for various reasons and talk about together when we remember our trip.<br />
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<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif;">The
Tour Guide</span></b></div>
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<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif;"></span></b><span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif;">We met you as we boarded our first
train in Beijing. You were a Russian tour guide for a group of Australians, but
we never caught your name. We called you Offspring at first, because you had an
Offspring tattoo, but later we decided to call you Brendon, like the tour guide
from Coach Trip. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif;"></span><span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif;">Near the end of the journey, as our
train approached Ulaan Baatar, one of your group asked you what you thought of
President Putin.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif;"></span><span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif;">‘He is perfect for our country
right now,’ you replied.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif;"></span><span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif;">Both P and I glanced at each other
and instantly wanted to ask ‘why’. We waited for the Australian to ask that
very question, but he never did. Instead, he turned back to the window without
another comment, leaving us to forever wonder – why do you think Putin is
perfect for Russia.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif;"></span><b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif;">The
Drunk</span></b></div>
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<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif;"></span></b><span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif;">You approached us whilst we were
enjoying a quiet beer in the dining carriage. We never found out your name, but
we ended up calling you Splits. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif;"></span><span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif;">You plonked yourself down in the
seat next to me, clutching a large can of 15% beer, obviously already a little
worse for wear. You seemed harmless enough though – trying to communicate with
us in your limited, broken English and with lots of gesticulation. I told you I
liked your rings and nail varnish and you hugged me and smiled warmly. You
danced along to the music in your chair and tried to impress us by getting up
to show us that you could do the splits in the aisle.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif;"></span><span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif;">Both of us were a bit surprised
when you started ordering food for us – salmon on rye bread which I politely
declined but P felt obliged to eat, and then bowls of steaming stew, with hunks
of potato, tomato and beef. I ate around the beef, as you urged us with hand
gestures to eat faster, more. You paid for it all on your credit card and,
perhaps naively, we left thinking what a kind lady you’d been – drunk and hilarious
but ultimately friendly and very generous.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif;"></span><span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif;">An hour later you knocked on our
cabin door and demanded three thousand roubles from us to pay for the food. I
gave it to you so that you would leave and then went to the dining carriage and
spoke to the waitress who had served us. She told me that the food we had eaten
only cost around eight hundred roubles. I asked her to come with me and we got
two thousand roubles back from you. Although there were many hours to go until
we reached Moscow, we never saw you again after that. It was as if you vanished
without a trace – leaving my pocket one thousand roubles lighter!</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif;"><br /></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif;"></span><b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif;">The
Soldiers</span></b></div>
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<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif;"></span></b><span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif;">There were two of you. Both young
and arrogant. We never found out your names and we didn’t want to either.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif;"><br /></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif;"></span><span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif;">We came across you when we were in Yekaterinburg,
stretching our legs and buying more beer and cigarettes for the journey. You
asked us if we spoke Russian and when we said that we didn’t, one of you made a
comment in Russian and you both burst out laughing. We ignored you and paid for
our purchases, following you slowly as you strode back towards the station to
board the train once more. From then on, if we saw you, you’d make quick
comments in broken English before reverting to your native tongue and obviously
joking about us to our faces in Russian. We ignored you.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif;"><br /></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif;"></span><span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif;">The night before we reached Moscow,
we were once again off the train, stretching our legs on the platform and
smoking a cigarette. You approached us as we stood beside our carriage and once
again asked us if we spoke English. When we said no, you told us you were both
in the army before reverting to Russian to make your jokes about us, laughing
again, slapping each other on the back with pleasure at your obvious hilarity.
Your smiles suddenly faded when a member of the Russian Kickboxing Team
approached, scowling under his hood at you, obviously displeased at what he had
heard. He spoke to you quickly and sharply and you scarpered without another
word. He gave us a little nod and we thanked him for sending you away.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif;"></span><span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif;">You didn’t come near us again, or
make any more comments to our faces. Turns out you were a pair of cowards, but
we kind of guessed that anyway.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif;"><br /></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif;"></span><b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif;">The
Musician</span></b></div>
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<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif;"></span></b><span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif;">We met you on the train from St
Petersburg to Minsk. You said your name was Mia. You were only nine or ten,
tall, slightly built, short blond hair. You spoke excellent English and you
were travelling with your grandmother and father, having been in St Petersburg
to play in a competition concert (in front of three thousand people, and you
won too!) We asked you what instrument you played and you told us - the
accordion. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif;"></span><span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif;">You withdrew your instrument from
under the seat and proceeded to play us three tunes. You were really good, very
talented. We clapped when you finished each song and smiled whilst you played.
Your grandmother and father were both obviously extremely proud of you.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif;"></span><span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif;">You had lots of presents that you’d
bought in St Petersburg for your family and teachers. You laid them out on the
seat to designate them to each person. Stickers and a toy truck for your
brother, tea in a tin embossed with the Church of Christ the Saviour on Spilled
Blood for your grandmother… Chocolates, a passport cover – all assigned to
various family members before being put back into the bag and stowed safely
under the seat until you reached home. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif;"></span><span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif;">One day you might be a famous
accordion player and we can say that we met you on a train on our way from St
Petersburg to Minsk. But even if you’re never famous, you’ve got a talent. Hold
onto it, nurture it and don’t give it all up when you’re older and it no longer
seems ‘cool’. Trust me, I gave up playing musical instruments for that reason,
and I regret it. </span></div>
<div style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif;"></span><span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif;"><b>The Cyclist</b></span></div>
<div style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif;"></span><span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif;">We met your bike before we met you. It seemed to fill half of our cabin and took us a little by surprise when we walked in. You came quickly to claim it and explained that you were </span><span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif;">leaving Minsk to start a new job in Poland. You called your bike your friend
and I smiled.</span></div>
<div style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif;"></span><span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif;">You showed us some of the neat
gadgets that our brand-spanking new, very modern train had to offer. A sink hidden
under the table, the bed that folded down fully made, the plugs by the window
to charge our phones. You told us there was a shower on board and I almost
instantly went to find it, having longed to wash myself all that hot, sweaty
day in Minsk. It was one of the best showers I’ve ever had – I keep track of
the good showers and this was definitely up there.</span></div>
<div style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif;"></span><span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif;">Although we never caught your name,
we found out a lot about your life. You’d been to Italy, you had a wife who was a
micro-biologist, you were from a small town in Belarus but moved to Minsk for
better job opportunities and more money. We told you our names and we told you
about our trip before, at around one in the morning, we turned off the light to
catch some sleep before we reached the border. </span></div>
<div style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif;"></span><span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif;">We got off before you in Warsaw,
wishing you well in your new job before we took our leave. You said you hoped
we would enjoy the rest of our trip. We smiled and waved goodbye to you and
then you were just one more memorable face to add the collection we have been
gradually building as our journey progressed.</span></div>
<div style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif;">Only sixteen days left. I wonder
who else we will meet.</span></div>
</div>
How The Mind Wanders...http://www.blogger.com/profile/10774729802537761792noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-88429550602020203.post-20567286683592031282016-05-19T09:55:00.000-07:002016-05-19T09:55:27.433-07:00Murphy's Law (Bloody Murphy!)<b>Murphy's Law states: 'Anything that can go wrong, will go wrong.'</b> <br />
<br />
Everything that could have gone wrong, went wrong.<br />
<br />
I approach the check-in desk at Auckland Airport with the battered, dusty bags of a seasoned pro and the passport stamps to prove my worth. I lay down my documents with confidence and smile at the woman behind the counter as I heave my big bag, to be checked, onto the scales. 17kg - not bad considering I am to be living out of it for two months and it feels like I've packed the kitchen sink. <br />
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'Do you have any of the items on this list in your bag?' the woman asks, pointing to a placard with a series of images on, the things I shouldn't have packed in my checked luggage. I run a cursory eye over the pictures and groan inwardly - what an idiot!<br />
<br />
'My lighter is in my bag,' I reply, rolling my eyes in L's direction and humping my bag back off the scales, 'Hang on, I'll get it out.'<br />
<br />
Cue minutes of rummaging until I retrieve the lighter from the depths of the bottom pocket of my bag and return it, waterproof cover now slipping and rumpled, back to the scales. The woman slips the tag through the bag handle and passes me my boarding pass and bag receipt.<br />
<br />
'You'll need to check into each flight at each airport, but your bag will go all the way without you having to check it again,' she intones, already moving onto the next person in line. I thank her and we go to get coffee and say our goodbyes. After eighteen months, I am leaving New Zealand. It feels a bit like a dream.<br />
<br />
Fast forward four hours or so and brush past the epic sunset over Harbour Bridge and the Opera House that I witnessed as our plane descended into Sydney. Scoot past the minor mishap of my vegetarian meal being forgotten and the fact I had to eat two punnets of Kapiti ice cream instead (oh, the hardship). <br />
<br />
I am now sitting in Sydney Airport, tapped into the free Wi-Fi and posting an image of the aforementioned sunset with a gleeful caption telling my <u><a href="http://www.instagram.com/howthemindwanders" target="_blank">Instagram</a></u> followers that stage one of my journey is complete - a quick hop across the Tasman Sea and I am waiting for my next flight to Beijing. I've eaten a sandwich and some crisps since my meal was forgotten on the last flight but that was fine and this stopover is only a couple of hours. I'll be on the next plane before I know it.<br />
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgStPrmr6V_zNGIyycNpMQGDbB-X_5Ydr7G9fEhidI5wIWhM4hAfsExhWvw9D8poroel8sK-RuOEli7TreOAWCQro2W5CqPJgmShfL-ZVkNOZ-fH-NcSM0mROy8SuzvqI2llcuvkMQqPvg/s1600/IMG_20160419_201752.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgStPrmr6V_zNGIyycNpMQGDbB-X_5Ydr7G9fEhidI5wIWhM4hAfsExhWvw9D8poroel8sK-RuOEli7TreOAWCQro2W5CqPJgmShfL-ZVkNOZ-fH-NcSM0mROy8SuzvqI2llcuvkMQqPvg/s400/IMG_20160419_201752.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Above: that view over Sydney Harbour and the Opera House. Poor quality image of an excellent quality view!</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
As my flight number is called, I approach the gate and realise that every single person around me is already carrying their boarding pass with their passports. I clutch my passport and try to remember what the woman in Auckland told me - in Sydney, I would need to collect my boarding pass from the gate. So I'm fine, right? I'm not sure... I hold out my passport to the person on the gate and tell her, a little pathetically, that I don't yet have my boarding pass.<br />
<br />
'Are you Bethen Hodges?' she asks, looking grim-faced. I tell her I am. She gestures frantically for me to leave the queue and go immediately to the other desk, where a man is checking something on a computer screen.<br />
<br />
'Didn't you hear me calling you? I've been calling you for the past half hour! Where were you?'<br />
<br />
When I tell the guy I am Bethen Hodges and I don't yet have my boarding pass, he looks irritated and launches into his 'I've been calling you' routine.<br />
<br />
'I was sat right over there,' I point, 'I didn't have headphones in and I didn't hear you call my name once!'<br />
<br />
'Well, I have been calling you,' he grumbles, 'You were supposed to check in half an hour ago. Your bag has been taken off the plane because we thought you weren't coming.'<br />
<br />
I splutter.<br />
<br />
'What?!'<br />
<br />
He prints my boarding pass for me and repeats that my checked luggage has been taken off the plane. <br />
<br />
'Well, can't you put it back on the flight?' I ask, 'Why did you take it off?!'<br />
<br />
He explains, rather impatiently, that because I didn't check in they thought that I wasn't flying anymore and they took my bag off the plane. He asks if I want to take a different flight, which I decline, unsure as to how that will help my current situation. When I ask how long it would take for my bag to catch me up, he shrugs and tells me they will get it on another flight as soon as possible.<br />
<br />
'You'll need to speak to the people in Mongolia,' he says, 'You'll need to log it as a missing bag and they'll sort it from their end.'<br />
<br />
I want to ask more questions, or get angry, or make demands, or tell him that I think he is a bit of a prick, really, but I am already being ushered through the double doors and down the corridor onto the plane. Panic grips me and I bite back tears. Crying won't help the situation. My bag will catch me up and I'll make do until I get it back. Shit, my coat is in the bag and it is going to be really cold in Mongolia...<br />
<br />
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<br />
I'll admit here and now, I did cry over my lost bag. It sounds pathetic, but I went into the toilets shortly after take off and cried for about ten minutes. It didn't help the situation in the slightest, but it made me feel better (kind of) and I went back to my seat ready to face whatever was coming my way next. It turns out that what was coming next was another meaty meal... They'd not brought vegetarian food on this flight either!<br />
<br />
'You needed to phone ahead and order it,' the steward informs me, imperiously, when I ask for the vegetarian option, 'We don't carry spare meals.'<br />
<br />
'That's ridiculous,' I reply, 'I chose a vegetarian meal when I booked the flight online and I have never, ever rung an airline before a flight to order my meal before. Why is it different this time?'<br />
<br />
God, it feels good to get slightly passive aggressive, especially after my lack of self-defence over the checking in thing. She scurries away and returns five minutes later with a spare vegetarian meal they had left over in first class. I eat everything and settle down to sleep. <br />
<br />
Twelve hours later. Early morning local time. My body clock telling me it could be any bloody time, I'm tired after not sleeping on the plane properly and I want to nap. I have to wait an hour before I can check in and go through to the transit lounge. I use the time to ask the women behind the check in desk if they know where my checked bag is - is it still in Sydney or has it, just maybe, come on the plane to Beijing with me? They try to help and are sympathetic but the reply comes back the same - I need to wait until Mongolia to sort out this problem.<br />
<br />
The queue to go through the check-in gate is long and muddled, with no real strategy behind it. My attention is caught by a diminutive looking American woman who has shot me a filthy look when I manage to slip into a shorter queue and therefore jump ahead of her. I shrug and smile apologetically - surely she can see that there don't seem to be any set rules for this? I escape her wrath but it is brought full force down on a young French couple when they try to sneak into a new line just ahead of her. Somehow, they cut into the middle of a family and the American woman is having none of it. She launches into a rant about queue jumpers and tells the couple, in no uncertain terms, exactly what she thinks of them and their new position in the line. The couple tell her not to be so rude, to not speak like that to them, but she's on a role and there's no stopping her. In the end, the couple move behind her (in front of me, I grimace/grin in solidarity at them as they step in) and peace reigns.<br />
<br />
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<br />
The lighter that has been in my hand luggage since I removed it from the checked bag in Auckland has to be thrown away as I pass through security in Beijing or I'll get fined. The entire contents of my bag is upended into a grey tray because I have so many electronics that the officials want to see exactly what on earth I'm carrying in there. After forty minutes of queuing and wrathful Americans and over-zealous security procedures, I'm finally in the transit lounge. Three hours and counting before the next flight...<br />
<br />
Or so I thought. At the time we are supposed to board the final two hour flight to Ulaan Baatar, we are instead informed that the weather conditions there have forced the airline to delay the flight by eight hours. A day of waiting suddenly opens up before me. My first thought is to let my hostel know that I'll be late - they're picking me up from the airport and I'd like to courteous and tell them that I won't be there when I said. <br />
<br />
I'm in China. Gmail doesn't work and I didn't download a VPN app because I thought I'd only be there for four hours. I approach the desk where the staff who were supposed to be boarding us are now fielding questions from harassed looking Mongolia goers. I ask if it is possible for me to borrow one of their phones so that I can send an email. After a ten minute wait, one of the staff takes pity on me and lends me their phone. We communicate through broken English - she will let me know when I come to board later if there's been a response. I am immensely grateful for this small kindness. Throughout this entire journey from hell, it was the small generosities shown to me by people like this and brief friendships with strangers that kept me going. That and the fact I could chat to my Mum and P via WhatsApp to keep my spirits up! <br />
<br />
I kill eight hours by going to Pizza Hut, where I meet a nice girl called Lauren who is on her way home after a few months in Australia. We swap travel stories and sit together for a while, until her flight is called and she departs with a cheery wave. I nap intermittently, watch Modern Family, message Mum and P some more and shop for a few essentials since everything I need / own is in that bag back in Sydney. <br />
<br />
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<br />
Finally, we are on the plane. Finally, we taxi to the runway. Finally, the engines roar and we take off into the gathering dusk. Once again, my vegetarian meal is forgotten but I strike lucky and the food is salad with cold meat, which I just remove before devouring the green stuff. I'm one of those weird people who actually quite likes plane food, even if it's just a bit of limp lettuce! <br />
<br />
I'm sat next to the physiotherapist for the Indian wrestling team and he informs me that there is a wrestling competition in Mongolia that weekend. All around me, there are big guys with cauliflower ears - teams on the flight include the Indians, the Azerbaijanis and the Colombians. They're excitable and I wonder if any of them have ever really flown before. Certainly, they seem incapable of following the in-flight rules like keeping their phones switched off and remaining in their seats when the seatbelt sign glows. <br />
<br />
We circle Ulaan Baatar. The plane rocks in the wind and I try to ignore it and close my eyes, wishing the experience to be over as soon as possible. I hate landing in planes. Especially when it's windy. But the circling continues and after an hour, we are informed that we are going to have to return to China to refuel before making a second attempt. A collective groan fills the cabin. At this moment, I give up.<br />
<br />
Everything that can go wrong, has gone wrong. It is all out of my control now. I can't contact the hostel to say I'll be even later. I can't chat with my Mum or P to lift my spirits. There is, in fact, nothing I can do except finally give into my immense exhaustion, accept the relaxing hand massage that is offered to me by the Indian physio and then go to sleep. <br />
<br />
We sit on a runway in China for about an hour whilst the plane is refuelled. We fly back to Mongolia and this time, with a heavy thump, we manage to land safely. I wake up as the wheels bounce onto the tarmac with a screech and the whole plane judders as we come, at last, to a halt. I say goodbye to my new Indian friends, wish them well in their Olympic qualifying competition, and disembark. <br />
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<br />
I'm in a better frame of mind after my nap. I feel ready to tackle the next challenges head on. The challenges are: telling the right people that my bag got left in Sydney and I need to get it back and finding a taxi to take me to my hostel (whilst trying to avoid getting ripped off).<br />
<br />
At the baggage carousel, I approach a young woman who is dressed in a smart uniform and a pair of black high heels. It's 2am in the morning but she looks immaculate and luckily, she speaks enough English to understand my request for help. She guides me to a group of men at a counter and I tell them that my bag got left in Sydney.<br />
<br />
'Have you checked to see if it is here?' one of the men asks.<br />
<br />
'No. I got told it was taken off the plane and that I needed to log it as missing when I arrived here,' I answer, a seed of hope suddenly planted inside me, 'But do you think I should look?'<br />
<br />
'Just check,' the man nods, 'If it isn't there, we will fill out a form.'<br />
<br />
I clutch my baggage receipt tightly in my hand as I approach the carousel, willing my bag to appear. I stand and watch as others retrieve their luggage, loading it onto trolleys and disappearing. The pool of bags is getting smaller, thinner... And suddenly, miraculously, I spot it. My bag. My battered, dusty grey rucksack. It appears through the plastic flaps, the last bag off the plane. My heart leaps and I have to stop myself running forward to grab it - I force myself to stay cool, no one needs to know I could almost have hugged my bag right at that moment!!<br />
<br />
The man reappears at my elbow.<br />
<br />
'You have your bag!' he grins, pleased for me. I babble a reply, too relieved to make much sense. My coat... My clothes... My toiletries... All here, safe. After all that worrying and confusion. I want to kick the man in Sydney who told me that my bag was taken off the plane. The man here, now, in Mongolia, is talking again.<br />
<br />
'Do you need a taxi?' he asks.<br />
<br />
'Yes. Yes, I do. I'm staying at Zaya Hostel.'<br />
<br />
'It'll be ten dollars,' he replies, 'My friend can take you. He knows where the hostel is.'<br />
<br />
Ten dollars is five dollars less than I was going to pay the hostel to collect me. It is 2.30am when we step out into the arrivals lounge, me following the man who will take me to my hostel. Out of the corner of my eye, I spot a tall man waiting, carrying a sign that reads <i>Zaya Hostel.</i><br />
<i><br /></i>
I'm not ashamed to admit that I did hug the guy that turned up at 2.30am to collect me. I think it was mainly out of relief that the journey from hell was finally over. My bag was there and I could pull out my coat and put it on against the biting cold night. And this guy returned to fetch me at that hour of the morning and take me safely to my hostel. He looked surprised by the hug, but after a brief conversation with my almost taxi driver in rapid Mongolian, he laughed and nodded understandingly and commented that my journey must have been long. An understatement. But I was there. Mongolia. Finally.<br />
<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg6P7mKTtSsD8JQ5979qKCPOQt6CcX5Kp-xsL-Z1X3BvBneiZGed_dL3b7XM4jGdafiU7lbWAwgBoGNrDPy80A_8hUP9_1jxpkAy5AJOZXJb2bVAtl_ZSgd7G-hTjjHtkD_-D9am_yy-kY/s1600/IMG_20160508_193108.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg6P7mKTtSsD8JQ5979qKCPOQt6CcX5Kp-xsL-Z1X3BvBneiZGed_dL3b7XM4jGdafiU7lbWAwgBoGNrDPy80A_8hUP9_1jxpkAy5AJOZXJb2bVAtl_ZSgd7G-hTjjHtkD_-D9am_yy-kY/s400/IMG_20160508_193108.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Above: what I came to Mongolia for and endured that journey from hell for - horse riding in the steppe!!</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<i>NB: I booked to stay at Zaya Hostel through Booking.com. I am an affiliate of Booking.com and cannot recommend their services highly enough. I</i><i>f you book accommodation through the Booking.com link on my page, I will get a little bit of money from the booking you've made, at no extra cost to you. Through Booking.com, I have found some truly wonderful places to stay in the past and it is through them that I found Zaya Hostel.</i><br />
<i><br /></i>
<i>If you are ever in Ulaan Baatar, I would suggest a stay at Zaya Hostel. The owners are friendly, speak impeccable English and cannot do enough for you. The rooms are comfortable and the breakfast is good. The whole hostel is clean and warm and it is in an excellent central location. I reviewed this hostel as a 10/10 and would have gone higher if it were allowed! Please Note: This is a completely independent review - the hostel has not compensated me in any way for my endorsement.</i>How The Mind Wanders...http://www.blogger.com/profile/10774729802537761792noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-88429550602020203.post-29989483841944317282016-05-12T09:41:00.003-07:002016-05-12T09:41:23.451-07:00The Long Journey Home: Snapshots So Far<b>'A good snapshot stops a moment from running away.' - Eudora Welty.</b><br />
<br />
If there is one thing I have discovered whilst I've been on my current travels, it's that I often find it hard to digest and absorb everything I am seeing and doing at the time. This goes some way to explaining why I've been so pitifully bad at posting anything about our <u><a href="http://howthemind-wanders.blogspot.ru/2016/02/the-long-journey-home.html" target="_blank">Long Journey Home</a></u> so far. Yes, it IS partly laziness and the fact that I'm enjoying myself immensely and don't necessarily want to sit down and blog about it at the end of the day, but it is also to do with my inability to regurgitate everything immediately after it has happened. I am finding that, more often than not, I need a few days (weeks, months...) to put my thoughts and feelings about a place and time into words. <br />
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However, I have been feeling guilty about not blogging. Guilty because I promised to share this journey with my readers and guilty because as you know, I do actually love blogging about my adventures and I've been feeling as though I've been letting the side down a bit lately. <br />
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Since I am finding it hard to come up with words, I'm taking the fall-back, fail safe option of posting a photo blog to kick things off. Some of my favourite pictures from our trip so far. If you're worried about a lack of words, rest assured, I am writing everything down in my journal so that I don't forget things later on. I will write the stories from this trip, once I've had to time to get everything into perspective and come up with the angles from which I want to write. Until then, enjoy the snapshots from the journey so far.<br />
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Above: The walls of the Forbidden City in Beijing hidden behind pretty pink blossoms. Beijing was better than I expected (apart from the toilets) and I enjoyed my time in the city. It's vast, constantly busy and you nearly get run over every time you cross a road, but for all that it's not intimidating and I felt quite safe there. We walked and walked this city - pounded the streets until my knee was in agony and then we would relent and find a coffee shop somewhere to relax for an hour or so before going again. </div>
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Above: One of my favourite parts of Beijing was the Olympic Park and the massive recreational park that lay beyond it. We stayed as long as we could, going home long after nightfall. This is my favourite picture from the evening - we wondered and wondered what this strange, UFO-like building was, there were no signs indicating its purpose at all, despite the fact that there were signs everywhere else telling you what things were. When we got home we Googled it but didn't really find a satisfactory answer. It will forever remain a mystery! If you look closely, you can see P in the bottom right hand corner. </div>
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Above: We ate lunch this day in the middle of the steppe. U hobbled the horses so that they couldn't wander far and we ate vegetables she'd cooked before we left with hunks of dark bread, both taking big mouthfuls, hungry after riding for three hours. My grey horse grazed on the rough brown grass while we finished our meal with apples and water and got ready to go again - we still had another three hours of riding to go before reaching our final destination! </div>
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Above: As the light faded on our final evening in China, we were on the train bound for the Mongolian border. This fiery sunset was a fitting farewell to a lovely six nights (for me) in China - a country which both surprised me and bothered me - more on that soon. The windmills added perfect silhouettes against this backdrop of red, gold and orange as the train sped north into the night.</div>
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Above: One thing that surprised me the most about Mongolia were the colours. Not on the steppe, which was a bleak, barren, brown landscape, but on the houses and buildings that made up the cities and towns that we passed through and by. No colour was off limits - from lilac to turquoise to burnt orange to bright yellow, it seemed all colours had their place! I loved how they made the towns look like toy towns, and how they made the houses stand out against the bleak backdrop.</div>
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Above: When P and I came back to Mongolia, we stayed one night in a ger with a family. We were encouraged to spend time with the family, despite the fact that we didn't speak Mongolian and they didn't speak English. They offered us food, alcohol, tea and biscuits and despite the language barrier, there was no hiding their kindness and vast generosity. Whilst P and S ate the food they'd been offered (since I don't eat meat I didn't eat at that moment), I stepped outside to take this shot as the light hit the hills further down the valley. I admit to editing my photos, but can honestly say I barely touched this - that light is all real and natural with no filters or touch ups necessary to make it more beautiful. </div>
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Above: By far my favourite horse riding experience in Mongolia was on this horse. I named him Billy, since Mongolians don't name their horses and I felt he deserved a title! He was fun, eager to please and best of all, he wanted to go, go, go! We cantered, galloped and careered across the vast open steppe, enjoying our all-too-short time together. Afterwards, when we arrived back at the gers, I took this photo of him. </div>
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Above: P and I awoke to find our train traversing the southern edge of Lake Baikal. The landscape was completely different to anything else we had seen from the train window before and we ate breakfast and took countless photos as the train wend it's way slowly towards Irkutsk. Occasionally we cursed the dirty window for ruining our photos, but luckily both our shots of the ice on the edge of the lake turned out fine.</div>
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Above: We travelled to Terelj National Park after a busy day of sightseeing. This was my second time in the park and I was grateful that the light was better, so that I could take some improved photos of the strange rock formations that are all over the park. It was late in the day and I was tired and ready to get to our ger, but not before we visited the monastery and I got another opportunity to take photos of the colourful prayer flags there.</div>
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Above: Although the entire monastery was beautiful, these colourful prayer flags were by far my favourite thing to photograph. They fluttered and flitted in the soft breeze, rustling gently against each other, ceaseless movement. Their frayed edges caught and tangled, some knotted around one another, others, like these, stayed free, able to fly in the wind. I took nearly sixty photos of just these flags before I followed the others up to the monastery itself and indulged in the beautiful artwork and paintings there.</div>
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Above: It snowed upon our arrival in Russia. Despite looking a little rundown, these log houses are surprisingly warm and cosy (I am sitting in one as I write this and have been sweating it out throughout the evening!). As our train continued north, the snow faded away until we could see the ground again, but it was still an exciting way to begin our time in Russia. I can guarantee that there'll be plenty more photos to come of the beautiful wooden houses with their colourful window shutters - I think they're stunning!</div>
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Above: Another picture of the snow that greeted us as we woke up on our first morning in Russia. The landscape looked wild with its soft coating of white powder - we half expected to see a pack of wolves or a bear appearing out of the trees. Small huts with smoking chimneys would surprise us just as we thought we had reached the remotest parts. It was onwards to Irkutsk to start our Russian adventure proper...</div>
How The Mind Wanders...http://www.blogger.com/profile/10774729802537761792noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-88429550602020203.post-28393275852142108962016-04-17T18:10:00.000-07:002016-04-17T22:30:14.863-07:00Aroha Aotearoa - 18 Months Later<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Above: my New Zealand</td></tr>
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<b>'It feels right. But it's emotional. Saying goodbye to anything you've done that long is hard.' - Angela Ruggiero.</b><br />
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My time in New Zealand is nearly over. All too soon, I will be in Mongolia and these wonderful eighteen months in this beautiful country will become part of my past. I have been ridiculously happy in this country and truthfully, I'm more than a little apprehensive about leaving. Not because of my upcoming trip or even necessarily the thought of returning to the UK (albeit temporarily), but mainly because when you have been so happy somewhere, you do kind of wonder (or I do anyway) if that happiness can be recreated elsewhere. Deep down I know it can be, but that doesn't stop me wanting to say 'ka kite ano Aotearoa' and celebrate the time I've spent here properly. <br />
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People who read my blog regularly could probably guess that this post was coming. What you wouldn't know is how much I have agonised over how to best write this post - should I write a lot of memories and stories or do a more photo orientated post? But I have songs that remind me of my time here that I want to share with my readers too... And no amount of words can sum up how beautiful New Zealand is, just as no amount of photos can capture some of the fantastic memories I have from my time here. So in the end, I've settled on a kind of montage idea. <br />
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This is quite a long post. It's a jumbled tribute to everything, everywhere and everyone I have loved in New Zealand. Please bear with me - and I hope you like what you see, hear and read.<br />
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<i><b>How This Post Works</b></i><br />
<i>Click on the links for the full stories in earlier blog posts.</i><br />
<i>Check out my <u><a href="https://www.instagram.com/howthemindwanders/" target="_blank">Instagram</a></u> for loads more photos from my time in New Zealand.</i><br />
<i>Check out the YouTube links for the songs I mention throughout this post to get an idea of my NZ playlist!</i><br />
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My time in New Zealand started out like this:</div>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Above: the mosaic that I spent three days creating at J and R's house during my week with them doing Help X.</td></tr>
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I was incredibly lucky to spend my first week here with J and R in the Bay of Islands doing a Help X. They were accommodating, friendly, kind and ridiculously generous - I couldn't have asked for a better introduction to this country. By the time I left, they felt like family and I still think of them often.</div>
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After the Bay of Islands, I went to Queenstown to hang out with this beautiful lady...</div>
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My first introduction to a Queenstown night out was on Halloween, so J dressed up as a character from Day of the Dead and I went... as myself. I hate fancy dress!! The next morning, nursing an almighty hangover, I popped down to the airport and hopped into a helicopter for my first ever scenic flight. Despite feeling dreadful, it was an awesome experience and I got some stunning views of Lake Wakatipu and the country around Queenstown...</div>
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Since that first helicopter flight, I've done a couple of other scenic flights - one in Franz Josef (again with a raging hangover) to go see the glacier and the other in Wanaka where <u><a href="http://www.howthemind-wanders.blogspot.co.nz/2015/05/sky-high-aspirations.html" target="_blank">I even got to fly the plane as we soared over Mt Aspiring National Park</a></u>. </div>
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Above: flying over Mt Aspiring National Park</div>
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After Queenstown I started my epic Stray journey around the South Island. Whilst on this journey, I met some wonderful people and did some real bucket-list stuff, such as kayaking in Abel Tasman, heli-hiking on Franz Josef Glacier and seeing Milford Sound. </div>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Above: kayaking in Abel Tasman was one of my favourite days in New Zealand - it was beautifully warm, a cloudless blue sky, a turquoise crystal clear ocean and beaches like this... I felt like I'd died and ended up in tropical paradise! Hard to believe that this is in NZ and two days later, I was climbing on a glacier...</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Above: Franz Josef Glacier in all its icy glory. I had perhaps one of the worst hangovers I have ever had when I did this - I'd accidentally gotten very drunk the night before and hadn't been able to keep breakfast down before we flew up to the glacier. Halfway around the guided walk, I nearly fainted (no food) and our guide, with some laughter at my expense, had to radio for someone to come and get me and take me back down to the helicopter pad. To be honest, I always feel like I lucked out - I ended up basically having my own personal guide who showed me how to walk properly in crampons, walked slowly enough for me to really enjoy myself and stopped frequently and waited patiently whilst I took photos and slowly recovered. We talked about how much the glacier was retreating, he taught me stuff about the glacier I probably wouldn't have learnt in the group and I had an all round great (although different to expected) time. </td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Above: Milford Sound. I've said it before elsewhere in this blog but no amount of descriptions or superlatives can do this incredible place justice. You really need to go and see it for yourself. Until you do, here is a photo of Mitre Peak to whet your appetite!</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Above: I was super lucky and got to see Aoraki / Mt Cook on my very first visit to the region. For once, the mountain was not shrouded by low cloud and we got to see her in all her stunning glory. We hiked the Hooker Valley walk and stayed by the glacial lake at the base of the mountain for about an hour, skimming stones and chatting. I've been back twice since and not been lucky enough to see the peak of the mountain since - I'm so glad I got this opportunity! </td></tr>
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I spent the majority of my November 2014 Stray tour on Splash's bus and had a blast with the people I met along the way. Splash was the sort of person you don't forget in a hurry - a massive personality, heaps of fun and he always had something crazy up his sleeve! It was one of the busiest months I've ever had, one of the most fun and definitely one of the most expensive!! <br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh1qs16l3fm6cLq8KOggYSwV2Gy2l4-faplUYXI08PjLk1mDWupeKb3ObPE93lHkXKlWYawAnEv7HvKqULZtxYc4875ie4nz2YlUtZ6eNVJRgqeCiOyFQr0d2FDedtsfCDP3HjY441wQd8/s1600/stray+nov.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="370" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh1qs16l3fm6cLq8KOggYSwV2Gy2l4-faplUYXI08PjLk1mDWupeKb3ObPE93lHkXKlWYawAnEv7HvKqULZtxYc4875ie4nz2YlUtZ6eNVJRgqeCiOyFQr0d2FDedtsfCDP3HjY441wQd8/s640/stray+nov.png" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Above: Stray November 2014 montage!</td></tr>
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Splash also introduced me to my first 'New Zealand song' - a track by <u><a href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=aHjpOzsQ9YI" target="_blank">Lindsey Stirling called 'Crystallize'</a></u>. He played it on the bus as we drove from Franz Josef through to Wanaka via the Haast Pass. It was a beautiful sunny day and the views outside the window were incredible - all mountains, icy blue rivers and to our right, the wild Tasman Sea. This was the day I officially fell in love with New Zealand - after slowly falling during the previous few weeks, this day tipped me over the edge and I put it on record in my journal - New Zealand had it all and I was head over heels.<br />
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<a href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=aHjpOzsQ9YI" target="_blank">Lindsey Stirling - Crystallize</a></div>
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Once my Stray adventures were over, I headed to Wellington to find a job and settle down for a while. <u><a href="http://www.howthemind-wanders.blogspot.co.nz/2014/12/reality-check.html" target="_blank">I struggled to begin with</a></u>, and spent a couple of weeks full of worry, wondering if coming to New Zealand had been the right decision. However, I eventually moved into The Dwellington and I found a job too - but not before Christmas.</div>
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My first Christmas away from home was strange - I enjoyed it immensely but couldn't help but miss my family and friends, the traditions I'd grown up with and Mum's roast dinner!! </div>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Above: Christmas 2014 with this lot - presents under the tree, Champagne for breakfast and a massive pot luck dinner and BBQ. Add happy drunken times and you end up with a great Christmas away from home!</td></tr>
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After a happy Christmas and New Year, my new job began and I actually moved out of the Dwellington to live in a flat in Brooklyn with some friends I'd met through the temp hospitality work I did before Christmas. Unfortunately, I ended up getting very homesick and I really missed the buzz of hostel life, which led to me eventually moving back into the hostel at the end of March. It was one of the best decisions I made whilst living in New Zealand and it was wonderful to be back - although when I look back at it now I can't believe I lived there and survived for so long!! The Dwellington was my home from home in New Zealand and<u><a href="http://www.howthemind-wanders.blogspot.co.nz/2016/02/my-dwellington-home.html" target="_blank"> I couldn't have asked for anywhere better to live</a></u> - this hostel gave me so many of my amazing friendships and became an integral part of my life in Wellington. </div>
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I've had too many good times living in the hostel to count on two hands. Sure, there have been some difficult times too, but mostly I'm taking away so many positives from my time there. Some of my favourite days, hours, minutes, moments have been with the people I've met whilst living there. I think it's safe to say that the friends I have made my time in New Zealand what it was - fun, hilarious, adventurous and overall, simply fantastic. I can't thank those people enough for everything they've done for me and I know I've said it before, but I've honestly made friends for life. Thank you to each and every one of you for adding something to my New Zealand experience. Here's just a few of the fantastic people I've met and a few of the crazy moments we've had together, thanks to living in the hostel! </div>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Above: three montages of good times with friends - Wellington Races, nights out, climbing mountains, crossing rivers, adventuring, Blending, boat parties, camping, River Valley, swimming in the icy cold ocean, wearing silly hats and generally having the best times ever!!</td></tr>
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It is whilst I have been with all these fantastic people doing all this awesome stuff that some of my other 'New Zealand songs' have come about. By this I mean songs, for better or worse (Justin Bieber!!!) have become part of a playlist I'll always associate with New Zealand and the good times I spent here. Songs such as <u><a href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=jGflUbPQfW8" target="_blank">'Cheerleader' by OMI</a></u> that reminds me of the epic boat party we went on in April last year and then danced the night away in a flat that belonged to someone who looked like Beppe di Marco from EastEnders. I was so drunk that I ate four McDonald's beef burgers and so tired that M had to guide me the whole walk home as I kept my eyes shut the entire time!</div>
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And this song - <a href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=2Ji6YlKFJ8k" target="_blank">'Life's A Beach' by Django Django</a> - which will forever remind me of Sunday Funday when we all got ridiculously drunk and we found a yellow balloon which had a face on and we decided to call her Doris...</div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiqn9yhJuHUzU2jKBINPO8DsibztXDqpXJGMouAze-C-OvYlmnAwpGWFVDb2T9ewT8OeM5zC47de1ft_5SE3faUMXsWrbEmrwzJ_bPgwze2fGFkYA64GslTv5Q4ePYkrRfi1-dxU79aKJI/s1600/doris.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiqn9yhJuHUzU2jKBINPO8DsibztXDqpXJGMouAze-C-OvYlmnAwpGWFVDb2T9ewT8OeM5zC47de1ft_5SE3faUMXsWrbEmrwzJ_bPgwze2fGFkYA64GslTv5Q4ePYkrRfi1-dxU79aKJI/s400/doris.jpg" width="225" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Above: this is L trying Doris on for size... Doris stayed with us for quite a while and gradually deflated over the months... A now shrunken Doris is currently travelling around with P in Taiwan and China before doing the Trans-Mongolian with us... I expect there'll be photos to come! </td></tr>
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And finally, regretfully because I intensely dislike him, <u><a href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=fRh_vgS2dFE" target="_blank">Justin Bieber's song 'Sorry'</a></u>, which seems to have been on every playlist we have had going since I got back to NZ in January after Christmas at home. I fought it hard, but then someone put it on to play whilst a group of us were on the beach in Otaki enjoying a night away at J's work colleague's bach and in that moment, I just accepted it. Sometimes, however hard you fight against something, the inevitable happens and it becomes part of your life... Cheers friends for forcing him into my life!</div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh6Yt7geVAEFD3c1YY19tpT1AmNkb3j2A_Ei7jQ3eMF6fOc9i8-i_MetQkODfEg0YoV8l_XKf0le63wl8PQpy68DFKB5f-WHGL94FNM3abipa04WDJLt9l9LepmC_1XjYJJFCWqiFNUSXs/s1600/otaki.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh6Yt7geVAEFD3c1YY19tpT1AmNkb3j2A_Ei7jQ3eMF6fOc9i8-i_MetQkODfEg0YoV8l_XKf0le63wl8PQpy68DFKB5f-WHGL94FNM3abipa04WDJLt9l9LepmC_1XjYJJFCWqiFNUSXs/s640/otaki.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Above: group shot on Otaki Beach on Easter weekend - the moment J Biebs finally wormed his way into my life and became part of my NZ playlist! Damn it!</td></tr>
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Of course, there have been other friends beyond the Dwellington too. In May last year, I hit the road again with Stray and met another great group of people. Within a week, we'd become a close knit unit and I loved every second of my time travelling the North Island with my new friends before we went our separate ways. This time around, my bus driver was Lolly - completely different to Splash but no less memorable and just as much fun! That week brought with it parties in the middle of nowhere, <u><a href="http://www.howthemind-wanders.blogspot.co.nz/2015/07/doing-good-lake-aniwhenua.html" target="_blank">a beautiful experience at Lake Aniwhenua</a></u> and finally, a long-awaited visit to Hobbiton! For this LOTR fan, Hobbiton was one of the most amazing places to visit. The set was so realistic, right down to the tiny details like Hobbit-sized clothing hanging on the washing lines and vegetables growing in the gardens. </div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj7JQi4d70Q9fzmTkcOHEAGORCiHGvLVBcKe_hqkVuAwQIA0yyz9iQXp6zZJ4y8iL2vaQ6q7KVOZ2TzAlVCHAT2N_gJ1kv1Qz5T-KMEn7hbbO5HgRnvWr7Cy-mRDH5lV2WP6Tvjo2ojEK8/s1600/may+stray.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="384" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj7JQi4d70Q9fzmTkcOHEAGORCiHGvLVBcKe_hqkVuAwQIA0yyz9iQXp6zZJ4y8iL2vaQ6q7KVOZ2TzAlVCHAT2N_gJ1kv1Qz5T-KMEn7hbbO5HgRnvWr7Cy-mRDH5lV2WP6Tvjo2ojEK8/s640/may+stray.png" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Above: straying away again in May 2015 - this time I explored the North Island with Stray.</td></tr>
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I spent the first three weeks in May on the South Island before I headed north to join my Stray tour. I got to spend my favourite season of autumn exploring new corners of the South Island I'd not previously seen and getting treated to <u><a href="http://www.howthemind-wanders.blogspot.co.nz/2015/05/red-and-orange-gold-and-yellow.html" target="_blank">a full on orange, gold, red and yellow display from all the trees as they began to lose their leaves for winter</a></u>. I loved Arrowtown and Glenorchy at this time of year, and really enjoyed seeing J in Queenstown again, as well as <u><a href="http://www.howthemind-wanders.blogspot.co.nz/2015/06/a-great-walk.html" target="_blank">hiking the Abel Tasman Great Walk</a></u> with G. </div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjUt3eEeubz-7fsh2jdMdAi-3MvP3H10EKz8DWte5XmFdp_cG8JnFQfl_LybyayiFQK_BCt8WXflqCcVuiU9B7PweD4RofYnHQ6qe5zQkbPtcEWoBHPLaRbawrNmaPTaa8I_6tjzuvaelA/s1600/SAM_3050.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjUt3eEeubz-7fsh2jdMdAi-3MvP3H10EKz8DWte5XmFdp_cG8JnFQfl_LybyayiFQK_BCt8WXflqCcVuiU9B7PweD4RofYnHQ6qe5zQkbPtcEWoBHPLaRbawrNmaPTaa8I_6tjzuvaelA/s320/SAM_3050.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Above: G and I at the start of the Abel Tasman Great Walk. Four days of hiking and three nights staying in huts, no showers for four days and I survived on watery noodles and peanut butter and bread. Really loved this walk and wish I'd taken the time to do other Great Walks.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhwriuBCEOpzL0C-2q45SNeXluQHPYeFX4PZ33RnHPyvOLM7ZrFfyOmaK4dLPmwPLQpOhAIg1CMhGyeW2wTNfKjyR87IW4IAzCTcYR6jQX03XYXAxn5iUw3PsvIMxrEMM7jz8JKwTAaBjg/s1600/SAM_3500.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="558" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhwriuBCEOpzL0C-2q45SNeXluQHPYeFX4PZ33RnHPyvOLM7ZrFfyOmaK4dLPmwPLQpOhAIg1CMhGyeW2wTNfKjyR87IW4IAzCTcYR6jQX03XYXAxn5iUw3PsvIMxrEMM7jz8JKwTAaBjg/s640/SAM_3500.JPG" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Above: Autumn on Paradise Road near Glenorchy.</td></tr>
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Whilst on the South Island in May, <u><a href="http://www.howthemind-wanders.blogspot.co.nz/2015/05/taking-train-tranzalpine.html" target="_blank">I spent a fantastic day on the TranzAlpine train</a></u>, traversing the country from east coast to west and back again. It was a beautiful sunny day at the start of winter - there was a sprinkle of snow on the tops of the mountains and the braided rivers glittered in the bright sunshine. Unfortunately, I forgot my proper camera and had to rely on my phone to take all my pictures, which really didn't do the scenery much justice! It had been something I'd wanted to do for ages and it definitely lived up to my expectations - and fuelled my desire to do my upcoming trip on the Trans-Siberian railway. As you all know, I am a bit of a train geek!<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg9oTSpO7UN-z8GSug9iTuk4Rf7U4SrVhdkIMaGnmjNtm3SIHFP8G8upKdLYLS8bML8EX8N-Lsm5Uxm77Grfs6M_C2Cb-Q9_Zr2siBnl7vEVw5zk6eW2a0ssvKBjGToR68MC0Ji9x-RrOk/s1600/IMAG0983+%25282%2529.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="282" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg9oTSpO7UN-z8GSug9iTuk4Rf7U4SrVhdkIMaGnmjNtm3SIHFP8G8upKdLYLS8bML8EX8N-Lsm5Uxm77Grfs6M_C2Cb-Q9_Zr2siBnl7vEVw5zk6eW2a0ssvKBjGToR68MC0Ji9x-RrOk/s640/IMAG0983+%25282%2529.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Above: my view from the TranzAlpine and probably one of the best pictures I took that day with my phone!</td></tr>
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Once my time travelling around New Zealand in May 2015 was over, it was back to Wellington and <u><a href="http://www.howthemind-wanders.blogspot.co.nz/2015/11/wellington-on-good-day.html" target="_blank">back to work</a></u>. Wellington played the biggest part in my life here in NZ - but I always had a bit of a love / hate relationship with the country's capital. <u><a href="http://www.howthemind-wanders.blogspot.co.nz/2015/11/wellington-on-good-day.html" target="_blank">Wellington on a good day</a></u> was all blue skies, blue water and blue mountains in the distance. The opportunities in the city on a good day seemed endless. It was just on the bad weather days when I struggled with Wellington.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhgZaRyYgeT_y8RA6vBWN8iR6aejBwJZjyE7DmUWDNEoxzqWLP8QL2QLmHtSRnW_5QSXYzor7CXI9E527pw49ETIzRgdUCdqcz25YuKkZnwUJQPnRYIGV6xnQ9I2pPH3etrYpQ17pT6woo/s1600/9+Jun+15.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="420" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhgZaRyYgeT_y8RA6vBWN8iR6aejBwJZjyE7DmUWDNEoxzqWLP8QL2QLmHtSRnW_5QSXYzor7CXI9E527pw49ETIzRgdUCdqcz25YuKkZnwUJQPnRYIGV6xnQ9I2pPH3etrYpQ17pT6woo/s640/9+Jun+15.JPG" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Above: looking back across the harbour towards the city from Somes Island. I went there for the day back in June last year, after returning from my trip in May. We took a picnic, walked the circumference of the island and enjoyed the warm winter sunshine. It was on this day that P and I first discussed doing the Trans-Siberian railway together, and this was where the Long Journey Home was born!!</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Above: a blue view from the Botanic Gardens. </td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Above: the view of Wellington from the wind turbine lookout. </td></tr>
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Thankfully, Wellington has the most awesome <u><a href="http://www.howthemind-wanders.blogspot.co.nz/2016/02/pizza-and-craft-beer-eating-out-in.html" target="_blank">local food and drink scene</a></u> - everything from the beers brewed around the region to the delicious brunches I enjoyed on an almost weekly basis. Living in New Zealand has definitely turned me into a coffee and wine snob and flat whites have become a regular occurrence in my life. The food and drink in Wellington redeemed the city to me when I was having a bad day with the place - if the wind was blowing a gale and the rain was pounding down, it would always help to head to a café, sit down, grab some food and a coffee and have my faith restored as I watched the world go past through the steamed up window. <br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiNRqbNhIK4GHsKue0ce8YMN4xlCGxTz5qxJbB2v0IxAxZRo5tYLvFEncUxhoWBmk1y4VzRTJE7BJr-eMIaaLx7AqacfD_ffjVuXEwi_iCCb1tQApO5vj2jVAaMnlX8JXqlAoeJnCK_KEE/s1600/food+montage.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="422" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiNRqbNhIK4GHsKue0ce8YMN4xlCGxTz5qxJbB2v0IxAxZRo5tYLvFEncUxhoWBmk1y4VzRTJE7BJr-eMIaaLx7AqacfD_ffjVuXEwi_iCCb1tQApO5vj2jVAaMnlX8JXqlAoeJnCK_KEE/s640/food+montage.png" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Above: how could you not love a city that serves up food and drinks like these?? And in the middle - Scorch-o-rama, one of my favourite cafes in Wellington.</td></tr>
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Although I lived in Wellington full time, I made sure I got out of the city as much as possible to explore other areas in New Zealand. This often took the form of day trips out into the Wairarapa region where we did wine tasting, explored the various small seaside towns or visited the pinnacles near Cape Palliser on one memorable day when ALL the drama seemed to come our way (mini landslides, a car accident - thankfully not us, dolphin spotting and extreme river crossing... That day out had it all! <br />
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One of my favourite day trips occurred that time when P and I phoned in sick one bright, sunny Monday morning and headed off up the Kapiti Coast for a visit to the seaside. We had brunch, walked along the shoreline, P went for a chilly swim and then we hopped back on the train in search of a bar or two where we could buy some drinks. After a ridiculously expensive bar, we found one that had a cheap happy hour and spent the rest of the evening there, drinking and chatting and feeling good about the fact we'd successfully pulled off a sick day and had a great time!!<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Above: a drama filled day when we went to explore the pinnacles near Cape Palliser.</td></tr>
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Above: wine tasting and wineries in Martinborough.</div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiwoTZI4RHHzrLFOFjUuFJxyodxdkpYxPa0XcLq1XiMq_t-z0KnZxuI66cNoaW9KXxNdwhlp72LB51aiA7prOYUwIQNUQAquWd0w1HczPnxQ-XxYmkGYlLzcmdJQDRzkbkkOO0976HoSAs/s1600/12+Sept+15.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="330" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiwoTZI4RHHzrLFOFjUuFJxyodxdkpYxPa0XcLq1XiMq_t-z0KnZxuI66cNoaW9KXxNdwhlp72LB51aiA7prOYUwIQNUQAquWd0w1HczPnxQ-XxYmkGYlLzcmdJQDRzkbkkOO0976HoSAs/s640/12+Sept+15.JPG" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Above: waves crashing on shore near Castle Point.</td></tr>
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There were longer trips too, weekends away like the time <u><a href="http://www.howthemind-wanders.blogspot.co.nz/2015/02/flying-high.html" target="_blank">I skydived in Taupo and hiked Tongariro</a></u>, or the time P and I spent a lovely weekend in Rotorua, exploring the red wood forest, luging and eating lots of food! We headed to White Island during this trip and <u><a href="http://www.howthemind-wanders.blogspot.co.nz/2015/08/white-island-volcano-ventures.html" target="_blank">spent a memorable day exploring this marine volcano</a></u>, which is located 49km offshore from Whakatane. We went <u><a href="http://www.howthemind-wanders.blogspot.co.nz/2015/04/under-stars.html" target="_blank">camping at Cape Palliser</a></u> last April and after enduring a windy, almost sleepless night we encountered hundreds of seals before heading home. <br />
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg5v1v2dRr_ldxI4hjL51LStEuuvyjz4xxmQGosuGMMBSEm-Gy3V_IagFBc_fQT9lnhMpJyVcBI01x7iGRESXjOGzDUrRxBwcBQ5B-d_y7H1EE-c8nGqUBSeqN5g35ibdIEuqCjA3W8qpE/s1600/SAM_4896.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="364" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg5v1v2dRr_ldxI4hjL51LStEuuvyjz4xxmQGosuGMMBSEm-Gy3V_IagFBc_fQT9lnhMpJyVcBI01x7iGRESXjOGzDUrRxBwcBQ5B-d_y7H1EE-c8nGqUBSeqN5g35ibdIEuqCjA3W8qpE/s640/SAM_4896.JPG" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Above: photographing around Rotorua - reflections, steam and blue skies with these interesting buildings around too!</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhDcBkTJZD02HxHgec4wTEdfqc2PIvlfxXbmCzKltbdJwPDAJXRynWwIPxGHKT8kmkV_SudJfWDu9hUvfoUF_vgMxWPCRVgo6OIGIiznObwyBYqtTOo9R3gJitQUrJqnjEDdNdd0tMij0I/s1600/SAM_5175.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhDcBkTJZD02HxHgec4wTEdfqc2PIvlfxXbmCzKltbdJwPDAJXRynWwIPxGHKT8kmkV_SudJfWDu9hUvfoUF_vgMxWPCRVgo6OIGIiznObwyBYqtTOo9R3gJitQUrJqnjEDdNdd0tMij0I/s640/SAM_5175.JPG" width="480" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Above: White Island - yellow rocks and clouds of steam.</td></tr>
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And then, of course, there was River Valley... Not only did <u><a href="http://www.howthemind-wanders.blogspot.co.nz/2015/10/serendipity.html" target="_blank">I have my serendipitous moment whilst here</a></u>, but this trip leads me to another musical moment and a short story with a small background to it. <br />
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In the run up to River Valley, myself and several friends had been in the hostel kitchen getting excited about the trip. Someone came up with an 'I'm excited for River Valley' dance which effectively involved nothing more than bouncing a little on the spot back and forth with slightly dangly arms. Cue all six of us doing it together in the kitchen while we were making dinner...<br />
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It was the morning after the night before at River Valley. Most of us were nursing hangovers of varying degrees - from mild to Carla (it is a hangover scale, trust me!) - and we were slowly beginning to pack up the tents and think about getting on the road. P was sitting in the entrance of our tent playing music and all of a sudden, <u><a href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=FTQbiNvZqaY" target="_blank">Toto 'Africa'</a></u> came on. Without so much as a word, the few of us who had done the 'I'm excited for River Valley' dance back in the hostel started it up and amazingly, pretty much the entire group joined in, bar P and C. Seeing approximately 18-20 people all standing and swaying on the spot was a sight, and when P looked up from his phone where he'd been lining up the next song, he told us exactly how surreal the whole thing was. If I'm honest, this tiny moment is actually one of my favourite memories of my entire time in NZ and I'll always remember it, especially when someone puts on Toto!! This song will forever be part of my New Zealand playlist!<br />
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiJBd_LS14CL2R-pdCFNvqSqXC0xpE31QkvjLFW_JHQo4g3hJGCEoUeUD6P78O_sJU3JqJPI-zWTpNnaJhwNuWiOdjD8-FjEQjZ3m7YRTME5Y36QTJN6W5YdG189oUNSGc14GhR8VHiXRU/s1600/river+valley.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="426" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiJBd_LS14CL2R-pdCFNvqSqXC0xpE31QkvjLFW_JHQo4g3hJGCEoUeUD6P78O_sJU3JqJPI-zWTpNnaJhwNuWiOdjD8-FjEQjZ3m7YRTME5Y36QTJN6W5YdG189oUNSGc14GhR8VHiXRU/s640/river+valley.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Above: everyone at River Valley - getting towards drunk I'd say!!</td></tr>
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After a brief interlude during which I went to the Philippines for three weeks and then home for Christmas, I returned to a glorious New Zealand summer and three months left living in the country before the Long Journey Home was to begin. There were new challenges, such as learning to become a dragon boater with Fletcher and <u><a href="http://www.howthemind-wanders.blogspot.co.nz/2016/03/becoming-sea-lion.html" target="_blank">our bid for the gold medals in March</a></u>, but mostly I was determined to have as much fun as possible. Luckily for me, with summer in full flow, everyone else was pretty much on the same wavelength and we had some great days out, including our day at the Wellington Races when everyone got dressed up, and that time when we went for an icy evening swim in Island Bay and were then treated to one of the best sunsets I've ever seen. <br />
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiPRNUAhUZC10UMItGPuro0dLUyekPp5_LyZwSNx_bO50GRBEkt9YSrObLQKaLvgwGvw3EyaqVhO6zFf55QVQyFWV1sz7uxMMY84wg_HGkmD5vY5hBEOJgX6COhgU6HYANcWPzfMBtLIwk/s1600/wellington+races.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="448" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiPRNUAhUZC10UMItGPuro0dLUyekPp5_LyZwSNx_bO50GRBEkt9YSrObLQKaLvgwGvw3EyaqVhO6zFf55QVQyFWV1sz7uxMMY84wg_HGkmD5vY5hBEOJgX6COhgU6HYANcWPzfMBtLIwk/s640/wellington+races.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Above: our group at the races - everyone looking smarter than I've ever seen them look before!</td></tr>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhks7lqdzoECdde8qNRrnY2cEcbS8s79yU5wdbU64prYFCpQu0FRyi4jYGL52oYjx48w4tikp6w-S4hnjdrz0v73ZapePj0VJz5NCsuDNIjGTqO82WU_Vmfp7_Q5wbbh_KgQsOdrK0SiLQ/s1600/island+bay+sunset.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="190" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhks7lqdzoECdde8qNRrnY2cEcbS8s79yU5wdbU64prYFCpQu0FRyi4jYGL52oYjx48w4tikp6w-S4hnjdrz0v73ZapePj0VJz5NCsuDNIjGTqO82WU_Vmfp7_Q5wbbh_KgQsOdrK0SiLQ/s640/island+bay+sunset.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Above: one of the best NZ sunsets I ever saw, right after a freezing cold swim in the ocean.</td></tr>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh-_qWURfyM35bQXkJJXtGs3W-9yPIkI5MPZK-LpkMf2Ld9LhHvFXIleAlBZm6KcJQTN1yqkuOQZddSEiqtwznVYBofgTaQAFwDk80e7GBkcNESeqeJMzwj4gMeaUshKRWhmKIA8VEKDKE/s1600/dragon+boat+sealions+%25287%2529.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="252" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh-_qWURfyM35bQXkJJXtGs3W-9yPIkI5MPZK-LpkMf2Ld9LhHvFXIleAlBZm6KcJQTN1yqkuOQZddSEiqtwznVYBofgTaQAFwDk80e7GBkcNESeqeJMzwj4gMeaUshKRWhmKIA8VEKDKE/s640/dragon+boat+sealions+%25287%2529.JPG" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Above: the Fletcher Sea Lions on race day in March...</td></tr>
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<br />
And now, with my final road trip around the South Island completed and all my goodbyes said to my friends in Wellington, I am in Auckland awaiting my departure for Mongolia. This post barely scratches the surface of all the amazing experiences I've had, all the wonderful people I have met and the friends that I've made and it doesn't do my love for this country anywhere near enough justice. This is but a brief summary of some of my favourite moments and memories from my time in New Zealand, and I know that when the plane takes off tomorrow I will feel more than a little emotional about my departure.<br />
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhhh07zuVm955MR4QoMTWUzMS-BsRqv6JCV6Ldxr6fuDmFdF1_PqyWqbZRbbkx49HhmQgv4cMd7Z1nfA-Ct_pxMtQfWLBSXfU6jYc8L_Tpa1LTA-9KUF8Ozal39B3XtvH12vs9bkxAAx4s/s1600/IMG_4624+%25282%2529.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="426" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhhh07zuVm955MR4QoMTWUzMS-BsRqv6JCV6Ldxr6fuDmFdF1_PqyWqbZRbbkx49HhmQgv4cMd7Z1nfA-Ct_pxMtQfWLBSXfU6jYc8L_Tpa1LTA-9KUF8Ozal39B3XtvH12vs9bkxAAx4s/s640/IMG_4624+%25282%2529.JPG" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Above: sunset in Hokitika</td></tr>
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<br />
Writing this post has made me smile so many times. It's been so lovely to go back through all my memories and to look at all my photos again. I've played the songs I've posted links to, and grinned to myself as I've remembered things I thought I'd forgotten whilst I was writing the little stories and memories down for you to read. I hope you get a sense from this post just how much I have loved practically every second here, and just how happy and satisfied I have been living here. <br />
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New Zealand, we aren't done. I will be back, you can be sure of that. But for now, it's time for the next chapter in my life to begin, and it's with a mixture of apprehension, excitement and sadness that I leave NZ behind and fly off for the unknown. I know that the coming months are going to be testing, interesting, exciting, scary, wonderful and exhilarating. I know I'm going to learn so much and have so many more great experiences to share. And I know all this because it's exactly what has happened here, in Aotearoa, the Land of the Long White Cloud.<br />
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New Zealand, you've been amazing.</div>
How The Mind Wanders...http://www.blogger.com/profile/10774729802537761792noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-88429550602020203.post-41926241466977888902016-04-05T01:31:00.000-07:002016-04-05T01:42:10.819-07:00Postcards from the South Island<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi28cmIdQtU2l4aMuHTLdn8Lyr245819UzuQmeGozso87x6GrGXuY82zg6GyJme8hgZaDaWQOybZn033GSHkIWP7CIARkXwV2UmWGaAxHImi4kC7wzr_LXuYmIMPu_xu4Ca3dX6S7FWxng/s1600/IMG_3667+%25282%2529.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="262" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi28cmIdQtU2l4aMuHTLdn8Lyr245819UzuQmeGozso87x6GrGXuY82zg6GyJme8hgZaDaWQOybZn033GSHkIWP7CIARkXwV2UmWGaAxHImi4kC7wzr_LXuYmIMPu_xu4Ca3dX6S7FWxng/s640/IMG_3667+%25282%2529.JPG" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Above: Lake Pukaki</td></tr>
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<b>'There are no rules of architecture for a castle in the clouds.' - Gilbert K. Chesterton.</b><br />
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So, after my brief diversion the other day to write a little about anxiety (I have been feeling a lot better for these past few days), it's now back to the regular (kind of) scheduled posts!! <br />
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Despite the anxiety I've been experiencing, I have been having some good times on the South Island so far, and I've been loving some of the excellent photo opportunities I've had so far in particular. I've been really excited to finally experience some moody weather down here - I've always been extremely lucky with the weather when travelling around New Zealand but all these clouds have provided me with some amazing photographs that I just couldn't wait to share! And since the last two posts have been photograph free, I think it's about time I inundated you with pictures again, otherwise you might start thinking I've given up the hobby.<br />
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So far I have been to Mt Cook, Queenstown and I am currently in Wanaka, my favourite place in New Zealand. After Wanaka, I am heading up the West Coast to visit the glaciers and then over Lewis Pass for a night in Hanmer Springs before I go to Kaikoura to spend my last night on the South Island with friends. The photos below are from the first six days of my road trip. I hope you enjoy them!<br />
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<b>Mackenzie High Country and Mt Cook</b><br />
I've been to Mt Cook National Park a couple of times before, once when it was really sunny and I got first time lucky and saw Aoraki / Mt Cook in all it's glory and another time when it was snowing, I was ill and I didn't leave the hostel. This third time, I had amazing moody weather with lots of low hanging clouds shrouding the tops of the mountains, making the whole place seem mysterious and full of secrets. This type of weather makes for some great photo opportunities - I loved trying to capture the atmosphere whilst I was hiking up to the Tasman Glacier look out and on the drive into the national park. Here are some of the results...<br />
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj3HVIdAvw6TC6YlXJ3s7m_6VsoZa_6ppJlGRBEPpUmBIYuWeFludfEO1Rq3Ljy0xgEm0K_X1VqYRONG5Qscq4pqHU0GlZ0_jwsg9CDNcPjkWNSENpkgR9_6FcKRLeKnHLMPVr3GLJ85sc/s1600/IMG_3656+%25282%2529.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="196" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj3HVIdAvw6TC6YlXJ3s7m_6VsoZa_6ppJlGRBEPpUmBIYuWeFludfEO1Rq3Ljy0xgEm0K_X1VqYRONG5Qscq4pqHU0GlZ0_jwsg9CDNcPjkWNSENpkgR9_6FcKRLeKnHLMPVr3GLJ85sc/s640/IMG_3656+%25282%2529.JPG" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Above: Mackenzie High Country</td></tr>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi-tYtNwJe5TVZQQ5UxNlaZYUnyKQNI70xRwZA3VS-aU5YXnOzmJ4cSUCW7wBrLW9-dzF5tzDijP0idnUPRUau-DO2jWVTt67hhMcDhf75EIPDVQQArwu4HkU71uK_mfth07xAIeEEr_TM/s1600/IMG_3670+%25282%2529.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="562" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi-tYtNwJe5TVZQQ5UxNlaZYUnyKQNI70xRwZA3VS-aU5YXnOzmJ4cSUCW7wBrLW9-dzF5tzDijP0idnUPRUau-DO2jWVTt67hhMcDhf75EIPDVQQArwu4HkU71uK_mfth07xAIeEEr_TM/s640/IMG_3670+%25282%2529.JPG" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Above: the road to Tasman Glacier</td></tr>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiWRo8wz7PMuYfvAgFWdjs2ytkTvT8b5qbKYWovTENHhDJ1hTL1-CU6AsvHxJqVBYSTYMeOMNrWoH2LOvn_KnNM70W2GpjzZxd-wzPt_TYL3Zln2joI53xhVNGUPtU76sO3vgQXIuxLJOk/s1600/IMG_3693+%25282%2529.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiWRo8wz7PMuYfvAgFWdjs2ytkTvT8b5qbKYWovTENHhDJ1hTL1-CU6AsvHxJqVBYSTYMeOMNrWoH2LOvn_KnNM70W2GpjzZxd-wzPt_TYL3Zln2joI53xhVNGUPtU76sO3vgQXIuxLJOk/s640/IMG_3693+%25282%2529.JPG" width="582" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Above: reflections at Blue Pools, Tasman Glacier</td></tr>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhW4Aun_Oft3I9hlk9KpKrmLcobtTnnevUPFDXq70MnXVcIxp47XC7pBEbs3PY3XOglrVrIdbdkpZ9U8SzflfPXQnzhyphenhyphenIbMuY4JNPZz615eJ7TcsUZ7m7QTk27SokBCk8OB28HkBVQ8Q2Y/s1600/IMG_3709+%25282%2529.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="298" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhW4Aun_Oft3I9hlk9KpKrmLcobtTnnevUPFDXq70MnXVcIxp47XC7pBEbs3PY3XOglrVrIdbdkpZ9U8SzflfPXQnzhyphenhyphenIbMuY4JNPZz615eJ7TcsUZ7m7QTk27SokBCk8OB28HkBVQ8Q2Y/s640/IMG_3709+%25282%2529.JPG" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Above: Tasman Glacier from viewpoint</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiNtHoS_XneL0AvDZWfDzMXKRyrICtY1U2Ne2VpG1V0UIGrvuAGgQE_doaKeBLkoMpvi02biL5pEUbeP0HstwXv6cLssysEkw2imIZbGxtI81sLOfvdngPAxtFrDdIlzdcutFzI8qHb8MU/s1600/IMG_3707+%25282%2529.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="450" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiNtHoS_XneL0AvDZWfDzMXKRyrICtY1U2Ne2VpG1V0UIGrvuAGgQE_doaKeBLkoMpvi02biL5pEUbeP0HstwXv6cLssysEkw2imIZbGxtI81sLOfvdngPAxtFrDdIlzdcutFzI8qHb8MU/s640/IMG_3707+%25282%2529.JPG" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Above: Novara Peak</td></tr>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj8F3DQe9RnHp1_1D0kul_JY_cGW0aA-aH2l1leDBqC33e0mtpqMBYGoHw1c-MSgsO3djDhNZ4BKmNZ74xbubNhodcsZo0k88FbM-cnywKj0rayCMRbbrl9Mzqndfrl7lo1HCFsDjm2JNg/s1600/IMG_3730+%25282%2529.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="338" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj8F3DQe9RnHp1_1D0kul_JY_cGW0aA-aH2l1leDBqC33e0mtpqMBYGoHw1c-MSgsO3djDhNZ4BKmNZ74xbubNhodcsZo0k88FbM-cnywKj0rayCMRbbrl9Mzqndfrl7lo1HCFsDjm2JNg/s640/IMG_3730+%25282%2529.JPG" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Above: looking back up the valley towards Lake Pukaki</td></tr>
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<b>Crown Range Scenic Drive (Queenstown to Wanaka)</b><br />
The last time I drove this road, I had glorious sunshine and I only stopped once at the first scenic viewpoint before carrying on my way to Wanaka. This time around, the clouds were cooperating once again and I stopped a few times, trying to capture the ever changing cloud formations and watching the planes coming in to land at Queenstown Airport. Reasonably sized jet planes were dwarfed by the surrounding mountains and the massive clouds and I was definitely glad I wasn't flying into Queenstown again - once was enough! <br />
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjCh6E5GQBWtF_USbIVFpUc8ZOS7hb8oew6SuHYokRbKoB3LYarWzGSi2_z3ut9OTF4mT8qlPCe6wek5YHyBwDd3jSYLNiDu2YWv-ltcvSFO7k4y1PZNvS-HfY8rW2SBOtgEzMeeW64p70/s1600/IMG_3818+%25282%2529.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"></a><br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjCh6E5GQBWtF_USbIVFpUc8ZOS7hb8oew6SuHYokRbKoB3LYarWzGSi2_z3ut9OTF4mT8qlPCe6wek5YHyBwDd3jSYLNiDu2YWv-ltcvSFO7k4y1PZNvS-HfY8rW2SBOtgEzMeeW64p70/s1600/IMG_3818+%25282%2529.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="370" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjCh6E5GQBWtF_USbIVFpUc8ZOS7hb8oew6SuHYokRbKoB3LYarWzGSi2_z3ut9OTF4mT8qlPCe6wek5YHyBwDd3jSYLNiDu2YWv-ltcvSFO7k4y1PZNvS-HfY8rW2SBOtgEzMeeW64p70/s640/IMG_3818+%25282%2529.JPG" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Above: from the top of Crown Range, looking back down the valley towards Queenstown</td></tr>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgPFa49JWMAAzscaHOx06P-q2jvuBPpozK7TEbSBAFQi1lZIFjuyV7G5wB3GGFMR4lLv6ecn1CETFKlIi27_8lHN4tIbORPdfX0yJNsumenXYAzEoBuYJzfaUvwoJAh7J9KdtnIbdWcZQg/s1600/IMG_3763+%25282%2529.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="366" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgPFa49JWMAAzscaHOx06P-q2jvuBPpozK7TEbSBAFQi1lZIFjuyV7G5wB3GGFMR4lLv6ecn1CETFKlIi27_8lHN4tIbORPdfX0yJNsumenXYAzEoBuYJzfaUvwoJAh7J9KdtnIbdWcZQg/s640/IMG_3763+%25282%2529.JPG" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Above: cars crawling up the hill towards the first viewpoint</td></tr>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhk-q1On7INA8Rh8pNDM6vZFoL6doKjRJwkGqkuB_DkkEqXxT315g6rHUUpbiRAj5BbPoupg2u9FSAbW_q97UTN2LlR8dNtzq5fYdvQAgAzpyTsxoBJ8IUCTkAg6eOqZ0g7e6sn2DpEKNE/s1600/IMG_3799+%25282%2529.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="442" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhk-q1On7INA8Rh8pNDM6vZFoL6doKjRJwkGqkuB_DkkEqXxT315g6rHUUpbiRAj5BbPoupg2u9FSAbW_q97UTN2LlR8dNtzq5fYdvQAgAzpyTsxoBJ8IUCTkAg6eOqZ0g7e6sn2DpEKNE/s640/IMG_3799+%25282%2529.JPG" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Above: grass and clouds</td></tr>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEglUzf8nOnQr-myfBK8Bvc550Gvq4c3RXFB2MnmirveOkEMryf7nvMzH5N8C2xwtwH5TpZjHi3pCZcpbKpsK9juT5bDsSCLCDnKTyz4YsekiTzgnMTHaqnxopJOJ4PUdpBsS_ucPrKijtE/s1600/IMG_3769+%25282%2529.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="394" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEglUzf8nOnQr-myfBK8Bvc550Gvq4c3RXFB2MnmirveOkEMryf7nvMzH5N8C2xwtwH5TpZjHi3pCZcpbKpsK9juT5bDsSCLCDnKTyz4YsekiTzgnMTHaqnxopJOJ4PUdpBsS_ucPrKijtE/s640/IMG_3769+%25282%2529.JPG" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><div>
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhk-q1On7INA8Rh8pNDM6vZFoL6doKjRJwkGqkuB_DkkEqXxT315g6rHUUpbiRAj5BbPoupg2u9FSAbW_q97UTN2LlR8dNtzq5fYdvQAgAzpyTsxoBJ8IUCTkAg6eOqZ0g7e6sn2DpEKNE/s1600/IMG_3799+%25282%2529.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"></a>Above: low cloud over hills on the Crown Range Scenic Road</div>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgd1IAfllLQJpBUPtevfQzoaxHJ3X0LxYxLopVxIBItQqHVuMikuuYc16FvWwsXqzxW3YZS4qcCKaV6peLnHBkorfVyRCLA_af7u7HMguHAwRTl4YaM3uDHma0YaXEQuqFkOkopIom_d-8/s1600/IMG_3822+%25282%2529.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="425" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgd1IAfllLQJpBUPtevfQzoaxHJ3X0LxYxLopVxIBItQqHVuMikuuYc16FvWwsXqzxW3YZS4qcCKaV6peLnHBkorfVyRCLA_af7u7HMguHAwRTl4YaM3uDHma0YaXEQuqFkOkopIom_d-8/s640/IMG_3822+%25282%2529.JPG" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Above: An Air New Zealand flight coming into land at Queenstown Airport, dwarfed by its surroundings!!</td></tr>
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<b>Lake Hawea</b><br />
I'd never been here before and it was pure fluke that I ended up there this time around. Thanks to the hostels being all booked out in Wanaka, Booking.com* came up with a hostel on the shores of Lake Hawea and I decided to stay. It turned out perfectly - Lake Hawea is the next door neighbour to Lake Wanaka and the water is crystal clear and very blue. The sun was shining and although this meant there was a distinct lack of clouds, there were heaps of wild flowers still out, so I took shots of them instead. I got eaten alive by sandflies but it hasn't diminished my new found love for this lake and it's stunning surroundings!<br />
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhynjhRTKHFeKt8hRv0x3sKdR82ARcnze41w_oZ9sOMkv94FgIvVAYdThRy4ZfvW8KZo5d2zKBas6NosNzYXF32MsN08IuHVimnwn-9-GKm1ql3mWe23hxtMJwBbnH_99VIFyr0IcC6Bvk/s1600/IMG_3909+%25282%2529.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhynjhRTKHFeKt8hRv0x3sKdR82ARcnze41w_oZ9sOMkv94FgIvVAYdThRy4ZfvW8KZo5d2zKBas6NosNzYXF32MsN08IuHVimnwn-9-GKm1ql3mWe23hxtMJwBbnH_99VIFyr0IcC6Bvk/s640/IMG_3909+%25282%2529.JPG" width="476" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Above: wild flowers with the Southern Alps in the distance and Lake Hawea behind</td></tr>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjfw1I7MKOeGh1GNOS5PqZbtvcDtzVKLdBV6KxUg3VSINL1e2MPQm0fdbAGAWu8fgUif-RYgNV5J3FHTU5yRSkCkI1aOe5ARpWi8c2ee5xM2JkJ3-P127lXHdkMsEnp0ZEqCK1cFnsKTsI/s1600/IMG_3951+%25282%2529.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="276" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjfw1I7MKOeGh1GNOS5PqZbtvcDtzVKLdBV6KxUg3VSINL1e2MPQm0fdbAGAWu8fgUif-RYgNV5J3FHTU5yRSkCkI1aOe5ARpWi8c2ee5xM2JkJ3-P127lXHdkMsEnp0ZEqCK1cFnsKTsI/s640/IMG_3951+%25282%2529.JPG" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Above: on the shores of Lake Hawea</td></tr>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgaVUzEnWL87ZeVKPMeN4NCFh_0wy4HRqs2880rdwyoXt7qMYLUZp-Ow99YjdQieq8ISIHQTVJGVZkPZkb611aRwkljzQyOLWv4P6l-H0-Xb2_Ybhp24L2CxkVHm5XMwUoRsAfEutUQIb0/s1600/IMG_3964+%25282%2529.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="426" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgaVUzEnWL87ZeVKPMeN4NCFh_0wy4HRqs2880rdwyoXt7qMYLUZp-Ow99YjdQieq8ISIHQTVJGVZkPZkb611aRwkljzQyOLWv4P6l-H0-Xb2_Ybhp24L2CxkVHm5XMwUoRsAfEutUQIb0/s640/IMG_3964+%25282%2529.JPG" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Above: this is where the sandflies got me... And it was pure luck that the butterfly and bee both landed there just at that moment!!</td></tr>
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<b>Wanaka (specifically that most famous of trees... #thatwanakatree)</b><br />
Of course I have other photos that I will share from my time in Wanaka. But to be honest, I want to keep most of them back to use in another blog post I have planned for the near future, so here is just a sneaky peek at what I've been photographing...<br />
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgvhyzGuOmPvxFgG_GcovoQXTUIAy_SK5wC__-iyl638W67FLn9yuLfQy2nbm1lKff4YRwSSMbBGXVvJuNgdO5feFJD2roadzd83XDBbiT1G5c1ehtfvvNtfRe_0QNAjpUn52setaJ92_k/s1600/IMG_4054+%25282%2529.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="426" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgvhyzGuOmPvxFgG_GcovoQXTUIAy_SK5wC__-iyl638W67FLn9yuLfQy2nbm1lKff4YRwSSMbBGXVvJuNgdO5feFJD2roadzd83XDBbiT1G5c1ehtfvvNtfRe_0QNAjpUn52setaJ92_k/s640/IMG_4054+%25282%2529.JPG" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Above: the most famous tree in the world?? This is my first attempt at photographing this tree and I have a few shots I'm happy with, this being one of them. What do you think?</td></tr>
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As you can see, one of my aims for this trip - to take lots of photographs - is being fully met. I am really enjoying photographing these landscapes for the first time with my DSLR and can't wait to get more photos soon from the West Coast and beyond. The South Island really is beautiful and these stunning landscapes have helped to lift my mood in the past couple of days. I'm hopeful that my anxieties and worries won't return so strongly for a while now and I can do the rest of my road trip in as carefree a manner as I can manage! <br />
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*<i>If you're thinking of going away on holiday or for a short break, why not book your accommodation through Booking.com too? I have used them extensively for many years now and have been consistently happy with their service - any accommodation booked through their website has always been top notch and has met my needs at the time. With a range of accommodations to suit all budgets and styles of travel, you can't go far wrong! Why not check them out - click on the advertising banner on the right hand side of my page to make your booking and as an affiliate to Booking.com, I'll get a little percentage of the price you pay for your accommodation, at no extra cost to you. Win win!!</i>How The Mind Wanders...http://www.blogger.com/profile/10774729802537761792noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-88429550602020203.post-68993321722168499642016-04-02T13:31:00.000-07:002016-04-05T01:41:43.464-07:00A Note On Anxiety<b>'I try not to worry about the future - so I take each day just one anxiety attack at a time.' - Tom Wilson.</b><br />
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I have spent the last few days fighting anxiety and the nagging feeling that I'm about to burst into tears at the drop of a hat. Although nobody actually dropped a hat at any point, I have involuntarily cried on several occasions, generally when driving from one destination to the next. Basically, my South Island adventure so far has not been as wonderful as I was hoping and it's been a bit of a difficult start to what was supposed to be two and a half amazing months of travel.<br />
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It seems to come down to the fact that although I love travelling alone, I have realised that I often feel at my most anxious when I'm without company. I have discovered that the security of having others with me, friends, family or even strangers, really helps pick me up again. My mind stops racing, my thoughts slow down and I stop over-thinking when I'm around other people. It's almost as if them reassuring me, telling me that 'it's fine' and there's no need to worry is all I need to calm down, take a breath and chill the F out! <br />
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For example, I arrived in Queenstown yesterday to meet up with L and her sister and as soon as I saw them (and after an emotional phone conversation with C in the meantime, who also helped immensely!) I immediately felt a lot better. The worries and unfounded fears that had been plaguing me on the drive from Twizel to Queenstown faded into the background and I re-emerged happy and laughing again, ready to enjoy my limited time with L before we go our separate ways until June. And all because I was able to offload a little and C and L said those magic words - 'it'll be okay, don't worry.'<br />
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And during my first two nights on the South Island, when I was camping in holiday parks, I have met complete strangers who have cheered me up without even knowing it, just by generally being awesome. As a side note, these generous and unassuming acts of kindness have lifted my spirits and made me remember how lovely and good people can be to one another, a timely reminder when there is so much bad stuff going on around the world. An elderly guy named Jack stole sofa cushions out of the TV room to make my tent comfier to sleep in and made me breakfast on Friday morning in Geraldine. In Twizel, I was invited by a group of people to drink with them and share their cheese, even though we had met just five minutes earlier. They turned out to be hilarious and really good fun, and once again they helped me keep my over-active brain in check.<br />
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All in all, I've come to the conclusion that it is a variety of things that I've been worrying about. I'm going through a period of change, something that would scare the crap out of a lot of people, not just me! The thought of going back to the UK for a while makes me nervous, <a href="http://www.howthemind-wanders.blogspot.co.nz/2016/02/my-summer-options.html" target="_blank">despite my earlier excitement at the prospect of what I will do once I get there</a>. I have niggling money worries - 'will my funds last me for two and a half months?', 'what if I run out of money?', 'can I afford to buy this?' etc etc. I have felt like I am wasting time (and therefore money) by doing this trip on the South Island, even though I really wanted to come back before I left New Zealand and was really looking forward to this trip before I came. As such, I've been unable to enjoy myself as much as I'd hoped. It's gone right down to the little things - stressing out about where I'll stay each night, even though none of the holiday parks or campsites are anywhere near full capacity, and whether or not my car will be broken into whilst I'm out on a walk in Mt Cook National Park (of course not!!). It's all been a bit ridiculous really!<br />
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Ultimately, despite all my worries, anxieties and stresses, I know everything will work out just how it is supposed to. Plans can change (to an extent) and I have a wonderful network of friends and family who all want to look after me and ensure I'm happy. I want to ensure I'm happy too - which is why I've decided to make a conscious effort each evening to take my mind off the things that have been bothering it during the day, either by meeting new people or taking some time for myself and chilling out, watching a movie or whatever I fancy doing. I can't eradicate my anxieties completely but I can try to ignore them or mitigate them to make myself feel happier. <br />
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It's onwards and upwards - I need to make the most of my remaining days in New Zealand, I only have 16 left in this beautiful country and I want to enjoy them. I leave the South Island on the 12th April (9 days, eek!) and will be sad when I do, but excited to spend my final week with good friends before my next adventure begins when I fly to Mongolia on the 19th April. Weirdly enough, I'm not feeling directly anxious about my solo trip to Mongolia (yet), most of my current concerns are about New Zealand and my time left here. I imagined I'd get more nervous about Mongolia but so far that's not been the case... Fingers crossed it stays that way!!<br />
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It'll be back to regular scheduled posts in the near future, with more posts to come about my last few weeks in New Zealand (I daresay they might get emotional!!) and some moody photos from the South Island.<br />
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<i>Postscript: since writing and publishing this post just earlier today, I have been in a much better frame of mind. Since leaving Queenstown at 11am, I've only wanted to cry once and that was because I said goodbye to L!! A scenic drive over the Crown Range with plenty of photo stops, some epic clouds, a sunny greeting from Wanaka and a brisk hike up a hill have all served to make me feel lots better. Add to that the fact that I'm staying in a dorm room tonight with just me, myself and I for company and you've got a much happier, more positive Bethen come nightfall!! It's amazing what exercise, good views and a room to yourself will do for your spirits. Let's hope the anxiety stays away now for a bit and I can get on and enjoy my remaining time on the South Island, worry free. Fingers crossed!</i>How The Mind Wanders...http://www.blogger.com/profile/10774729802537761792noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-88429550602020203.post-40432353517492781812016-03-15T21:24:00.004-07:002016-03-15T21:28:39.428-07:00Three Bloggers That Inspire Me<div class="MsoNormal">
<b>'What's important to me is to share, and being inspired, and inspiring.' - Diana von Furstenberg.</b></div>
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I've considered writing this post in the past and then decided against it. Truthfully, it seemed a bit of a cliché to write it and it's similar to other posts that have been done before by various other bloggers, such as <u><a href="http://www.bridgesandballoons.com/best-female-travel-bloggers-writers/" target="_blank">this one by Bridges and Balloons</a></u>.
However, <u><a href="http://www.natgeotraveller.co.uk/travel-writing-competition/flora-baker-thailand/" target="_blank">I’ve just read a truly beautiful piece of writing</a> </u>that has tipped me over the edge and <b>made me really want to share a short list of bloggers that inspire me.</b> To make this list just a little different to others, I have made it an extremely short list. In fact, I whittled it down to just three writers, which was difficult to say the least, considering how many great bloggers there are out there!</div>
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Each of these three are completely unique, but they all have one thing
in common: they write beautifully, comprehensively and thought-provokingly
about travel, politics, matters of the heart and everything in between. They
are passionate about what they do and it is reflected whole-heartedly in their
writing. They are story-tellers and all three have inspired me hugely over the
past year.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Without even knowing it, these three writers have encouraged me to
consistently improve my writing, tell more stories and take better photos. I
have often been moved by their stories, invariably stimulated to write more after reading their
latest offerings and ultimately, I honestly think that my own personal blog is
better for my reading of their blogs.</div>
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</div>
<a name='more'></a><br />
<div class="MsoNormal">
So without further ado, let me introduce you to the three bloggers who
have been most influential to me over the past twelve months.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<b>Brenna
Holeman of <u><a href="http://www.thisbatteredsuitcase.com/" target="_blank">This Battered Suitcase</a></u><o:p></o:p></b></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Some of the first posts I read on Brenna’s blog were her <u><a href="http://www.thisbatteredsuitcase.com/tag/the-last-time-i-saw-you/" target="_blank">‘The Last Time I Saw You…’ series</a></u>. Her writing in each post is eloquent and
beautiful and made me feel as though I was right there, watching as the stories
unfolded. I quickly became an avid reader of Brenna’s blog and I eagerly await
her new posts, relishing them when they come.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Brenna has travelled extensively. When you read about her adventures,
her writing brings you into part of her world for a short while. I never fail
to be disappointed by the content that she posts on her blog. Additionally,
although we’ve never met in person, Brenna’s writing has made me feel like I
know her, and I’m really looking forward to finally getting to say ‘hello’ in
person at my first TBEX conference in Stockholm in July.*</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<b>Alex
Baackes of <u><a href="http://www.alexinwanderland.com/" target="_blank">Alex in Wanderland</a></u><o:p></o:p></b></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Alex is an American native who currently lives in Thailand. Her blog
is sponsored, unlike Brenna’s and Flora’s, but I don’t mind the posts where she
writes about the products she uses in the slightest, mainly because she does it
so well. It is reassuring to know that Alex only ever posts about products that
she actually uses and enjoys, never compromising her blog for a cheap brand or
bad product. You can guarantee that anything she writes about, it’ll be
excellent quality and you’ll end up wanting it too!</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Alex is the most frequent poster of the three and this is one of the
things I love about her blog. Whenever I need a travel writing fix, I can click
on her page and I am almost guaranteed to find a new post up to enjoy. Her
writing is informative and full of passion for the things she loves – Thailand,
diving, yoga and her friends and family. <u><a href="http://www.alexinwanderland.com/2016/03/14/lake-powell-horseshoe-bend-glen-canyon/" target="_blank">I am loving her current series about her Jucy road trip around America’s South West</a></u> and she’s written
some wonderful confessional pieces in the past too.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<b>Flora Baker
of <u><a href="http://floratheexplorer.com/" target="_blank">Flora the Explorer</a></u><o:p></o:p></b></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
I am relatively new to Flora’s blog and so I am still catching up. I have
to say, the way she tells a story is sometimes really breath taking. It is
Flora who wrote the piece that inspired me to write this blog post (see link
above) and if you take the time to read it, I think you’ll find it
thought-provoking, highly emotive and very powerful.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Flora writes extensively about volunteering, and <u><a href="http://floratheexplorer.com/volunteering-in-the-calais-refugee-warehouse/" target="_blank">she has opened my eyes to the plight of those currently living in ‘the Jungle’ refugee camp in Calais</a></u>, as well as showing us <u><a href="http://floratheexplorer.com/syria-to-calais-changing-your-perspective/" target="_blank">a glimpse of what Syria used to be like</a></u>, pre-war and before IS held such a grip over the country. Her
writing shows her caring, compassionate side, and she has motivated me into making
sure I prioritise some of my time and money to go to Calais later this year to
help out in whatever way I can.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
If you love reading blogs, especially ones dedicated mainly to travel,
you can’t go far wrong with reading these three. In fairness, if you love
reading travel blogs, you probably already read these three. There are others,
so many others, but in my humble opinion, Brenna, Alex and Flora are three of
the best and take some beating (<u><a href="http://www.adventurouskate.com/" target="_blank">Adventurous Kate</a></u> comes in a close fourth!).</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
You never know, their writing might inspire you to pick up a pen and
get scribbling too – or in this digital age, and considering I’m discussing
blogs, perhaps it’s more apt to say that they may inspire you to fire up your
laptop and get tapping at your keyboard.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
*<u><a href="http://www.howthemind-wanders.blogspot.co.nz/2016/01/my-2016-ambition.html" target="_blank">You may remember my post at the beginning of 2016</a></u> (I
cannot believe it is the middle of MARCH already, a third of the way through
the year, ALREADY!!!). In it, I outlined my main goal for the year – to turn this
blog into more than a part-time hobby. One of the objectives towards achieving
this goal was to attend the TBEX Travel Blogging Conference in Stockholm in
July, and I’m pleased to be able to inform you that last week, I booked my
place at the conference! I’m officially heading to Stockholm on the 14<sup>th</sup>
July for three nights and I’m super excited – I can’t wait to tell you guys all
about it when I get back!</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal">
<i>NB: If you
feel strongly about the refugees plight in Calais and want to do something to
help out, you could be a volunteer too. Head to <u><a href="http://www.calaidipedia.co.uk/volunteer-for-calais" target="_blank">CalAid-ipedia</a></u> to find
out more and let them know the dates you’ll be arriving, if you decide to head
over there. As Flora points out in her post about Calais, CalAid-ipedia is a
grassroots charity with no funding, so they cannot provide transport or
accommodation, but you’ll no doubt meet some amazing people and help to make an
important difference. I will be going to Calais and volunteering with this charity later in the year - dates, as yet, to be confirmed!<o:p></o:p></i></div>
How The Mind Wanders...http://www.blogger.com/profile/10774729802537761792noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-88429550602020203.post-76788492603427005492016-03-10T16:53:00.004-08:002016-03-10T16:53:34.430-08:00Becoming A Sea Lion<div class="MsoNormal">
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj1_bhTI1NdRSruN_H98wMNrm3Z8CJjxjlllb0ZWy5EOqFYkhGwM1FiMdrZPzeRjgqphjOhculhnY-nqHnfsfpPBPnbKBlhPOr8YAfvHjB-znzbWa2EFDcwq9hiJ6HDOJK7zTtzUucZ6M0/s1600/dragon+boat+sealions+%25287%2529.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="252" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj1_bhTI1NdRSruN_H98wMNrm3Z8CJjxjlllb0ZWy5EOqFYkhGwM1FiMdrZPzeRjgqphjOhculhnY-nqHnfsfpPBPnbKBlhPOr8YAfvHjB-znzbWa2EFDcwq9hiJ6HDOJK7zTtzUucZ6M0/s640/dragon+boat+sealions+%25287%2529.JPG" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Photo Credit: Maurie Rohloff</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><b>'Believe me... there is nothing - absolutely nothing - half so much worth doing as simply messing about in boats.' - Kenneth Grahame, The Wind in the Willows.</b></span><br />
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: inherit;">“</span><span style="font-family: inherit;">I must be fucking mental,” I thought to myself, as I walked down the
hill in a swirl of heavy rain and notorious chilly Wellington wind, “Why the
hell did I say I’d do this?!”</span><br />
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: inherit;">The next hour of my life is one I would rather forget. As I clambered
from the boat at roughly 7pm that grey, cold Wednesday evening, it felt like
every single muscle in my body was screaming with pain and I knew I’d be aching
hideously the next day. </span><br />
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: inherit;">“How was it?” M asked, as we walked towards his truck for the short
ride home.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: inherit;"></span><br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: inherit;">“Okay,” I lied, “I guess I’ll soon get the hang of it.”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: inherit;"></span><br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: inherit;">“Definitely,” M agreed, nodding vigorously, “You did okay today and we’ll
soon have you paddling properly in no time.”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: inherit;"></span><br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: inherit;">Too exhausted to reply, I merely nodded as we climbed into the truck
and headed home.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: inherit;"></span><br />
<a name='more'></a></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: inherit;">I had agreed to be a member of the FCC Sea Lions Dragon Boat team
partly because S had said he didn’t think I would do it and I wanted to prove
him wrong and partly because it was something new, something to
challenge me and something that would keep me busy in the evenings for a couple
of months. Now, aching, cold and tired, I was wondering if my decision had been
a bit foolhardy. </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: inherit;"></span><br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: inherit;">Dragon boating originates from China and has more recently emerged as a competitive sport in many countries, including New Zealand. Every year, a Dragon Boat Festival is held in Wellington at the end of
summer and</span><span style="font-family: inherit;"> this was our
goal – all our training throughout January and February would lead to the day of the festival.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjGieVzpC-ss5_IHXNFOeYz2gPhEvCEchk2KyZn9V-m6oGC7wo_rAl-zUvCihIKxv_5pyGA4JNEtAw0Okzo2hiBCtBm_zbcxVV60SURgCZlFoB7Shyphenhyphenxkvc6GyimG22lF_L9DUxLS_P9oQQ/s1600/Fletcher+dragonboat+fun+day+13+Feb+2016k.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="426" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjGieVzpC-ss5_IHXNFOeYz2gPhEvCEchk2KyZn9V-m6oGC7wo_rAl-zUvCihIKxv_5pyGA4JNEtAw0Okzo2hiBCtBm_zbcxVV60SURgCZlFoB7Shyphenhyphenxkvc6GyimG22lF_L9DUxLS_P9oQQ/s640/Fletcher+dragonboat+fun+day+13+Feb+2016k.jpg" width="640" /></a></div>
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: inherit;">Over the coming few sessions, my muscles grew stronger and my technique improved considerably. I even got used to paddling through the pain, pushing myself further than I
thought I possibly could. We were lucky – apart from the first training
session, we had blue skies, golden sunshine and mirror-flat water in the harbour almost every time we trained.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: inherit;"></span><br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: inherit;">R spoke to us a lot about our timing and technique. To make a dragon
boat move efficiently, it is crucial that all twenty paddlers (yes, twenty, it’s a lot I know)
move in unison – their paddles going in, through and out of the
water at the same time. Get out of time with the other paddlers and you slow the boat down. R wanted it to come so naturally to us that we could do it
with our eyes closed and on a couple of occasions we paddled during training
sessions with our eyes tightly shut to ensure we could remain in time with one
another. </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: inherit;"></span><br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: inherit;">Twenty paddlers moving together, when it's achieved, is something beautiful to
watch. You can feel it in the boat too. It glides more easily through the
water, the whole thing feels more effortless. Get in a good start (“bury that
paddle in the water, anchor it there, you want to feel like you’re pulling it
through cement, remember it’s a boat race, not a paddling race, go longer after
a few strokes, build up to it…”) and your boat feels like it is flying along
the course.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiFk5CbscUDc6sOZaULKbF5MT3Estlqan9JD8Gqx4lNc6FvmrjiOuNnRgdM6rh4SLzhx76STSoGh-wzDlpPwfcWDa2nC2JKSy5pi3jGC2SnSYRGtE_sI8bXrFIS8bLZco62zKihxPyZeMs/s1600/dragon+boat+sealions+%25288%2529.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="426" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiFk5CbscUDc6sOZaULKbF5MT3Estlqan9JD8Gqx4lNc6FvmrjiOuNnRgdM6rh4SLzhx76STSoGh-wzDlpPwfcWDa2nC2JKSy5pi3jGC2SnSYRGtE_sI8bXrFIS8bLZco62zKihxPyZeMs/s640/dragon+boat+sealions+%25288%2529.JPG" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Photo Credit: Maurie Rohloff</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: inherit;">As the weeks progressed, I could feel the
initial pains lessening off. I no longer felt like I’d been hit by a bus after every training
session and my shoulder, which had been playing up, calmed down after a massage and quite a large number of painkillers. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: inherit;">With race day fast approaching, we ramped up the number of training sessions we had each week, going
from one a week to two and finally three in the last week. R really put us through our paces, keeping us paddling for
most of the hour, testing our stamina to the max. We learnt to grit our teeth,
swear if we needed to (it turns out that muttering ‘fuck’ repeatedly
under your breath whilst every part of your body is telling you
to stop paddling really helps with the whole mind over matter thing) and just push through. Keep going.
Don’t stop. No one wanted to be the one R shouted at because we paused for a
single second to catch our breath.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi6lDLaD8BuCntQ5DsI1kek8wnLeTpPRxvVPQNdq7JmgPbnx0nzpUdO8TeA7InZP5GqdgkI1k51x0BXuqAH-Eql7rf59KdEANlDefmKmPNBPBFHCOLX_fFTfDy0qiyAlNIiuqpXIHrEC5c/s1600/Fletcher+dragonboat+fun+day+13+Feb+2016h.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="426" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi6lDLaD8BuCntQ5DsI1kek8wnLeTpPRxvVPQNdq7JmgPbnx0nzpUdO8TeA7InZP5GqdgkI1k51x0BXuqAH-Eql7rf59KdEANlDefmKmPNBPBFHCOLX_fFTfDy0qiyAlNIiuqpXIHrEC5c/s640/Fletcher+dragonboat+fun+day+13+Feb+2016h.jpg" width="640" /></a></div>
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: inherit;">Race day </span><span style="font-family: inherit;">dawned bright and sunny, but with a
northerly wind blowing straight across the harbour. This resulted in some amazing swells
rolling diagonally across the race course and some extremely choppy conditions
with white caps on some of the bigger waves. I could feel my nerves mounting as we arrived at the Sea Lions tent and began preparing for our first race.</span><br />
<br />
The day's schedule went like this: <span style="font-family: inherit;">one practise race (almost like a
warm-up), three qualifying heats (five points awarded to the winner, four to
second and so on down to fifth place, where you won only one point) and much later on that
afternoon, the final. The corporate final that we were aiming to be in was the last race of the day. We had a long way
to go yet!</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: inherit;"></span><br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: inherit;">If you’ve ever been at the start line of any race, you’ll know what
goes through your head before the starting gun goes off. In my case, my stomach
churned with excited nerves, I had to keep taking deep, calming breaths and
remind myself constantly to relax my grip on the paddle. As we locked in to begin the
race, I kept my eyes focused on the paddle blade, my mind utterly on the task
in hand. With the big swells to contend with, there was some shuffling at the start
to ensure all boats were aligned before the gun went off, but finally, there
was the "paddles ready" call, followed quickly by the gun and we were away.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhtLWUrFed7__htfhtS-08dRCweXflyRsAYDIjjSNscLs86jBdlbZMg2Y-9h6beAcs7Hr8raYn727jmdZN9p7n2dQg2SHaMXDqc1cm2cUoMjjYt2kyMuUgNz1qcmw9uDgrGiTP_scleXhc/s1600/dragon+boat+sealions+%25282%2529.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="426" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhtLWUrFed7__htfhtS-08dRCweXflyRsAYDIjjSNscLs86jBdlbZMg2Y-9h6beAcs7Hr8raYn727jmdZN9p7n2dQg2SHaMXDqc1cm2cUoMjjYt2kyMuUgNz1qcmw9uDgrGiTP_scleXhc/s640/dragon+boat+sealions+%25282%2529.JPG" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Photo Credit: Maurie Rohloff</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
Our first race was messy, and although we were elated to win, we were also grateful it was only a practise race. We re-grouped and performed reasonably well in the first two heat races, winning both. The commentator began talking about us, telling the watching crowd that we were a team to look out for in the final. He was proved correct when the team really hit its stride in the third and final heat race and cruised it, making the whole thing look effortless (R didn't pick me for this race and I watched from the side lines, cheering for the Sea Lions to finish first). T<span style="font-family: inherit;">he boat looked amazing as it flew over the water, M fighting
the swell constantly and doing a fantastic job keeping the vessel on a tricky
course. No one missed a stroke and the timing was perfect. It was a fantastic
triumph and with three wins under our belts, we went into the finals on a massive
high.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: inherit;"></span><br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: inherit;">“It’s not over yet,” R said, eyeing every one of us as we stood around
him, listening to his final pre-race pep-talk, “That last race was good but don’t get
cocky. The other four teams in the final all want that win too, they’ve got
nothing to lose. We’re the best team out there, but they will be on us the
whole way, looking for a win. It’s happened before – a team has won all their
heats and then lost out in the final race. We don’t want that to be us!”</span><br />
<br />
Our final was delayed and the familiar nerves clawed at my stomach again as we tried to stay focused and keep clear heads. About twenty minutes later, our race was eventually called and we loaded into the boats. <span style="font-family: inherit;">We paddled out to start line and came under starter’s
orders. We locked in, focused, tense, ready. The boat rocked on the swells, we
put our paddles into the ready position at the starter's call and… Boom. We were off.</span><br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjk2Hp3bznA_QATtW3koLrpZGC55mZyVpPgLqI7DuP3dwVB_SbWvLONi-1E93fwkxRIiwxRk-yQYfpTeWmIf8VPQd0K9Bw7F3GkkcC0haf8zftx4JhX45KkrPrlK7VquHUIaiNh9Vw2Qq4/s1600/Fletcher+dragonboat+fun+day+13+Feb+2016d.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="426" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjk2Hp3bznA_QATtW3koLrpZGC55mZyVpPgLqI7DuP3dwVB_SbWvLONi-1E93fwkxRIiwxRk-yQYfpTeWmIf8VPQd0K9Bw7F3GkkcC0haf8zftx4JhX45KkrPrlK7VquHUIaiNh9Vw2Qq4/s640/Fletcher+dragonboat+fun+day+13+Feb+2016d.jpg" width="640" /></a></div>
</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: inherit;">I’d like to be able to end this post by telling you that of course we
won, we were always going to win, we’d won all four of our other races that
day, it was a given that we would win the final. But that’s not how sport works, and unfortunately, I think
it’d be a little bit more than poetic license if I told you that we did win. Sadly, we
were pipped at the post by another team and came second in the final
race.</span><span style="font-family: inherit;"></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: inherit;"></span><br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: inherit;">It was a huge disappointment. We were silent whilst the
other team celebrated their win and slowly paddled back into the lagoon and landed the boat without much noise. We congratulated
the other team on their win and made our way disconsolately back to our tent to
dry off, pick ourselves up and eat some of the BBQ that had been prepared for
us (because nothing makes you feel better like an NZ barbie does!). </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: inherit;"></span><br /></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgQTsphrgQvQRk_rYb-Ifc2uu9D3UI0gNnCn1F2Yd3yxR5JgjUDw1ALGcFlsd5vlSjBpyZQlDTmCTTrLVI9s2OvgGn7irtA4_Na_MRQFD7xbw96B2llnZr0sEyV4Ya2exeUbn2OXizf1Mk/s1600/Fletcher+dragonboat+fun+day+13+Feb+2016c.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="426" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgQTsphrgQvQRk_rYb-Ifc2uu9D3UI0gNnCn1F2Yd3yxR5JgjUDw1ALGcFlsd5vlSjBpyZQlDTmCTTrLVI9s2OvgGn7irtA4_Na_MRQFD7xbw96B2llnZr0sEyV4Ya2exeUbn2OXizf1Mk/s640/Fletcher+dragonboat+fun+day+13+Feb+2016c.jpg" width="640" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">Although I am sad that we missed out on first place in the final, I am
immensely proud to have been part of such a good dragon boat team. It was
tough, training killed me some days and my friends would laugh if I said I
never moaned about it. I did moan, a lot. But deep down, underneath the cold
and the tiredness and the aches and pains, I also really enjoyed myself. I
liked being part of the team and I liked how I felt when I finished a training
session – satisfied and pumped up. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;"></span><br /></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">I am particularly pleased that I pushed myself out of my comfort zone
and dug deep to uncover my stubborn, gritty side, the determined part of me that
more often than not gets hidden behind the more dominant lazy part of me. It’s
good to be reminded that I’ve got it in me if I ever need it – just how I’ve
been reminded in the past when I climbed Snowdon, hiked the Abel Tasman Great Walk or the Tongariro Crossing. So yes, it was new and
yes, it challenged me, but I did it. Not only did I prove S wrong (he probably doesn't even remember saying that he didn't think I'd do it!), but I also
proved to myself that when I set my mind to something, I can do it and that’s
the best feeling of all.</span><br />
<br />
<i>This post goes out to all the FCC Sea Lions - what a fantastic team! Special mention to T, my rowing partner for much of the time - I'm really glad we were paired up together! I'm pleased to have met some other really awesome people during this process too. A massive thanks to R and M for teaching me the ins and outs of becoming a dragon boater. I've already been looking at clubs in the UK and thinking about maybe joining up once I'm home, so cheers guys for introducing me to this cool sport.</i><br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEix8lT0ccecnJ5_nqqEMao0ikzYUr1CaSk_UKrEjNoW0KGNEOxMhu9W-bLuupmYOw0F8Bpqqg1fsn92SSM7UNcmOUMfxnFsyjA1w0XB0brZuJeaEYQ5YSiXcx9ByKhODEG7RCpAH9XKcoU/s1600/dragon+boat+sealions+%25284%2529.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEix8lT0ccecnJ5_nqqEMao0ikzYUr1CaSk_UKrEjNoW0KGNEOxMhu9W-bLuupmYOw0F8Bpqqg1fsn92SSM7UNcmOUMfxnFsyjA1w0XB0brZuJeaEYQ5YSiXcx9ByKhODEG7RCpAH9XKcoU/s640/dragon+boat+sealions+%25284%2529.JPG" width="426" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Above: our awesome team.<br />Photo Credit: Maurie Rohloff</td></tr>
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How The Mind Wanders...http://www.blogger.com/profile/10774729802537761792noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-88429550602020203.post-73184606770760951572016-03-07T23:47:00.000-08:002016-03-07T23:47:27.414-08:00The Long Journey Home: Visa Applications<div class="MsoNormal">
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjP2IdoU-NgW0Kq0sUCcgtVy834dGN6Ty1x81wvRyBfhhoWO1qc7CM6DnHMVkqT9C9Tfi21b3C3UhpuwZSfPFj670xgm9dS_1D4G0x2n5dtexnRyV7OcacWeHmhFvDtfCO1CFbJ7WzqB3M/s1600/IMAG25192.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="360" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjP2IdoU-NgW0Kq0sUCcgtVy834dGN6Ty1x81wvRyBfhhoWO1qc7CM6DnHMVkqT9C9Tfi21b3C3UhpuwZSfPFj670xgm9dS_1D4G0x2n5dtexnRyV7OcacWeHmhFvDtfCO1CFbJ7WzqB3M/s640/IMAG25192.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Above: my name written in Russian!!</td></tr>
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<div style="text-align: center;">
<b style="font-family: inherit;">'It's the little details that are vital. Little things make big things happen.' - John Wooden.</b></div>
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0cm;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0cm;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;">One sunny day in June last year, a group of us went to
Somes Island for the afternoon. We took a picnic, took some photos, walked the
entire circumference of the island and then caught the ferry home just as the sun
was descending behind the hills that surround Wellington, turning the sky burnt
orange and burnished gold as it dipped below the horizon.</span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0cm;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0cm;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;">It was on this boat ride, between taking photos of the
sunset and discussing the possibility of spotting penguins, that P and I first
talked about the Trans-Siberian railway.</span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0cm;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0cm;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;">To be honest, I can’t recall who brought it up first,
or why. All I distinctly remember was our animated conversation as we walked
home after disembarking from the ferry and by the time we reached the hostel, we had
decided that if all went to plan, we would do it together the following year.</span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0cm;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;"></span><br />
<a name='more'></a></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0cm;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;">Since that day, we have had endless conversations
about this trip. When to go, what we both want out of the trip, where we should
go, how long for, how much money we will need, what we are both going to do
afterwards… And now, in less than two months, after all the talk and all the
hype, we will be about to start our <a href="http://www.howthemind-wanders.blogspot.co.nz/2016/02/the-long-journey-home.html" target="_blank">Long Journey Home</a> together.</span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0cm;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0cm;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;">I’m telling you this to put our trip into some sort of
context. It was born out of one discussion and carried on an idea that neither of us would
let drop. Once we had decided to do it together, we were always going to do it (despite some wavering from me for a
few days) and now the planning and preparation is almost complete. Most
of what we can organise in New Zealand has now been done – our flights are all booked, the train tickets have been bought and we are just waiting to pick up our Mongolian visa, having already secured our Chinese and Russian visas.</span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0cm;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0cm;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;">As you'll no doubt guess, I am really looking forward to bringing the stories
from our trip to this blog and writing about our experiences on this adventure.
But I'd also like to provide some useful information about the technicalities
of this journey, including things like how to go about getting the notoriously difficult visas you need to travel the railway and useful hints and tips that we learn on the road. So whilst I will bring you my stories, I will
also be putting up a few more helpful posts. </span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0cm;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><b><br /></b></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0cm;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><b>Like this one, on how to go about getting the visas you need to travel the
Trans-Mongolian railway.</b></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0cm;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0cm;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;">P and I are both UK citizens and therefore travel with
our UK passports. As we both currently live in New Zealand, we were faced with
the scenario of procuring the visas we needed on foreign soil. I instantly wondered if it
would make the process harder and although I never really stressed out about
it, I did feel vaguely worried about the fact that we were trying to get
Russian and Chinese visas whilst living in a country other than the UK.</span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0cm;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0cm;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;">As the form filling began, the main frustration that emerged was the lack of helpful, clear information provided by the embassy
websites on how to go about completing the visa applications. I am an organised
person – the sort that P takes the piss out of because I have a spreadsheet
detailing each day of our trip – and the lack of easy to follow bullet-point
lists that outlined everything we needed to gather for a successful application infuriated me.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span>
<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjk1Vhxsxv0bJ4fZ54ln9c5evpK4C9Llo2iqkFJhcwOhH5ZSZMGUMqNVWnO6xLMfH1P1y0hYnxkEpKRfQDFLgrnwX-2kSLw3DQOjVCCgbUpQ04AaaB6FkgcWg1l158vcY5cffw1J0k7DTk/s1600/nervous-woman-cartoon.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjk1Vhxsxv0bJ4fZ54ln9c5evpK4C9Llo2iqkFJhcwOhH5ZSZMGUMqNVWnO6xLMfH1P1y0hYnxkEpKRfQDFLgrnwX-2kSLw3DQOjVCCgbUpQ04AaaB6FkgcWg1l158vcY5cffw1J0k7DTk/s400/nervous-woman-cartoon.jpg" width="352" /></a></div>
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0cm;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;">So, with this irritation in mind, if you’re ever in the situation
where you are applying for these visas as a UK citizen in New Zealand, here are
three bullet-point lists telling you exactly what you will be required to provide when applying for
your Chinese, Mongolian and Russian visas in New Zealand.</span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0cm;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0cm;">
<b><span style="font-family: inherit;"><a href="http://www.chinaembassy.org.nz/eng/" target="_blank">China</a><o:p></o:p></span></b></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0cm;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;">To obtain a Chinese visa in New Zealand, you will
require the following documents:<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0cm;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;">- 1 x completed visa application form (<a href="http://www.china-embassy.org/eng/visas/fd/" target="_blank">V.2013</a>)<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0cm;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;">- 1 x passport photo glued onto the visa application
form<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0cm;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;">- 1 x passport with at least six months left until it
expires<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0cm;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;">- Print-outs of flight bookings, hostel bookings and in
our case, train bookings to show our movements within the country.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0cm;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;">- $60 for a single entry tourist visa, to be paid by
EFTPOS upon pick-up of your visa<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0cm;">
<b><span style="font-family: inherit;"><i>Visas
take 5 working days to process, not including the day the application is
lodged.</i></span></b></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0cm;">
<b><span style="font-family: inherit;"><i><br /></i></span></b></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0cm;">
<b><span style="font-family: inherit;"><a href="http://www.mongolianconsulate-nz.com/Visa-Applications.html" target="_blank">Mongolia</a><o:p></o:p></span></b></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0cm;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;">To obtain a Mongolian visa in New Zealand, you will
require the following documents:<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0cm;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;">- 1 x completed visa application form <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0cm;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;">- 1 x passport photo glued onto the visa application
form<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0cm;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;">- 1 x passport with at least six months left before it
expires</span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0cm;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;">- Print-outs of flight bookings, accommodation bookings
and in our case, train bookings to show our movements within the country</span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0cm;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;">- $150 for a single entry tourist visa or $200 for a
double entry tourist visa, to be paid via bank transfer before submitting the
visa application.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0cm;">
<b><span style="font-family: inherit;"><i>Visas
take 7 working days to process, not including the day the application is
lodged.</i></span></b></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0cm;">
<b><span style="font-family: inherit;"><i><br /></i></span></b></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0cm;">
<b><span style="font-family: inherit;"><a href="http://www.newzealand.mid.ru/" target="_blank">Russia</a><o:p></o:p></span></b></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0cm;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;">To obtain a Russian visa in New Zealand, you will
require the following documents:<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0cm;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;">- 1 x completed visa application form (<a href="https://visa.kdmid.ru/PetitionChoice.aspx" target="_blank">these are completed online</a> and then printed out)<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0cm;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;">- 1 x passport photo glued onto the printed visa application
form<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0cm;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;">- 1 x passport with at least six months left before it
expires<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0cm;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;">- 1 x visa support document from a registered tourist
agency (we used <a href="http://www.realrussia.co.uk/" target="_blank">Real Russia</a> – it cost £30 for two support documents).*<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0cm;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;">- 1 x detailed itinerary on your tourist agency’s headed
paper (if you do not pay for the original visa support document to be shipped
to New Zealand). This itinerary was the most detailed one we had to provide –
we had to account for every single day and provide a lot of information,
including train times, numbers, berths, accommodation names, bedrooms booked
and so on.<i> <o:p></o:p></i></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0cm;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;">- $80 for a single entry tourist visa, to be paid in
cash at the embassy upon lodging the application.**<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0cm;">
<b><span style="font-family: inherit;"><i>Visas
take 10 working days to process, not including the day the application is lodged.**</i><o:p></o:p></span></b></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0cm;">
<b style="font-family: inherit;"><i>NB:</i></b><i><span style="font-family: inherit;">
Although British citizens need to provide </span>bio-metric<span style="font-family: inherit;"> data when applying for
Russian visas in the UK, we did not have to provide this when applying in New
Zealand.</span></i></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0cm;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;">* To ship the original visa support documents to us,
Real Russia said it would cost approximately $120. Instead of forking out for this expense, we
chose to complete a detailed itinerary instead and Real Russia put this onto headed
paper for us to correspond with our visa support document. You can, of course, spend the money and save the time spent on doing an itinerary.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0cm;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;">** Due to time restrictions, P and I chose to fast
track our visa application from 10 days processing time to 3 days processing
time – our visas therefore cost $160 each rather than $80.</span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0cm;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0cm;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;">Despite our concerns, with vigilance, patience and attention to detail, we were actually granted our visas with surprising ease. I reiterate – you do need to be
really anal about the form filling process. Make sure you read the question
twice before writing your answer and be sure to check you’ve provided all the
information they require. It sounds silly, but I honestly think our attention
to detail is what helped to turn this process into a relatively easy one,
without any major problems.</span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0cm;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span></div>
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<br /></div>
<span style="font-family: inherit;">We submitted our Chinese visa application first, followed by the Russian one and finally the Mongolian application. </span><span style="font-family: inherit;">All
three embassies had surprisingly different approaches and we found the experiences at each embassy varied wildly.</span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0cm;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0cm;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;">The Chinese embassy in Wellington is located on 4
Halswell Street, Thorndon, 6011 and is open on Mondays, Wednesdays and Fridays
9-11.30am and 2-4pm and on Tuesdays and Thursdays 9-11.30am. You do not need to
book an appointment. We showed up at 11am and were seen within minutes – the guy
behind the counter checked the information we were providing, ticked off a few
things and told us to come and collect our visas five days later. We were out
by 11.15am. When I collected the visas, I was in the embassy all of five
minutes, and that included paying.</span><br />
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0cm;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;">By contrast, when we showed up at the Russian embassy,
we were met by an imposing building with an electronic gate that we had to be
buzzed into. There was no one in the office when we walked in and we ended up
waiting for about an hour to be seen. The guy behind the counter (when he
eventually came) again checked the information we were providing, ticked off a
few things and told us to come back the following Wednesday. We paid there and
then. When I collected the visas, I waited half an hour to get them. The
embassy in Wellington is located on 57 Messines Road, Karori and is open Monday
– Friday 9.30am-1pm. You do not need to book an appointment.</span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0cm;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0cm;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;">Perhaps the most bizarre experience was at the
Mongolian embassy (which is actually an honourary consulate), which is located at 30A Avalon Crescent, Lower Hutt, 5011.
Office hours are generally Monday to Wednesday 10am-3pm and all ‘in person’
visits must be by pre-arranged appointment - we phoned ahead to book ours. When P and I turned up, we
initially couldn’t find the building we were supposed to be going to! It turns
out that the Mongolian Consulate is really just a massive house, hidden down a
long driveway behind another house in a quiet suburb of Lower Hutt. We were met by Gail Allport (who lives in
this house) at the door and she proceeded to check our documentation right
there and then on the doorstep – we didn’t even go into the building! It was a slightly strange
experience and very informal. Eventually, after a few questions about my double-entry visa, she waved us goodbye and told us to come back on Friday to collect our visas. </span><span style="font-family: inherit;">So we are now just waiting to go back and collect our
Mongolian visas. </span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0cm;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0cm;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;">All in all, the application process for all
three visas has taken us about five weeks from start to finish – that includes
all the form filling, bookings that we needed to make to complete itineraries,
trips to the embassies and application processing times. The whole thing hasn’t
been as arduous or as stressful as I had thought it would be, for which I am
grateful. </span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0cm;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0cm;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;">Don't let the thought of complicated visas put you off travelling to places you've always dreamed of visiting. Take a deep breath, do your research properly to ensure you get everything you need and just do it. It probably won't be as bad as you imagined, and you'll get to go somewhere amazing!</span><br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi5phTbwausfFli03OpdVFRLTQ7WbhSAuQ2WUJYVbKeOFCtGmSUSbSX1IFcp4YelC0cVi5vMcFGJHmKi7toEHnk8bRa3XZaHJzBsCqLgBXVQDkNEULud2S1nPoSaYPHT7XILT0__V04Euw/s1600/IMG_1283+%25282%2529.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="426" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi5phTbwausfFli03OpdVFRLTQ7WbhSAuQ2WUJYVbKeOFCtGmSUSbSX1IFcp4YelC0cVi5vMcFGJHmKi7toEHnk8bRa3XZaHJzBsCqLgBXVQDkNEULud2S1nPoSaYPHT7XILT0__V04Euw/s640/IMG_1283+%25282%2529.JPG" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Above: enjoying somewhere AMAZING!!</td></tr>
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How The Mind Wanders...http://www.blogger.com/profile/10774729802537761792noreply@blogger.com0