And So To Bed

Now that my trip is over (and yes, I enjoyed it a lot) I'll be posting a lot less often.

I work at designing and developing fairly large-scale computer systems, and though I might have some things that'd be worth saying, I'd have to be careful not to say anything that'd upset my employer or clients if they found out I'd said it. Shame!

Anyway, thanks for reading with me so far.

God bless and au revoir.

What I've Learned

As hoped, I've learned a few different things from my travels:

*Stuff to take*

It pays to have a little "bootstrap" money to change at the station (if no ATM is there), just to get a taxi to town or hotel. After that, ATMs are plentiful (in the cities I visited) and work without problem (the occasional one is broken, as at home).

More places are favouring Euros (e.g. Turkey), so they are slightly more useful than Sterling (but I had no problems with changing Sterling).

White T-shirts (with whatever on the front) are a really good idea. I stupidly took some green and grey ones for a change, so I had to walk round showing dark patches of damp.

Taxi drivers where foreigners will arrive (e.g. Stations) can be quite keen to separate them from their money. I got a taxi from hotel to station in Sofia for under 4 Leva (€2). When I wanted to return the first offer was €10, and the driver laughed uproariously when I said 4 Leva. I couldn't get waiting radio-taxis to take me, so I had to settle on a mid-priced cab at the back of the queue, so it cost me 10 Leva (€5) to get back to the hotel.

Insisting (in advance) on using the meter is generally a good idea. "Radio cars" (i.e. come when you ring their office) are usually best, and can arrive surprisingly quickly.

Traveling alone is OK during the day, but not in the evening (for social rather than security reasons). Travelling in company during the day is nicer too.

It'd be nice to have mobile internet (GSM/GPRS/3G) so one isn't tied to internet cafes or hotel internet. It's still worth having a laptop or equivalent that can read/write to a USB key, as you can then plug the key into an internet cafe or hotel business centre PC. My PDA isn't good enough on that point.

I'm going to be looking into Solid State Hard Disks, as it doesn't matter if they get knocked. They're still quite expensive (e.g. Samsung 32GB £270) but will be coming down.

If you want to spend time sightseeing rather than trudging round (probably with your luggage), then you need to book hotels ahead. There is no substitute for the internet, to get maps, see where hotels are relative to stations, town centres, etc. and check hotel availability and rates.

Blogger/Blogspot allows posts to be published by email. I wish I'd worked that out before I travelled, as I could have posted direct from the PDA without having to find Internet Cafes.

WikiTravel.com is good. I'll be thinking about contributing an update or two.

*Where I Went*

All of the big cities where I went had "all mod cons" (e.g. ATMs).

Croatia and Turkey use the Latin alphabet. Serbia and Bulgaria use Cyrillic. Learning the sounds of the Cyrillic letters is a really good idea and will get you a long way (e.g. restaurant, beer).

Many young people in all the places spoke some or more English. Older people, particularly in places that use the Cyrillic-alphabet, typically had less or none.

Tourist-facing jobs tend to be filled by the people with more foreign language knowledge, so making life easier for the likes of me.

It is, obviously, harder to get around where hardly anyone (taxi drivers, public transport staff, stallholders) speaks English - such as Serbia.

Sofia didn't show the signs I expected from Bulgaria's Iron Curtain past. It shows how little impact 40-odd years can have on the architecture of an old city.

Bulgaria seems extremely proud of being in the EU. In 90% of cases, the EU flag flies next to the Bulgarian one. I even saw one combined flag (outside Sofia Central Station).

The Balkans don't bite.

Home Safe

Just a quickie (darling) to say I got home safe.

Turkey was sweaty to the very end (and that'll probably be my abiding memory of the country).

On the flight home I found myself next to a delightful Newfoundlander called Jennifer. Much travelled before and at the end of 4 months on the road, returning to "school" (but not college :-)) in Halifax.

Landed at Heathrow to find the take-off runway closed and planes not leaving their gates, but BA juggled their planes and we were delayed for less time than I've often taxyed (apparently that's how you spell it).

I bumped into old friends and colleagues Al and Heather in the immigration queue, just back from hols in Larnaca after being flooded out recently.

Elaine was waiting to take me back home (thank you lots).

I rounded off the day falling asleep in my own bed, half-way-through watching recorded F1 qualifying from back in Istanbul, just a short drive from where I started today.

Home and happy.

All Good Thıngs

*Stuff*

The power cut goes on - so I read my Le Carre under a street lamp in the park across the road until I'm tired (I don't fancy more beer).

And on - so I buy a cigarette lighter to get me to my room. Next door is the only building in the block with electricity and it's because they're running the big generator right outside my window.

And on - so I get up the next mornıng and re-pack (around the Turkısh Carpet, which amazingly fits in - what else have I lost?)

The silver lining is that I'm up really early (and this is BST-2) and decide to take a Turkish Bath. I ask the hotelier who says I'll have enough money (the local ATMs are out with the power). I don't. I empty everything and reach 39.65 Lira of the required 40, which is enough to get in but leaves the masseur looking for his tip.

I can't decide whether he deserved a tip. The massage was good, but the double neck-crack at the end is the most likely cause of the headache I develop later.

I'm back at the hotel before 9am local time!

With no cash left I wander in search of another ATM getting thirstier and thirstier until I spot a hotel and remember I have some sterling that they change for me - saved!

The last must-see sight is the Topkapi Palace, used by the Ottoman sultans after they conquered Istanbul. I wander round it until midday, thinking about the life of the Sultan (I like my sitting room better than his) and the odd life of concubines, taken into the palace in their early teens to be educated, then move up a hierarchy. The Sultan would (so the plaques say) only sleep with the top rank comprising between 4 and 8 of them and, if they became pregnant, they would join the royal family.

Incidentally, the term "harem" refers to the private residences of the Sultan, his whole family, all the concubines and the eunuchs. I didn't spend long thinking about the odd lives of eunuchs.

I grab lunch of Moroccan Lamb based on the last of this morning's cash and pop onto an ınternet cafe one block up that actually has power and post thıs whıle I wait for the airport shuttle.

Crossıng Contınents

*Travel*

Today I completed my journey all the way from one continent to another (actually about 15 minutes by boat - see below).

The wikiTravel page for Istanbul says don't miss the Basilica Cistern. Definitely right.

It's a large area underground, maybe a football pitch, with columns at regular intervals holding a roof maybe 30 feet up from the walkway piers that have been added for us tourists, about 1 metre above the 1 metre of water in the cistern, teeming with fish.

It's subtly illuminated and I managed to get a few good photos by putting my camera on night mode and holding it against railings, etc to keep it very still.

It dawned on me that all the columns were different heights, with a base beneath each to make them reach the roof. They must have come from a very large number of previous grand buildings. We're talking about well over a hundred columns of between 8 and 10 metres!!

At the end of the walkways there was a café on a platform over the water, so I stopped for an unusual coffee. The café owner chatted to me and persuaded me to go with him to his uncle to learn about quality Turkish carpets.

Yes, I could see what was coming, but why shouldn't I go along to see if I enjoy the ride?

Yes, I did buy a carpet. Combination silk and wool, and in colours I liked. I have no idea whether I got a good deal, but I think I may have, as the uncle didn't seem overjoyed. He swore me to secrecy about the price I paid, but that's probably a standard part of the schmutter.

Incidentally, I saw "schmuck" written down today, translated as the word jewellery. That's not the translation I'd deduced from hearing it in context.

I hovered over a beer until 12 noon, the local check-in and -out time, to move my bags.

This afternoon I did the single thing I most wanted from my journey - travelling from Europe to Asia.

Strictly, I've already been to Asia numerous times (well, at least the Middle East and Hong Kong). But there's something different about getting there by earth-bound transport. Air travel is a bit like the Star Trek transporter - you snap your fingers or click your heels together and suddenly you're in the middle of a new place.

I have to concede (as someone with something like 70 airports behind him) that air transport is cheating-travel. Road, train and boat count. I might possibly make an exception for non-pressurised propellor-driven aircraft, as you're still immersed in the experience, like Phineas Fogg's balloon flight to Paris.

I still recall the wierdness of one of my early flights, to holiday in Kenya. It was like climbing into a big metal tube and waiting while someone made the tube be a third of the circumference of the world away.

Anyway I went, walked round at least one mosque, went through some markets, used an internet café and got back safely. Asia, conquered!

Back in Europa, I bought two badly-needed t-shirts (xxl, which would then make my beer gut xxxl - a harsh judgement so I blame clingy material), walked via the Spice Bazaar to and through the Grand Bazaar (4000 stalls - count them).

Feeling that I've got the hang of Istanbul now, I find the right tram back, and even the right direction.

I'm just about to enquire why my room's precious air-con isn't working when I start fiddling with lights that don't work either. There's a power cut affecting the whole block. Great!

Deciding this means it's beer o'clock, I retire to the 1st floor lounge bar and strike up a conversation in the growing darkness with two Finns here for the F1. It gets wonderfully beery before the mixture of drunkards and candles chimes ill.

They go off with the rest of their group and I go in search of a kebab (honestly a proper meal here, and not just for drunk people).

Destınatıon Istanbul

*Travel*

Yesterday, arriving in Istanbul, started off almost as an essay in "how not to".

As mentioned, I arrived with bright ideas about finding a hotel by walking round. In my mind's eye I had a picture of treating myself to a 5-star "chain" hotel right on the edge of the shining Bosphorus.

It started OK. The money I changed included exactly the right coins to work the "left luggage" boxes and I got a half-way decent map from tourist information.

Then it got more difficult. There are 3 parts to Istanbul - the Asian side (Uskudar) divided by the Bosphorus from the European side, which is in turn divided by the "Golden Horn" estuary between Sultanahmet, to the south (where most historic sights are) and (e.g.) Taksim to the north (business district, night life).

Nearly all the chain hotels are apparently in the business district or by the airport. Sultanahmet, where I wanted to stay, is an old area with old buildings.

I found all this out from the internet café I found (where the owner was having connectivity problems and I had to restrain myself). I also found that there were two types of accomodation in Sultanahmet, available and attractive, and never the twain. It was only later that I made the connection to the F1 Istanbul GP this weekend, which might have something to do with it.

So I walked to the Blue Mosque area, sweating like a stuck pig. Bad ıdea.

When I got there thıngs dıd look up. I saw a hotel whose name I recognised from the internet. They had a room, but only for one night (fortunately, as it turned out).

The room was nice, with a pleasant view but no air-con. It turned out that the thıng I really wanted from a posh hotel would have been aır-con. I fıddled wıth wındow, curtaıns and fan wıth lımıted success. The small bathroom cleverly acted as a very nıce wet room shower, with perspex sheets on the backs of the wooden doors. I used ıt 4 or 5 tımes.

As soon as I put down my bags, the call to evening prayer started from loudspeakers on all the local mosques, including one from across the road so loud it sounded like it was outside the door. I started to worry about 5am when, on previous trips to primarily-moslem countries I've heard the amplıfıed chanted calls to morning prayers.

One of the key sights is the Hagia Sophia, originally a church, sacked by 4th crusade idiots, then a mosque with mosaics showing crucifixes plastered over. Clever Mustapha Kemal Attaturk (father of modern Turkey) turned it into a museum, so not especially offending Christians or Moslems.

I put on my last remaining top, a shirt I've been keeping for a nıce meal out, and headed off. I'd just paid my entry fee when I had to run for the loo - a hole in the ground one.

Due to the heat and unfamiliar exertions, I was soaked from head to waist in no time. My 'saved' shirt had lasted almost 10 minutes.

Crossing my fingers, I took my last Immodium. I made it round Hagia Sophia and the next-door Blue Mosque.

Feeling a bit better, I walked toward the coast and saw the Abella Hotel (.com) advertising a terrace bar. I had a couple of beers admiring the 180 degree view of Bosphorus and Marmara Sea as the sun set behind.

I finished off the day with a Turkish meal (yoghurt soup, mixed kebab and baklava) at a restaurant sporting East Turkestan political messages.

I woke at 8am, so either 5am didn't happen or I slept through it. I was "bitten to bits" by ınsects too small to see, even though I shut the window.

Rapıdly I found another hotel a few doors down, the Star Holiday Hotel and gleefully traded the view for air-con (god bless it) and a 10 Euro saving. As I left, others were being told the last room had just gone.

Beyond Sofıa

*Travel*

Lest I get too carried away with bigging-up Bulgaria, my 1st-class Sofia-Istanbul sleeper is slightly inferior to my 2nd class Belgrade-Sofia sleeper. The middle bunk is chained to the wall at an angle, all of the power sockets work as specified (i.e. There aren't any) and there's no bog paper in the loo.

Fortunately, my appropriately named bum bag has a stash from past festivals, most recently the Brecon Jazz Festival (swiped from Sue and Chris's house and now swiped again)!

Next I remember that sleeper trains don't provide towels, and I forgot to buy one in Sofia. Damn!

Later I discover one can either swelter or open the window, with smells each time the toilet has been used. So, suffocating either way, then.

To recap a little, the hotel didn't make it obvious enough how to access the internet (what do you mean, blokes should ask for directions?) so I haven't booked ahead. I'll be arriving in the morning, so I have all day to find a nice place.

Me and my trouser legs saw the inside of the Alexander Levski church, had sushi for lunch, and walked down to the strip of blue on the city map. It turns out to be a small thing somewhere between a storm drain and an open sewer (charitably, more the former than the latter).

I fail to find a pizzeria to repeat my trick of last time. Instead, I eat at the hotel and they put the remainder of my delicious steak in a doggy-bag (actually two plates cling-filmed together - good for them).

I have to say I'd advise anyone coming to Serbia, Bulgaria or similar to learn the Cyrillic letter sounds. With Bruno's help I can now make out restaurant, beer, Moscow and sometimes internet. I also know that narodny means 'national'.

The train arrives at the time it should leave, i.e. an hour and three quarters late. However, they're pretty slippy at shunting an extra 3 cars on the front including, sadly, mine. We leave only 20 mins late.

Starting to learn, I ask where the border checks happen. Sadly, it's 01:20 to 01:55 in Svilengrad for leaving Bulgaria but 02:20 to 03:30 in Kapikule for entering Turkey. Joy! Another restful night sleeper. This time I think "blow the alarm, let them wake me when they want me."

But of course I'm awake anyway. I think I forgot to say how impressed I was with the Bulgarian Border police on the way in - walking through swiftly with a laptop and saying "passport check" to me but the same in French to the guys next door. They were fine on the way out too.

The Turkish could hardly be more different. We arrived at Kapikule about an hour late, and then nothing happened for an hour. Then all the doors got knocked on and between 4:30 and 5:30am everyone had to get off the train and queue for a single guy behind a window to check our passports, one by one.

When I got to the front of the queue he said I needed a visa, so I had to find a lady behind a window in a separate building. The guys in front there didn't have the necessary 15 Euros and got sent away to find some (how? In the middle of nowhere in the middle of the night??)
I was never so glad to have a single 50 Euro note left over from work in Holland! It made 100% (1000%) difference to my ability to crawl back to bed (not sleep) and forget about it all.

Whilst queuing my tummy, which has stood up so well so far, finally turns "dodgy" (And obviously "the train is standing in a station"). I suspect a glass of water kindly provided by the waiter at the hotel, which I thought it'd be OK to risk as I'd had no problems so far. The price of (tummy) peace is eternal vigilance! :-((

I take an Immodium tablet, but this time it isn't quite the "miracle cure" I've appreciated in the past.

Obviously, about half an hour later another couple of blokes had to come through re-doing the passport check. We leave the standard two hours late.

Finally, I get a couple of hours sleep before it's bright sun outside and I have to concede. All of this laying down doing nothing is killing me. I dream of hiding in a nice quiet hotel (loo).
Once the sun is well up, the temperature of the compartment starts to rise, window or no. Scandinavia next, I think.

Surprısıng Sofıa

*Travel Waffle (MHO again)*

I have to confess that Sofia has surprised me. I didn't identify it, but I came here with a lot of preconceptions. I could say I came to look at the poor backward ex-Communists, recently escaped from their Iron Curtain grey. Completely wrong!

Apart from the Cyrillic, Sofia could be any other European city (in a good way). forty-odd years have left amazingly little negative effect on the city centre architecture, although I'm sure a local could tell you different.

I suppose a lot of side-streets are still cobbled, rather than tarmacced over, but these days that's probably a bonus. I guess some of the imposing government buildings (around the "Party House") probably date from the Communist era.

Looking from the train windows, the rural story is the same - it could be Holland (although slightly rolling rather than dead flat like the Croatia/Serbia border).

I reflect that the Iron Curtain and supposed economic deep freeze of the Soviet era has been lucky for Western Europe. Before WW2 Czechoslovakia, for example, had an international reputation for engineering. The rise of Skoda within Volkswagen-Audi is a restoration, which most UK people have no idea about:
"What do you call a Skoda with a sun-roof?" "A skip."
"Why do Skodas have heated rear windows?" "To keep your hands warm when you're pushing them."

As East-Central and Eastern Europe get into their stride, I wonder how the world will change? Nothing will change the macro-picture of the rise of India and China, but the more-micro-picture will be worth watching.

*Other*

Having toured (tourised? touristed?) hard yesterday, I treat myself to a quiet morning in the hotel, apart from a trip to the station to get tonight's ticket. For some reason, a compartment to myself (like I had coming here) on the same train, now has to be 1st class rather than 2nd. At the exorbitant price of £30ish I don't debate the point. Maybe the sockets will work in 1st (they didn't in 2nd), so I can watch another DVD.

Sofia at Speed

*Travel*

The sleeper train leaves bang on time. I have the compartment to myself. Initially it's far too hot, so I have to leave the window open all night.

I meet Bruno, who does a similar job to me but as a contractor. He's French-born but has lived in West London for 10 years. We discuss J2EE for a while, and then the tall ship race in the Baltic he's been doing, and is traveling from to a friend's wedding the far side of Turkey. He's on his own too, so we agree to hook up in the morning.

A sleeper train sounds like a good idea, and it is in terms of "holiday efficiency". However, having a border control at some time during the night makes it hard for me to settle. I deduce it should happen at 3:40am, but set my alarm for 5am instead, ending up with about three and a half hours' sleep. At 5 I sort out my bags and I've just finished when the border checks start. We arrive in Sofia late, by what turns out to be 2 hours, once the change from CET to EET is factored in.

Bruno and I get money (3 Dinar = 1 GBP) and coffee, then a taxi to my hotel, the Best Western City Hotel. Bruno takes a room there too. It's before check-in time so we dump our bags and go out walking.

Over the next 6 hours we walk past all of Sofia's important sights, unintentionally starting to follow the "Sofia in one day" walk outlined in Bruno's guidebook. First stop was the golden-domed Alexander Nevski cathedral, which I can't go in because I've forgotten the legs that can zip on to my shorts. Then via Roman ruins and a 3rd Century rotunda building re-purposed in the 4th Century as St. George's Church, and on to the former seat of the Central Committee of the Communist Party, described as "Party House" in one guidebook!

We see a host of other impressive mainly domed buildings, and quite a few sculptures obviously intended to encourage the populous to support the work of the state. My favourite has a skirted woman carrying a man slumped across her back. The bright sun makes it hard to take clear photos. I've forgotten my sun cream again, but I'm not suffering after yesterday when I did the same, so maybe I'll get away with it.

Bruno and I met for dinner this evening. We took in a beer somewhere where the menu was all in Cyrillic and only Bruno's phonetic translations got us anywhere. We went in search of a restaurant advertised in the free tourist map and eventually found it. It seems that the Bulgarian food that isn't italian is mainly cooked meats, verging toward kebabs.

I'm not sure what I'll do tomorrow before my sleeper train, with all the big sights seen. Maybe I can relax!! Alternatively, I could push on to Plovdiv, which has a genuine old centre. A complicating factor in any case is the fact that, if our train arrived two hours late then mine in the evening is very likely to be delayed by a random period as well. Great!

Belgrade Proper

*Travel*

I did and didn't spend too long at the hotel this morning. I scarcely got out before midday, but I got my hotel for Sofia booked and I was out and about right until my train at 9pm, anyway.

Taxi to the train station to put my stuff in left luggage. The locker fee in coins in Zagreb would be in notes in Belgrade, so how would that be handled? Left luggage turned out to be a building round the side with a hole in the wall and guys inside. I tried to get taxi drivers from the rank to agree to take me to my next destination by showing them a picture on my printout, but they wouldn't take me on the meter - only quoting a fixed price similar to that for the whole distance to my hotel outside town. I walked round the corner and hailed a passing cab. Due to the route and awful traffic, the fare actually came out slightly higher, but I felt OK.

The best sight I saw today was the first, St. Sava Church, a new Eastern Orthodox cathedral being built from scratch to be the biggest EO church in the world! How would modern man go about building a cathedral? From concrete of course. So they've made this huge building with domes and everything, cast in concrete and then they're cladding it in something like marble (hand carved, I checked). They've clad the outside, and very impressive it looks too, and they've started on the inside. You can go in to look and take pictures. You can pray and light a candle. I don't know what happens when they need to do something noisy...

I caught one of the trams passing (7L), using one of the tickets I bought but didn't use yesterday. Someone had to show me how to punch the ticket. It took me straight back to the station! Am I doomed to be stuck there forever? I caught another tram (2) that took me straight to the Kalemegdan fortress (OK, I went too far and had to walk back up the hill;).

Fortresses might not be everyone's cup of tea, but I like them. The site dates back a long way, but what's there now is quite a late design, with at least three defensive rings, overlapping fields of fire, etc. Between the first and second walls are now tennis and basketball courts. Between the second and third walls is a collection of first and second world war tanks (AFVs) and guns (anti-tank, howitzers and a 300mm mortar).

If fortresses don't float your boat, you might prefer the panoramic views from the park in the middle, which overlooks the confluence of the rivers Danube and Sava and I photographed them to death.

I had a great pizza for late lunch just outside the fortress. When I was full I stashed away the last two big slices, which became supper and breakfast respectively on the train.

That was the best of Belgrade. I walked past the rest of the obligatory sights, high-gloss pedestrianised shopping centre, government buildings and churches with domes, the world's ugliest palace.

*MHO (my humble opinion)*

I did like Split, and I think I'd recommend Zagreb (although there's a lot of places I'd recommend more highly for a new traveller). I don't think I'd recommend Belgrade.

Belgrade is a big city with a big city feel, maybe sized to be capital of Yugoslavia rather than Serbia. The old part isn't very old or pretty. I feel it's stuck in the middle of the range of cities, neither one thing nor the other. Tito kept it more open than the Soviet Empire, so I didn't see awful rows of low-quality blocks, or neglectful decay. But it doesn't have classic architecture like half of Italy.

I didn't feel I found its heart (in either sense). Trying to be fair, I kept wondering how a new visitor would find central London.

Also, after an extensive survey, I have to opine that Croatian girls are prettier than Serbian girls (though Bulgarian girls have something of a reputation).

I kept thinking that I must read up on the recent Balkan wars. My recollection was that the Serbs were the (worst) baddies, with the Bosnian Serbs the worst of the worst.

I had this theory that western wealth would provide enough disincentive for people from going to war and risking it, but Yugoslavia blew a hole through that. I know that Tito sat on years of stewing history within Yugoslavia (e.g. Partisans Vs Cetniks), as the Russians did in the USSR and Warsaw Pact, but all the same...

I spend my last hour in Belgrade at an Irish Pub - the Three Carrots. It's pretty "authentic" and the main thing removing it from Dublin is the people smoking inside! I ask the barmaid "Which brewery does your Guinness come from?" It matters, as I never liked the output of the now-closed Park Royal brewery in London, whilst the biggest Guinness brewery outside Dublin is apparently in Nigeria and I had an utterly undrinkable pint once in New Zealand. Her reply: "Which size, large or small?"

I meet Irishman Paul, and learn the bar was set up by three red-headed Irish lads. He also tells me I shouldn't be going to Sofia by train, that there's nothing to see in Sofia and I'd be better off going to Varna on the coast instead. Ah well!

Beograd Boogie

*Travel*

The land between Zagreb and Belgrade continued pretty well flat, and frequently cultivated, with occasional hills in the distance. The border formalities were'nt too onerous - my passport got checked by outgoing Croatian Customs and Border police, and by Serbian Border police (who read my name into their radio). The Croatian and Serbian Customs simply asked if we had anything to declare. Another uniformed guy popped his head into the compartment and said something, but neither the French girls nor I could be bothered to ask what he'd said.

On arriving at Belgrade station I make my first "cultural learning" - everything is in Cyrillic writing, occasionally with Latin (ours) underneath. Fortunately, the numbers are the same. It seems that very few people here speak any English - worse than I expected after working for years with so many former-Yugoslav colleagues. The guide book explains it's age-related, with younger people much more likely to speak English.

I fruitlessly looked for an ATM, then changed my remaining Kunu (apparently, plural of Kuna) and £80 into Serbian Dinar. As I write, it occurs to me I could have taken a photo of my Croatian notes - I'll do these. The exchange rate is 114RSD:1GBP, so I get over 9000 Dinar. As before, I'm just guessing how much money I'll need for my time here.

Next job is to book my onward journey. The lady on the International Travel desk speaks good english and I settle for one person in a "sleeps two" on tomorrow night's train to Sophia at a total cost of about 1850 Dinar. I don't know if anyone else will be in the other bed - I didn't ask, but what is life without mystery?

Next, I couldn't find any decent maps of Belgrade on the internet, so I buy a paper one at a news stand. At stations here they have 3 or 4 news stands, right next to each other and looking identical. They have a fairly small opening in the middle of the front, surrounded by merchandise. Sometimes you have to stoop to see the person inside. Something else I suppose I should have photographed - D'oh!

Being brave (?), I ask the news-seller how I should get to my hotel. He sends me (by sign language and written-down numbers) across the road to catch a tram number 9, selling me a ticket. When, 20 minutes later, when trams of every other number have passed, I return to plan A and get a taxi. When I arrive at the hotel, I note the absence of tram tracks in front of the hotel and thank the taxi driver with extra warmth.

The hotel room is lovely, actually a suite with separate sitting and bedrooms, and a really large bed. I also have wired internet - luxury! This is a complete change from the expensive cupboard I stayed in in Zagreb. All I can see from my window and balcony are the woodlands surrounding the hotel.

The hotel seems so nice, especially after today's journey that I feel like staying here all evening. But I've travelled so far to see Belgrade that'd be stupid. So I ask the receptionist for old town bars and restaurants, and she directs me to for Skadarska (street) and calls me a taxi, which arrives in 2 minutes and costs 470 Dinar into town (about £4).

Skadarska is on a slight hill and ranged with bars and restaurants, all with chairs outside and several with musicians to serenade the diners. I choose a nice place, but the maitre di declines to seat me because I am alone.

A waiter at the next place down welcomes me, but he's obviously over-busy and makes lots of mistakes, starting off by taking my food order and leaving me for 20 minutes before taking my drink order. Make me wait any time for food, but don't leave me sitting without a drink!!!

First bread and then starter arrive before I have a plate. He brings a bottle of white wine, but I manage to catch him before he opens it and he fetches a bottle of red - chilled, but maybe that's the custom here. Then the mineral water is sparkling instead of still. Fortunately the food tastes nice; a grilled mushroom starter and an main course called something like "uncle Vanya" Fillet, where the steak has inside cheese (strong-tasting but not blue) and some salty form of bacon. The portion is huge and I guess the waiter forgot to tell the kitchen that, although from the "Two Deers" (two person?) part of the menu, the dish is just for one. Just one plate though, so maybe...

When I'm stuffed,I decide to go for a walk. The map shows Republic Square at the end of Skadarska, so I head off. Somewhere beyond that is the last night of the local Beer Festival, which sounds fun if I get that far. I can't see anything "squarey", blame it on the map and walk further. Soon I'm in dark side streets, wondering around lost-but-I'm-sure-I-could-retrace-if-I-wanted-to.

I see a kebab stall and walk up to a customer, asking him to point where I am on the map. It turns out that Republic Square is at the uphill end of Skadarska, and the taxi driver dropped me at the middle walking outward, rather than the opposite as I'd assumed. Hence I'm now in the middle of nowhere.

I ask where I can get a taxi and the stall-holder telephones one for me, again arriving in 2 minutes or less.

Safely back at the hotel I have a couple of beers in the bar. The barmaid has that whole peering-out-from-under-a-fringe thing going on, very early-lady-Di.

Next morning I spend too long typing this. I want to book my room ahead in Sofia, and Best Western will do that for me here, but I need to know where the hotel will be. I need to know whether Belgrade station has left luggage (I forgot to check yesterday) and the must-see St. Save Church, the largest Eastern Orthodox church in the world is well outside the town centre, so I need to know how to get out there and back again. Isn't this relaxing!

Awful News

I've just heard that my Uncle Maurice has died. My brother Chris sent a text and I rang him back. I knew that he was in hospital, but didn't think things were that serious. He's been under the doctor and had difficulty breathing for a number of years.

Maurice was the greatest storyteller I've ever known. He had so many tales and kept us amused for hours when we were kids. I'll take "The Holesaler" and "The Oggle-Goggle Maker" (How the Sea became Salty) with me all my life.

I remember when I was a teenager and once "helped" Maurice on his building site. Another time I stayed for the weekend and he took me to see "Blazing Saddles", explaining how one might swear on the building site, but not in the home. I'll miss him and the world seems a rather greyer place.

I've asked Chris to text me again once any arrangements are known. I bought a flexible air ticket, but that was in case of travelling difficulties, not something like this.

An Interim Conclusion

* Waffle?*

I'm going to have to draw a conclusion, lets call it interim for the benefit of the doubt, but all the same: "Going round the world on my own" isn't going to work.

The days are pretty good, but the evenings are a bit shit. As always, I sat on my own to eat, although yesterday reading my book before and between courses rather than tapping on my PDA. Technically, bad manners but...

Then I went down the street I mentioned earlier and it was, indeed, jumping. I found one place where the customers weren't arranged around small tables, and fruitlessly listened for English being spoken.

I did try to spark up a conversation with one guy, but he looked blank (unable or unwilling, doesn't really matter). Admittedly he was wearing a Judas Priest T-shirt and his equal probably wouldn't have given me the time of day in the UK, but he was who was there.

It would probably work if I was like Dennis (Welsh, Australian or extremely un-self-conscious) but I'm not. I don't want to intrude, or make someone deal with me when they'd rather not've.

It isn't a problem for a short holiday like this - I have a lot of good books and TV in English - but an extended period would be another matter.

I can see that staying in hostels might be different. You have to share rooms and interacting with people is (to some extent) built-in. I probably would have been intending to make hostels the exception rather than the rule.

I think I'll have to have another think.

*Travel*

I'm now writing on the train from Zagreb to Belgrade, which will take six and a quarter hours. An outbreak of sense told me that, if I got up a bit earlier and caught the 9am train, then I could have an extra half day in Belgrade instead of frittering it away waiting for the 1:10/13:20/who-knows train.

The weather today is a heavy overcast. Yesterday started dull, but brightened a lot in the afternoon. Split was unbroken sunshine, as appropriate for a coastal resort. I'm wondering what today looks like in Split.

At the end of my walk yesterday I passed a chocolate shop window, where there was a display of novelty chocolate boxes. They each had a plastic embossed relief map of Croatia that helped me to understand the geography.

Split is on a narrow strip of land with a bank of cliffs a mile or so inland. Going North, these move inland and become a range of high hills or low mountains, and it was these that the Split-Zagreb train wove between, giving some attractive and occasionally spectacular views.


From the train, I couldn't tell whether we were going over a range of hills and down again, or up onto a central massif, like Kenya or maybe France.

Speaking of France, today's train mostly goes to Vinkovci but a single carriage goes on to Belgrade (after a bit of shunting). I'm sat in there, in a compartment for six, with two garrulous French women (maybe about 30) to whom I introduced myself, and two men who are silent, but one is reading a Croat newspaper.

I'm tapping away on my laptop, which I was afraid yesterday had caught a virus from a wi-fi hotspot, buy a full Norton scan when booted in safe mode revealed nothing and it looks OK today. I'll do scans with a few more tools before I use it again for Internet banking or credit cards.

There is a power supply in the compartment so, as the landscape seems resolutely flat and pretty well populated (i.e. not a lot to see) I may watch a DVD later if I don't fancy my book. Now that's "Band of Eagles" by Frank Barnard which is, as I guessed, about Hurricane fighters over Malta.

*Waffle (I suppose)*

As I've read memoirs by two real WW2 Malta fighter pilots, it's interesting to note the differences between (apparent) fact and fiction. So far, some characters have been less well introduced before their sudden deaths and incudents of combat are more condensed. The main feel of one of the memoirs was "we went up and saw nothing, maybe bumped into some enemy by accident, had an inconclusive scrap and suddenly found myself alone in an empty sky."

I'm reminded of the two theories of (what's behind) history - the conspiracy theory (it's all an impenetrable deliberate plan) and the cock-up theory (It's mostly due to mistakes and plain luck). I think any reasonable person has to be a "cock-up theory" believer, but maybe the Illuminati will reveal themselves and prove me wrong ;-)

On the other hand, I do think that "fortune favours the brave".

Does that bring us back to Dennis, I wonder?

A Zip Around Zagreb

Europe is always being renovated! Key sights are forever covered in scaffolding!

In Split, at least it was only a couple of sections of old palace wall and the odd tower. In Zagreb it's one of the two spires of the landmark Cathedral of the Assumption, the sides of St. Mark's church (with the colourful shields on the roof), the buildings all round the one remaining entrance to the old city - the Stone Gate and two of the buildings in the row of parks that run from the station to the main square.

I've done my best to photo round the scaffolding, even craftily using a fountain in one case. But honestly! It's enough to drive a man to Photoshop!!

From the Tourist Info Office I got a pamphlet with two walks, and this morning I did the one round the old/upper city. Very nice. I found the market, in full swing as today is Saturday, and the street with all the bars (named "Tkalciceva"), which will hopefully be in full swing on Saturday night.

I climbed both of the feuding original hills, and walked up the street called "Bloody Bridge" ("Krvavi Most") over the former-stream between them, returning to the level of the main square by funicular railway. The guard proudly showed me his seaside holiday photos on his laptop!

Apparently, tourists are a fairly new experience for the locals - tourism never really came here before.

Although I only have one day here with a few daylight hours either side, the same as I had in Split, I feel that'll be enough to give me the "feel" or "flavour" of the places, which is what I suppose I'm looking for with a schedule like the one I've set.

This afternoon I did the "lower city" walking tour, mainly round a horseshoe of parks south of the main square. OK, but not as good as this morning. The walk took me past the station, where I bought my ticket for tomorrow. The 11:10 train isn't coming until 13:20 (ish?) "because it's coming from Vienna." There's a 9:00am train if I'm awake too early. Otherwise I guess I won't get to Belgrade before 18:30.

I found left luggage, so I can get there about 11:00 and dump my bags. I found an underground shopping centre where I can waste some time, possibly even including beer. Unfortunately, the station is away from the "drinky" part of the city, so the choice of bars may be limited unless I get creative.

Next order of business is to book myself a hotel in Belgrade. Having been kicked off all the wi-fi access points I can actually reach, and having failed to get my laptop on the hotel business centre wired network (I can work it out or I can get a beer), I'm typing this on a hotel PC that has spyware warnings coming up all the time. Public wi-fi zones are wide open to man-in-the-middle attacks, hence no credit card of mine is coming anywhere near the internet here.

Splitting Split

ABOUT: Leaving Split and getting to Zagreb, written in a Zagreb hotel about 9:30pm

*Travel Stuff (soft-core)*

I was up quite a while before 10am. I packed, made sure my electrics were recharged and sat on the little terrace outside the flat reading my Brookmyre book "Boiling a Frog" (a short title for him). I popped down to the internet cafe and disturbed a chap reading Toronto University internal pages to get a file I made last night after posting with Zagreb hotel details in it (for some reason I couldn't Gmail it).

At ten, the lady who owned the flat turned up, the non-english speaking daughter of the guy who met me off the bus. I still managed (I think) to tell her I liked her flat, I liked Split and I was grateful.

The train "tilted", which was wierd when there was a great view and we suddenly leaned away from it. At one point I looked out the window and saw a house wall at a very odd angle, until I worked out it was us at an odd angle - it was straight.

I found myself sitting next to Ben, an architect from Plymouth, who was with flame-haired Rachel who'd planned the trip, Laura and (I think) Janet. They'd started in Milan before hitting Florence, Rome, Naples and then
across Italy for a ferry to Dubrovnik, up the coast by bus to Split. A quick change in Zagreb and off to a Lake in Slovenia, then round the top of the sea to Venice before flying home. A busy schedule that they've compounded by standing in queues for museums and galleries - something I won't be doing. Nice people, and good luck to them.

I've been learning things during my travel so far. I'm not 20, I'm 43. I wouldn't have liked to arrive in Split to find all the hotels full and playing Russian Roulette with youth hostel vacancies. I arrived in Zagreb and walked out of the station into the hot late-afternoon sun. I had no appetite for walking round the city asking at hotels.

Yesterday evening I looked up the top city-centre hotel's locations, rates, availability and phone numbers. I rang the hotel Dubrovnik then and there to check availability, took a taxi and went there. I had to take rack rate (£78) as the front desk wouldn't entertain the internet rate (£49) or anywhere near. Either they thought it was a "distressed purchase" or they have no flexibility. Either way, I caved.

Behind this are a few issues. If all someone wants is a hostel or a rock-bottom hotel (and one doesn't mind spending time and shoe leather) then one can just arrive and start looking. If I just want to get into my hotel, chill, and then go for a stroll without my bags, then I really need the hotel arranged in advance.

These days that means using the internet (at least w.r.t. towns of any size and outside of Tibet or Sierra Leone - and I may be doing those a disservice).

Using Internet cafes is OK, but it's a lot like launderettes. They were fine until I could afford a washing machine for myself. I'm starting to think that mobile internet access will be a prerequisite for my "world tour".

But is booking hotels ahead spoiling the whole experience? How many researchers did Michael Palin have on his televised travels? What is it I'd be looking for in "seeing the world" as a (reasonably solvent) 40plus-year-old?

*Travel Stuff (harder core)*

The Hotel Dubrovnik is right on the "main" square of Zagreb, "Bana Josip Jelacica" (beware missing accents and various abbreviations). This is the pivot between the historic "upper town", formed from the formerly-warring villages of Kaptol (the Eastern hill) and Gradec (Western). Once reconciled, they proceeded to outgrow their original market and the aforementioned square took on the role.

Between the Square and the Station is the "lower town". South of the station is "new Zagreb" (and you can guess what that means).

Some of the tourist books imply that Zagreb has been a "capital in waiting", a centre of culture, science, etc. Under the Hapsburgs the capitals were Vienna and Budapest. Only after Tito and the breakup of Yugoslavia did Zagreb come to the fore. The guidebooks say that culturally Zagreb looks to Vienna, and I can feel that here. Split felt much more like it looked to Italy (cuisine) and the Mediterranean generally (lifestyle) - a big difference for a small country.

The view from the train was interesting. Population density was amazingly low for almost the whole journey. Split didn't have a "large town" feel (in British terms) and we only passed one town of any size on the way to Zagreb. The countryside, by turns, reminded me of Italy, Austria, Scandinavia, Scotland, Australia and England. There was at least one point where the surrounding forest switched from deciduous to evergreen at a single line, and back again almost as quickly.There were no "industrial zones", just countryside with the occasional cement factory (at least three).

For dinner I found a reasonably pleasant outdoor restaurant just north of the Tourist Information Centre, full of locals. I took the waiter's recommendation on wine (from a non-cheap list of all-domestic bottles) and the wine formed 65% of the final bill. I didn't mind, but it does indicate food and wine costs here - beer is a different, more reasonable matter.

*Itinerary*

I've now worked out my schedule for the rest of the holiday, so I can simplify my previous table:

From	To	Ref	Dep	Arr	Dur
LGW N	Split	BA2888	15/8 16:20	15/8 19:50	2:30
Split	Zagreb Glavni Kolod	IR522	17/8 10:53	17/8 16:17	5:24
Zagreb Glavni Kolod	Belgrade	R741, R419	19/8 09:00	19/8 15:33	6:33
Belgrade	Sofia	D293	20/8 21:00	21/8 06:25	8:25
Sofia	Istanbul Sirkeci	D491, D499, D81031	22/8 19:30	23/8 08:24	12:54
Istanbul T1	LHR T1	BA0677	25/8 17:25	25/8 19:25	3:00

Sweltering Split

*Travel*

The internet café proved to be more the former than the latter, but it only cost 10 Kuna (£1) to make my previous post.

You can find out from the internet that the Croatian currency is the Kuna (about 10p), made of 100 Lipa, and they use plugs like those in The Netherlands. What you couldn't find out from the internet (until now) is this: I like Split.

The middle of the Old Town is small, based on Roman Emperor Diocletian's 3rd Century retirement home, a large, walled "palace". Most of the outside walls seem to still be standing although, as happens, they've been incorporated into later, smaller buildings, resulting in new, smaller windows where the old ones weren't and at least one door half way up the wall, with no marks to suggest it ever had stairs leading to it.

Among the higgledy-piggledy buildings within and around the walls is Split's St. Dominus church with its 60M bell tower which, of course, I had to climb.

*Waffle About Tall Buildings (in a single bound)*

You see, I'm a big fan of big buildings, going up (among others) Toronto's CN Tower, Chicago's John Hancock building (the Sears building was shut that day), a tower in Auckland, a 50-floor building and a gold mine in Johannesburg (taking me the same distance up as down on a single day). I took in the Empire State and World Trade Center buildings in New York, and had climbed several of the top ten tallest before the Far East building boom took off and changed things. I went to Kuala Lumpur, but plebs like me aren't allowed up the Petronas Towers, so I had to be content with the communications tower there (whose local name I knew I'd never remember).

In case you don't know, there are rules about tall buildings. There
Are two llists - one for habitable buildings (like the Empire State) and one for communication towers (like the CN Tower). Pinnacles do count, but aerials don't.

Once I was doing so well ticking off visits to the top 10 mast-towers that I idly considered getting to Tashkent to get up the huge tower there. Idly, I say - I expect it isn't even open to the public.

It now occurs to me that I've been waffling for a while and should go back and put in an appropriate subheading.

*More Tourism*
(written in an Italian restaurant about 9:30pm)

Reservations are needed for most or all of my train journeys. I saw what I guessed was the station from the top of the bell tower and went to find it, round the side of the harbour.

There were 4 staffed desks in the ticket office, but only one had a queue in front of it. Two were Domestic and the lady behind the other International desk appeared to be doing admin. "Split to Zagreb," I thought, "that must be domestic." But no - I guess the train I wanted was an IC service, so I had to join the queue while the staff at the domestic desks sat chatting.

Is it the attitude of the staff to do this? Of the employer? A restriction of the computer system? Training? It's pretty poor, anyway.

The lone lady doing all the work didn't seem especially warm to people ahead of me, and I was worried about having the right change, so when I got to the front of the queue I put on my best winning smile and was especially clear and polite. The lady was helpfulness itself! Happy me!

Next came beers by the harbourside and lunch in a coffee bar/pizzeria in front of Diocletian's gaff. I had a fabulous Pizza "Skalinada" with
Tuna, sweetcorn, onion, cheese, tomato, mozarella, asparagus, oregano, olive oil, oodles of garlic and an olive (just one, as the menu promised, when I checked).

I've also acquired a taste for Karlovacko beer (large).

*Yet More Waffle*

After lunch I faced the serious question of "the Siesta". Can
I afford a couple of hours to snooze when I only have one full day here, perhaps ever?
Well, those who know me (at least outside work) know I'm never hesitant to rally to the clarion call of idleness.

I call this the "sabbath" question (after the biblical query: is the sabbath made for man, or man made for the sabbath?) Should I stay on a tourist treadmill to see as much as possible or chill out at the expense of sights-seen?

This is aligned with the question: "why am I here?" No, not the religious question, the holiday question. At work I've been doing a project that's sapping, with a host of distractions preventing progress. Hence I feel I need a rest. I did think of renting a cottage in Scotland and sitting relaxing, but I'm here.

The reason is my dream of taking a year off and "going round the world." But what if I put in all the effort to organise a year off, then set off but found after a few weeks that I didn't like it and I'd rather be at home?

So this is a sort of trial run. If taking a siesta makes me happy then screw the tourism. The trip overall has to make me happy, or I'd be better off doing something else.

There is another angle on things. After my siesta I walked through lots of backstreets seeing what homes are like and glimpsing how people live, just a glimpse. Then I walked round the Old Town, ending up with another beer. Now I'm sitting in an Italian restaurant (there are a lot more places to drink than eat here).

I'm sitting here alone because I'm travelling alone. This is a shame, in a few different ways. Having travelled in company, I know that it can intensify the experience: "Did you see that?" / "Why do you think it's like that?" / "Isn't this wonderful?"

Tapping away at the PDA is better (I feel) than reading a book or staring at the walls. It isn't that I'm not enjoying myself, or actually "suffering" in any way, it's just that travelling alone is unusual and one feels as though one stands out for it in "social" places.

If I did my "world tour" I'd mainly be alone too, as I don't currently know anyone else in a position to sod off round the world. I understand there are websites to meet similar types, and on tour one (apparently) keeps bumping into familiar faces.

In any case, solo is the default, so I'd better see whether I still like it. I didn't have any problems in Scotland or Central Europe, but then I wasn't thinking about a whole year.

Just finishing my Sundae, then back to pack. Key handover at 10am then 10:53 train to Zagreb.

Feet Dry

ABOUT: Arriving in Split, written in apartment

*Blather*

On the plane I found myself sitting next to a Welsh-born guy called Dennis who has lived in Oz for many years. He's been travelling for 28 hours from Perth, which has the best beaches on Earth (he says). I don't know if it's due to Wales, Oz or Army service, but I soon realise that Dennis is absolutely shameless, speaking to anyone without hesitation and asking them straight away any question about their business!

He also has a practice, I learn as we get on buses to terminal and to town, of sitting down next to anyone female and starting a conversation. His unconscious easiness makes me a bit jealous.

The bus to town is full and a girl of about 20 sits between Dennis and me, speaking what I think is Spanish to friends in other rows. I don't fancy her or anything, but having seen Dennis I feel like I shouldn't just sit next to her in silence.

I use my best schoolboy Spanish to work out the phrases "Hello, do you speak English?" and "How many friends are you travelling with?" Then I sit on them in silence for another 20 minutes before persuading myself I have nothing to lose. Her English is (naturally) rather better than my Spanish and I learn that she and ten friends have come from Andalucia. It is still Dennis who learns her name is Mary.

*Travel Stuff -ish*

Whilst on the bus, I get a call from someone to do with the apartment and, when I get off the bus I spot him. It turns out that "Apartment Split" will let out independent people's apartments when their normal capacity is full. I'm delighted - the apartment isn't 1km inland, it's on the 3rd or 4th floor of a 100-year-old building, right beside the harbour, night life and the Diocletian Palace (of which more, I expect, tomorrow).

There's a slight perturbation as, when I get to the apartment, they expect cash. I thought I'd paid by credit card over the phone in the UK, so I didn't take enough out from the airport ATM. I have a dull confirming recollection from previous LateRooms usage in the UK, so I offer the money I have. In the end I go to a nearby ATM to get the remainder and replenish my float. I'm pretty sure they're right, but I'm not really fussed and don't want to be a bother to them - I'm delighted with the apartment (location and characteristics) and the chap has been awfully nice to meet me and show me round on the way.

I agree to hand the keys back at 10am on Friday, so it looks like I'll catch the 10:53 to Zagreb.

From the ATM I go for a stroll up what looks like the prime shopping street. I have an Ice Cream (some tasty green fruit) while walking and then sit for a "draft dark beer 0.5L". Or two. As I sit at the table on my own, peoplewatching, I think of lots of things to write. It occurs to me that I'd probably look less "sad" if I sat there tapping away on a PDA. But much, much more of a "spod". I think a notebook (an actual paper one) may be a good compromise.

After this I take a slice of pizza from a stall next door to McDonald's. I know it isn't Haut Cuisine or "distinctively Croatian", but it is 10:30pm and more "local" than Maccy-D's. However, McD's would have been tastier and added to my (?counter-)counter-cultural "world list" of McD meals shamefully eaten in places where I should have known better (including on top of Victoria Peak in Hong Kong).

It seems "God wants me to" write during my journey, as I find an internet café right next to the apartment. I pop in to learn (a) they open at 6am - not likely to be of interest to me - and (b) they sell bottled beer - of reasonable interest in absence of an off-licence.

Back at the apartment I find National Geographic channel in English. I love countries too small to make a business case for re-dubbing. "Air Crash Investigations" is on, which I love despite being a frequent flier. This week it's about an Egyptian pilot who (probably) committed suicide but took hundreds of people with him. I figure that (outside of a personal bad decision) when it's time, it's time and there isn't a lot to do about it. It's out of my control so why worry?

Airborne

ABOUT: setting off, written on BA2888

*Waffle*

And I'm airborne - checking that the phone I'm tapping away at is safely in Flight Mode. I wonder if I'll wear out the battery so much on Solitaire and Ballbreaker (actually the game is Bubble Breaker) that I wouldn't be able to bring down the plane if I wanted to - far less write this nonsense.

I'm conscious (having read "Eats, Shoots and Leaves") that I'm being lazy and punctuating using dashes rather than colons, semi or otherwise. What the hell - I'm on holiday!

For someone who flies as much as I do (sometimes to work via Amsterdam Schiphol and back every week for months), my packing for this trip was terribly prolonged and inefficient. I think this is a backlash against the fact that I can pack for a week away in 10 minutes, and frequently have. Maybe it's like acting - much harder to feel you're doing it well if NOT driven by the mainspring of being half-petrified by stage-fright, or missing the plane.

Friend Elaine gave me a lift to Gatwick as "Phil the Cab" is confined with flu. They're insisting on picking me up from Heathrow when I return next Saturday (all being well). That's so nice, but it would be their Saturday night I'd be disturbing/spoiling, unless Phil's working already.

As is my habit, I filled up on books at the airport - two Christopher Brookmyres (a brilliant and quirky "detective" writer who I heartily recommend), the new paperback Le Carré (the old firm) and one called "Band of Eagles" which sounds like "Band of Brothers with Wings" by a different author. I didn't read the blurb, but a line on the cover makes me guess it's about pilots fighting for Malta in WW2, which I became interested in after visiting there a while ago.

These are added to the six books in my checked luggage, already including an older Le Carre as well as "Confessions of an Economic Hit Man" and several hand-me-down books from my Dad, who likes unchallenging blokeish crap as much as I do.

My itinerary (previous post) includes 40+ hours of train travel, so I may need a book or two.

I may also have more time than is healthy to write stuff like this (having rambled so far already). What should I be writing? What do I think friends (or strangers) might be interested to read? I can take some solace from the fact that I titled the blog "Only Somewhat Boring", so I can't be done for misrepresentation.

I'll try an idea that's useful at work - I'll use a management summary, at the top but written last, and subheadings so people can skip over even more boring stuff. I'm going to go back and do that now...

...and I'm back.

*Ready for Split*

I won't arrive in Split until mid-evening, so I decided this morning to book accommodation in advance (obviously not far). This looks like a good idea as most hotel search sites including LastMinute and a few Croatian specialist sites reported no space anywhere. LateRooms found "Apartments Split" and I've booked and paid (Ł94) for two nights.

So I had an address from LateRooms, but where is that? The LateRooms map showed it on the end of the harbour wall. You don't catch me that way! I found a lovely flash/navigable map on CroMap, but it didn't appear to have a search box. I saw a list on the right that had "touristicy" or something half-way down and in a flash of inspiration I clicked the Croatian word in capitals at the top, which opened up a list of street names. The map also had a good print function (right-click on the map).

I looked on WikiTravel about how to get from Split Airport to town (25km). The best answer seemed to be bus to the waterfront bus station, but my now-found accommodation looked to be a kilometre away uphill. Hence I was planning on a taxi, until I was sitting in Gatwick and got a text from a +385 number inquiring how I was arriving.

After a brief exchange of texts, I've ended up with instructions to take the Croatian Airlines bus to the bus station, text when I'm on the bus and they'll come to fetch me. How nice!

*The Trip in Prospect*

Since I started considering this trip (last week), looked into it (Monday) and decided to come (yesterday/Tuesday) I've become increasingly excited. Why? Not sure.
From one viewpoint I'm quite well travelled, in a "beaten path" kind of way. I have a list of about 60 airports I've been to, from or through. I've been to more exotic places than the Balkans, which I should expect to be advanced, mostly Western-facing countries.

I suppose that was mainly with work or "tourist cocoon" stuff (fly in, go pre-booked Western-OK hotel, take organised trips, fly out). On this trip I'll be arriving in places and looking for accommodation there and then. I've done a similar thing in Scotland almost 20 years ago, and almost 10 years ago in Central Europe. This trip will take me through places affected by the Balkan wars, part of the former Warsaw Pact and an Islamic state straddling Europe and Asia. That feels different to me, although I have to admit that Croatia is an easy introduction.

Under Starter's Orders

OK then, the die is cast. I've done all my travel research and booked my flights.
I'm off for a trip from Split in Croatia to Istanbul in Turkey and I have "just ten days" to do it.

My first choice was to travel between my endpoints by car because it would give me a lot more freedom to stop and see what I want. However, none of the big hire car firms seem to allow cars to be taken into Eastern Europe (across the borders of Bulgaria or Turkey).

I briefly considered buses, but there's a limit to the amount of torture I'm prepared to volunteer for. Once I had a truly awful nighttime ferry crossing of the Irish sea and vowed I'd never again pay someone to make me ill for hours on end.

So I looked up all the flight and train times and they're in the table below. This is mainly for me or "just in case". I don't know which day or time I'll make each journey, so that's missing for now. In general terms I expect:

• Thursday Split


• Saturday Zagreb


• Monday Belgrade


• Wednesday Sofia


• Friday Istanbul

I'll add Plovdiv if mood or progress indicates.

So here's my itinerary:

From	To	Ref	Dep	Arr	Dur
LGW N	Split	BA2888	15/8 16:20	15/8 19:50	2:30
Split	Zagreb Glavni Kolod	IR522	10:53	16:17	5:24
Zagreb Glavni Kolod	Belgrade	415	11:10	17:26	6:16
		IR524	12:24	18:57	6:33
		IC211	16:48	22:50	6:02
Belgrade	Sofia	D293	21:00	06:25 next day	8:25
		D491	08:40	17:44	8:04
Sofia	Plovdiv	8611	10:30	13:14	2:44
		8615	13:30	16:11	2:41
		10113	14:05	17:23	3:18
		D491	19:30	21:47	2:17
Plovdiv	Istanbul Sirkeci	D491, D499, D81031	21:57	08:24 next day	10:27
Istanbul T1	LHR T1	BA0677	25/8 17:25	25/8 19:25	3:00

Don't Read This

Hello,
I know that thousands of people start blogs and then give up on them. I have the mild distinction that I don't really want to have a blog in advance.
I don't think my life or opinions are so interesting that strangers would ever wish to read about them. I write an A4 sheet every Christmas and enclose it with cards to university friends that I haven't seen for years. My reasoning is that I like to get theirs and see that they're still alive and well. Some have said they like my annual missive, but who can tell to what extent they're just being polite?
So the experience relevant to blogging (perhaps) is that each year I sit to compose the newssheet and think that nothing has happened and each year it fills itself and ends up readable. Maybe this will work the same?
The particular stimulus that has made me open a blog is the short-ish holiday I've been planning this evening, of which I'll say more if it comes off. Specifically, my friend Sue said she'd like to follow my progress online. It sounds like a recipe for spending half of every day looking for an internet cafe.
Another friend kept a blog during a (rather more exciting) trip to the Far East.