My four day weekend of trekking started yesterday evening with the hardest bit: Squeezing past the thousands of other rush-hour Londoners who were equally desperate to get out of the city for the Easter break. A six hour bus, tube, train and car-hire journey later, Susanne and I arrived in Llanberis, the gateway to Snowdonian mountains in Wales.

We wake to find the overnight showers gone, and a mix of sunshine and clouds covering the mountain peaks at each side of the valley. It’s Easter Friday and we visit the impressive (disused) slate quarries and climb up the north side of the valley, giving a great view of Llanberis, our home for the next few days. It’s a relaxing day, walking around Dolbadarn Castle and Llyn Padarn, warming up our muscles for tomorrow’s trek, the first since I was in Chile in November.

Day 3 – 3 April 2010 – Llanberis, Mount Snowdon

An Austrian alarm wakes me at 07.30 and after a greasy breakfast we jump in the car and park it 10km away in Pen-y-Gwryd. The journey back is the long way: We start by trekking up the rocky path towards Crib Goch. This is the more challenging walk to the peak of Mount Snowdon, but it’s actually quite straightforward.

There is the option to go via summit of Crib Goch, but with the deep snow, it’s considered highly dangerous without the right climbing gear. In fact, whilst walking around the valley of the beautiful Llyn Llydaw, a rescue helicopter hovers beside the top of Crib Goch, where some climbers appear to have become stuck.

I’m always going on about how lucky I am with weather, but this trip seems to take the cake. The forecast was four days of rain, yet the sun in shining and there are even times when we stop to take in the view and the rays of Vitamin D that I’ve missed so much.

Only near the top does the weather change; and boy how it does! The falling snow slices my face from a horizontal angle and my feet sink deeper into the ground. Despite being the tallest mountain in Wales, it’s not actually that high at just 1,085m. However, the strong wind and snow makes it feel four times as high. It makes the final climb a real slog, but hugely satisfying and memorable.

I’m truly shocked at the beauty of this part of the UK. The mountains really live up to their name, with jagged peaks and cliff-edges everywhere to be seen. The only disappointment is the number of people on the mountain. The peak is truly packed and feels just as busy as a London Underground platform.

We don’t stay long as it’s a complete whiteout, so I do my obligatory ‘jump’ photo before heading back down the north side of the mountain. The path is so smooth that it’s just as easy to sit on your backside and slide down the mountain! It’s a total of 14km and on our return in Llanberis, we grab a bus, pick up the car and return to the hotel for a celebration wine and dinner.

Days 4-5 – 4-5 April 2010 – Llanberis, Mount Tryfan

Another early start and another calorie-filled breakfast before we head towards Llyn Ogwen. It’s a 20 minute drive and once again the sun in shining, allowing a great view of the dramatic Mount Tryfan. It’s a really unusual shape with rugged crags and various routes to its three peaks.

We’re advised to stay clear of the north face. The recent heavy snowfall means it’s particularly dangerous, especially without ice-axes and crampons. It’s good advice; the walk around the west of the mountain takes us past Llyn Bochlwyd, a lake which resembles the shape of Australia and is a beautiful spot for sipping whiskey and relaxing in this mainly undisturbed part of the world.

My new boots carry me through the streams and deep snow up the south face of Mount Tryfan. We take a slight wrong turn which means there’s a slightly challenging climb up a narrow stretch of rock, right next to a cliff-edge. Whilst I’m not exactly dangling from a rock like Stallone, my heart is still pumping as we successfully reach the first peak unscathed!

The scramble to the highest peak is fun, especially as the sun is really strong and you can’t help but love the views in every direction. The contrasts of colour, from dark rock and white snow to the green and yellow plants and grass, it’s a truly gorgeous location.

At its peak, Mount Tryfan is famous for two large rocks, nicknamed Adam and Eve. The tradition is to jump from one to the other, gaining ‘Freedom of Tryfan’. I was well and truly up for it, but the wind is strong, the sheer drop would be fatal and my tail is well and truly tucked between my legs!

I settle for a jump in a slightly less dangerous spot, before working my way through the maze-like route back down the mountain.

It’s a much shorter trek today, but even more enjoyable since the mountain was practically deserted, the views were even more spectacular and the terrain more challenging. We reward ourselves with our second enormous indian dinner and rest up before the morning’s six hour journey back to London.

It’s a little strange to finish work on a Friday and then find myself in a coffeeshop in Amsterdam five hours later! Despite visiting Amsterdam a few times for work, I’ve never had the pleasure of seeing this iconic city as a tourist. My first impressions are positive: It reminds me of Bruges and it brims with history, even though nothing actually looks very old.

My first Amsterdam joint hits me like a ten tonne hammer; it’s insanely strong and leaves me completely conscious that I’m absolutely wasted! It’s fun to wander around the beautiful canals at night and although it’s probably a good idea that I left my camera at the hotel, I am slightly curious about what photos I might have taken in such a state!

11 July 2009 – Day 2 – Amsterdam

Amsterdam is tiny. Fewer than 800,000 people live here and the whole city is within walking distance. So I stuff my face with stroopwafels (munchies!) and head straight to the red light district. At this time of the morning, it’s pretty empty and most windows have the curtains closed; no doubt the ladies are getting their beauty sleep. That being said, I do find one street with the doors clearly open. With cigarettes in hand, these middle-aged prostitutes hardly look in the mood for work. Some look bored, some look depressed and they all look like they’ve just run a marathon… it’s not the Amsterdam I was expecting.

I move on quickly and meander my way south, through the Dam Square with the relatively impressive Koninkliljk Paleis, and past the flower market on the southern edge of the city centre. It’s picturesque but I still can’t get over how small the city is. If you take away the bars and coffeeshops, there really doesn’t seem to be much else to do. That being said, the Heineken brewery is a worthwhile visit and when the sun really starts to shine, the area around the Rijksmuseum is beautiful. Slightly further east, on Albert Cuypstraat, there’s a great little market which sells everything from fake designer products to household furniture. I’m not even surprised to see some chocolate penises for sale (this is Amsterdam, after all) but I am a little taken aback at the sight of chocolate vaginas…!

In the evening it’s back to the red light district: It’s heaving now, with bright lights and enormous groups of rowdy and horny stag dos. There must be 20 guys for every female tourist and I’m surprised that the guide book can say it’s not seedy. Watching filthy old men staring at these girls, some of whom are very young, and then march in like it’s a Starbucks is really weird.

After a few beers it’s time for another coffeeshop. Half an hour of smoking and a space cake later, I remember why I don’t normally take weed; I’m knackered and all I want is my hotel bed!

12-13 July 2009 – Days 3-4 – Amsterdam

It’s chucking it down so I head straight for the Anne Frank museum. Having read her diary, it’s daunting to creep around her house, knowing the events that unfolded 65 years ago. Just like when I visited Auschwitz, it’s a powerful reminder and really hits home.

Like turning off a shower tap, the rain just stops and the clouds clear making it another beautiful sunny day. It means it’s worth visiting the large Vondelpark in the southwest of the city; it’s truly relaxing as live bands play music, cyclists whizz by and the locals stroll around the park’s lakes. Furthermore, the surrounding canals are much more quiet than in the city centre and it finally feels like I’ve found the Netherlands. The “I amsterdam” sign is absolutely enormous and definitely worth the long search to find it. I’m not in the mood for more museums as the weather is still glorious, so the rest of the day is spent walking around and stopping occasionally for beers and a tan.

After an average evening meal (I really could have done with a local to point out the decent restaurants – where the hell are they!?), I avoid the coffeeshops and finally take some night photography. By Monday morning I feel I’ve ‘done’ Amsterdam and bearing in mind how much walking I’ve done, I feel like I’m one of the only blokes in the world to have gone to this capital city and had a healthy weekend!

Less than a month ago I went to Scotland for a weekend of highly-energetic mountain biking. I love Scotland; it’s one of my favourite countries. Better still, when the sun is strong, the amazing history and architecture is impossible to ignore. However, this weekend’s trip is slightly different: It’s my mate’s stag-do and the best man doesn’t have much sight-seeing on the agenda.

It’s entertaining watching the stag get completely hammered: The highlights being when he threw his pint of beer on the floor “when no one was looking”, his pathetic attempts to act sober when getting into clubs, stumbling into the staff room of a bar (thinking it was a toilet) and (best of all) trying to open a door which turned out to be a mirror.

The next morning we soak up the alcohol with a Scottish breaky and then head 90 minutes north to Ballinluig for some white-water rafting along the River Tummel. It’s all good and Tom even manages to raise a smile when I drag him into the river…

The day ends with more drinking and the ‘obligatory’ visit to a strip bar. Tom seems to enjoy his private dance but then two girls start doing some ’stuff’ on the bar, which I can’t even begin to describe; we don’t know whether to be turned on or throw up!

The following photos are from the white-water rafting official photographer, including Rob’s awesome leap (4th photo), me showing how not to hold a paddle (3rd photo) and my skull-crushing headbutt on the Grade 4 rapid (10th photo)!!

Half an hour on the tube, over three hours on a train and two hours in a car, yet the journey had only just begun. I’m in Scotland for a long weekend with a mate from school and we’re tackling two of the 7stanes.

I ride to work nearly every day nowadays, which is an 18km round trip through the busy streets of London. I’ve learned to become fearless of bendy buses and zombie pedestrians stepping out into the middle of the road, whilst weaving through the traffic, in order to dart through the amber lights in the morning rush hour.

However, London isn’t renowned for its mountainous terrain, so when we arrive at Mabie, in Southwest Scotland, I’m surprised how much of a challenge mountain biking can really be. Sharpy, my drinking buddy and teacher for the weekend, ignores the fact I’ve never done this before and immediately takes me to a ‘Red grade’ trail. The description on my map says red trails are suitable for ‘proficient mountain bikers with good off-roading skills’ – a higher level of fitness and stamina is required’!

Surprisingly, after a few wobbles, I don’t do that badly. It’s hard work but incredibly good fun. The steep climbs are worth the effort, as the descents are even more satisfying than flying down a black piste on skis.

Dalbeattie is a relatively small village and yet it’s frightening how many barrels of beer the locals must go through each week. We spend the first evening mixing with them and I’ve never seen people give themselves such a liver pounding. There are women who look double their age and men who are double the size they should be, and it’s not hard to see why; everyone is completely trashed! It is entertaining though, and the Scottish friendliness throughout the day continuously reminds me why Scotland is one of my favourite countries.

31 May 2009 – Day 3 – Dalbeattie

An enormous Scottish breakfast keeps the hangover at bay and we head straight back to the trails for more biking. Today it’s the Dalbeattie Stane and at over 30km, it doesn’t sound like very far. However, the ascents are long and the downhill sections are steep and technical, meaning it’s an absolute killer on the legs.

As always, I refuse to go anywhere without my camera gear; it’s an extra 10km on my back that I could do without, but there are photo opportunities everywhere, especially as the weather this weekend has been simply outstanding – you’d be forgiven for thinking you’d gone over a mountain and found yourself in southern Europe!

It’s another red trail, but we try a few of the black ‘trick’ sections as I slowly build more confidence. However, Dalbeattie’s infamous ’slab’ is a well beyond my comfort zone; it’s a long, steep and rocky descent that practically screams at me, “pain and blood”!!

My legs are exhausted but there’s still enough light to explore the coast. With the sun low in the sky, the views are outstanding, especially on foot along the footpaths over Rockcliffe. I particularly like the pier at Rough Firth.

The beaches are extraordinary: I’ve never seen such flat plains of sand and apparently the tide comes in faster than you can run, catching out many tourists. In the end, we settle for a seaside restaurant and a relatively early night, preparing ourselves for tomorrow’s final biking effort.

01 June 2009 – Day 4 – Dalbeattie, Mabie

The massaging beds in the bed & breakfast are a Godsend! I really thought I’d struggle to move today but as we head back to Mabie, I’m excited to test my skills and see if I can do better than my first attempt two days ago.

Being more familiar with the route, we go a lot faster and it’s a great way to end the long weekend; and although it’s a shame that it’s over so quickly, I’m actually rather relieved that I’m still in one piece! Even more surprising, despite the shaking, vibrating and alien-like sounds that Sharpy’s car made on the journey back to England, it too managed to stay intact!

I force myself to down a truly repulsive Gatwick airport coffee knowing that for the next six days I’ll be treated to the best of the best. The destination is Catania, where my father grew up, and we’re taking this pilgrimage to explore the east coast of Sicily.

As we approach the island, I know I’m in for a treat. The glorious weather gives a sublime view, practically into the mouth of the ever-volatile Mount Etna.

My memories of Palermo return as soon as we hit the roads, with the sounds of horns blasting, the scooters zipping in and out of traffic and the carefree attitude of pedestrians walking across the busy roads as if it were a catwalk.

The only difference with Palermo is the road, cut out of black, solidified lava, making a great contrast against the old building architecture.

It’s a great hotel but we head off immediately for food, finding a famous little bar with stereotypical Italian service. The arancino goes down well whilst we meander around the streets of central Catania. I’m filled with stories of what things used to be like in the 50s, and it’s like having my own personal guide, boiling with enthusiasm and reliving his youth with me; the only thing is that the guide is my father!

Along the coast, we visit two of the Aci: Aci Castello and Acitrezza. The old photos of Aci Castello make it look like a classic painting; nowadays it’s full of buildings and busy roads. The castle itself doesn’t lose its appeal. The views down the coast are great and I see the old men sitting around and watching the world go by.

Acitrezza, where my father was born, is even better. The town itself is typically Sicilian, but the ‘beach’ is the difference. It’s full of solid lava, including some enormous boulders that look entirely out of place, prodding out of the sea. Legend says that Cyclops threw these enormous rocks at Odysseus, but this is almost more believable than the truth: They were actually launched (20km across Sicily) in one of Etna’s violent eruptions!

I can’t help but feel like I’m finally on holiday: The sun is strong and on the promenade the local teenage couples show (a little too much) affection for each other, as tanned, camp-looking men roller-skate around them. It’s no-holds-barred Italy at its best.

Dinner is a reunion with a distant relative who my father hasn’t seen in half a century. I ask for food that isn’t easily found in London and I’m treated to some Sicilian antipastos followed by squid ink pasta. We then stroll around the Piazza del Teatro, which seems to be the local hangout for all the beautiful people; it’s like being backstage at a fashion show!

01 May 2009 – Day 2 – Catania, Mount Etna

After a poor night’s sleep (even my earplugs can’t muffle the sound of my father’s snoring), I’m heading towards another beast: Mount Etna. Like my father, it too rumbles through the night (no doubt much more quietly) at over 3,300m.

We drive north through the suburbs of Catania, spoiled by a surplus number of buildings and cars everywhere trying to escape the city for the 1st May national holiday. The Highway Code should be re-written for Sicilians: It seems there’s a well-followed, controlled chaos that rules the land, even if it does entirely defy logic. However, since in Italy you give way to those joining on the right, the system falls to pieces and confusion prevails when you get to a roundabout; Sicilians are baffled and it reverts back to ‘first come, first served’!

Mount Etna (or Muncibeddu/Mongibello in Sicilian/Italian) looms over Catania quite beautifully. It’s as if the mountain is totally lost and just settled itself next to a coastline city. It makes for a fantastic landscape and it’s almost confusing having left the city and suddenly being at 1,000m and heading towards the snowy peaks. The higher we climb, the more the landscape changes; from concrete buildings, to green pastures and then finally to black rock, as all signs of life disappear under the layers of lava built up over centuries of eruptions.

The contrast of snow and black lava is picturesque in itself, but the mix of cloud and steam filter the strong sunshine and create a unique environment, making it seem like a totally foreign planet.

The funivia takes us high above the clouds and a jeep completes the climb to 2,920m. The sun is still strong but the bitterly cold wind half makes me forget I’m a short distance away from a volcano crater. I take a few photos and my hands are totally numb through cold. Fortunately, Mother Nature comes in handy when you’re on a volcano and all you have to do to warm up is lie down on the ground!

We opt for the hour walk back to the funivia and after I steal a couple of rocks of lava, we quickly return to Catania as another of my father’s long-lost friends is waiting to join us for dinner.

02 May 2009 – Day 3 – Catania, Siracusa

The first stop before Siracusa is to visit my grandfather’s grave in Catania’s main cemetery. It was nearly 20 years ago when I last stood in front of his grave and even though I never met him (he died in 1971) it still has a profound effect on me. I was named after him and to see my name written on a gravestone is still as moving as it was when I saw it as a 10-year-old. The cemetery itself is beautiful, or it would be if they banned cars and motorbikes. You could really spend hours lost in the maze of graves, fantastically built. Some are huge (nearly as big as my home!) and contain the remains of entire families. Unfortunately the noise of the traffic speeding by is ridiculous, and destroys any sense of peacefulness.

We take a wrong turn and end up on a quiet country road near Lentini. As we search for the road bearing south, we drive along one stretch of road which is dotted with African women standing by the side of the road, each about 200m from the last, as if waiting for the bus to Siracusa. It seems they have all been waiting a while for the bus and have got a little hot in the Sicilian sun; they’re all practically stripped down to the underwear and some even bend over their chairs, unable to stand up straight any longer. However, the non-existent bus doesn’t lower their spirits; some even smile and wave as we drive by…

Siracusa is impressive and I’m pleasantly surprised that although it’s more Greek ruins (that I’ve previously seen in Agrigento), it’s totally different and full of history. Unfortunately, the Teatro Greco is being set up for a forthcoming play, which means that the beautiful architecture is covered with modern seating and means a panoramic photo is out of the question. They have “ruined” the ruins!

The Orecchio di Dionisio is an enormous cave around the corner from the amphitheatre. It’s hugely impressive both visually and acoustically, and its shape, similar to an ear, makes for some fantastic echoes. Supposedly, Dionisio left his prisoners in the cave, so he could listen to their secrets from afar! We’re treated to something else, as we’re lucky enough to enter at a time when a Dutch opera singer starts singing! The strong sunshine disappears around the corners of the cave, which also allows me to try some unusual “jumping” photos.

We drive across the bridge to the island of Ortigia, which is the touristy part of Siracusa. That said, it’s relatively quiet, especially along the backstreets surrounding the Piazza del Duomo. At the most southern point of the island is the Castel Maniace. As a military base, it’s normally closed to tourists, but following a recent G8 summit, they have opened it specially. I wish they hadn’t! I’m left rather unimpressed and return to the narrow streets which seem to have a million stories to tell.

We end the day with dinner with more distant relatives in Nicolosi, a relatively quiet town between Etna and Catania.

03 May 2009 – Day 4 – Catania, Forza d’Agrò, Gole di Alcantara

Today was always the odd number: It’s a six day trip and it would mean travelling quite far from Catania to see another “major” site. So it’s lucky my father was born here, as we head north and explore some of the lesser well known sites, which is great as the lack of tourists means it’s like being a fly on the wall to Sicilian life.

We go to Forza d’Agrò, following the river from the coastline, which takes us through some small villages. There are markets on the streets and it’s the first glimpse of what life may have been like for my father back in the 1950s. Shockingly, however small the villages, they all seem to have fantastic sporting facilities. One village has a high quality football field surrounded by a running track and even has stands for the crowd! It does make you wonder where the money came from to pay for it..!

I paddle across part of the river to get some photos and further upstream, when we arrive at Basilica SS Pietro & Paolo, my father starts speaking with a local and discovers that he actually knew my uncle!

Forza d’Agrò is a pleasant little town high into the mountains and despite the mass of construction, it still retains its village feel at the peak, upon which the (unfortunately closed) castle sits. Back at the coast, views from Capo S’Alessio are splendid, along the coast and across the sea to Italy.

There’s still time to kill, so we search for the Gole Alcantara, which (bizarrely) isn’t even in my guide book: It’s fantastic; a winding series of rapids, carving away at the unique rock formations which makes for some great photos. You can even wade up the rapids, but following a lot of rain in April, the current is too strong for that today.

04 May 2009 – Day 5 – Catania, Taormina, Castelmola, Mazzarò, Isola Bella

Taormina is one of Sicily’s most popular destinations. I had been looking forward to today and unfortunately it has left a rather bitter taste in my mouth, and that wasn’t because of the horrible arancino that I was served in one of the central piazzas.

It’s absolutely packed full of tourists and I can’t bear to imagine how busy it is in the summer months. This I could accept, if it wasn’t for the fact that all activity revolves around commerce and taking advantage of all the tourists. It means that this lovely mountaintop town has been transformed into nothing less than an outdoor shopping mall.

The Teatro Greco is slightly better. However, even though I don’t mind the fact that they still use the theatre for shows (after all, its position with dramatic views of Mount Etna in the horizon is absolutely awesome), but they replace the broken, ancient seats with wooden and metallic benches. It makes absolutely no sense and completely ruins the possibility of imagining what it looked like over 1,000 years ago. That being said, sitting in the amphitheatre and writing my journal in the sun, with the panoramic views of Calabria, Etna and the Jonio Sea is almost unbeatable.

Further up the mountain, is a smaller village called Castelmola. It’s quieter than Taormina and for this I prefer it. The castle at the top also gives a view inland as well, and is well worth the steep drive from Taormina.

Back at the coast, we visit Mazzarò, where my father learned to swim, and the beautiful beach at Isola Bella, which certainly lives up to its name! In fact, only at high tide does it actually become an island. Therefore, being low tide, we cross the path and I jump around in the shallow water as the sun disappears into the mountains behind us.

05 May 2009 – Day 6 – Catania

I still haven’t seen Catania, despite staying here nearly a week. Fortunately, there’s enough time before our flight to visit the Piazza del Duomo and the local “Pescheria” fish market. It’s a lovely way to end the trip, surrounded by life as it probably was centuries ago, with the incomprehensible Sicilian cries still ringing in my ears.

13 months ago AC Milan became European Champions and I had just visited a rain-soaked Madrid, completely devoid of tourists. This weekend in Madrid was sunny, warm and full of young travellers taking in the sights.

It would have been great for photos, but apart from a brief tour of Parque del Buen Retiro and a couple of other of the capital’s attractions, I’ve managed to spend most of the weekend in restaurants and bars, stuffing my face with tapas and cañas. Vida difícil!

This school reunion doesn’t start off too well. Andy (who I’ve seen once in eight years) arrives at Gatwick and finds his ticket is for the Friday flight, not today’s (Thursday). A £75 upgrade, some wine and beer and a ridiculously short flight to Germany later, we’re wandering around Köln trying to find the tourist attractions.

Where. The. Hell. Are. They.

It could be the awful weather, but this city (bar the excellent Dom, which holds the largest free-swinging bell in the world) isn’t particularly inviting for the snappy happy tourist.

Of course, this trip was never really about photography, but all about experiencing some German culture… drinking.

4th April 2008 РK̦ln, Wuppertal

I can’t even kid myself that this holiday is about photography any more. Today I meet with Moritz, the German exchange student I last saw in 1997. Moritz gives Andy, Mark and me a mini-tour of Wuppertal before showing us where to buy pizza. He kindly then shows us the direction to a bar…

Things go a bit foggy as the night progresses and fortunately the camera brings back all the memories, so it turns out to be a photography trip after all!

My first experiences of this Eastern European country are mixed. I can’t miss the huge rich/poor divide; I’ve witnessed scenes that resemble what I have seen in Africa; I’ve also seen some beautiful landscapes and met some very friendly locals.

Firstly, everything seems to happen in slow motion. It takes two hours for me to collect my hire car, since there was no record of my payment and that led to a random trip across Bucharest with some non-English speaking bloke. My first petrol payment then took about 15 minutes. The credit card machine appeared to throw a fit at the thought of contacting a UK bank for payment. Yet, the locals are all delightfully friendly and this slow pace just seems to be part of every day life.

BraÅŸov is different. 150km north of Bucharest and it’s a lively place with tourism, commercialism and plenty to see. The trip took forever and I constantly panicked about driving straight past it, which is laughable now that I’ve seen the unmissable Hollywood-style “BraÅŸov” sign on the mountain beside it.

My trip was bizarre in itself. I’ve never seen so many new homes being built. In one area there must have been literally thousands of new houses. There’s clearly a market for those with money, but it’s shocking to see what only can be described as “shacks” just beside some of these expensive-looking buildings. About 50km north of Bucharest I hit some traffic. The road has suddenly turned into a field of potholes and I’m making about 1km every 10 minutes. One driver behind me isn’t prepared to wait any longer; he literally falls off the road onto the nearby field and bounces his way about 200m through the thick grass alongside the road. Having reached the front of the queue, he flies up the embankment and lands back on the road. I can’t help but laugh!

In BraÅŸov, although I only take my camera out for one photo, I can see I’ll have plenty to visit tomorrow. Tonight I settle for a nice meal and some local beers; my waiter also introduces me to Balinka – which could cause problems as it’s actually rather tasty.

15th March 2008 – BraÅŸov, SighiÅŸoara

The weather was warm and sunny yesterday from Bucharest, over the snow Carpathian Mountains and into BraÅŸov. It’s therefore disappointing that it’s cloudy and raining this morning. I wonder around and visit the (pretty awful) Historical Museum, hoping the clouds will clear. Looking north, it seems that the weather is better, so when the rain starts coming down harder, I jump in the car and head towards Sighisoara.

I wasn’t planning to visit the birthplace of Vlad Å¢epeÅŸ (aka Dracula), but I’m glad I do. The sun is out and it means I can climb the cobbled steps up the old town in SighiÅŸoara and get some great views. A few hours wandering and a large plate of pasta later, I’m back in the car heading back to BraÅŸov.

I’m making good progress on the 150km drive, until I suddenly spot a police car. Before I can utter a profanity, the policeman is pointing at me and telling me to pull over. I’m absolutely bricking it, since I left the paperwork in the hotel room. Worse still, the policeman doesn’t speak a word of English and using hand gestures he indicates that the speed limit is 50kph. Apparently I was doing 80. Shit.

In my defence, there are absolutely no signs but all I can do is point to my phrase guide and keep repeating that I’m sorry, “lertaÅ£i-mă, lertaÅ£i-mă, lertaÅ£i-mă…”

I have to sign a document that I’m sure says I’ve been given two points, but the policeman then keeps saying “kein problem” (!?) and that it’s just a warning. With a huge sigh of relief, I crawl back to BraÅŸov.

Being St. Patrick’s Day, I find an Irish bar and before I know it, I’m on a Guinness pub crawl with a couple of great Irish blokes who live in Romania. More locals join us and we end up in an absolutely lovely house with dozens of cats. There’s absolutely no way I’ll be in a good state tomorrow…

16th March 2008 – BraÅŸov, Râşnov, Bran, BucureÅŸti

The lack of food and surplus Guinness last night means I wake up feeling slightly worse for wear. I’ve also lost most of the morning which means I’ve a lot to cram into the day.

The weather in BraÅŸov is a little disappointing again so I decide against climbing the hill towards the Hollywood-style Brasov sign and instead follow Mark’s (one of the Irish chaps) advice to drive to Poiana BraÅŸov. He’s spot on as the view from the winding road is great. It’s a shame I didn’t get any close up shots of the square, but I guess that’ll teach me for going drinking with the locals!

Poiana BraÅŸov itself is a ski resort just south-west of BraÅŸov and it’s surprising how quickly the landscape changes. It’s as if I go around a corner from spring and find myself in winter. The snow-covered mountains are covered in green trees and it’s very pretty. There’s a buzzing atmosphere in the town too and I stop to watch the people sledging, take some photos and have a local dish in a restaurant.

Further west, I reach Râşnov, which is famous for its fortress. The town is actually like stepping into the past, as locals play in the streets with any random items (a small rock for a couple of kids) they can find. In the fields, people of all ages play football together and it suddenly feels a million miles away from home. There are huge potholes in the road so I’m weaving around them, with one eye looking for the fortress and one eye ensuring I don’t rip a wheel off my car.

The fortress is pretty funky and it’s like a mini-village at the top of a big rock. It’s also heavily damaged and floorboards creek and bend as I walk around. The fortress overlooks Râşnov and the surrounding area and after I have a go at archery (I’m not sure if it’s shockingly difficult or whether I’m just totally crap at it), it makes me realise how hard it must have been for archers to defend themselves from the tiny view-holes in the fortress.

Another 20km away lies Bran. It’s one of Romania’s top tourist spots as the castle is the one in which Dracula (the fictional one) lived. Apparently Dracula (the real one) only ever went there once. That doesn’t stop the locals from celebrating this little town. There are people selling “Dracula Blood” wine, there’s a campsite called “Vampire Camping” and everywhere you look there is lettering that drips with red paint!

The castle had just closed by the time I get there, but I’ve been told a few times that inside is nothing special. I take a few shots and I consider staying until sunset so that I can see how it looks at night – but I’ve a long journey so decide against it and jump back in the car.

It’s lucky I do, since the journey is knackering and it feels like half of Romania’s population seems to be heading back to Bucharest too. Worse still, after driving for about five hours today, I get completely lost in the capital. The traffic is unbelievable and it reminds me of driving in Paris; it’s every car for themselves. After aimlessly driving around for about an hour, I spot Steaua Bucharest’s football ground, fortunately all lit up since there’s a game on and I finally find my bearings (football – my constant saviour!) I had treated myself with fancy accommodation on the last night and I couldn’t be more grateful; the hotel is really gorgeous. I’d love to experience Bucharest nightlife but it’s already 9pm and I’m exhausted and starving, so I treat myself again and order a delicious room service.

17th March 2008 – BucureÅŸti

My alarm goes off and I jump back in the car. The hotel charged me for the internet access but they don’t have any record of the room service. I should have kept my mouth shut but, after all, there are two empty dishes in my room. After a few phone calls, they give up and say that no one knows anything about me ordering room service. It’s particularly good news since I thought I ate far too much, so I’m pleased to hear I didn’t have a meal after all…

The Lonely Planet guide book says “Forget Prague, forget Budapest: Bucharest is Eastern Europe’s secret.” I can’t help but disagree. To me, it’s just a very cosmopolitan city which is absolutely buzzing with rush hour traffic and littered with high rise buildings. It actually reminds me of Milan more than any other city. It’s a large city too, and since there’s little advice on what to see, I decide to tour by car and stop every time I see something interesting. First stop is the simply gigantic Casa Poporului parliament building. Apparently it’s the 15th largest building in the world, not far behind the Pentagon (although it looks much larger to me).

Back in the car I find a tranquil park, which is a pleasant relief between all the frantic driving. My flight is at three, so I decide to head back early in case I get lost again, but I easily (but slowly) make my way past the Piata Victoriei and the Arcul de Triumf (practically identical to the Paris one – but unfortunately covered in scaffolding as I go by) towards the airport.

In the airport, there’s another long wait while they check the condition of the car before I head to the departure board just before one o’clock. I’m scratching my head as I don’t see a three o’clock flight. Hmm. There is a 13.40 flight though. And it says “check-in closed”. Shiiiiit. I’m absolutely petrified of the thought of missing my flight so it’s a huge relief when I’m checked in by a trainee member of staff who simply says, “Be fast!”

With that, I say my (quick) goodbye to Romania.

The weather is chucking the plane around like a rag doll and it isn’t too long before the woman in the seat behind me starts throwing up. I hear another stewardess’ voice trying to console her: “Would you like another bag?”

A few minutes later and the same voice comes on the loudspeaker. “Due to the turbulent conditions, we will not be serving any hot drinks. We will continue to serve cold drinks… including alcohol.”

I can’t help but grin.

I’ve landed in Switzerland and unfortunately I’m three months too early to see Italy in the European Championships. So instead, I jump on train from Genève to Täsch.

The journey itself is easy and picturesque, in particular as the train works its way around Lake Genève. I can imagine that in summer, still with the snow-covered Alps in the distance, but with a greener landscape, it must be beautiful.

Täsch is the stopping point for vehicles before the ski resort of Zermatt. It’s not very exciting and the nightlife is hardly famous. In fact, the most exciting thing about the village is the cross high on the mountain, which is lit up at night. It’s an early night before my first day of skiing in nearly two years.

7th March 2008 – Day 2 – Zermatt

The train to Zermatt is quick and runs every 20 minutes. Despite my first view of the Matterhorn (I’ll call it Matterhorn, instead of Cervino since I’m on this side of the border), Zermatt doesn’t impress me at first sight. There is construction everywhere, which in itself is infuriating since the buildings are practically on top of each other already.

Nonetheless, it’s an absolute joy to actually take another train (with heating!) to 3089m and then jump off and start skiing straight away! The weather is pretty poor today and the clouds refuse to shift, but it’s fantastic to be back in the Alps.

8th March 2008 – Day 3 – Zermatt

The weather is better today, although it’s still not the clear blue sky that welcomed me on Thursday. However, the clouds don’t budge from around 2500m and it allows some great views across the mountain peaks. As the ski-lifts emerge from the clouds and the sun hits you like a burning furnace, it’s like everything below the clouds doesn’t exist anymore.

Although it’s wonderful for the train to take you from Zermatt directly to the ski-slopes, it’s bizarre that the actual ski region is seemingly so far from the resort itself. The geography of the area is such that it’s not easy to get from one ski zone to another. Worse still, is that you can’t actually ski down to the resort. It means you either have to time your runs in order to catch a train back, or you have a 2km walk home with skis on your back.

On closer inspection, Zermatt has got some stereotypical Swiss buildings. However, it’s so densely built up that it loses its attraction. I think it says everything when I realise I don’t have a single photo of the town itself.

9th March 2008 – Day 4 – Zermatt

Now that’s what skiing is all about! Today was by far the best day, with excellent weather, great skiing and by far the best mountain views I’ve ever seen in my life. I expected to see so many glorious views in Zermatt, but today surpassed anything I could have hoped for.

I’ve broken a few ‘firsts’; skiing at over 3800m, skiing on a glacier and standing at the peak of the Matterhorn Glacier Paradise at 3883m. As one person near me said, it’s like standing on top of the world. I can’t even imagine how they constructed this platform, as taking the lift through the clouds and hundreds of metres above the piercing glaciers was nerve-wrecking enough!

It’s an amazing ski down the mountain, with the Matterhorn at my side and the huge, open pistes covered in fantastic powder-covered snow. I take it all in, as tomorrow is another four hour train back to Genève for my flight home.

Cheddar Gorge makes for a fantastic walk. The views are good, although I was expecting the gorge to be a little bigger; maybe I was hoping for a mini-Grand Canyon…

Beneath the rock is more impressive. The caves are full of history and make for some great photos (although I’d advise people to get there first thing in the morning; the hoards of overweight tourists with their ice-creams and sweets don’t really add much to the creepy, dark environment). The Wookey Cave is even better, although you’re not free to wander around like in the Cheddar Caves.

Apart from the obligatory cider-drinking and cheese-tasting, there’s also time to visit Wells and even have a walk around Glastonbury. It’s not festival time but the city centre has an air of celebration – albeit most of them are homeless people drinking and smoking drugs on the streets. Saying that, the Tor is lovely and the 360 degree view from the top is spectacular and it gives a much better example of what the atmosphere would be like at Glastonbury Festival.

On the way back to London, I stop by Stonehenge. It’s an interesting tour, especially as it lasts about an hour and the ‘facts’ are thrown at you thick and fast: ‘We think that this was the sacrificial altar… we think that the stones were moved on rollers… we think, we think….’

I’d love to return for sunrise/sunset, as the colours must be gorgeous, but this time I settle for some silhouette shots and some, er… inventive ones…

This moment has inspired me to share a travel idea.

So I’m in Edinburgh today. A colleague of mine is in Edinburgh on Monday. Surely it would be possible to hide something today, so that they can discover it (with the aid of some Dan Brown style clues, of course)? We’ve started with something simple. It’s hidden in a graveyard just off Princes Street and all they need to do is find the right grave.

I’m sure this has probably been done, but I wonder if there’s a market for a holiday where you have to trek across Europe collecting all these clues? Or how about hiding your ticket home?

I quite like the idea of leaving a load of hidden “gems” across Europe and see who could find them. Or if other travellers could leave some hidden items and maybe I could capture a few..? Anyway, my flight is boarding so I had better be off.

Oh – and Natalie’s flight was delayed, so she made it after all…

I stepped off the plane in Palermo yesterday evening and the heat hit me like the blast of air you get when opening an oven. Temperatures have reached 47 degrees Celsius and the signs are everywhere. Sirens can be heard regularly and in the distance are rows of fires billowing smoke up into the air.

It doesn’t feel any cooler in the hotel either, since the air conditioning isn’t working, so it’s a tough start to the day. Nonetheless, it’s an excuse to get out early and see what this city has to offer.

I’ve twice missed the catacombs in Paris, so Palermo’s tombs are first on the agenda today. The maze of bodies is organised into different sections; men, women, priests and my favourite – ‘professionals’. It’s quite eerie, but very few are anything but clothes and bones. Those that have signs of ‘flesh’ or hair just don’t look real, even if they are over 100 years old.

The heat in Sicily has caused a number of power cuts, so it’s no surprise when the lights go out and the corridors of skeletons go pitch black. I half expect to hear the rattling of bones in the darkness! The last body to be placed in the tomb is of Rosalia Lombardo, a little girl whose face seems so real and delicate, that she could almost be sleeping.

Outside the catacombs, the heat is scorching and it seems ridiculous that no one has opened up a coffee shop or ice cream parlour; they’d make a killing!

About a kilometre east, I find a family run joint with air conditioning. The Sicilian language they use amongst themselves is fast and difficult to follow, although the general gist is about the constant power cuts due to the weather. Cue the power cut! Sitting in semi-darkness, drinking chilled ice-tea, the air conditioning grinds to a halt…

‘Volete un pò di pizza?’ The owner asks, taking a fresh pizza from the oven. I can’t hide my grin. La vita Siciliana è bella!

Palermo’s cathedral is grand, but it’s the Palazzo next to the Porta Nuova which supposedly attracts most of the tourists. It’s surprisingly quiet at this time of the morning and we’re escorted through the parliament rooms, occasionally bumping into the odd government official.

The hotel is just by the Quattro Canti, which is the point at which the main two roads cross through Palermo. Nearby, the Fontana Pretoria holds dozens of half naked statues and apparently unimpressed locals at the time nicknamed it the ‘Fountain of Shame’.

North up via Maqueda, I reach the Teatro Massimo. It’s a large theatre, which was used to film the ending in The Godfather: Part III.

The port area towards the east is unimpressive, so I head towards La Kalsa district, which was badly destroyed in the war. The effects are still evident as little has been reconstructed or repaired. Some narrow roads look seedy and there’s a curious (and even suspicious) stare from some of the locals. However, there are still friendly people around, including one elderly woman dropping a basket from her balcony to collect goods from the market below. She lets me take her photo and her husband, with a mouthful of ice-cream, says the photo will cost me 55 euros. He grins at me with his teeth full of chocolate!

Around the Piazza Magione, young children speed around the gravel tracks on motorbikes and gangs of teenagers loiter on corners. The area isn’t a complete write-off; there’s the fantastic Garibaldi park, which contains some of the most fascinating trees I’ve ever seen in my life. Branches spiral out from the tree and embed themselves into the ground. Others dangle for metres, tempting a Tarzan re-enactment!

The evening passes quickly, with walking, pizzas and some moonlit photography.

27th June 2007 – Corleone

The Carcere Ucciardone prison holds the most notorious mafia criminals in Sicily. I guess I was expecting guards everywhere, watchtowers and all the Alcatraz-style décor, but unsurprisingly, it’s just a huge plain wall. However, the mafia stories bring me nicely to the next destination: Corleone.

It’s a small town halfway between Palermo and Agrigento. Don Vito, from The Godfather, came from this town so I’ve keen to see what it looks like.

I’m so busy looking around that before I know it, my car is face to face with a carabinieri vehicle. He winds down his window and with a sturn voice, asks where I’m headed. I tell him I’m not really going anywhere; I’m here to see the town. He then asks whether I realise I’m driving down the wrong way down a one-way street! I’ve only just arrived in Corleone and already I’m in trouble with the carabinieri!

Fortunately, he sees me for the idiot tourist that I am and tells me to turn around and keep my eyes peeled; ‘occhio, occhio…’

It’s a charming little place but I’m surprised at the lack of Godfather mentions (bar a couple of Il Padrino posters in an ice-cream shop). There are a few other tourists, probably there for the same reason I am. I like Corleone, but not for the reasons I expected.

The twisting, hilly road leads south towards Agrigento. Arriving quite late, there’s enough time to soak up the old town and settle down in a popular enoteca.

28th June 2007 – Agrigento

The Valley of the Temples is “just down the road”, so I set off on foot to find this Unesco Heritage site. An hour later and I’m lost in Agrigento’s maze of high rise buildings. Fortunately, it’s hard to miss the temples and once there’s a gap between the building, I see the direction I should be headed.

Approaching the temples, after about a 5km walk, is an indescribable feeling. The surrounding area hasn’t been touched by anything “modern” (with the exception of roads), which means you see the temples as they were 2500 years ago (albeit a little more crumbled). It’s another hot day and the clear blue skies and intense sun creates some fabulous contrasts of colour. It’s truly one of the most incredible things I’ve ever seen.

I also didn’t expect to see so much; from Tempio di Giunone on the eastern side all the way west to the Tempio di Castore e Polluce, there is over a kilometre of fascinating history and beauty.

It’s a photography heaven for me, but I’m also determined to get original angles and shots. With so many visitors, there must be a lot of similar photo collections around the world! Saying that, despite the gorgeous weather, there aren’t that many tourists and it only takes a bit of patience to get some shots sans personne.

The archaeological museum is average, but a (delicious) pit stop at the Promenade dei Templi restaurant refuels me to see the rest of the temples. Walking westbound, the temples become more and more ruined. However, even the huge Tempio di Giove (112m x 56m) is jaw-dropping, despite it being a mass of rubble. A copy of one of the massive statues has been laid in the centre, giving a breathtaking idea of how incredible this must have been.

Heading towards the exit, I notice a discreet sign pointing towards the Giardino di Kolymbetra. Climbing down, I feel like I’ve just discovered Frances Burnett’s Secret Garden!

There are flowers and fruit trees everywhere, streams of water and a winding pathway through this fairytale gem. Down at the bottom, there is a trio of tanned gardeners, one of whom is at least 80 years old and he immediately approaches. His name is Leonardo and he’s ever so keen to be a guide. He walks to what looks like an opening in the crag and says that it used to be a church where the locals got married. This was 2500 years ago! I ask him how long he has been here and he says he was brought here with his aunt in 1933!

Although he’s not supposed to, he takes a cutting from the garden and says it’s the flower that couples were given as a symbol of love. He says Emma can take this cutting since she’s English but she must keep it covered so no one sees it! Then he points up a stony path and says there is one more ruin to be seen.

Heeding his advice, I follow the path and cross the railtrack to find the final ruins in the Valley of the Temples. They are less dramatic than the others, but with not a single person in sight, it’s like a lost part of the ruins.

It’s a long (and steep) walk back to the town, but I’m rewarded with a number of cocktails back in Agrigento.

A friendly German couple from Arizona start chatting to us but then it becomes rather exhausting when they describe their three month European vacation (in full detail…) Fortunately, I’m saved when the piazza turns into a huge African party to celebrate unity and togetherness in Sicily!

29th June 2007 – Selinunte

The Valley of the Temples are famous across the world. Yet 100km up the coastline is a small town called Selinunte, which holds some of the best preserved Greek ruins in the world.

The road is winding and it seems to take forever to get there, but the regular moments of suicidal Sicilian driving always keep me amused. Cars overtake when in the opposite direction other vehicles are also overtaking. The roads are old but fortunately quite wide, although I do find myself sucking in air when we’re squeezing four cars across two lanes at 100kph… My favourite was whilst I was being overtaken, another driver decided to overtake the car that was overtaking me; all the worse when you consider there was even a car hurtling towards us in the other direction!

There’s a sigh of relief when I pull up to the entrance of the ruins in Selinunte. The weather is still outrageously hot but it makes a perfect setting for these ruins that sit upon a hill overlooking the sea. There are even fewer tourists here and it allows me to soak up the history surrounding this stunning place.

Selinunte is also famous for its beach, from which you can even see the ruins. It’s a surreal backdrop and allows me to cool off in the water whilst still admiring the views!

Back in Agrigento, the sun has gone to bed and the ruins are fantastically lit up. Unfortunately, the ruins aren’t open at night at this time of year, so I feel I’m going to lose the famous night time shot that I’ve been yearning. Never one to give up easily, I jump in the car and start driving down the country lanes around Agrigento. You simply can’t get anywhere near the ruins and I’m about to lose all hope when I spot a dirt track off the side of the road. I hit the breaks a little hard and quickly turn down the track. There appears to be a little drop from the main road and as the headlights swing across the fields, there’s a massive crunch as the car drops onto the side road. It doesn’t sound good so I spend the next 10 minutes ensuring the photo makes up for the potential damage to the car…

I hit the jackpot as I get one of my favourite photos, with a gorgeous blue, black and yellow contrast of the hillside. Furthermore, the car appears to be fine and with a bit of a “run up” I force the car back up onto the main road. I’m not the only one hitting a jackpot though, since I feel like I’ve lost of pint of blood to a thousand Sicilian mosquitos. Next, it’s my turn for dinner and a final night in Agrigento.

30th June 2007 – Monreale, Palermo

I’ve made it! 130km of “dodgecar” and I’ve returned the hire car to the centre of Palermo without a scratch! There were a few close calls and I nearly took out a moped at 40km/h, but my deposit is safe.

It has also been a successful day as I’ve seen so much. A few hours in Monreale, just south-west of Palermo, is a must. The cathedral has an impressive winding route to the viewpoint at the top and the town itself (although obscenely packed with tourists) is a stereotypical Italian town.

Back in Palermo, I decide that as a change to all the pasta and pizza I’ve been eating, it’s worth a visit to the Lonely Planet recommended Michelin star restaurant, Sant’Andrea. It’s hidden away in a maze of little alleyways, and I clearly look lost as a little old lady approaches me. She’s seems half my height and four times my age and yet she’s got more life in her than I could ever imagine. When I tell her what I’m looking for she looks at me with disgust. She begs me not to go; her friend runs the place and it’s over-priced and snobbish. She pushes her nose up in the air and with her best English accent mocks me, “I’m from Sloane Square!”

She advises some little bars and mimes eating some hot snacks with audible delight. She’s interested in where I’ve lived but she’s horrified when I don’t know which London theatre she’s trying to remember: “Ignorante! Ignorante!!” She cries, reminding me of my father’s similar style of mocking. I could listen to her all day, but she finally turns on her portable radio and it belts out classic music. She waves her arms in the air and walks down the street as if orchestrating the traffic. She leaves me with one final request: ‘Ti prego, non andare a Sant’Andrea!’

I kick myself for not taking her photo, but I could never forget her. It’s a fantastic experience that sums up Sicily for me and I simply can’t ignore her advice. Finding a small coffee shop in the middle of what appears to be a war-torn 1940s street, I ask if they can do food. The reply is positive, although after taking my order, the owner runs out the front door and leaves the bar empty. He returns five minutes later with two plates of food that clearly came from another bar down the road. It’s tasty, it’s quick and most importantly, it’s Sicilian.

The afternoon allows me to explore La Kalsa in a bit more detail. Building are in ruins and it’s crazy that this area that is so central can be so neglected. I particularly like the graffiti on the broken walls, mimicking a cash machine, supermarket, bank and McDonald’s.

The last couple of hours are spent by the coast, taking in the last rays of sunshine and eating some fantastic ice-cream. The locals play football in the park area and I’m laughed at again when they see me taking pictures – “paparazzi!”

My Sicilian adventure has been everything I hoped for and more. It’s an island of beauty and history and the locals resonate a spirit of life that I’ve never seen anywhere else. Furthermore, the food and weather has been out of this world, leaving me with just one question: When can I return!?

It therefore came as a nice surprise that the weather was glorious! I spent the weekend drinking wine, walking along the beach in Wittering and bouncing up and down on a trampoline.

There was also time to travel west into Portsmouth. I’ve been before, but only on business and I can’t say I was that impressed, although I never did make it to the harbour. What a pleasant surprise! There’s plenty to see, from bars to shops and it all feels a bit like a fairground. Dominating the entire port is the huge Spinnaker Tower, which has the largest glass floor in Europe for those who dare stand on it!

Unfortunately the only thing I didn’t get to do was learn how to surf. With the strong currents, I was advised to stay out of the (seemingly calm) water. I guess the Beach Boys soundtrack will have to stay in its case until next time…

I’m in the capital of Spain and I’m watching Madrid’s scenery on television. The newsreader tells me that the thunderstorms and rain is widespread across central and northern Spain.

The day didn’t start this badly. In fact, I’ve walked several kilometres today, mostly in the Parque Del Buen Retiro, and Madrid is exactly as I expected it to be. Typically, I couldn’t be much further east from the hotel when the storm hits and I get completely soaked. It brings an end to a day where my camera barely leaves my bag.

21st May 2007 – Madrid

The clouds have shifted and Madrid’s colours appear around me. I’ve a positive impression so far, but I don’t feel this city has been built for photographers. Maybe I haven’t got my photography head screwed on, but I actually find very little to shoot.

Furthermore, I’m told photography isn’t allowed in the Palace. Worse still, I’m told I have to leave my camera and all my lenses in a cloakroom. It really annoys me, but the efficiency in which they refund the entry tickets indicates that they probably have this problem quite often.

Heading further south, there’s the Catedral de Nuestra Señora de la Almudena which has a lovely west-facing garden across the city suburbs. The guidebook recommends a cheese shop, a buzzing market and a coffee shop resembling one you’d find in the 1930s. All three are closed. So I try the nuns’ convent. They sit behind a revolving wooden window, selling cakes and biscuits and they remain hidden from customers at all times. I ring the bell, although there’s no indication I’m ringing the right one and I feel I’m disturbing someone’s private home.

‘¿Hola?’ cries an old lady’s voice through the intercom. It’s a voice you’d expect to hear when Little Red Riding Hood knocks on her Spanish grandmother’s door…

‘Hola,’ I reply. ‘¿Vendes de dolces?’

‘Estamos cocinando!’ Cries the voice… I vision a bunch of little old nuns running around a kitchen, frantically preparing dough and cake mixture! She says to come back at four pm.

La Plaza Mayor is large but uninspiring, which sums up quite a lot of Madrid. It’s a lovely city, in which I could quite happily see myself living, but as far as tourism goes, there’s not so much to offer someone other than the abundance of art in its three main museums.

Of course, a visit to Madrid is not complete for a football fan without seeing the Santiago Bernebeu. However, again I’m disappointed and I decide against the stadium tour.

After finding another coffee shop closed, I decide to ignore any more Lonely Planet recommended destinations and choose a restaurant. It turns out to be a bad choice, but it is now time to re-visit the nuns.

I’m instructed through some alleyways behind the huge door and I’m suddenly faced with a revolving door about the size of a small cupboard. The lady’s voice returns and she asks what I want. There’s a list of products on the door so I name the first one. The door starts to revolve and I’m guessing she wants some money. My Euros disappear and then there’s some frantic whispering from the other side. The door then spins again and suddenly there’s a pack of biscuits in front of me. I’m sure it’s not what I asked for, but before I have a chance to think about it, the door spins and the biscuits are gone! A few other tourists are watching this show and we all start laughing, a bit confused as to what I’m supposed to do next. Clearly the nuns find it funny too; they’re giggling to themselves behind the door. There’s a bit of a pause and then the biscuits return, this time in a plastic bag. ‘¡Tómelos!’

The sun is out in full force, so it’s much more pleasant at the Parque Del Buen Retiro second time around. The lazy afternoon turned into a lazy evening too, with a little too much sangria and much too little night photography.

22nd May 2007 – Madrid to Toledo

An early start, a super efficient train and I’m in Toledo by 9am. I’ve been looking forward to Toledo as I’ve been promised a bit of a photographic adventure. It’s therefore disappointing to report that it’s all very much over-rated.

Yes, there are narrow streets and old building everywhere. Yes, the small city is a maze of historical architecture and yes, the whole place sits almost impossibly on the top of a huge hill.

However, I’ll remember the traffic. I’ll remember that each corner I turned in its labyrinth risked a potential collision with a speeding vehicle. I’ll remember the scaffolding absolutely everywhere. The demolished buildings. The unfinished re-developments. The thousands and thousands of tourists. Oh, and did I mention the traffic?

It’s a real shame as there were parts I liked. Towards the south-west, the number of tourists diminished and further south it seems devoid of visitors all together. It meant that you could appreciate getting lost in the streets and enjoy the fact that you’d never know whether it’s a steep up or downhill climb around each corner.

Sick of the fact photography was not allowed in most building attractions, I followed the road south of the Tagus river, which climbed as high as Toledo’s peak, giving a fantastic view of the entire region. The lack of noise and the seemingly peaceful Toledo is how I’d like to have remembered it.

That idea is washed away, literally, as the thunder storms and rain brings more water than the area has seen in months. It also means there’s no chance of any night photography.

23rd May 2007 – Toledo to Valencia

Ce l’abbiamo fatta! Siamo campioni d’Europa meno di un anno dopo la vittoria a Berlino! Ho sofferto molte delusioni nella mia vita calcistica (Argentina nel ‘90, Brasile nel ‘94, Francia nel 2000, Marsiglia nel ‘93, Liverpool nel ‘05…) ma in questo periodo siamo campioni del mondo e campioni d’Europa. Forza Italia e forza Milan!!

The day starts well. Before leaving Toledo, there’s time to further explore the south eastern area along the river. It’s calm with the noise of the water being the only sign of time passing. It looks like you could cross the river at one point when the water level is lower and I make a point to find out whether you can (note: I still haven’t found out’). Despite the relatively strong current, fish occasionally jump from the water, trying to swim upstream.

Of course, a visit to Toledo’s cathedral is a must and fortunately photography is allowed. I’ve seen some impressive cathedrals before, but the fact this huge building was built for such a small number of people at the top of such an extraordinary location makes it all the more impressive.

The efficient train arrives back in Madrid in plenty of time for the 14.00 to Valencia and I ask for tickets.

‘No,’ says the ticket salesman. I pause, awaiting an explanation… He stares at me blankly, so I ask him why not. ‘El tren hay una problema.’ Great.

He tells me the next train is a regional one that leaves at 4pm. Bearing in mind Milan’s Champions League Final in Athens is at 20.45, I check the arrival time.

‘A las diez’… Mierda. I guess a bus trip is in order.

After an extraordinarily awkward discussion with the information desk (who tells me he only gives ‘train’ information) I finally find the bus station. This ticket salesman jokes whether I really want a ticket to Valencia. I’m confused. He points to my Milan shirt and then asks whether I’d actually prefer a ticket to Athens..!

The trip isn’t as bad as I expected. The four hours is split in two with a 20-minute refreshment halfway there. Best of all, was the screening of ‘Flight of the Phoenix’ during the last two hours, which helped time pass quickly. The opening crash sequence also made me quite grateful I wasn’t flying to Valencia!

My first impressions of Valencia are positive, although my mind was more focused on finding a restaurant showing the game, which I did. Despite the joyful ending, it has been a long day and celebrations are relatively reserved: Tomorrow I’ve a new city to explore!

24th May 2007 – Valencia

Valencia is a fantastic city. I’ve only had a day and a half to explore it, but is vibrancy and youthful environment makes it so enjoyable. Every corner I turned, there’s something to see, from the sublime fresh food market, to narrow, twisting streets and plazas everyfew dozen metres.

There are other tourists and there are plenty of cars, but it just seems so much more relaxed than Madrid or Toledo. Much of the traffic is directed around the centre and alongside the very impressive old river bed. The old river Turia flowed along what is now a massive long area of grassland, football pitches and other sports facilities.

Coffee shops are unique in style and nearly everyone treats you like you’re the first tourist they’ve ever seen. If Madrid is a middle aged man, and Toledo is his retired father, then Valencia is the eldest son at university!

The highlights of the day (other than the obvious tourist attractions) included discovering the Café de Los Henas (with its own coffee dessert which has shot to the top of my list: Espresso, Khalua and a ball of vanilla ice cream all in a tall glass!), relaxing in the massive Jardines del Real o Viveros (reading about Milan’s victory in Gazzetta Dello Sport) and seeing the way that the city is so beautifully lit at night.

I can say with confidence that I’ll return especially as there’s still much to see. Even at the top of the numerous view points (including the impressive Cathedral) you can see how much more there is to explore, in particular the port and sea-front that I did not see at all.

Tomorrow lunchtime I leave Valencia and travel 100km south to see my parents for a few days. After walking at least 20km per day for the past five days, a relaxing family reunion with sangria and barbeques is just what the doctor ordered!

I really must get it into my head why 7am flights are so cheap. It sounds like a good idea to arrive early in Frankfurt for the Bank Holiday, but three hours sleep and a cloud-filled sky don’t motivate me to do too much exploring on the first day. Nonetheless, my first impressions of “Bankfurt” are positive. Despite the number of skyscrapers, it has retained a “small town” feel to it and the old town (completely destroyed in March 1944) has been rebuilt exactly as it stood before the Allied bombings.

The 200m tall “Main Tower” is not the tallest building in Frankfurt, but it does give an impressive view of the rest of the city and I watch the sunset amongst a comical line of photographers with shutters snapping every few seconds.

6th May 2007 – Frankfurt

A good night’s sleep prepares me for a long day of walking. Frankfurt is not a large city, but the banks of the Main River make for pleasant strolls and there’s photography fodder everywhere I turn.

The Jewish Cemetery is frighteningly moving. Unlike the one in Warsaw which is just an enormous mass of graves, in Frankfurt there is a long wall with tiny plaques representing each person who was exported and killed in the Second World War. Each name, date of birth, date and place of death is a shocking reminder of what happened just 60 years ago. The Jewish History museum is disappointing, but again the large wall of named casualties can’t help but hit home.

Now you’d think it’s relatively easy to find a Frankfurter in Frankfurt. In the same way you’d expect to find Cheshire cheese in Cheshire, or a tasty curry in Madras, or even a decent game of poker in Texas… I really thought there would be frankfurters everywhere but I was wrong; not a sausage!

The sun takes its toll and the next stop is a 1000 year old tower that has been converted into a bar! The speciality is cocktails and it’s a suitable way to spend a couple of hours on a Sunday afternoon!

There’s an area south of the Main called Sachsenhausen which reminds me of Dublin’s Temple Bar. It’s full of character during the day, but later in the evening it’s full of beer guzzlers and doesn’t have the same appeal.

The last stop is back in the old town and I finally find my long sought after meal. Along with a huge beer, the frankfurter goes down a treat. Tomorrow I’m going home and my journey is complete!

Three years ago I missed a train from Oslo to Stockholm. It meant I lost half a day in the Swedish capital and subsequently I rushed the visit and promised I would return. This weekend, I did.

From the main train station to the view down Vasagatan, it all comes flooding back to me and it doesn’t feel like it has been three years since I left Stockholm on the ‘binge ferry’ to Helsinki.

The old town, Gamla Stan, is just how I remember it; the cobbled, narrow streets are beautiful and the colours exaggerated by today’s bright sun. However, despite the blue skies, it still feels no warmer than when I was here in October 2004. I suppose I’m not made for Scandinavian weather!

Unbelievably, I don’t remember the Kungliga Slottett, the main attraction in the old town. Further south stands another tourist trap that I also don’t recall – a 60m tower overlooking the city. I wonder whether it was even here three years ago, but I embarrassingly rubbish that thought when I discover it was opened in 1883!

It’s interesting to walk through the KungsträdgÃ¥rden. The ice rink on which I fell so many times is simply gravel in springtime and the trees are in blossom. However, it seems that the outdoor, oversized chessboard is still in use. The elderly men are deep in thought and I can’t help wondering whether if it’s the same game as when I last walked by!

22nd April 2007 – Stockholm

DjurgÃ¥rden is one of the most touristy places to visit in Sweden’s capital. Once again, it’s another place I failed to visit last time I was here.

To get there is a relatively short walk along Strandvägen, admiring some of the older boats in the quay. One boat is a stylishly decorated coffee shop and I’m feeling a little lethargic so a caffeine hit is in order.

The first stop on the island is the aquarium. Its residents include sharks, piranhas, colourful fish and all kinds of frogs, so poisonous that even touching a leaf where one has been sitting could be lethal!

It’s interesting and particularly clever how they have recreated a rainforest (with authentic rainstorms!) but the sharks swim in circles and you can’t help feel that they are yearning for freedom.

In the Skansen, there’s an area with enclosed animals. Having recently been on safari, I find it horrible that the enclosures are so small. Monkeys hold onto a railing by a window and the bears sit on the highest rock as if they are looking over their prison walls.

The rest of Skansen is really well created. The ‘old’ area mimics traditional Sweden, with all kinds of tradesman’s shops, ranging from glass blowing, carpentry and engineering to bakery and dress-making, only using the tools available centuries ago. My favourite is the woman working in an old style home. She tells me she makes about 100 flat breads per day and they must be eaten quickly before they go off. Strangely, if cooked twice (each turn in the wood fire oven only lasts a few seconds) the bread can last for 25 years! She’s right when she says they are addictive; I eat one and for the rest of the day I’m craving another!

Stopping occasionally for coffee and cake, the rest of the day is spent wandering around admiring the architecture and beautiful views across the sea towards Stockholm. To save a long walk back, there’s a ferry crossing to the Old Town. It’s a strange feeling, as the last time I was on a boat in the Baltic Sea, I had just drunk a bottle of 60% vodka!

Without the flat bread recipe, I settle for a steak at ‘Broncos’. The cheerful waiter tells me that it’s a converted pharmacy, which explains some of the more unusual decoration in the restaurant. I tell him it’s the perfect place to eat since if I fall ill they can treat me…

‘Yes,’ he replies, ‘and I am training to be a medic also!’

Then he brings the drinks and tells me that the guests at the next table are firemen, confirming that this is indeed the safest place to eat in Stockholm!

The weather has turned and tomorrow’s forecasted rain has come early. It means my night photography session is cut short, although I’m delighted to find a small courtyard that I photographed three years ago, which allows me to compare my photography skills between then and now!

23rd April 2007 – Stockholm

I’ve one final thing to see before I go home. The Vasa museum is another tourist favourite and yet another I missed in 2004. I’m starting to wonder whether I saw anything but the inside of a nightclub last time I was here!

On the way I stop at ‘Coffeehouse by George’. It’s one I photographed on my last visit so I’ve been promising myself I’d one day go back. The three year wait was worth it! The caffeine kick gets me ready for a history lesson at the museum.

The ship is hugely impressive. From its incredible design to its remarkable rescue 300 years later, Henrik Hybertsson’s masterpiece is full of fascinating history. Normally I’m so shocked how humans have created such fabulous feats without the aid of modern technology, but my amazement is slightly reserved this time seeing as this ship sank so soon after leaving the docks!

It’s already time for me to return to London, but I’ve fulfilled my promise to re-visit Stockholm and see the (many) things that I missed. I step onto the bus for the airport and the driver says, ‘I’ve never driven this one before! I’m very excited!’

I don’t share his enthusiasm; all I’m thinking is whether Captain Söfring Hansson had said the same thing..!

Highlights were a restaurant allowing me to test out my pizza making skills, window shopping in the Golden Quad, the huge skeleton art display by Il Duomo, relaxing in the Parco Sempione and of course, each of the three goals Milan scored against Empoli.

Milan is going through a prolonged period of throwing away scoring opportunities and this game was no different. However, seeing Ronaldo in the Rossoneri shirt was a great sight, as was the return of Serginho after his long injury. Of course, the game doesn’t have to be good to enjoy the San Siro – I adore each visit as the crowd is fantastic and even half empty there’s a great atmosphere.

My first time in Asia doesn’t last very long. Arriving at the Sabinha Gökcen airport, I find a small bus that is heading west, across the Bosphorus and into Europe. There’s clearly a divide between west and east, but it’s more like a distinction between rich and poor, than a difference in architecture.

The further into Istanbul we drive, the larger and more modern the buildings become. The traffic also intensifies and it takes forever to complete the last couple of kilometres.

I step off the bus a little confused. We’ve crossed the huge Fatih Sultan Bridge but we haven’t gone across the Golden Horn. It means I’m in northern Istanbul and I’m already lost.

I enter the underground and immediately I’m stopped by the police. He seems satisfied with my camera equipment, although before letting me pass, he can’t resist squeezing my dust blower!

A few minutes later and I clearly look confused as I’m stopped by some more police, who are only too happy to explain I’m in the wrong place and I need to catch the funicular from Taksim to Kabata?.

I exit the underground having not travelled anywhere, only to pay a second time to get on the funicular. I’m searched again by police before being waved onto the train.

The next choice I have to make is which direction to take the tram from Kabata?. Since I can’t figure out the tram map, I use the logic of ‘the sea is over there, so I guess I go this way…’

It works a treat and before I know it I’m across the Golden Horn and passing all kinds of impressive mosques and buildings. As I step off the tram, there’s a wonderful smell of incense and there’s Turkish music coming from the nearby shops. Old ladies sit on the pavement creating jewellery and there’s the hustle of city life around me.

A local points me in the right direction for my hostel and I soon drop off my backpack. It’s a friendly welcome I’ve received so far and despite the sign in the hostel’s lift, I feel safe.

The receptionist suggests a local restaurant and I’m glad I heed his advice. The weather is pretty poor and I don’t want to walk too far from the hostel so I decide to explore the Sultanahmet area. Despite it being one of the most touristy parts of Istanbul, it’s actually very quiet. There are locals on park benches, there’s not too much traffic and life seems very relaxing.

Locals smile and it’s not long before I enter the Blue Mosque. The courtyard is enormous and amongst the visitors there are plenty of locals coming to pray. There’s a woman in a niqab and I fire off a few shots. She’s not impressed. She suddenly bolts to hide behind one of the pillars and I feel a bit guilty.

Removing my shoes and entering the mosque is a moving experience. Having studied Islam at school, it’s bringing back lost memories from 10 years ago. Watching the people praying under the gigantic Mosque domes, it makes me wonder whether a more widespread teaching of others’ religions would help reduce the hatred and human separation that religions so often cause.

A couple of photographers beside me ask an old woman to stand in the prayer hall for 30 seconds for a long exposure. As she stands there, confused and alone, the couple suddenly feel awful as they realise she was there to pray and wasn’t actually a visitor!

However, they don’t feel half as bad as I do, when a police officer approaches me and asks me whether I’ve been taking photos. I feel daft – I’m holding my shoes in one hand and holding my camera on a tripod in the other.

‘No photos in here?’ I ask innocently.
‘It’s ok. But have you taken photo outside mosque?’ He asks, pointing towards where the woman in the niqab was sitting just 10 minutes ago. I panic, realising she’s obviously made a complaint. I quickly point to the opposite side of the mosque and say I’ve taken photos over there. He points back at to the courtyard, ‘Not there?’
‘No,’ I lie.

He accepts my answer and assumes he has the wrong guy. It’s a close shave and it’s a lesson learned. From now on, I’m going to ask for permission however far away I am from my subject!

Leaving the mosque, it has already become dark. Just as I step from the courtyard, the deafening announcement for prayers screams from the speakers. Nothing could have prepared me for how loud it was going to be and it’s another absorbing experience that the textbooks can’t describe.

Outside of the mosque are the taps used for washing the feet as part of the praying ritual. Some locals allow me to take photos, but I don’t stay long; it’s getting cold so I head back to the hostel. On the way there’s a friendly looking man working in a stall. It’s a classic shot and I ask if he minds a photo. He misunderstands and says yes, because when I line up the shot, he covers his face and looks away. I apologise, smile, and his friendly expression returns. I’ve lost the shot but at least I shouldn’t have any more police after me!

The day has passed quickly and the spitting rain isn’t inviting me to do any more night exploring, so I decide that’s it a perfect time to indulge myself in the Turkish Baths!

The experience lasts about two hours at the famous ÇemberlitaÅŸ Baths (www.cemberlitashamami.com.tr). I’m treated to a steam room, a vigorous body scrub and soap lather by a huge Turk, followed by a deep tissue, oil massage from another man who seems determined to crack every joint in my body!

It’s an invigorating experience which I thoroughly enjoy and prepares me for the best possible night’s sleep!

23rd March 2007 – Istanbul

Istanbul is waking up, preparing itself for another day and I seem to be the only tourist witnessing it. I’m strolling westbound up Yeniçeriler Caddesi and everyone is walking in the opposite direction. I turn north and start the descent towards the Bazaar district. Shops and stalls are only just opening but there’s a buzzing atmosphere. The majority of people seem to be couriers, carrying huge sacks of goods on their backs. Some roads are incredibly steep and the older men get a helping push from behind to make it up the hills. I’m a little too early for the Grand Bazaar but by the time I reach the Spice Bazaar, it’s just opening up. Still, I’m the only person there who isn’t a local and the forceful salesmen I was expecting to see are non-existent.

I settle for a coffee in the Tea Gardens and watch the cats chase the birds around the square. I then use the bar’s toilet and wish I hadn’t. There’s a hole in the ground and next to it, a hose pipe and wash basin. Predictably, there’s no toilet paper; but there is a bar of soap…

With the ‘experience’ behind me, I head back northbound to the Spice Bazaar. I think I must have been in the toilet longer than I thought as the market is now full of tourists and the place suddenly feels alive. I get calls in Spanish and Italian (a favourite being ‘amigo sin barba!’) but it’s the completely random shout of ‘Forza Milan’ that draws me in!

All the shop owners I speak with are friendly and they all allow photography which also makes for a pleasant change.

The Grand Bazaar is now open and that too has an electric atmosphere. One café bar has an incredible selection of cakes, so I decide to try a chocolate slice and a Turkish coffee. The coffee is intense. I’m used to espressos, but the caffeine kick from this was mind-twisting. I’m high as a kite and simply bouncing around the Grand Bazaar, completely lost but shooting everything that catches my eye.

I come across an exit and realise it’s chucking down with rain outside. Just at that moment, the calls for prayers echo around the city and there are hundreds of Muslims rushing past me into the Nuruosmaniye Mosque. I stumble across a stairway that leads me above the streets below which gives me a better view, albeit in the rain.

Back in the Grand Bazaar, I find the iç Bedeslen and I’m a little disappointed that the eagle symbol isn’t as golden as the guidebook implied. However, the guidebook is spot on regarding the ?ark Kahvesi, a bar for local bazaar traders. In its smoky interior, there are groups of men playing cards, backgammon or simply refuelling with a quick kahve.

After my pit stop, I decide to follow a recommended 90 minute walk. I’m not too strict about following the exact route and subsequently exit the (impressive) university in the wrong place and end up walking half an hour in the wrong direction.

Back on track, I make it to the Süleymaniye Mosque, which, typically, has just closed for the next hour for prayers. It means I’m stuck in the courtyard listening to the incessant Islamic chanting for sixty minutes. However, it does force me to try and be a little more creative with my photography.

Inside, the dome is exactly twice as high as it is wide. It’s impressive, but probably more so on the outside.

I walk around its exterior and further north, through narrow roads, full of shops, towards the Golden Horn. Although I crossed it yesterday, today is more relaxing and I can really take in the view.

Crossing the Galata Bridge is excellent. It’s littered with restaurants with the waiters trying to beckon you in. One asks if I’m Italian and upon hearing my answer, he pulls out his mobile and asks me to translate a text message for him. My first thought is that it’s some kind of scam but when I tell him it’s a love message meaning ‘You’re always in my thoughts’, he’s ever so grateful. Maybe it was a trick to get me in the restaurant and he’s got the same text in 10 different languages! Or maybe I’m just a cynic!

I pass the local fishermen who allow me to take photos, one insisting on seeing the final picture before letting me walk away!

As I reach the other side of the bridge, the sun makes its first appearance of the holiday. It couldn’t be better timing; it’s low in the sky and I’m not too far away from the Galata Tower.

The climb to the foot of the tower is exhausting enough and I’m praying for a lift up the 60m viewpoint. My prayers are answered and I’m high above the city looking along the Bosphorus, with a different continent on each side. I spend an hour watching the sun disappear over the horizon but although I’m lucky the sun is visible, it’s still very cloudy and I’m denied a stunning sunset.

A lad then asks me if I’ll take a photo of him. He’s a New Yorker called Saqib who was uninsured and had his camera and lenses stolen only a couple of days ago. I take his email address and promise to send him the photo.

Next, I have a long rest at a restaurant on the Galata Bridge. With live Turkish music playing, I sit by the window with a fantastic view of the Golden Horn and the lit up Süleymaniye Mosque.

Surprisingly, the fishermen are still there, but even more bizarre is that on the west side of the bridge, street stalls are being set up, seemingly at random. The whole of Istanbul appears to be a non-stop trading city. Apparently there are 60,000 taxis in Istanbul; one for every 120 people. However, there must be thousands more shops and you’ve got to wonder how they ever make any money.

It’s quite a walk back to the hostel and a long day of walking finally comes to an end.

24th March 2007 – Istanbul

I look out of the window and it’s chucking it down. I haven’t had any luck with the weather on this trip but I suppose I should be grateful that most of it is being spent inside mosques, museums or markets.

In any case, by the time I’ve had breakfast, it has stopped raining and I make my way towards the Hippodrome. Not much is left standing, but the chariot race track is now part of the modern road. A little further to the east, is something I missed on Thursday. I’m trying to find a statue of Medusa’s head but it’s nowhere to be seen. I kick myself when I realise it’s in the Basilica Cistern that I’ve walked past about four times.

It’s worth the search; inside the underground water cistern, there are vast stone columns, reaching high up above the creepy and hauntingly lit space. The sound of water dripping from the ceiling adds to the atmosphere, although it’s slightly spoilt by the relentless yapping from a group of Japanese tourists!

At the far corner of the cistern, are two Medusa statues that form the base of a couple of the pillars. One head is on its side and another upside down; it’s an interesting and thought-provoking piece of architecture.

My next calling point is the famous Haghia Sophia. Over 1,400 years old, it’s a mind-boggling construction. The cost and time to replicate it nowadays would be obscene and this was built by men so simple that they thought they would fall off the earth if they sailed too far towards the horizon!

The tourists are out in their hundreds today, but the mosque is massive inside and there’s enough room to wander around without being bumped and pushed. The dome itself is gigantic, and even though half of it is covered by scaffolding, it only adds to the perspective to see how high the dome really is. The view from the upper floor is also impressive, although seeing an old, crooked marble pillar doesn’t fill me with confidence!

Next on the itinerary is the Topkap? Palace, surrounded by the Gülhane Park. There are many workmen improving the surrounding area, but once inside the Palace, I’m faced with room after room of historical artefacts. However, my favourite areas are the pretty courtyards, full of colour and wonderful hollow trees; one of which wouldn’t look out of place in a horror film!

I spend a while walking around and hunger strikes, so I leave the gardens and head back towards the Blue Mosque. In its vicinity is a restaurant called Doy Doy, recommended by both my guidebooks. On the way I feel I’m passing the real hangout areas for the local traders and I fire off a few shots.

I ask one man if I can photograph the rug-making. He lets me and tells me all about his brother’s trips to the UK to trade the hand-made rugs. He offers me some products for sale, but nothing captures my eye, especially not the rug (’95 years old,’ he claims!) that’s so ragged I wouldn’t even use it as a door mat!

I find the Doy Doy but apart from the Goulash soup, it’s very ordinary. I’ve gone full circle and I’m back at the Hippodrome. However, the clouds have cleared and the sun is finally making a proper appearance. The views change dramatically and it’s as if a painter has colour in their pencil sketches: The Blue Mosque looks much better now it isn’t washed out by the white sky and the sun is shining off the sculptures and green grass.

It has brought everyone else out too. As it’s the weekend, understandably there are more locals resting in the parks, however the tourists too are all flocking here to take in the sun’s rays. There’s one old woman who practically poses for my photography and then inevitably asks me for money. I’m not sure if she wants it for pigeon food or for the photo I’ve taken, so I give her a lira so she doesn’t make a scene. Unsurprisingly, she then says she wants two!

I walk away and decide to explore an area not described in the guidebooks, west of the Hippodrome. It makes for a relaxing walk: There’s not a single tourist in sight and just a few children playing and store keepers sitting on the roadside, drinking Turkish Tea.

Half an hour later, I’m back on Yeniçeriler Caddesi and suddenly I’m back in the Grand Bazaar. It’s heaving and completely different to yesterday. I find an exit and stumble across a modern coffee bar called Café Storks, in which I eat far too much cake and chat with a Turkish waiter called Metin. Incredibly, he has an Australian accent due to all the Aussie backpackers he meets at his second job at a youth hostel. I discover that it’s the most popular of the youth hostels which explains why mine is so quiet! I ask him where I can watch the grudge football match between Greece and Turkey and he tells me his youth hostel has a top floor bar overlooking the Blue Mosque and also has a tv screen, so I promise to pay him a visit.

Back at the youth hostel, I shower and change before heading out for some night photography. I get some funny looks and comments when I’m lying on the floor trying to get a unique angle of the Blue Mosque but the evening is passing quickly and I’ve a promise to keep.

The youth hostel where Metin works really is much livelier than mine. I meet a Norwegian lad and a guy called Matt (who is intent on visiting Iran to teach English) and we enjoy watching the local celebrations when Turkey beats Greece 4-1.

The beers and rak? then starts flowing and before I know it, we’re smoking a fruity tobacco from a nargile with Luise, her German friends, a criminal investigator from Bologna and one of the bar staff! The clocks go forward an hour so what was five hours until my morning bus to the airport suddenly becomes four, so I stagger through the Sultanahmet and get myself to bed: Tomorrow is another brief stint in Asia before my flight back home.

My first few hours in the Czech Republic have been a bit of a rollercoaster ride. Arriving early and easily finding the way to the centre of Prague was a relief; I’m here with Emma for just three days and I want to make the most of it.

I booked two nights at the Irish Club Hostel. Its website insisted it really was a lovely place to stay and had some great photos to boast. However, I think I’m going to have to start being a bit pickier about where I stay in future: All the doors are locked, there are no lights and no sign of life. On a positive note, there is a small sticker with a telephone number that guests can ring. We’re told to wait 10 minutes…

An hour and several calls later, there’s still no one to help and I’m getting very angry and impatient. A wander around the block doesn’t help as there are no other hotels nearby. Just as I’m ready to catch a taxi to the nearest hotel, a text message tells me that there’s a problem and no one can arrive for a couple of hours. ‘Go get a coffee and come back at 2pm. Very sorry.’ It says.

Fortunately, there’s a cracking pizzeria around the corner and the time flies, with some absurdly cheap pizzas and beers. The hostel is open on our return and I’m too relieved to argue. After dumping our things, we head to the city centre.

Walking through the Letná park and the Jewish area in the old town, I’m already forgetting about the problems at the hostel. The weather is holding up and Prague is not the overcrowded city that I’ve been warned about. We head towards the main square (I’m stopped by a friendly chap asking me how he can turn off his camera flash!) and already I’m ready to climb the Old Town Hall tower There seems to be something magnetic between tall buildings and me – it’s all I ever seem to do when I’m somewhere new!

Unfortunately, the security guard isn’t keen on the idea of my tripod accompanying me up the tower. He wants me to leave it with him. Funnily enough, he doesn’t ask what is in my rucksack. For all he knows, I could have a rifle and I’m paying the 100czk so that I can have some target practice. I guess he thinks it’d be all too easy with a tripod.

Anyway, Emma isn’t a fan of heights so she guards the tripod whilst I go up. The climb itself is pretty impressive and the views are fantastic especially as Prague doesn’t seem to have been ruined by too many modern buildings.

Back at ground level, we decide it’s time for a beer stop – we are in the Czech Republic after all! The pubs are absolutely everywhere, but they are all quite unique and with a selection of interesting looking lagers. Inside one, I’ve got one eye on the choice of beers and another on an old man who is sitting on his own, propped up by one hand and a cigarette in the other. He has a depressed gaze, which doesn’t change at all each time he struggles to take another sip of his beer. I really want to talk to him but Emma is already uncomfortable enough that I’m surreptitiously taking photos.

The day has passed quickly and it’s already dark outside. I’m not a big fan of tours, especially when we’re stretched for time, but the ‘Ghost Walk’ does sound quite appealing. It starts around the corner so we join the small group. The tour guide speaks with a quiet voice, often making jokes to herself that she seems to love. The ghost stories are just as you’d expect and the occasional surprise appearance of a ‘guest ghost’ keeps us all amused, but the best part of the tour is actually the route she takes us. The cobbled streets are narrow and winding. Every building, from private homes to commercial buildings, restaurants and bars, has its own sense of style and you really can’t get bored just walking around.

It’s not particularly late, but we’re starving, so we look around for a restaurant. The choice is massive but we hit the jackpot with a tiny little place with just four tables and a waiter in a tuxedo offering us one of the best meals I’ve had in years. The red wine, from Southern Czech Republic, goes straight to my head and by the time we’re done I feel like I could take on the locals in a drinking competition! However, my legs aren’t up to it and 19 hours after we first woke to head for the airport, the next stop is the hostel.

12th January 2007 – Praha

After a well-needed rest, it’s time to go to Prague’s castle on the west side of the river. The castle is impressive, although once again I’m told off by security. This time it’s an over-enthusiastic guard who doesn’t like me opening the windows to take photos. He’s pretty well armed so I close the window and give him the thumbs up.

Everywhere I go, I’m told not to use flash and I’m constantly reminded that I’m not allowed to use my tripod. I think it’s a bit over the top, especially as one has to pay to get a ‘photo sticker’ allowing you to take photos. Things get even more ridiculous in one area of the castle where I’m told I have to hand in my backpack (with all my camera equipment) before going any further. I refuse and subsequently don’t get to see that part of the castle.

The Lonely Planet guide book says that the Golden Lane is over-rated, but I couldn’t disagree more. The shops are built into the castle wall and are very picturesque. Just next to it is the torture dungeon, with some horrible-looking devices that would have anyone screaming for a lawyer.

After a quick lunch, we head further south towards the Mala Strana area. It seems less touristy than the east side of the river, but I think this is just because it has fewer pubs for the groups of beer-guzzling groups of lads! I particularly like a narrow path we come across, which is so tight that it has its own traffic lights for pedestrians!

Before this trip, I read about a wall which has been dedicated to John Lennon. People are allowed to write their messages for the late musician and although the guide book opted to omit it from their things to see in Prague, I really wanted to. However, this holiday has sprung up rather quickly and I completely forgot to find out where it was in Prague. So you can imagine my delight when we took a wrong turn and found it! It was much bigger than I expected and the graffiti ranged from the odd lyric and scribble, to large colourful pictures and even a 3d mould. The only downside is that I had the song Imagine stuck in my head for the rest of the afternoon!

We see the memorial to lives lost to communism and then take the funicular up to the top of Mala Strana (thanks to the very kind couple who gave us spare change, when the funicular staff wouldn’t!) There’s a tall lookout point and a mirror maze that unfortunately are both only open at the weekend. Nonetheless, the view from the hill is superb and we stroll back down towards the Little Quarter. There’s an inviting café with some funky decorations so we have a break and have a round of coffee then beers.

After a day and a half of being in Prague, we finally go towards the Charles Bridge. I’m determined to get a classic shot of the bridge. I’ve seen some very good ones, but most of them are taken in thick fog, or with particular characters on the bridge itself. I’m out of luck since it’s a clear evening and the bridge is absolutely full of drunk tourists on their way to bars.

I think the camera-phone is going to create some kind of step in human evolution, since everyone seems to walk around with their right arm extended, oblivious of anything around them except what’s on their two-inch camera screen.

The surplus water, coffee and beer is taking its toll and we’re both keen to find a toilet. Apart from at the castle, every toilet stop is charged, with rates from a pointless 2kr all the way up to a rather steep10kr (bearing in mind that half a litre of beer costs around 25kr!) Mind you, there’s so much dog piss all over the streets, a few drunks taking a pit stop wouldn’t make much difference!

A woman’s absurdly loud laugh forces an English couple to complain at our next restaurant. It doesn’t bother me though as I plough my way through another meal. Once again, the beer is strong and I boldly claim that I’m going to get up early and walk (half an hour) to the Charles Bridge for a dawn photograph. We jump in a cab (make sure you get an AAA taxi in Prague – we nearly made the mistake of choosing another company at three times the price) and head to the hostel in the hope that an early(ish) night will help me wake at 5am.

13th January 2007 – Praha

6am. Charles Bridge, Prague. I wouldn’t mind if I knew when dawn was going to break. Or if it wasn’t so damn cold. Fortunately, there’s practically no one here. It’s not surprising really…

At 07.12 I take my first photo. Dawn has clearly passed; it’s just that the clouds are so thick it is blocking most of the light. I’m disappointed and yet quite chuffed. The difference between this morning and last night on this famous location is unbelievable. It really lets you appreciate it and although I didn’t get anything near the classic orange horizon I was hoping for, I would have kicked myself if I hadn’t tried. After all, I didn’t come here to sleep!

It also lets you appreciate coffee when you find a bar open and you’re numb from the cold! After a long, slow and warm breakfast, we walk northbound towards the castle. Yesterday, we missed out the Saint Vitus Cathedral and apparently there’s another great tower to climb! And great it is. Nearly 300 non-stop steps but the view is worth every one.

The plan was to head back towards the Petrin tower and the mirror maze, but rather than go down from the castle and then go up the funicular, we take the direct route up the hill. Unfortunately it is so tiring that the prospect of climbing a further 60m up the viewpoint isn’t quite so appealing! We entertain ourselves in the small mirror maze and then decide to head down the hill again. Once again find ourselves in the same coffee bar as yesterday, but it’s a brief stop before entering the St. Nicholas Church. Inside is some impressive ceiling art, but it’s the golden statues that really stick out. However, it’s not too long before I start thinking about food again…

The guide book says there’s a good pizza joint in the new town. Funnily enough, the new town is actually about 700 years old; it’s just that it was named long after the old town had been established! The pizza restaurant is brilliant too; delicious food and once again the strong beer is tastier than anything you’d find in London.

We decide to take the underground back to the hostel, whose platforms remind me of the Russian subway, albeit a little less glamorous. Before we know it we’re back at Prague’s airport and once again I’m cursing the stupidity of those in authority. For some reason, we’re told that our water bottle has to be thrown away before entering the gate (the hand luggage is scanned at the gate). However, anyone who has purchased duty free, is allowed to take it onboard. This seems rather illogical to me, since I would assume that if you have the knowledge and ability to get your hands on liquid explosives, then you probably have the know-how to seal it in a bottle of Tia Maria…

For this trip, I haven’t been quite so organised. There are two reasons. Firstly, my pen isn’t working and secondly because catching a 06.45 flight has made me so tired, I can barely hold my eyes open, let alone hold a pen.

The first day of Austria’s road trip started with the early flight to Salzburg. The weather was sunny, clear blue skies and we have no trouble picking up our Volkswagen Polo and starting the adventure.

Right from the first kilometer, we see stereotypical Austrian scenes: There are the flower-covered wooden homes, women dressed in traditional clothing and everything is so clean!

Despite this, Austrian road signs are awful! We get completely lost, end up in the middle of Salzburg and it takes us at least half an hour to get to our bed & breakfast.

The house is enormous. Its view across Salzburg is outstanding. Better still, we’re greeted by the smallest little Austrian old lady you could ever imagine! She doesn’t speak a word of English, so my awful German phrases are put to the test (curse the damn English education system!)

The room is just what we need, but despite the temptation to catch up on sleep, we drop off our stuff and take the short walk down to the train station.

A few minutes on the (very efficient and modern) train and we’re in the central station.

Heading south down Rainerstrasser, we aim for the Old Town. It’s a Unesco World Heritage Site and you can see why. The cobbled streets wind their way through some lovely buildings and despite the mass of tourists, I really like it.

We’re starving, so we find a restaurant that claims that Mozart used to dine there (I’m sure they all do ) and I have an incredibly strong garlic soup, followed by garlic, onion and pepper pizza! Emma’s pizza has lots of weird-looking vegetables on it.

We gobble it all up and go further south to the castle. Refusing to pay for the lift, we climb up to the top. The views are very good: You can see across the whole of Salzburg.

After the descent, we go to St. Peterskirche. The churchyard houses the entrance to the Katacomben, which was a little disappointing after our rather long search for it.

We explored the area a little more and found a square with a huge chess set. We watched as an old man comfortably beat a young chap at chess and then we went for a coffee.

We’re so tired, that Emma actually falls asleep at the table! It’s still early but we decide to head back towards the station. On the way, we got to the Schloss Mirabell. Greek statues and amazing flower displays all make a stunning setting, especially with the castle in the distance. I haven’t seen the Sound of Music (shame on me) but apparently this garden features heavily.

At this point we’re absolutely shattered, so we make our way back.

Despite it being on about 19.30, we need a bit of rest. I lie on the bed stating that I just need “a couple of hours to wake myself up…”

26th August 2006 – Salzburg, Salzkammergut, Zell am See

12 hours later, we wake up! I’m completely revitalized, but it’s unbelievable how shattered I was yesterday!

The plan was to leave Salzburg straight away this morning. However, we cut the day short yesterday so we still have a bit to see.

After a delicious breakfast, served by the delightfully friendly old woman, we drive back into town (trying not to run over any of the dozens of rabbits that they keen (in and around a hutch the size of our room).

We park centrally, I eat a chocolate croissant and we find ourselves walking up yet another steep hill! This time it’s on the north side of the river Salzach.

From the top of the hill, at the Kapuzinerkloster, the view is spectacular across the river and towards the castle. The local homeless people agree: Each viewpoint is clearly their bed for the night. It’s a shame really, as there are beer cans, sleeping bags and dirty rucksacks preventing you from standing in the ‘guard points’ of the city.

We get back to the car and quickly head eastbound. It doesn’t take long before we arrive the Salzkammergut lakes. They are beautiful and everything I have hoped for in this trip.

We meandered around the lakes stopping occasionally for photos and a couple of times for me to go paddling. Although it is a bit chilly, if I had a towel, I’d go for a swim. The water is just so incredibly clean and inviting it’s unreal.

At one point, I slam on the brakes as I see a perfect photo opportunity. I pull over and take what I hope is a great shot of an old man sitting on a bench in a field. When I return to the car, I turn the ignition and the most ear-piercing siren frightens the life out of us. I wait a second, looking around the car, but the noise gets louder. ‘Turn it off!’ screams Emma, probably thinking the same as me, that the engine is about to blow. I turn the key and the car is off, but the noise continues. Opening the door, we see from where the sound is coming. There appears to be a church-like building, emitting what sounds like an air raid warning!

We’re relieved but confused and when the noise stops after a minute, we drive on, jotting down the name of the building in the hope of finding out what on earth it was for. (update: we think it was the local fire station)

Before we know it, it’s lunchtime so we turn down a few places before finally settling for a lakeside restaurant. We adore the set menu, but he number of wasps is ridiculous, They’re everywhere, but most interestingly, one which flew into the sugar and munched away for about 20 minutes before flying off, no doubt at twice the speed!

Just before we set off, we use some public toilets (they are absolutely everywhere! Free toilets seem to be a top priority for the Austrian tourist board!)

We keep following the road around the lakes and god through some lovely villages. Most houses have their own ’section’ on the lake, but occasionally there are areas left for the public, which means we stop quite often. Although we’re doing quite a lot of driving, it doesn’t actually feel that way.

In one town, we notice that there are a rather large number of small cards. They look like mini racing cards are all dressed up in unique ways. The brightly coloured vehicles are parked, on behind the other, blocking a side of road for a good 200m. I run down the road to see what is happening and at the front I find an announcer; the anticipation from the gathering crowd is high and it seems as if the start gun is about to be fired, signaling their race into the Alps!

We soon find ourselves in Bad Ischl. We were going to spend the night here on our first itinerary and we’re glad that plans were changed, It feels much more commercial and completely unlike the previous 100km.

We head west as we need to get to Werfen. There are some ice caves there and we’re running out of time. However, before we find the caves, a stunning, almost fairytale-like castle appears in the distance. We park at the bottom and get the cable car all the way to the top. It’s lucky we did too, as the castle itself has some very well organised tours, which involve a ridiculous amount of walking from the depths of the castle where the prisoners were thrown into well-like holes, to the peak of the watch tower – with great views of the castle and the surrounding area. We also see the birds kept at the castle, including some enormous eagles.

The tour takes around two hours and they are starting to close it down for the day, so we take the cable car back to our car and set off further west to our final destination of the day: Zell am See.

It takes quite a while to get there, which is a pain because we know we have to do the same road back again to see the ice caves.

We were warned by ‘Eugene’ that the drive up to the bed & breakfast was a little too steep and hard to navigate for a two wheel drive vehicle. Of course, I take this as a challenge! When we arrive, I consider heeding his warning… it’s ridiculously steep and made of dirt and gravel, but that doesn’t stop me! I rev the engine and fly up it, thinking that I’ve only got a couple of turns to make. Emma is really panicking and I must admit, when the wheels start spinning and I have to stop, even I’m a little concerned! The rear wheels are incredibly near a large drop, but fortunately I get some grip and start moving again. It ended up being about eight tight corners, so when we see the gorgeous house, looking over Zell am See and the lake, it’s a great relief.

It’s worth the effort though, as Eugene, from Dublin, greets us with a fantastic welcome. He shows us around his home; our room is unbelievable and the living area is great. There’s a bar (appropriately named ‘The Honest Bar’) so we grab a couple of Guinnesses and have a chat with Eugene. He’s been there four years and it’s all for the skiing! They are open in summer and winter (the whole town becomes a ghost town in spring and autumn) and you can see why it’s popular. There are mountains every side of us; it’s an adventurer’s heaven! It’s already quite late and we have our longest day tomorrow, so we go to bed.

27th August 2006 – Zell am See, Werfer, Großglockner, Klagenfurt

Eugene’s breakfast is great, but we set off early as we’ve got the get back to Werfen for the ice caves. We couldn’t have picked a better day for it too, as it’s pouring with rain, so a bit of shelter is just what we need!

The driveway isn’t quite as bad going downhill and before we know it, we’re arriving in Werfen, only to find the ice caves are up a mountain. We get to the car pack which is around 950m high. Then there’s a 20 minute hike, a frighteningly steep and wobbly cable car ride, followed by another 20 minute struggle to get to 1775m! And that’s just the entrance!

The caves are 42km deep, but we’re allowed to explore just the first, which involves 700 steps up and then another 700 back down. Inside, a full history is given; this includes how the first explorers found it and how the incredible ice formations are created. Including the walks, the whole tour takes over three hours, so we haven’t got time to see the waterfalls, west of Zell am See, that Eugene recommended to us.

Instead, we head to the road I’ve been looking forward to for the whole holiday: Großglockner strasse. It takes you through the Alps, past the Großglockner peak at just under 4,000m.

We have lunch before the climb and then are charged €26 to enter the Großglockner region. You can see why it’s famous. Apparently it’s one of the world’s finest road journeys; however, the weather hasn’t improved much since this morning, so all the best views are blocked by thick clouds. Nonetheless, it’s fun to drive through the clouds, never knowing what is around the next corner!

We stop frequently, even though I don’t take too many photos. Really it’s a chance for a breather and a chat to the bulls and cows.

We also stop to have a play in the snow. We’re driving at around 2,500m so it’s pretty cold! The sun tries to creep through, which makes for some stunning rainbows; unfortunately they each only last a few seconds before fading away.

After a couple of hours, we reach the edge of Großglockner. It is surrounded by a river glacier, which is incredible to say the least. Crawling around the shrubs of grass are also some marmites. They’re cute, but just look like squashed rabbits.

We start the descent, which is surprisingly quick. There’s a little town that represents the end of the Großglockner strasse, so we stop to refuel on food and drink. It looks like the car needs a rest too, as smoke bellows out of the bonnet! My initial thought was that I’ve just over-used the brakes on the way down and just as I’m popping the bonnet, a friendly German comes over to investigate. He tells me that he sees it all the time; it’s definitely the brakes!

The remaining descent from the Alps is very pretty. The weather has improved and the typical Austrian village pop up every ten minutes. However, we’ve still got a long way to go, so we jump on the tedious motorway and make our way to Klagenfurt.

It’s a bit of a struggle finding our accommodation and it’s a bit of a disappointment when we do. We know we booked a youth hostel, but rather than a double room, they’ve given us a dorm all to ourselves!

We dump our stuff, have a pizza at the local restaurant (we really need to lay off the pizzas from now on) and hit the sack.

28th August 2006 – Worthersee, Graz

We wake early and immediately make our way to Worthersee. It’s west of Klagenfurt and our plan is to drive around the whole lake. Like the second day, the weather is holding up, but not quite warm enough to go into the lake, as inviting as it seems.

We stop to watch an old man feed the little birds (never have I seen such tame birds) ducks and fish!

Travelling clockwise around the lake, we stop at Maria Worth, which is a nightmare parking zone. Whilst looking around its cute church, we notice there’s a viewing point a few kilometers south. It’s worth the detour, as the 465m high tower sticks out of the hills’ treetops, allowing a beautiful view north over the lake and south into Slovenia! We suddenly realise how close we are to Lake Bled, where we were 10 months ago!

After watching a goat teach its kid how to fight with its horns, we continue our journey. The further we travel, the more touristy the area becomes, especially on the west side of the lake; it’s full of shops, hotels and tourists, so we don’t stop and decide to head east to Graz.

It’s a shame to travel on a motorway, but we’re glad we do, as we arrive in Graz quite quickly and despite arriving early at the hotel (which is our worst accommodation yet) we’re glad because it’s easy to get into the centre and the centre of Graz is lovely.

Most of the things we want to see are on the east side of the river, including the castle which is high above the city, with beautiful views all around. Climbing the 260 steps, I wonder when Arnold Schwarzenegger last took this route (or maybe he cheated and took the 60 cent lift!)

Walking around the hilltop takes its toll, it’s full of steps and there are hidden routes everywhere. What strikes me is not only that it seems to be the ‘meeting point’ for the local teenagers (who all act completely the opposite to UK teenagers, with their picnic and quiet music!), but the number of older people who also get to the top, just for a read or a relaxing nap! One woman in particular, taking one small step every couple of seconds, was working her way to the top, for no apparent reason.

The sun is starting to shine quite strongly, so we sit at the lovely bar near the famous Schlossberg clock (with its backwards hands) and have a couple of drinks. There is an Italian couple next to us and the guy sounds so much like Vito Corleone it’s unbelievable! The waitress brings the wine to his table and I hope for her sake it isn’t corked!

The sun sets, although there are still enough clouds to prevent a nice view, so we make our way down to the river.

There are a couple of ‘touristy’ attractions by the river. One is a modern art gallery; its building shaped like a huge bladder and it glows a lovely green colour! The other is in the river itself. They have constructed an artificial island, used for small shows, but it is also a modern bar. We have a quick drink (by this time, I’m starting to feel it) and decide to head back.

After a couple of trams in the wrong direction, we figure out which is the replacement bus service and settle down for the night.

29th August 2006 – Graz, Linz

The rain last night was immense! It sounded like a year’s worth of rain fell and it has done the job too, since the sky is a beautiful blue – perfect for photos!

I think all the walking has started to take its toll though, as we can’t even think about returning to the top of the hill in Graz! Instead, we find the Stadtpfarrkirche church, which has an infamous stain glass window, with Mussolini and Hitler watching Jesus being tortured (update: I have since found out that I was looking at the wrong window. Hitler & Mussolini are actually about 3 metres down from the two characters I was looking at – argh!)

We head toward the bladder shaped museum, but unfortunately it is still closed, so we take comfort with a coffee and a slice of Austrian cake! We’re surrounded by mini birds, as tame as the ones in Wurthersee, only too happy to polish off the nuts that I leave behind. They even managed to catch them mid-flight as I threw them up in the air!

We next head east in order to find the theatre. At its ’stage III’ door, there’s a double sided spiral staircase. It’s a great design and I’m surprised that I’ve never seen anything like it – it looks great (mental note if I ever design my own home!)

We decide to walk around another park, before heading back to the car and saying goodbye to Graz. I absolutely loved Graz and if I’m ever in the area again, I’ll make sure to stop over!

Before we left Graz, we drove to the suburbs in the Northeast; whilst lost yesterday, we passed a very nice looking church in Maria Trost. We quickly find it and we’re glad to do so. Its interior is stunning, matching some of the architecture that we saw in the Vatican City. As we left, an Austrian woman started shouting at me; I assume my driving had annoyed her, but I’m not really sure, so I shrug, smile at her and drive away as her voice fades into the background!

The journey north to Linz isn’t really part of the trip. The only reason we’re going there next is because flights back from Graz were so ridiculously priced. The trip north is dull (all motorways) and the town itself isn’t much better!

Fortunately, we stay in a modern hostel, so we catch up on sleep before heading out. Emma also nearly breaks her ankle, tripping over nearly every object in the room before landing on the floor!

It absolutely chucked it down whilst we slept, but the sky was much clearer when we left. We caught the electric bus into town (just in time too, as Linz’s football stadium next to our hostel was gearing up for an evening home game!)

We get our hands on a great city map and follow the recommended route. Some buildings are great, but after Salzburg, Graz and the stunning mountain scenery, Linz just doesn’t compare.

After 90 minutes of walking, we take the guidebook’s recommendation for dinner. It’s a lovely little restaurant, tucked away despite its central location. The service is good and she speaks only German, but does so slowly in an effort to help. This is something I’ve noticed about Austria, when you try their language, they really help you try to learn, rather than immediately speaking English like most places.

The food and beer is great and it knocks us for six so we head back home to bed (although the lack of electronic night buses ensured that we walked off our surplus calories!)

30th August 2006 – Linz

It’s another early start (and another foul coffee – what’s with this country and coffees?) and we quickly find the drop-off point for the car (after 1,112km of Austrian roads). Next we catch a bus to the Ars Electronica Museum.

For some reason it’s free entry day today and we’re glad it is as although there are some clever and funky inventions, we’re only too happy to find the coffee bar on the fifth floor (especially as it’s the best coffee of the holiday!)

There’s a main shopping street and we’ve still got two hours to kill, so we head south across the Danube and gently stroll past the shops. We then see an Italian restaurant plastered with World Cup memory pictures so I can’t resist (!); we go in and have our last meal of the holiday before catching the airport bus and returning home.

My sponsorship has gone very well. So far I have raised £838 – thanks very much for all for your donations. My target is actually £1000, so if any of you haven’t sponsored, please go here (!): www.justgiving.com/carlobezoari

Last weekend Emma and I went to Scotland. We decided on the ’sleeper’ train to Inverness (ok – that wasn’t exactly the best idea I’ve ever had) and then rented a car which took us nearly 500 miles around the Highlands. Despite the bad weather, I got some nice photos and we had a really good time. Paddling in the North Atlantic Ocean, the mound of haggis I ate, the cave exploring and the (unsuccessful) search for Nessie were definitely the highlights!

Easter was spent in Spain, which was a week of sun, pool and chilling – not the usual holiday I have, but very relaxing. What was even more relaxing was our day in a fancy London spa! Saunas, ice showers, herbal teas and spiritual music sounds all a bit pretentious, but it was really good fun! I recommend it to anyone who regularly commutes on sweaty trains in rush hour!

Something that has kept me very busy has been my (relatively) new hobby – video editing. I’ve now uploaded my two videos to my website; one of the train trip I did in 2004 (originally called ‘train trip 2oo4′) and the second of my ski trip in 2005 (a more respectably titled ‘three boards and a pair of skis’). Bear in mind you’ll need a pretty good internet connection to view them.

I’m getting better at editing, so my next video with (wait for it…) special effects (!!) is waiting in the wings and hopefully will be available next month.

I guess it is since I’ve got into photography (about three years ago) that I’ve started looking around a little more and it allows me to take in the scenery. Throughout those three years, I’ve always had one place in the back of my mind that I knew I had to visit. Finally, just a fortnight ago, I made it to Iceland…

It was an incredible risk going in January. The four hours of sunshine a day and the possibility of constant rain and poor visibility could have spelt disaster. Fortunately, luck was on our side (again!) and apart from the odd bit of snow and rain in the mountains, the weather was pretty good.

I loved every minute of the trip and the photo opportunities were absolutely everywhere. Some highlights included standing on the edge of a volcano, climbing a glacier, walking behind a huge waterfall and navigating through geysers! The best part (to my surprise) was going to the Blue Lagoon. I really expected it to be touristy and over-crowded, but we decided to go on a night visit and the whole place was practically empty. To go for a swim when the weather was minus three degrees was unbelievable! As the lagoon is heated naturally, different parts are hotter than others, so we swam around with mud on our faces, trying to avoid any areas which were above 45 degrees! To top it off, it was the clearest night of the holiday and the stars and moon were clearly visible.

With such clear skies, I was counting on seeing the Northern Lights. However, this is one thing that I guess I’ll have to keep waiting for (and another excuse to go back to a Scandinavian country!)

My other trip was a one-night stop in Hamburg. I’ve only ever been to Germany as a young child and I thought it would be a nice change for New Year’s Eve to spend it abroad. I can’t say I was overly impressed with the city, but nothing could top the German countdown to 2006: “Drei! Zwei! Eins..!” It felt like I was on the frontline going into battle!

Regarding a chosen charity for the London Marathon in April, I’ve decided to run for The Parkinson’s Disease Society; it means a lot to me because of the history of the disease in my family. The money is put towards finding the cause and a cure, as well as helping those through it. I’ve registered on the following website: www.justgiving.com/carlobezoari, which allows people to sponsor me directly through the internet. I’m grateful for any donations!

We’re on the plane! It must be a strange feeling for Emma; she’s never heard of Klagenfurt so she’s still no idea in which country we’ll land!

We’re now sitting in Villach. It’s a relatively small place on the south coast of Austria! It was actually the pilot who gave it away as we were landing in Klagenfurt and Emma has been getting all excited about a few days in Austria. Little does she know that we haven’t taken the train west to Villach in order to make our way northbound into Central Austria!

Quite the opposite: We’re waiting for a train to Jesenice. I think the truth will hit home when we arrive and everyone is speaking something quite different to German! Better still, would be if there’s a passport check on the train! Either way, our Austrian adventure will come to an end and our Slovenian one will begin!

We’re through the Karavanke Tunnel and suddenly the buildings look older, the language is different and we’re at a station with no information at all about our next journey to Bled! Emma is a little surprised that we’re no longer in Austria, but our main concern is to catch the right train.

We grab some cash and following advice from two very friendly locals, we’re on the correct track. The train conductor is even friendlier and is happy to take Euro for payment. He’s even kind enough to find us 20 minutes later to tell us the next stop is our.

We get off and the sun is still out. It’s reflecting off Lake Bled which you just can’t miss. Fortunately it’s an easy two- minute walk to Pension Zaka and after a quick, cheap pint (due to them forgetting about the reservation), we’re shown to our room. It’s actually an apartment: kitchen, bathroom and a huge bedroom.

We shower and head a couple of kilometers along the river to Vlabod restaurant. It’s absolutely gorgeous. The ambience is lovely, the service is exquisite and the food is out of this world! We’re left very satisfied and head back home, with just enough time to take pictures of the incredibly bright moon which is illuminating all the things that we’re going to visit tomorrow!

19th October 2005 – Bled

A great night’s sleep and an even better continental breakfast and we’re ready for the trek around Lake Bled. We’re on the west side and decide to go anti-clockwise, hoping the sun will be behind us for most of the day.

The southwest side of the lake is pretty quiet. There are a few runners and a few rowers, but apart from that it seems like the area is absolutely our own.

We reach the foot of the Mala Osojnica walk and decide to climb to its peak at 685m. It’s absolutely worth is. Despite being tricky at a couple of points, we arrive at the top and the view across the whole lake is sublime.

We stay for a short while and head back down to continue our journey.

The route along the lakeside is varied and apart from the odd other tourist, it’s still peaceful. Around midday we reach the Gondolas, where a trip to the island can be taken.

It’s a pleasant trip and the 30 minutes on the island are well-spent. The Church (of the Assumption) is nice and you get a free wish by ringing its bell.

After we’re brought to shore, we’re starving so we head further east towards what appears to be the touristy part of the area. There are loads of hotels and bus loads of pensioners. We decide on a pizza and then plan our route up to the castle.

We’re actually a lot closer to the castle than we thought. Before we know it, we’re climbing another steep hill (mountain!) and our legs are starting to feel it. Twenty minutes later we reach the top and it’s a great castle on the very edge of a cliff. It has been redesigned many times over centuries, but each design is always built right up to the edge of the 100m cliff edge, allowing us to drink our beers and look straight down at Lake Bled.

As the sun sets and a pigeon eats all the restaurant left overs, we turn back down. The castle was nice, as was the small museum, but we’re tired and we set off on the 2km walk home.

Back at the roam we freshen up and decide to have more beers! It has been a long day and we’re still digesting the pizzas, so we’re happy to have a liquid dinner and an early night.

20th October 2005 – Ljubljana

Another good night and we have our last breakfast at Penzion Zaka. We’re told the nearby train station isn’t any use for Ljubljana, so we have to walk a couple of kilometers to get to the main bus station.

We wave goodbye to Lake Bled and within 90 minutes we’re in Slovenia’s capital.

Unfortunately it’s raining, but we quickly find our new home for the day. Just before we arrive, I tell Emma that she’ll need her ‘Get Out Of Jail’ card, which panics her a little before she finds out that we’re staying in a converted prison!

It’s just how I hoped it would be, but we’re a little early so we dump our stuff in the luggage room and walk into the centre. Still raining, so we jump into a coffee house which also (pure coincidence… honestly) has the most amazing selection of cakes that I’ve ever seen!

As we’re freshed up, and it has practically stopped raining, we head out towards Stari trg and Gornji trg. These roads are littered with coffee shops and bars, with some shops selling all kinds of random things. It’s very pretty, but we decide on entering a place that sells beer!

We’re ready for lunch, so we follow the guide book’s advice and choose ‘Puccini’. It’s a bit tricky to find (the devils have renamed it) but it’s worth every step of the way (it’s also in the west side of the city).

I’m loving it as we appear to be near the University of Ljubljana, which if the restaurant is anything to go by, must be a Ladies-only uni! The place is heaving and clearly must be a favourite with the students. We share our table as it’s so busy, but it all adds to the atmosphere.

We have a quick look at the Roman Wall (it’s not that exciting) and head back east.

Next, we prepare ourselves for the uphill walk to Ljubljana Castle. It’s 376m high, so we’re a bit gutted to find that due to a private event, the tower is close. Nonetheless, the rest of the castle is free to explore.

Once we’re done, we head back towards our prison and check in. The room is clearly designed, but with the cage door and tiny windows you really do get a sense of being locked up!

Before we got to the prison, we passed a cute market, mainly selling food. We head back in that direction to look at the famous bridges of Ljubljana: The Zmajski Bridge has four dragons on it, one on each corner. Further west, there’s the Tromostovje Triple Bridge, so called because of the three paths across a bend in the Ljubljana River.

It’s food time again so we head across the bridge to Sokol restaurant. It’s well furnished with big heavy tables and chairs. Better still are the waiters in ‘local’ clothing, clearly trying to cash in on the tourists’ stereotypical view of Slovenes! Once again the food is good; the cheeky waiting wishing Emma ‘Good luck!’ as he served the biggest salad we’ve ever seen!

We’re stuffed (obviously!) and after a 30 minute walk around the more modern side of Ljubljana, we go back to our cell for some shut eye.

21st October 2005 – Zagreb

We have a great night’s sleep in the cell (no late-night prison visits either…) and we quickly get ready to leave. We have an early train to catch so we at the buffet breakfast quickly and make our way to the station.

The prison is in an area called Metalkova. It’s similar to Kobenhavn’s Christiania area, supposedly independent from local rule and laws. We never got to see that side of it (apparently it all gets lively after midnight) but the number of pubs and clubs in the area did bode well for any future visits!

Our train is a little delayed, but before we know it, we’re heading further south-east, to yet another country and another capital: Zagreb in Hrvatska.

The journey isn’t too long and we arrive to much better weather. The sun is strong and the skies are clear. We head west towards our hotel, which again seems to be close to the university (I must have some kind of magnetic device…) My disappointment is the missing star on the hotel. After a Slovene “Penzione” followed by a prison cell (!) I thought a four-star hotel was well-deserved. However, the hotel has done something wrong as it has been demoted! Not that we care, the room is big and clean and the hotel’s location is a short walk to the centre.

We immediately set out to find a restaurant called “Boban”. I was hoping for a nice shrine to the ex-Milan player, but instead we got an underground Italian restaurant with very “business-like” clientele.

We plan a route around Zagreb so we see most of the touristy things. Firstly we got to trg Jelacica. It’s the main square and I’m happy taking a few photos; better still, are a group of builders who see me and do a big Mexican wave all for me!

We head towards the famous gothic towers of the Cathedral of the Assumption of the Blessed Virgin Mary. Unfortunately, one of the towers is being cleaned and has scaffolding all around it.

In the vicinity is the 13th Century Store Gate; a painting of the Virgin who attracts quite a few people praying.

Zagreb is split in to an upper and lower level. Whilst the southern lower) part has all the shops and is the busiest area, the upper part is much older and has much more character.

We’re keen to find the Lotrscak Tower, which stands at the edge of the upper part (the upper part is on two hills called Kaptol and Gradec, which explains the Zagreb symbol – a heart – that we’re seen absolutely everywhere).

The tower is not particularly tall, but the views are great. The whole city and the mountains in the distance is great. This is only bettered by the incredible friendliness of the ticket salesman! He’s so polite and only too happy to chat away and give us lots of information.

I certainly have been surprised by how friendly people have been so far on this trip. I expected it in Bled, but even the two capital cities have made a really positive impression.

We climb down the tower and around the corner to “Tolkien’s House”. It’s decorated exactly how you’d expect it to be with such a name and its selection of Belgian beers is fantastic. Yet we stay for just one as once again our stomachs are rumbling!

Emma is keen on finding a restaurant called “Mimice”. The guide book has been spot on with all its recommendations, so I agree (I think it’s obvious what happens here…)

We take the funicular railway down to the lower town and decide to have one more drunk before the meal. We go to “Bulldog” which has a great modern design. It feels like you’re inside some kind of futuristic flying machine. We order a couple of Belgian drinks (again!) and then start searching for the restaurant. After a while, we suddenly see a small sign, pointing down some steps. We walk down them and find that this highly recommended restaurant is a… fish and chip shop!

Fortunately, we remember passing a fancy hotel on trg Jelacica, whose restaurant looked pretty good. Two house later, and Emma has eaten a whole fish, I’ve had a steak with a stunning cognac sauce and the waiter recommended the local wine which only came in one litre bottles!

We’re both a little on the tipsy side and I’m proud that the waiter taught me how to pronounce Hvala (”thank-you”) properly!

We’re soon back at the hotel and ready for bed.

22nd October 2005 – Zagreb, Budapest

We get up early as we’re not sure when the train to our next (and final) destination will be.

At first, we’re disappointed that we won’t be leaving Zagreb until nearly 16.00. However, we realise that this gives us a great chance to look around the areas that we didn’t see yesterday. Furthermore, our next destination is Budapest, which is a train journey over five hours long, so we’re not bothered about arriving at 9ish as arriving a couple of hours earlier would not make too much difference.

We head north from Zagreb’s station, through the parks and up to the main square, stopping just one for a quick coffee. The weather is excellent today so I take some more photos before heading even further north through the food an flower market. Yesterday we saw the “cleaning up” of the market, including one sole woman picking any edible bits from the floor.

Today, the market is buzzing with life and people are practically falling over each other to buy and taste the food.

We decide that we want to go to a museum in the north of the city. It’s even further north so we keep climbing the hills in that direction. On our way, we discover a funky road, only briefly mentioned in the guide book and yet it’s our favourite part of Zagreb so far. The buildings are old and have character, but there are plenty of cafes and restaurants to keep us happy.

Yet even further north are some very modern shops and it’s at that point we decide to take another drink pit-stop.

It’s another stylish place, but we can’t stay long so we head west-bound (and up even more steps) to the museum.

It’s now 12.40 and the place closed 10 minutes ago. We’re a bit gutted, but this means we can keep walking around the lower part of the city and do some window shopping.

It feels like quite a quiet day and yet we’ve done a lot of walking and sight-seeing. By the time our train is ready, we’re pretty shattered and glad that we can look at some of Croatia and Hungary’s scenery without moving!

One disappointment is the lack of a restaurant on board the train, so when we arrive in Budapest, Emma is very hungry (we ate in Zagreb for lunch – but I was the only one to have a full meal).

It’s dark of course, but within 20 minutes we find our way to the hotel (using the great tube system) and dump our stuff. There’s no time for showers as Emma takes us straight out to the local recommended restaurant.

The area seems magnificent. All the buildings have style and fancy hotels are everywhere. We are told by one restaurant that the kitchen is closed (it’s half ten now) but that the restaurant across the road is open.

We’re glad it is too, because the service and food is great. I’m particularly amused to see an advertisement for a Phil Collins gig – he seems to be following us on our journey!

We head back to the hotel and settle down for our first night’s sleep in Hungary.

23rd October 2005 – Budapest

We both have an excellent night’s sleep and despite (possibly) the worst buffet breakfast (although still not bad) of the holiday, we start packing our stuff!

I explain to Emma that the surprise best accommodation was fully booked for Saturday evening, but that is where we are headed now!

It’s a longer walk than expected, but made much easier by a lovely coffee shop stop as well as a pleasant surprise that the Budapest Marathon has just started! We see the leaders and the following pack speed past, just as we reach the River Danube. It’s truly a great river: Absolutely enormous and full of life on both sides. We’re happy to walk along it just at the point it splits into two to go around the ***** island.

I’m still trying to think of a nice way to introduce the surprise accommodation, when Emma hands me the perfect opportunity:

“Look, that boat is a hotel!” She cries.

“Cool, let’s stay there!” I reply.

Emma gives me a sarcastic “yeah” look, but the truth hits home when I start walking down the plank to the boat’s entrance!

She’s really excited, but so am I. Seeing the pictures on the internet is one thing, but inside the boat is marvelous. It’s all wood and very nicely decorated. Certainly it will be out best night of the trip!

We leave our bags in storage (it’s still a bit early to check in) and start our day’s walking.

We head south down the riverbank and the groups of marathon runners have thickened. Just as the crowds of runners become very large, we pass the Parliament building. It’s a famous icon and it’s obvious why. The architecture is impressive (better still, most of it has recently been cleaned – no scaffolding!) and its main dome sticks out from all the buildings around it.

We walk around the Parliament building and past the gunned guards and then notice that there’s the annual TNT photo exhibition is in a museum opposite. I know it will be good as I know all about it through working at TNT and immediately go in.

It’s fantastic. The photos range from monumentous sporting achievement to painfully sober pictures of recent world disasters and wars.

Our entry fee also gives us permission to view the permanent exhibitions, but they are not really that interesting to us and we make for the exit.

Nearby I find a perfect spot for my own photo opportunity but it isn’t long before we start thinking of food! We are quite some distance from any recommended restaurants, so we settle for the Budapest Pizza Express. It has a different menu to the UK so we both try new pizzas which are very tasty. I also finish off with a slice of chocolate cake!

Further south is one of the main shopping streets. We stroll down it and then back west towards the river. Opposite us on the Buda side is the very large Gellért Hill. We cross the bridge and start our climb!

Before we get too far, there’s a church which is actually built into the rock and is very pretty inside.

Climbing further up, the view across the capital just gets better and better. It seems to take forever to get to the top, but it’s incredibly satisfying when we do. The “fortress” at the top is quite large and amongst the touristy stands, there are plenty of historical monuments regarding the second World War.

We find that inside the walls there is a museum, so we take a wander. We find that from inside (and on top) of the museum, the view gets even more impressive.

Most of the museum is a bit rubbish, but Emma (fortunately) finds the underground bunker, where the Nazis used to hide out. Inside it’s very creepy and claustrophobic. It’s strange to think what happened inside just 60 years ago.

Furtherstill, the photos and stories on the walls about the Jews, the bombings and the dead, really hits home.

We find a hotel outside the bunker which has yet another photo exhibition. The theme is war and the photos are very good, capturing the feelings of the people as well as what was happening.

We decide to head down the hill and back to Pest. It takes no time to climb back down and as we’re crossing the bridge, the sun sets over to the west behind Bupa.

We’re absolutely exhausted, so we head back to our boat (!) via tube.

In the cabin (which is by far the best room we’ve had all holiday) we get ready for dinner. We contemplate going back to town, but we then discover that the restaurant on the boat looks pretty good.

It’s better than good – the food is great, the recommended wine is fantastic and before we know it, we are stuffed and ordering a second bottle to drink in the cabin! Shortly after, we’re fast asleep!

24th October 2005 – Budapest

We wake, shower and maker our way to our final breakfast. It’s pretty average but there’s as much yoghurt as I want, so we eat plenty knowing today is probably another day of walking!

The day is gorgeous, so once again we head past the Parliament building, taking a slightly different route towards Buda. There’s a funicular and we’re determined to avoid a long, steep climb like yesterday.

We cross the Szechenyi Lanchid (chain) bridge, which just like all the other crossings, is very individual. We then pay a ridiculous charge to empty our bladders, before finding that the damn funicular is closed!

We start the uphill walk!

After what seems like a 10km hike (probably no more than 1km), we’re standing outside the Kiralyi Palota (Royal Palace). It’s nice, but pretty quiet. In fact, the best part is to turn around and look across the river towards Pest. You can see for miles in both directions – it’s really impressive.

We head northbound to the Matyas Templom, which is the really touristy part of Buda. There are tour guides and hundreds of people looking at the church and walls of the Varhegy (Castle hill). It’s the first time we’ve really seen so many tourists on the holiday.

We nip into a coffee bar to get freshened up (although it’s possibly the worst coffee in Hungary) and then continue to explore the remaining monuments.

The next stop is the (comparatively) easy walk to the metro station by the river.

There are still a couple more thinks that we want to see and they are all in Pest.

First we stop to Menza, which is decorated like Budapest in the 1970s. The food is good and the waiter speaks Italian although he’s a bit confused why Emma doesn’t.

We depart for the Terror Haza, a museum of spying and the AVH (secret police) only to find that the (impressive) building is closed. We’re a bit gutted, but it does mean we can spend more time in the Varosliget Park in the north-east.

After what seems like an eternity (I’m dying for the toilet), we reach the park and I find myself a convenient bush.

The park is being done up, so there’s not too much to see except for the very impressive Hosok ter (Heroes Square). There are a few tourists, some skateboarders and the enormous monument.

The sun is quite low in the sky and it’s very relaxing at this end of the city and it certainly feels like an apt way for our journey to end.

However, there’s still time to have a look at Raday Utea; it’s a long road full of bars and despite it not being late evening, we stroll along it. We stop just once for a beer and herbal tea, before making our way back to the boat.

The airport is quite far out of town, so we taxi our way there. Conveniently, with the sun setting, the driver makes his way through rush hour, slowly taking us past all the touristy things. We’re practically doing the route that the tourist bus does, so we get to enjoy our trip right until the last minute.

Firstly, it’s fantastic news that my mother has had her first ’successful’ eye operation in over a year – finally there has been an improvement in her vision. It has been a stressful and tiring past 12 months for her but finally we feel as if progress has been made. Fingers are crossed that this is a change in luck. My mother is staying in London with me for the next few days to recover from the surgery, returning home on Friday. I’m sure that before we know it, my eagle-eyed mother will be driving home, somersaulting into the sea and catching sharks for dinner.

I can’t really do an email update without mentioning the recent events in London. It’s obviously a bizarre time to live here; a friend of mine was caught in the bus blast and apart from the stitches and bruising, he’s not handling things very well due to the things he saw immediately after the explosion. Another friend got off one of the tube trains two stops before it exploded.

Nonetheless, London is still my favourite city. I’ve had more time recently to find new spots, restaurants, pubs etc. I’ve even gone inside Tower Bridge to see how it all works (I was particularly excited that the bridge was being raised whilst I was on the crossing above it, only to find that from that spot, you can’t actually see the bridge…)

The best London thing I’ve done recently was actually a birthday present from Emma: We went to see ‘We Will Rock You’ – the absolutely amazing Queen/Ben Elton musical. I’ve been rather concerned about the quality of musicals I’ve seen in London (apart from ‘My Fair Lady’, we’ve seen some pretty awful ones). However, We Will Rock You was cracking from start to finish; I couldn’t recommend it enough.

Despite my re-born enthusiasm for the capital, this doesn’t mean I’ve missed out on holidays! Emma and I had two small trips; one to Paris and another to Dublin. There’s not too much I can say about Paris – it’s a great city. Their passion for hosting the Olympics was unbelievable; everywhere we turned there was something to advertise it (oh well..!)

Dublin, on the other hand, was one of the most boring places I’ve ever visited. It had nice restaurants and pubs (of course), as well as the great Guinness factory, but there was absolutely nothing else! It’s supposed to be the capital city and I swear there are more tourist things to do in Knaresborough! As always, photos are on www.carlobezoari.com.

A last minute trip to Morzine, on the border of Switzerland and France, with a few mates was absolutely brilliant. To be able to ski across the border with endless amounts of pistes was great fun. We then had several mad evenings chucked in there too. Best of all, we’ve got some of the funniest (and maybe a little tipsy) moments captured on film – and I’m currently in the process of (my latest hobby) editing the footage to make a DVD.

Soon after that trip, Emma and I went to Venice for a long weekend over Easter. I was expecting to find it nice, but it truly is fantastic. I ate and drank like a king for all four days and we managed to see so much of the city too.

Finally, Emma went off on her own ski trip last weekend, so I decided to head to Poland. I was in Warsaw for four days, and because I stayed in a youth hostel, I met loads of other travellers; the best of the bunch were from Canada. They truly are the friendliest bunch of people in the world! They are just so happy all the time!

Anyway, I’m all “Poped out” after Warsaw – the scenes of mourning were unbelievable. That along with visits of the post-war monuments made for quite an emotional weekend. Fortunatately, come the evenings, the Poles are keen for you to try all their food and drink and party the rest of the night away!

One early Easyjet flight, three ‘bloody’ trips to the toilet, one ‘Marcello Lippi’ look-alike bus driver, about 26 policemen and I’m finally at the Oki Doki Hostel. It’s in a nice little square, guarded by a bloke with an enormous machine gun.

I can’t check in because it’s only 11am, so I drop off my bags and go for a wander.

The streets are absolutely dead and apart from the odd few tourists and a few elderly couples with John Paul flags, the city is empty. I’m surprised by the number of skyscrapers. They break up the skyline and make it look very cosmopolitan without losing any charm.

There are signs on every shop window saying that they are close due to the Pope’s funeral. All I want is a bite to eat, so I’m glad to find a lovely Italian restaurant that’s actually open.

I’m now sitting in what seems like a posh place, but it’s very affordable so I decide to go for soup then pasta. There’s a couple in front of me who act like they’re in a photo shoot, so I try to sit behind and shove larges pieces of breadsticks into my mouth to give their photos a bit of perspective.

The weather is absolutely gorgeous but I’m in no rush to get back outside. The skies look like they may stay blue for a while and the number of photographers I’ve seen reassures me that I’ve come to the right place for my own photographic adventure!

They didn’t have a vegetable soup, so I accepted the ‘fish’ alterative. I did well too, trying prawns, shrimp, crab (I think) but left the weird octopus-looking thing!

The whole meal came to a ridiculous 39zl (around £7!) so I think this may be the first of a few restaurant meals!

After another dodgy toilet attempt, I decided to head towards the river. The city is split in two, with nearly everything worth seeing on the ‘west-side’ (I wonder if taxis refuse to go ‘east of the river gov’).

It only takes a few minutes and I’m shocked by its size. It’s absolutely massive, but still flows at an incredible speed.

I’ve really been ‘lucky’ with the timing of the Pope’s passing. It’s his funeral today and because everything is closed, it has such an incredible, relaxed atmosphere.

Loads of people are either sitting on benches in couples, fishing in the river or just wandering around like me.

I head back west towards the university, which is on a huge banking that looks impressive. Further west I reach yet another park and suddenly there appears to be more people.

It hits me like a thunderbolt when I realise why the city is so quiet: Everyone, I mean everyone, is in Ogrod Saski, a massive park just north of the hostel.

It’s got massive TV screens and thousands of people with even more candles. The booming ‘hallelujah’ music, followed by very ‘gothic’ funeral music is very emotional. People here and there are crying and there’s a real feeling that everyone is at a relative’s funeral. Nonetheless, it makes today all the more interesting. I’m seeing something today that will never happen on another day in my lifetime.

I’ve walked nearly 9km and I go back to the hostel. I’m pleasantly surprised – it’s clean and if it wasn’t for the shared bathroom facilities, it could easily pass as a standard hotel.

After an amazing shower, I head towards the hostel bar. There’s a guy who has been traveling since January who is giving travel advice to a couple of Canadians. However, the bit I really hear, is that beer is 5zl (less than a pound!) and 7zl for 2 beers in happy hour! I grab one immediately!

9th April 2005 – Warszawa

What a hangover! It’s 11.00 and I feel awful. I can’t remember getting home but I do remember the following:

- Joe, Steve and Bertie (plus the other two) can drink like fish!
- The biggest march I’ve seen since the anti-war one in London happened right through the centre of Warszawa
- Polish vodka is no different to Russian vodka – it still gets you hammered
- White Russians here are small and strong.

Just before leaving the hostel, I bump into (Michael Madson look-alike) Rob, Bertie and the other whose name I can’t remember.

They think I’m a lightweight and say last night was a practice session! I find out that Australian Steve stayed in some kind of dodgy strip club; the guy whose name I can’t remember ended up paying a taxi driver 100zl to drop him off in the middle of nowhere and the rest kept drinking for a long time.

I decide to head towards the Old Town. It was completely destroyed in the war and I’m interested to see how they’ve rebuilt it exactly as it was.

Outside it suddenly feels like I’m in a different city. There are people everywhere; stalls open selling everything from flowers to books to CDs. The place has woken up!

I see a very old lady (who looks like she’s probably blind and deaf) and in giving her 5zl, I thought I had earned the chance to take her photo. Just as I position myself, a passer by runs in between, shouting Polish. He’s very angry and despite offering more money, my photo opportunity is lost. Lots of people are now looking over as I sheepishly walk away.

Heading further north, I reach the Old Town. It’s like walking into a World War II film just before the war breaks out.

People sell the most fantastic things on the street and despite it being all for the tourists, it doesn’t feel that way.

I walk for ages before finally finding a menu that satisfies my munchies. It’s so ridiculously cheap but it still is a struggle to make a restaurant choice as they all sound so good.

I’ve just finished a zucchini soup and I’m waiting for my salmon dish to arrive. I’m expecting it to be excellent as it was suggested by the (very helpful and friendly) waiter to me over my original choice (also a salmon).

Well, the salmon dish was ok. It was absolutely enormous though, so I shock myself when the waiter persuades me to have pudding, even though I’m full to burst. I could hardly resist when he insisted the tiramisu was the best in all of Warszawa! Although I did manage to stop him from bringing a grappa too!

It turns out to be my most expensive meal so far, but it’s still nothing even with the pudding.

I walk a little further around the old town and as the weather today has been a bit poor (cloudy with occasional spits of rain), I enter the King’s Castle.

Each room is ‘guarded’ by staff that stand up when you enter. It makes for a great Mexican wave if you move quickly through the rooms!

Most of the castle is paintings, which I’m not so fussed about. However, the rooms themselves have a rich quality to them and they are all so different in style.

With the help of the staff who kindly tell me where to go, I make it through the maze of rooms and out into the main ’square’. It’s a nice little square with a huge monument of the guy who moved the castle from Krakow to Warszawa.

I’m nearly falling asleep on my feet, so I head back towards the hostel. It’s perfect timing too as I’m shattered by the time I reach my room.

I wake up three hours later and after a long shower I feel a lot better.

I try to find a market but when I see a McDonalds I can’t resist. I have the best (and cheapest) Big Mac that I’ve ever had and for the first time in a McDonalds, I actually feel like I’m in a restaurant! It’s got pictures of other McDonalds all around the world and the friendly staff and clean interior really make the meal quite nice!

I get back to the hostel and it’s 21.30, so off to bed I go.

10th April 2005 – Warszawa

10 hours of sleep and I feel much better! After a free breakfast *made slightly awkward by the quiet Dutch guy who wanted a chat) I decide to find the cemetery that holds over 100,000 Jewish graves.

Well, five hours of non-stop walking and I still haven’t found it! It’s supposed to be enormous but I cannot for the life of me find it. I’ve seen some Military zones on the far west of the city as well as one area of ‘absolutely nothing’, so my legs are completely giving away!

There’s a road names after Pope John Paul II, which understandably has a lot of candles on it. However, it’s only when you walk the entire length of the road (several kilometers), that you realise how many candles there really are. There are literally millions of candles, messages, pictures and flowers.

During my ‘little walk’ I also come across a large market that looks like some kind of Titantic antique sale! There’s so much (crap) stuff, it’s a wonder why so many people are there to shop!

I finally give in to my legs when I see a massive shopping centre. It’s very moderns and therefore looks totally out of place with everything that surrounds it/

I’ve picked a chain restaurant called ‘Sphinx’ that has the most absurdly cheap food I’ve ever seen. I’m on an onion soup followed by ham pizza with a glass of fizzy water and it’s around 20zl which is less than £4. There are also practically as many staff as customers, all pleased to help. It makes the rest of the shopping centre a joke, as clothes, electronic and home furniture is just as expensive as in the UK!

It’s 18.45 and I’m sitting in the hostel bar. I’ve just been telling Rob and Bertie about my 25km (yes – 25km) walk to find the Jewish cemetery.

Unbelievably, it’s only about 3km away. I must be the first person in Poland to have walked all the way around it without finding it.

However, find it I did. Luck too, as it was 30mins before it close. They insist on visitors wearing head covers, as part of Jewish religion.

It was pretty much as I expected. Graves everywhere, particularly close together. The odd reference to the Holocaust was moving, but with the sun finally shining, it didn’t hit hoe as much as I expected.

Anyway – back in the bar, Rob and Bertie have gone home. They act like 15yr olds and are proud to relive any story that involves drugs, drink or speeding.

I’m now surrounded by two guys playing chess, an ex-Swedish basketball player and some well spoken English. It’s more relaxing, despite my terrible urge to tell the basketball player that he is the spitting image of Paulo Maldini!

The night develops into a drinking frenzy. The Swede disappears and the two other well-spoken people are Matt and Kerry, married from Oxford. Another Matt joins us as do some Canadian brothers, one of whom is called Chris. He’s very funny: His attempt to describe how cold it can get in Vancouver is that they have to ‘wash our balls in ice water, man!’

The camp, knowledgeable guy whose name I can’t remember is also there, but other than try to turn every conversation into a political debate, he doesn’t do much.

As the drinks keep flowing, Chris and I discover a kebab (’kebaaaarb!’) house doing kebabs at 5zl each! He goes mental with the absurdly hot sauce, as does his brother. I follow suit and get two kebabs, but the Polish kebab-man laughs when I insist on ‘no hot sauce’.

‘Two hot sauce?’ He replies’

‘No! No hot sauce!! Hot sauce is bad!’

The barman at the hostel, brilliantly named Komrad, is absolutely great too. He shows me exactly where I walked today and finds it hilarious that it really was about 25km!

At 2am, we’re finally thrown out, so off to bed I go.

11th April 2005 – Warszawa

It’s a miracle that I feel good! Even more incredible is that it’s 7.15 and I have time for a long shower and get ready to pack before breakfast opens at 8.00.

I’m out the door by 9.00 and following Komrad’s advice, I’m heading south towards the Royal parks. Being rush-hour on a Monday, I finally get to see the cosmopolitan side of Warszawa. People are rushing about and cars are everywhere.

I reach the first park (Park Ujazdowski) and it’s quite cute. Stopping for a rest, I see the tamest squirrel I’ve ever seen, running up to the few people there are, in search of food.

Moving further south and crossing the main highway I enter the gigantic Lazienkowski park. It’s truly breath-taking, with one view after the next, being worth the walk. It too is pretty quiet although there are workers literally everywhere doing gardening and tidying. It’s something I’ve noticed quite a bit in Poland; they do have plenty of people doing what in England they would attempt with 10% of the workers.

I spend a good hour in the park before heading northbound in a different route. The weather is relatively clear, so I’m heading back to the Old Town to do the last two things on my itinerary.

It’s 11.00 and I’m already up in the main shopping street; Nowy Swiat. One person yesterday said they struggled to find things to do in Warszawa, but I’ve managed to fill four days practically perfectly!

I climb the tower on the edge of the Old Town and get a cracking view of the rebuilt town. 150 steps (!) back down again and I make my way to the Monument to the Warsaw Uprising. It’s to remember the crushing of the Warsaw Ghetto Uprising.

That done, I’m ready to eat! For the first time on the holiday I use the guidebook to pick a restaurant; it works a treat.

I have the traditional Polish soup which is absolutely delicious (and a bargain at 3zl!) followed by a steak and vegetables (also an absurd 25zl). I still don’t understand how restaurant food works over here!

I make my way to the final thing I want to see, which is a museum with art and photography.

However, just as I was lucky finding the park with thousands of people mourning over the Pope, this time the Ukrainian President it there! He inspects the Polish troops and takes a look at the memorial display for the Pope, before jumping back in his car; surrounded by loads of police and security (as well as an ambulance on standby!) he is driven away!

Just as I think my luck on this holiday could not get any better, I find the museum and it’s closed on Mondays!

I accept defeat on that and head back to the hostel to chill before my departure.

I’m now in the minute second terminal of Warszawa airport. I’ve never seen anything so small pass itself off as an airport! Anyway, I’m here and made it in one piece!

12th March 2005 – Morzine

So another adventure begins. This time I start quite organised. I’m in the very small City Airport very early, sipping a cappuccino and I’ve already got my pad and pen.

I’ve been told I’m not allowed to take a photo of the two English guards with massive machine guns I’m also asked to remove items from my luggage as they are suspicious of the contents. However, after a second x-ray, I’m ready to fly and so is my bag.

The airport is small, but the landing strip is right next to a stretch of water. It looks bizarre knowing I’m so close to home and planes are landing every second looking like they are heading for the Thames.

I’m now in Switzerland; I think this is the 20th country I’ve been to in my life. Mind you, it’s lucky I’m here in one piece as the turbulence when landing was the worst I’ve ever experienced I’m not looking forward too much to the flight to Geneve.

The airport is new and clean but after five minutes I’m bored. I don’t mind waiting for flights but it’s a shame the other guys are in Milan and Paris whilst I’m here in Zurich! It’s very cloudy but there’s quite a lot of snow around which is really getting me in the mood for tomorrow’s skiing!

The wait is helped by chatting with a couple of people. One Swedish girl lives in London and another guy is Israeli but lives in Vienna.

The next flights is a little better, although still no food. However, a bigger problem is when I meet Sy in Geneve. Tom and Stick’s flight has been cancelled…

They’ve managed to get on the next flight which arrives five hours later!

Sy and I go for pizza and beer after our failed attempt to call the bus driver to let him know of the delay.

Two hours later, we’ve arrived in the chalet. It’s much better than I expected, with living room, kitchen, two double bedrooms and bathroom. We’ve arranged for another driver to pick up Stick and Tom later in the evening.

There’s a further panic at 10.50 when we find that their second flight was delayed by nearly an hour and the driver isn’t there!

We think of alternate options (hotel in Geneve, 300 euro taxi to Morzine) but just a short while later the driver turns up.

The guys arrive after 1am and soon we’re all asleep.

13th March 2005 – Morzine

I wake at 7 and after getting ready I make my way to the ski hire centre. It’s a 15 minute walk, but on my way I do some food shopping from the “Shopi” supermarket.

Back home the guys are up and 30 mins later we head for the slopes.

The weather is outstanding, clear skies and strong sunshine makes the mountains look incredible. The pistes are great too and our 14 resort pass gives us over 650km of slopes from which to choose!

Sy is still learning how to snowboard, so we leave him to improve and head towards Switzerland. Tom and Stick show no fear and are pleased to go very fast. This is great, but on the first day it’s very hard on the legs. By one o’clock we find a restaurant at 2200m and I dig into some spaghetti whilst the boys have some chips and sandwich.

I stupidly have a beer and it’s not long later when we get back to the slopes that I start feeling a little dehydrated. It’s also not too long before Stick and Tom go the wrong way and I lose them.

This gives me a chance to head back to Morzine and explore some of the routes we’ve yet to do. The best view was in Avoriaz, whilst the best run was back in France through a tree-filled, deep powdered stretch.

My legs are starting to give so I sit down for a rest. By complete chance, about 10 minutes later Stick and Tom fly by. I hail them to stop and we’re back together for a final few goes.

We get the camera out and take some great footage of speeding down the pistes with some funny incidents including and near miss with a female learner and another collision narrowly missed by Tom with another snowboarder. We try a few jumps but I’m not ready for it and I think Tom and Stick are too worried about their bones at the moment.

We finish at around five and pop to the supermarket on the way back.

A hamburger and 2 beers later, I’m shattered. The others are still drinking beers and they want to go out.

It’s nearly 9 and I’m showered and ready for bed. The guys are on their way to find a bard and the hope of a strip club later in the night.

14th March 2005 – Morzine

The guys are really tired. Sounds like they had a poor night waiting hours for the naked dancers only for them never to arrive.

The day starts like yesterday with me getting everyone up. We’re soon out on the other side of the mountains towards Les Gents and the snow is fantastic again. The weather is a little cloudy and because o that it feels much colder.

We’re getting a little more adventurous with speed and jumps and because of that, we lose Sy again quite quickly.

Not quite so many video clips of stunts although we did have a great hour in a bar near the bottom of Morzine, jumping from the edge of a snowy hill edgy.

In the evening, we discover that Tom eats an absurd amount of crisps and Stick hasn’t washed his hair for four years.

This time I do decide to go out for drinks and they take me to a couple of bars. The Jolly Good Bar is good for darts and another is good for pool but around 12ish we head back.

15th March 2005 – Morzine

I feel pretty good this morning despite quite a few drinks. Once again I’m the one who goes to the supermarket to buy food. It wakes me up well and I find the footy score too.

The guys get read reasonably quickly and we’re out again. My body is shattered and I struggle as my legs just feel like they are giving away. We’re back on the Swiss side and unfortunately it’s just too hot. The snow is starting to melt which is really slowing things down as well as being harder on the legs.

Another spaghetti lunch and a few more stunts in the boards park and we’re back home.

I tidy the place because it’s an absolute pigsty – it’s obvious that these guys still live at home. I’m also onto the beers and have five before we leave.

Unlike yesterday, I actually win some games of darts and a few euros too. We then head further away from the chalet and actually find the main part of Morzine. There’s an Indian restaurant which was very tasty (although even the mild dish was too hot for me) and then Dixie bar which shows the footy and has loads of younger people. We chat to a few girls who have been here for months but soon we’re tired so we head off. Plus, the bottle of white I had in the restaurant has gone straight to my head and I really need to sleep!

16th March 2005 – Morzine

I had a lot of water before going to sleep, so I feel ok. We have practically nothing for breakfast and this time catch the 10.30 bus to the bottom of the slope. We’re not hung-over, but we’re all feeling very tired and lazy.

We’re expecting the slopes to be bad again, but it seems a cold night has hardened what was warmed yesterday.

What is weird is that my confidence gained in the last few days seems to have vanished; I’m going much slower, particularly because my legs are shattered and I can feel them struggling on every turn.

It’s omelettes for lunch, with an absurd amount of chips. Tick orders chips alone for about the fourth day in a row. Along with his packets of noodles he’s brought from England for his dinners and the 10 cigarettes per day, as well as his hygiene � it’s a wonder he’s not always ill.

We split up after lunch and Tom and I make it back to the same bar on the slope. Soon, Sy arrives and we dig into three large beers.

We play an amazing trick on the other people in the bar, pretending Sy has fallen off a cliff edge. From sitting, it really looks like a big drop so Sy pretends to trip whilst I film. There’s a scream from a woman and about five people rush to the edge. It’s only when people notice Tom and me in hysterics that they realise it’s a joke.

We head our way down to the bottom and go home, with another stop for supermarket essentials.

Stick is at home and after some showers all around, we start on the beers again.

We’re in the Jolly Good Bar before too long and all determined to know Stick out straight away as it’s funny to see him lose.

After a few beers, Sy, Tom and I are on our way to being drunk. It’s midnight and Stick decides he’s had enough. He steals a (much needed) roll of toilet paper and head home.

Not for us! We head to a rather posh restaurant! It’s so late but they are still happy to serve us. Sy has pasta but Tom and I go for steaks (they refused to serve me the three course meal).

They are absolutely delicious, but unfortunately the three Leffes we order don’t go down so easily. Tom is off his face and provides us with some drunken video footage whilst we head back home.

17th March 2005 – Morzine

It’s St. Paddy’s day and we feel pretty horrendous. Despite Tom’s wake-up call at 9.05 (everything has to be at 05), we’re not out until 11.30ish. Stick isn’t happy as he could have had more sleep but Sy and I are grateful. We’re so tired and just need a chill out.

Which isn’t what Sy gets, as he remembers the half block of wax he needs to remove from his board.

Once we’re on the slopes, we head for Switzerland again. I was bad yesterday but today I’m awful. I’m also so sunburnt that it’s really a hard ski. We soon find a large bar/restaurant and settle down. Sy and Tom have a chicken dish of the day. I have pasta carbonara (delicious even with the mushrooms) and Stock has his usual enormous plate of chips.

Sy and I are happy to sit there whilst Tom and Stick go out for more rides. They are soon back though and we all decide to head to higher ground.

That we do, on a ski lift that takes us over the remains of about ten avalanches. We’re much higher and it really feels it. The air is thin and it makes me feels more tired than I already am. I decide to head back to the chalet.

It takes a long time even though I take the most direct route. I’m kilometres away and practically flatline the while way. Back at home (after a couple of pain au chocolates) I go to bed. It’s five o’clock and one by one the guys get back.

They leave me to sleep before suddenly announcing at 9.30 that they’re off out.

Again I feel awful! I think I slept too long but force myself to go out. I’m glad I do as a Guinness in the Jolly Good Bar and a couple of games of darts certainly does the trick.

We then spend about an hour looking for a decent restaurant (most are fully booked) before settling for one closer to the night-lit ski slope.

Onion soups all around (bar Stick) followed by lasagnes for Sy and T, steak for me (it’s awful) and pizza for Stick.

We eat, pay and go home. I’m so tired so I hit the sack.

18th March 2005 – Morzine

I wake at 07.30 but the others aren’t keen on doing the same. The plan is to be on the slopes at 09.00 so I catch up on my journal with a plate of pasta (!) and a cup of tea.

The others finally get up at 8.15 and we start getting ready.

We follow Sy’s idea to get to this off piste area which turns out to be perfect. We build a massive jump and literally launch ourselves off.

Tom and Stick are quite good at jumping, Tom even managing to land a forward flip. Sy has never jumped before but by the end of the day he is very good. I can’t do it to save my life, so I just go steadily faster, creating more and more stupid falls.

We save the best till last though, stripping to underwear and landing bottom first down the slope.

For the first time in the holiday, we all ski until they close the lifts. It’s great and it puts us into the mood for another night out.

We start earlier at 19.00 and find a restaurant with onion soup and pizza for me, fondue for Sy and Tom and pizza for Stick.

With the bottles of red, we’re starting to get drunk and we head to Dixie’s again.

It starts very silly as Tom and Stick play a coin trick on me. They don’t tell me Stick is involved so I don’t know whether it’s Stick or Sy who is helping him , This last at least an hour, by which time Tom has Sy convinced he’s helping him with the magic! I’m totally confused and Tom keeps insisting it’s Sy who in turn gets very angry that he’s being blamed for something he didn’t do. I don’t know who to believe, but finally Tom and Stick tell all once Sy is ready to go berserk!

At that point, the camcorder comes out and Tom and Sy have a dance off. It’s incredibly funny and loads of people in the pub are cheering along.

As the hours pass, Tom gets more and more tired, so he disappears.

Stick, Sy and I head to a club, haggle the entrance fee from 10euro to 2euro and then watch Sy do more (awful) dancing inside. We’re falling asleep so we head back.

Tom isn’t there and only a bit later we find him on the floor above, asleep on the stairs. We leave him and go to bed.

The next thing we know is Tom has left the building, climbed to our first floor balcony and ripped down the shutters. He then goes crazy and breaks a few things. I get a boot thrown at my head before I fall asleep.

19th March 2005 – Morzine

We all wake feeling pretty rough. Tom accepts blame for his antics (apparently he went off to another club before coming home) and soon the chalet owner arrives to arrange lifts to the airport and for his money.

I’m now in Geneve airport. Tom and Stick may have missed their flights (I heard their names on the tanoy system) and I’m about to get to Zurich on the way back home.

For those interested, we were armed with 70 litre backpacks, a Scanrail train pass, Russian visas and healthy livers. We came back with most of these.

23rd October 2004 – K�benhavn

There are lots of things that appear to be strange about Denmark. Maybe it�s the fact that after 2 � hours sleep, Rob and I had to get ourselves to Stansted for our 07.15 flight. Maybe I�m tired. Maybe it�s the copious amount of caffeine I�ve had. Or maybe Denmark is really strange.

What�s with the ridiculously large prams? They seem to take up half the pavement. In fact, the children here seem to be quite spoilt. When riding with their parents, the huge �dog house� is actually for children. It feels like I�m constantly surrounded by German �sidecar� motorbikes.

Mind you, it�s my fault for walking in the cycle lane. And it�s my fault when I cross the road on red. Which is another strange thing about the Danish. They seem to have an incomprehensible fear of crossing roads. Even at 2am, with no traffic in sight, in either direction, the pedestrians will wait for the green light. But then, maybe it�s Rob and I who are strange; we�re the ones who already have had about three near-misses on the road!

The Danish seem to be both polite and rude. Absolutely everyone is willing to give us directions or recommend somewhere to visit. No one though, thanks you for holding a door or moving out of their way.

Anyway, we found the �Sleep In Heaven� hostel quite easily. It is basic but comfortable and people are very friendly. We�re sharing a dorm with about 85 other Europackers!

The city is quite exciting. There is always something to see and despite the constant grey skies and 10 minute rain sessions, it�s easy to walk about and see lots of things. For a Saturday, it doesn�t appear to be busy at all.

We�re both tired so after a few hours strolling, we think the best wake-up call would be a night out! A change of shoes and we�re back in the centre for a very luxurious meal (horrible red wine though) and this followed by some beer (mistake #1). Followed by more beer (mistake #2). Then our gravest mistake; �all you can drink� before 11pm for free. A couple of �locals�, who claimed they personally knew every band whose song was played, advised us to drink fast for free, then make out you�re leaving. It�s at that point that the barmaid rushes over with another jug of beer to tempt us to stay. And stay we did. Things go a bit blurry after that, but there was chatting with other locals, shots of �flashing� spirits and then what seemed like a two-hour walk home.

Getting to bed without making much noise is far trickier than it sounds. Rob managed quite easily, although �collapsing� is probably a better description.

Rob has suggested we keep track of the units we drink. I fear this is mistake #4; at the end of day one, we�ve tallied up 46 units between us. Thank goodness this is a train trip�

24th October 2004 – K�benhavn

My head hurts, I�ve forgotten my towel and the only piece of clothing I can use as a towel stinks like an athlete�s sock.

Rob finds a courtyard and throws up what appears to be about a glassful of orange juice.

Things can only get better? Well, fortunately they do, apart from being tired, the headache is gone (thanks to the remarkable Danish pastry).

We decide that apart from general walking around, there are three things we want to do: Climb the Rundet�rn for a skyline city view, visit the freetown of Christiania (an area of 1000 residents with its own political structure and commercial life. I.e. they all openly take drugs and walk around naked) and of course visit the Carlsberg factory.

The latter was the one we missed. However, the walk up the tower was unique and being offered drugs and seeing the �no photo� signs was interesting enough.

Back to the hostel for a clean and change before beating Rob at a few more games of chess and we were then ready to take on the city again!

Unfortunately, the city wasn;t ready to take on us! Sunday evening and most things were closed and the streets were practically empty. We found a cracking Italian restaurant before finding nearly the only open bar around. �The Dubliner� had live music, loads of football on tv screens and a great selection of beer (at 44kr a pint!) However, it was still too quiet, so having reached 10 units each, we called it a night.

25th October 2004 – K�benhavn, Malm�, G�teborg

A good night�s sleep and we�re off to Malm�. The train is fantastic and we cross the longest (7.8km) bridge in Europe to reach the third largest city in Sweden.

Despite being the third largest, we find it very small. Nonetheless, it�s absolutely beautiful and the further south you travel through the centre, the more historic the building become.

It�s also refreshing to see the locals behave to recklessly on the road. Swedish pedestrians seem to have a little more urgency to cross the road which I find most comforting.

Without a doubt, the best part of Malm� is the enormous and stunning Parkanalen. The mix of orange fallen leaves and winding paths around the canal is the nicest part of the holiday so far. Unfortunately our interest in seeing it all mean that we missed our train. However, the next 200km/h train arrived soon and we were on our way to G�teborg.

We�re now sitting on the train, travelling at a hurtling pace up the west coast of Sweden. The sun is setting and the sea looks chilly but all I can think of is how I can stop Rob from snoring! He�s woken himself up a few times but a few seconds later, it all starts again.

It�s now late afternoon and we�re in G�teborg. The hostel is very good and windy city is very nice. I�ve read that it�s a �little London�, but I can�t see the similarities myself.

We pretty much arrived at the hostel and then went straight out. After a few walks up and down the Kungsportsavenyen, we found a lovely restaurant once again. The meal was by far the best yet. Thai chicken, noodles and peppers. Yum.

The search for a bar seemed harder than originally assumed. I think being a Monday didn�t help, although finding the Diamond Dogs was brilliant. The beer was absurdly expensive but the random friendliness of people was a pleasant surprise with rather stunning blondes asking us to dance�

Next came the Chilean girl who wouldn�t stop talking. I mean EVER. She seemed to think that her goal in life was to practise English and that we were interested in listening.

It�s now nearly four am and I�ve just filmed Rob snoring. Finally, I may have proof that he�s a sleep hazard.

Oh, Rob has found out that crossing the road on red in Denmark is illegal and frowned upon in Sweden! At last! An explanation!

Oh (again), 13 units each tonight.

26th October 2004, G�teborg, Oslo

I�ve woken up with the worst sore throat in the world. I feel like I�ve smoked a hundred cigars, but I think it�s the snoring I do when I�ve been drinking!

The hostel is well equipped so after a great shower and into clean (hurrah!) clothes for our few hours in G�teborg. Unfortunately, I�ve still not got a towel, so my aim today is to buy one, along with some throat tablets and some gloves; it�s starting to feel a little chilly and our forthcoming four hour trip north could make it worse! A final aim for today is to find out what the footprint marks are, that seem to be everywhere in Scandinavia. The first we saw were on a bridge and standing in them gave you a great view. Since then, we�ve seen them in all kinds of random places which don�t seem to make any sense.

G�teborg was a lot nicer at night. Now the sun has risen, it certainly is no Malm�: It�s clearly a bigger, more industrial city. However, the shopping area is pleasant, as is the dock.

We head south east and find an area called Haga, which is more quiet with some coffee shops and what seems like a huge tower in the distance.

Of course, we head towards it and find that it�s one hell of a climb to get to the top. Glad that we�ve left our backpacks in the Central Station, we stagger up it. It�s worth the walk as we find Skansen Kronan, a lovely defence tower surrounded by canons that used to protect G�teborg and the west coast.

We then remember a battleship that we saw when looking for the hostel last night and given we�ve a few hours before we leave for Oslo, we decide to take a visit.

We�re both very happy that we did, as it�s an eye-opening tour of the largest floating ship museum in the world. Of the 12 ships to explore, the enormous destroyer and the claustrophobic Nordkaparen submarine are the highlights.

It�s now 17.40 and we�re once again travelling further north with the sun setting to our left. A woman near us is knitting something which resembles a tablecloth; it�s starting to sink in how diverse this holiday has already been, and we�re only a couple of hours away from our third country in four days!

Anyway, my throat still hurts (couldn�t find drugs, but a Galaxy and a Calipso definitely helped) but I�m very happy as next to me are my brand new purchases: A large towel and some gloves! Good thing, as already it�s starting to feel very cold and we�ve only just crossed the border!

Bloody hell it�s cold! We�re very happy to �see our breath� but it�s a real jump in temperature. Mind you, it�s a clear sky (the moon looks incredible above the Oslo Domkirke) and although it�s dark, we have a very positive first impression of Norway�s capital.

We arrive at the Anker Hostel which is very central, dump our stuff and after a quick shower (the best yet) we�re off to Karl Johansgata to check out the Tuesday night life. We find a Scottish bar and have a couple of Kilkennys, although at 69Kr each, we decide not to stay!

We�re stopped by a couple of lads trying to get us to go to a Hip Hop club and when he sees we speak English, he explains that he�s the Brighton DJ who is playing. We promise to go after we�ve wandered a little more.

Unfortunately, we wander to what I thought was a student night club, Thinking we�d hit the jackpot, we are slightly embarrassed to find that it�s an under-16 school night! With our half-grown beards, we quickly make excuses and head off!

We can�t find the Hip Hop club, but instead we try a local bar with a live rock act. They are very good but once again the 64Kr beers mean we don�t stay for long. We�ve a long couple of days ahead, so we decide to head back to the hostel at a very reasonable 1am and after a combined 16 units (half of which on the train during our first bout of poker).

27th October 2004 – Oslo

Another good night�s sleep and we�re into town after a cracking breakfast. It�s much busier during the day and the city feels alive. There�s a tourist �walk� which is recommended as it takes you by all the best central things to see.

It takes us a few hours to get around and we see the university, the Slottsparken (containing Det Kongelige Slott royal palace with the guards), down towards the port (stunning view of the sea) and up to the castle (Akershus Slott) which has a great view of the harbour.

By this time (after lunch too) it�s around 13.00 and it�s still bizarre to see the sun so low in the sky. Shadows have been long all day but it�s still incredibly sunny and we hope the clear sky will give us a decent sunset later on.

We head towards the central station as several stops on the under/overground train north-east brings us to Hoplmenkollen. This is Norway�s top spot for ski jumpers and we visit the museum as well as climbing the tower up to the top of the jump. The view is breathtaking and the glass windows that give you a bird�s eye view of the ground is nerve-wrecking! We also have a go on the ski jump simulator, although it wasn�t exactly brilliant. However, the trip to Holmen Kollen was definitely worth it, if anything just to turn to jelly when I took the stairs down from the ski jump (made of wood with enormous cracks the hand-rail then gave way from the wall!) and to see Rob�s hilarious nose bleed, as we were climbing several hundred metres on the way there (the blood was pouring from his nose like a tap � our Oslo map is now completely ruined�)

28th October 2004 – Oslo, Bergen

Dammit! Oh bloody hell it�s 08.50 which probably means we�ve missed our 08.10 train. I�m actually still drunk; last night started with me losing lots of hands of poker to Rob and then hitting town. We couldn�t find a decent place until we went into �Sir Winston�s�, where we met a Swedish guy who claimed he was a part-time bouncer, who knew everyone as he arranges what he calls �private parties�.

Well, we�ve nothing to lose so we go with him.

How incredibly lucky are we!? He takes us from pub to pub to club, each time skipping the queue and heading straight in/ We buy him a couple of drinks as a thank-you (a big thank-you; I believe the most expensive was 72Kr) and have a very good night.

The idea was to wake at 06.30 so we could be ready for the train to Bergen. Plan #2 is to get the 10.35 train instead.

Rob has just reminded me that I had a kebab last night. Remembering, I now only can think how amazing it was. This confirms my earlier belief that the taste of kebabs has a direct correlation with the amount you drunk (69 units).

We�re currently on the train to Bergen. It�s a seven and a half hour journey and six hours in, we�ve seen some breathtaking scenery. From Oslo�s relatively green surroundings, we�ve seen ice water falls, rocky mountains, thick snow and frozen rivers and lakes. It�s the perfect way for my body to recover from last night�s events!

This trip to Bergen was not originally planned so we�re actually adding nearly 1000km to our journey. It�s totally worth it and we haven�t even arrived yet.

Bergen is lovely and although it�s already dark and we can�t take the lift to the mountain, it�s clear that Bergen deserves its reputation as being scenic.

We haven�t too long before we head back to Oslo, so we find a great Tapas bar. Then be head to a bar and once again are shocked at the beer prices. The record is now 50Kr for half a pint!

Just as we�re ready to go to the station (I�m tired and not really up for another session) we find what appears to be a student bar. The cheapest beer prices in Norway (or even Scandinavia for that matter) so we stay for a couple. There�s a guy who looks just like Shevchenko, but it doesn�t warrant a photo�

We�ve 30 minutes before our night train leaves so we head back. Then came the moment that I was surprised I wasn�t actually surprised (!)

Rob can�t find his wallet and the train is nearly ready to leave. A first thought of cancelling cards and accepting the loss passes once Rob realises that his train ticket is in his wallet too.

He has to run back to the bar (just in case) and tells me he�ll see me in Oslo. Now, under the circumstances, I�m prepared to accept his comment as a moment-lapse in brain functionality, since we�re both without mobile phones and it doesn�t take Sherlock to figure out what would happen if I travelled 500km on my own. I tell him to run as fast as possible: He has got 15 minutes.

He�s back before I start to panic. Maybe he will start running (as he keeps promising) after all! He tells me it was on the floor in the bar and someone handed it in! Thank you Lady Luck, especially as Rob discovers his passport was with his wallet too. Rob is laughing about it but I think it�s probably because we both know how incredibly lucky he is.

The night train is full but fortunately most of the younger kids get off after a couple of stops. The journey back goes pretty quickly and we both sleep quite well, despite not having beds. The train is due to arrive in Oslo by 06.26 and there�s a 06.30 train to Stockholm. We both admit we�re pushing our luck in hoping to catch it.

29th October 2004 – Oslo, Stockholm

We�ve missed the train. It�s 06.31 and we�ve now six hours to kill before the next train. We�re out of Norwegian money and even the toilets cost 10Kr.

After several hours of sleeping/reading/chess, we�re now in a coffee bar and finally starting to feel warm and looking forward to the day ahead. It has been the worst start to a day, but we know there would be a day like this. The trip should be fun and the idea of being in a third capital city is cheering me up. Nonetheless, I desperately need a shower or at the very least, that damn train to arrive so I can go to the toilet!

I�ve been to the toilet! We�re now 15 minutes away from Stockholm and I�ve had far too much coffee. Rob is going to toilet every fiver minutes because he�s had too much tea. My first visit lasted so long that I missed the ticket inspector come around, which is why he locked me in just in case I was hiding!

The journey has been ok, apart from the fact that I�ve proved myself to be the worst poker player ever. I�m going to have to improve considerably if I�m to win back all those pennies.

Stockholm is great. Once again, we arrive at a good hostel (which soon becomes fully booked) and we�re ready to go out. However, we do some laundry (hurrah!) and going out with 100% clean clothes is fantastic!

Even at night Stockholm seems great. We had three pizzas between us before going out and we�re wandering the streets for a good place. Again, as in Bergen, we�re extremely luck to find a student bar amongst hundreds of very posh looking places. At 24Kr a drunk, it�s also the cheapest of the holiday so far.

It doesn�t take long for someone to approach Cruise. She isn�t fantastic although she is friendly and chatty. Her chat up line is quite cheesy; she pretended her male friend was interested in chatting with him. Actually, that was hilarious from my point of view just to see Rob�s reaction. His embarrassed �I�m not that way inclined� kept me entertained!

Anyway, she disappeared and soon after another girl approached him. She was a little more obvious, a little more drunk, but was very pretty. All seemed to go well but then she too hopped off with no goodbye.

The Swedish girls� claims that they are shy are absolute rubbish, or is it a coincidence that in every Swedish night out we�ve been approach and in Norway/Denmark we were ignored!?

We drink up our 20 units each and head back. Oh � and no Swede seems to know what the footprints are � argh!!

30th October 2004 – Stockhom, Baltic Sea

Dammit! Again we�ve slept in! This time it�s no train we�ve missed but the check-out time. There�s a good possibility we�ll have to pay for another night. We quickly get ready (my 4 pints of water have done the trick � I feel tired but fine) and head out at 11.00. Fortunately there�s no fine and we dump our stuff in the station. We book the ferry journey and now have about four ours to explore the city.

Last night�s assumptions were correct. The city is fabulous; it�s my favourite place so far. In the few hours we have, we�ve seem the old town (Gamla Stan), the shopping district, men playing chess in the street, amazing streets that remind me of York and some very impressive architecture. Stockholm is truly gorgeous and we�re a little disappointed that we have to leave so soon. I promise that I definitely will come back, if anything to prove to the ice-skating man that falling over isn�t the only trick I do!

During our few hours here, we go to �Sally�s� which treats us to an amazing meal. Rob and I try elk, which tastes just like beef. We have treated ourselves when it comes to food (apart from the obvious pizza and kebab here and there) and we hope the food quality remains this good the further east we travel.

31st October 2004 – Baltic Sea, Helsinki

I�ve just had a dream that I�m back home after the holiday. I turn to get some water but there�s already a cup of water by my bed. I go to set my clock back an hour but I�ve already done it�

This is why our potentially vodka-fuelled last week could cause problems. I remember the duo playing covers of 50/60s music. As do I remember the attempt at calling home. I also remember going on the top deck and screaming into the wind.

As much as last night was fun, drinking 60% vodka with �Battery+� drunk (of which it recommends you drunk a maximum of three as it has so much caffeine in it), with Daim bars (finally after the adverts!) and Twix bars, is not a good idea; I just don�t remember as much as I should do. Although I do remember the now-missing Bo He who was in the bunk next to me. I�m not sure of �Asshole� (maybe Haso?) spoke to us, but he�s just walking up now. Rob looks in a daze. Maybe he can help me put together the jigsaw that was last night.

The cabins are good; four bunks (we could have had our own cabin, but at twice the cost it seemed silly) with ensuit. The beds all have sheets and towels so it�s actually our best accommodation(!), so it seems a shame I haven�t properly appreciated it after 32 units each (to work out the units is getting harder now�)

After a slow breakfast, we arrive in Helsinki. Once again first impressions are good. It clearly feels more �eastern�, as already we see buildings that have a distinct Russian influence. It�s very cold at just 2�C, although the biting wind makes it feel worse. We find the Makka Hostel very quickly. It�s very central, we have our own room and the service is fantastic. A very friendly lady who keeps coming out with random Italian phrase to please me!

We dump our stuff and head towards the main station. It�s beautiful both inside and out, and we�re pleased to find out train trip to St. Petersburg is only �24 each.

We�ve got a walk to do around the city, but decide on a long coffee break to relax a bit. It�s been hectic the last couple of days so a slow-paced day is just what we need.

When we start the walk, we head north and see some great architecture all around, from church-like towers to the impressive Parliament House. Further north we pass T��l�nlahti, a huge lake in which I could not resist a paddle!

The next half an hour, as my feet slowly return to body temperature, takes us to the west and we see the impressive Sibelius Park, containing a huge metallic structure in memory of the great Finnish composer. The organ�s pipes are supposed to represent the forest.

Further south, after Rob falls in a puddle of mud, we walk along the coast, which is very pretty and there are a few people running walking around the area (last night being Halloween, apparently was a great excuse for a massive Finnish night out, so we guess most people are still recovering).

We then see the old Nokia building (now the famous Cable Factory), the new Nokia building (enormous and very flash) and finally, Rob was pleased to see a PwC building!

We follow the southern coastline all the way around back to Kauppatori (we�ll go again tomorrow as the market is not there on a Sunday). We saw some men playing chess with enormous pieces in a park and then climbed a hill for a view of the harbour. Instead, we got a view of three girls who were creating some professional photos! Once was wearing very little, and stood amongst trees, whilst her friend tangled her hair in the branches. The third �directed� and took the photos. We look forward to seeing the photo in a magazine advert in the next couple of months!

We then head back to the hostel. Rob needs to clean his muddy trousers and we both need to warm up before we go out for food.

The meal is fajitas and the drink is a (poor) Chilean red wine. We�re stuffed, it�s Sunday and there aren�t too many people about. The Sports Bar is open late so we head there and watch the Italian football. Beer isn�t cheap, but at �4.50 it�s certainly cheaper than in the rest of Scandinavia. We talk to some people who advise us that there are three decent places, even on a Sunday. We choose the Helsinclub as it�s near and on the way to the hostel. It�s pretty empty and, as the barmaid says, doesn�t get busy until around 01.30. There are playstations, Casino games and a dance floor, but when they finally do get busy, we head off as it�s pretty late, after 23 units each.

1st November 2004 – Helsinki, Ca???-?e?e??y?r

I sleep fantastically and despite a large amount to drink last night it looks like the absurd amount of water I drunk before going to sleep has worked. Funnily enough, I still feel like I�ve my sea legs. I�m not sure if it�s the trip, the vodka or just I�m very tired from all the nights out.

Today is much clearer. The sky is so blue, it�s unbelievable. This is as much of a problem than anything else, as the sun is so low in the sky and really blinds you throughout the day. We see some lovely buildings, the interesting but disappointingly small market and spend a good hour chilling in a coffee shop.

There, Rob decides he wants the barmaid to write his postcard for him and after 30 minutes, we�re pleasantly surprised to see a colourful postcard with reindeer, pictures, and a detailed message. Rob will post it to his cousin and we�ll find out when we get home what the Suomi words mean!

We say our goodbyes and after a great salmon pasta at a nice hotel, we head for the train to Russia.

The train has already shocked us. It seems like something from the 19th Century and must weigh the same as the Viking ferry! The security is immense, but very friendly. We take our seats in the wooden interior and accept our free beer, bread and salami!

Throughout the journey, the train creaks and wobbles about, stopping at each stop for ages, in particular at the border where they need to change the carriages in order to fit the wider Russian tracks. We�re asked to show passports, visas and fill in even more documents on many occasions. At one point, some men who look like they�ve come out of some World War II movie search our cabin and take our passports. They are only returned about an hour later!

It�s dark when we arrive and we need to get to the central station which is called Moscow. We therefore assume we�re at the station named Finland. Our attempts to buy an underground ticket are thwarted by our lack of Russian and the ticket seller�s lack of English. We think we�ve bought two tickets, but at 8R each, it just cannot be right.

It takes us 10 minutes staring at tall the weird Cyrillic letters to figure out that we�re not at the Finland station!

A couple of stops later, we�re in the Moscow Station and after some dodgy map reading, we find ourselves at the International Youth Hostel.

My first impressions of Ca???-?e?e??y?r aren�t fantastic. It�s not easy to read a map in the Latin alphabet when everything around you is in the Cyrillic one! The area around the central station is pretty grim and the hostel exterior is no better. Fortunately, the people in the hostel are friendly and speak English. Our room is not in the best shape, but at least we�re not sharing with others and the shower is truly fantastic (reputedly the best in Russia!)

It�s already nearly midnight and Rob has spoken to Frederik (our Belgian neighbour) who wants to go out. Now I�ve promised I�ll stay in tonight and I�m well and truly exhausted, so I refuse. Rob doesn�t though and heads off out.

At four am, Rob returns after a solo 8 units.

DAYS 11-16 COMING SOON…

Our journey commences! We left Warmingham at 3pm hoping 10 hours to get to the Channel Tunnel was enough – taking into consideration my map-reading skills. Fortunately, Sarah decided to take over and we arrived soon after 9pm. A small concern was that they couldn’t find out tickets, but some clever talking did the trick as we found ourselves under The Channel four hours early. Ignoring the fact that Sarah walked in on a German on the loo – a successful start to our adventure!

We arrived in France at around 11pm French time. After some desperate searching for a comfy campsite, we accepted our fate: A night in a car outside a petrol station.

16th July 2001

Waking to the beautiful, natural sounds of the motorway, I thought a shower would complete my wake-up call. I fully understood the French service station attendant when they explained I could use their shower, but there was no hot water. What I failed to understand – was just how cold…

Now fully awake and advising Sarah to take an equally refreshing delight (she declined), we took to the road once more. With the French radio blasting and the little Micra crawling, we enjoyed a quite trip to Paris; arriving just in time for rush hour!

With a bit of skill and a little more luck, we found our first proper stop: ‘Camping Bois de Boulogne’. Quite cheap, still not very comfy.

After setting up camp on some rather stony ground we headed for the centre of Paris. We saw the Eiffel Tower and the Arc de Triomphe, along with all the designer shops on the Champs Elysees. It was sunny but got a bit nippy later on so we headed back to camp. Very tired – so the hard ground didn’t affect our sleep too much.

P.S. Decided to invest in a sleeping mat for tomorrow night.
P.P.S. Went to Pompidou Museum and saw lots of priceless art. I reckon I could do better.

17th July 2001

Lots of rain. A bit of wind – some more clouds and a lot more rain. We took shelter under the Arc de Triomphe and got photographer by lots of Americans.

After taking a peek at Planet Hollywood, we went on a drive but got caught in the rush hour on the Paris inner ring road. Lots of angry French business people. Went to La Defense and saw tome groovy modern buildings, including La Grande Arche.

After a bit of late night shopping, we legged it back to camp to catch the last bus to town so we could climb the Eiffel Tower at night. It was far less busy and even more beautiful. We nearly had to walk home but we jumped on the last Metro train to get back. Phew.

P.S. Slightly better night’s sleep due to today’s sleeping mat investment.

18th July 2001

With a bit of persuasion, Sarah finally got me out of bed. Even more rain today. I managed to drag Sarah to the Stade de France to look at the grass. It was really, really good. Sarah wasn’t quite as impressed but I thin she was holding in her true feelings for football (again).

Back to the car and windscreen wipers on again, as we set off to the Museum of Science and Industry. There, we learned very little, with the exception of the mathematics department! We also saw a pretty awful 3D show but a three mirrored triangle type room made up for it!

Out of the museum and into more rain. We set off south expecting to leave the bad weather behind us. After a few changes of minds, we decided to head towards Poitiers, a bit further than originally planned. We arrived just in time, to book in and set up camp in the Camping Futuriste just near (and overlooking) Futuroscope.

We were both impressed with the modern site (and pool!) and the ‘future park’ tomorrow.

P.S. It’s still a bit rainy but a wee bit better
P.P.S. The pool has a slide. Nice.

19th July 2001

Today was Futuroscope day! We spent the whole day on bumpy 3D rides and lots of clever special FX which I really liked. We ate candy floss and burger and sweets and chips and crisps and chocolate crepes – so a very healthy day! Tomorrow we are back on state baguettes and cheap bottled water.

We managed to see every ride but one – so we did really well. Sarah’s favourite was the 3D Atlantis film. Mine was the groovy, bumpy ride through the streets of Vienna.

At the end of the day, we saw a pretty spectacular water and fire display with lots of laser lights. It was rather impressive – in fact, Sarah now thinks it was better than the Atlantis underwater thing!

P.S. Bit of sun today
P.P.S. Showers here are really lovely.

20th July 2001

Unfortunately we had to leave the futuristic park and campsite and head west this time. After a few wrongs turns we finally arrived in a beautiful seaside town called La Rochelle. Store upon store of cheap(ish) stuff and lots of tourists spending their Francs (or Euros – it is 2001 after all).

The sun went to our heads a little and we moved on after my pathetic attempt to outsmart the parking attendant – we had to pay for parking and to use the toilet. I shook my head and said ‘Mon Dieu!’

After more wrong turns and a 30 minute road trip to avoid a toll motorway, we finally arrived in Ile d’Oleron and our next stop: Rex Camping 4-star. Sounds promising.

We were a little disappointed by the smelly loos, but we were happy to see the Atlantic Ocean. I paddles but Sarah was brave and went all the way in.

Soon our tent was up and we went in search for a restaurant. The camping restaurant closed at 8.30pm for some reason so we took the car to find ourselves a yummy pizza.

Luck was on our side as we found a mini-supervan in the middle of nowhere making super yummy pizzas. I was very happy!

We set off home but the mean French camping attendant wouldn’t let us in with the car because it was too late (10.15pm!) Roll on my second attempt to win an argument in French (another fail).

Anyway, we’re back in our wee home again and ready for a trip south!

21st July 2001

Wow! What a wonderful shower! (I’ll work my way backwards this time). Really hot and powerful! I’ve shaved my semi-beard off now so I don’t look like Gulliver anymore.

The campsite tonight is really good; most probably – actually – definitely the best so far. Big swimming pools, restaurant, lots of facilities and in a nice quiet area (and lots of sunflowers for Sarah).

We were lucky to get in a s they were booked up – but the friendly Dutch bloke let us and our wee tent and car (Micky) in.

Micky took us quite a way today. All the way from the island past Saintes, through Bordeaux (with 1 hour stop looking about – not bad – very cute centre) and down towards Toulouse. We stop about an hour away from our next city at a campsite called Camping de Florence.

Our trip made me note a few things today:

1) Roundabouts are very exciting with each on having its own ‘modern art’ monument in the middle
2) French put a cut-out black wood in the shape of a man on every point where there has been a fatal accident. I guess to try and slow down future traffic. Scary how many you see.
3) Virgin Megastores in France are much more modern than in the UK!
4) Wine is bloody cheap!
5) It gets very hot as you approach Southern France!
6) Petrol stations are mad here!

At the end of today, I’ve realised how beautiful the countryside is around Bordeaux. Also – it’s very hot driving Micky down here! Finally, friendly French giving free wine on the roadside helps lots!

22nd July 2001

My feet still are a very smelly duo. However, today has been a wonderful day – by the pool all day long with the exception of me cutting my hair.

Later on in the evening we visited a cute little town called Condom – very rude! Sarah finally stood in a sunflower field and that made her very happy.

Just before bedtime, we planned the next couple of days. We’re very excited since we’re now going to visit a third country on our journey, excluding England.

P.S. We both got a bit brown today.

23rd July 2001

A poor start to the day – some poo stole my battery charger! Also, it was a bit cloudy and people were dumping their wee and stuff not far from our tent.

However, considering it was the best campsite, it was very nice to find out it was by far the cheapest yet!

We moved on towards Toulouse. We arrived at lunchtime just as all the shops were closed and found parking just outside the central shopping area. We were shocked, horrified and mortified to see three naughty women selling themselves, as we walked into the centre…

From a not-so-nice centre, we suddenly found ourselves in the main market square (apparently Toulouse has the second most number of students in France) and they all appeared to be hanging around that pretty square.

Lots of shops open now and the sun shining, we went on down the main shopping street. After some Franc spending, we went back to carry on with our journey south.

Oh – I forgot to mention, we went through Condom again and a pretty place called Auch!

An attractive and quick journey down from Toulouse and we fud another cheape place; Camping de Lac, in Foix – just on the edge of the mountains and border of France. It was a great stop – again with good facilities and a very nice pool where we played for the rest of the late afternoon. Now we’re ready for bed on possibly the comfiest ground yet!

24th July 2001

To sum up the day:

- Visited three countries
- Went in mountains
- Saw sea
- Nearly crashed

Heading south we started climbing the Pyrenees and found ourselves in Andorra after several photo (and wee) stops.

Cheap booze and electronics awaited us there and we moved on when I thought I had no water left in me.

We decided to make our way to Barcelona since there was very little in the 200km in between. We arrived between 8 and 9pm and started looking for a place. After a few wrong turns and a speeding Spaniard nearly hitting us (after my dodgy lane manoeuvre) we arrived in a youth hostel about four hours later! A rude welcome and only just getting in, we had our first beds of the holiday.

P.S. Getting bloody hot now.
P.P.S. Sarah has never been so stressed in her life. Sorry.

25th July 2001

Well, today has certainly made up for last night. We had to be up for 8am to get our free breakfast (stale bread) and be out by 10am. We were happy to do so.

With the aid of a good map, we quickly found a campsite just north east of Barcelona. We take advantage of its very good pool (and diving board) before getting the Zona 1 train to the centre. There we saw La Ramblas main shopping street with fake footy tops, people dressed as statues and artists.

We moved on to the dock which is much more modern and beautiful in the scorching dun. The shopping centre in the middle of the sea (!) had more expensive and genuine shops. It started getting into the late afternoon so we decided to visit the Nou Camp since that was out of town.

Arriving, we saw that it wasn’t too new at all and not as nice as the Stade de France. However, inside was huge and although not modern – I was very impressed (Sarah wasn’t). We saw the trophy cabinet and lots of statues and stuff in the museum.

Walking out, we saw a crowd of people around the training camp, so we wondered over and saw some players training. It was quite far away so I couldn’t recognise any of them.

Back in the centre, we saw the La Sagrada Familia, designed by Gaudi. It was unbelievably impressive! After seeing the heart of Barcelona, we returned home again on the train with (like on the way into town) a walk along the beautiful beach near our campsite.

I at most of the big baguette we bought just before going to sleep. I felt a bit fat.

26th July 2001

Not a bad night’s sleep, We got up early to play in the pool. After a few dives and plops, we headed back to Barcelona. We saw the gardens around Gaudi’s house – Park Guell. It was very cool to see how different his architecture was to others of his period.

We wondered around streets other than La Ramblas which were less touristy and it was funny to see a Gaudi building every now and again amongst all the other similar buildings.

We headed back to camp quite late and got ready for our last night in this tent for this adventure.

P.S. The Australians near our tent are drunk and rowdy…