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So much has happened over the course of my trip that for my own purposes, I decided that I had to try and sum up the trip as best as I could . And if I was going to do it for myself, I figured that I may as well bore you lot one last time.

It's had it's ups and downs for sure. Twists and turns, arrests, hospitalisations and escapes. In a strangely circular way, I managed to start and end the trip with big personal lows. A week in and broke up with Anna-Lise [and i now understand why, and it is definitely a good thing. Good riddance] and ended with the funeral of my best friend. On a slightly better note, Andy, father to my godchildren and who broke his back whilst i was in Vietnam is making slow but solid progress. Not out of the woods yet, but he has some movement and the prognosis is that he will be able to walk again in a few months. I am really looking forward to seeing him, Charlotte and the kids again. But all that just goes to show that in the almost la-la land of travelling, normal life must go on.

As well as walking, cycling (and riding a motorbike) under my own steam, I travelled on Trains, buses, coaches, mini-buses, in private cars, on boats and ferries of assorted shapes and styles (including a sinking ferry, and another i had to push) . On trams, subways/metro's, in cable cars and funiculars, in taxis, vans, a post office bus and a lorry, and on a maglev, the worlds fastest train. In tuk-tuks, sawgnys, rickshaws, the back of pickups and on the roof of a van. And as a motorcycle passenger, pillion on a bicycle, in a tractor, on both a bucking bronco and an elephant and in the back of an ambulance. Hitchhiking got me, amongst others, around Hokkaido, forced me to jump from the roof of a speeding van, gave me a ride on the aforementioned elephant (with a broken bike) and finally back to the office courtesy of some mad Lithuanian lorry drivers.

But with the possible exception of a few seconds as i jumped from the roof of the minivan in Cambodia (and once or twice hitting speed bumps or dodgy road surfaces too quickly), i did not fly at all, thus keeping in tact the record of never having been in a plane or helicopter in my entire life.

By ignoring the first month or so, when I was partly away and free but not entirely, I've logged my trip at 413 days, and into week 60. In that time, excluding daily/urban travels etc, I believe that i have travelled the grand total of 109,343km. After a little deliberation, I have decided that I visited 29countries in that period (I have ignored North Korea who's waters I was in, and Turkmenistan who's embassy i visited, which i technically entered, but counted both Hong Kong and Macau, which although no longer separate to China, involve different immigration procedures etc). And I've also ignored non UN recognised countries, thus counting BiH as one, instead of the 3 which the locals believe it to be. And i crossed a border 57 times, although many of those were the result of my initial (and final) dashes around Europe.

At a (very) rough calculation, I drank 794 pints of beer, plus untold amounts and varieties of spirits and wine. Of the 413nights, 121 were at friends or as guests of CS/HCers, whilst a further 71 were spent travelling, and 6 were roughed.


I've stayed with a number of assorted friends and willing hosts (and thank you all sooo much), spent nights in hostels and hotels and slept on buses, trains and boats (including on the deck). More randomly, I've also spent nights in a hammock, on a beach, in a half built house, on a sand dune, in a hedge, in a bus shelter, in a tent and on a balcony (both of which were nights I'd paid for in a hostel and were supposed to be hostel beds), in wooden huts and on some railway stations. Plus in a capsule hotel [aka a coffin], a Ryokan, a Love Hotel, 24hour Internet cafes and once, even in a Guets House...

I've stayed in dorms, Private rooms, in beds, on mattresses, a lilo, on tatami mats, in a chair, on couches and on numerous floors, and under mosquito nets. And entirely innocently, I've shared a bed with cats, dogs, a Thai bar girl, male and female couch surfers, 2 Japanese guys (at the same time) and 3 people who's names i didn't even know, including a middle aged German lady....

I've met untold numbers of people from all walks of life, some briefly, others who have been around for several months; some amazing and fascinating people, some nondescript ones and a few absolute utter f*cking w*kers. I've been to meet ups of TT, CS, HC, FT, TP and BE (but not AA or BB), and met people from New Caledonia, the Peoples Republic of Seattle, Bangladesh and Canukistan plus a 70year old Luxembourger who hasn't been home in 15years. Those I've met have included such luminaries as Mick Jagger, Martin Tyler, a Danish former Eurovison winner, one of Russia's biggest pop stars, an Indian TV hero and the English voice of Hello Kitty. More minor names I've met include TV/radio presenters in Japan, Bosnia, Slovenia, Russia (in several places), Romania, China (but relevant in Colorado) and Lithuania amongst others, plus large numbers of press, reporters and camera men during the World Cup.

Then there was a former member of ska band Secret Agent 8, Nicolae Ceaucescu's former head chef, a Zimbabwean professional tennis player, some ambassadors and a couple of high level Turkmenistani's. I was disrupted by George W Bush in Kyoto and Vladimir Putin in Tokyo. On a more random and personal level, i also came across the self proclaimed Hawaiian Ambassador to Asakusa, a female penguin, a high ranking monk, a Russian Nuclear Submarine captain, doppelgangers of Michael Owen and Ze Roberto (plus assorted people you wouldn't know), Kiki, My Boss and a couple of colleagues, some customers, My Aunt, an old Scottish friend from watching rugby in Copenhagen days, and a Canadian friend who is more or less solely responsible for "Hmmm. Needs More Rope". Plus of course, my stalkers, a guy who drove a knackered old Ford Fiesta all the way from the UK to Mongolia, a just released Trotskiyst convict and an old school friend I haven't seen since I was 12 years old

And even a few Welsh people.

I've consumed many strange or unconventional items, of which some of the more unlikely include such simple delicacies as horse, snake wine, wild boar, sheep's testicles, starfish on a stick, assorted insects, Chicken feet, Monkey brains, silk worm larvae, millipede, deep fried tarantula and live scorpion. And in the course of one month, drunk huge amounts of Chili vodka, one of the worlds greatest inventions.

I visited forces bases (of assorted ownership) in 5 countries, 3 radio stations and a TV studio, was interviewed - badly and by mistake - on live radio (in Russian) in Krasnoyarsk. I ended up on stage in front of 40,000 in Ulan Ude, on Japanese TV during a typhoon, on a publicity poster for a Beijing bar and being serialised in an Ecuadorian newspaper. As well as actually doing some real work - kind of - in a few countries, I have been offered a slew of jobs, including teaching English in Chelyabinsk, Dongguan and Morioka, and grabbed on a street in China twice to be invited come into a school. A couple of vaguely relevant cartographic jobs as well in China and elsewhere, whilst more unlikely (and I'm not sure which is the most unlikely) I've also been offered jobs as a Turkmenistani presidential advisor, and as a Japanese marriage councillor. And I've been in weather ranging from minus many and blizzards in China to plus even more scorchers in Siberia, Nagasaki, Vietnam and Thailand


There have been countless great parties and memorable nights, of which maybe a dozen or so really stand out. Those of you who may have been present on specific nights in Vienna, Sofia, Sighisoara, Vilnius, Moscow, Busan, Tokyo, Shanghai, Yangshuo, Beijing and Hong Kong (both on multiple occasions), one or two in Vietnam plus assorted Thai places, Luang Namtha, Tyumen and Berlin might also recall them fondly. Or alternatively, not recall them alt all. I've also managed to crash a dozen or so birthdays unintentionally, a couple of leaving do's (both often for people i didn't or barely knew), a graduation or 2, a restaurant opening, a pregnancy discovery, a prison release celebration, a wedding and a funeral.

I've accumulated a huge chunk of music, and become big fans of Tyumenski University and several classic Soviet themes and Georgian tunes (thanks Masha), Zdub si Zdob and Umathurman (thanks Mjeh and Zhenyia), B.U.G Mafia and Parazitii (thanks Oana), Guster and John Mayer (thanks Erin), Joeyboy and the hot-hip trampoline school (thanks Sam and Desh), Foje and Rebelheart (Thanks Ina) and some really cheesy Chinese music (thank you both China and Helene) amongst others.

Randomly, i started visiting the wombles (that idea has not yet been extinguished, had 4 New Years - parts of which were in 6 different countries), discovered that my MP3 player was both possessed, and had both a great sense of humour and irony, had my birthday with a group of revolutionaries picnicking under a statue of Lenin in Vietnam, stayed in such oddballs as Tyumen, Dongguan, Muroran, Daejon, Hua Hin, Oudomxay, Cluj and Banja Luka and visited, amongst others, the Worlds most polluted city, 3 dead dictators and military bases in more countries and of more different forces than is probably healthy...

There have been many firsts, although thankfully flying has not been amongst them... However, I crossed the Tropic of Cancer, Was on a ferry which went through a lock, one which was sinking, and one which I'd paid for and still had to push, went through a typhoon, slept under a mosquito net, was taken into a brothel by a female (and she didn't even work there), went to a baseball game, rode a motorcycle (and was a passenger on a motorcycle) and went into a real Karoake joint. More oddly - due to the fact that i got to 26years old without experiencing any of these delights - , for the first time in my life, I went bowling, got sunburn, and tried soju, sushi,tofu and root beer. And discovered i was allergic to cats.

And then there were the incidents or actions themselves. Some were definitely not highlights, and I more or less started by splitting with Anna-Lise over (seemingly) an odd joke about the Avon lady and in a vaguely circular way, ended with the death and funeral of my best friend.

In between, I spent a couple of days looking after a poor girl in Thailand who everything had gone really pear shaped for, had to deal with the collapse of my life in Vietnam, discovered that my inflatible camel and long term hitch-hiking pal was no longer able to inflate and then be best man at the wedding from hell. I'm still trying to work out what all the arrests were about. Plus, of course, and in no particular order, I had my wallet stolen in Romania, lost my phone in Shanghai and suffered consistent pick pocket attempts in Moscow and Hanoi. Got shot at leaving Bosnia, and had a machine gun pointed at me in Lao. Suffered any number of delays due to punctures, accidents, roadworks, running out of fuel and once because they thought I had a gun (in Beijing), was in a couple of minor road accidents (excluding the sheer mayhem of returning to Xi'an from the warriors), a taxi crash in Kunming and then had to jump off the roof of a van in Cambodia and was thrown from the back of pickup in Bangkok.

The trip was characterised at various phases by broken zips (8, i think), headphones (7? pairs), monkeys and all things related to them, and stairs. Lots and lots of stairs. My bike broke in Lao (and Erin's in China), whilst another was "stolen" in Japan. I was adopted by a village on Hokkaido and almost adopted by a woman and her kids on a Russian train (the former being great fun, the later very scary); back on Hokkaido, of course, I also almost ended up getting married entirely without realising, and from which I am still hearing the fall out from over 9months later. Leaving Russia the first time (the whole ferry gone day early, bus down dirt road to North Korea and sinking ferry in a typhoon thing) was fun, whilst entering Russia the second time was part of a 3day trip which was spent trying to mediate between large waring Chinese and Russian factions of traders in two languages I can't speak. I got caught in another typhoon in Hiroshima, was arrested for drug smuggling (frickin' liquorice) entering Korea, and had my coffee confiscated leaving Vietnam. Somebody urinated on my bag in Seoul, I celebrated a prison release in Siberia, saw a restaurant burn down in Beijing, went to the Football World Cup, got involved in the now infamous battle of ChMZ, saw an attempted suicide in Irkutsk, possibly the recent site of two dead people in Lithuania and a dead man in China.

Perhaps most amazingly, I even left Hässleholm

And I'm sure there are any number of other key moments and incidents that I just haven't been able to recall off the top of my head.


I've eaten a huge variety of local fare and have subsequently found myself craving Amok, Omul, Lok Lak, Fried Wonton, Caulau, Somun, Bibimbap, Zapiekanka, Ramen and Pho, Blini, Burek, Russian dried anchovies, Pelmeni, Korean Barbecue, Beijing Duck, Flavoured toast squares, Mandu, Piroshka, assorted Street food (what the heck were those amazing things in Beijing called?!), Gyoza and the egg and tomato dish so omnipotent in China, but always amazing. My craving for Cevapicci lasted almost a year (thank you, Beijing). I would almost be tempted to use an entire years leave to travel back to Asia, solely in order to get Tofu in that place in Huangzhou, Lok Lak in a specific place in Siem Reap, some of those Thingies in Beijing or to eat at that vegetarian restaurant in Hue.

And despite being away for such a long time, even in the countries that i visited, i missed out on so much that I wanted to see. Yakushima, The Korean DMZ, Halong Bay, Tiger Leaping Gorge, Chiang Mai, Sakhalin, the BAM, the three gorges on the Yangtzee, Sloboli and Novgorod, Savanakhet, Kazan (damned you!), the Killing Fields in Cambodia and Summer Palace in Beijing, plus of course, North Korea (as soon as possible!), Myanmar, Tibet, Malaysia and numerous other countries that I never made it to at all, will all have to wait for a future trip(s).

Wow. That looks like even more than I remember.

From here, it just leaves me to sum up, I suppose. It's had it's ups and downs, but it's been great. With the exception of Matt's death, there is nothing I would change if i had to do it all over again. Even the fuck ups and strange situations have been great (looking back, if nothing else) and have been experiences - character building and all that cr*p - and left me with a ream of stories and daft tales. Some of which have already been picked up and run with by other people. I want to thank everybody who's paths I have crossed, all of whom have added greatly to the whole experience in it's whole. Many of you I hope to see again. And a special thank you to all those people who have been stupid enough to host me or look after me. It's been amazing. Look live Couchsurfing!

Look out for the next chapter in coming months EDIT: Now starting at http://needsmorerope.travellerspoint.com

((With continued apologies for the lack of photos - I have no upload all as far as the end of Thailand, and will get up those from my journey back and the World Cup in the next few days. Look out also for a couple of final random entries of compilations of odd things from my trip, and also a round up of assorted people. And Kiki))

That's all folks.

Somebody relevant once said something vaguely like "A journey of 1327.6 furlongs, starts with but a single drunken stumble". Or something like that.

More pertinently perhaps, journeys must also end the same way. Although financial constraints often mean that the stumble is due to dodgy paving rather than alcoholic inducement.

I left Liechtenstein as early as i could manage after such a night, re-acquainted myself with one of my favourite Durum (Shwarma type kebab) sellers in the world, a couple of hundred metres away from Feldkirk station - astonishingly, they still remembered me, and were delighted to see me. I haven't been there in about 16months - and then started the trek back. And thus after Innsbruck, Seefeld im Tirol (illogically, i had decided to delay myself by about 2hours by going via Garmisch again, albeit without stopping), Munich, Hamburg, broken train at Neumunster, Kolding, Roskilde festival ending induced chaos, Copenhagen (the train from which was enlivened by the conductor singing Monty Python songs over the P.A) and finally Malmö, about 36hours later I arrive in Kristianstad. With the same humour and stunning timing that I have come to expect, I got off the train to Joe Jackson's "Home Town", followed fittingly enough by "Homeless" by Paul Simon. With that in mind, I walked to Markeys apartment in the hope of crashing for a couple of nights, and that was it. Just like that, the trip was over.

Wow.

Eek.

Sob.

And other useless three letter notes including Gpw and Qdl.

In a nicely if oddly circular (and slightly freaky) ending to my trip, on the night train between Munich and Hamburg, i got talking to an Aussie (who else?) whilst having a beer. He started telling me tales about a 'really good Welsh friend of his' who had been travelling for years. I was possibly less surprised than I should have been to then be recounted a tale of how his friend had got strip searched and arrested entering Korea because he had some liquorice, and had also barely managed to avoid getting married to a crazy girl in Japan after knowing her barely a week... Like a good boy, I played the "wow, that's amazing, what a story" role, not letting on that It was actually me and was a tad bemused at being described as a very good friend to this guy who I'd never seen before. I accept that It's theoretically possible that a similar set of things happened to another Welsh traveller, but I would guess that the odds are against it...

I wonder if Kiki knows my impersonator as well?

I've always known that the world is small. You meet people over and over again in strange situations, and often come across people who know people that you know. In fact for me, if i go more than 2 or 3 weeks without it happening, it's very unusual. But I've never before been had my own stories retold to me by somebody either doing it in the first person, or pretending that they know me. It seemed a very fitting way to end. Somehow, I've seemed to leave my mark on people and the world in the last year or so, and logically, it's now time to go and hide from all the angry people I have insulted/wronged in the last year.

There will be a couple more entries (WooHoo! Town Festival. Semi naked and mostly drunk Swedish beauties everwhere!), plus a kind of overview which I've done etc solely for my own purposes but will probably share with you, and some of the many long promised photos. And then for at least a month or two, I have to pretend to work.

And the brilliant Couchsurfing has risen, Phoenix like. Couchsurfing 2.0 is here already!

In the circumstances, i really don't feel like doing a long interesting or waffly entry, so your just going to have to live with it.

Strangely enough, I didn't bother going to Germany v Sweden. You can probably work out why. I spent a couple of days wandering around kind of dazedly whilst i let things soak in and my head accept them. I got involved in a chunk of the organisation etc, which helped keep me vaguely sane, and with other people definitely in a much worse way, spent time looking after them. But after a couple of days, i realised that I needed a bit of time, and had a few other things I needed to attend to, so left for a few days.

As previously envisaged, I headed through to Slovenia (spending 7hours on a sweltering train in 35+ heat and with the air con packing in after 20mins), and spent a couple of days staying with my old friends Miha and Katja, who I'd also stayed with at the beginning of my trip. It was good to see them again, but also to be elsewhere and away from the grief and events in Germany. I could just switch off a bit and get my bearings. And I really needed it. From there, it was through to Zagreb.

Ljubljana, again

Timings were of course perfect, but it was finally the much delayed wedding. 6 times, I believe. The wedding. The one I had been really dreading. Level of detail here will necessarily remain low. I had been dreading it for a while. But I may have already mentioned that. There were many complications. I was best man (yes, the day before the funeral) so had to be cheery and alive at least somewhat, although I had managed to arrange to only stay for only 1 of the 3 days of the actual wedding, so that i could return to Germany for the funeral. Whilst this will sound horrible, I'm delighted that I managed to escape. Amazingly, my best man speech went off reasonably well. That sounds not too hard, but when you consider that i had to talk for about 90mins with several toasts, to a room full of people that i didn't know (baring the bride and groom, i had only met 4 others before, and 3 of them only briefly) in a language that i speak maybe a dozen words of, it was a great achievement. Sadly, the rest of the wedding was farcial.

I've been at strange weddings before. Ones which never happened, due to somebody, erm, pulling out. Ones where there have been, shall we say, occasional differences of opinion between people. But nothing to even vaguely compare with this. The kids, amazingly, were brilliant (4 month old twins). The groom even managed to stay mostly sober (a recovering alcoholic). However, there were several fights and confrontations. Knives were pulled. Things were destroyed. There were screams, and tears from many. And the police arrived on THREE separate occasions, two of which they departed with a handful of people to spend time at the pleasure of whoever they spend the pleasure of in Croatia. I suppose the Croatian taxpayer. It was utter chaos. And of course, i have barely any idea what the fr1cking hell was going on most of the time, as translating stuff for the poor sole non Serbo-Croat speaker in the room wasn't a high priority. I don*t even know what some of the arrests were about (or rather, i do, but can*t work out why certain other individuals weren't arrested instead of what seemed to be mostly innocent bystanders on the second occasion). And somewhere in the middle of it all, they even actually got married. Wow. And it was with great delight that i gave my congratulations, apologies for having to leave and legged it out onto the night train back to Bavaria.

If Kiki had been involved somewhere, I really wouldn't be surprised.

Sadly, none of the photos I have of the wedding are usable on a family website, although I will endeavour to get, at the very least, a nice Bride & groom and kids picture for you all to go 'awwwww' to...

The funeral was very fitting, and a good send off to two very close friends. Another chapter in life is over. And I can feel the end of my journey must be soon. It just feels right, even though i have time and money still available.
My original plan was to hang around for a day or two after the funeral, but it became very clear that the family wanted some time alone, so Aldo and I headed back to his place in Liechtenstein to ponder things in general. We were a somewhat morose duo, sitting there reminiscing about the past. The original group of 5 is now down to the remaining duo and we can*t help wonder which of us will be next. And the sheer number of people in general from our large group no longer with us is really scary. Am I (are we?) cursed? Is it just life? Sh1t happens? Karma from a previous existence, or...? Oh well.

What I do know is that between we got through a really scary amount of whiskey that evening, and certainly more than 2 people should be able to get through.

Schaan church at night, the huge outdoors tent they had erected for the World Cup, watching France v Brazil, and don't ask about what a depressed Welshman is doing with a 4am picture of sheep. Sometimes, you just need companionship that you can truly trust.

The only other thing of note that happened that night, was that thankfully the English finally went out of the World cup. I don*t have a huge problem with the English, but even them getting to the semis you know that you would never hear the end of it. And i can*t stand the media portrayals and hype. But the thing that really made it memorable was think was something that I had forgotten. Despite the tiny population of the country, there is an amazingly large (and that i always forget) Portuguese minority here, who went absolutely nuts on victory. You can't believe how much noise a couple of hundred cars full of Portuguese celebrating can really make. If that's what they are like after barely winning a quarter, I really need to be in Portugal (or indeed Germany, Italy or France) after the final for the winning celebrations.

And so it was, that I awoke in Liechtenstein, slightly the worse the wear shall we say, in a strange frame of tranquility, and knowing there and then that my trip was over. It was time to think about reentering the productive world. Sort of.

Vaduz Castle, somewhat hungover, and a sight for sore eyes

And so, I’ve made it 10 weeks. 9.5 more than expected, and than most of the bets placed on my longevity!

In that time I have survived (and passed) both Hassleholm and Hoor, split with the gf, attended a TT Pissup, HC meetup and FT kickabout, been shot at in Bosnia, bitten by a dog and Pickpocketed in Romania, crapped on by pigeons and seagulls in several countries and eaten by more mosquitoes than should even exist. I’ve slept on a balcony and in a tent (both alleged hostel beds), boats moving and stationary, a bus, some trains, a hedge, a park bench and a huge assortment of couches as well as the more traditional floors and beds, including one in (allegedly) the most polluted city on the planet. I’ve played football a couple of times (recovery after first time – 5 days), chess and numerous card and board games, mostly very badly, and discovered a penchant for climbing hills in searing heat for no reason. I‘ve been shouted at by irate people in several languages, been given the wrong ticket in Srpska, conned at a currency exchange booth in Riga and queued to see a dead person in Moscow who, perhaps unsurprisingly, is just as dead as the last time I saw him.

Met a huge assortment of utterly amazing people (both randomly in hostels/traveling and more deliberately through HC and CS, both as great hosts &/or tour guides and including some incredible parents/families who spoke no English) and a few very strange, changeable and down right unpleasant ones. I’ve encountered a future Zimbabwean tennis superstar, a Russian independent film director and a Lithuanian TV presenter/reporter. Radio DJs in Bosnia and Slovenia and even some of my own customers in Croatia, whilst being offered 4 jobs, appearing on live TV and Radio a total of 7 times that I know about and attending the opening of a restaurant who’s chef used to work for one of Europe’s most corrupt and feared dictators. I’ve seemingly come across every Melbourner on the planet and an unusually large contingent of English and central Canadians (or Canukistanis) for no apparent reason, plus representatives from New Caledonia and the peoples republic of Seattle…

I’ve encountered potentially new and lucrative careers including VW Golf importer in Bosnia, Arm doctor/splint maker in Croatia, Window cleaner/concrete salesman in Romania, Scaffold suppler and Strawberry monopoly in Poland, dark glass specialist in Moscow and an extremely lucrative opportunity for somebody with a coffin and a cape as Dracula photographer at Bran. Discovered London Buses in both Belgrade and Moscow, realized that Vienna announces which transport lines are subject to ticket inspections on their website and radio and come to the conclusion that the gapping hole in most European fast food markets could easily be filled by the introduction of Cevapicci, Burek, Pierogi, Peasant Potatoes and Zapiekanka amongst others. I’ve been stalked both by my own private thunder cloud (and I do miss him now he’s on vacation) and coloured cows, and concluded that Dubrovnik’s huge cat problem and that of the Dog populations of Bucharest and Sofia could easily be solved by opening a few Chinese restaurants. And that the Salt used in the souvenirs from the UNESCO listed Wieliczka salt mines doesn’t even come from Poland!

All the cars seem to have dodgy drivers in Romania and breaks and tyres in Poland, whilst coach drivers are generally pyschotic and suicidal, especially on narrow hilly coastal roads in Croatia and main roads in the Baltics, and you don’t ever want to encounter a Russian street cleaner. Everybody drinks lots of beer on the streets in Russia and coffee on the pavements of Bosnia, which is a country lucky enough to have not a single McDonalds.

Update of assorted other friends on the road/planning last I heard…
Markey has become a Central American revolutionary and is desperately trying to make up for wasted years as a vegetarian by eating as much steak as possible; Em has split with John and is moving south from Cairns; Morten is terrorizing South Africa and Namibia, but without the Landy; Laura was trying (I believe unsuccessfully) to sell Russell to the Thai sex trade whilst Matt is running a school to teach Thai Air Stewardesses but is thinking of heading to Argentina; Katherine has left Japan for the summer; Joe was last heard of somewhere in the Haiti but has since disappeared (anybody heard from him?); Lil J is in finally preparations to finally leave the country for the first time, although Eve looks to be delayed until the New Year; Bev should also be leaving shortly; Tim, Daaaaaisy and the gang were in Ghana a while ago, but should be getting towards the end of their cross Africa journey; Jose is halfway around the world; Erika is returnng to Sri Lanka again, this time via Singapore; Aldo is in the States for a couple of weeks, where he’ll then catch up with Slobo who’s got to return to Chicago. But this time is taking no luggage whatsoever; Tina was in Bromley on her way to Spain; Ala and friends are off to Mongolia and I’ll hopefully catch up with them on the way; Andrzej is on his way to Portugal, Ivana has got a trip to Belgium and the Netherlands and Juste to India; the worlds least likely German speaker Colin has even now found a real job in Austria, Carlie and Steve’s second child is due any day, whilst Shan and Luke have made it to Melbourne to live, and Mjeh and Evgenia are moving to Xiamen, Vaida to Denmark, Josep to Caracas, Marta to London to study and Mike and Claire to Eynsham…

And I’m still loving it. The bank manager has yet to complain (too much), Ticket Stop Maps have yet to reoccur and need ignoring and – whilst admittedly coming extremely close – I’ve yet to be deported from anywhere. And so of course, the journey continues.

Missing photos will follow when i can get them up. Hope all well with everybody, and I’ll be in touch wherever I happen to end up next

Just to make you all really happy that you don’t have to read through another hugely long page, thought i‘d just summarise the week:

• My body doesn't like me
• Panevezys
• Olegs Border crossing
• Mosquitoes
• Friendly fun Franks
• Gross stupidity at the exchange bureau
• Frank
• 4th July Pizza
• The Saffer
• Legs
• Laundry woman
• Bournemouth Pole
• Mozzies
• Fins, Castles and Medieval clothing
• Casinos. Lots and lots of casinos
• No through Road
• Feer Kroooooni!!
• Deklararista
• Frigging Mozzies
• 90 mins early
• Plus lions loosing, London getting the vote and then, tragically, if not unexpectedly, getting hit on the Tubes and Buses.

See, i knew i could write a short entry if needed.

Riga, Church and Typical Alleyway and back street in the Old Town

Tallinn Old Town Hall and Main Square, Gateway to Old City, and Walls from inside with street traders

Tallinn Castle District - The Castle, Cathedral and View from the walls

NOTE: Ths keyboard still has a really dodgy letter “I”, so f I’m mssng lots, ts not my usual terrible typng as normal, mostly at least. All other errors are my own incompetence

After finally working out that I wasn’t going to get cards any quicker or easier in Brasov than anywhere else and that it would work out easer to bounce stuff elsewhere (which turned out to be Warszawa) and continue my trip rather than hang around Brasov for 2 weeks and then have to shoot like a maniac and miss chunks later on, I actually left. With my feet still hurting like hell.

My feet really didn't like me so much by this point...

My original intenton had been to bounce via Transylvana to Timisoara to catch up with an old frend, Ille, and then head via Eastern Hungary to the Ukraine for a week or so and into South East Poland. However a combinaton of lost days in Brasov, a short notice work trip for ilie and the fact that with no working bank cards until i got my replacements in Warszawa meant was on a short and very specific budget, and it wasn’t feasible. I hadn’t originally expected to go to Warszawa until the end of my Polish vst, but now I had to base all my plans around getting there as relatively cheap and easily as possible within a week.

I Had been ummng and ah-ng between Sighisoara and Sibiu previously, but wth Sighi on the way to Budapest anyway, the decision was made for me. The 2 hour journey was uneventful expcet that i had my second dodgy ticketting experience. I was sold a normal ticket instead of one with an intercity supplement as i‘d supposed – the fact that there was a rail strike with virtually only intercity trans running, and the next train to Sighi which asked for tickets for was an intercty seemed to by pass the woman n the staton, and I had thought the tcket to be absurdly cheap (about 1.60gbp for over 2 hours trip) – which meant that the friendly conductor on the train understandable wanted me to pay the difference. Honest mistake, so no trouble for me, and once he realised was a foregner, none for him ether. And true to form in Romania, as he had no desire to write out the supplement ticket for the extra (228,000 or about 4.50gbp), and I had no specal need for the tcket t wasn’t long before a mutually agreeablesoluton was reached, whereby I pad him 100000 and he ddnt have to write the ticket was arranged. And to thnk i couldnt even brbe the polceman togve me a polce report.

Sighsoara is a lovely little place, nestled in the valley, with a walled citadell and whilst not unknown, without anywhere near the number of tourists that were in Brasov. Despite that, for some odd reason it just didnt really jump out at me and go ‘wow’ as it possibly should have. Maybe I had just seen enough similar-ish places on the trip and previously, maybe it was something else, but was actually surprised that i did essentially feel non plused about it. However, it was really cheap and there was a great group of people at the small but friendly Nathans Villa Hostel.

Notice in Nathans Villas Hostel, Sighisoara.

I hadn’t arrived that early, so after a quck trp around town and dinner, I returned to the hostel, and the hostel cellar became base for the nghts entertainments. Refreshments was mostly n the form of local Naroc (essentially meaning “Cheers”) beer, in plastic litre screw top bottles for 20000 (i.e.40p for a litre – although oddly the 2ltre bottles were prced at 44000. They haven’t quite grasped the concept here). An ever changing crowd included the now famous Warszawa trio of (very) English Craig, Dutch Jopp and Portuguese Paolo – of whom more later - and ended long after 5am (and a good 2 hours after everybody else had disappeared) and a very long, deep and waaay too serious conversation about military matters and cartography – and our general uselessness (comments on a postcard) - with a local (who worked at the hostel) and an American, who were both ex army and not always too impressed by people in my profession…

One of these days really will learn how to write consisely. Or even spell concise.

The following morning, I took a proper wander around the city and did the sightseeing thing with Adelaide, an American girl i‘d met in Brasov, and again I had the feeling that i should be more impressed than i actually was with the city. We went up the clock tower to see the museum and view from the top, up the covered stairs, got slightly bemused at the end of school celebrations, round the church and graveyard on the top of the citadell (allegedly the only currently – and continuously – inhabited one n the world which must admit doubt) whilst searching for that elusive panorama view which had to exist somewhere n town but we never found, and also a (very) quick look n the Torture museum, which was just funny. Not the subject of the museum, but the fact there were maybe 4 exhibits and it covered an area barely the size of the average bathroom!

Sighisoara Citadell, allegedly the largest inhabited citadell in the world

After seemingly exhausting the basic sights, and with the scorching temperatures not condusive to hill climbing (WooHoo – maybe i‘m cured!), the two of us in the company of 2 Melbourne girls, Rachel and Melanie, took a wander to the swimming pool, recommended by all the hostel staff as the place to go/thing to do. It was slightly surreal to have a swimming pool recommended as a must see thing, but hey, why not? At the pool, we hooked up with the Warszawa trio, an English guy Will and briefly, the army guys from the previous night. It was basically an outdoor pool with a bar and grass area where everybody – mostly young people - were doing nothing much except sunbathing, swimming (or more accurately, diving) and drinking. And as they say, when in Rome…

The Tower in Sighisoara Citadell
Adelaide, Craig and Paolo at the Pool

Apart from the obligatory talking rubbish, watching the local nutters diving into the pool, drinking and laughing at Paolo (at his football skills which included taking a chunk out of a roof , his attempts at wrestling with the girls where he tended to loose badly – although as Adelaide’s foot was to discover, not before he tried to play hard - and just in general), we invented a game, which we feel certain should become an olympic sport and which basically involved guessing the age of random local girls and betting on it. The girls would pick a girl at random, the guys would guess the age and slam their money into the swimming pool (Romanian notes are made of plastic so non tearable or affected by water, and chucking it into water instead of on a table seemed appropriate) before muggings would then go and using a combination of English, Romanian (ahem) and gesturing start talking randomly to the ‘lucky’ girl to try and find out how old they actually were. I guess you had to be there for that to make any sense at all.

Money being chucked into the pool

We went out to dinner at a restaurant based in a house where, allegedly, Vlad Tepes himself – aka Dracula – was born, and indulged in the odd game of Scaffold racing (another Olympic sport in the making) before retiring to the hostel cellar again, baring a heavily limping Adelaide who left on the night train for Budapest, but including the Tennesse music producer Nathan and Britney from Brasov, and a few others. An extremely entertaining night included asst drinking games, water fights, sombrero love, naked wrestling (and yes, Paolo was again embarrassed by the women), and blindfolded musical chairs and ended with a very serious competition between the Warszawa trio which involved vodka, bodily hair and a cigarette lighter. Yup, you got it.

Sombrero Lovin' at work...


Hostel nights in, including the Warszawa trio at their finest...

And no, today isn’t when i learn to be concise, although bet your wishing it was after reading all this crap for no apparent reason.

Out of sheer pig-headedness (yes, that does mean stupidity) i elected not to go overnight to Budapest, but instead stop off in Cluj Napoica (Cluj to everybody). It’s a major student centre and had been recommended by Oana and a few others, so figured I may as well have a look even though I wouldn’t be there for more than a few hours. So stopping only to burst the now humunguos blister on the outside of my right ankle, went to the station for a slow 4.5hour trip on the only 2 slow trains running in the strike gave me ample time to examine every abandoned industrial facility, hay stack and field in north west Romania, and was notable only for the reappearance of my own private thunder storm, who had been following me on and off for weeks being menacing and offering some great thunder and lightning, but never really getting serous with the rain.

The length of journey and inflexible departure meant I only had from about 7pm until 8am in Cluj (see, stupidity) and was notable only for meeting the only New Caledonian – Philippe - I have ever met traveling, the stupendous rain storm at dinner which broke through the umbrella (of the restaurant/beer garden style) in torrents and left the 2 of us and a stunning Belgian girl Elise looking comically like drowned rats, the most amazingly inept service in the same place (amongst others, Elise and I were told after Philippe had finished eating – and well over an hour after ordering - that our meals would take another 2 hours to do [pizza is not that hard] and perhaps we should order something else) and the evil hatred directed at me by the woman in the ticket office the following morning when I dared (a) try and buy a train ticket and (b) not speak Romanian. Oddly though, I did get the correct ticket, although i‘m sure she pocketed half of the cost of the scarily expensive ticket.

Budapest hadn’t been on my plan this trip in the slightest, as its somewhere know quite well and have been many times, but a combination of the Romanian rail strike, lack of straightforward alternative routes and a need to get to Warszawa on the Monday – as cheap as possible, and its now Saturday - to collect my cards meant that it made sense. Got to the Backpackers Guesthouse – a great place – where despite a little misunderstanding between them, Philippe (who had left on the night train about 2am the previous night) and Adelaide had managed to make me a reservation. Space was tight, so I ended up sleeping in a tent in the garden, but with the temperatures still high, was probably the best bed in the place, and absolutely no complaints from me.

Budapest Hostel accomodation

Had a wander through town with Phillipe, sorted my ticket for the following nights Warszawa train (again, too expensive, and cash reserves beginning to diminish), and watched part of an international dance/music festival going on around Deak Ter before returning to veg at the hostel, sitting outside on the covered stage type lounge in the garden and talking to random people. Where something strange happened. A scarily large chunk of people already knew about me, and most of my life story, or sot seemed.
Admittedly when traveling, you are prone to meeting the same people periodically, or people who have met people you have, and as South Eastern Europe has a limited number of hostels and fits relatively well into a fairly standard circular-ish trail for a while, this re-meeting is more constant. Also admittedly, there are relatively few Welsh backpackers out there, especially those who are Swedish based cartographers, and in the past couple of weeks have been bitten by a dog and had their wallet stolen amongst others, but the sheer number of people who knew the stories scared me a tad, although in a way I suppose its almost a good thing (is it? I don’t know) as it means I’ve made enough of an impression on people I met to then be talked about later (although i‘m beginning to realise why have such a hard time at certain border crossings), and in more details than the standard “I met this guy” way that tends to be used amongst travelers.

It reached its peak when I started talking to a girl from Melbourne, Melanie (I think, but really can’t remember – if you know who ‘m talking about and can confirm her name, please let me know). Random aside – why am meeting so many Melbourners???? So, far i‘ve basically been meeting Brits (unusual enough for me, as i meet surprisingly few Brits normally when traveling in Europe) and people from Melbourne in huge numbers, and very little of anything else. Melanie had met both Adelaide, whose foot was now huge, and Philippe in the hostel, but had also previously spent a few days with Katie (her of the bank card problems in Bucharest) and then with Camilla and Maaret from Brasov, and possibly someone else as well, and really did seem to know my previous months life n better detail than I did.

Stopping only to cunningly chuck my ordered (and part cold) lasange on the floor, and then wait for a succession of people to finally get ready, and hence miss the last tram into the city, a group of 7 or 8 of us including Melanie, Adelaide and Gary from Doncaster* (undoubtedly one of the best guys i‘ve met on the trip to date, despite being from Doncaster – its obviously well known to most of you [and if not, you don’t know me, so why the hell are you wasting your life reading all of this crap?] that have a warped sense of humor, most of which doesn’t work with many of you [almost certainly because most of it isn’t humoruss]. But with Gary it was great, as he was absolutely on the same wave length – scary thought, that, isn’t it? – and so we could bounce stuff off each other with alarming regularity, which is something that rarely happens with me, at least without being followed by people ushering me in to a padded room and giving me a trendy white coat to wear. *DISCLAMER – He might not actually have been called Gary, or be from Doncaster, [Greg from Sheffield?] but guessing that’s close enough, and I know he wasn’t called Brad or come from Wisconsin) wandered into town to cheaply see what Saturday night Budapest had to offer. Which turned out to be an assortment of abortive bus trips, an extortionate taxi ride and lots of walking in between two reasonably decent courtyard style drinking holes, although without the dancing possibilities requested by a couple, and without getting anywhere near where i was actually aiming for. And oddly, I singularly failed to manage to convince the 4 remaining others at the end (i.e. a taxi full) to get a taxi, even though one of the guys was happy to pay for it, as I was happy to walk. Which meant everybody then complained about the walk [i deliberately walked in the opposite direction to the hostel, heading for a night bus for a chunk of the trip when i realized this, but they thought just wanted them to walk further as punishment or some such]. And now time to sleep for all those not already unconscious.

I know it's delayed, but lots of things are getting in the way of mundane things like online journal - bloggy thing writing, so its had to take a bit of a back seat. I know it isn't good enough. I truly do. But thats just tough.

As we left off in Rovinj i won't start there. I'll start further down the road in Rijeka. As it was still low season the boat was only sailing 3 times a week, meaning that any plans to stick around would cost me a couple of days. In Rijeka had a couple of hours to kill before getting the overnight boat to Split, so had a wander.

It doesnt have the worlds greatest reputation, but to be honest, i've seen a heck of allot worse. Having said that, it was notable for only 2 things. Firstly, i saw the most beautiful woman i have ever seen (real life, pictures or tv). An absolutely stunning blonde. And she was driving a knackered old taxi. Where is the justice? The other point of note was the huge number of people who had their arms (mostly wrists) in slings. I'm not exaggerating when i say that in about 3 hours, i saw over 10 people with their arms in slings, and *THREE* seperate people who had both arms in slings. With my record and ability to break bones at will and in stupid situations, i knew it wasn't a good place for me to be.

It was European Cup Final night (none of this C lge rubbish), and oddly, i was in Croatia again. I've seen 3 of the last 5 in Croatia, for no apparent reason. This time it was on the boat. Unfortunately, we were just that bit too far off the coast for a perfect picture. We saw about 35mins of the first half, and missed all 3 goals. At half time, remarked that i wish i was near a bookies so could put a couple of quid on Liverpool, which most people laughed at. So wish i could have Then saw the first 2 liverpool ones before it went dead for good. From then on, a group of a good 25 people were relying solely on an intermittent radio contact, and mobile phones. By the time it got to penalties, it was just getting silly. Sms's going off at all angles after every pen, but a slight time delay meant that we were'nt always entire sure what the curent situation was until the end.

My cunning plan of cheap night sleeping on deck was slightly tempered by my being distracted by the football, and by the time i went to pick a good spot to avoid the direction of wind, it was too late - all the good spots were gone, and my sleeping bag was in the locked luggage room. Hence it was that i thought that instead of looking for shelter, the opposite might work, and rolled up in a ball on the center of the helicopter winchpad, much to the amusement of onlookers. And strangely, i had no trouble sleeping, baring the drunk local who thought it would be funny to fall over me about every 20minutes.

Got to Spilt at about 6.20, and it was already 22degrees. Had a trawl around the old Diocletian's palace before the tourists hit and by 7.30am, it had hit 30. And hotter it got. Chucked my bag (well, not so much a chuck, as an ungainly heave) and did the obvious thing. I followed my existing trend of climbing the overlooking hill, in the scorching heat. I didnt die of sunstroke or heat exaustion, which is probably the only bonus of the climb (not a bonus for you lot as you now get to read about it in excruciating detail), and in fairness, the view from the top was worthwhile. As i've been to Split a few times before, i didn't plan to hang around, and got the absolutely jampacked and broken airconned afternoon catermeran to Hvar Town. Suffice to say, that by arrival an hour later i looked not unlike a drowned rat.

Things went ok from there though, as i finally got some suncream after a week of looking and getting burnt just a tad more than planned, and we got picked up by an old guy at the dock area who had a free room in a really good location and with a view of the harbour area. Hvar Town was really nice. Not overly packed at this stage of the year, but lots of people just milling around taking it all in, and just by listening to the converstations and observing the meetings, you could tell that a large chunk were locals.

Hvar was officially voted in the late 90s as one of the 12 most beautiful islands in the world. Whilst it seems slightly suspicious to me that the list included only small, warm, holiday places (Anguilla, Bali, Bora Bora, Capri, Hvar, Kauai, Mykonos, Ponza, Upolo and Zanzibar) - what's wrong with, for example, Southsea? -
and it wasn't neccessary quite as stunning as all that, it was definitely not out of place on the list.

Ignoring another walk to the top of the cliff to go into the fort, did absolutely feck all except veg for a couple of days, although i also started my on running battle with nature, when i somehow managed to squash a (very) large fly by accidetally treading on it as it flew underneath. I guess he must have been poisoned by the smell...

A couple of days later continued onwards to Korcula, another island. Fecked up on the suncream front by missing a shoulder and then rolling my sleeve up, meaning i fast acquiired an evil left shoulder. Had a 50min drive right across Korcula from the catamaran landing at Vela Luka to Korcula Town itself, and along with an Afrikaaner, then managed to take advantage of the hoard of accomodation offerers and lack of backpackers by fighting them off against each other until we got down to 40 kuna (just under 4gbp, down from the normal 80-100). It was a strange old place, half a building site, but cheap and all i needed.

Korcula claims Marco Polo was born there, and whilst its true he was actually captured just off the island, nobody really knows where he was born. But its a selling point for tourists, so we did the inevitable Marco Polo Tower trip, which was just kind of pathetic, and then listened to a group of school girls singing acappela in a court yard with great accoustics.

The town itself was strange. Lots of money and effort has gone into making sure that it has been well landscaped and looked after, but many of the buildings seem to be eitehr falling into disrepair, or only now getting renovated. Guess they were waiting for foreign investors, but don't know.

That evening i met up with 4 Aussie girls i'd met in Hvar and on the ferry, and we went to a cool little rooftop cocktail bar - it's on the top of an old fort tower on the seafront, and is reached via a ladder and a hole in the floor, whilst the drinks are winched up the side of the building from below via a series of pulleys. Touristy and gimmicky, yes, but still worth visiting, although somehow we managed to miss (how can you miss it?) sunset.

Again, i'm warbling on waaay too much, so will stop now. Guess this 1 parter will end up with a dozen parts, but i suppose thats how it goes.

I really should hate Romania by now. All logic says that i should. And yet i don't. I still love the place. And i'm not even particularly angry. People get bitten by rabid dogs and people get pickpocketed. These things happen. Why take it out on Romania? But i digress. And i havent even started writing yet. This may take some time. Long winded waffle for no apparent reason expect i have 3 hours free internet so i'm going to use it. You have been warned. And no, i've no idea how a blog is supposed to work or what to write.

I know i promised that this would be a kind of regular update, but as most of you are well aware i'm not always hugely reliable, and my time keeping can be hit and miss, especially if it involves mornings. But after increasingly less than subtle hints by the Daams brothers, i figured i probably should do something, and it may as well be on their site. This one, in case you hadn't realised.

To the beginning. Not a great place to start, but it will do.

Whilst most of this trip is very much a make it up as i go along jaunt, the first couple of weeks i knew were on the hectic side as i had lots of people to catch up with and chores to do before i really was free.

Utterly astonishing for so many reasons, but i left without a hitch. The train was on time, and so was I. Hassleholm was passed without incident (for those not in the know, its kind of a southern sweden version of crewe - and i know that also does help most of you - which basically means its a boring sh1thole with a railway junction, and somewhere i tend to get stuck at at strange hours. Even back to the Landy days, my single biggest travelling aim was always just to get past Hassleholm. And any number of people were betting i wouldnt get any further for weeks), and even Hoor - famous winter sleeping tunnel and all - was negotiated without a hitch. I was on a winner, and as if by magic, Denmark arrived.

Got to Odense as planned and met by an extremely happy Anna-lise. Had a wonderful celebratory evening (shes just finished her theses and is now officially a doctor of coral or seaweed or whatever the heck it is. I really should know these things) with the whole family. The thing about it being the whole family was that excepting one grandmother, it really was. All 48 of them. And me. Who everybody knew about, in waaay too much detail. Meaning i was prized exhibit, and being shown off to numerous random Danish people, all bar her parents i'd never met before.
Interest was high, as apparently i was the first bf that she had actually introduced to any of the rest of the extended family. I don't think i offended anybody too badly, but i almost certainly did. It was slightly on the overwhelming side having so many people coming up and being introduced, but mostly asking me the same things (no, we are NOT planning kids soon, regardless of how nice an appartment they were going to buy for us). I slept in a hedge as it was easiest.

Left the next day as planned, although i have had days i was feeling better. After an overnighter notable only for the fact i got a free upgrade from seat to bed despite me actually wanting the seat, caught up with Aldo in Vaduz as the end of a long running bet which we dont need to go into, and then after a nice breezy start (4.17am - yay) the following day, went to Wien. Stopped off for a few hours in Hopfgarten in the Tirol where i had a couple of beers with Colin, who'd i'd not seen in probably 18 months, and met his really cool new Aussie (Ozzie?) missus, Helen.
Trawlled into Wien aound 10, and over to Luca and Jelena's. An hour later, Jelena discovers she's pregnant. Wow. And huge congrats. The idea of Luca as a dad was just funny to begin with, but they should make great parents. We sSpent a couple of days doing nothing much in Wien, except some wandering around and a bit of touristy stuff including a trip on the Risenrad (the Ferris wheel in Prater), which oddly none of us had ever been on before, but was cool.

Went off to Cesky Krumlov for a night to be a stupid beer drinking tourist, and catch up with a few people. It pissed it down. This is to become a reccuring theme, and i'm not even anywhere near Tromso, Bergen or Wales. Met the first in a long line of people with connections (more later) to me or places i've been based, as the first backpackers i talked to were 2 guys, one from Hassleholm, the other Hoor...

Returned to Wien and things started to go wrong. Details aren't important, but all was not quite as happy in paradise as i'd always believed. Suffice to say that you really dont want to be trying to keep 2 hysterical people who are intent on beating the cr*p out of each other whilst screaming/crying/yelling enthusiastically in serbo-croat and brandishing knives/saucepans and lots of other stuff for several hours.

Took my leave the next morning and got to ponder the vagairies of life. There is hope, but they both need to be really careful they don't blow it completely. Went to Bled where i met Paul, a half czech guy from Newbury (groan) and tried to kind of get out of work mode by doing nothing - yes, i know thats is still work mode, but technically, there is a difference. Wandered up to the nearby Drustvo Gorge (worth the trip) after cunningly managing to get lost on a straight road. Came back a different route and were impressed by the sight which beheld us as we round a corner near the hill top. A good couple of hundred OAPS, all horribly drunk (it was barely noon) were dancing to local folk music, whilst surrounded by lots of acid smilie faced yellow balloons. They all seemed happy, although the combination of lots of drunk old people with scores of cars to get home off the top of a very steep and windy track was not one i particularly wanted to ponder long.

Continued as planned to Ljubljana, where things almost started to unravel. Slobo and Melanie were somehow stuck in Chicago for whatever reason, and been told they had to wait 2 days for a new flight. Which meant my free accom wasnt accessible. In my naivety, i'd assumed that finding a hostel or cheap bed in May in Ljub wouldnt be a majot hassle. 450 euros, or 70 euros in Kranj, 30km away said otherwise. After a short sms convo, Miha quite happily offered me his spare room, and it was gratefully accepted. With Miha still working for a couple of hours, the amazing Katja then welcomed me to their home - a stunning, large central appartment - despite never even having heard of me 20minutes peviously. The world is full of fantastic people. Later, the 3 of us hooked up with Bara (now finally offerd the Finnish placement she's been aiming for ages) and Igor on the 3rd official TT Ljubljana pissup, and i'm happy to report that i had no subsequent problems, unlike the first pissup where i was hopsitalised the next day in Fortezza and out of it for a week.

As Slobo and Melanie finally were offered London instead of Munich and so on their way, spent a couple of very pleasnat days doing trips around Slovenia with and without Miha&Katja, including up to Planica (the first time i'd seen it without snow and 20000 people - its the ski flying hill and season finale) and Skofa Loka which i'd never been, but was very pleasant. Did the first in what rapidly has become the other trend to date, and climbed the hill. I've suddenly started climbing every hill anywhere near a town, for no apparent reason. It was scorching hot, i didnt end up exactly where i was aiming (close enough) and perused some of the most amazing signposts seen - photos follow - up a mountain, all of which seemed to be taking the p1ss out of the people walking up, but which later dawned on me were actually part of a kind of fitness circuit half way up the mountain. Also, caught up with Ruzica for a few beers on Eurovision night (i just couldnt watch) and an assortment of her colleagues over for a conference, including people from Delft and town planners from Birmingham. The world is too damned small.

Slobo - Mel update. They made it to London. Their bags didn't.

Took an early bus down to Rijeka in Croatia (2 buses and 3 trains a day, but 2 of the trains leave at exactly the same time as the buses, meaning it was useless) on which i was the only passenger for the full 3 hours, and after meeting Anna-Lise after her Edinboro trip, we went onwards to Pula via some typically psycotic bus driving. Broke my rucksack zip. Bugger. I like Pula, and the area, but i'm still not as impressed with it as the hype is made out to be. The Colloseum is in amazingly good shape, and stunning, and the central core is undoubtedly pretty, but... We had a stunningly amazing plate of squid, and finally started to properly relax and get into holiday mode.

Slobo and Mel's bags had been found, and the cunning plan was formed of them flying into Venice where their bags would be forwarded onto the same day, and then coming down the coast instead of them going via Ljubljana. It worked a treat except that there is a slight different between Venice, Italy, and Venice, Louisiana.

Went from there up the coast to Rovinj, which i just love. I couldnt tell you why, but it just feels right to me, and the old town is wonderful and mostly unspoilt, although relatively small. Ignoring the fact that it (like all of the Istrian peninsula, even so early in the season was packed with Germans - menus in many places aren\t even in Croat or Italian, just German).

Lucked out on accomodation and we got an appt for the price of a room as the owner prefered it to be used, meaning i could put my vast culinary skills to use, and Slobo and Mel finally arrived, with luggage and a hefty chunk of compensation, a week later than planned, and also heard that the result of Jelena's first scan was that she is carrying twins!

One of these days i will actually get to know a normal married couple, who have one baby at a time, with no complications, the parents are known, she's not a virgin, he's not sleeping with her sister or any other of the fecked up things that seem to keep happening. I'm convinced i will, but it hasnt happened yet.

Unfortunately we got the news that A-L's grandmother, the one i hadnt met, passed away, which kind of killed off the feel and effort that it had taken to get all 4 of us in the same place at the same time. A few hours later after arranging her short notice tickets to the Faroe isles - an interesting challenge in itself - we walked around town, figuring that it might help more than her sitting in the room in mourning. And as we walked around town i did something that i do far too often, and knew it would cause trouble.

I opened my big mouth. I kind of knew it would get me into trouble before i said it, but the warning from my brain didnt stop my mouth going for it. There was a stall type thing for Avon in the main square, with the slogan "Avon - the company for women", and i just came straight out with 'i thought that was Hoover'. Bad move. I'm not sure exactly what made it so bad, and am still trying to work it out now (did her grandmother make vacuum cleaners, maybe, or was an avon lady. I dunno?), but lets just say AL was not impressed and all hell broke loose.

We manged to get back to the room, but she refused all of anything, and shut the world out. She locked herself in and that was that. I couldnt talk to her at all, and the following morning she just left without saying anything. As far as i know she's still in the Faroes, but even a couple of weeks after, we've not talked (phone off or not answered), and all i've managed to get out of her is the occassional sms and a short, terse sounding (and Danish) email. It's a huge shame as something which could have been very serious looks over, and i've no idea why, but that's life i suppose.

C'est La Vie.

Your bored, aren't you? Don't blame me. I'm not forcing you to read.

I honestly will continue later, to get to the whole romania hating dog attacking pickpocketing type thing i promised earlier, via broken arms, UKHO, Strange Bosnians, VW Golfs, Ceaucescu's head chef and animal Karma, but i've run out of time, so it will have to wait.

Have fun all.

And yes, we all know that i can't type.