No Swimwear

Day 4: Krakow (PL) – Warsaw (PL). We are amazing. No, no – not Karen and I – I mean our species: Homo Sapiens. In a relatively short (geological) time frame, we have achieved an extraordinary amount. We have learned to control and manage our own food supply, we have developed a diverse array of art & literature, we have eradicated the causes of many fevers and morbidities and we have even put a man on the moon.

But as a species we are also capable of the most atrocious evil. Last year on a motorcycle tour of South West France, Karen and I visited Oradour-sur-Glane, the scene in 1945 of the systematic genocide of 600 innocent men, women and children in revenge for the Vichy resistance as the Nazi's fled Europe. This year, as part of our travels, we visited Auschwitz – the scene of possibly mankind's darkest hour.

The weather matched the venue; it was cold, damp and flurries of snow lay on the ground. In emotional silence, Karen and I poignantly wandered the deserted camp courtyard and read stories of the camps infamous occupants – some sickeningly saddening, others brave and heroic. The camp remains as a reminder to humanity that we must never do this again.

As we came to leave the camp, Karen and I were in need of a mood lifter. This came courtesy of some odd signs telling you what you can and can't do at the Auschwitz Museum. Some of them were obvious and self evident; No Talking. No photography. No music. The one that made us chuckle was the sign that said No Swimwear. And by the fact Polish authorities deemed it necessary to publish such a sign, I am guessing that this was a serious problem at Auschwitz. It made me think of some surreal conversations that may have happened in Polish households, “Would you like to go the Auschwitz museum today, dear?”. “Yes, OK. Should I wear my solemn black overcoat or my polka dot bikini and take my beach ball?”

We climbed back into the Fiat Panda and headed North on our long 250 mile journey to Warsaw where we planned to pick up the midnight bus that would take us from Poland to the Belarusian capital of Minsk.

Uncharted Territory

Day 3: Somewhere in Northern Germany (D) – Krakow (PL). Karen and I had our noses pressed onto the dirty glass of the number 510 bus that was taking us from the railway station to the car rental offices. We were keen to take in as much as possible of our new surroundings as this was the first of many countries that neither Karen or I had been to before. The truth was though it wasn't particularly exciting here; a lot of grey buildings dating from the 1960's, the occasional shopping mall dating from the 1990's and here and there piles of snow that the wind had blown together.

So we intended to drive south to the stunning medieval town of Krakow. Making progress on the Polish roads was difficult however; one moment you were driving on nice new tarmac funded by the EU, the next you were back on rutted and potholed streets – the result of years of Cold-War neglect. And then, of course, there was 'Road Chicken' which seemed very popular with the local drivers. This basically involved suicidal overtaking manoeuvre whereby the local driver headed straight for us and the last one to take evasive action won the round. I have to be honest, they beat us hands down every time!

The snow was starting to fall heavy on the S7 as afternoon turned to dusk. The needle on the speedometer nudged 120 and then 130 kilometres per hour. “We need to get to Krakow before dark” I said. “You're missing the point.”, Karen replied with a smile. She continued “This is not one of our break-neck holidays. This is about travelling. This is about experiencing. We don't need to do anything”. Of course she was right. I still had a lot to learn about making this into a travelling experience rather than just another holiday.

We faired much better at dinner however. Having made it to the remarkable city of Krakow and having spent a delightful evening wandering about the Stare Miasto we then retreated to the back streets; away from the tourist haunts and where prices were much more reasonable. In fact, we found a great little tavern whereby we both had a home cooked meal with local beers for 45 Polish Zloty (about £10). Last night in Amsterdam, the same meal would have cost us about 45 Euro's (about £45!)

That was one aspect of Western Europe that neither Karen or I would miss!

Sleeper Car

Day 2: Somewhere in the North Sea (GB) to Somewhere in Northern Germany (D). I don't know what it is, but I have a certain affinity with Amsterdam. Maybe it's the classic architecture, the scenic canals, the stately mansions from the Golden Age or maybe it's the coffee shops, the smell of shishka or the ladies of the city. I don''t know – but I do like Amsterdam.

Karen and I arrived there about at about 10.30am and after a typical Dutch street breakfast we spent a wonderful day wandering around the streets and taking in the sights of this beautiful city on a cold but bright winter's day.

By early evening we were exhausted and we were looking forward the the next leg of our journey – new experiences for both of us: Our first time sleeping on a train (although it would be the first of many!) and, at 15 hours, the longest train journey that we had ever embarked on (although this was to be eclipsed by journeys later in our travels!), According to time-table, The DeutcheBahn train pulled out of platforrm 11b of Amsterdam Centraal at preciously 19:01 on its long journey across the Eurasian continent to Moscow. We however, would only be staying with train 447 until it reached central Poland.

We had been allocated bunks 83 and 85 in a 6 seater 'couchette'. By the time we had found our cabin, two of our room mates were already busy finding space for their belongings. Marek and Natelia were both from Northern Poland and were returning home having attended a conference in Holland on Zen meditation. Fortunately for us, they were both very kind and helped us to make the most of our journey in our confined space. Each couchette, measured approximately 7 ft by 7 ft and had 6 bunk beds arranged on either side of the cabin up to the 8ft height of the compartment. Whilst the couchette was comfortable, its size and lack of available luggage space meant that every movement we made needed the coordinated agreement and understanding of the rest of our travellers. It reminded me very much of a human version of that puzzle where you have to arrange the tiles, one at a time, in the right order. Still it helped to break the ice!

We went to bed at about 9pm and a combination of the days exertions coupled with the gentle rocking motion of the train soon had me fast asleep. It was however a broken sleep. At about midnight, as we arrived in Cologne, I was awoken by the arrival of two further passengers to our compartment, one of which had enough luggage for five people which she piled up next to my bunk to the extent I couldn't even get out of bed! Then later still we reached Berlin and I was awoken by the sound of trains de-coupling and coupling as our transport was split in to three, one segment bound for Copenhagen, another bound for Prague and then our section bound for Poland.

All in all, an interesting experience. And one we were definitely looking forward to repeating as our holiday progressed.

First Steps

Day 1: Steeple Morden – Somewhere in the North Sea. I think it was Mao Tse-tung who said “A journey of a thousand miles starts with a single step”. Which in many ways seemed quite apt as we had decided to walk the first leg of the journey. The only difference was that Mao's journey was 1,000 miles, whereas ours was nearer 12,000 miles.

After a final excursions to the Waggon & Horses for a final farewell drink with Steve, Karen and I donned our ruck-sacks and set off on the short 3 mile walk to the country station of Ashwell & Morden over those delightful country paths that brought us to Steeple Morden in the first place.

It was a great relief to be finally on our way. The last few weeks had been an emotional roller-coaster for Karen and me as we had been completely over-whelmed by the warmth and sincerity offered by our close friends and relatives as we kissed and hugged our goodbyes. Even the first leg of our journey wasn't without emotion, with Ange insisting on taking our picture outside of the church as she offered us one last embrace. John, the chairman of the Church Friends shook our hand as we passed St Peter & St Paul's and Sue from the Parish Council waved her goodbyes as we walked down the side of John Jarman's farm.

It took us an hour with our backpacks to walk that first leg of the journey, but soon we were aboard the 16:04 to Cambridge. At the station, we took a short bus ride in to Cambridge City Centre for a spot of dinner and people watching. How strange it felt sitting in All Bar One, mingling with the commuters as they filed out of their office buildings whilst we were there on our way to Bangkok.

At 19:43 we boarded the Dutch Flyer, which whisked across East Anglia from Cambridge to Harwich where we boarded the Stena Line Ferry that took us to the Hoek van Holland, and then onwards to Amsterdam via Rotterdam using the Dutch National Railway system.

Not a bad start then. Day 1: Total Mileage to Date: 150: Number of Time Zones Crossed: 2; Number of Countries Visited: 1; Number of Transport Modes Used: 4.

We were on our way.

Packing

One of the most frequent questions that we were asked since we decided to embark on our travels was “How do you pack for such a long journey?”

Surprisingly, that aspect of our trip was quite straightforward. We decided all of the things that we thought we would need and then discarded half of them! And the discipline for travelling light is self enforcing: If you take it - you have to carry it – and that would probably mean entire days of hiking with all of our possessions strapped to our back.

With hindsight the mistake I made was to buy a rucksack with too much capacity. I was advised to opt for a 70 litre pack but in true male testosterone fuelled fashion, I decided that I needed a bigger one and bought a 90 litre pack: Consequently, I had more space than I needed and had to keep resisting the temptation to 'pack another sweater, just in case the two I had weren't warm enough' or 'pack another pair of socks just in case we got invited to a party where all the men had to wear yellow football socks'. Unlikely.

So after just two hours we were ready to go: Our packing list was as follows:

Essentials: 3 t-shirts, 3 tops, walking trousers, jeans, trainers, flip flops, walking boots, 2 pairs thermal underwear, waterproof coat, waterproof trousers, 5 pairs pants, 5 pairs socks, fleece, beanie, compass, camera, sun protection, toiletries (must haves only, so Karen's glittery eye make up went back in the cupboard!! ), sleeping bag, stuff sack pillow, first-aid kit, tickets, passports, visas, & money

Luxuries: Swiss army knife (my favourite thing!), sunglasses, torch, cutlery (titanium no less!), pack of cards, bandanna, notebook computer (so that we can blog en-route), mobile phones, reading books, travel guides, travel scrabble (thanks Alison!) & gifts for the people we meet on our travels (whisky and chocolates).

Hopes & Fears

The skiing in Val d'Isere was without the doubt the best that we had ever encountered: An excellent covering of powder white snow, well groomed pistes, fantastic weather and a complete lack of people on the slopes to share that fantastic experience with!

After the intensity of Christmas, the New Year festivities, finishing our jobs and getting ready for our adventure, it felt really good to finally relax and to start to enjoy our gap year experience. The solitude of the mountains, the fresh air and the intoxicating effect of the local toffee vodka gave Karen and I time to reflect on our emotions for the journey which we were about to embark on.

We chatted enthusiastically about our forthcoming travels: “What will Mongolia really be like?”, Karen questioned, “I just don't know what to expect”. She continued, “The cold of Siberia, the warmth of Thailand. The scenery of Vietnam, the people of Cambodia, the food in China. This really will be an amazing adventure.” But amongst the hopes we also had our apprehensions. How would we get on with Russian bureaucracy? Would we mange the biting cold of a Mongolian winter? What about the language difficulties? Was our budget sufficient for the duration? Only time would tell.

Time out on the slopes also re-energised the gremlins in my mind: Were we doing the right thing? Would I be able to get a job on my return, as the UK economy appeared to be going into meltdown? Would the cats be OK? What about our friends and relatives? My mechanism for coping with these negatives thoughts however was to hum the tune of a Lee-ann Womack song as I skied down the isolated pistes. We had been introduced to the music of Womack whilst in the United States for our wedding back in the year 2000. From then on we were both hooked with her music and had accumulated a number of her albums across the years. The inspirational song “I Hope You Dance”, contained the lyrics that described what Karen and I wanted to do with the rest of our lives, and it was those words that helped me right now:

I hope you never fear those mountains in the distance
Never settle for the path of least resistance
Living might mean taking chances, but they're worth taking
Lovin' might be a mistake, but it's worth making

And when you get the choice to sit it out or dance - I hope you dance

This year, Karen and I would dance.

Party

Whether you’re eager or reluctant, one of the best things about leaving anywhere is the party that accompanies the event. Tonight was no exception.

The village pub was the venue, “David & Karen’s Leaving Drinks & Pizza” was the celebration and our closest friends from Steeple Morden were to be our guests. And how wonderful it was to see so many of those friends there to wish us ‘bon voyage’ on this bitterly cold January evening: Alison & Steve of course – our likeminded friends who had moved to the village to improve their quality of life; Andy & Ange - our skiing partners for Val d’Isere; Helen - who would be living at our house and looking after our cats whilst we were away on our travels; Steve & Clare; Fraser, Alison, Eleanor & Lucy; Vicky & Simon; Peter & Chris; Andy and Jane. “Raise a glass”, Karen toasted, “to our absent friends: Becky in Fontainebleau; Susan in Cyprus; Sandra & Alan in Mirabel and Dave & Linda, who are tucked up in bed suffering from that awful flu bug that is going around”. We raised our glasses and drank.

That the venue was the Waggon & Horses was fitting in many ways – after all it was in this very pub, just 7 months ago that Karen and I had hatched our travel plans over a fabulous Sunday Lunch. As I reflected, it occurred to me that the one thing that neither Karen nor I had considered was how we would be feeling tonight. For the past 6 years we had procrastinated over our travel plans; always finding reasons ‘not to do it right now’. Eventually, we had narrowed our concerns down to one – our cats: Huffkin and Chudleigh – but with Helen living at our house and Alison & Steve taking care of everything else, even that objection had melted away.

However, tonight, we realised that we had forgotten to put “How much we will miss our close friends” on to that list of concerns. The truth was, for the majority of those six years, it probably wasn’t an issue to us. But since we moved to Steeple Morden things had changed: In this idyllic village we had been lucky enough to meet some of the nicest people you could every hope to meet and as a consequence, in a relatively short period of time, we had forged some of the strongest friendships that Karen and I had ever had. And tonight it dawned on me – we were going to miss these people immensely!

So with a tear in my eye and a lump in my throat, I hugged our friends goodbye as the evening came to a close and I pondered for a moment, ‘are we doing the right thing’. Absolutely. The great thing about our friends in Steeple Morden is that they are true friends. Whether we were to go away for a week, a month or a year we would return and resume our friendship as if we had never been away.

Karen and I stayed behind at the pub when everybody had left to reflect on our fabulous evening. We drank and toasted “True Friends”.