The Word Cloud

Confusion should be a given in life, annoyance is even more of annoyance...don't ask. I enjoy life when it's basically out in front of you, a future isn't set and walking onwards seems to suit me just fine. I want to travel, write and (insert third thing later), what I time (insert meaningless "insert" joke) with that hippo. Life is about leading one, it's not about getting a good job, not about finding your place in the scheme of things, it's about walking your way on your terms and no one elses.

"Go to university!" one shall say, "Get a good job!" another shall add, and all I shall say is "My life my rule!". Going against the world--I want to walk the coast of France, I want to sit out under the stars to sleep, I want to see a nice French coastal town down in the south of France, I want to see the world from a walking point of view--no cars, scooters or bike--just me looking up to the sky, walking and enjoying the time where the world becomes a simple place of exploration....the world that it use to be when we were kids....how nice it shall be next year.

Well, after quite a bit of hassle, we're now back in Germany on a lovely campsite.

It was our wedding anniversary yesterday, so we went for lunch in a nearby restaurant.  I had pork fillet with 'spatzle' - noodles to you and me.

Why do the Germans eat such a lot of pork? Everywhere we go there's pork on the menu. I haven't seen lamb at all, and only seen beef once!

On the way through Germany, we drove along the Mosel, which was beautiful with miles and miles of vineyards. We've also driven along the Rhine, been through the Black Forest, to the Argau, down to Bodensee, then through Bavaria and into Austria, which was great fun - not!

Because the motorhome is over 3.5 tonnes, we had to buy a 'Go Box' for Austria, which bleeps everytime you go past a gantry and you have to pay for the roads you use. The problem we had was, when we crossed the border from Germany to Austria, we had to find a filling station who sold the bloody things, then when we did find somewhere, they wanted us to pre-load it with €80, which was enough for about 500 kilometres. We wouldn't be doing anything like that amount of miles, so, we tried to find another  place to get one. The next station didn't sell them. The next one did but they also wanted €80. Apparently, that's the minimum you can put on it.

Now bear in mind we are doing this trip on a budget, that's a lot of money to us - we could have 6 nights camping for that. We had no choice but to buy it though, because without one we could be fined, so after coming out to discuss things, hubby went back in, only to be told their power had now gone, so they couldn't sell us one. So, we drove to another station, who didn't do them.

I'm a great believer is 'signs'.  In other words, if something seems to be conspiring to stop you doing something, you should take note, and I was beginning  to think that maybe we weren't meant to be in Austria.

Anyway, the next place after that did have one, so we got it, put it on the windscreen and drove on looking for our campsite. It was a bit weird when the box thing bleeped every few minutes.

We finally got to the campsite at 7:00 pm, only to find they had no wifi or internet and we couldn't get a TV signal. Great! 

In the summer when the weather was good and it stayed light until 11:00 pm, no internet or Tv didn't bother us too much, as we sat outside with a glass of wine - or two - watching the world go by and chatting. We were also in Spain and Portugal, and there were other UK people there too.

In Austria, it was raining, dark, and we were the only UK people on the whole campsite, so we were stuck in the van with nothing to do - well we have books, but we've done a lot of reading already!

So the next morning, we decided enough was enough and we headed back to Germany. We made sure we stopped on the way and got our money back for the 'Go Box' though - we got €56 back.

The site we are now on, has free wifi, we can get a TV signal and the weather is good.

See, I knew we should have taken notice of the 'signs' and just gone back to Germany!

The Austrian government don't make it easy for tourists that's for sure. Even cars have to have a Vignette sticker, which you pay for on a monthly basis, so we won't be going there again.

The plan now is to stay here for a bit, then maybe go back to France for a while, then we'll decide what to do after that. We're trying to work out what to do for the winter, but I think we may end up going back to England.

One advantage to being stuck in the van is that I get a lot of editing done, but even that gets to be a chore when you're doing it night after night.

This trip has certainly been interesting so far - we've been travelling since 6th April, and had a super time, but all good things must come to an end I suppose. Gosh it will be weird living in a house again after spending months living in a motorhome! 

Well, TTFN, catch you later,

Kat x

I am in Hong Kong and I’ve just been on a long flight with Virgin Atlantic. Does anyone remember? Was it last year or the year before? And it appeared on the national news about some complaints of the airline food for Virgin Atlantic by one of its dissatisfied customers who posted it on the internet? It was hilarious because the man photographed every detail of the unappealing flight dinner and criticised Richard Branson about it. ‘Look at this Richard, what is this? Would you eat this?’ And he was offered a job by the man on advising on food matters on board flights?  Did he take it or not? I don’t know, because if he did, he’s not doing a very good job at all; the food is just as awful if not worse, maybe it is just for the upper class who’d get all the nice foods and us in the steerage get what dogs wouldn’t even sniff at.

    Every time I go on board and see the first class cabins where they can stretch their legs and sleep horizontally, and me in steerage, sitting and sleeping upright, as comfortable as ever a sardine can feel in a can, makes me hate the class system and feel sympathetic to the Communist cause even though I have been called a Capitalist pig by my friends. In that short moment when I pass the first class cabin, I look with envy before I am quickly ushered down to steerage because I see the first class passengers being pampered with drinks as soon as they sit down, served by comely looking air stewardesses whose only purpose in life seem to be to make you happy, and me, in steerage, next to the toilet and get woken up every time when people flush the toilet (because there’s a great rush of air during the flushing and it’s even more sonorous than an elephant’s fart) and have my foot trodden on if it wondered too far out onto the isle. Such is life eh?

    Talking about comely looking air stewardesses, that TV advert was a bit misleading; I didn’t see any flight attendants or ground staff like the ones they had on the TV advert. When I return, I’ll have to write a very strongly worded letter to Mr. Branson about this. Or could it be that it only applied to first class only?

Flyman

Well, we are in bonny Scotland at the moment - but it isn't very bonny! It's rained for the last 4 days, but we don't care.

We are actually at the northernmost point of Mainland Britain, at Dunnets Head. We've been to John o' Groats and taken the obligatory photos to prove we are actually here.

I have to say the drive up, through Glen Coe, was spectacular, with the most breathtaking scenery I've ever seen. We also saw a Red Kite riding on the thermals above us. By the time I'd grabbed the camera, it was too late, we'd gone past it.

Scotland, for me, is the best so far, with stunning scenery. How mad that we've been halfway round Europe and the best country so far is in Britain!

We're going back down through Scotland, and at the end of the week should be in County Durham. Then we're heading across to York, then the Peak District, then Wales, then down to Lands End in Cornwall, so we can say we've been from John o' Groats to Lands End!
I've been to Lands End loads actually, being a Devon girl, but it's always nice to go back.

Then we are heading off to Europe again, to travel around Belgium, Germany, Czech Republic, Austria and Switzerland. I'm looking forward to all of that, but not necessarily the food as I'm a real fussy eater, and funny about meat!

In the writing world, I'm waiting to hear on a short story of mine; hopefully it'll be good news. The magazine often buy my stories, as I seem able to write the kind of stuff they like, so fingers crossed. I'm nearing the end of my novel too - these rainy days have given me lots of writing time - so then it's the big edit - which I am not looking forward to!

That's all for now, catch you all later, 

Kat x

Well, we are 3 months into our 'year out' travelling in a motorhome. It's been interesting so far that's for sure.
There have been times when I've cried in fear - going into the Sierra Nevada on little roads with huge drops at the side of them - then there was the time I climbed 200ft up the worlds biggest sand dune - and I'm afraid of heights!

We've had some great evenings sitting in the sun with a bottle of wine - or two - playing guitar and listening to the cicadas.

I've had plenty of inspiration to write articles and stories, and am, in fact, waiting to hear from that nice lady Jill at The Weekly News, to see if she likes the short story I recently sent her. Jill has bought a few of my stories now - I seem to have the knack of writing tales with a twist. Hope I have as much success with my novel - mind you I have to finish the blooming thing first.

I have plenty of time now to write - long lazy days - the trouble is, I'm great at procrastinating too, and it's so easy to sit in the sun instead of sitting at the computer. When I do start writing though, I can be very disciplined and sit there for hours.

Note to myself - just get on and do it or it'll never be finished!

Catch you all later,

Kat x  
 

Hodophobia.

Fear of travelling. I have it.

I could imagine that it can be linked in some way to a sort of agoraphobia, the broader definition of which isn't as many believe fear of open spaces but fear of unfamilliar environment and often triggered by open spaces or large crowds and such. Or so Google tells me.

For me, it's a combination, hodophobia being the primary source of worry.

Just think of the number of things that can go wrong when travelling! The plane could fall down. You could miss the flight. It could be delayed and make you miss a connecting flight leaving you stranded in an unfamiliar airport far from home. You could get on the wrong train or plane (and yes I know this is actually super unlikely to happen when travelling by air, but still). You could get lost on the way to the hotel. What if your luggage gets lost? What if you can't talk to people where you go. What if they don't speak any language that you speak? What if they do, only you can't understand their dialect? What if you find out you didn't bring enough money? What if you misread information and the hotel was more expensive than you thought? What if you get mugged and lose all your things, tickets and money and passport and everything? What if you get ill and need to contact a doctor? What if you end up in hospital? What if there was a problem with your hotel reservation and it was cancelled?

Just the thought of it is enough to make me never ever leave my bedroom ever.

Obviously most of this is in connection to travelling abroad, but staying within the Danish borders can trigger a reaction too.

I talked to the other women at work about this a few weeks ago, semi-accidentally admitting to having this fear. To my surprise they didn't brush it off as silly, but made me explain further. One of them, P., even offered me an explanation. It has to do with what you're used to. When I was a child and we went on holiday it was always with a caravan and in our own car. So I was simply being freighted to the place where we were going without having to worry about a thing. P's children are used to going on holiday with their mother or their father by plane. They know their way around an airport without fear or worry at all. They know exactly what is going to happen there, where to go next and how to find the right plane. Me, I had never even set foot in an airport until I was 15. Only three times in my life have I ever travelled anywhere and back by plane. The first time with my parents, second time with school and the third time with a friend. Never alone. I can't imagine travelling anywhere at all alone that way.

Trains, I can deal with. I'm used to taking the train every day to go to work, and trains don't involve all the checking in and security measures and stuff like that to go through first. Trains are easier.

"It's a shame," P said, "Because it limits you."

That made me think a lot. It's not that I don't want to go on holiday and see other places and interesting things. It's just that there are so many issues surrounding it that make me prefer staying at home where it's safe.

But after P had made me think about it and about it limiting me, I started wondering if maybe it wasn't possible to find a middle way.

I can travel by train.
I knew of a cheap hotel in Copenhagen where I had stayed before, so that wasn't completely unfamiliar
I've lived near Copenhagen for nearly four years a handful of years ago, so I'm familiar with how the public transportation there works.
It doesn't actually involve leaving the country.

So why shouldn't I be able to visit Copenhagen for a couple of days and play tourist?

I had a week's holiday coming up a month later, so before I could change my mind I had checked my bank account and booked the room. I knew that once the hotel was booked, I wouldn't be able to back out. They do allow cancellations, yes, and for free until the day before, but in my head I knew it wouldn't be a possibility. There was no way out.

The next few weeks were spent in a strange mix of excitement and dread. Mostly I tried not to think too much about it. Real panic didn't set in until a few days before leaving where I started wondering what on earth I was doing. Fear of travel is one thing, but I get homesick when I've spent one night at my parents' house. So three nights in Copenhagen? Madness!

I went to Copenhagen. For three nights.

On the morning of leaving home I just wanted it to be over with. So close to panic I could have cried. But I didn't, and I went, and once safely checked in at the hotel, I was feeling better. I had arrived in one piece and with no problems, and I was able to enjoy the rest of the holiday. I got to see a lot of things, have walked what feels like hundreds of kilometers and my legs and hips were so sore that in the morning untill I was sort of warmed up a bit, I walked like a little old lady. Small steps and slightly stiff legs.

Four days probably doesn't sound like much of a holiday, but it was definitely long enough for me even though I didn't have time enough to see all the things I had wanted to see.  I sent a postcard to my colleagues to prove that I had gone, and I bought me a new 1000 piece puzzle for a souvenier.

I'm feeling rather good about it now. Accomplished, but still with a little nervous tickle in my tummy when thinking back on it. Relieved, but glad that I did it.

Maybe next time I can stay a little longer. Or venture a little further away, like Sweden for example. We'll see how I feel about it next year, because right now I've had more than enough travel for a good long while. Baby steps.

It's been a while since I have donned the faithfull backpack and I have to admit that it's probably the most fitting thing I own. Weight time and distance have worn it in such a way that it's shoulder straps and back sit perfectly in place, even after the months of ill-concieved inaction.
Unfortunatly it seems, the pack also carries the sacred obligation to poverty. Under the fabric, leather and buckles I have experianced the full extent of hunger and fatigue, I've carried it in the rain, snow and heat, across the water and through the sky.
So it probably stands to as much reason as a traveller is capable of that I should find so much comfort in it's bulk. The heavier it is, and the longer I have to carry it, the better I feel.
It shouldn't be surprising that the most animate and inanimate objects (otherwise known as the trusty pack) can conjure such confidance. It is the one constant in any traveller's life, it is a home, storage container, makeshift pillow and declaration of intent. You could take any given object (with the exception of a wallet and passport) out of the pack and still survive fairly easily, but take the pack and the whole consarned song and dance falls apart.
This is probably best described in a slow walk out of a small town called Childers. There was no predominate reason why I decided to make my escape at seven in the the morning with twenty dollars to my name, but that didn't change the fact, carpe diem.
At that time I was seeking with a ninety litre monstrosity of a pack that I had nicknamed my 'weapon of mass dispersion.' The WMD was a horrible dark green pack that stood half as tall as me. The right shoulder strap was broken, a serious problem as the WMD weighed about thirty kilograms when full. To balance this out I carried my guitar case in my left hand, it was a vain attempt at stability but after a few kilometres any mental placebo in enthusiastally ingested.
By the time I reached my twentieth kilometre, all that was superfluous had been banished and the pack was about five kilograms lighter.
Unfortunatly this was what it commonly referred to as 'pissing on a bushfire'
Soon after two things became inescapably apparent: no-one was going to give my a lift, and everything that was not essential, was irrelevant and had to go. By the time I reached Rockhampton (two days later!) all I had left was two shirts, two pairs of pants, my wallet, my tootbrush and a packet of cigarettes. I've since gotten a smaller pack and subsequently carry less, but I just couldn't bring myself to throw away the WMD. The pack taught me an important lesson and the nature of value, and I still smile everytime I walk past it.

Dear friends,

 

I’m sure that 9/11 is one of those days that none of us will ever forget. It is the kind of day that you remember where you were when the news first broke.

 

Having visited Ground Zero and witnessed the progress that has been made towards rebuilding the area and the hope for the future that the locals have, we were impressed by the New Yorkers’ true grit resilience.

 

But have we really learned a valuable lesson from 9/11 or is there still a long way to go?

 

Real estate on Manhattan remains some of the most expensive on the planet. A one bedroom apartment here rents for a whopping $3000 per month. Therefore, some the communities on the island have learnt to adapt their spaces to accommodate multiple uses and gain the most value for their money. The most impressive of these compromises came when we visited Harlem. A sign adored the side of a beautiful Presbyterian Church. Apparently the Presbyterian congregation had use of the church six days a week and on the seventh day the building transforms into the local synagogue. What a marvellous arrangement. If only the rest of the world could learn to become this accommodating and tolerant, what progress we could make. We left the area with an overwhelming feeling of bonhomie and optimism for the future of our species.

 

This was short-lived however. As we travelled back along the subway line towards Brooklyn and our train pulled in to one of the stations along route, a blind man tried to board. Behind him trailed a sack barrow upon which was stacked all his worldly possessions bungee-roped to the trolley. Despite it being close to 80 degrees warm, the man, a middle-aged black man, wore several layers of clothing including a thick woolly coat which was tied at the waist with the obligatory piece of string. He boarded the carriage but was having difficulty lifting his trolley on board. The doors half closed trapping his bags and people stood and watched as he struggled; no-one helped him. Mike and I went to the man’s assistance and another man helped to release the trolley from the doors. The blind man was so very surprised to be helped at all and so very grateful. He was sober, clean and well spoken. We couldn’t help but wonder what this man’s story was. I was so tempted to remove pen and pencil from backpack, travel back along the line with him and ask him to reveal all. What an interesting story I bet it would have made. To be homeless in Manhattan is one thing, to be blind another, but to be homeless and blind?

 

What perplexed us most of all was the attitude of the other passengers; they just sat there. What were they thinking as they did so? Did it not occur to them that the train could not proceed until the doors closed properly. At the very least they were going nowhere until someone helped this man onboard and yet they still all sat there. Why?

 

Has the U.S. become any more compassionate since 9/11? Are they now willing to listen to and tolerate others more? Do they really want to help the genuinely oppressed? Our view is that the blind man thinks the jury is still out on that one...and so do we.

Dear friends,

 

Although Mike and I are thoroughly enjoying our time here in New York, one problem has come to our attention to which we do not as yet have a solution, namely – Where does one buy cheap wine?

 

By ‘cheap’ I mean that our mission, should we choose to accept it, is to track down one solitary bottle of wine for under $30 if served in a restaurant or $20 if brought from a wine emporium. Yes, I know. Outrageous!  But how to solve this major prob’?

 

This morning we were feeling rather philosophical about the whole thing as we enjoyed our Starbucks from a bar stool overlooking 57^th and Lexington. A gentleman of the road happened to pass by the window and we took this sight in for a moment. Could he be the solution to our predicament, we wondered? But then that would leave us with a moral social dilemma, wouldn’t it? Hmm. What to do? ...We watched him as he went on his ‘merry’ way.

 

Once sufficient caffeine had been consumed, we left the establishment and proceeded back toward the hotel for a quick spruce-up before embarking on another fun filled day of buying sponge Statue of Liberty crowns and ticking my bucket list item of buying ‘a dog with everything on it’, God help me.

 

Suddenly, there he was again, our hobo, looking hopeful and walking straight in front of us. Was this kismet?

 

We knew that if he asked us for cash we would adopt our normal response of asking whether it was for food or drink. If he said it was for food, we would know that he would be lying; if he said it was for drink, he should get mega brownie points for being honest but we could not in all conscience feed his addiction. But therein was our dilemma in a nutshell. If we gave him money all his prayers would be answered and so would ours. He would undoubtedly immediately head for the nearest purveyors of cheap alcohol and we would have our answer the above question – where to buy a bottle of wine for under $20.

 

Damn!

Love,
Kim & Mike. x