The Great Euro Freebie Challenge. Dedicated to the late Susan Proto. My aunty.

On the telly

2008-05-13T16:13:00.000-07:00

You can click here to see the feature about me that went out on the South's regional news on ITV Meridian.
You have to double-click the actual video screen once it starts to get full-screen, otherwise for some reason half the screen is cut off.

A few of the links I told you about before

2008-05-04T15:10:00.000-07:00

Before looking at these links, read the last post. It'll make sense then.

The Telegraph article
The Daily Mail article
The Argus article

Click article (Romania)
Siol article (Slovenia)
Viet Bao article (Vietnam)
Revista Sebo article (Spain)
24 Sata article (Croatia)
Novinky article (Czech Republic)
Orangutan article (Holland)
Cyberman article (Indonesia)
Lintas Berita article (Indonesia)
Sina article (China) - In my opinion, the funniest of the lot.
Yahoo article (France)
Onet article (Poland)

As well as these, I also popped up in the New York Post's 'weird but true' section, Albania's Tirana Observer, Turkey's Nektarin, and loads of others that I can't find the exact links to now.

What the hell is going on?

Is it cos I iz famous?

2008-05-04T14:19:00.000-07:00

I haven't written here for quite a while, but I thought I'd take this opportunity to say "Bloody hell!"
Things have gone a bit mental of late. I'm getting my 5 minutes of fame and it's nothing like I imagined it to be.
It all started with a couple of articles in local newspapers here, The Argus and The Shoreham Herald early last week.
A photographer from each of the papers came round to the house, made me do some silly poses with some of the things I brought back from the trip, asked me a few questions and got a few quotes, then a few days later I appeared in a couple of spreads. Nothing strange about that, it's what I was expecting.
The same day that I appeared in The Argus, last Wednesday, I got a call from a fella from this news agency up north telling me he was interested in my story and thought that he believed that some of the nationals might be interested in it too.
"That sounds good." I told him, and he asked me to email some pictures from the journey, which I did. This guy then rang me back 10 minutes later and said that the Telegraph had been on the phone asking him for more details, and also the Sunday Mirror had shown some interest.
It all sounded cool, although at the time I wasn't really taking it too seriously as it all sounded like gossip.
Later in the afternoon my phone rang again, this time it was BBC Southern Counties asking if I was available to come into the studio the next morning to do a proper interview live on air. I wasn't used to getting up so early - they wanted me there for 9 o'clock - but I agreed anyway.

So, Thursday morning in the car on the way to the BBC I got a text from the northerner, James, letting me know that the Telegraph had gone ahead with the story. I nipped into a newsagents and bought a copy and found myself in a nice spread on page 13. It was a weird feeling knowing that people all over the country would be able to go into their local corner shop, buy a paper, and see my ugly mug staring up at them.
I went into the BBC, sat down with a cup of cold water, and waited nervously for the nice lady to take me through to the studio. As I waited, the phone rang again. It was the BBC!
Radio 5 Live to be precise. They'd just read about me in the papers and wondered if I'd be available for a little chat on air later in the day.
How did they get my number?
The lady came to take me through and I saw that she had a Telegraph on her desk and asked if she'd seen the article.
"Oh yes" she said, "and it's not just in here. You're in a few of the papers today."
"What?"
"Yep. I saw you in a few of them. I can't remember exactly which ones, but I think one of them was the Sun."
"Blimey!" I said.
I went through to the studio, put the headphones on, had a little chat with presenter Neil Pringle - this guy reminded me so much of Alan Partridge, it was hard not to have a little giggle - then got told by the lady that Radio 5 would like me to come back in to the studio at 12.40 to record another interview.
"Have you been on the telly yet?" The lady asked me.
I laughed. "No. I don't think that'll be happening. It's not such a big story."
"I think you're wrong. I wouldn't be surprised if the telly people get in touch." She told me as I walked out the door.
On the way down to the bus stop I picked up a copy of the Sun, then got on the bus and popped in to my nan's on the way home. I'd found myself on page 10 and couldn't believe there was a picture of me in the Sun. The Sun!
As my nan made me a bacon and egg sandwich for breakfast I went up to use the toilet but was interupted by the phone ringing. It was the BBC. Again!
This time, though, not the radio but the telly. BBC News. Could I email her some photos from the journey and then go into the studio (at the same place as the radio) at 3.40 to do a live interview.
Bloody hell! This was ridiculous. The phone was ringing non stop, I couldn't even get a minute to go to the toilet or enjoy my bacon and egg sandwich. I was going on the telly.
Home I went, emailed the photos through, had a bath - well, I wouldn't wanna go on the telly looking shabby, would I? - then got myself back into town for the Radio 5 thing.
The interview was a lot shorter than it was meant to be because the guy before me who was talking about gardening or politics or something went on for a bit longer than he was meant to.
Anyway, I did the interview then went down to the beach to sit in the sun a bit before going back in to the BBC later to do the telly thing.
They hooked me up with the earpiece and mic, put the big picture of the Pavilion in the background, and I waited to be put through. Unfortunately, the link went down as they tried to come to me, and after I waited 20 minutes for the same thing to happen again I decided I didn't want to hang around any longer so I gave the telly thing a miss.

I went out for a few drinks and something to eat with friends in the city centre, then went home in the evening feeling tired and a bit sick.
When I got in I found a note from my next door neighbour with the telephone number of a woman's magazine who wanted to talk to me about my story, as well as an email that had been sent to my dad with the number of someone at the Sunday Times who wanted to talk to me.
I went to bed with a hot chocolate and my Big Train dvd and just tried to unwind.

The next day, Friday, and things hadn't slowed down.
I'd had an email from Meridian TV (the regional ITV channel for the south), as well as an email from TalkSport radio wanting to get me on air later in the afternoon.
I arranged with Meridian for them to come round with the cameras this Tuesday to get a piece about me for the news. They also want to talk to my mum. If she says anything to embarrass me I'll kill her. Only joking.
Then I had a little chat live on TalkSport radio. After coming off the phone to them, they called me straight back to let me know that a Spurs fan called Bonzo had contacted them and wanted to donate £200 to get me nearer to the £2000 mark.
I gave him a bell and let him know how to go about making a sponsorship, and he told me that us Yids have to stick together. Great stuff.

So, that's been the last few days of my life.
The most hilarious thing to come from all of this is some of the different articles I find about myself if I google my name. I've found myself written about in English, Romanian, Spanish, Croatian, Hungarian, Dutch, Vietnamese, Chinese, Albanian, Turkish. A lot of the articles even have pictures of me. One of the Romanian articles has used a picture of me taken on holiday last year in Bosnia, a time when I'd dyed my hair yellow for a laugh. Not the best picture ever, but still better than the one of me drunk that their compatriots used earlier in the trip :-)

Anyway, I'm not complaining about any of this. The publicity is great and it's already brought in an extra £235 in donations.
Big thanks to Bonzo, Fi, Tim, and Lisa for those.

You can still make a sponsorship by clicking here. All donations go directly to Cancer Research UK.

What else have I been doing since I got home?
Well, I've been putting some time into writing the book that will hopefully bring my adventures to a wide audience. I've also started trying to teach myself Romanian with the help of some books I bought on Ebay. And today I finally started looking for a job to give me something to do every day and to earn myself a bit of cash.

I'll post you some of the funny foreign links in a little while.
Hope you're all well, and nice to see you again....

A summary

2008-04-17T12:21:00.001-07:00

It's been a week since I returned home to Brighton after completing The Great Euro Freebie Challenge. I'm now trying to get my head down a bit and work on writing the book that will hopefully entertain many people before too long.
Since I got home I've had quite a few people asking me about the challenge, what it was all about, where I went, how I got around, and lots of other similar questions. So, I've decided to write this little piece here explaining a bit about the challenge that I undertook.

On the 1st November last year I flew on a one-way ticket from London to Stockholm without a single penny or credit card in my pocket. I was completely 100% skint.
That in itself is a situation that most people would go out of their way not to find themselves in. That's nothing!
I'd set myself a challenge not to return home to England until I'd been to every European Union capital city that wasn't on an island. I wouldn't be allowed to receive or use any cash along the way, but I would be allowed to accept any other kind of help offered.

The question you're probably asking yourselves right now is "Why?"
The whole thing came about as a response to my aunt Susan's battle with cancer, a battle that sadly she lost on 9th November 2007. My mission was to raise as much money as possible through sponsorships for Cancer Research UK.

I'll be honest with you, I was quite disappointed with the final amount raised, £1632.50 at the last count. Don't get me wrong, I know that any amount made for a good cause is worth a little suffering, but the thing that really gets to me is that a challenge that I had to suffer and struggle through for 5 and a half months didn't even make 2 grand, whereas people run the London Marathon for charity and make thousands in sponsorships.
If given the choice of training and then running a marathon, or hiking along Eastern European motorways in the winter with no food or money, almost freezing to death, I know which I'd opt for.
Not to take anything at all away from people who run the marathon, I just wish that more people had known about what I was doing and that we could've made a bit more.

Anyway, back to the challenge.
By the end of the first week of the journey I'd managed to get to 4 capitals, Stockholm, Oslo (non-EU but I ended up thanks to random happenings), Copenhagen, and Berlin.
I'd stayed with some people from couchsurfing, as well as with a brother of a friend made, and had even had a free night in a youth hostel. Only later, when talking to a member of staff, did I find out that an Australian guy I'd met in the train station had actually paid for my bed but didn't even want me to know. It was a completely selfless act and something that I'll always remember and think of if ever there's someone in need of something that I can give.
Travelling between the cities so far hadn't been as difficult as I'd imagined it would be. The Scandinavians were making my life easy. I could ride on trains for free, all I ahd to do was explain my situation and show them a copy of the newspaper that proved I was telling the truth.
The Scandi train guards would simply laugh, say something like "I've never seen anything like this in my life" and then tell me to take a seat on the train and not to worry about any checks.
It was all too easy. Surely it wouldn't continue like this. Would it?
No!

Once into Germany I tried the same technique but the Germans were having none of it.
"Travel for free? Not in my country!" They'd say, before either giving me a fine that'd be sent to a false address, or kicking me off of the train in some destitute little shit-hole like Frankfurt Oder, a horrible little town on the German side of the border with Poland.
On a rainy, grey, freezing cold evening I walked for a couple of hours into Poland and finally found a motorway from where I could hitch-hike to the town of Poznan.
2 hours later and a lorry finally pulled over to let me know I was standing on the wrong side of the road and that all these cars were coming FROM Poznan.
I crossed the motorway but still hadn't been picked up an hour later, and now it was pitch black, even colder, and I was starving.
I walked back towards the town of Slubice, and found that there was one train a night leaving to Poznan. I had to get on it. The guard couldn't speak any English, and my Polish isn't what it used to be (haha), so rather than waste my time trying to explain my situation, I managed to get through to him that I'd been robbed and had no money on me. This was only possible because I spent three years in Slovenia and managed to pick up quite a bit of the language, and was very happy to find on this trip that knowledge of any slavic language is invaluable in Eastern Europe.
Anyway, I had never planned to use this method to get around, but I realised on that evening that in certain places it'd be the best and easiest way of getting from A to B.

Into Poland things started to get difficult and it then dawned on me that completing this challenge wasn't going to be anywhere near as easy as it had first promised to be.
The task of finding enough food to survive on was proving to be the hardest thing, so when I got invited round to the house of an Indian restuarant owner in Warsaw for a proper hot meal, I truly jumped at the chance.
it turned out to be a bad decision.
His food gave me Salmonella!

As if I hadn't lost enough weight already, I was now in state that meant even if I had the opportunity to eat, I wasn't able to.
I was able to make my way from Warsaw to Cracow where I had some friends that I used to do a bit of work for. The Cracow-Life team took good care of me, got me to a doctor, and even gave me my own flat to recover in. Finally I was fit and ready to carry on.
I found myself working (unpaid of course) as a motivational speaker at A 3-day AIESEC conference in Slovakia, which meant that at least I didn't have to worry about where my next meal was coming from or where I was going to sleep.
Some of the AISEC members then took me under their wing and helped me to get through the country and into Austria.
From there I went down to my old home, Slovenia, and from there to another of my old homes, Rome. From there back up to Slovenia for christmas, then down to Serbia, Bulgaria, and then Romania. It was on arrival in Bucharest that I'd made a big error.
"Hi Kris. Nice to meet you. I guess you've just come from Greece and then Bulgaria, right?"
"Um. Greece. Hmmm. I forgot about Greece."
I knew then that at some point in the trip, probably at the end, I'd have to make it all the way south again down to Greece. I'd had a horrible time in Bulgaria, mostly because of the weather and the conditions of the streets and so on, and there was no way that I was going to go back through there at that point in the trip!
I stayed a little while in Romania, and completely fell in love with the country thanks to the kindness of the people there and the support that they continued to give me long after I'd left their land.
I went from Romania to Hungary, back to Slovenia, to Switzerland, then through France to Spain, and on to Portugal where I was well taken care of by Romanian and Spanish friends. It was so warm in Spain that I foolishly left my coat there, too heavy to carry.
During this time I met some truly amazing people who helped me out in a big way, not least when I found myself stranded in a little French village called Amberieu at 11 in the evening. I hadn't eaten all day, and was freezing. After finding a pub that would let me use the phone to call someone in Lyon who was expecting me to let them know I wasn't going to make it until the morning, that person spoke to the pub owner and after giving his credit card details arranged for me to sleep in a room above the bar.
It was little acts of kindness like this that kept me going.

I made it up to Paris, then on to Luxembourg, Brussels, and Amsterdam. From there my aim was to get to Dresden in Eastern Germany, but once again I got stuck in a small town, Fulda, in the middle of the night, and once again I was helped out in a big way by some strangers. This time it was a young couple who just approached me because I looked like I needed help. They took me to their home, gave me some food, and gave me a place to sleep for the night.
From there I finally got to Dresden, then Prague (where yet more Romanians took care of me), then up to Warsaw again.
From Warsaw things were tough, as I walked for hours along the motorway, finally hitching a lift from a nice lorry driver who took me to Vilnius in Lithuania.
From Vilnius was even tougher as I walked through snow blizzards for hours, carrying all the bags, as drivers went past laughing. One guy was kind enough to give me a small lift, then give me a bottle of brandy.
The brandy came in useful later in the day when I had to use it as payment for a Polish guy to let me ride with him to Riga. He didn't take me to Riga, exactly. He dropped me in a forest outside of Latvia's capital shortly before midnight as the snow came down like nobody's business. Remember I was coatless.
I walked and walked and walked some more, before finally making it to a petrol station and finding some guys who'd been snowboarding all day and were now driving to Riga.
I went from Riga to Tallinn and then was fortunate enough to stay with a really decent who sorted me out with a ferry ticket over the water to Helsinki.
Now I'd been on the road for 5 months and was well and truly knackered. All I wanted to do was get home to England to get some rest and start trying to put on the stone in weight that I'd lost through not being able to eat enough.
One capital was left on the challenge. Athens!
How would I hitch-hike all the way down from Finland to Greece? My body wasn't up to it. I wanted to be done.
As I searched for a solution, my saviour came in the form of Donatello restaurant in Brighton. They were willing to sponsor me by providing me with an air ticket from Helsinki to Athens.
And so I completed my journey in the hot Spring time sun of Greece's capital.
My flight home was provided by my uncle Michael and his green-grocers in Brighton, Proto's.

I'd been on the road without any money for 165 days, had visited 26 capital cities, and had travelled 9763 miles (over 15000 kilometres), but I'd done what I set out to do and had proved the doubters wrong.

Now that you've read this and know what i went through, please go that one step further and make a small sponsorship by clicking here. Every single penny goes directly to Cancer Research UK thanks to Justgiving.com who take care of everything.

Come on, make my struggle a bit more worthwhile!

Please read this

2008-04-13T06:28:00.000-07:00

I've received an email from Radu, a friend of mine in Romania, pointing my attention to the situation of a 19-year old girl that he knows, Stefania, who's in desperate need of an operation to remove a tumour.
He's asked me to help spread awareness, something that I'm more than willing to do.

So, please have a look at this website, and then here for the English translation.

Radu supported me non-stop throughout my journey, with emails of encouragement and also by making a sponsorship.
If any of you reading this has a blog of your own, please also help to spread this about.

Cheers

It's done

2008-04-11T06:38:00.003-07:00

Before posting, let me just thank Bill, Jari, my good friend from many years ago Canadian Kim, and also Mrs. Jesteadt for the latest sponsorships. Much appreciated.
Just because I've completed the challenge doesn't mean that the sponsorships need dry up. If anything, now that the original sceptics (you know who you are) have seen that I'm not one who should be doubted and that I finish what I set out to, it would be the traditional thing to make your donations on completion of the challenge.
Every penny goes directly into the coffers of Cancer Research UK, an extremely good cause. Click here and give whatever small amount you can spare.

I can't quite take it in yet, but it's all over and I'm home in sunny Brighton.
I actually woke up twice during the early hours of this morning and wondered where I was, which country I was in, whose room I was in. Then when I looked around and saw the pictures on the wall, the telly in the corner, the bottle of Dr. pepper next to the bed, for a split second I thought I was dreaming. Seriously.
It could have something to do with the fact that I was quite pissed after sitting in the living-room of my mate Russell's newly bought house and getting through a crate of Carlsberg with him, but I think it's just the shock to the system of not being a guest in someone's place anymore.

Of all the cities, towns, and villages I visited during the course of the journey, Athens was without doubt the perfect location to have as a final destination.
The weather was unreal - on my first full day there the temperature reached 30 degrees!
Not just the weather, but the way of life, the surroundings, the food, and above all else the people. After 5 and a half months on the road, at a time when my body was (and still is) feeling run-down and in need of some proper rest and relaxation, Athens provided the perfect setting.

I stayed in a student dorm on a complex that was originally built to house the journalists covering the Olympic Games of 2004.
I don't know about student dorm, it looked more like and had the feel of a holiday resort, the kind favoured by package-holiday brigades from Essex.
Block after block of white buildings with balconies for sitting out on and enjoying (or in my case, burning in) the sun.
The residents all congregate in the cafeteria building for their 3 daily meals - which just like the accomodation is provided free by the government. There are tennis courts, a basketball court, table-tennis rooms, and a whole host of other activities on offer.
I also learned that the police are forbidden from entering the complex, even if they know that there's a suspect hiding inside, or if they're chasing someone.
This strange law came about as a result of the Athens Polytechnic uprising of 1973 when the city's students demonstrated against the military government that was in place at the time.

Over the 3 days I spent in the city, I was basically mothered by 4 Greek women! :-)
Officially, I was staying with Voula, but if you met me there and were asked who my actual host was, you'd only be able to guess, as they all fussed over me like I was a friend they hadn't seen in years.
I was taken to a traditional taverna to experience the foods, drinks, and atmosphere of the locals.
I had a tour of the city on the back of a scooter. That was one of the coolest experiences of the whole trip.
I was shown all different sides of the city on 2 different days, as well as being taught loads of stuff about the city's recent history.
But the most enjoyable aspect of my time in Athens was just being 1 of 5 24-year olds, just chilling out and being made to feel so welcome and at home. The sense of humour of these girls was second to none, they definitely don't take themselves too seriously and they could take the piss out of me like the best of 'em.
So, thanks to Voula, Nikoleta, Natassa, and Vaso for giving me such amazing memories from Greece.

I left the baking sun of Athens and flew to Heathrow yesterday afternoon, thanks to my uncle Michael's buying me a ticket. The flight was something that I've never experienced before.
Not the flying! I mean the type of plane.
Until yesterday, although having flown loads of times over the past few years, I'd only ever been on the little planes of Easyjet, Ryanair, Adria Airways, SAS, etc...
Imagine the look on my face, then, when I walked onto the plane yesterday afternoon and saw that I was on one of the big kind I've only seen in American films. The kind that rather than just having an aisle down the middle, dividing the 2 seats on either side, also had a row of 4 seats in the middle. So each row had 8 seats!
When seeing this amount of seats, I felt lucky to still have been given a window position, even if it was right on the wing.
I watched a film on the screen on the back of the seat in front of me, had a hot meal served to me by an extremely attractive Greek hostess, had a sleep on the chair that reclined so far back it almost became a bed, and watched as the screen in the middle of the plane provided maps and charted the plane's course.
After the hard times I'd been through on the journey (not to say it was all tough times, of course), I felt that this was my reward. A comfortable travelling experience.

I got in to Heathrow at 3.30 and was on the bus heading for Brighton an hour later.
As soon as we entered the surroundings of the city and the old familiar flower bed that spells out the word 'Welcome' passed by outside the window, the cloudy weather that had met me in London passed and the early evening sun of Brighton shone brightly.
The drive down to the sea-front took me past my old college, my old work, the parks where I used to play football against all the different teams of the city, the kebab shops that have served me so many times after nights of drinking, the Brighton and Hove buses taking people home from work, all the things that I haven't set eyes on since last October.
I was met at the Bus station by mum and dad, and the short drive home along the coast road was just great.
People all over the beach, sitting around on the pebbles, enjoying the early Spring conditions, flying kites, drinking cold beers, windsurfing, paddling, chatting, messing about. The sun just above the horizon, out in the direction of northern France.
This is my home.
Over the past 5 and a half months, I've seen the beaches of Spain, Portugal, a little bit of Greece, but I tell you what, I wouldn't swap Brighton beach for any of them.
It's not even that I'm one of those people who loves living in England. I'm a Londoner, for example, but I'd never go and live in our capital again, not even if you paid me.
No. It's not that I love living in England. I just love Brighton.

The final statistics of the journey are:

Days on the road (without any money); 165
Capitals visited; 26 (3 non-EU)
Distance travelled; 9763 miles (15750 km) - Not including the final flight from Athens to London.

The path I took:
Stockholm - Oslo - Gothenburg - Copenhagen - Hamburg - Berlin
- Poznan - Warsaw - Cracow - Zilina - Klačno - Nitra - Bratislava -
Vienna - Ljubljana - Rome - Ljubljana - Belgrade - Sofia -
Bucharest - Budapest - Ljubljana - Bern - Ambérieu - Lyon -
Montpellier - Barcelona - Madrid - Cáceres - Lisbon - Madrid
- Bilbao - Bordeaux - Paris - Luxembourg - Brussels - Amsterdam
- Fulda - Dresden - Prague - Warsaw - Vilnius - Riga - Tallinn -
Helsinki - Athens

Finally, heartfelt thanks to every single person who helped me and/or supported me during the course of the journey. I hope I'll get the chance to repay some of the kindness, if not directly, then by helping others in the same way people helped me.

Brighton. Home.

Oh my god!

2008-04-09T16:36:00.000-07:00

I'm flying home later today and then you'll get a real post from me, but before that I have to share something with you.

Remember a few weeks ago I gave you a taster of some Czech music, well I thought it only fair that I don't keep this little piece of typical Greek pop to myself. Watch it to the end, it will shock you!
I shit you not, this is a real music video!!!!!

Click here to see it.

Only in Greece!

Mission Complete!

2008-04-08T09:41:00.000-07:00

I'll write more for you on Thursday when I get back to England, but my challenge has been completed successfully.
I arrived at 10 last night in Athens, meaning that in just over 5 months I've visited every EU capital city on the continent without any money in my pocket.

Thanks to everyone who's helped me along the way, and as I said, I'll give you a proper post on Thursday evening when I get home. As for now, I'm nursing the sunburnt chest I've picked up today. It's a bit hot!

Days on the road (without any money); 163
Capitals visited; 26 (3 non-EU)
Distance travelled; 9763 miles (15750 km)

No more capitals to visit!

On my way to Greece

2008-04-07T02:46:00.000-07:00

After what seems like an eternity, I'm finally into my last day in Finland.
3 guesses where I am?
Yep, back in my favourite place in Helsinki, the public library.

Over a very short period of time I'm going to be experiencing some pretty contrasting weather conditions and I'm not sure if I'm looking forward to it.
Well, I'm looking forward to one part of it, but the rest isn't the most inviting of situations.
Here in Helsinki right now, as it has been since Saturday, it's raining, grey, and around 8 degrees. It looks horrible, but I'm able to live with it without complaining just because I feel I was spoilt for the first 4 days I was in the city by glorious sunshine.
At 6.10 this evening I'll be taking off from Helsinki airport and arriving just under 4 hours later in Athens (thanks to the amazing generosity of my sponsors, Ristorante Donatello of Brighton who provided me with the air ticket), where at the moment it's 20 degrees and basking in sunshine.
In case you needed telling, that's the part I'm looking forward to.
I'll spend 2 full days enjoying that (tomorrow and Wednesday) before making my way back to the airport on Thursday and flying back home to Brighton which is by all accounts blanketed in thick snow!
We never get snow on the south coast. What's going on?

Yesterday I enjoyed a rare luxury. Actually, 'rare' isn't the word. I can't even think what the word is, so I'm going to use one that I just made up on the spot. The word is 'Nebend'. It's a combination of the 3 words 'never before happened'.
Do you see what I've done there? Do you see how clever I am that I can just make up new words just like that? Do you? Do you see it? You see, what I've done there is take three words, those three words are 'never before happened' and just like that I morphed them to make up a completely new word never before heard by human ears.
Do you see what I did? Let me explain it.
I took three words, those words were 'never before seen' and just like that, without even putting any prior planning into it, I came up with a new word, one that you won't find in the English dictionary (yet), but one that now you all know what it means because I've cleverly explained it to you.
Do you see? Do you get it? What I've done, right, is take 3 words...................................

Where was I?
Oh yea, yesterday I was treated to a nebend luxury. 2 dinners!
The first one occured when I took up an invitation from a couple, Janna and Marco, to join them at their flat for food, a few beers, and some chatting.
Janna is the couchsurfing ambasador for Helsinki as well as working as a child psychologist. Marco, her French husband, works as a trainer for Nokia.
It was a nice early dinner - I arrived at 5pm - of Mexican tortilla wraps.
After eating and talking, they asked me if I'd like to go for a walk to some parts of the city that I hadn't seen yet.
I wanted to, but the obstacle was that I'd arranged to meet a Pakistani guy, Ahmed, at 7.30 for a tea. Ahmed had contacted me by email afer finding my blog and had shown an interest in my journey and wondered if I'd have time to meet him.
The best thing about this trip is the amount of new people that I get to meet, so naturally I'd accepted his invitation too.

It turned out that Janna knew Ahmed through a community here in Helsinki called Jolly Dragon. She called him and asked if he'd like to join us for the walk. He accepted.
We took a nice evening stroll along the beach in a part of the city that I didn't know existed and am glad that I got the chance to see before leaving Finland.
The rain decided to have a break, and as I've told you before the sun stays out late here, so it was a really pleasant evening.
After saying goodnight to Janna and Marco at around 9.30, Ahmed asked if I wanted to go for something to eat.
The walk had built up a new appetite in me, and I've also learned by now never to turn down the chance to eat because I never know when the next opportunity will come.
It was a Sunday night, though, which meant that all of the restaurants were closed. We walked from place to place to place, only to find locked doors each time.
Eventually we settled for a fast-food place that serves kebabs, fried chicken, pizzas, burgers, and other such meals.
I always feel much more comfortable in this kind of place than I do in proper restaurants, so I was actually happy to have come across the place.
I laughed when Ahmed only had to say "the usual, please" to get the dinner he wanted. That's when you know you've lived in a city long enough to not be considered a stranger anymore.
I had a a huge plate of felafel in pitta bread and chips.
It was incredible!

Ahmed's on the other end of the spectrum of my Pakistani friend I met in Latvia, Sohail.
He's a lot less religious, a lot more secular and Western in thought. It's been interesting for me to compare these two different personalities, especially as they both come from the same city, Lahore.
Ahmed's a fun guy with a sharp sense of humour. He's been in Finland for a couple of years now, also working for Nokia.
After dinner we went to a place called Java Coffee for a cup of tea. When I ordered a large one, I wasn't expecting a pint!
I was up visiting the toilet consistently throughout the night.

Janna, not content with giving me a delicious meal, has also been kind enough to offer to drive me to the airport this afternoon.
I don't know how this challenge would've turned out if it hadn't been for such kind and nice people like this helping me along the way.

The computers around me have just filled up with American mormons, all looking fresh out of toothpaste adverts. I think it's time for me to make a move before they start trying to tell me all about Joseph Smith.

I'll see you in Greece!

Days on the road (without any money); 162
Capitals visited; 25 (3 non-EU)
Distance travelled; 8228 miles (13279 km)
Left to complete my mission; Just 1 capital - Athens!

A quickie from the library

2008-04-05T07:01:00.000-07:00

I'm back in the public library, so I've only got a few mins.

After the night sleeping on the floor at Christopher's place, I decided it would be best for my back to find somewhere else to sleep, also somewhere near to the centre of the city so that I wouldn't have to risk getting busted on the tube again without a ticket.
So, after a little couch search, I stayed last night with a lovely married couple, Gia and Jari.
What a couple of hosts they turned out to be!
We had a barbecue, as well as drinking plentiful amounts of alcohol (I was feeling pretty rough this morning. If anyone ever offers you Apfel Brand, just say no!)
3 friends of theirs also joined us for the evening and we stayed up playing board games and basically getting intoxicated.
I slept like a baby on probably the most comfortable fold-down couch-like thing I've ever experienced, before being served a steaming hot bowl of porridge for breakfast. Until I came here, I thought it was only the Scots who can't start the day without porridge, now I see I was wrong as all 3 homes I've stayed in here insist on starting the day the same way.

I was only able to stay there for 1 night, as Gia is heading to Argentina for a little holiday this weekend, so at 1 in the afternoon I met my 4th host in Helsinki, Elise. She's working alot and also writing her thesis for university, meaning I'm pretty much free to explore the city alone for the next couple of days, before flying down to Athens on Monday and then from there back to England on Thursday, thanks to my uncle Michael who has sorted out my flight home. Technically, once I've spent the first night in Athens, I'm allowed to start spending money as the challenge will be completed. But, this only works in theory, as I actually don't have a single penny to my name, meaning that I still needed my uncle's help otherwise I would've been hitching all the way home.

More to follow later, including photos......

1500 squid raised!

2008-04-04T00:45:00.000-07:00

Thanks to Sean (the artist formerly known as Noam), and Neil for the latest sponsorships.
We've finally hit the 1500 mark!!!
Let's not stop there, though. Every penny that you sponsor me goes directly to Cancer Research UK, a very very deserving cause. Click here to build that tally up.

I'm without proper internet access for the time being. At the moment I'm in the city's public library, where other foreigners like me are all watching me and waiting for me to vacate the computer after my short designated time.

Just to let you know, though, that I'm still alive and kicking in Helsinki. The weather's beautiful, the city's beautiful, and I'm still beautiful.

I got busted on the tube this morning for not having a ticket. They took me to a police station, but there wasn't much they could do to me as I wasn't carrying my passport.
My host, Christopher, is an American language student who speaks fluently 17 languages. 17! A lot of them are tongues that you and I haven't even heard of. Minority languages of central parts of Russia, mainly.
A really interesting and intelligent guy who also makes a mean bowl of porridge in the morning.

There's just one small problem....
He doesn't have any matress, couch, blankets, a pillow, or anything of the like. Last night I first tried sleeping on one of those inflatable lilos that you use at the beach. When that didn't work, I tried sleeping on a mat on the wooden floor.
Needless to say, I didn't have much success falling asleep, and today my back is killing. But, hey, what can you do?
Better to have a good host and a wooden floor, than a bad host with a nice bed.
Also, living quite far outside of the city makes things a bit difficult just because I'm going to have to take the tube every day without a ticket, but that's another thing I can live with.

That's all I've got time to tell you for now...............

The sun is shining on me and Finland

2008-04-01T22:20:00.000-07:00

Hard to believe that a week ago I was trekking through snow blizzards, walking along strange motorways, wondering if I'd ever see civilization again...
The weather I've been experiencing these past few days is such a stark contrast.

Yesterday I sat out on the deck of this ferry, Galaxy, for the 3 hours and 15 minute journey across the Gulf of Finland, eyes squinting in the sun (although it was still a bit nippy. Not t-shirt weather) and tried hard to remember the suffering of last Wednesday when I battled the elements to get from Vilnius to Riga. As hard as I tried, my mind didn't want to be taken back to that place, so instead I just decided to enjoy the pleasant day and think to the future.
I hadn't slept a wink the night before, my thoughts taken up by the worrying and stressful prospect of having to go through all of that grief again, this time multiplied by a few hundred, to hitch-hike all the way down to Athens.
I'd come so far, and now with just one capital left, was starting to lose my drive. I was feeling tired and down. How would I possibly get through another couple of weeks of hitch-hiking with such a shortage of food and water?

My final view of Tallinn as my ferry pulled out of harbour.

My favourite thing about Tallinn is the abundance of seagulls. It's just like being at home in Brighton. It's been 5 months since I was woken early in the morning by their loud roof-top calls to one another.

At least I didn't have to worry about the immediate task of getting from Tallinn to Helsinki. Oliver's company, Aqris Software, had been kind enough to put up the ferry ticket for me, allowing me the opportunity to even be sitting out on the deck in the sun wondering how the hell I'd complete the challenge.
Aqris, by the way, are currently looking to recruit some non-Estonian IT professionals specialising in Java technology. If you fit that bill and fancy spending some time in Tallinn, get in touch direct through the link.

Oliver, me, and Dan (the Canadian couchsurfer). Looking a bit thin. Not long until I can sort that out with some proper English food!

I arrived in Helsinki at 4.45 in the afternoon and was met by Mikko, a 38-year old Finn with a passion for hiking.
We walked from the dock to his flat, and as he started cooking dinner - salmon, new potatoes, and cucumber - I sat down at his computer (in hope rather than expectation) to see if I'd received any positive news regarding my attempts to get a sponsor for my journey from Helsinki to Athens.
"Hmmm, a reply from Donatello's." I said to myself as I checked my inbox. "I wonder what excuse they've given for not being able to support me. What? Wait a minute? No way! Yessss, get in!"
Sue at Ristorante Donatello had agreed to front the air ticket to my final destination. Although first I had to convince her that this wasn't (as she suspected) an April Fools wind-up. I really was that stupid to have put myself on this challenge 5 months ago, and I really did only need to get to Athens to be able to say I've completed it.
The only reason I'd written to Donatello was because of the suggestion of my mate in Alaska. As soon as I read his comment advising me to try some restaurants, I said to myself "Why didn't I already think of that? Brilliant!"
Immediately Donatello's came to mind, just because it's my favourite place to eat in Brighton and also the biggest and most well-known of all the city's restaurants.
I also knew that they're a business that puts a lot of pride in their support for the local community, they were even the official shirt sponsors of Brighton and Hove Albion at a time when not many people wanted to put a penny of their cash into the club.
Still, when I wrote the email I really didn't expect to get a positive reply. Not because of the restaurant, just because I was getting used to receiving negative responses to this particular dilemma.
Thankfully, Donatello's came through for me, and I hope to be able to repay their kind support in whatever way I can. The first thing I'll do is to tell anyone and everyone this;
If you're hungry and in Brighton, actually if you're hungry and anywhere in England, get yourself on the bus, in the car, on the train, any way you can down to Donatello's in The Lanes of Brighton. I can tell you from personal knowledge that the food, service, and setting are the best in the city.
The 2nd thing I can do to show my appreciation is when I get back to Brighton, hopefully in about 10 days time, take everyone I know there to eat loads of their food and to keep the waiting staff on their toes.

Right, back to Helsinki.
I was given a nice evening tour of the city last night. It's different to any city I've visited so far. There's no old-town in the traditional sense, but that's not to say that there aren't a lot of old buildings with a lot of character.
The history is also interesting, as Helsinki has been under the control of both Sweden and Russia, only enjoying independence since 1918.
Visual reminders of these previous landlords are evident all over the city, and make for an interesting tour around Helsinki.
As you stand in the market square down by the water's edge, you get a good example of what I'm talking about. Look to the left, you see the huge Lutheran cathedral. Shift your eyes to the right and there's the impressive Orthodox cathedral.

The relief that yesterday's news gave me meant I was able to fall asleep last night before midnight, and I actually got up this morning (not even grumpily) at 6.30!
Mikko was getting himself ready for work, he left at 6.45 and rather than stay lying in bed, I got myself up and out on to the balcony to enjoy the early morning sun.
That's another cool thing about being in Finland. The sun rises early and sets late.
It's a bit nippy outside, and people are walking to work with warm hats on their heads, but the sun is shining gloriously. Don't believe me? I took this picture from the balcony at 8 this morning;
I think I'm going to sit out on the balcony for a little while, listening to Slovenian radio through the internet (it's bright, sunny mornings like this that make me nostalgic to my 3 years in Ljubljana, where I'd sit out on my balcony over-looking the castle and eat breakfast with Vanja) then I'll get out and explore a bit of the city. In the afternoon, around 4.30, I'll meet Mikko from work and then we're going to take the ferry to the fortified island of Suomenlinna which I'm looking forward to seeing.
I'll be leaving Mikko's flat tomorrow to allow him to prepare and pack for his trip to England's Lake District, and I'll be moving across the city to stay with an American guy called Christopher for a few days until I can get to Greece.

Even more good news: As I've been typing this post, I've received a very enthusiastic email from a girl in Athens, Voula, letting me know that I don't even need to think any more about trying to find a place to stay while I'm there.

And so, it all falls into place!

The only thing left to do is try to at least reach the target amount for Cancer Research UK of £1500. Actually, I don't want to settle for 1500, let's get well over that amount. CLICK HERE TO MAKE IT HAPPEN! Of course you'll still be able to donate after I finish the challenge, and I'll be donating a percentage of any amount made from the upcoming book, but let's at least get to the original goal before I once again set foot on English soil.

One more picture; Elina in Riga kindly handing over my bus ticket from there to Tallinn.

Days on the road (without any money); 156
Capitals visited; 25 (3 non-EU)
Distance travelled; 8228 miles (13279 km)
Left to complete my mission; Just 1 capital - Athens!

Happiest day of the trip so far!

2008-04-01T07:46:00.001-07:00

I've just had the best news of the journey so far.
This coming Monday, just 6 days from now, I'll be able to say I've completed the challenge and will be free to make my way home to Brighton.
Why?
Because Brighton's (probably England's too) best restaurant, Donatello's, have let me know that they're willing to sponsor me for the final leg of the journey.
I can't even put into words how happy I am right now. I'm coming home!!!!
Sue, thank you!

Also cheers Alaska for the restaurant idea.

I arrived in Helsinki a little under an hour ago and was met at the terminal by my host, Mikko.
As i type this, he's in the kitchen cooking up some fish and potatoes, which I can't wait for because I'm starving!

My journey from Tallinn was nice. 3 hours on the massive ferry, the sun shone brightly the whole way, although I was in the minority in as much as no more than 10% of th passengers were under retirement age. So it wasn't what you'd call a 'fun' journey.

Thanks are needed for Oliver's company, whose name I can't remember exactly and I don't want to try and remember and then get it wrong, for providing me with the ferry ticket today. So, Oliver, please email the details.
Also, thanks for everything else in Tallinn, my time there was comfortable and relaxing.

I'm going to stop writing now, I'm still dancing about the news from Donatello's.

Days on the road (without any money); 155
Capitals visited; 25 (3 non-EU)
Distance travelled; 8228 miles (13279 km)
Left to complete my mission; Just 1 capital - Athens!

Helsinki bound

2008-03-31T14:50:00.000-07:00

Still haven't really got enough internet time to write anything other than to let you know I'm heading for Helsinki this afternoon.
Oliver's kindly provided me with a ticket for the 3-hour ferry ride and I'll be arriving in Finland's capital shortly before 4pm.

Just one capital to go then - Athens.

Still haven't had any luck finding an easy way there, although I'm still hopeful.

Come on boys and girls, make a sponsorship.. All donations go directly to Cancer Research UK. Click here to make it happen.

Short post from Tallinn

2008-03-30T11:06:00.000-07:00

Thanks to Kerry and Jules for the latest sponsorships. Getting closer and closer to the target amount. Remember it all goes directly to Cancer Research UK via the charity website, Justgiving.com. Make a sponsorship now by clicking here.

Thanks to a very kind donation of a bus ticket from Riga (thanks so much to a Riga couchsurfer called Elina, I can't tell you how much I appreciated that!) I arrived in Estonia's capital, Tallinn, last night shortly before 11.
I was met by my host, Oliver, and his friend, Kristina, and taken back to the flat where I was treated to an absolutely amazing meal of Brazilian beans, rice, and steak.

This post is short because I haven't got the time to write more, but pictures will follow as well as the whole story.
Today I saw the old town of Tallinn and it's definitely the most picturesque place I've seen anywhere in Europe. The history that goes with it is equally impressive.

I'll be heading to Helsinki on Tuesday, and thanks to a very very kind gesture from Oliver, I won't have to try to sneak on to the ferry without a ticket as I initially thought I'd have to. His company (I'll tell you all about the company when I have more details) is putting up a ticket for me.

I can't believe that I'm so close to the end now, where I'll finally be able to go home to Brighton. I never thought I could miss England so much.
Just Helsinki on Tuesday and then somehow down through the whole of Europe to get to Athens, then I'm done.

My body aches, I'm tired, and I want to go home, but at the same time I feel amazing to have made it this far, and now that I can see the end of the journey is not far off, I've got a spring in my step.

Days on the road (without money); 153
Capitals visited; 24 (3 non-EU)
Distance travelled; 8177 miles (13196 kilometres)
Capitals left to complete the challenge; Helsinki, Athens.

Tallinn bound

2008-03-29T03:23:00.000-07:00

On my way from Riga to Tallinn, Estonia.
Post to follow later, hopefully from there!!!

A big request.....
In a few days I will have made my way to 25 Capital cities. I will have been on the road, travelling without any money, for 5 months, and will have just one Capital to go before I can say I've completed my challenge and am able to go home.
That Capital city is Athens.

I'm not going to get technical here and talk about distances and what not. I'll keep it simple; Athens is a long long long way from Helsinki.

I'm tired, as you can imagine. I'm not at all looking forward to going through another 3 weeks or so, trekking down through Eastern Europe all the way to Greece's Capital.
I want to go home.

That's why I'm asking if anyone of you reading this knows of any business or company (or rich friend!) who would be willing to sponsor me by providing me with the cheapest air ticket from Helsinki to Athens.
A look at Opodo will show that the flights aren't too expensive at all, and it would help this challenge come to a completion.
The business or company (or rich friend) would also get a big amount of positive publicity not just on this blog but also in The Argus (Brighton's city newspaper), as well as on the BBC when I next do my interview, not to mention any other publicity I receive, as well as being immortalised forever in the book that I'll be releasing after this is all over.

I'd need the flight for any time in between the 4th - 14th April.
I don't expect big things here, but you never know.......

Thanks!

This is a long one.....

2008-03-27T13:15:00.000-07:00

A long post but a good story (I think).............

I didn't wake up as early yesterday as I had planned.
By the time I'd got myself showered, packed, eaten a banana for breakfast and was ready to leave the flat in Vilnius to attempt to get to Riga, it was 12.30 in the afternoon.
Over the breakfast cup of tea, Cori and I had both commented on how nice the weather was and what a pleasant day it would be for my hitch-hiking attempts. The sun was shining and the snow on the roof-tops was starting to melt.
Cori left the flat with me, on her way to the American Embassy to print some stuff, and as we walked down the street huge flakes of snow were falling from the sky, obviously being blown from the roof-tops by the wind that was picking up.

Wrong!

The snow flakes turned out to be fresh from the heavens. It was a classic case of "commentator's curse". By talking about how nice the weather was, it was inevitable that it would all of a sudden turn bad.

I'd received an email earlier in the morning from Darnius, letting me know where the best spot for hitching out of the city was, and that's where I was heading.
The snow was falling like nobody's business, massive massive flakes, and was settling on the ground quickly.
People looked at the idiot without a coat.
The idiot kept his eyes to the ground, embarrassed by his own stupidity.

I took the trolley-bus to the final stop, then walked for another 15-20 minutes trying to find the spot I'd been told about.
It was the entrance to the motorway, and I knew I was in the right place when I spotted a middle-aged scruffy-looking bloke standing with his thumb out.
I stood near to him, but not too close, and took out my home-made sign on which I'd written 'LV' meaning that I wanted to go to Latvia.
It was 2.05pm when I started.
After about 20 minutes of standing in the freezing cold, getting buried by the snow, and being splashed with brown water by every lorry that sped past, the middle-aged guy gave up and left the scene.
I wasn't alone for long. 5 minutes later and I see walking up the road towards me this little peroxide blonde slut.
The first thing she does to piss me off is take up her spot about 5 metres in front of me, basically jumping the queue of 1 that I had formed for lift.
The 2nd thing she does, which I knew was going to happen but that still pisses me off, is get picked up by a lorry driver after standing with her thumb out for less than a minute.
That part I could understand. Lorry drivers like peroxide-blonde girls that look like sluts. What I found rather distasteful was that both she and the driver felt the need to laugh at me as they drove off. A laugh that said "Do you really expect to get picked up looking like a drowned rat? A male drowned rat!"
I smiled back, not wanting to let them get to me in case it affected the image I was trying to project to other drivers of a cold, wet, but still smiling foreign guy just trying to get to Latvia.

At 2.40 another lorry sped past me, splashing my white jacket in mud and even getting some in my eyes. As I rubbed them to try and regain sight, a little car pulled over.
I looked inside to the driver who was speaking on his mobile and he indicated for me to chuck my bags in the back.
I did, then got in the front seat, and waited for him to finish his conversation.
He was a big, tough looking bloke, about 50 years old, and very Soviet looking. I didn't even bother imagining that he could speak English.
He said something to me in Lithuanian, then in Russian, then in Polish, and all three times I said "Ne razumen" which means "I don''t understand" in Slovene but is also practically the same in most other Slavic languages.
"English?" He asked.
"Yes."
"Ah, no problem. I speak English."
I was surprised, but very pleasantly. He asked what I was doing in Lithuania and I explained the story.
He told me that he was only going 60 kilometres up the motorway, but that at least it'd get me out of the snow for a bit and maybe I'd find it easier to get picked up from there.
We spoke througout the drive. His name was Tomas and he lived in a small town and worked in Vilnius in the building trade as some kind of boss.
He'd worked in Norway for a few years and that's where he'd learned English, and he was married with 1 son. He'd also spent many years in the Soviet navy, but was 100% Lithuanian and proud of it.
Along the way, we stopped into a motorway food and drink place where he bought me a cup of tea (he laughed when I asked him to ask the waitress for milk to go in it) and he also got me some pate and cucumber on bread, saying that I needed to have food inside of me if I was gonna be standing in this cold for a while.
I was grateful to have been picked up by such a nice bloke. Over the tea he spoke about how he was looking forward to getting home in about 20 minutes because he was going to make lunch with his wife. He told me how even though he works a lot of hours in the city, and she's also a busy estate agent, they still always try to find the time to make lunch together and go to the supermarket and stuff. Nice.
As we drove the last 20 minutes before he'd have to let me out, the snow got ridiculous. We couldn't even see through the windscreen at points.
When he dropped me off, he got out of the car and went to the boot where he pulled out a pair of gloves for me to wear - not the especially warm kind, they were the builders' kind for gripping stuff, but still something - as well as putting in my hands a packet of cigarettes, a lighter, and a bottle of Latvian brandy! I didn't know what to say, other than 'thanks!'
He wished me luck and drove off to his house. What a nice bloke!
It was 3.45 now, and I got my sign out again and started trying to get another lift.
The snow came down, and I swear I'm not exaggerating when I tell you that my bags that were on the ground at the side of the road actually got buried in the white stuff.
I looked like Raymond Briggs' The Snowman!
Some of the lorry-driving wankers would indicate then pull over the side of the road, wait for me a bit further up, watch me pick up my bags and struggle through the blizzard to get to the door, then just as I was about to reach out they'd drive off laughing.
That actually happened 3 times!
It must be a game that they all play. I made sure to show each one of them what I thought of them by doing a little movement with my wrist. I guess that gesture is internationally understood.

When it got to 4.45 I'd had just about enough of standing there being laughed at by every car and lorry that went past, and I was also freezing to death, so I had another one of those silly moments that I get sometimes where I said to myself "Fuck it. Riga's only 200km from here, I'll walk it!"
And so I picked up my bags and started walking along the motorway, keeping my thumb out on the off chance that someone might pull over and pick me up.
I'd been walking for 50 minutes when a car pulled over just in front of me and I got in.
The driver was a guy of about my age, Mandus, and he told me he was going about 50 kilometres to a place called Panevezys.
He dropped me off 35 minutes later at 6.10 and I carried on walking in the right direction.
Every time a lorry went past, the speed of it combined with the wind and almost blew me off my feet and into the path of the traffic.
I walked for another hour, saying to myself loudly over and over again "I won't stop until I get to Riga. I won't stop until I get to Riga."
Cori had given me a little bag containing a few slices of bread and cheese, some peanuts, and some biscuits. I opened the bag to find that the snow had got in and ruined everything. There were strange peanut-smelling juices everywhere and it was all just sopping wet and ruined. Great!
At 7.10 a car pulled up behind me and I turned around hopefully. This was gonna be my lift to Riga!
Wrong again!
It was the police. They asked me something, and I asked if he spoke English.
He did, and he asked for my passport, as well as asking where I was heading.
After checking my passport, the one in the passenger seat got out of the car and I assumed I was in some sort of trouble. I wasn't.
This guy turned out to be the friendliest policeman I've ever come across.
He asked me if I had anything reflective, maybe a jacket or something. I told him that I didn't, and so he opened up the boot and found the kind of reflective thing that people put on their bikes. He told me that I was taking a bit risk walking in the dark, and that in this snow it would be hard for a car to see me and could easily run me over.
He took some string and tied the thing to my bag, then we wished me good luck.
"Hang on." I said. "Are you driving that way?"
"Yes."
"Take me with you!"
"OK, we'll take you a bit further but then we'll have to turn around."
And so I got in the car and we drove for about 10 minutes at speed. As he put me out, he told me there was a petrol station a bit further up and maybe I'd be able to find someone there to take me.
I carried on through the blizzard. When I call it a motorway, by the way, it's not a motorway in the way that we have. It's a one-lane eachway road running through the forest, with no pavement for walking, and no lights.
I finally got to the garage at 7.40. It was a tiny little place and didn't look like it got many customers. A sign told me I was 145 kilometres from Riga.
I stood in front of the building and waited for some cars to come for petrol. The first few that came weren't going my way or had no space in the car.
Then a guy pulled up in a white transit van. As he came towards the building, I asked him where he was going.
"Near to Riga". He said.
"Perfect. Please can I come with you? I'm freezing and really need to get there."
"Um, I don't think so." He said. I could tell that he didn't really speak English and just had the basics. I checked his plates and found out he was from Poland.
"Come on. Please!" I asked again.
He told me to wait, then he went off to the toilet and then into the shop to buy cigarettes.
When he came out I asked him again.
He really looked like he didn't want to take me, so I decided I had to play my trump card. Out came the bottle of brandy.
"This is for you if you take me to Riga." I held it out to him.
He smiled. "OK".

We weren't able to speak much as his English was apalling and surprisingly I don't speak Polish, but I managed to find out that his name is Kristof and that he drives all over Europe, even in England and Wales, delivering some kind of materials to energy companies. He even sometimes delivers Polish contract workers to the plants.
How he manages to drive through England and Wales without speaking in English is beyond me, but he does, and told me that he's often in Port Talbot in Wales.
I also got from him that he wasn't actually going to Riga but was driving fairly close and would drop me off somewhere near.
Around 2 hours later at 9.50 he dropped me off.
Nowhere near Riga.
I was in the fucking forest!!!!!! I can't complain, though. He brought me a long way.

I'd seen a sign a few minutes before he dropped me out saying that Riga was 17km away.
I then walked around for about an hour, up and down different motorway turn-offs, in the pitch black (I couldn't even read the roadside signs unless a car went past and put it's headlights on it), trying to find a sign pointing me to the right motorway for Riga.
I found it eventually and got walking down this tiny little motorway turn-off that took me from one main one to another. You'd think that at least one car would see this guy walking around the motorway in the blizzard, struggling with heavy bags and looking lost, and at least pull over to ask if he knew where he was going.
You'd be wrong.

I walked and walked until I came to a motorway service station. As I saw it from the distance, it became my holy grail. I battled through the wind and snow to get there. As the elements battered me, I thought of one of my favourite films of all time 'In this world'. It's a film about some Afghan refugees going through a brutal overland journey to make it from a refugee camp in Pakistan to London. Every time I watched the film, I was always overcome with a desire to travel in that way, to go through the extremes, to really test myself and see what I'm made of.
There's a part of the film where they're fighting through the snow at night to cross the border from Iran into Turkey, and last night I got to have a taste of what that journey was like.

I know that a lot of you reading this will think that I'm exaggerating or dramatising things for effect. All I can do is tell you honestly that that isn't the case. It was a harsh journey. My body was hurting from carrying the bags, I had cramp in my right leg from the effort needed to walk through thick snow, my body was soaked through, there was a pond of water in each of my shoes, I'd eaten just a banana and a few slices of bread and pate all day, and I was exhausted.

I got to the petrol station and went up to the first car I saw. There were 2 guys, my age, putting air into one of the tyres.
"Do you speak English?" I asked.
"Yea."
"Are you going to Riga?"
"Yep."
"Can I please jump in?"
"Sure! Why not?"

And I was getting a lift into the city.
The guys were Renars and Janez (I hope I've spelt the names right) and they were returning to Riga after a day of snowboarding.
They asked what I was doing and I gave a brief explanation, although was too cold and tired to speak too much about it.
Renars went in to the shop then came out with a hot cup of fruit tea for me, plus a tuna sandwich.
These boys were legends!
They asked where I was staying and I said I didn't know, but I did have the number of my host. I used Renars' phone to call, then got Liva (my host) to explain to them where I was to go.
It was pretty close to where they were going, and so they took me all the way to the flat.
We got to the flat at around 11.30 and exchanged cards as I got out of the car. Renars invited me to the bar where he works at the weekend for some drinks.

Liva and Paulis, a young Latvian couple, were waiting for me.
I was taken up to the flat and given another cup of tea while we sat in the living-room and got to know eachother.
Liva studies History, Paulis studies philosophy. They're both into snowboarding, skating, and that kind of scene.
I had a shower, ate the tuna sandwich, and watched Family Guy with the two of them, before going to bed at 2.
I wasn't able to sleep at all, even though I have my own comfortable bed, because my body was aching so much from the day.
Even now, almost 24 hours after arriving, my shoulders are killing.

I spent most of today in the skate shop where paulis works. It's also joined on to a record shop. Not the old kind of records that your dad buys, but the kind that DJs buy.
I used to do a bit of mixing as a teenager, and so it felt good to mess around on the decks for a few hours, mixing (although, nowhere near as good as I used to) house records.
The record shop's owned by a German guy (whose name escapes me), and basically Paulis and him share the same job description. It looks like this;

Sit around all day. Serve the 3 or 4 customers that you get throughout the course of the day. Play records and mess around on the computer. Eat sandwiches. Play poker, but not for money, for forfeits. Smoke lots of cigarettes. Make a snowman outside if weather permits. Go home at the end of the day.
It's really that simple.
I didn't do any sight-seeing today just because it's dangerous to walk on the streets. The snow is melting and is falling in rock-hard heavy blocks from every roof. I even saw a car windscreen almost smash from a falling piece of snow.
In the late afternoon I came home to the flat and met Sohail, the flat-mate of my hosts.
He's a 25-year old Pakistani medical student. After speaking for a little while about why I'm in Latvia, he invited me to the kitchen for food. He made a delicious vegetable curry with rice and potatoes. I'd had a sandwich in the morning that Paulis got me, but my stomach was aching from hunger and it felt so good.
I talked a lot with Sohail, mostly about religion (he had to leave kitchen in between the curry and the potatoes, to go and pray in his room).
He's a devout Muslim, whereas I won't go along with any of the main religions that basically say you're going to hell if you don't follow the one way that the particular relgion preaches.
Sohail tried his best to put into me that Islam is the only true way, and that everyone must accept Mohamed as the last prophet.
I had no problem with this whatsoever because he wasn't doing it in a preaching kind of way, he just told it the way that he believes it. I took him to task on a lot of things that are obviously wrong with the religion, for example, the over-reaction of all Muslims to a few silly cartoons published in European newspapers. We disagreed a lot on the severity of publishing such cartoons, and we also disagreed on a lot of other things, but all the time the conversation was respectful on both sides and I enjoyed it. I also learned a lot about Islam that I didn't know before.
Of course, I could never even imagine what it's like to follow a religion that forbids two of my favourite things; alcohol and pork.
Most of what Sohail said, I could at least understand the logic behind. One thing though was a bit too out-there.
"Alcohol is bad because when you are drunk, it is impossible to differentiate between your wife and your sister."
I don't know of anyone who's ever had that problem. I think you could probably drink enough absynthe to put you in a coma before you mistook your sister for your wife. But hey, we all have our different beliefs, and I'm not going to ridicule his. I'll just disagree.

Sohail is a really nice guy, who really goes that extra bit further to be hospitable and to make sure that you're comfortable and have everything that you need. He's been making me tea all evening, and generally just making sure I feel at home.
The two Latvians are out snow-boarding.

I'm off to bed now. After getting no sleep last night, I'm ready to try again.

Thanks to another sponsorship from my good friend in Alaska, we're now only 100 quid away from the target amount. Every penny goes directly to Cancer Research UK and making a sponsorship only takes a minute. Click here to make it happen.

Another rough day

2008-03-26T17:03:00.000-07:00

After 11 hours of "hitch-hiking" (the reason I put that in speech marks is because it wasn't so much hitch-hiking, really it was just hiking) I finally made it to my home in Riga at 11.30 tonight.
I spent at least 6 hours today walking through the fiercest snow blizzards I've ever experienced, on unlit motorways that run through forests. Not a fun day by any stretch of the imagination, in fact it was the hardest so far, a lot harder even than when I got stuck in that Polish town near the Lithuanian border.

I did meet some cool people along the way, though. I'll tell you all about it tomorrow. Now I'm going to sleep, although I don't know if I'll be able to as my body is seriously hurting that much.

One thing I learned today is that there is absolutely nothing that can get me down or defeat me. I feel super-human after today.

Days on the road (without money); 149
Capitals visited; 23 (3 non-EU)
Distance travelled; 8004 miles (12918 kilometres)
Capitals left to complete the challenge; Tallinn, Helsinki, Athens.

Good night

2008-03-25T17:16:00.000-07:00

It's 2.30am and I'm just about to go to bed.
I'll be waking up fairly early and heading out into the snow to try and hitch-hike my way to Riga. It's gonna be a long, cold day for me, but hopefully things will go well enough and the next time you hear from me I'll be safe and sound in Latvia's capital.

By the way, I didn't manage to meet Dainius to get a coat off of him, so no doubt there's gonna be some shivering moments on the side of the road.

Good night....

Snowed in!

2008-03-25T03:40:00.000-07:00

I'm still alive.
That's because i didn't even manage to attempt hitch-hiking out of Vilnius because I'm snowed in!
The white stuff has been falling non-stop for about 16 hours and is showing no sign of letting up. It's just my luck, isn't it? I just took this picture out of the bedroom window;

Some good news; It looks as though I'm going to have a coat on me when I try to get out of here tomorrow. A guy called Dainius contacted me through Couchsurfing to offer me his coat. This guy did something similar (but not too similar) to what I'm doing. He embarked on a challenge he named 'Africa4corners' which came about after he made a bet with a friend that he could hitch-hike from Morocco to South Africa without paying for a single ride. Technically, he lost the bet, as he had to spend 70 dollars at somewhere along the line, but still he didn't really lose because what he managed to complete was amazing. I'm not 100% clear about whether or not he was allowed to spend money on other things, such as food, drinks, or accomodation, but if he didn't then his challenge was obviously much more difficult than my little jaunt around Europe! Find out all about him for yourself by clicking here to check out his website.
So, hopefully I'll manage to meet up with him some time later today or possibly in the morning and get hold of a coat, as well as having a chance to talk to him and find out more about his really interesting experiences.

Last night I was introduced to some of the night-life that Vilnius has to offer. Cori, my host, posted on the Vilnius forum on Couchsurfing to see if anyone would be interested in coming out for a drink and meeting me. We met in a pub at 8, and there were 4 girls, plus 2 of Cori's friends also turned up.
Apart from having to listen to some of their conversations about such fascinating things as why there's always so much toilet paper in the ladies' toilets in pubs and clubs, how African men are really sexy, and other equally important topics, I had a really fun night.
We left the pub after about an hour or so, and headed on to a place called Woo. Not quite a bar, not quite a club, something in between.
A few of the crowd left pretty early, leaving me with 2 Lithuanians, Ruta and Ieva, and a Turkish Erasmus student, Ozge.
The music being banged out was mostly house, and the later the night got the more the place started to resemble a club.
Ieva left at some point in the evening, and so it was just me, Ruta (left), and Ozge (right).
Ozge couldn't get a bus home until 6 in the morning, and so we tried to pass the time so that we could keep her company and not just leave her to wait while we went off to sleep, but at around 4.00 the club emptied out and the snow was making the idea of hanging around for another 2 hours seems more and more uncomfortable, so in the end she did what she really didn't want to do and called a taxi.
The walk back to the flat took me about 45 minutes just because of the snow, and when I came in the hair on my head was actually frozen solid. No exaggeration!

Remember I told you that my host, Cori, has an English boyfriend and so understands what it takes to make a proper cup of tea? Well, I found out yesterday morning that that's not the only English thing she's learned to do. Check this picture out... That was breakfast yesterday! There's even Heinz baked beans in there!!!

Today I think I'm gonna head out and see how beautiful the city is covered in white, and tomorrow I'm really gonna try and get out of here.

I walked around the city quite a bit yesterday. Here are a few snaps;
St. Michael's church. Apparently Napoleon thought it so beautiful that he said he wanted to take it back to France in the palm of his hand.

Artists trying to flog their work.

The presidential palace.

Right in the centre of the old town.

The gates of dawn.

An old woman asleep inside the church of the gates of dawn.

Final thoughts? Hopefully not!

2008-03-24T10:08:00.000-07:00

Vilnius is freezing today. I'm really not looking forward to trying to hitch out of here in the morning. If you don't hear from me in the next couple of days it's because I'm dead.

Stop reading now, and check back in a couple of days. If there's no new post, then I am officially dead. If this is the case, then I want you to now carry on reading, it may give you some insight into my final moments on this earth.

Thank you for the support you've given me over the past 4 and a half months, it's meant a lot to me, but unfortunately there'll be no more posts for you to follow as unfortunately I'm now dead.
It was a painful death, both mentally and physically. I just got colder and colder until my organs slowly shut themselves off and I lay dying in the kerb in a Lithuanian town probably somewhere just outside of Vilnius.
My last thoughts were "What kind of nob do you have to be to leave your coat in Spain just before heading back into Eastern Europe in the winter?"

I don't want a minute of silence to remember me or anything like that, instead I'd rather that I become a figure of ridicule for even attempting to hitch-hike around the Baltics in below zero temperatures wearing nothing more than a t-shirt and tracksuit top.

If you want, you can show your appreciation for the brave way in which I left this mortal world, by clicking here to sponsor me. Remember all funds go directly to Cancer Research UK.

I'm at least happy that I died after seeing Vilnius, as it really is a beautiful city and one of my favourites from the trip.

Good bye to everyone who knew me and everyone who didn't.

Kris Mole

Mental times!

2008-03-23T05:09:00.000-07:00

So, here's the story from yesterday......

So, after going to bed at 4am the night before, I got up and out of the flat by 6.30 and was on the 7.20 train to Sestokai, from where I'd have to change for the final leg to Vilnius.
For a long part of the journey I had no room at all as my compartment was full of people. When they all got off at a place close to Belarus (I know we were close to Belarus because I got 2 text messages on my phone welcoming me to Belarus) I was able to spread out a bit and get comfy.
I was kind of drifting in and out of naps, and so I set my alarm for 2.30 as we were due to arrive in Sestokai at 2.40 and I wanted to be awake and ready to change.
I was woken a bit earlier than I had expected. 12.30 actually. Woken by a guy speaking Polish and asking me if I was heading for Sestokai.
"Tak." That means 'yes' in Polish.
The guy laughed and pointed to the back of the train whilst saying something I didn't understand. I guessed I had to move carriage, so I picked up my stuff and came out of my compartment only to find there was no back of the train anymore. It had gone and nobody had told me. I was stuck in a shit-hole called Suwalki.
I swore loudly a few times and jumped off the train, trying to find someone who could give me information about the next train.
I found one guy only (this station was tiny and in the middle of nowhere) who could speak no English at all, so through a mixed conversation of Slovene and Polish I found out that the next train wasn't until 'jutro' or 'tomorrow'.
Shit!
The guy then walked me for about 10 minutes to a main road where a lot of the vehicles were lorries with LV plates heading for Lithuania. He stood with me for about 10 minutes trying to hitch-hike, but everyone was just driving past and waving or giving the finger and laughing.
It was freezing, like -1 degree, and remember I don't even have a coat.
The guy left me and I carried on for about another 20 minutes, then I saw a bus station. Light-bulb above head time.
I went in to the the information centre and asked if the woman spoke English.
"No." She said, and then turned to the guy behind me in the queue, just dismissing before I'd even attempted to ask her anything. He bought his ticket then I made sure I got back in before the next person.
"Vilnius" I said.
"No." She shook her head and turned to the next customer.
What the fuck?
After she'd served her, I got back in again and said "When can I go to Vilnius?"
She just laughed and turned to the next customer. I was getting nowhere. Then a voice to my right said "maybe I can help."
It was a girl, a bit junkie-looking, but friendly enough to want to translate for me.
"I hate these people in these kind of towns." She said. "They're so rude if you can't speak Polish."
"Ah well" I said "it's fair enough, I guess. I don't know many people in England who would be too helpful to a Pole who spoke no English."
Her name was Oija and she was from Warsaw, she explained this was why she could speak English. The original woman wasn't very helpful even to a Polish speaker, so we went to the other side of the building and asked another woman for some info. There were no buses to Lithuania today or tomorrow (because of the Easter holiday) so the best thing she could think of was to somehow make it to the Lithuanian side of the border then see what I could get.
The border, I was told, was 30 kilometres away.
I thanked the girl, and told her I'd sort something out.

By now, I couldn't feel my hands from the cold, so I had the idea to go to the police station to find out if they could suggest anything.
I found the station and had to wait 10 minutes for them to find an English-speaking cop for me. He came and I told him the story of the train and asked if he could think of any solution.
"There's a sleeping centre for the homeless. You can sleep there tonight, I'll take you."
"I don't know. Is it safe?" I wondered.
"Hmmm. Have you got anything valuable?"
"Not really."
"Then you should be OK. The homeless guys will go through your bags when you're asleep, but if there's nothing worth taking, you'll be fine." He grinned. This was funny to him.

I really wasn't up for staying there, but figured it might be my only option. At least I could stay in the warm for the night, I wouldn't close my eyes, and I'd leave first thing in the morning to get to Vilnius, using the ticket I already had and explaining why I was travelling a day later.
He took my passport details and phoned ahead to book me into the centre, then he told me to wait for him for 10 minutes and he'd drive me there.

As I sat waiting, I began having serious second thoughts about the whole situation. It was like 2.30 in the afternoon and I really didn't want to be at the homeless centre so early without trying other things first.
By the time the policeman pulled up outside in the big van and came in to get me, I had well and truly talked myself out of going to any centre. It became even clearer that I couldn't go there when he said to me "I've called the railway company and there's no train tomorrow because of the holiday."
"Well, that's just fucking marvelous." I said. "look, there's no way I'm spending 2 nights in a homeless centre where they're gonna have the English non-Polish speaking guy for breakfast, lunch, and dinner. I need to get back to Warsaw to assess my options."
"So, you wanna go to the train and bus stations to see the possibilities?" He asked.
"Yea!"
I got into the van and found that I'd been right with my guess that he wasn't too satisfied when taking my passport details earlier. I'd seen it in his face. That look I'd seen on a hundred other border guards and policemen every time one of them handles my document.
"Can I see your passport again?" He asked.
I gave it to him, then sat locked in the back of the police van for 10 minutes while he ran the check over the radio and waited for the all clear. He gave it back to me, then drove first to the bus station. He left me locked in the back while he went inside. I sat there looking every bit the criminal as curious Polish eyes watched the bearded stranger in the back of the wagon, wondering what act of terrorism he'd been prevented from commiting.
he came back to the van and smiled as he said "No buses to Warsaw today, and no buses to Lithuania tomorrow. You wanna try the train station?"
"Yea."
The same again, I sat and waited while he went inside.
"No trains to Warsaw til tomorrow." he said. "So, shall I take you to the centre?"
"No. Take me to a good place for hitch-hiking out of the city to Lithuania. I'm gonna have to give it a go."
And so he did. "This is where you wanna be, Kris." he told me as he let me out at a bus stop on a road leading towards Lithuania. "Just try to wave down a truck."
We shook hands, I thanked him, and he wished me good luck. The cold air slapped me in the face hard as I got out of the wagon.

There I was, standing on this street in front of a bus stop, freezing to death (slight exaggeration), being watched and laughed at by all the locals as they walked past, and having all the drivers just grinning at me as they passed.
I stood there in the cold air for about an hour and in that time at least 40 Lithuanian lorries passed me and not one stopped.
I looked around and wondered what I was going to do. I felt like dropping to my knees and just lying in the cold, I couldn't go on anymore. I can't put into words there despair I was feeling as I stood there in this little town where no one spoke English and where I had no food and was literally freezing.
I'd have to go back to the police and ask to be taken to the homeless centre, and that was only if they'd still have me after I'd decided to snub them already.
I ran everything through my head. How would the reaction be if I gave up now? Would I be ridiculed? Would I hate myself for not seeing it through to the end? Would the people that have already sponsored me feel let down? Would I bring shame to myself and to my family? Did I really care? After all, surely all of that would be better than what I was feeling at that precise moment in time. Saying all that, though, what the hell could I do? How could I just quit? How would I get home anyway?
Then just like that, something changed. I said to myself "Hang on. How many times has something come along when you needed it most? Didn't you say that you'd sooner die in the cold than give up and go home a loser? Start thinking positively again and you will get yourself out of the shit!"
And so I did. It was fucking hard to switch the mentality back to a positive way of looking at things, but I managed to do it, first by laughing at the fact that all week I've been happy thinking about the stress-free trip I was going to have to the Baltics, with a train ticket in my hand. And now here I was, a few hours after leaving Warsaw care-free, stuck in arguably the toughest situation so far on the journey.

Just then a car pulled over and asked if I wanted to be dropped off at the border where it would surely be easier to find a ride. I got in, feeling optimistic again.
At the border, the sun started shining all of a sudden and took the chill out of the air. If it was a film, there would've been that kind of 'aaaaaa' sound that accompanies religious miracles and stuff as the light rises in the distance. you know what I mean? :-)
I walked across the border, it was quite a distance between the two sides. I kept my thump out for any lorry that passed but still nothing.
"Fuck it. I'll walk the 105 miles to Vilnius. I won't be beaten!" I shouted it out loud. No one heard me (otherwise I might've got embarrassed).
I showed my passport and walked until there were no more polish flags to be seen.
As I walked, defiantly, I still got laughed at and waved to by every Lithuanian driver that rolled past. I've never met any Lithuanians in my life, so this was my first impression and it wasn't filling me with love.
I came to a parked lorry and as I walked past, had to wait because the driver was blocking my path as he had a piss up against a fence. I stood there and waited for him (I would've felt uncomfortable in his position, but he seemed not to notice). When he'd finished I asked him where he was going. He told me in German that he was waiting here for an hour.
"Then what?" I asked. Actually I just kind of pointed to my wrist to indicate an hour, and then said "und?"
"Und Kaunas." He told me.
Great, at least if I got to Kaunas it would be easier to find a way to Vilnius, and if not, I could find a station to sleep in in the city.
"Bitte!" I pointed to myself.
"OK" He said.

I did a little dance and said "Danke schon!" In an hour I'd be on my way to a big city, and I was gonna have my first hitch-hiking experience.
As he sat in his cab reading a porno mag and smoking, I sat on the kerb in front, playing with my phone.
I sat in between his lorry and another one that I didn't think had a driver.
It did. I found out when the driver came to ask me to move a bit so that he could reverse before pulling out. Then, my driver called him over, spoke in Lithuanian, and then called me over. The new driver was asking where I wanted to go, so I said "Kaunas."
"OK" he said, and indicated for me to get in.

He started trying to explain something in German, but his was only marginally better than mine, and the conversation resembled a year-8 aural exam in Deutsch. I got that he wasn't exactly going to Kaunas, and I told him it was OK to drop me anywhere on the motorway because then I'd try to get to Vilnius.
"Vilnius? Ich gehe Vilnius." He said. I could've kissed him (another slight exaggeration).
And just like that I was on my way.

The conversation didn't exactly flow, but we got along some how. His name was Alek and he worked for a Lithuanian company driving over Germany, Poland, Belgium and Holland. He spoke no English and had only learned basic German to make it possible to work. He worked 17 days of the month and earned 1000 Euros for it, good money to a Lithuanian, especially when you add on the extra 400 or so that he makes on the side by stealing petrol that the company pays for and then sucking it out through a tube and selling it to other drivers on the street. As proof, he showed my the big plastic container full of his loot. He was quite proud.
He let me use his phone to call my host in Vilnius, Cori, to let her know that I was on my way. Nobody was answering the phone, so I sent a text message. Later, I tried calling again, this time there was an answer but it wasn't an American girl called Cori, it was a Lithuanian who couldn't speak English and asked me in German "Ist das Kris?"
What???
Then I remembered that I'd sent a text so he got my name from that.

I was starting to get worried that I'd be in Vilnius after such a day and then not have anywhere to sleep. Alek was worried too, and was asking if I needed to stay at his place.
I said no, because I was pretty sure that all I needed to do was get access to the internet somewhere and check my email for the address, and I'd probably find that I'd just copied the phone number wrongly.
After about a 3-hour drive I was in Vilnius. Alek dropped me off at the train station and it was actually an emotional farewell. We shook hands and he drove off, beeping and waving as he went. Through 3 hours of broken German, we'd bonded, and I as so grateful for the big part he'd played in me getting to Lithuania's capital.

Into a hotel, politely asked the girl behind the desk if I could use the net for a couple of minutes. No problem. I'd been ringing the wrong number, but I now had the right one and also the address. The girl showed me on a map how to get there, and 20 minutes later I was walking in to the flat of a surprised Cori who had given up hope of me making it.
It was 9pm, and only then did I realise that I was in a different time zone to the one I'd left earlier in the day. it's an hour in front here.

Cori is an American student, studying Slavic languages and linguistics. Something that I really wanted to study myself, before I found out that it would mean going to university in Nottingham. Cold villages in Poland I can just about handle, the north of England, that's a different story. No thank you.

I had a hot bowl of soup, the very first thing I'd eaten in the whole day, as well as a cup of tea. A proper cup of tea! Her boyfriend is English and so she's been able to learn that there is only one kind of tea worthy of the name tea.
I went to a bar to meet some of her friends and had a few beers, before just crashing out like a baby on the couch-bed.
That's my host, Cori.

Today, after spending 40 minutes of tedium shaving off my beard with a blunt razor, I had a kind of tour of the city, although I had to walk through sleet, snow, rain, and hail to see it. Vilnius is beautiful. It reminds me so much of Ljubljana, with the style of buildings and churches, the paved roads in the old town, the market stalls, and the weather! If I can tell you how beautiful it is even after only seeing it in this shitty weather, then that to me means that it really passes the test and can officially be put on to my list of favourite European cities.
It also has a sense of humour. There's a small part of the city called Uzupio, that in 1991 declared itself an independent republic. Of course it wasn't a serious declaration, it was just a piss-take of the situation of the time when so many republics were declaring independence. The place has it's own constitution, signs welcoming you to the republic, and even ministers. If you go there on the 1st of April (Uzivo's independence day) you can even get your passport stamped. I had to take a picture at the 'border'.

I've managed to lose the ticket I won from Vilnius to Riga, meaning that I'm probably going to have to have another hitch-hiking experience on Tuesday when I leave here. Not looking forward to standing in the snow and sleet, but I'm feeling optimistic. I'm so close to the end, I can smell the fish and chips.

A few pics taken in Vilnius today;

Days on the road (without any money); 146
Capitals visited; 22 (3 non-EU)
Distance covered; 7841 miles (12655 km)
Capitals left to visit; Riga, Tallinn, Helsinki, Athens

Too old for this

2008-03-22T16:01:00.000-07:00

Today honestly was the hardest, mentally, of the whole trip so far. I came so close to throwing in the towel. In the end I just slapped myself in the face, snapped back to reality, and got myself out of the situation. But I tell you what, I was really down there.

I'm too knackered to even tell the story now, but tune in later for the details. After I've had a sleep I'll be ready to go through it.

Just to let you know - I got my first ride in a police van. :)

Sometimes gambling pays off

2008-03-21T04:47:00.000-07:00

How good is this? I've already got a train ticket from Vilnius in Lithuania to Riga in Latvia. I won it last night!
I got myself involved in a poker tournament here, and as I was unable to pay the buy-in fee, the other players agreed that it would be just as funny to see me humiliated, so they said I could buy-in with my shoe laces (on the condition that I'm not allowed to find any other replacement laces whilst in Poland), as well as agreeing to be the slave of the winner for 24 hours. As a prize, because I'm not allowed to accept any cash, I'd receive the ticket if I won.
As they sat around laughing, imagining me having to get to Vilnius without shoe laces, I took less than 10 seconds to agree. I knew I'd win, I've played more poker than these guys have had hot dinners.

I bullied them with my chips, took their heads apart psychologically, and once they realised that I only had to look at their face for a second to know exactly what they had, they basically just shit themselves and handed over their chips without much of a fuss. I even wore a silly hat and glasses that I found in the flat, just to mess with them that little bit more.
That's the beauty of playing against novices.
It didn't take me that long, either.

So, today I'll meet Rob and head down to the station to sort out the tickets from here to Vilnius, and then from Vilnius to Riga for a few days later. And the best part; I'll be wearing shoe laces the whole time. :)

Hopefully I can get my clothes washed and dried in time to pack them all for this evening, as I'm being persuaded to stay out all night drinking with these guys and then just get straight on the train in the morning, feeling nice and refreshed. Hmmmmm.
Not looking forward to the 11-hour ride, but I should be able to get my head down a bit.

All too easy! Muahahahahahaha.

Found a way out of Vilnius

2008-03-20T12:09:00.000-07:00

My good mate here in Warsaw, Aussie Rob (or Robbie, as the BBC called him the last time I was here and they put a picture of the 2 of us on their website) won a home-game poker tournament last night and has offered to buy me a ticket to Vilnius with what is only a small percentage of his winnings as travel in this part of the world is remarkably cheap.
I went to the train station today to do some research and found out that there is a train direct to Vilnius that doesn't pass through Belarus, meaning that there's no need for any visa.
So, I'll be on the 7.20am out of here on Saturday morning, arriving around 11 hours later in Lithuania's capital.

It's proper cold here, and has been snowing again today. I've already lined up a couple of interesting people to host me in both Lithuania and Latvia, and according to my source in Riga it's even colder there than it is here and there's more snow. Looking forward to getting up there without a coat, it's gonna be a laugh. Well, a laugh for others, I probably won't see the funny side until I'm defrosted and sitting down in Athens, the final destination of the challenge.

I'm doing something tonight that I haven't done for a long time, but something that we used to do fairly regularly when I lived in Slovenia. Making a pizza from scratch. When I say it's something that we used to do regularly, the word 'we' is a bit of an exaggeration, it should be replaced by the name 'Vanja', who used to brighten up the coldest, greyest Sunday evening when she started rolling that dough. I did sometimes grate the cheese.

When it snows here it only serves to make the Poles look even tougher. I noticed it on the tram this morning. Most Poles look like they can handle themselves at the best of times, but with the snow blowing into their stubble-covered faces, everything reddened by the cold, wooly hats on head, they look like they're on their way to the casting for the next Rocky film, or if not for the next one then maybe they're on the way back to 1985 to try out for a part as one of the Russian bodyguards out in the snow-covered wilderness where Rocky goes to train.

Last night was filled with a few games of poker in the flat with a group of people, some I'd never met before. Basically, this guy Richard, a Canadian working here as a PR to some celebs (none of whom I've ever heard of, but that's just because I'm not to hot on the Polish entertainment scene) has just bought a chip set and so the group of friends is going through that poker craze that happens every time someone buys a new chip set. Last night was the first of what they're hoping will become an every Wednesday night affair.
Last night was one time when it would've been really nice to have some money in my pocket as I could've got some action against a load of beginners.

This picture was taken last night just beofre people started making their way home. From my left shoulder going right there's Rob, Sean (formerly known as Noam), Emma (aka Girl), my main host Jon.

Right, I'm off to help with the pizza..........

Little update

2008-03-19T05:27:00.000-07:00

Thanks a lot to Kirk for todays's sponsorship, it's greatly appreciated. Remember all donations go directly to Cancer Research UK, through the website Justgiving.com. Click here to sponsor me a few quid.

I found out today that Adrian in Prague also contributed to my train ticket from there to Bohumin up on the border. Sorry mate that I didn't mention you at the time, I didn't know until today!

You'll be pleased to know I've found the English subtitles to yesterday's little beauty. Have a look.

I'm still in Warsaw, by the way, assessing my options and trying to find a way to Vlinius. It looks like it'll be hard to do in a day, as the train goes through Belarus, a country that I can't enter without a visa, and also a country that I'd be too shit-scared to go into without a ticket or money anyway! I'll find a way, it's just a matter of time.

And the snow's stopped :)

Days on the road (without any money): 141
Distance travelled: 7597 miles (12262 KM)
Capitals visited: 21 (3 non-EU)
Left to visit: Vilnius, Riga, Tallinn, Helsinki, Athens

Got no coat and it's snowing!

2008-03-18T06:30:00.000-07:00

I left Prague yesterday morning on the 8.06am train to a town near to the border with Poland, Bohumin.
Florin had bought me a ticket to there, as well as fixing me up for the night before in a hostel near to his flat. Where would I be without all these Romanians helping me on my way throughout the continent?
I hadn't had a wink of sleep, as the 14-bed dorm that I stayed in had people coming in and out of it all night, plus a few snorers, and a French guy on the bunk above me who wouldn't keep still. I didn't mind, though, as I knew I'd get a chance to have a kip on the 4-hour train ride to the border.
I met Florin at 7.30 at the hostel, and he came in and took a few of the complimentary slices of some kind of cake thing, then we took the tram then tube to the station. I got on to the train just a few seconds before it departed, got myself in a compartment with 2 sleeping girls, and immediately got my head down.

I got to Bohumin at around half past 12, and 10 minutes later was on the fast train to Warsaw. The ticketless journey was too easy, as I first went to speak to the Czech girl conductor and explained that I'd just got off of the train from Prague and had found that my ticket and wallet had been taken out of my jacket pocket that I'd left in the compartment while I went for a piss. I now needed to get to the British embassy in Warsaw to see what I could do.
She was nice, friendly, and young, and told me that she was gonna be getting off the the train at the next stop when we got into Poland, but that she'd explain to the Polish guards for me.

When the Poles got on, I went to them and asked if they spoke English. Not one of them did, so I started expalining in Slovene about my situation. They understood everything and cut me short by finishing my sentence for me because they'd already been told by the girl. They said it was no problem, and I arrived in Warsaw 4 hours later, just before 5.

The weather was warm and sunny, completely different to the last time I was here in November.

I had nowhere to stay and hadn't arranged anything, but I still had the number in my phone of a friend in the city, Noam. Remember he was the AIESEC guy that invited me to Slovakia to speak on the conference. I rang him from a hotel phone and he told me he'd meet me in 2 hours and I could stay at his place.
I walked round to the cafe to see if my good friend, Max, was working in there. He was. I sat in there for about an hour, chatting, before getting a text from Noam telling me to go to Jon's flat. Jon was the guy I stayed with last time.
The weather had changed and it was now pissing down and cold.

I got to the flat and it was as if I was here just last weekend. Paul and Nick, the Canadian brothers that were living here last time have since left, replaced by a Polish couple. Yesterday was the last day in the flat for the Polish bloke, though, as they'd had to kick him out because in an argument with his girlfriend had beaten her up. Properly beaten her up.
The atmosphere was a bit weird around her, as none of us wanted to seem as if we were giving her special attention because of what she'd gone through, but in the end the situation just made it seem exactly like that.

Another one of my good mates from the last time here came round, Rob, and we sat round the table eating mozzarella and tomatoes, before heading out for a few drinks in a club.
I ended up sleeping on Rob's settee because Jon left earlier.

Would you believe it, I woke up this morning expecting a nice day of walking around in the sun - It was snowing!!!!
It still is.

Gonna lounge around a bit today watching films and stuff with the other, and also try and sort out a way to Lithuania.

Before I go, I want to share something with you. Hopefully it will give you a good insight into popular music from this part of the world. It's in Czech, but the band also made a Polish version, so it's popular all over. Please watch it to the end, you won't be disappointed. It's fucking hilarious! Click here to see it.

Warsaw

2008-03-17T12:14:00.000-07:00

Just got a minute to let you know I made it easily to Warsaw today. I'm with my old mates from the last time I was here. Post will follow shortly....

Prague - Tick it off the list!

2008-03-16T05:50:00.000-07:00

Just want to say a big thanks to Sam for the sponsorship, much appreciated. And also to Alaska for yet another donation, it means a lot to me. Cheers guys!

Also, before I write on, just want to clear up the name situation with the great couple that hosted me in the German town of Fulda. Benni and Andrea!!! Thanks for contacting me and reminding me, amd apologies for not getting it right in the first place. :)
Anyway, here's the picture we took;

Right, so I'm in Prague and it was one of the easiest legs of my journey so far.
I left Dresden yesterday afternoon and armed with some sandwiches and fruit courtesy of my friend Stefanie, got on the 5.10pm train direct to Prague.
I wanna thank Stefanie and also her friends for making me feel so welcome and at home in Dresden. I enjoyed meeting all of them.
Took this picture just before leaving Dresden;

I'd got Stefanie to write a small note in German explaining that I had no ticket or money and that I needed to get to the British Embassy in Prague, and when I showed it to the German ticket guard he said "No problem."
On the Czech side, the inspector came along and I explained to her that I had no money or ticket and I told the truth why. After a moment of contemplation, where I wasn't sure which way she was going to go, she said "OK" and left the compartment.

The journey was spent in a compartment with a Canadian guy, Dean, and an Aussie who was far too familiar with the prostitute situations of Asia, Tony. Basically, the whole journey was spent listening to Tony's stories of hooker experiences while Dean and I just looked at each other seeing the funny side of this situation.
"Why would I want to meet a woman in a bar and buy her drinks all night, especially in Australia where the women have a bad attitude and are feminist, when I can pay 20 Australian dollars for a woman who will love me long time?"
He actually said "Love me long time."
It made the journey go a bit quicker, but I was quick to find somewhere to wash my hands after shaking his on parting.

I arrived in Prague at 7.30pm and went into a hotel to call the number of a Romanian guy who had contacted me through the blog, Florin. He told me what tram to take, and then he met me outside a fruit and veg shop and told me he was celebrating his birthday and I had arrived at the perfect time to join the celebrations.
I was introduced to the group of 15, and felt comfortable immediately when I realised that once again on my trip I was in the company of Romanians (there were also 2 or 3 non-Romanians).
Here's the group pic outside the restaurant. I still love that hat!

We started in a restaurant/bar. I had a few Czech beers, lovely, and also a cheeseburger, as I chatted with some of the group about different things.
I sat next to a guy called Adrian, a big football fan, and the beers flowed along with talk of the upcoming European Championships.
The plan was that a few of them would pitch in to put me up in a hostel for the night, but Adrian and his girlfriend Andrea offered to let me crash at their place for the night, as their Polish flat-mate was out of town.
After the restaurant we headed off to a club called Infinity where beautiful Czech girls danced and chatted with fat, ugly, rich foreigners.
Actually, the club was really good, and could have been anywhere in Europe.
I got to know a few more of the Romanians, Anca and Andrea in particular were good fun to talk to.
We left at around 3.30 and after a tram and a taxi got back to the flat at 4.15.
Obviously before bed it was picture time again;

Today I'll have a look around, and spend the day with some of my new Romanian friends, before heading on to Warsaw tomorrow as a stop-off point on the way to Lithuania.

Just before signing off, I gotta ask you; Would you eat in this restaurant in Frankfurt? If I was really hungry, maybe, but I don't think I'd go near the special white sauce.

Days on the road (without any money): 138
Distance travelled: 7277 miles (11712 KM)
Capitals visited: 21 (3 non-EU)
Left to visit: Vilnius, Riga, Tallinn, Helsinki, Athens

On the move

2008-03-15T07:30:00.000-07:00

On my way to Prague. Will update as soon as I can.

Thanks for the latest sponsorships!

Dresden

2008-03-12T08:24:00.000-07:00

It’s been a while but here I am.
Amsterdam was a time of resting, learning certain things about myself, and recharging the battery ready to carry on the journey.
I managed to do all of that over the weekend, and felt ready to get out of Holland on Monday morning. Dresden was the target destination, a stop-of point before heading on to Prague.
I left my host, Stephen’s flat at around 10.30 after a bowl of muesli and a shower. The first train heading into Germany was the 12.34 to Frankfurt.
The weather was rubbish. Raining, grey, cold. I found an empty platform, walked right up to the end of it and sat down to do a bit of reading and writing in peace. The time flew.
When my train came in I decided I couldn’t be doing with the hassle of being stressed on the train with no ticket, so even though the guard was German (remember how much trouble I’d had traveling for free back near the start of this trip in Germany) I felt that the right approach was to speak to him before getting on the train, trying to appeal to his good side, and if he refused then I’d just wait for the train to Berlin leaving around 2 in the afternoon.
Somehow my approach worked on this particular German and he let me get on the train and told me I could go as far as I wanted. The final stop was Frankfurt so that’s where I was gonna go.
About 3 hours into the journey, 2 cops came up to me and asked to see my passport. I showed them, and they asked where I’d come from today.
“Amsterdam.” I said.
“We’re checking certain people for drugs that they may have brought into Germany from Amsterdam. Do you have any drugs on you?” One of them said, in a friendly enough way.
“Nope.” I replied.
“Are you sure about that?”
“Quite sure, yea.”
“Where’s your baggage?” He asked. I pointed in the direction; it was a bit further up the train.
“Do you mind if we take a look inside?” They asked, still amicably.
I didn’t want the police going through my bag in front of the whole train, so I attempted to prevent that action.
“Look, the reason why I’m sure I haven’t got drugs on me is because I have no money to buy any drugs. Let me show you why.” I showed them The Argus. They read it, made a joke about whether or not it was really me as it looked different to my passport picture, then smiled and said “No problem. We believe you.”

I got into Frankfurt at 4.30 in the afternoon and went to find out what time the next train to Dresden was.
It was at 5.20, so I waited patiently in the small waiting room, not wanting to go out into the rain. I did go out for a few minutes though, and I’m glad I did. If I hadn’t gone outside I’d never have seen the sign pointing me in the direction of the Indian Restaurant that goes by the name Gaylord.

The 5.20 came in, and I went to speak to the guard. He turned out to be the type of German in uniform that I’d had enough encounters with the last time I was in the country.
That’s one thing that gets me about Germany. The people on the street are among the friendliest in Europe, but the ones in uniform are without doubt the very worst people on the continent. They don’t want to listen to anything, they won’t bend any rule, and they don’t care if they come across as rude, arrogant wankers.
Not only did this guy not mind if he came across as a rude, arrogant wanker, he took it a step further and deliberately tried to be one.
I didn’t argue. I tried a bit harder to persuade him, but he was having none of it and I wasn’t getting on the train.
The next train to Dresden wasn’t until 7.19 in the evening, and it wouldn’t arrive in Dresden until 20 past midnight.
I had quite a wait, but then I checked an information machine and it told me that a train was leaving for Dresden from Frankfurt Sud station. I was in the central station, so had to take the local train (S Bahn) over to Sud.
I got there and waited on the platform in the cold, only to find out at the last minute that the train had been cancelled. That was why the guy on the information desk hadn’t told me about any train from Frankfurt Sud. I thought he’d just been too lazy.
I made my way back to the main station and waited for the 7.19.
I got on it, and decided that I would approach the guard but not until we started moving, that way if he was another mean German at least I’d make it some way before being chucked off.
He turned out to be a She, but no less cold and mean. In fact, she was actually evil. I could see it in her eyes even before she came to me.
She didn’t speak English and as I tried to explain my honest story, she just abused me in German, looking at me through her little pair of glasses. Her tone, attitude, voice, and the fact that she was insulting me in German even though she knew I couldn’t speak the language just made me want to take her glasses off and stab them through her eye.
Usually I don’t get angry with the train guards, they’re just doing their job. But this one really pushed me and pushed me, and as we were approaching the station where I was to be chucked off, she carried on making cheap comments at me, and was talking to all the other passengers trying to get them all to condemn me.
Eventually I couldn’t take it any more, and when she was speaking to a girl about me who was also getting off the train, I asked snapped a little bit.
“Why are you speaking to her and not to me?” I asked.
She smirked and made some more comments that I couldn’t understand, the only word I understood was ‘Deutsch’. The smirk and the attitude pushed that bit too far and so I asked her
“It’s because you’re a c#nt. Do you understand the word ‘C#nt’? Because that’s what you are. You are a c#nt.” And as she pushed me off the train, I finished with “Auf wiedersehen, c#nt.”

Now, I want you to understand that it isn’t typical for me to let someone get to me and provoke me in the way she did. Usually I wouldn’t bother getting stressed and resorting to calling someone the ‘C’ word, but I had eaten nothing but a bowl of muesli all day, it was 8 in the evening and I was now stranded in this small town called Fulda. I was feeling rubbish and it made me feel a bit better to let some of it out onto this woman.
As I walked down the platform I tried to look at my options. I didn’t have many!
All I could do was try to find a motorway to hitch-hike, but the chances of finding a car going from there to Dresden at that time of the evening, and who would be willing to pick me up, were pretty remote.
I didn’t have too long to think about this bad situation though. The girl who had been forced to listen to the ticket guard’s rants about me came up to me and asked in English if I was fine here in Fulda, or if I needed some help finding my way.
I explained my situation to her, and as I was doing so her boyfriend came to join us. He’d come to the station to pick her up.
She explained things to him, and then we went together to check the options. Taking another train was out of the question because there was only one more to Dresden and it didn’t leave until after midnight, plus the fact that we were still 4 hours away by train and so if I got kicked off of that late one it wouldn’t do me any good at all.
I was close to collapsing just from tiredness and hunger, and really didn’t fancy spending the night standing on a motorway holding up a sign saying ‘Dresden.’
“My boyfriend has just phoned his flat-mate, and there’s no problem for you to sleep in the living-room tonight.” Said the girl whose name I can’t remember at the moment. I really need to start writing down names!!!
And just like that, I’d been invited to stay with some strangers who’d known me less than 5 minutes and who had just approached me randomly in a train station.
We drove to the flat, parked the car, and then I was even bought a kebab for dinner.
The three of us sat at the table eating the kebabs, and I got to know them a bit. The girl, (Damn, I feel really bad that I don’t remember the name) works as a social worker with young people.
The boyfriend, whose name I believe was Eddie (again, I could be wrong) works as a physics and maths teacher in a comprehensive school.
They were a young couple, 30 and 27, and really nice people.
They told me a little about the town, Fulda. It’s a very traditional Catholic town, which they told me was quite strange in Germany. In the past, when the reformations were taking place in many parts of Europe, Fulda managed to resist and to stay Catholic, mainly because of the large number of monks that were here at the time.
The tradition has lived on ever since, and today in the town you can see a beautiful cathedral. I only got to see it as we drove past last night, but it was impressive.

After eating the kebab I met the flat-mate, Jan. Another nice guy. He learned English mostly during some time he spent living in Sweden, and you could hear it. He had that kind of accent that a lot of Swedes get. The kind where you ask “So, how long did you live in England to learn such a perfect British English accent?”

I slept on a mattress on the living-room floor and got my head down quite early, around 11.30. Eddie was leaving for work at 6.45 in the morning and was going to drop me off at the train station.
I got up early after a good sleep, had a wash, got dressed, put on my Borussia Dortmund scarf that I got from Julian in Berlin, and headed out the door with a banana that they gave to me.
I took the 7.15 train, but was kicked off at the first stop, a place so shit I don’t even remember the name. All I can tell you is that it had the word ‘Bad’ in it. They weren’t wrong!
It was 7.40 and there wasn’t another train leaving to Dresden until 9.37.
2 hours spent doing nothing, and then my train came in.
This time I wasn’t going to bother explaining my situation, I was going to go back to the trusty old way: Lying.
“Somebody stole my wallet when I was asleep last night. I really need to get to Dresden, otherwise I’m stuck in this little place. My friends in Dresden will come and pay for my ticket when we get there. Please let me get there!”
“Your friend will be able to come and see me on the train in Dresden?” She asked.
“Yes.”
“OK, it’s no problem.”
I arrived in Dresden just after 1pm and the inspector had forgotten all about me.

I found a hotel, used their phone to call my friend that I worked with in Brighton last summer, Stefanie, and then went to her student block to have a sleep while she went out to do some study stuff.
Yesterday evening I got a tour of the old part of town. Dresden was completely destroyed in the 2nd World War and so had to be completely rebuilt. They did a good job. Well, would you expect anything less from Germans?
The place is picturesque, clean, and although not very old, still has a lot of character.
From here I’m going to try to get to Prague, but I haven’t found a place to stay there yet, so it may take me a few days.
Hopefully not too long though, as I can see the end of this journey, and just want to crack on through it!

Where am I???

2008-03-10T14:21:00.000-07:00

Just wanna let you all know that I'm safe and well. After a ridiculously tough time, I find myself in the flat of 2 strangers that I met in the train station of a small German town called Fulder.
I think it's called Fulder. I don't really know where I am, I only know that I'm too lucky when it comes to meeting random people in stations that do everything they can to help me out when I'm stuck.

Dresden tomorrow. Well, that's the plan.... Plus a proper blog update, of course.

20th Capital ticked off

2008-03-07T07:12:00.000-08:00

Finally Matt's made a sponsorship. About time, too!!!! Cheers mate.

The Belgians and the Dutch are amazing!
Not since I was in Scandinavia right at the start of the trip have I been around a people so friendly and understanding of my cause. Forget about getting on a train and feeling hunted, waiting for the stressful time when the inspector comes along.
From Luxembourg to Brussels, I spoke to the guard before I got on the train, explained my situation, and asked if there was any way I could travel for free. He told me I could go as far as the next stop where he finished his shift, and then I'd have to speak to his colleague who took over.
When the colleague came along later to check my ticket, I started to explain to him and he just interrupted me by smiling and say
"Ah yes, don't worry, my colleague already explained to me before he left. It's fine!"

Then this morning I got on the train in Brussels for Amsterdam and spoke to the guard. There were two, one was Dutch, one Belgian. First I spoke to the Dutch guy, and he said he had no authority in Belgium and he pointed to the Belgian woman. I spoke to her, and couldn't believe how amazing she was. She looked at my newspaper, saw that I've been travelling since 1st November and said "Wow!"
The two of them said that of course it was fine for me to go to Amsterdam.
When we crossed the border into Holland and the woman was about to get off, the two of them posed for a photo with me, and she wished me luck and told me what an amazing thing it was that I was doing.
The gesture was warm and genuine, and it made me feel good.
People had told me before about the friendliness and helpfulness of the people of this part of the world, and now I've seen it first hand.

On the train with my new Dutch and Belgian friends, the ticket inspectors.

Yesterday in Brussels I met my host Leen while she was working as a photographer at a book launch and exhibition. I hung around for a while, talking to a couple of her friends, Jan, and his German girlfriend, Sarah.
After the function came to an end at around 6.30pm I was introduced to a few more of their friends and we all went to a Lebanese kebab restaurant to eat. Including myself, there were 8, all Flemmish speaking people.
At that time I could hardly stand from hunger, I hadn't eaten a thing all day, so I was so grateful to all of them for chipping in to get me a felafel wrap and a beer.
After leaving the place, I was told I was being taken to one of the only Flemmish bars in Brussels (Brussels is primarily a French-speaking city).
The bar was a classic 'hole'. Small and dark, with the walls painted red. The first thing I saw when walking in was a gothic-looking bloke completely passed out, face down on his table. On the table next to him there were two older, long-haired drunks, laughing and shouting boisterously.
In another corner, a group of French-speaking people sat drinking wine. One of the French speakers was the stereotype that I was looking to recreate in Paris. He had the beret, the scarf, the silly facial hair, the cigarette, and that dopey French expression on his face. I had to get a picture with him, and here it is;

This place had a real character to it that I loved. They put on a bit of a poetry performance, where they translated some works from French into Flemmish.
My first impression of the place changed quickly, and after a while I found myself feeling comfortable with my beer and with funny people around me.
It's definitely a bar that I'd spend more time in if I stayed in the city longer, or if I ever return with money.
The city as a whole wasn't as I expected. There were beautiful little lanes and alleys where chocolate shops sat next to chocolate shops that sat next to chocolate shops. Oh yea, I almost forgot about the waffle shops. The smell of these treats was a tease to a hungry traveller with no money.

Later in the night, back at the student flat that Leen lives in, I met 2 more of her friends. A French guy whose name I don't think I heard, and a Dutch girl, Chermaine. The two of them work for a website called IndyMedia. When they heard my story they thought it'd be interesting to run a piece on me, so we arranged to do a little interview this morning after breakfast.
Breakfast was some of the most beautiful bread I've ever had, with cheese and ham. It was worth getting up at 7.30 for!
After breakfast and the interview, Chermaine took me to the station and asked if there was anything that I'd really love if she went to the shop. I said a can of Coke and a Mars Bar, and she got both for me. After only drinking water for so long, (and a few beers), it was so good to have a Coke.

That's the French guy, Chermaine, and my host, Leen. Breakfast this morning.

I arrived in Amsterdam in the grey and the rain at 1.10pm after leaving Brussels at 10.24. It took me more than an hour of walking in the rain to finally find the flat of Stephen, the Irish guy I'm staying with.
The people here all speak English perfectly, even the old ones. It's no problem to ask an 80-year old for directions, she'll give them to you clearly.

I plan to stay in Amsterdam for a few days, as after the travelling of the last few days I need to recuperate a bit, as well as washing clothes and so on.
From here, I'll head next to Dresden in East Germany, where I'll stay in the student dorm of someone I spent the summer working with in Brighton, Stefanie, a good friend of mine.
From there, on to Prague, for another Capital.

Some of the other photos in the bar didn't come out so well. My camera is rubbish.

Days on the road (without money): 128
Capitals visited: 20 (3 non-EU)
Distance travelled for free: 6747 Miles (10860 Kilometres)
Capitals left: Amsterdam, Prague, Vilnius, Riga, Tallinn, Helsinki, Athens.

Only got a minute

2008-03-06T14:07:00.000-08:00

I'll update you tomorrow, but just to let you know that I arrived in Brussels OK and didn't need to bunk the train. The ticket inspectors, after I told them about my challenge, let me ride for free from Luxembourg to here, and I hope it will be the same in the morning when I try to get to Amsterdam.

Days on the road (without money): 127
Capitals visited: 19 (3 non-EU)
Distance travelled for free: 6640 Miles (10687 Kilometres)
Capitals left: Amsterdam, Prague, Vilnius, Riga, Tallinn, Helsinki, Athens

It takes all sorts!

2008-03-06T02:13:00.000-08:00

Before I start the post, I just thought I'd show you something. It's a kind of interview on the BBC Southern Counties website, where local people get invited to introduce themselves and talk about how they see the local area. Click here to see.

It's 11.15am and I'm sitting in a living-room in a house in Luxembourg, alone.
I don't know if my host is out at work, or somewhere on one of the 2 floors above me. I hope he's out at work. The reason I hope this is because he's weird, and I don't mean the funny kind of weird, I mean the kind of weird you see sitting in that park at 3 in the morning in a trenchcoat. You know the park I mean, right? That one that every one knows not to go near after dark.
I arrived at Tristan's house last night, and as soon as he opened the door and welcomed me in, I wasn't comfortable around the bloke. And for once, it had nothing to do with the fact that he's French. This guy was camper (or more camp?) than Julian Clary!

This is one of the pictures from his Couchsurfing profile.

He made me a cup of tea, as I was freezing. It's hard to remember that within the last few weeks I've been walking around in a t-shirt down in Spain, Portugal, and the south of France, because when I got off the train in Luxembourg last night, the big information board told me it was -1. Minus 1 and I don't have a coat.
Anyway, I took the tea and went to sit in the living-room. As Tristan talked, he gazed at me in the same way that I'd watch a Shakira video on the telly. That's gonna make any man uncomfortable!
I avoided eye-contact, hoping that he'd eventually stop, but then it just got worse. I almost jumped up and ran out of the flat when I looked up to find his hand was in his pocket and it was slowly moving about!
I couldn't tell if he was deliberately doing it, or if he didn't think I'd notice (although it was more conspicuous than picking his nose. I wasn't not going to notice!)
Honestly, it was that bad a situation that I gave serious thought to leaving. Then I remembered how cold it was outside, and how hard it had been to find someone to host me here. He'd been the only one with any availability for me.
I let him know I was hungry, so he invited me into the kitchen to find something to eat. We made some pasta, which my body was screaming out for, as even though I'd had a couple of sandwiches and some muesli bars that Marine in Paris had so kindly supplied for me, I was still starving and in pain.
We ate back in the living-room, and I put Life on Mars on the telly, he had BBC Prime.
He still did the dirty gazing thing every time he talked, but his hands stayed out of his pockets, and after eating he went up to his room to do some work (or to look at some kind of illegal porn, I wouldn't like to speculate), and I made up a bed on the settee and went to sleep.
He told me before going up that he didn't know if he'd see me in the morning, as I'd probably get out early to see the city. Yea right! I was knackered and had no intention of getting up at the crack of Dawn to head out into the minus temperatures.
I got up at 11, and here I am.

Apparently there are 5 other people sharing the house. I saw one about 15 minutes ago. A bearded guy just scurried down the stairs and went into the bathroom, giving me a shocked "Hello" along the way. He obviously hadn't been told to expect to find an Englishman sitting at the living-room computer. He soon scurried back up the stairs.

Pretty soon I'm going to shower, try to find something in the kitchen to eat, then get out of the house and the country. I had a quick look around last night, and to be honest, it doesn't seem like there's too much to hang about for.
I've got a host for tonight in Brussels, but only for tonight as she's leaving for a holiday tomorrow. Brussels is around 3 hours away if I don't get kicked off of any trains, which we all know I will, so I don't want to leave too late.
Tomorrow I'll make my way to Amsterdam. I'm starting to pick up some momentum. I think it's because geographically I'm so close to the south coast of England now, I can almost smell the fish and chips. I want to get a move on, and get myself home to the food and football as quickly as possible.

I haven't told you how I got from Paris to here. I'll cut a long story short, because it's fairly boring.
I left the flat at 3 in the afternoon, and took the tube across the city to Gare de L'est, where I hoped to jump on the 4.09pm train to Luxembourg.
I couldn't get on it because they were blocking the platform and checking tickets, and I couldn't get on via another platform because there was a guy standing in the middle watching in all directions.
The train left without me, and the next one wasn't until 5.39.
I didn't want to go through the same thing again, so I went to the office of the French Railways and tried to persuade them to give me a free ticket.
I explained my challenge, and they told me I had to go to another station on the other side of the city, Montparnasse.
It took me about 35 minutes from office to office, using the tube.
I found the woman there spoke perfect English, and I asked her what she could do.
"I think you can just jump on the train, but they'll probably kick you off or give you a fine. But try it." She told me.
What??? I hadn't just crossed Paris to be told that.
"Is there someone with any power that I can speak to about this?" I asked.
She took my newspaper and disappeared through some doors, returning 10 minutes later with a fat woman.
The fat woman said that she was in charge and couldn't do anything, but that maybe she could phone head office and double check.
She called, and spoke on the phone for about 20 minutes while I just sat there in front of her. This wasn't a conversation about me and how she could help me, this was a good old-fashioned chin-wag, probably with an old friend in the company.
She interrupted the call to ask me who had told me to come to this station, and then it was obvious what had happened. The guys in the other station were taking the piss. They didn't feel like dealing with me, so they just sent me over here to a place that has exactly the same authority.
Finally she got off the phone and told me there was no way I could get a ticket.
"Have a nice day." She said.
You'll be pleased to know I didn't swear, even though her long chat meant that there was no way I was going to be able to get back to the other station in time for the 5.39.

I got back to Gare de L'est, 10 minutes too late for the 5.39, but saw there was a train going to Nancy at 6.12pm.
Nancy was an hour and a half away from Paris by fast train, and a lot nearer to Luxembourg, and there was nobody checking tickets on the platform, so I got on it.
The ticket woman saw me, then said she'd come back to give me a fine after she'd checked the rest of the train. She never came back, though, and I arrived in Nancy at 7.40pm.
From there I took the 8.20pm to Metz, arriving at 9. That one was stress-free. I just told the young girl inspector that I'd got on the wrong train and that my friend was on the other train with my ticket, and that he'd make his way to Metz to come and get me, and she just laughed at my situation and said 'no problem.'
Metz was freezing. I waited on the platform half an hour, and at 9.30 got on the train to Luxembourg.The inspector couldn't be bothered to write a fine for me because I didn't have an address in France, so he just let it go. I arrived in Luxembourg at 10.15pm.

The bus to Tristan's wasn't until 10.45, so I stood outside a cafe and watched the football on the telly through the window.
The rest of the story you already know....

Luxembourg

2008-03-05T15:28:00.000-08:00

Got no time to write now, just to let you know that after leaving the flat in Paris at 3 this afternoon, I finally arrived in the flat here in Luxembourg at 11pm.
If I tell you that the train from Paris to here (if travelling problem-free) only takes just over 2 hours, hopefully it'll give you some idea of the difficult journey I had that it took me 8 hours.
I'm staying with a guy called Tristan, and tomorrow I'm heading to Brussels. I'll try to get on here in the morning to give you the story.

Days on the road (without money): 126
Capitals visited: 18 (3 non-EU)
Distance travelled for free: 6525 Miles (10501 Kilometres)
Capitals left: Brussels, Amsterdam, Prague, Vilnius, Riga, Tallinn, Helsinki, Athens

A couple of pics

2008-03-05T05:48:00.000-08:00

I'm heading to Luxembourg in 10 minutes, so there's just time for a couple of pics.

Top: Yesterday on the tube with Roberta.
Bottom: My host here in Paris, Marine

Last day in Paris

2008-03-04T11:47:00.000-08:00

Thanks to my friend at the BBC, Heather, for providing me with the radio interview from yesterday. Click here to listen. Plays in RealPlayer.

Also thanks to my good friend in Alaska for the latest sponsorship. It's highly appreciated!

I'm sorry to tell you that I failed in my task to find the props necessary for completing Jason's challenge.
What I was meant to do was get hold of a beret, a string of onions to put round my neck, a baguette and newspaper for under the arm, and to take a few pictures of me in front of the Eiffel Tower, doing a few French mime poses and so on.
It wasn't to be, and I feel disappointed in myself.

I got up pretty late today, and set about finding the props.
I had a message left on the blog from a Couchsurfer, Roberta, an American student here in Paris, inviting me for a coffee. I took up the offer, although I don't drink coffee, so instead we did the usual alternative to coffee, she took me on a tour of a cemetary.
I texted her before meeting to see if she had a beret, but the answer was negative.

The cemetary was so massive that we had to get a map before entering, and it even had 'streets' inside. Without a map, there's no telling if you'd even find your way out before dark.
Loads of famous people are buried inside, but I didn't know any of them because they were all French. The only one I'd heard of was Jim Morrison, whose grave was surrounded by people taking photos, and also Oscar Wilde but we didn't find his.
The best bit of the afternoon for me was when Roberta pulled a special treat from her bag. It goes by the name 'Fluffernutter' and is a delicacy of New England. Basically it's a peanut butter and marshmallow fluff sandwich. And the sandwich was made with 'proper' sliced bread.
I was a bit sceptical before trying it, but I hadn't eaten a thing all day and I wasn't going to say no to anything.
It was amazing! I've never seen that marshmallow fluff stuff in England, but when I get home if I can't find it, I'll have to resort to making it myself by melting marshmallows in the microwave. It was that good.

The conversation was funny, and I really enjoyed the afternoon. I don't think she'll mind me telling you that she's openly gay and in a serious relationship with her transexual girlfriend. That says to me that she'd really enjoy a visit to Brighton, and I'd be happy to host her if she finds the time to come over before leaving France to go back to The States.

After going our separate ways late in the afternoon, I jumped the barrier at the station and took the tube to the Eiffel Tower. It was freezing cold and it was even sleeting. Not the best weather when you're only wearing a t-shirt and a thin jacket. Why I decided to leave my coat in Spain I do not know! I walked around the tower in all directions, trying to find a beret that I could borrow (or steal), but thanks to the weather the only people around were Dutch tourists, and surprisingly not one of them was wearing a little black French hat on his head.

Feeling dejected and like I'd let you all down, I walked through the sleet to the tube station, jumped the barrier again - getting a little electric shock in the process - and made my way back to the area of the flat.
I found out that Marine was gonna be out for the next couple of hours, and I didn't have a key, so I'm now sitting in an internet place after persuading the Chinese woman working here to give me half an hour for free on the net. My time's almost up, but before I go, I've gotta tell you one more thing.

I was searching for a place to sleep when I arrive in Amsterdam, hopefully this Friday, and I found the profile of a guy that shocked me.
In 2003, at the age of 24, he left his home with just a backpack full of stuff, not a penny in money, and went travelling.
As he travelled, people followed his adventures on the net, and he also wrote a book.
What?!?!?!?!?!
A 24-year old writing a blog and a book about travelling with no money.
I thought I was original! :)
I knew I had to send him a message asking if I can sleep at his place, as I'd love to find out more about his trip. Hopefully I'll meet him in Holland and I'll be able to tell you more about this guy.

Click here to see his website.

I'm off to Luxembourg in the morning. Wish me luck, and I'll update you as soon as I can.

Get Paris off of that to-do list!

2008-03-03T10:59:00.000-08:00

Before I start the post, I just wanna thank Janet for the latest sponsorship.
It's easy to sponsor me, and all money goes directly to Cancer Research UK.

I'm in Paris, meaning there are just 9 more Capitals for me to conquer.

I arrived yesterday afternoon after a relatively easy journey from Bordeaux. I left Baijian's flat just after 8 in the morning, as he had a train to catch to the south of France.
The first train leaving Bordeaux for Paris wasn't until 10.27, so I sat on a bench near the station and ate the 2 ham rolls that Baijian had made for me.
I got on the train and it was packed full of students as they're currently in the middle of a 2-week break. This was a good thing, because I guessed the ticket inspector wouldn't feel like walking through all of these noisy young people checking all the tickets. I was right.
He wasn't the only one who didn't fancy being surrounded by them, though, as I wasn't exactly enjoying sitting there with them all around me.
I mean it in the nicest possible way when I tell you that there is something about the sound of the French language that disgusts me to the core. I tried to block it out by listening to the ipod, but one of the earphones has died, and the solitary left one wasn't strong enough to compete with the young Gallic voices.

I learned something about train travel in France, too. That it is mandatory every time the train stops at a station for every passenger over the age of 3 and a half years old to jump out of their seats and on to the platform to smoke a quick fag before having to get back on and continue the journey. The rush to the doors is manic, and I'm sure that over the years people have been trampled to death in the process. I speculate...
Another thing I found quite shocking was when two parents asked their kid, no more than 9 years old, if he wanted a coffee from the buffet.
"Oui." He replied.
They brought it to him, and this kid drank it down like an executive of a marketing company! A real seasoned coffee drinker.
That's France.

At 12.16 our train arrived at the half-way point to Paris, a place called Poitiers.
A new ticket inspector got on, and I decided that I'd been lucky enough up until now, and rather than push that luck, I'd get off and wait for the next train, stretch my legs a bit.
I didn't have to wait long, just 10 minutes and I was on another train heading to the Capital.
Less than 2 minutes after pulling out of the station, the guard came to me.
"Comprendez vous Anglais?" I asked.
"Non."
Great. I struggled through in French and told him that I didn't have a ticket because my wife had been on the train that left 10 minutes ago, but I'd been in the toilet on an emergency visit, and hadn't made it to the train in time.
He wasn't happy. I think my English accent had sounded as horrible to him as French does to me.
"Tu e Anglais?" He asked.
What gave it away, I wondered. "Oui, je suis Anglais."
He then started ranting about how this was very serious, and that an Englishman shouldn't think he can just travel in France without a ticket or money. He took my passport and made a phone call, apparently to the police in Paris. Apparently.
He gave me a bill for 120 Euros, made out to my fake address, of course, then handed it to me saying that there would be English-speaking police waiting for me at the station and if I didn't find a way to sort out this fine, I could go to prison for a period of time.
I smiled and said "OK."
This provoked him further. The veins in his bald head started to pop, and his face went the colour of his already red-from-too-much-wine nose.
"Monsieur, c'est tres serieux! Pour moi, c'est ne pas probleme, mais pour vous...."
I just yawned. I was enjoying winding him up.
He threw my passport at me, then mimed me being arrested by putting his wrists together in handcuff position and saying that they'd be waiting for me at the station.
He walked away mumbling French obscenitities, mostly followed by the word 'Anglais.'

I got off the train in Paris just after 2pm, and was strangely disappointed to find no one waiting for me. I was looking forward to giving you a story from inside a French interrogation room, but it wasn't to be. He'd been trying to scare me.

The gates for the tube were open, so I went through and took it to Place Clichy, the nearest tube stop to Helene's flat.
After 3 attempts at giving me directions on the phone, I finally found the place.
I was welcomed into the home by Helene, a 4th-year medical student.
We got talking, and I immediately liked her. She had a sense of humour, spoke perfect English and didn't even have a strong accent, and was easy to talk to.
After a little while, another Couchsurfer staying there came in. Julia, a German with a serious case of verbal diarrhoea. She'd been in the Louvre for 6 hours, and was keen to tell Helene all about it, and as I was there, she wanted me to know too. I excused myself and went for a shower, and when I came out 25 minutes later, she was still talking about it, by now with a map of the museum spread out across the table.
I sat down, foolishly, as it gave Helene a chance to escape into the other room, leaving me to take over the role of listener to Julia.
After talking about the museum, she had no problems finding other equally fascinating topics like "When I'm in Germany nobody usually texts me, but now I'm in France all my friends decide to text me but I can't reply because it's too expensive."
I smiled politely and went out for a walk.
Later in the evening, another Couchsurfer arrived. Marie, a French girl in Paris visiting friends.
We sat round the table eating Crepes with a bottle of Maple Syrup a Canadian had left in the flat. The conversation was basically just a big piss-take where we all took pot-shots at eachother's countries, cultures, and histories, but all was taken in good spirits. By the way, I won. :-)
Basically, to win you had to offend your opponent enough that shock registered on their face, but not so much that they replied with physical violence, started to hate you, or kicked you out of the flat.
My winning line for the French came when I questioned why France was allowed to be a part of the alliance just after the war that made the decisions about what happened to the losing countries, when all they'd done in the war was wave the white flags at the first sound of German boots marching across their border.
"Don't say this to any French person on the street!" Exclaimed Marie. "They'll be very upset and angry."
Whether or not I really believed what I was saying is irrelevant, I was just entertaining myself by being controversial.
I won't tell you what arguments I used to defeat the German in the same game.
Anyway, at the end we were all still on friendly terms, and it was all harmless fun.
It was good to be with cool people that didn't take themselves too seriously.

From left to right: Marie, moi, Helene, and Julia.

I went to sleep at the unusually early time of midnight, but I was happy enough about this as I was still knackered from the past few days.
This morning I was woken at 7 to the sound of French radio. Not a pleasant experience, made worse by the fact that the two French girls were up and seemingly full of energy. I hate morning people!
The German had left quietly at 5 in the morning to catch a flight home.
The reason for being up so early was that Helene had a train to catch to Montpellier.
She'd called her sister, Marine, another Couchsurfer and asked if she's be ale to host me tonight, and the reply had been positive.
So, we took the tube, all getting off at different stops and I made my way to Marine's place.

As I came out of the tube station, BBC Southern Counties rang, and I did a little update interview on the radio. I'll post you a link as soon as I get it.

Entering Marine's block is like entering the headquarters of MI5. I imagine.
There's a pin-code to get into the first gate, another code to get into the door, and even a code to make the lift go up. Not to mention the armed guard that you have to bribe with a packet of cigarettes.
I made that bit up.

Marine wasn't really awake when I arrived. She came to the door, let me in, and just kind of pointed in the direction of the settee, saying that "It's too early in the morning for me to be speaking good English."
She's a music journalist, as well as being lead singer in a rock band, and also working on a book. She said that she works all night, and likes to sleep through the day.
I was feeling really tired too, so I just sat on the settee relaxing with a cup of tea (no milk!!!), and looking out the window at the grey, rainy day.
In the early afternoon we took the train to the well-to-do suburb, Asnieres sur Seine, where her parents' flat is. The reason we went there is because Marine has no money and no food, so we needed to raid the parents' fridge for food.
We made spaghetti, but the amount of thick slices of onion that she put in it, made it only really edible for French people.
I ate what I could, picking around the onion.

This evening, I'm alone in the flat as Marine's gone to see her dad. I'm knackered, so am happy for the relaxing time alone.
My original plan was to go to Luxembourg tomorrow, but I may have to put it off for an extra day because I've received an email from Jason.
Remember Jason?
The guy who said he'd make a donation if I swam in the ocean wearing something silly on my head down in Portugal.
Well, he's willing to make another sponsorship, but once again I have to first complete a little task he's set me.
I won't tell you what it is, for two reasons.
The first is that it's fucking hilarious and I don't want to spoil it by telling you what to expect.
The second is that I'm having difficulty finding the props, so there's a small chance I might not be able to make it happen. I'm working on it though, so hopefully tomorrow you'll read (and see) all about it.

I'll leave it there for now.

Days on the road (without money): 124
Capitals visited: 17 (3 non-EU)
Distance travelled for free: 6285 Miles (10115 Kilometres)
Capitals left: Luxembourg, Brussels, Amsterdam, Prague, Vilnius, Riga, Tallinn, Helsinki, Athens

Incredible day

2008-03-01T10:19:00.000-08:00

To sum up today in a word, I'd say 'Amazing'.
There were rubbish moments and brilliant moments, but at the end of the day my luck was incredible.
I'll start from where I left you last...

So, I took the bus yesterday evening from Madrid to Bilbao, arriving at 9.45pm. My host for the evening, an American named John, met me at the bus station and we took the 40-minute walk to his flat.
He's working as an English teacher, but only to make ends meet. His real passion, and one of the main reasons for him being in Bilbao, is music.
By the time I got to the flat, I was almost fainting from hunger. I'd eaten only a bowl of lentils all day, and was ready to kill an animal for meat.
John went out again to meet another Couchsurfer that he had staying with him, a Peruvian whose name I can't remember. While he was gone, I chopped the onion and carrots and chucked it into the boiling water that already hosted the potatoes and noodles. We were making a soup.
The two of them arrived back, and you'd never guess this guy was Peruvian to look at him or to listen to him. He looked German and spoke perfect American English with a neutral accent. He'd studied in The States for 5 years, and had picked up a lot of the mannerisms, but after talking to him you saw that he was still very much Peruvian.
The soup was amazing, especially when so starving, and afterwards I even got my dose of vitamin C from a couple of mandarines that the Peruvian gave me.
I can't keep calling him the Peruvian, so let's call him Nobby (after the Peruvian captain, Nobby Solano), and if you're reading this, Nobby, send me an email and remind me of your name.

After only a couple of hours sleep. This morning, with John, before heading out of Bilbao.

After the soup and a bit of music, we headed out to a local square where we basically hung about while John impressed us with his guitar skills, and we compared the local slang that we use in our different native tongues.
It was already 2 when we went out, and by the time I went to bed at 5, I was knackered but had had a good laugh.
I'd received a text eariler in the evening from Emma, Diego's sister, letting me know that if I still wanted a lift to the French border, I'd have to be ready to leave at 10 in the morning because she had a meeting to get to for 12 in Pamplona.
I dragged myself up and out, taking a tube ticket from John to get me to where I needed to be.
One look at the street signs told me that the Hugarians had invaded whilst I slept last night and forced their language on to the people of the region. Then I realised that it wasn't in fact the language of an occupying Eastern European force, it was in fact Basque. What a strange language!

The drive to the border was nice. Basque country is full of green hills on all sides, but is also industrial and a bit dirty at the same time. The weather was cloudy and overcast, threatening to rain.
Emma dropped me off in a petrol station in the Spanish border town of Irun at 12.
If you put me to sleep, then woke me up in Irun, telling me I was actually in a market in a village in North-Western Bosnia, I wouldn't doubt you for a minute.
This wasn't a town, more of a circus. Full of French people looking for cheap cigarettes, booze, perfume, wallets, girls, anything. Every shop and stall was there just to cater to their needs.

top: After the drive with Emma.
Below: Bilingual signs. French and Basque.

I walked across the bridge into France, arriving in a town called Hendaye.
After walking for half an hour, I reached the train station. The next train to Bordeaux was leaving at 1.27pm, so I had about an hour to kill.

On the left of the river you see Spain, on the right is France.

Emma had sorted me out with a sandwich, my first food of the day, so I wolfed it down. I was still hungry after, so started reading a book that John had kindly given me, Berlin Game, a spy thriller, to try and take my mind off of my stomach.
The train came in, and I was just about to get up and get on it, when I had some unexpected visitors.
The boys in blue. 3 of them surrounding me. I looked up and one said something in French, so I told him to tell me in English.
"Your identification, please."
"Why?" I asked.
He didn't answer.
"Pourquoi?" I asked in French.
"Ah, tu parles Francais?" Asked another one of them, suspiciously.
"No, just 'bonjour' and 'pourquoi'" I answered. They still didn't give an answer to my initial question.
"Which train are you taking?" They asked. "This one?"
I couldn't say yes, in case they wanted to see a ticket.
"I don't know which train. I have to wait in the station for a friend to arrive." I said.
They took my pasport away and scrutinised it, even holding the information page up to the sun to see if it shone through. They mumbled to eachother, then my details were radioed through to somewhere. I didn't know until today that the French police use the same Alpha-Bravo-Charlie alphabet that ours use, albeit in a silly French accent.
I was given the all-clear, my passport was handed back to me, and I was told "Merci."

My train departed without me on it, and I was left on the platform, still being watched by the police.
The next train stopping in Bordeaux was the 2.11pm TGV to Paris. I waited until it came in, but realised that I couldn't get up the platform to it without going through ticket control.
I spied that the station's car-park led further up the platforms, so I exited the station and tried to blend in amongst the people getting out of their motors.
I crossed the tracks, got on the train, and sat down.
Unfortunately, one of the passengers had seen me and decided to stitch me up.
The guard came with 2 police and frog-marched me off of the train and out of the station.
So, what did I do?
Back through the car-park and back onto the train, this time getting on just 1 minute before departure.
As we pulled away, I knew it would only be a matter of time before I got into trouble, and my nerves took even more of a battering when I found that the 3 police who'd checked me earlier were now patrolling up and down on this train.
After 15 minutes we pulled into the first stop. I stood in the corridor, incase someone got on and had booked the seat I was sitting in. They hadn't.
15 minutes later and we stopped again, and again nobody got in my seat. 15 minutes later and we stopped for the last time before travelling another hour and 45 minutes without stopping before Bordeaux.
It was the longest hour and 45 minutes I've had to endure in a long time, but no inspector came to check me and I arrived in a rainy Bordeaux at 4.27pm.
This is where my problems started.

The only number I had of anyone in Bordeaux was that of the girl that I destroyed on the blog a few days ago. I was hoping that she hadn't read the blog. :-)
Maybe she hadn't, but either way she didn't answer my calls.
I persuaded a hotel opposite the station to let me use the net for a few minutes to check my mail and see if anyone else had contacted me offering me refuge.
If someone in Paris had written to me, I'd try to get there today.
They hadn't, neither had anyone in Bordeaux.
I was feeling faint from hunger and tiredness, so I just posted a quick message on the Bordeaux forum on Couchsurfing, asking anyone who could help me to give me a call, then I headed into the train station for some warmth.
I guessed that was going to be where I spent the night, so I may as well get comfortable in there early.

A Chinese guy that was having problems with the ticket machine asked me for some help. I did what I could for him and he thanked me. He spoke English and I saw my chance.
"Let me show you something." I said.
He was wary of this Western stranger, but I managed to get his attention long enough to show him the copy of The Argus with the article on my journey.
He had some trouble understanding the words 'charity' and 'challenge', but don't forget I was an English teacher for 3 years, so after some talking I managed to get him completely understanding what I was doing.
I asked him if he could get me a loaf of bread, and he refused. Instead he invited me to his student flat for dinner. How could I refuse?
He introduced me to some of his Chinese friends also living in the block.
They're all in awe of what I'm doing. This guy, Baijian, is the same age as me, 24, and is doing his postgraduate studies in IT. He can't believe anyone would be brave enough to travel all over the continent without money. None of them can.
I've taken on a kind of hero-status amongst the Chinese, and I tell you what, it feels kinda good.
After feeling so tired, hungry, and dejected just a little while ago, I now find myself sitting in this flat, using the internet to update the blog, and feeling completely bloated from the Chinese pork with soybean paste and noodle dinner I've just been treated to. The only down side was that it took me an hour to eat it because he doesn't have any knives or forks, only chop sticks! I never could get the hang of them.

With my saviour in Bordeaux, Baijian.

I was expecting to leave here after dinner and go to sleep in the train station, or to get talking to another stranger and see if I'd get help, but Baijian has just let me know that he's asked a friend of his if he can borrow her spare matress, and I'm sleeping under their roof tonight.
How amazing is that, that a guy asking me to help him understand the ticket machine can lead to me having a place to stay and food to eat?

Tonight's dinner.

Another piece of good news just came in too. I got an email from a woman in Paris letting me know I have a place to stay tomorrow night. Only for one night, because she has to leave the city early on Monday morning, but still that'll give me enough time to sort out a place for the next night.

Things just fell into place at the right time.

Come on, I'm not having the easiest time in the world. If you're sitting comfortably whilst reading this, take the less than a minute needed to sponsor me. All donations go directly to the account of Cancer Research UK, a very worthy cause.

Just a quickie

2008-02-29T04:16:00.001-08:00

My challenging situation has been resolved by Diego, Alex, and Emma (Diego's sister).
They all put a few quid in, and Diego's just booked me a bus ticket from Madrid to Bilbao, leaving this evening at 5 and arriving in the Basque town of Bilbao at 9.45pm.
It was the very last available seat booked, so I'm not expecting a comfortable 4 hours and 45 minutes.
But, at least I'm finally getting out of Madrid, and if all goes to plan will be out of Spain completely by tomorrow afternoon.

One more thing to let you know.
I'll be talking on BBC Southern Counties on Monday morning at around 7.25 English time. Not that I expect any of you lazy lot to be up at that hour to tune in!
I'm a bit worried that my phone might cut out mid-interview though, as my credit is down to about a quid.
Fingers crossed.

A bit stuck. Plus a few pictures

2008-02-28T06:13:00.000-08:00

I'd been hoping to get out of Madrid today, but I'm stuck.
There are only 2 trains a day from Madrid to Bilbao, and as I've told you before, it's virtually impossible to get near the trains without holding a ticket and going through the departures lounge like in an airport. This is all since the Madrid train bombing of a few years back.
The first train departed at 8 this morning, and as hard as I tried to sneak the wrong way through the exit to the trains, I was stopped twice by the security woman, and I was too scared to try a third time in case they decided to shoot the black-haired, unshaven, non-Spanish speaking, bloke with a big rucksack who keeps trying to get on to a train without going through the security check.
The next train leaves at 3.50pm, but to be honest I can't see much point in going through the same routine again.
The last time I was in Madrid, before going to Portugal, I'd explained my situation to the train station staff, hoping to get a free ticket, but was told that as much as they'd love to help me and my cause, it wasn't possible because every single ticket issued must be paid for by someone. And it's not like in other countries where I can try to persuade the guard to let me on, because I can't get anywhere near him!
There are buses leaving pretty regularly, so the next thing I can do is go to the bus station and see what the situation is. I'm not feeling confident with that, though.
My final option is going to be to try to hitch-hike out of here. Every single Spanish person I've spoken to has told me how close it is to impossible to be picked up by any driver here. It's illegal, but as well as that, the Spanish are pretty suspicious of anyone wanting a free ride. The fact that I'm heading from Madrid into Basque country makes it even harder, as all of the terrorist actions of ETA are focused around Madrid, and people here are all the more suspicious of people trying to get up there. That's just what I've been told.
At the moment I feel trapped in this city, but I will make it out of here somehow. Even if it means getting up early in the morning tomorrow, filling up a few bottles of water, and walking as far as I can out of Madrid, hoping that some lonely drive takes pity on me and feels like some company.

Last night I met Diego's sister. She lives in Bilbao, and is in Madrid for some kind of fair related to her work. She's going back to Bilbao tomorrow, but unfortunately not by car. That would've been ideal. Instead, she's taking the bus.
I need to find a way to get up to Bilbao quickly though, because on Saturday she's driving from Bilbao to the French border and can drop me off. That'll be perfect, if I can just get to Bilbao.
Today she did her best to find a colleague driving back up there today from the fair, but not one of them had space in their cars. hmmm.
My American mate, John, is expecting me today, but unless I get some real luck with the buses, I'm going to have to contact him and let him know there's been some difficulties.

Yesterday I got out into the city. The sun was shining and hot, 23 degrees.
I walked from the flat, with no map, just taking the long, wide roads with the most people on, hoping that would lead me to some kind of main sights area. It did.
Well, I think it did.
There were queues of Americans outside museums, grand ministerial buildings, some kind of palace, and a big open-air art exhibition that had attracted every Japanese in Europe (I exaggerate) to come and take photos.
I sat on a bench in a nice little square, reading and enjoying the climate. Then what happened?
There was a group of annoying Spanish old women, the kind with money, not from Madrid, on some kind of group trip to the Capital. They were waiting for a museum to open after the staff had finished their siesta.
First, just one came and sat next to me, on my left. As I tried to read, she continued her conversation with the rest of the group standing a few metres to my right. She almost blew my eardrum!
Then another one of them came and sat on my right, sandwiching me. Now I was having both ears pummeled, as the two sitters communicated with eachother as well as with the rest of the group.
I couldn't believe when a third and then a fourth came to squeeze onto the 3-person bench. I couldn't even move my arm to turn the page!
I realised that this was an act of aggression, trying to force me to move. I resisted stubbornly for all of 2 minutes, then with a huff of fed-upness, I conceded.
I could hear their evil cackles of victory ringing in my ears for a long time after. That was the only thing I could hear, as I was temporarily deaf to the outside sounds, after the battering my lugholes had taken.

As well as all the nice, picturesque, stuff I saw yesterday, I also noticed there was a lot of one kind of people in every single square I came to. Junkies.
They were lying around on blankets, passing round bottles of some kind of piss-like beverage, following passers-by up and down the street asking for a few quid, play fighting with their pet dogs, and doing a good job of making the city smell a little bit worse. At the base of every statue in every little square I went to, they were there.
In the square where I sat, surrounded by the old ladies, they used the little area of plants and trees in the middle as their toilet. Men, women, it didn't matter. When they needed to go, they needed to go, and after drinking all afternoon, they needed to go often. It reminded me of The Pavilion in Brighton. Such a beautiful building, with tourists wandering around taking pictures and picnicing, and at the same time stepping over the drunks and junkies (usually speaking in Scottish or Scouse accents).

As I walked back to the flat, I saw this great photo opportunity. I love the words "Viva Madrid" written from just where the sleeping bum's head is. To me, it summed up perfectly the side of the city that I'd just seen.

Spain is heading into the general election. Every time you turn on the telly or the radio, you're bombarded with politics. Who'll win? Will it be the left, or the right? there's not much between the two candidates at the moment, and nobody really knows who's gonna be leading the country next.
from what I can make of it, it's a showdown between a 'left' guy, who's actually the same kind of left as Tony Blair, 'left' in name alone. The other guy is the real 'right', the church man who wants Spaniards to stop using condoms, have more kids, crush the separatist movements, and all of that kind of thing.
Both guys have a lot of support, and it's gonna be a close-run thing. Most people I've met are supporting Rajoy, the more 'left' of the two.
If I thought the streets would be a nice refuge from the constant media bombardment, I had another thing coming.
The main streets are lined with the following campaign banners, the one guy on one side of the road, the other on the other.
I didn't notice if it was left on the left and right on the right. That'd be a bit too cliche.

All in all, the afternoon was nice. People seemed to be enjoying the weather, sitting outside cafes and restaurants.
Outside some of the more popular tourist attractions, craftsmen sat and made delicate fans.
One peculiarity that I came across was a pigeon who had been tagged with a number! It was just a normal pigeon on a normal street, but someone had tagged him.
I also noticed that some of the signs were in 2 languages - Spanish and Japanese....

Before I sign off and go and find a way out of here, there's one last picture from yesterday that I want to share with you.
This bloke rolling a fag.

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Beauty or the beast?

2008-02-27T04:40:00.000-08:00

It's my last full day in Madrid, and although I'm still feeling a bit under the weather, I'm gonna spend the day out in the hot sun, taking in some of the sights.
Tomorrow I'm off to Bilbao, and after that, well.....
I sent a few emails around to various people in Bordeaux, asking if anyone had a couch for me to sleep on.
One of the people I found, a 25-year old woman, had the following statement at the top of her profile;

"Bonjour ( hello!),i have my boyfriend and i don't want boys comes for relationship, please. Thanks."

I found it a bit strange because I've never seen anything like that on Couchsurfing before. Usually it goes without saying. I need a place to sleep, not a person to sleep with. Anyway, I still emailed her, and in my message made a light-hearted comment along the lines of "and don't worry, I'm definitely not looking for anything other than a place to crash for the night."
I then received the following reply (and before you read this, I want you to know that usually I wouldn't make fun of anyone who offers me help, but in this case i felt like I had to publicise it, just because it was so ridiculous. I'll tell you why it was so shocking after you've read the message);

"Hi Kris,

I sink this not a problem for come in my home, i give
you my number : ** ** ** **.
Call me for , tell when you need my couch.

I just to be clear, i have by boy friend, and i juste
want to be friend .... it's ok for you, no problm for
comme in my home.

See you soon, maybe .
Bye"

What the f**k?!?!?!?!?! First of all, the fact that she even writes in a French accent is class. I'm sure there'd be some communication problems here.
But...
The reason I was most shocked by all of this, first the original profile, and then the follow-up email is because there's also a photo of her....
That photo should confirm without the need for language that there is no way any man is going to go there looking for anything other than a place to sleep for the night (or perhaps a good scare to get rid of the hiccups!)
In the league table of beauty, she's a few places below the Elephant Man, John Merrick!!!
I was asking myself hypothetical questions last night, and I came to the conclusion that I'd rather lick a stray dog's balls than even have to look at her face for more than 5 minutes without a break.

After I received that email, I started having second thoughts about whether or not I want to go into her home. Seriously.
So, unless I get any offers from normal people, I think I'll try and get directly from Bilbao to Paris.
I hope she's not reading this, because I may find that I have to stop off for the night, after all, but I guess she wouldn't understand what's written here anyway.

Like I said, I don't usually take the piss out of the generous people who help me, but, come on!! I couldn't keep that one to myself.

Still in Madrid

2008-02-26T05:40:00.001-08:00

I've found a place to crash in Bilbao, in the Basque Country. I told you yesterday that I thought it would be better if I stopped somewhere in between here and Paris, so I did a bit of a search and found an American guy called John who's willing to put me up.
His place isn't available til Thursday, which suits me, because I'm still sick and could use the rest time to try and get better.
I have no idea how i'm going to get to Bilbao. Trying to work out the answer to that is next on my to-do list.
From Bilbao, I can't decide whether to try and get directly to Paris, or if I should stop off somewhere like Bordeaux for a night. The reason is that from Bordeaux I can jump on a TGV to Paris, and even if I get chucked off a few times, I'll cover the distance to the Capital quite quickly. Whereas, getting from Bilbao to Bordeaux could take me quite a while, as there are no fast trains to jump on, and also cross-border trains aren't so frequent. i'll think about it. While I'm thinking, I'm gonna be eating mandarines, hoping the vitamin C will do the trick.

I've just found an article that The Portugal News published about my challenge. Unfortunately, I'm not able to read the whole thing because to do so would mean registering to the site, something quite impossible without money. Anyway, maybe they'll email me a copy of the article (hint, hint, cough, cough). Whether I can read it or not, I just want to thank the paper for their support. They also let me know that they'd be sending a copy of the paper to my mum, so I will get to read it at some point.

You know what it's like... You're in the middle of having your hair cut, you're messing around and being stupid because boys never really grow up, the guy who's cutting your hair says "I'm gonna give you a De Niro in Taxi Driver", and the next thing you know you're wearing a pair of sunglasses and holding a replica gun, taking silly photos and saying "Are you talking to me? Are you talking to me? I don't see anyone else around here, you must be talking to me. Are you talking to me?" into the mirror. We've all been there, right?
Well, yesterday it was my turn.

Don't ask how bored you have to be to get into something like that? When you're too ill to go out and see stuff, the classic old game of 'Give yourself a stupid haircut and pose with a gun' is the next best thing.
And just so you know, after taking the pictures, the haircut was finished properly. You didn't think I was gonna try and bunk trains with that thing on the top of my head, did you?

What a weekend that was!

2008-02-25T04:45:00.001-08:00

That's what I call a good weekend.
First England went to Paris and did the French in the rugby, AGAIN. Then, Spurs winning the Carling Cup, well, what can I say? I'm still a bit up there today, despite being ill.
I told you yesterday that I had a bad throat, well I wish that was the only complaint I had today. After a completely sleepless night thanks to the not being able to breath, the stomach cramps, the banging headache that doesn't respond to Neurofen, and the driest throat I've ever had, I then realised that I can only hear out of one of my ears.
I also feel like puking, but so far it hasn't come to that.

Did I mention that we beat Chelsea in the Carling cup Final yesterday?
What a day... What a day!

I didn't manage to find an Irish pub full of English people. Instead, I found an 'Irish' pub that was about as Irish as Juande Ramos, where the staff struggled to speak English, the football was on a telly up in the corner, and instead of the commentary, I listened to loud music. It didn't bother me though. I was the only non-Spaniard in the place, apart from a Bangladeshi flower seller having a cup of coffee.
During the course of the match I managed to turn most of the people in there (mostly couples taking part in the very Southern European Sunday pastime of gazing into eachother's eyes whilst holding hands) into Spurs fans. I went through every emotion in the book, and I noticed after a while that people around were going through them with me. When Spurs scored, the barmaid even rang the bell, cheered, and came to give me a hug. I ignored her, instead knocking over a chair as I jumped around punching the air and shouting.
I liked the friendliness of the bar-maid until she started trying to talk to me during the match.
"Tot-ing-ham is from London, no?"
I just nodded, keeping my eyes on the screen, hoping she'd get the message.
"I remember 9 years ago in the World Cup. Spain lost because somebody form the other team, how you say? Hit with the elbow one of our players and the, how you say? referee? yes, the referee did nothing."
"Oh, that's a shame." Eyes staying on the screen.
"I know that in England you are crazy about football, it is very important for you."
"Well, it's important enough that if you keep talking during the game, I will have no choice but to hit you over the head with this cider bottle."
I didn't really say that last bit, she got the message just in time.
Seeing Deadly Ledley lift the cup at the end, with the sea of white and blue flags waving victoriously in the background, and speaking to my dad on the phone as we watched it together, gave me something that I'd been waiting a long time for.
The penalty by Berbatov, the coolest I've ever seen, means that one day many years from now, my sons (I plan to have a few one day) will be talking about a footballer that retired before they were even born, one that they'd never seen play live, they'll grow up on the stories of the legend, in the same way that I grew up on stories from my dad of Greaves, Mackay, Ardiles, Hoddle, and that goal in the '81 Cup final replay, where Ricky Villa scored probably the best goal Wembley has ever seen. Don't know what I'm talking about? Click here!
If one of the Spurs heroes from yesterday ever comes to town when I'm an old man to sign a few shirts (shirts that they'll be selling under the tag 'retro'), my sons will be there queuing outside the shop, just like this Spurs fan did when Ricky Villa came to Brighton last summer.
And that's how the magic of Tottenham Hotspur will live on through the generations, and that's why we're the greatest club in the world. We don't need to win the league every year. Class speaks louder than trophies, but now under Ramos, we're finally gonna start having plenty of both.
The funniest moment of yesterday - Receiving a text from my mum just after Woodgate scored the winner. I looked down to my phone, expecting something a bit mummyish, instead I saw just 2 words; "Fucking yes!!!"
That's my mum!

A proud moment, meeting Villa.

Berbatov, a new legend

Anyway, that's enough about yesterday.
As I feel so sick, I'm having 2nd thoughts about trying to get all the way to Paris in one day. I think I'm going totry and find a place to sleep up near the French border, just for a night, then crack on to Paris the next day. It all depends on whether I can find someone at such short notice, and also on which direction this bout of ill-health decides to go in.

We'll know soon enough.

Match day

2008-02-24T05:16:00.000-08:00

I feel like shit. This time it's not because of drinking, though. I've got a sore throat like you wouldn't believe.
Last night I got to see a bit of Madrid on a Saturday night, and it was pretty lively. I went out with Diego, meeting 3 of his friends at around 10. One of them had spent a year in Tunbridge Wells as a language student, but got expelled for smoking weed. A funny guy.
In the first bar we went to I was treated to the real tapas experience. Lots of little plates one after the other, basically finger food. They told me that tapas first came around during the great depression years between the two wars, when everyone was drinking. The government said that all people should cover the top of the glass with a little food, so that they don't get too drunk. And so there was tapas.

After the first bar, 2 of them, an engaged couple, went home, and I was left with Diego and Luiz. We went on to a lively bar, where I noticed that every single bloke inside had a beard. I don't know if it's the policy of the door, but it seemed that way.
Basically we drank a lot of beers, until Luiz started getting all patriotic and trying to tell me that any Spanish guy can drink any English under the table. The fact that he couldn't even stand up straight whilst telling me, told me everything I already knew!
We met a few funny people along the way, but to be honest my mind was more on the football today than it was on socialising with some of the people I was introduced to.

And that's where I'm going now......
I have an hour to find an Irish pub with a large English contingent, and one where I can at least see the screen over the heads.

Come on you Spurs!

Something extra

2008-02-23T10:16:00.000-08:00

Nothing to do with my travels, just a great link that I think everyone should see.
Turn up your speakers, Click here, and enjoy.

Madrid

2008-02-23T04:18:00.000-08:00

I arrived at the flat of my good friends, Diego and Alex, in Madrid at around 6.30pm on Thursday after a pleasant 7-hour journey from Lisbon.
I hadn't been able to fall asleep at all on the Wednesday night, and although I managed to get a few little kips in on the drive, I was still knackered when I got here. I then slept from about 1am to 1pm, and felt even worse after waking up.
The rest of Saturday was spent doing something long, boring, tiring, but necessary. Alex went off to Cordoba, in the south of Spain, to visit his girlfriend for the weekend, leaving his computer free. Finally, after almost 4 weeks without any music on my travels, I could start restoring some of the collection to my ipod.
I had an email from my mate in Lisbon, Alberto, letting me know that his brother who lives in San Sebastien, near to the French border, isn't there at the moment, and won't be for a long while. We'd discussed the possibility of me staying there on route to France, but now that's off the agenda.
Instead, I think I'm going to make Monday a day of adventure, as I try to get all the way from Madrid to Paris, a mere 1055km, or 655 miles.
If I leave early enough in the morning and make it to the border by around 1 in the afternoon, then I should have no problem train-hopping to Paris. The difficult part will be getting out of Madrid, as you can't even get near the trains without a ticket, and hitch-hiking is illegal. I'll find a way......

The reason I'm not gonna leave until Monday... There's the small matter of the Carling Cup final tomorrow afternoon. I'll be doing a bit of scouting today, in search of the Irish pub with the most English people in it, where hopefully I'll be able to talk a few pints from the punters.

Days on the road; 115
Capitals visited; 16 (3 non-EU)
Distance covered; 5798 miles (9330 kilometres)

Change of plan, and some pictures

2008-02-20T11:33:00.000-08:00

Forget what I said about going to Porto, tomorrow. Instead, I'm going to be reunited with my good friends Diego and Alex in Madrid.
Basically, if I went to Porto, I'd only be able to stay for one night because of obligations that the flat-mates there have already made. This could be difficult, as it would mean leaving the next morning and not having had any time to try to plan my way into Spain.
Then, as luck would have it, I found out that Isabel, the Spanish girl who showed me around the city today, is driving to Madrid tomorrow with a friend and has a space in the car for me. The decision was an easy one, as soon as I'd checked with Diego if there was still room for me there.
So, tomorrow morning at 9.40 I'm finally leaving Portugal.

I met Isabel this afternoon, initially just to give her the books to take to Madrid, and to have a tea. She had the whole afternoon free, she also had a car, and I had no plans, so I was given a tour of the city and shown the most beautiful parts that I would have left Lisbon without even knowing existed.

After walking around the main centre of the city, I was taken to a part of town called Alfama.
Alfama is a village within a city. No cars are allowed to enter, and it's just narrow little street after narrow little street. People sit out on their doorsteps, drinking beer and talking to the neighbours. Old ladies lean out of the windows of every building, just watching the world go by. People hang their washing out to dry in front of their front door. Pet budgies hang in cages in front of houses. Oranges grow on trees. Children play with brooms in the street.
It's a paradox. It's one of the most beautiful neighbourhoods I've seen on my travels, but at the same time you only have to look at the people to know that you're in the equivalent of a council estate back in England. The people are low class and dirty-looking. There are street drunks sitting all over the place. One old woman even had a piss on the street in front of us. There were teenage mums with their push-chairs all over the place. People spoke loudly, aggresively, commonly to eachother. They looked at tourists as potential victims.
Isabel mentioned that she'd like to live here, but that she wouldn't because it's not a safe place to walk around in at night.

The passages were so narrow that it was impossible for two people to walk through side by side.
There are tiny little shops, randomly placed in the buildings along the passages. These shops usually consist of a few basic ammenities, served to you by an old lady or man, sat lonely, waiting for a customer. And you always have to step over a sleeping dog on your way in and out.
Remember a few days ago when I told you about the houses that look more like the insides of swimming pools because of the way they're tiled on the outside? This part of town is filled with such buildings, so I took a photo just for you, so that you can see I don't exaggerate.
Also, I'm sure you remember me informing you that the Portuguese are, how can I put it politely? Vertically challenged? No, I'll be blunt. They're midgets. Again, I would hate for you to think that I exaggerate these things, so hopefully the picture below of me standing in front of somebody's front door should prove that I was telling the truth.

Before I sign off, I think I've discovered the reason behind the good relationship that has always existed between England and Potugal. i hope you're ready for me to expose the truth. Here it is. We have almost identical post boxes, right down to the black paint at the bottom! Mystery solved.

Headache

2008-02-20T05:07:00.000-08:00

Thanks to the people who've sponsored me over the past two days. Alberto, Nadia, Sebastien, and Alaska. We didn't manage to make the £375 that I'd hoped for, but we still got over £50 in two days, so I'm fairly pleased.

I'm still in Lisbon, but I am DEFINITELY leaving tomorrow at 4.30 in the afternoon. The reasons that I'm still here are;
1.Because of the weather, the clothes that I washed a few days ago still haven't dried properly, even though they're hanging inside. There's a strange kind of humidity in this part of the world, and stuff just won't dry.
2.I haven't been able to find a place to sleep in the north-west of Spain, my next stop after Porto. I only plan to stay in Porto for a maximum of 2 nights, and would like to feel comfortable that I have a place to go after. I've been working hard on it, sending emails, etc, but have heard nothing positive. So, now it looks like I'm just going to head there anyway and see what happens.
3.I had planned to leave Lisbon today, but it's not going to happen, as I feel like the cat's arse after a heavy night of drinking (after forgetting to eat in the day) with a load of Erasmus students. Tonight I'll be going to bed at a sensible hour.

Yesterday was a replica of the ones previous. I'd wait for the rain to stop and the clouds to clear a bit, I'd head out the door in search of adventure (I realise different people have different perceptions of adventure. For me, it means going for a leisurely stroll and seeing if anything happens), then after about 15 minutes of walking, there'd be a long, loud, rumble of thunder and just like that the heavens would open and I'd be jogging back to the flat, coming in the door looking like a drowned rat.
I spent the afternoon drying off, watching a 'Behind the music' documentary about Cat Stevens, on the net. I'd seen it a few times before, but it never gets old.
Alberto came in from work and said that they were going to watch the Roma - Real Madrid match down in a Spanish bar in the centre.
I had a few emails to send, still trying to sort stuff out, so I told him I'd meet him there in the 2nd half.
I'm glad I did. Since living in Italy's capital for a year, I've always supported Roma as my 2nd team. Being in a Spanish bar to watch Roma beat the best Spain has to offer was enjoyable.
After the match, Alberto told me that a friend of his, a guy from Finland called Erik, was having a party in his block. The block was inhabited almost exclusively by Erasmus students. They call it a republic.
After taking the tube to the mall to buy some beers, myself, Alberto, and Jesus (not the icon of the Christian faith. This is a different one who comes from Spain) headed off to the party.
By the way, the shops in the mall are open til midnight. Midnight! Even the sweet shop was open. A bit silly, if you ask me.
Anyway, back to the story. We got to the place at 11 and it was pretty empty. There were a few bearded Italians walking around, shouting through a loudspeaker, and generally being noisy and Italian, but apart from that not alot was going on.
I lie. There was something going on; A fridge full of free beer, and a kitchen full of free stronger stuff. That's right, I was exposed to plentiful supplies of free alcohol.
I got straight to work.
To cut a long, boring, story short, I found myself stumbling into the flat at 5 this morning, after a long, drunken, walk home. All I can really remember from last night is Alberto leaving fairly early because he had to get up for work, whilst I decided to stay as long as there was free drink. I met a bloke from Sicilly, who felt the need to introduce me to everyone he saw as 'the first English guy he's ever met who can speak Italian'. The guy couldn't speak a word of English, which I found strange for an Erasmus student, but he kept defending his lack of English by asking why he should have to "rompere i coglioni" (break his balls) trying to learn English, if no English people can be bothered to learn Italian.
He kind of made a fair point, but at the same time, English is the international language, so..... It's not for me to comment.
Just before leaving, I found myself in a painstakingly boring conversation with another Sicilian guy who just wanted to know about English football hooligans. I yawned, told him I was going to look for a friend, and slipped out the door and out onto the street.

This morning I was woken and then kept awake from around 10 by the flat's cleaner. She would hoover a bit, then sit in the living room watching telly, then she'd clean something in the kitchen, then she'd watch a bit more telly, then she'd hoover again, then to relax, I mean, come on, she'd earned it, she'd watch a bit more telly.
I guess the outside of my bedroom door was quite dirty, because I'm sure that's the only spot she was hoovering... for about 2 hours!
Hence the headache that I'm now suffering from.
Also, I respect her for her charity work. She was obviously doing some kind of sponsored "clean the flat whilst wearing clogs, and trying to bang and crash as many things as possible" event for Comic Relief. I don't know this for sure, it was just an educated guess.

Today I'm meeting the same girl who gave us the "little cocks are typical in Portugal" quote, because she's going to Madrid in a couple of days, and I have a couple of books belonging to Diego, the Spanish guy I stayed with there. I'm not going to be passing through Madrid, but I wanted to make sure that he gets his books back, so she'll be acting as my courier.
Diego, if you're reading this, send me an email or a text message because I can't find your email address anywhere.

I think that's about it, then. Just enough time to share with you a picture from the other day. It just makes me laugh because Pablo is the most stereotypical Spanish-looking guy I´ve met. Kind of half-chimp, half man. And no, that´s not a racial slur, it´s a personal piss-take out of a mate!

110 days into the journey, and I have a request

2008-02-18T13:29:00.000-08:00

Boys and girls,

I´m currently 110 days into my journey.I hope you´re enjoying following the adventures.

So far I´ve managed to raise £1253 for Cancer Research. I´m pleased with this, but not satisfied. We can do so much more.
I see that I´m getting quite a few readers to the blog now. Some of you have already sponsored me. But, if 150 of you today sponsor me just £2.50 we´ll make another £375 for the charity just like that. All you have to do is visit my fundraising page at www.justgiving.com/euro-challenge. All money goes directly into the coffers of Cancer Research UK.
£2.50. That´s less than you´d spend on a pint in the pub, or a kebab, or a return bus ticket in probably any city in England. You wouldn´t hesitate to spend it on one of those things (well, vegetarians might not buy a kebab),so please don´t hesitate to sponsor me the same amount.

I´m sure there´s not a single one of you reading this that hasn´t been affected either directly or indirectly by Cancer at some point in your life.
I´m travelling to every EU Capital on the continent, without a single penny in my pocket, to raise awareness and collect sponsorships for Cancer Research UK.
This trip has given me so may positives moments, as well as many negative ones. But if I could go back to the start and opt out of the challenge, I wouldn´t. The fact that we´ve raised over the £1000 mark is good enough reason for me to have no regrets.
Since I started 110 days ago, I´ve lost 10 kilos (that´s more than a stone) in weight, I´ve gone days at a time without eating, I´ve found myself stranded in tiny villages in the middle of the night, I´ve suffered from Salmonella, and at times I´ve not known where my next drink of water was going to come from. Those that have been following me since the beginning already know all of this, but alot of the newer readers won´t.
As well as the hard times, I´ve also met amazing, generous, people who have helped me along my way and who will remain friends until the day I drop off of the planet. I´ve seen different cultures that perhaps I had a negative stereotypical view of before, and have seen that the truth is far from the image we have in our heads. I´ve been invited into people´s homes and been a guest at their dinner table. I´ve seen different people´s ways of living that I would never have learnt about any other way.
Like I said, there have been positives and negatives.

I´m asking you to just visit www.justgiving.com/euro-challenge and make a difference. If you can give more than £2.50, please do. If you can only afford something less, that´s fine too. Just give what you can.
The main reason for writing this message is because I wanted to highlight a piece of information about Cancer Research UK.
It´s this;

"In the financial year 2005-6, the charity spent £251 million on cancer research, supporting the work of more than 3,000 researchers, physicians, nurses and other medical professionals in hospitals, universities and institutes throughout the United Kingdom. This funding covers all areas of cancer research. For example, some of the money goes to funding lab-based scientists who research the biology behind cancer. These scientists are trying to answer questions such as: how cells become cancerous, how cancer spreads and how cancerous cells differ from non-cancerous cells. This research can then be used to identify possible new more effective and targeted cancer treatments. Funding also goes into supporting clinical trials of promising new drugs; researching and testing improved methods for diagnosis; carrying out studies into the risk-factors for cancer; improving quality of life for cancer patients; and much more."

£251000000! That´s a lot of zeros!
Now hopefully you can see why every single donation is so important.
£251000000 spent in a year. Money spent on making the lives of cancer sufferers that little bit more comfortable, as well as trying to find a cure so that one day, hopefully in our lifetime, we won´t have to fear Cancer as the potent killer it is today.

When I left on the 1st November, my aunty Susan lived in a house just down the road from mine. When I return at the end of this journey, I won´t be going down to the house to see her. The house is empty. That´s what cancer does, and not just to my loved ones, but to everyone´s.
Cancer Research is there, trying to make changes so that one day this won´t happen.

The final thing I want to ask before I stop boring you, is to let as many people as you can know about this cause, and also to get them to make a sponsorship. As far as I´m concerned, there´s no such thing as a small sponsorship. As well as the obvious, every single penny raised also goes towards giving me the motivation, drive, and strength to see this challenge out to the end.

Come on, let´s make a difference!
www.justgiving.com/euro-challenge

Cheers,
Kris

Still knocking about

2008-02-17T14:55:00.000-08:00

Top: Finally got to meet Paula, and even got a photo.
2nd: The special Spanish prosciutto.
3rd: The dinner party last night. That´s Pablo on my left, and Alberto standing up.

This is gonna be a short one for the simple reason that the keyboard I´m writing on is horrible. I dunno where some of the keys are, plus when I type I have to keep deleting and changing.
I´m in still in Lisbon. This is for a number of reasons. First of all, last night I was part of a dinner party at Alberto´s that was attended by 16 people, the majority of which were Spanish. There was also a Portuguese guy, Sergio, and of course my two Romanian heroes, Ovidiu and Diana. It was a fantastic affair and went on until the early hours. I ended up in a flat with 3 other guys, drinking a top quality 15-year old Scotch whiskey that had been left to them by their landlord. I wasn´t about to say no to that offer.
During the day, I´d been round to the flat of a colleague of Alberto´s, Pablo, where I was treated to a real feast of a lunch, with the special Spanish prosciutto coming out at the end.
The highlight of the evening was when one of the Spanish girls (who´s asked not to be named!) noticed the cockeril on my Spurs jacket and came out with the wonderful line;
"Ah, it´s like the Portuguese symbol. The little cock is very typical in Portugal."
She honestly didn´t know the meaning of the word she was using.
Classic!

Another reason I didn´t leave today was because the weather was (and still is) awful. It´s pissing down and has been all day. Not the sort of weather I want to do any travelling in.
Today in the afternoon I finally got to know Paula, the Spanish girl living in the flat. It only took 6 days to be able to say more than 3 words to eachother!
I wasn´t sure what to expect of her. Maybe she´d be moody, or not want to speak in English, or something like that. It turned out that I couldn´t have been more wrong. We chatted in the kitchen for an hour, and then later in the evening, she, along with a few other Spaniards, invited me to the cinema, their treat.
The Spanish have taken to me, and me to them. I always imagined that the Portuguese and the Spanish would be very similar in character and way of living. They´re not. The Spaniards, as I already knew from my time in Barcelona, Madrid, and Caceres, are so full of energy and always looking to have a good time. It suits me down to the ground, especially when it includes such amazing food. They´re great company.

My next stop is going to be Porto. Alberto has arranged for an ex-colleague of his to host me there. More Spaniards. I´ve set Tuesday as my date for leaving Lisbon. From Porto I´ll make my way along the north of Spain, through Galicia, then the Basque country, and on to France.
I´ve been here a week now, and know I need to be moving on, so expect some rapid progress soon.

I want to thank my friend, Chris, and the i-kangaroo team for this article. Appreciated.

One more thing. This isn´t a political blog, but I want to express my disappointment in the British government, among others, for recognising Kosovo´s illegal declaration of independence. That´s it.

Another stadium

2008-02-15T12:25:00.001-08:00

Despite being told by Easyjet to expect a reply within 24 hours, I haven't heard a dicky bird. Looks like it's back to the usual method of the trains, leaving on Sunday, I think. Unless Easyjet decides to get in contact with some positive news. Not likely, but stranger things have happened.

Thanks to Neil for the sponsorship I received today. Appreciated!

I woke up this morning (or afternoon) at 12.30. I'm getting lazier and lazier, it's not good. Anyway, I'd received a text message at 9.30 that I'd slept right through, letting me know that Margarita (the girl whose name I couldn't remember yesterday) was going to a nice museum in the morning and it was one that I should go to see aswell. He'd left the entrance fee and bus fare with her, I just had to let her know I was interested. Unfortunately, by the time I read the message, she'd already gone and the flat was empty.
I showered and headed over to Ovidiu and Diana's to see if I'd got any emails from a certain airline. Then I headed out for the day to see some things. Diana sorted me out with an all-day bus and tube ticket, so I headed first for something Alberto had been telling me about last night. The Expo. Lisbon hosted the world exhibition in 1998 and a lot of the buildings and stuff were still there and apparently worth a visit.
It took me 3 tube trains, but it was worth it. It's on the sea, but not a beach, more like a docking area. The smell and atmosphere immediately took me to my local beach at home. I grew up just a 10 minute walk from the docks, with the smell of fishy water, the cool sea breeze, and the seagulls flying around noisily. This was exactly the same atmosphere.
Going out across the water there's a monster bridge, very similar to the one in San Fransisco.
I sat for about 45 minutes, just relaxing in the heat.
Above my head, cable cars moved effortlessly along the wire, offering people a nice view. Well, what I imagine is a nice view, without any money I couldn't go up and see for myself.
From there I took another 3 trains on the tube, heading for the home of Benfica Football Club, the Stadium of Light.
Travelling on the tube in Lisbon gives you the feeling you've gone below the surface and discovered a mystical, magical underground world inhabited solely by hobbits. You can't help but laugh as these little dark-haired people scurry around like mice.
Seriously, the Portuguese are extremely tiny people!
Anyway, I made it to the stadium and walked around the complex. Past the statue of Eusebio, I noticed that one of the gates wasn't shut properly. I waited for the coast to be clear and snuck in through the gap.
I walked up the stairs on my right, and couldn't believe my eyes when I came through the door at the top and found myself inside the ground. I came out into the stand,looking down on the pitch from the curve behind the goal, in the top tier.
Photo opportunity.
I stayed in there for a while, as it was completely empty and nobody was going to come and chuck me out.
I searched everywhere to find a way to get down to the lower tiers and on to the pitch, but it wasn't possible from where I was. All of the doors that looked promising were locked.
Oh well, I wasn't disappointed. I'd been inside another top European stadium without paying anything. I was a bit surprised by the lack of security here, but I guess it was left open from last night when Benfica beat Nurnburg 1-0 in the UEFA cup.

I made my way back to the flat after that, getting in around 7. It was empty, for a change, so I had a shower, ate a delicious tuna salad that Alberto had made and left in the fridge, then headed over to Ovidiu and Diana's to write this post for you.

If Easyjet don't come through for me, then my next stop on the way to France is going to be either Porto or Valladolid in Spain. if I go to Porto, then I'll go along the north of Spain. If I go to Valladolid, then I'll head from there to San Sebastian or Pamplona, before getting into France.
I'll have to check the possibilities and see which will cause me less grief.

The photos...
Top; Benfica's stadium of light
2nd; The door that was slightly open, enough for me to get in
3rd; What a nob I am! Inside the stadium.
4th; The pitch
5th; A bit of advertising on one of the seats in the stand behind the goal. No harm done.

Easyjet - Help me out, please!

2008-02-14T10:39:00.001-08:00

Last night I had a lovely dinner of battered chicken, mashed potato, and pickled pepper. I also finally got to know my host, Alberto, and his girlfriend (I'm really sorry, her name escapes me at the moment. Really sorry!) a bit better.
(see picture above).
Diana and Ovidiu prepared the meal, and we were also joined at the table by Saumya, the Indian.
"What's that?" He asked, when he saw the mashed potato.
"Potato, Saumya."
He then put a tiny amount on his plate, looking at it suspiciously.
Over dinner we talked about our different countries, what it was like in school, what it's like to be a foreigner in particular places, stuff like that.
Dinner ended just after 1am, and I went home with my hosts. I went to bed feeling good because I finally knew and had spent some time with the people who are living under the same roof as me. Now there's only one flat-mate that I haven't had the pleasure of meeting properly, Paola, a Spanish girl that I said a quick hello to on the first night only. Hopefully that'll change in these next few days!
Alberto also provided me with a detailed map of the city, a travel card for the tube, plus his student ID card that I can use to get into some of the museums for free.

Today, as I said I would, I went to the airport to try and meet a high-up employee of Easyjet, to see about getting a free flight to Paris. It took me forever to get there, as first the bus turned up 15 minutes late, then it stayed at the bus-stop as it waited for a guy from the bus company to turn up and try and fix the broken wing mirror. I stood waiting with the old ladies for about another half hour. (see picture above).
Finally another bus turned up and we all jumped on.
After about 5 minutes a guy got on and sat opposite me. He looked a bit weird, actually he looked like my uncle, Graham. He WAS weird.
He started singing in a strange voice and an even stranger accent "We are American, we kill the yellow man."
Then he went into 'Good morning, Vietnam' style, just speaking a load of weird Portuguese mixed with occasional English, in a hilarious Robin Williams voice. I couldn't help laughing, and soon the girl next to me was too. He started laughing too, but more in a "I'm going to kill your family" kind of way. He went through a whole repertoir. There was "We don't need no education. dum dum dum dum dum sum" followed by "You're my ay brown eyed girl, do do do do do do do" and who could forget "And I said let there be drums, and there was drums. And I said let there be guitar, and there was guitar. And I said let there be rock, and there was rock rock rock rock." Most of the bus was looking at him strangely, too polite to say anything, too polite even to laugh at him, but i didn't have the same problem. By the time he got on to "Frere Jacque, ding ding dong..." I was pissing myself. The girl sat next to me (I think she was Brazilian. Far too good-looking to be Portuguese) was in hysterics too. She started speaking to me, but I couldn't understand what she was going on about, and she didn't speak English, so the conversation went no further.
I got to the airport and found the Easyjet desk. I asked if I could speak to a manager, and was told by the woman that she was a supervisor, but not of Easyjet, only of the company that dealt with customers on Easyjet's behalf. I explained my situation and she told me that the only people who could sort out a free ticket were Easyjet head office in London. She gave me a phone number and an email address. I'd wasted most of the afternoon, but it had been worth it just to hear the guy on the bus.
I noticed at bus stops all over the city, an advertising campaign by Wall Street English School trying to persuade people to come to them for English lessons. The campaign basically consists of a piece of beef, saying such things as "let's go to the cinema", "I'm married, how about you?" and my personal favourite "I'm going to see my mother."
Why a piece of beef would be talking, I do not know. Why he'd be talking English, is even more of a mystery. And the fact that he expects to be let in to the cinema, well, that's bordering on the ridiculous. (See photo above).
Another thing I noticed today was that a lot of the buildings' facades are ceramically tiled here. I didn't notice that today, I noticed it when I first arrived in the city. What I noticed today was that a lot of these tiled buildings look like the inside of a swimming pool. You know, the different shades of blue, with a darker dolphin or something tiled into the middle. Who thinks that that looks good?
The city has also been taken over by blonde men with mullets, moustaches, and denim jackets. Why? FC Nurnburg are playing against Benfica in the UEFA cup tonight, so "Ze Chermans" are in town.

I made my way back to Ovidiu and Diana's flat, where I set about emailing Easyjet. First of all, I received an automatic reply letting me know that my email wouldn't receive a reply. Hmmm. So I got a reply to tell me there were no replies.
If I wanted a reply, I'd have to go to the website and first see if my question is answered by one on the list of frequently asked questions. I couldn't find anywhere on the list "I'm travelling around with no money and would like a free ticket. It's all in aid of charity. Can you sort me out?"
Somehow they'd forgotten to cover that question.
So I clicked on the link 'Still stuck' and sent them an email through there. First I had to become a member of the site, but eventually I got my message through. I was told to expect a reply within the next 24 hours.
Just after I'd sent it, I got a call from my mum letting me know that I should mention in the email that my dad works in the ID centre at Gatwick airport, and handles all of Easyjet employees' ID cards. It was too late to put it in the email, but Easyjet, if you're reading this, my dad works in the ID centre at Gatwick and handles all of your employees' ID cards.
He said that if you don't help me out, all of a sudden your employees are going to find it very difficult to get in and out of Gatwick airport.
He didn't really say that.
In all seriousness, it would cost Easyjet very little to sort me out a ticket, and they'd have the peace of mind that comes with knowing they're helping a good cause. Fingers crossed they see it the same way I do.

I had fish fingers, rice, and pickled paprika for dinner, and in a while I'm going to go back to Alberto's flat to see if I can socialise.

Gonna see what I can do

2008-02-14T06:08:00.000-08:00

Easyjet fly directly from Lisbon to Paris. That's where I'm heading this afternoon. Not to Paris, but to the Easyjet office at the airport, to see if I can speak to someone high enough up with the authority to get me on a plane for free.
Of course I don't have any realistic hopes, but you never know. They might be feeling charitable, as it's for a good cause.
I'm also going to try speaking to the bus and train companies, with the same intention, although Paris would be too great an ask, I'm sure. But maybe to somewhere in Spain.
I don't feel like getting on any train without a ticket at the moment, I'm getting tired of feeling like the hunted, listening to the footsteps of the guard making his way towards me, under the curious gaze of all the other passengers in the carriage. If I don't find a solution, then obviously that's the way it's going to be, but if you don't ask, you don't get.

Gotta move on

2008-02-13T08:01:00.000-08:00

Thanks to Jason for the sponsorship, a man of his word. Anyone else feels like donating, click here.
It doesn't go towards paying for my beers on the continent, it goes directly into the account of Cancer Research UK.

I'm down to my last pair of batteries for the camera. So i may have to stop taking pictures of the journey very soon. That'll be a shame, but I'll see what I can do.
Update: Ovidiu and Diana have just given me two rechargable batteries and a charger. I love these guys!

So, I'm still in Lisbon, but am working on finding my way out of here as we speak. Well, as I type.
I'm sleeping in a room in the flat of Alberto, a Spanish guy who's a friend of Diana and Ovidiu. He's a really nice guy, but to be honest, I haven't seen him since the first night I moved there. He's a hard-working man who gets up early to go to his duties in the Spanish embassy. I'm a lazy bastard who gets up as afternoon aproaches. Tonight we're having a dinner at Ovidiu and Diana's, everyone's gonna be here, so I'll get to spend some time with people.
The only problem I have with the flat is that I haven't mastered how to get in and out of the main door. My keys never seem to work. That's fine in the middle of the day when I can just press everyone's buzzer until someone opens the door. But in the night, all I can do is try and try for about an hour, when just as I'm about to give up and sleep on the street, it miraculously gives in to me.
Once inside the flat, the coridoor is looooooong, with different bedrooms coming off of it. When I come in at night, and the lights are off, it always makes me think of the song 'Hotel California' as I take the long walk to my room.
I've met a few more Romanians, friends of my original hosts. Last night I was treated by one of them, Mara, to a dinner of grilled sardines. It was delicious.
The thing that I don't want to happen is that I get too comfy here and it takes me ages to move on to my next port of call. It's happened before, and I can't let it happen again, as I feel I'm getting closer and closer to completing this challenge, and I don't want to let it drag on too long. Once I make it to Paris, then I can knock out Luxembourg, Brussels, and Amsterdam in a relatively short time as there'll be no need to stop off in towns en-route.
Getting to Paris is going to take time though. I'm trying to think of how I should do it. I want to spend as little time in Spain as possible. Not because of the country, I loved it there. Just because it's the most difficult country I've come across for travelling without money. If someone donates me a ticket, as they did in both Madrid and Caceres, life is easy. But otherwise, it's hard to even get on to a train, and hitch-hiking is illegal, and I'm told they enforce that law.
There's a bus from Paris to Lisbon for just 23 Euros, and I was told that I could easily have that paid for by someone here in Lisbon. Then I found out the bad news. It's only 23 Euros to go from Paris. If you're going in the other direction, it's 85.

My original plan was to go up to Porto, then to go along the northern coast of Spain, through Basque country, as far as France. Now I'm thinking it might be better go straight from here to as close to France as I can get in one day. Then take a rest, before crossing the border. Once in France it's a piece of piss. I just jump on a TGV and even when I get chucked off, I've already covered over 100 kilometres. Spain's a different story.

If anyone feels like giving some advice, I'm open to suggestions. Just drop me an email.

I'll let you know.......

The picture was taken the other night. It's with a Portuguese guy called Gonçalo, and the 4 Romanians, Mara, Roxana, Diana, and Ovidiu.
There's also last night's sardines, courtesy of Mara. Thanks!

the videos

2008-02-11T11:12:00.000-08:00

Youtube has decided that my videos are indecent. I don't know why, as it's just me having a little swim, but oh well. Instead, here are the videos. Hopefully Blogger won't be so silly.

A couple more

2008-02-11T11:01:00.000-08:00

Naked swimming in the name of comedy and charity

2008-02-11T10:41:00.000-08:00

Jason, my friend, you owe me a sponsorship!
It was bloody cold in that Atlantic, but watched by a small group of shocked onlookers, I stripped down to the clothes I was born in, and went for a little swim.
I couldn't find a handkerchief, but I was given a Romanian hat to use as a substitue.
The proof is in the pictures...

Top: Giving the Portuguese something to talk about on the train. A guy in a Romanian hat.
2nd: Getting ready
3rd: the clothes are coming off
4th: Proudly displaying the hat
5th: get in there. Who remembers the opening sequence of the Life of Reginald Perrin?

There are also 2 videos that I'm uploading to Youtube as we speak to prove I swam.

Get in that sea!

2008-02-11T05:37:00.001-08:00

Would you believe it? Less than a week after my 'getting locked in the bedroom' experience in Madrid, I managed to do it again this morning, in Lisbon.
Somehow the door was locked from the outside and there was no way of me getting out. Luckily the guys' laptop was in my room, and they have a paid Skype account, so I could make a call to Diana. i explained the situation. She was out at work, but she then called Ovidiu and he came to let me out.
Yesterday, we went out in the late afternoon and I was shown some of the sights, and given an oral history lesson on the city by Ovidiu the walking, talking encyclopaedia.
We picked up 3 'pasteis de belem' which is similar to a custard tart, and is the typical treat of the area. We took them back to the flat, where Diana made a delicious meat and rice dinner.
I was supposed to move out of the flat last night, because a new flat-mate was moving in and they needed to sort out the rooms. I'd arranged to meet somebody from Couchsurfing who was going to let me stay with a few people in a flat on the other side of the city, and was told to meet her at 11pm at a meeting point in the centre. 11.45 came, and still no-one had shown up. Fortunately, Ovidiu and Diana had insisted on waiting with me until they knew for sure that I had somewhere to go, so I called the girl from Ovidiu's phone but got no response.
15 minutes later she sent me a message saying that something had come up and could I find somewhere else to sleep.
back to the flat we went, and one of the flatmates, a French guy called Anthony, who was planning on moving his stuff into the bigger, better, recently vacated room, had no problem with staying in his smaller room for the night and letting me have the big one.
I also met Saumya, an Indian guy living in the flat. Before bed I got talking to him and Anthony about the trip, but I decided to call it a night when Saumya suggested i watch the Indian version of Superman with him, a film that apparently he's watched 65 times. He also told me that he'd like to cook me some Indian food tonight, but I'm still sceptical since the salmonella experience in Poland.

Tonight I'm going to meet some friends of the Romanians, and I'm also going to be moving into the flat of a Spanish friend of theirs, Alberto. At the same time I need to start looking for my way out of Lisboa, and to find out where my next port of call is going to be. I need to get to Paris, which is a mere 903 miles away. It's probably going to mean stopping in about 3 places in between.

the girl that I was supposed to meet last night sent me a message this morning apologising, and let me know that she had to drive a friend to the hospital. No hard feelings on my part, these things happen.

I've had an email from a good friend of mine, Jason. Jason is the guy who wanted to see me yodel in Switzerland with a cow's horn. Unfortunately I wasn't in the country long enough to make it happen, and I wasn't really in what you'd call the Swiss countryside.
He's now let me know that he'll make a new donation if I go for a swim in the Atlantic, wearing a handkerchief on my head. It's not as warm in Lisbon as it was in Caceres, in fact it's pretty cold. But.... in the name of charity, and comedy, i'm going to see what I can do. Watch this space!

Days on the road (without any money); 103
Distance covered; 5485 miles
Capitals visited; 16 (3 non EU)

Capitals left to visit; Paris, Brussels, Luxembourg, Amsterdam, Prague, Vilnius, Riga, Tallinn, Helsinki, Athens

Great hosts

2008-02-10T17:34:00.000-08:00

top: Marina and Derek. My two hosts in Caceres who made life easier for me. Thanks!
bottom: My Romanian hosts here in Lisbon. Diana and Ovidiu.

All great people.

Another Capital ticked off the list

2008-02-10T07:45:00.000-08:00

Before I type anything, I just want to say how much motivation I've got in these last few days from the burst in sponsorship. Thanks today to Paul and Simpat for the donations. It really keeps me going.
Don't forget, it's easy to sponsor me. All money goes directly to the charity, Cancer Research. Just click here to make it happen.

I'm feeling refreshed and good in Lisbon.
I wanna thank Marina and Derek for everything they did for me in Caceres. They drove me to Badajoz last night, and took care of my bus ticket to Lisbon.
We got to the bus station at 8.30pm and they had to rush off back home for family obligations. My bus wasn't until 2 in the morning, so I spent a looooooooong 5 and a half hours in the bus station. At first it was full of weird migrant workers from South America, pacing up and down and generally being weird. One of them kept walking round me grinning, while another would get down on to the floor at random intervals and do a set of 50 press-ups. I counted.
They all got on the bus to Madrid at 00.30, leaving me alone apart from a security guard who walked up and down, whistling and farting loudly.
when the bus came in at 2, I discovered that the farting security guard wasn't a security guard after all. He was my driver.
I'd arranged to meet a Romanian couple, Diana and Ovidiu, at the bus station at 4.30am. I sat on the bus, listening to the Portuguese radio that came out of the seat, and at 3.30 when we stopped in a big bus station I guessed it was Setubal or some other city on the way to Lisbon. Everybody got off, I guessed for a quick smoke and a piss before moving on to Lisbon. The farting driver then got up and started walking down the bus, cleaning the rubbish.
He told me to get off.
"Lisboa?" I asked.
"Si."
So I'd arrived an hour earlier than I'd been told I would. I still wasn't convinced I was in Lisbon, though. I spent 25 minutes walking around, trying to find any sign with the word 'Lisboa' written on it, to confirm I was where I wanted to be. eventually I found Casino Lisboa, and that was good enough for me.
I texted Diana to let them know I'd arrived early, and she let me know that Ovidiu would be there to pick me up at around 5.
So for an hour and a half I sat and read the book Derek had given me, watching drunken under-age girls get carried to taxis by drunken under-age boys. It reminded me of home. i also invented a game to play with myself. It's called "Spot the good-looking Portuguese girl." I lost!
Ovidiu turned up at 5.15, and we discovered we'd have to wait there until the tube started running at 6.30.
We went to a garage and got some water and a microwaved burger, and stood around trying to play the game I'd started before. We both lost!
To cut a long story short, after 2 trains on the tube, a bus, and a walk, we arrived at the flat at around 8.
I went straight to bed in my own room, waking at 2 in the afternoon. I met Diana, and then we had omelette and hot chocolate for a late breakfast. I think for the rest of the day I'm just gonna relax, as I really don't feel like going out and walking much today. I'm still knackered.

Diana is here in Portugal on an AISEC traineeship, and Ovidiu is also an AISECer. Remember AISEC from my previous adventures in Slovakia? That organisation has helped me a lot on this trip.

Before I sign off, I have to ask; What is going on in Romania? :-)
I've had so many messages of support and best wishes from Romanians these past few days. Not just in Romania, but from Romanians living all over the place. plus the fact that I'm being helped here in Lisbon by Romanians.
With England not playing in this summer's European Championships, I know which team I'm going to be supporting!
I hope that through this blog, even if just to a few people, we can change the negative image that some people have of Romania. Even I was a bit apprehensive before I visited Bucharest. The media doesn't show us the real Romania and the real Romanians, and that disappoints me.

Caceres - quick in and out

2008-02-09T08:30:00.000-08:00

Very very short blog entry now, as I´m in the library of Caceres and i'm leaving soon for Portugal.
Basically, I arrived last night at around 11 and was met by my hosts, Marina and Derek (an Irish guy living in Spain for the past 15 years).
We went straight from the station to an eaterie, where we had a few beers and a Spanish delicacy, bull's tail with potatoes. It had a strong taste, and you had to fight hard to find meat on the bone, but it was pretty nice.
We left there at about 1am and went on to a few more bars for some quiet drinks. Caceres is a beautiful medievel old place, but is also a student town, and on a Friday night you can really see the great mixture of old and new.
We stayed out until about 3.30, then went back to the flat for one last beer before bed.
This morning I woke up to an empty flat, as the two of them had gone off to decorate the office. You would not believe the weather. I can honestly understand now why so many English move to Spain. It's the beginning of Febraury and I've been walking around the town all day in a t-shirt and a pair of shorts, blinded by the sun, and too hot to move too quickly. According to the electric thermometers around the town, it's only 22 degrees or something like that, but I'm telling the truth when I say today was hotter than any day I experienced in the summer last year in England.
I walked around the town, and also a little bit out into the countryside, with old churches, and horses in fields. It was boiling.
I went back to the flat at 3 for lunch with Marina and Derek. We ate out on the patio, overlooking the swimming pool.
Marina's sister is coming to stay tomorrow, meaning that I have to leave tonight. There's no train from Caceres to Portugal because of works on the rails, so they´re going to drive me to the border town of Badajoz where they´ll also sort out my ticket to Lisbon.
It's going to be a night train, and I'm quite tired even now, so when I get to Lisbon early in the morning I'm going to be looking and feeling like a pile of poo.
It´s 5.45pm as I write this, and we're leaving Caceres at 6.30. I think my train leaves at midnight, or something like that, and takes around 3 hours. So I have no idea what I'm going to do when I get there at 3 in the morning. I think I'll just try and find a place in the station to get some kip.
As soon as I get to a computer in Lisbon, I´ll let you know the details.

On my way to Caceres

2008-02-08T02:22:00.000-08:00

I´m still in Madrid, but not for long. I found out that there´s not 3 trains to Caceres a day, but 4. And one of them departs at the perfect time of 3.25pm. Even better news (for me, not for the sake of funy travelling stories) is that Diego has made the kind offer to get me a ticket. I was a bit nervous about the journey, because with so few trains running it would be very possible that I get stuck in a village in the middle of nowhere, like I did in France. At least this time I´d have some food with me, as I plan to fill up a little bag with apples and mandarines, but even so, with a ticket I can relax a bit and think about the next part of the journey that will come in 2 days time; Trying to get into Portugal.

After a period of dormant sponsorship, I´ve had 2 new donations in the past 2 days. Both from Romanians! I told you from the start how amazing I found the people when I was there, and hopefully now you can all see I wasn´t exaggerating.
Mersi Radu and Daniel!
Come on the English, make a donation! All money goes directly to Cancer Research. Every single one of us knows someone affected by the disease, and every little contribution adds up to change lives.

About the picture. Hmm, well last night sitting down to a dinner of fried chilli peppers, tomatoes in olive oil, a hot-dog sausage, and bread, I suggested that as it was the last time we´d all be sat down together we should take the photo.
"Wait a minute." Said Diego, before disappearing out of the kitchen.
He returned a couple of minutes later with these hats (he´s a bit of a collector of WW2 memorabilia). Remember I told you before that these guys are massive Monty Python fans as well. So this kind of humour is what they go for, and who was I to argue? :-)
Diego´s on the left, Alex on the right.

Alaska, all the best for the tests, mate.

Still in Madrid

2008-02-07T03:54:00.001-08:00

I´m still in Madrid.
I had planned to leave today for Caceres, but the thing is that there are only 3 trains a day going there from here. One leaves at 7.40am, the next at 9.55am, and then there´s not one until 7.05pm, and it´s a 4-hour journey.
what I really need to do then is to get on the 7.40am so that if I get thrown off somewhere along the line (which of course I will), then at least there´s another one coming in 2 hours that can take me a bit further. Then if I get chucked off again, I have the whole day to try and find another way to complete the journey, and if all else fails there´s another train coming in the evening.
Last night I met some of Diego´s friends and we had a few beers, meaning there was no way i was going to get up this morning and be in any fit state to jump on a train at 7.40. There was also the small detail of me getting locked in my bedroom.
Basically, the door handle is broke, but they´d forgot to tell me. So I closed the door and went to bed, with the alarm set for 7. Optimistic that I´d be able to fight the tiredness and drag myself across the road to the station.
The alarm went off, and I was pretty desperate for a piss.
I couldn´t open the door.
I tried and tried and tried. And then I tried. But there was nothing happening. the handle on my side of the door wasn´t connected to the handle on the other side, so it did nothing.
I went back to bed and fell asleep, and had a weird and vivid dream about being stopped at customs at an English airport, and having to fill out loads of forms whilst being interrogated, and all the time not being allowed to go to the toilet, no matter how much I begged.
I woke up again at about 9 and hoped that the door being broken had also been part of my dream. I tried and tried and tried to open it, before trying a bit more, this time panicking because I was going to burst.
I called Diego´s mobile to come and ask him to let me out, but he wasn´t answering. I banged the door, but he didn´t hear. In the end I did something that I´m not proud of. I found in my bag a bottle filled with tap water from Barcelona. I went out on to the bedroom´s balcony, and poured the water down on to the street, all the time hiding my face because there were people down there getting wet. i took the bottle back into the room, and I tell you what, i felt human again!
Now that my body had been relieved of such immense pressure, and I was still locked in the room, I went back to sleep until 12.30.
I called Diego again and finally he answered and then came and let me out. Laughing.
He told me that all the doors in the flat are like that, and he showed me his is the same. Then he showed me a pot in his room, and said
"I always have something like this in my room, in case I get locked in and need to pee."
I almost pissed myself laughing, but I didn´t explain why, or what I´d been forced to do.

I´m not too disappointed to still be in Madrid. I didn´t see much of the city yesterday, just the area around the flat. It´s very hard to take the tube for free here, so I think I´ll just do some walking today.
I´m also happy to still be here because it means that i can still eat healthily and enough. There´s so much fruit here that I might overdose on vitamin C.

Before I sign off, I also have a question to ask of the Romanian newspaper, Cotidianul. Why, why, why did you use such a shocking photo? of all the pictures you could´ve chosen, ones where I at least look sober (even if I´m not really), why go for the one where I´m so wasted I can´t even open my eyes? What kind of message does that give?
"Meet Kris Mole, 24, from England. Travelling around Europe without any money in his pocket, all in the name of charity. The struggles that he goes through on a daily basis are immense. Here he is, pissing it up in a club in Bucharest."

Oh well, I shouldn´t complain about publicity. So I won´t.

Publicity in Romania

2008-02-06T10:02:00.000-08:00

I´ve just found out that an interview I did for a Romanian newspaper a few days ago has turned into something. I only found it by chance. Anyway, it was for the national newspaper, Cotidianul, and you can read the story by clicking here.

My Romanian isn´t what it used to be. :)
But I can read some of it, just because of it´s similarity (in places) to Italian. Reading the comments I found somebody making a reference to the picture I posted of the toilet on the train between Bulgaria and Romania. I don´t know exactly what the
comment says, but it may be that me posting the picture was a bit controversial.
Well, I hope so! :-)
But as the commenter points out, the train was in Bulgaria, not Romania. Haha.

Seriously though, Romanians, if you read the blog you´ll see that I only had positives to say about Bucharest. So don´t get too upset by the photo!

Bucharest has been my favourite European Union city so far on the trip. I said it at the time, and my opinion hasn´t changed.

More pics

2008-02-06T09:18:00.001-08:00

Top: I dunno how comfortable I´d feel sitting down to do my business, surrounded by other blokes standing around me peeing. Or worse still, if one guy was stood there waiting for you to finish. Found this weird situation in an Irish pub in Barcelona. The funny thing is, as I stood there relieving myself, it didn´t seem strange that there was a sitting-down toilet there until a funny Irish bloke pointed it out.

2nd: Feeding the homeless of Montpellier. Obviously they were sensitive about having photos taken, so I only took this one. The quality´s not good, but you can see the kind of scene.

3rd: A sign in Catalan telling you that ball games are prohibited. Barcelona.

4th: My host in Barcelona, Carlos.

Some more pictures

2008-02-06T09:04:00.000-08:00

Top: The tastefuly decorated room above the pub that I slept in the the tiny French village of Amberieu.

2nd: A very French scene in Lyon. The young guy with the girl even has a baguette sticking out of his bag. Or is he just pleased to see me? Boom boom.

3rd: A panoramic view of Lyon, taken from the cathedral.

4th: The very French game of Petanque, being played in the park in Lyon.

5th: The team of volunteers I worked the evening with feeding the homeless of Montpellier.

Pictures

2008-02-06T08:52:00.000-08:00

Top: Peter and Mary. The fantastic couple that helped me in the small town of Figueres.

2nd: Barcelona manager, Frank Rijkaard, during his press conference. Sneakily taken in the press room. (I was told no pictures of the players or staff).

3rd: The players´ bench. After I snuck on to the pitch after dark.

4th: Barcelona beach at the start of February looks a bit different to Brighton´s equivalent.

5th: Marie-Amelie. The lovely lady from Montpellier who drove me across to Spain.

Another Capital off the list

2008-02-06T02:27:00.000-08:00

Last night at 9 o'clock I arrived in Spain´s capital, Madrid.
I managed to get myself up early yesterday, mainly because I´d have to leave at 9 because that was the time Carlos was leaving for work. I hated being up at that hour, but managed to get everything packed and ready by 8.45, just before Carlos came and said I didn´t need to rush because he was taking the day off of work with a bad back.
Oh well, I could´ve had another hour in bed, but now that I was up I felt quite awake.
I checked the internet for train times, and decided the best one to take would be the 1pm Barcelona-Madrid.
I lounged around the flat, and before i knew it, it was 12.20 and I wasn´t going to comfortably make the train on time. Celia returned from work, and told me that I didn´t need to go all the way to the main station that I´d come in to, but that there was one just 10 or 15 minutes walk away that the train started it´s journey from. Still, it was too late for the 1 o´clock now.
I guessed that the next one must be at 2, so at 1.30 Celia helped me with my bags and walked me to the station. My guess had been wrong. The next train wasn´t until 3.
So we went back to the flat for a quick lunch. Actually it was also breakfast for me. It was par-boiled rice with some green peppers. I didn´t have time to eat it all though because I needed to get back to the station.
Arriving at the station at 2.50, the first thing I had to do to get on to the platforms area was put my bags through an x-ray machine like at the airport. I believe this is since the Madrid train bombing of a few years back.
My train was sitting there on platform 9, waiting to leave. But there was a problem. You couldn´t get on to the train´s platform without showing your ticket to the inspectors who had set up a little table at the foot of the platform.
Celia tried to explain to them in Spanish that I´d lost my wallet in Barcelona and needed to get to Madrid to catch my flight home in the morning, and that my family were waiting for me in Madrid to pay the fare when I got there. These guys were having none of it though, and told me to go to the police station.
My train left without me. celia left too, because she needed to go to work.
The next train was at 4 and I had an idea. I walked up to the very end of an un-used platform, number 12, then when I was far enough out of sight of people at the foot of the station, I crossed the rails until I got to platform 9. It was 3.15, so I stood at the end, hiding behind a steel station support, until about 3.50 when I could just about make out from the board in the distance that the train was leaving from platform 6. Doh!
I crossed a few more rails and walked down to the train. On I got.
It was more like a plane than a train. I had leg-room that I´ve never experienced before, plus there was a radio in the seat and tv screens up above playing dvds. The woman came around handing out earphones, and I felt pretty comfortable. At 4.12 we arrived at Barcelona´s big main station, Barcelona Sants, and i got moved out of my seat by a lady and her daughter who had reserved my seat number. I took my place in another empty seat and hoped I wouldn´t be moved again. It could look suspicious. At the station, they were also only letting people on to the train with a ticket. i started to wonder if this meant there´d be nobody checking tickets on the train.
We departed at 4.30 and after a couple of minutes a man came down the wide aisle giving everybody a glass of freshly-squeezed orange juice and a bag of dried fruits. Followed by a lady giving out free newspapers.
I could get used to this, I thought.
Then my luck ended. The ticket guard came, and I gave him a piece of paper that Carlos had written in Spanish explaining about me needing to pay when we got to Madrid. He just shook his head and told me to get off at the next station. Then he sent me back a couple of carriages.
Who would´ve guessed it? I was sitting in first class. i arrived in cattle class and found an empty seat. At least I´d had an orange juice and some dried-fruits. That was more than these others had had. I looked at them smugly.
We arrived at the first stop, Lleida Pirineus at 6pm. I didn´t get off.
An hour later, we were in Zaragozza. Still I stayed on, and still no inspector had come past. I worked out that the inspector was only checking in first-class to see that no low-class bums like me had taken a seat in there. As for cattle class, why bother walking up and checking tickets if everyone has shown a ticket on entrance. The system sounds good, until you think about it. For example, if I wanted to go from Barcelona to Madrid, all I´d have to do is buy a ticket to Lleida Pirineus for a lot cheaper, and just stay on the train. Maybe Spaniards are too honest and would never think of doing such a thing. Or maybe the guards are just too lazy to check.
Anyway, I plugged my headphones into the radio in the seat and found there were 3 channels available. One was playing Spanish pop hits, one was playing classical, and the third was playing something like Native-American, or Nepalese, or Burmese, or something or other music. With the wind pipes and the chanting. Very relaxing. I listened to it for an hour. As I sat there I was having a long think about how much I´d love to be in a casino in Brighton playing a poker tournament, rather than stuck on this train to Madrid. I was also thinking about how much I´d rather be gambling somewhere instead of dragging myself around the continent without money or food, only to have to listen to rubbish from certain people. Not that I mind the rubbish, it entertains me. Then all of a sudden, the native music was cut out and an old American song came on that I´d never heard before, but seemed to fit perfectly with my situation. The opening lyrics were
"I´m a rambler, i´m a gambler, and I´m a long way from home,
Lord, them people that don´t like me better leave me alone."
I smiled to myself. After the song had finished it went straight back to the native stuff.
I arrived in Madrid at 9 and came out of the station. the address I had for Diego was on the street right in front of the station, so I found the flat easily. In fact, I didn´t even need to find the flat. Diego found me. I was just walking down the street when I heard "Kris?"
I looked round and there was this guy with long hair and a big beard. It was Diego. He´d just been to the shop to buy some beers. I was shown up to the flat and introduced to the other flat-mate, Alex. Both in their 30s. Diego´s a freelance illustrator, working from home. Alex works with computers, but I didn´t get the details.
As Alex cooked pasta, we drank beer and talked. Diego is the proper kind of hippie. He even says that his favourite programme of all time is ´The young ones´ and his favourite character is Neil. They´re almost the same character! Softly spoken, peace-loving ideas, all of that. He even picked up a couple of pepper pots and explained to me that it´s his dream to live in a flat with talking objects. In the middle of conversation, sometimes he stops dead and then after a few moments of silence asks "what were we just talking about?"
When a song came on, he tried to tell me who it was by. he was having trouble pronouncing the word, so he took a piece of chalk out of the cupboard and wrote the word ´Damned´ in big letters on the kitchen table. I pronounced it for him then he just rubbed it off with his hand. I felt comfortable straight away.
Dinner was amazing. Loads of pasta in tomato sauce, eaten with Arabic bread and different cheeses. Every time my plate looked almost empty, they shovelled more food on. I can´t tell you what it felt like to have hot food, and so much of it.
After dinner there was even a kind of solid jelly, home-made by Diego´s nan. It was delicious.
It seems that these two learned a lot of their English from the programme ´Little Britain´ and it´s hilarious when they just randomly come out with impressions from the show. After dinner we watched some Monty Python sketches on Youtube (they´re big fans), and then I introduced them to something more modern and in my opinion just as clever and funny, Big Train.
I went to sleep in my own room at around midnight and woke this morning at 11 feeling refreshed.

My plan for today is to just take a stroll around the place and see what I see. I´ve already arranged a couch for my next port of call, a small town near to the Portuguese border, called Caceres. I´ll be there tomorrow or the day after.
Now i need to arrange a place for when I get to Lisbon, and then I´m heading out.

I had a really comfortable time in Barcelona, and met some great people. Carlos and Celia were especially helpful and also became good friends. I thank them for everything they did for me.

Also, I´ve received a new sponsorship. The first for a while. Thanks Daniel, it´s much appreciated. From your last name I´d guess you´re Romanian, I wonder if you could tell me how you found my blog. I did an interview through email for a Romanian newspaper a few days ago and I´m wondering if something went into print there. Thanks.

Days on the road (without spending a penny); 98
Capitals visited; 15 (3 non-EU)
Distance covered for free; 5168 miles

Clearing things up

2008-02-04T05:29:00.000-08:00

In response to the comments on the last post. First of all, let's get one thing straight, there is nothing wrong with my health. I don't eat that often, but I eat just enough to get by, and I'm not dying.
Last night I had a nice dinner in the flat, and that's all I needed.

Secondly, to the person leaving comments in Stewart's name, stop being a tit. As a result of you being a nob, I've changed the settings of the blog meaning that if you want to leave a comment now you'll first have to register an account. That way everybody can see who is really posting. Sorry to the others who always leave sensible comments and always leave a name, but it won't take you more than 5 minutes to register and at least you know that nobody's gonna be pretending to be you, and I'll know that I won't log on to the site to find profanities left by an anonymous prat.

And thirdly, to quote the above-mentioned prat; "I don't think anybody really expected you to finish this 'crusade' anyway."
It's precisely because nobody expected me to finish it that I will go on to complete the challenge. I play to win, not to be listed as an also-ran.

Still in Barca

2008-02-03T04:32:00.000-08:00

Sorry for taking so long since the last post, I just haven't had long enough time on the net to be able to write anything more than a couple of emails at a time.
It's Sunday early afternoon and I'm meant to be on my way to Madrid. I didn't wake up in time though. I thought I'd set my alarm, so when I opened my eyes to check if it was almost time to get up and saw that it was 1.30 in the afternoon, I wasn't best pleased.
The eating is becoming less and less frequent, meaning that I'm constantly tired and feel like sleeping. It also makes waking up near impossible.
I've got a place to sleep in Madrid, it's with a guy who's the best friend of Celia, one of the girls living in the flat. That's one less thing to have to think about. Getting there is another story. The train doesn't go the quick way across the country, but goes down the coast a bit, and basically goes round the houses. There'll be a lot of stops for me to be chucked off at. After seeing some of the best weather I've ever experience in a January, it's now turned a bit and today it's grey and raining.
I don't know whether I should leave later this afternoon for Madrid, or see if they'd mind here if I stay another night and get up in the morning to make a day of it.

Barcelona has been nice to visit. It was warm enough for a couple of days to sit on the beach, reading. There were even one or two having a swim, although even an Englishman would've found it cold in the water.
Most of the things here worth seeing have an entrance fee, so I haven't seen many of the sights. I did go back to the Nou Camp the day after my first experience there, and when they saw me coming they all started talking on their radios about the guy from the BBC who'd be thrown out the night before. So word had got around. The Press Officer was conveniently away somewhere, sorting something out with the players, and I was told to come back at 6 in the evening to get everything sorted out. It was 1pm and it had been a 90 minute walk to get there, and I had another 90 minute walk back to the flat and the central area. I wasn't going to hang around the stadium all day, and I wasn't going to go and come back either, I felt too ill from hunger, so I just walked back to the flat and fell asleep.
I'll update you when I'm in Madrid.

My journeys from now on gonna seem a lot longer and more boring. This is because all of the 665 songs on my i-pod have been deleted. I don't know how it happened, but it's pissed me off no end. I've finished the book I was reading too, so until I meet someone to swap books with, my travelling time is going to be long and slow.

There haven't been any new sponsorships for quite a while now, so come on, sponsor me a few quid. It goes directly to Cancer Research and not through any suspicious hands (i.e. mine). For some reason I can't make any links on this computer, so you'll have to go to www.justgiving.com/euro-challenge

Days on the road (with no money): 95
Capitals visited: 14 (3 non-EU)
Distance travelled for free: 4854 miles

Barcelona

2008-01-30T15:39:00.001-08:00

It's been a long day, it's already quarter past 1 in the morning and I'm knackered.
Today has been one of the luckiest days of the trip so far. Would you believe that it ended with me meeting Barcelona players and sitting on the players' bench in the Nou Camp? I'll get to that in a bit.
Woke up at 8 this morning, had a shower, then went to meet Marie-Amelie, the nice lady from the homeless centre who was driving to Spain. We drove to the border, arriving in Spain at precisely midday. The conversation didn't flow, obviously because of the language barrier, but it was pleasant. The weather was hot and beautiful, doesn't feel right in January.
Once into Spain, she didn't want to just leave me in the middle of nowhere so we drove to the nearest town, Figueres, and I got dropped off at the train station. It was just before 1 and the next train to Barcelona was at 2.02. I was dizzy from hunger, and just sitting thinking about how hard the rest of the day was going to be. I had only just got a text from a friend from Barcelona that Vanja and I met last year in Bosnia. I'd asked her to put me up for the night, but she was out of town, so she sent me the number of a friend of hers who could host me. I had texted him but hadn't heard back yet, and was nervous.
Then I heard an English voice. I looked up to see a nice-looking middle-aged couple asking questions at the desk. I was that desperate for something to eat that I approached them, explained what I was doing and how long it had been since I'd eaten, and wondered if they could get me some bread.
Instead of bread, they took me to a little cafe place for some chips and turkey escalope, with a glass of Coke. They also got me a kebab to take away and eat cold later. Before this food they gave me a train ticket to Barcelona. They were Mary and Peter from Salisbury. When their son was 17 he'd gone to stay on a Kibbutz in Israel, but felt like a change after 6 weeks and took himself off into Egypt. Without any money! The people there had been so good and helped him (sound familiar?) so now when they heard my situation they could empathise. Very very grateful for what they did for me today, it gave me an energy boost just when I needed it. I'll post the photo when I can.
I took the train to Barcelona and nobody checked my ticket in the whole 1 hour and 45 minute journey, Why can't that happen normally???
I got to Barcelona just before 4 and the first thing I did was eat the kebab. I was still starving.
I got a text from my host, whose name I still didn't know, saying that he/she was working until 8, so would meet me outside the Picasso Museum some time after.
So, what to do for 4 hours?
I took a map from Tourist Information and saw that the Nou Camp wasn't too far away. I lugged my bags and walked for half an hour until I was there. I really wanted to get inside, so I thought some blagging was in order.
I went to the Members office and explained to the girl on reception that I was writing for the BBC as I travelled to every Capital with no money. I showed her the copy of The Argus with me in it, and explained how it was for charity. Could I possibly get in to the stadium to take some pictures for the website?
I couldn't believe it when I saw how seriously she was taking me.
"You'll have to go the Press office and explain. But I think for sure it'll be no problem."
As I walked to the press conference, I had another thought. Why should I just get into the stadium for a picture? Why not meet some players? They had a training now inside the stadium, I knew this because I'd seen a few of them driving in.
I managed to get an appointment with the press officer of Barcelona Football Club. As I waited for him to come and meet me, I thought 'hang on. This is real.'
I explained the story to him, and said that Barcelona had such a good reputation for charitable work I was sure they could help me with publicity. He said that it would be difficult, but I carried on. "Look, I can come back tomorrow. It would be good to get a player to have a photo with me, holding The Argus. It would boost sponsorship as soon as The Argus printed it. That bit was true.
He said he'd take The Argus to the players after their training and see what he could do. I should come back in an hour and a half, at 7.50pm.
So I did.
The security guard was expecting me, and just said "follow me". I left my bags in the reception, and followed him down the stairs and was told to go to the press-room.
I was in the press-room of Barcelona, surrounded by journalists, waiting for the players to come and give interviews!
After a few minutes, the press officer came and found me and told me that Eidur Gudjohnsen (formerly of Chelsea) had agreed to come and meet me, say a few words, and have a few pictures taken. I should wait in the waiting area just behind the press-room.
"Please don't go in when the interviews are on. It's just for journalists." He told me, then he left.
Just then, standing next to me chatting on his mobile was the player, Xavi. He finished his call and I shook his hand and said "hello."
Then I strolled into the press-room and Rjikard (think that's how you spell it) was sat there fielding questions. I watched for a bit, then went back to see if Gudjohnsen had come for me. He hadn't.
Just then Deco walked through the door, and sat on the couch talking on the mobile. There was just me and Deco alone in this little room in the Nou Camp. I didn't even shake his hand. I don't like him much since Portugal put England out.
The weird thing about this whole situation was that it didn't feel weird. The players I came face to face with today were Henry, Thuram (who looked at me as if to say 'who the fuck are you?'), Messi, Deco, and Xavi.
I carried on waiting for Gudjohnsen, until the press conference finished and the journalists all left. It was 9.30pm now, and I needed to leave soon to meet my host.
I went into the press-room and asked the one guy in there when Gudjohnsen was coming. He told me at 9.50. So I went back to my little room and waited. After a while, I peeped through the door that all the players had come through and I saw the dressing-room. I was too scared to go and look for the players myself though, deciding that waiting would be wise.
10 o'clock came and went and still no Gudjohnsen. I started to get suspicious when I peered through the door again and saw that the dressing-room was now locked.
Hmmm. Nobody was in the press-room either. Then I'm gonna explore. I walked for less than 30 seconds and I was in the tunnel. I walked out on to the pitch!
I sat in on the home team's bench. I stole a little tuft of turf from the pitch. I walked out into the centre circle and looked around at the stands. Then I walked back into the tunnel. This all sounds like schoolboy fantasy, but it really happened exactly like this. I'll show you the photos.
There was a security guard looking angry. He led me out of the stadium, as I protested to him that I had an appointment with Gudjohnsen. He spoke no English though.
He took me outside to some other guards, and they were asking me questions as if I'd broken in to the stadium. I asked if they understood Italian, and they all said yes. All three of them!
So I explained that I'd been invited down there by the press officer, and now I was very angry to have wasted a few hours waiting for a player who hadn't turned up. Now it made sense to them. They knew who I was.
I was taken back inside to get my stuff, then was shown on the map how to get to where I needed to be. I asked why nobody had told me all the players had gone home, and they apologised and said I should come back tomorrow. Maybe I will, maybe I won't. I feel aggrieved.
I walked to the tube station I needed, past the row of street hookers leaving nothing to the imagination. Then asked a guy if he could tell me where the station was because I couldn't find it.
He said in Spanish that he'd show me, and started leading me up the street. Then he starts smiling at me and saying 'Comon stas?' (probably spelt wrong), in a very gay way.
I said 'muyi bien' (also spelt wrong), in a very deep manly voice to show he wasn't my type. Then he started trying to hold my hand. I pushed him away and told him in my typical subtle way (yea) to take a walk. He wasn't pissed off, and I realised then that I'd asked a rent-boy for directions and I was wandering about in this seedy area, a tourist. Maybe he gets business from people that look like me. Anyway, I left him behind and found the tube. I had to follow a little lady through the gate and squeeze in as she opened it with her ticket. She said something that I didn't understand, and I just acted dumb.
I had to take the tube to one place, then change lines, but when I got to the changing station, I couldn't open the door to get off. They're not automatic.
So I went one more, then had to change and come back. My host was getting annoyed at how late it was, and sent me a text saying he/she'd turn off his/her mobile at 11.30 to go to sleep. It was now 10.50. I sent one back apologising, saying I'd make it to the museum at 11.20.
I just made it,
My host turned out to be Carlos. A real hippy, but a funny guy. He lived in London for 8 years, living in squats. We sat at the table and had a cup of tea, then he went to bed. There are also 3 other girls living here, but they had all gone to bed already. I thought that in Spain everyone goes to bed really late and eats really late, but obviously not here.
Tomorrow I have to go out the door when he goes to work at 9, and then I'll come back in the afternoon. My bed for the night is a matress on the floor but with no covers, so I'll just wear clothes.
He's originally from Zaragoza, and knows people there who can host me. So after Barcelona, I'll go to Madrid via Zaragoza.
I may go back to the stadium and vent my anger at being stood up. Or I may just explore. I'm in the centre of the city, and the stadium is a long long long way, and maybe it won't be so easy to get on to the tube for free in the middle of the day. I'll let you know.
It's 2am now and I'm off to bed.
I hope you've enjoyed reading the story. If you haven't, or if perhaps you don't like the nature of the blog (you know who I'm talking to), I really don't understand why you still bother reading. I don't like The Mirror newspaper. Do I take up my time writing comments to them letting them know, or do I just not buy it? Easy.

Don't get political with the French

2008-01-29T04:58:00.000-08:00

Internet time is really proving to be hard to come by of late.
So this is just gonna be a short one because I've got about 20 minutes and need to find a place to sleep for tomorrow.
The sad thing is that these last few days have brought some of the funniest stories of the trip so far, I'll have to tell you about them as soon as I get the time.
I'm in Montpellier. I arrived yesterday after a comedy trip that saw me going all the down to Marseille, only to have to come backthe other way after getting a text from someone in Montpellier saying I could have the couch.
I got here and the first thing I found myself doing was volunteering in a soup kitchen place for the homeless. Now that was a story. I didn't want to be honest and tell them that they'd eaten more than me, and that the acids in my stomach were starting to eat away at my insides. Or that I could hardly bend over from the pains in my stomach.
The French didn't take to me at first, just grunting Gallic noises at me every now and then and looking annoyed everytime I spoke to them just because my French wasn't perfect. Actually, it's shocking, but still a 1000 times better than their English. My host is a student called Marie. I haven't really seen her because I arrived late, we went to the kitchen place, then this morning she went to Uni before I woke up. i already discovered that we don't see eye-to-eye on alot of things with regards to France's place in the world power system, and the fact that English has become the universal language. I thought it always was! The discussion on the bus almost got heated, but I think we both decided to leave the topic. The same when Chirac was mentioned. And when asked if she'd ever been to England, the reply came "No, and I never will. I don't want to go anywhere English. I don't want to speak English. I don't want to meet English. And I don't want to eat English."
I told her that the only reason I'd set foot in the land of the French was because the trip was for charity so I had no choice. I had a good time in Lyon and was lucky with the people, but it looks like I'm in much more stereotypical France down here.
I've found a lift to Spain tomorrow from a nice old lady from the soup kitchen. Just across the border, but it helps a lot. Now all I have to do is find somewhere to sleep. I don't fancy my chances, but we'll see.

I really wish I had time to tell you some of the stories, I laugh just remembering them. it's all written down, so don't worry, you will get the details.

Adventures

2008-01-25T04:55:00.000-08:00

What a couple of days. What a couple of days! I tell you what, i'm getting too old for this lark.
I'll try to catch up from where I last left off, keeping it as short as i can.
Right, so I was in Venice mestre waiting for the train to Brig. I'm standing on the platform, enjoying the alone time, when out of the corner of my eye I spot a moron making her way towards me. I use the word moron in the nicest possible way. You know what I mean. She was 'special.'
"Hello."
I try to ignore her, pretend I didn't hear. Just let me eat my bread alone.
"Hello. Are you waiting for the train to Geneve?"
Go away! "Hello. Yes." I avoid eye contact, hoping she'll get the message. She doesn't. She puts her hand out to shake mine.
"I'm Ana. What's your name?"
"Kris." Still looking away.
She's special right down to the glazed eyes both looking in different directions, and the brightly coloured bobble hat on her head. She's about 30 I'd say.
"Do you speak English?" She asks. I see a way out immediately.
"Just very little. My English isn't good."
I don't think she hears me anyway, her head is somewhere else. She gets her ticket out and asks what platform she should be on for the train to Switzerland. She knows full well it's this one!
"This one." I tell her.
"Are you a student?"
"No." Go away!
"Do you work?"
"Yes." Now fuck off and leave me alone. I apologise for my language, but I'm giving you the clean version of what I was thinking.
"What do you do?"
Without thinking I just blurt it out. "Teacher."
"Do you teach in the university?"
I can't be bothered to speak, so I just say yes, hoping that'll be the end of it.
"Here in Italy? Or in Switzerland?"
I don't want to say either, because she might be from one of them. And I can't say England, because I'm not supposed to be able to speak good English.
"In Slovenia."
"Really? Great! i'm from Ljubljana!"
Of course you are. You had to be, didn't you? It wouldn't be my life if you weren't.
The conversation then switches to Slovene, and when she asks what I teach, I don't care anymore, so I say English.
¨But I thought you said you speak only a little English.¨
¨My little joke.¨ I laugh. So does she. That kind of thing doesn't seem strange to a 'special.'
"Have you got any food for me?"
What? The cheek! "I can give you some bread."
"No. I can't swallow bread. I take too many pills. I can only eat fruit."
Where's the hidden camera? Seriously, this is too much.
She checks her ticket, sees that she's in carriage 191 and then asks which one I'm in. I don't know, but I'd bet good money it's the same one. How did I guess?
I can't take anymore, so I excuse myself for the toilet and tell her I'll see her on the train. Yea right. I'd sooner spend the entire journey sitting on the toilet floor.
To cut a log story short, I sat in a different carriage, and at 10pm found myself in Brig. From there I jumped on the 10.20pm to Bern, explaining to the ticket guards that my ticket and money had fallen out of my pocket. They didn't believe me, but all they could do was give me a fine to my fake address.
I got to Bern at 11.30 and took a tram to the address I had for my host, Hannes. I got there at midnight, drank some bacardi and Coke's, talked with him and his girlfriend, then went to bed.
The next day I walked around the small city. It was nice, but also torture because everywhere the smell of sausages, pastries, cakes, and other good things floated all over. I was starving.
Hannes was leaving for Canada that night, and my attempts to find another couch in the city failed. So I thought 'fuck it. Let's go to Lyon this evening.'
I emailed my host in Lyon, Sebastien, and told him I was gonna arrive that night. I got all my stuff and jumped on a train from Bern to Geneva. I got chucked off in a place called Fribourg. Then I got on another one, and this time the guard didn't come until we were almost there, so all he could do was put me off in my target destination.
Now the troubles began.
Sebastien sent me a text to say he was out of Lyon until tomorrow night. He gave me a number of his friend and told me to ring him when I got to Lyon and he'd sort out a hostel bed for me.
To get to France from Geneva by train, you have to pass through customs, similar to at the airport. You have to have a valid ticket, and also passport. Shit!
I watched for a while how it worked, and I noticed the police weren't actually checking the trai tickets closely. So I found my ticket from the day before, put it in my hand, and casually walked up to customs. My passport had to be taken away to be checked, but I stood confidently with my ticket and was waved through.
I got the train across the border but was thrown off at the first station in France, Bellegard. It was a nowhere place.
Then a train came in for Lyon, the last of the night. I got on it, and made it an hour before the guard came. Unfortunately for me, he came just before the penultimate stop, a place called Amberieu. Off I was thrown. It was about 10.30 at night and this small French village was deserted. There were no more trains leaving until 7 in the morning, so starving and cold as I was, I made myself comfortable on the floor of the station hall ready to sleep for the night. Then I remembered about Sebastien's friend, Alex. I should call him to let him know not to expect me tonight. But from where?
I found a little bar open and went and asked in bad French if I could use the phone. The old lady gave it to me. Alex had never heard of the place I was in, so I told him to speak to the woman to find out how far I was from Lyon. 50km.
When the phone was handed back to me, Alex explained that this place also had rooms and that he was going to pay by credit card for me to sleep there. So I didn't get my first sleeping-rough story.
The room was small and very French. I felt like I was in a Roman Polanski film, the kind he made in the 70s. I also realised I'd left my towel in Bern. I stole 2 from this place.
In the morning I took the train to Lyon, no ticket guard came, the train was too full.
I spent the day wondering the city. It,s surprisingly beautiful. Very French, but still nice. I didn't meet Sebastien until 7pm and I hadn't eaten since the day before.
He ordered some pizzas and bought some super-strength beers. It didn' take long before they hit the spot. Then he found a bottle of champagne in the fridge that he got from his work, so we drqnk that too. Then we went out to see the nightlife of Lyon. Again I'll cut a long story short. I drank a ridiculous amount and mixed too many different drinks, so spent the whole of yesterday with a terrible hangover. Went out last night and ate a free barbecue in an Aussie pub celebrating Australia day. I couldn't drink much though.
Today to the Irish pub to watch Spurs - Man U. I'm not confident. Then I need to get to Barcelona tomorrow or the next day. The problem is that the Couchsurfing website is down, so I can't find a place to crash.

That's about it. I hate French keyboard's, they're all messed up. It's taken me an hour to write this!

An update

2008-01-23T05:29:00.000-08:00

I'm currently in Italy's Chinatown, otherwise known as Venezia Mestre, where I've persuaded the receptionist of Hotel Podgora to let me use the internet for a few minutes, free of charge.
After not getting any sleep last night, I got up at 7 this morning, drank a chocolate milk, packed my stuff, and went to meet my mate Steve at the the language school I used to work at when I lived in Slovenia.
Finally he decided to sponsor me in some way, and as he doesn't have a Credit Card to make a donation to the charity, he instead bought me a train ticket to a place in Switzerland called Brig. From there I'll blag my way to Bern, hopefully with the use of The Argus newspaper, or it may be another "I've been robbed. They took my wallet and ticket" job. Dunno yet.
Again, the ticket wasn't cheap, and was 20 Euros more than they'd said it would be, so cheers Steve, you made my day easier. I would say I'll get you a few beers when it's all over, but I know your missus would have a few things to say about that, so instead I'll get you a Lemonade.
And while I'm here, Steve, cheers for turning my travel blog into a football forum. Leave it out! Haha. Let that be the end of it!

So, as I said, I'm in the Mestre area of Venice at the moment. I've got another 2 hours until my connecting train leaves, and once I get kicked out of here I don't know what to do to kill the time. For those of you that hear the word Venice and think there must be some nice things to see, think again. Venice proper, and Venice Mestre are two different worlds. This is a dodgy old place, full of street drunks sitting on benches, Chinese people Western-Unioning money home, and now a knackered English bloke with no money, carrying his home in 2 carrier bags.
Alright, an English bloke with no money. I'm not really carrying my home in 2 carrier bags. Just got the song in my head.
If all goes to plan I'll arrive in Bern at half past 11 tonight, after leaving Ljubljana at 10.35. Another long day of boring travelling. I've already sorted out a couch for after I leave Switzerland. On Friday I'll be in Lyon, well on my way to Spain. No hanging about.

This receptionist's giving me the eye, and not the friendly one, the left one. So that's my cue to sign off. I don't expect to check later and find the comments section has turned into a football slanging match! Steve, you know I'm talking to you when I say that.

On my way to Switzerland. Flying high!

2008-01-22T14:01:00.001-08:00

All together now:

Spurs are on their way to Wembley
Tottenham's gonna do it again
They can't stop 'em, the boys from Tottenham
The boys from White Hart Lane!!!!

After watching that game, my life is amazing. Nothing can get me down in this period of time.
Let's have another little sing-song:

5-1, we beat the scum 5-1, we beat the scum 5-1, we beat the scum 5-1.
5-1, we beat the scum 5-1, we beat the scum 5-1, we beat the scum 5-1. 5-1......

I would give anything to be there now in the Paxton Road end, celebrating it properly. But seeing it on the telly was good enough.
Top of my christmas wish-list, the dvd of tonight. It doesn't get any better than this. Now I need to start planning my journey properly to make sure I'm in a suitable place to watch the final.

I'm up early in the morning. There are still a few beers in the fridge waiting for me to down in celebration. Getting up in the morning is gonna be no problem. Tomorrow will be a beautiful day!

Next time you hear from me, I'll be in Switzerland, and probably still floating on this high.
Click here for the beautiful details.

Give me a box!

2008-01-21T03:52:00.000-08:00

Raped by a horse. Oh the shame!
And top: Picture taken this morning. It's not pretty. When I left England on 1st November I weighed in at a healthy 11st 6, that's 74 kilos to my non-English readers. I now weigh 10st 2, or 65 kilos.

The posting.
The next stop on the Great Euro Freebie Challenge will be...............
Wait for it.....
Keep waiting.....
Hang on, I'm going to get a drink.....

OK, back. Where was I?
Ah yea, the next stop on the journey will be...
Wait for it...
I already did that part before I went to get a drink, didn't I?
Right, the next stop will be
Bern, Switzerland.

Don't ask me how I'm going to get there, though. Basically I'll get up early in the morning in Ljubljana, and just hope that by nightfall I'll be well on my way to Switzerland's capital. And, it won't be Tuesday as first planned, it'll now be Wednesday. There's a very good reason for this small change in dates. Spurs vs Arsenal. Carling Cup Semi-Final, 2nd leg from White Hart Lane. Tuesday night, 8pm kick-off in England, 9 where I am.
I've missed a lot of games this season due to being on the road, but there is no way I'm gonna be struggling through the Swiss Alps at the same time as such an important fixture. To be honest, I don't know if I have to actually go through any Alps to get to Bern, but in my imagination, if you wanna get to anywhere in Switzerland you have to first conquer the Alps.
We should've won the first leg at The Emirates, and I'm sure that we'll do the business at White Hart Lane. Usually when I'm this sure that we're gonna win a big one, I end up even more disappointed come the final whistle, so this time will no doubt turn out the same way. Do you see what just happened? I went from being sure we're gonna do the business, to expecting to be disappointed, in just 2 sentences. I'm a bag of nerves!

Back to the mission. Yea, Bern. I emailed people in Northern Italy, Austria, Liechtenstein, and Switzerland. I said I'd go with the very first offer I got, and that came from a guy called Hannes in Bern. There are 340 miles lying between here and there, so it may take me a while. Although, I'm now entering Western Europe, where the trains are about 4 or 5 times quicker than in the East. It's all going to depend on how many trains I get kicked off of, as well as how many are running in my direction. I may also have to do some hitch-hiking, although I'm trying to save that for when I get into Southern France, Spain, and Portugal. Time will tell.

What have I been doing since I got into Ljubljana? Nothing really. Sleeping, watching football on the telly, and getting raped by horses. I'm knackered. Not so much sleepy, just knackered. I don't feel like I have the energy to do anything at all. I need to get the body clock sorted. I'm going to bed at about 2 or 3 every morning, and then getting up at midday. That's not gonna be good come Wednesday when I need to be up and out with the sunrise.

Cheers for the messages of support in the last posts. I particularly like Steve's idea of you all chipping in to buy me a box to sit in each time I arrive in a new city. Then you wouldn't have to be bored by the 'same old, same old' drinking stories. I want a proper one, though. An Ikea job. Not one that you can get free from Tescos. Let me know when you've sorted it out, and I'll give you a forwarding address. Cheers!

3 more

2008-01-19T11:07:00.001-08:00

Top: Guards outside the palace in Budapest. Don't try anything funny, these guys take their work seriously.
2nd: Goulash, potato cakes, and a beer in Budapest.
Bottom: Hello?? A bureau de change in Budapest offers a unique exchange rate to Slovenes. And yes, I'm aware of how knackered I look.

Some pics

2008-01-19T11:02:00.000-08:00

Top: Puppies raiding the rubbish in Bucharest
2nd: Workers stopping to pose for the camera in Bucharest
3rd: Budapest
4th: Budapest
5th: I didn't get stuck to this one. Budapest

What's getting me down

2008-01-19T04:02:00.000-08:00

I'm back in Ljubljana until Monday. From here, who knows? On Monday evening I may find myself in Liechtenstein, Austria, Italy, Switzerland, France, or even Germany. I don't know. My next EU Capital target is Madrid. How I get there is open to suggestion, and also depends on where I can sort myself out a couch. I wanted to go via Liechtenstein just because it sounds like a funny place. The problem is that it's such a small country that pre-arranging a couch there is almost impossible.
I kind of like the not-knowing where I'm gonna be. I'm going to send a few emails to people in all of the above mentioned countries and see which (if any) offer I get first. And that's where I'll aim to get to on Monday.
As long as it's on route to Spain, I don't care where it is.

I feel rubbish. The thing getting me down is the situation of constantly being 100% dependent on others. I know that the whole point of the challenge is to get to all of these places without a penny in my pocket, and of course I knew right from the start that that would mean relying on the help, kindness and generosity of strangers. But now it's got to the point where it's getting me down.
I come into people's homes.
"Are you hungry, Kris?" They ask.
Most of the time I lie. I don't want to be seen to be taking liberties.
"No, thanks. I'm fine."
"Would you like anything picked up from the shop, Kris?"
Of course not!
I'm offered train tickets to help me get to where I need to be next. I feel shit as I sit there and accept these offers of help. What can I say? I can't refuse. I have to take any help I can get. But not being able to offer anything in return, that gets to me. All I can give is "Thank you. I appreciate it."
I'm not staying with rich people. They're all normal, modest people. Friends. And here they are giving all of this to someone they've known a few days.
I like to believe I give them something back just by being myself. I hope that when I make people laugh, it makes a tiny positive impression in their life. How big-headed is that? How am I special?
I never know if people realise just how grateful I am. For everything. For every little thing that people have done for me so far, and will continue to do for me whilst I try to complete this foolish challenge.
Some of the people I've met on this trip will hopefully stay friends for life. And I hope that in that time, the opportunity will arise for me to repay them somewhat. But what about the others? The ones that I'd like to see again, but probably never will. How will they know what a big part they played in this chapter of my life?
And even the ones who I'll be able to pay back in some way... Nothing will ever be as great as what they've done for me.
I'm a proud man, and taking this much from such good people gets me down. I feel like a nob.
And the saying 'goodbye' part. I come on the Monday, we eat something on the Tuesday, and I leave on the Wednesday. It's amazing how quickly a friendship can form when you're staying under the same roof with someone, eating with them, and drinking with them. Then just like that, it's time to leave the country.

Don't get me wrong. I'm not depressed or something. All of the people I've met have been amazing. Some of them have been even more than that. I could never complain about this trip, or wish that I'd never got myself into it. When I'm with these people I'm as happy as I've ever been in my life. And if I were to meet them under normal circumstances, I probably wouldn't see how class they actually are. Some I would. But a lot of them I wouldn't even take the time to find out.

I've lost a sick amount of weight. How messed up is it that now when food is put in front of me, I'm lucky if I can manage to eat half of it? My stomach is in constant pain, but I'm over the hunger. Don't worry, I'm eating enough that I won't faint or die. It's just hard for me to fit anything in, no matter how hungry I actually feel. Put alcohol in front of me and I'll still drink you (most of you) under the table. But when it comes to food, I'm full after a cup of soup. It'll change.

I wrote this on the train from Bucharest to Budapest. It was written about 13 hours into the journey. I don't know what it shows, but you can make of it what you will;

My pen is running out of ink
Despite the morning shower, I fucking stink
That's 14 hours on the train.
All of this border guard suspicion
The stress of this Euro-Challenge mission
It's playing havoc with my brain.
Maybe I should go at a slower pace
It's not as if I'm in a race
By burning myself out, what will I gain?
I'm gonna be scrutinised either way....

My dry mouth begging for a drink
So thirsty, I can't even think
Wonder if I'll ever feel refreshed again.
I'm sick and tired of this travelling
And now I see my thoughts unravelling
As onto this paper I pour my pain.
But you'll never know it when you meet me
Keep it in, I'm all smiles and laughs, it won't defeat me
Don't know why I hide it from public display.
I'm gonna be scrutinised either way....

When you need a laugh just gather round
You get attached to the class clown
I'm always singing in the rain.
I enjoy the time with friends, you say I drink too much
Well, fuck, I had no breakfast, dinner, or lunch
It takes my mind off the hunger pain.
Meet the salt of the earth, then it's time to say goodbye
Promise to keep in touch, don't want it to seem a lie
Repay everyone when I get home again.
I'm gonna be scrutinised either way....

Like I said, I was dying of thirst and was perhaps feeling a bit shitty on that train. But now that I read it back, it still makes sense to me. That's why I'm putting it on here, so that maybe you can understand a bit about what I've been babbling on about.

Budapest - strange old place!

2008-01-17T08:59:00.000-08:00

My host in Bucharest, Denisa, was kind enough to sort out my train ticket to Budapest. It wasn't cheap, not even a little bit cheap, and I really appreciate the donation.
Before I go on, I just want to let everyone that I met in Bucharest know that I had an amazing time there, the people were second to none, and I'll definitely be back as soon as I'm allowed to have money in my pocket.
There have been 2 places on my trip so far that have really had a massive positive impact on me. Belgrade and Bucharest. Both of these cities have had everything that I look for in a great city.

So, after going to bed at 3.30am on Tuesday night (Wednesday morning), I had to wake up just over an hour later at 4.45 to be able to have a cup of tea, a shower, and to get to the train station for my 6.30 out of Bucharest.
I got on the bus to the station at about 5.45 and stood the whole way as I was too scared to sit down in case I fell asleep. I was dizzy from tiredness. Denisa had told me it should take about 10-15 minutes on the bus, so after 20 I was getting worried I'd missed my stop. When I saw a bus going in the opposite direction but saying that it was going to the station, I really started to panic. I asked an old lady on the bus if I had to go back, but she just smiled and said I should get off with her.
I just read that back. Sounded bad. The old lady didn't say that I should get off with her, she said that I should get off of the bus at the same stop as her. Glad I cleared that up.
I got off (of the bus) with her, and went into the station to find my train. It wasn't what I had been hoping for. What I love on these long international journeys are the big, old trains with the seats covered in dust, but where the compartments are big and if you're lucky you can get a whole one to yourself meaning you can get comfy and have a good kip.
This one was a new train, similar to the EuroStar trains in Italy, where you have the standard 2 seats separated from the facing 2 seats by a little table. No room for lying down, no room even for putting your feet up really. I was that tired that I tried anyway.
I put my head down on the left seat, curled my body onto the right one, and then let my legs go all the way over to the opposite seats. It was painful, especially around the waist, but I managed to fall asleep for a few hours.
I was woken at 11 by a lady who thought she was doing the kind thing and letting me know that we'd arrived at my stop. We hadn't. I still had another 10 hours to go, and now I was wide awake after being prodded in the ribs. Thanks!
I sat up and started reading the Steven Gerrard book to pass time.
Denisa had made me a few sandwiches in the morning, but I couldn't eat them because stupidly I'd forgotten to bring any water, and to eat would just add to my thirst. So I sat, starving and dehydrating.
The journey through Romania was scenic, and when I woke at 11 we'd left any snow far behind. The sun was shining brightly, and as we passed through small village after small village, always separated by fields of shepherds and their flocks, I imagined myself leaving the technological world behind and just settling in one of these obscure communities, growing my own food and never having to have contact with the outside world again. The fact that I was dying of thirst was obviously making my mind work in strange ways.
The carriage I was on soon filled up with middle-aged gossiping women. They sat everywhere. One sat opposite me and really pissed me off cos she wanted all the leg-room. That wouldn't have been so bad if she didn't spend the whole time leaning over to talk to the women on the other side in this annoying nazal voice. My thoughts drifted from life in small villages, to strangling this woman with her own scarf and stealing her bottle of coke.
I put the i-pod on and tried to switch her off.
We got to the border at 4.45 and then the usual fun began. The Romanians weren't too bad with me. He came, took my passport, walked up the train with it, showed it to a colleague and after a little while threw it back at me. The gossipy middle-agers were looking at me suspiciously now. 'Where's that dark, thirsty-looking guy from?' I understood their Hungarian questions.
We rolled in to Hungary, and after 10 minutes we were at their side of the border control. This time things were different. A whole army of furry-hat wearing police got on. They took my passport and weren't satisfied with it. I tried to look as care-free as possible, flicking through the Steven Gerrard book as if I owned the railway, but it didn't work and they took my passport off the train to scrutinise it a bit closer.
The middle-agers were loving it now.
He came back and asked me in almost incomprehensible English if I had anything that I shouldn't in my bags. I told him 'no', but my word wasn't good enough. He told me to open my small rucksack. Luckily the big one wasn't with me, I'd put it in the luggage holder a bit further up the train.
I opened it up, and as the middle-agers tried to get a good look in, he put his hands in to have a fiddle around and found himself holding a pair of dirty boxers. I'd taken them off in the morning before showering and then couldn't be bothered to open the big rucksack so just chucked them in here. He saw that I was trying desperately to hold my laughing in, and wasn't best pleased. He told me to do the bag up, he threw my passport at me, and made a hasty exit. Then I laughed. I laughed for quite a while after that, actually, but on reflection, I think that too had something to do with the fact that I was dying of thirst and hunger.
The women around me carried on sipping at their bottles of water, juice, and Coke. Bastards! I imagined what it would be like to have some water. To be able to drink whenever you needed it. For a little period in my life, I imagined how it must be for those children you see on the telly who don't have access to water.
I hope you don't think I'm exaggerating. The heating was on, the air was stale, and I'd only had a quick cup of tea at 4.45 in the morning. I couldn't even open my mouth.
One good thing came from the suffering. I keep it quiet, but I write a lot of poetry, and there's I never feel more inspired than when I'm suffering. So I got some good words down that will always remind me of that time spent on the train, and also all the other stuff going through my mind at this point in time.
Finally I made it into Budapest station at 7.30pm, 14 hours after getting on the train (Budapest is 1 hour behind Bucharest). Waiting for me was Vanja with a bottle of water. She had a couple of free days and thought it would be nice to see Budapest.
I can't describe how good the water felt. I was alive again.
We took the tube to the centre of town, where Vanja had booked a room.
I got poked in the back and arse sharply by a blind guy. He wanted to get off at the same stop as me, and rather than wait for the doors to open so that I could ascend, he just starts sticking this stick up my arse saying "Allo! Allo! Allo!"
No "Can I get you a drink?" or "What's a pretty boy like you doing in a dirty old town like this?"
Just straight to the point with the poke in the arse. I won't lie to you, it felt kinda good.

I was well and truly shagged out from all the travelling, not eating or drinking, and not sleeping the night before. The most fucked up thing was that I couldn't even eat the food that was put in front of me. I had a little goulash soup and a beer and that was all I could fit in.
I just needed to sleep.
I dragged myself out of bed at 9.30 this morning so that I could make it in time for breakfast. It was rubbish. A few bits of bread and some bad cheese. Straight back up to bed where I slept until 12.30.

In the afternoon we went around the city a bit. Nothing special. Budapest was a place I never expected great things from, so I haven't been disappointed. The people are weird. The weirdest I've seen anywhere. Nobody speaks English. Even in the hotel, if you ask them anything more complicated than "What time is check-out?" they look at you blankly before saying "moment" and going to find someone else to pass you on to.
It's scenic along the river Danube, but it looks exactly the same as Bratislava on the same river. The waiters stand at your table with their hands behind their backs, just staring at you.
Everyone on the street has the same expression. Like they're unsure as to why they exist. Just constantly confused.
The old ones all look like sinister cold-war informers. The place is weird, I'm telling you.

It's Ljubljana tomorrow, and from there I'm going to try and make it to Liechtenstein on Sunday. It's not an EU country, but it sounds like a funny kind of place that I'd like to say I've been to, and it's also on my path westward. From there, I'll most probably go through Switzerland, then France, and get myself down to Madrid for the next EU Capital, followed by Lisbon. After that, I'll head Eastwards through France, taking Paris, Brussels, Amsterdam, Luxembourg off of the to-do list.
I don't feel like hanging about, I just wanna get this finished now. I'm starting to get sick of the whole thing. If I felt like I had a true home to go to, then maybe I'd be a bit home-sick, but thankfully that's not the case. I've just had enough of moving all the time and of saying goodbye to brilliant people so soon after making friendships. It's not easy.

Days on the road without any money: 78
Distance travelled for free: 3550 miles
Capitals visited: 13 (2 non EU)