A Ticket A Day

Cinema, Egypt

Kotor citadel, Montenegro

Train: Damascus - Aleppo, Syria

Bus: Kotor - Cetinje, Montenegro

Choeung EK Genocidal Center, Phnom Penh, Cambodia

Metro, Prague 

The Great Pyramid, Giza, Egypt

Plitvice National Park, Croatia

Summer Palace, China

Gur-Emir Mausaoleum, Samarkand, Uzbekistan

Budva, Montenegro

Train: Lucern - Zurich, Switzerland

Petra, Jordan

2010

The night was as clear as I have ever seen. The darkness punctuated only by thousands of shards of light as the stars decorated and illuminated the blackness like glitter. I lay on my back looking up, the desert stretching for miles and miles in every direction…

On the back of a pickup truck we are driven through the red expanse. The heat is oppressive and I am thankful for my sunglasses not only as protection against the fierce glare of the sun, but also as a barrier against the swirling sand, created partially due to flutters of wind, but predominantly by the speeding truck, which, in its wake, is throwing up sand in a dusty mezze. Rocky outcrops and sand dunes of all shapes and sizes litter the landscape, all with one thing in common – intense red/orange colours, which are stunning when set against the pristine blue sky over head.

 The frailties of modernity are starkly highlighted as the truck splutters and spurts before grinding to a halt, just as the sun moves at right angles to the ground. As I squeeze up against the vehicle, sweating uncontrollably, trying to maximise the minimal shade cast by the Toyota, we are passed slowly but confidently by a group of camels. Chewing nonchalantly, they look at us discerningly before disappearing into the distance; camouflaged with the background, they become one. I struggle in the heat for two further hours before the engine fires once again.

 A series of scattered tents, floating on the sand, become visible on the horizon – our camp. Inside each tent are several metal frames topped by mattresses. We reach our camp in time to locate the highest point around to watch the sun sink. Bright light – one which had been so perilous all day – is now transformed into a deep red glow which gives the vast desert a mysterious intensity. This slowly fades with the encroaching darkness, until it disappears altogether as if a blanket has smothered the desert.

 The chicken is stacked on metal racks which are lowered into an underground vault, closed and covered back over with sand. The heat remains tightly packed inside and the chicken is cooked slowly. In time the smell rising from the depths tickles the hair at the back of my nostrils and I begin to salivate in anticipation. The evening is spent eating, listening to music played from a … and playing backgammon, whilst drinking sweet Jordanian tea which is served in tiny glasses and passed around on a decorated metal tray.

Paris Metro fine

2005

The first thing we did was to get the metro to the Champs Elysees. When we got off the metro, we went up the steps and there was a semi circle of ticket guards blocking the exit and checking tickets. Knowing that we had child tickets, we calmly walked up, handed over our tickets and prayed.

    “Non, les enfants”, the ticket officer said. We just looked at him innocently and acted as if we did not know what he was talking about. He could not speak much English, but continued to try and tell us that we needed adult tickets. We still acted as if we were completely oblivious and then he signalled with his hands that our tickets were for small people.

    “Oh, pardon, pardon,” we said and the officer went on in French for a while before letting us pass without any problems. We breathed a sigh of relief, commended each other on our wonderful acting and then decided that we would just do exactly the same if we were in that situation again.

The next day we had to get up early, check out and move our backpacks from the hotel to the luggage storage room in the youth hostel as we were moving to the youth hostel for our final night in Paris. It was slightly annoying because it was not like the hotel and hostel were close by; in fact they were almost at opposite ends of the city. We got the metro and finally got off at Bastille. We got to the top of the stairs near the exit of the station and as sods law has it, there was a semi-circle of guards waiting to check tickets. Well, we had no choice so we casually walked to the top of the stairs, handed over our tickets and waited.

    “Non, les enfants” the guard squealed.

   “Deja vous”, we thought and played the innocent tourist role again. The guard was a butch looking female; I think that she would have fitted in well if she tried out for the French six nations team. She seemed very stern and had a terrifying voice. She did not look at all impressed that we had child tickets and even less impressed that we were acting innocent and oblivious. She did speak a small amount of English, which also did not help our cause,

    “Non, les enfants, 25 Euro” she continued.

    “25 Euro” we thought “bloody hell there is no way we can pay that!

    “Can we buy an adult ticket now?” We pleaded, but she was having none of that. We said that we could not pay the fine and that we would buy an adult ticket if she let us out. She seemed less than impressed by this and made the other guards stand round us in a close circle so there was no getting away, we looked like proper criminals.

    “Passports” she said.

Bus: Sofia, Bulgaria

Train: Tbilisi, Georgia - Baku, Azerbaijan

Return boat to Bamboo Island, Cambodia

2011

The Good, The Bad and The Ugly

A couple of days ago my bag was stolen. It was my own fault, I left my back turned for one minute, but that’s all they needed.

The Good -Luckily nothing of major importance was stolen. Although I was stupid, I had at least had the foresight to keep the passports, money and cards safely back at our guesthouse.

The Bad - Stuff in my stolen bag. Camera, phone, ipod, glasses, diary, suncream, guide book and a few other bits.

The Ugly - The things I will miss the most are my photos, my diary and a letter. These are useless to the thief, yet to me they are priceless.