Tag Archive | vegan travel

Leaving – Part One of Oz to UK by sea

The Southern Cross Photo by Rick Stankiewicz stankiewiczr@nexicom.net
The Southern Cross – photo by Rick Stankiewicz – stankiewiczr@nexicom.net – see article at: https://epod.usra.edu/blog/2014/09/shadow-of-the-cross.html

There was a full moon on Wednesday 8th of March when I moved into the Alto-Eco Hotel on Bourke Street, across from Spenser Street Station, sorry, Southern Cross Station, in Melbourne, Australia. The Southern Cross, a pattern of stars, is not a sight often seen when living in the city. The street lights, the haze of traffic and being in the great indoors prevent seeing even the brightest stars, and very often, even the light of the silvery moon. And of course, that Southern constellation would not be possible to see in the Northern Hemisphere at all. But you can see the train station any time you like, if you’re in Melbourne. Which I was. And I had to get to Sydney to board my ship.

The next day, Thursday 9th March, was my first official day of travel. As usual, two questions, ‘Why do I have so much luggage?’ And, ‘Why is the train so full?’ Two big blokes, packs, bags, and me, all squished into our Daysitter cabin.

Survived, and arrived for a few days to visit wonderful friends and think another common question, ‘How can Sydney be so beautiful?

glimpse of QM2 from suburban train on Harbour Bridge
Glimpse of QM2 from suburban train on Harbour Bridge

As I made my way by train across Sydney Harbour Bridge, I caught a glimpse of the Queen Mary 2 floating in the middle of bright blue waters. Immediately recognisable, a pyramid cake topped with the Cunard red funnel, her white stack of decks curved up elegantly, and the dark navy keel smoothly concave down to the red plimsoll line. She was  waiting to dock at the Ocean terminal, proudly showing off to Sydney’s ocean-loving populace, half-way through the Centenary World Cruise 2023.

QM2 in Sydney harbour waiting to dock at the Ocean terminal
QM2 in Sydney harbour waiting to dock at the Ocean terminal – photo by Jeff Bartolomei from the Manly ferry.

On 12th March, I would be joining her company of nearly two and a half thousand ‘guests’ on a Centennial World Voyage. When I arrived at the wharf, weighed down with two packs and a rolling suitcase, I was transfixed by the great height of the ship. It’s not possible to see the beginning and end of her length while standing, human-size, at dock height. She was daunting. Scary. Beautiful. What the heck was I doing? Commuting to the UK, of course.

Turned out I was one of the later arrivals and marched through what could have been queues, but knowing no different, and having no staff left to welcome me, I remained ignorant. I handed over the suitcase to underlings and climbed the escalator. We’d been sternly informed we must present a photo of a negative RAT taken within 24 hours, showing the time and date.

Negative RAT in a global perspective
Negative RAT in a global perspective

This duly accomplished, the security staff informed me they’d had to institute this system due to some folk bringing their actual test, naked and unbound, spittle there for all to see and breathe. Poor security staff. After passport control, (yes, leaving on the NZ, traveling on the UK), more staff waved me onboard the second Queen Mary. I had no idea where I was.

My first impression of the Grand Lobby was that it was just like an Australian RSL (Returned and Services Leagues Club). Big, glitzy, curving staircase, showy floral edifice lit by cheesy pink and lime green spots. I had a cabin number, two backpacks and I asked the wrong staff member where to find my room. He must have been new himself, for he shrugged and directed me to the purser’s office. Like hotel reception, here was my first taste of cruise queues, and I listened to the pokies and the self-playing piano in the centre of the glittering cavern while I stood patiently. It wasn’t long before I became dispirited and turned to chat to my companions. The lady I spoke to swayed a little as she told me she couldn’t remember where her last stop was. She knew she’d started in Southampton but she couldn’t remember where she’d gone after that. She would have got out if she could have but she hated flying so much she just couldn’t. She thought she could but she couldn’t, so she had to stay on for another six weeks. She hated it. I found out she was one of over a thousand people already at home in the floating hotel, some having started in New York, some in Southampton. Other folk in the line could remember they’d been in Brisbane before Sydney, and Darwin before that, and they asked if I was newly arrived. As I had my luggage with me, I assumed they were fairly alert, and asked if they could tell me how to find my room.

The overwhelming Club aspect of the QM2
The overwhelming Club aspect of the QM2 taken from my first Cruise Queue

Well, they said, you should have asked sooner if that’s all you want! You’re on level two now, the lifts are over there, and just go up to Deck 6 and follow the signs on the walls. Just like a hotel. Easily done.

The Sydney view from my sheltered balcony QM2
The Sydney view from my sheltered balcony QM2

My cabin was at the end of the corridor, with a sheltered balcony. That means if you sit down you can’t see over the railing but if there’s a wind blasting you can get a breath of fresh air. The room had everything I needed: bathroom, bed, desk, tea and coffee making facilities. Right now, harbour views, close to the Bridge, and I was near a swimming pool!

A card on the bed requested my presence at the Britannia Restaurant on level 3 at 6pm. A brief flurry of unpacking, quick donning of my professional English teacher-on-duty costume, before joining a stream of smartly-dressed humans heading towards staircase B.

When my computer found out I’d booked a sea voyage, I was rewarded by some handy YouTube videos giving me advise on solo cruising. I did take one piece of advice – when travelling alone – book the biggest possible table so that you’ll be able to chat to different people rather than be stuck with just one. Imagine. For six weeks. Be like being married. Phew. Possible disaster averted.

When you enter the giant glittering cavern that is the Britannia Restaurant, you are welcomed by a battalion of perfectly presented waiters in smooth black suits. After a short screen search by the Head Waiter, ever polite and smiling, one waiter peels off the disciplined line and sees you personally to your table, in my case, very far away, up on the mezzanine, beside large windows and by the circular door going to the kitchens. I was greeted by a circle of smiling faces. Once seated by yet another smiling waiter, napkin flapped out over my lap, I discovered all but one of my tablemates was retired, and all were habitual travellers. Two had had previous World Cruises booked but were stymied by the pandemic. Now they were relieved to be here, and the bantering began.

Sydney harbour glinted in the sunshine as the first of my awkward dietary requirement discussions ensued. Suffice to say, most food on board involves some kind of cow secretion and Special Diets are complicated.

I don’t want to go into it. Food was eaten.

QM2 flies the Red Ensign - Union Jack, white stripe by the mast signifies peace and the red duster to the right is valour and courage - and the Sydney Opera House
QM2 flies the Red Ensign – Union Jack, white stripe by the mast signifies peace and the red duster to the right is valour and courage – and the Sydney Opera House

After dinner, it was time to leave. The sun went down, the Harbour lit up, folk crowded beside the rails with glasses full, binoculars within grasp to glimpse friends and relatives on shore, calls on phones and shouts as Sydney Harbour presented the Opera House and Bridge in full glamour. Families waved their mobile phone torches on shore and were answered by nans and grandads on board.

Sydney Harbour Bridge on departure. Bright lights on the shore could be the torches of friends and family on board the QM2
Bright lights on the shore could be the torches of friends and family on board the QM2

Tugs hovered around the Queen Mary 2 manoeuvring around ferries and smaller boats and out towards the Heads. Mild weather kept people chatting by the railings even as we came into open sea and deep night. I looked back toward South Head: Watsons Bay, Vaucluse, Dover Heights and Bondi, suburbs I once knew, slipping into darkness, and the lights signifying the coast of NSW eventually disappeared. We were at sea.

QM2 outside the heads, leaving Sydney Harbour in her wake
QM2 outside the heads, leaving Sydney Harbour in her wake

Woke early, no land in sight, and began the ritual march around Deck 7 – the Promenade Deck. Noticed, as I was smiling and nodding at fellow ‘guests’, that I was going in the opposite direction. Bah. I was travelling clockwise. Takes three turns to do a kilometre. Not going to tell you about miles. Get over it.

First day at sea out of Sydney on the QM2 - clearing?
First day at sea out of Sydney on the QM2 – clearing?

Went to Meditation and which evolved into a basic Stretch class, included in cost of fare, presented by Gym Guy. Not quite what I’d expected – would be the last. Asked him if it were possible to borrow a yoga mat for my room? No. Only enough for gym and classes. The next class, Yoga, would cost extra money which I figured was too much. I’d already decided I’d paid enough for this commute from Oz to UK. So, how much?

Together with insurance packages and shore experiences, my total fare from Sydney to Southampton (6 weeks in a floating hotel) wouldn’t give me much change from Australian $20,000 (about £10,000). You can get cheaper fares but I wanted the balcony for six weeks. You probably have a car. I don’t. I bought a cruise. Or rather, a commute. I was going to the UK and as you know, I don’t like to fly.

Can you afford the time? I could. I had a project to work on at my desk, I had no pressing engagements and, really, it was equivalent to walking the Camino de Santiago – all I had to do was fall into line with the Deck 7 pilgrims going widdershins. Never, I tell you, never. (Well, once or twice if the sun was on the wrong side … ) I’m a clockwise gal.

Looking out to sea as we pass NSW in QM2
Looking out to sea as we pass NSW in QM2 – note the deckchairs around Deck 7 – the Promenade Deck

Breakfast entailed an introduction to the Kings Court Buffet System. This is a confusing beige world of chefs under pressure preparing and serving a wide array of consumables. I’m guessing it was self-serve before Covid. My embarrassing Special Diet requirements finally led me to a separate Chef’s Galley where all the plant-based, gluten-free, FODMAP weirdos could have some sense of belonging. It was also relatively quiet. My happy place.

It is possible to enjoy breakfast in your own cabin or in your assigned restaurant, in my case the Britannia, where you are seated with new people and, again, must have the awkward Special Dietary conversation. I learned it was much easier to see smiling chef William Angel for a dose of porridge and some basic Filipino lessons.

The wait staff are everywhere, (and from everywhere: Filipino, South African, Ghanian, Zambean, Italian, Serbian … )  smiling, obeisant, bowing to Sir or Madam whatever the request, whatever the accent.

Breakfast accomplished; my next major quest was the search for a power adaptor. Of course, my Australian electrics did not fit the British standard plug. The ship shops are primarily duty free, selling booze and shiny glamour handbags or jewellery boutiques although there is a small ‘Everyday’ section where you can buy tee-shirts, key rings and crisps. Not power adaptors. The bookshop is next to the library on Deck 8, but they sold out of adaptors months ago.

The library is charming, wooden, glass-fronted shelves – deep comfy seats to sink into – right at the front of the ship with large windows. QM2 has an extensive splash zone at the prow – she’s designed for big Atlantic waters necessitating space and fencing when she breaks through heavy waves so the ‘guests’ don’t get washed away, but that does mean you can’t get much closer than aprox 70 metres to the bow.

Back to the purser’s officer to make further enquiries about the adaptor. Such helpful people, these pursers. She reached out, took my phone and cable, and told me to come back later. I would have to buy one when we reached our first port. The next day. (Charging the phone didn’t cost me any extra money.)

Given my morning routine on the container ships, I marched up to find ‘Guests’ are not permitted on the bridge unless you pay extra for a rare tour, but you are allowed to watch the mysterious workers glide through their navigations and raise their bins to the horizon through a Bridge Observation Window. Informative posters name the equipment while celebratory plaques and awards hang around the area. Take no photos. No questions. No knocking on the glass. No distractions. A bit like the gorilla enclosure, really.

Next stop was the Observation Deck – a semi-enclosed veranda wrapped around the Adriatic Room at the front of Deck 11. The Adriatic Room is the special club of the Round the World Voyagers – those who had already been on board for two months – natives of NY or UK –they’d already visited Lisbon, Greece, the Suez Canal, Egypt, Thailand and Darwin. Some of the travellers could remember and loved every minute of the shore experiences and ship life. So Swaying Woman was the exception.

The Observation Deck was closed due to high winds as we proceeded south down the coast of New South Wales (stupid name – nothing like Wales – time to change that one). Didn’t seem that blustery to me but I suppose there was a bit of a roll. Back down to the cabin, popped on the togs and went out to join the sun worshippers on Deck 6. But the sun had gone. Hopped in the bubble bath (jacuzzi). The only other fellow in there seemed to have been there for hours. The air was mild, and the water was warm, and the blue horizon was steady. The pale turquoise water in the pool was not. It sloshed one way and then the other and then gurgled out through the pipes in a friendly manner. Beach towels are supplied and often replenished by deck crew.

It was not only my phone that lost power by this point. After a quick shower I took to my bed for a rest. Lethargy overcame me. I missed lunch. I woke to the alarm I’d set for dinner. I felt good. On the way to the restaurant, I noticed a young couple dressed like movie stars, he in black tie and she in sparkly angel with full make-up. Uh oh! It was the Black and White Gala night! I turned and ran back to my cabin and sat panting on the bed. Yes, there was the invitation I’d ignored, thinking a 6pm dinner wouldn’t be part of the hoo haah gala – frocks, orchestra, ballroom dancing, elegance … ‘Guests’ apparently love the Gala nights – seems there’s one a week. I believe there are folk who book an inside cabin just for their wardrobe and changing room. The hairdressers and make-up artists do a roaring trade, as do the photographers. I went in search of my alternative eating zone – but it was no longer there – that’s only for breakfast – the Kings Court buffet offered me a baked spud and salad. They’d already run out of fruit salad. Or maybe they would replenish later. I made do.

There was much to learn on the QM2.

Day three was a Most Exciting Day as it was our first Port. Melbourne. Now you may ask why I could not have begun my voyage from Melbourne. I know I did. However, that is Cunard’s way and it may also be the way of the Australian Border Force for all I know. There will be Gala Nights and there will only be certain ports to begin and end your section of travel. As far as I know, this World Centenary Cruise went Southampton to Sydney, Sydney to Fremantle and Fremantle to CapeTown, Capetown to Southampton. I could land in Melbourne, but I could not go through passport control. There you go. I got to be on a crowded train for hours! Yaaay!

Pilot arriving three hours out of Melbourne
Pilot arriving three hours out of Melbourne

I woke at 03:30 – engines slowed – bright security lights to port – I could only see the pilot’s boat if I leaned out over the railing in an uncomfortable manner. I assumed the pilot climbed up a ladder. There are ports where the pilot gets dropped from a helicopter – Melbourne isn’t one of them. Couldn’t sleep again so went for a mysterious middle of the night wander in a ghost ship.

QM2 - Deck 13 in the middle of the night - foreground - 2 shuffleboard courts
QM2 – Deck 13 in the middle of the night – foreground – 2 shuffleboard courts and heli – target.

Little bit scary but fun as I inspected the beautiful prints on Deck 11, the paintings along corridors and in stairwells can be fantastic. Cunard has a reputation for their art collection. I explored the sporting area on Deck 13 and found that seeing stars was problematic due to the artificial lighting. You can imagine why the ship would need lighting around any railing area, I suppose.

What passes for a chart in QM2 guest information system
What passes for a chart in QM2 guest information system – we’re in Port Phillip Bay!

I found a screen showing where we were in the Deck 12 Pool Room (of course, I found out later, every screen on board has that channel, all the channels, why even the tv in my own cabin that I’d covered up with a scarf!) I made it back to bed for an hour before my alarm woke me at 06:30 to watch the docking.

Very satisfying sunrise and gentle approach into Melbourne, not the most glamorous of ports, is it?

I was really anticipating seeing my beloved son, Felix, in Melbourne, but worried about the phone charge running out again before we could speak. I was late getting off the ship as I didn’t realise we had to queue to scan our voyage cards before leaving. See? The cruise queues. We meet again.

My dreams of casual coffee were dashed as I marched urgently along the Port Melbourne bike path as the 109 trams were incapacitated. Two hours late I met Felix, drank coffee, and charged the phone. And we made plans which included buying a phone adapter!

Melbourne passed in a haze of ticking off Things To Do, fare-welling son, and then back on board for more cruise queues.

This is how to meet people on a cruise. Stand in lines. I discovered quite a few other Melbourne locals who had returned home to finish their cleaning/organising tasks! And the relief at a decent cup of coffee! More on that next time …

And so we left Melbourne. The voyage has begun.

AND!

CONGRATULATIONS TO THOR PEDERSEN – TEN YEARS AROUND THE WORLD WITHOUT FLYING!

I don’t know how he managed to find container ships after the pandemic – his persistence is extraordinary!

Stage Ten – Taiwan – sea to ship to sea – overland UK 2 NZ

encouraging train at Kaohsiung metro station
Get on the encouraging train at a Kaohsiung metro station

If you’re new to my sustainable (?!) journey across the world, here’s a menu to help you find your way: https://ourrelationshipwithnature.com/overview-overland-uk-2-nz-without-flying-eleven-stages-in-fifty-days/

For fellow travellers who might notice errors and omissions, please add your comments. In fact, all comments welcome!

FERRY TO TAIPEI

I had no idea how long I clung to my potentially slidy bench in the CSF ferry to Taiwan. Given my overheated and nauseous position, clinging like a limpet, I was going nowhere. Flat hands, straight arms, I was stuck with all my spidey force to that window seat. I stared down at the heaving sea. The horizon, and watching the rising spray as the prow smashed through the waves, kept me anchored against the giddy sickness that threatened to swamp me.

The horizon behind us, because we were moving into darkness and stronger forces, was tinged with light beams over the surface far away as the cloud cleared. I kept hoping it would light up ahead but there it was only getting darker. The past horizon was a line of misty magic with constantly moving gleaming, as though a spotlight played upon a shining stage. It was disconcerting when that steady thing to pin hopes upon, that faint, distant horizontal line, kept shifting and then, horrifyingly, disappeared entirely into the dark.

Soon enough lights of habitation appeared on the coast. My arms began to ache with their suction work upon the bench surface. I leaned on the cool glass. Presumably, as we neared the coast, the swell worsened for there were some hefty bangs and heaves that reminded the ship was man-made and would not last for ever.

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Stage Eight – Beijing – overland UK 2 NZ

If you’re new to my sustainable (?!) journey across the world, here’s a menu to help you find your way: https://ourrelationshipwithnature.com/overview-overland-uk-2-nz-without-flying-eleven-stages-in-fifty-days/

For fellow travellers who might notice errors and omissions, please add your comments. In fact, all comments welcome!

Front door of the Courtyard Hotel
Front door of the 161 Wangfujing Courtyard Hotel

First impressions of Beijing

Sounds. The orchestra of Beijing. Live! Footfalls of people, barking of cute puppies, motors and horns of cars, buses, scooters covered at the front with little sleeve blankies, bike bells, warning officials with their flags or coloured batons; all process with purpose. Going to the supermarket was a bold endeavour.

The guard is in the yellow jacket but I think raelly all she can do is observe and comment
The guard is in the yellow jacket but I think raelly all she can do is observe and comment

There is some regard for others but only as objects to avoid. Face masks, small people, both elderly and children, smoking, more people and more scooters all travelling, going somewhere, curling around, moving away, getting places. I was scared at the traffic lights even though there were supervisors. When little green man lights up the vehicles take their time to stop. And some bikes and scooters just keep going. I was constantly amazed no one got hit!

Just waiting for a good time to go
Just waiting for a good time to go – my back to the supermarket

I stayed in a small hotel in a traditional hutong near DongSi station away from the tourist centre but close enough to the subway to be within easy reach of everything. It was also surprisingly quiet. I had predicted my need some privacy after six days of train life and I was mighty glad to get into a warm shower and get a load of laundry organised. Both May and Zhao, the two girls on reception duty, spoke excellent English and could not have been more helpful.

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Stage Seven – Trans Siberian/Mongolian – overland UK 2 NZ

How do you catch the train across Russia, Mongolia and China? You just get on the TransSiberian and/or TransMongolian Railway. (Start from Moscow/Mockba or Beijing/Pekin and head to the other one.)

Victoria outside Chinese carriage on the TransSiberian/transMongolian Railway
Outside Chinese carriage on the TransSiberian/TransMongolian Railway

If you’re new to my sustainable (?!) journey across the world, here’s a menu to help you find your way: https://ourrelationshipwithnature.com/overview-overland-uk-2-nz-without-flying-eleven-stages-in-fifty-days/

For fellow travellers who might notice errors and omissions, please add your comments. In fact, all comments welcome!

Please note this is a multi-page post. Although my trip took 6 days, one hour and four minutes to complete, it won’t take you that long to read! That said, you might need a cup of tea and a little snack to take with you.

Hope this account inspires you to explore the world by train, too! Here’s a link for those interested in going the other way!

Tuesday 15th October 2019 – NIGHT ONE – TransSiberian/Mongolian – boarding the train at Yaroslavsky Train Station, Moscow – 23:55

Moscow to Beijing ticket
Moscow to Beijing ticket with a Golden Seal

Two middle-aged men in uniform greeted me at carriage five with some bemusement. They frowned and flapped my ticket. ‘But, do not fold it,’ I cried out mentally, thinking Lena from Real Russia would be shocked to see their carelessness. They gave the precious paper back to me and one fellow ambled inside. Without anything else to do I followed him and he pointed at my compartment and my lower berth number 9.

I said, ‘Xiexie,’ (‘Thank you’ being the limits of my Chinese so far) and he blinked at me before he left. This was not the same train as my previous shiny new Russian train. This was an antique Chinese train. It felt a bit rickety and there was no fancy screen showing time and temperature on the wall. Could it have been a steam train? I could definitely smell coal. Everything smelt of coal in the carriage.

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Stage Six – Moscow – on the way overland UK to NZ

Each metro station is different but all I encountered are quiet and orderly
Each Moscow Metro station is different but all I encountered were quiet and orderly

If you’re new to my sustainable (?!) journey across the world, here’s a menu to help you find your way: https://ourrelationshipwithnature.com/overview-overland-uk-2-nz-without-flying-eleven-stages-in-fifty-days/

For fellow travellers who might notice errors and omissions, please add your comments. In fact, all comments welcome!

The Moscow Metro is similar to other metros in my experience. You buy a ticket. (There’s often an English speaking window at the station.) You wave the ticket at a machine. You find your line. You get on the train. You get off and change to the next line. You get off at your stop. You find your way to the surface, point in the right direction and walk towards your destination.

BUT! Moscow Metro IS different! The stations are the People’s Palaces! They are GORGEOUS!

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Stage Five – Overnight Warsaw to Moscow – on the way overland UK to NZ

In which you shall learn a life lesson, like I did. What did I learn?

Still a few leaves in Belarus
Still a few leaves in Belarus

First overnight train! This is the Warsaw to Moscow Polonez as mentioned by the Man in Seat 61.

If you’re new to my sustainable (?!) journey across the world, here’s a menu to help you find your way: https://ourrelationshipwithnature.com/overview-overland-uk-2-nz-without-flying-eleven-stages-in-fifty-days/

For fellow travellers who might notice errors and omissions, please add your comments. In fact, all comments welcome!

When I showed her my ticket as we boarded the train, the white-blonde compartment manager wearing a smart red beret held up one finger. She said, firmly and clearly, directly into my face, ‘One’. Gottcha. I clambered onboard with everyone else and wandered up to the end of the compartment to realise there was no number one. I went back to find the first compartment held three worried looking faces staring at me. I had place number 11. I guess she meant the first compartment.

I was very lucky to share a compartment with Tatiana, her daughter Maria, and colleague Ella. Tatiana and Ella are teachers at a select Secondary College and extremely clever people. Tatiana speaks excellent English as she spent her teens living in London with her parents. They gave me an introduction into life onboard a long distance train. First get into your comfy clothes because it’s warm inside. Then crack open the snacks and keep going. And keep hold of your keycard.

We had basic Russian lessons, compared teaching lives and enjoyed some simple jokes. Like the one about me going to spend 6 days, one hour and four minutes on the TransSiberian. They couldn’t stop giggling. ‘You’re going to live like this for a week?’

But, what was more hilarious, Tatiana and I both knew all the words to Donny and Marie’s sign out song! With gusto, everyone!

We were in a Russian train. It seemed new. It was certainly a solid heavy piece of equipment. There was no riketty racketty clicketty clackity here. This ironmongered beast was a smooth driving force.

Soon enough the Belarus police came to check our passports. The Russians got a stamp. I had to fill out a duplicate form. It took a good time for the officials to get through the train. Then a short trip to get our wheels changed. The rail gauge changed over the border. This also took considerable time. As we pulled in the men-power were getting into formation. There seemed to be about twenty blokes involved. They set about rolling a huge gantry thing overhead, connecting each carriage somehow to the side yellow pillars which must be a jack system. When the other train pulled in opposite I could see what must have just happened under our train. I didn’t feel any perceptible lifting of our carriage but it’s clear how high they have to go. I could see the folk in the carriage opposite going about their snacking and chatting. The others in my compartment had gone to sleep by now. We were not allowed out to watch. They have to physically move the wheels under each carriage. Three frail men sliding under the trains, heaving and pushing these enormous machines into place under the carcass of the carriage. There seemed to be mortal danger everywhere I looked. There was a far bit of smoko and wait and check the phone but the job got done.

How they manage without loosing a plate or a bolt or a wire in such dim lighting is astonishing. How much would a continual line of equal gauge cost between the two countries? Or is it better to keep decent men employed in an important and responsible position?

Changing the wheels in Brest - Warsaw to Moscow overnight
Changing the wheels in Brest – Warsaw to Moscow overnight
This is the hammer bench - the train opposite is about to get our wheels and visa versa
This is the hammer bench – the train opposite is about to get our wheels.
See the hammer on the right? (No sickle.)
Wheels rolling under the train opposite. See the elevation?
Wheels rolling under the train opposite. See the elevation? And the hammer?

After a short trip along to the station, customs officials came to call. They brought a cute dog that everyone along the corridor cooed at in turn. We had to get out of the carriage so they could take a good look. We were very serious and obedient.

Brest Railway station - Belarus customs check
Brest Railway station – Belarus customs check

Around two in the morning my bladder called, we argued, I lost. I slipped out of the compartment to go to the toilet. As the door clicked firmly shut I remembered Tatiana’s advice. ‘Keep your keycard with you.’

Uh oh.

Russian train toilet - clean and orderly
Russian train toilet – clean and orderly

After making use of the facilities I made my way slowly back down the corridor. A corridor lined with locked and shut doors. My locked and silent gate. I looked longingly at the empty manager’s chair as I passed but I could not invade that sacred space.

The compartment managers office
The compartment managers office

I went out to the doorway and sat in the stairwell. I had passed the sleeping manager but I did not think her temper would be improved by me waking her around 2:30 am. I came back and stared at my door. I figured my best place would be where either the manager or one of my ladies might go so I sat down and practiced my meditation skills just outside like a loyal canine companion.

A shiver of hope came when the manager’s little alarm went off. Something was about to happen. Soon enough the train slowed and came to a station. She moved around quickly, putting on her uniform and attending to things in her office. Then she noticed me and without a hint of surprise indicated the door. Oh, yes, spasibo! And I was back in my comfy welcoming bed just after 3 am. I was so pleased to straighten out!

My bunk - plenty of room underneath for luggage for both up and down bunks
My bunk – plenty of room underneath for luggage for both up and down bunks

It was after 8:30 when I became aware that our breakfasts had been delivered and our door was clicked open. New day!

Russian 4 berth cabin. Tatiana staring out the window
Russian 4 berth cabin made in Austria. Tatiana staring out the window
Tatiana demonstrating morning happiness
Tatiana demonstrating morning happiness – we did remake the beds into the seating arrangement immediately after I took the photo. Honest.
Contents of Russian breakfast - tea and coffee vegan
Contents of Russian breakfast – tea and coffee were vegan

Bread bun thing I will not name with a French word beginning with C, biscuits, tea/coffee/sugar, napkin, salt and pepper and a refreshing towel. What more could a train traveller want?

On our Russian train, Maria has breakfast while manager is at work
Maria has breakfast while manager is at work

Taking careful turns with the available space, we managed to get the packing done we managed to get going with the day.

We had a twenty minute stop to change the engine – one of those thunderously big machines. It reminded me of the old iron lawnmower we’d inherited on moving in to one of our houses. Incredibly heavy and incredibly effective. The wooden roller tamed the grass and, once sharpened, the heavy blades made short work of the greenery. The train was built to last. Possibly your grandmother’s sewing machine would also share that permanence and purpose?

Our compartment manager and her carriage
Our compartment manager and her carriage waiting for the new engine
Information screen inside Russian train
Information screen inside Russian train – it’s warm inside
Engine change three hours away from Moscow
Engine change three hours away from Moscow
Autumn came to Russia already
Autumn came and went in Russia
Angel Ella who brought me to Moscow (Mockba)
Angel Ella who brought me to Moscow (Mockba) and introduced me to the Metro, even buying my ticket. Spasibo!
Belorussky Railway Station, Moscow - my entry point
Belorussky Railway Station, Moscow – my entry point – don’t think I’ve done it justice. The Metro is nearby and I’m so grateful I had Ella to help.

There will be more about the Metro in Stage Six – Moscow – but for now, I’m getting ready to start that hilarious six day TransSiberian jaunt. Not sure when I’ll get email again.

But trust me, I’ll soon be back and let you know more of my tågskryt journey!

And guess what lesson I will endeavour to remember just as hard as I can?

For the next exciting installment head to Stage Six – Moscow

Stage Four – Warsaw – on the way overland and sea UK to NZ

If you’re new to my sustainable (?!) journey across the world, here’s a menu to help you find your way: https://ourrelationshipwithnature.com/overview-overland-uk-2-nz-without-flying-eleven-stages-in-fifty-days/

For fellow travellers who might notice errors and omissions, please add your comments. In fact, all comments welcome!

The first thing you see when you get out of Warsaw Central train station
What is the first thing you see when you get out of Warsaw Central train station?

On the train (Tågskryt!) from Berlin into Warsaw I sat next to Simon. He lived in Berlin and was not a DJ. Proof that not everyone in Berlin is a DJ. (See previous post or if you’re brand new and want to read about planning this trip, here’s Part I ) He was editing music on his laptop, working on songs to play with his new band, the Soft Boyz, chill electro-jazz, so watch out for them in the future. Simon comes from Warsaw and loves to spend time with his family – he speaks to his mother EVERY DAY. He is saving up to travel through South America next year. He told me the best things to do in Warsaw are to visit the Polin Museum and to take a walk through Praga (no, not the city, silly) the artist’s side of Warsaw.

Kind Simon actually walked me out of the underground maze and pointed me in the right direction. It doesn’t take long to get familiar with a place but those initial first few minutes … Do you remember those 3D hidden picture puzzles? That’s how I feel when I stare at a map of a new city until it comes into focus. Takes a day, normally. I was very grateful to the first citizen of Warsaw, Simon. I hope his travels in South America find him many kind and helpful people in return.

When I asked my Airbnb host, Alicja, she said, ‘Oh, no, don’t go to Praga, it’s dirty and violent.’ So I didn’t. (Actually I ran out of time!)

View from Airbnb kitchen Warsaw
View from Airbnb kitchen Warsaw
View from Airbnb bedroom Warsaw
View from Airbnb bedroom Warsaw
view inside my Warsaw Airbnb
View inside my Warsaw Airbnb

But, Alicja could name three vegan restaurants within five minutes walking. Cake for dinner!

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Stage Three – Berlin – on the way overland and sea UK to NZ

Memorials – how to remember? Or how not to forget? Writing this blog? To remember?

If you’re new to my sustainable (?!) journey across the world, here’s a menu to help you find your way: https://ourrelationshipwithnature.com/overview-overland-uk-2-nz-without-flying-eleven-stages-in-fifty-days/

For fellow travellers who might notice errors and omissions, please add your comments. In fact, all comments welcome!

It was 10:30 am on the train from Hamburg to Berlin when a young chirpy woman’s voice presumably welcomes us to our journey in German, before adding, clearly, ‘Good afternoon’. A loud laugh from the man near me gave notice there were not too many English speakers on the train. She said no more.

There was no ticket inspecting, as compared to Spain, where any intercity train journey is accompanied by a security check and close analysis of tickets at every opportunity. No-one ever checked tix in Hamburg. Does anyone even buy tickets apart from tourists?

As for my carefully reserved seat, there weren’t even any numbers on the walls or the chairs. The man, so kind and genuine, selling me the tic in his comfortable uniform and urging me to make that extra payment of four euros fifty to reserve a seat, said, ‘Hamburg to Berlin is our busiest route. It’s normally full. But, you must wake up in time. If you miss it you must pay again.’ All so jovial and such a big, fat lie!

I didn’t miss the train. Walking to the train station was a joy. It was a beautiful sunny morning in my leafy suburb and the fallen leaves, crisp and crunchy the day before, had already turned to sludge in the soft rain. The glowing autumn colours shone through. Those old trees spoke eloquently of change and time passing. The grey mist enhanced the mystery.

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Stage Two – Hamburg – on the way overland and sea UK to NZ

Yeah, nah (as we say in Melbourne) yeah, nah, not flying, but it was a flying visit! My tourism style is definitely skittering over the top – I’ve got a train to catch.

If you’re new to my sustainable (?!) journey across the world, here’s a menu to help you find your way: https://ourrelationshipwithnature.com/overview-overland-uk-2-nz-without-flying-eleven-stages-in-fifty-days/

For fellow travellers who might notice errors and omissions, please add your comments. In fact, all comments welcome!

plane over ferry Hamburg
Plane over ferry, Hamburg (I’m the one in the ferry)

On the rails again, I was encouraged to see so many windturbines, not only through the Netherlands but also in Germany, as the train trundled over the border. We also passed workers building an enormous solar array in the middle of lush green pastures.

On passing through Gouda, I reflected on the illustrious history of that cheese and the many times I had enjoyed a sumptuous slice on a cracker. Which lead me to contemplate the current lack of (cows milk) cheese in my life. No bad thing. Imagine if, when breastfeeding Felix, someone had snatched him away to make me ‘donate’ my milk to other beings? I suppose, when our cows were Daisy and Buttercup out in the back paddock and we were all friends together it might have been different but now there are billions of us drinking billions of café lattes and billions of little calves snatched away from their billions of bellowing mothers. What happens to the baby cows? The things you think on a train …

The verdant green paddocks flashing by my window were divided by slim, flat channels of shining water. Wooden fences, trees and fat ponies were interspersed with modern buildings and power lines. The old and the new sat back to back in the Netherlands, like the woman in the Rotterdam memorial to the fallen facing sadly down to the past and the man with the spade looking up for a new vision.

Netherlands is trying to shake the Holland image – Holland being only one part of the country. I’m shaking off the Netherlands! Onward! Forward, forward went the rattling train, into the next county, the next region, the next country. Human muttering, snuffles and snores surrounded me all the way to Amersfort.

Amazed how stressed I became when I couldn’t find a notice board giving me the onward time and place for my connection. I had to go outside the station and find a tiny little screen well-above head-height to spot it. It did not show on the platform screens for another twenty minutes. It’s difficult turning up bright and early, prepared and ready, when the systems are not ready for you.

A pretty young blonde sitting in my seat, innocent as you please, said, looking around at her fellow gang, ‘Oh, most of us don’t have reservations’, as she snuggled in (to my seat) and looked smug. The rest of the passengers seemed to nod but I may have imagined that. They might have just looked down to avoid my eye or read their book or check a piece of fluff on their shirt. I passed on to lean on a patch of wall with the other too-lates-for-a-spot. I remembered the summer of 2016 when I had travelled on a Eurail pass, two of my German trains had neglected to add my carriage. Clambering into any available wagon, many of my fellow passengers squeezed into corridors, sat on the floor or leaned on their luggage to while away the hours. Perhaps this was normal in Germany. When the ticket inspector came along he made no comment to those hogging the reserved seats, looking carefully at each ticket and then grudgingly approving them. When he gave my ticket the required grunt, I asked about my seat number. He said, ‘Well, you should go and sit there.’ I explained that I could not. ‘But you reserved it.’ Shrug. And he said, ‘Well, she should move.’ And I said, ‘I don’t think she wants to.’ And he said, ‘She has to.’ And I said, ‘I can’t make her.’ And you could see the exasperation in his eyes. ‘She has to.’ And my silent shrug made him decide who was in charge. He marched toward the pretty blonde but pretended he didn’t realise it was her, looking around at all the seat numbers innocently, creeping closer to his prey. She didn’t like it but he persisted and soon enough she was packing up and the seat was mine. The woman next to me said, ‘Awkward’ in that funny American sitcom kind of way. I said, ‘She’s young. She can cope.’ And the woman leaning next to me smiled and said, ‘That’s the rules. Unfortunate.’ BUT NOT FOR ME!!

I had desires to buy a coffee and eat my sandwich but her blonde companion sat beside me like a disapproving thunder cloud, crossing her long legs uncomfortably against the seat in front of her like a thin-legged crab trying to get into a shell. Her judgement lay across me like a forbidding arm.

The train stopped to change staff and take a break. The voice said you could go outside for a smoke so I went to look out of the door. Ah. This is the sort of thing I could expect on the TransSiberian. Pausing. But I did not want to risk losing the train so I did not set foot on the platform plus, you know, tobacco smoke. It was only for a few minutes and I’d left my run a bit late. Still. Got to practice the idea.

View from Airbnb in Hamburg
View from my comfy Airbnb in Hamburg – not looking at chateaus here BTW

My Hamburg walking tour – sadly forgotten guide’s name – mainly because she lost ME – began by the water (river Alster) next to a Venetian looking shopping mall, Alsterarkaden. She was an excellent speaker. She told us that one in forty citizens of Hamburg was a millionaire. And there are more billionaires registered in Hamburg than anywhere else in Europe, maybe the world. The rivers were full of ships and boats of all sizes and shapes, tangible evidence of supremely successful trade. I was also reassured of wealth and comfort by the chateaus grandstanding in the leafy suburb near my cosy Airbnb apartment.

Not sure what the people sleeping in the street imply, tucked up, silent and hunched, in their sleeping bags in shop doorways and alleys. One was even curled over into a wheelchair. What sort of life is that? Hamburg was cold.

The guide told us the city has been built and destroyed over and over again in its long history. It was originally a fort surrounded by three rivers, Alster, Elb and Bille. Water is more than life-blood. It is food, drink and communication channel. It is wealth.

A couple of young lads rolled up on their little scooters and peered over shoulders. When the guide asked them if they were joining us they said, ‘Yeah, nah,’ and I knew we were in the presence of Melbournians. ‘Yeah, nah, we’ll just park the scooters.’ We walked up from the river, part of the lake now, up to the Hamburg Rathaus (town hall).

Hamburg Rathaus
Hamburg Rathaus

The Rathaus is canvas writ large with historical figures and symbols.

Rear of Rathaus Hamburg
Rear of Rathaus Hamburg

At the rear of the Rathaus to look at the Goddess of Hygiene in her fountain, chosen because of the cholera epidemic as a result of the Great Fire of Hamburg. The fountain is cleverly used as part of an intricate cooling system throughout the building. When the water trickles, it must be summer. In the winter it’s turned off or else the pipes will freeze and cause all sorts of trouble for the Rathaus.

Hygieia, Goddess of hygiene, health and sanitation
Hygieia, Goddess of hygiene, health and sanitation

We walked to the Patriotic Society – a kind of NGO for growing community – and found a group of several small brass squares embedded into the footpath outside. These little squares, called Stolpersteine (stumbling stones) by Gunter Demnig, are now all over Europe (apart from some places where they do not think walking on memorials is a respectful act). I’d seen them before in Lubeck. She explained they were memorials for those persecuted by the Nazis, regardless of religion. They give names and dates but cannot tell much more of the story apart from their placing. These particular people must have been members of the Society. Our guide explained that when locals go about their business they often keep their eyes down and they will see those names, and perhaps be jolted. That those who notice will have to look down to read the names and therefore will be bowing.

She told of meeting an elderly man on his knees in front of the plaques when she was delivering her tour. He was polishing the brass. When asked, he explained that his father was a member of the SS and this small task, polishing these little squares of metal, were a way for him to atone his inherited feelings of guilt.

Saint Nikolas, Hamburg
Saint Nicholas, Hamburg

We moved to Saint Nicholas, a blackened wreck of a church, which has been left as a site for memorials. It makes for sombre visiting. Most of Hamburg was bombed by the allies. It is now thought to have been the most bombed city in WWII. The allies decided to force the citizens to decide to give up – they rained down white fire on Hamburg for ten days and nights. The white fire was so powerful it drained oxygen from the air, sucked life from deep inside bomb shelters and killed old, young and creatures alike. When offered the choice, Hamburg quickly surrendered.

sculpture 'Prüfung'
Sculpture ‘Prüfung’ “No man in the whole world can change the truth. One can only look for the truth, find it and serve it. The truth is in all places.” Dietrich Bonhoeffer

My father was a navigator in the Royal Australian Air Force. I do remember him talking about Dresden. He thought the destruction of Dresden was one of the greatest crimes of his war. He talked sadly about the beauty of that small city before the allies had smashed it. I don’t think the Australians were involved in bombing Hamburg. He did not talk much about his war, apart from jovial remarks about his only injury coming when he’d drunkenly fallen off a gate. I knew he’d been shot down in the Mediterranean because his brother, Syd, told me so. His crew had been rescued by a British submarine that surfaced metres away, saying clearly and commandingly to ‘Douse that light, you … ’

Angel on earth
Angel On Earth – see her broken wings?
Label for Angel on Earth by Edith Breckwoldt

I did not inherit any guilt about these bombings. As far as my education and assumptions about WWI and WWII went, we were on the right side, we won and we did the right thing. My grandfather and my father told me so. I could not help but think of those who are suffering in wars at this time. Have humans learned nothing but arms deals?

My walking tour took a break in Starbucks. I could not remember ever having taken food or drink in one of those before. I really enjoyed my almond-milk hot chocolate but the three other Aussies (from Melbourne) despaired at the quality of their coffees. ‘Yeah, nah.’ Making faces they said things like, ‘Disgusting.’ ‘Medicinal.’ ‘Don’t do it.’ Think of all those poor little calves and their milking mummies.

Then we visited the surviving 16th century buildings near the beginning of the Great Fire, some of the few old buildings in this city. They not only survived that fire but also both world wars. These are strong buildings. See the tidal marks on the foundations?

Sixteenth century houses in Hamburg
Sixteenth century houses in Hamburg

We progressed towards the harbour proper, still river water. When I started chatting with Debbie, a ceramicist from Florida, we lost sight of the group. More and more tourists and locals out for a weekend stroll swirled around us. I thought I saw the other American on the tour wave at us but perhaps I was mistaken as our dash to catch up was fruitless. So I never did get to hear the end of the guide’s story. But Debbie and I talked about Extinction Rebellion and the gritty reality of American politics until I had to meet my friend in St Pauli, the edgy side of town.

I met Tanja at StrandPauli, a funky beach themed café. Wish I’d taken some photos but we were too busy gossiping. I met Tanja at a Christmas yoga retreat near Seville nearly ten months ago. Later we walked down to the Elbphilharmonie (or concert hall on the Elbe). She told me the glass for the windows was difficult and expensive and when you see the melty bends and flexes in the surface of the glass it is easy to understand why. Apart from the fact it’s very high up and really, will people notice that, or the tailor-made light bulbs that also had to be made internationally?

The next day was sunny and delightful. I wandered from my little apartment to the old fishing village area, Treppenviertel, now a gentrified suburb for some of those millionaires!

Treppenviert area near Blankenese, Hamburg
Treppenviert area near Blankenese, Hamburg

I wandered and waited to catch a ferry from Blankenese (white nose). Had no idea where the ferry was going so I wasn’t surprised when it seemed to be driving towards shallow water, a surly bridge and an opening gate.

River Elb river gate
Heading towards river Elbe river gate
Gate on the river Elb
Gate on the river Elbe

There was an aborted landing attempt, presumably because the open gate was releasing a force of muddy water (were they dredging in there?) twisting the ship around at unpredictable angles. Our ferry had to push away from the dock and regain composure mid-stream.

Neuenfelde on the river Elb
Neuenfelde on the river Elbe

I did wonder if we were to go through the gate but finally, with much bumping and clanging of those big metal pillars, we tied up, folk disembarked and new passengers ran to get onboard. Then we sat again. Cigarettes were smoked. Babies’s chins were chucked. The sun was brilliant. Glorious day. Expectation remained high amongst the other passengers. We would surely be leaving soon. Wouldn’t we?

Went down to ask about buying a ticket (and our destination) in this luxurious autumnal cruise and found my daily train tick was ample and I would change ferry at the next landing. Eventually we got underway.

Gate of Neuenfelde on the river Elb
Gate of Neuenfelde on the river Elb

Back we went to Blankenese, carefully avoiding the mudflats pimpled with small birds.

Mudflats showing how tidal the river Elb is
Ferry navigation on the river Elb. Stay alert, Capt’n!

No hesitation here. Off we went into deeper shipping channels and new industrial vistas. It is a huge port.

Ferry heading into Hamburg port
Ferry heading into Hamburg port – that’s the airport on the right.

Change of ferry and closer to urban life …

Hamburg ferry with circular tables
Hamburg ferry with circular tables makes a great family outing

On we went, up to the Elbphilharmonie. Love the waves on the roof.

The river Elb crowned by the concert hall
The river Elbe crowned by the concert hall

The main reason I came to Hamburg was to check on the assertions given to me by young peregrinos on the Camino. They all attested to the great beauty of Hamburg. No, really. It was far more beautiful than Sydney harbour. Much. Well. Yeah. Nah. I don’t think so. Sorry.

River Elb from the Koncerthal Hamburg
River Elbe from the Elbphilharmonie, Hamburg

Yeah. NAH.

See Stage Three here.

Stage One – The jump – Harwich to Hoek of Holland – (travelling from UK to NZ overland and sea)

(‘Arrich to ‘Oek of ‘Olland)

Walking beside the beach (?) looking over to Harwich Port
Walking beside the beach (?) looking to Harwich Port

If you’re new to my sustainable (?!) journey across the world, here’s a menu to help you find your way: https://ourrelationshipwithnature.com/overview-overland-uk-2-nz-without-flying-eleven-stages-in-fifty-days/

For fellow travellers who might notice errors and omissions, please add your comments. In fact, all comments welcome!

After arriving by train to Harwich International (at the port) I found my quaint Bnb five minutes away. Don’s dining room featured, amongst other treasures: Gainsborough-esque prints hung in golden curlicue frames from the wooden-panelling walls, an Australian-shaped clock on the mantlepiece, different-sized elephants trumpeting, a metal swan, a large wooden African mask, a teddy bear in velveteen dungarees eating from a felt honey pot (I could tell because of the little bees), a Greek vase, countless other vases from other lands, all topped by a little, old, framed photo of a curly, haired terrier, solitary and plucky on top of the shelf.

Beach huts surrounding the playing fields at Harwich
Fringe of beach huts containing the playing fields at Harwich

Harwich might be a bit bleak in cold weather but I was lucky enough to be there on a cheerful sunny day.

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