Its Big

Its like the monster in the room that no one talks about. People see, they look twice or raise their eyebrows. No I haven’t dyed my hair blue or grown a wart on the end of my nose.  No one said anything until a German waiter said to me ‘its big.’ And yes it is. Its my new wheelie bag donated kindly by Karen.  

Its great I don’t have to worry about shoving things in they just fit, though I will have a weight problem on my way back I think. It actually wheels so it feels much lighter (as long as im not going too far) but it is very very big. I feel like everyone thinks I must be a bit of a princess to need all this luggage to travel with though my clothes definitely tell otherwise.  Its big enough I don’t have to stoop to wheel it though!

Its getting it on and off trains and up stairs that is proving interesting. Especially the old rattlers in Romania onto stations that don’t have proper platforms. But it wheels and the handle is still attached and best of all it was free and got me out of a tight spot so im not complaining.

It takes up a heap of room in the train cabins (which is a bonus as it keeps most people from joining us). It doesn’t fit in the luggage racks at the end of the normal carriages either. We have to start getting ready 15 min before the train station to make sure we can get all our gear and get my case out past everyone, Id hate to see what would happen if we had to get off quickly!

I actually had a grandma ask if she could help me get it off the train the other day and some poor young teenage boy decided to try and help me when I was trying to wheel it down some stairs, he regretted it when he went to lift it and it was almost as big as him!

We had to travel to the Pensiunea with the boot of the taxi open yesterday as my bag and the spare tire wouldn’t allow the boot to close.  Its all rather embarrassing, but its part of the adventure, provides us with some laughs. I am comfortable in the fact that I didn’t pack like this to begin with, though it is looking slightly fuller now.

I once travelled for a while with a fellow who had what we considered at the time a massive bright red wheelie case. He also had ended up with this case because his broke at an airport and this was all they had in the shop there. I really wish I hadn’t given him so much stick now, Though as least mine isn’t bright red!

Karen you are a lifesaver and the wheelie case has added a different element to our adventures…also I know I can blame it all on dad! 

Our luggage while waiting at Bratislava Station. You can see the doors of the trains in the background and the step up into them. 



Mum laughingly took this photo to show the size of the bag and the lack of leg room for me.



The train journey continues...

So we had the cabin to ourselves hence our confusion of the conductor wanting seat reservations, though I recommend that people get them in the future to save on hassle and if the train had been full it would have been a very long 11 hours standing in the corridor.  I was amazed the conductor only wanted two seat reservations and not one for mums suitcase as it was sitting on the seat next to me. There is nowhere on these trains to place suitcases.

With the delay in Budapest and the incident with the train conductor it was now 1.30am so mum decided to turn in for the night. She quickly realized she could spread out along the seats and have her own bed.

I tried to write my blog but soon my eyes would not stay open and I too curled up to go to sleep. Mum had been quiet sneaky and taken the side of the train without the suitcase on the seat. So I had two chairs to curl up on but was tired enough not to care. I also was very thankful mum had insisted on taking the blankets from the plane.  I wondered how long our private cabin would last. We were both savvy enough to know to use our day packs with our valuables as pillows.

What you can just see in this pic is the suitcase on the third chair and my camera bag as a pillow

The next thing we knew their was a massive bang on our door. I jumped a mile. Passports! was shouted at us. Then a guard opened our door and demanded our passports. She was nice about it but walked off with our passports, just a little way down the corridor, mum was at the door to see where she was going, after our tickets going walking we weren’t taking any chances. There were some questions being asked of someone a few cabins down. Our passports were handed back and we could calm down after our nasty wake up and curl up again.

Not for long, once again our door was knocked on, quieter this time, and we were once again woken up to a demand for passports. The Romanian border guard, we heard Australians mentioned before they even got our passports, we were famous. They asked where we were going ‘Sighisoara’. ‘ahh Dracula Park’. I smiled and nodded, slightly embarrassed but then I was off to meet Dracula.

This little conversation was a bit of a relief for me as it meant we were on the right train. I had been a little worried, as the train was to split and go to three different destinations and I knew we had stopped for ages at the last stop, long enough for the carriages to part. No announcements had been made or had made it to our cabin anyway, none along the whole trip. I had been having visions off us getting off the train in Buglaria in the morning and having to find our way back to Romania. 

I had checked the sign on the train door when we got on but had started to doubt myself as you do, and there was no way to check. I thought the Hungarian conductor would have said something if I was on the wrong part of the train but then you never know, all he was worried about was my seat reservation!

Once again we fell asleep and a relaxed one for me now, to be woken up again by the Romanian conductor, I had forgotten about my seat reservation problem by this time.  No trouble what so ever, I didn’t hand him mums seat reservation though just incase it made him ask for mine.

Mums comment was thank goodness we didn’t get a sleeper cabin we would have felt quiet cheesed off with all this constant waking up. 

By this stage is was dawn, and I sat up to watch the sunrise, I missed most of it even though it was spectacular, as I just couldn’t keep my eyes open.

Then we got visitors, luckily by this stage we had had our sleep, though mum kept sleeping sitting up for a long time after. I was worried that this part of the trip had killed her, I had realized very early on when I brought the tickets, with the cost of the trip and the length of time we were travelling for (we had also taken an early morning train to Bratislava, wandered there till the 8pm train out to Budapest, it may have been easier to fly from Prague.  (though i argued with myself i was being more environmentally friendly)

train decorations at Bratislava station

When the people joined our carriage, I looked at the time and the time we were to arrive at the stop they had alighted and we were on time. I couldn’t work it out, as we must have made up time. We had left ¾ hr late and stopped at the Romanian border for a very long time. But then when they rang their family and said the train was running an hour late, I remembered we must have crossed a time zone.

I was so glad the lady in Bratislava had given us a time table with all the stops on it, as I would have had no idea when to get off, there were no announcements, no idea of time to our destination, the train was continuing on to Bucharest after our stop and I really didn’t want to go there, and I had no real idea of how late we were!

Mum woke up, luckily, as I was disappointed she was missing the scenery. Most of it was gorgeous, hills, rivers and forests, rustic rural scenes, people working the fields by hand and with horses. Horse and carts travelling along the roads.

They still have shepherds - you just just see him in the middle of the shot

It wasn’t all nice thought, we went through one area that was a ghost town of a huge abandoned and burnt out factory. The surrounding district of farmland and hills around it looked like it was in drought. Which confused us as there was a little bit of water in the streams and the grass along the train corridor was green. We found out later this was 2 factories one a black smoke factory and the other an old lead factory. A Greek company had owned the lead factory and made so much money from it, they kept just paying their Environmental fines, they were nothing to such a bit company, instead of fixing the problem. The whole area is contaminated. Finally the European Union shut them down, but their legacy is still there.

When we arrived in Sighisoara we headed off for our hotel. Having a rest from dragging our wheelie bags over the cobble stones before crossing a bridge mum had her first meeting with a begging gypsy kid. He would not leave us alone. She handled it quiet well but I think after the long trip, the conductor and the long walk to the hotel this was a bit too much.  Neither of us were really liking Sighisoara at the moment.

A shower and a cup of tea and she was right again, and she said she had really enjoyed the overnight trip, it had been ‘an experience’.

Surprisingly I was feeling ok too, I thought I would be quiet tired, Id had a few  hours less sleep than mum but maybe it was the excitement of being about to meet Dracula that kept me going.

Lunch and Sighisoara were calling us.

Lunch was going ot be something a little more classy than this option at one of the stations. Love the little fellow in a hurry. 

A train journey

I must apologise this adventure is a little out of time order but i feel it needs to be told now and i have been slack on the writing of our past adventures, dont worry they will come. Please enjoy this one in the meantime.... this occurred last night ago.

As im writing this ive just had a run in with a train conductor, my second for the day.  The first one, mum and I accidently sat in first class. We were rushing to get on the train with all our stuff and find a free box, yep there are still the old dog boxes running in eastern Europe. We got in and realized there was a lot of room. Wow these international trains are great. Then mum said lets hope it isn’t first class and we both realized it actually was. I had forgotten to look for the second class carriage.  Mum was all for sitting there till the conductor kicked us out. I was scared he would charge us… it has been known to happen to uni students on Geelong bound trains..personal experience.

Our luxury train trip lasted a whole 15 min, before the conductor not only kicked us out but also followed us to make sure we were out of first class zone.  The walk of shame back to second class. With all our stuff.   

My second run in for the day was a little worse than that.  We had brought our tickets to Romania in Slovakia from the main train station in Bratislava. It was an overnight train. The lady was being rushed to pack up by her boss and quickly printed us our tickets. No sleeper car apparently, turns out there is sleeper cars on this train but we are giving her the benefit of them all being sold out and not the fact she didn’t want to redo our tickets. What she didn’t do for us was sell us a seat reservation. This did not go down well with the conductor and he left his little lacky with us to sell us a seat reservation.

We had boarded the train in Bratislava, arrived at Budapest and switched trains. We have no Hungarian whatevers and have spent all our remaining euro in Slovakia because we are travelling to Romania which is also on its own currency.  

Are you beginning to see my problem? Im beginning to see my problem is that I need to travel with a lot more euro, its replaced the US dollar in its usability.

Anyway this lackey wanted 3 euro each for a seat reservation. Luckily we hadn’t spent the money we were going to in Budapest on food, which we could have seeing as the train was 40 min late. But this still only left us with 4 euro. We tried to explain the lady hadn’t sold us one, or told us we needed one, but all he kept saying was seat reservation 3 euro, his only English I suspect. We gave him the 4 we had, which he could see we had pooled together, but then he asked me for my 3 euro! I offered him US and Pounds but he was having none of it. Who has heard of US being rejected? (Then again at is current rate…) Id opened my suitcase, and day bag looking for more, he could see we had none but he kept insisting. He was obviously under orders and could not imagine another solution. He then disappeared with our tickets and money. We were a just little worried, though we had to laugh at the situation, it was so unbelievable. 

He came back with one seat reservation and our tickets. He gave mum the change, insisting it was only one reservation but looking like he couldn’t handle it, he obviously wanted to kick me off the train. Mum thought he was saying we only had to buy one and thanked him. He finally gave me one last look and fled. Wow what a start to our overnight journey. 

We are a little unsure of what is going to happen when we meet the Romanian Ticket inspector but all we can do now is wait and see.

Time to visit the Hippies

Lacock, to keep with the Jane Austen theme, a tiny little historic village was our first stop. Its the scene of many period dramas, including the local village in BBC pride and prejudice. And for those of you who are an avid Harry Potter fans like myself the Lacock Abbey was used for the arched hallway they are always walking along inside the school.

On the map Lacock is right next to a main road. Lets just say its signage is terrible or we were too far asleep still but many U-turns were completed, we were beginning to think even the village we could see was an illusion.

We couldn’t find our way inside the Abbey but as we were leaving we found the gate to walk through the surrounding grounds, it was unlocked. So we went in, turns out its part of the massive walking trail network of England so we weren’t breaking any rules. More is the pity it would have been fun to see mum being a bit of a rebel.

Lacock Abbey

We finally arrived in Wells, only to discover that we had spent all our change on dinner last night. We had to borrow 30p off the ticket inspector to pay for our parking! She was lovely about it though. We stupidly thought that an hour would be fine to see the cathedral, also having bought a ticket we couldn’t just top it up like a parking metre so an hour would have to do. When we finished in the cathedral we were half an hour over our ticket. (As you can tell timing is not our strong point) Power walking back to the car we decided that the Bishops Palace had to be visited, this was a lot to do with the fact that we also had not had lunch yet and a picnic in the palace grounds sounded lovely. So another ticket, a coffee shop, and co-op later and we were sitting on the well manicured lawn of the palace grounds, there were no signs saying keep off the lawn but it didn’t quiet feel right.  Then other people started to follow our lead so I settled back and enjoyed our picnic.

A bit of arm chair photography - The view from our picnic spot

 This wasnt our picnic lawn it was a keep off the grass lawn - Bishops Palace with Wells Cathedral in background 

Inside of the palace visited and we were on our way to Glastonbury.  We found our b&b and a land lord the opposite of our one from Bath. This one was like pulling teeth to get any information.  We made a dash for the Abbey and had a lovely hour or so wandering the ruins. The place is full of information but best of all it contains the apparent resting place of King Arthur and Lady Guinevere. (There is a theory that the monks needed money to rebuild their monastery after a devastating fire, so decided to find King Arthurs remains but they were reconsecrated by King Edward I so that is good enough for me)

Me with King Arthur - It may look like it but I made sure i wasnt standing on his grave

Having paid my respects to King Arthur and Lady Guinevere and overstaying my welcome in the Abbey, it was time to check out the power of Glastonbury Tor.  Having missed out on all the new age shopping for some reason they keep normal shopping hours in Glastonbury. We had an early dinner at the hundred monkeys café, being none the wiser at the end of the dinner to what monkeys had to do with Glastonbury we raced to pick up the car and find the Tor before sunset.

This once again seemed easier said than done but a few lucky turns down little country lanes and we found the stairs up.  We are pretty sure we broke many a record to get to the top and find a spot before the sun sank.  Settling down in our chosen place we joined a few others in the wonder of the sunset. I was very jealous of everyone else with their glasses of wine, it was a lot more sophisticated crowd than I expected. Guess its not quiet Hippy season yet. Whens Glastonbury festival?

Just as the sun was sinking a set of Bagpipes started up, (not just by themselves they were being played by a guy all in white with a tartan beret) and played the sun down. There was silence by all, just watching and listening. The tower of St Michael on the top of the Tor makes a perfect amplifier. At least who ever was playing the bagpipes had a little bit of talent unlike the saxophone who was wondering around the base of the Tor on our way up, he had obviously been asked to go play elsewhere by his family or friends. 

Not one of my better shots but only one i could get without any dancers in the picture

After the sun had sunk, a didgeridoo joined the bagpipes, unusual combination but it kinda worked. A few hippys came out of the woodwork and started dancing away. We decided to make it down before it got too dark, still being serenaded by the Saxophone, we shouldn’t have worried being such a clear night it was still light by the time we got home.  

After a bath being watched over by angels painted onto the ceiling, I crawled into bed not surrounded by as many candles, or crystals as expected in a Glastonbury b&b.  It was a very strange b&b our land lord never reappeared after he met us the first time. There were signs everywhere saying ring this number if you need help. No information booklet or anything. It felt like we were wandering around someones house without them knowing.  Breakfast also wasn’t till 9. This didn’t help my plan for us to start early we had a huge day the next day. But it did help my need for a sleep in. 

The road trip begins

So dad’s final words to us were no fights. This I thought maybe a bit difficult seeing as we were going on a road trip. My thoughts were who was going to be the first to read the map wrong or who was going to be the first to snap. Needless to say I was the driver therefore I was the first to say a few short words but I hate to disappoint you all, its been fine so far. A few U-turns but well it is a road trip.

We chose our timing well, (we were very lucky actually) the weather was perfect, the cotswalds put on their best for us. All the blossoms, daffodils and tulips were out. The sun was shining and better than anything there was hardly anyone around. So going 15 miles an hour down a country lane and stopping (or U-turning) where ever I wanted disturbed no-one.  I got so used to travelling in this style I freaked out when we hit the highway and took the first exit making mum find a back way for me to reach our next destination!

I totally recommend everyone visit the slaughters (my pictures don’t do them justice) but in the off season, I can see the peace and beauty of them wreaked by the millions of tourists during summer.  (I know they are lovely as we accidently visited them a few times, doing a lovely loop between upper and lower slaughter everytime I missed an opportunity to park or missed a spot mum wanted to stop). Mum had her first experience of pheasant shooting, though with a camera not a gun.

Taking in the view - Upper Slaughter

Upper Slaughter

Lower Slaughter

Lower Slaughter

The first evening we stayed in a village in the middle of nowhere . We asked our land lady where to eat. She said there was a local pub. We asked if the food was good. She shrugged and said its ok, people eat there. She was obviously being modest. It had all sorts of awards and reviews in the window. The food was amazing. People travelled from surrounding villages to eat there. To get there the lady suggested we do a loop from her place to a neighbouring village and along the river back to our village. So mum went on her first ramble across fields, past sheep and to her big surprise through a broccoli field. Just a nice enough walk to make us really appreciate dinner.  Then the 10 min uphill to our b&b made us appreciate bed!

A field of broccoli

Learning the art of stye climbing

The next morning after the above highway incident we found our way to Bath via Prince Charles’s village Tetbury and its cute little church. We saw his place too, well who else would have a policeman opening some huge gates with a crest on the top?

We arrived in Bath, luckily along the main road we needed to get to our b&b. It all looked very simple from the map, but if any of you had had the pleasure of driving in the upper suburbs of Bath you will know that the steep hills, narrow roads and odd angled intersections make directions and a map totally separate things. I was also very very thankful for our tiny little car.  

After escaping from our very talkative Land Lord. We headed off via the co-op and recommended coffee shop to sit on the grass in front of the Royal Cresent and introduce mum to the joy of hommus, tomoato and cheese rolls made with the pocket knife and my stolen teaspoon, Soak up the English sun and the grandeur of Bath. It was almost too hard to move on but we were on a tight timeline, the upper suburbs of bath and the land lord had eaten into our afternoon.

Jane Austen, that’s what this visit was all about. Ive been to bath twice, once as soon as I landed in England. That trip I had to do everything a heroine of Jane Austen would do in bath, even to the point of taking myself to the theatre to be able to say I’d been, though I didn’t have tea in the pump rooms that requires a small mortgage and I was only a scummy backpacker.  Second time was with Simon, he put his foot down at doing anything Jane Austen, understandably. Mum was more than happy to join me in my Jane Austen worshiping. Being a bit of a fan herself. Unfortunately the theatre was sold out and we ran out of time for the tea rooms but keeping with our travelling tradition mum made it into the Baths for her audio tour as the doors were closing and I headed off to find a pub in the sun for a glass of wine and to type up the first travel adventure.  That’s not all I did in bath! We had checked out the Jane Austen Centre, the Abbey, river Avon and the assembly rooms already. I had earnt my wine, bath is not a flat city.

Next stop Glastonbury and King Arthur but escaping our Land Lord seemed our first hurdle the next day. Luckily we didn’t leave anything behind in the room as he totally mucked up our system by constantly talking. Though there were a few of those oh no we’ve left this behind moments along the way only to discover them packed somewhere else. 

Belated photos of London

Just to prove mum was in london and was very cold. 

and again with a big red bus too!

This way Lads..... the firemans memorial and St Pauls

A Sign at the Tate Modern. A polite way of saying use the stairs.

The Golden Hinde

Oh for my scummy backpack...

This trip was meant to be a new level for me, B&B’s the whole way,  a wheelie bag instead of my backpack, a hired car oh and travelling with mum. Luxury sophisticated travel!

My dislike of the wheelie bag started while packing, I didn’t know where to put things, my system of packing wasn’t there, ok I know those of you who have travelled with me and seen my mess of a bag wont believe I have one but I do! I had no idea what I had packed but it seemed a hell of a lot

It wasn’t until I started to wheel the bag when we arrived at the airport and dad said ‘oh yes that’s right the wheel doesn’t work properly’ that I started to worry.  It didn’t seem too bad, just dragged a little. Enough to welcome the fact Cathy came to pick me up from the station tho.  But more about my annoying wheelie bag soon.

The first day I met mum at green park and we wandered through. They are already setting up all the media tents for the royal wedding. Im a great travel guide I managed to loose mum at our first major tourist attraction, outside Buckingham Palace. Yep a major feat in itself!

I did want to get a photo to prove mum was actually in London but I thought a picture of her and lots of tourists wouldn’t be that appealing to you all. They were already gathering for the changing of the guard and it wasn’t on for another hour. We decided that wasn’t for us. Mainly cause I think mum was scared I was going to hit the next tourist who decided to pitch their spot for the changing of the guard right where I was trying to take a photo.

The next day Simon managed to get some time off and we had a family afternoon. This involved Simon and I doing our usual lazy tour and running out of time for everything we wanted to do. We got so caught up in catching up that poor mum with her little legs and wanting to take pictures almost got left behind numerous times!  We are so used to London that we kept getting surprised that mum wanted to stop.

We decided to take the plunge and check out the London Dungeons for something very touristy and supposedly fun. But we got accosted by some guy in gruesome makeup I think he was meant to be crying blood. He gave us pamphlets for the London Bridge exhibition. Voted London’s scariest tourist experience. We kept walking only to get accosted by his mate a big fellow with his throat cut. He gave us children’s price tickets and literally pushed us across the road to the exhibition. We pretty much had no choice but to go I think he would have dragged us there kicking and screaming if we didn’t! There was meant to be a history part first which geeks that we are we wanted more than the scary bit. Lets just say it got better but I really wondered what we had wasted our money on at the start. If we hadn’t been rushed to join the last group which left in 2 min we may have understood it as we would have got the welcome video. But typical of us we just got there just in time.

Simon and I were quite mean and both rushed to join the congo line when it came to the scary part, so that left poor mum as last in line.  Lets just say we think she may have had nightmares of a guy with a chain saw that night! Sim also now has a hatred of clowns but that’s more because the clown got quiet bossy when we couldn’t find the way.  Me well ive never been on a ghost ride and ive watched too many movies I wasn’t looking forward to it. But actually I quiet enjoyed it! I wouldn’t have liked to be the guy in front of me on the congo line though.

So after another rush to make it to the theatre on time, buying tickets as the bell to take your seats was ringing. We parted with the agreement to meet at the entrance to platform 5 Paddington station at 8am the next morning.  Seems simple doesn’t it?

Luckily I left in the morning in plenty of time as  the 15 min walk to the station took 25 min with the bag. I was ready to send it back to dad right then and there.

I got the Paddington with plenty of time.  Picked up the tickets and waited for mum.  And waited.  Getting a bit worried I finally sent her a message only to find out there is another smaller entrance to Paddington and she had somehow managed to be waiting at the entrance to platform 5 there. Still we got together with plenty time or so we thought. I went to get coffee and they took forever. I was watching the clock, saying its ok it will arrive soon. Nope I had to leave without it. Running to mum, she was struggling to drag my bag and hers towards the barriers. We had two minutes to get onto the train. I put my ticket through, ‘seek assistance’ flashed up, oops that was my seat reservation, mum went through, I put the correct ticket in and I went through and the barriers shut on my bag. The fellow was just standing there, I said excuse me can you help. He wandered over and I mean he definitely took his time ‘oh what has happened here’ he slowly oh so slowly tried to release the barriers. Then he had to override the system and I had to heave my bag through, the barriers were not going to open fully.

Then we were running towards the train, the conductor was blowing her whistle, and my wheelie bag was 5 steps behind me, the handle of my bag had decided to break away.  So there I was trying to run for the train carrying my bag, they must have held the train for us there is no way all that could have happened and us made the train. There were others also running but not with such finesse as us.

We had climbed into the last carriage and our seats in carriage B. It was a commuter train so we really didn’t get too far towards our seats. The conductor ensured us we would have enough time to make it along the platform at the next station.  Hmmm maybe if your not trying to run with long legs , doubled over to drag a wheelie bag that doesn’t wheel by its carrying handle. Im sure I provided lots of amusement to the people watching from the train, with my bag flipping at every 3^rd step because id wheeled it onto my heels. I ended up having to resort to carrying it again. Lets just say when we finally sat down my arms felt like jelly and about 3 times as long as usual with a million blisters on my hands.

Mum has kept on carrying the handle to my bag , insisting we could fix it, we tried, she still insisted on carrying it until I noticed her stashing it behind the pot plant at the YHA where we asked for directions.

We had hired a car at oxford, this turned out to be from the business park, 5 – 10 min walk from the station. Hmm lets just say it took a lot longer than that, even with poor mum insisting my bag was easier for her as she had small legs and therefore didn’t have to double over nor get in the way of the bag.  She too hated my wheelie bag. I ended up carrying it a lot of the way.

That damn bag was thrown into the back of the car with a fervent wish for my scummy olde backpack and a random thought that I would ask dad if he wanted it sent back to him. And away we drove to the cotswalds for what turned out to be a very calm, peaceful, sunny day.  Well anything would seem calm after that trip.

(this story is dedicated to Becka Moore with her love of running for a train)