From Russia with Love

Much as I loved the James Bond movies, the Cold War theme is now so out of date ... because ... the supermarket shelves are overflowing ... the Volgas and Ladas are outnumbered by Range Rovers and Porsche Cayennes ... the locals are friendly and smile (well, the younger ones anyway) ... and the show-off materialism is enough to cast a shadow over Texans ... but then Texas is still licking several wounds of recent years.

Anyhow, our arrival into Moscow was uneventful.   Even the immigration officer was friendly and waved us through with a smile, after a quick check and stamp of our visa.   Because we had awkward bags, we had decided that the airport-to-city train service might be too much of a challenge (actually, it had more to do with the late hour and excess of alcohol the night before), and we'd emailed the hotel before departure to book a car.

Three emails later ... one of which asked us to confirmed whether we wanted a Ford or a Nissan, to which I responded Nissan (some parts of Russian bureaucracy are unchanged) ... we arrived at Domodedovo airport to be welcomed by a man in a Ford.  So much for that question.  

But the funnier part of the Request for Transfer Transportation was hidden among the available options:

 I never did find out if our driver was sensible or not ... but he was way more restrained than the Moscow taxi drivers I've had in the past 

De Goin' home after 14 years

How often have you been given the option of a "sensible driver" ... not to mention an offer to pay for using his back way?

We're both quite tired now ... and quite ready for the solitude of the train carriage ... two weeks of socialising has taken its toll.   Unfortunately, we never did rendezvous with Sergey, Alexey and Maxim, the Moscow colleagues with whom I worked so much through 2008 and 2009... but on a journey like this, some things work out and others don't.   

Tomorrow is our rest day in Moscow, and its primary objectives will be collecting the train tickets and scouring those full supermarket shelves for portable yummy comestibles.   We need lots of quick 'n easy food to sustain us through 5 unbroken days inside a Trans-Siberian train carriage.

The adventure has now begun ... and we need a good night's sleep to be ready for it.

Bye Bye Blightie

Finally, the time has come to start our assisted passage to Van Diemen's land.   No more familiar food and intelligible language ... and a test to see if our studying of Russian (Karen) and Chinese (me) will ease our communications or just confuse the locals.

After 2 weeks of meeting, greeting, eating and drinking across Europe, those first 5 days locked inside the Trans Siberian railway carriage will be a welcome period of solitude.  Much sleeping will be done.  Lots of contemplation and gormless gazing ... all without a glass of wine in sight.  Perhaps I can make a good start into the 700-page history of Australia that I have been lugging around Europe.

It was only appropriate that Avgi took us to a pub in St Albans that is reputed to be the oldest in England ...

Oliver Cromwell stayed here one night ... cos he was exhausted from killing ...

De Goin' home after 14 years

before doing battle with the labrynth of the London Underground ...

Lugging bags around the Tube was never easy

De Goin' home after 14 years

A big thank you to all of our English friends ... firstly for putting us up with great hospitality ... and secondly for being such fun.    The fond farewells have left us with fond memories ... but of course we expect to see you all again somewhere sometime ... not too far in the future.

Trainspotting across the South of England

For any of you who are genuine transpotters, this will be a total disappointment.   Already, we have been on quite a few trains ... big ones and small ones, fast ones and slow ones, Swiss ones, French ones and English ones.    But neither of us have the faintest idea of the models, makes or configurations, let alone any unusual features, strange routing, or other quirks that trainspotters would love to hear about.

nice the way they scribble various destinations ... just in case the driver gets lost

De Goin' home after 14 years

However, we could tell you about the quirky people that we encounter on some of the trains, on which trains are more difficult to drag a heavy wheely bag onto, and which have totally inadequate storage for the luggage ... especially when a large Korean tour group has piled their 40-50 identical bags on the racks, the tables, the doorways and even the corridors between the seats.   But we won't.

Having left beautiful Devon, we went to beautiful Wiltshire and from there to beautiful Oxfordshire.   The villages are truly picture postcard ... and even the ever threatening weather has exercised considerable restraint.

Even the train stations are pretty

De Goin' home after 14 years

All of the homestays that we have enjoyed have been so quintessentially English ... all quirky, but ever so lovely ... this here is the latest in Oxfordshire ... the Barn

Blenheim Castle ... just up the road ... given by Queen Anne to the Duke of Marlborough

De Goin' home after 14 years

Oops, wrong photo ... that was Blenheim Castle in Woodstock ... for you Americans, this was the original Woodstock!!!

Ah, here it is ...

De Goin' home after 14 years

Of course, we all know that the English have long been the masters of eccentricity ... and examples are always easy to find ... such as the Please Close the Gate sign when there is no fence attached to the gate:

English cows line up at the gate ... eventho there are no fences

De Goin' home after 14 years

... and the original road signs:

De Goin' home after 14 years

I will finish with a photo of the best loo in the world ... well, at least to most blokes, but also to quite a few sheilas ... completely decorated in badges, trophies, photo montages and reports on the various rallies that Clive and Ces have undertaken in the last few years ... including the London to Casablanca, the Nile Trial (Tunisia to Egypt) and the Peking to Paris. I could (and did) sit in there for hours:

The best loo in England ... without doubt

De Goin' home after 14 years

A lazy Sunday in Devon

Today started as a very easy going day ... short stroll in another pretty part of Devon ... before bidding farewell to those who have to return to their homes and get ready for Monday morning work.

The Fingal Inn

De Goin' home after 14 years

But after supper, for some reason unfathomable to rational people, the wigs came out and Karen took to Andrew's drum kit ... it must have been the cream in the Birthday Cake ...

Karen having a bit of breakfast ..

De Goin' home after 14 years

.. or maybe the visit to the Marble Museum ...

Marbles anyone?

De Goin' home after 14 years

... because all hell broke loose ...

De Goin' home after 14 years

De Goin' home after 14 years

De Goin' home after 14 years

Rock chick

De Goin' home after 14 years

De Goin' home after 14 years

Andrew of Black Beacon

De Goin' home after 14 years

... and the night finished off with some very questionable drumming ...

On the moors

Strange things happen on the moors .... especially after a pint of Jail Ale ... produced at the brewery just outside the gates of Dartmoor prison.

Silliness time ...

De Goin' home after 14 years

But no goofy faces ...

De Goin' home after 14 years

De Goin' home after 14 years

Oops, we're back to goofy faces ...

De Goin' home after 14 years

But all was becalmed again after a round of Willy's Icecream ... available on the moor itself ... here is a mugshot of the group licking their ...

Caption removed by UK censor ...

De Goin' home after 14 years

The Bumpkin Bash in Devon

After a rainy departure from Dublin (Karen would say that it was another country teary-eyed at our departure), we flew from Dublin to Exeter to attend the Andrew and Pam Bumpkin Bash.   We hadn't attended one of these for a few years, what with jumping countries and all, so this one would be special.

First there was a walk around the country lanes ....

A newborn Dartmoor Pony

De Goin' home after 14 years

A typical English country lane

De Goin' home after 14 years

before returning to the rather modified crofter's cottage in which Andrew and Pam live ...

Beacon Cottage ... venue of the Bumpkin Bash

De Goin' home after 14 years

Special guest for the 2011 Bumpkin Bash

De Goin' home after 14 years

Then after a lovely meal ... and some sit-around chatting ...

 Group mugshot 

De Goin' home after 14 years

the song-writing John got people up for a special chorus ...

Waltzing Matilda Choral Society

De Goin' home after 14 years

Followed some time later by the very spectacular cutting of the birthday cake for Karen ... even the Lotus atop the cake was edible.

The fabulous Birthday Cake

De Goin' home after 14 years

The week that was ... in Ireland

I thought that I’d spare you blog readers the hour-by-hour details of meeting, eating and drinking with the various family and friends in Ireland … suffice it to say that a good time was had … in the subdued manner of many activities in Ireland these days.

However, on our final day, Karen and I set about ticking some of the activities more appropriate to a Farewell Tour.   First we had a ham sandwich and a pint of Beamish (a glass of cider for Karen) in the Bottle Tower pub … and then later in the day, we had another pint of stout in the Dawson Lounge.  

The Dawson Lounge is legendary as the smallest pub in Dublin.   In the old days, the small size would have been a constraint, but in these times of austerity and home drinking, the small size is a bonus.   The Dawson Lounge didn’t look nearly as empty with 4 customers (us and 2 other blokes£) as the Bottle Tower did with one other bloke and us.   What a shadow of former days.

Karen heading into the Dawson Lounge ... it's down the narrow stairs

De Goin' home after 14 years

That's the full extent of the pub ....

De Goin' home after 14 years

From a big bowl of French coffee to a big pint of Guinness

De Goin' home after 14 years

 A pint of plain is your only man ... Flann O'Brien 

De Goin' home after 14 years

The "pint of plain" quotation is from Flann O'Brien and the original poem was written to give hope to those who were short of money ... suggesting that a pint of stout would solve all problems  ..... a sentiment that might be revived in the current economic predicament. 

The Workmans Friend
When things go wrong and will not come right,
Though you do the best you can,
When life looks black as the hour of night -
A pint of plain is your only man.

When money's tight and hard to get
And your horse has also ran,
When all you have is a heap of debt -
A pint of plain is your only man.

When health is bad and your heart feels strange,
And your face is pale and wan,
When doctors say you need a change,
A pint of plain is your only man.

When food is scarce and your larder bare
And no rashers grease your pan,
When hunger grows as your meals are rare -
A pint of plain is your only man.

In time of trouble and lousey strife,
You have still got a darlint plan
You still can turn to a brighter life -
A pint of plain is your only man.

by Flann O'Brien (Brian O'Nolan)