Category: Europe

Essentially travel between Krakow and Warsaw is limited to a domestic flight that costs a fortune on a dodgy airline, a bus that takes a day, or a train that takes about five and a half hours. Supposedly it is a premier route and as such the trains are top notch ICE ninja fast, über modern feats of engineering. Now I’m no train spotter, but I’ve caught a lot of trains all over the world. From a ridiculously over engineered bullet train complete with flat screen TVs in each booth connecting Beijing with Shanghai, to trains a mile long trundling through the plains of India. It doesn’t make me an expert, I don’t wear a mac and hang out at kids parks looking shifty, and I’m not a flasher. But I know the difference between a top notch, premier train and one that looks like it used to shift the communist government around. This is no joke, the Krakow – Warsaw journey was spent in a rust bucket, on a train that wasn’t just the oldest ever invented, it was the prototype. In short the journey seemed to take an eternity and no amount of cheap, overpriced, ‘turd in a cup with water added and passed off as coffee’ helped.

Poland confirmed itself as probably the grimmest country in existence as out of the window we watched damp, brown forest after forest slowly trudge past. Occasionally a tiny Ruszsian-Esque wooden village would flick by, a sure fire front runner for most underinvested place on earth 2012.

Jack was awesome, he just chilled out and watched his Playbook, occasionally looking up to smile. But if truth be known, Warsaw couldn’t come soon enough.

After a while the grimness turned into Eastern Bloc, and at 10.24 am we were booted off the train at Warsaw Central (Warszawa Centralna) which in terms of being central is pretty much right on the money. The station is massive and so when we finally found our way out, we climbed the stairs and suddenly, right in front of us was a large, no huge, building. The smell of Stalin was in the air and it turns out I was right, Josef Stalin decided he would give Warsaw a gift, so he built them a massive building. It’s the one in the photo above – slightly New York style, totally babushka style.

The funny thing is, right across the road is a few sky scrapers all surrounding a Hard Rock cafe that wouldn’t have looked more out of place a century ago.

Within minutes we were lost. But when we finally got found we hopped on a tram and a few minutes later got lost again. The thing is everything is in Polska, fair enough, we were in Poland. But eventually after being lost for an hour or so we ended up at our hotel – one of the best in the city. It was around 12.30 and by now Jack and I had around an hour left to live if we didn’t get some food. The hotel blew me out and wouldn’t let me check in, which actually pissed me off. I’ve stayed at places all over the globe and checked in at 5am or early (which to be fair was a bit of a piss take (see Manali blog entry)) but they let me stash our case whilst we went exploring.

I tried and failed to hire a push bike and it wasn’t long before we were lost again, the thing is the map I was given of Warsaw had the tram stops on, but not the stop names. Orange had capped my 3G since they have decided to outsource their call centres to the Phillipines, and the dick I spoke to on the phone who was supposed to uncap my data plan, had capped it. Obvious language barrier problem, but then Orange cum EE must clearly value cost cutting before customer service.

I digress, so I couldn’t pull up maps on my phone, which given I’ve got an iPhone was probably a good thing, Apple Maps would have no doubt shown me in Hungary or something.

Anyway, we were trying to get the the UNESCO and supposedly world famous Stare Miasto (old town) Despite the fact it was all but flattened during WWII it still claims to be a few hundred years old. And everyone in Poland froths at the mouth and shoots off to the toilet when you mention the Royal Castle, probably the most popular screen saver in the country, it is perhaps the single most important building in Poland. Which just happens to be in one of the worlds most chinned cities, don’t for a second think Warsaw spent the last few centuries reading playboy on a lounger before 85% of the buildings were obliterated during the war. Au contraire, Warsaw has been taking licks since before time began.

Eventually we found a road which was to take us to the Royal castle, lined with museums and churches it was like beautifully going back in time. Sadly, or not, I missed much of it. On the tram Jack was sat down next to and opposite two old ladies. Both were in full conversation in Polish with him, trying to zip his coat up, sort his jumper out, giving him pure, hardcore grandma treatment. He was just sat silent, not knowing what to say. After about 5 minutes we got off the bus and I was still chuckling “dad, what was them old ladies on about” they hadn’t realised he wasn’t Polish, he had a blagged head.

As tends to be the case these days, in large cities there are demonstrations, and Warsaw was no different. There was a march on to ‘keep fascism out of football’ and so we people watched for a while before heading into the castle which really is just a building that looks nothing like a castle.

Admission to all national museums is free in Poland during November and so after someone insisted we ditch our coats and bag we climbed the billion or so steps to the floor where all the rooms are. Now, I am trying to be careful not to offend millions of Polish, and I fully appreciate the significance of the remodelled, revamped Royal Castle, but seriously. What a load of garbage. 30 odd rooms painted in gold and all ‘reconstructed’ to look like they might have a few centuries ago. It was a bit of a scam to be honest and even though it had cost nothing to get in I felt a bit ripped off.

Jack loved it, and was trying to achieve a personal best of touching as many things as he knew he wasn’t allowed to. I actually wondered if those telling him not touch we’re speaking the words “don’t touch this kid, its fake” in their heads. In any case the women loved him, the guys were suspicious of him and I have told him, he looks shifty. Genuinely. Jack has the look of shiftiness perfected, he could arouse suspicion in an empty room.

A but miffed with the Royal castle, we found Warsaws most authentic Indian, complete with Polish chefs who wouldn’t know the difference between tikka and a taco. Oddly it was opposite a Thai Restaurant called ‘Maharaja’ – go figure.

But really, Stare Miasto was a nice to be in. Cobbled streets, the odd fountain, it looked like a Bulgarian scene from Chitty Chitty Bang Bang, a bit old type toy shop. But as Jack tried a t.shirt on with the NYC motif “I love Polish girls” I was subconsciously nodding in agreement. It didn’t fit, and Jack decided to take it out on a few pigeons.

Warsaw is a lot different to Krakow, but then demographically it is too. We are now in central Poland and whereas Krakow was the sort of place you walk hand in hand with a loved one, Warsaw is where you’d go get smashed with the boys. To be fair it is the countries capital city and home to some 2.5 million people, prices are higher, but then so are living standards.

It has an excellent infrastructure and I now have the hang of the transport system and so the cities is ours to have fun in.

And, after a 42cm pizza and a few Tyskies we did have fun, well – as much as we could.

Which really i guess, brings me onto the wrapping this up. But what amazes me is how people underestimate kids, as per the norm we patronise them and really it’s only when in certain circumstances that we notice the level of maturity and comprehension of our kids. For instance, what seems to amaze people, and the first thing I’m usually asked when people find out how much I’ve travelled with my kids is “how do they cope” there is this common misconception that travel with young ones is a mission and that kids can’t cope. We should give them credit, kids are more adaptable than at any other time in their life. They have no biased, pre formed views on people or circumstance and so are open to accept and keen to learn. There have been times when travelling that I have been exhausted, absolutely on my knees and still the kids go on, smiling. And I wondered if it was because for Charlie and Abi they had become so accustomed to travel. But then I look at Jack, and how he has been. Each day we have been up around 4/5 am and to bed at 8/9 pm, my Endomondo app tells me that in the previous two days we have walked almost 20 miles. If we think for a moment that that average adult takes 2 steps per 1 metre, so It would be fair to say Jacks mini legs take at least 4. Considering there are about 32,000 metres in 20 miles, Jack has taken somewhere in the region of around 128,000 steps in those two days in Krakow. He didn’t moan once about his legs.

The point I’m trying to make is that kids just get on with it, they accept most situations and with a bit of effort we get to see our mini hero’s love life through their enjoyment.

This pretty much wraps up Poland, and my first ever ‘short trip’ addition to the blog. But this leads on to bigger things for Jack, in summer 2013 he will be joining us wherever we end up, whatever we end up doing.

But that’s next summer, in the meantime we look forward to our next trip, the next chapter in our travels – South America in February.

Until then x

Brushing off a ‘lack of sleep/alcohol’ headache I searched for our platform, it was 7am and I was trying to juggle Jack, a strong black coffee, orange juice and two bacon toasties. Being skilled in looking lost I was soon pointed in the right direction and before long we were headed west on the oldest train in the world, headed to the arguably the most horrific place in Europe, a place where it’s very name invokes sadness and disbelief. A place where I wondered if I should to be taking Jack, a place I where wondered if it would haunt him or bore him. But a place we were headed nonetheless.

Auschwitz, the most visited museum/memorial in Poland attracts some 1.5 million visitors annually. Which is about the number of innocent men, women and children murdered there. During the few years it was in action.

There are three camps, Auschwitz I which was base camp, Auschwitz II Berkenau was the extermination camp and Auschwitz III which was the labour camp. There was additionally 45 satellite camps. Entrance is free, but between certain months you must be accompanied by a guide. November is not one of those months and so we were free to simply roam.

Auschwitz I is like a set from a movie, with old brick accommodation blocks, all in line with each other and surrounded by a high barbed wire fences, many of the blocks have been converted into displays of what that particular building was for. For instance, Block 11 had in its basement prison cells, it was actually in these cells, perfectly preserved, that gas was first used to murder prisoners. Prisoners could range from anyone suspected of planning an escape, to looking at a guard the wrong way. The history behind it was that these tiny cells (1.5 metre squared) are built and would hold far more prisoners than they could accommodate. For the laugh the SS guards would watch the prisoners starve of oxygen and die. Bored of waiting as long as it would often take, they might light a candle to take more oxygen and thus speed up their entertainment. This took time, and so one day about 850 people were taken to the basement and Zyklon B gas was released, the result was death by much quicker means, this of course meant crematoriums had to be knocked up and a literal conveyer belt of the dead began. Realising the basement was ultimately not sufficient for mass killings gas chambers were erected in Auschwitz II Berkenau, a camp about 2 miles down the road.

The many buildings throughout Auschwitz I are fascinatingly interesting, Jack and I had a real freedom to explore, and whilst I read accounts and information he looked at maps and pictures of soldiers. The displays are harrowing to say the least and though some are subtle it’s difficult not to convey external emotion when you see 7 tonnes of women’s hair all piled about 8ft high and about 30ft long, shaved prior to their death. Bows still on pony tails, plaits still formed. Or the rooms filled with glasses, 40,000 pairs of shoes, tens of thousands of suit cases, fake limbs, cutlery and crockery, all belonging to murdered adults and children.

It was difficult with Jack, I had explained that it was where people were killed and he made like he understood, he would ask questions and seemed quite abstracted from it all in terms of an emotive connection. It was as though he knew what had happened, but couldn’t really comprehend it or connect with it. My major concern was that some of the things he might see would have some kind of lasting effect on him, but in truth the horrors of Auschwitz are not the pictures of hanged men or mass graves (though seeing a photograph of a parent hugging their child and facing away from the gun pointed at their head seconds before execution was difficult to see) but the horrors are realised through understanding, through the absolute empathy and helplessness and sorrow you feel, knowing this happened. And Jack is too young to comprehend such emotions and garner them from photographs of people he doesn’t know and hasn’t met.

After a couple of hours we took a taxi to Auschwitz II Berkenau, and at 15 zloty for the 2 mile journey it wasn’t that bad, I had considered walking but knew the vastness of where we were headed and so paid the couple of quid taxi fare since no one knew if there were any public buses since the free bus was not due for well over an hour.

Auschwitz II Berkenau is immediately recognisable, with the railway heading up to the entrance building it was the last glance of the outside over a million people would ever see.

Transit camps were dotted about Europe and many people would meet their fate at Auschwitz II Berkenau, the largest concentration camp under the nazi regime. Basically it was simple, Hitler decided that Jews needed getting rid of, and since Hitler had figured Poland should actually be a part of Germany the Poles had to go too so that room could be made for his new race. At first Jews around Europe were singled out and given a hard time, but as resentment grew it was decided that the world, or Europe, would be a better place if they were just wiped out. And so began the cleansing. Trains would arrive at Berkenau from all over Europe and would stop inside, people would get off the packed carriage and would be split. All those under 15 would be sent straight to die no questions asked. The elderly and infirm would follow. Recognising few people would readily walk to their death, particularly en masse, those singled out for extermination were told they would go and shower, and they were led into huge halls fitted with showers. Of course once they were filled the doors would be shut and gas released. They didn’t die quickly and those spared death would hear their loved ones, friends and fellow Jews scream as they died a slow, painful death, which could take anywhere up to 15 minutes.

The camp itself is huge, it really is. And a lot of it is just remnants of what once was. But there is more than enough to have seen more than enough. The Nazis, when they realised they had been rumbled, and the Russian army turned up to liberate the camp, bombed a lot of the buildings to try and mask the atrocities.

Images of naked women little other than bones are shown next to photographs of them before they entered the camp, complete shells of what they once were. Murder was carried out on a grand scale, and for those not murdered many more died of malnutrition, exhaustion and illness.

This was the camp that really captivated Jack, part due to its vastness, and part due to the railway which we walked along that took about an hour. And whereas at Auschwitz I Jack seemed to be disconnected from things, at Auschwitz II Berkenau its hard not to feel something. And as I watched him skip along singing his favourite song (call me maybe) the place felt bitterly cold, Jacks happiness seemed to be exaggerated in a place known for such misery. I wondered whether to make him exercise a little subtlety, but when I saw a group of around fifty or so elderly all looking and smiling at him I realised he is just a child and such happiness was welcome. Though as I watched him skip along headed to the gas chambers, I reflected on the horror kids his age must have gone through. As a parent I felt a true sadness and a bitter regret for all those who died, but particularly for those innocent little minds who’s only wrong in life was to be from a particular race/creed.

Auschwitz II is difficult to stomach, and is a sobering and sickening reminder of mans capabilities.

We walked back to the train station which was around 1.2 miles, or less if you suss out the shortcut we took, it involved crossing a railway line junction where Jack was convinced we narrowly escaped death since about 5 minutes after we had crossed a train trundled along at about 2mph.

Our visit to Auschwitz was sombre, yet positive, it brought us closer together and as parent made me realise just how fortunate I really am. I think sometimes you can lose direction, the saying is “always moving, never going anywhere”

For anyone stuck in that roundabout of life visit Auschwitz, feel history, learn your emotions, appreciate, understand, forgive but not forget, and learn.

The memorial at Auschwitz II Berkenau reads “Forever let this place be a cry of despair and a warning to humanity where the Nazis murdered one and a half million men, women and children, mainly Jews from various countries of Europe”

We have learned.

Where there’s demand there’ll be supply, not quite sure if its Keynesian economics or not, but the reality is, many Poles bailed their motherland seeking jobs in the UK and so along came Ryanair more than willing to take them home.

Within no time at all Irish planes were headed toward the fringes of Eastern Europe and ditching folk around Poland, once the monopoly of LOT.

On this occasion Jack and I were headed toward Krakow, Poland’s second city and medieval centre. Not out of place in some gothic horror movie Krakow is a simple city. At its heart is the originally named ‘Old City’ which finds its name due to the fact it is old. But it is beautiful, during the day it is just a huge church in a square, but at night it’s a mystical, beautiful cathedral set in a daunting square with horses and carriages dotted about. The reality is its almost completely surrounded by boutique restaurants.

A city of trams it is near impossible to fathom since absolutely nothing is written in English. But the basics is that at its centre and about 500m from the old city is the central railway station ‘Krakow Główny’ and attached to that is a hefty shopping mall. Since our last visit it has been completely fitted out Ikea style and so gone are the first ticket machines ever built, and 150 year old ticket sellers and in is new tech, new build and a new style.

The trams in the city are still rickety, rackety fare dodging gifts but are absolutely impossible to navigate. And this is not a joke, the track may look like it is straight, but you just watch it make a right turn and have you somewhere you don’t actually need to be. Fact is they are efficient for stop hopping, but unless you have the arsed-ness to be arsed to suss them out, which we didn’t then just walk.

Krakow itself is hefty, I saw it from the air. But Krakow proper is walkable, and easily navigated due to the fact the old city is surrounded by a slim greenway. Which is actually a rare thing in Krakow central.

There are many things to do in the city itself such as fascinating churches and some amazing architecture. But whilst I could spend the day staring at pulpits Jack probably couldn’t and so gearing time in Krakow for him was a bit awkward. Yes he loves to run, yes he loves to see things, but as a 5 year old – yes he has the attention of a, well, 5 year old.

Now, the skill in keeping 5 year olds interested is to incorporate somewhat boring things into a story. And so Wawal castle, where royalty used to chill out is not just some huge boring castle overlooking the city (which is free all November) it is of course home to a dragon (which it supposedly was) and the stately rooms we explored weren’t just tapestry filled rooms of grandeur, we were looking for where the king used to sit. And when Jack commented “I bet he was well bored without a TV” rather than comment the room we were in was actually filled with 600 year old artefacts, I simply agreed and discussed other things that could have taken up the kings time, like being a king. Jacks imagination ran wild and so what might be a snooze-fest suddenly became a wow-fest. In all seriousness though, entrance is usually about 50 Zloty for everything with kids Jacks age being free.

There is actually a cave where the dragon lives/lived, but on our visit (and quite obviously) it was closed.

Pretty much wherever you walk within the old city will ensure you end up somewhere worth a look. Supposedly there are many scams going on in the city, but as yet we have yet to come across any. That said and as usual we don’t take tours but go completely independent. An example is the ‘world famous Salt Mine’….(I’d never heard of it either) As we all know Krakow is famous for salt….(apparently) and so years ago a mine was built where salt could be extracted. The workers decided either that mining salt was boring or they couldn’t be arsed going home to their wife and so carved amazing things into the salt walls of the mine, including a spectacular underground church, the deepest in the world.

In the town of Wieliczka, about half hour on the bus South of Krakow its well connected via public transport. Actually, on the bus I saw a few guys not bother getting a ticket and get busted, which for the sake of 3.45 Zloty was really not worth it. The mine is via tour only and so when you turn up feeling like you’ve been there done that at the mining museum in Wakefield you need to stop. This bad boy of a tour lasts over three hours and to be honest is about four hours longer than it needs to be. That said, it kept Jack interested and despite the fact he felt the need to lick a wall to prove to himself it was actually salt (and betting everything in his money jar in the process) he genuinely enjoyed it.

There is also a zoo just outside the city (bus 134) which I am assured shows animals out of their natural habitat and in cages far too small for them. It was of course not a priority for us, and in any case it was sleeting and so I doubted there’d be any animals out anyway. When the skies finally cleared at around 2pm a quick google showed the zoo shuts at 3pm during winter.

One place I really wanted to visit was ‘Schindler’s factory’ on the outskirts of the city. And believe me it was a mission getting there, the walk took around half hour from the city and in the freezing cold tested our will. That said we walked across a massive footbridge across the Vistula river and attached to the fence across the bridge was hundreds of padlocks, probably thousands actually. And on each padlock was two names, quite obviously newly weds had sealed their commitment with a lock. There was, as you’d imagine a few notches of the fence that had clearly been attacked with the wire cutters by the hand of some bitter divorcee.

Prior to the the movie Schindler’s List, most people had probably not heard of Oskar Schindler. One of the best movies ever made it portrayed the life of a German industrialist who saved over a thousand Jews by entering them into his work program. The factory is near the Jewish area, and Schindler tipped up in Poland in order to make the most of the German occupation. He was a very persuasive individual and so employed Jewish people to help in his factory. Being German he was expected to be a bastard to those he employed, but in spite of the pressures of the Gestapo and what was expected from him, he risked everything to protect those who worked for him. It was stated that by the end of the war he had spent every penny he had in order to look after his Jewish worker. A real crusader, were he alive today he’d be given a banquet at any Jewish home, and for the rest of us, a show of a genuine, respectable and compassionate human being.

The museum itself was fantastic, probably the best kept, most informative museum I personally have ever been to. Jack enjoyed it and though he didn’t understand it properly I had explained to him that it was the workplace of a man who saved a thousand people who would otherwise have been killed. He understood that much. And after a couple of hours we left with him still interested.

The first time we hit up Krakow we found a tiny Italian place just south of the old city, down a back street it was a place of only 4 tables and the food was lovely.

Jack is a complex little boy and I knew we needed to talk, I needed him to open up to me and so we headed to that same Italian. School had previously told me he gets has few friends and can be quite difficult. His mum and I both spoke with Jack and couldn’t get any thing from him. One of the reasons for heading to Poland was for some time away in the hope he would open up to me, so that his mother and I could get to the bottom of why he was behaving like he was, and if he really had no friends.

The difficult thing for me is that Jack is probably the most optimistic, joyful, energetic slice of happiness I have ever known.

“When I ask people to play with me they say go away” – “so what do you do” I asked, “I just go away” he answered.

Coming to Krakow this time had a purpose, and that purpose was to talk to Jack. The reality is I sat and had my five year old talk to me in a way where he had simply accepted life as it was. And as he spoke I held back tears whilst his every word cut me like a knife. And when he smiled because I’d got him ice cream, I knew it masked a loneliness and fear and there was very little I could do about it.

“You’re my favourite dad in the world” said Jack randomly, “you’re my favourite 5 year old son” said I.

Followed up with a smile we continued our seemingly endless search for the workplace of Oskar Schindler.

Outside of international travel we actually hop around Europe quite frequently. In fact I have been to just about every Western European Country and many Eastern European countries. But travel within Europe tends to be a private a affair with the kids, for instance filming the life of Anne Frank across the Netherlands, Germany and Poland, or remembering how much I love Disney with Jack and Abi in Paris. But earlier in the year Jack and I travelled to Poland, I promised him that we would go again sometime.

And so as the plane took off from Leeds in high winds it was a bumpy ride. The plane (as like any en route to Poland) stunk of Vodka and was peppered with hard worn faces, cheeks red from alcohol with the odd granny thrown in for good measure.

Poland is one of those places, that, depending on what newspaper you read will probably determine whether or not you like Polish people. For instance, comments I’ve heard range from “they’ve taken all the jobs” to my good friend Andy stating (several times…infant many times) “Polish birds are the tidiest birds anywhere mate”

I won’t agree/or disagree with either, but what I will say is that despite the tumultuous history – And not just recent history such as the atrocities of WWII, nope, the Polish have been getting chinned for centuries, and have had just about every form of government/kingdom/communism going. They recently joined the EU after also spending centuries being skint and the first thing many people did was bail. Not what the country had hoped, not what other countries had anticipated. But slowly and surely the working mass are returning and the once vacant streets of decrepit buildings and crime are being revamped into excellent, modern facilities worthy of a spot anywhere in Western Europe.

But what separates Poland from most other places in the EU for me is two things – money and people. Poland is probably the cheapest place in the European Union, by far. For instance I’ve just eaten out at a restaurant in one of the swankiest areas of Krakow and the total bill, including starters, drinks (alcohol) and ice cream was 56 Zloty (£10) calling at the off licence on the way back to our hotel and a can of beer costs about 50 pence.

The second reason is the people, speak to anyone under the age of 25 and they will probably speak a little English, speak to 90% over 25 and they won’t have a clue what you’re talking about. But the Polish are perhaps the friendliest people in Europe, seriously. This is my third trip to Poland and I have yet to get any attitude or anything other than a helpful, welcoming manner from anyone. It’s what separates the Polish from say France. A place where in my opinion half the population wouldn’t give you the time of day for a euro. And the thing about the Polish is that you can ring fence them into 4 types. All the females under the age of 30 are slick looking, slim, pristinely dressed individuals. Come the 30th birthday and bang, grandma central. Whereas all the guys under 30 look super dodgy, wearing all black they look like they’ve just eaten their parents and are looking for desert, all the 30+ guys look like they’ve just spent the last century working in harsh temperatures lifting 100kg rocks and living on a diet of vodka. But what unites them all is their smile, that welcoming, genteel, international expression. A sometimes rarity in big cities, and often replaced with a suspicious glare in smaller towns. But in Poland people have just learnt to smile despite it all. And it’s easy to wonder, outside of the magnificent national parks of which there are 23 – Poland between cities is pretty grim. It’s almost iron curtain, communist, steel factory style grim. And though I’ve only visited in Autumn and winter I can confirm its freezing. Not tender freezing, like “it’s a bit cold” no, it’s freezing cold. And you can’t escape it.

In terms of infrastructure I was boasting to a guy at the train station yesterday “I’ve never known a Polish train arrive on time” as it pulled in 5 minutes early. The fact is Poland is a bit weird, the sort of place where 4 trains will depart in one hour, and then none until 4 hours later. Or where a return ticket costs more than double the single fare and where a can of beer costs less than a can of coke. No doubt Poland has its problems, but lets not forget that just half a century ago it suffered some of the worst atrocities in history, and was pretty much bombed to the ground, boundaries moved, and left on its knees begging for mercy. Since the war cities have been rebuilt and the country was deemed eligible for admission to the EU (whilst the likes of Turkey were blown out) And like it or loathe it the Polish are now our European brethren and for Jack and I – we love it. And so as the plane defied all odds and climbed out of Leeds/Bradford airport, the stench of vodka floating around the cabin – we were a little bit excited since we knew, just what Poland had in store.

A few hundred years ago the United Arab Emirates was nothing other than a few sand dunes, a couple of camels and some guys spending their entire lives searching for water. The British ruled plenty of countries in the area and were trying to get some kind of import export business going. The Portuguese ruled what is now the Emirates, but it was a country of banditry and often British ships would get robbed whilst in the vicinity by pirates. Finally getting pissed off with being robbed, the British rocked up and chinned the Portuguese, the country was re branded as the Trucial Oman and things calmed down. The British soon got bored and so bailed, they left behind an arid desert with an inhospitable climate and not much going on in the way of nightlife. They had no idea that within a century The UAE would be one of the richest countries on earth, with a GDP of almost $50,000 per individual the British sailed away into the night drinking Port and eating cucumber sandwiches thinking they were slick.

In the 1960’s the Americans turned up and struck oil. Within a decade schools had replaced palm trees, cars had replaced camels and people arrived en masse all keen on a slice of the action. By the 90’s half of the population were immigrants working for anything they could get paid and within half a decade the United Arab Emirates had transformed their once arid nation into one of the most advanced countries on earth. Whilst the British still looked to the 1966 World Cup Final for a reminder that something decent did once happen on the Island, the UAE looked to the future. They envisaged a world decades beyond themselves and set about creating a nation borne of wealth from a natural resource. Something so precious it would reach beyond that wealth, and whilst the UK was slapping backs and shaking hands of the EU the King of the Emirates was creating the GCC. The Gulf Cooperation Council is essentially most of the countries of the Arab world all working together as a united power. Whereas the EU threatens to stop trade the GCC can stop oil, with a GDP of about $1.5trillion over only 42 million people it is a force not to be reckoned with and probably the most powerful collective of countries on the planet.

The Emirates is therefore a magnet for people all over the world, it is perhaps one of the most prestigious destinations globally. It’s a place I love, the relaxed attitude of the Arabian people, their amazing history, their culture, their country.

It was the next (albeit short) stop on our journey, but still I looked forward to being there once again whilst the kids looked forward to Dunkin Donuts.

You have to understand that flights leaving the Western World are very strict on most things. I am not the one to judge on airline policy which is a reflection on safety – But anyone that has flown in Asia will know things work a little differently. For instance the seat belt sign means nothing. Seeing someone get up to grab a last minute munch from their bag in the overhead locker as the plane is hurtling down the runway is not uncommon. As is hearing someone on the phone as it takes off.

A couple of months back I took Jack to Poland for a few days and on the flight back (Ryanair) a guy was getting shirty with the stewardess, it was something to do with her not serving him any more alcohol and it kicked off. He was shouting and swearing and upon landing the police were waiting. Yet, the flight from istanbul to Sharjah was much worse. I was sat chilling watching a movie on the iPad about an hour into the flight and Charlie got my attention telling me something is kicking off at the back of the plane. Now, I am the sort of person that follows the mantra of ‘if it doesn’t involve me then it has nothing to do with me’ and so usually I just walk away from havoc. But on a plane what can you do. Turns out some guy decided the no smoking didn’t apply to him and was puffing away in the loo. The alarm had gone off and the crew had opened the door, he had pushed the woman away and was holding the door shut. The male cabin crew was shouting at him in Arabic and eventually someone helped him grab the man out of the toilet. An argument ensued 38,000 feet above Iraq and it looked like it might get messy. The funny thing is, and I wonder why but the argument was in English. This is not the first time I have heard this either, for some reason arguments always seem to be in English? Anyway the guy took his seat, a bit of air spray was squirted and everyone got on with life. No police on landing, nothing.

I got back to my movie and the kids asked if we were eating, it was tea time(ish) and I said we would wait. The movie finished and I was winding Charlie up when the pilot made an announcement. He said something along the lines of the time and Iftar?? I think. Anyway suddenly just about every single light went on to call the crew. It became very quickly apparent that it was Ramadan and now was the time people could eat. Knowing we now had ages to wait Charlie commented “nice one dad”

A little later I was chilling out looking out to the darkness, I was looking at all the oil rigs over the gulf, their flames shining like eyes in the night. Suddenly I am disturbed by a commotion at the side of me, Charlie is arguing with an Arab boy, neither could understand each other but the boy had been kicking Charlie’s seat, he’d asked him to stop and so the boy had done it harder. I got involved and the boys mother was laughing, she told me he was a “problem” when his father was not around. We chatted for about half an hour about life, kids and reasoning. As we spoke she removed the Hijab covering her face, it felt so human, so normal. Personally I believe all people equal, regardless of colour, sex, faith or sexual orientation. But it is easy to see the Hijab as a sign of male dominance and often you forget that underneath the mask is a person, a human being.

The plane landed and sure enough people were up grabbing their things before we’d even slowed down off the runway. Customs was a breeze and I bagged some Paracetamol for my headache from a guy at immigration, we hit Dunkin Donuts and grabbed the bus to King Faisal st in Sharjah. It was almost 10pm and 40 degrees. We head back to the UAE soon and so will talk more about transport then, but it’s cheap. We checked into our hotel and slept until our alarm at 4am. We had an early morning flight to Kathmandu, Nepal some 2000 miles away. In the lobby of the hotel a bloke offered to give us a lift since he was headed to the airport himself. Within minutes we were heading to the airport, 90 miles per hour, darkness, amazing.

The flight to Kathmandu was half empty, it was a bright morning with clear skies. Eventually on our left was the Himalayas, their peaks almost as high as the plane itself. On the right was the plains of Northern India. The flight took about four hours and as we descended through monsoon clouds the kids had their hands in the air as usual feeling every drop and bump of the plane and loving it. I am convinced some people no doubt had the death grip but we’d been on a plane being thrown all over the skies many times before. To the kids it was fun, to me it was a case of ‘I hope there isn’t a mountain in that cloud’

As the plane touched down at Kathmandu, I felt a tinge of relief. Not like we had just arrived at the capitol city of one of the poorest countries on earth, but almost like we were home, back amongst people we loved, a culture we adored and a lifestyle we appreciated and tried hard to understand. We were firmly planted deep in Asia, and as I saw my name on a placard amongst the chaos outside the airport I smiled, it was hot, humid, absolute chaos, the seat belts didn’t work, the smell of incense in the air, the sound of horns was deafening and cattle filled the street amongst motorbikes and ancient vehicles. People begged for life at the road side and children kicked about balls laughing. We had left one of the worlds most advanced and richest countries, to one of the worlds poorest and yet still people smiled.

The driver asked “First time in Nepal Sir…” I smiled as I remembered just how much I loved this place.

Turkey is a bit of a scam really. On the one hand it claims to be in Europe, keen to get its hand in the pot of wealth that is the European Union yet on the other it bangs you for a tenner for a visa. Now, visas are a con worldwide. Pure and simple, but the Turkish visa extends beyond a con, it is like burgling someones home, nicking the TV then when it breaks down taking it back to them under warranty. In fact, the Turkish visa is that much of a jizz they don’t even accept their own currency for it. Nope, turn up thinking you’re slick with a wad of Lira and it’s straight to the currency exchange for you. Crisp £10 notes work well and are preferred, turn up with a £20 and despite the billion people before you all having paid with tenners there will be no change. But it’s the audacity of the scam thats annoying, even in Cambodia where no one in the history of ever has been refused a visa, shit, you can turn up on a tourist visa, sleep with a local, bang a few kids out and buy a house on a 30 day visa. But even the Cambodians at least look at the photo page and pretend like they’re considering your status. The Turkish guy just stuck a sticker on the first page he came to, didn’t check the details – Nothing. Out and out scam.

The bus pulled into Istanbul Otogar at 21.30 and we headed straight for the metro. We had no accommodation booked in the city but by about 22.30 we were trawling the streets looking for a chicken kebab, a bottle of ice cold coke and a place to stay. A good piece of advice when staying in a city as big as Istanbul is knowing the locality of the budget accommodation, if that is what you require. Generally, and the majority of the time the main railway station is a good bet. If you don’t know where to start, then if you start there you’ll usually be in the right place, or near to it. Istanbul is no different and the main Railway station on the European side is Sirkeci and it is indeed home to some of the cheapest accommodation in the city. Exaggerating slightly, but just about every building is either a hotel/hostel/takeaway/restaurant.

There is about 30 Lira to every £10 and so in a major city in Europe anything less than £30 for a double is a bargain. Our max price was therefore 90 Lira, we went into a few places and all were skirting around the 120 mark, at midday this might not be a bad price for Istanbul, but an hour away from midnight and it is. The first hotel wouldn’t budge on the price, the second asked how much I wanted to pay. I offered him 60 Lira and he said he’d take 70, thats £24 and an absolute bargain. The room was snide, but we were exhausted and had been travelling almost 24 hours and so anything would have done.

The day started in Starbucks and Charlie set me a brain teaser. He placed three green coffee beans behind each other all facing a coin, then opposite he placed three black coffee beans. The beans had to swap sides, they could jump forward over one space, or slide forward one space is the space was vacant. They could not go backwards. He told me the world record was 15 moves, I had it nailed in 11. After I had blown his mind with my brain teaser skills we discussed the day. I explained it was a simple day and the motto for the day was ‘no rush’ we had nothing at all planned, nothing pressing, just a day of doing nothing but strolling round and relaxing.

I won’t go into detail about Istanbul since I did that last year, but we visited all the main sites such as the Hagia Sofia, Grand Bazaar, Spice Bazaar etc etc. The last place we visited late in the day was the Blue Mosque, probably one of the most beautiful buildings in Islam. In Istanbul there are dudes wearing blue T Shirts that say ‘ask me for info’ Abi asked when it was built and so I sent her to go find out. After about ten minutes of getting her hair touched by the girls she had asked, her face squeezed and being adored she came running back and said “It was built in 1609 by a Sultan” I haven’t verified that info but she was so enthusiastic it was great to see. And this is something which actually I am really proud of, some people might think taking kids to a huge mosque would be boring for them. It’s not, not for mine anyway they are amazed, intrigued and so keen to find out everything and anything they can. I have said before that we never hire a guide, I love to find out, imagine and in some cases assume.

The mosque itself is gorgeous, really it is. I know that when it comes to amazing architecture Islam doesn’t offer up the same amazing sites as say Buddhism or Hinduism. Usually it’s just a minaret on an unattractive building. But, when effort is put in, Islam offers up stunning architecture on a level that rivals any other religion. The Blue Mosque and actually the Hagia Sofia in Istanbul are two prime examples of just how downright beautiful Islam can be.

Actually, when we were in the Blue Mosque we simply lay back on the carpet and relaxed, the sound of prayer rang out around us as we chilled out enjoying the company of each other and recognising how fortunate we really are. I am not going to lie, the mosque stinks of sweaty feet, you have to go in bare footed naturally, but it certainly needs a bit of shake-n-vac and a once over with the Dyson.

That was pretty much our day in Istanbul, we set out to have a relaxing day, it was a mild (and welcome) 30 degrees, we ate Chicken Kebabs, Turkish Pizza, were in a beautiful Islamic city, had easily figured out how to scam the metro, had a roof top hammock, fuzzball, BBQ and amazing view over the city, it was just what we had hoped for.

The main problem when devising some kind of plan from the comfort of home in the UK is that in theory it’s great, you set off with a full itinerary of the whats and hows, along you skip with a smile and a feeling that all will be great. The reality is different, its simply not possible to plan for every eventuality. There are many things which can, and do go wrong. The simplest of things can make a great plan go to pot and then you are left trying to pick up the pieces and regain your smile and swagger.

I have found that the best way to do things is simply to have a skeleton plan, and believe me an awful lot of work still has to go into it, our time in places is dictated more by where we need to be when, as oppose to where we want to be on a particular day. This gives us a route in and out, but also some flexibility as to what happens in between.

This is why I was able to bail Athens when we needed to and was able to head for Turkey earlier than anticipated. The issue comes with the specifics, and I have found that when dealing with Greece and particularly long distance public transport there is simply no information available.

Search google for ‘Greece to Istanbul’ and you will still find information on even Lonely Planet that you simply hop on a train, sleep a while and then jump of refreshed searching for a sheesha in Istanbul. Be more specific and search ‘Thessaloniki/Alexandroupolis to Istanbul on the bus’ and what you find is a number of forum posts from people asking the question, no real answers, and then a complete failure of the original poster coming back and informing others of how to do it. In short finding just how to get from Greece to Turkey on land was a minefield of out of date answers and it left us travelling on a ridiculously expensive train €76 all in for fourteen hours on a whim. A belief that simply there must be a way.

Greek trains are awful. I can’t really think of a better way to describe them. The first train from Athens Larissa left on time and was one of those ancient things where the seats are in compartments of six. Barely any room in between, air conditioning on super cold, smoking allowed, cramped and the quality of your journey hanging in the balance of your fellow occupants. Since we were going the full distance from Larissa to Thessaloniki over 7 hours we hoped we’d get some stunning Greek woman keen to get naked and hand out the beers. It didn’t happen, instead we got a classic elderly Greek couple. They spoke German (as seemingly most Greeks do) I have a decent grasp of Deutsch and so we chatted a while. The old guy gave up his seat so Abi could lay down and he went and sat in the corridor. Yet again we were shown true Greek hospitality.

The night was one of broken sleep and eventually a woman and her two kids joined us. The boy spoke English and as I battled to stay awake he was telling me how they were going to Zante, someone farted and I was out for the count. It was cramped, freezing cold and the woman seriously needed to put her phone on silent, but it was fine. We pulled into Thessaloniki at 6.40am and already the train was waiting for us for the onward journey. A woman who looked about three thousand years old and with less teeth than a goldfish coughed in my face and suddenly it was apparent that the farther away from Athens you get, the poorer the country gets. It’s a lot like Italy in that South of Rome you have got a shit hole of a country all but forgotten in the truly beautiful North.

The Greeks were of a darker skinned, obviously labouring people aged fifty years for every ten due to the harsh nature of the work and torturous unforgiving nature of the sun. Knob head style tattoos are common place, and we’re not talking some chav council estate ‘mam and dad’ and a swift on the hand. These bad boy tattoos are obviously done when high on drink and/or drugs, in darkness and in their left hand whilst jumping around. There were some serious hardcore fail tattoos, on faces, necks, knee caps, its actually not like being in Greece anymore.

New born babies looking about eighteen years old from birth, some of them being born with stubble. This was Greece at it’s harshest, a country poverty stricken and clinging onto bail outs whilst the public suffer inflation of 40% on their already meagre wages. Proof that the Euro has left people behind, proof of the daily struggle by people who, when they joined the EU anticipated a collective of countries all sharing the wealth and raising the standards of the whole economic area. Proof of being dealt a card you didn’t ask for and didn’t want.

I have to admit though, we experienced no hostility and yet still the Greek hospitality and warmth shone through the leathered skin, lack of teeth and snide body art.

The journey from Thessaloniki to Alexandroupolis was memorable though because of just how damn beautiful Greece is. That rail journey was seriously stunning, sprawling fields shadowed by huge mountains on one side, yet the finite beauty dropping off into to turquoise waters on the other. I sat for a long time listening to music and just admiring the beauty outside the window. If trains had have been regular I would have got off the train randomly and just sat in a field with the kids just being, well, just being together. Perhaps it’s age, but the thought of sitting there, just existing amongst such beauty seemed to be the perfect idea.

We arrived into the port town of Alexandroupolis just before 14.00, I asked around and within 20 minutes we were sat at the harbour eating Greece’s main takeaway dish ‘Gyros’ which is basically a chicken or pork kebab, drinking ice cold Coke and waiting for the supposed bus to Istanbul which leaves the road in front of the port at 14.45. I was warned we actually needed tickets and was left with no choice since we had no time to find where to get some. The bus turned up at 15.00 and there were only a handful of seats empty. I paid €34 (no idea how it breaks down) for 3 seats on the executive bus with seat back tv etc run by a Turkish company called Metro Turizm. Before long we were at the border of Greece and after paying a tenner each for the three Turksih visas we were soon queuing for passport control. I left the kids in the queue whilst I went searching for fanta, I couldn’t find any and when I came back they were stood out of the queue.Turns out they had got to the front, handed over the passports and no questions asked the three of us were now stamped into Turkey.

By 18.00 we were on our way headed toward my favourite European city, a place where Islam meets Western ideals, a mixture of beliefs, lives and the gateway to the East. Minarets pierced the horizon and as the kids slept, and I sipped on a black coffee I felt Istanbul was in reaching distance. This years trip was well and truly under way and the was no going back now. Finally I started to feel excited 🙂

The plan was to spend 2 days in Athens and then head across Greece making our way to the Greece/Turkey border and then onto Istanbul. We have a flight out of Istanbul Saturday and so whilst our plans are fixed per se, there was always room for manoeuvre.

When a country hosts the olympics often the benefits to the public are overshadowed by high taxes for seemingly nothing other than sport and the medias intent on reporting sensationalist failure. Whether or not the Olympic games in Athens in 2004 have contributed to failure of the Greek economy I do not know. But what I do know is that they contributed to the city is a noticeable and positive way. Athens as a city has a lot of history to offer, rivalled only in Europe by Rome for the sheer enormity of historical sites the city was keen to show off its wares to visitors. Athens proper is a huge and sprawling city, home to some 3.7 million people it extends from the port of Pireaus several miles inland and is flanked by six hills. These hills are home to some of the most important sites in Greek history. Recognising that tourists would have a mission on their hands exploring the historical sites the Ministry of Culture devised and built a route that would connect all the places of historical significance, mostly pedestrianised the ‘archaeological pavement’ makes it extremely simple, quick and efficient to move from one place to another with absolute ease and without the need for a map. Additionally a ‘one ticket for all’ was introduced with the awesome price of €12 for adults and completely free for any student studying within the EU and any EU citizen under the age of 19. Put simply, Athens has a glorious history that it is keen to show off and if you make the effort to get to Athens then you will be rewarded with unbeatable value and a day of absolute ease. Compare that with Rome and you feel like hopping on a flight bound for the Italian capital and slapping someone called Mario.

The day started like just about every other when we’re in Europe – A chocolate croissant and a black coffee. As we walked to the metro I admit I was a little excited at what the day had in store, and Charlie was keen to explain all he knew about Greek mythology. I think I genuinely broke his heart when I explained that mythology meant ‘absolute garbage’ I jest not, he genuinely believed some geezer a year past a shave sat on a cloud flicking lightening bolts out for a laugh whilst some bloke straight out of the little mermaid had a smoke and a lobster every Saturday.

Athens metro is ok, it’s not up to Asian standards but like every other metro on the planet makes the London Underground look like a kids play set. Prices are €1.40 for a ticket which lasts you up to 1.5hrs, be sure to validate it because the fine is 60 times that if you get busted. Kids are 50% and so it’s pretty good value. The two main issues we found with the metro was that firstly to cross from one line to another (there are just three lines) you must travel to one of two stations that are in close proximity to one another which makes things awkward. Secondly, it seems the metro was built in winter and when it was being built the Greeks completely forgot about the increase in temperature which inevitably come with summer. The result was 32 degrees outside in a nice open space, to 32 degrees shared with loads of other people all in one midget sized carriage. It is possible of course that the government are trying to save a bit off the electric bill. In any case, it makes the metro much more of a chore than it really needs to be.

A few thousand years ago when the Greeks decided to bang out a language they opted to ignore latin and sided more toward the Cyrillic side of things. In other words the alphabet is a funky mixture of letters, pictures and smiley faces. Impossible for my mind to decipher, thankfully most things are replicated in English and so navigating becomes straight forward. Even then, if you do manage to get yourself lost it is Greek nature to come and help you out. This was something we very quickly learnt, every Greek we have encountered has been friendly, welcoming and more than willing to assist. This by and large is what we tend to experience all over the world and often when I tell other travellers they say we get such a welcome because of the kids, this may or may not be true. But despite their economy going down the pan the smiles we have been afforded have come with real warmth.

We bailed the Metro at Acropolis which, if you google Athens is the photo that will come up. If someone reading this would read who came first – Romans or Greeks I would really like to know who plagerised who. I am serious, someone well had a sly peek and then caught the first flight home in order to replicate and emulate the others skills. In any case it is made clear that you are entering an archeological site and it certainly feels that way. Restoration is underway everywhere but this does not take from the feel, it adds to the fact that history may not yet be fully uncovered. We mooched right to the top and died about five times on the way up. But once at the summit the wind caught us and it was beautiful. So hot, such a breeze, such an amazing site, it was near perfect. As I usually do in these sort of situations I let the kids lead the way, they have a real instinct for adventure I just love to follow,watch and listen. Every now and again I would hear burst out laughing and Abi complain the the rocks were too slippy as she brushed herself off and regained her feet.

We spent around five hours exploring all the historical places and really we could have spent much longer. The landscaping was immaculate, the restoration amazing and the natural feeling is to compare it to the Roman Forum. I would say that Rome has more grandeur, more pizzaz if you will. I grew up fascinated by the Romans and so the first time I went to Rome it was like a dream for me. I remember taking Charlie when he was very young and Ive never stopped loving it. But Athens is different, it feels much more intimate. In Rome you’re never far from Japanese guy with a four foot long camera lens or a few Americans searching for Taco Bell and proclaiming Bill Clinton discovered Italy in the nineties. In Athens you can completely lose yourself beneath an orange tree with nothing but the whisper of birds and the grass rustling in the breeze. The backdrop is that of some mythical era with the abundance of white marble plinths and palaces interrupted only by a shameless olive branch. I guess what I’m trying to say is that Rome is where you would take your girlfriend whereas Athens is where you would take your wife.

After an amazing morning we sniffed out a Mcdonalds and then spent the afternoon lost in a beautiful park called the National Gardens. A real respite from the unforgiving heat and for me somewhere to relax and watch the kids being kids. We got lost in the maze of pathways but ended up finding a mini zoo and play area. We spent several hours off the tourist trail and almost several hours away from life. Kids have this amazing knack of reminding you that nothing matters, really. Everything is just substance and details, I never completely let go of reality and responsibility, but that afternoon I was as close to it as I have been in a long time.

Then of course reality bites and so toward the end of the day we made our way to the Railway station to get some rail tickets for the following day to Alexandroupolis which is really the last major city in Greece before the Turkish border some 40km away. Since Greece ditched the international railways the only way to get to Istanbul is via a 22hr bus from Athens at a cost of €60 – €70 per seat or a bus from Thessaloniki taking some 14 hours at a cost of €50 per seat. I couldn’t be arsed paying that sort of money and really didn’t fancy either journey in a squashed seat on some throw back Mercedes bus from the 70’s. The kids fancied it less than i did and so I decided that it must be possible to reach Turkey from Alexandrouplois. Not confirmed, and on a whim I decided to book train tickets. Of course it turns out there are just two trains per day, one leaving at midnight and the other at 10.20am – Both taking some 14 hours total. The midnight train costs €38 Euros with kids 50% and the morning train costs €76 and 50% respectively. It was a no brainer and so we were left with little choice but to head back across Athens to Lena’s apartment, then be back at Larissa station (Main Athens Station) for the 23.55 train to Thessaloniki, arriving at 06.30am then connecting with the 07.11am train to Alexandroupolis arriving at 14.00.

On the way back to Lena’s place we called and picked up some fresh ingredients so I could make a bruschetta whilst we sat on the balcony assessing our options and putting into place some kind of contingency. I discussed a plan A and B and it quickly became apparent this would simply be a ‘suck it and see’ situation.

And so we left Athens sooner than planned, and as we sat at Larissa station surrounded by Greeks heading up the coast for their holidays I wondered what next. The only thing I was certain about was that ahead of us we had a long night and even longer day.