Keep Clear of The Closing Doors!

Wow, what a fantastic surprise Barcelona has been!

I had only ever heard good things about it, but for some reason I didn't imagine it to be this beautiful.

And not just a beautiful city architecturally, although the Moderniste architecture of Gaudi and his mates is absolutely a highlight and a lot more widespread than I was expecting. But everything about Barcelona is just so... livable! The weather is fantastic (winter here seems slightly milder than a Perth winter).. the food is great.. the Spanish people are lovely (but of course every culture has exceptions - in this case a particular slimy, low-life Spaniard currently residing in France).. the shops are full of style and quality.. the traffic is bearable.. the metro is great.. the nightlife is great.. the history is fascinating, the contemporary culture is also humming along.. it has an energy and momentum that few cities seem to have.. the cost of living is affordable.. the surrounding countryside is gorgeous.. It's on the coast of the Medditeranean.. What's not to love?

Coming from Paris, the difference couldn't be more stark. It's like a weight being lifted. Paris seems depressing, serious, conservative, heavy in comparison. Barcelona does it all with heaps of style, but doesn't seem to take itself too seriously in doing so. It just seems effortless. It feels like it was built to live in, not just built to look at.

If you asked me which city I've been to that I would recommend people go for a quick holiday, it would be a tough choice between about half a dozen cities. If you asked me which city I would consider moving to permanently, Barcelona would be right at the top of the list.

Having said that, I had my first big near-disaster of the trip when arriving in Barcelona. While getting off the train with my luggage, I had the train door close on me while I was halfway in and halfway out! It's not like a lift door that just re-opens, it just keeps pressing closed. Not enough to crush or bruise, but enough that it won't let you leverage it open at all.

The door closed on my shoulder with one arm outside the train, and although pulling that arm into the carriage wasn't a huge problem, the problem was that at the end of that arm I was holding a bag with my passport, iPad, and about $5k of camera gear in it! And it was now bouncing against the glass on the outside of the door as the train gathered speed and left the station into the pitch black dark.

I managed to pull the shoulder strap in through the door gap so I could hold the bag tight against the outside of the door from the inside of the train, but it was still bulging about a foot out the side of the train, bouncing around just waiting for a pole, a tunnel, or another train to scream past and rip it out of my hands. I instinctively wrapped the strap tight around my wrist and then realized that was a stupid thing to do... If the bag caught on something outside the train, the webbing strap would probably pull my entire arm off with it.

So I just stood there holding it tight but ready to let it get ripped free from my hands and ready to pounce on the train's emergency brake alarm if it did. I was already trying to work out how to explain all this on my travel insurance claim form.

Although the train had been packed just 15 minutes ago, I was the only person left in the carriage at the time.

The ten minute ride to the next station was the most tense ten minutes I've ever spent in a train.

When we got there and the door opened, I was relieved beyond belief! I quickly grabbed my other bag and jumped off, looking around with adrenaline pumping through my veins. There was just one person on the platform, waiting and smoking a cigarette. He looked at me unimpressed.. He hadn't even noticed my near-death experience!

And then I had the humiliation of having to find another train going in the opposite direction to travel the one stop back to where I was trying to get off originally.

The moral of the story. DO NOT TRUST AUTOMATIC DOORS. No matter how friendly they seem or how long they look like they'll stay open for. It's the one time you let your guard down that they will pounce on you.

Thankfully no photos, lenses, blog posts, angry birds, plants, zombies, limbs or passports were harmed in the making of this story.

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Location:Barcelona, Spain

A Train in the Ass

In the last six or so weeks I've caught about 14 intercity trains (mostly overnight), a couple of flights, had dozens of metro and taxi rides, and even an overnight ship voyage.

All of them have pretty much run as smooth as clockwork. I'm *ahem* not normally known for my punctuality, yet somehow I've managed to get myself on board on time every single time. Despite ridiculously cold temperatures, thick snow, and a reputation for dodginess, the trains in Russia always ran on time and there was never a single hiccup. China was even more efficient, Mongolia was no problem, in Vietnam the luxuries were a bit rough round the edges but the logistics were faultless. And Finland and Germany were, as you'd expect, as precise and efficient as a Swiss watch. A quick change of trains in Amsterdam went as smooth as silk too.

But then in Brussels it was time to change trains and board my first French train. Everything went downhill from there...

I was supposed to catch a train from Brussels to Lyon and then after a 25 minute wait switch to another train bound for Toulouse.

I'd already been on two trains that day (Hanover to Amsterdam, then Amsterdam to Brussels), so everything had to go like clockwork in order to get to Toulouse that evening. So far so good. I had made it to Brussels on time.

But then the train to Lyon was 15 minutes late arriving. And then when we got on, it took another half hour before we left the station. I knew it would be tight, but the train from Hanover to Amsterdam managed to make up for 20 minutes of lost time during the trip, so it was still possible to make the connection in Lyon.

But then things just kept getting worse. We got delayed more and more, stopping longer at stations and sometimes just stopping completely in the middle of nowhere. By the time my connecting train in Lyon left, we were still two hours away with no idea how many more delays would occur.

Thankfully the train conductor was being as helpful as he could, and spoke very good English. He would have been very helpful, except he was being kept in the dark as much as the passengers. But he made a note of the passengers with connections and tried as best he could to sort something out for us and keep us all informed.

Eventually we were told NOT to get off at Lyon as planned, but instead to continue to Valence where a different train on its way from Paris would make an unscheduled stop to pick us up and take us to Toulouse. Great! That sounds like an excellent contingency plan.

So, I get off the train at the small station of Valence along with a dozen other passengers, and we go looking for someone to ask about this connection.

Well, firstly it seems not a single member of staff speaks a word of English. So I go hunting for a passenger who is also heading my way so I can just follow them around. It turns out there are four of us bound for to Toulouse, and one of them speaks excellent English. Thank you Mathilde, you are a lifesaver!

Eventually we managed to find the station master and to our surprise, he knew nothing of any connecting train or any special arrangements. He wasn't particularly sympathetic about anybody's situation, nor did he offer any help. One lady who was stranded and left to catch a very long and expensive taxi to her destination (as was explained to me later) was arguing that SNCF should pay for her taxi, and the station master was just telling her to stop complaining and go. She almost got into a fist fight with the him, but to my surprise instead of trying to diffuse the situation, the station master started shouting back and got up in her face, ready to have a go back! A security guard had to come and separate them.

Welcome to France.

Eventually we were loaded onto the next train to come by which happened to be bound for Montpellier, where at least some of the passengers were supposed to go. Nobody really trusted the Station Master's advice, and we knew it didn't really matter where this train was going, he just wanted us out of his hair. But that's all right, we wanted to get out out of there too. This would still be two hours from Toulouse, but at least we were getting closer. It was after 9pm by this time though, and it would be too late for us to get to Toulouse that day.

So we finally arrive at Montpellier, and thankfully the station master here was expecting us. For the four of us bound for Toulouse, we were given vouchers to stay in the hotel across the road from the station for the night and assured we would be taken to Toulouse the next day.

Luckily I didn't really have any plans for the next day, so what began as an annoying delay was beginning to turn into a little adventure that allowed me to spend an unexpected day in Montpellier. I didn't need to get to Toulouse until the following afternoon. I also found that being a spectator to all these goings-on was an interesting insight into the French problem-solving psyche. It seems that getting upset, yelling, and threatening employees might not solve any actual problems at hand, but it definitely makes the shouter feel better getting things off their chest. It didn't matter that I could only understand one word in ten. It didn't really matter if anyone could understand any of it.

So eventually the four of us all trundled our bags across the road and checked into our hotel, imaginatively called "l'Otel" which for the less worldly among us translates loosely as "The Hotel".

The staff had put about as much creativity into the decor of this hotel as they had it's name, but that didn't worry us. It was 11pm and we were all sick and tired of all the stress of dealing with trains and SNCF, but despite being weary, we were also still wide awake.

So I tried a trick I was shown by a Russian fireman on the trans-siberian railway. Here was my chance to do something in front of 3 strangers that I probably wouldn't do back in Australia. It's a pretty simple trick. It just involves pulling a hip flask of vodka and 4 shot glasses out of my bag and offering everyone a drink. But the trick is in the approach. You must be friendly and approachable, but you don't want to really give them a choice.

And so the night turned from total disaster into a great night of laughter, and four stranded travelers became friends, if only for a night.

Thanks to my Finnish and Estonian friends I was lucky to be carrying a fully-stocked bottle shop with me at the time, so we drank some Estonian Vanna Tallinn, some Finnish Salmaikki, and some good old Russian Vodka. These new French friends of mine probably thought I was an alcoholic, but who cares. Take that SNCF! It takes more than your incompetence to ruin our day. Epic win.

I slept in the next morning and checked out of the hotel around noon. Then spent a few hours wandering around Montpellier, grabbing some lunch at the christmas market and even looking at a very cool exhibition by the American photographer Ralph Eugene Meatyard.

Then I wandered back to the train station thinking the 2 minute job of organizing a replacement ticket for today should take no longer than 40 minutes (allowing for language barriers and miscellaneous holdups). But of course I was being too optimistic, and after 55 minutes of queuing and trying to explain things, I missed the train I was hoping to get. There was another (slower) train just 30 minutes later which I caught, but it was just enough to give SNCF the last laugh. Fail.

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Location:Montpellier, France

The Moscow Metro

I'm not a train buff. Honestly. Sure I'm doing most of my traveling by train on this trip and I have the upmost respect for rail as a form of transport, but I'm not some anorak nerd who recites locomotive production numbers and all that stuff. I can tell the difference between an electric and a diesel train, and I can tell if it is new or old, but I don't care too much beyond that. If I score a comfy bed with good cabin mates then I'm happy and that's all I need to know about a train, with bonus points if the ride is quiet and smooth with friendly staff.

But then there's the Moscow Metro. This is something very special, and really has nothing to do with the trains themselves. It's all about the stations and the network.

Here's a subway network that carries more people each day than London and New York combined, with a dozen lines and something ridiculous like 150 stations. And not just any stations. These are the most ornate, opulent, beautiful, metro stations in the world.

And efficient? You better believe it. Trains run on every line through every station every 2 minutes. The trains always seem to be busy, with standing room only almost always, but never packed.

The trains themselves are getting on a bit, and the crazy Russian drivers hammer along the rickety tracks like they're driving a roller coaster, but none of that detracts from this being the single most efficient transport system I've ever encountered. By a long way.

Oh, and the price? About $1 a trip. It doesn't matter where you get on and off, just a single fare to get you through the initial station gate and you're free to go wherever. Change trains, lines, stop at as many stations and take as many photos as you like of the stations (just don't get caught photographing the guards, they don't like having their faces in photos).

You can quite easily spend a whole afternoon touring the Metro for the price of a single ticket. In fact I did. The only difficult thing was working out a route that would take me past some of the best looking stations.

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Location:Moscow, Russia

Russian Hospitaility

As I'm writing this I'm mid-way through the longest single leg of my Trans-Siberian rail journey, traveling from Irkutsk to Moscow. A journey of four continuous nights on the train and a five-hour difference in time zones, all the while sharing a "soft sleeper" cabin with three other passengers. This is the train ride my little one and two night overnight trains through Vietnam, China, and Mongolia have been preparing me for.

And it's hard for me to put into words what an experience it has been. On the surface it's just a long train ride, but that doesn't begin to do it justice. The train itself and the incredible, beautiful, unending snow-covered landscape that unfolds before us is just the stage for the show. The real experience comes from the people I've met and the real-life movie that I've become part of.

Although I expected passengers to get on and off the train during the journey, I didn't really think how that would effect my experience. for some reason I expected to spend the whole journey with basically the same group of people. Instead I've shard my cabin with seven different people so far, and I still have two nights to go. Two of the bunks in my cabin are currently empty, and each station we stop at is a lottery about the possibility of new roomies.

As I write this now, a little girl from the next cabin (aged maybe 2) keeps popping her head into my cabin and waving to me. When I wave back she bursts into laughter and waddles back to her dad out in the corridor. Even the quiet times are interesting here.

When I first got on this train in Irkutsk, I had the cabin to myself. Normally this might be a good thing to have some space and privacy, but the prospect of four days alone is enough to drive anyone mental, and I didn't come here to just be a spectator anyway.

But I needn't have worried, About 2 hours later I got my first visitors; A young Russian couple in their early 20's named Pasha and Nastja traveling with Nastja's mother; Tatyana.

Neither Nastja nor Tatyana could speak a word of English, but Pasha's English was pretty good. Certainly good enough to have some decent conversations and learn about his home and talk about Australia, etc. They come from a small town of 500 people near Tomsk, and the main source of income for the people there is a coal mine. Tragically in May this year there was an accident killing 17 of the workers who live in the town.

I spent my first night with these quiet yet friendly people. They were happy to chat but also kept to themselves a bit. I think they perhaps didn't quite know what to make of me, but were still hospitable and polite, if a little serious. As well as chatting I had plenty of time to read and listen to music and relax by myself. This was a good easing into things without being thrown into the deep end.

They did seem to appreciate my terrible attempts at speaking Russian from my little phrase book. Tatyana was in fits of laughter!

They left the train the following afternoon and for the next few hours I had the cabin to myself again, in fact the whole train seemed pretty empty.

Then we arrived at a fairly big station and while my cabin still had three empty beds, I heard people move into the cabins beside me.

Soon after I noticed a young woman standing out in the corridor gazing out the window while she charged her mobile phone (there are power sockets in the corridors). She saw my cabin was empty and asked if she could join me. I soon discovered why she was so keen - the people she was sharing a cabin with next door included the same 2 year old child that has been popping her head into my cabin as I write this entry, except last night she was crying her head off and her parents were trying to get her to sleep.

So Ksacha and I spent the next few hours chatting in my cabin. She has a job designing nails (as in decorative fingernail designs), but is also studying English at university. This meant her English was excellent and it was so refreshing to be able to have an in-depth conversation where we could actually discuss complex things without running into language barriers. These moments have been few and far between over the last month, so I take them when I can. We only spoke for a few hours but discussed many things including music, politics, photography and travel. Her father is a portrait photographer, and although she is studying English to become an interpreter, her heart is more in music and the arts, so she's having second thoughts about her career.

Then we pulled into another big station and the trans-sib lottery dealt me up some new cabin-mates and condemned poor Ksacha back to her cabin of infant noise hell for the night.

I went out into the corridor to make room while my three new cabin-mates moved into their bunks. There was a man aged about 30 traveling alone, and a man and wife couple in their 40's. I wasn't quite sure how this was going to pan out, but things soon became very clear when I walked back into the cabin and Alestar, the guy traveling alone, pulled out a bottle of cognac and plonked it on the table, followed by Andrey and Tatiana with the bread, cheese, pork, and tomato. The best I had to offer was some decent chocolate and some mixed nuts. It was going to be one of those nights.

And so it began. The most memorable yet a bit hazy night of my trip so far, sharing a cabin with these wonderful people.

Alestar is a fireman while Andrey is a military doctor and his wife Tatiana is his assistant. I'm not sure what rank Andrey is, but I get the feeling he's a pretty highly-ranked officer. He and Tatiana have been together 15 years, since he was a luitenant. He is now 48 and has had many promotions since then but I couldn't understand the specifics.

The language barrier presented it's ever-present head throughout the night, but that proved to be half the fun. Communication just became a hilarious drunken game of charades/pictionary. It didn't really matter.

After the cognac, a bottle of vodka appeared from somewhere. Then we stopped at a station and Alestar disappeared and came back with some Russian champagne. Then finally when the champagne was gone and Alestar had gone to bed, Andrey and I continued on beer while Tatiana stuck with tea.

You couldn't imagine a more lovely couple than Andrey and Tatiana. The most warm, friendly, unassuming, patient, down to earth and kind people you could hope to meet. And to be having a night like that in the context of a train traveling across Siberia is an experience money just can't buy. That alone makes a trip like this worthwhile.

My little 2 year old friend just poked her head in the door again, but this time the train lurched and she banged her head on the door frame. It ended in tears instead of laughter. Maybe that's the end of that game.

I should point out that on this train, time doesn't work in the normal way. My journey from Irkutsk to Moscow spans a five hour time zone difference, so at any point we are just somewhere in between Irkutsk time and Moscow time, but nobody really knows where and it doesn't really matter anyway. The whole Russian rail system works on Moscow time, so I just set my watch to that so I can at least keep track of where we are when we arrive at a station and I look at the schedule. But it's been dark outside for hours and my watch says it's only 4pm, so it makes no sense to try to live by Moscow time until I get to Moscow.

So Andrey and Tatiana left the train just before I started writing this entry, and Alestar is getting ready to leave at a stop soon. I wonder who my next companions will be?

And my little friend is back waving at the door. It seems it takes more than a bump on the head to keep her out of action. They breed 'em tough in Siberia.

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Location:Somewhere on the Trans-Siberian Railway, Russia