A New Adventure

So the story picks up where I left off. It only took me eight months to write all the stories from last year’s trip so I think I can safely say that I can do better this year. I’ve been given a green light to take another trip and my tickets are booked so there is no turning back now. A few months ago I placed a widget on the blog with four destinations for my next trip. I guess it’s about time I reveal the results. If you remember the choices were:

1. Istanbul, Turkey
2. Odessa, Ukraine
3. St. Petersburg, Russia
4. Helsinki, Finland

The results were quite a shock to me. I personally thought that St. Petersburg would have been the runaway winner in this survey. As it turns out it came in third just in front of Helsinki. In second place was Istanbul and the surprising winner turned out to be Odessa by a whopping 6 votes. So I have put together some preliminary plans to travel to Odessa starting on August 8, 2009. I fly into Munich and from there I go to Jadrtovac in Croatia where I left my bike last year. I have gone through many routes on google maps and my favorite mapsite ViaMichelin (by far the best European route maker). My preliminary route has me traveling through:

• Croatia
• Bosnia Herzegovina
• Montenegro
• Serbia
• Albania
• Macedonia
• Greece
• Turkey
• Bulgaria
• Romania
• Moldova
• Ukraine Republic
• Poland
• Czech
• Germany

That basically works out to one country for every day I'm on the road. Of course I don't plan on spending the night in Albania or Macedonia, though that may change along the way. Its a hectic schedule with alot of ground to cover but fortunately I'm riding solo so I can change my route at will.

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Epilogue

(Somewhere over the Atlantic- Monday, September 1, 2008) The flight out of Germany was terrible. There was a three hour line up just to get tickets so I went unknowingly to the first class line, which was still 45 minutes long. When I took my turn the girl questioned me about being in the wrong line and I told her that the guy over there (imagine me pointing at a nondescript crowd) told me to come here because my flight was leaving in half an hour. She didn't even think of putting me through secondary questioning. Something was going down at the airport and the crowds were getting ready to turn into a complete riot. I have never seen anything like it. Needless to say my flight was delayed for two hours. But on the bright side I was given a coupon to go eat. Yay! I wasn't looking forward to the flight home anyways.

I went through security a little worried that I was going to have to drink the contents of my pilfered mini bar right there on the spot but I caught a break and they didn't question it at all. I guess the mini bottles of booze fall into the 75ml and under category of acceptable liquids. Or... maybe they really don't care. I made my way to the gate so I would know where to go if I started to run late and then I hit the duty free. Now usually at the duty free they take your ticket and have your stuff waiting at the gate for you but not here. Not only did the champagne salesman pour me half a dozen glasses to try (and I did buy a couple bottles in the end) but at the end of the sale they just handed me my loot in a sealed plastic bag. Nice.

I then scoured the airport looking for some Bitter Lemon. For those of you who don't know what bitter lemon is it's a terrible tasting soda that when mixed with gin becomes the greatest hi-ball ever, but you can't buy it in North America. I finally found some and loaded up my day pack with 5 bottles of it. I had to tie the jacket I had packed around my waste to make room. Then I went and used my coupon for free food. What a feast! They actually fed us very well. I had the steak and potatoes and chicken and pasta and ice cream and beer and wine. It made the walk down to the gate a little heavier to say the least.

The plane was delayed another hour so I sat at the beer kiosk by the gate and had a couple of more until boarding began. I had the forethought to use the bathroom prior to getting on the plane. That's experience for you.

I thought the delays on the ground were bad. They were nothing compared to the 6 hours we spent on the tarmac. This was borderline kidnapping. Fortunately the guy next to me was good company and we exchanged stories. He spent the summer with his family at his house in Greece and explained the ins and outs of traveling with two passports. Lucky bastard. After about an hour of waiting I ripped into my plastic bag and pulled out the bottle of gin and my new travel partner and I polished off the bottle over the next four hours. Then I asked the waitress...err...I mean stewardess to bring me glasses of orange juice to rehydrate myself. I'm not sure how much hydrating I did after I mixed it with one of the bottles of champagne and then drank that bottle of champagne too. I'm terrible. A month in Europe has turned me into swine. I'm not even sure if I was drunk at this point. Of course being unsure you're drunk means you are drunk but being drunk you fail miserably at self realization. "I drink therefore I am?"



I was ecstatic when the plane finally lifted off. My drinking buddy wasn't talking anymore and that in itself was a little worrisome he was being awfully quiet and still. Somewhere over the European continent he began to move and my spidey senses were bang on. He moved so quickly to grab his barf bag that I could barely make out his hands. For the next twenty minutes he had all the barf bags from the two rows of seats around us strapped to his face. My job was to take the full ones and provide him with new ones. The sounds he made were unbelievable. People were looking at me like I was some kind of saint for taking care of this poor stranger. The looks of sympathy were equaled out by the looks of disgust. I could see that some of the people around me were on the borderline of puking themselves. The smell was thick and by walking each bag down to the bathroom I just contaminated the back half of the plane with the odour of regurgitated gin. My fellow passengers were not impressed. Even the flight crew was impressed with my ability to keep it together and handle the situation at ground zero. All I could think was that this guy was getting some kind of ab workout. The wet work was followed by about 10 minutes of dry heaves until he passed out exhausted. His whole family was aboard the plane but they were nowhere to be found now. I was on my own. With the exception of this kid and his father who seemed to be enjoying the gin opera the guy was spewing out.



I was on my own for the rest of the flight. After that show there was no chance I was going to be able to find a new drinking partner. I polished off the champagne and had the girls fetch me a few cocktails for the remainder of the flight. I finished up with a couple of Bailey's and coffees and the landing couldn't have come soon enough.

Customs was another story... I was drunk, tired, dirty, and smelly when I approached the customs officer. With the exception of the minibar and second bottle of champagne still tucked in my carry on I had drunk all my duty free and I was under my limit again. Nope, I'm wrong. I had forgotten about the ten or so liters of beer in my luggage. Oh well, the way I look no customs officer wants to deal with me. I was in and out smoothly.

Trip complete. How the heck am I going to pay my credit cards off?

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Auf Wiedersehen

(Frankfurt- Sunday, August 31, 2008)It was easy finding the right train to Frankfurt this time. Hans actually walked me to the proper deck and made sure I got on. He wasn't surprised that I knew which door to get on to get quickest access to the bar car. There were only a handful of people waiting at this door as most people were fighting to get themselves a decent berth. Little did they know the lounge seats are more comfortable and there's quite a bit of storage space for luggage that doesn't require lifting your luggage above your head. I decided to take it easy and pace myself a little. I actually started my trip with a nice strong coffee. Yes..s you heard right, coffee. I was a little tired from last evening and I needed a pick me up.

I did a little house keeping with my gear and packed up what I wouldn't be using and put everything I needed to survive the next 18 hours in my shoulder pack. Moving my luggage around is thirsty work so I ordered a beer and the moment that bitter golden nectar touched my tongue my plan to take it easy went right out the door and I turned into a werewolf and began to guzzle. A couple of couples sat across from me cramped into a small table. I could see them scoping out my luxurious space and I knew they were jealous of me. They started playing some card game and they were speaking English. Judging from the girls accents they were Americans. The guy seated at the table with me made a terrible error when he got up and grabbed his bag to go for a walk. He was a big guy and between the two of us we were taking up enough space to seat half a dozen people with a nice spacious table. He was blocking one end and I was blocking the other and we had our gear strewn about to keep people away.

The minute... no the second he started walking out of the bar car the Yanks swooped in and took over his place. Now they began to crowd me out and I wasn't the least bit happy about it. But not unhappy enough to stop buying beers. You know they say alcoholism is a disease (the only disease where you can yell at someone for having it) and like many diseases it would seem it's contagious, because once my American cousins sat near me they began to order beers. The girls were drinking faster than the boys and after the second round the girls overtook them and ordered a third without them. They abandoned their card game and one of them asked me for a pen in slow loud English to which I responded in slow loud English, "of course I do".

The husbands both laughed and the conversation was struck. We ended up drinking all the way to Frankfurt together. As it turned out the one guy was the son of the German ambassador to Croatia so we had a great discussion on Croatia entering the European Union (which I think is a mistake in my personal opinion). I love traveling by train. I always meet great people on the train. When we arrived in Frankfurt we exchanged emails and I made my way back to the Memphis Hotel.



When I arrived in Frankfurt a month ago there was a festival on the river. Now, a month later, there was another big celebration going on. It was absolutely amazing! There was a big carnival on one side of the river and on the otherside there was probably eight different pavilions set up with stages and different bands and music styles playing at each of them. And talk about food and drink, it was unbelievable. You could get anything you wanted. I had a couple of margaritas just to change it up a bit and then went back to beer. The best thing about buying beer from the vendors is that they serve it to you in a glass stein and you just pay a 1 Euro deposit. You're free to roam the streets with it and if you don't want to return it you don't have to. If this were Vancouver, people would be killing each other with the glassware. Here in Frankfurt, not even a sign of aggression. This is how life should be. And then, to top off the end of my adventure... FIREWORKS!



It was a fitting conclusion to a trip that spanned two continents, nine countries, and five thousand kilometers. I traveled by plane, train, car, boat, foot, tram, bus, ferry, and of course motorcycle. There were so many wonderful experiences and one bad one. I met amazing people wherever I went and the world became a smaller place for me. The trip was done and here were the fireworks to commemorate it. Frankfurt welcomed me with open arms and now it said it's goodbyes in dramatic fashion. I decided to keep the mug as a souvenir of this moment. I had to catch a flight back to Canada in the morning so I only drank until three in the morning. In retrospect I would have been better off taking my luggage to the airport for storage as I didn't sleep at all. I returned to my hotel and packed the minibar into my daypack, had a shower, and headed for the train station to catch the metro to the airport. I knew my way around pretty good so getting to the airport was a breeze. It seemed only yesterday that I was at this very spot beginning my journey and now as I ascended the elevator up to the terminal the trek was over.

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Ich bin ein Berliner

(Berlin - Saturday, August 30, 2008) If you have ever been to the train station in Munich you know how many platforms there are. Add to the complications that the trains all run on time and the signage is less then straight forward to non Germans and oh yeah... I'm drunk! I make it to my train and immediately grab a seat. I make myself comfortable and have a little cat nap. I'm awoken by the conductor asking for tickets. He takes a little longer with mine and then stamps away. Good, everything is okay. The person across from me isn't the same person that was across from me when I left Munich. That's always a little troubling. I check the time to make sure it hasn't been hours. It hasn't. Perhaps I was snoring and it bothered the other person.

Being awake now I head to the bar car to spend some of my winnings. I sit down with my beer and strike up a conversation with a couple at the same table. I show them pictures of my bike and tell them the places I've been and they think it's fantastic. As time passes and the German landscape passes by at light speed the wife (I forget her name) asks me a fantastic question.

"If you flew into Frankfurt, why are you flying out of Berlin"

To which I answer, "I'm not flying out of Berlin."

To which she replied, "Then why are you on the train to Berlin?"

To which I answer, "I'm not on the train to Berlin." I don't like where this is going.

As it turns out, I am indeed on the train to Berlin. Sorry, not the train to Berlin... the 'high speed' train to Berlin. It's very late and it's not going to be easy to find a hotel, that's for sure. I begin to go into survival mode and start sobering up quickly. I ask Hans (the husband) questions about Berlin and where I should stay. He gets on the phone and calls a number of places and informs me that most hotels are booked up because of some convention or festival or both. Damn it. Sleeping at a train station. Wouldn't be the first time.

They talk amongst themselves and come up with a great plan. Why don't I stay at their house? What a great idea! We pass by the main station in Berlin and get off at the Berlin/Spandau station. They have a car waiting in the parking lot and we load up and make our way to the house.

Now talk about hitting the jackpot. When we arrive at there place the maid opens the door for us. Food is waiting for us and there is beer on the table. They inform me that I will have to sleep in the pool house as all they rooms in the main are being used by their children and staff. Normally there would be space but they are moving into their apartment in the city tomorrow so hey needed extra staff here. I take it all in stride and act as if I'm used to being taken care of. We talk about houses and he asks about mine. After a little conversion my 3700 square foot (350 meters squared) meets his approval. That and the pictures of the house in Jadrtovac brings me up to a decent class level. We drink 'til about 1 in the morning and we head to our respective beds. My bedroom is a little humid as the pool house means exactly what it sounds like. It's a house with an indoor pool in it. I go to use the bathroom in my room but it's not a bathroom. It's the tanning room with a full lie down bed. I could get used to this.
I have a quick swim and I get some sleep.

In the morning breakfast was waiting. What a wonderful meal it was. They basically took some kind of mixed cereal and added cashews to it. Then, instead of milk, they topped it with unsweetened whipping cream. Plus, the coffee was to die for. After breakfast Hans offered to take me around town and show me Berlin. I refused the offer but he was insistent. But first he said he would take me to the train station and get me the right tickets to get to Frankfurt.



I brought my bag to the front door but he said to leave it. It wouldn't fit in his car anyways. He would make sure that it was waiting for us at the apartment in town at lunch time. So throwing caution, and my luggage, to the wind I got in the only brand new Ford Mustang Convertible in a country full of BMW's, Mercedes, Audi's, Ferrari's, etc. The funny thing? Everyone looked as we drove by. when we got to the train station Hans made me wait in the car. About 10 minutes later he arrived with my new tickets. I offered to pay but he was having none of it.



The rest of the morning we went around Berlin and took in all the tourist sites. Brandenburg Gate, Berlin Wall, and Checkpoint Charlie were the highlights. What an awesome city though. There's a feeling you get when you arrive in such a large city. It's almost like when you take your first train ride from JFK to 42nd Street station in New York. The hustle and bustle and the amount of people on the streets is unbelievable.

I spent two hours at the Check Point Charlie museum. If you ever find yourself in Berlin I highly recommend seeing this. It's a true testament to the stupidity of mankind and our ability to cause pain and hardship on a mass scale. It also showcases the ingenuity and perseverance of individuals fighting against tyranny to try and make their world better. That being said some of the failed escape attempts were enough to bring anyone to tears and I had to choke down and not cry openly.



After playing (actually I wasn't playing) tourist for the morning we went back to the apartment for lunch. Now when he said apartment I shouldn't have believed him. This 'apartment' was the entire top floor of a building that had to have been 300 years old. The place was massive and had a view on all four sides. Lunch was fantastic too. After lunch we had a beer and Hans drove me to the train station with a detailed map directing me to the proper platform. Then with a quick Auf Wiedersen I made my way to the train.

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Beginner's Luck

(Munich - Saturday, August 30, 2008) The bus ride to Zagreb was long, uncomfortable, and nondescript. The sun was just starting to come up as we entered Zagreb and I wasn't looking forward to the long walk from the bus terminal to the train station. At least it's not raining!

The walk wasn't as bad as it was two years ago when I made this trip in reverse. There wasn't many people out at 5 in the morning and the sun wasn't beating down hard yet. Plus knowing the way helps tremendously. So after a brisk walk I make it to there with plenty of time to spare. None of the kiosks are open so I plunge into my daypack to eat a sandwich that I brought along with me. I have a beer in my pack as well but even I have my limits.

I'll wait until at least 6am before I start drinking. If I were already drinking that would be a different story then the rule is don't stop drinking until you pass out.

I buy my ticket to Frankfurt and notice that it is alot cheaper than my ticket from Munich to Zagreb last year. I found out later that you save tons of money if you buy your tickets in the Eastern countries as opposed to Germany or Austria. I love traveling by train. It has to be one of the most civilized forms of transportation. The route to Frankfurt requires that I change trains a few times but that's good too. Gives me a chance to see more places and people. When we get to the Slovenian border the police come aboard and ask for passports. One of the guys I'm sharing a berth with gets into a heated discussion with them and is then removed violently in handcuffs. It's at times like this that I truly enjoy having a blue passport from Canada.

My first stop is Ljubljana Slovenia. I spent a night here last year and I had a great time. It's a beautiful city with a gorgeous river running through it. The people are nice and the food is excellent... and so are the prices. I have about 15 minutes before I need to change trains so I grab some refreshments. I remember how terrible the Union beer (basically the only brand of beer they sell in this country) was so I opt for a small bottle of gin with some Schweppes Bitter Lemon to mix with it. I nab a couple of cups from the cafeteria and get on the train.

This train is packed but I manage to find myself a berth. My luggage is uber heavy and I have to get down and power squat the damn thing into the overhead. People are looking at me and wondering if I have gold bricks inside. Gold bricks? No. Gold beer? Yes!

When we get to some small town in Austria I'm forced to change trains again. I have to book it to make my connection. One thing I know about the Austrians is they may look and act all casual, but nothing ever leaves late or early. They only have one time here... on time! I get a berth but when the conductor comes to check my ticket he tells me I've chosen improperly and that I will have to change berths as this one is reserved. There are no berths available now so I leave my luggage in place and head to the bar. It's nice not caring if someone steals your stuff. It allows you far more freedom of movement. Plus, having a suitcase that ways 72,824 kilograms makes even the most cunning thief think twice.



You really have to hand it to the Germans when it comes to their trains. They have by far the best bar cars out of the European fleets. I order a pint (actully half liter but I'll never call it that) and wait for my moment. There it is! This couple gets up and walks away from there seats and I swoop in ahead of the other couple I saw eyeing them up. Tough luck for them. They could have moved faster if they weren't burdened with their luggage.

The half liter turns into 3 liters and a bratwurst very quickly as the train chugs through the Austrian countryside. By the time we reach Saltzburg I'm half in the bag and I've been recruited into a game of Baccarat with a group from Denmark.

"How do you play Baccarat?", I ask innocently.

"We'll teach you", says the young, yet overly large, Danish lad named Karsten

A month of playing Baccarat in Sicily back in the early nineties combined with the arrogance of a true James Bond fan gets mistaken for beginners luck as I'm up 35 Euro. Not to mention the fact that I've switched back to gin as my primary intoxicant just to keep in the 007 mood. By the time I reached Munich I was up 40 Euros and I had to bid my Danish friends Hej hej (farewell).

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