Ben Welsher | Writings

Split/Plitvice 31/08/2010 We stirred from dreams surrounded by our belongings which we had neatly strewn around the camp. After collecting the chaos the road called once more. A short drive brought us to Split and the Roman Emperor Diocletian's retirement home. His palace has been built on, in and around over the centuries and makes for a curious, amalgamated piece of architecture. We ate breakfast (byrek) and stumbled upon a giant man with a well worn toe. Gregory of Nin was a man who had some affiliation with a place called Nin, er...that's all I know. I do know that his big toe is reputed to bring luck to the rubber. After the calamities of the previous day a simple stroke of a digit was a superstition worth indulging. The day had brought precisely zero auto incidents thus far. But that is not how we roll so Mike smacked the car into a kerb upon entering a tunnel and we were only saved from a head on collision by his excellent driving (note, part of this statement is b*llo...

Sarajevo/Mostar/Split - 30/08/2010 In parts of Sarajevo you could be forgiven for thinking you were in some quaint Bavarian town such are the pockets of picturesque to be found there. Its sights are few and pockmarked with bullet holes and even having seen them there is a sense you are missing something of the place. The real gem lay to the south. Constructed by the Turks in the 1500s, blown up by the Serbs in the 90's, it stands over the Neretva river fully restored and fully worthy of a visit. Solid towers suspend a high, arcing bridge 21 metres up. Locals will cheerfully throw themselves off it after a whip round has produced sufficient Kuna (I think they accept euros too, no cards. Heading again for the border and the rest of our Croatia leg a couple of nice gentlemen with 'Polizi' on their uniform flagged us down, "Documents". Speeding apparently. Michael 'James Bond' Hartles was diplomatic and admonishment delivered we were let go without a fine...

Dubrovnik/Sarajevo - 29/08/2010 Michelle had taken her throat singing to the patio and the cute French girl (we'll call her Laetitia) was staring at me lustily, an excellent start to the day. The old town of Dubrovnik is undeniably beautiful, a fact not lost on the world's population. It is unrealistic and unreasonable to expect such a place to remain unexploited, preserved for the select few that undertake to make the pilgrimage. Those days are gone in the shrunken world of today. I know not when they actually were but I cannot help but cast my mind back to when it was equally aesthetic but less ruthlessly commercial. It the cruellest of double-edged swords, the money that tourism brings rebuilds, renews and sustains these sights and, to cite the scientific maxim, 'whatever is observed is by definition changed'. What makes, breaks. Enough cynicism and hypocrisy though, we've places to be and one hell of a coastline to cover. We had hired a car through Croatia as ...

Schkodrä/Dubrovnik - 28/08/2010 Today we have some moving to do. Our exit from Albania wasn't as rapid as I had originally envisioned though I am glad of it. We have found it to be a country quite unlike that imagined. Far from the gloomy, rubbled remains of a country where there was the iron fist of socialism sans velvet glove, it comes across a poor but honest place that will hopefully see an increase in tourism and prosperity in years to come (without losing its character). A cold shower whilst balancing over a toilet (the hazards of hosteling) was a bracing start to the day and once I had got over the minor trauma of waking with a tongue as black as coal it was time to bid farewell. We zigzagged up the coast between mountain to our right and sea our left. The first bus took us over the border to Ulcinj in Montenegro, our 4th country. Swift, unremarkable connections to Budva and then Herceg Novi followed and then the final leap into Croatia. The queue at the border was a great...

Tirana/Schkodra - 27/08/2010 A word of advice here, should an earplug dislodge itself during the night, do not pop it into your mouth and chew it like a tasty treat, it most certainly is not. Our bus north did not depart until the afternoon so with a few hours to waste we ate a leisurely breakfast of the local speciality byrek (a cheese filled triangular pastry) outside the mosque while the Muezzin warmed up. The Museum of National History provided a comprehensive if at times scattered record of Albania's past and its hero Skanderbeg's defiance of the Ottomans. Our green, German-engineered steed stood behind the train station in readiness for the journey to Schkodra. Whilst what sounded like one of Hitler's Nuremberg orations blared out of the buse's speakers we sped through Tirana's suburbs. One of the contrasts in these countries (imho) is that the people seem unburdened by strictured regulation. Onerous rules are not devised, unnecessary laws are not obeyed. The...

Tirana - 26/08/2010 We wended, we wove, we did not wake. That is because we did not sleep. My informative partner gave up his seat for a man whose hand had been mangled in an industrial accident, possibly with a lathe (this is all conjecture on my part). We eventually reached the end of the line and the end of our plan at 6AM in downtown Tirana. Freddy took us in but the room would not be ready for a few hours thus the city's delights were ours for the observing. We found Skanderbeg atop his horse in the centre of what disappointingly is no longer the most chaotic roundabout in the world. Multitudinous Mercedes still hared around it but it no longer has the life threatening qualities that so recommended its witnessing. No-one could in conscience call Tirana a beautiful city (though its female populace is of the highest quality) but it has a certain earthy charm. The traffic of its river is chiefly comprised of the detritus of human living but it has a most aesthetic (if unused) la...

Thessaloniki - 25/08/2010 Despite being roused from sleep by (what seemed like) hourly passport checks, an otherwise decent night's rest was had. We woke to golden Elysium fields of wheat blanketing the land. We passed through them knowing that the only noise left behind us would be the gentle swish and rattle as the wind passed through the swaying stalks. A sparse, sun-baked landscape provided such a stark contrast to an Istanbul so profuse with water. We have picked up some extra carriages overnight, they have slowed us and made us behind schedule. Two hours late into Thessaloniki in northern Greece meant an extra urgency in seeing the sites, thankfully as we discovered, these are few. We first happened upon some fine orthodox churches with well kept icons and impressive iconostasis, pictures were taken. We each lit a devotional candle to Hermes, the god of travel and implored him to bless our journey and keep us safe. A seafront that Milton Keynes would be proud of in its concr...

Istanbul - 24/08/2010 A bazaar of another kind today, its raison d'etre being spices. Again my rather romantic visions of hessian sacks festooned with great pyramids of pungent spice were disappointed. A rainbow of scarlet saffron and sandy turmeric was replaced by well ordered plastic containers complete with handy scoops. Must stop thinking I live in the 19th century. Despite the help of an Italian from Brighton and a Turk from Turkey in double act, a sought church on the Golden Horn never materialised. But at least we were on the spot for more balik ekmete. My hat nearly became a casualty in the extensive list of things I have tried to lose this holiday (the bath plugs were the first to fall, how we miss them). The way back took in the pigeon mosque, a scene of utter terror for Mike. His protestations of the unappreciated danger of these seemingly innocuous avians bordered on the lunatic. A most seemly way to round off one's hot, dirty, perspiring day is in the muggy cloist...

Istanbul - 23/08/2010 Today Topkapi (apologies to Zuhal for pronunciation), tomorrow the world! Well Greece anyway. Good progress was being made so we took the decision to leave a day early buying us a extra 24 hours along the way. Thus tickets for the Thessaloniki Express are booked for the evening of the following day. The next POI was the aforementioned palace though. Taking the circuitous route along the coastal road afforded the opportunity to scramble (with the surefootedness of a mountain goat) up onto its extensive walls. This done, a little exploration revealed bandits had already claimed this section and fearing robbery and flaying we retreated back down. The Topkapi is a sprawling palace complex with many and varied buildings and isn't without that palace essential - the circumcision room. The live demonstrations prompted a hasty exit. The Grand Bazaar is epic in extent, an industrious warren of sellers, shoppers and multitudinous wares. Each little nook that houses an ...

London/Istanbul - 22/08/2010 Second bus comes, we embark. Driver, who even if never uttered a singular word to you could not help but be supposed a curmudgeon, was grumpy as is his habit. Gatwick looms, we check in and wait for the plane. I note with interest that Easyjet's 'Speedy Queue' optional extra seems to have been created primarily by slowing down the normal queue. Having said that there must have been something vaguely efficient about boarding as the captain felt able to spare 10 minutes to deliver an impromptu standup routine at the front of the plane. He was, it must be said, a refreshing change from the dour sobriety that is the modus operandi of the airline community normally. Having closed my eyes (yet not slept) I somehow missed the take off and landing completely. The middle bit was as interesting as (and did include) an airsteward's safety brief, thus we find ourselves in Istanbul. A shuttle bus to the western limit of Asia Minor and ferry across the B...

London - 21/08/2010 The concrete strip bisects the grand old capital and moves us closer to Turkey by the second. Suspended as we are above the minutiae of life on either side we could be 10 or 100 feet from the ground, the endless towers offer no clue. The heat of our destination is as nothing to the fug of our 6 wheeled locale, a thoughtful aid to acclimatisation by National Express. But only the metronomically audible consumption of crisps introduces a sliver of black rage into my otherwise calm disposition. Looking out of the window at the burgeoning city I can't help but slip into a London-centric mindset for a second as it seems no idea was ever had that was not conceived here first. And yet somehow I already feel in a foreign country, doubtful the people around would understand if I were to speak. Time has ceased to be a point of reference, location is my barometer. We arrive as London is closing for the night, pub after pub shuts its doors to us, this stopover will go slow...

Birmingham Coach Station - 21/08/2010

Birmingham - 21/08/2010 And so we go. Destination: climes and shores foreign.

"A journey is a person in itself; no two are alike. And all plans, safeguards, policing and coercion are fruitless. We find after years of struggle that we do not take a trip; a trip takes us." -- John Steinbeck

Have adopted the chaotic approach to packing favoured by headless chickens that generally works so poorly in other aspects of my life. Time is moving far faster than I am it seems.