The Ghan: or how I spent 25 hours in a train (Part II)

(In order to read part I, click here)

Let the journey begin...!! 

So there I was in The Ghan with a backpack full of water, snacks, clothes... and all the basic things you may need during a week in the middle of the Australian desert. We left Adelaide around noon but we wouldn't make it till Alice Springs until the following day at 1 pm. The train made some six or seven stops throughout the 1500 km journey... so if you calculate the average speed you will notice we weren't going THAT fast.

I started munching some sandwiches I had prepared for lunch enjoying the view, the company of my monkey Marcelino and the old Vietnamese lady sitting next to me. She offered me peanuts a couple of times. Such a nice smiling lady!

More peanuts

That was a slow and nice trip. Talking to the nice-looking American backpacker sitting behind me and the old and hilarious Aussie bloke next to her. I got offered some more peanuts. I read a book and a magazine I had with me, explored the train... but most importantly, I enjoyed the views from my window. It evolved from the Mediterranean forest around Adelaide, to the famous vineyards of South Australia, to steppe and finally to desert. An endless desert. Just amazing.

One of the last few farms before reaching the Outback

The most absolute nothing

A few hours later, the train kept on rolling towards the heart of the Australian desert and the sun was going down. After several unsuccessful attempts of conversation with my Vietnamese travel companion I could only understand that she had come to Australia after the Vietnam War.   She couldn't say much more in her more than broken English. I believe she noticed my frustration and she offered some more peanus with a smile. So I happily accepted her apology peanuts and exchanged for some of my wasabi coated peas. At that moment I was completely dead. My whole body was in pain, my neck hurted from talking to the passengers sitting behind me and I was terribly thirsty from eating so many peanuts so... I decided to explore the train a bit more.

I found the dining car -if I can call it that way. It was more like a living room / bar. So I ordered a coke and read for a while... until a really strange-looking bloke sat next to me and started reading my book over my shoulder. I tried to stop him by giving him some "stop-that" stares and coughed uncomfortably, but it didn't quite work out so I walked back to my car where I stayed for the rest of the trip.

Más nada cerca de Coober Pedy

The sun also rises

That was a long night, but somehow I managed to get some sleep in my not-so-comfy seat. The first rays of sun woke me up.

Marcelino stretching himself in the morning

Once I was fully awake, I noticed the landscape hadn't changed one bit since sunset. Just red sand and some dried up bushes for as far as you could see. There was not a single human in hundreds of kilometres around. And then we reached the border between South Australia and the Northern Territory, not far away from the Tropic of Capricorn. Even though the landscape had not changed, the air seemed denser than usual for some reason... 

Excuse the bad framing of this picture... but I tried to do my best  from the moving train

Welcome to Alice Springs

The train ride was coming to an end. As Alice Springs got closer the air seemed denser and we could not enjoy a clear view of the horizon anylonger. The wind had started a small dust storm. That meant we wouldn't enjoy clean air on our arrival, but that was still normal, wasn't it? That's one of the many cliches we have about the desert: a dry and sandy place with a few dust storms every now and then.  

Two cows trying to hide from the coming dust storm

After a few minutes we couldn't see more than a few metres away

McDowell Ranges, on the other side Alice Springs was waiting for us.

The dust storm was fine, I just didn't expect to have rain. There's just a few rainy days in the centre of Australia every year, so I guess I was just unlucky. It started with just a few drops of water and continued with torrential rain. It stopped right before we reached Alice Springs, and the view was just spectacular. A flash flood had blocked the Stuart Highway. The wind had done the same thing to the electricity pylons and in spite of the heavy rain there was still heaps of sand from the dust storm around us. 

A view of Alice Springs from Anzac Hill

Old Stuart Town Gaol, Alice Springs.

That's the way my week in the desert started: in a muddy town with the air full of dust, with its only road flooded, and all the shops closed down because of the blackout. Murphy's Law says: "anything that can go wrong, will go wrong"... at least I was not robbed!

The Ghan is slow and maybe a bit of a torture. It is not that cheap (about the same prize than the plane even with the cheapest train ticket) and any sensible enough person will tell you to fly there. If you have time and love trains as much as I do... you must try it, though. You'll thank me -if you still talk to me. 

I'll write more about the Outback later on, but next article will be about the day I spent in 5 different countries. 

The Ghan: or how I spent 25 hours in a train (Part I)

It was a beautiful September day in Sydney...

Spring had sprung, essay week was coming and I had no plans yet. I was living downunder and obviously I was not going to stay at home writing essays and other assignments...

My first choice -and taking into account the relatively short distance- was Honiara, the capital of the Solomon Islands. It was a family matter. These islands were discovered by  my great-etc.-great-grandfather Álvaro de Mendaña in 1568 while trying to find the Terra Australis Incognita he would never find.

Santa Cruz / Nendo Island (Solomon Is.), where Álvaro de Mendaña died.

It was a shame I couldn't really afford that trip. Just the return ticket to Honiara was around 600 bucks. So... I decided going to the Australian Outback instead. 

Quick stopover in Adelaide
So I took the first Qantas flight to Adelaide. If you take a look to a map of Australia, Sydney seems relatively close to the capital of South Australia, but they're actually 1300 kms apart. I had 4-5 hours to stroll around the city centre and buy some goodies before my train ride. 

This is the city of Adelaide as seen from the plane. You can appreciate the Parklands surrounding the city centre's square mile. 

As you could appreciate in the picture, Adelaide is a planned city. It was completely designed by Colonel William Light in 1837 (year in which the new British colony of South Australia was established). But even if Adelaide is a planned city it has a special charm of its own and it is not cold, incoherent and -somehow- overrationalized like... erhm... let's say... Canberra!

 

Chinatown and St. Francis Xavier's catholic cathedral

The city hall

 Marcelino, my travel companion, at Victoria Square

So what is The Ghan?

If you're a train lover, you've probably heard about The Ghan. It is comparable to the luxory of world-famous Blue Train in South Africa, the no-longer existing Orient Express or the also Australian Indian-Pacific. 

The Ghan was built in order to connect South Australia with Alice Springs (a city in the middle of the continent). The original plan was to connect Adelaide to Darwin, but just the first half was finished in 1929 -even then the last few kilometres were done on camel caravans. The connection to Darwin was not completed until 2001.

The name comes from the original nickname: The Afghan Express. Hundreds of Afghani, used to life in the desert, were hired by the British to build the tracks and also to transport provisions on their camels to Alice Springs. By the time they were no longer needed, they abandoned their camels in the desert. That explains why there's so feral camels in central Australia. 

The train itself is impressive... a countless number of carriages comprise this convoy and it is virtually impossible to see the whole train unless it is from the distance. You can hire an entire carriage for yourself. Slightly cheaper is the Platinum class providing you an en-suite cabin ocupying half a carriage. If you don't have that much cash, you could always buy a Gold Class ticket... sharing a cabin with other two people. However I travelled in the Red Kangaroo Class. And that was not a joke.

My carriage as seen during sunrise

Let the journey begin...! (To be continued on the second part...)

How to organize a trip to Equatorial Guinea in easy steps

It was a nice May afternoon in Zagreb....

I was resting a bit after lunch and about to go to my Croatian class. That's when, out of the blue, I received THE email: "Would you be interested in working in Malabo next August?" You have to tell me now, though."

I completely freaked out for the next three hours... and obviously I paid no attention to my Croatian language teacher. I was too busy weighing the whole situation. So I guess you already know what my answer was, right? I believe it was something short like... "Where do I have to sign?"

As you may know, my well-cultured reader, Equatorial Guinea is not in Europe (leave alone the Schengen Area)... so one does not simply walk into Malabo and say: "hi!". First there's heaps of bureaucracy...

WAIT!! What are you doing with that syringe?! AHH, STOP THAT!! You cheeky little bastard...!

Yes, you guessed it right. Before even thinking about going to a tropical area you must check the health recommendations and regulations and get a few tiny holes up your forearm. If you don't like helicopter-sized mosquitoes and sweltering heat, the good E.G. is not your country... but even if you don't mind these you'll have to get a few vaccines:

- Yellow fever (mandatory).

- Diphteria

- Hepathitis A and B

- Typhoid fever

- Cholera

- Oh... and don't forget a recipe for your favourite antimalarial medication... and... well, a booster injection of tetanus wouldn't hurt either!

I know your arm hurts, but do not get depressed (not yet). All these had a purpose, and that was getting this wonderful-magical-superspecial -and most importantly, yellow- International Certificate of Vaccination issued by the World Health Organization (it even has its emblem on the cover) and signed by your doctor. And 100% free!! Well... not really, you have to pay. But not much, don't worry!

Bureaucracy, papers, papers... FOR CRYING OUT LOUD, MAN! I CAN SEE YOUR KNEES!! 

Now that you have your yellow vaccination thingy, you're almost ready to apply for your visa. First we need a letter of invitation from the person we are going to visit/work for or the hotel where we're gonna stay. Also, you'll need a criminal record certificate... In Spain, at least, the cheapest and fastest option is to apply for it directly at the Ministry of Justice (it should take 10 minutes and it should cost you less than 4€ -an agency will charge you 80/100€ and it may take a couple of weeks). 

So NOW you're ready to apply for your visa. Wait, if it's late spring or summer and the day is dry and hot you may want to reconsider the clothes you're wearing. You may dress however you like: Tony Manero-style or in a discreet combination of purple and yellow... just DO NOT WEAR SHORTS. They won't let you in the embassy in shorts.

This is an unrelated picture from Zadar (Croatia). I'm the guy in white with the Jeff "The Dude"-looks. I know my legs are not a national treasure, but I doubt they offend anyone. And for the record, I was wearing exactly the same clothes to the embassy.

Suitcase, suitcase, plasma TV, suitcase, laptop computer, suitcase...

Flying from Madrid to Malabo is quite easy. There's daily direct flights and they're not too expensive (I must say they're not too cheap either). 

If you're the kind of people who rush to the airport on the last second... I wouldn't do it this time, they may not let you in the flight. There seems to be (from what they told me and what I could see) a chronic excess baggage problem in the Madrid-Malabo flights. People tend to bring back to G.E. heaps of electronical devices that would cost heaps more in good old mother Africa.

I swear I could see several empty seats once I was in the plane, but the company offered me to fly the following day. Overweight within the plane seemed to be a problem, and they had to compensate the excess of some passengers by leaving empty seats ta the plane.

Passport control and Toto 

Six hours later and after enjoying the wonderful delicattessen from Iberia (remind me to write an article about the different kinds of food I've eaten in different means of transport)... you're in Malabo (former Santa Isabel). As we got off the plain, and felt the calid, humid and rainy climate... I kept on playing in my head the chorus of Toto's most famous song. Temperature in Malabo is not so bad, but humidity is constant... it embraces you in an outburst of passion and does not let you go until you're leaving the country.

Just one thing... DO NOT PANIC if they hold your passport for a while at the airport. That seems to be just another security check. You'll have to pass another one later on, and then you're free to stretch your legs, take a taxi and go to your hotel.

I promise to write another article sometime soon about Malabo, but just (and quoting Syrio from Game of Thrones) "not today". 

A weekend in Kilkenny

More or less a month ago I published an article on my Spanish blog about Kilkenny (Ireland) in order to celebrate St. Patrick's Day. So, take your favourite green shirt because we're going to good auld Éire: the country where I had the luck to live between 2006 and 2007.

Allegorical sculpture of Ireland. Behind that you' can see the Irish tricolour: green representing the catholics, orange for the protestants and white standing for the peace between them (these days more practical than theorical). 

I'd bet most of you know Dublin, Cork or even Galway -I'll write their rightfully deserved articles later on- but today we're visiting a touristy (but not yet overcrowded) Irish town: Kilkenny.

Toponymy

If you had the luck of traveling around Ireland, I'm sure you've come across several towns and places which names start by Kil- (Kildare, Kilarney, Kilkee or Kilrush, just to mention some of the most famous ones). Kil is the English transliteration of the Irish Gaelic word cill (an old word meaning "church"). Obviously Kilkenny is not an exception to this rule and this town is named after the Church of Saint Canice/Kenneth/Kenny, a Northern Irish saint from the 6th century.

Saint Kenneth's bust in Kilkenny

Just some HistoryShortly after his death, a church was created in his name. A century later, this monastical centre was well known accross the Emerald Isle and around it, the small town of Kilkenny started to grow. It resisted well the Viking invasions and it flourished as one of the capitals of the Kingdom of Ossory/Osraige. A new golden age came with the Norman invasions that gave the city its actual shape divided in two main areas: Irishtown and Hightown. 

Reasons why you should visit KilkennyKilkenny is quite a small town, so if you don't pay much attention... you can see most of it in just a couple of hours. However, I'd recommend you to take it easy and stay overnight in this wonderful medieval town. 

The most famous landmark is its incredible Norman castle and wonderful gardens. It should cost around 6€, a bit painful, perhaps... but it's deffinitely worth it. 

St. Canice's Cathedral is another must-see. Formerly a catholic church, these days is used by the Church of Ireland. By the church we can see an Irish round tower. From the top of it you'll be able to enjoy a wonderful view of the whole area... however, if you suffer from vertigo, don't do it... the "stairs" to the top are very -I said VERY- steep.

And from a temple of sanctity to a temple of sin: the Kyteler's Inn, continuously open since 1324. In 1280 Alice Kyteler was born in this house to a Norman aristocratic family. She made quite a good fortune with her 4 lucky marriages and her inn became relatively well-known. However, her pub was closed down as she was accused of witchcraft (let's say everyone suspected of her since her husbands had a tendency to die). She could escape to England, but one of her maids was sentenced to death in one of the earliest witchcraft cases in Europe and the first in Ireland.

And since we're talking about a temple of beer, we can't skip Kilkenny's and Smithwick's brewery... my favourite Irish ales. These days you can visit the factory and try its wonderful juices of barley. A funny fact is that within this factory (placed right in the middle of town) there's the ruins of an old church.

Besides, you should not miss:

 The Tholsel (some sort of Medieval public building) -the current town hall

The medieval ruins laying around the city centre (Priory of Kells, Jerpoint Abbey...)

The Rothe House (both inside and outside)

In June a must-see is the Cat Laughs Festival. Kilkenny Tourist Hostel and The Metropole are cheap and neat, but the old Butler House is just perfect if you're looking for an unforgettable romantic getaway. Wherever you stay... don't forget eating a good Irish stew with delicious local beer!

Sláinte daoibh!

So... A new blog? Why?

I'm a traveller. I don't mean I'm part of the Irish community with the same name... it's just that I love visiting new places, meeting new people, seing what's on the other side of the border... or just behind that hill over there.

Portugal was the first country I ever visited. I can't remember the first time I went there, I was too young... but I was 6 the first time I can recall. In the place where you can find a tourist information office now there was a customs house, and a few guardinhas checking the passport. Back then nobody had ever heard about the Schengen Area. I remember stretching my arms, competing with my brother to see who got there first on our way to Freixo de Espada à Cinta.

Freixo de Espada à Cinta's medieval tower.

From that moment, I've been to Portugal on yearly basis. Even if it's just for a quick coffee just across the border. My grandfather is from Saucelle (Salamanca), a village right on the border and deep in the heart of the gorgeous Arribes del Duero. The village is on the edge of the Castilian Plateau, at about 650 metres over the sea level, but the river Duero (the natural border) passes 450 metres lower. The natural landscape is just impressive. 

Former customs house right on the border. These days serves a much nicer purpose: bi tourist information office.

With the time, I got used to travelling... and now I actually need it. Getting information from a new places, discovering its history, its culture, its people... and finally getting on a boat or plane and seeing it for yourself. Stamina rushing. Heartbeat rising. Imagination flowing aimlessly. Undescriptable emotion.

I guess part of the blame is on my parents. No, don't misunderstand my words. I don't actually BLAME them.... I THANK them for what they did. When I was a kid I was just a shy and nervous little boy who wouldn't go to a summercamps because parents were not allowed (I don't know what I thought a summercamp was back then). Moving to different towns because of their jobs and hence forcing me to start all over again, helping me apply to summercamps in England in order to improve my English skills... encouraging me to travel abroad, to apply for my Erasmus scholarship. I guess that made me what I am now: a travel freak -I'm 26 and I have lived in 7 different towns in 4 different countries and have visited almost 20 countries of this world. 

Ok, ok... calm down, dear readers of mine! I know you have been to more countries than I have, but this is not a competition. And even if it were... this is my blog, anyways! 

In September 2012, and after a long time abroad, I moved back to Spain. I feel... erm... what's the opposite for homesick? Abroadsick? "Spain hurts me" as Miguel de Unamuno used to say, and the economical and political situations do not make it easier either. So, dear reader, don't worry if you are not there, if you don't follow me or read me: this blog is just an excuse to remember and reorganize my photos, anecdotes, travel diaries as a means to make my stay in Spain easier.

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Besides my own private travel journals, I also wrote some public ones, including:

Fotolog (in Spanish): here I wrote about my daily life in Australia between January and December 2008.

Ja sam lektor (in English and Spanish): an abandoned blog (with just a few entries) about my life in Croatia.

And well, if you happen to be fluent in Spanish, I recommend you to read the Spanish counterpart of this blog: La maleta sin rumbo (A suitcase with no destination)