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My trip along the Silk Road begins oddly enough in Switzerland - and why not! I visited a very good friend from a previous trip to Central America some three years ago.
I stayed for almost a week in Zurich, and it was great. Zurich feels like a northern city with Southern influences, and despite the fact that there are approx. 30% foreign workers, their influence on the city was to me surprisingly little, compared to other cities with much lower immigrant ratios. A small compact and beautiful city with a sense of tradition, built in some part on banking history. Under the streets of Zurich are stored the gold and riches of many, but despite letting my imagination run wild it was hard to envisage.
Summer came early when I was in Zurich - it was 25C every day, which made for a lovely time. I cannot comment on Swiss people in general since I only came into personal contact with students. They seemed to be extremely ordered and ambitious, all holding down fairly meaningful jobs to fund their studies, whilst juggling it all with a well ordered and lively social scene. The numerous BBQs and drinks attested to that. To the average English student they would seem very hard working - but this seems to give them the ability to appreciate their free time with added fervour, and since summer came early I was lucky enough to be part of a lively and special experience... I really like Swiss people! - I sound surprised you may think - well I am - they speak German! ;)

The day I left Zurich on a train to the Italian border, the weather was more overcast and the scenery stunning. I realised I must have been the only foreigner on the train because nobody seemed to be looking out of the window. As the train made its way through narrow valleys and tranquil lakes of the Alps, disappearing into tunnels only to emerge at the other end to more unseen sensual delight, I realised just how lucky people are to live in this land. For me living in Denmark this was simply breathtaking. The Danish are very proud of their small hills, little rivers and big bridge. If they had all of this, I can't imagine how their national personality wouldn't be completely altered.
Switzerland seems to have everything but an Ocean, but personally I would swap Switzerland for the Ocean any day.

I arrive in Chiasso the last town before the Italian border spending my last Swiss francs before deciding to walk the few kms over the frontier to Como - this was after all my first border crossing of the trip. Despite the fact that the towns had been gradually changing in appearance as we neared Italy, the difference is still profound as I descend on Como. It feels like a foreign land in a way Switzerland does not. Grey clouds hug the top of mountains that seem to rise up directly from the deep lake. Even though the weather seems menacing the view is still breathtaking. The pastel oranges, browns and reds of the houses complement the scenery in an almost renaissance Mediterranean atmosphere. But this is not the med. this is the edge of the Alps, the natural border between countries and the start of my journey. I feel a rush of emotions; excitement, fear and expectation. As I reach Como itself I realise I will need to find somewhere to stay. I am tired now and the sheer romance of the setting makes me feel an overwhelming feeling of loneliness - after the previous three weeks of visiting friends and family their thoughts are fresh in my mind but now I am alone. I have no guidebook, and no energy to walk around Como beneath the darkening clouds looking for a cheap hotel. I decide to camp - the problem I quickly discover is that every flat piece of land is accommodated for - even the steep forested hillsides surrounding the lake have houses clinging precariously to every available foothold.

I find a suitable place between some abandoned trains at the end of the railway station. Ironically I know here my possessions will be safer, in a place where nobody goes, than in some 5 star hotel with a light fingered cleaner. After setting up camp i visit the train station to gather info about train times and prices. I manage to communicate faultlessly by talking Spanish with a stupid Italian accent. This minor achievement lifts my mood as i remember that I always feel these emotions at the start of a big trip with so many unknown experiences ahead of me. For it is these emotions that I will miss, months from now, when I am completely entwined in the experiences of my trip.

At this focal moment the clouds release their loads. The rain is hard, warm and summery, even though darkness is approaching it seems fabulous. People shelter in doorways waiting for a break in the weather as I skip happily past exchanging smiles. I continue through the rain with a sense of freedom, wishing to explore this strange magical place right away. Why do they hide I think? Are they afraid they will get wet? Surely they are returning home, where they can take a warm shower, change their clothes and re-do their hair. Or maybe by waiting 15 minutes for the rain to subside they are in some way in control of the elements, giving them a sense of power by fooling the gods? But the rain doesn't cease, it continues late into the night and at some stage they must have made the decision to surrender.
I overindulge on Italian delicacies, and why not? I have no accommodation costs!

As I return home I find a 1-euro coin on the floor - which makes me smile imagining the person who dropped it running manically through the rain. I tune into the BBC World service on my radio and listen to a report about a shockingly high percentage of Lithuanians who don't know that they are now in the European Union. The war still rages in Iraq, I feel tired, but it is only 10pm, but what the hell I'm on holiday...Good night!

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