And so it began, alone in a not so strange and unfamiliar place

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"Hi there" (for that is the only fitting way I can think of starting this thing, whatever you want to call it.) The following will be an account, as honest as it is posible to be, of the journey I made, on m'todd, from Berlin, Germany to Istanbul, Turkey. Mainly written for me own amusement, family and friends who are bored enough to read it, or any other wierdo (but still welcomed with open arms) who wants to read where I went and what i got up to. It's based, in part on the written journal I made during my trip, but that is way too rambling and inconceise for publication.

Righty-ho, so the "fun" began even before leaving these green and pleasant lands. Upon leaving on a dreary bank holiday monday to get a bus into London, typically, the trip seemed compremised at the very first step: those lovely National express folk managed to over-book our coach, opting to choose a system of priority boarding by which those who were the most obnoxious and shouted the loudest... bless our democratic nation.

I don't beleive in Karma, but that day showed, on more than one occasion, how what seemed a crisis soon turned to be a benefit: instead of going all the way to London then catching a bus to Gatwick, our replacement bus was the direct airport bus (which I had refused to pay the ridiculous £40 for) took me all the way.

Then, while checking in for the flight, I waited and waited for the gate number (they don't give you the gate number until the latest posible time because they want you to spend spend spend in the shops) but the boarding time on my ticket came and went. Mmm. Then, a muffled voice mumbled something, I picked out "gate 110" I convinced myself that was my flight, that the computer screen didn't show but everyone else was boarding. I saw in my mind#s eye the image of an Easy Jet plane pulling away from the gate. So I ran, and I mean RAN. Like never before.

Asked around to find the gate for Berlin and was greeted by a confused orange lady who asked, "how did you know to come here?" So, again, I went from thinking I'd missed the plane to being the first one through the gate.

I stepped off the plane to Berlin Shoenfeld Airport late at night and felt... alone. But that was okay. Germany welcomed me by stealing a few Euros from a vending machine, which was nice, and I settled down for a night at the airport, which was okay, exept I woke up to find the guy on the bench next to me being kicked out by security. I pretended to be asleep.

So the next day I was alone in Berlin, without a decent map, but with a heavy rucksack. Lovely. It took a while to find my hostel, including a lot of walking. Bax Pax hostel was... too corperate with a synthisised arty atmosphere. To me, it was too forced an atmophere and met plenty of so called "intellectuals/ bohemians" reading Kafka and the like, who I personally found deeply pompous irritating.

Berlin itself... meh. It felt very similar to London, and lacked something. The stereotype of German effeciancy rang true for me as it was clean and organised but lacked charm. A dissapointment s a know a handful of people completely bessoted with the city, and I fail to see why. However, I found the Berlin Wall/ East Side Gallery extremely interesting, perplexed at some of the crap people have written on such a macabre remnant of the 20th Century (Stacy loves Jim 4ever). I made a quiet, unassuming addition to the wall, knowing that I've I'd try to write something clever I'd fail dismally and regret it.

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Comments

[Matt Davey]

Briliant,
Jon! Brilliant blog post really good I was very interested in how it all went. I think you should start www.mcquinmccanada.co.uk I would buy that for you! I bet you'll be glad to get back to Bolton and I'll meet you in Piano mans bar. Hope to read another post soon!