Bookpacking’s Blog

As someone who often meets people at London’s Heathrow, Bookpacking can testify that it’s often a long wait. From plane to door, an hour is a typical time. 90 mins is not unusual. Often, if your guests are in the non-EU queue at the UK border, it’s passport control where a lot of time is lost.

But luggage can be slow too. As the BBC News reported this lunchtime, a new tunnel being built at Heathrow aims to cut intra-terminal delivery time. Hopefully it’ll be ready – along with a whole lot of creaking London infrastructure – for 2012.
And, again hopefully, it won’t open with the same debacle as T5 when the national carrier was left with egg on its flag.

What this actually means for customers is hard to say, because the practical implications weren’t actually spelled out. Given that you collect your bags in the same terminal you arrive in, surely it only affects those who are transferring flights? Presumably, if bags can take an hour at the moment to cross between terminals, then some of the millions of bags which are “lost”every year must be not lost but late – missing their connection and failing to follow their owners.

The end result is the same, but this is vague reporting inspired by a press release; it fails to anticipate an obvious viewer question. It follows on from yesterday’s report on the same programme that London buses are failing mothers with pushchairs. There was no mention of the size increases which see some buggies resemble quad bikes, or of the fact that in the capital nobody has any space on London’s packed-out transport. As a regular bus user, Bookpacking boggles at where this extra pram capacity might come from? Less seats for the elderly & disabled maybe?

Of course, baggage is a thankless task. And, like the mail, the general public has no interest in vast logistics operations or the small daily successes that go unreported. So the PR at LHR should be careful not to promise too much. Because when the new tunnel opens, an impatient world will be watching.

Yesterday evening found Bookpacking playing with a new toy in the woodland of Wimbledon Common. Sometimes the simplest of things can bring hours of enjoyment, and for £4 or so, we bought a sturdy looking compass from the local Aladaddin’s Cave that is Lidl, and headed off into the bush. The little boy inside takes very little prompting to appear, and with our new low-tech gadget, childhood memories came rushing back of family camping holidays with mysterious forests that had to be explored and hills that had to be conquered.

As people look for cheaper leisure activities – eg not buying a few rounds in a pub and waving goodbye to £50 in a couple of happily hazy hours – Bookpacking is predicting an upswing in activities like hiking and camping. Already surfing a festival wave, more and more people are discovering the joys of life under canvas. There’s nothing like that first cup of tea (remember the slogan: “Tea; best drink of the day”?). Especially when you’ve faffed on for a half-hour to make it – this the very definition of deferred gratification.

And the great outdoors is, well, great. Last night, surrounded by birdsong and devoid of people, it was hard to believe this was Zone 3, well inside the M25. If travel is often about escape, maybe we don’t always need to spend a  huge amount on airfares to find such solicitous solitude if we look harder at home.

And best of all, some sharp compass work brought us right to the final waypoint of the evening, the Fox & Grapes. A cute pint (served only a few degrees below room temperature), we aren’t being obtuse when we say this angle is our favourite segment of the hiking experience; the very apex of this little Boys Own adventure.*

Hi-Tec walking boots from £40; Karrimor boots similar at Field & Trek sale; compass £4 Lidl; OS map typically £7; Berghaus waterproof from £50 online, or c. £150 for Gore-Tex lined; walking trousers c. £30 from Blacks.

* apologies, but what’s the point in having your own blog if you can’t insert the occasional awful pun?

…AKA there’s no time like the past….

Spotted this week in Paris, in the English-language publication “FUSAC”:

Wanted: Someone to go back in time with me. This is not a joke. Write to 35483@fusac.org. You’ll get paid after we get back. Must bring your own weapons. Safety not guaranteed.
I have done this only once before.

So, what are you waiting for?

AKA Leffe-Lovers’ Left Bank Lunacy

Bookpacking had the good fortune to find ourselves at a loose end in Paris this Monday evening with a partner in crime; having serendipitously bumped into a fellow vagabond, from the same part of the globe as ourselves, that we see every year or so in France through work. After a suitably literary event at Shakespeare & Co, we hit the bars of Rue Descartes where the lure of Leffe at only €4 per pint was to prove our undoing. We made our way unceremoniously up Rue Mouffetard to savour the Kwak in The Mayflower, as the full force of Belgian brewing was unleashed on our unsuspecting British bodies.

We were following in the footsteps of some of the biggest names in western literature; such as Papa Hemingway himself. The big man was scathing of F Scott Fitzgerald’s lack of drinking prowess, shamelessly shaming him in his famous Lost Generation memoirs A Moveable Feast. Despite writing the classic ‘Gatsby’, for anyone who’s done a bit of digging, Fitzgerald is publicly pilloried for eternity – thanks to the jugular-targeting judgments found in his competitive ‘friend’s’ diary. We can only be glad that the sole epistolary witness to Monday’s over-hydration is a little more discreet.

The Paris landmark Hotel de Ville is the scene of the well known Robert D’Oisneau picture Le Baiser de l’Hotel de Ville. But there wasn’t much love on display today as students and lecturers of the 8th arrondissement started their non-stop walking protest.

La Ronde Infinie des Obstines (literally the “unceasing circling of the stubborn”) takes its inspiration from the Mothers of the Plaza de Mayo in Argentina, who protested the disappearance of their children under the Junta. The protesters intend to walk – night and day – in circles before this piece of establishment real estate. Until when, we asked? “Until we get what we want,” said a bearded middle-aged man holding a sign.

What they want is an end to the reforms of the education system initiated by unpopular President Sarkozy. French universities already suffer from large class sizes, and Sarkozy’s attempt to increase teaching hours whilst allegedly cutting back on research is the last straw for some.

Striking and protesting are intrinsic parts of the French psyche, ever since the events of 1789, and Hotel de Ville is emblazoned with the revolution’s enduring motto Liberté, Egalité, Fraternité. Napoleon made his name putting down a Parisian revolt and the barricade-loving Communards were one of the reasons why Baron von Haussman (under Napoleon III’s patronage, nephew of the original Bonaparte) built such wide boulevards in the 1850s.

A few days earlier a national strike had been called, though in these times of job insecurity, some did not answer the call. The Palace of Versailles closed, RER double-decker suburban trains were down to 1 in 3 on some lines, but the Metro ran almost normally.

But the nation is unhappy, and in two successive visits Bookpacking has come across demonstrations in the education sector. The passing of the spirit of ‘68 is sometimes lamented, but if the recession continues to worsen, those cobbles – which make such excellent ammunition – could be dug up once again. The day before the strike, the street outside the Sorbonne was lined with CRS (paramilitary riot squad) vehicles and the entrance guarded by police in body armour.

For now, the university staff and pupils of Saint-Denis are happy to make their point peacefully. Like planes stacked over Heathrow they circle, waiting for the right conditions to descend. Will it be a happy landing, or will they run out of fuel first?

(see their website for a video: La Ronde Infinie des Obstines)

Leaving the high street and stepping into a great period piece pub like the Palace Bar, there’s a sense of time stood still. Patrick Kavanagh, Brendan Beehan and Flann O’Brien must have enjoyed the same sensation when they nursed their pints among the hacks in Fleet Street.

The tide of conversation ebbs and flows; groups come and go. Movement, yet rest. A laugh in one corner, a dispute in another. It’s all here: lovers; friends; colleagues; strangers; tolerated drunks. There’s stilted conversation with a visiting boss and the fizzy flirtation of the newly courting.

A television shows Man Utd v Inter Milan with the volume set low, while a fan revolves slowly far above, like a drone surveilling the friendly mob. Wars happen elsewhere and economic woes become abstract; any relationship problems recede as rounds arrive. The foetal familiarity of a welcoming pub keeps a bad world at bay; the only clue to any external environment is the TV’s gentle roar of a football crowd.

Old leather seats are ranged against the back walls, like a doctor’s surgery. A surprising amount of light makes its way to the back, silhouetting ornaments on the semi-partition: a horse and jockey are suspended over a hedge. The next obstacle for this frozen pair would be a hurling stick: not cod, for once.

Contrasting conversations swirl into one generic river of noise that lulls me into a pleasant lassitude. Then a raucous laugh cuts through the bar, jarring me wide awake – the crack of the craic. A gesticulating man on a mobile stands half-hidden by the partition’s opaque glass. His right side casts a large shadow on it, creating a bizarre mismatch with his exposed life-sized left.

Streams of chatter come from the islands of conversation spread across the lounge, pooling around me in a rich reservoir of dialogue. Two professors discuss the merits of a certain girl: presumably a pretty protégé. Fighting over teaching rights, perhaps? A serious tourist couple map out their mini-break over Lonely Planet. Endless variations of the same themes: X had a baby, Y passed away, Z’s stressed at work.

All the planet’s a stage, but tonight I’m an observer not a player. Alone in a crowd, the vignettes keep flowing, as I become one with the walls and fade into the Palace’s furniture.

Savvy vagabonds have been using the Nationwide Building Society’s transaction charge-free services for years now. But even this trusty institution is tightening its belt in these lean times. However, as this article points out, it’s only a half-notch; it still remains a good bet if you want to withdraw your wedge abroad. Check it out to see if you’re paying through the nose and being hit with a hefty hike for what is essentially a couple of computers talking to each other.

TNT Magazine had its latest travel show this weekend and a high calibre of guest speaker contributed to a full house. Bookpacking was unable to get in to hear Paul Kilduff telling the tall tales behind Ruinair - How to be treated like Sh*** in 15 Different Countries and Still Quite Like It – a rant-turned-book, as Times Online called it.

After kicking our heels in a coffee bar for an hour, we eventually got in and heard Mitch from Eastern Trekker extolling the delights of Eastern Europe. Having just returned ourselves, we can confirm that it’s a fascinating region and well worth a visit. Credit to Mitch, he talked about the region with a real passion and love, but he didn’t push his own product once.

But they saved the best till last. A lot of the younger crowd had gone home, but there was still a good turnout to hear modern day tales of derring-do from Lonely Planet author Frances Linzee Gordon. From Ethiopian war zones, to aborted helicopter rescues and covert exploration of Saudi Arabia in disguise – this young lady has already lived quite a life.

Her inspirational talk about going off the beaten track touched on travel principles that aren’t a million miles away from the ones we listed here last week, but this woman is hard core. Sometimes you can feel that travelling is a self-indulgent frippery for the decadent dilettante; but on the road Frances has clearly gained a lot of sociological and psychological insights into the people and places she’s explored/logged/photographed. When she checks the FCO website prior to her trips, she probably knows more than the people writing the advice.

With a useful mixture of common sense, a veteran’s insight and some life-coaching pep, it wasn’t hard to see why she’s on the LP roll of travelwriting honour. We like it when the good people give of themselves for free, and Bookpacking will definitely be incorporating her tips into our next travel plan.

 Romania; Brasov; Bran Castle

It seems that if the vampires don’t get you, the bears will. Romania is bear country, and as the snow falls we can only hope they’re all hibernating. We would be, if we had the choice. If you were watching A Place in the Sun the other week, you might have seen Brasov featured. A cottage in newly-developing Transylvania could be had for a paltry £12,000 and a couple of wannabe expats were checking it out.

The scene of a 1987 would-be revolution – prefiguring the later internal coup (and it was) that led to Caecescu’s execution in ‘89 – Brasov is only a couple of hours from Bucharest. It also has a ski field which recently topped a Post Office poll for value-for-money, and if Dracula Land ever takes off it’ll be number one on the global vampire tourist trail.

But before any property sharks relocate their real estate operation east – with a view to sucking the locals dry – they might want to think about the recession. Krakow is already experiencing a surplus of supply and a lack of demand in the tourist sector and one budget airline to cancel flights. When you have no money at all, even cheap is dear.

 England; Luton Airport

Budget airlines are steadily opening up the previously ignored east. Bad news for environmentalists, but good news for people in places like Sofia who want to pop down to the beach for the weekend. And who are we to deny people further east the pleasures we have so long taken for granted? Plus, sitting on the latest generation of Airbus, you can console yourself that flights are becoming ever more efficient.

And as these airlines run out of ‘new Barcelonas’ they’re carrying more and more business people and opening up trade links. After all, if we want people to come and fill the jobs we can’t/won’t take ourselves, then they’ve got to get here somehow?

Wizz Air has started a number of services from the UK to places like Timisoara in Romania, or Kiev in Ukraine. Ridiculously cheap seat sales – even artificially lower (how long can that last?) during the ‘downturn/recession/depression/crisis’ – have facilitated Bookpacking’s 2009 eastern odyssey.

Following in the footsteps of the ‘89 revolutions, we’re doing a tour to find out the state of the post-communist nation. We’ve been to the Czech and Slovak Republics; hung out in Hungary; snowboarded in Poland and stood at the famous Lenin shipyard gate; now Romania is calling. Sofia and Belgrade are on the itinerary too as we broaden our horizons.

Like most things in life, travel has its pros and cons. Yes, there’s an environmental price to pay. But maybe if we can find out a little more about ‘them’, and they can find out a little more ‘us’ – there’ll be a little more understanding in the world and that will pay a dividend?