Revalation! Apparently you can just tap in and out with a regular contactless debit card to travel on the Tube in London.
I should have twigged this after another trip when I’d spent 2 minutes holding up a bus vehemently denying I had a card to use with the contactless payment.
No folks, it’s not just those smug oyster lot that can get around easily now. Just make sure you tap in and out to avoid paying the highest fare.
TfL Contactless for more info.
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… the one hanging around your neck. We all have them and I’m no exception. Believe me, coming from someone who spent hours collecting virtual treasure to decorate a virtual house on Skyrim, I’m no stranger to the hoarding urge. In fact, I love it. Stuff, kit, tech, hardware, tools, I want it and I need it. Gimme.
Unfortunately, that stuff really builds up over time. Been through any house moves lately? I have. In the last 2 years I’ve had 4 addresses. These moves really remind you how much you’ve accumulated over the years and it becomes a real pain to shift around.
Then, when you come to planning a long trip, the first and most difficult obstacle to overcome is that very same Albatross.
Are you going to end up paying for a house you’re not living in? Are you leaving work? Can you get out of your broadband contract (if you have TalkTalk then it is not easy!). Is your car going to slowly seize up while you’re away. I guess this is why most people travel before they hit their mid 30’s!
I’ve been lucky and thanks to some awesome friends and one Narnia-like garage, the Albatross is now on ice! But, initially I traded one Albatross for another:
In Canada I had a 40-litre standard rucksack with a further say 20 litres strapped to my front like a ridiculous stuff-filled papoose. That was for only 3 weeks, this time I was going for 3 and a half months! My first thought was “I’ll need more stuff” so I picked up this 70 litre Osprey Farpoint (Jack Russel for scale)
It’s a really great bag. As you can see, it splits in to two when you need a handy 13-litre day-pack, leaving you with 57 litres in the main section. It also has a nice set of straps and a waist support that fold away under a zipping panel. There were so many angry airport staff telling me I needed to tie all my straps together in Canada whom I would now avoid. Finally, it opens like a suitcase so you don’t have look like you’re trying to induce a farm animal every time you want a specific item of clothing!
It is, however, big. With such a capacity it’s not surprising and my packing list seemed to expand to fill the space available.
Perhaps about, a week before I flew, a sleepless night was suddenly consumed with the realisation I had a new Albatross. I knew I’d never be one of those “all I need is my woven sandals and Thai-dye underpants” kind of travellers. But maybe I could be better than this.
Luckily the fantastic staff at Cotswold Outdoor had no problem whatsoever giving me a swap so I got this 40-litre version of the same bag instead (different Jack Russel for scale):
No removable day-pack on this one but the front pocket is wider and it has all the other features I mentioned, plus a shoulder strap. The best thing about it though, is that it’s carry-on size (56x36x23cm). In Croatia I had experienced check-in desk woe. Long, snaking queues, in which you suddenly become some sort of irritable beast, infuriated if people aren’t shuffling forward quick enough.
Avoiding that was worth the challenge of trying to get the pack down to 7 kg which seemed to be the standard carry-on allowance of the flights I’d chosen. They do all seem to allow you to carry an additional (and much less standardised) “personal item”. This applies to things like laptops and cameras, or in one case a “lady’s handbag”. Once I’m done sewing flowers to my man-bag, I’m going to stick both my laptop and camera in there and hope for the best.
I get the impression as long as it doesn’t look like I’m taking the mickey and the “personal item” fits under my seat, then I should get by alright. Now just the small challenge of making the rest of this stuff fit in:
“As he stared blankly into the pale fluorescence of the empty computer screen, he began to feel the tug of that weary thought once more. That he was sinking into a life which he never wished for nor planned. That in all the hours of all the nights that he did not quite feel ready to forge his master plan, there had been his life, played out by circumstance and expectation. Not instead by will and by passion.”
That rather glum sounding paragraph was part of a slightly longer piece of writing that, 6 years ago, made me swallow my fear and head off to cycle Italy. This time around it was watching this 4 minute film by Erik Wernquist narrated by Carl Sagan.
It is well worth a watch, because it explains a great view point on what makes us become dissatisfied with the lives we have found ourselves living, seeking out adventure in new lands. But also because Carl Sagan… what a legend.
As I laid in the peaceful Park Square digesting my lunch (and the fact I’d just hit send on the email that would lead inexorably to all of this adventure and change), I listened to Carl’s words. He suggests we have been meticulously crafted by natural selection to traverse inhospitable lands. That we do this in order to preempt the arrival of long winters and failing crops. A simple survival mechanism.
It was clear to me as I watched the ants leave the safety of their subterranean world and strike out in the dangers above, Carl Sagan made a good point. But I think he might have conceded that the “romance we invest in far off lands” is more than just a mechanism. “The incessant itch for things remote” described by Herman Melville in Moby Dick, was for more than just survival alone.
He did not just need to sail forbidden seas. He loved to.
Here lies the tales of my adventures around the world and into my soul. My imminent trip, so dubbed the #MidLifeCrisisTour by some, I hope, will involve some sort of discovery of self rather than just discovery of smelly hostels. If I find even a fraction of what I found in https://findingitaly.wordpress.com it’ll have all been worth it.
One’s destination is never a place, but a new way of seeing things – Henry Miller
