My Travelography - an idiot abroad.

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- my travelography(the ramblings of a roving idiot.)

		There now follows a rather belated attempt to chronicle an idiot's ramblings over the years. I've no doubt forgotten several trips (and perhaps imagined others!), but the gist of it is briefly outlined below.


	my travelography(in chronological order.)


		•1969	I was born in the last 'Summer of Love', just before they (allegedly) put a man on the moon, in Glasgow, Scotland, United Kingdom. Early travel-opportunities were non-existent. For the next 12 years I would never be more than 60 miles away from my birthplace.



		•1979	Aged 10, I discovered the joys of camping, hillwalking and mapreading. I was taken on a hillwalking trip through the Campsie Fells (a prominent hill range a few miles north of Glasgow) and was instantly hooked. I soon bought my first map and explored as much of Glasgow's surrounds as I could. Over the next few years, I made many camping and rambling trips in the Campsies, around the Carron Valley Reservoir and in random farmlands (Scotland's farmers are remarkably tolerant!) to the south of the city, learning and practicing basic outdoor, camp-craft, navigational and survival techniques.



		•1981	My first border-crossing. A school day trip to Gretna Green, on the Scottish/English border allowed me and a few pals to wander off down a quiet country road, 1KM or so to the border with England. The border was marked solely by a "Welcome to England" sign, which, through a strange coincidence had been uprooted and was lying abandoned. We dutifully picked up the sign, and carried it deep into the English heartland (about 100 metres or so further down the road.) where we duly re-erected it, and marched home triumphant. 100 metres may not seem like much, but it is still Scotland's biggest territorial gain since 1744, so I was quite pleased with myself. I suppose those Ordnance Survey chaps probably put it back later, but too late: my thirst for empire had been stirred, and only complete world-domination would quench it.



		•1987	Six years later, and my empire had spread only as far south as Birmingham. At this rate, world-domination would take slightly longer than anticipated. Drastic times called for drastic measures, so I joined the British Army. I needed some adventure in my life, but I didn't particularly want to kill anyone, so the Royal Army Medical Corps seemed a good compromise. Basic training, and my first couple of years serving as a 'Combat Medical Technician' (medic) gave me the chance to roam around much of England, Wales, Germany (or West Germany, as it was then), Austria and Holland.



		•1989	A change in direction mid-way through my army service saw me becoming a Royal Yachting Association sailing, windsurfing and powerboating instructor and a keen yacht-racer. The next few years were spent chasing puffs of wind around Germany, Holland, Belgium, Denmark and not forgetting a four-month stint teaching sailing and windsurfing in Kenya - nice work if you can get it! I got it, it was nice. I got malaria too - that wasn't so nice!



		•1991	The sailing lark was all going swimmingly, when, out of the blue, Saddam Hussein selfishly decided to invade Kuwait. There wasn't much call for windsurfing in the desert (My calls for the urgent formation of an elite sand-yachting squadron fell on deaf ears.) so it was time to resume my former (and duller) duties.



		•1992	After the Gulf War (which I was lucky enough to avoid too much direct involvement in.) I decided it was time to let the army cope without me. On a whim, an ex-army buddy and I bought one-way bus tickets to Lloret de Mar (Costa Brava, Spain) and spent the summer 'propping' (touting) for various bars between Lloret and Torremolinos, partying way too hard and not eating or sleeping for months. Eventually it all got a bit too tiring, so we hitch-hiked home, visiting France and Switzerland along the way.



		•1993	My success hitch-hiking from Spain motivated me to make a few 'expeditions' around Europe. Over the next few years, I would often hitch-hike from Glasgow to Central or Southern Europe, spend a few days (and even fewer pounds) somewhere, then hitch-hike back. Around this time, I also joined another ex-Army buddy on a month's Inter-Railing around Europe. This was back in the good old days before they turned Europe into Zones, when a £180 one-month ticket allowed you free rein within the whole continent. Our month was spent traversing Europe, sleeping on trains, trying to cram as much of 'Europe' in as possible. New countries added to the empire during this trip include Norway, Sweden, East Germany (sic), Austria, Hungary, Czechoslovakia (sic), Yugoslavia (sic), Greece, Turkey, Italy and probably some other places too. I had a paltry budget of only £10GBP per day, which was great in Czechoslovakia, but not so great in Sweden! During our Inter-rail month, Czechoslovakia (sic) had impressed us greatly, particularly it's cheap beer, so a few months later we bought an unlimited Czechoslovakian (sic) rail-pass, went back, and travelled the length and breadth of the country, in search of cheaper beer. In the interests of even-handedness, we popped over to Poland for a few days, but their beer was dearer.



		•1994	Another two ex-army buddies joined me for my next big adventure. We bought ourselves an old van (Ford Transit 80 - the smallest one!), spent a few months (and even fewer quids) fitting the van out with anything we could scavenge before setting out for the great blue yonder. We spent a few months working in Holland, picking tomatoes & flowers, exploring the countryside and generally having a jolly. One day we all slept in for our respective jobs and decided it was time to move on. That was the cue for the van to fall apart (we helped admittedly), and that was the cue for me to head back to Britain for some spares. I got the spares and we fixed the van, but not before I managed to lose my passport. Getting a new passport was not proving easy, but my buddy had brought two passports (his new one and his old school one) along, so I took his school passport, started memorising my new date of birth and off we drove through Germany, Czechoslovakia, Hungary and Yugoslavia on our way to northern Greece. The passport situation made for some extremely interesting border crossings, most more convoluted than any spy movie I've ever seen, but somehow we managed to trick our way through to Serbia before deciding it was getting too dodgy (there was a war on at the time). I got a replacement passport in Belgrade and we set off through Kosovo to Macedonia. Unfortunately, our 'Green Card' car insurance didn't cover Macedonia (which hadn't existed when we set off) and we didn't have enough money to pay for it, so we spent 3 days in no man's land between Kosovo and Macedonia, selling anything we could to anyone passing, until we had enough money to carry on. Eventually we arrived in Northern Greece and got work picking peaches. We made friends with the local water board who let us live in their 'garden'. We parked the van under a walnut tree, by some hazel bushes and set up camp, surrounded by vineyards, orchards, cornfields, fields of melons and dozens of edible wild plants. We even had our own river! Apart from having to work (for a pittance!) in the hot fields all day, it was as close to paradise as you can get. The peach-picking season drew to a close, and by this time we were getting homesick, so we sold all our gear, headed south to Athens, spent a week lying on a beach and then got the bus back to London.


		•To be continued...	Don't miss the next gripping instalment of 'the ramblings of a roving idiot' Join our hero as he roams around Europe some more, explores more of Africa and even discovers America.

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