In Which the Boy and I Do Some Overdue Travel Planning

“Europe” as a destination might seem quite intolerably vague. I know it always does to me when Australians and Americans plan their month-long vacay to “Europe”. It’s a fucking continent, not a country, y’all!

But still, as it so happens, after rising three weeks in Blighty, all we’ve really got is “Europe”.

So, sitting in the sun outside my parents’ quite ridiculously scenic house in Norfolk, we try to refine Europe down further. Not to mention work out what we’re doing with the rest of the year.

The boy wants to “eat Italian food in Italy” and “go to Dahab. Lots of time in Dahab.”

I feel there should be some, ya know, edutational purpose to our activities, and a bit more of a structure.

Embarrassingly, despite over three years of longterm travel, my basic geography is still about as good as my ability to tell left from right and parallel park a vehicle, all of which is to say that I’d do about as well as these Yanks at filling in a map of Europe.

So we turn to ye trusted favourite, the Times Atlas of the World, and try and refine “Europe” down to something more manageable, and “Dahab” into something other than just sit on our arses, play with kittens and do a little light diving. This is a process I like to think of as travel planning, and about as close as we come to it nowadays.

“Paris is boring,” Zac states. “Everything looks the same.” “Yeah,” I say. “I’m not particularly interested in France.” “France,” my father adds. “Is seriously over-rated.”

“Paris is boring,” Zac states. “Everything looks the same.”

“Yeah,” I say. “I’m not particularly interested in France.”

“France,” my father adds. “Is seriously over-rated.”

Obviously, everyone should visit France at least once, and probably several times, but the fact of the matter is Zac’s already been three times, and I – god, I’m not sure how often I’ve been to France in my lifetime, but it’s rising double figures if not there already.

Further, France is lovely, and everything, but it’ll always be there, and I find it impossible to envisage a future in which either of us never sees Paris again.

“OK,” I say. “We’re making progress. France is out. Although… You do need to eat steak-frites in Paris.”

Last time Zac went to Paris was with his father, who, while kindly nailing the Eiffel Tower and the Louvre so I don’t have to do either of them, grossly neglected ye olde steak-frites.

We stare at the map some more. And some more.

“Amsterdam in August?” my mother asks dubiously. She has a point. Europe in August is, famously, best avoided, but of course, we happen to be there for August, so we’ll suck it up.

“I think we should definitely go to Amsterdam,” I say. “Yvette has invited us to see her astrophysics lab and there’s the Van Gogh Museum and all.”

“Amsterdam in August?” my mother asks dubiously. She has a point. Europe in August is, famously, best avoided, but of course, we happen to be there for August, so we’ll suck it up.

“Amsterdam is very expensive,” chimes my father, with a note of parental concern for our perennially ropy finances.

“Look,” I say. “Neither of us have been to Amsterdam. AND…. there’s an astrophysics lab!!! With telescopes!!!! And Van Gogh.”

“Not bothered about Van Gogh,” says the boy, who will turn thirteen later in the year and is already showing ominous signs of meh-dom.

“You LOVED Van Gogh in the Doctor Who episode,” I say. “AND you really liked the pictures in the National Gallery. Let’s just do a short stop in Amsterdam. Meet Yvette. Do the Van Gogh Museum. And the Rijksmuseum. And the Anne Frank house.”

“They’ve just reopened the Rijksmuseum,” says my mother, who, due to keeping obsessionally current on all sorts of travel stuff, is arguably better suited to work as a travel writer than I.

“Great!” I say. “Amsterdam, check!”

“It’s very expensive,” says my Dad again.

“I’m thinking 3-4 days,” I say. “Just a taster. Then if we like it, we can head back.”

“I do think you should visit Barcelona,” I say to Zac. “It’s a fantastic city.” “What’s Barcelona GOT?” asks the boy. “Apart from Gaudi, obviously.”

“I do think you should visit Barcelona,” I say to Zac. “It’s a fantastic city.”

“What’s Barcelona GOT?” asks the boy. “Apart from Gaudi, obviously.”

“Picasso!” I say. “And Dali – well, that’s outside Barcelona, but an easy train ride. And my friends Nick and James say we can stay with them, and their flat’s right in the centre overlooking some Roman ruins. Also food.”

“What sort of food?” the boy asks.

“Jamón Iberico de bellota,” I begin, and then unpack the notion of this queen of hams, made from the lovingly cured flesh of pigs that have dined only on finest Iberian acorns. “And tapas! Pimiento de padrones, chorizo…”

“OK,” says the boy. “I’m down with that.”

“So, Barcelona and a bit of Catalunya?” I say. “Apartments are really cheap in Barcelona….”

“What about the Alhambra? And Cordoba?” says my mother. “Moorish Spain has some fantastic architecture….”

“I know,” I say. “But I think Zac’s a bit over fabulous Islamic architecture. And Roman stuff, for that matter.”

“NO MORE RUINS!” says the boy. He hit his ruins threshold at some point in Jordan, and remains quite firmly ruined-out.

“Which cities?” asks my mother. “Well, Venice, obviously,” I say. “Venice in August?” she says. “Are you sure?” “Yes,” I say. “It’s VENICE!”

We discuss Italy a bit. “I think we should stay north,” I say. “Focus on a few cities and see a reasonable amount of them. Plus, Emilia-Romagna, for the food.”

The problem with Italy is, what with it arising from a series of independent city states with their own food, art, history and culture that only unified very recently, and, ya know, the Romans and the Popes and all, it boasts quite the embarrassment of riches.

“Which cities?” says my mother.

“Well, Venice, obviously,” I say.

“Venice in August?” she says. “Are you sure?”

“Yes,” I say. “It’s VENICE!”

“Make sure to come in on the train,” she says. “Do you remember that arrival at Venezia Santa Lucia?”

I do indeed. My parents took me to Venice when I wasn’t much older than Zac, and I’ll always remember it. I hope the city hasn’t had the temerity to change.

Europe, we conclude, is basically about the food and the art.

“What’s Sudan GOT?” asks the boy. “Ummmmmm….” I say. “Apart from warlords, I mean,” he says. “What has Sudan actually GOT?” “The Blue Nile!” I say.

Italy pared down to Venice, Bologna, Em-Rom, Florence and, ya know, some other stuff, we turn to Egypt.

“Are you sure it’s a good idea?” asks my ma.

“Yes,” I say. “Everyone I know in Dahab says it’s fine, plus they’ve already taken the curfew off in Aswan, but nobody bothers to write about that.”

My ma and I are united in the notion that Ethiopia would be an extremely good idea.

“But what’s Ethiopia GOT?” asks the boy.

“Cave churches!” says my mother. The boy’s face falls silently, but evocatively, into his erhmagerd-no-more-ruins expression.

“The hottest place on earth!” I say.

“I’m just thinking Ethiopia means stomach upsets,” says Zac. “I don’t want to be on a drip again.”

“LOOK!” I say, turning to the relevant page on the map. “There! We can go down the Blue Nile from Egypt to Ethiopia, to its source in Lake Tana.”

“What’s Sudan GOT?” asks the boy.

“Ummmmmm….” I say.

“Apart from warlords, I mean,” he says. “What has Sudan actually GOT?”

“The Blue Nile!” I say. “We can go down the Nile to one of its sources!!!!”

“That does,” says the boy solemnly, “Sound kinda cool. Actually, that sounds very cool.”

I’m buggered if I’m paying more than double the price of a decent flight, and close to quadruple the price of a RyanAir shitfest, to get from Amsterdam to Venice by a train that involves five separate changes, most of them in the wee hours.

And so it is decided, or kinda. We’d like to do Europe by train, but, thanks to the absolutely mental and environmentally unsound economics of train travel in Europe, we’re going to have to fly several legs, because I’m buggered if I’m paying more than double the price of a decent flight, and close to quadruple the price of a RyanAir shitfest, to get from Amsterdam to Venice by a train that involves five separate changes, most of them in the wee hours.

We will go to Amsterdam, on the ferry for green points, then Italy, then Barcelona, stop in Paris for steak-frites, head to Blighty for our Outdoor First Aid course and some other stuff, then embark for Dahab for a stretch of R&R before departing down the Blue Nile to Ethiopia.

Unless Egypt’s torn itself cannibalistically apart in the manner of a bunch of starving hyper-religious jackals, of course, which is always a possibility with Egypt, god bless its cotton socks.


Picture credit: World In Hand by Todd Morris.

11 Responses

  1. Toni says:

    I think this is the best non-bullshit travel planning I’ve ever read 😀 lol

  2. Mrs. Joudy says:

    I’m with the boy- Dahab all the way. Really, one can never get too much of Dahab.
    We have a friend who sent INCREDIBLE pictures from Ethiopia, and “bless my [stupid] heart” (yes, I hail from the Southeastern US), I didn’t go there when we were living in Cairo. Mr. Adventure wanted to, but just being in Egypt was enough for me…at that point, anyway. Looking forward to your stories!

  3. Yvette says:

    Ye gods, why am I nervous for some reason you guys are going to get to the part with the astrophysics lab and decide it was boring? Even though I was with you when you were here so I know how it went? :-p

    • Theodora says:

      God, I don’t even know where we’re going to get to at this point…. I was going to write a completely different post to catch up with some time on my narrative, and this one just came pouring out. But, no, no worries! We didn’t find it boring…

  4. Catherine says:

    Love that post sounds like us at home debating the next trip, the boyf likes mountains and walking I want to snorkel (cant dive, asthma)and the boy wants to stay at home unless we are going to Morocco or Sri Lanka….. Need to find a place with tropical seas and walking country…..and cheap!

  5. Nonplussed says:

    I’m so excited! Sudan! Ethiopia! Marvellous! Ethiopia also has The Omo Valley. You must go to The Omo Valley. Harar, fourth holiest Islamic city and a place where you can feed Hyaena. Sudan has more Egyptian temples but without any tourists, many many Pyramids and lovely people levelling mountains for gold and lots and lots of lovely Tea Ladies. Lake Tana has papyrus boats and lots of monasteries (some not open to people of the Lady persuasion), the Blue Nile Falls and lots and lots of Hippos. Gondar, wonderful Palace compounds and easy access to the Simien Mountains and Gelada Baboons. Axum, The Arc of the sodding Covenant! Huge Stelae. Lalibela; a relics of the Holy Land in subterranean Stone. Addis; fabulous food. The Omo Valley, cow jumping and lots of lovely people with local ways. So much to do. Will you continue down to Kenya?

  6. Kay Taylor says:

    I’ve been following your crazy blog for a while now. I must say you are the bravest person I have ever “met” in my life. When I read your posts anything seems to be possible. You gave me so much courage that I could never thank you enough. I have a small place in the Italian Alps, near Bergamo. You are welcome to use it, if you want. It either will be vacant in August and, thus available for you only to enjoy, or (if we are happen to be there at the same time)you will have a separate room. It is nothing fancy, but is all furnished and it stays pretty cool in August since it is higher in the mountains.

    • Theodora says:

      Thank you!!!!!!!!! I’m not sure where we’re going to be in August at the moment, but it’s likely going to be Bali — as you can perhaps imagine, I’m a little bit behind on my life. But — so glad you’re enjoying the blog, and I do hope you’ll follow along.