Prossima Fermata, Home.

This is the final entry in the blog devoted to our big adventure; notwithstanding a major drama, the next time readers will hear from us will be back home in Australia. While I’m at it, just a few observations about what Donald Horne once somewhat cynically called, ‘The Lucky Country’. We’ve done an awful lot of travelling the last nine weeks, and seen far too many places to remember clearly. But never too far from my mind was back home. I’ve certainly never considered myself overly patriotic, still don’t, and I’m very critical of the sense of apathy which so pervades much of our country – that ‘she’ll be right mate’ mentally can be as frustrating as it is endearing. However, I can see why many people return to Australia espousing the mantra, ‘it’s the best bloody country on earth’. It may not be the best, but it can’t be too far behind.

They say travel broadens the mind, and I’m sure this is true, but not always is a broadened mind a better mind. In our travels, we’ve encountered many things which have concerned and saddened us. Things like the rampant smoking by young people in Italy and France, the terrible rudeness to others in Italy, and most recently, the complete lack of human decency and concern for others implicit in the ‘business’ – and a business is exactly what it is – of theft from unsuspecting and trusting tourists. Perhaps, in retrospect, that’s the raison d'etre for travel, to remind you of how good you have things at home. I admire greatly those people, usually the young, who can travel for months at a time, only returning home to raise some more money and plan the next adventure. Clearly, I’m not one of these people. As exotic and stimulating the sights and sounds of travel may be, as intoxicating as the thrill of new adventures can become, for us, home is where we feel safest, and most fulfilled – it’s unquestionably where our hearts are.

So, has it all been worth it? Without a doubt. We’ve seen and done things hitherto unimaginable to us. At the moment, our minds are so full of memories we literally find it hard to remember where we stayed at our last city. But in time, the maze of memories will, we think, settle themselves down into some semblance of order, and we will manage to remember the minutiae of details which are presently just a fog.

Has it made us better people? Perhaps, although this is arguable and impossible to prove. In some ways, we have become more stoic and resourceful, but I think we may also have become, paradoxically, less tolerant and trusting. I certainly have no doubts that cultural differences between people across the globe are huge; the idea that there exists some sort of cultural absolutism is ridiculous. Manners are not universal, nor is concern for others, and nor is the idea of a fair go, so ostensibly cherished by Australians (but not always demonstrated). I think we return much more wary and cautious of strangers, which I don’t think to be a positive development. One thing we will undoubtedly return with are lungs full of passively acquired cigarette smoke – it is everywhere, and nobody cares where or on whom they exhale it. 

The other evening, the one of the day on which we had been robbed, we stood on a bridge in Naples eating a pretty cheap and nasty pizza we had purchased for dinner. It was Italy’s most important national non-religious holiday, Republica Day, to celebrate the decision made by the people following WW2 to become a democratic republic. As we looked down from the pedestrian bridge to the absolute mayhem of cars below, horns blasting in a cacophony of deafening noise, and little or no regard for the plight of the person in the car or on the bike next to you, the absurdity of it all resonated with us. I could never live like this, and I wonder what doing so over a lifetime eventually does to you.

Would we do it again? Of course, impossible to answer – at present, probably not, but who’s to know about the future. Personally, although I enjoyed every day, some more than others, I did not need to do this to complete my life. What I did enjoy was being with Alison. After nine weeks together, there was barely a harsh word between us, certainly very little that wasn’t brushed aside after hour an hour or so.  She was dependable, reliable and always by my side to the very end. We did everything together, suffered the best bits and the worst, and came out the other end smiling together. There is probably not another person I could live with 24/7 for 63 days and still be able to call my best friend. She made the trip what it was.

And now some statistics for you. In total, we flew 32,943 kms. By car we travelled almost 4,800 kms. And, by our best estimates, we walked almost 500 kms, or an average of 8 kms per day. It is true that international travel leaves a very significant carbon footprint, and we have certainly contributed to this. I guess once we return we’ll need to do some serious planting to even the ledger a little back in favour of the planet.

Finally, the blog itself. The decision to start a travel blog was taken late, and reluctantly at that. When I decided to keep it, I promised myself that it would be a warts and all account of our trip and our adventure. I couldn’t see the sense in just making a photo journal with a few corny words explaining where we were. Rather, I decided I wanted it to be an accurate and very personal reflection of how we lived the last nine weeks of our lives; our feelings of elation, of homesickness, and even our despair. When we were recently robbed, Alison did not think we should include it on the blog, it was far too personal for her, and I think she felt somewhat responsible for what had happened (which was nonsense). 

However, I argued that if we were happy to share with friends and family what was going well, we needed to trust them with less positive news. I have really enjoyed putting the blog together (although I concede it was perhaps a bit self-indulgent at times), and judging from the emails we have received from readers, you have enjoyed it also. Last time I checked, we had close to 1150 page views over the past 63 days. Not surprisingly, most viewers came from Australia, but we had readers from the UK, Italy, the US, Germany, Bolivia (I think that would have been Pete and Ebie), and one from the Ukraine (just wait until Putin hears about this).

So, the blog will now be put to rest. I’m sure we will enjoy reading it again in a few weeks time, and hopefully it will facilitate the reminiscences which inevitably comes with travel. And to help us along:

Bath, where Roman met Georgian, and our adventure began;

Bristol, our first look at real squirrels;

Swansea, and Alison’s still raving about her Welsh lamb stew;

Colwyn Bay, can that really be a wind farm in the middle of the sea;

Dublin, Guinness and U2 cover bands, what a combination;

Kilkenny, what a time to sprain and ankle, and Alison learns the bodhran;

Cork, rugby and roads just too narrow for Australian drivers;

Kilarney, more beautiful than words can express;

Ennis, some places just don’t warrant too much thought;

Galway, now, was the parking free after 8.00 pm or not, nobody seemed to know;

Donegal, beautiful mansion fit for a king, and a view that went forever;

Derry, nothing but troubles and murals, but a city which really made us think;

Belfast, had a laugh at the comedy, and far too much to drink;

Liverpool, took a ferry, ‘cross the Mersey, and went home in the rain;

Penrith, what they call, ‘The Lakes’, and how serene they are;

Glasgow, avoided the famous ‘kiss’, and really loved this city and its buildings;

Oban, lovely seaside village, but shame about the retirement village;

Inverness, no sight of Nessie, but got ourselves on film;

Aberdeen, grey, grey, grey;

Perth, Scone, where ancient Kings and tourists masquerading as Kings, are crowned;

Edinburgh, Arthur’s seat and plenty of kilts;

Darlington, see Ennis;

York, Roman ghost and one hell of a railway museum;

Birmingham, weirdest library we’ve ever seen, but lovely canals;

Oxford, far too many pretentious students on bikes trying to look learned;

London, Buckingham Palace, Westminster, and a famous circus without any clowns;

Paris, the city of love, croissants and beautiful women;

Marseille, churches with spectacular views, and enthralling games of bocce;

Genoa, strikes, missed trains and two very exhausted Australian tourists;

Verona, over-priced, over-crowded and over-rated Venice, but a lovely lake;

Florence, probably our favourite Italian city, and don’t forget Fiesole;

Naples, the place we’d much prefer to forget;

And finally, Rome, where every building has a story, or rather a thousand stories, to tell. 

Of course, our special thanks go to our good friends and neighbours, Chris and Judith, and Wayne and Heather, who kindly looked after our place and our beloved animals while we gallivanted half way around the world. Without their generosity, none of this would have been possible.

We came across these two ridiculous looking tourists in the park, and just had to take a picture. My god, some people don't know how dorky they look.