From my room into Prague

I chose an apartment a bit out of the centre this time. I was attracted by the idea of a garden, and thought I'd be fit enough for a walk to the station, and seasoned enough to deal with train tickets. I didn't bargain on temperatures over 30.

Janek picked me up at the station as promised and I felt instantly at home when he was concerned about whether his car would start. Despite the fact that his young nephew was anxious to go flying, he found me a bankomat and spent a lot of time telling me where to go and how to get there. When he introduced me to the cherry tree in the back yard, I realised that I had never in fact seen cherries on a tree.

The walk to the station took me a bit longer than the 20 minutes advertised, but then most people probably don't stop to take photos. I was accompanied by birdsong, the thwack of tennis balls, and at one point the sound of water running under the road. It couldn't be more different from my Vienna neighbourhood.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

The room can be booked at https://www.airbnb.com/rooms/2425662

 

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Views from the apartment, landing by landing

 

 

 

 

https://www.airbnb.com.au/rooms/1904837

 

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The last leg

Now that I'm nearly to my first destination, home is beginning to imprint itself on here. Before I left, things at home reminded me of my Warsaw. Now things here remind me of home. The zinnia on the table linked me back to Waincourt meals, with a vase of gerberas sitting in the boat, and of the past when the birth of our first daughter was marked by a bouquet of gerberas, those bright, simple flowers that always charm.

 

For the first time on this journey I had a window seat. It was only an hour's flight so I wouldn't need to execute that impossible clamber across four alien legs and risk tumbling into two alien laps. And what a reward! I've become a lover of alps. White topped, they loomed out of the cloud cover, rocky planes like the planes of a Slavic face, snow bleeding white from the peak in patterns like the ones the tide leaves.

 

Leaving Zurich

 

 

 

 

 

 

Approaching Ljubljana

 

Approaching Ljubljana

 

Ljubljana airport

 

My bag appeared on the carousel, against expectations of loss, and as I emerged into the arrivals space the first thing I saw was my name on an extremely large white poster, held by a tall man in a white cap: Tadej, my airbnb host. We drove into Ljubljana, chatting easily. He drove me around to orient me: the castle, grim and unmissable on its hill; Tivoli Park; the old town; the bus station; the walking route to the old town. Then up five flights of stairs to the apartment, tiny and shiny white. A white vase of red gerberas. A desk with a view. An Internet password. Instruction in the intricacies of door locking. And I've arrived.

 

 

 

 

 

 

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Planning a trip

I turn 70 this year. It’s about time I faced a travel challenge again: it’s not going to get any easier as the years roll on. My trip to Warsaw to visit the twins (and their parents) has suddenly expanded. I’m not going straight to Poland. I’m landing in Slovenia and spending three weeks meandering through Slovenia, Croatia, Hungary, Austria and Czech Republic, mainly by train. Every time I look at a guide book, I have another scheme. Maybe I’ll take a day trip to Venice and add another country to my list.

It’s taken me a month to book accommodation. Airbnb has made it eas.  Hosts have been willing to offer suggestions about must-sees in their neck of the woods, and detailed instructions from bus stations. They also offer me an English-speaking contact in strange places.The daunting job of booking trains and planes I’m handing over to my travel agent.

Just as I began to get down to serious place-by-place itinerising, I discovered 5W. I’ve emailed women in cities I’m travelling to and received warm replies, including suggestions about what to see, links to websites to help me plan, invitations to meet for coffee, offers to guide me around their city, and even the possibility of a side trip from Warsaw to Doha where one of my Viennese contacts is working.

As departure date thunders towards me, I begin the most difficult piece of editing I’ve ever done. I remember the strategy we used before a six-day hike in Nadgee wilderness. We spread out everything we might possibly want to take on the floor: for four weekends we scrutinised and debated and discarded and added and discarded, knowing whatever we ended up with had to travel on the feeble human back. So my spare room is no longer available for guests. The bed is spread with a jumble of possibles. I wander in and out determined to be brutal. I buy a new suitcase, small and soft, as another way of reining in an urge to take everything. Luggage limit on the flight to Dubrovnik (15 kg) provides further discipline.

 

http://www.airbnb.com

http://www.womenwelcomewomen.org.uk/

 

 

 

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