navigate:
Friday 2004-04-23 - Amsterdam, the Netherlands
New bags
The tendinitis in my right wrist hasn’t completely healed yet so packing/unpacking a backpack and hauling the duffel bag didn’t feel like a good idea: I’ll need to favor my right arm. After finding out (from calling Bever, where I bought it many years ago) what the volume of my backpack was, I went shopping for wheeled luggage.
First stop (yesterday) was at the luggage store in the Kinkerstraat in Amsterdam. They didn’t have a small backpack with wheels (they could order one but then they’d need a down payment — and I’m not going to pay for something like that when I haven’t seen it first!). They did have big bags on wheels: a cheap one (don’t risk that on a 2-month trip) and a Samsonite which looked OK. Not much choice though.
Then I went to a store on the Nieuwendijk (also in Amsterdam). Lots of choices, and very nice and knowledgeable service. I got a nice large Samsonite bag, and a Delsey backpack small enough to be acceptable as carry-on luggage on the planes but large enough to pack all my films and whatever else I must have with me; even small enough to (just) fit inside the large bag to get it all home.
Happy with my purchases, I took advantage of the nice weather and walked home. The bag is easy to walk with, and stable even on uneven pavement.
Saturday 2004-04-24 - Amsterdam, the Netherlands
A present
The postman rang the doorbell this morning: he had a package for me. I didn’t expect a package…
Turned out to be a little present from Koning Aap: a small Nomad backpack with their logo, and a compact travel first-aid kit. Nice. Thank you Koning Aap!
Tuesday 2004-06-15 - Chardzhev, Turkmenistan
Sick over the border
We have to leave Mary early this morning to have sufficient time for the border crossing near Chardzhev. As soon as I wake up, I know I’m sick: I have diarrhea and a little later I have to throw up, too. No fever, so I’m not really worried but I do feel very weak. Bad planning for a border crossing day… When I enter the restaurant next to the hotel where we’ll have our breakfast, just the smell of the food makes me sick again, I have barely time to make it outside to throw up again, let alone to ask for the bathroom. I try a bit of tea, but even that upsets my stomach.
I’m put in the front of the bus and soon doze away; the landscape is boring anyway. At Chardzhev where we need to cross a pontoon bridge before the border crossing a little further on I wake up again because we seem to be going in circles. We are. The driver can’t find the entry to the bridge because all the original routes have been closed off. Finally, with the help of some locals, he finds the way. At the bridge, Bava starts negotiating: normally the bridge can be crossed only by locals and trucks — travelers have to take a taxi across to the border. Some baksheesh takes care of it though: more expensive than taxis but also more comfortable. As a ‘bonus’, we can take a picture of the railway bridge next to the pontoon bridge — illegal but safe from our bus with a trusted driver. It was bombed several times by the Germans during the last World War but they could not take it out of action.
Crossing the border is near torture: it’s extremely hot at midday, everyone is tired, customs at the Turkmen side takes a very long time with all luggage opened (though for a cursory look only) — and then, after saying goodbye to our guide Bava whom I promise to email, we have to walk a long way across no-man’s land in the burning sun to the Uzbek side. It doesn’t help that I’m very light in my head but I’m not the only one suffering. I bless my luggage on wheels though: without the wheels I wouldn’t have made it! At the Uzbek end things are a little easier — the same type of customs declarations as we had for Turkmenistan is required, but at least they have an X-ray machine for the luggage. Two mini busses stand ready to take us to our first Uzbek city. In the front of the bus again I fall asleep immediately. It’s still 97 km to Bukhara.
Sunday 2004-07-11 - Beijing, China
A costly flight back
A bus will take us to Beijing airport; before we leave we engage the bus driver to take a group picture of us at the hotel entrance — with several cameras — and I’m sure he does this more often. At the check-in desk at the airport my worst fears come true: not only is there a weight limit on checked luggage, there’s one for cabin luggage as well: my little backpack with all my rolls of films is twice as heavy as allowed and my bag is (as expected) overweight as well. I have to take out what I really want to take as hand luggage (luckily I have a small bag handy for that) and manage to carry my film rolls — they always go in my hand luggage — and some other essentials; then I convince the clerk she’s already quoted me an overweight on my bag, and shouldn’t suddenly re-weigh and add my now half-empty backpack as well. Still, I have to pay a hefty fee, which surprisingly I can pay with my credit card (they must be dealing with cash-less passengers more often). I shrug it off: compared to the total cost of our trip it’s still peanuts, and I accept it as a necessary cost of my gotten-out-of-hand photography hobby (and those 100 rolls of film in lead-lined bags): others buy more souvenirs, I pay for the films.
The flight back is uneventful; we’re changing planes in Vienna again, this time without being held up. Amsterdam feels strange after 65 days travelling across Asia. Tomorrow I’ll bring my films to the lab.
