This post was originally published in 2012. It has since been updated for accuracy of links and content.

While moving from city to city and country to country on the frenetically-paced Ultimate Train Challenge last year, time had a different meaning. As I wandered the streets of Zurich (a place I’ve now returned to for a few months), I couldn’t believe I was sick and lost in Barcelona less than 24 hours prior. It felt like days (if not weeks) had passed; there was so much water under the bridge.

I experience this whenever I travel quickly, or when there are rapid changes in my life; I might wonder why a certain person hasn’t replied to an email I sent weeks ago, only to realize it hasn’t been more than a couple of days.

Living More

If 24 hours can feel like weeks, it must mean we’re experiencing more in that stretch of time than what we normally associate with 24 hours. This jives with the increased experiential effects of fast travel or rapid life changes, where more stuff just happens.

In a new place, I notice more things. I use my senses more. I live more consciously, and I emote more intensely.

This time-stretching theory could be another reason why travel accelerates the natural progression of a romantic relationship, or gives birth to those characteristic “instant lifelong friendships” that often form on the road.

Sci-Fi and Advanced Physics

Isn’t there a space-time-travel theory that taps into the idea that time slows down depending on how quickly you move? I think those guys just might be on to something.

But enough of this physical philosophy – let’s get practical:

How does all this fast-paced time-warping travel affect my complexion? I wonder…

This post Time Slows Down While Traveling appeared first on The Professional Hobo. Please click through to read it in full!

We blew through Beijing, gazed at Guilin, said Hello to Hanoi, and eventually settled in Saigon.

Some of the more interesting (and random) rail experiences happened on this last part of the Ultimate Train Challenge, and my favourite train ride for scenery and photographic friendliness (due in part to windows that opened) was the last two-night ride from Hanoi to Saigon.

Please enjoy the third and final part to my video trilogy of the Ultimate Train Challenge finale adventures of The Professional Hobo. You’ll see from some of the shots and footage in the last half of the video why I liked the final train ride – and ultimately, Vietnam – so much.

Enjoy!

Click here to watch this final Ultimate Train Challenge video on YouTube.

This post was originally published in 2011. It has since been updated for accuracy of links and content. 

This post The Ultimate Train Challenge Finale: China, Vietnam [Video] appeared first on The Professional Hobo. Please click through to read it in full!

This post was originally published in 2011. It has since been updated for accuracy of links and content. 

Spending a week solid on a train from Moscow to Beijing, in small quarters with no showers and two people I’d only just met for a day a couple of weeks prior was no small task.

The good news is that we’re all still friends, and actually, I consider myself very lucky to have shared such an epic experience as the Ultimate Train Challenge with two other dedicated nomadic travelers and bloggers.

Please enjoy this video diary of my week on the Trans-Manchurian train through Russia and China. It’s a good thing “smell-o-vision” isn’t a big hit, and you’ll see me wearing the same outfit up to three days in a row. But rest assured the continuity is genuine; you’ll detect signs of wear-and-tear throughout the week, including increasingly flatter hair and growing bags under my eyes.

But don’t worry – you don’t have to look at my sorry face the whole time; I’ve crammed the video with clips and pictures of the amazing changing scenery along the way, as well as some of our food stops and “beer chats” with new friends, a few time-lapse clips, and some tense moments at the Russian/Chinese border.

Enjoy!

Feel free to click here to watch the video on YouTube.

This post The Ultimate Trans-Manchurian [Video] appeared first on The Professional Hobo. Please click through to read it in full!

This post was originally published in 2011. It has since been updated for accuracy of links and content. 

It was when I started planning the next step of my travels that I realized “popping back over to Europe” involved a lot more than a pop. More like a 12 hours of flying sort of pop.

In the first 17 days of the Ultimate Train Challenge, I covered a huge distance and quite a laundry list of countries: Portugal, Spain (both Granada and Barcelona), Switzerland, Czech Republic, Ukraine, and Russia. This says nothing of the countries I also passed through (but didn’t leave the train or station), which includes France, Austria, Slovakia, and Hungary.

Please enjoy this video of my Ultimate Train Challenge adventures through Europe. This is Part One of a three-part video series of Ultimate Train Challenge fun.

Email subscribers, click here to watch the video on YouTube.

This post The Ultimate Train Challenge through Europe [Video] appeared first on The Professional Hobo. Please click through to read it in full!

I sat on these 29 trains a cumulative amount of 339 hours and 50 minutes. That’s over 14 days – straight.

My top five train rides for length of riding time were:

• Trans-Manchurian (also called the Trans-Siberian) from Moscow to Beijing: 150 hours
• Hanoi to Saigon: 35 hours
• Prague to Lviv: 23 hours (technically this was two trains, with a one-hour break in between)
• Shanghai to Guilin: 22 hours
• Barcelona to Zurich: 16.5 hours
  
  

Given that I was “only” on trains for 14 days (!), I also had time to check out a few sights in a flurried fashion along the way. Here are some highlights:

I ate my way around Lisbon Portugal, sampling their heavenly seafood rice and famous pastéis de Belém.

I stayed with Nellie of Wild Junket and her husband Alberto in Granada, Spain, where we hiked, ate tapas, painted the town, and simply enjoyed each others’ company.

I felt sorry for myself in Barcelona, Spain before finally settling firmly ON the beaten path.

I stayed with a long-lost family friend and her family in Zurich, Switzerland, and caught up with another friend who treated me to cheesy raclette (yum)!

I reconnected in Prague, Czech Republic with a group of friends who I met on a tv shoot last year, and I found myself caught off-guard and very much “naked”.

I hit rock bottom in Lviv, Ukraine before coming up for air and realizing that it’s a gorgeous place worthy of a future visit.

I took a few days to hike in the Carpathian Mountains in Ukraine (a real highlight of the whole trip), and dug a little bit beneath the surface of the country, experiencing paradoxes like the Very-Fast Train which was One Hour Late.

I reflected on the first half of the trip and braced myself for the second half while in Moscow, Russia.

I got to know Michael and Jeannie a whole lot better (in a good way!) on the epic one-week journey from Moscow to Beijing on the Trans-Manchurian train.

I came full-circle in my life and travels by unwittingly revisiting the exact spot on the Great Wall of China that I had been to 18 years prior on my first overseas trip.

I wandered further down memory lane in Guilin, China on a river tour that was about 100 times more crowded than I remembered it.

I had a series of random experiences on Asian trains on the long disjointed journey from Beijing, China to southern Vietnam and Saigon – the final Ultimate Train Challenge destination.

If you’d rather watch than read, then check out my Ultimate Train Challenge playlist on YouTube, with videos of my European adventures, a Trans-Manchurian train diary, a tearful moment on the Great Wall of China, adventures in Guilin, and random train adventures through the rest of China and Vietnam.

I feel so blessed to have experienced this once-in-a-lifetime adventure. It was fast, furious, exhausting, exhilarating, and a collection of random experiences – memories and stories – that I will carry with me for the rest of my life.

Memories and stories; the best souvenirs a Professional Hobo could ever hope for.

Check out my Travel Lifestyle Guides for more ways to earn money remotely, spend it wisely, and balance the two so you can travel as long as you wish, in a financially sustainable way. 

This trip would not have been possible without our generous sponsors; HostelBookers arranged for accommodation in Lisbon (Lisbon Destination Hostel), Lviv (Mister Hostel), Moscow (Prosto Hostel), Beijing (Happy Dragon Courtyard Hostel), Guilin (How Hostel), and one glorious week in Saigon at Thien Thao Hotel. (Remember – HostelBookers isn’t just for hostels; you can book all sorts of accommodation through them with no fees, and a guaranteed low price).

Eurail also hooked us up with Global Passes, which gave us the ability to roam at will through up to 22 countries in 15 days.

TEP Wireless gave Jeannie and I Pocket WiFI devices to give us wireless internet access on the go in Europe.

Active Ukraine treated me to my trip into the Carpathian mountains, and Oksana also gave me a quick tour of Lviv, and met Jeannie and I briefly in Kyiv. Ukraine absolutely wouldn’t have been the same otherwise.

Real Russia was responsible for getting us on the Trans-Manchurian train from Moscow to Beijing, and provided us with all kinds of logistical assistance leading up to the challenge.

Lastly, China Odyssey Tours made our trip through China a breeze, with organized private tours, transfers and ticket purchasing services, thus allowing us to simply enjoy all that China had to offer instead of stressing about how to get around in our semi-delerious state.

Thank you, thank you, thank you!

This post 29 Trains in 30 Days: The Ultimate Train Challenge Finishes appeared first on The Professional Hobo. Please click through to read it in full!

Three of our six nights between Beijing and Saigon are spent on trains, so I have lots of time to experience Asian travel culture, make friends, and bide my time while watching the world go by.

Here are some of my random experiences:

This post was originally published in 2011. It has since been updated for accuracy of links and content. 

Beijing to Shanghai

This journey is traditionally an 11-hour ride, and has been cut down to just over five hours with the new flashy bullet train from Beijing to Shanghai – reputedly the world’s fastest train. It is an incredibly comfortable and easy ride, buffeted on either side by shiny new expansive train stations.

Random Experience #1: McDonalds “Delicacies”

Even the McDonalds at the Beijing train station is fancy, featuring a “tea restaurant of table delicacies” (pictured here) – whatever that means.

Random Experience #2: Hand-Holding

While waiting for the train, two small adorable Chinese women in some sort of uniform come trotting (literally trotting) by me, holding hands. It’s not until they’ve passed that I can see the bold writing across the backs of their cute little uniforms: SECURITY. Where I come from, security personnel are usually intimidating. This is just endearing.

Random Experience #3: Tongue-Twisting

I am seated at the front of my train car, so I simply hold my camera up at arms length facing backwards to get a shot of the car, with no idea what the picture will look like. The guy sitting just behind me gives me this gem of a shot:

Shanghai to Guilin

In an effort to save a few bucks, we opt for the 3^rd class “hard sleeper” train on the 22-hour trip from Shanghai to Guilin (which is all part of a larger 33-hour journey originating from Beijing). Although we initially regret this decision when faced with a crowded, loud, open car with three tight layers of bunk beds, it doesn’t take long to get into the fun and enjoy some of the most random of Asian train experiences.

Random Experience #4: Random Photo

Just outside of Shanghai, I take an accidental random photo with my camera, which is randomly pointed at the window. What are the chances that I catch a ferris wheel. I mean, really.

Random Experience #5: Train Food

Although vendors regularly pass through the train car selling fruit, packaged food, and prepared food, I notice most passengers bring their own food on-board; which includes a lot of instant noodles and vacuum-packed snack-foods like chicken feet and tofu. (Yes, vacuum-packed snack-foods like chicken feet and tofu).

Random Experience #6: Passenger Food

A middle-aged woman takes over the communal seating/table area at the end of the bunks and delicately airs a pile of mystery food in the space under the counter.

The following morning, this mystery food selection has darkened, shrivelled, and interestingly – multiplied, and she is now carefully continuing to dry out this food using the light of day. She periodically attends to the little brown packets of something, squeezing them, smelling, them, and turning them over. When she smells them I study her to see if I can get a sense for its deliciousness (thinking maybe I can tell from her expression if it’s sweet or savoury), but she gives me no clue with her stoic face.

Random Experience #7: Mystery Packages

This same woman has also commandeered the entire table between bunks for 11 wrapped boxes of something. At first I think they are box lunches, and as she shuttles more and more over to the table, I wonder if she has treated our whole section to a meal. I restrain myself from digging into one of these “lunches” which turns out to be a good thing, as I later learn from a Mary Kay girl (how’s that for random-ness? keep reading) they are “moon cakes” that are likely gifts for family and friends.

Random Experience #8: Music and Talk Radio for One and All

As I start to become annoyed at the passenger somewhere above me who is listening to the radio full-blast, I realize with some degree of horror that it’s being piped through the whole train. This deafening combination of talk radio and Chinese muzak will play for an hour, then stop for a few hours, then play for another half hour, then stop for 20 minutes, and so on. Most people seem to tune it out, despite the ear-shattering decibels.

Random Experience #9: It’s a Mary Kay Conference

As I sit on my lower bunk working on my laptop, the lady on the top bunk (with a kind face, who initially helped me locate my bunk from my cryptic train ticket) climbs down and sits cross-legged next to me, looking expectantly at my laptop, then me, then smiling. I’m not sure what she’s after, so I show her pictures of my recent adventures on The Great Wall, I play the Ultimate Train Challenge Trailer, and explain with pictures, sign language, maps, and numbers on the computer what the Ultimate Train Challenge is all about. I think she gets it, since she seems genuinely surprised and confused by my mission to travel from Lisbon to Saigon (25,000kms) by train in 30 days.

Now it’s her turn: I learn she’s a Mary Kay consultant returning home from a Mary Kay conference near Shanghai. She shows me pictures on her camera of the conference, her home, her husband and two year-old son, and her mother and father. I am quickly introduced to the rest of her gaggle of Mary Kay friends. I obediently pose for pictures with each of them and many combinations thereof.

Although we don’t share a common language (albeit she knows more English than I know of Chinese), we are best friends for the rest of the train ride; she teaches me about moon cakes, shares a pomegranate with me, we establish our ages and birthdays, my last visit to China in 1993, and we muse over a Chinese handbook with select phrases and pictures.

However our language barrier proves its limitations when I ask what the mystery food (that’s displayed and drying at the foot of our beds) is. It seems this mystery food will forever remain just that: a mystery.

Random Experience #10: Toothbrush Etiquette

A train attendant sets up shop in the middle of the car (which happens to be at the foot of my bed) around 10am. In her loudest voice she launches into a sales pitch for toothbrushes. This lasts about 10 minutes, as she extols the virtues of the brush itself with a full demonstration of its many features, along with a quick lesson on brushing techniques. I never realized a toothbrush could be deserving of such intricate descriptions. She must have done a good job, because she is swarmed by curious customers at the end of her lecture and she sells quite a few.

(Note: I also see this display on another train between Guilin and Nanning, as well as a very compelling sales pitch and absorption demonstration for chamois towels. Then again, what sales pitch and absorption demonstration for chamois towels isn’t compelling?).

Random Experience #11: Deputy Train Conductor

In the train washroom, I discover a female attendant’s hat hanging on the hook, obviously left behind by one of the conductors. I take the opportunity to stage a little photo shoot in the washroom, which also serves as a scavenger hunt score for the Ultimate Train Challenge competition.

Hanoi to Saigon

Although I dread the last train from Hanoi to Saigon (as part of a larger longer 4 day/3 night race for the finish), this 35 hour train ride actually ends up being one of my favourite train rides. The scenery is great, there’s power in our cabin (glory hallelujah), and the piece de resistance: the windows open for us to capture some great shots along the way.

Random Experience #12: Epic Instant Noodles, Station Stops

At a station stop, I pick up some instant noodles for lack of there being any food vendors with cooked food. It’s not until I dig into said noodles that I see just how cool my package of noodles is. Check out this guy!

Random Experience #13: Photographic Expose

With the window open and the humid Vietnamese air breezing through the train, I have a blast shooting reams of photos and video of the landscape between Hanoi and Saigon. Here are two random shots I get that I’m particularly proud of:

Thank you China Odyssey Tours for providing our tickets for the world’s fastest train from Beijing to Shanghai. During the Ultimate Train Challenge, we managed to conquer the world’s longest train ride (the Trans-Manchurian), followed immediately by the world’s fastest. Now that’s poetry. 

This post 13 Random Experiences on Asian Trains appeared first on The Professional Hobo. Please click through to read it in full!

So it is a blessing that these are the two places I get to revisit (or rather, breeze through) on my return to China as part of the Ultimate Train Challenge.

We’re all very grateful for the two whole nights we get to sleep in stationary beds at How Hostel – I realize with slight horror that the last time I stayed this long anywhere was in Zurich, which feels like lifetimes ago.

This post was originally published in 2011. It has since been updated for accuracy of links and content. 

River City

With two rivers meeting near the centre, Guilin is a very water-centric city. And if you can hack it, the best time of day to experience Guilin’s river culture is early in the morning; the earlier the better.

My first morning in Guilin I witness this phenomenon around 8am. An elderly woman (she must be in her 60s or 70s) has her leg propped up on a bridge and is stretching her hamstrings as part of her morning exercises. She is so flexible, she’s actually overextended the splits – and she makes it look like nothing (can everybody in Guilin do the splits? I wonder).

Further down, a group of ballroom dancers are waltzing in the user-friendly park space that lines the riverside.

Next group another 100 metres away is a tai chi session with about 10 people practicing.

Then, a group of costumed women with drums, apparently rehearsing for a performance.

Following, some sort of meditative dancers with flags.

There are periodic public exercise “playgrounds”, but instead of slides and monkey bars for children, the playground-esque equipment is comprised of stationery bicycles, rowers, and cross-country ski contraptions commonly seen in home gyms.

Between all these groups practicing different modalities of exercise and meditation are dozens (hundreds?) of pilgrims; power-walkers to wanderers, many exaggeratedly swinging their arms or hitting their shoulders or other pressure points in what I surmise is an eastern practice for total body health maintenance.

And amazingly despite the murky colour of the water, there are even people – many people – swimming in the river (either doing “laps” across and back, or swimming along the length of the river) alongside motorboats and bamboo rafts.

The following morning I’m out before the sun has even fully risen, admittedly not so much for exercise as a quest to enjoy one last bowl of Guilin’s famous rice noodles for breakfast before catching a 7:30am train.

But walking through the park enroute to breakfast is a magical experience. The entourage of scooter/motorcycle traffic hasn’t begun for the day, which creates a subdued – almost muted – ambience. Quite a few people are out to enjoy the early morning peace along with me; a dozen people practicing tai chi, two women out for a morning stroll, and lots of individual arm-swinging pressure-point-pounding power walkers and tai chi gurus.

The water surrounding us, with Guilin’s famous and unique mountain landscape as a backdrop is a perfect setting for these early morning meditations. What a way to start the day.

Guilin River Tours

With such a water-centric culture, it stands to reason that one of the biggest tourist attractions for Guilin are the river cruises along the Li River.

This is one of the experiences I most fondly recall of my visit to China in 1993. Cruising along the quiet Li River with its clear water and stunning scenery was a peaceful afternoon that left me feeling like I’d “discovered” an untouched and very special part of China.

Imagine my surprise 18 years later when I realize the rest of the world has caught on to cruising this “untouched” and special part of China..

This time around, it’s very much “touched”.

Our Guilin guide Sherry (of China Odyssey Tours) leads us through the fray to our boat, which heads out to cruise along this 83km stretch of the Li River in an assembly line fashion. Every picture along the length of the twisting river in either direction includes at least three identical river boats.

18 years ago, I remember a man on a bamboo raft pulling up and tethering to the boat. He had a basket of fruit and offered his wares for sale to the passengers. I found this unique, charming, ingenious, and fascinating.

Today, the man on the bamboo raft is still there (along with dozens of other bamboo rafts). But in addition to selling fruit, he also sells pop, and even souvenirs of little men on bamboo rafts selling stuff to passengers on river cruise ships. I kid you not.

Initially my stomach turns at the exploitative nature of this river cruise and how “touristy” it has become. I long for the feeling of being “off the beaten path” that I had before, oh so many years ago.

But as the hours pass and as I aim my camera out at the (still stunning) mountain scenery instead of the other tourists and boats, I realize the views are still the same. The unique mountains with imaginative names and tales of folklore are still there, and just as majestic as before.

There’s a reason so many people have caught on to the river cruises of Guilin. It’s an amazing experience. And there’s no reason why I should be the only person to know it.

Touring the Countryside

“So do you like bicycles?” Sherry asks us. Jeannie and I eye each other, having seen the bicycle tour listed on our itinerary and feeling nervous about our respective injuries that prevent us from riding very well.

“Um, they’re okay…” we reply, not sure how to navigate the second part of our tour planned for the day.

“How long do you think you can ride?”

I’m grateful for this question, since I’m not averse to riding, but have no ability to do it for more than very short distances. “No more than half an hour,” I reply.

Sherry’s eyes widen and I detect a note of panic. “Really? That’s all?”

I go on to describe my chronic hip injury, and Jeannie nods, chiming in with her bum knee.

Sherry takes this information in stride and immediately adjusts our plans for the day by instead taking us on a ride in an open-air golf cart through the countryside. We appreciate the customizable nature of the tours we’ve received throughout China with China Odyssey Tours, and the ease with which we’ve been able to travel through China in our almost-delusional state of travel-exhaustion.

Ever Onwards

Sadly, that’s it for our time in China. Our itinerary presses us ever onwards towards Saigon. Traveling about 25,000kms in 30 days by train requires constant movement; movement that now has us feeling dizzy, confusing events and locations, and largely unaware of what day it is or even what time it is.

But the end is now in sight; we have six hours by train to Nanning (where we get a chance to walk around for a few hours), followed by 12 hours to Hanoi (which sadly entails getting off the train twice in the middle of the night for border formalities). After a day in Hanoi, our final train (36 hours) delivers us to our ultimate destination of Saigon. Despite the fact that this last portion of schedule actually equates to half of the epic Trans-Manchurian train, at this stage it feels like a drop in the bucket; we can do this in our sleep. And in fact we will – three nights’ sleep.

Check out this video of my Guilin experience, from peaceful tai-chi filled mornings to the chaotic (yet beautiful) river tour!

Click here to watch this video on YouTube.

Thanks to HostelBookers for arranging our Guilin accommodation at How Hostel, and to China Odyssey Tours for arranging all our tours and transfers throughout China.

This post Guilin: River Culture and New Tourism appeared first on The Professional Hobo. Please click through to read it in full!

Aah….China.

I was last here in July of 1993 – 18 years ago – at the tender age of 16, when I toured the country with a ballet. It was my first overseas trip, and an instrumental experience in fostering my love of travel, which eventually led to my adopting a life of full-time travel as The Professional Hobo.

This post was originally published in 2011. It has since been updated for accuracy of links and content. 

On Arrival

“Andy” – our tour guide from China Odyssey Tours (whose Chinese name obviously isn’t Andy) – meets us at the station at 5:30am when we arrive, feeling a little worse-for-wear given our last week on board a train (not to mention the two weeks prior of careening through Europe). We’re eager for showers, stationary beds, and a decent meal.

But Andy has other designs for our day. Given his expertise, he has two strong recommendations; One: that we head straight for the Great Wall of China to avoid traffic and crowds, and Two: if we can wait long enough, that we return to the city to eat lunch at a local place instead of a “touristy” restaurant in the mountains.

Given our paltry 24 hours in Beijing, these turn out to be amazing recommendations that we end up repeatedly thanking him for.

China Then…China Now

My first time in China – also being my first overseas trip – I felt like I’d landed on another planet. Nothing was familiar, and I was traveling through some remote areas that hadn’t seen white people. I felt uncomfortable at being the object of curious attention, overwhelmed by the cultural differences, and intimidated by a heavy military presence. Although the experience of visiting China as a whole was an amazing eye-opener, there were more than a few occurrences that left a sour taste in my mouth.

Now, having been to well over 30 countries since that trip, China is a very different place for me. (And I’m a very different person for China). With the advent of the 2008 Olympics and globalization in general, my white skin and red hair isn’t a head-turner the way it once was. I’ve also got much more “travel street sense” under my belt, and am less phased by cultural differences, and more knowledgeable about (and respectful of) Chinese culture.

So this time around, I’m both comfortable and happy in China. I immediately notice a difference when the smiling friendly Chinese customs officials breeze through the train in the wake of the grim and intimidating Russians. This friendliness only improves throughout my entire trip in China.

Enroute to The Wall

We’re thankful for the lack of Beijing’s notorious traffic on this early Saturday morning, and for the extra rest we get on the 1.5-hour journey in a comfortable car enroute to “The Wall”.

I certainly remember more bicycles and less cars, but aside from that, Beijing looks quite similar at first blush.

Including the smog.

The pollution is so thick that I look at the rising red sun – directly – without even squinting. It would be more beautiful if I didn’t understand that the root of my sun-watching pleasure is in the layers upon layers of smog.

In many parts of China, I remember that clear skies can only be identified by the slight blue tinge directly overhead. You can see that it’s sunny because there are shadows on the ground, but the hazy sky looks overcast. It’s bizarre. This effect has only worsened with time, as you would reasonably assume given a lapse of 18 years.

But 70km out of town at The Great Wall, the blue skies are bluer – in more ways than one.

The Great Wall of China

When we enter the gates at Badaling, I don’t have recollections of anything around me, and I assume that the last time I was here I visited a different section (an entirely reasonable assumption, given the many different sections of the Wall you can visit).

Since it’s so early, there is almost nobody here to begin with, and given a choice from the entrance, most people turn right and climb to the nearest viewpoint. Our guide – and our intuition – tells us to go left.

We have this section of wall almost entirely to ourselves. There are two people about half a kilometre away. It’s a photographer’s bliss, at The (empty) Great Wall of China on this early Saturday morning.

Choosing to get lost in memories of the last time I was here, I take a few photos along with Michael and Jeannie, and begin my pilgrimage up the steep steps to the viewpoint a little faster while they set a more languid pace with their cameras.

I reach the top, and something happens.

A plastic bag lining a garbage bin in the watch tower is rustling in the wind in an eerily familiar way. I look out, and a cable car line that was obviously shut down long ago sits below. I look left. I look right. Can this be?

Suddenly it’s 18 years ago. I stood in this exact spot on top of The Great Wall of China, marvelling at the 1054 steps I took to get up there, and celebrating with my best friend Chris who was also in the ballet with me.

18 years ago, we reflected on the history of this amazing wonder of the world, looked out over the beautiful mountains, remembered the adventures that brought us to that moment, and dreamt of our vast futures that lay ahead.

18 years ago, we took a picture sitting on the steps at the top, geeking the camera after the exhausting climb. A vendor beside us looked on us bemusedly as she said “Hullo! Hullo!” and tried to sell us something.

This time, it’s just me (no vendors, no ballerinas, and no tourists) and I’m not so much exhausted as exhilarated.

Like last time, I reflect on the history of this amazing wonder of the world, look out over the beautiful mountains, remember the (many more) adventures that brought me to this moment, and dream of the vast future that still lays ahead.

Please enjoy this video of The Great Wall of China – then and now.

Email subscribers, click here to watch on YouTube.

I’m very grateful for the chance to revisit my favourite Chinese city of Beijing after all these years; it has been an amazing “full-circle” experience. Many thanks to HostelBookers for arranging our one-night stay (our first night in a stationary bed in a week!) at the very nice Happy Dragon Courtyard Hostel, and to China Odyssey Tours for arranging our Chinese tours, transfers, and even the world’s fastest train from Beijing to Shanghai. You’ve made our trip through China an absolute stress-free breeze – something I can’t be happier for after the last few weeks of exhausting travel.

This post Beijing – Then and Now appeared first on The Professional Hobo. Please click through to read it in full!

Although this train is regularly referred to as the Trans-Siberian, the actual route we are taking (around the top of Mongolia and through Manchuria) is more accurately referred to as the Trans-Manchurian. It is 8,986km (5,623 miles), and involves 145 hours and 37 minutes of straight train travel.

Give or take.

Here is my account of the trip.

This post was originally published in 2011. It has since been updated for accuracy of links and content. 

The Trans Manchurian Railway: DAY 1 (Saturday)

We board the train at 11:30pm, and start rolling just before midnight.

We have two conductors on our car – one is a kind looking woman, the other is a very drunk man who interrupts an obvious video we’re shooting to flirt with Jeannie and I. Initially it’s funny and even a little charming, but it shortly devolves into being creepy.

We find our cabin; it’s small but comfortable. The three of us play tetris to settle in and find appropriate spots for our bags.

“Beer?” the conductor says as he staggers into our doorway. We happen to just have finished our inaugural Trans-Manchurian-beer, so he can see that we’ve been drinking. We try to clarify his question. “Beer?” is his eloquent reply.

We don’t know if he’s telling us we’re not allowed to drink, or asking us for a beer, or – as we eventually deduce – he has beer (and vodka) and wants to drink with us. We politely decline as we make for our beds, and we go to sleep that night hoping that this drunken episode isn’t a habit. We’ve already discovered the Russian propensity for alcohol is no rumour.

I opt for the top bunk, figuring if I want to sleep in I won’t disturb anybody. In the middle of the night, I perform an act of acrobatics trying to get out of bed in the dark to pee.

DAY 2 (Sunday)

We are passing by little communities of wooden houses; they look increasingly derelict yet charming, with uniquely-shaped roofs and a uniformity throughout each community.

As we venture further from Moscow, the paved roads turn into dirt roads, and eventually no roads at all (seemingly). Is it possible these are self-sustaining communities out here? I try to imagine how they would survive in winter.

We eat dinner at the restaurant car; I have a thoroughly mediocre and overpriced bowl of borscht ($6) (which is really chicken soup), and Jeannie loses her shirt on a thin piece of salmon and some sliced tomatoes and cucumbers ($10). Michael sticks to beer, citing his stash of instant noodles as satisfactory for now.

We vow never to eat there again, and Michael chuckles. “You say that now, but trust me – before the week is out, I’ll bet you try it again.”

DAY 3 (Monday)

My bed is good, but hard. I wake up stiff after a (thankfully) long night of sleep. I wonder how I’ll feel about it by the end of the week.

We awake to even more pronounced autumn colours, and I’m surprised at how warm it is when we step off the train to stretch our legs and find some food at the (approximate) twice-daily 20 minute station stops.

There are numerous towns and signs of civilization along these tracks, yet many look abandoned and derelict. Only a string of laundry or a satellite dish or the occasional person walking along the tracks indicates to me these places are actually lived in.

Our food situation isn’t good. Yesterday at one of the stops, there were babushkas all over the place selling prepared foods (meat patties and potatoes, stuffed rolls, hard-boiled eggs, etc). But I wasn’t hungry at the time, and figured this would be available at every stop. Besides which – the food didn’t look all that appetizing.

Now, three stops later with little more than potato chips, preserved meat, and beer on offer, the babushkas’ food would have been downright delicious. The instant noodles we brought on-board aren’t appetizing or satisfying, and we’re all getting hungry for some good food. For now we have no choice but to settle for mediocre food.

At the last stop of the day we score a “bounty” of cheese and crackers (our best meal yet), and we enjoy it with Yvan from London (a fellow we met yesterday). We all enjoy this meal together in our cabin, washed down with a few beers.

We seem to be developing a routine of sorts; during the day we each spread out through the largely-empty car, working, reading, snapping photos, and napping. After the late afternoon/evening stop, we enjoy beers, music, and camaraderie at night.

DAY 4 (Tuesday)

Almost unbelievably, the autumn colours are even more beautiful, highlighted by lots of blue skies and sunshine. The same towns which, two days ago, appeared dreary and desolate in the drizzly weather, now pop out charmingly; full of character when bathed in sunshine and surrounded by the golden landscape.

We are thankful for a decent food stop at 10am; none of the babushkas we were hoping for are around, but the little stalls on the platform have fresh fruit and veggies, and some prepared foods that are a little more homemade-looking than the pre-packaged crap (instant noodles, crackers, sausage) we’ve been relegated to.

And we score an awesome food stop at 3pm (which couldn’t have come sooner, despite our moderate morning stop). A lineup of women are laying goods down on cloth panels just outside the train doors. Perogies, dumplings, roasted chicken, salads, hard-boiled eggs, fresh bread, beer, drinks, and some packaged foods are available.

The train conductors look on bemusedly as we fawn over what you might think was our first chance at food in weeks, given our level of enthusiasm.

We feast with Yvan back in our cabin. We ask him how his attempt at reading War And Peace is coming along. “It’s a light read, really,” he replies. “You know those costume drama movies? Yeah. Just like that. It’s just very, very long.”

I guess the Trans-Manchurian warps perceptions on many levels.

DAY 5 (Wednesday)

“Train Time” (which remains on Moscow time) is wreaking havoc with our schedules. The actual time is three hours ahead of Moscow time. So the sun is rising around 3am (Moscow time), and we’re finding ourselves tired by 7pm (Moscow time) when it has been long dark and it feels like bed time.

In an effort to reduce “jet lag” (train-lag?) in a few days when we disembark in Beijing (at 5:30am no less), we’re trying to adhere to the actual time zones we’re going through. But we still have to be cognizant of “train time” to understand when our next station stop is.

This straddling two different time zones is actually quite difficult and very disorienting.

So last night we went to bed before 7pm (Moscow time, 10pm actual time), and despite feeling tired, I tossed and turned for many hours. I don’t know if it was something I ate (I felt like I was in a broken fevered delusional sleep with vivid half-dreams), the change in time, or the bed. But it was not one of my better nights of sleep.

The upper bunk bed is also taking a toll. It’s narrow at the best of times. The bar that keeps me from falling off in the event of a hard break (I like this bar; it’ my friend) prevents me from spreading a knee or arm beyond the perimeter of the bed; something a lower bunk would allow. I am perpetually waking with pins & needles in my arms because there isn’t really anywhere for them to go, so they’re awkwardly positioned above my head against the wall or under my body.

So good sleep eludes me.

“I’m sorry,” are Yvan’s greeting words to me at the 10am station break. “You’ve been noticed by a Russian in my car, and over a few drinks (on him), I kind of agreed to facilitate an introduction. He doesn’t speak any English.” I feign a smile, truly lost for words. I assume he’s not serious; at least I hope so.

Sure enough, a few minutes later, Yvan approaches me and Jeannie on the platform with my suitor in tow, again starting with “I’m sorry.” He makes an introduction, and we all stand there awkwardly before Yvan says “There. It’s done,” and walks away.

My suitor starts in with some rapid-fire Russian, to which Jeannie and I reply with rapid-fire English. Neither of us really understand what the other is saying, but somehow we deduce that he’s Russian, and that we’re Canadian. A good time is had by all.

Jeannie and I get back on the train, assuming that’s the end of the episode.

But minutes later once the train is moving, my suitor appears in our doorway as we’re fixing breakfast. “Vodka?” he says. What? It’s 10am! Really?!

We decline his offer, pointing to our wrists (where watches should be) and saying “later”. (Thankfully he doesn’t return “later”).

I feel bad for eschewing this offer to ultimately be social, but I’m tired, it’s hard work to communicate with somebody whose only English words are about alcohol, and I feel uncomfortable about how the whole introduction transpired; I somehow feel “sold” by Yvan, and I’m a little miffed about it.

Siberia

Where is Siberia? I muse as I look out the window. It doesn’t look nearly as desolate as I’d imagined Siberia to look. Is there a line that delineates Siberia – this vast harsh land for outcasts? Is Siberia geographical, or psychological?

We cross the border into China tomorrow morning, and we’ve been on the train since Saturday night. Surely in all this time across Russia, we’ve touched upon this renowned land.

DAY 6 (Thursday)

The sleeping situation is worsening. Jeannie agreed to trade bunks with me after I complained that the top bunk is just a little too small (she is much shorter than I). I settle in for what (I hope) is a good night, but ends up being my worst yet. Similar to my long trip on the Indian Pacific in Australia, I’m finding that sleeping in moving beds long-term is not very restful.

I awake in the middle of the night to the overwhelming smell of fart. And the heat is on in the cabin, full blast. I don’t think the fart’s origin is me, but I don’t rule out the possibility of this being a mixed brew between the three of us; the smell is so vile and thick that I struggle for breath. I sense that it has been lingering in the cabin for quite some time.

I somehow recover, only to be regaled with Michael’s renowned snoring. I don’t know if it’s worse tonight, or if sleeping on the bottom bunk has different acoustic properties; either way I lay awake in mild fits of claustrophobic frustration for much of the night, eventually getting up at 4:15am (actual time; 7:15am train time). Whatever time.

This morning the scenery is more like the Siberia I had imagined; largely-empty fields of brown grass. It’s a slightly-hilly grass desert, dotted with the occasional settlement or town that seems to pop out of nowhere.

I can tell we’re getting closer to China, as the people have a more asian look at each subsequent station stop. Our last stop before the Russian/Chinese border has an almost-equal mix of ethnicities

We stop at the Russian border early in the day (7:30am Moscow time, 11:30am Beijing time – you pick one to go with), and are told through sign-language by our conductors that the stop is for three hours. We ask (again, with crude signing) if we can get off and back on the train, and are given the characteristic nods and “da”s we’re now used to.

So once our passports are in the hands of the Russian authorities, we go off to find some food and “discover” this Russian border town.

It looks like a place that was designed with great intentions, but stopped halfway through construction. Partly finished buildings sit with no windows and rebar sticking out where the roof should be, and streets are half-paved with no rhyme or reason to their jagged edges.

So it doesn’t take long for us to pick up some groceries and make back for the train. Problem is, we’re not allowed back on, and the station is being renovated and reeks of turpentine. We sit on the platform for four hours and watch the train roll off and back on over and over again as they change the gauge of the wheels to accommodate the Chinese tracks.

We are finally allowed back on to the train, and after our cabin is searched and passports returned, we still wait for hours. Although the stop is supposed to be three hours, we roll off the platform eight hours and 24 minutes after our morning stop.

We haven’t even cleared Chinese customs yet.

It’s now dark and we roll forward a kilometre or so, revealing a totally different (Chinese) cityscape full of tall buildings with animated LED decorations. It’s a stark contrast and we’re astonished at not having noticed these buildings from the drab Russian frontier.

Although the Chinese customs process also takes hours, we are greeted by lots of smiling and cordial officials, rather than the dour-looking Russians we had become accustomed to. I am surprised to initially feel quite welcome in China, very happy to be out of Russia.

DAY 7 (Friday)

Thankfully I sleep better than the last few nights and awake with a touch of sentimental remorse that it’s our last day on the train. As much as I’m eager to expand my horizons beyond the small cabin we’ve been living in for the past week, I’ve also loved the journey overall.

I’m stoked for a shower. A week of using baby wipes in mediocre cramped bathrooms to keep fresh has made me yearn for a nice long hot shower. Funnily enough it has skewed my priorities.

“Hey Jeannie!” I exclaim in the morning. “You know what we get to do tomorrow?”

“Um…see The Great Wall of China?”

“No! Well, yes, but we also get to shower!”

Our first station stop (and the only one of any length today) is the capital of Manchuria and a large looking city. It’s a bustle of activity; great for observing and photographing. Unfortunately the majority of my time is spent trying – unsuccessfully – to exchange my many Russian Roubles for Chinese Yuan. Last night at the Chinese border there was a kiosk, but after being kept off the train for four hours earlier in the day, I didn’t want to risk a repeat performance of train-exile, since the break was to extend well beyond midnight when I’d like to be tucked in bed.

Not taking the chance to exchange money however turns out to be a mistake, since I have nothing but Roubles and no way to pay for food on the station platforms or in the (now Chinese) restaurant car. I’m thankful that this is the last day on the train, as my ration of uninspiring instant noodles will barely last me the day.

Ah well…this will make me appreciate the abundance of flavourful (and spicy! God I miss spicy) Chinese food I’ll enjoy tomorrow and for the rest of the following week.

“Why ARE you keeping those eggs, Nora?” asks Michael, reminding me of a mistake I made yesterday and simultaneously giving me hope. I had purchased half a dozen eggs in a plastic bag at the Russian border; eggs which I had assumed were hard-boiled, as were all the other eggs in bags that I’d purchased along the way. (Of course, on trying to “peel” my egg, I realized – the hard way – that it was still raw).

“I dunno. Maybe I’ll donate them to the restaurant car,” I said, before I realized the brilliance of this idea.

And so is hatched (bad pun intended) a plan to walk into the restaurant car with a bag of eggs, hand them to the server, and see what happens.

I wander into the restaurant car desperate for a good meal, and with the hopes that they’ll either accept my Russian Roubles or my eggs in trade for a meal. The Roubles are no good, and they’re not sure what to make of my eggs. Yvan has agreed to spot me some Chinese Yuan, so we go ahead and order from the menu (of course, not having any idea what we are actually ordering; such is the fun of foreign-language menus with no pictures).

I hand the eggs to the server; I have no use for them, and I sign that they are a gift for him. The car is filled with Chinese people, many of whom I think work on this part of the train (which was only added at the border). They eye this transaction with curiosity, then each one of them fondles this plastic bag of five eggs.

Before I know it, the eggs have been prepared (scrambled with some aromatics and garnish – free of charge) and are brought to our table. An unexpected – and pleasant – surprise.

I go to bed early, after my first warm meal since the horrible “borscht” I had almost a week ago. Although I do love trains, I’m excited to get off early in the morning with visions of a shower, a good (stationary) bed, and some excellent Chinese food rolling constantly through my mind. If I could have those three things and stay on the trains, I’d be a happy camper.

DAY 8 (Saturday)

After a week – almost 150 hours – on the Trans-Manchurian, we get off the train at 5:30am, bleary-eyed and exhausted, but excited.

I’m looking forward to re-visiting China; a place that was the scene for my first-ever overseas trip…18 years ago.

But that’s another story, you’ll have to read about in a future post. As momentous an occasion it is for us to have completed the longest section of railway in the world, we’re still only part way to our final destination of Saigon in 30 days. The train must go on.

Such is life on the Ultimate Train Challenge.

Want to see the Trans-Manchurian (Trans-Siberian) journey in action? Check out my video diary of the experience:

Many thanks to Real Russia for arranging for our Trans-Manchurian railway tickets and giving us invaluable information and assistance along the way. Stay tuned for an amusing video diary post of my Trans-Manchurian adventures!

This post A Week on the Trans-Manchurian Railway appeared first on The Professional Hobo. Please click through to read it in full!

This post was originally published in 2011. It has since been updated for accuracy of links and content.

Although I’m very excited about the Trans-Siberian rail experience, there are a few things pressing on my mind:

• Between Sept 17^th – Oct 1^st, I’ll be spending a grand total of three nights in a bed that’s not on a train.
• I have accepted a house-sitting gig on the Caribbean island of Grenada immediately following the Ultimate Train Challenge (more on this later), and I need to buy plane tickets in the next day. (And traveling from Vietnam to the Caribbean isn’t exactly a hop, skip, and a jump – nor is the laborious process of booking flights my favourite thing to do).
• The Trans-Siberian journey involves one week – solid – on a train, with….no…..internet. (For a gal who gets about 50 emails/day and makes a living online, this is a pretty big deal, as it means one heck of an eventual workload to contend with).
• To compound the above problem, the last week of September involves a mad dash from Beijing to Saigon, with very few rests, and access to China’s notoriously unreliable (and restricted) internet only a couple of times – if we’re lucky. So ultimately – I’m looking at no internet access for the last half of September.

(This post, if you haven’t figured it out already, has been scheduled in advance!)

With these thoughts occupying most of my brain-space, I arrive in Moscow.

Trying to find the hostel is a challenge because, like Ukraine, nothing is in English, and English isn’t widely spoken among the people. Playing a “match-up” game of the Cyrillic symbols on the Metro is a crap shoot, and even when I emerge from the Metro to find the hostel, I’m still not even sure I’m at the right station.

But look really lost and ask enough people to help, and you find help. I eventually arrive at the very cool, super-clean, and funky Prosto Hostel, and happily reunite with my fellow Ultimate Train Challenge compadres.

In our two days (and one night) in Moscow, the weather is rainy, cold, and relatively uninviting. And although this is my first time in Russia, I feel – like I’ve felt many times so far on this lightning-fast train challenge – that I have to pick my battles. I can’t possibly conquer Moscow in a day, and I have a boatload of online work to accomplish before I board the Trans-Siberian.

As irreverent as it may seem, this is one of those occasions when I choose work over touring. There has to be a balance between work and travel, and when you travel full-time as I do, that balance is very difficult to achieve and maintain.

This is why I’m ultimately a proponent of slow travel. Slow travel gives me a chance to both work and live around the world, and to really sample what local life is like. I learn where to shop, what to eat, what activities people enjoy in their spare time, and experience the pace of life. I make friends, and avoid the motion sickness you can get from traveling too fast.

My slow travel preferences, combined with the contradictory fact that I’ve visited seven countries in the last two weeks, contributes to my sense of feeling flat in Moscow.

So unfortunately, this post has no pictures or stories of the Kremlin, Red Square, or the many galleries, markets, and museums. Instead, my 36 hours in Moscow are spent sleeping and working (as is the case for my train challenge partners Michael and Jeannie).

Lucky for us, Prosto Hostel is a welcoming and comfortable place for us to hang around.

As you read this, we will be nearing the end of the Trans-Siberian rail journey – one solid week on one (hopefully-solid) train. We look forward to arriving in Beijing, stretching our legs on The Great Wall, and reconnecting with solid ground (and possibly some internet too).

One more week to go, and we’ll have traveled 25,000kms by train from Lisbon to Saigon!

Thanks to HostelBookers for hooking us up with Prosto Hostel – a place I’d recommend in a heartbeat. 

This post Flat in Moscow appeared first on The Professional Hobo. Please click through to read it in full!