London pulled out the stops for our exit. After a late night of last minute packing, checking, panicking, and a last dinner with one last board game with friends, today was finally here. The last week especially had been rather manic. With the passport trauma, it was hard to get a handle on anything. After months of not having it, not knowing exactly when it would come back or if it would come back in time to leave, it showed up in just barely enough time for them to rush the Chinese and Russian visas and we are able to get it into the Vietnese in time too to get that.
Not having a absolutely firm leaving date left a lot of the other things a bit up in the air. Or maybe all the things associated with moving country and going on an epic holiday and journey, how do you really get those organized? I totally should have booked an appointment with my doctor months ago for vaccines. As it was, we had to go to an expensive clinic to get them (well, I could have saved some money by having the less exotic vaccines courtesy of the NHS). And maybe having so many at once left me feverish for a day and a half, sort of lost those days to doing all that much productive.
We were forced by having a new flatmate moving in a week before we left to consolidate our stuff out of two rooms and into one, which helped focus a little bit, figure out what to give away (clothes, books, etc) and what to pack. The shippers dropped off boxes a week or so early and everything had to be packed and taped up the day before we were leaving to be picked up and start on their own long slow journey to Australia. Their trip is supposed to take 10 weeks, so we will be there long after they have established themselves and and acclimitized themselves to life there. The packing is sort of orderly at first and breaks down slightly as the deadline looms and draws closer.
Some steps can't be skimped on though. The bikes take a few hours alone to pack. They have to be carefully scrubbed of all foreign dirt before they are taken apart. I guess to be fair, I did find some seeds wedged in the mudguards, which is probably one of the things the Australian quarantine is particuarly interested in. But my bike shines like it hasn't since is was brand new (poor thing, I have covered it with so much mud and gunk over the years) although the chain was already pretty clean (much easier to ride that way). Slowly I take pieces off, twist the handlebars around, wrap fragile and bits that stick out in bubble wrap and slide it into its box, where it will spend the next six months. Bye Condor, see you soon, in a country where I won't see others like you on every corner. I mean, I know Condor is a local London company and they are nice but did everybody really have to get one?
But I'm getting behind myself here, the shippers had picked everything up and it was on its way and we had spent the next day desperately trying to figure out how to fit all the junk we thought we needed into those backpacks. Just how do you pack for a trip that is going to take 6 months, will involve a lot of camping (heavy items like tents and stoves and pans and sleeping bags.) Ok, let me tell you about the stove first. What agony over that one. I had a little one, lightest thing ever but uses propane cartrages. We might be able to find those through Europe, but what about Russia or the rest of the world. The multifuel one was rather expensive but will basically burn anything you put in it, diesel even. But that is a little heavier and titanium pans are very dear while alumunmnm pans would last a day or two before they are completely destroyed. So, various supplies for camping as well as whatever we need for six months, and covering from nearly the Arctic Circle to Siberia and Mongolia in late fall to the tropics. This is probably why my legs are sore from carrying the beast of a backpack. I've decided to call him George, something like that needs a name.
Back to London though. It wasn't much of a night's sleep by the time our guests left and we got the final pieces packed and organized. The last night in the bed at home. The rain poured most of the early morning hours and kept going as we woke up and quickly cooked breakfast and got ready. H watched us the short way to Brixton station. That was one of the hardest goodbyes, so sad to say good bye to everybody. It was funny walking through Brixton too, knowing we were leaving and who knows when we would be back.
Not very horrible Tube ride to Kings Cross and a sadly expected ticket hassle there. The ticket machine didn't know about the booking, the person at the ticket counter couldn't find it either by reference number or by name. A call to the train company was useful in only that they confirmed everything was right, booking and reference number, but couldn't actually do anything useful to produce the actual tickets. Ok whatever, we just get on the train, after C had a preliminary weepy talk with the train manager. Softened up a bit, we should be able to work it out. Eventually he just gave up on us having tickets and we are on our way to Newcastle and the ferry.
There were some more sad good byes at the station for a few who had come to see us off, as well as a big bag of sweet English things. Enough sugar in there to keep us hyped up for a few days.
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