Train Travel: A Truly British Acceptance of Mediocrity

It was announced today that the UK is spending more on financing inequality in favour of the rich than anywhere else in Europe. It does not take long to see that inequality in operation. In a classic case of class warfare, you only need to try to get from A to B to realize how miserable a place this is for the general public. The Prime Minister himself cannot bear the thought of travelling by train, so he takes a jet instead. A fine example of how the other half lives if ever there was one. 

While there always tends to be room in first class, most British citizens willingly accept mediocrity when it comes to travelling by train. Especially in the Midlands and the North.

Good Luck Finding A Seat

Just try to get around in the UK and you will find mediocrity without much bother. I caught a train from Stoke-on-Trent to Birmingham at the weekend. That should not be too difficult, a direct train between two prominent locations on the rail network. Alas, it proved memorable for all the wrong reasons. Even booking the tickets is such an ordeal as prices fluctuate between operating companies, routes, and the time of day so get out a pen and paper before you commit. 

There are simpler, easier, more effective rail systems, and you can find them in abundance in mainland Europe. Just book a cheap flight (far easier than getting a train ticket) to find out how rail transport can be done, almost effortlessly. 

On a trip to the Basque Country in Northern Spain, I could buy an inexpensive travel pass to cover my excursions from the French border to San Sebastián and onto Bilbao. Even in the cities themselves, whether on the train or on the bus. While the UK pussyfoots around committing to a high-speed train line (known colloquially as HS2), Spain has recently invested in ‘Y-Basque’, a civil engineering project to link the Basque Country closer to the rest of the country and France. Improving on an already successful transport network, imagine that.

Even without the project, I was pretty much guaranteed a seat as I made my way across Northern Spain. On my connecting train from Bordeaux, the Wi-Fi was a comparative marvel and I had an allocated seat with not a single individual standing in the aisle. I was even told off for standing in the wrong position to board the train. 

Further afield, in Australia, they have so many vacant seats that they can play around with them. Double-decker trains with two levels of seating should feel revolutionary alone. Then you consider the reversible seats which you can simply move to and fro. Create a six-seater arrangement for you and your mates or have a row for you and your loved ones. No, in the UK we are simply elated to be able to sit down.

Compare that to my experience on Sunday on Crosscountry Trains when I was lucky that the train was not cancelled yet: 

• I was forced to stand for over an hour in a dangerously overcrowded train amongst pensioners and children. 
• There was no room for wheelchairs or prams. 
• There were no checks for my outbound ticket rendering the whole ordeal of booking and paying for the journey rather pointless.

When the public services are so dire you couldn’t possibly imagine anyone needing assistance to dare try it, then you know you’re in trouble.

How Failing UK Railways Fund The Rest Of Europe’s Rail Networks

It should be so much easier yet privatisation has scuppered any tangible chances of investment due to outright greed. Where you could imagine vacant seats, numerous trains every hour on busy routes, well-paid staff, and reasonably priced tickets, shareholders are the only victors. Shareholders that likely would not dare risk buying a ticket to mingle with the masses. That and Europeans. 

Yes, that’s right. While British taxpayers are expected to pay exorbitant train fares to (hopefully) get a seat, they can expect to see the profits diverted from improving their own rail network to funding those in other European countries. There’s even an advert mocking the situation. Nice one, privatisation. 

Billions of British taxpayer money has gone to European rail companies. Effectively, they own vast parts of the UK rail network and see it as a great investment. Overcrowded trains full of passengers paying through the nose, makes sense. Arriva Trains operates London Overground, CrossCountry, and Chiltern Railways amongst others. The company was owned by the German government, which has recently sold it to a global infrastructure investment manager. So it’s now unclear who directly benefits, yet Arriva remains a strong investment as fares go up and up.

While the chances of failing to find a seat in Spain or France are slim, you imagine that our European counterparts would not stand for it (pun unintended). Comparatively, trains in mainland Europe are frequent, reliable, clean, affordable, and comfortable. The stations are well-populated with staff and few envisage them without ticket offices, as was planned in the UK. Many European cities also have integrated railway airports, unlike the UK where you need to plan ahead if you dare want to catch a flight too.

Failing To Invest

While other countries have prioritised their rail networks, Britain is stuck in the dark ages. Instead of being bold with investment and embarking on high-speed trains to catch up, the costs have spiralled leaving the HS2 project in limbo with much of the building work half-done. Swathes of countryside are simply left gaping for a rail project with little sign of resuscitation. Another example of class warfare where the Northern Powerhouse is left languishing amid a doubling-down of a failed ‘levelling up’ agenda. 

A farm in Warwickshire has even suffered flooding due to the part-building of HS2. Destruction of British nature and agricultural land at the expense of a rail project that may not even happen. The whole project reeks of a lack of foresight and a distinct lack in duty of care.

The Embarrassment Of HS2

Cancelling HS2 is rightly embarrassing when you consider how the rest of the world operates.  If you can afford to pay for the rail season ticket, can you afford to be regularly late or not even get to work at all due to a train strike? Consider the same scenario in Japan, where a ‘delay certificate’ is issued should your train be late. Few have seen such certificates as it happens so rarely.

Japanese Delay Certificate

Getting a train on an occasional basis is enough of an ordeal yet employees and their businesses have lost out on what could have been. Aside from the later-than-scheduled (and now non-existent) investment in ambition that HS2 represents, there is the wider cost to business confidence and how foreign investment can be put off. You can easily see why businesses would be scared to invest in Northern cities like Manchester and Liverpool when transport links are so poor. 

There’s a significant sense of dread when it comes to travelling by train in the UK. That anxious look at the board to check that 1. Your train is still running and 2. It’s running on time. If the train does arrive then there is further anticipation to gauge how crowded it will be onboard. Chances are, you will already see passengers standing up rendering your chances of sitting down slim to none. Actually gaining a seat on a train should not be a cause for celebration, it should be the bare minimum.

A failure to invest in improving the rail network is another truly British example of accepting mediocrity. Put it alongside an NHS in permacrisis, crumbling pavements, potholed roads, inflation-hit groceries, and stagnating wages for the public sector. According to co-executive director of the Equality Trust, Priya Sahni-Nicholas, “Inequality has made the UK more unhealthy, unhappy and unsafe than our more equal peers“. Give us some hope so we no longer have to accept such mediocrity.

Visit Seville and imagine yourself in the exotic locations of Dorne and Meereen from Game of Thrones

With its blissful warm climate, strategic history and regal architecture, Seville looks fit for the big screen. Throw in some real world tribulations having been founded by the Romans, conquered by the Muslims then enduring the Spanish Civil War and it seems reality mirrored fiction when the city was selected to film the more exotic locations in Game of Thrones.

The city still carries an air of pride and importance, in fact Spanish royalty still have a residence at Real Alcázar which is the Royal Palace and Gardens and should be your first stop too. The site has been a UNESCO World Heritage Site since 1987 and the palace’s walls faithfully depicts its myriad of monarchs and influences. From its Arabic occupancy to late Middle Ages Mudéjar then jumping to the Renaissance, Baroque and the 19th century in it’s very own Game of Thrones. Oh, and have you heard of the executed royal? The alleged brutal murder of Muhammed VI, with his blood told to stain the palace’s marble floor to this day, is the sort of backstabbing that George R.R. Martin could have used for inspiration and makes it perfect to masquerade as the Kingdom of Dorne.

Inside the palaces at Real Alcázar

Even the climate is a natural fit. With average summer high temperatures of above 35c Seville is considered the hottest city in Europe which makes it ideal for Dorne as the southernmost of the Seven Kingdoms. Granted, the plotlines may have been somewhat tedious but the Kingdom of Dorne always appeared the most opulent in the medieval-era world, Dornish outfits were majestically coloured and the surroundings had a brilliant exotic, indulgent charm. Most of that extravagance has been garnered over centuries and centred on Real Alcázar which played the Water Gardens of Dorne, the private estate of the House of Martell during series five.

The fountain in Real Alcázar Gardens where Myrcella and Trystane are filmed strolling

The fountain as depicted in the show

The show first visits the Martells in episode two after Trystane has been betrothed to Myrcella Baratheon. The pair are playing in the gardens below as Prince Doran Martell has a feisty chat with Ellaria Sand on the terrace overlooking Mercury’s Pool. The terrace itself is outside King Pedro’s Palace and out of bounds to the general public though the gardens, including the Italian ‘Grutesco Gallery’, are well worth exploring.

Mercury’s Pool in the Real Alcázar Gardens

In episode five Jamie Lannister arrives to attempt to retrieve Myrcella from her beloved Trystane and runs into Ellaria Sand’s daughters; the Sand Snakes, in the gardens next to Pavilion of Carlos V before all of them are apprehended by Martell soldiers. Another elaborate location is the beautifully lit domes of Maria de Padilla’s Baths where Ellaria secretly convened with the Sand Snakes to plot revenge for Prince Oberyn’s death. While the Martells were known for their promiscuity, fittingly Maria de Padilla was caught up in her own Thrones-esque plot as King Pedro’s mistress.

Maria De Padilla Baths

The baths as depicted in the show

Episode nine featured The Ambassador’s Hall where Prince Doran received Jaime along with Myrcella, Trystane and Ellaria, though the star of the show is the hall’s gorgeous gold ceiling. The palace must have been manna from above for the producers as such glorious elegance would have been impractical to reproduce. From the Arabic three arches to the domed ceiling, ornate furniture, exquisite plasterwork and coloured Moorish ceramic tiles, all they had to was shoot as the backdrop was so sublime. Later on the in the same episode, Ellaria finally swore allegiance to Prince Doran with the paved courtyard of the Patio de las Doncellas in the background.

The Ambassador’s Hall at Real Alcázar

The Ambassador’s Hall as depicted in the show

For those wanting to venture a bit further, there are two other filming locations outside of the city. Santiponce was once considered one of the most important cities in the Roman age and the ruins themselves are free to visit for EU citizens. The Italica ruins have been an attraction since 1989 when it was declared an Archaeological Site by a decree of the Andalusian Regional Government. Most importantly, the amphitheatre was used as The Dragonpit in the finale to season seven which saw Cersei Lannister face up to Jon Snow and Danaerys Targaryen. The ruins are about a half hour bus ride away on the M170 which is a local bus you can catch from the main bus station at the Plaza D’Armas up to every 15 minutes for €1.60. Keep gazing out of the window as the rolling hills on the approach through the village of Camas can be likened to those in Gladiator and you can see why the Romans took a fancy.

The Amphitheatre at the Italica ruins in Santiponce

The amphitheatre as it appeared as The Dragonpit

Danaerys Targaryen as featured in The Dragonpit

The same spot in the amphitheatre

The entrance to the amphitheatre was also used to feature The Hound

The entrance to the amphitheatre as depicted in the show

If large, open-air arenas are your thing then you should also visit the bullring at Plaza de Toros in Osuna which was Danzak’s Fighting Pit in Meereen in episode nine of series five when Daenerys Targaryen escaped on the the back of her dragon, Drogon, after an ambush attack by the Sons of the Harpy. You will have to imagine the dragon but the bullring itself dates from 1904 and is one of the widest and most prestigious in Spain, still seating around 5000 spectators. Osuna is about 85 minutes away on a coach from Plaza de San Sebastian and costs €8 one-way, though you could get the roomy, air conditioned train for €3 more. The train trip is also a far cry from Britain’s equivalent as the ticket price stays consistent and the Renfe train itself even comes with vending machines.

The Bullring at Plaza Del Toros in Osuna

Filming the bullring as Danzak’s Fighting Pit

The sheer variety of historical landmarks combined with it’s easy accessibility and warm climate make Seville a great destination for a mini-break. Given the brutal history that the Andaluscian capital has endured makes it a no-brainer that the city was chosen to masquerade as Dorne and Meereen. Even without your own dragon, there are few better cities to immerse yourself in the show.

New Years Resolutions 2018

At some point after posting this I’ll take a look at last year’s list and accept that there are several things I want to change in my life and I simply haven’t bothered putting them into action for another year. I know it is shameful so I’ll try a bit harder this time I promise.

1. Lose some weight by eating well and exercising more. Simple really and I have begun the New Year by starting Dry January (though I won’t be doing it for sponsorship because that’s pretty lame), walking more and starting to plan my weekly eating.
2. At least two runs a week, fitness permitting. Obviously when I begin half marathon training this will be pretty simple to follow yet it’s the weeks after that when I need to kick on.
3. Go out on more dates. This will likely follow the correct implementation of the above two resolutions yet it is galling that I again spent a large amount of the festive period wishing I had someone special to spend it with, especially considering how easy it is seeing how happy couples are on social media. This has to change and I’m determined that I can conquer my shyness and at least ask a few girls out so I don’t face the ignominy of telling my Mum/boss/friends that ‘Operation Tibbles (where I end up living alone with a cat called Tibbles) is going really well.
4. Eat out more. Again, this will hopefully follow the above resolution. Sheffield has some really fantastic restaurants and I’ve barely been to any of them. Yes, I’m aware I’m a more than half decent cook but it’ll be nice to try some new eateries.
5. Read at least one book every month. Better still, join a reading club.
6. Get my ‘Films To Watch’ list down to at least 50 (https://letterboxd.com/wiz52/list/films-i-need-to-watch/)
7. Limit the time I spend on my phone. After 10pm I should have it off and spend my time in bed reading
8. Meditate every morning. It only takes ten minutes and has certainly helped my SAD as well as help manage my thinking at work, plus the Headspace app is free thanks to my work.
9. Participate more in the arts. In December I took part in a ten day study with the University of Sheffield which measured my wellbeing against how much I participated in the arts. One of the points I soon realised was that I really need to go to the theatre more, especially as Sheffield has the Lyceum and Crucible.
10. Take more care of my herb garden
11. Smile more
12. Drink more water
13. Learn a new skill, possibly a new language such as Arabic
14. Visit two new countries as I have the holiday days to spare; this could include Iceland, Poland, Turkey, Egypt (yes, I’ve never been) or Cuba

Safari Bingo at The Maasai Mara

A safari trip to the Maasai Mara must be pretty high up many bucket lists and mine is no different. Kenya’s most famous national park is teeming with wildlife and you have probably already seen it without realising. Those migrating herds of wildebeest charging across river banks, trying desperately to avoid the waiting crocodiles with commentary provided by David Attenborough. That would be the Mara River during The Great Migration as thousands of wildebeest travel from the Serengeti in Tanzania to the Mara in Kenya between July and October, I went to see what all the fuss was about.

The first thing that strikes you about the Maasai Mara is its sheer vastness. Ideally this is best seen from above and there are regular flights out from Nairobi to ‘the bush’. I booked with Safarilink which has two daily flights out to Maasai Mara from Nairobi’s Wilson Airport. You COULD drive out for 5-6 hours yet flying in a thirteen seater Cessna Caravan was an experience I was not going to pass up. This remains the closest I am likely to get to a private jet, albeit for an hour long flight so I sat right at the front and gazed at the confusing flight instruments. About as close as you can get to sitting with the pilot.

Cessna Caravan

From a few hundred feet in the air you can clearly see the herds of zebras, wildebeest and giraffes meander across the plains. Then there is the topography of lush greens, pale browns intersected with ravines. Not a skyscraper or car park in sight, and you can barely make out the runways below.

Our destination was the third and final stop making the plane the equivalent of a long-distance shuttle bus. As the plane homed in on Mara Keekorok there was clearly no terminal, no duty-free and no café; merely a local market ran by tribes members and a hut which acted as an admission gate to the park itself. Ah yes, the fees. For tourists the cost is $70USD per day which seems excessive but this is far better than your average day at the zoo.

We were picked up by our two kindly, knowledgeable guides; Korbin and Benson, and soon enough we were away on our first safari trip. A bright lizard sunning itself on a rock and a lion family lazing under a sausage tree were our immediate highlights. After a couple of hours we arrived at Simba Lodge and were given a hearty welcome. The rooms are mainly constructed out of wood which blends into the surroundings. There are the usual trappings of a hotel room with a kettle, shower room and comfy double bed. Most impressively, the room featured an outside balcony overlooking the stream below. We really were in the middle of the bush as a hippo was enjoying the late afternoon sun on the opposite bank, only an electrified fence separated me from the wildlife. The monkeys were still lolling around the swimming pool though.

In order to best see the majesty of the bush it is best to get there early. With my mobile alarm set I woke to the sound of birdsong, surely the best wake-up call on Planet Earth as Attenborough would say. Then watched as the red morning light diffused from sunrise. What became obvious over the next few days was the familiarity of the bush. On the first morning we were greeted with a family of giraffes mingling with zebras. We soon found out that due to the successful policing of the poachers the animals really did not mind us. Giraffes stared at us with a vague interest then continued munching on foliage. Strangely, considering their prevalent role in The Lion King, warthogs and meerkats were easily the shyest of animals we encountered.

As far as action went we looked to have had narrowly missed a cheetah catching his dinner as a fresh wildebeest corpse soon had its ribs exposed. On another morning all appeared serene as a pack of zebras grazed on one side of the road. On the other side a lion cub slowly crept over the brow scouting for breakfast and suddenly the zebras were on high alert. Likely due to the interests of public decency we vacated the area to let nature play its gory course.

On several occasions we were late to the action yet even then you could see the inner workings of the bush. When the chase was over and the hunters had had their fill the other predators join in. Before carrion becomes toxic the vultures actually play a responsible role in the bush’s upkeep. Rotting corpses can pollute the land and poison wildlife, before that happens the vultures pick the bones clean. The ecosystem in perfect harmony.

With the safari trip itself ticked off the bucket list, the next list was The Big Five or, as I like to call it, Safari Bingo. On the first day I had managed to scratch off an African lion, elephant and cape buffalo. Feeling pretty smug with a solid afternoon of safari spotting we soon went off-road. Of course, we were not the only transport on the plains as Korbin and Benson slowed down to excitedly talk to another guide. They could have been discussing the latest boxset or what they were having for dinner such is my lowly grasp of Swahili. Soon enough we edged off-road and thankfully there was a reason to suffer all those bumps. The sun was going down and soon enough we would have to have departed the park and got back for dinner. Yet the reward far outweighed the risk, within a few minutes our guide pointed into the trees and a dark grey silhouette could be seen. At last count there were three rhinos on the Mara, somehow in the 1,510 km² vastness we had managed to spot one. Only when I realised how unlikely our encounter was did I really begin to treasure it. Our return to the lodge was innocuous enough, until we mentioned the rhino. Some workers had been at the lodge for months, maybe years without seeing one, we had only been there for a few hours. The bingo card was nearly complete and the first day had ended with a buffet dinner including dessert, I was on holiday after all.

The second day was more of the same but I could appreciate how the Mara changes during the day. From mating calls and playfighting Gazelles in the morning to herds of wildebeest minding their own business. On the second day  I took a break from the wildlife to visit the natives. The Maasai tribe inhabit southern Kenya and are resident on the game parks. Indeed, the nearest tribe was pretty much next door to the lodge and for the afternoon we got to know their local customs. We were welcomed with the males bouncing to a rhythm and soon learnt about their cattle and goat herds. Their leader, James, spoke faultless English as my Mother asked about their interaction with the wider world; the internet, education and inoculations. We were then shown their clay huts, means of making fire and a herbal remedy for all ailments which made for an insightful afternoon.

On our final day we had a full day safari with a picnic and ventured a bit further. A thunderstorm had left mud patches across the terrain which had mainly dried out during the morning. However, by early afternoon some mud remained meaning many transports got stuck and part of the entertainment was cheering them get towed out. As we got closer to the Mara river the sheer volume of wildebeest kept mounting up but we had missing The Great Crossing as the hippos, crocodiles and Egyptian geese looked kinda bored. There was one vacant box on my Safari Bingo card and with a few hours left I managed to tick it off as we spotted a leopard lazing up a tree. I felt like shouting ‘BINGO’ but that would have woken him then scared him off.

The final morning was also my birthday yet I kept this quiet to enjoy the majesty of the bush waking up. The giraffes and zebras grabbing their breakfast, the wildebeest slowly meandering across the plains and the lions huddling as a family. Well worth a trip, even if it isn’t on your bucket list.

The Grass Really Can Be Greener On The Other Side Of The World

Well, this was always going to happen, all it needed was a few inches of snow to make me realise. I really miss Australia.

Just over a year ago I landed at Birmingham Airport, hardly the most glamorous of venues to make my return to Blighty. As I walked into the chill of a British winter I thought I was ready to return home, clearly I was not.

January was always going to be a tough month. Seasonal Affective Disorder can be at its most disruptive, no matter how much light therapy you undertake or vitamin D tablets you gulp down. To top it off there is the hideous return to work in the new year and I find myself enduring the month. This isn’t just the winter blues, this is the sting of the travel bug.

Times like these I really wish I had not made as many friends who still remain down under. Just one quick scan on Facebook informs me that a few of them are attending the Australian Open in Melbourne. There are the inevitable beach selfies and Foursquare check-ins at a rooftop cinema. Seemingly every meal is served from a barbecue yet grilled meat not only entices people outside but rewards them in voting booths. We offer biscuits, over there they get a sausage in bread.

Thanks to social media it is almost impossible to miss what is going on in Australia, like continually seeing the best ex-girlfriend you ever let go.

Australians simply do certain things better. Take adverse weather conditions for instance. For a bushfire they pull together, neighbours are checked even if it takes half an hour to reach them and citizens genuinely heed good advice. Here it takes a few inches of snow to cause havoc. Motorists decide that their journey REALLY IS THAT IMPORTANT and they justify that ludicrous drive up the hill despite the ice. Over the past two days the footpath to my house has been an icy deathtrap, forcing me to walk up the road and judging by the steely glares of passing drivers the road is for their Land Rover, not a mere pedestrian. Just take a glance out of your window and have some consideration.

Australians like to let you know what they are thinking. It sounds simple enough but it makes a big difference. If they disagree with something sooner rather than later you will be told. For the record, I have just been called a ‘camel jockey’ by an Australian on Twitter for disagreeing on a geographical point (Australia does lie in Oceania, not Asia which can be confirmed by Wikipedia). At least he told me his view.

Back in Blighty it does not take long for me to realise that us Poms really do simmering disdain remarkably well. You would have thought that January was never-ending judging by the looks of resentment on the streets. It is the little things I notice, the smug grin on a man who just beats me to the supermarket check-out. The foolhardiness of the runner who simply will not allow patches of ice to disrupt his Saturday morning routine. The arrogance of a reveller on Saturday night who decides that the only way he is going to get served is to wave a £10 note at a barman. The simple act of saying please and thank-you going forgotten.

I miss being in a country with no discernible class system in effect, where a blue collar worker can be king. Where wages leave you wanting to stay behind and you can actually enjoy your time in an office without feeling the pressure of job cuts and an economy still in recovery. Life just seemed far more affordable over there. Sure, an $8 pint was ridiculous yet there was the impression that companies were happy to give a little back. Like, getting off your final stop using your myki card (the Melbourne equivalent of an Oyster card) before 7am being free, yes, free. Can you even imagine that in London? The extra public transport put on for sports events, while anyone wanting to attend a match at Wembley better check they can still catch the last train home.

This morning I watched the final of the Australian Open. Pretty much every time the camera panned over the Rod Laver Arena my heart ached due to remembering my time in Melbourne and Australia in general. Put simply, the grass really can be greener on the other side of the world.