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Plans, The English Countryside, Turkish Coffee, and Hitchhiking Asia
Originally posted on July 23, 2012 at http://benallen.ca/
Written by Ben Allen.
It was the solitary afternoon of sunshine during my four days back in England that I rediscovered just how beautiful a place the Northamptonshire countryside really is. My buddy Jordan and I had ventured out of my home village and into the surrounding fields to explore this green and pleasant land, catch up on each others lives, and grab a beer down at a local pub. It was also during this time that I’ve been planning on where my travels will take me over the next months.
Jordan is a great friend. A veteran of multiple visits to Vancouver since I moved to Canada, we get along very well. We’d adventured around the Vancouver area together, gone snowboarding at Whistler Blackcomb, Grouse Mountain, and Cypress Mountain before – but never had we investigated the countryside surrounding Kettering, our local town.
It was a rare break in the grey monotony of the overcast day. However it wasn’t always like that. “There was a hosepipe ban in the spring,” explained my Dad the previous day. “But since then,” he continued, “it’s basically rained for two months”. Ouch.
But today the sun was out. I’d already wandered the sleepy little village I grew up in – Middleton – and recaptured the magic of just how beautiful the buildings are. The country I now call home just turned 145 – a lot of the houses in my area, including the cottage I spent my first 15 carefree years of life, was around twice that age. The stonework, the old slate roofs, the exposed wooden beams of these places is stunning.
Jordan and I went to the pub in Rushton, another village close by. I used to pass through this quaint little settlement, with it’s perfectly manicured cricket oval and old village hall, every single day on my long bus ride to secondary school. The bus wound it’s merry way for an hour down the narrow country lanes, through the local villages, picking up all the local kids on their way to Bishop Stopford Secondary School. During my seven years as a student there I’d never once gotton off the bus in Rushton. I guess this stop was a bit overdue.
We each sunk a cold one and then wandered through the village to an old bridlepath from the age old British pub, to another piece of Great British history – the local railway tracks. We watched the trains pass – one or two every ten minutes, speeding their way through the countryside on route to and from the big smoke of London. The trainline that runs from Vancouver to Whistler and beyond barely has one or two trains a day, whilst Englands trains boom. The rail network in Britain remains an extremely popular method of transport despite being exceedingly expensive, unless of course you plan your journey well in advance.
We hiked over the fields, past cows and sheep staring nonchelantly at us whilst munching on mouthfuls of grass and through an old tunnel we came across another train line. The countryside of England is scattered with them – this one headed north to another local town, Corby, and beyond. The rolling fields were beautiful, and in the distance I could hear the faint sound of the main road between Corby and Kettering – another route I used to frequent in my younger days. From here you could see for miles across the patchwork quilt of Englands agricultural land. Hedges, trees, fields with different crops, and then the spires of old churches in the villages nestled amongst the hills.
That night I had some friends over for a barbeque. It was organized by James, another old friend of mine from my teenage years. James just quit his job to travel. He will be meeting me in Armenia. Our plan is by no means set, but I’d just that day applied for an Iranian visa and suggested James do the same. He did.
James has wanted to travel for years. He hadn’t done it yet but after a four year online campaign of encouragement, posting of endless photos of great times in various places around the world, and downright abuse he eventually caved. Good work, James.
I write this blog from the balcony of an Istanbul apartment. I’ve been in Turkey for a couple of days now and am staying with Elif and her roommate Mustaf at their place in the Beşiktaş neighbourhood. Since arriving I’ve explored this famous city both alone, with Elif and her friends, and with Tiff and Denny – a couple of Australian girls I met. Meeting new people when travelling is always fun, and you always make many new friends very easily.
Naturally I’ve seen some of the tourist sites including the spectacular Blue Mosque and the Grand Bazaar, as well as losing myself in the maze of narrow streets flanked on all sides by tall old apartment buildings. Yesterday, during my wanderings, I spent a couple of hours drinking Turkish Coffee in a local “kahve” with tables of middle aged Turkish men all playing cards whilst shouting, banging on the tables, and drinking cup after cup of chay. It’s good to be here.
It’s been welcoming to have a bit of solitude during this leg of my adventure. It’s time to think and to plan. I’ve decided that hitchhiking is the way forward after such a successful and enjoyable time in Mexico a few weeks ago, and my limited budget means it makes the most sense. My hitchhiking experience in the USA, combined with what I’ve been told of hitching in western Europe by my brother Tom had motivated me to do this journey too, as I want to promote hitchhiking to westerners who have become suspicious of this mode of travel.
Hitchhiking, until the past couple of decades, was a common mode of travel in western nations. It still is in many parts of the world, but the media perception of it, along with a few isolated incidents of travellers having had problems have soured its mass appeal. I want to help rebuild that. Now I’ve arrived in Istanbul on my cheap flight from England I aim to hitch to Armenia to meet Tom, where he is staying with his wife Tenny and her family. From there I aim to hitch rides to the Iranian capital of Tehran, and after that – who knows where? Suggestions are most welcome!
About BenAllen.ca
Ben Allen is a freelance journalist from Northamptonshire, England. He relocated to Canada in 2008. I am currently on the road. I just completed a cycle-ride from Vancouver, BC to San Francisco, CA and have since started a hitchhiking adventure through Mexico. Follow the adventure at www.benallen.ca
