An alarm goes off and as soon as I open my eyes and look out of the carriage window I see hills and a forest and an Austrian village with houses and church. The white church and farm buildings look like wooden toys. For some reason I’m amazed to be waking up to this without having flown here.
My passport is with the Syrian Embassy. I have every faith and confidence it’ll be back in my hands by the time I’m standing at St Pancras station ready to board the Eurostar and track Damacus-wards. It is a worry though. I left it a bit late to apply.
But passports are only paper, a representation of a bigger system breathing away in the background – like money or blogs.
I went to the travel section of Foyles on Charing Cross Road and looked at Alain de Botton’s book ‘The ...
One reason I travelled to Damascus was that it seemed exotic and also it was just there, it was a ...
London, St Pancras malias
malias There’s something about Paris that makes me not want to avoid cliches. Arriving in Austria I immediately saw a ...
Leaving Strasbourg I look up at the ceiling at the train station and see it is wooden and painted with ...
Hello, Sarah, I'm back to London. Finally, finally :) My shoes are still fine. I can have spare shoes now. But socks...I
You got home in on piece! Missed you, will call soon xxx
Thank you for reading this far. I'm glad you enjoyed it. I certainly enjoyed doing it.
Fascinating stuff, Sarah, which I've greatly enjoyed. I look forward to meeting up with you again one fine day.
Welcome home Sarah! I've enjoyed your holiday lots! Lx