Siberia and sakura

Ten years ago I was looking for flights to take me half way around the world.

I went to travel agents, and asked what they thought were the best options. Somehow none of the answers felt quite right - long flights, at inconvenient times, with long stopovers in places I had no wish to visit. And an awful lot of air miles to visit an eco project. There had to be a better way, but I had no idea what. Then in one agency I was waiting for them to find a brochure, and while I waited I wandered over to the giant map on the wall and idly plotted all the suggestions I'd heard so far.

Then it struck me. Although the place I was headed was in the middle of the ocean, there was a whopping great bit of land between Here and There. Land crossed by a famous railway.

I gave up on travel agents, went home, and got out an enormous roll of paper. I drew my own map - badly - and covered it in lines, post-its, and time zone calculations. I spent a lot of time on the marvellous website of the man in seat 61. And then I went on An Adventure - alone around the world, including Moscow to Hong Kong by train.

Most of that train journey was on what people call the Trans Siberian (actually the Trans Mongolian). The one the tourists usually take, which goes to Lake Baikal and then turns right for Mongolia, where most tourists get off to spend a few days in a yurt or watching eagle festivals, and the locals unload giant parlour palms before getting back on with a load of jackets to take onwards to China. It was a wonderful experience that I'd recommend to anyone who is able to sleep on a train and doesn't mind shaking Gobi desert dust out of their clothes and bags for several months afterwards.

But it is primarily a tourist train. The odd Russians far outnumbered by the Vodka Train groups, curators searching for unusual works to hang in UK art galleries, and Americans who are no strangers to long distances but are more used to having a steering wheel to cross them. And a part of me always wondered about the *other* Trans Siberian. The one that doesn't turn right, but carries on across the rest of Siberia. It has a reputation for being more 'authentic' and 'local' - in as much as anything travelling over 6,000 miles can be local. Is that true? What is the far end of Russia like? How would I get home from Vladivostock?

The last part was answered when I discovered the ferry. Not home, but onwards to Japan. A country well worth visiting in its own right and also, crucially, considerably better supplied with flights to the UK. The other questions remained. This one felt a little more daunting to do alone.

Years later I finally had the conversation. The one where 'I've always quite fancied ...' is met not with 'Why?' but with 'So have I!'.

Ten years on and here I am again. Folder of tickets, hotel reservations and visa invitations. Spring rather than Autumn but the same bag as last time. Even a pair of the same shoes.

This time, we're not turning right until we reach the sea.Baca lagi