Why haven't I left yet? Everyone seems to be asking me this question now. Clearly the drama of saying goodbye as if it's the last time they're ever going to see me is beginning to wear out my friends. Some of the more unfortunate must have said goodbye at least three or four times.
Frankly I know how they feel because my impatience to head off to Siberia and the Arctic Circle easily outweighs the nagging doubt that the odd skiing holiday to France doesn't count as sufficient experience for the kind of conditions I'm going to encounter. Much to everyone's relief I will be leaving this Saturday and heading for Scandinavia but getting all the necessary visas for the journey has been far from quick, cheap or straightforward.
Getting a Chinese visa was easy enough. The Mongolian embassy seemed a bit unprepared for me, or in fact any other tourist, wanting to visit the country in winter and it took half an hour of knocking on the door before I got an answer. The Mongolian visa, however, has a map of the country in the background that should come in handy if I get lost out on the steppe.
It was getting a Russian visa that had me wondering if I'd ever be able to leave. The requirements for the visa, especially for the trip that I plan to take, were a maze of paperwork, forms, faxes and vouchers. I was required to prove, for example, where and when I plan on staying in Kransnoyarsk and what train I plan to catch between Tobolsk and Omsk.
Fortunately I was rescued by a Russian travel agency in Notting Hill which is tucked behind a tiny shop front like a portal into a world beyond bureaucracy. They showed that whilst some Soviet habits die hard, certain aspects of the visa application process have fully embraced capitalism. If you notice the Russian rouble increase in value in the next few days that will be the payment going out on my visa card.
As I've had a few weeks to prepare I've spent the time getting advice from friends, guidebooks and the internet in the mistaken belief that a little bit of knowledge is a good thing. I read somewhere that the Russians don't wear bright clothes so I've packed so much black and grey clothing in an attempt to be less conspicuous that I probably look like some kind of Arctic ninja. A friend who used to live in Russia helpfully told me that only gangsters dress like that - that wasn't exactly the look I was going for.
I've also been told that eating butter is a good way of staying vaguely sober when obliged to drink vodka in Russia and that you can't stay in capsule hotels in Tokyo if you have tattoos. Fortunately I don't have tattoos and I intend to eat enough butter to stay that way. Most alarming of all was the advice in one Mongolian guidebook that recommended wearing a ski mask as temperatures fall to minus 35 degrees. Let's face it; that's the nearest a guidebook ever gets to saying "don't go". I'm happy to ignore that bit of advice and even plan on staying in a tent for at least part of my time in Mongolia.
Clearly I have absolutely no idea what to expect on this journey. The planning and packing has taken my mind off any concerns I have so now everything is ready and I just want to get going. I'm sure I will meet some fascinating people and see some amazing sights and the sense of the unknown makes it all the more exciting.
Until this moment it hasn't crossed my mind weather I will miss London at all. My friends and family have made it quite clear that they'd prefer to see me sent to Siberia, which is not the reaction I was expecting. Some seem even more enthusiastic than I do, particularly the one's who want an end to my discussions on thermal underwear and train timetables. As of Saturday we'll all get our wish.
