Barney's Field

I've been 'travelling', 'seeing the world', 'dossing' whatever you want to call it since I was 19. My first big trip was to Greece in 1979 with my best mate Anthony. We turned up at Victoria Coach Station in London, climbed aboard the Magic Bus and drove for three days via Brindisi, until we rolled into Athens and and crashed for a few hours. I think it cost 50 quid to get there and back and we spent the next month or so jumping from island to island, simply having a good time.

Since then I've been to most of Europe, parts of Canada, the States, North Africa, Kenya, Israel, Nepal, India, Pakistan, Sri Lanka... the usual suspects; Five years ago I was trekking in Morocco, had a great time, met some nice people and at the end of it I gave my sleeping bag, my cold weather gear, and duvet jacket to one of the porters who'd been a great help to me when I injured my foot and I said to myself 'No more. I've seen enough of the world from the inside of a tent and a hard floor. I want a bit of comfort!'

For the last five years that's exactly what I 've done. I had a good job, no responsibilities - I could do what I wanted. So, how have I found myself in a hostel in Kadikoy, just across the water from the heart of Istanbul with four months ahead of me through Turkey, Syria, Jordan and Egypt?

The simple reason is that life happens; people change, circumstances change and if you're not careful, life starts to pass you by. I also turned 50 in March, which means that even if I live to be 100, I'm half way there! I'm not the same person I was at 19 when I headed off to Greece; what I want from seeing a new city or country now is not the same as it was then, and unlikely to be the same for any 19 year old who happens to be reading this. And so it shouldn't be.

I've been in Istanbul for almost two weeks. Every day I get aboard the Kadikoy - Eminonu ferry and relish that 15 minute ride into one of the greatest cities the world has ever seen. Today, its those experiences I relish and value above all.

Which brings me to why I've called this entry Barney's Field. Barney Ward or to give him his full name, Bernard Ward, was born as the 19th century became the 20th in a small place in Ulster called Killcrossduff in County Cavan. Killcrossduff is little more than a crossroads, with two houses facing each other. There's a mountain, or at least half a mountain, as it has been dug out for aggregates, a lake which was out of bounds to the local children as the fairies (not the Tinkerbell type, but vicious, cruel, other worldly creatures) would drag any waifs and strays down to drown and a church a couple of miles away. The people who live there are farmers and have always been farmers. A hundred metres up the road is a track and at the end of that track, in along demolished cottage, is where my grandfather was born. He was born there, lived there, died and was buried just a few miles away. He never learnt to read and write; I never knew him but I heard he was a hard man, but he and my grandmother raised a family, looked after them made sure they were educated and like that generation of Irish men and women, they had to leave Ireland for work.

Killcrossduff

One son went to Australia, a daughter went to London, another to Dublin and the youngest son, my father went to England where he had his own family. Barney's Field is still there, its used to graze cows now, but I was there with my father a few weeks ago and thought this is where it started for him - exile from his own country and perhaps it's where my own wanderlust started as well. Travel has very little to do with the amount of miles you cover, the important distance is travelled within yourself, and although Dad hasn't travelled that extensively, I wonder whether he's travelled further than I ever will.

Killcrossduff

This won't be a blog just about where I've been and what I've seen, but hopefully it'll be about how, if I'm prepared to lower my defences a smidgeon and place a prejudice on hold, the world doesn't have to be as frightening as we're told it is.