We’ve been back from South Korea for a week now. We’re jogging back into routine, but the jet-lag won’t go away. A week on then, I think I should share my final holiday snaps.
These are from the plane. Much of our long, long eleven hour journey was above thick layers of cloud. But when we could see down to the ground far below, we were thrilled. We could barely comprehend the vastness of Siberia. Mile after mile after mile after mile of forested mountains, dusted with snow. How could it be that in all these endless miles we saw not a path, not a field, not a settlement? How could anywhere be so …. uninhabited?
Eventually though, there were settlements. Straight roads passed between towns that seemed to be all about industry and factories, with large rectangular fields beyond.
Then there was the Volga, immensely wide, lazily spilling itself over plains and valleys, dividing, re-forming, leaving sandy islands in its midst as it meandered northwards.
We travelled over a cottony carpet of white cloud for a very l-o-n-g time. And emerged over islands round Sweden. There were coastal villages, isolated farms, fishing boats. We spied on communities whose ways of life looked as if they had changed little over the years. And then it was cloud again, all the way to England.
These are terrible photos. They’re fine for me as souvenirs of a tantalising journey offering glimpses of lands I’ll never see, and that few others have seen either. Except distantly, courtesy of a journey in a plane.