Among the Russians.

Whenever I visit the Russian consulate, the sheer stress makes me age five years. Between last week and tomorrow, I will have gained fifteen years. 

I'm trying to get a Russian passport because as of last year, the rules have changed. Before, I was able to travel to Russian on a British passport with a Russian visa, but as of 2009, anyone who counts as a Russian citizen (and I do, apparently) may only travel to Russia on a Russian passport. One problem: I last used a Russian passport fourteen years ago. Additional problem: as of this year, I have changed my surname.

Still, I'm pretty optimistic when I approach the embassy for the second time. The first time, I was told that the consul who deals with name changes has gone AWOL and it's unclear when he'll be back. Why there isn't anyone to replace him, nobody knows. Especially since the working week at the consulate is four days long and they only deal with name changes between the hours of two and four. Never mind. I don't live in London, but I'm happy to come back.

The gurka at the gate recognises me. He's the most cheerful person in the building. The fat guy impatiently directs me to the wrong hall. When I finally get to window no.3, it turns out I should be at window no. 2 instead. I tell the middle-aged matron that I wish to change my name and offer her my deed poll. She squints at it, uncomprehending, shows it to the consul, who shrugs, and tells me that it's not a valid document. This floors me, though it really shouldn't surprise me that something that's a valid document in the UK carries no legal weight whatsoever on this tiny piece of Russian soil in the middle of London. I should have remembered to abandon common sense at the door.

I have to send that document to some office in Milton Keynes where it will be 'legalised' according to their standards. Who knows how long that will take. My trip to Russia is rapidly going down the tubes.

The matron notices that I'm staring at her incomprehensingly and says: "You're looking at me as if I'm speaking a foreign language. Do you understand me? Shall I speak slower? I'll speak slower." She even walks me to the main hall to show me the notice about what's required to change one's name. There is no mention of the Milton Keynes office.

She tells me to sit down and to talk to the consul once he's done with a bulldog-faced woman who's filling out a myriad documents. He seems to be helpful, though; he keeps reassuring her: "Don't you worry, we'll get it done today." Then he leaves the room.

The matron peeks at me through the window: "Did you speak to him?" "No. I thought he was still busy." She looks exasperated but tells me he'll see me shortly. I feel lost. I don't know the rules. I don't know when to jump in and to ask questions. I don't understand this unspoken order that everyone at the consulate seems to understand apart from me.

I sit and wait for an hour and forty minutes. A woman sits down opposite me and conversationally starts talking to me about her name change dilemma, as if I'm more knowledgeable than she is. No one really knows what's going on. I like the solidarity between fellow sufferers, erm, visitors. 

The consul finally turns his attention to me. The verdict? I need to apply for a Russian passport in my old name before changing it. Had I known that they're not at all interested in the name in my British passport, I would've started the whole process months ago. "Can I have two passports with two different names?" I explain that I have to go to Russian for work in the summer. "Our border guards don't give a toss about what name you've got in your British passport." Ideally, I should have the same name in both, but if that's not possible, then I can ratify my deed poll at their office, have it verified by the consulate once it's been translated into Russian and use it to explain the discrepancy between the passports when I go to Russia. 

Either that, or it might be easier to change my name back in English for the duration of the trip.

Going on their website, I discover that it takes three months to get a Russian passport, so time is of the essence. Tomorrow I'm to submit my documents and hope that everything works out before July.

Of death and more.

Two days ago I dug out the black leather journal that I hadn't touched since the week my friend Pete passed away last June. For several days after his death, the pages were rapidly filled with my feverish scribbling, trying to record every memorable moment I'd spent with him...trying to capture all the details of the weekend he died. I want to make his death my book's opening chapter...It's controversial, giving outsiders a glimpse into such a raw, intimate time, and maybe readers will hate it and think that it's an extreme way of beginning a travelogue, but I think that putting the reader in the room with his suffering is an important way of honouring him, his dignity, his courage. I think it's important to show what Motor Neurone Disease did to a person, what it did to a number of interconnected lives, the impact that he had on one life.

Writing it is still difficult. The memories are still very fresh, nine months on, and when I read those frantic scribbles, I inevitably tap into the bleakness and lack of purpose, the fug of despair that I lived in the week after the death, and it sucks me in again. I can't write without crying. I can't even type this without crying. But it's important, so I will persevere.

My Rough Guides editors have been brilliant. James and Mani have both pulled strings to make sure that I'll get my advance for the Chile and Peru gig on time, and it looks like it's actually going to happen! The last time the accounts department have let me down, I got stranded in Patagonia for several days, which is why I'm anxious to have it before I go. Not excited about the travels yet, even though I've been going through the two chapters, highlighting parts: red for cutting, purple for rewriting, lime green for regular updating. Still need to decide whether I'm going to Easter Island straight away or whether I should do the south of Chile first, before hitting the tropics as a pre-Peru treat...

The beginning.

This is where I am right now: I am already a contributer for Rough Guides, having done several projects for them since 2007 - in the Baltics, in Spain, in Russia, in Chile. In 2008 I was lucky, because I got the opportunity to rewrite the Chile chapter for the South America budget guide from scratch, which led to my working on half of the Chile country guide.

In 2009, I was luckier still, when I met Lonely Planet's requirements and was welcomed into their ranks. I still haven't had any luck with my pitches, though I'm hopeful about an Eastern European or Caribbean assignment later on this year. I've pitched for everything I could; all I can do now is wait.

In February 2010, while loitering by the Trailblazer guide stall at a travel show in London, I ended up meeting Bryn Thomas, the founder of Trailblazer and author of the original guide to the trans-Siberian railway, which remains the best current guide. He mentioned that he wanted to update it this year; I offered my services; he thought about it and decided it'd be a good idea, and now I've got that project to look forward to. Meeting up next week to discuss details.

With Rough Guides, the next step would be to become a royaltied author by writing my own guidebook. I've already pitched the Rough Guide to the trans-Siberian railway, but I won't be able to do it until 2012 because of my involvement with Trailblazer, so the next one I have in mind is the Rough Guide to Ukraine. Not only is my family from there, but I have worked and travelled there, I speak the language (well, Russian) and I have the unique perspective both of someone who grew up behind the Iron Curtain, and that of a Western visitor. I understand the country and its mentality. Then there's also the Rough Guide to First Time Eastern Europe; the one to just Europe already exists, so it either needs to be extended, or I could do a separate one.

Apart from guidebook work, I want to expland into other areas: I want to do some travel-related magazine articles and I'm currently working on a book - a tribute to a friend who died last year - mostly a travelogue about Chile, but with snippets both from his life and from mine. So far it's very fragmented and I'm not entirely sure of the structure, but I trust it will come together eventually. Finally, I've just been commissioned a 2,500 word article on Robinson Crusoe Island - Chile's remotest territory - by Real Travel magazine; luckily, I'd gotten into the habit of writing up my travels in great detail a few years ago, so all I need to do is whittle down the 5,554 words I already have and give them shape and direction.