Le flipflop

The Philippines

flipflop — Thu, 13 Jul 2006 01:07:39 +0100

Leaving Manado, North Sulawesi, our plan was to fly back to Jakarta for one night and stay in an airport-type hotel to avoid the expensive return trip into the capital (not to mention the pollution, touts, and other annoyances), before catching an early morning flight to Singapore and our connecting flight to the Philippines the following day. The journey from Manado to Jakarta was as easy as jumping on a plane; our problems began when we exited the airport in Jakarta.

The domestic terminal turned out to be rather useless in terms of enquiring about available airport hotels; there were no airport representatives and the only hotel booking agent insisted on showing us the 'foreign' prices in US dollars which were at least double the 'local' prices and without any added extras. It soon became apparent that we would have better luck at the international terminal. Upon sensing our plans to change location, the freelance taxi drivers - who had been snapping at our heels, touting for business as soon as we set foot outside customs - crowded in even closer, shouting and pleading for the 'rights' to our journey. Why on earth they would think we would take a rip-off taxi when there was a free domestic-international shuttle bus was quite beyond us. Despite announcing our intention to take the shuttle, the taxi drivers remained in denial about its existance and continued attempting to block our path all the way to the bus stop. We managed to catch the shuttle bus, which, despite being an airport shuttle bus, was of course completely ill-suited for transporting anyone with a bag larger than a child's backpack.

Arriving at the international terminal we soon realised we had simply swapped one set of annoying, aggressive, taxi touts for another, and worse, this being the international terminal, their prices and expectations had gone up. Our search for a hotel didn't fare much better either. Jakarta, the bustling business, economic, and political capital of Indonesia - one of the world's most populous countries - it seems, has only one airport hotel, and its cheapest room was a whopping 4 times our usual accommodation budget. Again, there were no hotel representatives (apart from the Sheraton, whose 6-times-our-budget cheapest rooms were growing more appealing with every taxi driver who appeared). By this time we were beginning to feel overwhelmed, the taxi drivers were continually standing inbetween us and joining in our conversations with tourist information and hotel agency staff.

We snapped.

Suddenly the idea of spending 16 hours in transit in Singapore airport sounded like heaven compared to spending one more minute in Indonesia. We headed straight to the Singapore Airlines desk to enquire about changing our flight to the next available plane and nearly kissed the official in charge when she managed to get us 2 seats on a flight leaving in an hour. All of a sudden we had checked in our bags (all the way to the Philippines) and were running through customs and immigration to reach our gate in time.

Perhaps we are being a little hard on Indonesia, certainly its touts were not as annoying as in India; we did find it an amazing and fascinating country, and we both agree we would love to return to explore the islands further. Surprisingly, by this stage in out trip, we have become less, rather than more, tollerant of the scams, touts, lies, rip-offs and tricks that so often plague western backpackers in developing countries. Unfortunately, whilst we have met incredibly interesting and generous people in every country we have been to, seen beautiful countryside and admired truly inspiring sights, there always seems to be a 'but' in the form of aggressive drivers and touts.

And so we ended up in our beloved Singapore Airport, an airconditioned pocket of escape in between countries. We were tempted to spend our entire time in transit making use the the free internet, cinema, and other amenities, but sensibly decided some sleep would be wise. We exited the airport for the night and took a comfortable room in a nearby hotel, which amazingly, cost roughly the same as some of the cheapest 'foreign price' hotels we were offered in Jakarta. The following day we finally made it to our next country: the Philippines.

We landed in Manila and soon settled into a comfortable 'pensionne' (guesthouse) in the city centre. Upon arrival in the Philippines we were immediately hit by the Spanish influence left over from colonial days. The filipino language is littered with Spanish words, the food has a very Spanish/Mexican taste, and even the music and architecture hinted of a Spanish past. For a few days we kept experiencing moments of confusion when we would wonder whether we had landed in Mexico instead.

A Filipino 'jeepney' - the main form of transport throughout the islands.

Our time in Manila was spent recuperating from our journey and catching up on admin tasks. Despite the close proximity of some pretty impressive shopping malls and restaurants, the beach was calling. We re-packed our bags and headed to the tourist capital of the Philippines - Cebu.

We checked into our flight at 4am, along with many other bleary-eyed passengers and 4 or 5 rather chirpy cockrels (presumably being transported for a cock-fighting match, the number one sport in the Philippines). Eric swore he could hear the birds crowing as we landed in Cebu City at 6am. A taxi ride, 4 hour bus ride, and boat ride finally brought us to the small island of Malapascua , off the northern coast of Cebu.

The perfect beaches of Malapascua.

The tiny island of Malapascua is ringed with beautiful white-sandy beaches dotted with towering palm trees and wooden bungalows. The surrounding clear waters provide endless diving and snorkelling posibilities for enthusiasts. Most divers visit the deep waters of Malapascua to find the very distinguishable thresher sharks - who swim up to a 25-meter plateau to be serviced at a 'cleaning station'.

We secured ourselves a spacious beach front bungalow and soon found ourselves splashing around in the refreshing sea.

Our first afternoon in this paradise setting was perfect. Anticipating a sunny week filled with snorkelling, diving and lounging on the beach, we got an early night's rest. Unfortunately, despite having a powerful modern fan blowing air throughout the room during the sticky airless night and a large mosquito net over our beds keeping the countless mosquitos away, we could not sleep. We were already exhausted from our trip from Manila to Malapascua, so the added sleep deprevation made us feel worse. This seemingly perfect environment was flawed after all. Nevertheless, we decided to give Malapascua another chance and we spent a very enjoyable day on the beach: snorkelling, snoozing in the hammocks and investigating diving options to see the thresher sharks. However, the following morning after another restless night, our decision was made, we were leaving the island to head back to the mainland in search of another beach....and some sleep!!!

Local fishing boats are used to ferry people and supplies to and from the island; we sadly boarded one, departing from Malapascua much earlier than expected.

The bus back to Cebu City was a long, dusty, bumpy ride. The bus was a local non-ac one, meaning it had no glass in the windows and sought to cool its passengers by driving as fast as possible thereby creating a strong through-breeze throughout the bus. We arrived in Cebu City tired, dirty and with stinging dry sore throats from breathing the dusty air for 5 hours. We managed to find what looked like a clean, respectable hotel and gratefully crawled into bed. Unfortunately, the hotel staff had failed to inform us of the 'hotel improvements' currently being carried out (we later saw some small 'discreet' notices). At 7am we were awoken from our much needed slumber by the revirberating sound of a hand drill, occasionally accompanied by a very enthusiastic worker and his sledge hammer. We were beginning to feel like we were trapped in a comedy sketch which portrays a helpless victim and his quest for one decent nights sleep!!

We packed up our bags and headed to the bus station to try our luck in the southern part of Cebu Island. Our destination was the popular tourist spot of Moalboal - which has long been a magnet for divers exploring the reefs of the Philippines. Because it was the beginning of the low season, we easily secured a great deal on a large, air conditioned, bungalow in a resort with a pool (our first since Myanmar). We had a tasty lunch and retired to our room for some blissful, undisturbed, sleep.

The view of the warm, crystal clear waters as seen from our resort restaurant.

Our resort in Moalboal turned out to be the perfect place to relax and enjoy a 'holiday' at the end of a year of heavy travel. Laying poolside under the cooling shade of the trees, we indulged ourselves in the tranquility and privacy of the resort.

However, after a few days, we got bored of relaxing and so signed up for an Advanced Scuba Diving course. The intensive 2-day course involved reading textbooks, answering questions and completing 5 technical dives. The reef life we witnessed was phenonmenal; we bumped into (almost literally) 3-4 turtles on each dive, and saw our first poisonous sea snake! Having completed our Advanced Diving Certification, we managed to fit in one last fun dive before it was time to head back to Cebu City.

A small glimpse of the beatiful reefs in Moalboal.

On our final dive we came across the wreck of a WW2 aeroplane.

Our time in Cebu City was brief. We failed to visit any cultural or historical sites, deciding instead to spend prescious time in shopping malls where we treated ourselves to some new items of clothing (ie jeans!!).

Our stay in Cebu City coincided with the beginning of the Football (soccer)World Cup. To our horror, we realised we were in the one Asian country which does not follow football. Whilst the Filipinos are avid sports fans, their passion lies almost solely in American Basketball. Almost every person we met could talk knowledgably about specific aspects of the LA Lakers recent playoff breakdown, but remained clueless about football (Manchester who??). It turned out there were only 3 places in the entire city where we would be able to watch the opening matches....and that's how we bizarrely came to be sitting in our scruffy, dirty, traveller's clothes, in the middle of the Marriott Hotel lobby bar, sipping gin and tonics at 3am in the morning.

We left Cebu and headed for the bright lights of Hong Kong - our final Asian destination.

Indonesia: Java and Sulawesi

flipflop — Tue, 30 May 2006 05:04:32 +0100

Java

Our tour of Indonesia began with an 8 hour train ride to Yogyakarta - central Java's main hub. Whilst Jakarta is the archipelago's financial and political center, Yogyakarta is often seen as the cultural capital.

Waiting on the platform for the train in Jakarta, we watched in amazement as morning commuter trains whizzed by with people hanging out of open doorways. As the train pulled into the platform, station porters would run alongside and leap through the open doors to tout for business before the train had come to a complete stop. It's safe to say the term 'health and safety' does not exist in the Indonesian transport system. When our train arrived there was a gentle scramble for seats; the carriage was a little dirty and shoddy, but the seats were large and comfortable and the journey turned out to be fairly painless.

Yogyakarta
Central Java

After checking into a hotel, we made our way to a local restaurant for a traditional Indonesian meal of sate ayam (or chicken satay). We washed down our meal with a bottle of Bir Bintang, the local beer - not bad, but we fear nothing will compare to the smooth refreshing taste of Beer Lao. Yogyakarta is definitely more chilled and backpacker friendly than Jakarta; the streets are filled with people hanging around trying to sell batik and the roads crammed with rickshaw drivers - who also all seem to have friends owning the city's cheapest art and batik shops.

The following morning, we took a twenty minutes stroll through town to the Kraton - the sultan's palace; easier said than done, as we constantly had to dismiss the unrelenting offers and shouts by the touts, drivers and salesmen along the way. The sultan's palace is still used by the present day sultan, so we could only access a small part. Our tour guide walked us around the reception hall and surrounding buildings taking us through the history and meanings of various carvings and paintings. There were large bird cages lining the pathways each one housing a cockerel - this we were told was the palace alarm clock system - no joke!!

The Sultan's alarm clock stands ever ready...no batteries necessary.

Deciding we could no longer avoid the inevitable, we let our guide talk us into visiting a 'government' batik shop.

At the shop we were shown the batik design process - the application of beeswax and layers of colored dye. Despite the 'no pressure to buy', we did of course walk away with a small sample.

Leaving the batik shop, we went to a traditional puppet museum to get a short glimpse of how Indonesian shadow puppets are made.


The puppets are carved out of thick buffalo skin and erected on to buffalo horn sticks and then painted.

We continued our exploration of the old city wandering a maze of narrow alleyways, crammed with hastily built houses and vibrant with daily life. We passed rather quickly through a bird market, with the increasing threat of bird flu not many tourists linger in these markets anymore.

The birds on sale were mostly pigeons, though there were a few parrots, sparrows and owls. The merchants also sold bird food in the form of live crickets, cockroaches and mounds of maggots and ants.

The next day began at 4:30 in the morning, when we caught a tour bus to the temples of Borobudur and Prambanan. We stopped en route to take photos of Mount Merapi - usually only visible in the early hours before being hidden by the almost daily overcast skies.

Currently the world's most active volcano, Mt. Merapi has been making world-wide headlines with its imminent eruption.

Our first stop was Borobudur - a Buddhist temple built in the early 9th century; this colossal structure is considered to be one of the great South East Asian monuments. The temple was shrouded in clouds when we arrived, creating quite a serene and spiritual atmosphere. The temple is a 4-sided, 6-tiered squat pyramid covered with Buddha figures, stupas, and lion/dog stone carvings. We spent a few hours admiring the temple structure and the views from the temples top when the clouds cleared.


Because of the temple's large size and position on top of a hill, it was hard to capture in its entirety.


The carvings remain in excellent condition.


Buddhas and beasts protect the temple.


The top tier is ringed with stupas, each containing a depiction of Buddha. It is considered lucky if you are able to reach through the diamond gaps to touch the statue inside.

Also at the top were a group of students taking a practice english exam. They cornered us in groups of 3 or 4 politely inquiring if they could ask us a few questions and of course take the inevitable photos. After the first two to three encounters, we resigned ourselves to our fate...



If only we could charge for each photo....

After Borobudur, we visited Prambanan - the most grand Hindu complex in Java. The largest and most intricate of these temples is the Shiva temple, which stands flanked by 5 or 6 other chapels and a field of ruins. Most of the larger statues inside the temples seemed to have disappeared or been heavily damaged but the outsides remain in impressive condition with quite ornate carvings.

From afar Prambanan resembles one of the great Angkor Wat temples of Cambodia.

Not all the temples of Prambanan have survived into the 21st century.


Soon after it was built Prambanan was deserted for reasons unknown before being rediscovered in the 20th century.


The carvings that line the outer walls of the temples tell the stories of Hindu gods.

Our sightseeing complete, we returned to the city to pack and prepare for our journey to Mt. Bromo the following morning. Despite our grumblings in our blog about the annoying touts and taxi drivers, we have also met a host of genuinely friendly and helpful people in Yogyakarta and Indonesia in general. We hope the people and city of Yogyakarta make a swift recovery from the recent devastating earthquake.

Mount Bromo
East Java

A 10 and a half hour bus ride took us from Yogyakarta to the small village of Cemoro Lawang which sits on the lip of the Tengger crater. The crater is home to Mount Bromo, an active volcano, which is one of three mountains which sit in the center of the caldera. The next morning at 3am, we got up and stumbled down to some waiting jeeps which would take us on a bumpy twisty journey to the top of Mt. Penanjakan for an amazing sunrise view across the caldera.

We stood at the viewpoint watching the rising sun paint golden colors of red, yellow and pink across the sky.

Mt. Bromo and the taller Mt. Semeru (the highest mountain in Java) were puffing smoke into the air which highlighted the grays and pinks in the dawn light.

After about an hour we drove down from the viewpoint on Mt. Penanjakan and across the sea of sand to Mt. Bromo itself. Mt. Bromo is a large grayish-white crater of ash and sulphur. A set of some 260 steps has been built up the side of the volcano to make climbing up to its ridge easier; having said that, it was still quite an exhausting hike given your lungs are gasping for air and receiving nothing but mouthfuls of eggy-smelling ash.


Looking down from the ridge, you can see a giant crack from which flows an almost constant plume of sulphuric and ash smoke.

Eric takes a running leap inches from the steep edge of Bromo's crater.

Nikki tries to jump from Mount Bromo to Mount Batok.


The Tengger caldra spans 10km wide with 200m high walls circling the flat 'sea of lava sand'. Looking out over the caldera, thin wisps of clouds hung low in the air adding an eerie aspect to the desolate terrain.

In the afternoon we hiked around the lip of the caldra, and, of course, admired the views.

Malang
East Java

After spending another day enjoying the sights and cooling fresh air of the highlands, we took the local bus to Malang. With a couple of days to spare before our flight to Sulawesi, we chilled out in this old colonial town. Local travel agents tried to sell us tours of the local area, which included 'highlights' such as a swimming pool, a tofu factory and a dairy farm - complete with cow-milking (however, the tour operator could not guarantee we would actually be able to see the cow being milked; but there would definitely be a cow present). At $30 each, we declined their offers. Instead we used our time in Malang to write postcards, catch up on emails and play billiards.


Malang was a mix of colonial period houses and hectic city streets.

After a transit night in Surabaya, we took a flight up to Manado, the capital of North Sulawesi.

North Sulawesi

Manado

Determined to avoid Bali, we decided to spend some time in North Sulawesi instead and see for ourselves its world renowned dive sites. Situated on the Celebes sea, Manado is a compact yet bustling city where mikrolets rule the streets. These doorless blue vans are a cross between a taxi and a bus, and for a set fee they will pick you up and drop you off along the city's main roads.

Known locally as mikrolets, these buzzing cars outnumber all other vehicles 10 to 1.

Manado will be permanently associated in our minds with fish and national flags. Our hotel was located just minutes from the docks, and from its large rooftop restaurant we watched a near constant stream of boats sail into and out of the port.


The hotel restaurant overlooked the main street and the dive and fishing boats moored in Manado's docks.

In the immediate areas located around our hotel was a large dried fish market where merchants seemed to sell a dried version of almost any fish, from tiny sardines, to green parrot fish and giant barracuda.

Throughout Indonesia, it seems that nearly every male we have come across has been a football (soccer) fanatic. Upon hearing that we are from London, they joyfully announce which English Premiership team they support and whom their favorite player is. Eric has often been drawn into long debates about the winners and losers of the latest season and predictions for next year. World Cup fever has certainly taken hold in Manado; throughout the city it is possible to see the national flag of almost every team participating in the tournament. It seems the locals adopt a country to support just like they pick between Man U and Chelsea, identifying with their favorite player or choosing whichever team is the 'enemy' of the neighbour's favorite side. Indeed it seems the locals would be upset if the Indonesian national team ever qualified for a major tournament, as this would mean they would have to forgo the enjoyment of supporting rival teams and their favorite international players.

One of many of Manado's flag vendors displays his wares outside the local cinema; the American flag remained suspiciously absent.

Bunaken

From Manado we hitched a ride on a local supply boat to the island of Bunaken. Bunaken is a tiny island off the coast of North Sulawesi and is fringed with beautiful coral reefs making it a great place for snorkelling and diving. After docking at Bunaken Village, we walked along Pangalisang Beach where we found a spacious bungalow for our stay on the island. The beach was hardly a beach, but rather a coastline of mangrove trees and sea grass; when we arrived the tide was out, preventing us from having an afternoon snorkel and instead forcing us to spend our time snoozing in a shady hammock.

Eric tests out the hammock.

The sun sets over the mangrove beach in front of our bungalow.

During our stay on the island we did 4 dives, all on 'wall' reefs down to 30 metres. True to its reputation, the reefs of Bunaken were teeming with a huge variety of colorful sea life. We were treated with glimpses of sea turtles, sting rays, moray eels, tiny brightly coloured nudibranchs, anemone crabs, box fish, bat fish, flute fish and many more. Best of all was the discovery of some minute pigmy seahorses which were bright yellow and clinging to strands of soft coral with their tiny curly tails.

Two rare 'le flipflop' fish are spotted swimming out of the blue.

Spot the spotted box fish.

The reefs were always teeming with life.

Two angel fish swim amongst the coral.

Evenings were spent at the 'Blue Parrot Cafe', listening to local guys play guitars and strum on a box bass (a homemade instrument made out of a packing crate). We sampled the local plum wine (it tasted a bit like English Christmas Pudding), but sensibly stuck with beer.

Tangkoko

After 4 days on the island, we opted for a change of scenery, so we took a boat back to the mainland and headed to Tangkoko National Park. From the docks we took a mikrolet to the bus station; we shared the 6-seater vehicle with 4 other people, our bags, their bags, their boxes and a set of bamboo hats. Upon exiting the station, we immediately had to deal with a dozen touts and hawkers who were simultaneously trying to jam us onto already full buses and sell us snacks and drinks for the journey. We decided to forgo the buses that were leaving straight away and got on an empty one, agreeing that having our choice of seats was worth the wait for other passengers (buses only leave when full). Our backpacks were strapped to the roof of the bus as every inch of space inside the vehicle was reserved for customers - the aisle was lined with additional seating in the form of plastic chairs and even the driver shares his seat with a passenger. Five minutes before the bus departed the station we pondered the fact that our bags would get wet if it rained, 10 minutes after we left the heavens opened. The bus journey was only an hour long; we spent the time snoozing, staring out the window, and watching cockroaches climb up and down the carpeted walls of the bus.

After arriving at Tangkoko Bus Terminal, we took a mikrolet to the town centre where we would be able to find a car to take us to the small village outside the park entrance. We stopped outside a hardware store and negotiated a ride on a pick-up truck - the only form of transportation up to the village. The back of the pick-up was loaded with various supplies, from rolls of corregated iron, to fuel containers, to boxes of laundry detergent, to bags of vegetables and racks of eggs. Once sufficient (ie too many) people had turned up it was time for us to depart. The lucky two who had turned up first got to sit in the cab with the driver, the rest of us had to perch on planks of wood balanced across the back of the truck to form crude bench seats. As if the winding, hilly, up-and-down roads weren't dangerous enough, the driver decided to enter into a race with another pick-up truck which had left at the same time. We sat nervously smiling and desperately bracing ourselves whilst the rest of the passengers seemed either too busy gossiping to care or shouted at the driver, egging him on to go faster. Somehow we made it to a guesthouse on the outskirts of the national park in one piece.

Nikki tries to control her shaking legs as she climbs down from the back of the pickup after a very nerve-racking one hour drive through the hills.

Tangkoko National Park is home to the world's smallest monkeys, the tarsius, as well as a huge variety of tropical birds. After lunch and a short time spent recovering from our journey, we went on a 3 hour dusk trek into the park in search of the tarsius. We walked for about 45 minutes and soon became incredibly hot and sweaty despite the setting sun. The tarsius are nocturnal animals which live in groups inside hollow or cavernous trees. Our guide, Semuel, skillfully located a family just after sunset.

The tarsius grow to about 8cm high with bushy tails 20cm long; their tiny size and huge round eyes and ears make them incredibly cute.

A tarsius clings to the tree trunk; they were a little shy but we were able to stand quite close to them and some helpfully posed for our photographs.

We watched as they emerged from their sleep and sat on or clung to branches outside their home, where they waited for the growing sound of crickets, the signal for their night time hunting to begin.

Once the tarsius had departed for dinner, we walked back through the jungle in the darkness. On the way back we stopped to see a tarantula. The spider, which was as big as a man's hand, was sitting on a tree trunk at shoulder height. Our guide insisted we stand a mere 3 feet away from it, physically pulling us closer to the tree trunk. Our objections that we had "perfectly adequate zoom lens on our camera" fell on deaf ears.

We took a few pictures before the use of our flash finally spooked the tarantula. It's a very scary moment when a giant tarantula, only three feet away, suddenly moves just as your guide turns off the only flashlight so you have absolutely no idea where it has run to.


...thankfully the tarantula had only retreated back into its hole in the tree trunk.

We returned drenched in sweat, but very happy with our evening's expedition. After a fitful night's sleep in which we were kept awake by a huge thunderstorm, we departed at 5am for an early morning jungle trek. The trees were still dripping heavily from the storm the night before, giving the illusion that it was still raining. Our clothes were soon drenched from the damp air and wet leaves, and would stay that way for the remainder of the trek.


Exhausted, soaked, disheveled, trousers tucked into socks and shirts tucked into trousers....what a sexy pair!!

One of the main hazards of walking through the jungle in the early morning is all the spider webs stretched out across the trails. As our guide was walking in front he bore the brunt of them and could be seen flailing his arms around his head, wiping cobwebs from his face and hair. On two occassions he was momentarily blinded when he got a web directly in the eye. Unfortunately, our guide, like most Indonesians, was rather short so he didn't always clear the path completely. Walking behind him we too occasionally walked face first into a spider's web.


Spiders hung over the trails and giant moths clung to leaves.

We were primarily on the look out for the Sulawesi Crested Black Macaque - a black monkey. Along the way we saw quite a few Red Knobbed Horn Bill's (Toucans) flying noisily above the jungle, and some Dwarf Kingfishers. Our guide showed us an amazing tree that was a tangle of tree trunks and roots, and completely hollow inside.


The tangle of roots formed a natural ladder making it possible to climb up inside the 300 year old tree.

After trekking for over 4 and a half hours, we still hadn't found any black monkeys, it was time to call it a day. We found it ironic that we had found the world's smallest monkey so easily, but had been outsmarted by their average-sized cousins!

Having completed our exploration of the park, we headed back to Manado, travelling the exact reverse of the journey that had brought us to Tangkoko. It was now time for us to leave Indonesia and head to the Philippines.

Singapore and Jakarta: A Tale of Two Cities

flipflop — Thu, 25 May 2006 09:58:22 +0100

Singapore

From Tioman Island, we ferried back to the mainland and eventually boarded a delayed bus to the Malaysia-Singapore border town of Johor Bahru. The border crossing into Singapore was possibly the most efficient and easiest of our trip so far. A local express bus took us from Malaysia via two immigration posts directly to the main downtown bus terminal in Singapore. After a quick stop at a mid-range hotel to convert our remaining Ringgit into Singapore Dollars, we began our hunt for some budget accommodation. Sleeping cheap in Singapore is comparable to slumming it in Beverly Hills...highly improbable, nearly impossible.

We headed to Chinatown in search of cheap hotels, only to find that the area bore no resemblance at all to the 'real' China; immaculately clean streets lined with trendy PR companies and over-priced boutique hotels. Even the local 7-11 was fitted with wood paneling and marble floors. Tired and hungry, we settled for the cheapest room we could find and resolved to continue our search the following morning. The next day we moved to a much more budget friendly room in the heart of Little India. We had swapped our comfortable hotel suite for a windowless room directly above an Australian-run pub!

Our accommodation was above the 'Prince of Wales' pub in the heart of Little India, it came complete with friendly dog and live house bands every evening.

With our accommodation for the duration of our stay in Singapore finally sorted out, we began our exploration of the city and headed to the famous Orchard Road. A wide boulevard lined with giant shopping malls and super trendy shops, Orchard Road is a place to observe the Singaporeans practicing their national pastime: shopping.


We also stopped by the world famous Raffles Hotel, named after Singapore's founder, and home to the Singapore Sling.

Singapore is a city renowned, and often criticized, for being too clean, too clinical and lacking any character; however, after spending the last ten months backpacking through Asia, we found it's cleanliness, modernity, civility and almost universal air conditioning a complete and utter luxury.

Singapore's trademark - the merlion - guards the harborfront of the city's financial district.

Sunday cricketers brave the humidity to play a game in front of the City Hall.

Our days in Singapore were a blur of shopping malls and fruit smoothies; nevertheless, we did seek out some places of historical and cultural interest (there are some in Singapore if you look hard enough). Our favorite being the Prisoner-of-War Changi Prison Museum. The museum gave an excellent overview of the Japanese occupation of Singapore during World War II and what civilians and armed forces endured during their imprisonment. We spent three hours wandering the exhibits and reading some quite harrowing accounts. As we left we lit a candle of remembrance in the POW replica chapel.

We also paid a visit to Sentosa Island - a small island at the foot of Singapore. With it's manicured parks, beaches, educational rides and attractions, and resort type facilities, it offers an excellent escape from the concrete jungle. We went to Sentosa to blend in with Singapore's numerous white-collared executives and play some golf... mini golf in our case.


Eric lines his putt up for a birdie, whilst Nikki gets a hole in one.

Our overall impressions of Singapore were very favorable; with it's cleanliness (did we mention it was clean??), accessibility and friendliness. Singapore is certainly unlike any other Asian city; even it's citizens differ greatly from their Asian neighbors: they apologize when accidentally bumping into you in the street and can often be seen forming orderly queues.

Amazingly the best thing about Singapore was still to come. As we left to catch our flight to Jakarta, we entered Singapore Airport - truly the best airport in the world!!! Free internet, free movies at the cinema, rooftop swimming pools, etc... we seriously considered delaying our flight out. Much to our delight, we realized we would be back again to the airport when in transit en route from Indonesia to the Philippines.

Jakarta

If Singapore is Asia's cleanest city, Jakarta is doing well in its bid to become Asia's most polluted city.

Having arrived in Jakarta, the capital of Indonesia, one of our first tasks was to obtain some local currency. When we found an ATM machine we attempted to take out 3.6 million (how often can you say that!), however it would only allow us to withdraw 1.5 million at one time. With hindsight, this was probably a good thing as we would have struggled to put 3.6 million worth of 50,000 Rupiah notes in our pockets. We then took a taxi from the airport to downtown Jakarta and headed to Jaksa Road, the hub of all things backpacker... i.e. cheap hotels.

After dumping our stuff in an 'adequate' hostel, we went on a short exploratory walk around the neighborhood. There were a few noteworthy shops and restaurants in the surrounding area but to reach them we had to negotiate busy streets lined with heavy traffic, hawker stalls, open sewers, scavenging cats, scuttling rats, rogue motorcyclists, and the usual groups of Asian men hanging around doing nothing but staring. We certainly were not in Singapore anymore!

The following day we strolled out to explore the city - strolling is probably the wrong word, it was more like stumbled. The pavements were uneven and covered with litter, foul smelling puddles, and other delights. A constant stream of traffic was doing a grand job of ensuring there was no fresh air; after 5 minutes our throats began to itch and ache from the fumes. We walked to the Monas - a tall column topped with a golden flame, it is Indonesia's national monument to independence. We took the elevator up to the viewing platform where we enjoyed an amazingly cooling breeze. The views, however, were blurred by a pollution haze, but we were able to make out many high rises and even the harbor and sea in the distance. We became a tourist attraction ourselves when a local guy asked us to pose for a photograph with his family. It was to be the first of many such requests during our trip through Indonesia.


The Monas (left) was one of the many monuments scattered around the capital.


Mosques as well as skyscrapers dominate the city skyline as viewed from the top of Monas.

We visited the National Independence Museum at the base of the monument; viewing the 50 or so dioramas - scenes from Indonesia's history - the artwork was quite impressive, the adherence to time lines and historical accuracy was not. After returning to wandering the streets, and getting very hot and sweaty, we dived into the nearest air-conditioned restaurant for lunch, a McDonald's; unfortunately, whilst McDonald's has reached the shores of Indonesia it seems the ability to cook the burgers properly has not. Visiting the restroom after lunch we looked in the mirror for the first time in over 24 hours (our hostel room has no mirrors) and discovered that we had been feasted upon by mosquito's as our faces, necks and torsos were covered in bites (we had each assumed that the other was suffering from a few sweat spots and politely not commented). It was time to return to our hostel, upgrade to a room with an air conditioner and erect the mosquito net!

As part of our sight seeing of Jakarta, we visited Taman Mini, the 'little Indonesia' park, which has cultural displays and model houses from all corners of Indonesia. The displays are build around a country 'map' lake which offers the novelty of boating around all the islands of Indonesia in under 20 minutes. In the lake are grass islands made in the shape of the major islands of Indonesia; if you squint hard enough they do bear a vague resemblance, some even come complete with molehill-style volcanoes.


Examples of the traditional houses of central Sulawesi and East Kalimantan

We wandered around learning about the different tribal houses and customs, and gathering useful information about some of the areas we would be traveling to over the next few weeks. We again became a tourist attraction having to pose for some photographs and endure some staring and giggling. We tried out a gamalang set (traditional Indonesian musical instruments) but didn't really stop to watch any of the traditional dancing or cultural shows, as stopping meant having half the audience turn around to watch us instead.


Whilst admiring displays such as this gamalang set we were often asked to pose for photographs with the local tourists.

We took a taxi back from Taman Mini to the center of the city and stopped at one of Jakarta's new swanky shopping malls. Affluent citizens can now shop at the likes of Gucci, Prada, and Tiffany's - though we were hard pressed to think of anywhere in the city one could wear such expensive designer gear. All vehicles pulling up at shopping malls and large hotels in the capital undergo bomb checks, and we ourselves frequently had to pass through metal detectors and bag checks, even to get into fast food restaurants. These checks serve as very visual reminder of the civil unrest the Indonesian government tries so hard to conceal from the outside world.

Having exhausted Jakarta's main tourist attractions, it was time for us to move on. During our time in the city we had rarely encountered other foreign tourists; it seems they all bypass the streets of the capital and head straight for the over crowded beaches of Bali. Much to the surprise of locals and touts alike we had decided not to go to Bali but instead to explore more of Java.

Malaysia

flipflop — Wed, 03 May 2006 13:39:39 +0100

Penang
Northwest Malaysia

Our first stop in Malaysia was the northwestern island of Penang, where our plane from Laos landed amidst a spectacular lightening storm just before midnight. Upon arrival, we were soon whisked away by taxi to the island’s capital, Georgetown. The town was originally named after king George III; as Penang was once an important British colonial trading post in the early to mid 1900s.


The Georgetown city hall and clock tower reflect the colonial history of the town.

Malaysia is officially a Muslim state, the first of our trip. When we initially arrived we found the Muslim presence very visible as many of the women wear headscarves and the men don white skullcaps; however, the Islamic influence is not oppressive and mixes well with Malaysia’s increasingly western culture.

We booked a room at a centrally located hotel just minutes away from the bustling streets of Chinatown and a few streets down from Little India. The ethnic and cultural diversity that seemed to blend together in the everyday life of the local population was fascinating. Indians, Chinese, Malaysians, Thais, Indonesians etc… all mixing and living together with no visible prejudices. A very impressive sight!

Unfortunately, one of our own stereotypes was exposed during our hunt for outgoing bus tickets. The bus ticketing business in Georgetown is primarily run by the Chinese and Indians. Although we initially paid a visit to both Chinese and Indian vendors, our problematic bus ticket experiences in India were still very fresh on our minds, so we couldn’t quite cope with going back down that route. Without too much thought, we headed to the Chinese vendor to purchase our tickets. Upon hearing our request, the Chinese salesman picked up the phone and called the Indian travel agent next door to confirm seat availability on the bus. The Indians owned the bus… and yes, we felt very embarrassed!! Perhaps we should take a leaf out of the Malaysian example and leave our prejudices at home. Later that evening, we boarded the 9-hour overnight bus to the Perhentian Islands.

The Perhentian Islands
Northeast Malaysia

After a surprisingly comfortable bus ride (the best bus journey we’ve had on our trip so far – the seats reclined until practically horizontal!!!), we arrived at the Kuala Besut jetty, where an hour-long speed boat dropped us off at Long Beach on the Perhentian Kecil Island. The Perhentian Islands have made a strong case for being Malaysia’s most idyllic islands, with crystal clear waters, stretches of long white sandy beaches and acres of untouched lush green rain forests.

The view from our beach towels...apologies to those of you viewing this from your windowless offices.

The scramble for accommodation began as soon as we landed on the beach. The island is covered with thick unpenetrated rainforests, with the only signs of man, ie guesthouses and restaurants, were clustered around the shore, sandwiched between the trees and the sand. We secured ourselves a simple hillside bungalow, dumped our bags and went for a long cooling swim in the sea.


Our hillside bungalow came complete with 2 'pet' lizards who kept us entertained in the evenings with their nightly moth hunting antics.

We spent most of our time on the island snorkeling and resting in the shade, making the most of the island’s cooling sea breeze. We did manage to explore some parts of the rainforests by embarking on a small jungle trek across the breadth of the island. Sweltering heat, swarms of mosquitoes and giant spiders deterred us from wandering too far away from the beach. Even so, we did mange to see some wildlife, which included giant monitor lizards (2 to 3 meters in length!!), and large sea eagles, which stood over half a meter high as they perched on the beach.

Eric relaxes on the beach after a busy morning snorkelling.

Our visit to the Perhentian islands also brought with it the first and long anticipated opportunity to go scuba diving on our trip. Our first dive was a five-minute speedboat trip up the coast to the dive site, D’Lagoon. We spent an hour diving down to 12 meters and exploring the reef and admiring the plenty of colorful corals and fish – which included Nemos (also known as clownfish), angelfish, batfish and a huge porcupine fish with giant bulging eyes. The highlight was most definitely our stop at a ‘cleaning station’, where we saw tiny shrimp (less than a cm long and almost completely transparent) emerge from the coral and swim on to our fingers to clean our cuticles… amazing!!!

Our second dive took us down to 18 meters to explore a reef formed on huge boulders and rock that seemed to have tumbled into the sea. We swam up, around, down, under and through the gaps. Fish highlights included large angelfish, bright yellow boxfish (literally the shape of a 3-d box – quite a bizarre shape for a fish), a well-camouflaged scorpion fish and more large porcupine fish.

The island also gave us the opportunity to get plenty of snorkelling done. The 'house' reefs weren't the best, but they were teaming with plenty of fish.

Eric tries to blend in with the locals....

Don't you hate it when you try to take a photo of someone and a school of fish keep getting in the way?

In the evenings we feasted on beachside seafood BBQs, before falling asleep to the almost nightly thundering tropical rains and enjoying the cooling drop in temperature they brought with them.

After a week on the island, we packed up our stuff, took a speedboat back to the mainland and boarded a mini bus which took us to our next destination, Taman Negara National Park.

Taman Negara
Central Malaysia

Taman Negara gave us the opportunity to visit one of the most pristine primary rainforests in the world. This area of the jungle is claimed to be the oldest in the world, and has been in existence for the last 130 million years – having been untouched by ice ages, volcanic activity and other geological events.

We stayed just outside the park in the small village of Kuala Tahan. The following morning we crossed the river and started our 3-hour trek through the rain forest. There was no need for a guide as the trail was well-marked, and large and dangerous animals usually stayed clear of the tourist-trod areas. We headed towards a treetop canopy walkway and encountered our first dangerous creature along the way – an extremely poisonous Red Headed Krait. We stood and watched the snake slither away into a carpet of dead and rotting leaves before continuing on our way, a little more cautiously this time!


Eric: "Well it's big, but it's not quite a redwood".

A few km’s later, we reached the canopy walkway and were soon exploring the 400m long creaky set of ropes and planks suspended 25 meters high amongst the treetops of the forest.

Eric gingerly makes his way along the canopy walkway....

...with Nikki bounding on ahead.


Our wildlife sightings were mainly centered around the resort at the entrance to the park where we saw a highly poisonous Pope’s Pit Viper and some playful monkeys.

After lunch we went for another 2 hour walk through the jungle, but saw little of interest other than some giant ants and monitor lizards. The heat and humidity quickly took its toll and upon returning from our day in the jungle we were in much need of a good shower to wash away the grime and sweat. Unfortunately the shower head in our bathroom was situated immediately above the toilet meaning we had to lean over the toilet bowl in order to wash….’a good shower’ is certainly not the correct description, but it worked nonetheless.

Kuala Lumpur
Southwest Malaysia

The following day we headed to the capital of Malaysia, Kuala Lumpur ('KL' as the locals call it). We found a hotel in the heart of KL’s vibrant Chinatown district where the streets were lined with hawker stalls selling fake watches sunglasses, bags, t-shirts, etc; all of which seemed to attract every Aussie tourist in town. KL is a very modern Asian city with clean streets, skyscraper shopping malls and an efficient monorail transport system. Within this small city, the Muslim influence still prevails; mosques are found between tall concrete buildings and the Islamic star and crescent adorn many building facades. The crown jewels of the city’s skyline are the famous Petronas Towers – the world’s highest twin towers. We climbed (took the elevator) to the sky bridge, which links the two towers via the 41st floor, to admire the great views it provides out across the city.


The view from the bottom of the towers.

The view from the skybridge.

We spent the next couple of days strolling through the city streets and also paid a visit to South East Asia’s biggest shopping mall. Our visit to KL was brief as we planned to travel back to the east coast of Malaysia to Tioman Island where more diving was on the cards.

Tioman Island
Southeast Malaysia

An overnight bus and a short ferry ride brought us to the shores of Tioman. The island gained its fame in the 1950’s when it was the setting of the mythical Bali Hai in the film ‘South Pacific’. Since then it has been proclaimed as one of the world’s most beautiful islands…and also a duty free zone….both of which have helped keep the tourists flocking in.


Despite the size of the jetty, the beach wasn't overrun with tourists, making it a great island escape.

We rented an ‘A frame’ bungalow on Salang beach. Our accommodation came with a few dozen mosquitoes, an ant’s nest, 5 or 6 jumping spiders, and a sprinkling of mice droppings; but after 10 months of travelling none of this bothered us and we had soon rearranged the beds, put up the mosquito net and made it livable.


Our 'A' frame was set in a picturesque garden..... even the monkeys liked to visit to search the nearby bushes for grubs.

The setting on the island was similar to the Perhentians, a carpet of thick rainforest fringed by thin strips of white sandy beach. Tioman (in our humble opinion) lacked the more isolated charm of the Perhentians, but more than made up for this with its excellent snorkeling. Along with the abundance of underwater life the island could also rival the jungles of Taman Negara, with its population of monitor lizards, squirrels, monkeys and the usual contingent of alarmingly large insects.


Large monitor lizards feast on left-over scraps of fish from the local kitchens.

Whilst in Tioman we did two more dives. Our first dive took us down to a deep 28 meters where the visibility was excellent. We did some narrow swim-throughs coming across large batfish and giant star puffer fish. On our second dive we brought along a small disposable underwater camera; unfortunately our underwater photography skills leave much to be desired but luckily we did manage to get a few good shots. On the dive we encountered some large cuttlefish flapping their ‘skirts’ and dancing around, rapidly changing color in a courtship ritual; we watched, fascinated, for a few minutes then quietly left them to it. We also saw some blue spotted rays and menacing moray eels.

Eric floats over a field of 'potato' coral.

Nikki swims through a school of fish (the vague yellow stripes behind her).

Nikki takes a closer look at a moray eel hidden in the coral.

Eric exits a very narrow swim-through.

One of our few successful photos of life on the reef.

Colourful fish seek protection under overhanging red coral.

Little 'Nemo's' hide amongst the stinging tentacles of sea anemones.

In Tioman, we rediscovered the much-undervalued board game ‘Ludo’, to which we have now become addicted. In the evenings we could be found in the local restaurants frantically rolling the die and accusing each other of cheating, much to the amusement of the waiters (and wonderment of the 6 year olds sitting at the next table). Lightening storms continued to be a nightly event. We were often woken up by loud crashing noises and the shaking of our hut as rain dislodged coconuts from the surrounding trees and they fell heavily onto (but not through) our roof.

Time flies when you spend your days snorkeling and diving, so five days and a few dozen mosquito bites later we left the island and headed south by bus to Singapore.

Laos: Baguettes, Boats and Beer

flipflop — Wed, 05 Apr 2006 11:40:07 +0100

Flying out of Myanmar (since it's virtually impossible to cross into Thailand overland due to ongoing civil war in the Burmese border regions), we landed in Chiang Mai where we intended on spending a week relaxing and visiting Eric's aunt and uncle - who moved to the city 5 years ago. However, our plans changed once we checked our emails for the first time in several weeks. Upon hearing of a family bereavement, Nikki arranged to return to England for a short trip, leaving Eric to fend for himself in Thailand. Eric seized the opportunity to visit one of Thailand's infamous islands, Phuket, where he spent his days desperately trying to avoid the busloads of package tourists by escaping to nearby secluded islands to do some snorkeling.

Nikki returned to Thailand 10 days later and was happy at having had the chance to be with her family at that time, but was completely exhausted from her 30-hour travel day and was suffering from a severe cold most likely brought on by the contrasting climates of the 'hot and muggy' Thailand and the 'cold and frosty' England. On the plus side, she returned with a bag full of 'super' clean clothes....which she insisted on Eric smelling (as often as possible), making him extremely jealous.

After recuperating in Chiang Mai at Eric's aunt and uncle's house (thanks again Bill, Millicent, Danny and JT for your hospitality), we traveled north towards the Laos border. We took the local bus from Chiang Mai to Chiang Rai for a short 3-hour journey. Chiang Rai is considered an alternative to Chiang Mai as a trekking departure point in Northern Thailand; however, due to lost time, we could only pause in town for one night before heading to the Laos border the following day.

The surprisingly comfortable local bus that took us from Chiang Rai to the border.

The Mekong River forms a natural border between Laos and Thailand. On the Thai side, the tiny sleepy border town of Chiang Khong sits along the river bank, where very lax immigration officials (who are known to charge overtime fees if you happen to cross the border during their lunch hour) issue outgoing stamps. To cross the Mekong into Laos, we piled into a small motorized long boat for the short hop across the river to the Laos town of Huay Xai. This small border town consisted of one main dirt road lined with guesthouses and restaurants and was swarming with backpackers both on their way into and out of Laos. We settled into a very clean family-run guesthouse and began planning our route across the country.


Crossing the Mekong river, our bags sharing space in front with local goods.

From Huay Xai we decided to head down to the town of Luang Prabang, renowned for its relaxed colonial feel and for being a hub for day trips and activities in the surrounding area. We were faced with the choice of taking an (often) crowded 'slow boat' which would take 2 days, 8 hours per day, to sail down the Mekong to Luang Prabang; or to take a speedboat which would take only one day - 6 hours. Having heard from other travelers of the bum-numbing abilities of the slow boat, we opted for speed.
It was only after we had booked our tickets that we happened to read the following description in our guidebook:

"Serious accidents, sometimes including fatalities, involving these speedboats seem to occur on an almost weekly basis. Usually they involve a boat striking a hidden rock or tree limb, although occasionally contact with a standing wave is sufficient for one of the light crafts.... the accident risk for this type of boat outweighs the potential savings in time they may represent over slower boat alternatives."

Oh well, nothing ventured, nothing gained....

We took a jumbo (truck-like tuk-tuk) to the speedboat dock the following morning. The dock turned out to be a sandy river bank with a floating deck area on which to board the tiny speedboats. The speedboats were actually longboats with big loud exposed car engines fixed to the rear. The boat was divided up horizontally with 5 planks of wood creating makeshift seating areas. Sitting in the raft involved perching on a long flat cushion with your back pushed hard against a dividing plank, your knees crunched up in front of you, backpack between your legs and your arms flattened and immobilized by your side.... at least the journey was only supposed to last 6 hours!!!

We were all issued life jackets and crash helmets which we immediately and nervously put on (this was easier said than done since we were already squished into the boat). In the event of an accident it is highly unlikely the life jackets would have provided much aid; blocks of polystyrene were protruding out of some whilst others lacked any straps with which to fasten them up. As it turned out the jackets were of some use, they provided vital padding between the hard planks and the small of our backs. Likewise the helmets, with their cracked visors, lack of straps and being grossly oversized, did little to improve safety; however, they did help muffle the sound of the noisy engine.


Huddled in our speedboat we nervously began our trip down the Mekong.

The speedboat ride was exciting and complete agony at the same time. It was a great experience speeding down the Mekong River at break-neck speeds (literally), but we were terribly cramped in the tiny wooden boat. Unable to move our legs, shift our weight, or stretch our backs... pain relief came only when our brains chose to switch their focus from the stabbing back pains to the fact our knees seemed to be on fire. Despite the lack of comfort and the instances where the driver seemed to miss protruding rocks by mere inches, it was an amazing ride. Most of the scenery was a blur, tree-lined hilly banks became sandy and rocky as they met the river, the occasional huge exposed crag and even more rarely a glimpse of a settlement or village. Most of the people we saw were fishing, washing or panning for gold in murky waters. Indeed when we stopped briefly at one sand bank you could see golden grains glistening amongst the sand.

We finally arrived in Luang Prabang in the late afternoon and soon found a great guesthouse where we crashed and relaxed for a few hours. Later that evening we met our fellow 'speedboat survivors' for dinner where we re-lived our collective terror at the day’s events over some Beer Lao - the very drinkable local brew.

The atmospheric town of Luang Probang is nestled between the Mekong and the Nam Khan rivers on a narrow peninsula surrounded by mountains. The town exudes a lazy and relaxed way of life in which it is very easy to get caught up as you stroll down the wide, tree-lined streets and sample the cakes and croissants of the French-influenced bakeries housed in old colonial buildings. Which is exactly what we did!!!


Monks, shading themselves under umbrellas, pass the bakeries of Luang Prabang.

Freshly made rice cakes bake in the hot sun in the quiet residential streets.

Wandering along the main street, we also visited the former Royal Palace. Built at the turn of the 20th century, it was a mix of Lao and French colonial style with lots of white-washed walls, dark wood furniture and large airy rooms. The main reception room was decorated with intricate and colorful glass mosaic scenes, a theme reflected in the decoration of the temple in the palace grounds.


A colorful mosaic five-headed snake protects the royal temple.

Each evening at dusk, dozens of local vendors flock to the sidewalks of the main street and set up displays of their wares - bedspreads, scarves, clothes, jewelry, lampshades, etc... - creating a colorful tourist night market. This night market is truly unique in Asia as none of the vendors shout to attract attention or badger tourists to buy things, in fact it is so quiet you can still hear the crickets. The market was full of very 'buyable' things, all at extremely cheap prices; unfortunately, limited space in our bags and a tight budget prevented us (Nikki) from buying much... Nikki has vowed to return on another trip along with an empty suitcase!

From Luang Probang, we took a day trip to the nearby waterfall of Kuang Si. We traveled there by jumbo taxi along extremely hot and dusty roads through the villages surrounding Luang Probang.

The waterfall was a majestic, multi-tiered cascade of fresh clear water tumbling over limestone rocks into a series of turquoise-colored pools.


We took the opportunity to cool off from the overbearing heat of the midday sun by taking a long refreshing swim in one of the lower pools.

From Luang Prabang we also took an overnight trip to the fishing village of Nong Khiaw, traveling up the Nam Ou river by slow boat. What was advertised as a five hour cruise soon became a 9 hour odyssey. Our wooden boat seated 10 tourists on small child-size wooden chairs under a rickety wooden hood. The boat ride went fairly smoothly for the first few hours which we spent admiring the views, reading, and chatting amongst ourselves. Then the mishaps began.

At this time of year, as the peak of the dry season is fast approaching, the river becomes very shallow which soon caused problems for our vessel. After a couple of near misses, the driver succeeded in grounding the boat and enthusiastically made all of us passengers get out to push the boat along the rocky riverbed. It took about 10 minutes until we were suitably afloat again to continue on our way. This mishap was hardly an ordeal as it was nice to get out and stretch our legs and even to wade in the cool river water.


Our small boat scraped its way over the rocky riverbed before finally grounding itself, forcing its passengers to bail out and help with the pushing.

After about an hour we ran aground again, this time breaking the boats' propeller forcing us to stop at a nearby sandbank for urgent repairs. Propeller fixed we were back on our way and making good time cruising alongside another tourist boat headed for the same village. The acrid smell of burning plastic was the first sign of the next mishap, followed by black smoke billowing out of the bow of the other boat. Its' engine had caught fire and the passengers and driver were completely oblivious. We hailed them and got them to stop, then, with the fire under control, towed them to a sandbank. Whilst the two drivers and crew spent the next half an hour patching up the engine we were left to paddle in the river and swap travel 'war' stories with fellow travelers, this boat trip being swiftly added to everyone's list.


Waiting for the propeller to be fixed....and then, a few hours later, the engine.


The Nam Ou river varied slightly from the Mekong, its' banks were greener and sloped up at a greater angle into the surrounding mountains. As we made our way up the river we saw more and more limestone cliffs jutting out over the water, many with alluring caves on their faces.


We passed quite a few fishermen and children swimming and wading in the river. Many seemed to be hunting for fish and crabs using home made spears and old fashioned diving masks.

On arriving in Nong Khiaw we marched up a steep sandy bank to the village which consisted of about 3 dirt streets and spread across the river via a large bridge. For a little while we became the enemies of our fellow boat passengers as we all competed and scrambled to secure the best accommodation in the fading light. We ended up at a guesthouse on the banks of the river, staying in a small bamboo hut. That evening we brushed our teeth by torchlight under the stars and the leaves of banana trees, then fell asleep under a glow-in-the-dark mosquito net listening to the noise of various animals and insects scratching around and calling out to one another in the bushes.


Our small bamboo hut nestled amongst the trees, looking out over the river.

After returning to Luang Prabang for a couple of days we ventured on to Vang Vieng. The 6 hour bus journey was a nauseating route up, down, and around mountains. There was little to see along the way as the yearly practice of 'slash and burn' by the farmers was in full swing making everything grey and hazy. In Vang Vieng we checked into a very relaxing bamboo bungalow set amongst lush green gardens alongside the river....a great spot for g&t's and sunsets.

The view from the front porch of our bungalow.

Vang Vieng is a town circled by mountains and limestone cliffs famed for harboring numerous caves and natural springs. The town itself does little to reflect the surrounding natural beauty, and is instead scarred by dirt roads in a constant state of being dug up and rows of hastily constructed bars and restaurants. The town is renowned amongst backpackers for its 'TV street', a road lined with restaurants which screen TV shows such as 'Friends' and 'The Simpsons' all day long.


The cushioned seats and TV's of the local restaurants entice in travel-weary backpackers on the town's main road.

Refusing to be tempted (for now) by the very welcoming TV bars, we rented some bicycles from our guesthouse and rode a kilometer outside of town to the famous Tham Chang cave. The cave was formed by a natural spring running down inside a mountain and opening up to form a deliciously cool, clear pool at its base.


We splashed around in the pool for about an hour, swimming up inside the cave some 20 meters before it became too dark and spooky to explore further.

The following day we took part in what is quickly becoming a rite of passage for any backpacker traveling through Laos: tubing. Tubing involves floating down the river whilst sitting in the inflated inner tube of a truck tyre. An essential part of the Laos tubing experience is to stop at one of the many riverside bars to sip on a nice cool Beer Lao and watch fellow tubers float by or jump off/swing from high makeshift wooden platforms falling with a huge splash into the river.


Tubing down the river looking for the next Beer Lao stop.

On the river, a gentle current pushed us along, in fact, at times it was so gentle we had to paddle with our arms in order to get any sort of momentum. It was very pleasant floating down amongst the jungle and surrounding mountains chatting away with other tubers. After the first hour we decided to stop for the 'mandatory' Beer Lao and allowed ourselves to get pulled into the riverbank via a long bamboo pole by a waiting barman touting for business. Eric took part in one of the riverside kamikaze swing jumps, which he successfully splashed down in one of the deepest parts of the river, much to Nikki's relief. It took us 4 hours to cover the 4 km route back down to our guesthouse bungalow.

Another cave on our agenda was the Tham Nam Water cave 15 kilometers outside of Vang Vieng. We hired 2 mountain bikes (in fairly good condition if you don't count the inability to change gear 50% of the time as a flaw) for the day and rode the hilly route out to the cave, avoiding the cows, chickens, turkeys, and dogs, which had wandered out from nearby villages, along the way. Parking our bikes by the river, we made our way through dried up paddy fields to the cave entrance. The cave has been formed by a tributary of the Nam Song river which flows down inside a mountain before breaking out under a foot high overhanging rock to flow the rest of the way through open fields to the river. Outside the cave entrance we hired 2 tubes and headlights and dragged ourselves into the dark cave using a guide rope.


Eric leads the way to the cave which was visible only by it's narrow opening above the river.

Inside the cave it was pitch black...particularly for Nikki as her torch flickered and died within a minute of entering the cave. We followed a guide rope deeper into to the cave admiring the overhead stalactites and trying not to think about bats, spiders and other nasty creatures. The guide rope we were following stopped about 100 meters into the cave, it was possible to abandon the tubes and continue on foot at this point; but with only one (flickering) torch between us we decided not to venture any further.


We dragged ourselves into the dark depths of the cave.

Growing tired of always having dinner with 'Friends' we decide it was time to leave Vang Vieng and took the bus to Vientiane - the capital of Laos. Vientiane, it seems, has little to boast about when it comes to budget accommodation (not too bad, but the worst we've had in Laos) but more than makes up for this with its food. Vientiane probably boasts the most French restaurants in the whole of Asia...and of a very good standard too.

A Lao street vendor selling local delicacies competes with one of the capital's french wine cellars.

Indeed the French colonial influence remains in the city not only through cuisine; the royal palace has a decidedly French country-mansion feel to it, as does the Patuxai which bears more than a passing resemblance to the Arc de Triomphe in Paris. The city streets and wide, fairly clean, and often tree lined, making it possibly one of the nicest, and certainly most relaxed, capitals in Asia. We spent a couple of days wandering the streets and taking in the city, visiting the occasional temple, stupa, and Parisian bakery along the way.

The main boulevard in Vientiane leads to the Patuxai.

The city's oldest stupa is surrounded by colonial houses.

One of our main ports of call was the Beer Lao factory. We visited the factory with a couple of Canadian friends (whom we first met in Myanmar) Mark and Katie, and were treated to a quick tour of the factory followed by a nice cold free beer (always the best part!!). Beer Lao follows tourists everywhere in Laos, though this doesn't prove to be a problem as it actually a great beer and one of the few 'local brews' of our trip that we are happy not to have to turn down.


The factory produces 54,000 bottles of beer an hour.

Eric proudly endorses one of Laos most popular products.

Although we could easily spend a few more weeks exploring the rest of this beautiful country, the heat of the dry season is becoming oppressive so it's time for us to head south to Malaysia and it's beaches.

Myanmar: The Golden Land

flipflop — Sat, 04 Mar 2006 05:38:41 +0000

A one hour flight took us from Bangkok to Yangon, the capital of Myanmar. We arrived at the small international airport and entered into a terminal building still being built - literally a four storey grey concrete shell. We then took a taxi to downtown Yangon and checked into a comfortable guesthouse. With no ATM's being available in Myanmar, the first order of business was to convert our dollars into local currency. The exchange rate was roughly 1,100 Kyat per dollar and with the 1000 kyat note being the largest denomination, our 100 dollar bills quickly transformed into large wads of local cash. Thankfully hotel bills are paid in US dollars, saving us from needing an extra suitcase to carry all that cash!

There is a noticable lack of tourists in Yangon and therefore of tourists traps such as souvenir shops and western style restaurants. We spent our first day in Yangon wandering the city, exploring streets and side roads lined with old colonial-style buildings and unimaginative square apartment blocks. The roads are busy with traffic, but are unnervingly quiet due to a city-wide ban on horns - an amazing feat in an Asian country!! Streets are crammed with pavement food and merchandise stalls as well as teahouses which spread their low tables and plastic stools the full width of the sidewalk. The streets aren't clean and are littered with hazards, such as open drains and uneven paving stones, but they are not unpleasant to explore. Some of the buildings are painted vivid colours - blues, greens and oranges - but are still in need of repair. Local transport seemed to consist of rusty, windowless busses, and open pick-up trucks, both are which are crammed to capacity.


People spill out of the packed buses as they pass the colourful buildings of the capital.

Pavement teahouses prove a popular and cheap option for the citizens of Yangon.

Most of the men and women wear 'longyi' skirts of various colours and some smear powdered bark on their cheeks called 'thanakha' - a sort of cosmetic to beautify the skin and protect against the sun. We came across very few beggars, indeed the only people to approach us were young novice monks holding out their alms bowls and asking for money or shampoo....exactly what does a bald-shaven monk need shampoo for..? It wasn't clear whether the lack of beggars was due to a strong police state, an anti-begging culture, or simply that tourism in Yangon has not developed to the point where locals realise western tourists are a soft touch. Our roaming around Yangon took us to a huge semi-outdoor market filled mostly with merchandise for locals - clothes, shoes, hair products, toiletries, etc.


Walking the streets of Yangon means constantly navigating the hundreds of food stalls which fight for space on the pavements and roads.

Anything and everything seems to be available... from fruit to dried pigeon.

We ended the day at the Botataung Pagoda situated along the banks of the Yangon river. The pagoda was rebuilt after being bombed in WW2 and is one of the few 'hollow' pagodas in existance. Once inside the pagodas' hollow stupa dome you walk through a series of triangular rooms covered from floor to ceiling in glass and mirror mosaic. The central circular room of the structure is a shrine dedicated to some holy buddhist relics - namely three hair strands and 2 'body parts' ('the size of mustard seeds') which once belonged to buddha himself. We didn't actually see the hairs or body parts as they were encased in tiny gold caskets placed inside bigger golden cases, but we were assured they were there, and more importantly, that they were the real deal! The Pagoda was surrounded by 10 small temples, each housing a different kind of depiction of buddha - sitting, standing, lying, big, small, gold, bronze etc.. These temples had an almost carnival feel; all the buddhas were decorated with halos of flashing colourful lights which wouldn't have looked out of place in Las Vegas. Some buddhas were set inside glass cases, reminicent of mechanical fortune-telling manequins often seen at fun fairs which spit out a card with your fortune printed on it in return for a few coins. Donations were made not by posting money into collection boxes but by 'playing' carnival-style games. For example: throwing folded notes onto a revolving table; successfully throwing your note into one of the various sized pots ensured buddha listened to your prayers.....managing to get your note through the tiny doorway of the miniture replica pagoda at the centre of the display presumably ensured you would not be reincarnated as a dung beetle.
That night we had dinner in a near-deserted rooftop restaurant overlooking downtown Yangon. We had the strange sensation of feeling like we were in pre-war Vietnam...there were traces of the deveolped world - old colonial buildings, bland apartment blocks etc but there were few western trappings.

The Botataung Pagoda lights up the city.

The following day we visited the Taj Mahal of Yangon - the Shwedagon Paya - via the Yangon zoo (the visit to the latter was unintended...we got slightly lost along the way). The paya was definitely worthy of a visit and consisted of a large complex of individual temples centred around the main pagoda, a huge gold dome glimmering in the midday sun. Each of the temples were unique in design, shape and size and contained an even greater variety of buddhas. We befriended a local man who was happy to practice his english and share some of his knowledge of the Paya with us. In the Buddhist religion, the day you are born on signifies your ruling animal and planet and by praying to statues of these you can ensure good health and protection. Eric, born on Sunday, was the garuda and the sun. Nikki, born on Monday, was the tiger and the moon. Sunday is the most powerful day to be born on, with Monday following a close second; predictably, Eric was quick to rib Nikki about his 'natural' superiority. (Nikki: yeah but at the end of the day the garuda is an ugly mythical bird and I am a sleek tiger). The golden pagoda was surrounded with small statues of these birth animals and planets and we were shown how to pray to them by pouring cups of water over the figures. We were also shown a giant gold buddha footprint filled with holy water, and a gold buddha sent back to Mayanmar after it was illegally 'liberated' by the British. Legend says that Queen Victoria herself ordered it's return as the Buddha cursed her with headaches.

The Shwedagon Paya helps give Myanmar its reputation as 'The Golden Land'.

A few of the many temples that surround the pagoda.

Whilst in Yangon we met an Australian charity volunteer who was in Myanmar for 2 weeks visiting orphanages and handing over donations. Tourists (who are able to bring in significant amounts of US dollars undeclared) are often used to transfer funds to charities as this is the only way of ensuring donations are recieved - especially, in this case, since the government denies the existance of any orphans in Myanmar. He explained to us why the government likes to keep the official exchange rate so low, essentially so it can claim to generously match any donations or investment made by foreign organisations. The official government exchange rate is set at about 6 Kyat to 1 US Dollar, the black market (a more realistic calculation) is set at about 1,100 Kyat to 1 US Dollar. He also warned us against being drawn into conversations about the government with local people. Not only can these conversations be harmful to locals, some foreigners have been tricked into discussing politics and then informed on and placed under house arrest before being escorted out of the country.

Bago

An early morning bus took us from Yangon to Bago, a 1 and a half hour drive from the capital. In Bago we hired two trishaw drivers to take us around its famous temples for a day. A trishaw is essentially a bicycle with a sidecar and turned out to be a fairly smooth way (roads permitting) for traversing the town.


Riding off in our trishaws!!

Our first stop was Kha Khat Wain Kyaung, the second largest monastery in Myanmar. The Monastery turned out to be a high school level boarding school for novice monks who attend for 8 months of the year. They study mostly buddhist texts and translation which culminates in a big exam at the end of the year. If they do well they may be offered a place at another monastery, even one abroad, so for many it is a way to break out of the poverty of life in the villages and a way to obtain some form of education. We arrived just before lunchtime and watched meals being prepared and tables being set. We also visited a dormitory and sat talking for 20 minutes with 2 novices (aged 17 and 22) via our trishaw driver/guide/translator. What, you may ask yourself, is foremost on the mind of a monk? Spiritual enlightenment? Universal truth? .....no, football. Namely, Manchester United and the English Premiership. Strictly speaking these young monks are not allowed to watch tv, nor maintain hobbies that distract them from Buddhist enlightenment; however, it seems boys and sport can never truly be parted. At the sound of the lunch gong it was time to eat and we watched at least 3 or 4 hundred monks line up for their dinner. Monks only eat twice a day, so ensuring a good place in the queue was vitally important. Each monk brings with him his alms bowl into which a large serving of rice is scooped from one of 4 huge tin vats. The monks sit 4 or 5 around low circular tables sharing vegetable and pork curry and green tea. We watched for a short while but felt a bit uncomfortable observing a room full of monks eating lunch so we left them to it.


The monks line up for lunch as curry is divided up into bowls in the kitchen.

Each monk recieves a generous helping of rice before heading into the dining area.

Throughout the day we ended up visiting 7 or 8 different temples or payas, including 2 huge reclining buddhas, tall glittering gold stupas, and towering seated Buddhas. We also stopped by a Snake Monastery, home to a six foot boa constrictor said to be the reincarnation of the monasteries former head monk. Reincarnation or not, it was an extremely large snake and it definitely got our respect.


Bago's centrepiece glimmers above the town streets.

Local artists add the finishing touches to a new giant size reclining buddha.

Sitting buddhas tower over the faithful coming to say their prayers.

The following morning we had a much needed lie-in; much needed, because of a poor night's sleep the night before due to a very hot and muggy night (no fan or ac because of no electricity) and the constant sound of car horns and trucks thundering down the road. Just after lunchtime we went to the bus stop to catch our bus to Kalaw. The bus stop wasn't really a bus stop but a kerbside teashop which looked out onto the main road; to catch a bus you simply stared up the road trying to decipher the writing on the front of each passing bus amidst the clouds of dust, getting the bus to stop involved wandering out into the oncoming traffic to flag down the vehicle as trucks, motorcycles and tractors rumbled past. Luckily for us, one of our trishaw drivers from the day before was keeping us company and was able to identify and stop the right bus for us.

Kalaw

The bus was packed but in pretty good condition, we were ushered into our seats, and our backpacks were bundled into the back on top of sacks and boxes which were spilling into the aisle - a health and safety hazard in any western country, the norm in Myanmar. The seats were actually fairly comfortable with adequate leg room, a good sign given that this would be our home for the next 15 hours. A small tv at the front of the bus showed the latest in Myanmar entertainment which seemed to be a mixture of a (very) low budget film and a comedy variety show wich included Burmese rap (never fear Snoop Dogg, your career is safe). After 3 or 4 journey breaks and many torturous hours of attempted dozing we finally arrived in Kalaw, just before 6am on a chilly morning. Kalaw was a very nice little town and a cross between those we had visited in Mongolia and Tibet. Tourists travel through but it remains largely untouched by the industry and locals continue going about their daily lives. We stopped in Kalaw to organise a 3 day trek through the mountains to Inle Lake and soon obtained a guide through Sam's Trekking (we don't normally mention any names in our blog, but Sam deserves a huge plug for the excellent, honest and unobtrusive trekking service he runs).

Kalaw to Inle Lake Trek

The following day we began our trek; we were accompanied by Tunti, our guide, and, Tin, our very own chef! Having a chef initially sounded like an unnecessary luxury but he actually performed a very vital role: he carried all our food provisions and walked ahead to prepare meals and drinks for our arrival. In this way our visits were not too intrusive on the local villagers we would be staying with, nor a drain on their food resources - as hosts they would have felt obliged to prepare and offer us their best food irrespective of stores or good/bad harvests.

Group photo! Eric, Nikki, Tin (chef) and Tunti (guide).

We meandered through the Myanmar countryside, mostly following yellowish-red dusty trails. The pace was fairly easy going with a gradual uphill climb. The scenery varied from patchworks of farmland with crops including wheat, rice, potatoes, carrots, cauliflower, garlic, and flowers, to small areas of forests, or clumps of cultivated papaya, banana, crad apple and avacado trees. We also passed hedgerows, bamboo, dusty grasslands and small pine forests. It was sunny all day but thankfully we were treated to a refreshing breeze that helped keep us cool. The area between Kalaw and Inle Lake is home to a multitude of different tribes, all of which retain their own distinct language and traditions; our trek was to take us through a small number of villages giving us a cross section of the wonderful different ways of life that exist in the area.

Tunti leads the way.


Pastel patchwork fields and pine forests provided fantastic scenery.

Our first stop was a tea break in a small village 2 hours outside Kalaw, which consisted of about 40 houses, mostly made from bamboo and other wood, though some had brick foundations. The houses are split level with the lower level being used as a storage area and stable for cows, water buffalo and chickens. The upper level houses the kitchen, living area, and bedroom(s), though often these are combined into one room for all three functions. We had our tea at the home of an elderly lady, her daughter and 2 grandchilden. The one-room house was quite dark with a wispy fire in the centre providing a steady supply of green tea. We sat on woven mats sipping tea, smiling a lot, and conversing with our host via our guide. The house was amazingly basic with no running water or electricity, the few shelves and storage areas seemed half empty. Supplies we take for granted, such as sugar were set aside for special occassions - which was the case for our visit so we were offered small fudge-like lumps to chew on.


The humble abode where we stopped for our first tea break.

Village children play in the family ox cart.

After about half an hour we left to continue our walk over mountain ridges to the next village. It is hard to say what the villages think of our fleeting visits. Tunti (our guide) told us that it had taken a long time for his trekking company boss and him to explain to the villagers who the tourists were and why we wished to visit without trying to sell anything. The villages we would be passing through were fairly remote and only saw 1 or 2 foreigners every 3 months or so. Apart from tourists the only other people to visit were neighbouring villagers, travelling merchants, and a local government representative every other year.

The next village we stopped in was our lunch break. The household we ate in seemed wealthier than the first, the house itself was sturdier, bigger, and had a clear division of rooms. Our chef had already laid out a small squat table for us and soon appeared with bowls of steaming noodle soup and fresh vegetables. The lady of the household was appalled at the lack of rice on our dishes and so insisted on contributing to our meal from her own stock. After lunch and a brief rest we headed off again, following winding dusty paths up and along the hillside through fields of wheat being harvested by villagers. We were now in the area of the Pa-o tribes who can trace their ancestory back to chinese roots. Their dress is very unique and a representation of the sacred dragon, part of their chinese heritage. They wear layers of black to to symbolise the scales of the dragon, and bright orange (or pink) headresses to symbolize the dragon's firey breath.

Along the way we passed a sizeable monastery home to 26 novice monks all aged between 7 and 13. Here we stopped under a shady tree and were given some sweet sticky rice to try (a delicacy served only once a year following the first full moon - which happened to be the day before). Whilst we were enjoying our break the nearby village school finished for the day and we watched streams of children flow out the the gates, shouting, screaming and running down the path. We were soon surrounded by novice monks (who attended the school). We decided this would be a good opportunity to get rid of a dominoes set we had with us but rarely used. After a brief explanation of how to play our guide coerced a few 'volunteers' into a demonstration game. The novices were very shy and cautious at first but after 3 or 4 games they soon had the hang of it, their confidence and competitiveness growing massively with each game. After about 20 minutes of supervising we left them to it. We had succeeded in donating the game and converting innocent monks, previously on the path to enlightenment, into sly, competitive, gambling addicts (oops).


Eric teaches the novices the basic rules of dominoes.

Continuing on we made it to 'the Chief's house', our dinner and accommodation stop for the night. The Chief (of the third village we visited) was sitting, tending to his small village shop when we arrived. The shop was more of a tiny shed lined with minimally stocked shelves of washing powder, sugar, salt and cigarettes. We mumbled our 'hello's' - completely messing up the pronounciation much to the Chief's amusement - and smiled a lot, which seemed to work as he accepted us into his house for the night. We were left to rest and relax in the shade and admire a large spread of chilli's that had been laid out to dry in the sun. We took the opportunity to go for a wander through the village before dinner. As we set off our guide anxiously shouted after us "Don't touch the buffaloes!!!" ...hmm..ok..??,,,Obviously he had sensed our secret intention to go buffalo tipping...?? Presumably some poor, unsuspecting, tourist had met with an untimely accident whilst greeting buffalos during an evening stroll. Assuring him we would steer clear of the animals we wandered down the road. We recieved lots of stares but many more smiles and a few greetings. Most of the children were happy to wave and say hello, though strangely they all shouted "bye bye!", this was not a hint to leave the village but simply the only english term they knew. We soon gave up shouting "hello" and ended up replying with an equally friendly "bye bye"...thus completely failing to further the local populations' grasp of english.


Our first nights' village and accommodation.

That evening we were guests of honour at dinner. We ate at a small circular table laid out with an assortment of delicious dishes: rice, pumpkin and ginger soup, runner-bean salad, fried mustard leaves, potato and aubergine curry, and home-made sesame snaps for dessert. We ate with the Chief and Tunti; the Chief's wife, son and other family members had to wait until we had finished before tucking into their share. After dinner it is customary for people to sit around the kitchen fire, chatting and drinking tea; any house with an open door is understood to be an invite to come inside for a drink and gossip by the fire. The younger generation venture out to help 'weave bamboo roof sections' which seems to be code for 'meet boys'; traditionally young men would woo their future wife by serenading her with a musical instrument or song, this practice still exists today, but instruments have been replaced by cassette players blasting the latest Myanmar pop songs - much to the disapproval of the older generation. Most of the people in the village wore traditional orange headresses, but many had forgone the traditional cloth in favour of towels (literally bath or hand towels). If you are ever approached by a man with a towel wrapped around his head claiming to be a chief, be sure to ask if he comes from a small Myanmar tribe before you write him off as a complete looney.


Dinner with the chief was followed by late night chats around the fire.

That night we were buried under several layers of heavy blankets that kept us warm whilst we slept; only occasionally being woken up by the shaking of the house caused by the cows below - who would take turns scratching themselves agains the support beams. The following morning after a hearty breakfast of sticky rice, fried potatoes and fried onions, we bid our 'Chief' goodbye and headed out of the village to begin the day's trek. We passed fields being plowed and huge green expanses of garlic as we climbed up, around, and over the hills and mountains. It soon became very hot and the land remained very dusty and sandy - it's amazing to think that the dry season hadn't started yet.


Farmers plough the dry dusty fields.

We stopped at a monastary for lunch. The monastary was quite sizable and home to one monk and 67 novices - all under his command. Myanmar boys all become novices at some point in their childhood (usually attending from age 10), but the ones at this monastary had forgone school in favour of buddhist teachings. Most will return home to their families and farm life after 2 or 3 years. We had lunch inside the main school/prayer hall - a huge wooden room which also acts as the boys dormitory. Our lunch coincided with the study hour after the boy's lunch. The hall was full of chanting (shouting) as the boys tried to memorize passages and chants. The afternoon hike was fairly hot and dusty as we traversed rocky mountainsides. We were forced to frequently stopped for water breaks under big leafy trees. We arrived in our village for the night just before sunset and, after a brief stop at a monastary, we visisted the local shop . This shop was far better stocked than the last one we had seen, largely due to the villages proximity to Inle Lake and other markets. We unashamedly indulged in a cool coca-cola - a sweet relief from green tea! In conversing with our guide, we tried to ascertain how much money the average villager makes but this is very hard to do as so much of their livelihood is dependant on a barter system rather than selling goods for cash. We did managed to work out the a water buffalo is worth about $300 and a cow about $200, these must certainly be the villagers most prized possessions. After our break, we headed to the village Chief's house where we would stay the night. The Chief was roughly of the same demenor as the last one and similarly proudly wore a towel on his head - a yellow one this time. We sat and had some tea with him before going for a wander around the vilage, saying the customary 'bye-bye' rather than 'hello' to all the children we passed along the way.


A local child was unimpressed with Nikki's attempt to help out, whilst Eric faired better with the girls.

We stopped by the Chief's sister-in-law's house where we were treated to some tea and biscuits, along with a very interesting converation. When we arrived, she was busy boiling potatoes for dinner to be made into mash (mash because she didn't have any teeth left). She makes her mash with lots of chilli; Nikki explained to her that we eat lots of mash potatoes in England, though definitely not with chilli. She laughed at us, thinking us foreigners were crazy and then replied that the chilli is the best part of the mash!!!! The old lady also lived with her son-in-law and his three daughters - the wife having died a year ago. We asked our guide if the son-in-law would remarry. Tunti said it was possible and allowed but highly unlikely as the man already had 3 daughters. Basically meaning that there were already women around to look after the house, and , since the oldest daughter had already dropped out of school to help out, there was no need to get a new wife/woman to look after the children and household.


Village homes.

After making our way back the the Chief's house, we had another delicious meal and then sat chatting by the fire with the Chief. We had a fitfull nights sleep that night, mostly due to the mice who were squeeking and scurrying around the room and along the beams over our heads. We woke up in morning to find mice dropping surrounding our pillows!! After breakfast we packed up our stuff and posed for a goodbye photo with the Chief before heading back out on the trail.

Posing for a photo with 'yellow towel' chief.


We followed the ox cart trails as villagers looked on from tilling the fields.

It was another very hot day for the final 15 kilometers to Inle Lake. The walk took us just under 5 hours, pausing only briefly under large trees for water breaks and some shade. We reached the lake at about noon; walking along narrow canals and waterways, watching farmers tend to water-logged fields of aubergines and rice. Our final stop was a village on the south-west edge of Inle lake, it was here where we rendezvous-ed with our boat (and boatman). Our boat was a long canoe complete with motor and comfortable wooden chairs lined one behind the other. We were soon zooming down the canals, admiring the waterside houses and fields. The trip across the lake took us about 1.5 hours; halfway across we began to see other 'white people' (or 'white Indians' as we are called by the Burmese). We soon pulled up to the docks of the main town on the lake; after a final, very hot, 15 minute walk down the road, we finally arrived at our guesthouse. The rest of the afternoon comprised of long refreshing showers and a trip down to the local pizzeria (there was going to be no rice for dinner tonight!!!!).

Inle Lake

We spend the following day exploring Myanmar's largest lake. Just after sunrise, we set off to meet our boatman from yesterday for a day's excurions around the lake. Although the lake has become increasingly touristy over the past few years, you can still experience and wtiness the everyday life and traditions of the locals and villages surrounding the lake.


The infamous Inle Lake fishermen who 'row' with their legs and feet.

We toured the waterways of the villages stopping several times at the village shops and small 'factories' (ie, wood-carving, silk weaving, stone-cutting, etc.....) that lined the canals.


The houses of the villages around the lake are built on stilts of wooden beams driven into the bottom of the lake.


The Giraffe women - they have extended necks as a result of large solid rings being fixed around their necks from the age of 13. Traditionally, it was done to protect the women from tigers - who were known to kill their prey by biting the neck; apparently, the men can run fast enough so don't need the same protection. Nowadays, it's done for beauty and is a dying tradition.


Men tend to their floating gardens as women head back with supplies from the market.

Surrounding the villages were floating gardens - which consisted of crops of tomatoes, califlower, flowers, etc. grown on clumps of soil floating on the lake. On slightly more firmer land were rows and rows of banana trees, rice and other crops. Amongst these we spied huge water buffaloes with long thick horns - definitely not to be messed with!! Part of our day trip around the lake included a stop at a beautiful golden pogoda and the infamous 'cat jumping' monastary; where bored monks have trained the cats to jump through a hoops on demand!! Due to their increased fame, the cats (and monks) have to put up with hoards of tourists demanding to see the trick.

Monks need hobbies too.


Eric tentively tries to help out with the buffalo bathing.

Overall it was a nice relaxing day of speeding around the lake in our motorised canoe - it also gave our legs a much-needed rest!!

The next day, we hired a couple of bicycles from our guesthouse and mapped out a route around the lake to some nearby hotsprings and villages. These bikes were very similar to those we rode in Nepal - no gears, no suspension, and a very hard seat! We followed a partially paved and bumpy road along marshy waterways where locals were farming, harvesting, washing, tending to buffalloes etc... all around us. An hour later, we arrived at the Hot Springs, which unfortunately were completely tourist-ified into concrete baths for which you had to pay $1 each just to look at. Finding the tourist trap unappealing, we carried on down the road towards a the village, where we bumped into some other backpackers (a Canadian couple and a Californian girl) also on a days' bicycle excurision. We all stopped for lunch at a roadside shack restaurant and spent a long time swapping 'war' stories over fried rice. After lunch we wondered back into the main town and headed back to our guesthouse. The following day we were to leave our lakeside residence and head to Myanmar's second largest city, Mandalay.

Mandalay

A 10-hour overnight bus ride took us from Inle Lake to Mandalay. We dozed on and off for the 10-hour trip and arrived just before 4 in the morning in Mandalay. We then jumped into the back of a local 'taxi' pick-up truck which drove us to our hotel in the town center. We spent the rest of the morning snoozing in our fairly clean hotel room - which had 24-hour electricity, hot water and satellite television (a true luxury for budget travellers in Myanmar!!!). In the early afternoon we headed around the corner for some local cuisine and spent the rest of the day people watching, from a curbside ice cream parlour a little way down from our hotel. Unfortunately, Mandalay is a very dusty and hot city which soon drives you back indoors; it is very different to Yangon, less modern, incredibly rundown and very dirty.

Our first evening in the city, we went to see the 'Moustache Brothers' - the infamous comic trio who perform a slightly government derogatory act despite such performances being illegal. The eldest borther has already endured 7 years in prison doing hard labour for telling one politically incorrect joke - a one liner where he likened the government to a thief.... 7-years in jail!!!! The trio now get away with their present day performances by relying on the tourists to keep them safe. Basically as long as we keep coming, keep photographing them, and writing about them, the government can't make them 'disappear'. Their show was a mixture of traditional Burmese entertainment - dancing, puppet characters and a little singing; as well as some comic monologue. Brother 'Number 2' did most of the talking - having a better grasp of english; occasionally he would spell out words or point to sign boards when he wasn't sure if his pronunciation was up to scratch. He told us a bit about how everyone needed a second or third job in Myanmar as most primary jobs did not pay well enough to support a family; along these lines he described how a policeman's second job was extorting fines out of motorists. Apparently you can tell how much money you will need to bribe the cop by how many times he sounds his horn (or whistle) when he stops you . How very helpful!!


Brother number 3 performs slapstick whilst brother number 2 recites his opening monologue.

Eric poses with the trio whilst they mock the governments' attempt to silence them.

The following day, we did some sightseeing around town, highlighted by a walk up 'Mandalay Hill' to watch the sunset over the city. Climbing the hill consists of walking up a series of stairs which are broken up by various Buddhas and pogodas of different sizes. The hill seems to be the place where school children and monks hang out to corner tourists so they can practice their english. We were joined halfway up by some 15 year old school boys; then at the top of the hill, we were approached by 3 or 4 monks attending an abbott training monastery nearby. One of the monks spoke near-perfect english and we spent nearly an hour talking to him and his friends; continuing once the sun had set, in a little teashop at the bottom of the hill over drinks. During our converstation we touched upon the whole government situation in Myanmar and we explained that our guidebook advised us not to discuss the subject with locals as we may get ourselves, but more importantly the locals, in seriuos trouble. He asked if we were allowed to discuss such things about Myanmar outside the country - to which we replied yes and that there was plenty of information on the subject - books, newspapers, etc. This conversation occured at the top of the hill; later, when we were making our way to the teashop, he said that a suspisciuos Burmese man had been staring and listening into this part of the converstaion. How frustrationg to even have to worry about such things (to have to second guess whether strangers are informers or just being nosey)!!!! Our experience in Myanmar has certainly made both of us far more aware of our freedom of speech and perhaps a little guilty that it is a right we often fail to appreciate fully. The monk also hinted at the 'governments' forced labour which drags people away from their villages for periods of time. What a shame we can't talk openly about these things with the Burmese, no matter how much you try as a tourist, you can only skim the surface.

The next day we hired a local 'blue' taxi to nearby attractions. A blue taxi is a small pick-up truck with wooden planks in the back which fold down into benches. Our first stop was at a pogoda - home to a 'very' golden buddha statue. The buddhist pilgrims have pasted so much gold leaf on the statue, that it is now 15 cm thick in gold. We then drove to the village of Amarapura - home to the worlds longest teakwood bridge - 1.2km long!!! Presumably the locals think us foreigners are very strange for visiting a bunch of planks of wood.

One of Myanmar's famous landmarks - the 1.2km teak bridge.

Perhaps the best encounter of the day was with a local trishaw driver who we hired to take us back to our hotel after dinner. He was incredibly overjoyed that we had agreed to get a ride from him. He explained how he had had no customers all day (this was 9pm) and was 'so so happy' to finally pick up a fare. His emotional relief and large smile radiated from his face the whole trip back. The cost of the ride was less than one dollar.

The following day we planned the next leg of our trip in Myanmar: the journey to Bagan. Luckily, we were to avoid the overnight bus by taking the ferry down the river from Mandalay to Bagan. The ferry left at 6 in the morning from the main jetty in Mandalay and would take 10.5 hours to reach our destination. The boat was a simple Chinese passenger ferry with airplane type seats in the lower level and two deck areas on the upper two levels. We stationed ourselves on the upper deck and enjoyed the fresh air and the beautiful passing scenery. The boat stopped a couple of times - very briefly. A long wooden plank was thrown out for passengers to wobble either on or off. There were a few locals at these stops trying to sell things - bannanas, samosas, cookies and blankets. The women selling them usually waded waist deep in the water balancing their goods on their heads and were often accompanied by a few children shouting for pens or shampoo.

The sun rises over pagodas as we cruise down river.

The vendors throw bunches of bananas up to passengers.

The journey itself was uneventful, we spent the entire time on the deck, reading and snoozing. We finally arrived in Bagan at 4:30 in the afternoon.

Bagan

Bagan is perhaps Myanmar's most famous historical site and primary tourist attraction. The 42 sq. km area was once home to 4500 temples dating from the 11th Century; today over 2000 survive (earthquakes, wars and neglect put pay to the rest) making it one of the most extrordinary sites of ancient civilization remains in the world.

The temples of Bagan sit amongst dry grassland and palm trees.

Some temples have crumbled into disrepair whilst others remain standing tall in the distance.

Bagan is also known for its unbearably hot afternoons; so accordingly, we opted to pay a little extra for a hotel WITH A POOL!!! In the coming days, this proved to be a very wise decision. Our daily schedule over the course of our 3-day visit to Bagan was to involve exploring and taking in as much of the surroundings as possible. We rented some bicycles from our hotel for the duration of our stay - as expected the bikes were typical 'asian' style: no gears, no suspension and brakes that barely worked. Nevertheless, our hotel's proximity to the main temples and a fairly decently paved road made the daily excursions very enjoyable. There are 3 or 4 main roads which service the area and to reach the actual temples themselves, you have to turn off onto dirt roads or ox-cart trails.


We cycled along the dusty trails between the temples.

Most of the temples have a small collection of locals touting souvenirs; and very occassionally a couple of children begging. Interestingly, they speak to us in English, but beg in French asking for 'bonbon' or stylo' as well as the ever amusing 'shampoo'. The majority of the package tourists in Myanmar seem to come from mainland Europe: particularly, France and Germany... presumably the French have been the most giving.

The temples of Bagan are not as impressive as those of Angkor Wat in Cambodia (which we visited the year before); inside they tend to have plain white-washed walls, or crumbling plaster with faint detail of what was once a great mural. On the outside they have very little carving, most of the plaster facade and glazed tiles have crumbled away leaving exposed bricks. Inside many have huge Buddhas either covered in gold, lacqeur or paint; some of impressive size. However, despite these aspects, there is an amazing beauty to the temples of Bagan - it lies in their sheer number; they spread across the dry, arid landscape as far as the eye can see. They vary in size and a little in shape - though most are square tiers that build up to bell-like stupas crowning the top.

Bagan's golden stupa shines brightly amongst it's red brick neighbours.


The gold leaf may have eroded but the temples retain a rich spiritual air.


Decorative carvings and plaster remained on a few of the temples.


Some temples housed their original painted buddhas and murals; many were still actively used for worship by monks and believers.

From afar they are an amazing array of red (exposed brick), white (white-washed plsater) and gold (gold leaf covered) ancient temples that hint of civilisation of old. The most enjoyable are definitely those which you can climb - via narrow stone staircases squeezed into corner towers or steep steps lining the outside. From up top the numerous temples fade into the horizon - a spectacular sight we can't quite capture in a photo.

Only by climbing to the top of a tall temple could we appreciate the magnitude of Bagan as we saw the pointed spires stretching out for miles.

One evening we climbed to the top of the highest temple to watch the sunset over the river; illuminating the thousands of temples dotted across the horizon as the sun dropped behind the circling hills.

As the sun sets Bagan's temples become silhouettes against the sky.

With regular dips in our refreshing hotel pool and pleasant bike rides throughout the day, we thoroughly enjoyed our time in Bagan. We were now coming to the end of our trip in Myanmar. After three full days of sightseeing in Bagan, we boarded another overnight bus (15 hours!!) back to the capital, Yangon. We spent one day in Yangon to catch up on some last minute shopping and then caught a flight back to Thailand to continue our trip across southeast Asia.

Thailand: Bangkok

flipflop — Mon, 06 Feb 2006 09:04:59 +0000

We have just spent the last week in a civilised heaven...Bangkok. It's amazing how much your opinions and perceptions change after 7 months of travelling; what we may have previously deemed to be a hot, polluted, noisy, crowded city has become a blissful escape filled with all the trappings of a western life. We have, quite unashamedly, spent most of our time here in some of the many vast, multi-level shopping malls which we revere for their super clean environment, variety of (cheap) restaurants, choice and availability of goods and provision of incredibly fast internet cafes. Because we had previously visited Bangkok in 2004 and seen many of it's sights, our stay this time was dedicated to 'R&R' (rest and relaxation), for a whole week we have not been tourists, but visitors on a city shopping break....shoppers, that is, on a severely limited budget and very little room in our bags for anything extra...still it was nice to window shop!

The contrast to our 'usual' shopping experience in India has been immense. We have been able to restock our toiletries, medical kit and other necessities with ease; instead of enduring the usual process of entering a small wooden shack or garage-like structure, questioning the owner in very broken english as to what merchandise he has, brushing dust and ants off products to try to determine just how far past the sell-by date they might be, then haggling with the shopkeeper in an attempt to reduce the x4 markup he has placed on everything.

Bangkok has also provided another luxury...cinema!!! There are usually 3 or 4 english-speaking films on each week, which are shown in comfortable modern movie theatres. The tickets are as much as a tenth of the price of watching a movie in London and the seats are more comfortable than most of the beds we have slept in on our whole trip. The Thai national anthem is played before the start of each movie and everyone in the theatre patriotically stands for the duration of the tune. The first time it was played we were very confused as to why everyone suddenly stood up for what appeared to be another advert, but after 4 trips to the movies we know exactly when to stand and happily hum along with the anthem as pictures of Thailand and the King scroll down the screen.

Our time in Bangkok hasn't been completely devoted to leisure and 'luxury', we also applied for our Myanmar (Burma) and Laos visas. The Mayanmar visa involved a very boring 6 hour wait, most of this was spent in a semi air-conditioned room sitting in bright orange plastic chairs watching latecomers pleading in vain to be allocated a queue ticket number and being told to come back the next day. Our Laos visa was one of the easiest we have ever had to get - a mere 1 hour wait with the visa being issued within 15 minutes of application....after such an impressive service it's such a shame they spelt Nikki's name wrong and we had to hang around to discuss the implications with the visa officer...fingers crossed it will still work as promised. We also spent a day running around the city visiting Thai and United Airlines sorting out our RTW tickets that will eventually take us back to Eric's home in LA in late June.

Tomorrow we will be flying into Myanmar, where we hope to spend the next month exploring the countryside and temples, and experiencing the Burmese way of life. Unfortunately Myanmar is ruled by an oppressive totaliterian military regieme which continues to be criticised for its treatment of its citizens and repeated infringements and denials of basic human rights. One implication of this for us is that internet access is severely restricted and rumoured to cost over USD1 for 10 minutes of extremely slow connection. It is highly unlikely that we will be able to access our email or update this blog. Obviously this is a minor inconvenience compared to the repression suffered by the Myanmar people. During our stay we will endevour to only use the services offered by private individuals and not those run by government agencies. We hope that our tourism will support the local people and not the "abominable military junta".

We will be flying into Rangoon (Yangon), the capital of Mynamar; from there we will spend 4 weeks circling north to Mandalay and back down again.

India: Kerala

flipflop — Thu, 26 Jan 2006 09:30:24 +0000

Forcing ourselves away from the beach, we caught a 15-hour train from Goa to the city of Kochi in Kerala. The train was of course delayed (by 2 hours) but there were plenty of bats swooping low past our ears and flying around the station platform to keep us company during the wait. The train was almost unbearably hot and sticky. The period immediately after new year is the peak season for tourists catching trains up and down the southern coast; as a result, we were lucky to get the last 2 tickets on this particular train, but it also meant forgoing the relative comfort of AC class and travelling in the dirty, dusty, airless sleeper class.

We have never been so relieved to reach our destination. We had both had an extremely hot and sleepless night, even when we had managed to fall in a sweat-drenched sleep we were soon rudely awakened by other passengers getting and off the train, lights being turned on, and vendors walking up and down the aisle. Shouts of ‘chai’ (tea) and the unrelenting stares from the vendors awaiting a response haunted our dreams. Once we arrived at our hotel, we both took gloriously refreshing showers. These became a frequent ritual, as we averaged about 4 a day during our stay in Kochi. Showers were the only way to combat the oppressive heat and humidity and rid ourselves of the dust that clung to our sweaty skin. Kochi is a fairly modern city (by Indian standards) but is very noisy, polluted and uninspiring to walk around. Amazingly, it was the first city we have visited in India that doesn’t have cows freely roaming the streets – we think they might actually eat them here!

The highlight of our visit to Kochi was our day at Cochin Fort. The ‘fort’ is actually a reasonably big neighbourhood located on a small island, accessible by frequent local ferries. The fort has a very colonial feel with wide tree-lined streets and European style houses. Cochin fort is famous for, amongst other things, its Chinese fishing nets – these giant nets are suspended from large wooden pivots and lowered into the water 2 or 3 times a day. Each net is owned by 5 or 6 people who collectively share the maintenance and bounty of the nets. The nets are certainly successful as we enjoyed a large red snapper fish for lunch.


The Chinese fishing nets line the shore of Fort Cochin island.

A neighbourhood cat hungrily guards 'his' fish.

Fort Cochin is also home to the first church built in India – St. Francis. The simple colonial style building was well preserved and proved to be an excellent shady place to escape the sun.

We left Kochi on the 6am public bus heading for the hill station of Munnar. Being a government bus, our transportation this time was far more basic: it was open-seating, in low-backed bench-like seats similar to those on an American school bus. There was no glass in the windows making it a blissfully breezy ride; horizontal bars prevented passengers from climbing in and out (a favourite method for those desperate for a seat), but also prevented any emergency exit in the case of an accident.

Who needs windows....or a lick of paint..... or safety features....??

The 4-hour journey cost us about 75 cents each and was a pleasant climb up through the ‘Western Ghats’ region. As we gained altitude, we left the heat of Kochi behind and entered the cooling fresh air favoured by colonialist tea plantation owners for centuries. Munnar is surrounded by the spectacular views of hill upon hill of lush green tea plantations – a truly fantastic sight!!


Mile upon mile of hills were carpeted in a blanket of green tea bushes.

Unfortunately, the small town of Munnar is a dump. Centred around a smelly, polluted river, it exists purely as a transportation hub and squalid residence of local tea pickers. Our accommodation (complete with cockroaches) successful carried on the theme of the dismal town.
Due to the lack of efficient public transport, the easiest way for us to explore the area was by taking the government tour bus. The tour took us up winding roads through picturesque tea plantations to the ‘Top Station’ stopping at various viewpoints along the way. Unfortunately, the Top Station was shrouded in cloud, so we were denied its famous views across the valley. After lunch, we drove to a nearby National Park home to the regions famous ‘extremely friendly’ wild mountain goats. The park, despite its setting amongst rolling hills was a disappointment. We arrived at the park 15 minutes after it officially closed, but were ushered inside and told the closing time had been extended by 2 hours. No doubt the park officials had been swayed by the fact that half of our tour were westerners and therefore would pay 15 times more than the Indian entrance fee (entrance fees to tourist sites across India are heavily biased against foreigners). Movement inside the park was highly monitored and severely restricted. We were only allowed to walk along a tarmac road for half a kilometre and then made to turn back; if we tried to venture off the road, park guards were quick to blow their whistles and demand a return to the man-made surface. After a mere 15 minutes, we were told we had to leave the park as our time was up and were escorted out by guards weilding large sticks and blowing whistles. Frustrated that we were not allowed to trek the promising craggy hills inside the park, to venture into the grassland to search for the wild goats (if they did indeed exist) or even linger to admire the views, we decided to complain and demand compensation from the government tour agency running the excursion. Back at the main office, the tour guide both denied and lied about what had happened, his attitude was hardly surprising given the example set to him by his boss. The agency manager first tried to ignore us, then claimed any compensation would come out of his own pocket before finally blaming his employee; essentially labelling the man as 'useless' right in front of him. Amazingly, we walked out of the office with a tour refund and promptly celebrated with a slice of cake from a local bakery. Despite our poor experience in Munnar, we would still recommend a visit to the area – the countryside was beautiful... just stay outside the town, and avoid any tours at all cost!!!!!

The countryside surrounding Munnar remains worthy of a visit despite our experiences in the town.

We decided to leave Munnar the following day and take the 6am bus to Kottayam. In the process of identifying the correct bus, we came across a common problem for westerners in India – comprehending the meaning of the head-bobble. The 'head-bobble' or ‘head-wiggle’ seems to be a uniquely Indian trait and involves the swaying of the head from side to side as if the head were perched on a spring rather than a neck. A head-bobble can mean ‘yes’, ‘no’, ‘maybe’ or ‘I don’t know’ but the fine difference (if indeed there is one) between each specific meaning is undetectable by foreigners. Throughout our travels in India our questions and queries have often been answered with a head-bobble. On this occasion it proved even more frustrating as we tried to decide whether or not to jump on a bus as it drew out of the station....the situation went as follows:

Eric and Nikki scan the parking lot of the bus station, it is 10 minutes past the scheduled departure time of their bus and there appears to be only one vehicle in the vicinity.
As they approach the lone bus and try to determine it's destination, a nearby rickshaw driver asks them where it is they wish to go.

Eric asks, pointing to the bus, "Is this the bus to Kottayam?"

The rickshaw driver head-bobbles and adamantly replies, "No."

At this point the bus conductor looks out of the open doorway of the bus (presumably checking for last minute passengers).

Eric asks the bus conductor, "Is this the bus to Kottayam?"

The bus conductor looks blankly at him and head-bobbles.

A passerby, spotting our confusion, stops to ask which destination it is that we are trying to reach.

Eric replies, "We are trying to find the bus to Kottayam."

The passerby converses with the bus conductor who begins to head-bobble back at him. After a brief 3-way conversation, the passerby, the bus conductor and the rickshaw driver turn their attention back to us and head-bobble.

Nikki asks Eric, "So is this the bus to Kottayam?"

Eric, rapidly losing the will to live, replies, "I have no freakin' idea!"

Eric and Nikki, still seeing no other bus in sight, jump on as it pulls away...and yes, it was the bus to Kottayam.

The bus driver liked his speed and hard breaking, so we made it to Kottayam in under 5 hours - not bad going. Bidding the bus conductor goodbye (he head-bobbled in reply), we grabbed a rickshaw and headed straight to the ferry terminal.

The single deck, wooden ferry, complete with noisy engine, would take us on a 3-hour ride through the Keralan backwaters to Alleppey. The backwaters are a swamp-like network of canals and lakes lined with palm trees, rice fields, and small villages. Our first trip through the area was very impressive and certainly quite unique; neither of us has seen a similar landscape before.

The backwaters were an amazing blend of vegetation, water and animal life.

We sailed through narrow canals, locks and waterways passing small breezeblock and wooden houses. The residences were busy with daily life; men and women washing or doing laundry in the waters, fishermen and laborers transporting goods in long dug-out canoes, and children running along the narrow paths beside the canals, shouting and waving at passing boats.


Amongst the palm trees, small villages would emerge bordered by large fields of rice.

The ferry was part of the local transportation service; we stopped many times at little jetties to offload and pick up passengers. As we neared Alleppey we saw more and more bamboo-adored 'houseboats', the luxurious mode of transport chosen by many tourists to lazily cruise the backwaters for a day or 2.


Weeds and algae would often get caught around the propeller forcing one of the crew to dive under the boat to cut away the blockage. The locals waiting on small jetties were used to the delays this caused to the service.

Once in Alleppey we found a great homestay located in an old colonial house and run by a friendly couple, their puppy, 3 kittens and a cat. Whilst in Alleppey we decided to take a local bus to a 'secret beach’ that our homestay family had told us about. We caught a public bus with no problems, though Eric entered via the wrong door. We failed to realise until we were on the bus that there were distinctly segregated male and female sections and even male and female doors at opposite ends of the bus. Both exits were manned by doormen, one armed with a bell, the other with a whistle, who monitored the flow of people on and off the bus. The bus was very busy so we were forced to stand in the aisle; at 5'6" Nikki was clearly the tallest woman on the bus, 2-3 inches above the rest of the women...and half the men.

The beach was a glorious stretch of white sand and palm trees as far as the eye could see in both directions.

The 'secret beach' it seems is still very much a secret as we saw only 5 or 6 other people whilst we were there. The sea was incredibly refreshing and felt like swimming in warm velvet; we spent the afternoon swimming, reading under the shade of a palm tree, and nibbling on our picnic lunch of samosas and cupcakes.

Leaving Alleppey we took an 8-hour ferry to Kollam. It was a slightly overcast day, which meant it was cool and breezy as we took our second trip through the backwaters. The scenery again didn’t disappoint and also included long rows of Chinese fishing nets constructed near a flooded sea inlet.

Fishermen cruise the backwaters in their dug-out canoe.

Our stay in Kollam was little more than a stepping-stone to our next destination: Varkala Beach. The bus to Varkala left promptly the following morning and was of similar style to the one that we had taken to Munnar. The bus ride took just over 2 hours and was fairly entertaining. First onboard we had the fishermen’s wives, with their big tin bowls of fresh fish and shrimp which they were transporting to sell at various markets. They took quite an interest in us, chatting and laughing, asking questions with their basic knowledge of English. They took great pride in showing us their wares which we ‘oohh-ed’ and ‘aahh-ed’ at much to their delight. The bus also served as a mail delivery van, picking up sacks of mail from the depot. These were deposited under different seats depending on their destination, and then unceremoniously thrown out the door at the correct stop. Later the bus transported the ‘vegetable women’ to market with their huge branches of bananas and sacks of vegetables. All too soon we reached our stop, this was one bus ride we could have happily endured all day.


Life at Varkala Beach exists along a 3-foot wide path snaking along the top of red cliffs. This stretch is home to a multitude of guesthouses, restaurants and shops.

Heading north along the path takes you out of the main thoroughfare towards the black beach and a series of further smaller beaches. Here the number of tourists is diluted somewhat by the presence of local fishermen who crouch in the shade of their boats mending their nets and exchanging tales.

Small stretches of sand are sandwiched between rocks and palm trees to the east and the vast Indian Ocean to the west.

To the south along the path is the main beach, a curved stretch of sand surrounded by a crescent of red cliffs.

Lifeguards, that is to say 2 lifeguards, 2 or 3 ‘wannabe’ lifeguards, their mates, and occasionally 1 or 2 tourist police, oversaw swimming at the main beach. This rabble were to be found sitting chatting under a beach umbrella or standing in a group at the waters edge. The main role of the lifeguards was to enforce the swimming zone and keep away local gawkers, dressed in what appeared to be security guard uniforms it didn't really look like they ever intended to venture into the water. They fulfilled their role with vigor and displayed great glee at any opportunity to blow their whistles and gesticulate wildly at any infringement. Unfortunately they did this so often and with such confusion that swimmers often could not figure out what it was they were objecting to or what direction they are trying to give!

Eric meets the David Hasselhoff of Varkala Beach.

Swimming in the sea we often spotted schools of small fish, and when they swam near the surface, so did the dozen or so eagles which circled above. On 2 or 3 occasions we watched the eagles swoop down and scoop up their prey from a mere 10 feet away from where we were swimming. Sometimes there were so many fish we could see them clearly suspended in each wave as it peaked and curved to break, as if the fish were preserved in a sheet of glass. As we ducked under the breaking wave we were occasionally slapped in the face by fish caught in the motion of the water…a very weird experience! The fish also gave rise to an interesting social observation. One afternoon as the sun began to set a school of fish swam too close to the shore and beached themselves in the incoming tide. People and eagles crowded to the shoreline to scoop up the fish – an amazing sight in itself. But whereas the tourists were eager to save the fish and throw them back into the sea, the locals were hastily placing them in their bags or pockets to take home for dinner.

At dusk the restaurants would display much larger fish from the daily catch, hoping to entice customers to occupy one of their candle-lit tables for dinner. Amongst our favorite was the tandoori tikka Blue Marlin and grilled Barracuda.

We celebrated Eric’s 28th birthday at a cliff top restaurant dinning on barracuda and sipping cocktails as the sun set over the Indian Ocean. Because many of the restaurants did not have alcohol licenses we were often served beer in china tea pots and ceramic mugs...a simple but effective way of foiling police spot checks.

After 2 months in India it is time for us to leave. An overnight train took us from Varkala to Chennai (Madras). Tomorrow we board the red-eye flight to Bangkok to begin our tour of South East Asia.

India: Goa

flipflop — Tue, 17 Jan 2006 05:48:57 +0000

A belated Happy New Year to everyone!!!

A 27-hour marathon journey brought us down to Goa for Christmas and New Year. It started with an 18-hour overnight train ride from Jaipur to Mumbai (Bombay), where we arrived at 7:30 in the morning. We jumped into a typical Indian 1950s style taxi, which took us to Mumbai airport. This being India, the taxi dropped us off at the wrong terminal whilst swearing blindly it was the correct one. A ‘free’ terminal-to-terminal shuttle bus soon rectified the situation though the driver still tried to extort a fee from us despite the gratuity service. After a 5 hour wait at the airport, we boarded a small 30-seat propeller plane which flew us the short one and a half hour hop to Goa. From the Goan airport it was a further one and a half hour taxi drive down to Palolem beach. It took us thirty minutes to decide on a place to stay, after such a long journey, we were in no mood to extend our deliberations beyond the basic checklist: electricity, bed, fan and ability to hang mosquito net. Having dumped our bags, there was just enough time to jump into the sea as the sun began to set and the fisherman cast out their nets for the evening haul. At last we had escaped the mayhem of Northern India and arrived safely to the calming, easy pace of Goan beaches.

Platform vendors sell their goods through the window bars during one of the train stops.

The sun rises over Palolem Beach.

Life on the Goan coastline is in stark contrast to that in Northern India, particularly Rajasthan, where we had spent the last 3 weeks. The local people are far more laid back in their approach to daily life; the pace notably slowed and along with it was a grateful reduction in the number of hawkers, scams and the touting that we were previously subject to. There is a visible presence of western, particularly Portuguese, influence evident in the style of houses, churches, dress and cuisine. Typical Indian vegetarian dishes remain on the menu but were accompanied by meat and western choices; and of course, plenty of fresh fish. However, the real test lay in the cow population… they remained present, roaming both the beaches and the market place, but their numbers were smaller and the respect shown to the beast was much diminished.

A local cow claims his sun bathing spot.

Palolem beach is a beautiful crescent-shaped curve of white sandy beach lined with towering palm trees on one side and the gentle lapping of the Arabian sea on the other.

The sea draws back at low tide leaving us plenty of room to play frisbee.

Local fishermens' boats park up on the beach.

Accommodation on this stretch of beach is limited to temporary structures meaning that most come in the form of small coco-huts (ie little wooden shacks with plywood walls and coconut palm tree leaf roofs) which spare the beach from being overrun with ugly concrete hotels. We spent the first week not in a cottage/hut but stayed in a safari style tent which turned out to be pleasantly airy. The following week we upgraded to a detatched cottage for the New Year (complete with TV....praise be to whoever it was who made HBO available in India :-).

Our 'safari' tent.

Our daily routine for pretty much the next 2 weeks was rigorous! It began with breakfast taken at a beachside restaurant watching locals and tourists slowly emerge under the climbing sun. A morning stroll along the beach saw us claim our sun loungers for the day ('free' in return for buying lunch at the affiliated restaurant). Then the daily exercises began: a game of frisbee along the shore, followed by a cooling swim in the sea - repeated at least twice. Next was the agonising decision as to what to have for lunch, which was followed by an afternoon of snoozing, reading, and more frisbee and swimming. Evenings were torturous: Which restaurant to eat at? To sit under the palm leaf canope or at a candle lit table on the beach? Which fish to have? The shark, the red snapper, the tuna, the coconut fish? What to do after dinner..walk along the beach and watch the nightly fireworks or move on to a bar?

Christmas was a low-key affair; we exchanged a few token presents and splashed out on an extra big fish for dinner along with a few cocktails. New Year was celebrated on the beach. We spent the evening in one of the many beachside bars watching hundreds of fireworks being set off along the coast line. Safety regulations are rather lax in India and as a result many rockets misfired and went astray. On this occassion we were happy to cocoon ourselves in the middle of a crowd away from any immediate danger.

Our beach resort created a small nativity scene for the festive period.

After travelling on a budget for 6 months, the holiday season was a great excuse to indulge in some luxuries...and alcohol!! This was our 'holiday' from travelling and we thoroughly enjoyed it!

India: Rajasthan - 'the Land of Kings'

flipflop — Mon, 19 Dec 2005 15:20:48 +0000

Our first stop in the region was Jaipur - a six-hour train ride away from Agra. Unfortunately our unlucky streak with Indian trains continued. Our train was scheduled to depart at 6:15 am, so we got up at 4:30am and promptly arrived at the station 15 minutes before the scheduled departure. Upon arrival, we were notified that the train was already running two hours late. Disgruntled, cold and still very tired, we sat down on the platform with the other travelers and patiently waited.... the two hour delay was then stretched a further 45 minutes, then another hour, etc.... Meanwhile, amongst the group of waiting backpackers, we amused ourselves by exchanging 'war' stories and watching a rather large group of monkeys cavort around the station and on the tracks, trying desperately to steal food from passerbys.

A successful monkey devours his chipati on the train tracks.

In the end, the train did arrive.... almost 6 hours late!!!

Our train journey to Jaipur was fairly uneventful except for the appearance of a hijras.

Hijras: India's most visible nonheterosexual group is the hijras; they are transverstites and eunuchs who dress in women's clothing. Some are gay and some are hermophrodites; since it is traditionally unacceptable to live openly as a gay man in India, hijras get around this by becoming, in effect, a sort of third sex.

So, a man dressed (badly) as a woman came through the carriage, talking loudly to people and clapping. An Indian man (who was sitting next to us) was clearly disturbed by 'her' and reluctantly gave her money to make her go away. He later told us that the hijras work in organized groups extorting money from people. It seems to be based on a superstition (no donation means being subject to a curse) but has become increasingly intermingled with a threat of violence. They 'work' mainly as uninvited guests at important events: births, marriages, etc... and often get large amounts of money.

Jaipur
Population: 2.32 million
Region: Rajasthan
Famous for: the capital of Rajasthan; the ‘Pink City’.

We arrived in Jaipur during the late afternoon, and took the opportunity whilst at the train station to purchase our train tickets for our journey throughout Rajasthan. As the Christmas holiday season approaches, train tickets get snatched up in a hurry by the increasing number of holiday tourists. After a couple of hours of queuing, we managed to purchase the majority of the tickets we were looking for.

We then found a great rooftop room in a nearby hotel. After a full days traveling, we gladly opted for an early night. The following day, we made the most of our time in Jaipur by going on a full-day tour of the city and its sights. We were carted around the city by bus, stopping at various temples, palaces and forts in and around the 'pink city'.


The pink buildings of Jaipur.

Our first stop was the Birla Lakshmi Narayan Temple, a splendid example of modern marble carving - it was so white, that the sun's rays reflecting off its walls were nearly blinding. Our main stop was the City Palace, a mix of Rajasthani and Mughal architecture; the palace remains the residence of the current Maharaja today. We had a quick tour of the costume and armory museums and admired the colorful pink facades of the complex.

The immaculate walls of the Palace complex.


On the left - the world's largest sundial. On the right - pigeons compete for a place to roost on the Maharaja's chandeliers.

The highlight of the day was our visit to the Jantar Maatar observatory, home to the world's largest sundial (accurate to 2 seconds!!). Our guide explained the function of each of the large ‘sculptures’, which turned out to be impressive and working instruments for studying the Zodiac, the sun and calculating eclipses.

The Jal Mahal - the 'Water Palace' on the outskirts of Jaipur.


We toured the palaces of the Jaigarh Fort.

The following day, we caught up on laundry and emails. We also bumped into some friends we met in Nepal; so we enjoyed a long leisurely dinner talking with them in the hotel roof terrace restaurant. That night we boarded the overnight train to Udaipur. The night train turned out to be the cleanest and quietest of our India trip so for.... and even better, it departed on time!!!

Udaipur
Population: 390,000
Region: Rajasthan
Famous for: India’s most ‘romantic city’; setting for the James Bond movie, ‘Octopussy’.

Udaipur is billed as one of India' most romantic cities; nestled around a man-made lake and surrounded by purple-colored hills, the elegant havelis and palaces overlooking the lake make for a truly serene setting. In the middle of the lake are two 'floating palaces' made purely of marble; one has now been turned into a 5-star luxury hotel (out of our budget range unfortunately). We soon checked into a charming haveli (Indian mansion/town house), complete with beautiful stained-glass windows and terraces overlooking the lake. We spent the afternoon taking in the sights and relaxing in some of the towns many rooftop restaurants.

The Venice of India.

Udaipur's modern claim to fame is that it was the main location for the filming of the James Bond film 'Octopussy'. In honor of this, nearly half the restaurants show the movie in length each night at dinner. We had a great evening watching the film and recognizing the landmarks - certainly the easiest way to 'sight-see' a new place!

For the next two days, we took a break from our 'backpacker' existence and indulged ourselves - all under the great excuse of 'Nikki's birthday'!! We aimed to spend the day in the 'James Bond' solid marble pool in the grounds of a nearby palace, but unfortunately, it was closed due to a rather raucous wedding the day before. Instead, we had to make do with a rooftop pool (in another hotel) surrounded by gorgeous cushioned alcoves and a panoramic view of the city.


The 'James Bond' pool is located in a stunning lakeside palace. The pool was closed but we still paused for a drink in the opulent surroundings.

The following day, we dug out the smartest clothes we had and took a private speedboat to the Lake Palace Hotel for a romantic birthday lunch. Nikki was surprised with a birthday cake, though this was not the highlight of our meal.... we were instead really ecstatic about the fact that the restaurant served real cheddar cheese and 'safe, clean' raw fruits and vegetables!!!!


We were driven to the floating palace where we dined on cake and ...er...cheese.

The sun sets in Udaipur.

We were sad to leave Udaipur, it had proved to be a relaxing break from all the hectic and polluted Indian cities we had visited in the weeks before. We took a 6.5 hour comfortable bus ride through the desert scrub to the city of Jodhpur.

Jodhpur
Population: 847,000
Region: Rajasthan
Famous for: the ‘Blue City’.

Jodhpur is situated on the fringes of the Thar Desert, known as the 'blue city' because of the blue-wash walls of the old town houses; Jodhpur is an impressive sprawl below the mighty Meherangarh Fort. We stayed in a wonderful family-run, red-sandstone haveli guesthouse directly underneath the fort, where we were treated to some great home-cooked meals and a friendly atmosphere.

The 'blue' city lives up to its name.

The Meherangarh Fort looms over the blue city.

We spent the next day exploring the Megerangarh Fort. The entrance fee included an excellent audio guide which taught us all about the artifacts, architecture and legends. The fort remains in good condition and as well as having an impressive palace, it has amazing views out across the city. The city itself spreads out as far as the eye can see; short blue and terracotta-colored buildings crowd between a maze of interconnecting twisting alleyways barely as wide as a small car.

The fort was the location of many battles between the kings of Rajasthan.


We toured the forts palaces perched high above the city.

Did we mention the city was blue?

The following day, we explored a pillared marble memorial on the outskirts of the city before braving the maze of streets and investigating the local bazaars and traditional spice markets. We thoroughly enjoyed Jodhpur, which proved to be far less touristy than most Rajasthani cities. However, our visit to Jodhpur put back the progress of Nikki's 'cow therapy' by several months (Nikki has an unexplained fear of cows); the cows of Jodhpur seemed particularly aggressive and tried to head butt anyone in sight (mostly tourists).... even Eric was forced to take cover on a couple of occassions!!

Soon it was time to move on from Jodhpur; our alarms went off at an ungodly pre-dawn hour, giving us enough time to untangle the web of strings that held up our mosquito net. We made it to the train station with little problem (apart from more irate cows). Our train was delayed (of course), but only by 40 minutes - pretty good by Indian standards!

Jaisalmer
Population: 58,000
Region: Rajasthan
Famous for: the ‘Golden City’.

A throng of touts greeted us at the Jaisalmer train station; luckily, we had arranged (for the first time in our trip) for someone to pick us up... so we easily bypassed the pests!! Our guesthouse was located inside the city fort and we were given the magnificent 'traditional room' - complete with authentic mud floors, original shutters and a cushioned alcove looking out over the fort and the city.

The view from our traditional window alcove.


The sand colored fort casts a shadow over the city.

Jaisalmer is known as the 'Golden City', due to the yellow glow of its angular sandstone buildings basking in the desert sun, The city’s houses cluster around the mighty fort which stands like a giant sandcastle in the middle of the Thar desert.

After a much-needed lunch we headed into the city to visit two famous havelis. Havelis are extravagant mansions, standing 3 or 4 stories high around a central courtyard. The Sing-ki-haveli and the Patwa-ki-haveli had great examples of intricately carved lattice stonework, topped with magnificent views of the fort.


Golden balconies overlook the markets below.

The sun illuminates the golden city.

We wandered around the streets taking in the local life before heading back to our guesthouse for dinner. The rest of our time in Jaisalmer was spent wandering the streets of the fort and city and indulging in a little souvenir buying.

Colourful rugs and cloths are draped in the city's streets.

Haveli's tower over narrow alleys.

With our tour of Rajasthan complete, it's time for us to head south in search of sun and sand.

India: the Holy City, the Capital City and the Taj Mahal

flipflop — Sun, 18 Dec 2005 14:25:00 +0000

Nepal - India border crossing

After relaxing for a few days at the Chitwan National Park it was time for us to leave the peace and quiet of Nepal and enter India. A local bus took us from Chitwan to the border town of Sonauli where we would spend the night. Sonauli is a dirty, dusty, polluted town centered around the main Nepal-India road. It is fair to describe both the town and our hotel as 'dumps' (our room had dirty walls, filthy sheets, nasty smells, no running water, and looked out onto a noisy street - this was the best hotel we could find); no tourist enjoys their stay here nor looks to make a return visit.

The border crossing itself was as easy as walking across a road; the controls were so slack we had to seek out the Indian immigration office ourselves and found it nestled between a general store and a street cafe.

Welcome to India! ....say goodbye to clean air and clear streets...

Having obtained our entry stamps, our visit to India got off to a bad start. We had booked tickets on the 8:30 'tourist bus', but had a bit of confusion identifying the bus as it was not as described, nor parked where we had expected. Sensing our confusion, the bus tout lept upon the opportuinity to fleece more money out of us. First he claimed our tickets were from a different bus... but for a 'small fee' he would let us ride his bus; then he tried to charge us an extorianate 'luggage fee'; followed by a claim that we had the right tickets but had underpaid for them and bought them from an unauthorized ticket tout. Things got a little heated when he got insulted by our 'lies' (playing at his game, we told him that we had bought them at three times the price). We eventually managed to negotiate our way on to the bus (without paying extra)...... welcome to India!!!!!

After a delayed departure (to ensure we picked up as many tourists as possible), we set off for Varanasi where we latre arrived at about 7pm.

Varanasi
Population: 1.2 million
Region: Uttar Pradesh
Famous for: One of the holiest cities in India, situated on the banks of the Ganges. Visited by millions of Hindu pilgrams each year who come to wash away their sins in the water or burn their dead to ensure salvation.

We arrived at night and were immediately thrown into the chaotic and polluted heart of the city. We took a rickshaw to the 'old city' where our chosen hotel was located. Rickshaws cannot penetrate past the first few streets in the area as they soon divide and narrow into a labyrinth of dark narrow twisty alleyways lit only by the occoasional generator in a city of frequent power cuts. We marched for about 30 minutes through the intimitating and disorientating patchwork of tiny streets, stumbling and slipping in the dark on rubbish, cow shit and other unmentionables. Our hotel was right at the water edge, near some of the cremation ghats. Indeed we did pass at least one dead body along the way being carried down to the Ganges on a stretcher. When we eventually reached our hotel, we gladly retreated for the night!!

The following morning we woke up to blue skies and enjoyed a delicious banana pancake breakfast on the rooftop terrace overlooking the Ganges. Lukily for us, none of the ghats immediately below were cremation ones, meaning we didn't have to breathe in any ashes. The banks were bustling with people doing laundry, morning excercises, prayers and even washing - including brushing their teeth in the smelly murky waters. The river bank was very colorful and crammed with buildings, in stark contrast to the opposite side which remains completely devoid of any development; presumably due to the large monsoon floods that occur every year.

The view from our hotel.

Buildings of all shapes and sizes crowd the banks on the Ganges.

We spent the next few days taking walks along the riverside and exploring the ghats and streets of the old city. The banks were usually teaming with people - merchants selling food and religious objects, children flying kites and playing cricket, locals washing in the river and pilgrims making religious offerings. The city was also full of cows who are free to roam as they please.... a nice idea but also problematic when they block alleyways or lie down for a nap in the middle of a busy roundabout, heedless of oncoming traffic.

Cows wander the roads causing more chaos to some already alarmingly erratic driving.


The alleys of the 'old city' were often blocked by cows. ...just when you thought you'd escaped them, another one appears around the corner.

Every available space (not blocked by cows) is used by merchants to display their wares - in this case the vegetable market.

At night, many ceremonies take place at the ghats; we were not always sure what they were in honor of, but usually all involved lots of inscense, candles, swaying, chanting, as well as the throwing of flowers into the river.


The ghats were crowded, every evening you could watch a ceremony of some sort.

One of the best ways to see Varanasi is to take a dawn boat ride along the river. This was a great way to view the varied architecture and skyline of the old city. It was also a good opportunity to observe the morning bathing rituals of locals and pilgrims alike.

The Ganges at sunrise.


The early morning sun enhanced the different colors and shapes of the buildings.

Whilst some perform daily bathing rituals on the ghats....

...others take the plunge and swim across the filthy polluted river.

After 3 days in Varanasi it was time to head to Delhi. We had a late dinner on our hotel terrace (guarding our plates carefully against the local monkeys who were particularly partial to chapati's - Indian bread), before heading back out through the alleyways to catch a rickshaw to the train station.

The rickshaw driver drove like a maniac, what we had first taken as a speech impediment turned out to be the slurring of a drunk. Our 'ride of death' involved bumping into bicycles, the metal-on-metal scraping of passing cars and nearly driving under the wheels of an oncoming truck. We sat in the back, wide-eyed, gripping our bags and daring to say nothing. 3kms from the station, the driver was forced to stop due to a passing wedding parade - loads of bright lights, loud music, marching bands, dancing and large shiny metal carriages. The driver chose this opportunity to extort more money from us by claiming he couldn't go any further..... but could 'find' a detour if we paid extra. We knew this was a lie and told him so, things got a little heated until a passing stranger intervened to calm the situation, whilst whispering to us to 'be careful' due to the driver's inebriated state. Faced with the only other option of trying to haul our luggage out of the rickshaw and into the dark alley, we relunctatly agreed to a small increase in the fare. This calmed the driver and we made it to the station unscathed, though a little shaken after our drive.

Once at the station we were faced with crowds of people; many were stretched out on the floor in a random fashion, seemingly trying to sleep where they lay. This being India, there were of course cows roaming around...inside, outside and on the platforms. Making no sense of the train departure board, we found a place to wait on the platform and soon got talking to other travellers. Our group of travellers gradually grew to 9 strong, there seemed to be an implicit need to find safety in numbers.
Our train along with several others was severely delayed, with no informative announcements over the loudspeaker, it became increasingly difficult to determine the destination of each arriving train. Some travellers, fearfull of missing their train approached passengers, unfortunately these locals seem to think it far more amusing to lie about the destination or simply try to steal their tickets.

After three hours of waiting on the cold platform, during which we were subject to a 20 minute power cut, our train finally arrived. The train was heaving in the lower classes, in each carriage people were pouring out into the corridors, we were glad we had paid for more expensive seats. Our sleeper carriage was an open design, split into areas of 3 two-tiered bunks. It wasn't clean, had no privacy and no luggage storage space - certainly the worst train of our trip so far. We chained up our bags (a necessity due to theft), then settled down to sleep.


The 'expensive class' sleeper carriage was more crowded and dusty than we expected.

Delhi
Population: 12.8 million
Region: Delhi
Famous for: the capital of India.

We finally arrived at the New Delhi train station at 4pm the next day. Ignoring all the rickshaw touts outside the station, we headed to the main backpacker area. We settled in at a budget hotel a few minutes up the main road in the Puganj district.
Having been warned by other travellers and our guidebook that the numerous hassles, scams and the heavily polluted envoronment make Delhi an unpleasant long-term place to stay, we decided to spend no more than a couple of days in the captial city.

The narrow streets of Puganj (Delhi's infamous backpacker neighborhood) are lined with guesthouses, cyber cafes and travel agents.

Our sightseeing included India's largest mosque - Jama Masjid. The scene outside the mosque was a hectic picture of the hustle-and-bustle of traffic and people, accompanied with the usual side-stepping of rubbish, cows and touts. Inside the mosque grounds, however, we were treated with a serene and calming atmosphere. The mosque itself was architecturally spectacular; so we wondered around the courtyard admiring the views...

The polluted, busy streets of Delhi's old city surround India's biggest mosque.

The mosque was an impressive building.

The faithful and tourists alike gather in the courtyard.

From the rooftop of the mosque, we had a great view of Delhi.

After the mosque, we battled through the crowds of a small market to reach the 'Red Fort'. The Fort comprises of impressive towering red walls surrounding marble palaces.

The local and very colorful spice market.

The walls of the Red Fort are a visible Delhi landmark.


The palaces inside the Red Fort proved to be a great place to escape the maddness outside the walls.

With our full day of sightseeing complete, we returned back to our hotel. We were both pleasantly surprised and happy of our brief tour of Delhi.

The following morning, we ran the gauntlet of touts, traffic and cows back to the station to catch our train to our next destination - Agra. Unfortunately, our second experience in dealing with Indian trains was also disappointing, as our train arrived 4 hours late. While we were waiting we had a chance to observe the local 'train boarding' practices. As soon as the train pulls in, people locate their carriage and cling to the window bars to ensure they're first in line....with no fear that the train is still moving and one slip will mean that they are dragged along the platform and possibly under the train. If the train doors don't open immediately, people lift the bars on the emergency window and climb in, throwing bags, boxes and trunks in too. People punch, kick and push their way in, with elderly women and children getting crushed in the process. Once everyone is onboard and they have stored away their belongings, they sit there quietly waiting for the train to depart as if nothing happened.

Ahh! that's why we carry such big packs...so we have comfortable seats on the platform!


Thank god we upgraded.

Agra
Population: 1.3 million
Region: Uttar Pradesh
Famous for: Taj Mahal

We finally arrived in Agra in the early evening, we grabbed a rickshaw to our hotel - which was located only minutes away from the Taj Mahal. After gobbling down some dinner on the rooftop restaurant, we went off to get some sleep.

According to the locals, the best time to view the Taj Mahal is at sunrise. So we got up at the crack of dawn at 5:30am, and walked down the road to the Taj. The sun was creeping over the skyline as we approached the Taj and we joined a small but growing group of tourists taking photos of the building and its beautiful reflection in the fountains below.

The Taj at sunrise.

The classic Taj Mahal photo.

...and here's another....

After an hour and a half photo session and 50-plus pictures later, we walked through the gardens to explore the Taj and surrounding mosques. The Taj itself is a spectacular piece of architecture. Its immaculate symmetry and intricate marble carvings and inlaid stone designs visible on its inner and outer walls make this mausoleum an extraordinary sight.


We tried desperately to take different photos of the building....

We wandered around the Taj for nearly two hours, before returning to our hotel's rooftop restaurant to enjoy a hearty breakfast.

We couldn't escape the Taj, as seen from our hotel restaurant as we sat having breakfast.

In the afternoon we took a rickshaw to the Agra Fort - another historic and impressive complex in the city. The towering protective wall surrounding the fort was suprisingly well-preserved, as well as the impressive red sandstone and marble palaces inside.

Intricate carvings were present throughout the fort palaces.

...that building in the background looks familiar..?

As the sun began setting, we were treated to a display of local life often missed by tourists. Pigeons or 'kabootars' fly in circles above the rooftops as men and young boys whistle and wave sticks below. The pigeon fanciers of Agra (kabootar baz) do not race their pigeons but fly them in flocks and control them with whistles and calls. The excercising of pigeons is almost as big a part of life to the Muslims of Agra as the muezzin's call to prayer.


The kabootar baz exercises his pigeons as the sun sets in Agra.

One full day in Agra was all the time that was necessary to visit the highlights of the city. The following day we were back on the road.... this time we were heading to the province of Rajasthan - 'the land of kings'.

Nepal: River Rafting, Elephant Safaris and Indian Visas....

flipflop — Sat, 03 Dec 2005 15:05:25 +0000

We spent the first couple of days in Kathmandu recovering from our trip to the Annapurna region and getting re-acquainted with the much-noisier and polluted streets of the city. Our next goal was to arrange a river rafting trip to the nearby raging waters. After a series of visits to several adventure shops and local rafting companies - which seem to occupy every street corner - we finally booked ourselves a two-day river rafting trip leaving in a few days.

Our journey down the Bhote Kosi river would involve paddling down challenging white water rapids from grades 3 to 4+ (Grade 3 = Intermediate; Grade 4 = Advanced; Grade 5 = Professional). The rafting companies describe it as "one of the best 2-day rafting trips offered anywhere in the world". Our excitement was building!!!

Our meeting point was at 6:30am in front of the rafting shop. At this hour, the streets were deserted apart from handfuls of Kathmandu's poorest residents busy rifling through piles of rubbish looking for any salvageable items of food. Given that we saw one local restaurant owner throw a dead cat into the pile outside his establishment, we didn't care to imagine what other 'delights' were to be found amongst the rubbish.

On this very morning there was only one raft leaving for the Bhote Kosi; there would be 8 of us in the boat: an Austrian couple, a Dutch couple, an Israeli backpacker along with the two of us and the river guide. A 3 hour bus ride up and along the windy hilltops alongside the river took us to our day's starting spot. Our first day would involve a 3 hour raft down the lower part of the Bhote Kosi river mainly on grades 3 and 4-. On arrival at our launch point our group was soon busy donning wetsuits and trying on safety gear. After a half hour instruction briefing by our guide - Indra - we were ready to hit the rapids.

The Bhote Kosi river has a powerful current fed by the melting ice flowing down from the Tibetan Himalayas. The water was cold but refreshing as we steered, bounced, and were pushed down river under the warming Nepalese sun. Any anxieties harbored by our rafting team soon disappeared as we learned to trust our guide and two safety kayakers and move and balance in the raft as we tumbled through the rapids. We stopped for a well-deserved picnic lunch on the banks on the river - pre-prepared for us by a cook and his team - before continuing down the river for another hour.

Our days rafting complete we were driven back up the valley to our nights accommodation - a spacious safari tent.

Loading the raft onto the bus by the side of the river.

Our luxurious safari tent - complete with enormous spiders!!

After a long sleep and two hearty meals, we were back on the river at 10am. The second days' rafting was more challenging; so we were subsequently fitted with 'splash' jackets. These turned out to be very much needed as we traversed solid grade 4 rapids - such as 'frog in a blender' and 'dazed and confused'.

Fitted out in our rafting gear and ready to hit the rapids.

We had great fun rafting down, whilst feeling much more confident after the previous day's experience - though 2-meter drops into unforgiving churning white water soon reminded us that the river was boss!!

We returned to Kathmandu wet and exhausted from our 2-day adventure. We then took some time to rid ourselves of some of the excess weight we've been carrying around in our backpacks; i.e., trading-in our used guidebooks to local bookstores in exchange for books on India, sending home the souvenirs we had accumulated via mail and selling our sleeping bags to the nearby 'trekking' shop (we were heading to warmer climates in India). We also picked up our Indian visas...

Application for an Indian Visa in Nepal

The tale of the Indian Visa application process is notorious amongst backpackers in Nepal; those who survive it consider themselves veterans of all visa application processes and have many a war-tale to tell over a beer. We salute our fellow veterans and solemnly remember those who fell during battle... completely giving up on the idea of visiting India; and those who turned to the darkside - and paid extortionate amounts to evil travel agents in order to obtain the sticker in their passport.

Attempt 1

We chose to ignore the very poor advice given to us by our hotel reception to arrive at the Indian Embassy at 10:00am and instead arranged to meet up with two fellow travelers outside the embassy gates at midnight. Having been pre-warned that a daily list system operates for visa applications for which people sign up throughout the early morning we were aiming to be amongst the first seen that day. The Indian Embassy is open for visa applications between 9:30 and 12:00 each weekday morning. These hours are strictly adhered to, no matter how many people are in the queue, anyone who has failed to be seen by the embassy official must return to begin the process anew the following day. With each applicant taking a minimum of 10 minutes to process, it is very important to be amongst the top 25 in the queue.

Having arrived at the embassy at 00:05 we were forced to have a 20 minutes argument with the embassy Security Guard in charge of 'the list' who insisted we were too early to sign up (despite our knowledge that many people had done so at a similar time on previous days). He eventually agreed to take a note of our names and add them to the list once it was an appropriate time…!!! Uncertain this would be done but with few other options we left our details and returned to our hotel for a few hours sleep.

We returned to the Embassy at about 7:45 and to our surprise found that not only had our names been added to 'the list' but that we were numbers 1 and 2 (apparently about 1:15 was a suitable time for writing down names as this was entered next to the subsequent names). What we expected to be a long and boring wait until the gates opened at 9:30 turned out to be a near-brawl - we were later told that actual physical fights break out on average about once a week. The agitators were a mix of those who had a number but had decided it was too high so tried to push in front; those who were not aware of 'the list' and who had turned up at 8 in the morning expecting to be first in line; and those who had come at 4 in the morning and were told the list system had been scrapped in favor of straight forward queuing and so refused to recognize those people with numbers. The latter were victims of the embassy guards twisted sense of humor. It transpires that the guards favorite past time is to deny to poor, unsuspecting, applicants that the list system exists, then sit back and watch the ensuing mayhem (unfortunately we too were to fall victim to this ruse).

The heated arguments continued once we were let into the embassy grounds, where our queue outside was briefly exchanged for a mad dash, followed by another massive queue. Because this was our first visit all we had to do was fill in a simple form and pay a fee of R300. However this still took over 45 minutes due to a travel agent who was processing multiple applications and who had bribed the guards to slip in just a head of us. Our forms finally handed in we were told to return after 7 days to begin the second stage.
(Cue our rafting trip)

Attempt 2

We returned from our rafting trip completely exhausted after a full day of battling rapids following little sleep the night before due to 'tummy troubles'. Nevertheless we set our alarms for 2:00am in preparation for our second Indian Embassy visit. Upon arrival at the Embassy gates we awoke the guard who promptly informed us that the list system had been scrapped. He pointed to freshly posted signs which outlined, very vaguely, how to queue at the gates. Now, according to our guard, people were requested to turn up from 5 in the morning to commence queuing. What can we say? We were tired and cold, and like fools believed him! We returned to our hotel room but decided to leave our embassy visit for another day and get some much needed sleep.

Attempt 3

Acting upon the advice given to us on our last visit we set our alarms for 4:00am deciding this was plenty early enough if we were going to be queuing throughout the morning. We arrived at the embassy at 4:30am to find about 10 people waiting outside…and a list!! Argh!! …we had been duped by the guards! Frustrated but with no way of rectifying our situation we added our names to the list (numbers 32 and 33) and sat down at the street corner to wait.

At around 8:30 the daily arguments over queuing began but the crowd remained fairly orderly and we proceeded into the embassy on time. It took nearly 90 minutes before we managed to hand in our form; though the wait was almost made worth our while by the comical, ill -matched, and poorly fitting toupee of the Indian official in charge. With the first part of the process finished we joined that back of a second queue - the one in which we would finally pay and provide our passports. Because this queue involves the handing over of money it is not subject to the 12:00 close of the first, however it is subject to the temperament of the official in charge who could close it permanently for the day at any moment he wished. With this in mind tension soon began to mount as a group of 7 or 8 Russians attempted to move straight to the front of the line claiming 'diplomatic status' and pushing their passports under the nose of the official. A shouting match ensued with cries of 'This isn't Russia, get to the back!!' from the crowd. Luckily for our queue the Indian official was none-too impressed either, especially when they waved their bribes of $100 bills at him, and refused to acknowledge them until he had dealt with everyone inside the room first.

At 1:15, after nearly 9 hours of waiting, our forms and passports were submitted. We returned later the same day to collect our hard fought for visas…was this a sneak preview of what to expect in India??? We decided to linger a little longer in Nepal (just in case) before we would find out…

Chitwan

Our overland route to India would take us past the Royal Chitwan National Park - where we decided to break our journey. Chitwan is one of the best preserved national wildlife reserves in the Indian sub-continent and is home to Bengal tigers, one-horned rhinos, wild elephants, deer, bison, monkeys, wild cats and over 200 species of wild birds.

Upon arrival at the Chitwan bus park, we ignored the throng of hotel touts and headed straight for a resort recommended by the Austrian couple we had met river rafting. The hotel proved worthy of the tip and we booked a 'bungalow' room located in a quiet garden a stones throw away from the sandy banks of a river which provides a natural border to the park. Chitwan was a pleasant break from the chaos of Kathmandu; the increasingly cold days and nights were replaced with a pleasantly warm, humid climate; and the noisy polluted traffic was swapped for bicycles, passing elephants and dug-out canoes.

Our first full day in Chitwan began with an excellent breakfast. It was not the food, but the setting that proved to be the delight. Sitting on deckchairs in an outside restaurant on the banks of the Rapti river, we watched domestic elephants being bathed by their handlers in the flowing waters. The handlers (and elephants) were happy to exploit interested tourists during this daily chore by allowing them to participate. After securing their position on the elephants back, smiling and unsuspecting tourists are then doused in water sprayed from the elephant's trunk, then shaken off and dunked in the rushing river…..all under the watchful eye and direction of the elephant handler. This must be the world's best form of breakfast entertainment!!

Nikki enjoys a front row view of the morning activities.


The handlers first wash the elephant before having a wash themselves...

Ever wondered how to mount an elephant? ...simply grab its ears and walk up its trunk.

That afternoon we rented some bicycles and headed off to the elephant breeding center. Unfortunately, mountain bikes have yet to make an appearance in southern Nepal, so we rode the 4 km dirt and stone route on one-gear, no-suspension bicycles - which proved a little unforgiving on our derrieres!!!

Nikki overtakes the local 'traffic'.

The elephant breeding center was home to about a dozen elephants and their young. It was built to sustain and promote the training and use of domestic elephants who play an important role in farming, wildlife observation and conservation, and protecting the local villages from wild elephant attacks.

This bull elephant let everyone know who was boss.

A juvenile elephant gives himself a dust bath.

The highlight of the center was most definitely 3 of the young elephants. Spurned on by previous successful attempts at obtaining cookies and other treats from tourists, they frequently climbed through the ill-maintained fencing to probe the bags and pockets of visitors.

High five!!

New friends....

The following day was an action-packed affair, exploring the national park itself. We started with a 7:15am boat ride in a dugout canoe made from a single silk-cotton tree. The early morning mists meant we could see no more than 3-4 meters, but it made for an enchanting ride down the river. From our vantage point in the boat, our guide pointed out a few of the 100s of birds that live in the park as well as a long-snout crocodile who seemed particularly interested in a lone orange duck.

The dug-out canoe sat very low in the murky waters as we paddled into the mist.

Disembarking from our boat, we embarked on a 3.5 hour jungle walk through the park. As we began, our guide briefed us on what to do if we came across some of the parks most dangerous animals:
Sloth Bear = group together and make lots of noise.
Rhino = hide behind a tree, climb it if necessary.
Wild Elephant = hide in a thick bush.
Tiger = stare it in the eyes and back away slowly…. then run!!!
Unfortunately (or luckily), we did not have to use any of these tactics - as despite much 'tracking' done by our two guides, we failed to find any of the above animals. We did however chance upon a fierce looking large crocodile who liked to dine on deer, small bison or fisherman should they happen to venture into the water at the wrong time. We also saw some very playful monkeys and lots of large spiders and bugs.

Tree trunks bridge the way over the swamps.


Wildlife was scarce but crocs and bugs were seen creeping about.


We ducked through forests and roamed the grasslands but the large animals remained elusive.

Returning exhausted from crawling through the undergrowth, we went back to our hotel for lunch and a rest.

Later that afternoon we again ventured into the park; this time on the back of a 10-foot elephant.

Surely we would find some animals from up here!!

Our 'elephant safari' was more successful and within 15 minutes we were happily photographing a huge one-horned rhinoceros…..this time there was no need to run for the nearest tree!!!!

The rhino peers through the high grasses.


Tracking the rhino on the back of an elephant was far easier.

Our rhino photo shoot was cut a little short by the arrival of a huge male wild elephant with tusks more fitting to a hairy mammoth. The wild elephant seemed like he was out looking for a fight but whilst other domestic elephants around us beat a hasty retreat, our jovial elephant handler seemed game to hang around a little longer. We played 'hide and seek' with the wild elephant for a good 10 minutes before our handler eventually reasoned that park officials may not be too happy should the wild elephant win the fight and he return without his paying customers.

As the sun set on our visit to Chitwan it was time for us to depart Nepal and head for India.

Nepal: Kathmandu and the Annapurna Trek

flipflop — Thu, 10 Nov 2005 15:35:00 +0000

Our first 3 or 4 days in Nepal were spent relaxing on what we have termed ‘admin days’ – ie, days spent catching up on sleep, doing laundry, writing emails, reading guide books and planning our next set of traveling or sightseeing trips. We stayed in an area of Kathmandu called Thamel – a small network of 5 or 6 narrow streets entirely dedicated to tourists and backpackers. Guesthouses, restaurants, souvenir shops and grocery stores line the dusty roads providing a haven for travel-weary backpackers who are happy to wander the streets and enjoy an ‘easier’ travel stop (the shops sell English and Belgian chocolate and the restaurants serve pizza deals at lunchtime - heaven!!!). Whilst Thamel is relaxing, it is far from peaceful; rickshaws, taxis and motorbikes race through the small streets and cramped alleyways with little regard for tourists browsing for souvenirs. With trekking touts and the local ‘hash’ dealers vying for business amongst the crowds, it is impossible to walk down one block without saying ‘No, thank you!!” at least 5 times.

Hundreds of signs advertising treks, guesthouses and internet cafes hang above the crowded streets.

We took a day trip into the Kathmandu Valley which consisted of a 3-hour hike and some visits to nearby temples. We hired a taxi for the day which we shared with our 2 Belgian friends – Geert and Danielle – with whom we had crossed Tibet and who were also staying in the same guesthouse as us. The taxi dropped us off at the town of Sankhu, from where we hiked at a leisurely pace along the hilltops through small villages and farms. It was a good chance to stretch our legs prior to our upcoming Annapurna trek.


Various shades of green colored the beautiful hillsides.


Along our walk we came across many groups of Nepalese children.


It was great to view the everyday life of the local villagers, many of whom were busy preparing their rice harvests.

The hike ended at the Hindu Temple of Changu Narayan, where we took a small tour to learn about its famous 1,000 year old icons and statues.


Elephant statues flanked the entrance to the revered Hindu temple.

After a lunch stop at a local hilltop restaurant, we drove back towards Kathmandu stopping at Pashupatinath along the way. Pashupatinath stands on the banks of the Ganges and is Nepal’s version of Varanasi in India. It is the holiest Hindu site in Nepal. The river Ganges which starts in Tibet and flows through Nepal into India is held sacred by Hindus and used (amongst other things) for the disposal of the dead. At the main temple we watched (very briefly) a couple of private ceremonies where the bodies were prepared, blessed, and then set on fire. Following this ritual, the ashes would then be swept into the river. It was an extremely unique sight and felt very strange to have paid a tourist entrance fee to watch other peoples private funerals. Needless to say we didn’t pause long, as the air was thick with ashes and the smell of burning bodies; we also didn’t feel comfortable observing the respective families in their time of morning.


Smoke from the burning bodies billowed out of the temple grounds.


Luckily there were other colorful sights at the temple to distract us from the funerals.

Our last stop was to the holiest Buddhist stupa in Nepal - an area home to many Tibetans in exile. The stupa - loacted in Bodnath - was the biggest we have seen so far and was surrounded by colorful Tibetan shops – we felt as if we had been briefly transported back to Lhasa!!

Prayer flags stream down from the top of the stupa.

Two days after our trip around Kathmandu valley we departed to Pokhara to begin our much-anticipated Annapurna trek. The bus ride to Pokhara was an 11-hour ordeal. We came across 3 accidents: a bus which had rolled down a steep mountain slope, an oil tanker which had almost completely blocked the narrow 2-lane mountain road, and another bus which had crashed through some barriers and had stopped halfway over a ravine. Accidents on Nepals’ narrow and winding roads seem to be common place, no doubt fuelled by drivers insisting on driving in the middle of the two lanes and speeding around tight corners. The extra 3 hours that was subsequently added to our journey time was of little surprise or worry to the driver or the locals. We arrived in Pokhara at night, and after a brief dinner we set about re-organizing and re-packing our bags to prepare for the start of out trek the following morning.

Gridlock. (Accident #2)

The Annapurna Trek

The Annapurna Region: Located in central Nepal, the Annapurna region is the area surrounding the Annapurna mountain range which is part of the larger Himalayan range. It is a common and popular destination for many tourists and is renowned for its natural beauty and great trekking. In recent years, prosperity has waned slightly due to the increased activities of the Maoist rebels in the area.

Maoists: The communist party of Nepal (Maoist) are waging a ‘People’s War’ in the hills of Nepal, advocating the establishment of a communist republic in place of the existing constitutional Hindu monarchy.

The Maoists allegedly pose no threat to tourists (they officially support tourism as it provides vital income to local people); however, there have been reports of robbery, extortion and bombings in which tourists were caught up. Our embassies advise tourists to visit with caution and our guide book describes how we will most likely be asked to make a ‘voluntary donation’ when passing through areas under Maoist control. Having spoken to tour operators and other travellers in Kathmandu, we felt it was safe enough to visit the Annapurna region.

Day 1
Naya Pul (1000m) to Ulleri (2080m)
6 hours

After a quick successful scout around town for some pastries and croissants for breakfast we took a taxi from our hotel in Pokhara to Naya Pul. The journey was a 1.5 hour drive up and down twisty mountain roads with the occasional 'road block' along the way. The road blocks came in the form of a group of children excitedly shouting and waving down vehicles, sometimes with the aid of a bamboo stick held out across the road. We assumed this activity was part of the 'festival of light' which was taking place that week and seems to also be a license for children to demand sweets or money - in a similar fashion to 'trick or treating' at Halloween. Whatever the justification our taxi driver was far from amused and kept chasing them away, shouting angrily; we were grateful our drive was not 3 or 4 hours, otherwise the temptation to keep going and run them over might have become too much for the stressed man.

When we arrived at Naya Pul - the starting point of most Annapurna treks - we were besieged by several men touting for porter jobs. They became especially excited when they saw the size of our bags (we had packed clothes and sleeping bags into Eric's large backpack for him to carry, and snacks and other essentials into Nikki's daypack for her to carry). We had however decided to do the trek on our own, and Eric took great pride in dismissing them with tales of how he had already trekked 100km in the mountains of Scotland - all in 15 hours! (amidst the praise from the porters he neglected to tell them that you don't carry any luggage on the 'Caledonian Challenge' !!).

The starting line. The entrance to the Annapurna Conservation Area.

Our first day of trekking was amazing. Bright sunshine along with a gentle cooling breeze accompanied us for most of the morning. We made our way gradually up the valley and deeper into the mountains, passing through small villages lined with lodges and tea houses.

Spectacular.

Most of the villages were part of farming communities and many of the villagers were busy harvesting their rice paddies or making haystacks on the man-made flat steps cut into the hillside. We saw many 'walking' haystacks and bushes - the locals carrying branches and straw up and down the trail in baskets strapped to their heads (Nepalese bear all the weight of their load using a strap tied around their forehead, only foreigners or porters carrying foreigner's bags, strap the weight on their backs). The wildlife we saw was largely domestic - donkeys, horses and cows which shared the trails and suspension bridges with us; along with chickens, dogs, and goats etc. We also saw huge spiders, caterpillars and the odd stick insect.


Stick insects and walking haystacks.


Horse 'caravans' make their way along the trail - transporting goods to remote villages. The lead horses were adorned with colorful headresses, and were fitted with bells around their neck.

The trail followed a massive river up the valley. It was incredibly tempting to stop for a swim but we had failed to bring bathing suits with us and the Nepalese look very dimly on skinny dipping!


The valley was an amazing blend of rice paddies, forests, meadows and rivers.


Suspension bridges connect villages on opposing sides of deep ravines.

We stopped for lunch at a lodge in Tikhedhunga, where we devoured a much needed meal of energy boosting pasta. We could have stopped for the night in the village but decided to carry on up the trail in order to make the next day's hike more enjoyable. The trail continued in the form of an steep climb up a reported 3,300 steps; which we completed in the midst of a tropical downpour. After two hours, soaked and exhausted, we arrived in Ulleri, our village for the night. We managed to find a room with little hassle. Most lodges in the Annapurna region offer twin rooms with shared toilet and shower facilities - all for the princely sum of 100 Rupees ($1.30!!!). It was very cold that night and we were extremely glad for our thermals and wooly hats. Cold, exhaustion, plus a lack of electricity meant we were safely cocooned in our sleeping bags and fast asleep by 8:00pm.


The colorful lodges catered to western tourists; each room had a spectacular view of the surrounding mountains.

Day 2

Ulleri (2080m) to Deorali (2870m)

4 to 5 hours

We departed for our second day of trekking at 7:30am and were soon glad we had hiked the extra 2 hours the day before. The trek continued uphill and whilst there were occasional flats, most of the climb was up more stone steps.

Horses trudged up the steep stone staircases that ran through the village.

As we hiked ever upwards the rice paddies and large clearings gave way to thick forests, steep hillsides and a few man-made flat steps which appeared to be dedicated to grazing. The numbers of cows noticeably decreased and were replaced with oxen, but there were always plenty of chickens clucking about on the trail. Much of the second day's walk was through oak and rhododendron forests. The trees and rocks either side of the trail were thick with moss and ferns making it quite a dark and enchanting woodland. The trail was occasionally overtaken by miniature streams and waterfalls which we trudged through with little care as we climbed higher on out tired legs.


The forests were dense with lots of plants, trees and streams.

The trail also bridged several larger streams which cascaded down the mountainside in a series of magnificent waterfalls. Nepal is certainly a picturesque and beautiful place. Natural wildlife was scarce apart for glimpses of brightly coloured birds. We also came across a group of monkeys screaming and jumping in the trees. They had a crown of white fur on their heads and grew to a fairly large size; unfortunately they neither stayed still nor close enough for a photo.

Nikki takes a water break in the sunshine.

Geert, Danielle and Eric pose for the camera.

We didn't stop for lunch but carried on with short stops for snacks and water. It took us just over 4 hours to reach Deorali with the last half hour being a grueling series of steep steps draining our already heavy legs....but an amazing view of the Annapurna's greeted us at the top, and all aches and pains were instantly forgotten. We were amongst the first trekkers of the day to reach the village and so had the choice of lodges to stay in. We opted for the 'Super View' guesthouse which certainly lived up to its name. We were given the best room in the lodge - a 2-aspect corner room overlooking the village and the surrounding mountain range. We rewarded ourselves that afternoon with a long relaxing lunch under the towering Annapurna South mountain peak.

The village of Deorali.

Whilst we were enjoying our dinner that evening we were finally 'caught' by the Maoist Rebels!! Unfortunately our encounter was neither dramatic nor exciting. A group of about 4 entered our lodge and conducted a circuit of the dining room, going from table to table asking for 'voluntary donations' to the Maoist Rebel cause. A young guy of about 20 approached us, apologised for disturbing our dinner and requested we pay a 'tax' of 1200 Rupees ($17). Eric and our Belgian friend Geert made a few half hearted attempts at getting a 'student discount' or '2 for 1' but there was no bargaining to be had. Whist we waited for our receipts we were informed that our 'donations' would go to worthy causes such as building local schools and sponsoring community doctors (no mention of the procuring of guns). We were also told how the Maoists were fighting for the poor people whom they would never hurt, and how they were persecuted by the government and the king...it would have been great to have a lengthy discussion about the current state of politics in Nepal but we thought this wasn't the time or place and so didn't question the truthfulness of our orator. After our receipts were issued and our 1200R per person handed over, they wished us a goodnight and a good time in Nepal - an exceptionally gentlemanly way of conducting what is essentially a rebel war! ...somehow we don't think the locals are treated in the same courteous way.

The infamous Maoist rebel 'Tourist Fee Receipt'.

Day 3

Deorali (2870m) to Tadapani (2700m)

6 hours

Our alarm went off at the ungodly hour of 4:30am, we dragged ourselves out of bed and layered-up with thermals, shirts, jumpers etc. Having grabbed some snacks and water, we set off on a 45 minute hike up nearby Poon Hill - a renowned viewpoint from which to watch the sun rise and light up the Annapurna mountain range. The climb up was torturous - step after step after step - though many people were determined to tackle it. All the way up the hill you could see a snaking trail of torches (Am: 'flashlights') as fellow trekkers trudged up the mountain, no doubt also wondering why they hadn't stayed snug and warm in their beds on this cold, dark, frosty morning. As we climbed light began to seep over the horizon illuminating the mountains against the still starry night sky. After a few rest stops (Nikki's body, unlike Eric's, highly protested at this early morning hike) we finally made it to the top - wow what a glorious view! The sun was just coming over the distant hills, the sky was clear, and we had an amazing view of the Annapurna's. At this point we of course started going photo mad - along with the other 50 or so tourists at the top of Poon Hill.

The sun begins to rise over distant hills.

The mountain peaks slowly became visible in the starry night sky.

Twilight illuminated the high peak of 'Annapurna South'.

The sun then finally broke over the horizon setting the mountain tops on fire.

On the top of Poon Hill we were surrounded by the Himalayas.

Poon Hill: 3,210 meters.

We stayed at the top throughout dawn; it was absolutely freezing despite our many layers and thermals. When we finally headed back down around 7:00am it took nearly the entire descent to regain feeling and warmth in our fingers and toes.

Packed and ready to go!!!

After a short breakfast stop at our lodge we headed off on our day's trek to Tadapani. The trek started off with another hike up a different hill. Most of the trail was through open forest which was a pleasant early morning walk. There were few signs of wildlife though we did manage to spot a mongoose which went scurrying off to the shelter of the undergrowth. The hill climb was very deceptive, frequently we thought we had reached the top only to continue and find another set of steps awaiting us around the corner. We were however treated to many great views of the mountains on the way up.

Snowy mountaintops were still visible through the trees as we made our way up the hill.

Not a bad spot for a water break.

We trekked to over 3000m, where we found bamboo growing amongst the trees - very different to the similar heights of the French Alps! The trails were quite muddy and slippery at times, especially as we descended down into the next valley. When we began our descent tiny trickles of water flowed over the trail, a few of these grew and combined to form small streams which followed us down the mountain before becoming one large powerful river crashing its way through the valley. Apart from a large flock of sheep and goats being herded down the mountainside, animal life remained scarce. The distant clanging of bells around horses necks were echoed by the clacking of walking sticks on rocks as trekkers made their way along the trails.

Face to face with a group of oxen, Nikki makes the first move.

Water, rocks, trees and bushes.

Waterfall cascades down through the bushes.

Our trek ended with another steep climb up the mountainside to the small village of Tadapani. This time the steps were partly made from stones (like before) but also carved out by huge tree roots gaping out of the soil. When we arrived at Tadapani we secured a room at the 'Super View' lodge (not affiliated with our previous nights' lodgings). The temperature dropped sharply in the evening and we were forced to huddle around the warmest place in the lodge - the dining room table which was heated underneath with old-fashioned bedpans. It was definitely straight to bed after dinner for all the lodge's guests that night!

Day 4

Tadapani (2700m) to Naya Pul (1000m)

6 hours

We set off down the mountain at 7:30am taking in some great views of the Annapurna's along the way. Most of the first 2 hours were spent trekking down windy mud paths in the middle of a magnificent forest. We seemed to interrupt a group of monkeys who went screaming and crashing through the tree tops. Gradually the forest gave way to rice paddies as we descended down and the temperature became noticeably warmer.

Rays of sunlight streamed down into the forest.

Spot the monkeys.

We reached our first marker village of Gandruk after about 2 hours and stopped for drinks and snacks. As we were leaving the village we repeatedly asked the locals to confirm we were headed in the right direction as the village was a maze of confusing stone streets. Confident we were on the right track.....we went completely the wrong way. We were still heading down the same valley but along a trail that would end in a village on the opposite side to which we had intended - so no harm done!!

The walk down was hot but nice. There were many rice paddies occupied by farmers busy making hay and sifting the rice from the husk. The steps leading down into the valley soon became torturous as the hard stone was very unforgiving on our knees. We both suffered from wobbly legs and heavy feet meaning there were plenty of trips and near-twisted ankles along the way. We made it to Birethanti in 6 hours total and stopped for a well deserved lunch from which we nearly didn't emerge to walk the extra 20 minutes to the taxi stand as our muscles began seizing up. An hour-long taxi ride took us back to Pokhara where a gloriously hot shower and soft bed awaited us!

It was a steep and steady climb down into the valley.

Rice paddies covered the hillsides.

After a few days rest in Pokhara, we made it back into Kathmandu.

Tibet to Nepal: Riding the Friendship highway

flipflop — Fri, 28 Oct 2005 13:39:04 +0100

The Tibetan Plateau is shown below; our route to Nepal would take us from Lhasa, through Gyantse, Shigaste, Everest Base Camp and down through the border to Kathmandu.

Day 1: Lhasa to Gyantse

At 8:42 am, we departed Lhasa in a blue Toyota Landcruiser driven by our Tibetan driver; Tassi. There were four of us in the car, the other 2 people were a Belgian couple at the tail end of their 14-month round the world trip.

Setting off from the courtyard of the YAK Hotel in Lhasa.

Today's itinerary would take us to the town of Gyantse; 263 kilometers away from Lhasa.

Our first three hours of steady driving was a surprising smooth ride on freshly paved roads. The first main break in our journey was at the top of Kampa La Pass - 4,990 meters high - overlooking the majestic lake Yamdrok. We piled out of the jeep to admire the stunning turquoise waters of the sacred lake only slightly distracted by a light falling of snow. Our viewpoint was shared with fellow tourists and a circus of yaks, dogs and clinging children.


Dark snow clouds loomed overhead, as we admired the lake. Local herdsman brought their saddled yaks and surrounded the jeeps in an attempt to entice the tourists to pay for a ride.

Soon after, the paved roads were replaced by dirt roads winding up and down and around the snow-capped mountains passing tiny settlements and icy flowing rivers.

We stopped for lunch in a small Tibetan town where our driver directed us to a local restaurant. The $5-a-head tourists' buffet did not appeal, so using our Tibetan phrasebook we managed to obtain some hot water for our personal supply of instant noodles. Whilst eating we were closely watched by a very scruffy 4-year-old Tibetan boy who gratefully accepted our leftovers.

Outside the restaurant the word that foreigners were in town had clearly spread and while our driver tinkered with the jeeps engine we were surrounded by a cluster of school children eagerly shouting out the few English phrases they knew. Eric reciprocated the enthusiasm with his own line of questioning using the ever-useful Tibetan phrasebook.

Eric orchestrated a group photo of our attentive audience.

During our final stretch to Gyantse, we paused to admire another impressive lake. This one having the most beautiful turquoise hue. A brief hailstorm ensued before our late afternoon arrival in Gyantse.

The lake glistened in the sun amongst the high surrounding mountains.

Day 2: Gyantse to Shigaste

After a hearty breakfast of banana pancakes, we strolled into town on our way to see the famous Kumbum Monastery. Gyantse is an attractive, relaxed town offering the visitor a very Tibetan feel.

The wide cobblestone streets are almost car-free; instead, the locals rely on horse and tractors to transport themselves and their goods around town. An overnight snowfall had blanketed the tops of the surrounding mountains, and whilst there was no snow in the town itself, we still wrapped up warmly against the icy temperatures.


Young boys played in the sidestreets whilst we admired the traditional Tibetan houses.

The 14th-century Kumbum monastery was our favorite monastery we have visited so far. Not only is it the best preserved monastery in Tibet, it also exudes an air of spirituality that is unheard of in the more museum-like Buddhist temples we saw in China. The word 'Kumbum' means '100,000 images'; the colorful murals and the beautifully adorned statues inside, certainly do not make this an overstatement.


The beautifully preserved temples of Kumbum Monastery are still in use today.

A view from the hills behind the monastery provides a great vantage point of the town. In the background, the Gyantse Dzong, a 14th century fortress towers over the rooftops.

On our way back to our hotel, we paused at a street vendor to purchase 2 hand-made Buddhist monk scarves - a much-needed addition to our wardrobe in these colder temperatures.

A 90 km 1.5 hour drive took us to the city of Shigaste. The drive to Shigaste would be the shortest scheduled travel day of our trip across the Tibetan plateau. This city portrays a far larger Chinese presence as Chinese restaurants and hotels line the main boulevard and advertisements for Chinese products dominate the streets.

We checked into the Fruit Orchard hotel located directly opposite the monastery. After a brief lunch we paid a visit to another one of Tibet's glorious monasteries. The Tashilunpo Monastery is a large complex of brightly painted buildings and golden roofed temples. Amongst its maze of alleyways and courtyards are various chapels and shrines including an 8 million-dollar gold-leafed Buddha, the final resting-place of the 10th Pachen Lama.


The walls of the huge monastery were lined with colorful murals depicting religious tales, symbols, and the many forms of Buddha.


Whilst we explored the monastery the monks continued with their daily chores - which included prayer-flag making and religious teaching.

The next day would be the longest leg of our journey, a 10-hour stretch taking us up to 5,200 meters. With our driver coming to collect us at 7:15 am, we decided to make it an early night.

Day 3: Shigaste to Shekar

We departed in our jeep early enough to catch the morning sunrise over the barren brown mountains. After 4 hours of driving along the partly surfaced friendship highway, we climbed to the 4,500 metre mountain pass of Tsua La. Then we steeply descended down a windy dirt road to the nearly deserted plains of the plateau. On our way, we passed small Tibetan settlements consisting of mud brick houses; also visible within these hamlets were local farmers sifting grains and preparing hay bales for the upcoming winter.

Dry-mud hillsides, sand dunes, and rocky mountains - the main features of the Tibetan Plateau.

We stopped for lunch at the truck-stop town of Lhatse. The town's only road was a hive of activity with tractors and buses loading and unloading both people and goods. Clouds of dust also filled the air from the passing Chinese trucks rumbling down the dirt road. We had lunch at a road-side Chinese restaurant; whilst waiting for our food, a large black cow casually strolled by the restaurant's open doorway and paused for lunch at the bakery next door. It was a good five minutes before the baker noticed and shooed the cow away from the bag of flour it had been enjoying. With the cow dispersed, the baker scooped up another handful from the sack of flour and continued baking.

Tibetans pile into the local taxi-tractor.

After Lhatse, the Friendship highway became diabolical, as we spent the next couple of hours ascending up steep-snaking roads carved into the mountain face. We reached what would be the highest point of our trip: the Lhakpa La Pass (mountain pass) at an altitude of 5,220 meters. A photo session quickly ensued of the spectacular views of the surrounding mountains.


Eric lines up the local children at the mountain pass to hand out candy, but then has to make a quick escape when the bag runs out.

The road continued and gradually descended a good 400 to 500 meters before reaching the small town of Shekar. Along the way, we managed to get our first glimpse of Mount Everest in the distance. The 'one-cow' town of Shekar consisted of nothing more than a handful of Tibetan guesthouses and restaurants. This town provides very little of interest for the sightseer: it's simply a welcome stop during the arduous trek to seek out Everest.

A lone cow wanders down the town's only street...

Day 4: Shekar  Everest Base Camp

We left Shekar at sunrise for a grueling 4-hour drive to Everest base camp. For the first hour, the road zigzagged steeply up to the Pang la Pass (5,150 meters), where we were given a taste of what awaited us - a clear magnificent view of the Himalayan range. The snow-topped mountaintops were complemented beautifully by blue skies.


The mighty Everest dominates the Himalayan Range.

From the mountain pass, we continued on another long, bumpy, spellbinding 100 kilometers to the Everest base camp. The base camp (5,200 meters in altitude) is a collection of wind-beaten white canvas tents and a lone teahouse, serving yak-buttered tea to those in need of warming up.

Everest Base Camp.

We stopped just beyond the base camp at the foot of the mighty Everest four our one and half-hour photo shoot.

Mt. Everest - 8,840m.


Everest tourists!!


Happy to have made it..!!


The photo shoot went on for ages....no pose was left out...

At such a high altitude, symptoms of altitude sickness can quickly develop, so it is imperative to keep a watchful eye on your companions. Soon after the photo shoot, Nikki announced to Eric that she felt 'drunk'. She was giggling continuously and staggering about complaining of dizziness, nausea and headache. Eric promptly grabbed Nikki by the hand and guided her back to the base camp (at this point, Nikki felt so drunk she expected to see the bouncers and bars of London streets along the trail). Eric realized the potential severity of the situation having previously read that signs of drunkenness indicate the person may be hours away from unconsciousness. Upon reaching the base camp, he quickly negotiated with the driver to get a ride back down to a nearby hotel at a lower altitude. After a short rest and some food at the hotel, the 'drunk' symptoms had subsided but it was felt that it would be wise precaution for us to spend the night at an even lower altitude.

The three-hour drive down to the nearest town was far from smooth; the extremely bumpy ride was a further test to Nikki's nausea. Within an hour of arriving at Tingri, we changed into our thermals and were soon cocooned in our sleeping bags under musty blankets. We went to sleep very early that evening; not only due to tiredness, but also because there was little to do in our crumbling, mud-brick constructed room. It was too cold to explore the town and the electricity sourced from the guesthouse's petrol generator made our light too unreliable and weak to read by.


The 'quaint' Tibetan hotels lacked certain home comforts.

Day 5: Crossing the Himalayas

During our seven-hour trip to the China-Nepal border, we traversed across starkly contrasting landscapes. We began in the brown barren mountains of the Tibetan plateau and advanced up mountain passes into the snowy Himalayas. The temperature had dropped dramatically and it was definitely below freezing... our woolly hats, gloves, scarves and many layers barely kept us warm in the jeep ('comfort stops' were kept to a minimum!!).


Making the steep acsent up to the snowy himalayas.


Prayer flags and icy roads adorned the mountain passes.

As we descended down the Himalayas, the landscape changed again - from snow-covered mountainsides to forests - exuding an almost jungle complete with magnificent waterfalls.


The road carved down jagged ravines, following a fast-flowing mountain river to Nepal.

Upon reaching the border town of Zhangmu, we negotiated the lorry-filled streets and came to a stop at a small teahouse. There we arranged for a ride to take us from the boarder to Kathmandu. Having rid ourselves of our remaining Chinese Yuan via the black market touts, we began the confusing multistage border crossing process.

The view from 'Friendship Bridge' - a 65-meter bridge spanning across a ravine marking the natural border between China and Nepal. Visible in the distance is the Chinese border town of Zhangmu.

How to cross the Chinese-Nepal border:

1. Load bags into Chinese taxi.

2. Walk through Chinese immigration and customs department, receive exit stamps in passport.

3. Rejoin waiting Chinese taxi and descend 8 kilometers down mountainside to meet up with Nepalese taxi.

4. Unload bags from Chinese taxi and reload them into Nepalese taxi.

5. Walk behind Nepalese taxi across 'Friendship Bridge'.

6. Proceed through the Nepalese immigration and customs and receive entry stamp in passport.

7. Rejoin taxi and drive 3 and half-hours down mountain roads to Kathmandu.

8. Change clocks back 2 hours and 15 minutes to Nepalese time.

The difference between Nepal and Tibet is immediately apparent - not only through the different-looking houses, roads, street life, sounds, smells and ethnic people, but also through the sudden abundance of plush plant and animal life. On the way to Kathmandu, we were surrounded by people wearing saris and tending to rice paddies... as well as many banana trees, huge fast flowing rivers, cows, chickens, goats, exotic-looking birds and even monkeys and snakes.


Nepal - a stark contrast to the landscape of the Tibetan Plateau where we began our 6 hour drive the same day.

Tibet: The Roof of the World

flipflop — Thu, 20 Oct 2005 06:56:53 +0100

Our alarms rudely awakened us at 4:00 am, giving us just enough time to finish our packing, check out of our guesthouse and board the shuttle bus to the airport. A trip to Tibet requires purchasing an expensive permit in addition to a valid Chinese visa, as Chinese authorities strictly monitor all passage to the Tibetan plateau - another controversial issue in the historically turbulent Chinese-Tibetan 'forced' relationship.

Our 8am flight was near capacity, filled with a mixture of Chinese, Tibetans and tourists. The two-hour flight took us from Chengdu - altitude 500 meters - to the capital of the Tibet, Lhasa - altitude 3,700 meters.


The Himalayas peaked out through the clouds as we approached Lhasa.

From the Lhasa airport a one-hour bus ride took us to downtown Lhasa where we managed to find a room at the YAK Hotel. Lhasa is a sprawling city pouring outwards from a central tree-lined boulevard and ringed with snow-capped mountaintops. The Chinese influence amongst the population of 200,000 is very apparent, with 2 Chinese businesses for every Tibetan one, a ratio similar to the population make-up.


Golden Yaks proudly survey the central boulevard.


Rickshaws and cars pass colorful shops selling a variety of goods...including blenders!

Our first few hours were spent exploring the streets surrounding our hotel before we were forced to return to our room to sleep off the early signs of altitude sickness. At altitude the body does not absorb oxygen efficiently causing mild symptoms such as: exhaustion, headaches, shortness of breath, sleeping disorders and nausea; relaxing for the first few days and drinking plenty of water can help dissipate these symptoms. To combat AMS (Altitude Mountain Sickness) you must remain at the same altitude whilst your body adjusts, ignoring the mild symptoms and ascending to higher altitudes too quickly can have serious consequences. Luckily we both only suffered minor symptoms - light headaches and fatigue, which were easily cured by a good nights sleep and drinking plenty of water.

The most famous attraction in Lhasa is the Potala - which has served as a government building, monastery, fortress and most importantly, home to several Dalai Lamas. Perched on the top of the 'Red Mountain', the palace rises a dramatic 13 stories high and creates an imposing landmark in the middle of the city. In the morning, pilgrims from all over ethnic Tibet can be seen prostrating themselves in prayer and making offerings in front of the revered building.

The Potala looms over the city rooftops.

The Potala is an overwhelming architectural sight.


Outside the Potala, many locals asked us to pose in photographs with their children....the curse of having blonde hair and blue eyes!!

In an attempt to counterbalance the authoritative presence of the Tibetan palace, the Chinese government erected a monument to mark 'Tibetan Liberation' opposite, a statement probably resented by the Tibetans..... since British rule has merely been toppled and replaced with Chinese rule, the Tibetans feel far from liberated.

The 'Tibetan Liberation' monument stands against an amazing backdrop of mountains.

We also paid a visit to the Sera monastery - one of the last great, functioning monasteries; previously home to 5,000 monks, now only a few hundred are permitted to reside within its walls today. By chance, whilst exploring the darkened corridors of the monastery’s primary temple, we stumbled across a ceremony attended by several monks and pilgrims. The worshippers were saying prayers and lighting yak-butter candles in front of colorful and intricate representations of Buddhist gods.


The monks quarters inside the monastery were decorated with colorful paintings.


Outside the temple, devout Tibetans spun prayer wheels and burned incense.

Upon exiting the temple, we entered a walled, shady courtyard, where we witnessed dozens of monks assembled in small-animated groups. This fevered activity was the result of monks debating religious theory which involved much posturing, clapping and raising of voices as they drove their points across.

The debating ensues...

A monk listens carefully to his colleague's arguments.

Our sightseeing ended with a tour around Barkhor Square - a highly Tibetan enclave of the city. The square is laid out in front of the Jokhang Temple - considered to be the holiest temple in the Tibetan Buddhist world - which provides a magnificent route for the visiting pilgrims to march through.

The Jokhang Temple awaits pilgrims at the end of the square.

An elderly Tibetan woman prays at the temple gates.

Surrounding the square and the temple are a maze of picturesque cobblestone alleyways, each lined with stalls selling everything from fruit to saddles, jewelry, carpets and religious artifacts. Wandering the streets the senses are bombarded with flashes of colorful clothing, the sounds of prayers outside the temple and the smell of yak-buttered tea wafting out of local teahouses. This was truly the most authentic Tibetan experience we could find in Lhasa.


The streets of Barkhor are lined with colorful stalls and prayer flags.


Dried fruits and spices are for sale alongside spinning prayer wheels.

Tomorrow morning we depart for Mount Everest!!! Our route will take us across the Tibetan plateau over the course of the next seven days. We have organized to travel in a jeep with a Belgian couple we met in Lhasa. Today will be spent stocking up on essentials such as woolly hats, sleeping bags, gloves as well as food and water.

China: Xian to Chengdu

flipflop — Wed, 19 Oct 2005 06:23:00 +0100

A 17-hour sleeper train journey brought us to the city of Xian.

Xian
Location: Capital of the Shaanxi province; central China.
Famous for: Terracotta Warriors.

Our primary reason for stopping in Xian was to see the world famous Terracotta Warriors, while the city itself was also great to explore. Still in existance today is the original city wall first built when Xian was the imperial capital of the Chinese empire; these city walls are some of the best preserved in the world and provide an impressive 14km ring around the center of the city.


We rode bikes along the top of the city wall.

The following day we got up early to visit the Terracotta Warriors. Our day started at 7:20am when we sat patiently waiting for a tour bus to pick us up at our hotel. After 45 minutes we were led by the hotel manager two blocks down the street in the pouring rain where we waited for a further 15 minutes before the bus finally arrived. We had departed later than expected but at last we were on our way.... or so we thought. Our optimism was quickly crushed when 10 minutes later we pulled up alongside a dozen other tour buses. A barrage of shouting ensued between the Chinese tourists, and we were shuffled between three different buses utterly confused as to what was going on. After two hours of going no-where we had had enough and demanded our money back, then hopped into a taxi with two American college students (also in the same bewildered state) and headed off on our own.

The Terracotta Warriors proved to be an impressive sight! The rows upon rows of soldiers lined up side by side were discovered in 1974 by a peasant digging a well and are still being excavated to this day along with an entire 'modelled' city rumored to be somewhere under the soil. The ranks of soldiers - which were designed never to be seen - guard the tomb of Qin Shi Huang, the first emperor of a unified China.

The scale of the army of soldiers that has been excavated is breathtaking.


The figures remain amazingly intact, each soldier measures 1.80 metres tall.

The soldiers bodies were mass-produced... while each head and pair of hands were individually modelled - giving rise to the theory that they reflect the characteristics of each of the Emperor's actual soldiers.

Our departure from Xian was trickier than expected as all beds and seats on out going trains were sold out, leaving us only with the option of a 'no seat' ticket - which would have meant spending the 10-hour overnight journey standing in the corridors of the train. Instead we opted for a long-distance bus ride to the city of Lanzhou.

Eric waits patiently for our bus.

The bus journey started off well, albeit 30 minutes late, but rapidly went downhill. The driving was shared by two men both of whom had their own vice; the first seemed unable to drive for more than two minutes without honking the exceedingly loud horn for no apparent reason; the second was far better with his restraint at using the horn but found it hard to travel further than 10 km without leaning out of the window to clear his throat and lungs by releasing a massive gobule of spit (a widespread habit amongst the Chinese). Three hours into the journey and half-way up a mountain, we were forced to turn back due to a head-on collision between two buses further up the road which had effectively blocked the route over the mountains. The news of such an accident came as no real surprise to us given that both of our drivers appeared happy to perform overtaking maneouvers on blind hair-pin bends at speeds of 90 km an hour, and the news of the accident certainly didn't curb this practice. Our drivers announced that they would have to go the long way around, adding a further 5 hours to our journey time and that this would cost each passenger an additonal $5 (which no doubt went straight into their pockets).

Twelve hours later we finally made it to Lanzhou where we crawled into bed at a nearby hotel. Our stop in Lanzhou was only temporary as it was a springboard to our next destination, Xiahe.

Xiahe
Location: A small town on the edge of the Tibetan plateau in the southern Gansu province.
Famous for: the Labrang monastary, the most important monastary outside of Tibet.

A 6-hour bus journey took us from Lanzhou along windy mountain roads to the tiny rural town of Xiahe, 3000 meters up amongst the rugged Gansu mountains.

The narrow roads snaked perilously through the mountain range.

The town is a mixture of Budhist monks, nomadic herdsman and Tibetan pilgrams. The town seemed to be split in two; the eastern end being very Chinese in terms of advertising, people and commercial preoperty; the west, in stark contrast, was more Tibetan and had a poorer and far more rural feel; in the middle was the Labrang monasary, home to some 2,000 Yellow-Hat monks who dominated the streets on both sides with their bright red and yellow robes.


Xiahe was a contrasting mix of old and new.

We spent the day walking amongst the monks and local artisans enjoying the fresh mountain air and the strange feeling of having left the China that we had been experiencing up until now.

A group of young monks play football in the alleyways.

The next day we explored the monastary following pilgrams as they spun the prayer wheels that surround the vast complex of temples and monks dormitories; and exploring the religious buildings and skyline-dominating pagodas.

The Labrang Monastary.


Mountains and prayer wheels circle the monastary.


Views of the monastary compound.

Monk robes don't hinder young boys from playing on the monastary walls.

After our second night in Xiahe we took the bus back to Lanzhou with the aim of boarding the train to Chengdu the following morning.

Chengdu
Location: Capital of Sichuan province, southwest China.
Famous for: Giant Panda Bears and spicy cuisine.

An exhausting 22-hour train ride brought us to Chengdu, our final city in China before we depart to Tibet. After securing a room at the best guesthouse we have found in China, we soon organized our trip to see the Giant Pandas the following day.

The Giant Panda Breeding Research Base (or the 'Panda brothel' as Eric calls it) was a great setting in which to view these amazing animals. There are less than 1,000 pandas left in the world, so their protection and reproduction is a high priority and one which the Chinese government seems to be taking very seriously. We arrived at the center early to see the Pandas enjoying their breakfast of bamboo and were lucky enough to catch a glimpse of a one-month old baby as well as watching many of the adults enjoy the expanse of the park.

Giant Panda munches on his favourite dish.


The park provided plently of room for the pandas to play.


The pandas seemed to be very social animals.

The best way to escape school kids on field-trips!!

The center is also home to the Red Panda - which looks like a very mischeivous cross between a panda and a raccoon.


The red pandas were extremely cute and always on the lookout for spare cookies from tourists.

The rest of our time in Chengdu has been spent organizing our trip to Tibet, buying thermals and other essentials. Our acting skills have improved greatly over the course of our travels, to the point where we can now successfully mime 'decongestant' to amused chemists - a bid to rid ourselves of a lingering cold before heading to the freezing heights of 5,000 meters in the Himalayas in 2 days time.

Our plan is to cross the Himalayas over the course of two weeks from Lhasa, Tibet to Kathmandu, Nepal.

China: Suzhou and Shanghai

flipflop — Tue, 18 Oct 2005 07:20:00 +0100

Our next destination was the town of Suzhou; a 12-hour overnight train ride away. Being our first sleeper train experience in China, we braced ourselves for the unexpected... we would soon discover that the toughest part would be boarding the train itself. At first glance, the designated waiting lounge for our train appeared to be a calm and orderly queueing area; however, at exactly 30 minutes prior to departure time (when the boarding gates to the platform opened), the civilized crowd transformed into a stampeding mob, every child, businessman and grandma were determined to be the first on the train!! After months of honing our train-boarding skills in Russia, our 'crowd-management' instincts quickly kicked in, we strapped on our 20-kilo plus backpacks, hoisted up our handluggage, stuck our elbows out and plowed through the throbbing masses...proudly showing the locals that the laowai (foreigners) should not be underestimated.

The Chinese sleeper train turned out to be very clean and well-run. Our 'hard-sleeper' carriage contained 20 compartments, each in turn containing 6 bunks (3 on either side of the doorway). Luckily for us we were the first to arrive in our compartment and soon filled up the prime overhead luggage space with our bags - much to the disappointment (and swearing) of one of our fellow passengers who seemed annoyed at having to store her small handluggage under a bed.... another score for the laowais'!!!

Twelve hours and a rather bumpy sleep later we arrived in Suzhou.

Suzhou
Location: Eastern China, Jiangsu province; 1-hour from Shanghai.
Famous for: Classical gardens and silk trade.

We planned to make a brief stop in Suzhou on our way to Shangahi in order to see its famous classical gardens, renowned to be some of the best examples in China. The town is criss-crossed with canals and tree-lined streets which along with it's gardens make it a pleasant town to stroll through.

Suzhou's romantic canals.

We spent the majority of the day visiting two gardens - the Wangshi Yuan garden and the Zhuozheng Yuan garden. Chinese garden design concentrates on achieving a harmony between architecture, art and nature, which in reality means they consist of small wooden buildings, rock sculptures and a central water-feature.

The Wangshi Yuan garden was small but full of detail.

The Zhuozheng Yuan garden.

The Zhuozheng Yuan garden had a massive lotus plant pond and colorful flowers.

Chinese gardens encourage people to view nature and art from all angles.

After our garden visits, we wandered back through the town to our hotel. Along the way we came across an animated queue outside a bakery where people were excitedly buying some buns being freshly cooked before the crowd. Curiosity (and Eric's stomach) got the better of us, and we too purchased some buns. They turned out to be quite tasty and seemed to be filled with a mixture of meat and red bean paste - we'd love to recommend them but we still haven't worked out what they're called.

Suzhou was a tranquil town and a great place to spend a day or two; however, there appeared to be a shortage of quality brakes when we visited, as every vehicle on the road from small bicycles to large thundering trucks all emitted ear-piercing shrieks everytime they had to slow-down.

Our trip to Suzhou lasted one day, the following morning we boarded the 7:10am train to Shanghai.

Shanghai
Location: Eastern China.
Famous for: Currently undergoing one of the fastest economic expansions the world has ever seen; recapturing its position as east Asia's leading business city.

We headed to Shanghai to meet up with some of Eric's best friends from L.A. - Matt, Daniel and Greg - who are living and working in the city. Upon arrival at the hectic and bustling Shanghai train station, we quickly jumped into a taxi and headed to Matt's apartment. Eric soon struck up a banter with the cab driver who seemed in awe of Eric's hairy legs - to the point where the driver reached to stroke Eric's knee much to the astonishment of Eric. The driver then proceeded to pull up his own trouser leg to expose his knee - apparently in a proud gesture of showing-off his 9 or 10 hairs. While the cab driver and Eric continued to bond over their 'good-fortune' at having hairy knees, Nikki could hardly contain her hysterics in the back seat.

Our stay at Matt's was a heavenly escape from our backpacker experience... laundry (using a real machine!!), an endless choice of DVD's, use of a kitchen, an expat supermarket next door selling 'treats' such as cheddar cheese as well as the use of a private telephone where we called home for the first time in our trip. Matt guided us through the nightlife in Shanghai - a city with an abundance of roof-top bars and Western restaurants; for a few days we ceased to be backpackers and became normal people.

The impressive and ever-growing Shanghai skyline.

Eric, Nikki, Greg and Matt enjoy a drink at a popular rooftop bar.

Bar games were played throughout the evening...Eric and Nikki team up for a game of shuffle-board.

Cheers!!

We also escaped the city on a roadtrip to the nearby towns of Zhouzhuang and Hangzhou.

Zhouzhuang
Location: Jiangsu province; 120kms from Shanghai
Famous for: The 'Venice' of the East, a pleasant mix of stone bridges and tree-lined canals.

Our stop in Zhouzhuang began with a break for lunch in a local non-english speaking restaurant. Despite Matt's good grasp of basic Chinese we were unsure of exactly what it was we were ordering. Most of the dishes that arrived at our table turned out to be quite good, however, the 'chicken soup' was a little more extravagant than we expected....

The 'chicken' soup came complete with head and feet.

Zhouzhuang itself was an impressive network of waterways and small alleyways, lined with artisans and workshops. We spent a few hours wandering the quaint streets and enjoying a boat ride along the canals.

Eric guides the boat through Zhouzhuangs waterways.

Local shops sold goods such as baskets and dried teas.

We couldn't resist the expandable wooden hats sold locally.

Hangzhou
Location: Capital of the Zhejiang province.
Famous for: the stunning lake of Xi Hu, silk, tea and paper-making.

We arrived late in Hangzhou where we spent the night. The following morning we strolled around the shores of its famous lake and scrambled some slippery rocks to see the 7-storey Baoshu Ta pogoda, which presides over a great view of the city.

A light drizzle impeaded the views but not the crowds.

Unfortunately our visit coincided with one of the three biggest Chinese holidays of the year - National week - which meant the banks of the lake were teaming with people. Our fellow tourists seemed to view us laowais'as a bonus attraction and many stopped to ask us to pose in photographs with them - much to our amusement. Our new-found fans also included a stalker who found it far more interesting to follow us around for two hours rather than taking in the sights of the city.

Eric and Matt relax after a busy weekend of sightseeing.

After our 5-day visit to the east coast of China, it was time to get back on the train and head west to the city of Xian.

China: Datong and Beijing

flipflop — Mon, 17 Oct 2005 08:16:00 +0100

We arrived in China at 7:30 in the morning; our first stop was the northern city of Datong.

Datong
Location: Northern China, Shanxi province.
Famous for: The Hanging Temple and the Yungang Caves.

Within 20 minutes of our arrival in Datong, we managed to book ourselves a room in a nearby hostel, to secure a place on a tour leaving within the hour, and to be put in a taxi heading for the nearest ATM so that we could withdraw some local currency. There was certainly no chance of easing ourselves into China gently!!

Our tour began with fifteen Western tourists being squeezed into a mini-bus designed for Chinese tourists; the previous jostling for luggage space we were all used to was swapped for the struggle to fit fifteen pairs of long legs in between tightly packed seats. Our first stop was the “Hanging Temple”; an extraordinary sight of a temple clinging perilously to a precipice on one of China’s five holy mountains of Taoism.

The Hanging Temple.

The temple is located 14 meters up a sheer cliff face, propped up on long-wooden stilts anchored to ledges; it was originally built as a place of worship to the Gods to protect nearby villages from a ‘dragon’. The valley in which it is situated was prone to flooding (before a dam was built); floods are a symbol of a resident dragon and hence the source of the locals need for religious protection.

Exploring the temple.

Long narrow wooden walkways and staircases connect the various tiers and rooms which make up the temple.

There are two Chinese symbols painted on a stone below the temple, meaning ‘great sight’; the understatement left by an eminent Chinese poet.

The temple jutting out of the cliff.

Our second stop was the Yungang Caves; a maginificent set of Buddhist grottoes carved into the side of a sandstone cliff. Built around 400 A.D., the caves contain over 51,000 depictions of Buddha and are reported to be the grandest and best-preserved grottoes in China.

This 27 metre high Buddha casts an imposing figure in his cave.

From the outside the grottoes are an impressive sight.

Some of the carvings were extremely well preserved despite their exposure to the elements.

We spent the better part of the afternoon admiring and strolling through the impressive caves before returning to our hostel for a much-needed rest, shower and a change of clothes (our first since leaving Mongolia). We dined that night in the closest and most accessible restaurant we could find, the ‘California Beef Noodle Bar’. This is actually a chain of restaurants which borrows heavily from Mcdonalds and KFC branding - it has a logo that looks suspiciously like Chinese Colonel Saunders (aka KFC). Ordering from the printed English menu was an adventure; attempts at getting rice dishes resulted in a loud ‘NO!’ from the waitress. Eventually we worked out that after she had said NO about four times, she would then accept our order. After our meal we gladly retired to our bed after an eventful first day in China, alarm clocks were set for our 8:50 train to Beijing the following morning.

Beijing
Location: Northern China (Bei - Jing literally translates as Northern - Capital).
Famous for: Capital of China, Tiananmen Square and Peking duck.

We arrived at the Xi Zhan station around lunchtime and were soon swept along with the bustling crowds; we took a taxi to a central guesthouse conveniently located 200 meters from Tiananmen Square. We ventured out to explore the city and soon purchased a city map and an essential Chinese phrasebook. The city center is a mix of wide busy boulevards and narrow crowded side streets (known as hutangs); on both, bicycles, cars and buses jostle for position whilst trying (or not) to avoid the mass of pedestrians who seem to appear from all directions.

Night markets sell a variety of delicacies from frogs legs to starfish to goat's testicles; while Nikki opts for a simple bowl of dumplings!

The city has an extremely modern feel, with new buildings and skyscrapers towering over surprisingly clean streets. There is a definite air of preparation for the forthcoming 2008 Olympics which we have no doubt will be a great time to be in the city. Beijing streets are exceptionally noisy - and at times overwhelmingly so after the quiet deserted plains of Mongolia - but this adds to the feeling of energy and vibrancy which the city exudes.

We found a refuge from the bustling streets in the form of the Temple of Heaven - a garden area containing the altars and temples used by generations of emperors to worship the Gods and pray for good harvests. Like our fellow tourists we tried out the famous ‘echo wall’, a perfectly built circular wall which allows you to have a conversation with someone fifty meters away as if they were standing beside you.

Eric explores the temple and tries out the 'echo wall'.

On a misty gray day the Temple of Heaven provided some colorful scenery.

Our Beijing highlight was most definitely our trip to the Great Wall. We elected to travel three hours outside the city to a less-visited section where we embarked on a 10-km hike.

The Great Wall snakes it's way along the mountain ridges.

Recommended as the best area to view the original wall as it climbs up and down the spectacular mountain ridges that once formed a border between the mighty empires of Mongolia and China.

Great Wall as far as the eye can see!

Proof we climbed the wall...

“Today’s surviving sections, placed end to end, would link New York with Los Angeles, and if the bricks used to build it were made into a single wall 5 meters high and 1 meter thick it would more than encircle the Earth.”

Our 10km walk took nearly 4 hours with almost no other tourists or people in sight.

The wall was very steep at times.

Our sightseeing in Beijing was put on hold for a few days after Nikki was hit with the first bout of ‘tummy troubles’ of our trip which left her in bed with a fever for two days. Eric performed his role of nurse-maid very well, though being stuck in a room for three days with only one English language TV channel which seemed to show the same news in a continuous one-hour loop, he was glad Nikki recovered before he had exhausted our supply of reading books.

With Nikki back on her feet (albeit for only a few hours at a time to begin with), we paid a visit to the Forbidden City. This moated complex is filled with numerous courtyards, halls and palaces which were closed to the public until the turn of the 20th century. The Palace was home to 24 emperors and their entourages.

The murky gray skies didn't keep the crowds from flowing into the Forbbidden City's main square.

The emperor's adorned the palaces with various sculptures; the crane to symbolize 'long life', and the dragon-lion to protect the Palace gates.

A huge moat surrounds the Forbidden City.

Our last day of sightseeing took us to the stunning Summer Palace; the summer retreat for the emperor and his court. Strolling around the grounds was very peaceful despite the many tourists, we also enjoyed a ‘speed boat’ ride around the lake (speed boat in shape, not in speed).

The Summer Palace.

Beautiful bridges provided access to islands on the lake.

The 'Long Corrior' provided a colorful, artistic promenade along the lake shore.

The Empress' 'Marble Boat' was permanently docked and used as a splendid dining room.

The morning of our departure from Beijing, we queued up alongside hundreds of Chinese to view the preserved body of the late communist leader - Chairman Mao Zedong. Unlike Lenin, Mao is preserved through refridgeration not embalmment - personally we thought Lenin looked far better, but don’t tell the Chinese that!!!! Having passed silently through the solemn memorial hall of one of the worlds most famous Communist leaders under the watchful eye of many soldiers, we then exited by a long row of souvenir stalls manned by loud, aggressive merchants flogging cheap Mao trinkets in every shape and form…… Communism and Capitalism can be found side by side in China!

Eric stands before one of the most famous sights of Tiananmen Square.

Tiananmen Square and Mao's resting place.

Mongolia to China

flipflop — Sun, 16 Oct 2005 09:14:23 +0100

We had two days left in Mongolia in which to prepare ourselves for our train journey to China and to spend our remaining Togrogs (Mongolian currency).

The first day we plodded around Ulaan Baatar sporting flipflops, t-shirts and sunglasses; buying much needed English novels for the train, writing our postcards, catching up on emails, and enjoying some 'normal' food. The following morning we awoke to an unexpected sight which was shortly followed by Nikki's loud cry of "Oh My God!" which probably woke up the peacefully snoozing dormitory of fellow backpackers next door.... Ulaan Baatar was covered in almost a foot-deep blanket of snow!!! Flipflops and shorts were quickly discarded for layers of t-shirts, jumpers, jeans, thick socks and snug hiking boots.

Eric and Nikki in the snow covered streets of Ulaan Baatar.

The snowfall continued at a steady pace all day long, making our last day in the Mongolian capital as memorable as the many sights we had seen over our 30-day stay. We intended to spend our last day enjoying the tourists’sights of the capital. Upon reaching Sukhbaatar Square, we discovered a ceremony celebrating Mongolian World War II veterans - 60th anniversary. We paused to watch the colorful band play as the veterans and important officials paraded around the square and presented their memorial wreaths.

The Mongolian Army Band wait patiently for the veterans to arrive.

The war veterans arrived in traditional Mongolian attire.

The following morning we boarded our 35-hour train to China and watched as snow-covered mountains gradually transformed into the dry barren Gobi desert.

Snow covered gers and mountain tops provided spectacular views from the train.

As we neared the Gobi desert the snow gradually melted away to a landscape of sand.

Our journey to the border was largely uneventful and was spent playing many hours of card games with our Swiss companions. After 13 hours we reached the Chinese border, the immigration procedures themselves are of little interest but the "changing of the bogies" was a brand new experience. Chinese train tracks are wider than those of Mongolian tracks and so require the entire train to be taken to a depot where each carriage is meticulously lifted 2 meters into the air whilst the Mongolian undercarriage is removed and replaced with its Chinese counterpart. The whole procedure took about two hours during which we were imprisoned in our carriage closely monitored by stern-looking Chinese border guards.

We managed to take a quick picture of the carriage being lifted off the track through the train window whilst the guards weren't looking.

Mongolia - The Lakes Trip

flipflop — Thu, 15 Sep 2005 07:56:14 +0100

After a brief 2-day break in Ulaan Baatar to recharge our batteries, do some much-needed laundry (to eradicate the yak and camel smell) and restock our supplies, we headed out to explore the central and northern regions of Mongolia on a 12-day tour.

Day One

We set off in a Russian van with four of the original six people from the Gobi trip (2 having already departed to China). Our first destination was Terelj National Park just one hour outside of Ulaan Baatar. The area is known for its magnificent alpine scenery and is a popular destination for hiking and rock climbing.


Mountain and valley views of Terelj National Park.

The park is also home to a sacred rock formation known as 'turtle rock', a much-revered symbol for Buddhists.

'Turtle Rock'

Our ger at the foot of an amazing cliff face.

Day Two

Leaving Terelj, we headed for another national park, this one famous for being the home of the Takhi - the Mongolian Wild Horse. The Takhi (also known as Przewalski horse - named after the Polish explorer who discovered the horse in 1879) are the last remaining truly wild horse in the wild; they are genetically a different species to the common horse, boasting two extra chromosomes in their DNA makeup.

The Takhi.

The Takhi are sandy colored except for a dark dorsal stripe; the tail and legs are dark and the legs have zebra stripes; the skull and jaw is broader and heavier than a horse's and the mane is short and erect.


Wild horses roaming in the park.

That night we camped outside the park in a lush green valley and listened to the wolves howling from the nearby hilltops as we fell asleep in our tents.

Our campsite was remote.

Day Three - Four

Our next two days were spent in a Ger alongside Ogii Nuur (Nuur is the Mongolian word for lake); a beautiful freshwater lake renowned for its birdlife and fishing. Having purchased a fishing rod at the Black Market in Ulaan Baatar, we were eager to try our luck!!


Casting out our hooks in Ogii Nuur.

Eric was the most successful in our group, catching three fish in total.

What a beauty!! (fish number 2 was the most photogenic!)

Our Mongolian host checks in on us.

Our host family poses for a photo.

Day Five

A five hour drive brought us to the town of Tsetserleg; a town ringed by scenic mountains; its streets are tree lined (an impressive quality in Mongolia!) and a lovely temple overlooks the valley of houses.


A Buddhist temple overlooks the town of Tsetserleg.


Posing for photos with the temple monks.

We were pleasantly surprised by the town and of the friendliness of the locals. An added bonus was the discovery of a guesthouse bakery run by an expat British couple, which sold the only brown bread we have found outside Ulaan Baatar.... and the gusthouse had a pile of month-old British newspapers which we devoured!!

Day Six - Eight

Moving on from Tsetserleg, we arrived at our main destination: Terkiin Tsagaan Nuur (The Great White Lake). Extinct and craterous volcanoes surround this freshwater lake, which was formed by lava flows millions of years ago. The lake is home to Mongolia's only truly sandy beach, but unfortunately the cold September winds prevented us from doing too much sunbathing.

Terkiin Tsagaan Nuur was impressive.

The fish weren't biting so we spend our time hiking up the volcanoes and around the surrounding mountains, and sheltering in our ger from a brief but heavy hailstorm.


An extinct volcano sits at the end of the lake.	A 30 minute hike takes you to the edge of the crater.


Nikki disappears down a volcanic crack.	Horses roam the fertile land around the volcano.


Our ger on the edge of the lake came in handy when a storm blew in.	A nomadic family move their ger using yaks.

Day Nine

Heading back to Ulaan Baatar, we stopped at Chuluut Canyon; an extremely picturesque spot perfect for swimming (a 'bath') and fishing.

At the top of Chuluut Canyon.


Eric relaxes in the sun after a river 'bath'.	Nikki finds a great spot for fishing.

Our tent had a great view over the canyon.

Nikki catches a fish..... just in time for dinner!

Day Ten

After a brief stop some hot springs, we traveled to a waterfall for our last opportunity to catch some fish.

Eric makes the last catch in Mongolia!!

We befriended the local guard dog who happily guarded our tent for the night in exchange for a few cookies.

Day Eleven

Tearing ourselves away from the waterfall, we drove along some steep mountain roads to reach Tovkhon Sum - a temple situated high up on a mountain top reachable only via a one hour trek.... exhausting, but well worth it for the views!!

Our van makes its way through the mountains.

The view from Tovkhon Sum.

Day Twelve

A six-hour drive brought us back to Ulaan Baatar, though in a different van. The night before our vehicle was swapped with that of an outgoing tour as their van had broken its front axle. Despite the axle being held together with twisted wire, we made it safely back to the capital.

Our driver 'Otto' was very friendly and gave us some great fishing tips.

Our thirty-day visas expire in three days, so we're off to China on Saturday morning.

There is no way we can stress how beautiful Mongolia is.... you will all have to come and see it for yourselves!!!

Mongolia - The Gobi Tour

flipflop — Fri, 02 Sep 2005 14:14:13 +0100

There is little spectacular to see in Mongolia except the magnificent countryside of Mongolia itself - and it was this that we came to see. Along with the six backpackers from the train (two Americans, two Swiss, one British, and one Zimbabwean) we soon found a local tour operator through which we hired two local drivers, a jeep and van for a nine day trip to the Gobi Desert staying with nomadic families in their traditional habitat.

Day One

Day of departure. Having stocked up on canned fruit and vegetables, pasta, spreads, fruits, snacks and over eighty bottles of water; our jeep and van convoy departed the city on a rainy Tuesday morning. We shared our jeep with an American couple from Washington DC - Sheila and Jake. Our fellow travelers - Jason, Ashleigh, Carole and Roland - were sharing the van.

Team Jeep.

Twenty minutes into the trip and barely outside the city limits, we lost the van!! We then spent an hour at the roadside trying to locate them before finally giving up and driving the first leg of our trip solo.... which increasingly seemed to be a bad idea given the amount of tinkering our driver did to the jeep within a couple of hours of our trip.


Trying to find the van...	Checking the engine..

Pumping up the tyres...	Checking for stowaways???

The paved roads lasted no more than one hundred kilometers, before turning into the dirt trails that criss-cross the rest of Mongolia. Little did we know at the time that that would be our last glimpse of a paved road for the next nine days.

Mongolian highways.

Spectacular views from the 'highway'.

Our first day brought our first encounter with traditional Mongolian cuisine - buuz (mutton dumplings), accompanied with Mongolian tea (an extremely milky drink made from yak milk with a strangely salty after-taste).

Nikki "enjoying" Mongolian tea.

That night we stayed in our first 'ger' (pronounced: grrr), the traditional circular Mongolian tents made of felt and used by nomads throughout the country.

Our gers.

Our dinner was mutton soup, and our evenings’ entertainment was delivered by a highly-skilled local musician who gave us a great demonstrations of traditional instruments and a burst of the famous Mongolian 'throat singing'.

The horse-headed fiddle.

Day Two

After a brief stop to admire the local monastery, we headed off to our first highlight of the trip - the waterfall near Tsetserleg.


Relaxing in the midday sun.	Rivers are minor highway obstacles.

A ger with a great backyard.	Herding the cattle to water.

Unfortunately the waterfall was no more than a mere trickle due to a relative lack of rain; however, the setting was still amazing and a fast flowing river nearby provided a welcome swim after the days drive.


The waterfall pool.	Swimming in the river.

The day was capped off with a sunset horse ride over the rolling hills.


Eric and Jake saddle up.	Riding off into the sunset.

Day Three

We woke up early and crept out of our ger to see the sunrise.

	The sun rises over our gers
Nikki befriends the local ger guard dog.

After packing up our stuff there was time to watch our ger host milk the yaks for the days' supply of fresh milk.


Curious baby yaks .	Collecting the day's yak milk.

Pit stops are definitely encouraged!!

Our day's destination was the small market town of Arvaikheer. Along the way our driver stopped off at a ger where we enjoyed the family’s hospitality of more Mongolian tea.


Enjoying a round of tea...	...with the family.

Light from the setting sun captured on a cloud over Arvaikheer.

Day Four - Five

A six hour and extremely bumpy ride brought us to our major destination - the Gobi sand dunes. Along the way we passed the Gobi's main residents: camels!!

Camel caravan across the desert.

We spent two days enjoying the area, walking and taking a camel ride along the dunes. Climbing the dunes took far more effort than initially expected, but forty minutes of trekking were rewarded with spectacular views across the desert.

Our first views of the spectacular dunes (also the view from the doorless outhouse).

The magnificent view from the top.

The dunes stretch out for miles.

Eric's guide to getting on a camel:


1. Sit securely in the saddle	2. Hold on tightly!!

3. Grab reins firmly	4. Smile for the camera!

Sitting on top of the Gobi - definitely a reason to smile.

Day Six

After two days of enjoying the sand, we reluctantly left; our convoy driving on to the next destination: the ice valley. The drive provided superb views and involved negotiating narrow gorges carved out by glaciers in bygone areas.

Our jeep travelling through the gorge.

The ice valley was great for hiking.

Leaving the ice valley, we made our way to Dalanzadgad, the principal town in the Gobi region.

Luckily for us, our jeep ran out of petrol just as the sun was setting allowing us to take some great photos.

Day Seven

After stocking up in the town, we had a short ride to the 'flaming cliffs'. These cliffs were first excavated in 1922, and are renowned world-wide for the number of dinosaur bones and eggs found in the area.


The flaming cliffs...	...accompanied by a beautiful sky.

Our ger that evening was conveniently located near a 'tourist ger' (ger tents set-up purely for tourists; unlike ours which are used by our host families in their daily lives), which provided the surreal opportunity to get a refreshing shower in the middle of the Gobi Desert!!

Eric shares his photos with a local girl.

Day Eight

Our long journey back to Ulaan Baatar was split into two stages; the first leg ending with a welcome stop at a "sometimes camel-herding community in the middle of nowhere".

On the way our lunchtime stop provided us with what may well be our most unforgettable and unique experience in Mongolia. Our arrival at a ger coincided with the completion of the slaughtering of a sheep. The head of the household had just finished boiling the intestines, liver, heart and lungs, and was quick to invite us to join her and her family in what is considered to be an honored meal. Unfortunately our western stomachs could cope with little more than nibbling on a piece of freshly cooked liver whilst trying not to stare as the woman continued to hack at and prepare the sheep's backbone.


Our driver tucks into the feast...	...but the rest of the sheep destroys our appetite

Day Nine

A long and painfully bumpy journey brought us back to Ulaan Baatar.

We arrive safely back at our guesthouse and take a moment to pose with our driver.

We both had an unbelievable time in our first 10 days in Mongolia; tomorrow we embark on a 12 day tour to the northern region and it's beautiful lakes....we can't wait.

Leaving Russia...

flipflop — Fri, 02 Sep 2005 10:15:01 +0100

With a 35-hour train ride ahead of us and having had such an eventful arrival into Russia, we both braced ourselves for our first international border crossing via train. We had both read many horror stories in our guide books and have heard less than encouraging reports from fellow travelers, so we certainly did not expect our final ride in Russia to go smoothly.

There were huge crowds waiting at Irkutsk railway station, and piles upon piles of bags, boxes, cases, and hastily wrapped parcels all of which seemed to be waiting for our train. Once the platform was announced there was a huge rush to the carriages, everyone was anxious to secure the precious space for their luggage, it was certainly a case of 'everyone for themselves'.

Amongst the locals and traveling vendors were a handful of tourists also trying to board the train. All of us tourists seemed to head for the same two carriages of the twenty-carriage train, at first we thought this was purely an effort to group the foreigners to together for the border-crossing; it was only later when the arrived at the final stop in Russia that we realized that it was only our two 'foreigner carriages' making the rest of the journey into Mongolia.

The border crossing on the Russian side took six hours, 5 and a half hours of which involved us sitting on the platform staring at our now very short train, waiting for the immigration officers to show up and stamp our passports. Luckily, we shared the platform with a small shop, a handful of trees, and some fellow backpackers and we were able to spend our last rubles purchasing cold drinks.

An hour after the train departed its final stop in Russia, we arrived at the Mongolian border. Our stop here was four hours, three and a half hours of which was spent eating our dinner (noodles of course) on the steps of the railway station waiting for more carriages to be fitted to the train. The contrast between these neighboring countries was immediately apparent. The Mongolian side was alive with the hustle and bustle of street traders and local travelers. Young children and stray dogs ran in and out of the crowds both begging for food - a sight the police in Russia would not have tolerated.

We arrived in Ulaan Baatar (capital of Mongolia) at six o'clock in the morning with no local currency and no place to stay. We briefly said goodbye to the backpackers we had befriended on the train having agreed to rendez-vous with them later in the evening at a a well-known travelers cafe. After a brief pause to orientate ourselves to the new country that surrounded us with its new sights, smells and sounds; we soon secured a room for the next few nights and took a much-needed shower!!

NB: Unfortunately our photos of the border-crossing and the train were corrupted in an internet cafe when we tried to upload them :-(

People Watching

flipflop — Fri, 19 Aug 2005 06:38:19 +0100

During our time in Russia we have enjoyed countless hours observing and watching 'the natives'; unfortunately this is a past time that is very hard to share through a website... but we hope the photos below give you a glimpse of what we saw....


Someone call the fashion police!	Where can I get those trousers?

Comfort doesn't seem to be a consideration.

Signs of the '80's....legwarmers!

Girls strutting their stuff in the park.


No comment.	The stereotypical Russian family.

Girls out for a night on the town.


The Dude.	The Sailor.

Lake Baikal and the Bearded Baboushka

flipflop — Thu, 18 Aug 2005 09:42:18 +0100

Day 50 in Russia!!!

We spent the last couple of weeks in the Lake Baikal region, basing ourselves in Irkutsk and venturing out to villages around the lake.

Irkutsk
Population: 591,000
Distance from Moscow: 5,185km
Famous for: Founded by a Cossack garrison; for a long time Irkutsk served as a springboard for expeditions to the far north and east as far as Alaska - which was referred to as the 'American District of Irkutsk'. In later years the town transformed itself into eastern Siberia's trading and administrative centre.

Our final stop along the trans-siberian route has landed us in Irkutsk, the large gateway town to Lake Baikal - our ultimate destination. We were determined to quickly complete all our necessary errands before putting on our swimsuits and hiking boots and heading down to the lake. Our tasks included purchasing our train tickets to Mongolia and obtaining our 30 day visas into the country.

The very busy train station in Irkutsk.

With nearly six weeks experience in dealing with Russian train stations and buying tickets, we quickly booked our final seats aboard the 36 hour train to Ulaan Bataar - the capital of Mongolia. Obtaining our Mongolian visas was equally straight forward but involved an unexpected exchange with the official at the embassy.

The visa form included an 'optional' space for applicants to write in their current job title and employer. We initially agreed to leave this space blank; however upon reading our forms, the official immediately requested that we input the missing information. Fearing we might get our visa request rejected by writing 'unemployed', we wrote down our previous job titles and employers. The job titles 'financial analyst' and business analyst' aroused great interest in the official who then proceeded to question us abour our roles. It transpired through our conversation that the official had personal ambitions to train as an analyst and used her position of interviewing visa applicants as an opportunity to 'pump' them for information on good qualifications and courses to complete. She even went as far as requesting a CD of any of the latest training material we may have had - we're not sure if she ever managed to find any tourists who carry training manuals with them on holiday!!

We spent a total of three days in Irkutsk in the midst of a mini heat wave during which many ice creams were consumed.

Eric enjoying an ice cream after a busy day!

Olkhon Island
Population: 1200
Famous for: A long undulating island of subtle beauty, considered to be one of the five global poles of shamanic energy.

Our first trip out to the lake was to Olkhon Island, a six hour bumpy bus ride along winding dirt roads. Having spent so much of our time in Russia in large 'civilised' towns and cities, life on Olkhon Island came as a refreshing change. The island boasts great natural beauty which comes in the form of rolling hills, rich green forests, sandy plains, marshlands, and beautiful unspoilt beaches.

The crystal clear waters surrounding Olkhon Island.

Large stretches of sandy beaches and forests.... and no tourists in sight.

View of the Shaman Rocks.

There is no running water and certainly no hot water to be found, even in the largest village - which is where we stayed. We were lodged and fed in a wonderfully run guesthouse a stone's throw away from the fabled Shaman Rocks.

Our lodgings in the village came complete with friendly guard dog.

Eric washes his hair in the world's biggest bath!

The town sits on top of cliffs overlooking the lake.

Only the cows venture out on a rainy afternoon.

We were very reluctant to leave the beauty of Olkhon Island.

Listvyanka
Population: 2500
Famous for: A small fishing village, Listvyanka's concentrations of old wooden cottages tumble down three seperate valleys and hug the banks of Lake Baikal.

An hour's ferry ride away from Irkutsk, nestled at the mouth of the Angara River is the fishing village of Listvyanka. We spent our time exploring the three valleys in which the settlement has grown, admiring the views across the lake from the hill tops and sampling the delicious fresh fish which is smoked and sold in the market place by the fisherman's wives.

Listvyanka hugs the banks of the lake.

Great views from the hill tops.

Local women dry and sell their fish in the market.

Catch of the day! ...Omul (the famous Baikal fish)

Bolshie Koty
Population: Less than 200?
Famous for: Founded by 19th Century gold miners and named 'Bolshie Koty' for their 'Big Boots'; this picturesque village sits sheltered in a small valley surrounded by untouched forests and hillsides and the magestic waters of the lake.

A tiny quaint fishing village accessible only by boat, there were no hotels, no shops, no restaurants....simply a cluster of picturesque wooden cottages. The village is completely cut off for three months of the year when the lake freezes over as there are no roads in or out of the valley. Only those courageous enough to attempt a drive over the ice can make it into the village during this time.

Bolshie Koty is surrounded by hills and cut off from the rest of Siberia.

Sailing into Bolshie Koty's harbour is the only way to get to the village.

A typical house in Bolshie Koty.

With no working phone lines, therefore impossible to make a reservation, we crossed our fingers and headed to the infamous "Bearded Baboushka's" house to ask for a room (her address had been given to us by a friendly travel agent in Irkutsk). Luckily for us her living room was vacant and she soon made up the two couches into comfortable beds. The accommodation included three delicious meals a day, each made using an abundance of home grown fruits and vegetables. We looked forward to every mealtime, eagerly devouring the potatoes and home-made jam in particular.

Nikki tucks into lunch in the Baboushka's kitchen.

We spent our time hiking along 12km of trails along the lake.

Annie (another guest of the baboushka), the baboushka and Nikki.

HAPPY BIRTHDAY EMMA!!! (Nikki's sister)

The infamous 'Bearded Baboushka' sends her regards!!

Asia and Siberia!!

flipflop — Fri, 05 Aug 2005 13:24:50 +0100

We have now arrived in Irkutsk - a city of 500,000 people deep in the heart of Siberia. Since our last post, ten days ago in Niznhy Novgorod, we have covered close to 5,000 kilometers, spent a total of 70 hours on trains, crossed the Euro-Asian border, and travelled through 5 timezones. We both continue to experience a mild form of jetlag as we cross Russia's timezones. This is certainly not helped by the need to keep our watches on Moscow time for the trains. Train timetables and clocks in the train stations throughout all of Russia are set to Moscow time!! (Considering the rail network covers over 8 timezones, this is probably the only way it could work). We both look forward to the day we don't have to double-check our time calculations and alarm settings.

YEKATERINBURG
Population: 1.26 million (Russia's 5th largest city)
Distance from Moscow: 1,816 km
Famous for: Playing a key role in the consolidation of Communism with the murder of the Romonav family (the last Russian Tsars); providing the setting for the Cold War 'U2 affair'; and being the birthplace of Boris Yeltsin.

The journey from Nizhny Novgorod to Yekaterinburg was our first long-haul (23 hours) Russian train experience. Not knowing what to expect we made sure to fully stock up on the key essentials, namely several changes of clothes, a variety of travel games, lots of water, and of course plenty of snacks. As well as these physical preperations, we also mentally readied ourselves for the 'unkowns' - such as our kupe companions (kupe: Russian term for 4-person sleeping compartment), and the formalities and workings of the Russian trains.

Our roommates turned out to be a friendly middle-aged couple, communication proved to be a little too challenging, but simple mutual respect and polite smiles defy all language problems.

Eric making his bed.

Our train winds through the Russian countryside.

Spectacular views from the train.

Passing time on the train.... Nikki writing her journal.

We arrived in Yekaterinburg at 11:30 at night, finding the tunnel that linked the platform to the station shut, we were forced to cross 5 or 6 sets of train tracks in order to exit the station. Luckily, our hotel was conveniantly located across the square from the train station and is described in the guide books as: "conventional..... partly-renovated... though cheaper rooms are falling apart." This proved to be an understatement. The hotel lobby was certainly 'partly-renovated' though it was hard to tell through the broken tiles and plaster debris whether the ill-fitting egyptian theme was being pulled down or put up. We checked into the hotel for 2 nights, however, because we checked in after midnight we were only charged for one night?? Needless to say, we didn't try too hard to correct the strange logic of the receptionist. Our hotel room was the worst we have experienced so far, it was not so much the ageing decor, but the layers of dust, mold, damp, and possibly dried blood on the ceiling (??) that we objected to. We both developed colds a couple of days later, the finger of suspicion points to this hotel!!

Accommodation aside, we both loved Yekaterinburg, not so much because of its museums or churches but simply that it was a very pleasant city to walk around and explore. Each corner turned provided new parks, statues and fountains to admire and enjoy.

Soviet-Afghanistan War Memorial

Lenin directs the traffic in downtown Yekaterinburg...

Church and Soviet-era statue.

NOVOSIBIRSK
Population: 1.4 million (Siberia's largest city; Russia's 3rd largest city)
Distance from Moscow: 3,335 km
Famous for: One of the world's biggest Opera & Ballet Theatres (and completed in 1945 by women and children as most of the city's men had gone to war).

A 20-hour train ride brought us into Siberia. We are both feeling like experienced train travellers now, and even used the local supply of hot water to make our 'train dinners'....

At the longer stops (20 minutes or more) people take the opportunity to walk around the platform and buy more food and drink from platform vendors.

'Cooking' our noodles using hot water from the carriage boiler.

A sunset platform break...

Novosibirsk provided us with the opportunity to rest up and recover from our colds, do some laundry, and organize the second half of our journey through Russia.

Lenin guards Novosibirsk's famous theatre.

A small church marks the geographical centre of Russia.

People watching... the local gossips catching up on today's news??

KRASNOYARSK
Population: 817,000
Distance from Moscow: 4,095 km
Famous for: The production of aluminum, car tyres, refrigerators; and one of the major destinations for Russian exiles.

After a very 'short' 12-hour train we reached the city of Krasnoyarsk. The deeper we delve into Siberia, the hotter it seems to get!!! As temperatures easily reached the mid-30's by 10 in the morning.

Our time in the city, was spent exploring the pretty town and strolling along its magnificent river. There were a multitude of outdoor cafes in which we happily took shelter from the midday sun.

The main plaza provides a great setting for a few beers and a view of the surrounding mountains!!

Eric relaxes by the river....

....joined by Nikki.

Trans Siberian Route

flipflop — Sun, 31 Jul 2005 09:41:19 +0100

The map below outlines the route we are taking across Russia.

We have travelled from St Petersburg to Moscow, Vladimir (not shown), Nizhny Novgorod, and Etkaterinburg. We are currently in Novosibirsk and will be heading to Krasnoyarsk tonight. Our projected iternerary will include a two week stay in Irkutsk then on to Ulaan Baatar, Mongolia.

The Golden Ring: Vladimir and Suzdal

flipflop — Mon, 25 Jul 2005 14:56:15 +0100

VLADIMIR
Population: 376,000
Distance from Moscow: 199km
Famous for: One of Russia's oldest cities; and its capital in the 1100s.

Having left behind two big metropolises (St. Petersburg and Moscow), we dipped a tentative toe into the heart of Russia. We took the afternoon train from Moscow 199km east to the town of Vladimir, where upon arrival we were greeted by gray concrete buildings, light drizzle and a man lying unconscious in the station car park - having been knocked down by a taxi. Deciding to avoid the taxis, we headed for the local trolley-bus #5, which took us to our next destination - our first 'home-stay' with a Russian family.

We were met at the bus stop by Ivan (27 years old, university lecturer, in final year of PHD in philosophy), who led us to a ten-storey, 1960s apartment block. We were slightly apprehensive at first glance given the crumbling state of the building, the fire-damaged (melted!) buttons in the municipal elevator and exposed wires sticking out of the walls. However, the warmth and kindness by which we were greeted by Ivan and his parents, Yevgeny and Elisevetta, completely overshadowed and dismissed our initial worries.

Our three nights with the family was thoroughly enjoyable and very enlightening; we enjoyed some delicious authentic Russian breakfasts; we exchanged personal stories and jokes about our respective backgrounds with Ivan; and we were even happy to experience 'showering' without any running hot water (Nikki had to teach Eric how to 'shower' by mixing boiled and cold water in a bowl).

'Showering' in Vladimir

Vladimir itself provided us with some spectacular views across the region, some great food, and a welcomed break from the big cities.

Vladimir Cathedral

Vladimir

View from Vladimir

SUZDAL
Population: 12,000
Distance from Moscow: 234km
Famous for: Having most churches per capita in Russia (there is a church on every street)

We took the bus from Vladimir on a day trip to Suzdal arriving at the 'International Bus Station' 2km outside the town. The 'International Bus Station' (as described by guide books) was singlehandedly run by one woman who sold the tickets, made all the announcements, checked the tickets, boarded the buses and coordinated departures.

The Suzdal International Bus Station

We found our way onto the local mini-bus which took us into the town center. Strolling through Suzdal, one can imagine how Russia was 50 years ago; the town has remained unblemished by modernization. No building is higher than any church, the town sits alongside a picturesque river nestled amongst rolling valleys.

Suzdal churches

View of the Suzdal kremlin

...more Suzdal churches

...more Suzdal churches...

Nizhny Novgorod

flipflop — Mon, 25 Jul 2005 13:12:11 +0100

Nizhny Novgorod
Population: 2 million
Distance from Moscow: 442km
Famous for: Having notorious 'Gulags' during the Soviet period, Nizhny was only open to foreigners in 1991.

Nizhny Novgorod sits at the intersection of two rivers - the Volga and the Oka. Its main attraction is an impressive 12-tower, red-bricked Kremlin, which is the center point of the beautiful old town center. We spent a memorable couple of days exploring the city which is definitely worth a stop along the trans-siberian route.

The Kremlin wall

The obelix inside the kremlin overlooking the Volga river

Our tram "stop" (!!) situated in the middle of a two-way eight-lane street. We found the best way to catch the tram was to wait for a local to come along then hide behind them when standing in the middle of the road...

Nikki anxiously waiting with the locals for the tram.

Nearing our tolerance for visiting dusty cities in 30 degree-plus heat, we decided to take a break and booked ourselves on a 3-day river rafting trip. This proved to be an excellent way of seeing much more of the beautiful Russian countryside and getting to know some Russians on a more personal level.

Our campsite

A room with a view!

The Russian countryside

The trip included 4-6 hours of rafting each day, and two nights of camping. In the evenings we enjoyed some tasty Russian cuisine prepared by our river guides; our nightly entertainment comprised of singing Russian folk songs around the campfire, playing group games on the beach, and conversing in a hybrid of English and Russian.

Fun and games after a hard day rowing

Russian folk songs by the campfire

Group photo!

In four hours, we'll be on our way to Yekatinburg..... a 23 hour marathon train ride away!!!!!!!

Moscow

flipflop — Sat, 16 Jul 2005 14:14:47 +0100

Our chosen method of transport from St Petersburg to Moscow was an overnight sleeper train which left at 11:59pm and arrived at 8:00am the following day.

Photo of our 4-berth compartment.

We shared our 4 berth compartment with two young Russian ladies. Eric now happily boasts of the night he spent sleeping with three girls. Our first experience on a Russian train was deemed a success. It was our first few hours in Moscow that proved to be the biggest challenge.

On arrival at our hotel we were refused check-in by the receptionist who insisted our "registered" visas were not valid. We had initially registered them with our first-night hotel in St Petersburg and were told by a travel agent that this would be sufficient for the duration of our stay in the city. Our Moscow receptionist wasn't buying it, and all our attempts at bribery failed. We were faced with no other option than to take ourselves (and all our luggage) down to the local Police station to face their wrath!

As we approached the run-down station, we were greeted by a welcoming committee of two growling guard dogs and three heavily armed policemen. Our attempts at explaining our situation were cut short by a gruff demand for our passports and papers. The policeman immediately identified our predicament and seized his opportunity to fleece two newly arrived tourists to the tune of R6000 ($100 each). Eric initiated bargaining negotiations with the head officer but was soon silence with a death-stare from Nikki, who having caught a glimpse of the cold, grey, uninviting jail cells just inside the door, was unwilling to risk remaining at the station for a single moment longer than necessary. In Russia, the Police make the rules!! (It could have been much worse as the Lonely Planet Guide comments that fines can easily reach up to $500 each!)

Fine paid and "valid" registration procured; we checked into our hotel where we remained for the rest of the day unwilling to risk further venture around Moscow.

Our stay in Moscow proved to be a pleasant surprise; we were both thoroughly impressed with the cosmopolitan feel of the city. Our sightseeing was highlighted by trips to: the Kremlin, StBasil's, Red Square, Lenin's Tomb, GUM Arcade, and the Contemporary Russian History Museum.

Photo taken of the main cathedral inside the Kremlin.

The infamous Red Square (no longer red much to Nikki's disappointment)

NOTE: Our Moscow photos will follow shortly (hopefully, within a couple of days) - still looking for a fast enough internet connection to upload them.

Moving on from Moscow......

flipflop — Fri, 15 Jul 2005 15:20:00 +0100

At the end of our week in Moscow we headed over to the main train station to buy our Vladimir train tickets. Inside the station, we had our pick of about 30 ticket offices all with a queue of about 5-6 people. Hoping that any of them would be able to issue our tickets, we took a deep breath and joined one of the queues. The next hour gave us a greater understanding of how queueing works in Russia. There are the usual people who blantanly push in, those who sneak in, those who plead their way to the front and... (a uniquely Russian phenomenon?).... the 'spread-betters'.

Spread-betters: Those who join one queue for a short while, indicate to those in front/behind to save their position, then join a second or third queue. Each queue is then monitored; with the 'better' hopping back and forth between the queues depending on which they think will get them faster to the front.

Needless to say, we didn't attempt to spread our bets.... and simply stuck to one queue. In the end, this was a better tactic than the one chosen by the lady in front of us, who, when she was the penultimate from the front had to relinquish her coveted position to a man who chose to reclaim one of his original places (ie, the 'spread-better'). She then hesitantly joined a different line before rejoining ours, then asked the 'spread-better' in front of her if she could take up the position he vacated when he re-joined our queue..... He agreed, so she then moved. BUT, we still beat her to the ticket lady!!! (a small victory for the foreigners!!)

Day of departure.....

We arrived at the train station with over an hour and a half to spare before our train was due to depart - this was very fortunate due to the length of time it took to locate the correct platform (an hour!!).

The departure board indicated that our train would depart from platform 9T; so we followed the 'clearly-displayed' signs showing directions to platforms 1-9. Platform 9 appeared somewhat deserted.... but then we were fairly early? The platform 9 indicator didn't show a train time or destination.... but then these things are often broken right? We waited on the platform for 15 minutes, still recovering from carrying our backpacks across town in 30 degree heat. We started to get a little nervous, so Eric asked some passing station attendants (non-english speaking of course); they simply looked puzzled and seemed to indicate that we were not in the right place. OOPS!! So we dragged ourselves back to the main station concourse, hoping to get more clues from the departure board... well, unfortunately, platform 9T was still being displayed. Again, there were no other signs indicating platform 9T. Hmmmm.... maybe platform 9T translates as platform 9 1/2... only to be found be people called Harriski Pottervich??

Eventually, we managed to track down a helpful lady who enthusiasitically pointed us in a new direction outside the station to the very evasive platform 9T. Hurrah!!!!!

The train to Vladimir took about 2 and a half hours...... and so we've begun the 'infamous' trans-siberian route across Russia.