Jack's Travel Blog!

New York, Part 2

2012-02-05T21:30:00.000Z

On New Year’s Day we hitup a local bagel shop, my first experience of a NY bagel. It was a bit stodgy,but hit the spot nicely! It was a good start to our lazy day of food, TV, filmsand mooching. It gave me a chance to catch up on some rest that I felt Ineeded, as for some reason I still hadn’t really gotten over the flight or thelate nights!

The following day we hada second round of bagels before jumping in the car and heading upstate to Julia’sparents’ farm. En route we passed a turning off to Sleepy Hollow, a horrificamount of storm-damaged trees, a conveniently-placed Starbucks drive-through,and the occasional surreptitiously-parked copper. A couple of hours afterleaving NY, we stopped off at a petrol station to fill up (right before gettingto the farm). I was craving sugar, in the form of some delicious chocolate, soquickly grabbed a couple of bars off the shelves. An English accent heard inthe middle of upstate New York clearly threw the locals! In my hurry to getback in the car, I’d unwittingly bought a peanut-based confectionary snack,which was a terrible, terrible mistake!

At the farm itself, Ifinally met Bean (Julia’s dog), and her parents and their three dogs. We had aquick walk round the immediate buildings before sitting down for dinner. Wespent the evening watching TV with big mugs of vodka/rum, being drunk throughsilly “glasses” straws. In the morning we took a trip to the nearby town ofRhinebeck, which is a pleasant place. All the houses are very much in thatAmerican style of sideways slatted boards, all singly coloured with (often)white trim. Julia found her dream place on the corner of Mulberry and Chestnut(which sounds like a pleasant enough place to be!). We stopped for coffee andthen went to the local bookshop, where Julia found herself in Kids’ BookHeaven...

Back at the farm, we tooka walk round the farm with Julia’s father. It was blistering cold, a brisk -16°C, and by thetime we’d finished our circuit my knuckles had frozen almost solid from theirexposure whilst taking photos. After eventually defrosting our hands, I wastreated to my first experience of s’mores by the fire, and we then loungedaround chatting for a bit before grabbing some food. We all sat and watched arented film that night, although I know for a fact I was in and out of sleepfor the duration of it!

The following day, we hada play around on the ground-sunken trampoline, I fooled around in the treehouse, and we packed up our stuff for the trip back to the city. We wereoriginally going to drive back by ourselves, but Julia’s parents were planningto head back to their house as well, so we all went in the same car. We weredropped off back at Julia’s flat before going back to Stumptown to try and finallyhave some photobooth fun. We went back to the house to collect Bean, where wefinally decided on my final dinner in NY: a rather nice pizza. We opted for alarge base, at a reasonable cost, but by the time we’d added a multitude oftoppings it became a $42 pizza! We had it delivered to the flat, so coincidedour return there accordingly. It was delicious, but we could honestly only managea couple of slices each. You almost had to roll the slice into a ball to pickit up, it was that loaded!

I had an early flighthome in the morning, and needed to be at the airport even earlier, so I turnedin for the night at a more reasonable hour than I had done the rest of my trip.And so ended a thoroughly enjoyable visit to New York, one that I hope to beable to repeat sometime soon.

New York, Part 1

2012-01-31T21:48:00.002Z

A 17:15 flight out of Heathrow (sadly not bumped up to businessclass like Julia had somehow managed time and time again) meant I arrived inNew York at 20:15, local time, and I was picked up not long after. I wastreated to my first experience of Julia’s driving, which only scared me mildly(kidding...). Despite having already had a rather long day, what with being upearly in the UK and the longer flight, we sat down and watched some episodes ofCoupling. Before long it was 2am and bed became very, very welcome!

In the morning, after a particularly lazy start, we headed out towalk the High Line, a 1-mile long parkway built upon a now-disused NY railroad.We were originally going to meet one of Julia’s friends there, but she’d leftby the time we arrived. After walking the length of the parkway and returningto the start, we had a quick search for a stall selling hanging mobiles (forhanging from the ceiling, not mobile phones!) then headed into Chelsea Market,where we had butternut squash soup from one of Julia’s favourite soup shops. Wefound Julia’s friend, Stephanie, was setting up residence in a coffee shop, “Joe’s”in Union Square, so made that our next port of call. It seemed as good a timeas any on the way back to the flat to try a bison burger I’d heard so muchabout, so we stopped off at Bareburger back in Brooklyn, near to Julia’sparents’ house. I was hoping for a little more, to tell the truth. You couldtell it wasn’t beef, but I wouldn’t have been able to identify it otherwise. Ithink that, in reality, my burger was spoiled by the amount of blue cheese init, as the burger itself, and the bacon, onions etc were all pretty tasty.

The following morning, after another rather lazy start, we took astroll down to the East River on the Brooklyn side, and wandered around for abit, just generally having a nose around. We were basically underneath theBrooklyn and Manhattan bridges, and could see the Statue from the park itself.We grabbed smoothies and juices, donned silly glasses (as a New Years Evetreat) and walked the length of the Brooklyn Bridge. Unfortunately, it wasundergoing some building works, so we could only see over and out to the riverat a couple of points. It amused me that people obviously marked their visit tothe bridge by clamping padlocks onto it whenever they could. You’d find big clumpsof them hanging off railings and metalwork, and where that was no longeravailable, padlocks clamped to padlocks!

We headed over to Stumptown, another of Julia’s favourite coffeeshops (she drinks a lot of fancy coffee...) for beverages and photo booth fun,but the booth was out of action! We’d taken silly glasses, Shrek ears and all,too! Time was getting away from us, and we needed to head back and get readyfor New Years Eve, so we made a quick detour through the insanely crowdedRockerfeller Center (note the correct yet ridiculous spelling of “center”...)to see the Christmas tree before heading back on the MTA train. Arriving backat the flat, we set about preparing for the evening out. Julia was tartingherself up, making her curls as epic as possible, and I donned my suit. Ifeared I would be over-dressed, but hell, it was New Years Eve in New York, sowhy not?! Being a week of firsts, I had my first macaroni and cheese for dinner(classy, huh?) with a glass of champagne (told you it was classy).

Julia’s cousin had booked out the venue, Má Pêche, for a private party. We arrived justbefore midnight, and in enough time to get a beer and a glass of champagne. Ifound Bia Hoi, so there was no way I could pass that up! It didn’t travel wellthough, as it tasted much, much better in Vietnam! After ringing in midnight,we all moved downstairs to the dancing room, where people shook their stuff forthe next few hours. Once again, I was struck with that nervous quality, ofknowing full well that I can’t dance to anything other than some good old fashionedguitar music, so the majority of my evening was spent observing with a drink inhand. On the train back to Julia’s, we took a pair of available seats, next toa delightful blood splatter. Most people were sane enough not to sit on it, butone woman was clearly so tired or disinterested that she plonked herselfstraight down on it. Arriving back at the flat, we crashed for the night, safein the knowledge that the following day was to be a right royal lazy one,filled with food and films.

Magaluf, Part 5

2011-10-02T16:15:00.003+01:00

After lunch we headed out to the furthest beach from ourhotel that was within reasonable walking distance, where we saw hundreds ofsmall fish. Steve highlighted how hewanted a speargun. All the snorkelling made us sleepy, so we once again had asiesta, then got fish and chips for dinner. For drinks, we were on numerous pintsof vodka and Red Bull, which were particularly strong. We think there wereabout five shots per pint, but we didn’t seem to be getting drunk! We waitedfor the mob to come past from the hotel, and tagged onto the “neon night” barcrawl, complete with our glowsticks. Mine refused to work, so Steve gave me oneof his (such the gentleman!). It was too much to resist putting the glowstickunder my shirt and making some shoddy ET joke.

We went to the a few bars, then back to Boomerang (the clubwe gave up on trying to get into a few nights previously). We forked out forthe unlimited drinks upgrade, managed to get a drink each, and had a wanderaround. I think we did one lap of the club, then tried to get another drink andbarely succeeded because of the volume of people in there, and then decidedthat we were actually quite drunk. The multiple pints of vodka and the drinksthat followed in the bar crawl had had their effect, so we upped and left.

In the morning, I had the most catastrophic hangover. I don’tthink I surfaced until about 3pm, when we dragged ourselves out to the fancydress shop to pick up our school shirts and ties for the evening’s “SchoolReunion” night. We grabbed KFC (although I could only manage some popcornchicken and a drink, the thought of more food was a little unsettling). I don’tthink Pepsi has ever tasted as good as it did that day. Instead of taking finsand snorkels, we decided to have just a day laying on the beach, which was verypleasant considering how wrecked we were.

Back at the hotel later that evening, the chavs were allpartaking in some sort of school Olympics. We really weren’t interested, andfood was much higher on the priority list, so we went to the “upside-down”restaurant, “Kathmandu.” The nachos, quesadillas and enchiladas were absolutelydelicious, and I quite enjoyed the two-men-and-their-guitars musicalaccompaniment. We then went to the club, Carwash, dressed in our schooluniforms. We were sent through past the “reception” into a completely emptyroom, save for the barmaid. She gave us a look of sheer delight at havingsomeone to serve, and then I imagine a look of either hatred or dejection whenwe spun on our heels and walked out! Right outside the door, we skipped throughthe barrier and went into the part of the club that everyone else was in, had awander around and then decided that, seeing as we weren’t drinking, it wasprobably going to be a bit nightmarish. We saw Rochelle and Suzi, but theywalked straight past us, more than a little drunk, so we basically gave up andheaded back to the hotel. We had to check out at 11am, so aimed for a goodnights’ sleep and maybe even some packing before bed.

In the morning, we rose at 10am to shower and have a final pack,then headed to the beach sans snorkelling gear. They refused to give us ourdeposit until everyone had checked out, so we had no money until at least 1pm!By the time we returned to the hotel to pick up our room deposit, my stomachwas eating itself out from the inside, so we hit up breakfast and washed it alldown with milkshakes, Pepsi and pots of tea. We also got in a good amount ofpeople-watching whilst playing Shithead.

We went back to the beach, not being picked up by the hoteltransfer coach until early midnight, where I lounged in the sun and Steveknocked off another 100-or-so pages of his book. Back at the hotel, we changed,washed up and used what money we felt we could afford on more milkshakes.Dinner that night was steak and chips again, but I struggled to finish mine forsome reason! We then realised it was only 9.30pm and we had bloody ages stillto wait! Sitting in the hotel lobby, we played Shithead and 3 Card Brag just topass the time, then we were on our way to the airport, therefore completing ourtrip to “Maga-, Maga-, Maga-fucking-luf!”

Magaluf, Part 4

2011-10-02T15:45:00.000+01:00

After a late rising and decent breakfast at Tom Brown’scafe, we made our way to the beach for some more snorkelling and sunbathing,complete with book-reading and random discussions, as is our wont now and then.Back at the apartment later that afternoon, we observed impressive tan/burnlines, devoured ice cream and then had a well-earned siesta.

At 19:30, the Mallorca Rocks hotel kicked off their evening’sentertainment: The Streets, plus supporting acts. We really wouldn’t haveneeded to buy tickets for the event anyway, being able to hear everythingperfectly from our balcony (and almost being able to see it all too!). Somegirl was yearning to see the action so much, she climbed onto the balcony walland started leaning out round the corner of her apartment...we both expectedher to come crashing down to earth, but her roommate pulled her down. It was plentyloud enough, but we were in “chilled” mode so managed to gently snooze rightthrough it all. A guy in a neighbouring apartment went running down to thecourtyard in just his pants, most likely extremely drunk, then proceeded tohave a bit of a run-in with the ticket staff and bouncers.

The evening’s meal was paella, and it was bloody delicious.The indie bar was our next port of call, where we sat happily drinking andchatting the night away until some random young girl, Sophie, from Halifax sawit fit to come and sit with us. She was attempting to get away from her cousin,Sarah, who quickly found her way over to us as well. How ill-fated this allturned out to be...

It turns out Sarah was the most sinfully boring person you’llever find on the face of this earth. She took delight in explaining her job,and the hours of work she’s contracted to do. She wipes arses for a living. Andwanted to tell us all about it. Seriously. Occasionally Steve and I took it inturns to try and “offload” her onto the other; I believe we both wanted to topourselves when she was jabbering on about shit, literally. Sophie seemed tohave decent taste in music, which was refreshing, but unfortunately she wasmore than a little dim when it came to general knowledge. For example, she hadno idea where the Vietnam War was held. This might seem a little harsh to youreaders, thinking that we were being unfair etc etc, but in reality, it wasjust the tip of the iceberg when it came to her sheer ignorance of EVERYTHING.A random couple turned up and started chatting away too, and managed topersuade both the girls to go in and dance. This left Steve and I the perfectopportunity to down our drinks and make a dash for it, heading off into the night.

In the morning we headed to another beach, even further awayfrom the resort but still not too far a walk. We saw a lot of fish, and Ipanicked somewhat when the currentstarted to drag me into a large batch of sea urchins (some of you may rememberme standing on one in Agia Napa and having to have 70-odd spines dug out of myheel at the doctors upon my return). At 20:00, post-siesta and shower, we wentfor steak and chips. And wow, the size of the steak! Must have been a 20oz-er.We saw Suzi and Rochelle, who were off to some adult pirate show.

Our drinking that night started in the 90’s bar, whichfailed to play ANY 90’s tunes. They did have slushie machines full of Sex onthe Beach though! Once again, the indie bar beckoned, and we sat in the cornerwatching the world go by. There was an older woman whose face had seen betterdays, dressed all in pink, who took a shine to Steve and tried to wrap her armsround him – he was NOT amused! The miserable-looking girls we had seen therethe night before were looking cheerful (hooray!), and a newly-acquainted couplewere basically giving the place a live sex show. She spent more time pullingher skirt down to cover her arse than anything else. Tramp. There were guysbuying balloons filled with laughing gas. There was the guy clearing up glasseswho commented on it being as busy in the bar as was riding round Hanoi on a motorbike...oh,the fond memories, as Gerard will attest to. This is just a taste of the indiebar and its clientele.

When we got back to the hotel, we were accosted by two younggirls on the stairs, asking if we had a light. After explaining we didn’tsmoke, and therefore were unlikely to have a lighter, Steve plodded off back tothe apartment. I was, however, mildly curious about their request to see whatthey had done to their room whilst in search of said lighter. I followed themto the door, looked in and saw pure carnage. How the hell could two tiny-framedgirls like that have literally DESTROYED their apartment? Their beds were inpieces, the sofa smashed to bits, duvets and sheets torn into strips. It was absolutechaos. When their backs were turned, I legged it back to the room and fellasleep, bemused by it all.

Magaluf, Part 3

2011-09-13T22:29:00.000+01:00

And so it was that I woke up in the morning with a dirtygreat hangover. During the night I had gone out onto the balcony to cool down,and I remember laying down on the floor to lower my body temperature further. Ialso remember laying there, foetal, for quite some time, before deciding I wascold in the 20 degree plus weather and retiring to the sofa. There I laid untilsuch time as I felt able to move. This had to be reasonably early, at least bymidday, as we needed food before meeting back at in the hotel lobby for ourexcursion to the waterpark in El Arenal.

We sat near some boys from Norwich who couldn’t decide whetherthey wanted to call the coach driver Pedro or Manuel. Either way, they werequite entertaining and made the half-hour journey pass a bit quicker. Onarrival, we were ushered towards the locker area, where we stashed our stuffbefore heading out into the park. Oh, the choice!

First we headed to the Kamikaze (being the closest ride youdidn’t need an inflatable for), and somehow I managed to persuade Steve to joinme in some fast downhill water-based action. It set things off to a good start,getting the old ticker racing a little. I then queued for the Black Hole, whereyou rode a single inflatable ring down an almost-pitch-black tunnel, unable tosee the twists, turns and drops. It was an average ride, to be fair, nothingspectacular. The Anaconda was pretty damn busy, so I skipped that and continuedround the park. We then had a wander around for a bit, noted the “No Shuffling”signs by the wave pool (actually, they were “No Running” signs, but they lookedlike the guys dancing from the recent LMFAO song video), and floated around theslightly disappointing Congo River. We also rode the Grand Canyon, on which ahandful of people can sit in one larger ring and be launched down an undulatingslide. A bit short, but good fun, and you pick up a surprising amount of speed.It’s also a little disconcerting when you are speeding down it backwards...

Our last two rides were the Multipistas, a 4-person race onthese sort of slide things you lay on, and the Crazy Race (another 4-personrace, but you can go down frontwards, backwards, however you want). Hungerkicked in, but the stalls were pretty expensive so we decided against it. Webumped into Rochelle and Suzi and sat chatting to them for a bit, until 5pmcame and the general public was kicked out. Here is where our extra £15 on theentrance price came in: unlimited sangria and free reign of a few rides in thepark. The reps forced a few drinking games upon the 400-strong crowd (thedetails of which I won’t go into, but suffice to say, they were hilarious andmessy), before declaring the bar open for unlimited sangria (never before drunkdry) and opening a couple of the rides for us all, sans-lifeguards.

The first bunch of people ascended the ride, and startedcoming down it individually. Note that there are four lanes, separated by smallridged barriers, on this particular ride. Before long, the crowd had decidedthat a single rider was a bit tame, and pairs, trios and quartets startedsliding down. At one point, I’d imagine there were 20 people sliding down,elbows and knees akimbo, splashing into the pool at the end. And from there, itwas only a matter of time before some clothing came off. The occasional bikinitop disappeared along the way, and then a few brave guys joined in. Now, it’snot very often that one will get the opportunity to fart about in a waterparklike that, let alone without any clothes on. So, despite the growing crowd ofladies at the foot of the slide, we scaled the slope to the top and queued(albeit briefly) for our go. Standingbehind me, Steve, Rochelle and Suzi only (I think...) saw my derrière as Iwhipped of my shorts and hurled myself down the ride. Liberating, yes. A littlewater-slapped by the bottom of the ride, yes. Hilarious, yes. One thing thatwasn’t on the “Before 30” list that was added on the spot, and ticked off!

We re-congregated by the bar for the final drinking game, todecide the champion. Again, pretty sangria-heavy, and definitely not one to tryat home in front of your family. By the end of this particular game, somerandom guy had collapsed on the grass in the “playing area”, and this was onlyever going to end one way. The rep on the mic made comment about him layingthere, a girl threw her drink over him, and from there on in chaos descended. Acry of “Sangria fight!!” came from the mic, dozens of glasses of sangria werethrown over the guy on the floor, and before anyone could say or do anything,mob mentality kicked in and it all kicked off (but in a joyful way). Sangriawas being thrown everywhere, we all got completely soaked, and for the firsttime, the waterpark was drunk dry.

Back at the hotel, it was shower and siesta time. Our first plannedbar crawl followed that night. We met the girls in the hotel bar, where I spentwhat felt like an eternity using my deftness to untangle a thin-chained silvernecklace before heading out for some more drinking. In the first bar we watchedsome more drinking games put on by the reps, and went for some pints of vodkaand Red Bull. These were drinkable, but you’d drunk too much of it before yourealised how wrecked you’d become. Suzi called it a night, not feeling toogood, but Rochelle wanted to continue the night out with us (because of ouramazingness, I should imagine...). In the second bar, we continued on the vodkaand Red Bull pints and followed the reps in some dance moves. The third barfollowed, where Steve spotted a girl with quite possibly the scariest faceever. She was basically the female version of Red Dwarf’s Dwayne Dibley.Rochelle highlighted her lack of Red Dwarf knowledge, which didn’t go down toowell...!

After the third bar, we were all frog-marched along thebeach to the club, “Boomerang”. We were supposed to have fast-track, priorityentry with our Magaluf Club Pass cards, but it was taking forever to get in andI was getting quite bored and impatient with it all. Our desire to find thefabled indie bar won over, and we headed off in search of “Alex’s Indie Bar”.This was a breath of fresh air for me and Steve, who can tolerate some dancemusic but need a regular fix of guitars and drums. My last drink was some apple-flavouredshot, which brought thefollowing Scrubs quote to mind:

“Appletini please, easy on the tini”

A single cheeseburger apiece at McDonalds was in order (nodoubles in Spain, apparently), then we all crashed for the night, quite drunkand pretty happy!

Magaluf, Part 2

2011-09-12T22:26:00.003+01:00

After being unceremoniously roused by the annoying Scottish “2wentys”rep, Kenny, and being force-fed an introductory meeting attendance request, wegot up, showered, and mooched on down to the bar for a 20-minute “Guide toMagaluf” session. 20 minutes my arse! After giving us some well neededinformation on what to do and what not to do (cheers guys, we couldn’t have figuredout what to do without you...I mean, who knew it was advisable to avoidhookers?) we were asked by another rep what we were going to sign up for. Now,at this point, I fully appreciate that we probably seemed like miserablebastards, both to you, the reader, and to this particular rep. We stated, quiteclearly, that only the waterpark excursion appealed to us, as it was somethingwe were going to do anyway. She couldn’t understand how we wanted to go allthat way and not join in their big club night outings or go and see The Streetsat Mallorca Rocks, a neighbouring hotel putting on weekly gigs. I’m not a fanof The Streets, Steve doesn’t mind them, but still we didn’t fancy going. Herreaction, and I quote, was: “So what are you doing here if you don’t want tosee The Streets?” Despite the urge to punch her in her rotund face, we politelydeclined and declined. In the end, however, we chose to go on three of theirbar crawl nights, expecting cheaper drinks and free, fast-tracked entry intothe clubs, as well as the waterpark tickets. Well, that proved to be a massivewaste of money in the end!

We then went out for lunch, going to a nearby place for afry-up. Post-lunch we threw on the board shorts and hit the nearest beach.There we had some choice discussions, including cellulite and thedelightfulness of some mens’ choices in questionable trunks (that made themlook a lot like Clarke Kent when combined with hilarious glasses). We had a bitof a swim, but being so close to the chavvy part of Magaluf, it had very littleto offer. A decision was made to search out better beaches in the followingdays. On the way back to the hotel, we stopped off and got some milkshakes, icecreams, Oreos, water and a few packs of beer. The racks came out of the fridgeand everything was wedged in as best we could do, including the “After Sun” cream(for that soothing effect). Then, feeling sleepy after a bit of sea air andsalt water, the week’s first siesta made a showing.

Upon waking and freshening up, we hit the beers. Literally.In the absence of a bottle opener, Steve employed the age-old, tried and testedmethod of hitting the caps on the edge of the table. There were teeth marksfrom obvious attempts by previous occupants of the apartment, so we mimickedthose. A couple of exploded beers later, a throwaway comment about there havingto be an opener somewhere wasmade...lo behold, in the drawer. And so it was that a couple of beers turnedinto a couple of boxes of beers, and the precursor to a pretty bizarre, yetawesome, night.

The problem with this storytelling business herein lies inthe fact that I don’t actually remember the rest of the night, save for a fewsnippets Steve and I managed to piece together the following days. The one memory we do both hold though, is ofa bar in the middle of nowhere. I mean, the middle of NOWHERE. How far from theresort it was, or where it was, or how long it in deliberately took to getthere and back, I could not tell you. By this point it in the tale, it is certainwe’d had a lot of vodka, beer, sambucca, el al, and not a bite to eat sincelunchtime. I kid you not, the bar reminded us of the Titty Twister in From DuckTill Dawn, and we both expected to have blood drunk from our ripe necks at somepoint. The barmaid insisted we drink The Local Brew, the clientele wasuninterested in conversation and I’m half-convinced I saw one guy lick hisperhaps pointed teeth, and had we not been so drunk we might have met ourbeastly demise there!

Somehow and sometime, we made it back to the hotel, althoughI don’t actually remember any of it!

Magaluf, Part 1

2011-09-12T20:57:00.000+01:00

And so it was, with a little excitement (about the beachholiday) and a little trepidation (about the massive amount of chavs there),that Steve and I embarked on a short excursion to Magaluf, Mallorca. Arrivingat the airport later than either of us would really have hoped to be flying outat, we found some food and then proceeded down to the departure lounge. A quickand perhaps too vocal laugh at various hair-do’s and questionable outfits, andwe were boarding. I was particularly happy with my window seat, which allowedme to take in the delights of the night sky: bugger all. We were sittingalongside two girls, Rochelle and Suzi (or Michelle and Jodi, as we interpretedfor the first day or so) who turned out to be staying in the same hotel andsome brief and random conversation preceded some intermittent napping in the “eventof an incident, go ‘prone’” positions, which is highly uncomfortable. I think Istill have the crick in my neck... At least the in-flight film was good thistime round: Kung Fu Panda 2!

We got some form of Grammatical Nazi fun out of one younggirl sat in front of us on the coach transfer, who couldn’t spell for toffee.Imagine the scenario: outside, it’s supposed to be hot and pleasant, instead it’sa little wet. Proper pouring down. Aforementioned lass apparently couldn’tspell, and wrote “turrensial” in a text message to some friend or other backhome. It’s “torrential”. Ha, Moron! After the transfer to the hotel, which wasmercifully one of the shortest I’ve had on a package holiday to date, wearrived at the hotel and had €30 each literally raped of us by the Management fora room deposit. Seriously? Little did we know at the time, but that deposit wasgoing to make us go quite hungry on the last day! It would also tenuously amuseus later in the week, when I was accosted in the hallway at 4am by two girls,but I’ll go into that later.

Being 4am when we checked in at the hotel, we felt it wastoo late to go out properly, but decided to have a wander through the town andsee what was happening. People were being physically hoisted down the street byfriends (we assumed they were friends), rather skanky-looking girls (and ladiesof the night) staggered all over the show, and drunken lads were trying it onwith everything that moved. Although in some cases, if it didn’t, all thebetter. Boded well for the week!

A Death Burger and a random chat with some drunk NorthernIrish chap, who had been invited out there by his mates and then been desertedby them, led to a night’s sleep in our basic but suitable room.

Alton Towers

2009-11-04T12:39:00.002Z

The Sunday was Georgie's birthday, and we had booked tickets to go to Alton Towers. It would be the first time for both of us, so we had booked advance entry tickets, and this meant skipping breakfast at the hotel.

The drive to the theme park took us up, down, round and about through the countryside, much to Georgie's disdain. It certainly didn't do anything to help her illness...but nor would the theme park, I suspected!

On arrival at the park, we took the tram round form the car park to the ticket booths, waltzed in and headed straight for "Rita - Queen Of Speed". We got almost straight on it, and I was quite, quite impressed with the massive boost at the start of the ride! Georgie, however, wasn't...and it did nothing for her stomach. In light of this, we went on the Charlie & The Chocolate Factory ride, which was an entertaining romp through that particular world. Through the day we hit various rides, some big, some sedate, but overall a nice mixture. I was getting a bit of a headache towards the end of our day there, and no amount of water seemed to help.

I rode "Oblivion" a number of times, as as a solo rider I was able to skip the queue in its entirity. "Air" took a long time to queue for, and was novel, but not really worth the loooong wait. "Nemisis" was okay, a standard rollercoaster ride. Other rides we took included "Hex" (which made Georgie quite ill) the "Squirrell Nutty Ride", the "Runaway Mine Train" and a walk through the "Haunted Hollow". One particular favourite was the flume ride, complete with a huge rubber yellow duck hidden in one of the tunnels!

We might have stayed another half hour or so, but we'd already pushed back our dinner reservations once, and knew it was going to take some time to get out of the park, drive back to Buxton, shower and change, and get to the restaurant, so we headed out before the crowds started to flood the tram. Dinner that night was back at Lonestar, having booked it the previous night based on how good it was! I had exactly the same meal, showing testament to how impressed I was. On the way out I helped myself, liberally, to the mints on offer.

Castleton

2009-11-04T12:09:00.002Z

The following morning, we had breakfast in the farm cafe on the camp site, and it was good as I remembered it. Then we packed up our tent and drove back to Castleton for a day of touristy things, starting with Peak Cavern, known locally as The Devil's Arse. We had an excellent tour guide, a woman who had clearly been doing the tours for quite some time and had built up a bit of material for the punters. She was very entertaining, and kept us amused as we descended further into the caves. At the entrance to the cave, they had set up a few of the old working tools from the time of the mining, and we watched her spin a new washing line out of cotton threads. It was pretty good! We got as far as we were allowed to go down the cave, and saw an old tramline snaking down into the darkness. This was apparently left on-site when some Hollywood production decided they couldn't be bothered to take away their sets, including a lot of the realistic-looking rocks strewn throughout the cave. We'd naively assumed these were real, so they must have been good. Further inspection showed them to be polystyrene though! This last area was known as the Devil's Cellar, where we could supposedly hear the River Styx. We were to find the source of the name, the Devil's Arse; the cave had become known as this because of the curious noises gurgling from inside the cave...

Next was Speedwell Cavern, linked by an underground and partially water-filled tunnel. We had to take a boat down the tunnel, with our guide sitting at the front, facing backwards, guiding us down the tunnel. He used an occasional bout of engine power to give us some more speed whilst we bumped and grinded our way to the cavern. Now, the tunnel could only take one boat at a time, so the original minors had built some blast holes as places to hide in as they detonated explosives, and we had to "hole up" in one while another boat came back from the cavern. The bottomless pit you find in the cavern is, in fact, not all that bottomless. I don't remember how deep it is now, but bottomless is definitely a bit more infinite than something like 140ft. Nevertheless, our guide was highly entertaining and deserved the small tips that everyone gave him.

After lunch, we nipped over to Bamford for a quick spot of bouldering. After hacking our way up the hillside, avoiding sheep and their effluence, I donned my climbing shoes and had a play on the gritstone. It was quite windy though, and I was made very aware of that fact by Georgie, who stood at the top of the routes telling me to get off and be more sensible. Put aside the fact that I was climbing Mod -> VDiff routes (1 to 3- in sport terms!), I was being told in no uncertain terms that I should be off the rock and in some proper shoes!

We drove to Buxton to book into our hotel for the next two days, and found the town to be very nice. Our hosts were excellent, they were there and available at any time but you wouldn't have known it; they were very discreet and helpful. Our room was very comfortable, which was especially important to my coughing and spluttering companion! Our evening meal was booked at Lonestar, a Texan-themed bar and cafe. This turned out to be a phenomenal choice, as the meals with fantastic! I had the Lonestar Spicy Tower ("crispy tortilla wraps towered with king prawns, chicken, chillies, coriander, gorgonzola and tomato"), and Georgie had the burritos. For dessert I had giant profiteroles, and concerned the waitress somewhat when I asked if the "giant" bit meant "football-sized". Apparently not, but I ordered them anyway, and it was definitely a good choice. There was a hen party in the restaurant too, but despite their rowdiness, they never really seemed to bother anyone.

That evening, we lay in the room watching television and relaxing, before hitting the sack ahead of the next day's plans.

Hope

2009-11-04T12:06:00.001Z

We were going up to the Peak District for Georgie's birthday, so I picked her up from her house in the morning to find that she was feeling quite unwell. After an impromptu visit to the doctors, we were on our way. The plan was to make a beeline for our chosen camp site, Hardhurst Farm, and then go from there for the evening. The journey was enjoyable and, thankfully, uneventful on the roads.

We arrived at the camp site and signed in, then went to find our pitch. It turned out that the site was familiar to me: I had stayed there a number of years previous with the Ipswich Mountaineering Club on one of their Peak weekends for climbing beginners. Basically, we had pretty much the whole field to choose where to pitch up, so found a nice dry bit of grass and started putting up Georgie's new tent. As it was the first day of our weekend away, we didn't want to do too much, so sat in the tent with the door open, a nice breeze blowing in, and did some colouring. Yes, colouring.

Hunger drove us to Castleton, where we had a quick wander around before finding somewhere to eat. Very few places were open as it was past 6pm, but we were able to do a little window shopping. Georgie was particularly taken with the Blue John stone, a blue and yellow fluorspar found only in this area of Britain. Small pieces are still quite plentiful, hence there being a lot of jewellery, but few large pieces of the stone remain. Surprisingly, the jewellery wasn't all that expensive. A pub meal followed, but in quite a nice place with a curious entry hall: it felt like you were entering a tourist attraction with lots of leaflets for other attractions, before choosing which door to take, for either a beverage or a meal. Afterwards, it was back to the tent (and the by-now noisier camp site) for an early night ahead of the busy weekend we had planned.

Hinterglemm, Part 5

2009-01-28T12:10:00.000Z

On our last full day in Austria, we went, as a group, to Salzburg. I’d had a shower and my hair was just slightly damp when we met outside at the bus stop. Within minutes, I found that my hair had started to freeze, which was pretty cool! We took the bus to Zell am See, passing the “dinosaur park” and seeing a sign for Franz Josef (humorously, this is a glacier in new Zealand that I spent a day ice climbing on). We took a train to Salzburg from Zell am See, changing once along the way.

We ended up not having a great deal of time in the city, regrettably, so I don’t feel I got a good impression of it. We spent some time walking around, looking for photo opportunities of both artistic and touristy natures. While everyone else went into the catacombs, I found some really nice shots in the cemetery outside. We went up to the fortress, taking a train up as the walk would have taken too long. It was pretty cool up there, although I was sort of expecting more from it. Overall, I was underwhelmed by Salzburg, but again, I think this is down to the rushed nature of our visit; I don’t feel I had enough time to get to know the city.

We just about made the train back, having ran halfway across the city, and sat through 28 bloody stops to get back to Zell am See! We were chasing our bus as we pulled into the station, and legged it across the road to the bus stop in time. That evening, we had a Balkan buffet (Ross and Matt were a little nervous about it, having previously spent a week in Bulgaria and experienced the cuisine), but it turned out to be quite nice. We collectively went to the cow bar that night, and what with applying our own brand of vulgar graffiti to the table, half-inching beer glasses and hammering numerous nails into the lump of wood, it turned out to be a very entertaining evening. So much so, that John and I spent a few more hours out than everyone else, having befriended a group of Germans who refused to believe we were English and insisted that we join them for dancing at London Bar. We went, but it was so bad I couldn’t hack it and wandered home at some point in the morning. All along the way, I had drunken folk singing the ridiculously catchy German pop songs we’d learned the other night at me, and I couldn’t stop myself from joining in and dancing on the pavement.

And so it was that our Austrian snowboard adventure came to an end, as we caught a plane home the next day, picked up our cars and headed back to sunny Suffolk, waiting for the next trip!

Hinterglemm, Part 4

2009-01-28T12:09:00.001Z

On Wednesday, it was Matt’s birthday. Alex and John had a couple of hours of snowboard lessons, and seemed to be getting on really well. Steve had left breakfast early to go and practice using the lifts, having not been on one before, in preparation for our group trip down routes 7, 4 and 2a/b. This was to prove another confidence shattering route.

I managed to get a nice, gently-carving run at one point, although I was hurtling along somewhat, and felt I was going a little too fast for my liking (and ability!), so started to turn to slow down. I once again caught my toe a little too hard, and went flying onto my shoulder. This bruised me a bit, but I was okay. The second crash, however, was a biggie. Again, I was carving nicely on a tighter, winding, technical section, and thought I’d better slow down a bit. At this point, I was horizontal across the route, and I completely missed a large hole, shaped like an oversized snowboard. My heel edge dropped in, and on the way out my toe edge hit the ground hard. This left me doing a Superman through the air, before I landed hard on my elbow, which in turn smacked into my lower ribs and stomach. Winded and bruised (and feeling a little broken, I don’t mind telling you), I managed to get to the side of the run without causing anyone else to crash, where I sat for a few minutes. The rest of the run was very painful, and I got in far less turns than I would have liked, but it just hurt too much to tense my stomach overly. It was made less comfortable by the skier who thought it was a good idea to come careering into me at full pelt while I was picking myself off the ground. He had the entire slope, but no, he had to come right past me…

I took the Zwolferkoghelbahn gondola up to the top after lunch as a way of having a break but getting my money’s worth out of my lift pass. Afterwards, I ran 32 and 32a solo to gain more confidence, and found I was getting on okay, if not a little painfully. On the way back to the hotel, the bus driver failed to stop for me even though I’d pressed the button, so I ended up walking from Saalbach. Our key was gone from the pigeonhole, but by the time I arrived on the top floor our room was locked. John had taken the key down in the lift as I was heading up the stairs! I had a couple of sauna visits, and then we had an Italian buffet. Being Matt's birthday, we headed out to the Hex Bar for a few drinks. Matt was bought a number of shots that came in little vials, complete with pornographic pictures on them: Hexenmilch, Hexenrammler and Hexenbeleys. There was some dire German/Austria pop blaring out, but it was highly addictive, and we found ourselves singing and dancing along with the other patrons (who I suspect felt we were native speakers, especially when one drunk tried to engage me in conversation).

John, Matt and I wanted to check out a place we called the "Cow Bar", where we found ourselves standing with others hammering nails into a lump of wood with the pointed end of a hammer. All good fun! A girl called Kimmy, from Scotland, started talking to me, and when she found out it was Matt's birthday she gave him a little dance and a kiss (before her boyfriend dragged her away). John managed to break a glass with his air drumming, the foot banging being enough to bounce the glass from the table. We felt it was time to go home and have a bit of a sleep.

Needless to say, I awoke with a hangover. I wanted to run routes 11 and 18, but no one else did, so I went alone. I had a fantastic run without a single crash or fall, completely rebuilding all confidence in my modest snowboarding abilities. By no means as good as others on the slopes, but definitely able to hold my own. I was looking to kill some time before lunch, so I went to give 22 another go. I felt happy running the icy face down at the end, but when I got there the clouds had shrouded it in a dark haze. I repeatedly found myself sliding when I thought I’d have good purchase, and then hitting slightly puffier stuff and nearly coming off for having a bit too more grip than expected.

Post-lunch, Ross was persuaded to get out on the slopes and brave the injured wrist (he borrowed a wrist guard). We did 11 again, then bodged a red run together, culminating in a particularly steep section that was great fun to come down, albeit in a "falling leaf" fashion. We met Matt at the base, and agreed to go and run 32 "just once more"… Again, it was brilliant to nail this without any incident.

We dropped all our gear back at the hire shop and then had a wander around Saalbach (mainly to get some information from the Tourist Office about public transport to Salzburg). I took a ride up the nearby gondola to get a good photographic view, but by the time I reached the top I was told to come straight back down as the lift was shutting. There were no buses, or so it seemed, so it was a brisk walk back to the hotel for a sauna session and an American buffet. We played cards later, had a few drinks, and called it a night.

Hinterglemm, Part 3

2009-01-28T11:59:00.003Z

Monday morning, we all decided to hit the nursery slopes, which was good for the confidence, but bad for the patience. The lifts were rammed full and it turned out to be far quicker (albeit more tiring) to walk up the slopes with our boards under our arms. Of course, this meant unbinding each time we hit the bottom, which was just a damn nuisance. After a few runs here, I moved over and had a couple of goes on the opposite lift, which was much quieter for some reason. Perhaps this was because every time a snowboarder got to the top, the lift was stopped and the offending person was shouted at over the tannoy system. My German may only be average, but they were definitely telling boarders to get off the lift and slope as soon as possible to make way for skiers. Gits.

In the afternoon, Ross, Katie and I hit a new slope, as it was nearer Hinterglemm, and therefore a bit quieter. This was my first time on a T-bar, and it was bloody ridiculous! I found the real problem was getting my board caught in the grooves made by skiers, which instantly resulted in me flying from the lift into a heap on the ground. Nevertheless, after a couple of goes I made it cleanly to the top, and set off down the hill. I had a really good run all the way down, and went to go into a nice heel-to-toe turn to finish on the flatter section at the bottom, but caught my toe far too hard and started to fall…until the point when my board stopped spinning and I kept going…how I didn't shatter my knee, I have no idea. I truly think my legs were twisted to the very point at which they should have broken, but somehow they didn't.

After this, a bit of a rest was definitely in order, so we sat in a nearby café and demolished a 72% hot chocolate with cream, which hit the spot nicely. I was feeling up for one more run, so Ross and I made our way to a small blue slope near where I had had my crash. This wasn't any more pleasant, but we came down it anyway, and with that I called it a day, heading back to the hotel to nurse my tender knee with a good sauna session.

That evening, we had a buffet meal consisting completely of meats, which was perfectly fine by me! The evening was capped off with a few beers and a good bit of card playing. In the morning, we had an early breakfast, then Steve, Matt, Ross and I made off to the far end of the resort to do blue run 22 a couple of times. We stopped at the mid-station each time, finding the upper part of the lower section to be a nice place to practice turns, but the bottom was quite difficult for those of us who weren't confident turning on the steeper icy stuff. I was still a little shaken from the previous day’s crash, and my confidence in the heel-to-toe turn had definitely taken a hit. Nevertheless, I managed to get a few turns in and felt good about it, so was up for doing something a little harder.

Matt, Ross and I took lifts up to blue run 26, which let us take 26, 25 and 27 down. The first part was really good fun, although Ross fell on the flat and landed on his wrist quite badly. The plan was to take route 27a down to the town, but this was closed, and the only way down was to take a T-bar lift way up and bring another route down. Matt was in front of me on the lift, and after a few attempts and lots of shouting and gesturing from the lift operator, he managed to take hold. We got halfway up, on a flat section, and Matt came crashing down in front of me. He managed to scramble out of my way, and I continued up the slope. We were all unaware of how far there was still to go, and how steep it became. When I reached the top, Ross wasn't behind me either: it turned out he’d fallen at the same point as Matt, and they were walking up the slope, much to their derision. By this time, Ross’ wrist was hurting quite badly, so we gently accompanied him down route 31 to the gondola station, which we then took down to the town.

For lunch, I had the equivalent of Vietnamese noodle soup, which stirred a couple of scornful remarks for some reason. Never mind, I had the last laugh when we had noodle soup at dinner that evening. Matt and I had enjoyed route 31 so much that we decided to go and give it another go that afternoon. It was parallel with 32, and we were able to take a lift to the top of this one. Upon running 32 down to the gondola the first time, we were so impressed with the flow of the route that we immediately ran it twice more! Where we had helped Ross down, we decided this time to run 32a down to the town, which was much tighter, steeper and icier than other routes we’d done so far. I didn't really like it much, but was pleased with my performance.

We joined everyone back at Zwolferkoghelbahn, one of the big lift stations, and headed up to the mid-station to meet people. While we were away, Martin had proposed to Amanda, as was his plan all along.

Tobogganing was on the cards that evening, but when we arrived we found there was only five more minutes before the lift was closed, so we skipped on it. Matt and I were wearing thicker clothing, and didn't fancy sitting in a bar sweating our arses off, so ran back to the hotel to change. We made record time, and met everyone in London Bar. This was an absolute shithole, with awful music and a dodgy DJ. On the way back to the hotel, Ross, Katie and Matt made snow genitalia for the scary evil clown, but it wouldn't stick on, so the project was abandoned.

Hinterglemm, Part 2

2009-01-16T16:41:00.002Z

Breakfast was at 08:00, and we were all up and raring to go, as we needed to walk to Saalbach (in the opposite direction to the slopes) to collect our boards/skis and boots. When we got there, I didn't bother hanging around and got seen to really quickly, getting my gear and then standing outside waiting for everyone else. I went outside as it was ridiculously hot in the shop, which just about sums up my dodgy temperature gauge for the rest of the holiday. I don’t think I got cold once, except save for my thighs on a walk into town one night when I was wearing particularly thin trousers. It’s the age-old thing: stand around and you get cold; keep on the go and you’ll stay warm.

Once everyone was kitted out and we had gone back to the hotel to finalise things for the day, we congregated outside the hotel to take the skibus up to the slopes. Unfortunately, a few of us missed it, and couldn't be bothered to wait for the next one so started walking to Hinterglemm. This seemed like a good idea, considering how short the distance had seemed the night before. But we were now wearing snowboard boots, which have a lot of ankle support, and therefore no give, in them, making this journey a little more arduous. By the time we arrived, all enthusiasm had been dampened…that is, until we got onto the slopes.

The Austrian grading system is:

Blue: Easy
Red: Medium
Black: Hard

After speaking with someone who skis regularly, Ross found out that the grading system in and around Hinterglemm is apparently all over the place. For instance, blues and reds can be opposite, and the piste map a little misleading.

Our first little play was on the bottom of a red route, which was the steepest I'd been on. Just booting up was a challenge, as you found yourself sliding off down the slope on your arse. I actually stayed down on that part for the whole day, spending time with Alex and John, neither of whom had donned a snowboard before. Part of my trouble was that I’d learnt on a 160cm board, and had been given a 150cm one, which was definitely throwing me somewhat. It delighted people to think that I was struggling on this for the time being, but for those of you who have surfed before, you’ll fully appreciate the difficulty in dropping to a shorter board suddenly. For example, I surf on a 7' board, and the drop to a 6'4" threw my completely and I continually wiped out. Nevertheless, by the early afternoon I’d nailed my turns again and so vowed the next day to get onto some slightly better runs.

A few people had taken skiing lessons, so at 15:00 Alex and I went over to find them and see if they fancied doing a few simple runs. We couldn't find them, though, so just did a couple of runs ourselves. This was Alex's first attempt at using a button lift, and it showed…he came crashing down off it not long after setting up for the drag to the top, so I met him on the way down and we finished the nursery slope run. We then decided to call it a day, thinking we’d go back to the nursery slopes for some better practice in the morning.

The sauna was on the cards when I arrived back at the hotel, so I quickly changed and treated myself to a half hour, which I believe seriously helped my aching limbs. A quick snooze followed while Matt and John showered (separately), and then we headed downstairs for an Asian buffet dinner. There was a dish from each of the major cuisines, and it was all capped off by the applied décor and Thai dress worn by the staff.

It being the first day, and everyone out of shape, we were all shattered by the end of the meal, so it was an early night all round. We flicked through the television channels but couldn't find anything interesting (save for a scary cheese-thing that turned out to be a bit of mouldy bread, or so we were told), so it was off with the lights in preparation for a bigger and better day on the slopes.

Hinterglemm

2009-01-16T16:36:00.002Z

After collecting Matt and Alex in Ipswich at the agreed time, we set sail for Gatwick. As we approached the turning off to Stansted on the A12, the notion of texting various people in other cars and asking, "Which terminal at Stansted were we supposed to go to?" seemed highly entertaining, but at the same time, highly dangerous to our health…

We made really good time, and stopped at Clacket Lane services well ahead of the other cars, so sat down with a bucket of coffee (the large mugs were exceedingly large) in anticipation of our companions’ arrivals. It turned out that Claire had forgotten her ski jacket and Martin was a little under the weather, having consumed a vast amount of cake the night before, so they were a little later than the rest of us. For some reason the anti-freeze in my windscreen washer wasn't working, so we’d had a fairly blurry view of the roadways until this point. This was where Matt's trusty water bottle came in handy, although when we returned to the car the pipes were all unfrozen and we were soon able to see out again.

Arriving at the airport, the four drivers deposited their cargo of passengers and luggage, then convoyed to the place where we were leaving the cars for the week. This was on a driveway about 10 minutes away from Gatwick's south terminal, on a street that looks like most of the residents have a sideline in car parking. We jumped in a taxi and met the others back at the airport for check-in.

The flight was delayed, with "paperwork following mechanical faults on an earlier flight from Austria" being cited as the problem. Nevertheless, before too long we were on our way to Salzburg. No sooner had the seatbelt sign been dimmed than a barrage of people leapt to their feet to obscure the cabin crew, as is the usual fashion. A meal was brought round to those who had pre-ordered, and I think I speak for the entire group when I say it wasn't the best of foodstuffs, but it was gratefully received.

After collecting our bags at Salzburg airport, we caught a transfer to our hotel in Hinterglemm, which is about two hours away. I completely forgot to get Euros out of the ATMs in the airport, so had to consider putting purchases on a debit card instead. The problem with that was, that money was "between accounts", ie it had left my regular current account for the one I use when abroad, so while I still had the cash, it was technically inaccessible. Thankfully I didn’t need to buy my lift pass then and there, so could sort it out later that evening when we got to the hotel. However, we thought we’d be able to get a 5-in-6 day pass, allowing us to choose 5 out of a 6-day stretch on which to ski or snowboard, but this was not available. There was a 5-in-7 pass, but the price difference was too great to justify it, so collectively we opted for 5 days straight.

We bought our various lift passes during dinner that night, which, due to arriving late at the hotel, was a cold meat platter. I was sharing a room with Matt and John on the third floor, giving us a particularly nice view of the mountain range behind the hotel. What we didn't see, however, was the collection of small chalets that would have had a good view of our attempts to make “fart-fog”, should they have chosen such an unfortunate moment to look skywards…

A few of us went for a walk towards Hinterglemm, to get a feel for the temperature. We turned around at one of the ski schools, which had a large clown figure illuminated from beneath, giving it a particularly haunting look at night!

One last activity before laying down for the night was a communal bout of hardcore press-ups and sit-ups, for no other reason that it was quite good fun. Matt's bag made a good weight for the back during press-ups, and the chairs were at an ideal height to make sit-ups fairly challenging. And with that, we all crashed out for the night, in anticipation of five days’ solid snowboarding.

London

2008-10-08T09:13:00.010+01:00

Bert and Mary's Big Adventure
(To save embarrassment, "Mary Poppins" actors' characters' names have been used to mask true identities)

Once upon a time, there were two friends (or pillow-fighting rivals, some might say), who met up in a big, scary place called London for a day. Mary had brought the rain and gloom with her from wherever she had jetted in from, so it was up to Bert to try and merry things up somewhat.

Bert was up nice and early to get ready for his London visit, but when he arrived, Mary was nowhere to be seen. It turns out that Mary had probably overslept and was running very late. Bert doesn't believe it takes two hours to get ready... Regardless, Mary finally arrived, and together they began to tick off Mary's sight-seeing list. This involved a bit of Tube work, and the wearing-down of much shoe-leather.

The duo's first stop was Notting Hill, with a leisurely stroll around some of the more costly homes and hotels. It struck the pair as bizarre that the majority of buildings were wrapped in scaffolding. From Notting Hill, they headed off in the direction of Earls Court, all the while jabbering on like demented turkeys (as was their way). Mary's brother had a flat in Earls Court, so they found this, then became in desperate need of some food. Bert handled his footlong and balls with as much grace as was humanly possible, although managed to make a bit of a mess on the table. Luckily no one noticed.

The intrepid explorers then made their way over to Tower Hill, to see the Tower of London in all its fort-like glory (apparently not just a tower, as some might think). Mary especially wanted to see The Pickle (the Gherkin, to regular folks like Bert, who at this point was having what may be the seventeenth "language barrier" argument with Mary the Yank), so the pair wandered off in the direction of the London Eye, from where they would get a good view of it rising up above the office blocks.

While walking around, Mary was forced to add and remove layers of clothing at an alarming rate. Clearly she had not been as sensible as Bert, who had foreseen the English weather patterns and wore appropriate clothing to begin with. He found it highly entertaining when Mary was halfway through de-jacketing only for it to pour with rain. It should also be known that scarves are dangerous things in the wind, likely to try and strangle you should you walk past anything they can wrap themselves around. It was decided that driving goggles are the way forward, not driving scarves, and only if worn in the back of a London taxi (for full effect).

Meandering through a park, in which Mary revealed her fear of squirrels, the pair passed a breed of bird with what appeared to be squashed-out feet - very peculiar. The park led them to Buckingham Palace, where Bert was required to explain that the men standing outside in funny red suits were actually Beefeaters, who are required not to move unless performing the occasional march up and down the front exterior of the palace. They are not wax men. Mary got very excited when she saw a Royal Mail van driving through the courtyard. Bert had to explain that this was not the Queen being delivered, and could take no more silliness so pushed to move on to the next tourist trap.

Once Bert's deeds come through for Buckingham Palace, he has agreed to set aside a large room for Mary, complete with a sizable star-shaped bed. Also, he will be providing a Zorb facility out the back, and setting up a halfpipe in the courtyard, just to keep Mary happy. Until then, he plans to continue living out in the countryside in a tiny village, but refuses to be known as a Village Person.

A pink car was spotted, which vied for the "Biggest Smile on Mary's Face" contest. It really was a silly little car. This distraction led to the intrepid duo heading towards the sunshine, and when they reached Wimbledon they bagn to wonder whether they'd maybe walked just a little too far. They spun on their heels and headed back to Vauxhall, where they took a tube to Shepherd's Bush in search of TimTams.

On the tube rides, the duo were accompanied by a pair of men who had finished on their building site a few hours earlier, and instead of booking a hotel for the night and calling their wives, they had visited a lap dancing club, drank too much and consumed a lot of Wagon Wheels.

Those of you who have not been to Australia or New Zealand will not appreciate the TimTam Slam, a process involved the chewing-off of two opposing corners of a chocolate biscuit, then attempting to drink a hot beverage through the biscuit before it melts into an gooey heap in your drink. Many hits of coffee later, and a whole packet of TimTams down, the sickness began to set in for both Mary and Bert.

It was time for pie, and being in an Aussie establishment meant a ready supply of steak goodness. Of course, Mary is a pedantic eater, so was avoiding the protein hit of a good pie, instead savouring various side orders including mushy peas. Language barrier argument eighteen ensued over the pronunciation of "mushy".

As is inevitable after either a good meal or a good drink, Bert and Mary began planning their next Big Adventure. As yet, it is unknown whether this is a US road trip, Everest Base Camp or a week in Hawaii, but it is guaranteed to be a good one.

Paris, Part 3

2008-08-25T13:55:00.014+01:00

The following morning we bought fresh cheese, pate and bread from some roadside stalls near the flat, with a view to having a picnic that afternoon. We hopped on the bike and headed out of Paris' city centre. The park we were going to was holding a jazz concert every Saturday over the summer months, and you can imagine that the French do these things slightly better than we generally do. Glorious weather, delicious food and wine, pleasant music and great company made for a most enjoyable afternoon. Ben also joined us, and collectively we ate, drank and snoozed on the grass in a complete state of nothingness.

Beyond the jazz and picnic, we met up with some people in a nice restaurant area of Paris, then sat with a beer chatting away (well, I had things translated to me, where I couldn't pick up the general gist of what was being said!). After a few drinks, Julie and I excused ourselves, as I had one more sight to see: the Moulin Rouge.

I will say this: the Moulin Rouge is one of the poorest tourist attractions I have ever seen. It looks like it is made out of paper! Far more fun were the masses of sex shops and "live shows". Just for the sake of it, we had a wander around some of these shops, and it was fun to see people hiding in the aisles, even though they were highly unlikely to be spotted by anyone they knew!

Driving up the small, cobbled roads towards the church at the top of the hill overlooking Paris is quite an experience. You recognise the style from films and photos, but until you go there you don't really get a sense of what it's like to "be" there and feel the atmosphere. We set up camp on the steps and were sat looking out at the Saturday night lights when a two-man fight started up below us. After this had been disbanded (by means of one of the two fighters swinging a punch and falling over on his arse in the drain), Julie noticed that her bag had been stolen. She had her purse, house and bike keys, plus other important bits and pieces, in the bag.

There was a guy walking away from us looking shady, so for some reason I belted off after him. When I caught up with him he spun round and started shruggling his shoulders. In my best French, I asked him if he spoke English, to which he said "No mate, only French..." (naturally I was dubious), but he agreed to come back over and speak with Julie. He still looked shifty, and they chatted momentarily, then he wandered off again. After sitting there for a moment, and after realising that we had no way of contacting anyone (her phone was in the bag, and she couldn't remember any numbers), we decided to try and make our way back to the flat.

But, low and behold, two guys approached us with Julie's ID! It turned out they were undercover police monitoring the area, as there were many thefts over the summer months there, and they had seen a guy dumping a bag in the bushes. After collaring him (the very same guy I had chased after), they found his accomplice, who was about to pick the bag up and make off with it. All the contents were recovered, except for some papers for the bike and a cheque. What then followed was two hours in the local police station, while Julie gave statements and they went through all her belongings.

At least we got to ride home on our own transport.

In the morning, we ate copious amounts of cheese, leading me to feel a bit ill, before I made my departure. Julie left me at the underground station, and I really was sad to be leaving. Like so many people I met while on my last trip, she'd become a very good friend, someone I felt I could completely open up to about anything and who wouldn't judge me or my actions. I have friends like that here at home, and I'm gathering more people from around the globe who I also feel totally comfortable with; these people are few and far between.

Paris, Part 2

2008-08-25T13:29:00.019+01:00

It seemed only right to see the famous sights on my first full day, so, after a spot of breakfast we tooled up, jumped on the bike and went ploughing round the city.

Our first major stop was the Cathédral de Notre Dame de Paris, with it's grounds swelling to bursting point with tourists. On the ground nearby you can see an engraved paving stone, marking the true centre of Paris. We went into the cathedral's free section, but chose not to scale the towers in favour of moving on towards the Louvre. I didn't meet the hunchback.

Stop two was the Musée du Louvre, complete with it's 21m Grande Pyramide (that big old glass pyramid marking the entrance) and huge underground complex, housing hundreds or statues, paintings, and other artsy things! We specifically hunted out the Mona Lisa and the Venus de Milo, both of which were uninspiring, and quite frankly, pretty crappy works of art. The Mona Lisa really is an ugly painting!

Lunch was next, and we stopped off at a restaurant Julie likes for a platter of meats and some good wine. It was entertaining to have the waitress offer me a menu and start talking to me, only to have Julie explain my blank expression: "I'm sorry, he's English..." I also felt the need to apologise for my nationality!

After lunch, we hit the road again, this time heading to Champs-Elysées. This is a huge multi-laned road, flanked by swanky shops, that runs up to place de l'Etoile ("place Charles de Gaulle"), the world's biggest roundabout. Standing in the centre of this roundabout is the huge, and hugely impressive, Arc de Triomphe. We wandered about the base of the arch, seeing the stone under which an unnamed soldier is buried. There is a flame burning continuously for this soldier, marking his death in the first World War. Supposedly a local was thrown in prison for urinating on the flame...

Last on our shopping list of sights was the Tour Eiffel. The previous night I had see it lit up in blue, and on the hour going off like a firework with bright lights, but it was time to see it in the flesh. And apart from the engineering ingenuity and impressiveness, it's actually quite an ugly, gaudy brown metallic monstrosity from up right close. I didn't think I'd like it, but you can't help but be impressed with it.

Instead of heading up straight away, we laid on the nearby grass and let the crowds subside a little. It still took nearly half an hour's queuing to get to the base, where we chose to walk up the 600 steps instead of take the lift. If I was going to scale the tower, I was going to do it properly! You do, however, have to take a lift up to the very top, from which you get a staggering view over the city. In the upper canopy there is a panoramic with flags for countries that can be reached if you were to head in that exact direction, complete with distances. It was fun being able to walk around and say "Been there...been there...and there!"

It was getting darker by the time we came back down, so we headed back to the flat to gear up for a night out. Originally, we had talked about going to a drum 'n' bass club, but this went out the window when we arranged to meet up with Ben and Julie's brother. I have no idea how it happened, but Ben and I started a mini-moshpit in the bar, to the tune of Rage Against The Machine's first album. People were coming in off of the streets to join in!

Paris

2008-08-22T14:43:00.009+01:00

Julia had changed her flight from England, as her father was in Paris for a while, so she ended up getting the same flight over to France as I did. I think I fell asleep on the plane, as I can safely say a week of driving had finally caught up with me.

When we landed, we were greeted by Julie, who you may remember I met in Laos (we proceeded to drink , go tubing, caving, etc). I was going to be staying with her in Paris for the duration of my trip there. After Julie helped Julia get to the Louvre on the underground, we headed to her flat, where I dumped my stuff and settled in. After a quick bite to eat, we went out for a wander. At this point, all I was being told was that the evening was to "be a surprise". Naturally, I assumed I was going to be thrown into an uncomfortable situation, such as a fancy dress gay club...but no, Julie had secured a flier to gain us free entry to a VIP party on a boat!

We found ourselves some leaning space by the edge of the boat, and chatted away, until we were joined by Stephane, one of Julie's flatmates, and some of her friends. An embarassing moment came about when Julie couldn't remember the name of one of these friends! The boat took off down the river Seine, from east to west, passing Notre Dame, the Louvre, etc, and turning around at the Eiffel Tower. "She" was lit in blue instead of yellow, as some homage to a position France held in Europe at the time. I don't remember the specifics.

When we had returned to the start point and disembarked, it was definitely time for food. After a mini-barrage of complaints about not eating French food, we went for kebabs. While eating, Ben, Julie's boyfriend, came to meet us. We had quite a way back to the flat, so took advantage of Paris' cool and nifty solution: city-wide bike hire. This effective solution works on a simple premise: you use plastic to hire a bike for a given amount of time, and should you not return it to a bite attachment point within that period, you will be charged a significant fee. This is more than the bikes cost, so stealing one is just not financially viable.

Obviously you can't see the idea working over here, because of all the thieving bastards and people who like to vandalise for the hell of it, but apparently that mentality only existed for a very short time in Paris.

I was introduced to "How I Met Your Mother" when we got back. It was to become a show we watched whenever there was half an hour to fill and we couldn't be bothered to do anything else. It was legen... wait for it... DARY!

Cork & Blarney

2008-08-14T19:11:00.012+01:00

After completing the Ring of Kerry, we made a beeline for Cork. We felt it was too late in the day to head for Blarney, visit the castle and it's grounds, and then search for accommodation, so made the latter our priority.

As with previous "landings" in new places, the car was an issue. On my previous trip, this was obviously never a concern, but a hire car is not something you want to misplace or have towed away! We dumped the car in a car park for a couple of hours while we went in search of a hostel. The first one we saw was co-joined with a bar (thereby covering our two most important things: a roof and a a beer), but was fully-booked for the night.

However, just up the hill we found another, larger hostel, complete with plenty of space and free internet (always a bonus). They could also give us free overnight parking, which would save us a considerable cost. Both being hungry, we wandered into town, and opted for pizza. And damn good pizza it was, too. Afterwards, we set up residence in the bar at the first place we tried to get accommodation. We were eventually locked in, and proceeded to get quite, quite drunk (to the point where the walk up the hill to our hostel became a Mission, with a capital M)!!

I had to move the car in the morning as our free parking expired, and was told that the train station did all-day spaces for €6. I headed out that way while Julia slept off her hangover, but was forced into the wrong lane and had to make a 4km round-trip back into town! The station car park turned out to be full already, so I had to bite the bullet and leave the car in the regular one. I knew it was going to be expensive, but there really was no other alternative, as I didn't feel anywhere near well enough to drive much further, let alone go exploring the County Cork countryside. Having stashed the car, I let my body crash back on my bed, and it was a good 3pm before it surfaced, ready to take on the world again.

We headed east to Blarney, where we wanted to visit the castle and kiss the Blarney Stone. Legend has it that kissing this stone will grant you eloquence, the "gift of the gab".

Before heading into the castle, we explored the grounds, which were mainly sloped gardens and walled or natural coves. It was cool to be somewhere that felt like it had a real natural energy. I guess it was Irish tradition being fronted with the various places to throw coins or perform actions designed to grant you wishes, but you couldn't help but be part of it. There is a set of stone steps leading up through a tunnel-like cove that, if you walk down and then back up them with your eyes closed, and continuously repeated the same wish over and over, it should come true. Any break in your concentration on the wish itself is said to stop it from coming true.

Heading into the castle itself, we followed a pre-determined route through the rooms and up the towers to the roof, from which you can kiss the Blarney Stone. This isn't as easy as you'd imagine: the stone itself is a triangular shape, but location on the underside of an overhanging parapet...to position yourself corrently, you have to hang your upper half out under an opening in the parapet. Note that you are quite a way from the ground at this point, and the bars supposedly blocking your untimely demise are probably scant consolation to anyone suffering from heights!

Returning back to Cork, we once again made use of the free parking at the hostel, showered, then went for food. Feeling in a totally shallow mood, we sat and rated people on a scale of 1-10 as they walked past. Obviously it was more fun explaining the lacking features (or overly predominant features) causing lower scores...

Feeling significantly better on our final morning than the previous one, we went for a wander around Cork, having not seen much of it save for restaurants and bars! I caved and opted to lunch on a filthy McDonalds, as I'd been craving for days. We managed to get lost because we thought it would be a good idea to forget to think about where we were heading...it was the thought of getting a car parking fine that focused our thoughts again! Finally arriving back at the hostel, we were not greeted with a fine, so all was good. We hopped in the car, and made our way to the airport to dump the car and get our flight over to Paris.

This, in itself, was a mission too. I called ahead to find the exact location we should be dropping the car at, as there was no proper office address listed on our booking reference form. When we got there, we were told to head out of the airport grounds to another office, where we would leave the car for inspection, only to get a minibus back into the airport. Time was running out!

Nevertheless, the car passed inspection for scratches and dents (the suspension may have been a little the worse for wear). Julia, however, didn't, due to being literally covered on juice from the orange she was attempting to eat. My answer, perhaps unhelpfully, was to try and absorb some of the juice by covering her in dust from the bottom of my shoes. How childish. But also, how entertaining.

And so it was that we were both on our way to Paris, to meet our respective hosts, where the journey would continue!

Ring of Kerry

2008-08-03T16:04:00.012+01:00

After pancakes and life-starting smoothies, we embarked on our journey round the Ring of Kerry. This was a beautiful, mainly coastal, road, littered with coaches and tourists doing the Japanese method of holidaying: take a coach around, stop, jump off, take photos, continue, go home and see what you did on holiday...

We took an anti-clockwise route round, as this followed the coach path. Going head-to-head with a coach on some of those roads was not entirely preferable! As with our other general driving-around days, we had a rough route planned but took detours here and there.

Along the way, we stopped for some lunch, numerous walks around, and I even partook in some light climbing on some of the rocky bits that Japanese tourists seemed to find intriguing. Places of note are the Burren and the Cliffs of Moher.

I can't really embellish more on the Ring of Kerry, other than to tell you to go and drive it for yourself on a nice day as see how beautiful it is for yourself!

Killarney

2008-07-30T15:34:00.014+01:00

We left Galway behind us, and make the trek south to the town of Killarney. Supposedly a fairly touristy place, we both found it to be quite pleasant, and by far our favourite place out of all those we visited on our trip.

We left the car in an overnight car park, which as luck would have it was free to use between 18:30 and 08:30, then went off in search of somewhere to stay. Literally just down the road we came across this cool little hostel run by a Polish guy and his wife. It was the cheapest place we stayed in while travelling Ireland, and definitely had the most character. The beds were very comfy!

After a little bit of a snooze to recover from the driving, it was too late to get any laundry done (a job that had been hounding Julia for a few days!), so of course, the best alternative was to go and find some food! We chose a restaurant with a really good menu, and were very lucky: just as we wanted to sit down, a table became free, and immediately afterwards a queue started to form outside waiting for places. The meal certainly was tasty; I had a delicious Shepherd's Pie, and I could have eaten it all again straight away, it was that good!

After the heavy-ish night before, we chose to have a quiet one in the bar next to our hostel. Julia got herself accosted by Tim, a crazy yet likeable Irish gentleman. After complimenting her on her teeth and using the ultimate chat-up line ("I just farted") he threw enough money into the jukebox for quite a few songs and told us to go nuts. Unfortunately for everyone else, I got my hands on it and subjected people to a combination of Suede and Oasis, plus the forgotten genius of Babylon Zoo's "Spaceman". Now here you will see the conundrum: a quiet night had been planned, but it would have been rude to have all our songs playing and leave the bar. Next thing we knew we were being locked in!

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Update: since returning home, I have been furnished with a copy of Tony Hawks' novel, "Round Ireland with a Fridge". I'm only about halfway through so far, but the story recounts Tony's attempts to hitchhike around the coast of the Republic of Ireland with a fridge in tow, as part of a bet made while severly under the influence. One bit that really stood out for me was this:

"Just like an orchestra will have a Lead Violinist, most pubs will have a Lead Drunk. Or Drunk in Residence. He must have some prior arrangement with the landlord that he doesn't have to pay for any drinks which he can still say. His main role seems to be welcoming newcomers with the emission of a loud wailing noise and by flailing his arms about like a drowning man, until his already precarious hold on his own centre of gravity is upset to the point of liberating him totally from his bar stool. This is where the Second Drunk instinctively reaches out with his left hand to stop him from falling to the ground and continues drinking with his right, as if the whole manoeuvre has been carefully rehearsed. Which of course it has. Every night for decades."

I actually burst out laughing when I read this, as it summed up Tim, from the bar in Killarney, spot-on.

Galway, Part 2

2008-07-30T14:56:00.006+01:00

We awoke on Julia's birthday, remembering the very brief pillow fight the night before that had almost resulted in a broken lamp (then Betta would have killed us) and how conversation had somehow dramatically taken on a serious nature. Our day was to be spent looping around the coastal roads north of Galway, through Inverin and Clifden, then back via Westport.

Along the way, we stopped by a tiny little beach in the middle of nowehere, and wandered along as far as was feasibly possible before we went up to our knees in soggy ground. There we sat and chatted about all sorts of stuff for ages, while Julia let a snail attach itself to a bit of her hand that had an ink stamp from the previous night still lingering. On the way back, we both kind of just collapsed on the grass and just lay there, perhaps recovering a little from the night before. Julia's attempts at headstands and backbends on the uneven grass were fairly successful, even if they did surprise a couple of onlookers!

Following the road around, we found another beach, this one with some surf. There was a guy who swam out with his board, but only really caught a few waves. After all this driving we returned to Galway, leaving the car in a car park overnight for a discount rate, as we had booked the hostel we tried the previous night. We had planned a less "active" night, and stuck to it. When we found no clubs got busy until well into the small hours, we decided not stay out too late.

Dinner, however, was an important affair. A 25th birthday should not go unnoticed! Three courses in (and a birthday dessert with one pink candle, lit numerous times for a good photo!), we found ourselves fit to burst. Well worth it though. A couple of drinks in a bar with a stereotypical Irish pub singer were enough for the night, and then it was back to our room. the beers were necessary to slightly numb the smell of two guys who were already inhabiting the room!

Galway

2008-07-30T12:23:00.006+01:00

Our trip across Ireland, from Dublin to Galway, was to take around about 4 hours direct, but we threw in some nice detours through picturesque countryside and interestingly-named towns, just to spice it up a little.

We headed south-west through the towns of Kildare and Emo (a personal favourite, and they also had an "Emo Shop", which I found hilarious!), towards Port Laoise (pronounced "Lease"). We then bee-lined north-west towards the mountainous and scenic region around Birr. Our plan was to take a route through the mountains, which would give us a sweeping view of the countryside, but with little signage we struggled to find the right roads. After some U-turns and backtracking, we found a route through and were indeed graced with the view we expected.

Instead of taking the carriageway direct to Galway from Birr, we pretty much followed it all the way on some of the more interesting (read: uneven and shock absorber shattering) minor roads. It certainly made for a more enjoyable journey, if not a little longer.

Our arrival in Galway was, well, entertaining...

What we hadn't banked on was arriving in a town in the midst and thrawl of a huge arts festival. This meant that all hostels and cheaper hotels were rammed full, leaving us expensive B&Bs, or the likely-to-be-uncomfortable car seats! Now, considering it was Julia's birthday the following day, it just didn't seem right to awake to the discomfort of a handbrake in the netheregions...

It should also be mentioned that during our search for somewhere to stay, on the street we saw John Mahoney, who plays Dr. Frasier Crane's father in the sitcom, Frasier. Not being on first-name terms with him, we didn't feel it appropriate to0 ask where he was staying and if he had a spare couple of beds...

While trying to get a room in one particular hostel, they found us a woman running a B&B who had no guests that evening. We were expecting a hefty cost, but it turned out to be quite reasonable, for Ireland. Also in the queue was a couple, one American and one Australian, who were also in the same boat. All four of us ended up at Betta's, the B&B woman, who we truly believed was going to knife us in our sleep! She was a nice lady, but just had that "I'm going to flip" look strewn across her face...

After the palaver of locking our stuff in our room with a key that didn't work, then not being able to open it again, I picked up the car from the car park, brought it to the B&B, then the four of us went out for pre-birthday celebration drinks. We couldn't find anywhere to eat other than a fish and chip shop at that time of night. Post-grub, we found a bar with a large upstairs section, which was handy because the whole town was packed with people and we could barely move! Nevertheless, round after round of beers was drunk, and I only got accosted once!

While we were standing at the bar waiting to get served, some older, and significantly shorter, woman came over to me, grabbed me by what would be my lapels, and started yapping in my face about how beautiful I was on the inside. She said she could see that I was a very handsome and "visually pretty" man, but that I had an energy about me that she really liked. No matter how much I tried to drag myself away she kept yanking my arm back, until I was saved by the excuse that I needed to help carry pints back to our group. Thank god!

While Julia and I were content in that bar, the others decided they wanted to go somewhere else. On the street, however, we managed to get ourselves chatting to a stag party, with Julia being commandeered by "Bob Kerry from Derry", the fater of the Stag. They were all wearing fuzzy black wigs, yet still took offence when I suggested they were actually Scousers... We had acquired free-entry stamps all over our arms for the various clubs kicking about, so chose one and blagged free entry for Julia ("It's my birthday, dontchaknow?"), and cheaper entry for the rest of us.

In there, we started knocking back the cocktails and spirits, while also attempting to light a Sambucca. Julia had never had a flaming one, so that was the plan...but it just wouldn't catch light!

To tell you the truth, I'm not entirely sure I remember heading back to the B&B, although we must have done, and I know I was plenty sober enough to walk in a straight line!

Dublin

2008-07-28T09:15:00.011+01:00

And so it was that I embarked on a second, albeit smaller, portion of travel, this time to the not-so-sunny-as-overcast isles of Ireland. I was meeting Julia, who you will remember as being my worthy pillow-fighting adversary in Tongariro.

I was arriving in Dublin a few hours ahead of Julia, who was flying in from Scotland. On arrival, I took a shuttle bus service to Busarus, the main bus terminal. Despite the hostel being only just around the corner, I did my usual thing of wandering about and getting myself in a muddle before finding my accommodation. But, as many of you will know, I personally like getting lost in new places, as I feel you see more of the area and get yourself away from some of the overly touristy parts.

Our hostel turned out to be comfortable, although finding them room was a bit of a ballache: the place was like a rabbit warren! Thankfully we had the chance to memorise the layout while sober.

I met Julia at Busarus later that evening, and once she was settled in we opted for eating (always a good bet in my case). The thing was, we couldn't really find any restaurants, and with some dietary restrictions it proved even trickier. Nevertheless, we found a nice restaurant to eat in, then hit the Porterhouse bar. This was recommended by Julia's brother, and didn't disappoint. Perhaps the cost of a single pint disappointed, but after a few neither of us really cared any more! I stuck with one beer all night long (until some dodgy ordering on Julia's part landed me a different, less tasty beverage), while she worked her way along the pumps. Surprisingly, I was still able to find my way back to the hostel, although some guiding of Julia's feet was necessary!

The following day we mooched about town somewhat, and in the afternoon trekked across town (we couldn't be arsed to pay for a bus) to the Guinness Storehouse. This is a whole brewey complex at St. James' Gate in Dublin, and visitors can enter a museum-like building that visually describes the Guinness brewing process. Your entry ticket also entitles you to a free pint in the bar at the top of the building, overlooking Dublin. I can say without a doubt that even if the Guinness from Ireland doesn't taste better (which I believe it does), then English bar staff have a hell of a lot to learn about pouring a good pint! Let the damn thing stand once you've filled 4/5ths, then finish pouring, it makes all the difference!

The evening drinking session was not as heavy as the previous one, thankfully, but we still got through enough. The next morning, we checked out and made our way to the car hire place. It was mental in there, as people were expecting cars without previously booking them, and some of those who had them out already had failed to return them. There was little we could do but wait, so popped across the road for some lunch. When we returned, a bright and sparkling Seat Cordoba was waiting for us. Armed with an average road map, we made our way out of Dublin and onto the road to Galway, west Ireland!

Coral Coast

2008-05-09T11:34:00.001+01:00

With a couple of days to fill before heading back to good old England, we decided to head to the Coral Coast, having heard good reports of the beaches and snorkelling opportunities there. This actually turned out to be a disappointment: the beaches were not that good, and the sorkelling was almost non-existant! Definitely not what people think of when you say "Fiji". However, I liked the hospitality at our accommodation, and the people there were extremely helpful.

Our first afternoon there, we tried to find a place where we could hire horses from, but weren't able to locate such an establishment! The next day, however, we did see someone riding a horse down the beach, so it must have been possible to do it. Instead we took a look around the most expensive resort in the area. This was a place called Outrigger, which had a large swimming pool, spacious chalets and what looked like a busy restaurant. Speaking with a Kiwi guy who had travelled the lengths of the earth, it sounded less expensive to stay there than we anticipated. It would have been nice to stay there, but we'd already paid for our own accommodation.

When we returned to our resort, the Swedish couple staying in the dormitory with us had bought a fairly hefty bag of yanqor (as you'll remember, this is the ingredient for making kava). They had not tried it before, but bought it on recommendation (and probably at quite a price, too!) and wanted to try it. Once we had made the kava, the usual ceremony of passing the bowl around began, but the Swedish girl took one smell and a brief taste then refused to drink any more. The Swedish guy, however, lapped it up.

After we had finished the first bowl, Emily and I decided it was time for a meal, so we walked down the road to a restaurant we had found earlier in the day. They served really good food at highly reasonable prices. Walking there, the kava had a very definite effect on me: I felt drunk, but completely coherent and focused!

On our first full day, we decided to check out some waterfalls, so hopped on a local bus. This bus broke down after about 15 minutes, but no problem - another one came along minutes later! We were dropped off by a set of shops, where we hired a taxi driver to take us up to the local village. Once there, we paid our "waterfall and village maintenance fee", then set off on the easy hike to the waterfall. We had to cross the river nine times in each direction, sometimes going nearly up to the knees through the water. It was refreshing, to say the least! The waterfall itself was actually quite a nice one, more impressive than some others I've seen while travelling. I spent some time playing with my camera in B&W mode, trying to capture some good scenes, and attempting to take some good shots of myself for internet profiles. Vain, maybe, but an ideal location for it!

Our joy with the buses going to the waterfalls was not replicated on the way back. It seemed that public transport in Fiji only goes one way, as we were left waiting for ages for a bus to take us back towards our resort! In the end, we flagged down a vehicle going in that direction and paid the equivalent bus fare to be dropped off at our resort. We went to the same restaurant again that night, each opting for the tasty pizzas on offer. We tried to have a competitive game of pool, but the shoddy, uneven table and missing balls made it quite difficult!

The next day we headed into the nearby town, and spent some time wandering around and buying souvenirs. The town reminded me significantly of urban Asia: it was a familiar feeling, one I almost longed to experience again! After that, we took a trip up to the nearby hill fort, to learn a little about local Fijian history. Standing up on the ruins and looking out over the valley, you got a sense of what life in the hills would have been like during the time of the Fijian/Samoan fighting.

We returned to the resort, and wandered down to the beach. The tide was out so we were able to walk around on the rocks with ease. There were strange tentacle creatures living in some of the rock pools formed by the low tide, but little else to see. Our flight was at 10pm, so after a quick shower we went to wait for a bus to take us back to Nadi. As before, there seemed to be buses running away from Nadi to Suva, but not the other way around! We ended up taking a minibus all the way to the airport, where we changed and checked in. I had bought some yanqor, and Emily brought one pack back to England so we can have our own kava night. The rest I offered to the friendly airport staff who had looked after me when I arrived in Fiji, and they remembered me instantly when I walked over to them.

And so ends my trip round the world. I circumnavigated it, going from west to east all the way (except a minor deviation flying from the Philippines to Indonesia, where I lost an hour), and the beauty of it was that jetlag never kicked in once. On the flights from Fiji to Los Angeles, and Los Angeles to London, we had video screens available to us, so I made full use of these to listen to new albums, watch episodes of Flight of the Conchords, and play games. This whiled away 22 hours of flight time, but unfortunately could do nothing to prevent me getting a cold from the recycled air-conditioned air that was pumping through the cabin.

Arriving at heathrow, it took a short while to get through passport control, as I looked nothing like my passport photo. In the end, the quickest way of getting through was to show them my left eye, having the imperfection that was also visible on my photo. I met my parents in the arrivals area, and we made that final journey home.

Sunset Waya

2008-04-30T10:46:00.001+01:00

Our final stop in the Yasawa island group was at the Sunset Waya resort. I was a little disappointed with it, as it lacked that communal feel we had come to appreciate in Nabua Lodge and Coconut Bay. We did, however, go shark feeding, which was pretty cool. We saw four grey-finned reef sharks, of a decent size, and we snorkelled around them. There were a couple of other boats from nearby resorts who turned up too, but once they had gone one of our guides managed to grab one of the bigger sharks and bring it close enough to touch. Their skin is quite hard, and just what I expected of a shark. When he let the shark go, it was understandably grumpy and went shooting off at quite a speed, presumably to catch up with the others.

I started speaking to a girl, Sam, at the dinner table who had had her bag misplaced, and Emily and I ended up sitting talking to her for ages. It transpired she was doing teacher training back home in Australia, and was due to do a practical session in England in November. When asked where, she said "It's some small little town somewhere, I have relatives there, you may have heard of it. Colchester?"...to which we could only reply, "Yeah, we know Colchester!".

Coconut Bay

2008-04-30T10:45:00.001+01:00

Our third destination in the Yasawas was Coconut Bay, a resort that received glowing reviews from fellow travellers. We were treated to a welcome after dinner by the staff, including song and dance. I managed to sweet talk one of the Fijian guys into letting me do the Bula dance with them the following night, complete with grass skirt!

The next day, we learned how to weave Fijian bracelets. Mine was a bit of a disaster (read: "unique"), as I was given a thin bit of black reed that was hard to thread neatly. For the second half of the bracelet I had a thicker bit of black reed, so it looks somewhat better, if not a little lopsided once it was complete! Emily did a farm walk afterwards, but I was still recovering from NZ in its entirity, so opted for a couple of hours on a hammock. I remember feeling something crawling on my leg, and awoke to find geckos ploughing up and down! They did this later on too, when I was sitting outside our room reading my book. It's a peculiar feeling!

We went over to Honeymoon Beach in the afternoon, on recommendation. I was underwhelmed by it, but it was still very pleasant. There was no one else around, and the setting was really nice, but it just didn't have anything special about it. I think I need to find something special about each beach to appreciate it fully, in the same way I now need to find something unique about temples (having visited more than I need to in one lifetime).

That night, post-dinner, I donned a grass skirt and joined in with the Bula dance for our new arrivals. I absolutely loved it, and it felt like I was getting involved with the locals and their traditions. Emily took a video of it, and I'm quite pleased at how it all looked...very authentic! I nearly won the limbo dance later on, but got my foot caught on my grass skirt and fell over. We think the pole was only at about 3', and I so nearly had it!

Nabua Lodge

2008-04-30T10:43:00.002+01:00

The next day we caught the catamaran up to Nacula Island, with accommodation booked at Nabua Lodge. This was our first taste of what people think of when someone says "Fiji".

Beautifully clear sea, hammocks, sandy beaches, and pure relaxation. The staff there were very welcoming and friendly, which is more than can be said for the prison-like feel of Beachcomber!

After dinner on the first night, we were asked to join the staff in performing a few Fijian dances, including the Bula dance. It was hot enough without all the physical exertion, but I think everyone enjoyed it quite a lot. It was also kava night, so the bowls were brought out, along with some large bags of yanqor (hich, as you'll remember, is mixed with water to create kava). We went round the table, until Emily, who was nominated as spokesperson, said "taci". When she did, it was a signal for everyone to drink again. Once the first big batch was all gone, we threw in some cash and the staff went to buy a vast amount more yanqor from the local village. This drinking session seemed to go on forever, and everyone was quite bloated from the excessive amount of fluid drunk!

In the morning, Emily and I took a boat over to the Blue Lagoon (some film, called "Blue Lagoon" funnily enough, was filmed there). It was truly beautiful, and there is a good selection of coral very close to the shore. I saw needlefish, clown fish, and even a young manta ray!

Emily unfortunately came off the worse for wear, picking up a large and painful sunburn across her back, which was to plague her for the rest of our time in Fiji. I got a little pink across the shoulders, but it subsided within 24 hours or so (although on my last day it started to peel - ironically, the skin underneath is pretty much the same tan as the stuff that came off!).

In the afternoon we gathered together to play some non-competitive volleyball, which was really good fun. The following morning, before leaving to head south on the catamaran again, we took a visit to the local village. The chief wasn't around, apparently having gone to check on the progress of some crops being grown, but we were able to have a look around and get a feel for what Fijian village life is like.

Beachcomber Island

2008-04-30T10:43:00.001+01:00

Beachcomber Island was our first stop on the Bula Pass. We were staying in the dormitory, which turned out to be an impressive 100+ bunk-bed room with open sides. In fact, putting any privacy concerns aside, it was VERY impressive, something I'd not seen anywhere else. The closest to it was the 18-bed dorm in Taupo, on New Zealand's north island. The room was roughly split into two halves: boys and girls.

The island was full of younger beach-goers, all wearing the skimpiest thing they could get away with. What made me laugh was just how image-conscious some of them were, especially the girls. There were hairdriers and straighteners littering the dormitory, and when everyone turned out for the communal dinner that night, they were all tarted up to the hilt!

Perhaps if I had have been there in a different mood, instead of really wanting to unwind from the chaotic barrage on the senses that was New Zealand, I would have enjoyed it a lot more. I think it was definitely more of a "holiday" location than part of a traveller's route.

Nadi

2008-04-30T10:42:00.000+01:00

I arrived in Fiji, at Nadi Airport, at 21:30 with no place to stay. Emily was arriving from London (via LA) sometime from 05:00 onwards, so I needed to be back at the airport for that time to meet her.

I was accosted by one of the airport greeting staff with cries of "Bula!", given my obligatory Fijian necklace and asked where I was staying. I explained my situation and was told that I could leave my bags locked in one of the offices if I wanted, and sleep on the sofa in the greeting lounge. This sounded fine to me, and it saved me FJD$26! I took my main rucksack up to the office, and after dropping it saw a few Fijians sitting cross-legged on the floor in another room. When I asked what they were doing, I found out they were drinking kava, the Fijian national drink. It is a mixture of water and yanqor, the ground-up roots of a local plant. The finer the grind, the stronger the kava.

I joined them for a drink or two, well aware that I was in a new country with no accommodation, my bag left in someone else's office for the night, and that kava was a muscle relaxant! While drinking, I learned the tradition for drinking this interesting "beverage", and swatted up on other local customs and the Fijian language. Senga na lega!

At 02:00 I called it a night and went to crash on the sofas in the greeting lounge. At 05:00 people started coming in from the Vancouver flight, but Emily didn't arrive until nearly 06:00 (a problem with the plane once it had landed, apparently). We greeted, and got some breakfast while we decided what to do and where to go in Fiji. We ended up booking a 7-day Bula Pass, giving us effectively unlimited catamaran travel up and down the Yasaw island group, off the north-west coast of Fiji's main island. While it was all being booked, we made a quick trip to the local supermarket for supplies and a new beach towel.

We had a transfer from the airport to the ferry terminal on Denarau Island, so went to the nearby bus stop to wait for our transport. Now, due to a mix-up with timezones, or the lack of time change for me compared with a date change for Emily, we waited for quite a while and never saw our coach. In the end we gave up and took a taxi, unsure of why the coach had never come. We assumed it was working to "Fiji Time", meaning it could be anything up to two hours late, but didn't have that amount of time to spare sitting at a bus stop! When we got to the ferry terminal, we finally found out that we had our watches set an hour ahead (to the time given to us by someone at the airport), so we were ahead of time for once! Never mind, it was entertaining to us!

Paihia

2008-04-29T09:27:00.001+01:00

And so it was that in the morning I boarded the bus north to Paihia. On the bus was a collection of folk, including Casey (American), Danielle (Australian), Anna (English), Kirsten (German), and a few others. On the way north we made three stops. The first was at a small park with a huge tree, which we all hugged. The second was at Goat Island, where we did some snorkeling. The third was at a bird rescue centre in Whangarei, where were were privileged to meet a talking tui bird, and be one of relatively few people who have ever seen a kiwi, let alone touched one! It was awesome!

When we arrived in Paihia I was starving, so Danielle, Anna and I all went off for fish and chips. Anna and I then went shopping at the supermarket (it turned out to be much further away than expected), which was followed by the need for more food. We opted for huge pizzas...always good. We finished the night drinking at the hostel.

The next day, Danielle and I went on a catamaran boat cruise. Unfortunately, the weather was a little overcast. We met two Dutch girls, who turned out to be sisters, and invited them drinking with us that night. When we got back to the hostel, there was no doubt in our minds that we were going straight in the hot tub with a bevvy! It started to rain, but we didn't care. There was an ice-cold swimming pool there too, so we did the Scandinavian thing of going between hot and cold.

I met a Swedish girl, Tess, in my dorm. She wasn't feeling well, but we started chatting and I found her story to be by far the most interesting with regards to travel that I have found since leaving home. She is studying international relations, politics and law at university, and had been to Israel and Egypt to gain a better understanding of what is happening there. She didn't want to come out with us due to being ill, and her iPod had broken the day before, so I lent her mine for a while. While I was talking to Tess, a mildly-drunken Danielle kept coming in, trying to drag me out to the "party" (read: drinking games) outside. Tess commented on how she'd far rather I stayed as she was really enjoying talking to me, which was quite flattering, I suppose! At that point, Danielle came in to say that Femke and her sister had arrived, and Femke kept asking where I was. I eventually got dragged out to the party, and we all went to a local bar-cum-club sort of thing. More drinking ensued, and I ended up dancing quite a lot. I even managed to start a small mosh pit with a pair of butch lesbians! I did manage to upset Femke, however, as she quite put out by my dancing with Danielle, resulting in her leaving without saying goodbye. Oh well!

Back at the hostel a few of us were standing out in the courtyard, after being fairly quiet ("NO noise after 11pm!") and getting told to leave the premises go to sleep, we all crashed for the night. I know I found a bed, but clearly it was the wrong one! It was only after I had overslept and missed the breakfast appointment I had arranged with Tess the previous night that I realised I was in the shit! One night, many fractures! What I'm annoyed about most is that I didn't get Tess' details, as I would have liked to continue talking to her about all sorts of stuff. You win some, you lose some, I guess.

That lunchtime we headed back to Auckland, where I spent 24 hours killing time before heading to the airport. You will remember the problems I had getting into NZ...I was about to get collared on the way out too. I completely forgot to remove the discharged bullet case I was carrying (the one from my day's hunting in Kaikoura) from my hand luggage, so of course this got flagged in the scanners. I now have my name and passport stored against the official terrorist list.

Auckland, Part 2

2008-04-29T09:26:00.000+01:00

I had a full day in Auckland, giving me time to book my trip up to Paihia. I wandered around the city, took some photos, considered visiting an art gallery, and went to the cinema. Yes, it was THAT boring.

Tongariro National Park

2008-04-29T09:21:00.002+01:00

As mentioned at the end of my previous entry, we made our way into the National Park with the intention of doing a spot of trekking. The route in question was the Tongariro Alpine Crossing, a 6-8 hour hike up and between two of the three volcanic peaks in the park. You will recognise Mt Ngarahue, as it was cinematically enlarged and enhanced to become Mt Doom in the Lord Of The Rings films. We passed right past the base of this perfectly-shaped volcano (it was a 3-hour return hike from here to the peak, a route I hoped to take a couple of days later, for shits and giggles).

Our group was again dwindling, having lost Julia and Hannah to Taupo, Jonas to Raglan, and Ada somewhere along the line (I apologise for not remembering where!), so it was basically just me and Stijn tackling the route. Richard was with us, but he seemed to have latched onto a new group.

We did the hike in good time, with favourable weather definitely helping us. We were extremely lucky, actually, as from that day on the route was shrouded in mist and cloud, with people not being able to see the Emerald Lakes not five feet from their faces. Talking of the Emerald Lakes, these were three beautifully clear and greeny-blue lakes sited atop a high point on the crossing, surrounded by sulphur vents that stunk to high heaven! Some old guy in at the end of the route had a pedometer with him, and claimed he had taken 21,000 steps, which seems a good amount! It made me wonder just how many steps I had taken since departing old Blighty, considering I often chose shoe leather over motorised transport, to save money and get some exercise.

Completing the hike, we were collected at the end point, where there was a bit of a barney with another bus group. One of the older "gentlemen" on their bus thought it was our "young trashy bunch of wasters" who had left empty water bottles laying about, when in fact they had come from their own bus. We could prove it too, seeing as none of us was actually staying in the hotel the bottles came from, but their bus was on hire from there!

When we got to our hostel, The Park, we checked in in groups, depending on how long we intended to stay. I was reaching the end of my NZ trip, so had a few days to kill. I chose to stay for at least three nights (the third night was free), but actually stayed for four in the end. The reason people chose between one and three nights was, that the Stray bus schedule was winding down for the winter and those were the next available leaving points. Officially, I shouldn't have been in the National Park with Stray, as my pass didn't cover it, but our driver, Rob, was good enough to give me a freebie in. He also wrote me a note to give to the next driver, saying I was in on a "wink wink" pass, and that I needed a freebie out again. Good man!

Anyway, back to the hostel... I was one of the last to check in, so I was put into a dorm room with all the people staying just one night, and Stijn was next door in the "three night" dorm. Come the morning, all my room left, leaving me with what was effectively my own private room! Excellent!
Our second day was a lazy one. Most people were knackered from the previous day's hike, but I was fit as a fiddle and raring to go. It would have been lonely, however, so I just hung around with the guys, watching TV, attempting to string my hammock on poles just for the sake of it, etc, etc.

Day 3 did involve some more physical activity. Stijn and I went for a hike to the nearby waterfalls. This was actually a harder trek that the Alpine Crossing, but much shorter. It allowed for some beautiful views over a rainforest valley, and was definitely worth the effort.

When I got back, Julia and Ada were arriving (I knew Julia was on her way, but not Ada). After dinner and a few drinks, including some Evil Smurfs (a cocktail shooter of vodka, schnapps and absynth), we settled down to watch some films. Unfortunately for us, they shut the bar as it was "not very busy", which was utter crap, we would have kept buying drinks all night! Dodgeball and Wedding Crashers were on the list, but halfway through the latter Ada decided to go to bed, leaving just me and Julia to giggle uncontrollably at a film we both love.

We set up all the cushions and bean-bags as they were more comfortable than the chairs, and proceeded to have that second match-up we promised, after England got its arse handed to it on a plate by the US of A. I took a bit of a beating, but refused to give up, despite getting cushion cover zips in the eye and giving in now and then to a barrage of whirlwind flailing. I think the highlight was when Julia went and retrieved cookies from her room, and the subsequent devouring of them, plus the hilarity of checking to see who was making all that noise near the kitchen at 4am, clearly unaware that we were having our own personal war not that far from them. We eventually called it a night at 5am, knowing full well that those leaving had to be up a couple of hours later. Walking outside to the rooms, it was bloody cold!

Julia and Ada left in the morning, but I was staying on an extra day. It was so beautiful and peaceful there that I didn't fancy heading back up to Auckland just yet. More to the point, I had no idea what I'd do when I got there, with a few days still to spare! In the afternoon I hired a mountain bike from the hostel and took off around the area. My first route took my alongside the train track heading north to the next village. This involved crossing the rails now and then, and one mildly scary moment that required riding the track for about 50m round a bend, over a river 30m below. Had a train come along, my only option would have been to throw the bike off and jump! I got round, put the bike down to catch my breath, and then a freight train came haring round the corner!

The following day I took a train up to Auckland, having decided to book a second Stray bus pass that would take me up north to the Bay of Islands, and a trip that was to play havoc with my head!

Rotorua & Taupo

2008-04-14T00:36:00.024+01:00

After leaving Maketu, we stopped in at Rotorua for food, general pottering-about, and zorbing. I booked three goes, and had two solo rides down the zigzag route, then hopped into a ball with Richard and Julia. There were limbs everywhere...it was a bit painful at times, but great fun!

We took a few breaks on the way to Taupo, including a stop at a cool set of rapids, finishing in a waterfall. I think it's graded quite high for rapids, and we saw no one riding them.

When we arrived in Taupo, we tried to get everyone into the 18-bed dormitory, but it was partially full. While everyone else argued about who was going where, I gave up and just checked myself in. Stijn, Amanda, Julia and Hannah were also in the dorm, whereas the others got lumped into another room. Once settled, we immediately went to the skydiving place. There, I caved and signed up for the biggie, the 15,000ft jump with over a minute of freefall. I was hoping that as this was my second jump, I would be able to appreciate the scenery instead of focusing on the fall!

I was actually the last person of the day to go up. After teasing and attempting to spook all those who were jumping for the first time, I was geared up and met my skydiving companion. He commented on just how calm I looked - I really was quite calm, and excited about throwing myself out of a plane! On the flight up, Stijn looked a little nervous, but I know he felt otherwise once he had landed. At 10,000ft I was given a small oxygen mask, and kept this on until just before we jumped. At 12,000ft the others all leaped, so I had another five minutes or so on my own, with my dive companion, while we circled up to the correct height. At 15,000ft we got to a good jumping point, the door opened, and we just launched straight out. Immediately after leaving the plane, we went into a backspin so I could see the plane disappearing from view, then righted ourselves and did some rotational spins. I actually couldn't breathe well for those 65 seconds, the air really is thin up there! The fall seemed to last forever, which was excellent, and well worth the extra money.

Back on the ground, the others collected their DVDs and photos, then we were driven back to the hostel in a limo. None of the others had been in a limo before (I had a couple of rides around New York back in '99), and they were a little excited! Me, I was just buzzing in the corner, and devoured a Guinness when I got back. It went straight to my head, due to the mixture of adrenaline coursing through my veins and a lack of food in my stomach. We went shopping for food, which is a bad idea when hungry, let alone hungry and a bit tipsy. Of course, I overbought!

In the supermarket, we tried to buy alcohol, but neither of us had our passports on us (only UK and Dutch driving licenses, respectively). These are both fully-recognised international forms of ID, but the cashier was being a daft bint and wouldn't accept them. Further more, we couldn't give money to Hannah (who did have her passport) in the shop, and we had to remove all our items from the till if we wanted to go outside to give her the cash. Ridiculous! So, Hannah bought the whole damn lot and we paid her back. What a palaver!

When we got back, the kitchen was so full we decided to drink our beers and wait for it to become less crowded. Next thing we know, Stijn and I are cooking scrambled eggs under the influence. We also got reprimanded for having "purchased alcohol" on the premises, as it had a licensed bar. Who cares, really? On this trip, I've people think I'm between the ages of 17-23, and no one will believe I'm actually an old fuddy-duddy. Some people say that's a good thing!

After everyone had gone to bed, Julia, Hannah and I sat on Hannah's bed, whispering away into the early hours of the morning. Some girl kept snoring, so Julia kept getting up and shaking her bed. Of course, being a little drunk, this was hilarious to all of us. Our next task was to annoy the couple fooling around in the TV room, so I "spidermanned" my way down the stairs and commando crawled into the TV room, jumped up, then saluted and threw a beanbag over them. I commando crawled back out and up the stairs, finishing with a commando roll over someones bags, and clambered back onto the bed. How we didn't wake the room up with our laughing, I have no idea.

Later on, Hannah said something or other I took offence to, so I grabbed her, threw her over my shoulder and fireman-lifted her out of the room. We got out into the corridor and she managed to drop to her feet, pushing me back into the room, then held the door shut so I couldn't get out. Just as I pushed hard, she moved, and the door swung out, smacking into the TV room. We assumed people were still in there, but it turned out there was a security guard in there sleeping, and we'd woken him up. He came out and asked what was going on (with a dirty look on his face), and I managed to blag some story about someone snoring, that we had tried to wake him/her up, and they'd fallen out of bed (which explained the thump of the door on the wall). He looked unsatisfied, but went back into the room, and we belted back into the dorm ourselves.

In the morning, we made our way into Tongariro National Park for a spot of "light" hiking.

Maketu

2008-04-14T00:18:00.006+01:00

This was to be a special night for us, as we were going to be staying overnight in a real Mauri meeting hut, and were to be treated to a haka and poi show by some locals. Better still, the boys were going to learn and perform the haka, and the girls the poi.

First we are a prepared meal, which included mutton...or rather, after I got there, very little mutton! I managed three loaded plates of my own, plus I cleaned up Amanda's plate so as not to make her seem rude to our host, then gulped down a couple of bowls full of jelly and fruit. Indigestion was not my friend for a little while!

After the meal, we had a short while to settle before the performance started. Performers from about 8-18 years old sang, danced, and did both the haka and poi for us. Before they did their closing piece, the boys and girls were separated and taken to learn their respective arts.

We went into the kitchen and dining area, stripped off our shirts, and set about learning the haka. We seemed to cotton on really quickly, learning both the words and the actions zealously. We were to perform first, so lined up and filed out into the hall to the cheers of the girls. By then, we were already bruised and bright red from all the bodily slapping that goes on during the haka, but we still had a performance to put on. We actually did it twice, then watched the girls do the poi. I think everyone had an awesome time, and we enjoyed it so much that we did a joint dance, with everyone involved (including the regular performers).

We watched the final song and dance, then congregated in the dining area for a bit of a dancing session. This was a little crazy, with Japanese reggae, Queen, and some god-awful R&B that most of the group seemed to like. The party moved back into the main hall, where we were to sleep, and somehow the pillows came out for a huge communal fight! We had both group and individual fights, with Julia from Brooklyn defeating Richard from London (England was to re-challenge America again in Tongariro National Park, at a later date...) and Jack from England defeating Stijn from Holland.

Waitomo

2008-04-13T02:05:00.003+01:00

On our way from Raglan to Maketu, we stopped off for half a day at Waitomo to go to the glowworm caves. We had a choice of activities, and I opted for the 4-hour adventure abseil-and-climb package over the blackwater rafting (which Stijn chose). We geared up in our black wetsuits and white gumboots, and ended up looking like a henchman from one of the Austin Powers movies! Also, the gumboots were quite uncomfortable without socks.

Our first task was to learn to abseil with one particular bit of equipment, which wasn't difficult, but some people had to have a few attempts at getting it right. From there, we hiked down to the cave entrance and began.

With a group of seven people, the going was slower than I had hoped for: there was a bit of standing around, which is why they state 4 hours, I'm guessing. Our first abseil was just around the corner. It was a 25m descent, and whilst everyone else took baby steps down the side, I took it in four jumps (good rope control, apparently!). Just to show us up a little, the guides came running down forwards, and it was quite impressive to watch.

This was followed with another, smaller, abseil, then we were lowered at a fair pace in the pitch black into a wallow of water. Some people screamed, guys included, as the guides just let you go at random intervals with no warning.

Obviously, by going down, we had to also go up to get back to the exit. This involved either climbing a ladder or climbing the walls. No surprises when I opted for the wall! I actually hung back and went last, surprising everyone that I caught up with them far quicker than they expected (especially in awkward and uncomfortable gumboots). I even got in some cool climbing moves, including some good drop-knees.

From Waitomo, we left and went on to Maketu for our cultural Maouri night.

Raglan

2008-04-10T07:39:00.004+01:00

Our next stop was Raglan, famous for its surfing. The hostel we stayed in was pretty sweet too, with a spacious kitchen, free pool table, good dorm rooms and showers that stay on longer than three seconds (BASE, take note, your showers suck!).

Stijn, Jonas and I signed up for wet suit and board rental, then chilled out until those taking surf lessons were ready to head to the beach. We got down there, geared up, then hit the waves. They were big waves, some very big, but quite choppy and messy, so we weren't able to ride them well. Nevertheless, we had a good afternoon, caught some waves and got some exercise, so we mustn't complain!

After returning to the hostel and showering, we had a second communal meal. The first one was such a hit that we wanted to do it again, so Richard made a vat of spaghetti bolognese that was devoured by all, especially those of us who had surfed. We were hungry bunnies!

Hahei

2008-04-10T06:51:00.006+01:00

We left Auckland on a new Stray bus, with a new Stray driver: Rob. For this first journey to Hahei, he was a little bit strange...he was being overly eccentric and loud; I'm guessing this was his way of getting people to liven up a bit? He calmed down over the following week, and I actually spent quite a lot of "bus time" chatting to him at the front while everyone else fell asleep.

We stopped at a supermarket to buy ingredients for a communal barbecue, and got cooking once we arrived. I was on "Sausages & Burgers" detail, and cooked up a mean grill! After the dinner, we went round the table and introduced ourselves, spilling the beans on where we were from, travel history/plans, etc, etc.

At 9pm, we bundled into the bus and went to the hot spring beach with some shovels. It was dark (obviously), and we only had a few torches/headlights, so we had to stick together. Unfortunately the tide was in, despite us being told that it was supposed to be out, so we couldn't dig holes to bathe in. Someone did catch me in my murderous shovel-wielding pose with their camera, even though I hoped to get away with it...I jest, it was staged, and my victim knew what was going on.

Auckland

2008-04-10T04:24:00.006+01:00

After hearing good reports of Auckland, I hoped for good things. However, in my humble opinion I can safely say that, it is a place that is only of value if you have a job there. Otherwise, it's dull as...

The day we had here was mostly overcast, so it ruled out going up the Sky Tower for a panoramic view of the city and the outlying reaches. What else can I say? I got a Starbucks coffee for the first time ever, Pete got a haircut, Stijn tripped a little on a paving slab...exciting stuff! We frequented the bar downstairs that evening, but it was pants, so we didn't stay very long.

Oh, and we ate a bit of sushi. I didn't care much for it before, but I'm developing a taste for it here as it's one of the cheaper and more readily available meals in Auckland. Must be catering for the huge oriental population.

I think we were all glad to leave the following morning on the Stray bus, for the beginning of an interesting and physically challenging portion of my New Zealand trip.

Picton to Auckland

2008-04-10T04:04:00.009+01:00

In Picton, we had the unenviable task of saying goodbye to Lucy and Hayley. From our first meeting with them in Barrytown (that fated night in dresses and sneaking back to dorm rooms for cheeky drinking) right through the chaos of Queenstown and the emotion-fueled south loop, they were with us. They saw no ships, but they did entertain and amuse us for the entire trip round. For that, girls, thank you! There were few I met along the way who managed to become such an integral part of my travels, and whom I can't imagine it being as good without.

It was drizzling quite heavy when we left them, and I think that really complimented our moods somewhat. However, the beauty of being from England, and having the girls live in England too, is that we're never all that far from each other. A reunion will happen, and when it does, it's going to be heavy!

There is basically nothing of note to say about Picton. We got on the ferry after saying goodbye to Jordan and Kathi, and fell asleep in the family lounge as they had comfy chairs! From there, the big group became whittled down to just three, myself, Pete and Stijn.

It was raining when we arrived in Wellington. We crammed onto a bus and hightailed it to our accommodation. Stijn was staying in a different hostel to me and Pete, but after doing our food shopping and other errands, we met up in our accommodation to cook some grub. We knocked back some games of pool and used the internet (it was still raining outside and no one really felt like braving it for a beer), after which I decided to call it a night. I ended up sitting in the dorm room talking to one of our new roommates and was just about to get into bed when the fire alarm went off! Everyone dragged themselves outside in time to watch the fire engine make the massive trip from across the road to our drop-off area. Firemen ran in, and five minutes later firemen strolled out to applause. From there, I think most people probably just went straight to bed, wheat with their spirits being dampened (haha, see what I did there?).

In the morning, we began our marathon express journey up through Taupo to Auckland. We stopped in Taupo for a half hour for lunch, picked up some people who were heading north too, then called in at Hamilton. Bagginz lives there and was having a day off after driving round NZ for about a month, so the trainee, Kim, took over. She got lost when we arrived in Auckland, having never done drop-offs there before, and tried to take the bus up a particularly steep hill, which we all knew was asking for trouble.

We checked into Auckland Central Backpackers (which is actually where I am at the moment, typing this up nearly two weeks later...how lax of me), and that was a mission in itself. Talk about slow and unorganised!

Kaikoura, Part 2

2008-04-09T00:32:00.009+01:00

I wasn't entirely sure what I wanted to do when we returned to Kaikoura. I guessed we might go fishing again, but didn't particularly fancy spending all afternoon doing it. Instead, I wandered around town, and found myself in an "outdoor activities" place. I ended up speaking to the person in there about an afternoon's hunting, and was signed up pretty quickly.

At 3pm, I left the shop with my hunting guide, one of his friends, and a young guy who was working in the shop part-time. We took out a .270 centrefire rifle, with the quarry being mountain goats (a common pest in New Zealand, along with the possum) and red deer, should the opportunity arise.

First we stopped on one particularly steep hill, where I took the rifle and started stalking the goats. I got to a good vantage point, but I don't know whether it was nerves or the climb up that had left me a little shaky, so I hid down behind a tree stump until I felt comfortable to take the shot. It was about 150 yards, on a steep incline (but a safe shot, father, wouldn't take it otherwise!), and I had a completely clean kill on a billy (male) with a good set of horns on him. Bulls-eye!

The young guy who worked in the shop then had a go, and apparently got to 50 yards from a nanny (female). He was out of sight when I heard the shot, and we assumed he had hit his target...but when we heard the second shot, we knew otherwise. What concerned me more, though, were the third and fourth shots! I mean, how many goes do you need? You could hit it with a pea-shooter at that range!

After that we went to go after deer, and sat atop a mountain range, looking down into a valley and across the hillside opposite. It's currently the rutting season for males, or the "roar" as they call it in New Zealand, so we were hoping to hear the guttural call of a mating male stag. We caught sound of one briefly, and then mimicked it in an attempt to lure stags out of the vegetation. We did this both with our own vocal cords (or our hunting guide did, we weren't much cop at it, for lack of practice!), and then with a tin-and-cord-and-grease contraption. We tried for two different stags, a spiker and a 4-pointer respectively, but the wind was always against us, so no joy.

I was dropped off back at the hostel at 9pm, after a spot of lamping (just in case!), and ended up slouched in front of the TV with Kathie, eating a huge bag of crisps and drinking Coke. All good! We started the first Lord of the Rings film at about 10pm, but I'll admit to giving up (it's hardly the most exciting of films, now, is it?) at about midnight.

Christchurch

2008-04-09T00:24:00.006+01:00

My first visit to Christchurch left me impressed with the westernisation of New Zealand cities after my five-month stint in Asia, but looking back on it, and returning to it, I had the real sense that the best places to be, go to and see in this country are the smaller, more remote locations. They are the ones who hold the true beauty and excitement, not the bigger towns and cities. Perhaps I'm biased, what with being but a simple country boy and all, but if that's the case, so be it!

I'm glad we were only staying in Christchurch for a single night, and as Suzi and Laura were to fly home the following day, we chose to have a big group meal. Bagginz, Pete, Stijn, Hayley, Lucy, Suzi, Laura, Jordan, Kathi and I went to an Asian restaurant, and I got to try my hand at using chopsticks again. I had become quite proficient with them, but you'd be surprised at how quickly you can forget just the subtlest of actions and throw noodles across the table...thankfully I wasn't suffering from poor chopstick maneuverability, and managed to get all my food into my mouth!

We drank in the hostel bar that night, and bade farewell to Suzi and Laura, wishing them a safe and pleasant journey back to London.

Queenstown, Part 2

2008-04-09T00:01:00.012+01:00

Our return to Queenstown brought us back in touch with Suzi and Laura, who had stayed there while the rest of us did the deep south. The thing about returning to somewhere you've already been is that it'll likely be with a different set of people, and the experience can either truly enhance your view of that place, or ruin it. This time around, I spent more time with Hayley and Lucy, perhaps because the girls from Hartlepool had left, but mainly because I'd grown very fond of them and their company over the trip through the deep south.

Of course, a night's drinking was due, and the obvious choice to finish the night was not a kebab, but a Fergburger! As many of you will know, I dislike tomatoes in their raw form, so always remove sliced ones from burgers and whatnot. After the night out, Stijn and I walked back to the hostel, but I went back to the bar after he had gone inside. I found Hayley, we got burgers, and went back to the hostel. I'm not entirely sure why when there was a perfectly good corridor to collapse in outside, but we staggered, giggling and a little tipsy, into my dorm room and found everyone asleep. Stijn's arm was above his bedsheets, and it seemed an ideal target, so we placed, delicately, various elements of our burgers along it, before going back out into the corridor and chatting the night away.

In the morning, when Stijn finally found me (I think I was having a mellow day, not really focusing on anything and was wandering aimlessly around the hostel and the town), the following exchange took place:

Stijn: "Dude, did I have a burger last night?"
Jack: "Nope, you went straight to bed."
Stijn: "Really? Shit, man, there was a burger in my bed, but the tomato had bled on the pillow and I thought I'd burst my ear or something!"
Jack & Hayley: "HAHAHAHAHAHAA!!!"
Stijn: "Bastards."

It certainly lit my day up somewhat! We actually did relatively little the rest of the day, despite Pete's request that we ride the Luge again. The following morning, to the tune of a beautifully red, orange and gold sunrise, we set off on the long trip up to Christchurch, which would complete my loop of the south island. All that was left was to visit Kaikoura for one more night, then we would be on the ferry crossing to Wellington, the capital city, on the north island.

Dunedin

2008-04-08T23:48:00.004+01:00

Dunedin is supposed to be a busy and thriving student town, but unfortunately we arrived just after Easter (and the Kiwis celebrate an extra day of Easter), so all was pretty dead.

There was little to do by the time we arrived, so I just walked around with the camera for a while. We ordered Hell's Pizza that night, delivered to the bar (and I can highly recommend the vegetarian "Damned" pizza with extra chicken, haha), then went out in search of a bar or pub in which to get intoxicated. Easter weekend was crippling business, and the town was devoid of people and nightlife, so it was just a quick Guinness then back to bed.

All in all, a very boring place, and I wouldn't recommend going there, even if you missed a bank holiday.

Stewart Island

2008-04-07T23:53:00.009+01:00

And so we move on to Stewart Island, the third largest island in New Zealand. Few people make it this far, normally either because they don't have it on their tour bus pass, or they don't have enough time. However, I would strongly recommend people visiting New Zealand to make the effort and get across there, as it has some wonderful scenery, some good walks, and great wildlife. True, it doesn't have the "excitement" of places like Queenstown or the nightlife of cities such as Auckland, and it perhaps caters to a slightly older clientele, but it's a relaxing place to spend a day or two.

After taking the ferry over from Bluff, we checked into a really cool little hostel with a small kitchen and communal area. It was just us there, which was even better. The rooms hadn't been cleaned yet, so we left our bags and took off for some food. If I remember correctly, it was Easter Sunday, and having missed Good Friday we chose to stuff ourselves with some blue cod and chips...so good! Afterwards, we decided to go and find the "sunbathing beach", which turned out to be only an average one. Nevertheless, as someone pointed out, it was probably going to be the farthest we would ever be from home (about 19,000km), so something important and memorable was due. Without further thought, I took off my shoes and t-shirt and just belted into the sea. Jesus Christ, was it cold! But hey, it was worth it.

After getting into our rooms, we were looking for something to do, and Pete suggested a fishing excursion. We grabbed the rod ("we" being myself, Pete and Hayley), and set off in search of a good place to cast. When we found a spot, Pete gave Hayley a "casting" lesson, and she got on pretty damn well! We had to move round to get out of the wind, and met two Kiwis who were using bait, as opposed to Pete using a spinner. They kindly gave him a weight, hook and some bait, and from there he found he was getting a lot more bites. He landed a blue cod of sufficient size to keep and eat, so we took it back to the hostel. It was indeed very tasty.

I watched my bungy DVD on someone's computer with some pride, then watched it again...and again...and again...

The next day, mid-morning, we took the ferry back over to the mainland and continued our journey, this time to the student town of Dunedin.

Tuatepere

2008-04-07T22:32:00.013+01:00

We left Queenstown and made our way out for a day trip through Milford Sound. After purchasing a combo ticket, including the Milford Cruise and the return ferry over to Stewart Island (New Zealand's third biggest island, off the south coast), we made the journey to the Sound itself. Now, despite the fact that it was stunningly beautiful through the Sound, I can't really say it was worth the money. However, I have subscribed to the thinking that you can't truly have an opinion on something until you've done it or tried it (save of course for completely illegal things!).

We were commenting on how we felt that New Zealand has sort of shot itself in the foot by being so consistently beautiful; the continuously pleasing aesthetics mean that no one place stands out.

After leaving the Sound, we made our way to our overnight stop in Tuatepere, a farm-style hostel that turned out to be a really nice place to relax. On the way there, we given the option of doing some jetboating for a meagre $30...a bargain compared to the $130 charged in Queenstown! We got absolutely soaked, and ploughing down a river at high speeds while damp through got a little chilly, but it was definitely worth the money.

When we got to the hostel, some people who had stayed on the bus were getting ready to go to a sheep-shearing thing, so when they left the place was nicely quiet. We cooked some food, relaxed somewhat, happy to recharge the batteries after the assault of Queenstown! The evening was whittled away to the tune of card gaming, namely the perrenial backpackers' favourite, Shithead.

Some of the nicest things about staying out there was the peace and quiet, the good kitchen, the lack of young louts found in BASE accommodation, the comfy beds and the free internet. And better yet, it was still cheaper than the chains of backpacker hostels!

Queenstown

2008-04-06T23:00:00.013+01:00

And so we arrive at Queenstown, a place guaranteed to strip your wallet of all your hard-earned cash.

BUT, before we get there, I need to tell you about the 45th Parallel. This is a tombstone-style block, on which the words "45th Parallel" are etched, and it marks a point equidistant between the equator and the South Pole. When we arrived there for a photo opportunity, we were informed by Bagginz that the previous Stray driver to stay in Franz Josef had left his entire suitcase of clothes there, and it was in the hold. Needless to say, we required no encouragement, and quickly donned all the driver's clothes and posed for a group photo. Some people were unlucky enough to be left with his dirty underwear, but being good sports, all his clothes were worn with pride!

On the way into Queenstown, we passed by the Karawau Bridge, where the world's first commercial bungy set was established. Knowing I would want to do all the jumps possible, I booked the "Thrillogy", comprising of the Karawau Bridge "water touch", the Ledge, and the mighty Nevis, weighing in at 134m and an 8 second freefall. Hannah, a Swedish girl on the bus, and Lucy also booked the Thrillogy, with the majority of the bus booking just the Nevis.

We originally thought we would do all the jumps the following day, so weren't expecting to end up doing it 15 minutes later! Lucy went first, and as she had jumped before, she went off backwards, pulling quite a face and yelling "Shit!" as she disappeared from view. I followed, and it was definitely worth the money for the experience, if not the time-to-cost ratio. I went halfway up my chest into the water, twisted my back, but loved it. From there, it was an ear-to-ear grin bus ride into Queenstown.

We checked into the BASE hostel, which took forever (I hate BASE hostels, they're full of stupid, drunken 18-year-old Kiwi Explorer muppets) as the staff are the slowest (both physically and mentally) I have ever had the misfortune of dealing with! We got a basic room with no amenities, whereas all the girls were upgraded to ensuite rooms with TVs and fridges, for no extra charge. Talk about double standards!

Lucy and I made the trip up the nearby hill, via a gondola ride, for a sunset Ledge bungy jump...although getting up the hill took longer than expected. When we got to the base of the gondola, I asked her if she had her DVD with her, and dropped my head when she realised she'd forgotten it. Being ever the gentleman, I kicked off my flip-flops and legged it back to the hostel at a frightening pace, and, using her room key, let myself into her dorm. As I was rummaging through all of her clothes and stuff laying on the bed, a roommate wandered in (had never seen her before in my life), and all I could do was turn and say "It's not what it looks like...". I found the DVD, and ran back up the hill to the gondola. By then, I was pretty much wrecked, and coughed and wheezed all the way up to the top!

We checked in and made our way to the Ledge jump point. I went first, doing a running leap over the edge, and I can honestly say it was scarier than the bridge by far. Whilst being hoisted back up to the platform, I realised I was so addicted I called out to ask for the price of a second go. They gave me a discount on the already-discounted second-jump price, so I snapped it up and threw myself out again, this time with a running jump backwards!

Trying to use the kitchen in a BASE hostel is a nightmare, as you can barely get hold of a hob, let alone the fact that none of the filthy bastards will clean up after themselves! In retaliation to this, we went out for the mother of all burgers, the Fergburger.

There is a bar attached to BASE in Queenstown, and the only memorable thing about it is the ever-sticy-with-beer floor, that made walking in flip-flops an interesting task. We all ended up there at around 8pm, and whiled the night away with drinking and dancing.

The following day, everyone (except me and Lucy) were basically shitting bricks about doing the 134m Nevis bungy jump. I was quite excited, but of course, by then I was an old hand at throwing myself off tall things with nothing but a cord attached to my feet...the journey up the mountain to the cable car from which we jumped was more nerve-wracking than the jump, I think, as we drove right alongside the cliff face. After weighing in, I was told I would be in the last handful to jump (heaviest to lightest, so they don't have to change the bungy cord as much). I got quite a good jump out, all recorded on the DVD for your viewing pleasure (or mine, just for the thrill of seeing me plummet towards the earth for 8 seconds).

Pete, Nina, Laura and Caroline had arrived from Wanaka by the time we returned to the town, so we all got together and hit the booze. It was an emotional night all round, I think, but I'll spare you the details!

In the morning, we spent time just catching up on sleep, buying supplies, that sort of thing, then went up the gondola again in the afternoon. This time, we were going to ride the Luge. We got a special deal, comprising of the gondola ride, 5 goes on the Luge, plus a bonus go for being on the Stray bus. We broke a good 10 of the 12 rules, such as no racing, no fighting, must help mountain rescue in the event of an emergency, etc.

Leaving Queenstown at a ridiculously early hour, we were greeted with our first stunning sunrise, a glorious mixture of red, orange and yellow over the mountains. A good way to end a rollercoaster ride of a few days!

Makarora

2008-04-06T22:38:00.007+01:00

Makarora was just an overnight stop with a few activities for those who wanted to do something, although the majority of people were content with having a few drinks and getting a good night's sleep. Because we were really slow in getting ourselves together, Pete and I managed to find no space in the dorm rooms, so got a proper room to ourselves! Pete being Pete, he was the last in the room, so I nabbed the double bed. Score!

After checking in, dumping our bags and eating our first restaurant meal since starting the Stray trip, we basically sat on the veranda with a stunning view of the mountains all night, and were greadually joined by various commrades. Nina, Laura, Caroline, Suzi, the other Laura, Bagginz, Colin, Pete, Stijn and I ended up with table full of beer glasses, playing that most embarrassing of games, "Never Have I Ever...". Needless to say, everyone found out far too much about everybody else!

We thought the evening was to end there, and for the most part, it did. I, however, was to get a small shock in the wee hours...

Pete must have got up to go and take a leak, as at some point I heard someone trying to open the door. Eventually he made it through, perhaps a little drunk, and the door closed. I thought nothing more of it until someone started clambering, slowly and methodically, over me on my own bed. I realised it was definitely Pete, and said, "Dude, wrong bed...". He lept off, protesting his innocence, then passed out on his own bed. Hey ho, it makes for a funny story!

Franz Josef

2008-04-06T00:44:00.028+01:00

We spent two nights in the small town of Franz Josef. This was the base for the nearby glacier, on which you could hike, climb, take helicopter rides over, etc. I was in two minds about what activity to do there, mainly due to cost. Everyone else was signing up for the full-day hike or "heli-hike", which involved being dropped off further up the glacier and walking on largely untouched areas (but also cost a hell of a lot more). I was torn between the day hike and getting in a good day's ice climbing. I mean, where better to have a go than on a glacier on the other side of the world?

In the morning, I made my mind up and arrived at the tour office earlier, so that I could pay the extra and go climbing. We tooled up with crampons, ice axes and waterproof clothing, then took a short minibus ride to the glacier. It was a bit of a hike to the base, where we donned our crampons and stamped, slapped and dragged our asses up the ice. We went to pretty much the same altitude as the full-day hikers, but stopped on the better quality climbing ice.

We were top-roping the climbs, so the pitch was placed by the guides whilst we took instruction. I was the only person who had ever climbed before (and it definitely showed!). The principles of climbing ice were identical to that of rock, but the action was significantly different. Footwork is still vitally important, but instead of placing your feet gently, you have to stamp your toes into the wall to carve a niche from which you can balance. Also, instinct is to push your feet up towards the ice, but you should drop your heels to create more stability.

Anyway, I digress...I got in a good few climbs, albeit much shorter than everyone else's because I shimmied up the wall in good time, compared to their plodding along at a snail's pace! I got the opportunity for a final climb on a sheer 18m pitch, and just for fun they let me try going up using a single ice axe. This relied on balance far more than when using two axes, and better footwork, although towards the top there was a tricky overhang to negotiate. When I got there, it was obvious I wasn't going to be able to clear the overhang without some brute force, so I dug in and launched myself up and away from off the wall, hucking the axe out of the ice and slamming it in as high as possible. A bit macho, especially as there was a group of girls being guided down the ice, who could clearly see it, but hey...when I reached the top, I decided to continue my showing off and launched myself backwards down the wall, all to the soundtrack of girly screams from the tour group, who may have thought I was careening downwards just a little too fast...

That evening, after everyone had showered, or been in the jacuzzi and then showered, we all congregated in the nearby bar for a proper St. Patrick's Day celebration. The mood was mellower, due to exhaustion, but fun was still had. We dropped some tabasco sauce into a beer belonging to one of our group, but it was spotted, so we were forced to drink it ourselves. Yuk!

Barrytown

2008-03-31T03:50:00.010+01:00

Barrytown has a population of about 40 people, so when the Stray bus arrived we nearly doubled it. It has a single pub, which boasts six boxes of dressing-up gear, just for Stray people. We were there two days before St. Patrick's Day, and had an Irish girl in our midst, so we decided to have an early celebration. The dressing-up boxes boasted many green items of clothing, so we were spoilt for choice.

Stijn, Pete and I ended up wearing green dresses (well, Pete's was more of a string vest thing, but close enough!), complete with underwear...ouch! Of course, no attempt at becoming women would be complete without make-up, so out came the green eyeshadow and mascara. Naturally, we were completely inept at applying it ourselves, so we recruited the services of the local ladies. What people must have thought when we strutted our way out of the dorm and into the bar, only god knows! What ensued was a veritable photographer's delight, with all manner of poses and pouts being pulled

It was to be on this fateful night that three memorable events were to occur:

1. Jack chasing Pete out of the bar, in a full-length dress and make-up, trying to burst Pete's balloon breasts with a safety pin, only for the latter to fall over on the gravel and graze, cut and bruise everything possible;
2. Jack standing outside, again in his full-length dress and make-up, talking animatedly about Irish culture with a large, hairy, leather-clad Kiwi biker smoking a pipe; and
3. Our first encounter with the crazy-insane Lucy and Hayley (haha, only kidding girls!)

As we were staying in a place with a licensed bar, we were not allowed to take alcohol on the premises. Of course, no one paid any attention to this, and crate upon crate was to be found ion the dorm rooms. Stijn and I made a trip back to our room to drink cheaply (!), and on the way were accosted into Lucy and Hayley's room to join them and their bottles of wine. After having everyone else come and find us, we all made our way back to the bar to continue the drinking, dancing and stupidity.

I found myself playing pool with the girls, which I can tell you is not an easy feat in a figure-hugging dress! Also, one the local guys figured it was an easy shot, playing a drunk guy in womens' clothing, but then held his head in shame when he got demolished by my superior, and likely very lucky, pool abilities.

The following morning, getting ready to leave the town (brushing teeth, eating breakfast, etc) was not overly embarrassing for anyone, funnily enough. I can only imagine it was because we all looked as spectacularly freaky as the next person.

Abel Tasman

2008-03-31T03:25:00.013+01:00

Having decided to skip Picton (a good call), we headed on to the Abel Tasman national park. As Picton was the jumping-off point for the north island, we had to change buses. The new bus brought with it people travelling to the south island from the north, and a new driver, Bagginz. We were all glad to get off Wozzer's bus, as he was actually a bit of a wozzer, and over time became pretty damn happy with Bagginz' music tastes, friendly banter, bullshit stories and general demeanor.

We stayed at a place called Old McDonald's Farm, which had some small dorm rooms and a fairly good communal kitchen area. There was the usual mad scramble to have showers and get cooking...

Stijn and I had bought a crate of beer in the supermarket on the way there, so demolished that ahead of going to the only bar in the area. Three Hartlepool girls, Laura, Nina and Caroline, were also up for going to the bar with us (although only the latter two did in the end). The funniest incident of the night was on the walk back, after Stijn had become lost with two other English girls on the bus, Laura and Suzi, and Pete, Nina, Caroline and I were walking (read: staggering) back along the road. It was fairly dark, and the fact that we were blinding each other with camera flashes probably didn't help matters! As we were nearing the farm, I heard someone run across the road in front of me, and then a huge splash...it turned out Nina had charged across the road and fallen in the filthy slop filling the roadside ditch!! Unfortunately, an argument between Nina and Caroline ensued about the camera that stopped working due to being filled with the slop, but this sorted itself out by 4am...!

The following morning, Pete, Stijn and I took the 3-hour coastal trek through the national park, which was stunningly beautiful. We stopped for a while at one of the small beaches, and did some rock scrambling, just for fun. When we returned to the path, Pete chose to go home, but Stijn and I were up for something a little more challenging. We ended up taking the inland route, which apparently many locals don't even do! This 4-hour monstrous hike saw us head through multiple scenery changes and get sorely sore, but it was worth it for the kudos of having completed it and the breathtaking views offered.

The rest of the evening was spent by many people either in bed recovering, or chatting on the sofas, lamenting those who had been lame and gone to bed already! In reality though, everyone was pretty wrecked, none more so than me and Stijn, and looking back at it, it was probably a good idea not to go out drinking again.

Now, our Abel Tasman experience didn't stop there. The following morning, after oversleeping just a little, we were picked up and made our way back into the nearby town, from where we got to do the ultimate thrill: fly a god-damn plane! For less than 100 quid, we each had 20 minutes of flight time in a stunt plane. The take-off and landing was controlled by our co-pilot, but once in the air, we had full control, and were taught how to do barrel-rolls and loop-the-loops, the latter of which caused about 5 G's of force! Stomach-churning stuff! I bought the DVD for prosperity, so people can have a watch when I get home if they really want to!

Kaikoura

2008-03-31T03:20:00.007+01:00

We arrived in the quaint little town of Kaikoura, on the east coast of the south island. After checking in and meeting my two roommates (who had been on the bus, but not sitting near me), Pete and Stijn, we set about filling the afternoon. We had opted not to go whale watching or swimming with dolphins/seals, and instead joined Pete and his fishing rod on the beach. He caught a couple of fish, one of which constituted his dinner that night.

Had the weather been better (just a little overcast), we may have wandered about some more, but instead watched some television in the hostel, and finished the evening chatting in the kitchen, getting to know each other a bit better.

The thing to note about the majority of my New Zealand posts is that we've done a huge amount of stuff, but a lot of it would seem very uninteresting to my readers. If my posts appear somewhat shorter than those from Asia, it's not for a want of finding things to write about, it's more a question of finding things you'd enjoy hearing about!

Christchurch

2008-03-31T03:07:00.003+01:00

Arriving in Christchurch, I expected all to go smoothly at the immigration and customs desks, but alas, this was to be a royal pain in the arse!

When I completed my immigration forms, I declared truthfully that I had visited various south-east Asian countries in the past six months. This was my first mistake. For that reason, I had to remove everything from my bags, open every damn bottle and explain what every little item was. Apparently, this was because I had been to numerous "drug-using countries" and there was a "good chance I had used hard drugs". Personally, I took quite a lot of offence at this, but had little choice in the matter. The officer swabbed god-knows-how-many items from my bag, looking for traces of drug residue, which of course I knew he wouldn't find!

To compound the matter, I had no onward travel from New Zealand booked, although I could prove that I was leaving Fiji and flying through LA back to London in about six weeks time. Apparently this didn't constitute evidence that I was leaving New Zealand itself, and protesting that to get to London I sort of had to leave NZ didn't go down to well. An hour and a half later, after signing forms, pleading with officials not to pack me off back to Asia, etc, I was finally granted an honorary six-month visa.

My journey into Christchurch was with a London cabbie who had moved out here 24 years ago, mainly for the better weather and more agreeable, and less boisterous, clientele. I checked into BASE, a large backpackers' hosteling chain, and instantly regretted it. Without a shadow of a doubt, I'd far rather spend time in a crappy Asian guesthouse than be surrounded by a mass of young and uncouth louts with no regard for anyone but themselves! No matter, it was only for one night, as I was to begin my tour with Stray Travel in the morning. I had chosen the BRET pass, covering the majority of the south island, and a good proportion of the north. At 8am the following morning, I was hopping onto the bus, and starting my NZ travel...and what a journey it's turned out to be so far!

Kuta

2008-03-31T03:02:00.004+01:00

And so on to the wonderfully shit town of Kuta...

Kuta is a bit of a dump, completely overrun by package holiday tourists and locals trying to sell you knock-off clothing at cheap, cheap prices. I spent about 36 hours there before catching my flight to New Zealand.

The afternoon I arrived I hired a surfboard and went to the beach, hoping to catch some good waves. To be fair, some of the waves were quite good, but it was so busy there that you had to be an expert surfer to avoid the hordes of beginners littering the ocean! After a few hours I gave up, exhausted and with a slighty burnt nose.

Much like Ubud, the rest of my time was spent in cafes, reading my New Zealand book, planning a route and looking into tour operators.

Ubud

2008-03-09T12:20:00.009Z

I'm thinking that I should have written this up quicker, as my memory is hazy today, so forgive me if some details aren't there!

Arriving in Denpasar, a few of us immediately chartered a vehicle up to Ubud, as we didn't want to have to spend the night in the town. This turned out to be a good call, although finding some accommodation at midnight proved tricky. No matter, we found somewhere for 5 people, and then went for pizza!

In the morning, I made a trip to the local tourist authority to find out what there was to do in and around Ubud, but it turned out that everything was quite expensive. One important thing to check up on was the Balinese festival of Nyepi, which we understood to be held during our time on the island. True enough, on 6 March the whole island was to hold festivals, and on 7 March, spend the whole day indoors, using no electricity, no fires, do no work, and not travel. The most die-hard believers would endeavor not to talk, for fear of attracting the demons, or Ogoh Ogoh, they hoped to banish the day before.

Beyond this, there's not much of note. The rest of my time was spent walking about, doing some hiking, eatying, that sort of thing! From Ubud, I took a shuttle bus to the magical (not!) town of Kuta, the place that all travel agents will send you if you book a trip to Bali.

Gunung Bromo

2008-03-09T12:08:00.003Z

Bromo isn't the tallest volcano on the island of Java; in fact, it is in the shadow of two larger ones at the same site. However, it is visually stunning, especially at sunrise. Due to eruptions, it is actually shrinking in size, and has caused considerable damage in the past. It's larger counterpart actually spews smoke in a proper mushroom cloud every fifteen minutes or so.

We had stayed overnight up in the hill town nearby, and set out by jeep at 4am. We were dropped as close as the jeep could get us, then hiked up to a vantage point to see the sun rise. It didn't actually rise over the volcanoes, but lit up the crater in which Bromo sits and the mist surrounding its base really nicely. Definitely worth the cost of the jeep to get there.

After a little bit of time there, we headed off in the jeeps to actually climb Bromo. We crossed a "sand sea" on the jeeps, and were greeted by many horse riders, expecting us to part with obscene amounts of money to get a ride up to the base of the steps leading up Bromo. The whole scene looked like it should be straight out of Mongolia, by what I've seen of that country in photographs and on the television!

We hiked (and I mean hiked) the steps leading up Bromo, and were able to look down into the mouth, which was spewing sulphur continuously. Some people walked right around the cone, but we didn't have enough time. It was back to the jeeps, then back to the guesthouse, then we were bundled into a minibus and began the second day of travel across Java, heading to Bali.

Jakarta & Yogyakarta

2008-03-08T07:23:00.012Z

Arriving in Jakarta in the wee hours, I made my way to the backpacker area in search of a bed for a few hours. My plan was to take the morning train 8 hours across the island of Java, to Yogyakarta (pronounced "Jogjakarta", and know as "Yogya" to the locals and those who have been there!). I stayed in a place only fit to sleep in for a few hours, and you definitely wouldn't have wanted to use the facilities!

Arriving in Yogya, I found a place to stay that wasn't up to all that much, but was basically on a par with the general state of accommodation! I spent the rest of my day wandering around the shops, not buying anything because a) it was quite pricey, and b) whatever I bought, I would have to carry! I did part with a good chunk of money, however, on a tour the following day to two local temples, and a two-day trip across the rest of Java to Bali, via Mt. Bromo.

Starting at 4am, I took a minibus with some other travellers (note, they were travellers, not tourists!) to the Buddhist temple of Borobudur, and Hindu temple of Prambanan. Structurally, they were impressive, although the latter was flattened somewhat by an earthquake that shook the island some years previous. However, they were quite uninspiring, paling in comparison with other complexes such as that at Angkor in Cambodia. After these two sites, it was back to Yogya, where I devoured a good old pizza at Pizza Hut and then wandered about the town. There was an unexpected funfair, so I stood at watched some poi fire-dancing performances and musical interludes, then called it a night, for no other reason than I hadn't really met anyone to enjoy a cold beer with!

In the morning, I took a minibus to Gunung Bromo...

Manila, Part 4

2008-03-02T13:18:00.012Z

Technically, if I was to be absolutely correct, this would be something like "Manila, Part 6", but I haven't written up each and every time I returned to the capital. However, this one deserves an entry for many reasons!

I arrived back at the family house mid-afternoon, with only Gerard's mother, Cynthia, being there. I made myself at home, as requested, and perused the internet looking for the cheapest way of getting home from Fiji. I managed to sort out the same flights home as Emily, and booked them. However, I'm not convinced the leg from Fiji to Los Angeles has been properly booked, and I have an outstanding query with Air Pacific regarding it.

Gerard was still on his way back from the States at this time, due to arrive in the early hours of the morning, so Gabe and I entertained ourselves for the evening by streaming "40 Year Old Virgin" down from the internet while nipping out to stock up on supplies, i.e. Coca-Cola, chocolate bars and crisps, then watching it and having a thoroughly good laugh.

At about 7am, Gerard arrived, waking me up...after a very quick catch-up, I drifted off to sleep again. I needed to go and get a new memory stick to store all my photos on, as I had already filled up the 4Gb one I was carrying! I had a few hundred photos sitting on Gabe's computer, as I needed the space on my camera card for the photos taken in Siargao and beyond. Eventually, after finding one at a reasonable price, we had to hightail it back across town so I could pack and get ready to leave for my flight to Jakarta. However, Sod's Bloody Law dictates that crap will get in your way, and the traffic was heaving. Add to that, the fact that there was a rally being held right slap bang on my route from Gerard's house to the airport, which was basically tying up the city, and you can imagine how tense I was becoming. In fact, I've not been anywhere near as stressed this whole trip.

And, of course, that wouldn't be all...for some unknown reason, there was no power to the house when we woke up that morning, but we assumed it would have returned by the time we arrived back with the memory stick. I needed to offload all my photos from Malaysia and the Philippines, but...you've guessed it, still no power. This means that, as I type, my photos are still sitting on Gabe's computer, so we'll just have to figure out a way of getting them at some point in the future!

One more issue, just for good measure: Gerard was halfway across town, stuck in traffic, and this was to be our parting day ("all together now: 'awww'..."), but I really had to leave right that moment. Just as I was trying to flag down a taxi that would even take a passenger, let alone to the airport, he pulled up and we got to say our goodbyes. The journey to the airport took an hour, and I tipped the driver as a token of my thanks.

Finally on the aircraft, I could feel the tension slipping away. Was that manic day not enough for you? Before the end of the day, one more spanner was to be thrown at me: turbulence. About 30 minutes into my 3-hour flight, we hit the biggest bit of turbulence I've experienced so far. The plane literally lurched metres upwards, according to a stewardess, and was rocked repeatedly backwards, forwards and sideways. Women were screaming, children were crying, and grown men were actually clinging to the seats in front of them. It's a moment and a mental scene that I'll not forget in a hurry, but is it wrong that I was half asleep and felt significantly less concern than them?

Siargao Island

2008-03-02T07:46:00.009Z

The ferry across to Siargao Island was rough, to say the least. Poor weather led to large waves that rocked the boat in all directions. I do believe she even took on some water on one particular sideways lunge, but nothing too serious! It was still pouring with rain when we arrived on the island some four hours after setting off from the mainland, so we bundled ourselves (and Gerard's surfboard) into a minivan and headed off in the direction of Joseph's house-cum-surf shop.

Shortly after arriving, I met Jing and his family. He is a local guide/surf instructor/all-round nice guy, and Gerard lived with his family for the best part of two months last year (on his own travels around the Philippines. Needless to say, he was quite excited to be going back!). It was agreed that Jing would give me a couple of hours' surf instruction the following day, and I would be renting a board on a day-by-day basis from Joseph.

Waking the following morning, it was evident the weather was not going to improve any time soon, so we bit the bullet and headed over to Cloud 9, one of the world's famous, yet somehow relatively unknown, surf spots. Now, before you get your hopes up, I wasn't going to be riding any 10' barrels just yet - the plan was to catch some of the surf, the white crap produced when a wave breaks. Jing gave me the occasional helpful push too, which gave me enough speed to catch a wave without having to paddle like buggery to match my speed with that of the water. I managed to get the very first wave, and from there had a quite productive two-hour session, despite the blisteringly hard rain!

After the most physical exercise I'd had since leaving Thailand and the climbing in Krabie, I was actually quite tired, so we cooked up a kilo of yellowfin tuna and some vegetables bought at the local market, then hit Nine Bar for a couple of beers.

Two important things need to be noted about the island, or island life in general. 1) you live more healthily in that environment than anywhere else in the world: swimming and surfing for exercise every day, and fresh fish and vegetables for every meal, and 2) mosquitoes hurt after a prolonged period of not being bothered by them.

My second, and first proper, day's surfing was at one of the local hotspots, although it seemed everyone on the island had turned out in force! Jing commented on how he'd never seen the area so packed, especially with beginners. This actually made for a dangerous session, as many beginners means potentially many surfboards flying through the air precariously. Having said that, I got on okay, to my satisfaction. Yes, perhaps I had to miss taking some waves I felt I may have been able to catch and ride, but no, I didn't give anyone a concussion!

One thing I had been warned of, and now realised, was that when surfing over a reef, your feet are going to get ripped to shreds. True enough, I was missing chunks out of both feet, which made walking in flip-flops quite difficult! From that point on, I borrow some booties from Jing, which made all the difference, and meant I only repeatedly opened up my existing wounds instead of creating new ones. Three weeks later, and they're still there, albeit on the mend!

There was a small party at the local missionary that evening, which we were invited to. I happened to stop by on my way to the local town (doing a supplies run), and ended up killing a chicken for the pot! Funny, considering how many different creatures have ended their lives at my hand, that I'd never dispatched a chicken before...but now I can add it to my list!

The party was quite good fun, and I ended up getting cajouled into dancing in front of everyone (and embarrassing spectacle, but as I explained to them, it's best to just have no shame about these things). From there, some of us went to Siargao Inn, a small beach resort that reminded me of the place I stayed at in Krabie, for another party. More beers and some Tanduay rum later, it was getting late and we decided to head home. Gerard and I had the motorbike, but as he was considerably more drunk than me, I drove. Consider that it had been raining solidly for days, and other than the one paved road, the whole island is covered with white sand tracks. These flood easily, and we knew our route home was going to be deep at points. It al went smoothly, other than for one big puddle where I managed to find the one deep spot. Long story short, my foot fell under the bike, into the mud, and Gerard applied enough throttle to drop the back wheel onto my foot and clear a good layer of skin away. To add insult to injury, I lost one of my flip-flops, so had to buy a new pair from Joseph's shop the following morning!

Joseph left that day, and as I wasn't really feeling up to surfing, I just took the board out onto the water and practiced my paddling, which is a core part of surfing. It's the bit you don't see on surfing videos, but it's essential that you are a strong paddler in order to catch waves. By this time, I could already feel a good amount of upper body muscle definition...Arnold Schwarzenegger, here I come!

It was Valentine's Day, and also Jing's wife's birthday, and they were having a party that evening. I offered to help prepare food, and spent three hours that afternoon in the kitchen, chopping, dicing, mixing, etc, and sampling local cuisine with their friends and relatives. By the time I'd returned home for a shower (read: pumping water out of the well into a bucket, then splashing it over me - there was no running water on the island), it was pouring with rain again. Two girls we had met (one of whom knew Gerard by association from his last visit), Kristel and Rhiannon, were joining us, so we did the gentlemanly thing and gave them the raincoats. By the time we left Jing's, all the tracks were ankle-deep and difficult to negotiate, and Gerard and I found ourselves trudging through in just our board shorts (being quick-drying). Of course, it was now quite dark outside, and we weren't going to let them walk back along the beach to Siargao Inn themselves, so we accompanied them, again lending them the raincoats. To keep warm, we both wore our rashguards (rashguards are tight-fitting tops designed to prevent the wax you put on the surfboard from stripping hair you didn't even think you have on your chest when you lie dwn on it).

Of course, what we didn't factor in the equation was that we would get dragged to Nine Bar for another party...dressed completely in our surfing gear. Everyone else was dressed more suitably for a bar, but we didn't care! Somehow I got lumbered with an aging Canadian who had married a local girl after a "lengthy romance", which turned out to be all of ten days. Conversation started off well, but turned sour once he moved onto abortion and other heavy topics that I wasn't in the mood for!

In the morning, and not the worse for wear, we went out to another island with the surfboards, to ride some bigger waves. I got on averagely, wiping out quite impressively at times and receiving standing ovations from the boat when I surfaced after a while unscathed (other than the battering the lungs get when a large wave crashed on you). This was pretty much the same deal the following day, with even bigger waves pretty much demolishing my spirit for the day within 30 minutes of arriving.

Jing was aware we were struggling a little on these bigger waves, so the next day we went to one of his "secret spots", a collection of surf breaks that no one else surfs because they're either too small for the locals or they haven't properly discovered their "beginner quality". There, I caught many more waves, and began to start turning my board into the break to extend my ride, as opposed to riding straight to the beach and then having to head out again.

We were aware from the start that Joseph was expecting some friends of his to turn up sometime. They were artists, covering a range of disciplines such as tattoos (no, I didn't get one), wood carvings, and bracelets and necklaces. They were quite shy (as was I, surprisingly for this trip!), but we all opened up quite quickly. They turned out to be musicians as well, travelling the Philippines, carving, playing music, just making enough to keep going basically. They brought with them an acoustic guitar and a cool bongo drum, so with those and a healthy dose of unabashed singing, we whiled away many an evening hour over the next week or so.

The missionary group was expecting a team from England to arrive, and they held a launch party one afternoon with a buffet. The local mayor and some people from the mission foundation were there. Of all the places in the world, who would have thought I'd meet Caroline from Ipswich, who went to Northgate (the year below me), and who knew people from Debenham High School?!

The other most significant event of my time on Siargao Island was our very own Full Moon Party, held by Gerard, Jing and myself. It was Gerard's last night before he had to leave (overseas commitments, no less), it was the first dry evening we had had, and it was a full moon: everything lent itself to celebrating! Despite being on a budget (no ATM on the island, the closest being a 4-hour ferry ride in both directions away), we splashed out on fish, chicken and hotdogs, which we cooked over a fire by the beach. Tanduay was passed round in true Filipino fashion, with everyone hitting a shot of the rum and following it up with a chaser of iced tea. The guitar and bongo drum were out, and somehow I found myself singing along with the musicians to numerous acoustic songs by the mighty Deftones...

At 4.30am, Gerard finished packing, collected his things and dragged the other drunken louts catching te 6am ferry onto a motorbike, and sped of into the distance. I had no other option than to fop onto my bed (a makeshift thing on the floor of the surfshop), and I was out for the count. Surfing followed at 8am, with Kristel looking much the worse for wear, which was mildly amusing (sorry Kris, but it was!).

The following day, I moved in with Jing and his family. I had a bed in their front room, sleeping alongside their five children. The best of it was, I finally had proper combat for the mosquitoes: a mozzie net proved to be a true blessing, having run out of repellent many days before. It was really great living with them for 5 days, helping out with chores (no that we weren't completely self-sufficient the previous week), playing with the kids, etc.

On my penultimate day, an American guy staying at Siargao Inn held a party on one of the small islands nearby. We had lechon, or roast baby pig, and lots of fish. A great party with a great setting. And a vast amount of alcohol. And I mean, truly vast.

Other highlights include going spearfishing with Jing, clam- and ladyfinger-harvesting with snorkels in beautiful seas, getting really tanned on my face and forearms, learning how to cook scrumptious Filipino dishes, baking bread on a stick whilst sitting on the beach and bathed in moonlight, and climbing a coconut tree for my new favourite snack!

On my last night it was still raining, so I hadn't gotten around to arranging anything, so I did the mellow thing and visited the mission to say my goodbyes to the sterling good people there whom I had become good friends. And with that, I took the ferry to Surigao, got drunk with some locals, then took a 12-hour, overnight ferry to Cebu. There, I had two hours to kill, then took my flight back to Manila in preparation for departing the Philippines.

Surigao City

2008-02-27T07:36:00.001Z

So my flight from Manila took me to the island of Mindanao (and those of you who know anything about the Philippines will know this is the island many governments strongly recommend foreigners steer clear of, but as I went to the north it's not a problem...Muslims fight and kidnap in the south, mainly).

My task was to get as far north as quickly as possible, which involved taking a van for 30 minutes, a bus for 2 hours, then another van and a tricycle across town to find somewhere to stay in Surigao. I had to overnight there as I couldn't get a ferry that late in the day over to Siargao Island. As it turned out, Gerard had stayed there for another night, waiting for me to arrive. He had flown the day before me, but when I went to book my flight the cost skyrocketed, meaning I had to buy for a day later.

I met up with Gerard and Joseph, who have known each other for a while. We went out for a drink, then decided at midnight we were still up for more fun, so went "clubbing". Many dances later, it was time to turn in, knowing the ferry at midday was going to be difficult after only a few hours sleep!

Other than that, there's little of note about Surigao.

Manila, Part 3

2008-02-16T09:36:00.008Z

When I was last in Manila, I visited Gerard's grandmother in hospital (by manner of proxy, as I was accompanying his mother that day), and this time I was to meet her again at her big birthday bash. A large proportion of Gerard's family was there, including some 30 cousins...and me.

The birthday party highlight was definitely the spread of food put on: numerous Western favourites, including my old favourite, the pickled onion! I met many of Gerard's close cousins, which was good considering I was to be going to another birthday party that evening! This was for Alain, and consisted of drinking shots of dangerous liquids, including absinthe and Bacardi 151. The latter is a strong-proof rum, of which a few shots can do unpredictable things, by all accounts! On the way home, we stopped by a Burger Machine stall and wolfed down some greasy junk food, which was absolutely necessary.

The next day, I accompanied Gabe to watch his girlfriend play in a televised volleyball game, part of the university nationals here in the Philippines. Unfortunately, they got a bit of an arse-kicking, but nevertheless, it was fun to watch a different sport. That following evening, Gerard, Gabe and I met up with some of the relatives for an evening's computer gaming. I had to learn how to play one of the games, but then started demolishing certain parties (we'll leave them unnamed, to save face).

In the morning, Gerard went to do some rowing at his old club on the lake in Manila, so I accompanied him and spent some time in the nature park nearby. It wasn't that big, but was pleasant compared to the stifling heat of the city, and I read my book and took some photos. Gerard actually left the following day for Surigao, from where we would take a ferry to Siargao Island. I wasn't going until the following day, as while booking my flight to Surigao the cost rocketed! I took my flight the next day, taking me one step away from paradise.

Puerto Galera

2008-02-16T08:04:00.025Z

After once again using Manila as a base, I made my second trip down to Batangas, on the south coast of Luzon. There, I took a ferry across to the island of Mindoro, to a small town called Sabang. This is geographically close to Puerto Galera, a port town, but Sabang is focused on scuba diving.

On the ferry over, I met Petr, who is from the Czech Republic but lives in Taiwan with his (quote) "not very pretty Chinese girlfriend" (endquote), and on arriving in Sabang he agreed to share a room to cut costs. We managed to find a place with a TV, fridge and cooking facilities for 500 pesos, which was a very good price. We had a couple of beers, watched some TV and talked about bits and bobs. It turned out he was quite racist, and although conversation was interesting, I couldn't really get past this point. No matter, I only had to avoid topical conversation for a few days and I'd get a really cheap stay in Sabang!

In the morning, I found a dive resort offering me a place for the equivalent of $25 a dive, so arranged to do three that day. They weren't keen on letting me go with a more advanced group (even though in reality I'd probably done as many technical and/or deep dives
as some of them), so I got put in with a group of people who'd recently passed their Korean equivalent of PADI Open Water. Actually, it turned out the entire resort was
used exclusively by Koreans, so I was a bit of an anomaly! However, they were really accommodating and friendly, so I didn't feel like a fish out of water...ha!

Our first dive was almost a trial, going to 18m and just seeing some coral and fish, I'm guessing mainly for the divemasters to gauge our abilities. The second was to 20m, visiting a wreck. We also saw a sea turtle, which excited the Koreans somewhat! I refrained from telling them about my first day's diving and the excitement we had there. After getting lunch thrown in for free (and embarrassing myself by not being able to use Korean chopsticks very well), I had a sleep and then returned for a late afternoon dive.

The following day I was only going to do two dives (and did those two), but upon hearing the others were requesting a night dive, I threw myself into the debate! We geared up and at 7pm, donned our torches and went into the Big Blue (well, Big Black, I guess!). We went back to the wrecks we had dived at the day before, only this time we had no real light to navigate by, and the currents were actually quite strong!

That night, after another free meal with the Koreans, I accepted their offer of a drink. Nipping home for a shower, I grabbed the bottle of Tanduay (dark rum) I had bought earlier, and joined them back at the resort. To be fair, they didn't really want any rum, focusing more on the bottle of Sake they had, so it was down to me to drink most of it! Once these were gone, it was on to a few bars. In the first, a coupld of them did some karaoke, and I was almost tempted too. However, after looking at the book and seeing only Christmas songs, and Elton John tunes, I decided against it (fellow countrymen in the bar probably wouldn't have been that amused...).

The second bar we went to turned out to be a rock bar, playing my sort of music. Dancing girls on podiums with poles was almost the icing on the cake for everyone there! One of the divemasters arrived, and suddenly round after round of tequila shots appeared. Not remembering how I got back to my bed, in the morning I realised I had spent nothing but the purchase of the bottle of rum! My roommate was nowhere to be seen, so I left some money to pay for the room and checked out, heading back to the ferry point to catch a boat over to the mainland. From there, I made my return journey to Manila, in anticipation of my trip to Siargao Island with Gerard.

Krabie Photos

2008-02-09T03:42:00.001Z

IMG_2181, originally uploaded by laltoofan.

A sample of the photos taken in Krabie, at Tonsai and Railay beaches.

Koh Pha Ngan Photos

2008-02-08T13:24:00.001Z

IMG_2093, originally uploaded by laltoofan.

A sample of the photos taken on Koh Pha Ngan.

Koh Samui Photos

2008-02-08T13:18:00.001Z

IMG_2080, originally uploaded by laltoofan.

A sample of the photos taken on Koh Samui.

Manila, Part 2 & Donsol

2008-02-08T12:17:00.001Z

So, after my return to Manila from Anilao, and getting over my nitrogen narcosis by effectively passing out on the floor for 12 hours, we just kicked about during the day, taking it slowly and unwinding. That evening, Gerard, Theresa (his sister, who had made a surprise visit [she lives and works in France, but was attending a friend's wedding in India, and decided to "drop in" on the family in the Philippines - convoluted, or what!]), Gabe (his brother) and I met up with various other relatives and went out to a really posh part of town, where a a bottle of Hoegaarden cost 216 pesos (about 3 quid), as opposed to a bottle of San Miguel from a mini-mart at 25 pesos! It was a very enjoyable night, and interesting to see how the relationship between all the various fractions of Gerard's immediate and extended family connect with one another.

Theresa had only a short stay in Manila, but wanted to travel with me and Gerard, so we chose to head to south Luzon, to the sleepy fishing town of Donsol. This town was put on the map in 1998, when whale sharks were first seen visiting the nearby shores. These are the world's biggest fish, growing to approximately 18m!

http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Whale_shark

This would turn out to be quite an interesting travel experience from my point of view, as it gave me a chance to see what a virgin traveller is like, i.e. seeing whether Theresa travelled in a similar way to me, when I first started out. In fact, on the 12-hour non-air-conditioned, bumpy overnight bus ride, I got to see a rare sight: the three stages of travel mentality, all squashed onto one back seat. Theresa, to my left, was wide-eyed and alert, I sat in the middle in a sort of dozy state, and Gerard sat to my right, completely out of it (as only a seasoned backpacker can be, mentally prepared for the bombardment of a Filipino bus journey). It was, without a doubt, one of the poorest night's sleep I have gotten on a bus so far.

We actually arrived in Legaspi, a major town on the way to Donsol. Our first mission was to find an ATM, knowing that Donsol was unlikely to have a cash machine that accepted Western cards. Afterwards, we opted to have a look at the local sights, including Mayon Volcan, a perfectly formed land mass, and a local wildlife park.

From there, it was a 2-hour jeepney ride to Donsol, where we checked into a beach resort and registered with the local tourist authority to go and (attempt to) see the whale sharks. By then, it was already mid-afternoon, so we went into the town and stocked up on supplies for the next day's boat journey up and down the coast in seach of sharks. As night closed in, I phoned home to wish my mother a happy birthday, then we all laid down on the beach and star-gazed for what felt like hours. It could have been hours, as apparently I fell asleep...

In the morning, we tooled up nice and early, and went shopping for sharks. We were accompanied on our boat by a very friendly German couple who had gone shark spotting a few days previous, but had only see one. Sure enough, we saw one, donned our snorkel gear and leapt into the water. Swimming about the massive creature, you felt miniscule. It was cool, if only for about 30 seconds. We spent the next 4-5 hours trawling the shores looking for more sharks, but didnt find any!

Theresa was tasked with decided whether we stayed one more night and headed back to Manila in the morning, or left straight away. She wanted to head back to see family and friends, so we went into town with our bags looking for transport to Legaspi, where we would get another bus home. It turned out there was a jeepney heading to another town that we would be able to pick up the route from, so we took the jeepney there. We made Theresa ride on the top of the vehicle as she hadn't done so before (we joined her up there, naturally), and from there we saw some stunningly green and lush rural Filipino scenery.

While we were ploughing down the major road on the way to the bus terminal, we were approached frmo behind by a bus heading to the exact bus depot in Manila that we were heading, so we jumped on! What followed was another overnight, uncomfortable bus ride, arriving in Manila at 4am.

You'd think iI'd be fed up of these journeys by now!

Anilao

2008-02-01T07:48:00.000Z

After spending some time back in Quezon City, Manila, with Gerard and his family, I made my way by bus to Batangas (on the south coast of the island of Luzon). When I arrived, I was bombarded by tricycle touts who took exception to me making a show with my hands that I wasn't happy about being pushed around. They even started swearing at me, and yelling that I should write the Lonely Planet book if I thought I shouldn't be paying extortionate amounts of cash to get from A to B.

I finally managed to get to the jeepney departure point, and took the trip to Mabini. From there, I could have continued by jeepney to Anilao, but there were none making the second leg of the trip at that time of day. I had to resort to taking a tricycle all the way to my resort.

I had to pay for the first night's accommodation, as the second was included in my dive package cost. It was quite expensive by any traveller's costs, but even more so because there was 12% government tax added and the room itself was pretty basic. Nevertheless, it was a place to sleep and shower, and was clean, which is always the most important thing.

I met up with Rolly, Gerard's uncle, who was to be my dive instructor for the next two days. We had dinner, and talked about diving, naturally! He wanted me to be up and in the sea, skin-diving (i.e. no scuba gear, just breath-holding), at 6am! In the morning, I was there, practicing my diving, touching tables embedded in the sea bed, then I spent an hour in the pool going over the basic skills required of a scuba diver. These included clearing the mask when it fogs up, regulator recovery (the regulator being the device that you breath through), and controlled outward breathing for emergency ascents. The only part I struggled with for a while was the full mask removal, as I often let water into my nose!

After repeating my skills in the sea itself, and doing a shallow dive, we retired for breakfast, where my dive master (the guy who had taught me so far) informed Rolly I was okay to accompany the next dive.

This dive turned out to be a basic one in which I basically got on with the task of diving without messing it all up! I practiced my buoyancy and mask clearing, while maintaining an appropriate distance between me and my dive master. A dive master is someone more experienced than you at diving who is there to aid you should you experience problems, and this will often be your dedicated dive buddy (you should always dive with a buddy for safety reasons). I was complimented on my diving by others with us, especially for my buoyancy.

After lunch, I did my second proper dive of the day, this time having taken a boat to our intended location but having to change it because of the tide. We were casually gliding around underwater, when we spotted puffer fish, barracuda, other marine life, and a sea turtle! We were within touching distance of the turtle, which was pretty awesome. I managed to attain a perfect buoyancy on this dive, which I was subtly pleased with.

Our third, and final, dive of the day was even further from shore. I'm not sure what we were hoping to see there, but as we were swimming we got caught in a downward current. Whilst equalising my ears, I looked at my Submersible Pressure Gauge (SPG, for determining the amount of air left in my tank and the depth at which I was currently swimming), and realised we were dropping far quicker than expected. We were all at 30m fairly soon, and had to work our way back up using buoyancy control. One of our group was running low on air, so we had to hang around in the current until she had surfaced (allowing for a suitable safety stop 15ft from the water's surface), then we all followed.

On our way back to shore on the boat, I was being told that having me on board was good luck, having seen all the marine life we did, when a school of dolphins burst the surface near our boat!

After showering and eating, we all congregated outside Rolly's room and drank sake and ate Filipino delicacies. I tried Isaw (pronounced "ee-sough"), which is chicken or pig intestines on a stick. It was a thoroughly enjoyable night.

My second day of diving began at 7.30am, and we planned to do a deeper dive to see a sea fan. As we descended further, darkness started to envelope, but it was still perfectly clear visibility! Our second dive after lunch took us to a similar depth, after which I started to feel the nitrogen narcosis kick in. We breath 78% nitrogen, 21% oxygen and 1% of other gases, so this is what we have in the air tanks, except the nitrogen intoxicates your blood more at deeper depths and higher pressures, causing a heady, drunken effect.

After we had showered, we joined Rolly and the dive masters (who are still learning) in a classroom-style learning session, and went over how to calculate dive plans and nitrogen levels manually using PADI dive tables. Somehow I find myself singled out to stand in front of the "class" and work through numerous dive plans, which I am pleased to say I did very successfully. Rolly drove us back to Manila, and invited me to eat with his family, which I accepted. It was gone midnight before I was finally dropped back at Gerard's family's house.

Baguio

2008-02-01T07:38:00.001Z

On arriving in Baguio, I was greeted with that horrible, dirty assault on the nasal and visual senses that goes hand-in-hand with major cities. My instant reaction was "one night here, then I have to get out". There was a couple also looking for a room, but their budget was anything up to 1000 pesos a night, whereas I was after a dorm room. I managed to find one for 400 pesos, with breakfast included.

I spent most of the day wandering around a small section of the town and checking out the mall. That night, I got in contact with Gerard's cousin, Kevin, and we met up for a drink to while away the evening.

I actually didn't feel too sharp the following day (not alcohol related, just a general sickness feeling), so didn't do all that much. I ended up checking into the guesthouse again, as I needed to stay one more night due to events happening at Gerard's house. In the afternoon, I wandered through the market, and sat in the park reading for a few hours until the light started to fade. Then, I went to the cinema to watch "I Am Legend", had some food, and called it a night in an attempt to clear my head a little.

In the morning, I checked out and went to the appropriate bus terminal, and caught an express, air-conditioned bus back to Manila.

Sagada & Bontoc

2008-01-24T08:14:00.000Z

The journey to Sagada required two jeepneys, with the change occurring in the town of Bontoc. I originally wanted to stop there for an hour or so to see the museum, then pick up the second jeepney to Sagada, but continued immediately as I'd found some company! When we arrived at the departure point in Bontoc, the jeepney was already pretty full, so I grasped the opportunity I'd been waiting for and clambered onto the roof with some local kids. For an hour, I hung onto the roofrack and shared confectionary with the others...it was damn good fun!

I had called ahead and reserved a bed in St. Joseph's Guesthouse, as I wanted to stay there and had no idea how full accommodation would be, what with Sagada being north Luzon's "backpacker mecca". I was greeted by an extremely friendly receptionist, whose family runs the Yoghurt House, a favoured cafe in the town. She was taking a break from working in the cafe, and is a big fan of Jamie Oliver!

Within a half hour of checking in, I was geared up and ready to go trekking through Echo Valley. A guide is "recommended", but anyone with any sense of direction, a good map and a compass can negotiate the trails effortlessly. Just to be safe, I left my phone number with the guesthouse and told them exactly where I was heading. I explored most of the valley, climbing rocks and hillsides, then trail-running through some of the more stable terrain, just for fun.

When I returned, there were some people sitting outside the guesthouse, chatting. Two men, Phil and Glen, were American, and the third was a Filipino woman whose name I feel unhappy to have forgotten! I joined them for a while, and regaled them with some of my stories. I had realised earlier in the day that there were no ATMs accepting my cards in the north, so I was living off a smaller amount of money than I hoped for. This led me to politely decline the invitation of joining them for a buffet meal at the Log Cabin in town that evening, but they insisted they were fund it and that I could not refuse!

The meal was excellent, with me eating far too much and getting indigestion! Also at our table was a Filipino couple from Sagada, Clare being a doctor in the local hospital and Joe being a marine engineer. During the meal, I was talking to Joe about going caving the following day, and he told me to leave it with him while he arranged a good deal for me.

After the meal, the majority of our clan decided to call it a night, but Glen and I were still in need of karaoke, beer, or both, so went off in search of a bar. Alas, nothing was open (the town unofficially goes to sleep at 9pm), so we ended up back at the guesthouse. There, I taught him how to play Shithead, and when we were joined by a Korean guy also staying there, we learnt a couple of Korean game that I promptly forgot. Glen had been locked out of his part of the guesthouse, so I offered him the spare bed in my room.

The following morning, I had a phone call from Joe, telling me to be at the tourist office for 9am. I arrived, and met my guide for the morning, a local called Dennis. We tooled up, then went to the first cave. For the next two hours, we crawling, climbed and slopped our way through the cave complex, running the connection between the two big caves in the area. Deep in the bowels of the cave system, there was a pool deep enough to dive into...so I did. The memory of how cold it was still hits me, but it would be a pleasant change to the stifling heat I'm typing this entry in! On the way out, we bumped into a group of Filipinos doing the second cave, so I joined them and their guides briefly to descend further into the caves, where you made your way through shoulder-high water. Very cold, but so invigorating!

When we returned to the tourist office, I asked Dennis how much I owed him (thinking Joe had arranged a good deal and therefore I wouldn't have to pay full whack for the guide fees), but it turned out that the entire fee had already been paid that morning before we left off! Naturally, I called Joe and thanked him enormously, but I felt incredibly guilty and offered to buy him and his wife dinner that evening.

Later that afternoon, I met a New Yorker named Basil, and we hit it off quite quickly. He runs a horse and carriage service in NY for six months of the year, then travels for the rest. At 50 years of age, he's got a phenomenal collection of stories. We spent a while chatting about my travels to date, and while sitting in the same spot I'd met the others the night before, we met an English couple, Tony and Mary, who had just checked into the guesthouse. We bumped into them at dinner in the Log Cabin that night, and spent many an hour discussing travel mentalities and other similar things. It turned out that they had a contact who is on the team responsible for constructing the new sarcophagus around Reactor 4 at the Chernobyl nuclear power plant. Seeing as the radiation levels have dropped, the nearby town of Pripyat is visitable, and for some reason I've sort of wanted to go there. If I hear from the couple, I may have someone I can contact out there, but who knows!

The following day, I was running low on cash, so decided to make an emergency run to Bontoc (I had been "reliably" informed there was an ATM in town that accepted foreign cards). When I got there, the ATMs didn't accept my sort of cards, and nor was the museum open that day, so all in all it was quite a wasted journey! The money situation was getting low, and I had to save enough back to get to Baguio the following day, so you can imagine my delight when I found I had dropped a 1000 peso note under the bed! That's about $25, so very handy to have.

I made my way down to the town centre, and took a bus to Baguio.

Banaue

2008-01-23T06:44:00.001Z

After leaving Manila on an overnight bus, I arrived in Banaue. Everyone on the bus had to don fleeces, jackets or hide under blankets as the air-con was on full whack, with no way of shutting off the flow to the seats below.

I found a guesthouse that was prepared to let me leave my rucksack there whilst I trekked for two days (and they completely forgot to ask me for the 25 pesos they originally quoted), then sat down to some breakfast. While happily munching away, I was approached by a local named Denwil, who was a "secondary" guide, i.e. employed by the local tourist authority, but never given any jobs because they always offered them to the primary guides. He showed me his official guide documentation, and offered me a lower price than the tourist authority was quoting. However, due to heavy rain the previous day, most guides were recommending against the longer trek through an additional Igorot village, so I opted to do the slightly shorter trek in and the slightly longer trek out of the rice terraces.

Within 20 minutes, we were on our way, taking a tricycle to the drop-off point. From there, we began the 5-hour walk to Batad, via a smaller village where we stopped for lunch. Much of the terrain was easy-going track, but the constant rain was making it sticky and sloppy underfoot. However, it all added to the experience, and upon arriving at the village we took pride in the fact that we were well ahead of schedule.

My guide offered to cook some lunch, and using the ingredients available he concocted a coloured rice, cabbage and corned beef dish. Now, I haven't eaten corned beef since I was in hospital at the age of 5, where I was forced to eat it every day due to my dislike of tomato soup, but this was good! So much so, I had second and third helpings. The native rice was like no rice I'd tasted before, and made all others pale into insignificance. The same can be said of the local coffee: so smooth and rich, but not with that bite that Western coffee has.

Getting back on the trail, we started to move through some of the rice terraces in earnest. Once we had finished scaling one mountain side, we rounded it to see the terraces dubbed the "eight wonder of the world" in all their glory. Unfortunately, it was raining still, so they were a little subdued and not overly photogenic, but still impressive. Navigating down and along them, we then rose again to the village of Batad, where we were to stay the night.

We stopped at a resthouse called "Katie's", run by a close-knit family. Batad is the only town (if you can call them towns) in the area with electricity, so are able to prepare food for weary hikers. It being so cold up there, and only having cold water for showering, I opted to change out of my soaked clothes and hang them up for an overnight drying, then tucked into some grub. We spent the evening discussing religion, fireflies, traditions and rituals, plus other inane subjects, calling it a night at 21:00. Firstly, there is nothing to do up there, and secondly, we had some heavy walking to do the following morning. It was possibly the best night's sleep I've had in years: there were no sounds to hear, the air was crisp and clean, and I felt good from the physical exertion of the day's hike.

At 08:30, after breakfast, we set off to the local waterfall. I had read it was a little bit of a hike, but the walk back up nearly killed me! It was practically like climbing a vertical wall, the steps were a good 18 inches tall at points, so lifting yourself up them wasn't the easiest of tasks! Albeit not as strenuous, this sort of hiking continued for another few hours until we finally reached the road. We waited for our tricycle to arrive, then began the bone-jarring hour-long ride back to town. This was by far and away the worst road I've ever travelled.

With no transport to the town of Sagada, lying north-west of Banaue, I holed up in the guesthouse overnight, watching some basketball on TV with a local lad, reading some of "The Beach" (on loan from Gerard), and re-fueling the ol' body.

The Great Poker Scam

2008-01-21T08:39:00.000Z

The story begins with me sitting in a cafe in Robinson's Place, the shopping mall near my hotel in Manila. Casually minding my own business, I'm approached by a middle-aged man and a younger woman, who was apparently his sister. They asked if they could join me and offered a cup of coffee for my time, and I agreed. In previous similar situations, it has been for the benefit of the Asian, perhaps wanting to practice his or her English, with the offer of a beverage for my time and patience. However, in the Philippines, most people have exceptional English language skills, having been learning since elementary school.

With a fresh round of coffees arriving, they began asking questions such as "How long are you here for?", "What will you do while you are in Manila?", and other similar probing queries. Being quite candid about my responses, I answer that I intend to stay for a short while, and that I hope to learn to scuba dive. The guy pounces on the latter, mentioning that his aunt is a dive instructor, and that she would give me a good rate and potentially lower accommodation costs, if I was prepared to travel to their family home to meet with her. Dubious, I mention that I am intending to buy a cinema ticket, but they seem insistent. Half-grudgingly, but a little curious, I accept their offer and we hail a taxi.

On the journey to their house, we speak at length about England, it's geography, income and taxes, cost of living, that sort of thing. I make a mental note of the direction we're travelling in, and the number of turns we make.

Sitting down in their house, it is highly decorated and exceptionally clean, despite not looking like much from the outside. They sit either side of me, the girl not saying all that much other than to quote her supposed age (22). I'm offered a drink, which I politely decline. Rule No. 1: never take drinks from strangers, especially when the kitchen is out of view of the chair you're sitting in.

I am informed that the aunt is not available, having been rushed to hospital with a mystery illness. However, moments later, the uncle drags himself out of another room with a loud sigh and exaggerated shrug of the shoulders, indicating that he has just risen from his slumbers. After introductions, he begins to grill me on my travels and my budget (which I do not disclose, stating that is of no one elses business and providing a light laugh). He explains that he is so tired as he was awake until 6am, having been a Blackjack dealer in a game that began at 2am, with a Korean gentleman named Mr Leekoy and a second, unnamed person. In an attempt to confirm his detailed description of the company he works for, and how it sends him overseas to deal in casinos and private games, he shows me his passport. Sure enough, it has various country stamps, mostly for south-east Asia, although having the same stamps I recognise small and insignificant discrepancies, especially with the dates. Other than that, the passport looks genuine enough, and would probably fool all but those already suspicious.

While detailing his employment, he asks whether I would be interested in learning how to play Blackjack from a dealer's perspective, and how it can make or break a game if he so wishes. Picking up my bag, which contains my camera, I accompany him to another table in their kitchen area, which he adorns with a purple poker velvet. I start to produce my camera, saying i'd like to capture this on film, but he quickly rises to his feet, claiming that the family religion forbids the taking of photographs in the house. Knowing they are Catholic, I also know that this is a little inaccurate. I suspect it is more a case of not capturing identities on film.

"Mr Alex", the card dealer, asks "Mr Jack" (all very polite and formal) if he knows about the betting system in poker, and Mr Jack says he does. Mr Alex explains that he was dealing for a game of PokerJack with Mr Leekoy the previous night, i.e. Blackjack but with poker-style betting. He then begins to describe the 50% and 100% advantages that he can offer the second player, i.e. the player with less capital to invest in a game. For instance, Mr Leekoy would be betting $50,000, making me the second player.

The 50% advantage works by surrepticiously showing the second player his next card, thereby allowing him to gauge his bet accordingly. The 100% advantage works by building upon the 50% one, in which the dealer, who is allowed to see the first player's hidden card, indicates what the hidden card's value is. This way, the second player knows what he has in his hand, what card he is due next, and what the first player is carrying. Using this inside knowledge, it is impossible for the second player to lose big money, only his initial, mandatory bet.

Mr Alex explains that Mr Leekoy should have offered him a 10% commission on the $50,000 stake, but only paid $150. He also details how half of all commission earned is given, by the employer, to local charities and hospices. Mr Leekoy was due to arrive at the house to offer the remainder of the commission that afternoon and accompany Mr Alex to dinner, as a form of apology, but had not yet turned up. A suggestion was made, in which I pretend to be a player down on his luck, and hopefully enticing Mr Leekoy into another game. Of course, Mr Leekoy is unaware that Mr Alex and I are in on the 100% advantage, so we take him to the proverbial cleaner's.

For those of you who are reading this and thinking I've gotten myself into a spot of bother, let me explain that from the moment Mr Alex mentioned card games and casinos, I was already on full alert. Surprisingly, it took me that long to cotton on to what was happening.

As if on queue, the doorbell rings, and the guy who approached my in the shopping mall makes to answer it. I look at Mr Alex and say, "Let me guess, could this be Mr Leekoy, by any chance?", to which I get a shoken look. After the first guy mutters something at the door, he closes it and walks back over to the table. I ask who it was, but am told that no one was there. Knowing that this mysterious Mr Leekoy was at the door, but I had rumbled their game, he had been quietly told to disappear.

Picking up my bag, I say "I' not a gambling man, but if I was, I'd like to bet that this is a scam". With that, I walk to the door, undo the latches and start off down the street. The first guy chases after me, protesting innocence, but I find the first jeepney I can and throw myself into the back of it, hoping it's heading in the right direction. It certainly is, and I arrive back at the shopping mall, having spent 2.50 pesos (with 80 pesos to the pound) on the jeepney journey, and having earned a great story! In hindsight, it was perhaps foolish to even accompany them to their home, but all's well that ends well, and I won't be doing it again. In fact, I now have quite a deep-seeded mistrust of all city-dwelling folk who appear overly friendly, and have since turned away quite a few people who want to find out where i live, only to claim that they "have a sister who works in "...

So now you know, don't get caught, otherwise they'll end up escorting you to the bank to withdraw thousands of dollars you don't have!

Manila

2008-01-15T14:01:00.000Z

No entry on Manila would be complete without the events following my description of Kuala Lumpur, specifically the departing of Malaysia for the Philippines.

After negotiating KL's version of Bangkok's SkyTrain, the equivalent of a few lines of the London Tube running over the city, I arrived at the international airport. I went to check in, and after they sent my main rucksack onto the conveyor belt system, they told me I needed proof of onward or return travel to be allowed into the Philippines. Now, they also do it differently to Thailand, where the airline won't even let you board without proof. The Philippines will apparently allow you to fly there, then force you to buy a ticket out again, if you can't clear immigration! Of course, I had no onward travel booked, as I hadn't decided where to go from there!

As luck would have it, I was able to batter my eyelids and be as nice as pie with one of the female staff, and boldly asked if I could be issued with a fake flight booking. Her manager agreed, and they printed me off a "return flight" for January 20, back to KL. I would be able to completely ignore it, and no money passed hands at any point.

The flight was delayed from 01:20 to nearly 03:00, so my arrival in Manila was actually after 07:00. I found another person wanting to head into the city center, so we shared a taxi. The guesthouse I wanted to stay at was closed, so we sat in a cafe across the road and had breakfast and beer!

The guesthouse was full, so I had to look around for somewhere else. Note that I was looking presentable, so could not understand why, when before even asking for a room, every guesthouse with a nightly price of less than 1,000 pesos was "fully booked". I could even see keys hanging up! A local guy latched onto me and offered to help me find a room, and an hour into looking, I accepted. We walked around for about another hour, found a place (not as cheap as hoped for, but there was a TV, which turned out to be extremely useful!), then walked to the local shopping mall. While in there, I tried to ditch the guy, and offered him a small amount of money for his time and help. He was clearly put out by this, and started spouting out that his Japanese customers pay him 1000 pesos an hour! He claimed that if I didn't pay up, he was going to scream to the security guards that I'd stolen money from him. I thrust 200 pesos into his hand and walked away!

Not feeling much in the mood for exploring, I spent a good chunk of the afternoon wandering around the tourist area and shopping mall. The following day I walked the length of the city to see the fort and it's grounds. I was hoping for more, to be honest! On the walk back, I was stopped by some construction workers on their break, and they asked me if I play basketball. I told them I've been known to play in the past, and they asked me if I was carrying a ball they could use for a game!

From there, I took a "minor" detour and ended up spending the next few hours exploring all the parts of the city no white people go to. I didn't dare take my camera out of the bag, despite seeing some awesome photo opportunities! After this, I returned to the shopping mall to book a cinema ticket for "American Gangster". On my way to the ticket office, I was approached by a guy and his sister, who asked me if I'd like a cup of coffee, and proceeded to query me on my trip and intentions for the Philippines. So began the Great Poker Scam, which I will be dedicating an entire entry to shortly!

After returning to the shopping mall where I started that little escapade, I did book a ticket to see the film, and watched it in complete relaxation. The evening was uneventful, spent having a meal and a beer, then in my room watching basketball and music videos, before falling asleep with a book on my chest.

My third day in Manila was quite dull, actually, spent watching TV, wandering around, and generally being lethargic. The usual things like running errands, getting laundry done, etc, were achieved, so I suppose it wasn't completely wasted. I spoke with Gerard, and we arranged my safe passage ("safe" not being the correct term) from central Manila to Quezon City, where his family lives. I had a destination, and it involved taking a crowded rail system (pickpockets' heaven) and one of the hundreds of available jeepneys (with hundreds of routes) to the University of the Philippines campus grounds. I made it there in what was deemed to be record time, safe and sound, then met Gerard.

We went for a beer, did a little bit of catching up, then went to his parents' house for "collecting our thoughts" and "planning on how to get rid of Jack by sending him up north"! My bus to Banaue was due to leave at 22:00, so I was invited to join the family for their evening meal. It was great, my first proper sit-down meal in a house since I left home. We traded travelling stories, but before long it was time to leave.

Siem Reap & Angkor Wat Photos

2008-01-13T04:51:00.001Z

IMG_1974, originally uploaded by laltoofan.

A sample of the photos taken at the Angkor temple complex, near Siem Reap.

Kuala Lumpur

2008-01-12T09:07:00.000Z

Having chosen KL over staying in the Cameron Highlands, I was hoping for good things from the next day and a half (if nothing else, just to tide me over until my flight out to Manila). On the bus, I met a German woman named Silke, and we shared a twin room to save costs. Within about 15 minutes of arriving we had set out into town, as there seemed to be plenty to see and we both had a very short time in which to do so.

Our first stop was Chinatown: a small crossroad around which stalls were set up, that definitely seemed to have more life and character after dark, when it was all lit up. There was little of interest, so we moved on quickly to the nearby mosque. This building is firmly on the tourist route, but was underwhelming to say the least!

Again, from all the documentation in the Lonely Planet and in tourism leaflets, you'd be forgiven for thinking that the Central Market was akin to that of Phnom Penh or Bangkok, but no...modernisation has dictated that Malaysia has no Asian markets, and that it is littered with shopping malls. A mall it was. It had little of interest, other than a Canon camera shop where I could ask why I was getting corrupted images on my memory card, and to purchase a card reader (to save me having to find an internet cafe with one to borrow). We went to the city square, Dataran Merdeka, as it was supposed to be a place of beauty, but it turned out to be fairly ordinary. I needed to format my camera's memory card, but wanted to save the uncorrupted photos from it, so returned to the guesthouse while Silke went to see Little India (an area of the city populated by, you guessed it, Indians).

On my way back I was accosted by a Malaysian girl and her sister, the latter of which was trying to arrange a working visa for the UK. She was hoping to work as a nurse in London, and it turned out she wanted someone she knew there to help her find accommodation, etc. They were pleasant about it all, and it definitely wasn't a scam. We had coffee, they asked me to take contact details and potentially see them for lunch with their family the next day. Not wanting to seem impolite, I took the details and suggested I might call them, but had no intention of doing so!

Silke and I went to the KL Tower before sunset, and went up to the observation deck, 276 metres high. This offered good views of the city, showing the mix of urbanisation and conservation areas. According to an audio device I hired, the city is just 150 years old. After leaving the tower, we walked over to the Petronas Towers, twin towers jutting up out of the cityscape. At night, these were incredibly impressive structures, and I was able to take some excellent photos despite not having a tripod!

By the time we returned to the guesthouse, having take KL's equivalent of the London Tube, it was midnight and the old legs were hurting somewhat. We'd done a lot of walking!

The following morning we didn't rise and get out into town until about 10:30, and we made our way across to the Lake Gardens. Again, very disappointing. The lakes were dried up! From there, we went to the local orchid nursery, more for something to do than anything else. I wanted to go to the deer park, but this was also a let-down, with animals caged up or in very poor condition due to malnutrition and the oppressive heat.

This leads me right up to now, sitting in an overly-air-conditioned internet cafe, surrounded by young kids playing online games and making far too much noise. Outside it's pouring with rain again, as it's monsoon season, with thunder thrown in for good measure, and I have another five hours to kill before making my way to the international airport for my flight to the Philippines. I'm not entirely sure what I'll do to pass the time...probably eat (I fancy a McDonalds for some daft reason!) and wander about a bit, if the rain stops.

What I can do, however, is recommend to anyone who reads this, to stay away from Kuala Lumpur if you're looking for somewhere to go. So far, my Malaysian experience has been lacklustre, and I hope that if I do come back via the island of Borneo, through the states of Sabah and Sarawak, that it will be a more enjoyable experience!

Georgetown (Penang)

2008-01-12T07:38:00.000Z

After my bout of homesickness following conversations with the family on New Year's Day, and the prospect of moving on all on my lonesome (which ordinarily wouldn't bother me, but I'd gotten so used to having people around), I made my way into Malaysia. I was full of expectation and really thought it would be a good way of getting back into the travelling mentality following a long stint on the beach.

How wrong I was to be!

The bus arrived in Georgetown (know as Penang to all those who live off the island, which is called Pulau Penang), and I set about trying to find a guesthouse. Whilst wandering about and refusing to spend a fortune at the big tourist spots, I met two others looking for a room. We found a basic, but clean, place called "SD Guesthouse", based in Love Lane. The running joke was that in that lane, in which changed-gender Malaysians could be found offering their services, the guesthouse should actually be called "STD Guesthouse"! The three of us bunked up in a triple room to save costs.

Being devilishly hungry, I made my way to the street stalls I had passed earlier, as I was craving non-restaurant food. Noodle soup with wanton was on the cards, and definitely didn't last long! Afterwards I went to one of the tourist bars to meet my new roommates for a beer, and ended up providing first-hand experiences and advise on Laos to an elderly gentleman who was interested in visiting the country.

The following morning I was casually perusing some of the Malaysian Tourism leaflets, looking for things to do, and found myself talking to a girl who was sitting on the sofa in the common room in our guesthouse. Her name was Ella, and she turned out to be from Bury St. Edmunds! Better still, she had friends here too, from Ipswich! And to top it all off, later that night we found another guy staying in the same guesthouse was from Lowestoft! What's going on? Has Suffolk migrated halfway around the world?!

I spent the morning walking around town, originally on the walking tour suggested by the tourism board, but then deliberately went off on a tangent and got myself lost. I find you see more of the city than you would if you went straight from A to B, and it gets you off the tourist trails. In the afternoon, Ella and I went to the nearby shopping mall, just walking around and chatting. We tried "Bubble Tea": a weird concoction of weak, milky tea and chewy gelatin-like blobs. Ella hated it, so I had to drink them both, which was quite a challenge! Pizza Hut suited us both, and while we were eating her two friends from Ipswich, Jay and Sharon, walked past the window. They joined us, and we agreed to meet up later that evening for some food. It poured down just after we returned to our guesthouse, and we later bumped into them by accident at the local outdoor (and covered) food hall. They had brought along another guy from Ipswich, Howard, and we ate and drank with the rain drowning out most of the conversation! For a dare, I ate a spoonful of ground chili, and somehow persuaded Ella to as well. Her face was priceless! I swallowed most of it down instantly, so as to reduce the burning, but she left it on her tongue and it affected her slightly more!

On my second full day, we went up to Penang Hill. We were told to take local bus No. 202, then the driver told us he wasn't heading there, and that we wanted No. 203. While we waited patiently for this one, a lady at the bus stop told us we actually wanted No. 201! We ended up taking 201, and thankfully got to our destination! It also cost the princely sum of RM1.50, or about 25p, in stark contrast to the cost of public transport back home!

There was a cable car running all the way up to the top of the hill, from which good views of the island, the ferry point, bridge, etc, could all be seen. On our way back down to the bus stop, we were called over by a local guy putting up a gate. He asked us in to his cafe (such as it was at the time), so we stopped by and had a drink. We played about with Google Earth, he took some photos of us to put on his web site, and had a pretty good laugh! His web site, for those who wish to see a photo of us there, is http://www.malaysian-cuisine.com. In the evening, we went to see "Noroi: The Curse" at the cinema. Filmed on handheld-camcorders in a "Blair Witch Project"-style, it was okay and I personally enjoyed it, although like many films these days there was a lot of unasked and unanswered questions and assumptions.

The next day I had a lie-in. In the afternoon, we toured the town on foot, then had a fairly lazy afternoon. I signed up for Skype, had a conversation with Steve, then went and watched "Aliens vs Predator 2" at the cinema. Again, a simple premise, poorly executed, but good for unwinding! I had a lengthy email conversation with Gerard, talking about the Philippines and my pending journey to see him and do some diving and surfing. It probably didn't do a lot for my Malaysia experience, as I started to lust after sun and sand again, despite wanting to get away from it only a few days previous!

The morning after, I took a ferry across to Butterworth, on the mainland, then had to wait around for a couple of hours until the next bus to the Cameron Highlands left.

For the sake of completeness, I'll write about Tanah Rata and the Cameron Highlands, although I was only there for one night. I was hoping to do some nature trail walking and maybe visit a tea plantation, but it was raining from the moment we left Butterworth to the moment we arrived in Tanah Rata, so I lost interest quite quickly. I checked into a dormitory in a nice guesthouse, and met another Ipswich guy. He also has the surname Gooding, so we tried to work out if there was a connection there somewhere!

Knowing that flights to the Philippines were generally cheaper on Sundays, I was originally looking at flying out on January 20, but being in a bit of a sour mood I changed my mind and booked for January 13, only a few days later. This left either no time for the Highlands, or no time for Kuala Lumpur. I opted for KL, so bought a ticket, got a good night's sleep, then took the bus the next morning.

Krabie

2008-01-10T09:01:00.000Z

And so it was, after a combination of minibus and ferry, that I arrived on Tonsai Beach, off the shores of Ao Nang (which itself is near Krabie). While walking up to the bungalow I'd checked into, there was a call from me behind me: Rachel. We spent the afternoon relaxing, and scoffed down a pretty damn good banana and chocolate pancake on the steps on our guesthouse's restaurant.

The plan was to climb the morning after, but to be fair I was feeling a little apprehensive about the outdoorsy-ness of it all...it's been a while since I climbed, let alone outside of the confines of Stowmarket's "Cragg". While waiting to hire gear, we got talking to another American, Katrina, and it turned out she was planning to go deep water soloing (DWS). This seemed like a good way to ease myself into climbing again, so we signed up!

For those of you who don't know what DWS is, it is a discipline of climbing akin to bouldering, in which you have no ropes or "protection" (i.e. climbing gear that you place into cracks in the rock, which you then clip your rope into to prevent big falls), so if you fall, you fall. The significant difference with DWA is the fact that you do it over water, so a fall means getting wet, obviously! And it has to be said, it's awesome fun.

There were about 10 of us on the longboat heading out to find some good walls to climb. Our first pitch involved two climbs: one was a simple overhang start, the other required scaling an awkward rope ladder before clambering round and up a tupor. I couldn't even haul myself round the tupor, so lept into the water and went to the other route. This was quite a pleasant climb, and afterwards required a 25ft jump into the big blue.

After this exercise, we stopped off in a quite little bay for some lunch, then moved onto the afternoon wall. This was generally easier than the previous routes, with lots of handholds and good placements for feet. I managed to take completely the wrong route, going over a bulge instead of underneath it, and found myself climbing higher and higher. Of course, down-climbing is for wimps, so I set up at a good point for a jump. It was only after hitting the water, getting the biggest sinus shot of my life, and coughing my guts up for nearly 10 minutes on the longboat, that we found out it was about 50ft down!

There was a group of older guys in Speedos in the bay where we had lunch, and before we knew it they were joining us on the walls. Honestly, climbing in Speedos?! Luckily for them, they were good climbers, but still...not a pleasant sight for everyone else! After I had given up for the day, a few more people still wanted to climb, but they were unable to come down after the sighting of two jellyfish, one of which was f*cking huge!

That evening I went for a meal with all the other English guys on the DWS trip, leaving all the Americans to their own meal (this wasn't by design, it's just how it happened!). I found out they were all leaving the next day anyway, so in hindsight I should have stayed with the others! Also of note from my first day was the fact that I had a bungalow with two beds, and was paying more than I wanted to. Katrina was paying an extortionate amount in a different guesthouse, so I offered up one of the beds, making an arrangement that suited both our wallets!

The next day we did actually rent some gear and climb properly. Rachel, my four new American friends and I hit the walls in the baking Thailand heat. There was Katrina, a guy called Shea (who was a boulderer but decided to have a go at sport climbing), and Wade and Alicia, a couple who are currently living and teaching near Bangkok. We did some routes on the next-door beach, Railay, and I was a bit rusty but pleased with my performance! At one point we led ourselves through a small cave network with torches, which was cool, then had to abseil down the other side to the ground. We watched sunset on the beach (and I got some cool photos too), the made our way back over to Tonsai. When we got back to the bungalow, we found the water was switched off, so had a bit of a go at the staff. Shea put his hammock up on our porch for the night, as his parents had gone home and he was effectively homeless for a night - it didn't seem worth him forking out for a room when Rachel's roommate was leaving the following day, opening up a bed at the guesthouse.

More climbing the next day, including finishing off a lead route that people couldn't do, top-roping some harder routes (no way to fall to the ground with top-roping, but you can come off the wall). Shea was again The Man, nailing god-knows-how-many routes with his eyes closed and only using his left pinky and right nostril (okay, slight exaggeration, but he was on form). A group meal followed, during which all sorts of crap was discussed, including religion, politics and education. So, definitely a load of crap!

We climbed for five days, including the DWS, and because I went from "no exercise" to "climbing without stretching first, despite what P.E. teachers always told you", I strained the tendons in my right elbow, so struggled towards the end of the last couple of days. It didn't stop me from some gentle bouldering though, Thai-style: bare-topped, in fisherman pants, with no shoes. Comfy, and easy to climb the Thai rock! Shea had an awesome fall from the wall as well, he came off spinning, caught his foot on the down-rope and went into a spin of rollercoaster proportions. Needless to say, he had to sit down for a few minutes when he got to the ground!

The whole beach area had a small rat problem, so you couldn't leave food in your room overnight. However, it didn't stop one determined vermin from getting into my freezer bag of medicine! It ate a combination of strong antibiotics, antihistamines, Ibuprofen, antidiarrhoeals and rehydration sachets, so it's either a dead rat or a superhuman one!

Eric and his travel buddies turned up for New Year's Eve, so we had a drink and saw in 2008. Our group bought a paper tunnel thing with a candle inside. You light it, and it works exactly like a hot air balloon. We each made a wish, and launched it at the stroke of midnight. Obviously I can't tell you what I wished for, otherwise it can't come true! Richard and Blair also arrived around about January 4, and set about doing some diving.

I ended up staying from December 26 to January 6, far longer than originally planned. I actually got to the point where I'd been on the beaches and islands for so long, getting back on the road seemed a little daunting. Having to think about journeys, accommodation, etc, was not at the forefront any more; I'd been spending too long in an environment that was close to "holidaying", and it sort of felt like a natural point at which to end a 3-month travel block. Speaking with my parents on New Year's Day was nice, but actually made me somewhat homesick. It's now January 10, and I still feel that way, although I'm carrying on!

Koh Pha Ngan

2008-01-07T17:17:00.001Z

And so I arrived on Koh Pha Ngan, famous for it's drunken Englishmen and Full Moon Parties. Needless to say, with the Christmas party approaching, there was bugger all accommodation available, and I spent a good half hour walking over hills with my rucksack in blistering heat. That is, until I met a Canadian, Nelson, and a Scot, Alistair, who were also in need of a place to stay and who had spotted a set of bungalows away from the main beach at a decent price. We wandered yonder, and found three going spare, so nabbed them sharpish!

The FMP takes place on Haad Rin beach, more commonly known as Sunrise Beach, and has been known to host 10,000 people on a monthly basis. Estimates for this year's Christmas party were weighing in at anything up to 30,000! Heaven knows how the beach would accommodate them all, as it's not the biggest around! And on a complete sidenote: Koh Pha Ngan has more tattoos per square metre than people, it seems...

I met up with Richard (who I travelled to the Thai/Laos border with, and met randomly throughout Laos after we split at the slowboat/speedboat piers heading to Luang Prabang) and Blair, a Canadian he was travelling with. Along with a few others they knew, we had some beers and played some pool until the early hours of the morning.

During the day, there was little to do but eat, sleep, drink or lounge on the beach, so as you can imagine I got bored fairly quickly. However, I was waiting for previous travel buddies to arrive, so perseverance was key. On something like day 3, Joel, Frank and Malti arrived, piecing a good chunk of our Hanoi crew back together. Again, a few beers, a good meal and a great deal of catching up helped pass the time!

We hired motorbikes and did a tour of the island's beaches, and all decided that they were better away from Haad Rin! All in all, it was an excellent day out, good for the overall tans, and nice to get away from "macho" Englishmen and their general stupidity.

I had wanted to see some Thai boxing (Muay Thai) since arriving in Bangkok, but no one had wanted to go and I didn't really feel up to going alone, but the guys agreed and we went that evening. There was an alcohol ban that night as it was the Thai elections, and the police didn't want drunken locals doing silly things at the polling stations! Rumour has it that a Thai guy got 3 months for seeling beer to foreigners, but there may have been no truth in it. However, they seemed to have no problems with us taking in a couple of big bottles each.

I must say, the fights were unbelievably impressive, and actually damn violent. I can't really describe it to you, but knees were flying, fists to the head, and at one point a "triple knee to the sides" actually lifted one guy clean off his feet and into a KO! There were also two extra fights, one between two women, and one between a Slovenian and an American, both of whom looked sluggish and inaccurate compared to the poise and grace of the Thai fighters.

Following the Muay Thai, we stopped off at a pool party on the way back to our resorts. After a few buckets, we individually started making our way home for the night. I was the last to leave, and took a songthaew back with some people who knew Frank and Malti. We were dropped right at the chicken and crepe corner, so I wolfed a couple fo pancakes without a second thought. I somehow got talking to an American girl, Diedre, and we wandered back towards our resorts (this was about 02:30). We ended up sitting on a bench until 09:00 jabbering away about all sorts of crap, and after calling it a morning (haha!) I never saw her again!

Christmas Eve arrived, and the island was gearing up properly for the big event that night: there were buckets everywhere (for drinking whiskey out of), beer did floweth, and the food vendors were working overtime feeding many hungry mouths. Eric, the Dutch guy I travelled with when I headed north again through Vietnam, arrived with friends in tow, and we met up before hitting the beach for drinks and dancing. With probably 15,000 people on the beach, it was surprisingly easy to lose each other, and after ringing in Christmas Day I found myself wandering alone. I think I spent the next two or three hours watching the fire dancing, and talking to the guys doing it about technique and training. It was 4am when I dragged myself back to my bungalow and spent the next hour sitting on the porch talking to Alistair, who had been ill and was only just preparing to go down to the beach.

Christmas Day was particularly uneventful, and certainly didn't feel anywhere near festive. Looking back at it, I think this is a good thing, as otherwise I probably would have become quite homesick. It was great to speak to everyone at home though, it definitely made my day. That evening, Joel, Frank, Malti and I had a Last Supper together, as they were all heading off to Singapore that evening (a long 30-hour, uncomfortable bus ride by all accounts!)

I also decided to head away from Koh Pha Ngan, having spent the past six days there and feeling there was nothing much to do, especially with no good friends to spend my time with. You would think I'd have more to write about for somewhere I spent nearly a week, but no, it was quite a dull time, although I guess you could say it was somewhat relaxing.

My next destination was Krabie, in southern Thailand, where I would meet up with Rachel (whom I met on the bus from Siem Reap to Bangkok), so I booked my ticket outta there and left on Boxing Day for the climbing peaks of Railay and Tonsai.

Koh Samui

2008-01-07T04:24:00.000Z

Ladies and gentlemen, my apologies for there being no updates in the past fortnight, but internet access has been so expensive on the islands and beaches of Thailand! However, I am now staying in a place that offers free access to all guests, so I shall bring things up to date!

I flew from Bangkok to Koh Samui. This was an uneventful flight lasting only an hour. The airport was tiny, and to my amusement I was the only passenger arriving with a rucksack - everyone else had proper luggage cases, which tells you all you need to know about the regular "Koh Samui visitors"! An extortionate minibus ride later, I was checking into the cheapest resort I could find in the area I wanted to stay at, charging a whopping 600 Baht a night! That's $20, or 10 quid, which is cheap by normal standards, but expensive for travellers'! To top it all off, the room was just about average, but no more.

Lunch was on the agenda, so I ate at the resort. When it came to paying, my banana milkshake was apparently free, as where the top-ups. I had no idea why, but didn't argue!

Seeing as I was a bit of a Sweaty Betty, the shower beckoned (for everyone else's sake, I couldn't have cared less). I found a small cockroach on the sink, so flicked it down the plughole...and out erupted a mass of ants! The sank turned almost black with the little buggers! This was also true whenever I turned the tap on, as the faucet wasn't seated properly and the whole rig bounced about, causing vibrations through the sink that made the ants erupt.

After an expensive meal (trying to be cheap on the islands is laughable), I wandered the main street in search of something to do, or somewhere to go, as I was on my own and no one seemed to want to communicate with a person not dressed in singlets and "Gary-boy" gear! I found myself in a very respectable massage place, and opted for a foot massage. It was certainly very good!

The next day was a little overcast, meaning the waves on the underwhelming beach were a little more exaggerated. I saw the opportunity to re-enact our Crete wave-bashing (Sam and Steve will understand!), and spent a couple of hours flitting between cloud-bathing and wave-fighting. To any onlookers, it must have seemed like a case of "stupid Englishman pissing about in the sea", but hell, I had fun!

I ate lunch at my resort again, but this time with my bill I was slipped an additional bit of paper. Turned out it was the email address of one of the Thai waitresses, who knew I was heading to Koh Pha Ngan and wanted to meet me there! Unfortunately she wasn't the most attractive Thai girl about, so I politely slipped the paper into my pocket, and nodded and smiled courteously so as not to offend!

Nighttime called for more wandering, and I ventured past the tourist spots, and stumbled across numerous bars. All were bathed in a dull red glow, indicating the sort of activities that went on in there. Moving quickly on, I found myself a street cart serving crepes, so went for the preferred "banana and chocolate"...oh so good!

The next morning I needed to get some laundry done, so bagged up everything that needed washing and went to the main drag in search of a cheap place. It was only then I found out that nowhere on the islands open until at least 10am, in stark contrast to the rest of South-east Asia! Personally, I found Koh Samui to be quite a dull, uneventful place, and was only impressed with the beach that the ferry to Koh Pha Ngan left from! I won't be going back!

Bangkok, Part 3

2007-12-19T03:57:00.000Z

The bus journey to Bangkok from Siem Reap was to be done in two parts. The first, a hot and dusty journey over bumpy and incomplete Cambodian roads to Poipet, the border town. The second (after dealing with visas and Thailand immigration), a more comfortable trip over paved and level Thai roads.

We left Siem Reap about an hour late, after the minibus to the border was overbooked and extra seating had to be arranged on another vehicle. I ended up sitting over the rear wheel on the left-hand side, in the full blast of the sun. I knew it was going to be a "pleasant" 4-hour trip to the border. Thankfully, I had my iPod, a good book, and a friendly Irish guy called Mark sitting next to me. He was travelling with an American girl, Rachel, who I didn't really get to speak to, but she also seemed okay! The air-con was broken, so all the windows had to be opened: big mistake, but unavoidable. The roads were some of the dustiest I'd seen, and any clothes white or off-white became orange and brown with dirt. When we got to the border, I fished out a wet-wipe hand towel I'd been saving from Vietnam and wiped my face and neck down. The towel was black before I'd finished one side of my face!

You'll recall the Mexican girl I met who had had to return to Phnom Penh to get her Thai visa. After getting our Cambodian exit stamps, we headed to the Thai immigration desks, and met two Polish girls who had also been rejected. One was almost close to tears about the prospect of having to go back, although she did have an onward flight out of Thailand. She just didn't have proof, so we told her to find an internet cafe and print out her itinerary. Rachel was mildly concerned about being allowed in, as her flight out was actually in February, well past the 30-day on-arrival visa you are given. However, all went smoothly and she got through. I was fine, as I had already bought my visa back in England - good job, too, otherwise I would have been on a bus or train back to Phnom Penh!

I was then separated from Mark and Rachel as I had booked my trip to Bangkok with another hotel (despite being the same tour company), and was bundled onto a minibus. The next four hours were spent much the same as the first, reading, sleeping, and chatting to a Californian girl who was finishing her 10-month trip and returning home the next day.

Arriving in Bangkok, I took a tuk-tuk to the guesthouse Mark and Rachel were staying at, near Khao San Road. We stayed in the small dormitory, and after quick showers got some food there. Rachel and I went to use the internet across the street, and there were loads of Thai kids in there playing games and chatting online. One 14-year-old boy next to Rachel was watching a live video-stream of some other similarly-aged female take her clothes off, and soon there was a congregation of his friends around the computer. In an internet cafe, of all places! All very weird...

The next big decision was about alcohol. It was Mark's last night before flying to Sydney, their last night travelling together, and I had a flight at 8am the following morning to Ko Samui. Therefore it wasn't to be a heavy night, but we still didn't want to pay silly prices for beer. We walked to the local 7-11 and bought some bottles, some Mars bars and packets of Mentos, then walked back to our guesthouse. The plan was to sit on the street like bums (without the brown paper bags for our beers), but directly opposite was a bench, actually on the street where cars would normally be parked. We commandeered it, broke out the alcohol and quoted Monty Python's Holy Grail. There was a police car trawling up and down our road for a while, so every time it came past we were ramming the beer bottles under the bench and trying to act nonchalant (something I'm pretty good at these days!).

It turns out that Rachel is going to Krabi, on the opposite side of Thailand to Ko Samui, but easily reachable. She also climbs, and will be spending about a month there, so when I'm done on the islands I'm going to head over to do some climbing before heading down to Malaysia. This will be in the new year, I think. Where I spend New Year's Eve is dependent on other people: if they're staying on the islands, I may well do too, otherwise I'll head to land after Christmas.

So ended our night on the Bench of Ignorance. I was up early in the morning, and took a taxi to the airport for my flight to Ko Samui.

Siem Reap

2007-12-18T10:06:00.000Z

After taking a fairly pleasant air-con taxi to the Golden Temple Villa guesthouse (which turned out to be awesome), I met Dalia. Jen was out and about. I was still feeling quite ill, and I suspected it was the hangover - my first of the entire trip - kicking in. As it happened, it lasted for days, so I can't believe it was a hangover, but perhaps food poisoning? We four (me, Jen, Dalia and Jen's friend John, whom she met whilst teaching English in Seoul) went out for the night, but I couldn't stomach any food or alcohol. A nice mixed fruit shake was good enough, but I had to call it a night at about 11pm.

Dalia and I were up at 5am to visit Angkor Wat, the mother of all temples, and the numerous surrounding religious buildings in the Angkor complex. Unfortunately I screwed up with some of the photos, forgetting to drop the ISO speed on my camera, so as a result they're slightly green-tinted and will be a tiny bit blurred if you were to zoom in, but they're not too bad.

Personally, I was underwhelmed with the interior of Angkor Wat. Granted, from outside it's spectacular, and seeing sunrise over it was great, but inside was nothing special. Now, the Angkor Thom complex, comprising multiple temples and ruins, was impressive. The beauty of Angkor is that each temple has a unique characteristic, something lacking in the thousands of wats, temples and pagodas littering South-east Asia. Again, I won't say much, Angkor is far more of a visual thing and you can see stunning picturesque examples of the site all over the internet.

On returning to the hotel and attempting to devour a huge Indian meal (in an attempt to cure my sickness), I slept with the onset on indigestion. When Jen and John got back from the temples, we lounged about on the hammocks for a while, then went into town. Bar Street is the tourist centre of Siem Reap, full of restaurants and bars specialising in "white tax", i.e. overly-extortionate prices aimed at the average Westerner! We hit the cocktails, and Jen and I tackled the AK47 - a powerful and not-so-pleasant concoction. I had to move onto the girly Sex On The Beach, but it was tasty, so I shall hold my head up high and not be embarrassed! When the music took a downward spiral, i.e. there were no guitars present, we moved across the road to the Angkor What? bar, where people were dancing the night away. John and I spent a good time chatting away about his life in Seoul, teaching English, and many other things.

The following day, Jen and Dalia were heading to Phnom Penh, and I had to decide whether to stay in Siem Reap for another day or move on to Bangkok. I chose Bangkok, so booked my ticket for the following day. We'd checked out of the hotel, and they had no single rooms, so I went round the corner and setled into Popular Guesthouse, where Gerard had stayed on his visit to the town (also recommended by the expat we met in Hoi An). While sitting there, I met a girl who had just arrived and had no idea what to do, where t o go or what to see, so we got chatting. She was born in Columbia, adopted to Norway, but had been living in Australia for 8 years doing her nursing degree! We went out for a drink and talked about books, but she was tired from flying and I had an early bus, so we said our goodnights and crashed. Gerard gave me a book that I really enjoyed about a month ago, but I left it on a bus before I could finish it. As luck would have it, I found it in Siem Reap, so bought it, and finished it before going to sleep. It was one she wanted to read, so I left it at the reception with a note, but she hasn't emailed me, so I don't know if she ever got it!

Phnom Penh Photos

2007-12-15T10:33:00.001Z

IMG_1770, originally uploaded by laltoofan.

A sample of the photos taken in and around Phnom Penh.

Phnom Penh, Part 3

2007-12-15T05:44:00.000Z

After my relaxation therapy in Sihanoukville, I threw myself back into Phnom Penh. There were two reasons: catching up with Anna and Rose one last time before we all split and went our own ways, and to break up the 10-hour journey to Siem Reap.

On arrival, I headed straight for Sunday Guesthouse to see if Wing was still in town; turns out she was, so I opted to stay there as well instead of going all the way back to Lakeside, where I was before. On my way out of the guesthouse that night, heading towards Lakeside for some food, I met Wing and her friend, Anna, coming back in a tuk-tuk.

It turns out they had been to Lost And Found each night I wasn't there, but it didn't take much persuading to get them to go back! Pete, Paul and Darin all looked a little surprised to see me return! We had some drinks, played some cards, then returned to the guesthouse.

I was due to take a bus to Siem Reap the following morning, but I decided to extend my second visit to Phnom Penh one day further: I wanted to catch up one last time with Anna and Rose (I know, I know, there appear to be many "last times", but this truly was to be the last time!), so I was up at 6am to postpone my journey by a day.

The girls were still asleep as lunchtime approached, and we were due to go to the water park, so I found myself having more breakfast (as you do!). While I was sitting there watching some god-awful My Chemical Romance video on the TV, the Mexican girl I met briefly at the Killing Fields site sat down and commented on how tired I looked. I had no idea she was staying in the same guesthouse! We talked about all sorts, such as visiting mosques in Malaysia, the state of air traffic in South America, the difficulty in obtaining multiple visas simultaneously, and the problems of getting a visa-on-arrival at the Thai border. It turns out she had made it all the way to the border on a 10-hour bus journey, but was refused a visa because she had no proof of onward travel! This was precisely the reason I purchased a tourist visa before setting off: the airline wouldn't even let me board the plane at Heathrow as I had no proof I was leaving the country within the visa deadline, so I had to sort it out beforehand. I have every sympathy for her as she had to get a bus all the way back to Phnom Penh, although some would say that you should be fully aware of the visa requirements before setting off.

Eventually the girls arose, and we went to the water park. For a while, it was all good fun, and we hired a rubber ring to faff about with. However we tried to do cool slides, Wing always ended up getting injured: broken fingernails, bruised face, aching tailbone. I managed to get both of her heels in the groin at one point, which left me out of action for a few minutes!

However, the scene turned a little sour for me (but I can picture many of you giggling hilariously at my story...). Amongst the other paying customers were a group of teenage boys, all Cambodian, and it was painfully obvious to us that some of them were of the opposite persuasion. Perhaps it was the tight pink t-shirts, perhaps it was the girly screams. It was definitely the way they walked, ran, and generally acted! Anyway, as I was walking round the back of the stairs to climb up the flumes, one of them tried to pull me swimming shorts down! Manic giggling ensued, and I was less than enamoured with it all! The next 30 minutes or so were spent avoiding the group, who were sort of following me around, and trying to not be a little concerned about young transvestites (oh yes, they were there!) being openly and blatently promiscuous in public.

I was in need of a drink, and was meeting Anna and Rose for dinner that night. After searching the guesthouses (they were staying in #10, where I was originally, but that's not what I was told), I found them sitting in the bar, beers on order. We ordered various Khmer dishes, but I think they would have both stolen my Amok given the chance! While we were sitting there, an old school friend of Rose's walked in with an English guy, so they joined us. The bar awaited, as per usual, but we had missed the 10-pin bowling game. We made it there in time for a game of killer though. Had another good long chat with Rose about all sorts of stuff, but at the end of the night I really felt like there hadn't been enough time with the girls. They're definitely two of the most fun people I've met while travelling, and I'll admit to feeling quite down when we parted ways. Soppy, I know, but you really do make attachments with people out here.

Wing and Anna were heading to northern Cambodia, to do some trekking and see waterfalls, which sounded really nice. The offer to go with was there, but I'd promised Jen and Dalia I was to be in Siem Reap, and I was already a day late, so had to pass on it.

The next morning I was still feeling a little low (and still a little drunk), but I had a bus to catch. The minibus picked me up and took me to the bus depot, whereupon I loaded my main rucksack into the hold. The conductor asked me for my ticket, which was in my bag. Guess where my bag was? On the minibus speeding away in the opposite direction!!

I yelled for the bus to wait, leapt off and hopped straight onto a motorbike. I had $2 on me, but my phone, camera, iPod, wallet, money, credit cards and passport were all in my shoulder bag! I actually had a proper Hollywood moment, where I yelled "Follow that minibus!!!", and by god, did the driver follow. Weaving through traffic like something straight out of a film, I really thought I was going to die...but then again, without doing that I had no money and no identity in an Asian country: not good!

We caught up with the minibus when it stopped, and the driver was holding my bag out of the door. Anyone could have taken it, but fortunately it was all mine. I grabbed the bag, leapt back on the bike and high-tailed it back to the bus depot. I gave the driver the $2, but in reality I would have given him whatever he asked for! When I got back onto the main bus, there was almost a standing ovation. I've never sobered up so quickly in my life, and I can almost appreciate what a heart attack must feel like now...

After that, I slept quite well on the road to Siem Reap; everything was good until the bus broke down and they had to take two wheels off. After an hour of not actually fixing anything, a minibus arrived. For $3, we could take it all the way to Siem Reap, so I weighed up the options. Hang around and save some money, but possibly not make it there the same day, or bite the bullet and hope to get some shut-eye. The latter prevailed, and I arrived in Siem Reap, more tired than when I set off, but feeling on top of the world because I didn't lose everything I have.

It was without a doubt one of the most eventful and weirdest points in my travels so far. Bring it on.

Sihanoukville

2007-12-11T10:01:00.000Z

After belting across the country by bus, I arrived in Sihanoukville and hired a moto to take me to a bunch of guesthouses near Serendipity Beach. I was well aware this was the tourist area of town, but I really didn't care! I found a decent enough place, cheap, average but sufficient facilities, and it was only 200m from the beach.

The beach is, in fact, quite pleasant. There are fairly clear waters, the temperature is hitting about 34 degrees (but feels cooler with the wind), and there aren't too many people pestering you to take a tuk-tuk or buy their wares.

The food in Sihanoukville is every bit as good as that in Phnom Penh, and only marginally more expensive despite being a tourist beach resort. What strikes me about Cambodia is the scarcity of local street food. It may be that I haven't ventured far enough, or haven't stayed in less backpacker-oriented areas yet, but the focus is clearly on Western food.

I have spent a day and a half sunning myself and reading books, so it has been quite relaxing. I also went for a full body massage at the local Seeing Hands palour, an outfit run by and for the local blind community. I must say, it was a particularly good massage!

Having said all this, the entire town is jam-packed full of couples, and I think I have seen maybe one other solo traveller since I arrived. For this reason, I have decided to head back to Phnom Penh for a day, refreshed and raring to go, before heading over to Siem Reap to meet up with Jen and Dalia for a few days sight-seeing.

Phnom Penh, Part 2

2007-12-10T14:32:00.000Z

Having been accused of sounding like a poet and writing in a elegant manner, I have decided to write this entry under the influence of alcohol to see if I can dumb it down a little.

Following on from the previous day's sight-seeing (if you can call going to execution and torture facilities "sight-seeing"), I grudgingly opted to do the other big tourist traps: Wat Phnom, the Royal Palace and the National Museum. Let me tell you now: I've never blown $10 on anything so worthless in my life.

You can't take away just how visually stunning the buildings within the Royal Palace are, but once inside, they are identical to any other temple, wat or shrine you'll ever see in south-east Asia. The museum itself was so boring I stayed no more than 20 minutes. Wat Phnom's only remarkable features are the fact that it is set upon a 27m hill (whoop-de-do) and that there are monkeys on the grounds. I happened to get a couple of good shots with the camera, but otherwise I was left with the feeling I wanted my dollar back!

Putting the dullness of the day's events aside, that night was to be quite good fun. Lost And Found were hosting their weekly indoor 10-pin bowling competition, so I had to be there! A Swedish girl called Maria dominated the main game, and also scored the only strike. We then moved onto a game of Killer, where you had to knock at least one pin down with a single ball. Darin, the Cambodian girl who works in the bar, won this and pocketed all the money. Our final game was a modified game of killer, in which you could earn extra lives by knocking over additional pins, and I won this game. Oh, the man points!

The next day Maria and I went to the Central Market. I wanted to pick up a set of speakers for my iPod, and more importantly, to replace the flip-flops someone had taken from the bar the previous night! We frequented the big monthly pool party that night, although I think it lacked a little excitement for anyone not off their head on pills!

I took a moto to the bank as I couldn't be arsed to walk in the searing heat, and as we were making the turn into the street with my guesthouse, I heard someone yell "Jack!". As luck would have it, I had turned into the road just as two members of the Hanoi Picnic Club, i.e. Anna and Rose, were leaving! We agreed to catch up that evening and have dinner, as I hadn't seen them since our brief meeting in Hoi An. After an extremely delicious pizza, we made our way to Lost And Found (which, as you'd guess, had become my local), and played cards and Connect 4 while drinking White Russians. All in all, a good night! Rose and Anna left the bar, leaving me, Maria, and Wing (a girl staying in the same guesthouse as Maria) to continue the game-playing and drinking.

My last day in Phom Penh was a lazy one, running errands (like getting laundry done) and attempting to relax as I had a bus at 7am the following morning. Finally crashing at 1am, I realised I had Maria's MP3 player on me, so I made a mad dash across town to leave it at her guesthouse before rushing back to get my bus.

Phnom Penh has proved to be a worthy opponent to the madness of Hanoi, and I ended up staying a week when I only intended for two days. I'm glad to have moved on as I was beginning to get restless.

Phnom Penh

2007-12-10T11:18:00.000Z

My first challenge in Cambodia was getting the hang of dual currencies. All prices are quoted in dollars, but any small change is given in the local currency, Riel. I managed to find out that they've been using dollars since around 1990!

I checked into Guesthouse #9, a lively place by the lakeside, but couldn't find head nor tail of Gerard (who had left Vietnam when I was in Mui Ne, due to his visa running out before mine). It turns out he had done a runner to Siem Reap with four Irish girls. Well, wouldn't you chose them over me too? :)

I spent the evening in the bar at #9, playing some pool with fellow travellers and sampling the local beers. There were four of us sitting round a table discussing all sorts of filth, to put it bluntly, and after about 30 minutes we realised no introductions had been made! As people started heading to bed, or on to other bars, I was sitting there with an Australian girl, Amy, who had her iPod with her. Music tends to be a good conversation piece, and we were impressed to find a striking similarity in our tastes. A late-night blast of Portishead was on the menu. I also got to see the photos from her 25th birthday party, held at Lost And Found (or The Cushion Bar, as it is unofficially known), and who should be smack-bang in the middle of the crowd waving a beer around, but Gerard! Also there were Martin and his girlfriend, who I travelled with in both Phonsavanh and Vang Vieng in Laos.

I checked out of #9 and went next door to #10, as the facilities were better for the same cost. That night I was looking for something to do, so went to my new guesthouse's bar, where I met a group of people who were about to head to Nirvana, another bar, to celebrate a birthday. I tagged along, and when we got there, I was surprised to find that there was to be a joint rolling competition! Bizarre! Cambodia appears to have no laws on drug use: if the police walk into a bar (bear in mind there is no police enforcement in the evenings) and enough people are smoking, they turn around and walk away. Now, also note that in the first 10 minutes of being out of my guesthouse I was offered every hard drug I knew was worldly available, and possibly some made-up ones, all apparently at a value of $5...at least in Cambodia when you say "no" the person offering accepts it, unlike Vietnam.

Anyway, the competition consisted of three rounds (again, note that I didn't partake in any part of the competition, but was highly amused by the principle of it all!). The first was "quickest joint", won by an Englishman who rolled up in 14 seconds. Apparently that's insanely fast! Round 2 was "most aesthetically pleasing in 30 minutes", during which all manner of shapes and objects were created. The third and final round was "longest joint without falling apart". All in all, it was a strange but enjoyable evening, as I met a couple of cool people there.

On my third day, I was at a loss for what to do, as I wasn't really up for seeing the sights. I bumped into Amy again, and ended up tagging along with her and two others to the local swimming pool. When we got there, it was closed, so we went to the water park instead. It was a little odd, but intriguing, when Amy said that she felt she was getting to know me all over again, despite having only known each other for a day or so. Considering she knew little about me in the first place...!

Amy was actually leaving for Laos, on a bumpy and frustrating 12-hour bus ride at 7am the following morning, so collectively we made it our mission to keep her awake so that she could sleep on the bus. Early evening until about 4am was spent in Lost And Found, then back to the guesthouse for cups of tea and conversation. We completed our challenge, to my detriment: I was absolutely shattered the next day, but I soldiered on, didn't go to sleep, and went to the Killing Fields and S-21 prison museum.

I went to the Killing Fields first, which is actually a memorial set upon the burial grounds outside of Phnom Penh, where vast numbers of Cambodians were executed by the Khmer Rouge (Khmer is pronounced "kh-my"). A solitary shrine stands, containing the skulls of hundreds, if not thousands, of the executed, their bodies having been exhumed from the mass graves on the site. What surprised and shocked me most was that there were separate graves for women and their babies, and those who had been decapitated. Horrible stuff, it really was.

I then went to the S-21 prison museum, which was a school before the Khmer Rouge converted it to a place for Cambodians to be tortured before they were sent to be executed. Without wanting to sound like a callous bastard, I actually expected more from it. I hoped to walk away with a truer experience of what happened there, through greeted pictorial evidence. Too much was left to the imagination, unlike the War Remnants Museum in Ho Chi Minh City. Nevertheless, you can't knock what there was there: photos of thousands of people who passed through the prison, horrifying cell conditions, etc. After I leave the site my moto driver tried his hardest to persuade me I wanted to go the shooting range, but I could think of nothing more disgusting and hypocritical than wanting to go and shoot guns after seeing all this.

Ho Chi Minh City Photos

2007-12-08T09:43:00.001Z

IMG_1739, originally uploaded by laltoofan.

A sample of the photos taken in and around Ho Chi Minh City.

Hoi An Photos

2007-12-08T09:39:00.001Z

IMG_1646, originally uploaded by laltoofan.

A sample of the photos taken in Hoi An.

Danang Photos

2007-12-08T09:35:00.001Z

IMG_1663, originally uploaded by laltoofan.

A sample of the photos taken in Danang.

Hue Photos

2007-12-08T09:29:00.001Z

IMG_1623, originally uploaded by laltoofan.

A sample of the photos taken in Hue.

Halong Bay & Cat Ba Island Photos

2007-12-08T09:24:00.001Z

IMG_1533, originally uploaded by laltoofan.

A sample of the photos taken in Halong Bay and Cat Ba Island.

Hanoi Photos

2007-12-08T09:17:00.001Z

IMG_1413, originally uploaded by laltoofan.

A sample of the photos taken in and around Hanoi

Nha Trang, Part 2

2007-12-05T11:00:00.000Z

After my snap decision to join Jen and Dalia in Nha Trang (this time hoping to catch some sun), we were presented with trying to find a place to stay. I kind of felt a little guilty about it, because it seemed like I was "leading the pack", but we ended up going back to the same guesthouse I was at previously. In fact, I hoped to get the same room, but we were in the room across the hall. This one had a bath and shower attachment, and was actually a little cosier.

The beauty of going back to somewhere you are already very familiar with is that you have whittled out the best places to eat and drink. Needless to say, our first meal was in Rainbow Divers, the English-run dive-stroke-restaurant-and-bar I frequented a few times previously.

We were waiting for Eric, Jesper and Malin to turn up (the latter two I met on the Cu Chi Tunnels tour in Ho Chi Minh City), so we hired motorbikes and attempted to find the hot springs and Cham Towers outside of town. After a dismal, but personally enjoyable, "making a hash of things"and completely missing the sights, we gave up and headed home. Our quest to find a beach-side restaurant serving food was quite humorous - in fact, there was only one place that was doing anything but drinks! Great way to do business, guys! You'd have thought that after the two typhoons, they'd want all the custom they could get!

Note that last time I was in Nha Trang I didn't venture to the beach...and it wasn't all that much better in the sun! There was basically nowhere to lay down, so sunbathing was out of the question. Regardless, we took a boat tour to some of the islands the following day. Beautiful waters, sunny and warm, we were able to do some diving off the side of the boat, which was fun. As it was a lower dive height than the boat in Halong Bay, I actually had my first ever go at proper diving, and I must admit to not sucking at it! However, Dalia felt really seasick, so had to hire a speedboat back to shore. Maybe it's the gentlemanly instinct in me, but I couldn't let her take the boat and find her way back home whilst feeling unwell, so I went too. We spent the afternoon in a cafe and walking about town (although to compound Dalia's bad day, she got hit in the arm by a passing motorbike).

On my last night in Nha Trang, we walked down to the beach to eat some fried bananas wrapped in fried sticky rice (yum yum), and ended up spending what felt like forever playing with the kids there. We had them on our shoulders, under our arms, tickling, etc, etc, and they absolutely loved it! We bought them balloons, but they kept popping them on the ground...silly kids! What I couldn't figure out, though, is how I seemed to be on the receiving end of any flailing limbs, stray kicks and fingers in search of eyeballs to poke...

At 5am the next morning, I was up and about, and having packed the previous night I said my goodbyes to the blurry-eyed girls and made my way to the bus terminal. From there, it was a ride to Cam Ranh (those in the know will understand the significance of me going to Cam Ranh!), followed by a 45-minute flight to Ho Chi Minh City. Unfortunately, I only had enough dollars to pick up my Cambodia visa when I arrived in Phnom Penh, and about $1.40 to my name, so I couldn't do or buy anything, nor go anywhere other. This meant five hours sitting in the terminal with my iPod and a book - very boring! All this for another 45-minute flight to Phnom Penh, where I was to begin my Cambodia adventure. It was definitely strange to be leaving this group of people, even though I knew I was to catch up with Eric in Thailand, and Jen and Dalia in Cambodia. In the space of just a few days, you can build great friendships. An hour feels like a day, a day like a week, a week like a month, that's how intense this travelling experience has been so far.

Looking back at Vietnam, I must admit to having thoroughly enjoyed it, even if it was quite stressful to begin with. Everything that happened in Hanoi, the people and the different relationships between all and sundry, it all took its toll emotionally, but it wouldn't have been the same without it and I wouldn't change it for the world. The big question is, can Cambodia top it? And if so, how the hell will I cope?! Wait and see...

Mui Ne

2007-11-29T04:40:00.000Z

Some people we met on the Cu Chi Tunnel tour were heading north to Mui Ne, hoping that the weather was going to be suitable for some sunbathing. This sounded good to me, and I was a little tired of Ho Chi Minh City, so I booked a bus to take me there. Gerard decided to join me, which was even more surprising considering he would have to head back the very same day due to visa issues!

We arrived in Mui Ne at 01:30, so of course most hotels were going to be closed. I was beginning to lament my not purchasing a hammock earlier in the day, but what can you do?! We were walking along the road, not really concentrating on finding a place to stay, when we saw two girls who had also been on the bus talking to a guy on a motorbike. It turned out he was French, and working as a kite-surfing instructor, and he was mightily concerned about the girls' welfare. He offered a floor in his apartment for the girls if we couldn't find anything. After checking out one place (run by two guys who were blind drunk), we set off down the road in search of The Watering Hole.

We set up camp, then were up at 7am to rent a motorbike and go off in search of decent waves and a surfboard. This turned out to be a bit of a disaster: after driving all the nearby area and not finding any available surfboards, we gave up, and ended up back at our guesthouse. Sunbathing beckoned me, so out to the sunbeds I went. The girls, Jenny and Dalia, were also out for the sun, and Dalia and I ended up floating in the pleasantly warm sea, just chatting away about all sorts of bollocks, including cold sores on the eyes...don't ask! Before we knew it, the tide had washed us a fair way down the shore, so with a lot of effort we made our way back for lunch.

That afternoon, after Gerard had left for Ho Chi Minh City, the girls hired one more bike, and collectively we made our way out to the red sand dunes. There we hired these thin, plastic sleds and bombed down the sand dunes, which was good fun. Jenny bought a plastic ball for the monkey at our guesthouse to play with (although we think he got a little confused, as he started trying to hump it).

That night our group went on another mission to get drunk. We started with a meal at the hotel, then a number of games of Killer on the pool table, and finally out to the bars. Our first stop was to see if the local club was busy, but it was completely dead, so we went to the only other bar in town worth going to, Pogo's. After many beers, it was 3am, and we were just swinging backwards and forwards on a comfy floating archair-like thing. With thoughts of seeing the sun rise, we crashed on the sunbeds (having stolen the covers from our rooms), but alas it was not to be! Oversleeping, all we saw were a dozen Vietnamese fisherman manually throwing longnets out and hauling them back to shore.

Knowing I was heading back to Ho Chi Minh City at 2pm that afternoon, I decided not to do a great deal: shower, pack my bag, relax, eat, etc, etc. However (dum dum duummmmm), the inevitable happened and something came along to ruin my perfect plan to return to my former location and take my already-purchased bus ticket to Phnom Penh in Cambodia: a request to head further north, back to Nha Trang, where you will remember i spent two days in a cafe nursing a book and copious amounts of coffee due to it pissing down constantly! Well, obviously with visa issues pending, this was a tough decision, so I did the only thing I know. I ordered two meals, ate the first, made my decision, ate the second, and went to change my destination from HCMC to Nha Trang! It was all very easy, no complications, and next thing I know I'm on a bus heading away from where I needed to be with only three days to run. There was no way I could make it worthwile unless I flew back from Cam Ranh, but this was an expense I chose to incur.

Ho Chi Minh City

2007-11-28T01:07:00.000Z

On arrival in Ho Chi Minh City, we didn't go searching for a place to stay immediately. Instead, we sat using the internet for a while, had some breakfast, etc, which was a subtle but nice change to the usual mad rush of finding a room. Gerard signed up with the Couch Surfing network (an online community where you can find people offering rooms/beds/sofas, outside of the hotel system), and sent out a few queries for Ho Chi Minh City and Phnom Penh. When we did go looking for a room, we found a nice place above a pharmacy at a decent price.

We spent the day doing the tourist thing: visiting the Reunification Palace, the War Remnants Museum and generally looking about town. I felt the Palace was impressive in its exterior ugliness, but some of the rooms inside were quite smart. Many were used for official functions and events, so were decked out with the appropriate furniture. We followed a guided tour of the building and its basement, then watched a short documentary on the Palace's history. I dozed off and started snoring, much to everyone's amusement!

The War Remnants Museum was actually very interesting, if not a little depressing. It gave various views on the Vietnam War, including evidence from both Vietnamese and American journalists and photographers. The impact of the Agent Orange releases were highly significant, and pictures showed gruesome bodily deformations. Coming away from the museum, I had lost a decent amount of the cheerfulness I'd been feeling the rest of the day, but it was definitely a worthwile exercise and I've recommended it to everyone I've met in Ho Chi Minh City.

Seeing as everyone else we knew was heading to the Full Moon Party and we weren't, we decided to make it our mission to get blind drunk, a task easily achieved with the local brews (of which Vietnam has many). Our destination for the night was Apocalypse Now, a popular club amongst both locals and travellers. It was free entry, and we expected slightly higher drink prices...but we were shocked. Not mildly shocked, however, but extremely shocked: whereas we were paying 2000 Dong for a beer in Hanoi, and 15000 for a bottle everywhere else, we were almost disgusted to find that a glass of draught cost 50000 Dong! Anyway, we got nicely drunk, danced with many people, and I really couldn't tell you what time it was when we decided enough was enough!

I'm not entirely sure why I chose to do it, but I went to the Notre Dam Cathedral for Sunday morning mass. It felt a little weird, having not been to church since leaving school all those moons ago. Afterwards I took a gentle stroll all the way back across town.

I opted to go and see the Cu Chi Tunnels, which were created during the Second World War, and developed continuously until the end of the Vietnam War (during which America basically bombed the shit out of the area - apparently it is the most heavily attacked point on the face of the earth). This intricate, yet basic, tunnel network allowed the Viet Cong to avoid detection from American forces for so many years, and when you get to go through a sub-section you truly realise what it must have been like to live down there for long periods of time. We saw the various traps that they created to kill invaders to the tunnels, and some of these were quite gruesome.

My favourite part of the tour, however, was when we reached the firing range. Presented with a menu of guns available to shoot, I bought bullets for both the M16 and M60 semi-automatic machine guns, then let rip! Completely inaccurate and stupidly noisy, I can now appreciate how harrowing it must have been to be in a fire-fight, unable to hear the orders being barked at you because of the monstrous volume, and how this must have affected soldiers throughout history.

We went to the Cholon market, which was the largest in the city. It was a sprawling affair, where you could buy literally anything. I've been to a market in every location so far, but this was definitely the most impressive.

There is little else to talk about regarding Ho Chi Minh City other than drinking even more Bia Hoi with the same locals two nights in a row and the formulating of different plans, both for the Christmas period and an unexplained desire to head north again (to Mui Ne) in search of some surfing and sunbathing!

Nha Trang

2007-11-24T13:15:00.000Z

I arrived in Nha Trang, and to the rain. Having seen pictures of the place from not two days ago, in bright sunshine and with a beautiful beach, it can only be said that I was a tad disappointed. However, I was there on my own, and was determined to get something out of my visit.

I found a nice little family-run guesthouse, and negotiated them down to $4/night. I was their only customer at the time, so I think they were happy to make an exception: the cheapest anyone in the town was offering was $6/night. After donning my "emergency poncho" (purchased at Glastonbury to combat the sudden downpours!), I splashed and sloshed my way up the street in search of a bookshop. I've been lugging around two Ian Rankin novels that I bought in Chiang Mai (and finished shortly after), so I was hoping to sell or trade them and acquire some new reading material. My attempts to find the street bookstall advertised in the Lonely Planet were fruitless (no doubt due to the rain), but Shorty's Bar came up trumps.

The bar had an entire wall full of second-hand books, and also made fantastic milkshakes and banana pancakes (I spent quite a long time humming Jack Johnson's song of the same name...), and I ended up with two Ben Elton books I hadn't yet read. Still the rain fell, so I holed up by the open-front window, just out of the rain, and spent the afternoon with my iPod on and the first of the novels ("Inconceivable", which turned out to be quite hilarious).

That evening I went to a couple of bars, hoping to meet some fellow travellers, but there were only either big groups of people or couples, so no real success was had. It was still raining, so i went back to my room and watched some TV. First was one of the newer and quite terrible Star Wars films (with a useless performance by Ewan McGreggor), and then the first half of The DaVinci Code, befor falling asleep.

I was woken at 7.30am by a knock on my door: Gerard had received my email detailing where I was staying, and was waiting outside the room looking a bit debraggled. Also, he'd popped back into the last hotel we stayed at and found my phone charging cable. Yes! I spent the second day in much the same way as the first, in the cafe with Vietnamese coffee (so refreshing) and the rest of "Inconceivable". It was quite spooky, towards the end of the book I was random;y selecting songs from my iPod, and everything I chose had lyrics matching what was happening as I read!

It turns out the train to Saigon was full, so we ended up taking a comfortable overnight bus instead, and this is where my story shall continue! As for what I got out of Nha Trang...upon leaving, I can honestly say I was feeling truly relaxed, a far cry from my early Vietnam experience.

Hoi An

2007-11-22T08:20:00.000Z

Hoi An felt like a second Luang Prabang, very picturesque and relaxed (despite it being full of tourists). In fact, the colours all around the town were so vivid, it would have been a professional photographer's heaven - shame I wasn't feeling it that day!

The grief caused by the flooding was particularly evident here, with the markets partically underwater and many shops still bailing and sweeping out mud and rubbish. I must admit to not really feeling up to a great deal, so didn't get into going to see sights or anything. We bumped into Rose and Anna again, and ended up taking the room next to theirs in the hotel. They were leaving for the Full Moon Party in Thailand, so it would have been more sensible to take their room and save them a night's accommodation costs, but no one thought of that at the time!

We were wandering about town when we were given some fliers for a newish bar, so went to try and track it down. On the wasy, we saw a second-hand bookstore, based in someone's house. It turns out it was run by an American expat called Randy, who spent plenty of time talking to us about surfing, the state of Vietnam and the oncoming typhoon's path. Seems it had changed course, and was now due to hit Saigon on Saturday, just as we were to arrive there! He then led us to his favourite watering hole, the Sleepy Gecko, where we had a beer with the few expats and "seasoned", i.e. lay-about, travellers who couldn't be bothered to go home.

Dinner that night consisted of the best Indian food I've had in a long time. We met an Australian couple, and after chatting to them for a while, I now have a place to stay in Brisbane! Turns out Andy is into his shooting too, so that might factor into my visit there! No one could be bothered to go out drinking, so that was that!

The next day proved to be a bit of a dilemma: to go to My Son, or not to go to My Son. It is a World Heritage site, but no one really knew whether it was flooded or not, and the drive was likely to be a bit of a bastard. In the end we hired motorbikes and went the opposite direction, back towards Danang (where we had come through on the previous bus journey). This was a pleasant trip, and when we got there we searched out Hoa's Place (as recommended by Randy). This was a place by the beach, "off the beaten path". There we met a French girl called Claire, who had visited Hoa 10 years previously, and was now making her return.

We took a trip up to the Marble Mountain, which was a collection of temples and pagodas set amongst a cave complex, with shrines built inside these caves. It was very impressive, but unfortunately I didn't get to see all of it as I had to be getting back to Hoi An, to collect my bags and get on my arranged bus. Gerard stayed overnight (to try and get some surfing in), and was due to catch up with me in Nha Trang.

There's not really much else to say about the rest of my Hoi An experience: I motorbiked back, got some food, stocked up on snacks, took an overnight bus (although a local sitting opposite me kept kicking my seat's recliner switch and catapulting me into the seat in front!), and then I was in Nha Trang...

Hue

2007-11-22T08:03:00.000Z

The overnight bus arrived in Hue at 8am, and because I couldn't be arsed with trawling the city for accommodation, I accepted the offer of a freelift to someone's hotel. I ended up staying there, after negotiating the price down.

My original plan was to spend a day on my own, seeing the city sights, and possibly catch up with Gerard that evening. It turned out he had rented a motorbike and was planning to head outside of the city, so I went with!

We toured the countryside, visiting two tombs. The first was that of Emporer Tu Duc's, designed by him for both before and after his death. It was an incredible place, with buildings and shrines built within a walled oasis. Pictures can't really do the place justice, it was so serene and beautiful. The second was less impressive, but still a spectacular site in its own right.

My final sightseeing item was the citadel: an entire walled portion of Hue city, bordered by two moats (one inside and one outside of the wall), measuring 2.5 square kilometres. Only the buildings in the west section of the citadel still stand, the rest having been bombed to buggery during the war.

An attemptto find a good massage parlour that evening was unsuccessful,so we called it a night and went back to our respective guesthouses. I had a good long chat with my mother, something I'd been pretty slack on over the past fortnight. The following morning we took a bus to Hoi An, something I planned to do before starting my trip, but in Hanoi I sort of decided to skip it. Good job I didn't!

Hanoi, Part 2

2007-11-22T03:14:00.000Z

After the up-and-down experience of Halong Bay, we just wanted to relax a little. Moving on from Hanoi was proving difficult due to all the flooding through central Vietnam, so I ended spending another few days there. I hoped to catch up with Anthony and Cormac, and Julie was going to be around as well.

No one really felt up to doing much the first full day back in Hanoi, so the morning was either spent in bed or just kicking about town. That afternoon, Rose, Anna, Yuko, Gerard and myself visited the West Lake, which was significantly bigger than the lake found in the Old Quarter (where we were staying). We took bedsheets, blankets and pillows from the dormitory, iPods and speakers, and a small selection of snacks, and set up a picnic area by the lake. We spent the entire afternoon lounging around as the world went by, drinking wine and listening to music. We also played some games, for the sake of it! It was a very pleasant afternoon, especially after the last few days!

Through much persuasion, our newly formed Hanoi Picnic Club decided to hire motorbikes and getout of town the next day. We saddled up, and just as we were about to leave one of the guesthouse staff came charging out, pointed a finger at me, and told me the dormitory was full that night and that I had to leave! No explanation, and he wouldn't accept that I already had a bed, and that he had apparently allocated it to someone new! I ignored him and we set off on our trip. We were attempting to visit the Perfume Pagaoda, the oldest religious building in and around Hanoi. The girls had not ridden motorbikes before, and we were amazed at how quickly they took to it. Anna even looked like a proper biker!

The caves and pagoda we saw were okay, but it was Gerard and my attempts at rowing down the river that were most amusing. We were nowhere near as proficient as the girls who were guiding us, but then again, they've had significantly more practice! I got a puncture just as we were pulling into the town near the pagoda,so I had to leave my bike there to get it fixed. When I got back, the puncture was fine, but there appeared to be a bit of a fuel-management issue. Being far more comfortable with bikes, I swapped bikes with Gerard, and also ended up with Yuko on the back (who turned out to be an excellent navigator!). Driving back into Hanoi on a motorbike, at night, is the scariest thing I've ever done. Absolutely mental, but so much fun! You just have to do what everyone else does, and keep your fingers crossed!

Seeing as we had the bikes for the rest of the night, we took them out to a fairly pricey Italian restaurant, as it was to be our last night all together in Hanoi. The following day, various people began leaving for their next destinations. I met up with Julie again in the afternoon, and we spent a few hours sitting in a cafe by the lake, drinking stupidly expensive shakes, but it was worth it just to relax and catch up! She'd bought a new dress for a birthday party that night, and all I can say is "Wow"! Problem was, I completely forgot that Rose and Anna were leaving, so missed seeing them off. I felt aweful, because we'd spent over a week travelling together! No matter, I would hunt them out somewhere in Vietnam and redeem myself!

Gerard was leaving for Hue that night, so a group of us tried to go out for one last drink. I properly met two Argentinian girls who had arrived in the guesthouse that morning, and we were chatting away whilst others stormed off to our favourite Bia Hoi drinking place. Needless to say, I forgot how toget there, and we just ended up back at the guesthouse waiting for those who had made it to return! After Gerard had left, I found out that a guy from Singapore, who was with us, had had his wallet stolen while we were walking, so we clumped together to pay for his taxi to the airport the next day. I sat with him and two others in the guesthouse bar until nearly midnight, then called it a night.

The next day Julie and I had breakfast, then parted ways. It was really good to see her again: it's funny how you can connect with some people you barely know! That afternoon, with little to do and few people around, I went to sit by the lake and read a book. Maybe half an hour later, a local guy asked if he could sit with me. We were just chatting away, with him clearly wanting to practice his English. I couldn't complain, as he was the owner of a 5* hotel, and he offered he coffee and cake in return!

An overnight bus was pending at 6pm, however, so I had to head back to the guesthouse, say my goodbyes, swap numerous email addresses, and then wait around to be picked up. An hour later, the bus arrived, and I was on my way out of possibly the most intense and stressful, but strangely enjoyable, experience I've had since starting my travels.

Halong Bay & Dao Cat Ba

2007-11-18T06:57:00.000Z

Our trip to Halong Bay and Cat Ba Island was to last for 3 days and 2 nights. One night was to be spent on a boat, moored up somewhere or other, and the other in a hotel on the island. There were to be plenty of activities, including trekking, kayaking, going into caves and games and karaoke on the boat, but in reality this was all a dream...

So begins the nightmare that was Halong Bay!

The problem with booking a tour when there are many people with different budgets and agendas is getting a good price for all involved. Some people can just flash their cash, whilst others, like myself, are watching the pennies somewhat and have to think about expenditure in terms of the number of meals you can buy. We got our tour price down to $39, which I still feel was too much, but we paid it so that we could stay with our new-found group.

We were first bundled into a minibus and driven for three hours to the Halong Bay pier, where we were greeted by hundreds upon hundreds of tourists. This has been my first truly "package tour"-style activity, and for that very reason I found it quite forced and contrived. Never mind! We all got onto the boat that was to be our transport for the journey to and from Cat Ba Island, and our home for one night, the set sail.

Our first stop was at a small island with a large cave, lit with neon lighting. Herded like sheep through it (and fighting the throngs of aging tourists), we emerged out the other side and were shoehorned back onto our boat. An average lunch later, we arrived at Cat Ba Island, having had all our plans changed for no apparent reason. We were supposed to spend the first night on the boat, and the second on the island, but this was reversed. Our guide was less than co-operative when questioned about it all!

With little idea about what to do on the island, it was decided that beer was in order. I'm not entirely sure how it all came about, but a few of the guys and I ended up legging it down the street to find a keg of Bia Hoi. For 250,000 Dong, we bought the entire thing, lugged it onto the back of a bike, and brought it back to our hotel. Drinking games followed, everyone had a pretty good time, and then a few of us went out to a bar. I have no idea where it was, how we got there, or how I got back, so it must have been good! I do remember bumping into Anthony and Cormac though, the two Irish guys I travelled in Thailand with. They were supposed to be heading north through Vietnam, but their plans changed, so they're now doing the same route as me!

The following morning we were supposed to be going trekking, but again, this was changed at the last minute because of the supposed overnight rain. Absolute bollocks! We were told we had to kill time on the island all morning, so I ended up walking about, found a local market, took a few photos, that sort of thing. In the afternoon we took a minibus ride, not to the national park we were supposed to go to, but to another decent-sized mountain with a tower at the top. This gave a superb view out over the island. On the way down, Gerard and I decided to trail-run, so we let everyone else have a huge headstart, then pelted it down over stones, roots, ladders and everything else in our way. Great fun!

Back to the boat, then we set off. Bear in mind that the time was now about 4pm, and we had an hour's trip to the kayaking pier. We launched at 5pm, were told we had 45 minutes, not the two hours of daylight kayaking advertised in the tour guide. Gerard and I were launched from another pier for some stupid reason, so had to navigate all the boats and outcropped islands just to get back. Just as we turned round, the sun decided to disappear, so we were out in the middle of nowhere, with only a few boat lights to indicate where the harbour was! Some manic paddling back and a dollop of getting lost in the harbour due to our boat not being where we left it, we finally hitched a ride with a local girl on her own boat. She tied our kayak to her boat, and collectively we made our way home. When we got there, the rest of the group were yelling out for us, had a spotlight going, but the crew and our guide seemed completely uninterested! That is, until we got on deck, at which point they went ballistic, yelling that they told us to only be gone for 45 minutes, that if we wanted longer we should have booked a different tour, etc, etc. Gerard yelled back!

Of course, while we were gone, the others got their priorities right and went out for beer. The captain apparently got angry with them, saying they could only drink beer bought on the boat, but at that price we could only afford a couple of cans each! Frank smuggled on a 48-can pack, so that was us sorted! Spent the night talking to Frank about Rammstein, amongst other things, then slept up on deck hoping to see the sun rise. Needless to say, I overslept.

The following morning we were supposed to go out to see another cave, but they refused to take us anywhere near it unless we paid additional money to actually go into the cave! Our next quest was to find some clear, clean water for swimming, but they again refused to move the boat from it's moorings. In the end, we all caved and just dove in off the side where we were.

Someone suggested we use Frank's videocamera and make a film. Titanic sprang to mind, as we were on a boat, and had both a Jack and a Rose on board. Unfortunately we didn't get round to filming it, which is a shame: steamy window scenes and naked drawing, and all! Haha!

To try and even out my tan a little (forearms and neckline quite brown, the rest painfully white), I laid on the deck on our return journey...and got a pink back! It turned out the guide hadn't called ahead to arrange for our minibus pick-up, so we had to wait another hour for that. In the meantime we played a game called "Doctors", in which someone has to work out the rules defined by the other players. Complicated to explain, so I won't bother, but needless to say things got embarrassing for one or two players, myself included!

So that was an overview of our Halong Bay tour experience. I think everyone was happy with the company within the group, but the tour itself left a lot to be desired. I've since heard many people say similar things, so if you do a tour there, make sure you know what you're getting!