The Road Goes Ever On

towards the roof of the world

2012-01-02T10:55:00.008+11:00

Well finally, after wanting to do this for quite a few years, ('any takers') I have booked a spot on the Baltoro, K2 Base Camp, Gondogoro La trek for 4th July.

I have tentatively planned to leave Sydney around the end of April/early May and I will be arriving in Pakistan probably via Laos, Bangladesh & Kashmir then crossing at the Wagah Gate to Lahore.

trek map (all images courtesy of the web)

Leaving Islamabad, Pakistan - it lasts 22 days in all. The glacier trek itself coves some of the most spectacular scenery on earth, encompassing as it does, 8 of 20 of the world's highest mountains.

The high point of the trek, both in figurative and literal terms, will be the K2 Base Camp and Gondogoro La high pass (5,940m) and Concordia - the junction of the Baltoro, Godwin Austen,Gasherbrum and Vigne Glaciers.

gondogoro la pass

trango tower

K2

ali camp before taking on the pass

vigne glacier

charakusa valley

k2-concordia

Gondogoro La is slightly higher than Kilimanjaro (5,895m) but I anticipate it being a little less taxing as the start of the trek is around 3,000m and the climb over the pass (begun at 1am) is only 930m up from the base camp. Whereas the Kili summit entailed a midnight start and climb of almost 1,400m.

After the trek I will head either north up the Karakorum Highway into China and head to Kashgar to try and see some of it before the Chinese completely destroy the ancient town, or south to a region called Fairy Meadow - an unusual very non - Pakistani name for a high alpine region that could be mistaken for Switzerland.

fairy meadow

Here one can confront the magnificent Nanga Parbat (8,126m), the ninth highest mountain in the world which possesses the highest mountain face on the planet.

Or perhaps I'll do both.

"...and we've got just three days"

2011-11-17T12:52:00.016+11:00

June 1977 - December 1978

Recent conversations brought to mind a profoundly influential episode in my early years that originated from one of my earliest trips.

I had been on the usual trajectory (birth - school - university - career - death) when a hiatus occurred in my first semester at art college in early 1977. Being faced with the proposition by my lecturers of "expressing your experiences in life through your artwork" I came to the conclusion that my only experiences so far with life were school. And I didn't fancy making artwork about that.

So I upped and offed to the UK to try and get me some experiences.

After a disastrous start as a trainee manager at the Metropole, a business hotel in Leeds, an altercation with a piano saw me quit the position for a brief spell of unemployment.

hotel metropole

Leeds is one of Britain's largest cities in the north of England and is very close to the historic city of York of which I frequently visited.

On one of these visits I found myself captivated by the viking archaeological excavations of Coppergate that were in progress at the time and which subsequently became known as Jorvik.

coppergate viking dig 1977 (image courtesy of the web)

I spent a good hour and a half leaning over the fence watching the diggers in action. On the way back to my home base in Leeds I began chatting to the woman sitting next to me on the bus. I began telling her how amazing I found the excavations and she suggested that I contact the local archaeology unit to see if they wanted volunteers. I was surprised as I expected all of the people on site to be trained archeologists.

The following morning I rang the West Yorkshire Rescue Archaeology Unit as it was then known and offered my services as a volunteer. I was surprised when they accepted.

So the very next day I was at their headquarters at 08.30 am. I was taken out to their main site in a small old mining town called Castleford, or Lagentium as the Romans would have known it.

Almost immediately I was assigned the task of dismantling a section of old Medieval wall. This entailed removing each stone one by one and checking carefully for any finds that might be lying amongst the clay mortar. I was thrilled to be, on my first day, on a dig up to my elbows in mud and clay actually taking apart a Medieval wall! Yee hah!

It wasn't until several months later that I realised this was one of the crappy jobs the real archeologists didn't want to do!

But my enthusiasm was, as they say, unbridled and I was regularly first on site and last to leave. So keen was I that after 4 weeks of volunteer work and an injection of council funds I found myself being given a paid position. Suddenly I was being paid to do what I was more than happy to do for nothing. And ironically, after 3 months I was put in charge of volunteers!

The Castleford dig had been in operation for almost a year when I arrived. The Archaeology unit had been given permission to try and clarify a series of early Roman forts that had been found in the town before the whole area was to be destroyed by a major road bypass.

The site as I first saw it consisted of a lot of holes in the ground with almost no visible structures. Early Roman forts were built of wood with clay and turf defence ramparts. This left little behind except for post-holes and patchwork quilt-like colourations in the soil.

defence ditch in cross section

turf rampart

But it was during a lunch break in the final stages of wrapping up the site that a team member, whilst digging in an area of the site not scheduled for excavation, suddenly discovered a small section of finely dressed (i.e. chiseled) stonework wall foundations.

This piqued the curiosity of the digging team and we immediately began to use our own spare time to uncover more. By chance, this small section of wall turned out to be the corner of a Roman 'Natatio', or cold plunge bath, belonging to what would turn out to be one of the finest examples of Roman Bathhouse complexes in the North of England.

the natatio or cold plunge bath - centre foreground of the photo is the rectangular drainage ditch for the bath. The entire floor surface is the original and is made of opus signinum a form of Roman cement.

It was this discovery that led to the Councils cash injection and my ensuing employment. Suddenly the dig's life was extended, the entire bathhouse uncovered and the road bypass was ... well ... bypassed!

bathhouse foundations

stone channel to carry water to the baths

pilae stacks - small columns to support the bath floor for underfloor heating

yorkshire evening post coverage

here I'm excavating a chunk of wall plaster that collapsed into the room

far corner of the excavation

clay metalworking kiln I discovered and uncovered

showing how close to the present day surface was some of the archaeology

bathhouse complex photo

complete bathhouse site plan

artists reconstruction of what the bathhouse perhaps looked like

Having had some background in the Visual Arts I found myself being useful for other activities apart from digging. I was trained to use surveying equipment for site planning, I was also involved in site photography, and section and finds drawings for use in later reports. (The following photos are drawings I made back in 1978 for my own report of my experiences and not for the Archaeology Unit.)

carved bone pin

brooch and ring drawings

hypocaust (underground heating) section drawing

roman trumpet brooch

small copy of a large section drawing

diggers adrian tindall and steve wager using a planning frame - this frame was 2 x 1 metres with 10cm gradations in elastic. It was laid over the ground and each 10cm square corresponded to a single square on graph paper. The elastic allowed the squares to 'mould' themselves over objects.

A slow and laborious job was planning. The above site plan drawing is therefore an exact reproduction of every stone in situ of the entire bathhouse complex.

Apart from Castleford, during my 18 months with the unit I also worked on their other more long term excavation: Dalton Parlours, a hill top site comprising Stone Age, Iron Age, Bronze Age, Roman and Saxon settlements superimposed over an acre of farmland about 18kms North East of Leeds.

dalton parlours saxon skeleton

dalton parlours hypocaust

Also on rainy days I spent time cleaning finds and glueing potsherds together, assisting the 'beetle man' separating and classifying insect parts, and in mid winter when the ground was frozen I worked for several months with 16th Century tithe maps from the city archives scouring them for potential archaeological information which could then be transcribed onto modern day constraint maps.

When I finally returned to Australia 2 years after I had left, and re-enrolled in Art College I had me a sack full of experiences!

My time with the West Yorkshire Rescue Archaeology Unit was quite an extraordinary and powerful experience which had a very positive and lasting influence on my early sculpture work.

another year bolder

2011-10-02T21:31:00.001+11:00

bagan birthday ritual

bagan panorama

2011-10-02T13:40:00.015+11:00

*click image twice to get panorama full sized

beaut bagan and brillo b/day

2011-10-02T08:30:00.013+11:00

It was a 6 hour bus ride from Mandalay to Bagan in a comfortable air-conditioned bus. There were only 3 seats across the width of the bus so plenty of room for corpulent Westerners to spread out. Pedro and Claudia were on the same bus along with another couple of lasses who we met in Mandalay, Claire (OZ) and Anna (Canada).

But there was still the ubiquitous karaoke tv and the appalling road to deal with. We seem to be taking the back road to Bagan because surely this cannot be the main Mandalay - Bagan thoroughfare?

bus karaoke

and it was ka ka. (instant coffee, powdered milk and sugar all-in-one)

Once in Bagan Claudia, Pedro and myself hired a pony and trap to take us around several of the guest houses to see what was on offer.

We finally settled on the New Park. They wanted $16 for a single room, but when it looked like I was about to go elsewhere, they suddenly admitted to have 'economy' singles for $10. The room was ok but the bathroom was extremely shabby. I had to move from the first one as the ceiling fan sounded like the incoming choppers on Apocalypse Now. I felt a beheading was imminent.

The second room's fan was quieter - but was jammed on the lowest setting. So I was supplied with some pliers and had to take the knob off the switch and use the pliers to adjust the fan setting. There was also a fight to get hot water.

When they turned on the heating element, it took a full 10 minutes for the hot water to run through the warren of pipes to reach my shower rose. Not so much a rose - rather a skanky thistle that sprayed water in every direction but downwards. I had to stand a metre away from under the shower head in order to get wet.

That evening we celebrated Claire's birthday at a nearby restaurant serving excellent food.

anna, claire, terry, pedro and claudia

The following morning o casal Português and I hired bicycles for the day and set off to explore the fields and temples of Bagan.

Bagan is wonderful. Really really wonderful. One of my absolute favourite places so far in my world travels.

Almost 42 sq kms in size, it is a fertile green plain (at least it is now at the end of the monsoon season) nestled in the crook of the Irriwaddy River. Originally consisting of over 5,000 pagodas this number has been reduced to around 2,200 after a severe earthquake in 1975. The majority of these were built in the 11th century to 13th century.

ananda temple

ananda temple

ananda temple

Whilst out riding we accidentally found ourselves in the grounds of a wonderful expensive looking hotel down on the riverfront. It had a wonderful setting, beautiful gardens and a swimming pool and on an impulse I booked myself in for one night on my birthday eve. The standard room cost $28 including buffet breakfast. (NB: a buffet breakfast to backpackers means a lottery windfall!!)

Pedro and Claudia soon decided they deserved a treat after having been backpacking on the road for the previous 6 months and also booked in for the night.

bagan thande hotel

reception notice board!!

eating outside the hotel as it was too expensive inside

local postcard selling girls

The photographs can't possibly do justice to how incredible the Bagan scenery is. It is the range and scope of the pagodas that is breathtaking. Once you have been inside several there isn't the need to enter more. But all over the plain there are excellent vantage points with which to absorb the splendour that is Bagan.

So I spent my birthday in a fantastic setting with wonderful companions, and later on my birthday afternoon I flew back to Yangon for one night before leaving to return to Sydney.

Trip over!

* click to enlarge

head for the hills

2011-09-27T15:46:00.000+10:00

It was a pleasant afternoon bus ride to Hsipaw heading quickly as we did, into the hills outside of Mandalay. The weather cooled, and the scenery was an interesting distraction from the ever pervading karaoke on the bus tv.

I arrived after sundown and quickly found a cyclo to take me the several blocks to a guest house I had picked out. Hsipaw has only about 3 choices, and one of them I deliberately avoided due to its monopolising (by way of intimidation of other hoteliers) of tourists.

It was a very basic, tiny room with a table fan on a rickety bedside table next to the single bed. There were no en suite bathrooms - in fact there were no inside bathrooms at all. One centralised communal bathroom was downstairs and out the back.

I was the only guest in the hotel. Checking on the supply of hot water for my morning ablutions, they promised me one of the hotel workers would be up at 6.30 am to switch on the hot water.

There was little to do for the rest of the evening except go out on a hunt for food.

The streets were very quiet and I couldn't see any other foreigners, so I walked around the town for a while and I ended up wandering into what looked like a stock standard Chinese restaurant for some veggy noodles. That done it was off to bed.

Hopes for a good nights sleep were dashed when at about 3.30am my table fan vibrated itself off the table and crashed on the floor, breaking off one of the fan blades and making a frightful noise in the process. By the time I tried to fix it, it was close to 4am so I returned to bed sans fan. As I began to drift off the roosters started. I could count three of them having a loud conversation with each other. Just as I thought they'd grown tired the nearby mosque began its morning call to prayer. Then the big trucks began rolling by on the main road outside, and staff members began yelling to each other from opposite ends of the hotel. (The walls are single layer masonite thin). Finally on top of everything else, several pigeons starting shagging outside my window.

Consequently I was up early so I went for another wander around town after breakfast. Little held interest for me so I decided on the spur of the moment to head off to another town called Pyin Oo Lwin and see what that place had to offer.

I was in time to catch the 9am train - more so because it was delayed an hour and a half. It took about 5 hours to get to Pyin Oo Lwin and was a really great train journey.

It passes over the Gokteik Viaduct.

The viaduct was the highest railway box tower and girder type steel trestle when it was built in 1901 and stands 102 metres high.

gokteik viaduct

In Pyin Oo Lwin I found a conventional hotel to stay in - quite luxurious and as I was (one again) their only guest it was quite easy to haggle them down from $15 to $13 for the night. (And this was only because for some inexplicable reason I had set $13 as the maximum I was going to pay for a room!)

My breakfast the next morning was quite amusing as the entire roof terrace was the dining room and they had set up one solitary table for me to have breakfast. It looked both comical and pathetic.

Pyin Oo Lwin was built originally as a British military garrison then a hill station and a place for people to escape the heat of Mandalay in summer. I spent an afternoon and following morning walking around the town, checking out the temples and monasteries, and then by early afternoon I was ready to head back to Mandalay.

pyin oo lwin wild west

It was very quick and easy to find a share taxi for around $8 and the trip only took a couple of hours (as opposed to 5 or more by train)

Back in Mandalay all I had left to do was to hire a motorbike taxi to visit a couple of well known monasteries and temples. The first was the Mahamuni Temple of the gold Buddha. Wandering around the opulently decorated temple and angling to get a good photo of the gold Buddha, an attendant suddenly grabbed my arm. Thinking I had overstepped some sensitive boundary of some sort I went willingly.

But he actually guided me into the inner sanctum and up the stairs beside the Buddha statue. I was presented with several sheets of gold leaf and instructed to apply them to the statue. I was also told to bow my head and touch it to the statue. My over eagerness to oblige led to me getting a small cut to my forehead. A Buddha-bash if you like.

From here my driver took me to the Shwe In Bin Monastery, one of the most revered in Myanmar which has some beautifully carved teak decoration.

tough day at the office

harry, ron and hermione must be nearby

Back again at the guest house I found one of the best reasons for me being in Mandalay: meeting two wonderful Portuguese backpackers Pedro and Claudia. They were both incredibly friendly and delighful company and I feel very lucky to have met them. They invited me to go for ice cream at the oddly named Nylon ice cream parlour a block away from the guest house. (Dangerously close!)

pedro and claudia

One other thing I did while in Mandalay was to drop by the Mandalay School of Art for a sticky beak. I met the school principal and several of the teachers and was graciously given a tour. It was a very small school with few students, and much of the work was fairly conservative and tradition based. But it was nice to meet some of the students and watch them working.

on the road to mandalay

2011-09-23T11:54:00.014+10:00

After 3 days in Inle I caught the night bus to Mandalay.
"Much better than the morning one" says the travel agent.

A pickup from Nyeungschwe to the crossroads cost 700kyats. I arrived an hour early (due to transport departing early in some cases) and then my bus was 90 minutes late. While waiting, several large European style coaches stopped to pick up people so I felt quite encouraged. My bus turned up: a rusting sardine can on 4 dodgy wheels. So this was the good bus. I'm very glad I didn't take the morning one

Once on board I'm sitting by the window, squashed up against the wall. To make things worse, there is a metal cage thingy screwed to the wall to hold 2 water bottles and this is digging into my knee. Then the local karaoke music starts loudly on the bus tv. Then the aircon blasts icy air right down the back of my neck whilst the driver leaves the bus doors wide open to add some dust to the atmosphere.

So while I develop leg cramps, backache and an icy neck the man across the aisle from me begins throwing up out of his window. Meanwhile the local next to me falls asleep and uses me as a pillow. Then his bony knee presses against my other knee (the only part of my body NOT suffering discomfort at that point). The dirt road I should add is a shocker, full of potholes, fiendishly busy and the air on the bus is full of diesel fumes and dust.

Then the bus breaks down.

At least I get a chance to get off and stretch my legs.

We get going again eventually and then shortly after 2 guys across the aisle leave so I spring over my sleeping neighbour like a startled gazelle and grab both seats. I keep these for the remaining 5 hours and this makes the rest of the 8 hour journey bearable.

Arriving at a Mandalay bus station 11 kms out of town I was lucky to run into a tout for the Royal Guest House which I was planning to book into, who organised me a share taxi for 3,000k. I arrive at the guest house at about 5am and I am allowed to stay in the aircon reception until there is a room available for me about 8am-ish.

My first room was on the ground floor. My single price was $13 A/C and fans. I got a very large room with three beds. I was also bitten quite a lot by something - not mozzies or bedbugs (as these leave a nasty bite on me), but something less severe and there were a lot of them and I don't know exactly what they were. (My second night I moved up a floor and had no further problems).

Mandalay was very hot and very big. I tried walking around the palace, and gave up halfway. Each side of the palace grounds extends for 2 kms. Too hot and too tired.

mandalay palace moat

back street temple

After a small siesta, I met Stephan a young German backpacker at the guest house and we decided to head off in the afternoon by pick-up to one of Mandalays biggest attractions - the U Bein Bridge in Amarapura, once the capital of Myanmar. U Bein Bridge is a 1.2 km wooden footbridge and the longest teak bridge in the world. It was built by the mayor U Bein from the unwanted teak columns removed from the old Amarapura palace during the move of the capital to Mandalay.

Just before sunset we hired a small boat to get a closer look at the bridge.

I hired a motorbike taxi to the wharf my second day and a 5,000k boat to Mingun. The boat needs a minimum of 4 people to operate. It Was looking dicey for a while. (I'm telling you - there was hardly any foreigners in the country!!) But finally there were 5 of us so we set off at 9am.

mandalay wharf scene

Mingun is about an hour up the Ayeyarwaddy river and is an enormous incomplete temple started in 1790 by King Bodawpaya and left unfinished because an astrologer predicted that if the temple was completed the king would die. Nearby is the Myatheindan Pagoda or white temple built by the grandson of King Bodawpaya.

Mingun is an easy half day trip from Mandalay - the boat which took us there takes us back at 1pm and the downstream trip takes 45 minutes to get back.

on the way to mingun

lunch at my favourite mandalay local

The following morning I decide to head up into the hills north east of Mandalay to a town called Hsipaw.

inle outlay

2011-09-20T14:08:00.000+10:00

The train rolled into the station town of Schwenyaung which is around 14kms from Nyaungschwe (you may have noticed a little Tokyo/Kyoto thing happening there) in the late afternoon.

At Schwenyaung there was no transport waiting. And no other foreigners on the train for me to share taxi costs with. And no taxi in sight. As I walked away from the station an unmarked car pulled up asking if I needed a taxi.

"Meter?" I enquired. No - "How much to Nyeungschwe?" 6,000. Hmm... 4,000 I offered. No. 6,000. So I walked away. 2 minutes later he drew up alongside and said 5,000 so I hopped in - I was busting for a loo and couldn't be buggered haggling further.

He was a bit of a mad bastard and drove like Michael Schumacher. First he almost ran down a dog, then an old woman, then a cow and then just before we arrived at Nyeungschwe gate he managed to run over a rooster. I swivelled round to see a mass of feathers fly up from behind the car. He chuckled somewhat and sped on.

He completely missed the $5 entry fee collector that you must stop for by the entry gate. The poor fellow arrived puffing at my hotel reception by bicycle 5 minutes later waving his receipt book.

I had a terrific stay at the Remember Inn. A $10 room, own bath with H/W, ceiling fan, excellent breakfast (thick banana pancakes were on offer) A humongous bed you could play a football match on. I was greeted at reception with a cup of tea and some bananas which was a nice gesture. Later when people asked where I was staying I had trouble recalling the hotels name.

The place was deserted (in terms of tourists) but luckily that evening I met two French backpackers Philippe and Baptiste and we agreed to share costs for a boat ride the next morning.

Philippe and Baptiste

There are two boat tours on Inle - a shorter and a longer one. The longer one includes a visit to Indein. We took the latter. It cost 15,000 for the boat.

We set off just after 8am and walked down to the harbour.

Inle lake is very big.

inle fishermens unique way of paddling with their feet

Across the lake we motored for quite a distance and our first stop was a local marketplace.

After a stop for lunch at a lovely waterside restaurant (and waiting for the sudden downpour to stop) we then headed down a canal to Indein (or Inthein as it is sometimes called).

There is a temple here that is surrounded by many small stupas that range from freshly built'n'gilt to old and crumbling ruins. When we were there off season grasses and bushes had taken hold and filled a lot of the pathways. We heard that the following day there were literally hundreds of people at this site with machetes clearing the entire site of vegetation, ready I imagine for the tourist peak season which was to begin about 10 days later.

There are several villages that make their home on the lake. People must spend their whole lives on and in the water here. Even the agriculture has adapted to this aquatic environment. We saw many many rows of floating tomato beds, and at one point were able to climb out of our boat and stand on one. It was the strangest feeling - like walking on a grassy water bed!

floating tomato beds

Lastly we went to visit a woman who makes the local version of the cigar or cheroot as it is often referred to as here in Myanmar. We went into her home and sat and had tea whilst she deftly made around 15-20 cigars. Her children were as interested in us as we were in the production of cheroots.

elaborate gold house decoration

children adapt quickly to life on water

We returned to the harbour around 5pm and considering we spent a good deal of time sitting in a boat being motored around, it was quite a tiring day.

inle boats

a shocking rocking railway day

2011-09-18T15:50:00.001+10:00

The train to Thazi left at 6am. I needed to be at the station by 05.30 so I caught a taxi. Even at this early hour the streets of Yangon were bustling with activity.

Thazi is a tiny town/village almost 3/4 the way from Yangon to Mandalay. It is a major rail intersection and I needed to get there to catch the 'slow train to Inle' which had a certain romantic ring to it! The only viable way of getting to Thazi was the train from Yangon.

The seats were very comfortable on the train when I boarded, wide and reclinable. The track however was from the fourth circle of Hell!!

It took 13 hours to Thazi and much of it was like being astride an epileptic race horse on a roller coaster track. I can't quite describe how violent the jumping of the train carriage was when the train got up to speed. It was incredible that the carriages managed to stay on the tracks. At one stage I needed to use the loo - but it was not only putrid inside, the rocking from side to side would have made squatting over the seat like trying to take a dump on a pogo stick. I gritted my teeth and held on!

I was VERY happy to get to my destination.

Someone recommended a guest house in Thazi. I found it easily enough (and I don't remember it's exact name) but I didn't stay there as they had no hot water and wanted $8 for a single room which I swear was originally the space under the staircase.

There was another place a couple of doors up (perhaps there being only two guest houses in town?) which did have hot water and my basic room was $7. The owners son also kindly gave me a lift on his scooter to a restaurant at the other end of the main street for dinner. I've heard Thazi referred to as a transit town which seems fair enough, and I couldn't see enough of it to make a real judgment. As it was I had to be up and back at the station by 04.30 the next morning for the slow train.

This next train took just over 11 hours, cost $7 and is a fraction of the distance to the previous ride. But it was really pleasant. It travels up into the mountains with several switchbacks, goes v-e-r-y slowly and therefore sways gently and stops a fair few times for 20 - 30 minutes - enough to get out, stretch the legs and buy some food if needed. The scenery is also very nice, the air cooler and I really enjoyed it.

One thing that struck me (or nearly struck me as it turns out) is the 'jungle' or vegetation either side of the train track which grows right up to the window edge of the train. It can be quite hazardous resting even your elbow outside the window lest it be thwacked by some razor grass or a thorny bush. On one of my train rides my open window was acting like hedge shears and I was slowly being covered by hedge clippings where I sat.

yangon to thazi train

thazi to inle train

look closely: this is 'upper class' (ordinary class, 1st class then upper class)

burma brolly

2011-09-16T14:21:00.002+10:00

There is always a slight feeling of apprehension whenever I'm flying to somewhere new, despite the number of trips I've made and places I've been to. And this feeling accompanied me as I touched down at Yangon International Airport.

A car from my hotel was there to meet me, included in the $13 hotel charge. (All dollars mentioned in these posts refer to US dollars as that is the currency favoured in Myanmar)

As we drove for almost an hour from the airport to downtown Yangon; the heat and humidity, petrol fumes and local smells, the noise and the squalor all combined to put me at ease and relax. I was back on familiar territory.

The Ocean Pearl Hotel was a typically inexpensive lodging that I was used to. Where it ranks in the hotel 'star'system I have no idea as I have no experience with normal hotels to make a comparison to. It had all the trappings I guess of a regular hotel but everything is slightly worn, run-down, or not quite finished. Tiles are often cracked, wood veneer is peeling, alterations have been made everywhere without much effort to conceal the original state. Things often don't work quite as well as they should, meals are often a poor imitation of what they are meant to be, and sometimes, as in this case, bedroom windows are purely an architectural folly as they face directly onto a solid brick wall just centimetres from the glass.

But it was comfortable and cheap.

I checked in, and as it was getting late I changed $5 at the reception into kyats (pronounced 'chiats') having an inkling the rate was not going to be great there. I planned to change a larger sum at the central market where I heard the best money changers are.

Myanmar has a strange fiscal situation whereby the black market money system is the country's standard exchange procedure. Most other places that operate a black market economy often give a few percent higher rate than the banks as the locals are desperate to collect (usually) U.S. dollars.

But in Myanmar, the official banks rate for the kyat is 6.41 to the dollar. In the market the current rate was 800 to the dollar. If you were so unwise to change your money at the bank then something as simple as an ice cream would cost you $125.

My hotel gave me 750 to the dollar, so with my 3,750 kyats I headed out to find dinner.

Two blocks up the road I stopped at a local street restaurant with a small crowd of locals eating outside (always a good sign) and using a small note written by my hotel reception in the local language proclaiming my vegetarianism, I ordered vegetables and rice and a local lemonade.

first meal

It tasted a lot better than it might look. With these meals you always got for no extra cost a small clear soup (in this case garlic, ginger and chile and extremely tasty) and a small dish of spiced veggies: sometimes raw sliced onion with sweet chili sauce, other times a little coleslaw.

It all cost 2,500 (about $3.30) which seemed reasonable. Later experience told me it was a bit pricier than normal. Usually I received the same for around 1,500 - 2,000k.

The following morning I decided to walk the few kilometres to Yangons main attraction: Schwedagon Pagoda.

yangon house

entrance to schwedagon temple

It was already getting quite hot with very high humidity. I am here at the tail end of the monsoon season which has been exacerbated by a typhoon in Bangladesh which is dumping more rain than usual in southern Myanmar.

I am quite overawed by Schwedagon.

A temple 'Disneyland' that threatens to topple into garish kitsch but never quite gets there. Possibly the absolute sincerity of the worship there will prevent that from ever happening. The gold decoration, ornate filigree details and masses of delicate spires with tinkling bells on their tips, the white marble tiles, the monks in their dark purple red robes all create a visual cacophony which can at first be a little unsettling.

Whilst spending a few hours here it started to pour. And pour. And pour. In that particularly wet and heavy way rain does in monsoon areas.

So I did a thing I have never done in all my years of backpacking around the world.

I bought an umbrella!

After a late lunch at a local eatery I headed back by taxi to the hotel. I needed to change as I was wet - mainly from sweating in the high humidity. Later as it started to get dark and the rain had eased I wandered down to the river for a walk to look at some of the local scenery. I found myself at the Botataung Pagoda and quickly snapped a poor quality photo in the dark, trying not to get my camera wet. it gives an idea of how beautiful these pagodas look lit up at night.

botataung pagoda at night

The following day, in between the showers, I wandered the streets of Yangon to try and get a feel of the place.

yangon hospital

street market

trains

tough conditions

local tradies

The humidity was appallingly high - a few of my photos didn't come out as the lens kept fogging.

I found myself at one stage down by Schwedagons lesser brother - the Sule Pagoda.

sule pagoda

sule pagoda

tree shrine

With so much rain I decided the next morning to cut short Yangon by a day and head north to Lake Inle where I hoped the Bangladesh typhoons wet fingers could not grasp that far.

briefly bangkok

2011-09-13T17:36:00.007+10:00

My flight into Bangkok meant I had to stay overnight for my trip to Myanmar.

So I found a cheap hotel near the airport that would pick me up from the arrivals level. Simple and clean and easy to book over the internet.

I arrived quite late in the evening, but as Air Asia had previously cancelled the next days morning flight to Yangon (formerly Rangoon) and put me on an afternoon one, I slept in and had a few hours to kill before I had to head back to Suvanavvusinabusinabhumirumitumi airport (well I can't remember..it's one of the tricky ones like Antananarivo.)

Fortunately there appeared to be a temple complex across the small river than ran behind the hotel. This gave me something to do for a couple of hours.

temple

another temple

yet another temple

one more temple

here's one I prepared earlier

spectacled statue

skeletal statue

infinite buddha

gold leaf statue

handrails to snag a cardie on

big buddha

2 statues - I had sunburn like this as a kid

* for those who notice such things - internet access in Myanmar was almost non-existent, so now that I'm home I am backdating posts to around the time they happened.

move along...nothing to see...

2011-03-08T15:52:00.004+11:00

I haven't added to the blog in a while as there has been nothing worth blogging!

Haven't had the opportunity to go anywhere.

But on Thursday night a friend forgot an important piece of equipment he needed to take with him to Noosa on the Sunshine Coast and it turned out it was cheaper (and quicker) for me to fly up with it than to procure the services of a courier company.

And as another friend recently remarked to me "You're a travel-whore" - anyone who waves a free air ticket in front of me - I'm off! So I had an unexpected and enjoyable long weekend away in Noosa.

I now have several friends living in that area, so there was plenty to do, despite the generally poor weather. ("Sunshine Coast??? Really??")

I stayed at a friends in Noosaville and on the Monday I borrowed a bicycle and rode around Noosa. I then headed around the Spit reserve and as the weather suddenly turned hot and the sun appeared sporadically, I found a quiet spot and took a secluded swim (as I'd forgotten my budgie-smugglers in Sydney).

I also went to visit another couple of friends who have just made a "tree-change" from Brisbane to the outskirts of Cooroy, which is about 30km west of Noosa. They have a sprawling house on top of a hill with 5 acres, pool and dam, chickens, fruit trees and chooks. The view from their place was terrific - undulating grassy hills, small green mountains in the distance and the nearest neighbours' tin roofs barely visible in the distance. It is the sort of place I'd be more than happy to settle down in.

All in all a nice quick little getaway.

panorama from noosa spit - the 'stitch' programme doesn't like waves and fast moving clouds so it's a bit of a bad job!

meandering melbourne

2010-11-20T14:02:00.009+11:00

My brief visit to Melbourne is over and I have to say that I really liked the place. I was fortunate to have had mostly great weather which always casts a good light on any city.

But I was pleasantly surprised at the amount of green space I found in my wandering, and also at the general friendliness of the people. It made me realise we Sydneysiders are not a particularly friendly mob to each other or to strangers.

As per usual, my flights did not go smoothly - silly me naively thinking they would.

Boarding my Jetstar flight at Sydney went without a hitch, but then we had to sit an inordinate amount of time waiting to taxi out onto the runway.

An announcement informed us that our cabin crew was arriving on another flight which had been delayed. "But they are now on board and we are ready to depart." reported the Captain.

Then I noticed a passenger get up from her seat with her bag and head to the front of the plane.

Again, we sat sitting...waiting.

Eventually - "Sorry for the delay, but a passenger decided to leave the aircraft and we have had to wait for the airbridge to connect back to the plane. We will be underway shortly." ('Why did she leave? What does she know?? Did she have a premoniton about the flight???')

Another minute passed with quite a long line of its companions.

A further announcement:

"We apologise for the delay but the airbridge has become stuck and we are now waiting for the engineers to come and remove it from the aircraft."

But finally, about an hour late, we took off and arrived safely at Tullermarine on the outskirts of Melbourne city.

I found a basic hostel in St. Kilda which suited my price and purpose, dumped my bags and went for a wander to get my bearings.

the oslo hotel (web photo:www.walkingmelbourne.com)

the Oslo as it was in 1872
(web photo:www.walkingmelbourne.com)

I didn't know anything about St.Kilda - but a website I've just come across has this to say:

"St Kilda is a remarkable place. It is situated on one of the most picturesque points of the Bay a short distance from the city, has safe sandy beaches, and yet for decades was shunned by Melbournites because it was the haunt of prostitutes and druggies."

So it's a lot like the place I live in here in Sydney!

Interestingly, there was never a 'St.Kilda' The name derived from a ship 'The Lady of St.Kilda' that was moored along the foreshore of the village of Fareham, by which the suburb was formerly known. The ship in turn was named after an archipelago in the Scottish Hebrides, from the Viking word "skildar" which means shield, and of which it is said the islands resembled.

However I found it a charming place, with many grand old houses, tree lined streets and some wonderful cake shops and cafes on Acland Street. St.Kilda also has its own Luna Park, and a delighful Botanic Gardens.

In the early afternoon I met up with me ol' china Scottwoz, over from Cambodia, for a long natter and catch-up. Later we had dinner and listened to some live bands at the Espy down near the St.Kilda beach on the Esplanade.

espy rock chick

The following day I walked into town, meandered around the National Gallery of Victoria, dropped into some independent galleries along Flinders Lane, and generally basked in the beautiful sunny day and friendliness of the locals. By the time I had walked home at the end of the day, then walked around St.Kilda in the evening a bit more looking for groceries, I've worked out I had covered about 18kms. That night my legs told me it seemed a lot more!

My third day I was able to catch up with my old friend Fols whom I don't see enough of. We go way back to the late '70's where we were at Art School together. She moved to Melbourne many years ago and this was the first time I'd managed to visit her on her own turf.

We had an enjoyable and relaxed day (despite it turning wet and cold overnight) checking out some contemporary art at The Ian Potter Gallery; a great Bill Viola Video work called 'The Raft' at the Australian Centre of the Moving Image, and coffee at the landmark Pellegrini's Cafe at 66 Bourke St (which was redolent in atmosphere of Bar Italia in Soho, London - another coffee institution serving espresso when most other English cafes were still serving instant coffee.)

the raft - bill viola
(web image:designsonfragility.wordpress.com)

pellegrini's

In the evening, back in my hostel, I sat around with some randoms at the hostel - a favourite pastime of mine, and one of the reasons I still enjoy hostelling instead of the frigid formality of hotel environments. Many of the young'uns I met were here for a years working holiday, most appearing to have made Melbourne their arrival destination, with plans to then head East and then North up to Cairns.

I left to come home the following day, flying for the first time with Tiger Airways. They have a shed out the back of Melbourne airport and a Flight Schedule board that simply lies to everyone.

Waiting for my flight well past the departure time, the board continually informed me my flight was now boarding when it was quite obvious, due to the explosion of bodies lolling around the very much closed Gate, that the plane was not about to go anywhere. It was quite possible it had not even arrived.

After flashing "Final Boarding" for a while it then announced "Now Closed."
Several nervous people (myself included) approached an airport official who blithely told us not to pay any attention to the board ( it was obviously an attention seeker) but instead listen to the announcements.

Now let me say here that I feel that although I might not have perfect hearing, it is still adequate enough to serve me in most real life situations. Thus - the following is as accurate a representation of a Tiger Airways announcement:

"Would argle bargle bappenraps Tiger dabro woadle Sydblee barble darger boola and woaler woodle tuba to the bordle or da farso lah ti doh."

But eventually the gate opened, we boarded and took off. And only 50 minutes late.

Quite good really.

melbourne collage

airportcontainer cafe

oslo next door neighbour

curious headless woman

digital supermarket labels

virgin flight

2010-11-02T12:13:00.009+11:00

I'm off to Melbourne in a couple of weeks. I haven't been down there since the 1980's. Not that I have anything against that fair city but there has not really been a good enough reason to go.

But I've recently rediscovered an old friend who lives there, and a new friend is flying in from Cambodia - so it seemed like a perfectly good reason to make the trip. (And who can resist a $49 airfare anyway??)

Consequently, it has reminded me of the very first trip where I flew in an aeroplane!

It was April 1977 and I had finished my first half semester at art school. My flatmate at that time was doing the same visual arts course; we had gone to the same high school together and both worked part-time at the Old Spaghetti Factory in the rocks. (More tales about that notorious establishment later...)

We booked a one way flight to Melbourne, which if I remember correctly, was $45. Considered a good (student) deal even then.

As a dirt poor art student this was the first of a lifetime of budget trips.

Our first destination was to meet up with a school mate who had joined the RAAF and was stationed in Melbourne. My memory tells me he was based near Laverton airport, which I think in the '70's was military only. (But I'm willing to be corrected as my memory is shot at the best of times). I only say this because I recall it was a bit of a train trip from the city centre to get there. the railway station was called, appropriately, "Aircraft".

We managed to catch up with him briefly but his work restrictions meant we couldn't stay. As it was getting late by that time we ended up sleeping under a motorway bridge. (First night!)

accomodation underpass [image:googlemaps]

The next day we wandered into central Melbourne and stowed out luggage in Flinders St. station lockers.

flinder st station [image:web]

This freed us up to roam the city, take in the National Gallery of Victoria and various other sites of interest. Early in the evening we were waylaid by a happy troup of young folk who invited us to dine with them free of charge. We gladly accepted this unbounded hospitality to later find out they were acolytes of the 'Children of God' (aka 'The Family of Love' and later just 'The Family')

do the hippy hippy shake... [image:web]

Beating a hasty heathen retreat (after a good feed of course) we returned to Flinders St station for our bags to find it completely locked up for the night.

So, sans sleeping bags, we headed down to the Sydney Myer Music Bowl (an outdoor music/entertainment venue in the Kings Domain) and curled up on the under cover but outdoors seats to spend the night. It was April and in Melbourne it gets quite cold by that time of year. I remembered reading that homeless people keep themselves warm using newspaper. Only having half the facts, and failing to realise that the bums stuff the newspapers INSIDE their clothes, I spent most of the night chasing after my newspaper 'blankets' whenever the wind whipped them up and off into the darkness. (Second night.)

sydney myer music bowl [image:web]

The following day we continued out explorations of the city, buying bread and cheese in the supermarket for lunch, and then went off to spend the night at the Salvation Army's People's Palace, a refuge for those in need! My travel mate's father was a high ranking Sally official so we had connections! (Third night)

Having had our fill of the city we then headed north to Montsalvat, an artist's colony in Eltham. Begun in 1935, the collections of buildings were erected often with recycled building materials from city developments. Consequently it has become a melange of oddly incongruous architectural styles, vaguely Medieval and/or parochially rustic. Still - very charming and still worth a visit.

montsalvat great hall [image:web]

We spent the entire day there and then as evening fell we once again found ourselves without accommodation. So armed with our trusted sleeping bags, we heading into the fields and woods around Montsalvat and found a quiet spot under a large Eucalypt to spend the night. This was particularly memorable for me as it was the first time I had encountered the truly unholy howling moan of the common brushtail possum. Sort of cat-in-a-blender screech with some hissing and moaning thrown in for good measure.

spawn of satan [image:web]

Lying exposed to the elements in the utter darkness of night it was a fearful sound. I was fortunate that my travel companion knew what it was. So I gave it a bloody loud "SHOO!" As a result, for a good hour afterwards the damned fiend dropped bits of broken twig down upon us. (Fourth night.)

The following day we headed to the railway station to catch the train to Wagga Wagga where we had intended freeloading off an old friend there. Leaving my putrid backpack full of unwashed clothes and half eaten packets of biscuits on the station platform for 5 minutes whilst I bought our tickets, I returned to find some miserable sod had stolen it.

Thoroughly disheartened we exchanged our tickets for some going back to Sydney and spent the next night sleeping sitting up on the train. (Fifth night.)

Once safely back home, I thought I'd had a bloody brilliant holiday!

bula birthday

2010-10-19T16:01:00.009+11:00

my fiji route

For those of you still guessing....... yes, I DID get away again for my birthday.

It was very last minute.

Do you know that little glow of pleasure you get when you discover $20 you had forgotten all about in a jacket pocket? Well imagine it wasn't $20 but $550. That's what happened to me three of weeks ago. I had squirreled it away more than 18 months ago (I often keep a wad of cash at home for daily & weekly living expenses to save me constantly going to an auto-teller.) It was around the time I had to get ready to move from my old flat. With all the ensuing turmoil of the move it stayed hidden and forgotten all this time to emerge just before my birthday.

Great present eh?

So my original plan was to use my 'back-up' idea for a birthday celebration if I wasn't able to afford an overseas trip - and that was to skydive. Always wanted to but never got around to it. Once I actually got to the airfield, had practiced the rolling landing, but at the last minute the weather turned and we couldn't take the plane up. So I looked into doing it this year.

It was quite expensive to do it as I wanted to jump on my actual birthday - which was a Saturday this year. Weekends are pricier. But the predicted weather forecast was dour so I thought about other options. One was to fly up to see a mates new home out the back of Noosa in South Queensland.

That got me to the Jetstar website.

Then it was too late. Whilst browsing I saw an excellent fare for Fiji and it was booked before I realised what I was doing!

To get the cheap fare meant I had to leave on the Saturday and return the following Saturday. Even a day more, or a day less pushed the fare up by 50%.

Now Fiji has never been a 'must see' destination for me, being very much a resort island; hotels, swimming pools and Pina Coladas. But I was certain there had to be more to it than just that.

So I flew into Nadi on the West side of the main island and straight away caught a local bus from the airport to a small town to the north called Lautoka. Once here I changed to another bus which took me to the very north of the island to a town called Rakiraki. Here I hopped into a taxi for a short ride to Volivoli, a great little 'resort' on the northern most tip of the island.

on my volivoli verandah

volivoli beach

donning dive gear

dive boat

I spent two night here and went diving in the interim. Really clear water and some of the best coral I've yet seen. And came face to face with my first shark. (Well first REAL shark - the guitar shark in Zanzibar was more a haddock in shark drag) I think it was a white tipped reef shark that was at least err ...12 metres long...

Fortunately, by the time my brain registered what it was it had swum on away from me disappearing into the distance.

Leaving Volivoli I caught another bus which took me down the Eastern side of the island, hugging the coast and at times venturing up into the highlands. It afforded me the opportunity to see a lot of the landscape. Several hours later I arrived in Suva, the capital, where I spent 2 nights.

Normally I am not a fan of capital cities, but there was something really nice about Suva. I suspect it has a lot to do with the Fijians. And the relaxed casualness about the place. Small, clean and comfortable. I saw almost no tourists there, and was not hassled by anyone even once.

The day after I arrived I took a local bus up into the hills north of Suva to a National Park, the Colo-I-Suva rainforest park. I spent about 5 relaxing hours wandering through the forest listening to the birds, occasionally getting rained on (well... it IS a rainforest) and searching out many of the small but attractive waterfalls.

in the rainforest

rainforest

rainforest

The rest of my time in Suva was spent wandering around the town, counting the mongooses (mongeese? mongi??) visiting the National museum and shopping for groceries. (I was making all of my own meals on this trip to keep costs down.)

Leaving Suva I caught another bus 3/4 the way along the south coast (called the Coral Coast) to a small resort near Sigitoka called Tubakula. I spent two nights here and the middle day I took a trip up the Sigitoka River into the highlands where I stopped in a small village to join in a kava ceremony; hopped on a bilibili (bamboo raft) to go up the river, and explored a small cave system.

tubakula beach

my hidden accommodation in tubakula

view from my bungalow, tubakula

kava ceremony

sigitoka river

sigitoka river

cave entrance

cave interior

cave formation

Leaving Tubakula it was only a brief bus ride to Nadi, where I arrived early afternoon on the day before I was to fly out.

Now Nadi is a bit of a flea pit I have to say. I would recommend to anyone planning on going to Fiji not to waste any time there. There are a hundred places within 2 or 3 hours bus ride from the airport to stay that are far more beautiful that it really doesn't matter what time you fly in, you would have time to get to somewhere else!

As it was I had the entire afternoon and evening to kill here as well as the next morning.

It is some indication of my feelings about Nadi that I chose to head to the airport at 10am for a 3pm flight rather than hang around Nadi.

My overall impression? The Fijians (or rather the Fijian-Fijians as opposed to the Indo-Fijians) were what really made the trip for me. I think I have to say, with 67 countries under my belt, that they were the most genuinely friendly people I have ever met anywhere. And (not wishing to get bogged down in the politics) the Indo-Fijians could take some valuable lessons from them...

sexy x.e.

2010-09-21T19:37:00.007+10:00

I know I'm biased - but if you needed any further incentive to pack your bags and go and see some of the world take a quick look at these three graphs I've lifted off xe.com (I heart xe).

They show the fluctuations in the exchange rates over the last 2 years.
(NB the 'low' and 'high' rates.)

In the case of the US dollar you can now get 50% more US dollars for the same amount of Aussie dollars as you could almost exactly 2 years ago. (ie for $100 AUS in Oct 2008 you would get $60 US. Today that same AU$100 would get you US$94)

*click for larger image.

AUS$ - US$

AUS$ - EURO

AUS$ - UK POUND

Strike while the iron is hot!! They are already talking about how the Aussie dollar is over valued.

(***sorry this post is aimed at us Aussies!!! For you outlanders I'm afraid we've become a little more expensive!)

armchair travel

2010-06-14T11:29:00.005+10:00

I thought I would share one of the 'Wonders of the Web' with you. It is easy to forget how utterly amazing the internet can be, and then you come across a site like this.

For those of you unable to get (yet) to Italy, follow the link for a close encounter with one of the finest frescoes in the world - without the crowds.

Sistine Chapel Ceiling

(Then get off your bums and go and see the real thing!!)

eternal inspiration

2010-04-24T21:17:00.007+10:00

One of the most inspiring people I have met in regards travelling was a little old lady who's name I don't even know.

It was 1986 and I was early in the Bicycle Europe trip and found myself in Fort William in Scotland. This is the town closest to the UK's highest mountain Ben Nevis.

A modest 1,344 metres in height, it is a 3 - 4 hour climb from sea level to the summit of what the locals refer to as "The Ben". Although not very high, even in June there was still a fair amount of snow remaining scattered around the top.

About 10 minutes from the top I passed an elderly woman on her way up wearing a daypack and carrying a hiking pole. Surprised, I gauged her age to be around 70-75. (More likely closer to the latter.)

When she arrived at where we were standing, she surveyed the splendid scene of the Scottish Highlands laid out at our feet and said:

"I'm SO glad it clear and sunny today - it was so cloudy last week you couldn't see a thing."

Slightly shocked I inquired as to her plans on descent to which she replies:

"I'm hitch-hiking to John O'Groats."

Come hell or high water I am determined to be just like that LOL (Little Old Lady) in my advancing years and hope to be buried with my hiking poles.

firth of forth bridge (you dont want a mouth full of yoghurt when you say it)

en route to the ben

a loch unlocking

summer snow patches

view from near the summit

paul and neal (a canadian cyclist we met on the road who joined us for 3 weeks)at the top

view down to loch eil from the summit

descent

ben nevis from the web as i neglected to take my own photo!!

doggybiscuit kisses

2010-04-15T16:43:00.010+10:00

May 1990
It's no secret that for many years up until my trip across Tibet usurped its position, Turkey had long been my favourite travel experience. And I say 'experience' rather than 'country' or 'trip' as it best sums up how I feel about the place. Turkey provided me with the most extraordinarily diverse experiences I think I have ever had on one trip. Not alway good experiences mind you, but worthwhile nonetheless.

Doggybiscuit is the name a chance travel companion and I nicknamed a small town at the far Eastern edge of Turkey called Doğubeyazıt.

It sits close to the point where Turkey, Iran and Armenia meet and is a convenient destination if you are headed north to Yerevan, or Tehran to the south-east. If you heard the name Doğubeyazıt pronounced correctly you would understand the derivation of our moniker.

I was heading there from Mt Nemrut, a little to the west, where I had been to see the giant statues at the summit.

village on road to Nemrut summit

mt nemrut

me for scale

I had crossed Lake Van, meandered around the Rock Of Van (which, if you know your history has inscriptions dating back to 1300BC), searched Van vainly for a cat (any local cat would have sufficed). And then caught a mini bus north eastwards across the most wonderful landscape imaginable.

Desert, lava fields looking like meadows of shiny black toffee, eroded river beds that resembled a mini Grand Canyon, and whirling dust. As we approached Doğubeyazıt at sunset across the plains that skirted several extinct volcanoes, a lightning storm lit up the sky.

The reason I was out this far East was to get a glimpse of the fabled Mount Ararat - that of the supposed last resting place of Noah's Ark. (Also I was harbouring a secret desire that I might find an Ark perched on Ararat in a Snowdome at some market stall somewhere. But that particular pleasure was denied me.)

I checked into my (cheap) hotel and met the very affable owner and his wife. The owner was a stereotypical, slighly rotund middle aged Turkish man who wouldn't have looked out of place wearing a fez. (But of course the fez was banned in Turkey in the 1920's as part of the country's modernisation process). Like most of the Turkish men I interacted with, he was very keen to practice his English.

This can become wearisome at times, especially if it occurs regularly on an hourly and daily basis. But I was feeling relaxed and unpestered so I gave generously of my time. Besides - it helps pay back some of the incredible generosity given by perfect strangers whilst travelling the world.

And so the conversation (usually) goes: "Hello. How are you? Where are you from? What is your name? How old are you? Are you married? What is your job? Are you on holidays? And this one strayed little from the formula. But once past the usual phrases it became a little more difficult. But knowing some Turkish by that stage I was able to tease out more conversation.

Then at one stage he asked me "Can....I....?" and then raised an eyebrow to check if he had chosen a correct word.
"Yes..can I" I repeated reassuringly.
"Uhh..Can I..'av?"
"Yes...that is correct..Can I have..."
"Oh.. yes..uhh..can I 'av..uhh... a keez?"
"I'm sorry!!?
"Can I 'av a keez?"
And just to reinforce his request he puckered up and made kissing noises.
"Well, I don't think so."

The following morning I took a stroll 5km or so out of town and up one of the many hills surrounding Doggybiscuit. The dirt road wound its way through some large open fields on the way up to the ruins of a 17th Century Ottoman palace called İşak Paşa Sarayı.

Halfway along I stopped to take some photos of Mt Ararat as the view was particularly good. But no sooner had I swung my camera up to my eyes than out of nowhere a soldier came running, waving his rifle and gesticulating wildly that photos were forbidden. It was then that I began to be aware that in the fields on either side of the road were in fact an abundance of military vehicles under camouflage netting.

So I hastened on up the hillside to the palace.

On the way back down several hours later I was very careful not to take out my camera. But as I walked, suddenly on the other side of the road to my last confrontation, yet another soldier came walking across the fields calling out "Hey..Johnny..." and beckoning me over to the fence.

As my name was not Johnny I prudently kept walking.
"Hey Johnny..Johnny..come here."
He became quite insistent. And one thing I have learned in my years of worldly travel is that it is not wise to ignore a man with a gun.

So I slowly edged my way closer to the fence. Fortunately there was a kind of culvert between the road and the fence which provided me with a practical barrier from the soldier in question.

By this time he was right at the fence. He had one hand hidden suspiciously behind his back.

"Hello Johnny. Where you from?"
"Uhhh..Australia."
"Oh that is good. I like Australia. Here.. for you."

And with that he lobbed from behind his back a large bunch of wildflowers tied together with reed which he must have spent a good part of the day picking while on sentry duty.

So what was I to do?

I took them back with me and gave them to the hotel owner.

işak paşa sarayı

around işak paşa

back of the palace

palace doorway

distant doğubeyazıt

behind the palace

rambling, rocks and rodents

2010-03-25T10:54:00.008+11:00

In the 1980's I was quite active in a bushwalking club.

We walked mostly within NSW but occasionally ventured further afield.

Below are a few more slide scans from a 6 day walk through the Snowy Mountains between Boxing Day and New Years Eve 1985. Most of this walk was off-track, using topographic maps of the area and compass navigation.

One of the things that was memorable about this particular walk was my encounter with bush rats.

It was our first nights camp and the weather had closed in so that it looked as if rain or even snow, was inevitable. As we were close to the popular public areas of the National Park, there was a conveniently located hut nearby which offered shelter from the elements.

It comprised of basically an open plan shed containing a number of bunk beds without mattresses, and a simple fuel stove. There were two small hiking groups sharing the facilities that night so beds were in short supply. I was there with my mate Paul and we generously offered to put our sleeping bags on the floor and sleep there. After all, this really was no different to being in a tent.

After lights out it wasn't long before we could all hear the scrabbling and scratching of rats in the hut. They had found the rubbish and were busily tearing into the old foil packs and other scraps. One of them must have found a piece of rubbish that had formed a natural megaphone because the noise it started making was extremely LOUD!

But most people, comfortably off the floor, appeared to ignore the noise and according to the snores,proceeded to fall asleep. I, on the other hand, lay there eyes wide open playing scenes from Willard over in my head.

After half an hour or so (which in the dark with rats seemed like 3 or 4 hours) I started to feel sleepy and was ready to drift off.

Suddenly I felt a heavy object scurry across my sleeping bag at knee level.

I sat bolt upright and grabbed my torch. It's beam searched the floor until in the distance I could see several bush rats staring at my torchlight, their eyes glittering like luminescent pearly discs.

Now fear and loathing notwithstanding, these bush rats were huge. Not big. Huge. I tried to Google a bush rat picture to show you - but they all looked cute and cuddly and nothing like the actual demonic beasts of my memory.

I slunk lower into my sleeping back and pulled the cord around its hood tight so that the barest minimum of face was exposed - just enough to facilitate breathing. And so i tried yet again to fall asleep with the scrabbling and squeaking going on all around me.

Finally sleep began to overtake me when all of a sudden I felt scratching on the back of my sleeping bag hood against my scalp.

That's why the next morning, the rest of the hikers found me fast asleep on the dining table.

the rat hut

tor

landscape + camouflage

snowgum

snowpatch

landscape

climbing

small lake

small lake2

small lake3

mist

low cloud

evening camp

icy swim

campsite

bergen by bicycle

2010-03-19T21:23:00.006+11:00

Here are a few more photos from the slide scanner. These are from one of my first visits to Norway - a country I have now been to innumerable times and feel a close affinity to. (Perhaps I was a viking in a past life?!!)

This was part of the 1986 Cycling-Europe trip I did with one of my closest friends Paul. Norway was the first time we had to ride on the opposite side of the road that we were used to.

The ferry over from the north of England took over 24 hours to get to Bergen on the West coast of Norway.(Sadly there is no longer a ferry service between the UK and Norway) The trip hit some fairly rough water and Paul was as sick as a dog. People really do look green when sea sick!

We were exceptionally fortunate to meet 3 great Norwegians on the ferry who were returning to Bergen after a driving holiday in the UK. So while Paul spent the night upchucking, I sat up and chatted with our new friends for the entire night.

We were then invited to stay with them, and they spent a week entertaining us and showing us their city. They have remained extremely good friends ever since.

beautiful stave church near bergen later deliberately burnt down.

boatshed near bergen

fjord near bergen

paul waiting for a small ferry to take us across the fjord

cycling rest stop midway across norway - this days ride was over 200kms

landscape between bergen and oslo

scanning the past

2010-03-01T10:55:00.007+11:00

I recently bought myself a slide scanner.

A nifty little device which has allowed me to revisit some very old pictures I took 24 years ago.

It is far from perfect as reproducing from a positive transparency is difficult. I needed to use a fair amount of Photoshop to try and make the image a little more presentable after the scanning.

Below is a before and after image showing the difference.

I was on a year long trip which began with a month in Japan where I went to see the snow festival in Sapporo on the north island of Hokkaido. These snow festivals seem fairly common these days in various parts of the world, but I think Sapporo back in the '80's was one of very few places holding this type of festival.

Apart from enormous one third scale reproductions of well known international buildings, there were also numerous giant 3D representations of popular comic characters. In addition there was also a section in the centre of the city devoted to ice sculpture carving.

Northern Exposures

2010-02-02T13:07:00.005+11:00

I've just returned from a visit to Queensland.

Primarily it was to visit various friends who now live there, but it also gave me the opportunity to catch up with the latest Asia Pacific Triennial of Contemporary Art (APT6) at the new(ish) Brisbane Gallery of Modern Art (GoMA)

Like a lot of the Biennales and Triennnales it was a mixed bag. But like mixed bags, you can usually find some things to appreciate. My top three are represented (quite poorly I might add) by the photos below (all from various sources on the web)

The first was a small tree which appeared to sit on a small earth island. The enclosed glass fronted room which encased it was filled with mist/fog and the tree turned very slowly. It gave the impression that one was slowly floating by perhaps on a boat or raft and was extremely calming and peaceful.

Kibong Rhee 'There is no place – Shallow cuts' 2008

The second was a glass beaded reindeer (life-sized) in a stark white room. Mesmerising. It had the quality of an extremely precious object or the dazzling reflections of an overly ornate piece of Baroque or Rococo furniture (such as an elaborate chandelier). As a sculptor, I also was intrigued (as I am by many sculptural works) as to the method of its construction. Fiendishly difficult was one thought that sprang to mind.

Kohei Nawa 'PixCell-Elk#2' 2009

The third piece was an interactive installation. A small room with over 100 000 strands of knotted thread hanging from the ceiling in which one could walk through. It felt as if one was underwater. The combination of tactile and optical sensory perception was remarkable, quite unlike anything I've experienced before.

Shinji Ohmaki 'Liminal Air – descend' 2007

Brisbane was very hot and stiflingly humid. I did however, have the opportunity to walk through one of my favourite public parks/gardens - the Roma Street Parkland, a modest but beautifully laid out garden behind one of Brisbane's main transit stations.

Roma St Parkland location.

From Brisbane I headed North to Noosa to stay with friends and had a few days in miserable weather (Full moon and King Tides coupled with the tail of Cyclone Olga means LOTS of water - both rain and high water marks from the ocean and Noosa River.)
But they needed the rain, and it kept Noosa cool which I was relieved about. So I spent my time with a mixture of Tennis (actual and televised - good on ya Fed), BBQ's, cafe's, swimming (in backyard pools) and cafe's.

AND - a mandatory visit to the ginger factory at Buderim!
I love ginger in all forms (except perhaps rangas...)

part of my hoard

Below are some of the amazing variety of ginger flowers from the Ginger factory plant shop:

"Go to where?!!"

2009-12-18T17:51:00.007+11:00

Years ago on a trip I found myself in Hell.

Hell's Railway Station to be precise.

It's a touch colder than you might think.

So I took a photo.

hell, western norway, winter 1982

every day

2009-12-13T11:44:00.000+11:00

Happy 37th Birthday Shane.

the piles of my egoistic

2009-12-09T23:19:00.003+11:00

A work friend has recently returned from Syria and whilst browsing her photos I was reminded of my visit to Bosra, a small town south of Damascus near the border with Jordan. It has an amazingly well preserved Roman amphitheatre but what really captured my attention was the visitors sign in the centre of town.

(click photo for larger view)

any takers??

2009-12-09T15:58:00.006+11:00

I just can't help myself...

I was online today and came across some great photos of the actual trek I hope I will be doing next July. I like that there are actual trekkers in many of the photos to provide a sense of scale.

The Baltoro Trek to K2 basecamp and across Gondogoro La Pass is considered by a great many people to be the most spectacular hike on the planet.

I could use a trekking buddy - anyone fancy coming along for the hike of a lifetime??!!

(All photos courtesy of: jagged-globe)

(click photos for larger versions)

risk management

2009-12-06T14:28:00.006+11:00

Mentioning a trip to Pakistan raises so many eyebrows I'm considering writing to Lancet to have it classified as a legitimate Syndrome.

Travelling is a risky business. But so is stepping outside your front door.

But risk comes in many packages: ignorant and foolhardy risk, needless and unecessary risk, high risk, low risk, informed and identifiable risk and a strategic world domination using little plastic figures to represent cavalry, artillery and infantry type of Risk.

Riding my motorbike is full of risks too and so is dating.

A little frisson of danger can add wonders to a journey (usually from the safe perspective of hindsight) and I've never been one to shy away from some troublespots. For example, I travelled through far Eastern Turkey whilst Kurdish Seperatists (PKK) were actively blowing up buses. Buses were my main source of transportation.

But then I researched the troubles and discovered that attacks were few and far between - one occuring on a Monday morning in March on a road in North Eastern Turkey, the next on a Thursday afternoon in July in South-East Turkey and yet another on a Saturday lunchtime in the far East in September. To find oneself in one of those places on that particular day at that particular time would amount to being so incredibly unlucky that you would more likely be murdered by a member of your own family in your bed!

On a trip through Greece in 1990 I met a woman from Belfast. I said to her that it must be awful to live in a city beset by all the IRA violence. She replied that if she didn't see it on the news or read about it in the papers like everyone else she would have been totally unaware that there WERE any troubles.

The media has a way of making the viewer/reader feel that incidence of violence and/or terrorism have turned an entire country into turmoil.

We experienced something here a little similar not so long ago. A small 'turf war' broke out at one of Sydney's beaches. It resulted in a small riot. When it hit the International news, friends around Sydney were being called by relatives overseas to see if they were safe!

Places I DO stay away from are those where kidnappers, terrorists and other unpleasant types, are actively seeking out tourists. This is happening in Yemen right now; and Somali, Iraq and Afghanistan are also pretty low on my list of places to see at the moment.

Where I intend to head in North Eastern pakistan is the remotely populated 'disputed' region bordering India and China, and much of the troubles in Pakistan are around Peshawar and the Swat valley which are quite a distance away. It would be like wanting to travel from Sydney to Canberra but changing ones mind because there has been violence erupting in Melbourne.

And below are a few photos from the WWW to show why I am itching to get into some crampons.

baltoro towards the cathedrals

baltoro glacier

I absolutely MUST cross this bridge!

physician heal thyself

2009-11-24T16:58:00.005+11:00

Well I've been back 4 weeks - and bang on time arrives that post-trip slump.

Whats the best cure?

I've been looking at airfares to Pakistan.

less than you think

2009-11-23T14:53:00.007+11:00

I know there are those of you out there who quietly think to themselves that I must have a secret Lotto winnings- or at the very least an inheritance of some sort in order to be able to travel so often.

Sadly, this is not the case. It comes down to careful budgeting and going without.

It's all about priorities.

When I travel I don't stay in 5 star (or even 4 or 3 for that matter) accommodation, however in all hostels I DO make sure I have my own room. Sometimes with private bathroom.

I also travel reasonably comfortably whenever possible. So a $10 shuttle bus with 8 other backpackers for 45 minutes is preferable to a 4 hour local bus trip packed to the ceiling with locals, goats and sacks of rice for $1.20.

I have just finished going through the 'expenses' section of my travel journal. This is where I tally ALL of my spending (down to an ice cream here or a local bus there). It comes in useful as I am often able to claim much of my travel as a tax deduction.

The TOTAL cost of my 6 weeks in South America including the return airfare, a return flight to Easter Island from Santiago (6 hours each way), 5 internal flights plus ALL spending money and accommodation, comes to:

AU $4,817.70

So please don't ever tell me you can't afford to go on holidays!

(* Sorry, I tried to de-smug the post, I guess I get a little tired of people telling me I'm "so lucky" to be able to travel, when luck has absolutely nothing to do with it!!)

paine panorama

2009-11-14T23:25:00.002+11:00

A three-photo 'stitch' of the highlight of my Torres del Paine hike.
(click to get full size version)

adiós américa del sur

2009-10-29T11:50:00.004+11:00

Buenos Aires did her best to make me dislike her.

Arriving from Sydney late in the evening 6 weeks ago I had to get a taxi from the airport and it was pissing down with rain. Really heavily.

The next morning I woke and it was still raining. And it was cold.

So was the next day.

The following morning I left for the domestic airport to fly to Iguacu Falls. It was a clear sunny day.

About a week later I returned to BA from Uruguay and guess what?

Yup...raining again.

And so - another 4 weeks passed while I communed with Big Heads, cramponned most of the way up an active volcano, and hiked amongst glaciers and mountains, until it was time to return to Buenos Aires before leaving for home.

You may recall from an earlier post that I was delayed in El Calafate for 10 hours which meant I missed all afternoon and evening in BA. I finally arriving back there at 2am.

Would you be surprised to hear that it had poured with torrential rain for over 6 hours that day in BA? I wasn't.

I awoke the next morning for my final full day and to my absolute surprise it was hot and sunny with nary a cloud in the sky.

So I set off early and walked around the streets of Buenos Aires for the entire day, getting a bit of colour and catching up with Recoleta and Palermo (the zushy parts of town)

I spent a little while in the Recoleta cemetery - an extraordinary place with over the top crypts and mausoleums. I was surprised to see just how plain and understated Eva "Evita" Peron's crypt was. Simple and unadorned except for a couple of small brass plaques.

Very tasteful.

And so, in the dying rays of my last days sojourn in South America, I warmed a little to that heaving metropolis and looked a little more kindly upon her and the charms she deigned to show me all but briefly.

And so I headed home.

paint your wagon

evita was here

recoleta cemetery

recoleta cemetery

recoleta cemetery

ba graffiti

picket fence

fence abstract

big heads birthday

2009-10-28T19:44:00.003+11:00

continuing a (new) tradition - my easter island birthday cake and candle video!

an ice place

2009-10-28T16:37:00.006+11:00

one of my final visits was to the famous Perito Moreno Glacier in Los Glaciares National Park. It's huge, having a 5km front which rises in places to over 75 metres and is more than 30kms long. It's how I like my glaciers - BIG.

It is also one of only a few in the region that is not retreating.

I took a public bus from El Calafate and had to spend 5 hours there - which even for me is a tad too long to be staring at an enormous lump of ice.

What was fascinating was hearing the thing creak and groan, often followed by huge cracking sounds and occasional splashes as bits of it broke off and fell into the lake.

perito moreno glacier (click for a big view)

perito moreno

a big bugger

looks like the back of my heels after all the trekking ('ewww...')

before and after shot - constantly changing

The following lunchtime i was supposed to fly out of El Calafate back to Buenos Aires but my flight was delayed by 10 hours! And to cheer me up El Cal decided to drop it's temperatures by about 90 degrees so I spent several hours wandering the town desperately trying to find things to entertain myself with in what felt like sub-zero temps.

someone left the sprinkler on

The supermarket had lost its entertainment value by this stage, as had the TIT ice cream parlour. So i found a bookshop cum cafe and sat in there over an amazing hot chocolate (I think they simply melted a 250gm block of chocolate and put it in a mug) which was served WITH a foil wrapped chocolate on the side.

So naturally - I dropped it into the hot chocolate.

One's hot chocolate can never really be too chocolatey.

hikes...yikes

2009-10-22T07:48:00.005+11:00

Well more hiking after Torres del Paine - this time I took a bus over the border back into Argentina to Los Glaciaros National Park. Here I only managed two hikes as the third day was predicted torrential rain so I left and returned to El Calafate.

The first walk was to a glacier and lake and was relatively easy. Six hours return to Laguna Torres and apart from a steep climb out of El Chalten, the town that was my base, the rest of the walk was following the glacial river.

laguna torres

mini icebergs on laguna torres

some more and the glacier in the background

The second walk was murder! Eight hours return, which started out with a beautiful sunny day, but by the time I reached the halfway point Mt FitzRoy, snow had begun to fall and the wind had picked up and was getting stronger by the minute. Oddly, with the snow falling, much of the time I was still in sunshine.

After 4 hours I reached the base of the climb up to the Laguna de Los Tres - the furthest point of the walk. This climb was extremely steep on rock and moraine strewn slopes. As I climbed higher the wind got stronger and whipped the snow into my face like needles.

About a third of the way to the top the track became completely covered in snow and ice making it quite dangerous considering the wind. I have never hiked in wind that strong before. Several times I was almost blown off the path into the snow.

I reached the top and went through the snow as far as the last human footprints went. Thought it advisable to stop there and descend again!

Coming down was even more difficult. I was well and truly knackered when I got back to the hostel.

But the scenery made it worthwhile.

after the first climb out of El Chalten

fitzroy showing part of herself

terry and fitzroy

tit ice cream shop - i´m definitely having the sorbet

towers of pain

2009-10-19T01:04:00.012+11:00

My five day hike to Torres del Paine has finished and I am sitting comfortably in the warm surrounds of an El Calafate (Argentina) hostel having arrived last night from the Chilean National Park.

My bad cold refused to go away so the entire hike was uncomfortably difficult as I was continually coughing and blowing my nose!

The day I arrived by bus in the morning from Puerto Natales was bleak, coldy, windy with sleety snow falling. The sky was gray and cloudy as about 50 intrepid hikers boarded the catamaran that was to take us to the western side of the National Park.

I was about to do what is referred to as the ¨W¨ Hike - a trip that follows three incline valleys that wind there way up the sides of two mountain formations - Los Cuernos (The Horns) and the Torres del Paine (The Towers of Paine).

The first days hike was only 3.5 hours and 11kms. My pack, with tent, cooking gear and 5 days food weighs around 20 - 22 kgs. This was a fairly comfortable walk with a few steep climbs. The weather began to behave itself, it didnt rain or snow and the wind died away. But the clouds remained.

On the catamaran I met a French woman, a German guy and a fellow from Quebec and we all teamed up to walk together.

gray first day

more gray/grey

The campsite sits close to Glacier Grey.

glacier grey

The following morning I woke to brilliantly clear blue skies. I broke camp and then walked back down the valley to the starting point for lunch. From there it was another 19 kms to the next stop Campiemento Italiano which sits toward the middle of the ¨W¨.

lunchspot day 2

This was a long and tiring days walk. But at least it was sunny.

This also gave us the best views of Los Cuernos, a magnificent and massive mountain with a distinctive 2 colour geological formation.

los cuernos

terry and los cuernos

more los cuernos

ditto

terry and los cuernos

After setting up camp I walked for about an hour up the central line of the ¨W¨for some different views of Los Cuernos. In this valley I could hear the loud rumbling of avalanches that were happening with regular frequency on the mountain. At one point I was lucky enough to see one.

That night in my tent i lay awake for a while listening to the the deep rumbles of avalanches - it was strangely comforting, like rain on a tin roof.

The following morning, another clear, still sunny day, entailed another long days hiking.

This took us along the bottom edge of the right side of the ¨W¨and up the right hand valley. This was about 22 kms on undulating paths with a steep climb toward the end.

This left me completely buggered!!

valley torres

the road goes ever on

view of lago grey

The fourth day was the hike up to the Towers.

I set off early after breakfast around half 7. I was at least able to leave my pack at camp as I was making a return trip to the towers.

The hike began with a 5km gradual climb to another campsite and once again I was blessed with perfect weather. From here it was another hour on a very steep path up to the towers which several people had said was very tough.

Fearing the worst I gritted my teeth and girded whatever needed girding, and set off. The path indeed was steep, wet in parts, and gravelly in others. One part had ropes slung between trees to assist in climbing.

Strangely. perhaps because of all the pessimistic warnings, or perhaps because I wasn´t carrying my pack (or a bit of both) I really enjoyed this part and didn´t find it a struggle at all.

Reaching the top, a sharp ridge where you are given tantalising glimpses of the towers, you suddenly emerge onto the most magnificent scene of the three towers set behind a half frozen lake. Breathtaking.

I spent at least half an hour here in the sun soaking up the scene and having a bite to eat before reluctantly heading back down to the campsite.

It was a deeply satisfying experience to finally get to see the Torres del Paine which a had already seen in many other peoples photos.

Once I picked up my pack I headed down to the final campsite, about 12 kms down the valley - thus completing the ¨W¨.

climbing to the towers

the splendid torres del paine

happy chappy

I treated myself to a bed in the refugio at the end and a hot shower. My bedroom had amazing views.

view from bedroom window

punta arenas cemetary

punta arenas cemetary 2

tierra del fuego

finding shoes to fit must have been hard

en route to puerto natales we came across a bus crash that had just happened. people were still climbing out of the front window. (No fatalities)

Tonight I catch a bus to El Chalten for some more hiking in Los Glaciaros National Park, and will hopefully get to see FitzRoy Mountain. Back to El Calafate in 3 or 4 days.

co´d id by doze

2009-10-10T12:00:00.006+11:00

I have just settled into my hostel in Punta Arenas - a small town right down near the southernmost part of Chile. It sits on the Straits of Magellan which explains the ruddy big statue of him in the main square. I hope to cross the Straits on Sunday to set foot on Tierra del Fuego, which has always held an aura of mystery to me as one of those far flung places like Timbuktou.

After I left Santiago I bussed it down to a town called Pucon. Pron. Puke-on - it´s unfortunate as it is a delightful little town which has the still active Villarica volcano sitting on its outskirts. There are numerous signs around town which tell you what to do should the volcano erupt. (Strangely ´Panic Hysterically´ didn´t feature.)

By the time I arrived here the bad cold I had contracted on arrival at Easter Island continued to make a Phlegm Phactory out of me and I feared this would jeapordise my Villarica climb.

It did. I couldn´t make it to the top. I gave it a bloody good go - but right from the start my legs felt really weak, and by the third stage (2,400 metres) I had to concede defeat. There was still 400 metres to go but the guide estimated it was another 2-3 hours. The volcano was covered in a fresh fall of snow, and we needed crampons almost from the start.

I should have stopped at the second stage but I stubbornly forced myself to continue. The view from stage three made it worthwhile.

Coming down was a blast as the trek company provides you with what looks like an adult nappy. Made of strong nylon and leather, it is attached around your backside and you slide down the volcano on your arse.

I stayed three days in Pucon before catching a bus 5 hours south to Puerto Montt and immediately wished I hadn´t. A dreary dirty town and the overcast grey skies didn´t help. Fortunately I was only here for one night in order to carch a flight to Punta Arenas.

While here I need to gear up for the 5 - 6 day hike in Torres del Paine. I´m really looking forward to this and i am desperately hoping this infernal cold will allow me to complete the hike.

Will let you know as probably the next chance I have to blog will be afterward in El Calafate.

icon

santiago facade

3 locks

santiago sky

santiago building with gargoyle

gargoyle close

villarica from pucon

the volcano up close

me near the base

villarica stage 2

pucon reflection

must be a very small meal

gracias por la musica

2009-10-05T12:47:00.005+11:00

Mercedes Sosa - Gracias a La Vida (YouTube)

A beautiful warm, sunny and relaxing day ended on a sad note for me.

My favourite Spanish-language singer, Mercedes Sosa died in Argentina.

Even though I never understood the lyrics of her songs, the emotive quality of her voice and the way it interwove with the melodies was understanding enough. I have loved her singing since I was first introduced to her almost 20 years ago.

I had half hoped that perhaps there was a chance of seeing her whilst here in her home continent.

Not to be.

back to basics

2009-10-04T14:13:00.004+11:00

Remote-island economies often means higher prices as many things need to be imported.
Iceland was a good example of this.

Easter Island hostel accommodation is almost 3 times the price of mainland hostels. And this is what you get for your money:

bathroom light switch

bathroom light

Still, despite the lethal electrics, the giant cockroach doing breastroke in the shower stall, and the tissue paper thin walls (the snoring man in the next room may as well have been in bed next to me) - I enjoyed myself immensely.

big heads

2009-10-04T13:35:00.005+11:00

It is always a little strange to finally find yourself somewhere you have long thought about going to but never really suspected would actually happen.

I think I first saw the giant heads of Easter Island on a Doco when I was around 8 to 10 years old. They intrigued me then as they do now.

On arrival, I was fortunate to meet a French couple and an Irish lass at my hostel, and we teamed up to rent a car for the day.

Being a small island, we were able to cover all the major sculptural sights quite easily in about 8 hours. We were blessed with excellent weather, especially as during the prior 7 days it had rained almost non-stop.

I also made friends with a lovely group of 9 paediatric doctors and nurses from Santiago who kept me entertained during the evenings around the hostel kitchen table.

I celebrated my birthday here - and had a rousing rendition of Happy Birthday (in Spanish) over breakfast from all present.

The current view on the reason for the existence of the statues on Easter Island is that they represent authority figures such as tribal chiefs; and the continued construction of these massive figures over many hundreds of years led to the deforestation and complete destruction of the islands ecology.

This lead to soil erosion, loss of crops, and the inability to make new canoes to go fishing as there were no more trees.

Having had three days on the island, I think the real reason for the statues existence is that prior to the invention of bingo and karaoke - the islanders made them out of sheer and utter boredom.

volcano

small group

large group from afar

large group

by the sea

my favourites - they look quite surly

some are quite tall

these look like they are being engulfed by the grass

playing with the Doctors and Nurses

window of opportunity

2009-09-30T07:31:00.008+10:00

A few snaps of the Andes crossing by bus - 8 hours in all but about 2 at customs, one of the most ineffectual border crossings I have ever seen. We sat around waiting and waiting whilst a number of customs agents sat around twiddling their opposables. There were windows for bus passengers (huge long lines) and windows for a few car drivers. (twiddlers)

Do you think there was a chance for the Twiddlers to help out the Bussers when they had nothing to do? (About as much chance as me becoming lead male for the Bolshoi Ballet that´s how much)

So I stood sullenly in line casting baleful glances and wishing for sprained thumbs on the lot of them.

I was lucky to have decided to come today. My bus driver told me the high pass at the customs post was blocked the day before and people had to sit in their buses/cars for 11 hours!! And he said there was another blizzard forecast for tomorrow.

Arriving in Santiago I was blessed with one of those rare occasions where everything works effortlessly in my favour.

There was a metro station outside the bus terminal and it was on the correct line to take me to the station directly opposite where I was staying. My hostel happens to be right in the centre of the city in a lovely cobbled-streeted area full of big old buildings. This atmospheric area only extends to one city block.

The hostel was huge, old and looked very interesting in the website photos. This should have rung alarm bells.

It turned out to be like a cross between something from Gormenghast and the Addams Family. Huge cavernous rooms, dimly lit and full of old (not antique - just plain old) furniture.

The staff were also cadaverous and moved about slightly hunched on parquetry that creaked and groaned like an old forest in a gale.

Still, I unpacked in my room (up 84 flights of stairs to the attic) trying to put things on tables and on hangers without actually moving about on the floor, to avoid the dreadful creaking.

I decided I really needed to move in the morning - and this idea was reinforced when I went looking for the breakfast room the next morning.

After negotiating several flights of stairs (up AND down) criss-crossing various stages and wings of the building, I finally found the ´Señora´ who was preparing breakfast. She was dusting off a table in a lovely little room on the corner of the building with early morning sunshine streaming in through the windows. The room was charming with a ´homely´touch to it.

¨Desayuno?¨ I inquired, pointing to the room.
¨No!¨she replied and instead ushered me into a dim, dark room in the middle of the building with a faint glimmer coming from a window into a small light-well.

Breakfast was a 3 day old bread-roll and instant coffee.

So now I am in a much more friendly and pleasant place across the road.

I´m quite liking Santiago. Today was hot and sunny and I wandered the streets all day, taking in the Museum of Contemporary Art.

When I first entered this magnificent edifice I could see the main entrance rotunda was being set up for something, and I was directed downstairs to a single large exhibition room. It contained 12 large paintings by one artist.

Then I asked the door attendant where next. He said that was it. Nothing else.

I left a little shocked and continued with my rambling, past the building, only to discover the front entrance was at the other end!

I had gone into the arse end of the building - so it comes as no surprise that all I saw was a lot of s***

across the andes

through the mountains

mountains road

near the customs post

chile border post (the 66th!)

my street

the 2nd hotel

detail from my window

art gallery

some church or other

protester - good to see demos are alive and well in chile

demo detail

fox on the runway - sweet!!

2009-09-28T07:51:00.003+10:00

Well yesterday lunchtime I was sitting slightly perspiring in the beautiful springtime gardens of Colonia del Sacramento, a UNESCO Heritage town a few hours busride west of Montevideo.

It was a picturesque town with all the usual quaintness that makes people flock to these places. I really liked it - but an afternoon, evening and half the following day and I was champing at the bit for some grunge. I can only take so much pretty.

Now here I am less than 24 hours later in 2 deg C in Mendoza, central west Argentina, having spent last night back in Buenos Aires. (¨Do try to keep up, Fanny¨)

Taxi-ing in on the Mendoza runway I was surprised to see a plethora of pussies prancing about the runway. At a closer look I realised they were a type of fox. (Hence the heading)

Despite the chill, I experienced a thrill at being in such close proximity to the Andes, which nestle on the very outskirts (or so it seems) of the city.

Yesterday here it was apparently 20-22 degrees - the cold snap has brought fresh snow to the mountains which I hope will just add to their overall beauty.

I am here only until the morning and then I hope to catch an early bus to Santiago in Chile, where I will spend a few days. The hostel manager here is a charming chatty fellow originally from Panama. Casper (The Friendly Host) gave me an exhaustive overview of what to do in Mendoza.

He had outlined what appeared to be a 6 hour marathon encompassing all of the city´s highlights - despite the fact that it was approaching 4pm and gets dark about 7. But I had to admire his enthusiasm and promised to do my best to SEE IT ALL.

Consequently I walked 9 blocks to the city centre, found a cafe and had pizza.

colonia street

ba graffiti

mendoza abstract

(*apologies for the terrible ´70´s reference in the heading!!)

montevideo glimpses

2009-09-25T10:39:00.004+10:00

montevideo building

main square mvd

a bit jeffrey smartish - mvd harbour

suburban building

graffiti

windows

wall abstract

alfa-yum

2009-09-25T05:03:00.000+10:00

thanks to my good friend Jana, I now have a new addiction.

ALFAJORES

(Ordering them sounds a bit like asking for ´A Grade´ prostitutes)

They are a chocolate covered caramel biscuit and are quite fragile so you really MUST eat them as quickly as possible.

I think I am up to number 12.

illegal alien

2009-09-25T04:29:00.008+10:00

You would think that having spent so many years travelling that I would pretty much have everything down pat.

But somehow I found myself in Asuncion, the capital of Paraguay - probably THE most despotic of all the South American regimes - with nothing in my passport to show I was actually there.

This is what is generally known as ¨not good.¨

Somehow I had caught a local bus from Iguacu in Argentina, crossed through a tiny bit of Brazil and entered into Paraguay without the bus stopping at customs.

Once I reached Asuncion, I ended up splurging on a taxi as it was getting dark and I knew the hotel was a long way from the bus terminal.

When the taxi pulled up in front of the hotel I was sure he had taken me to the wrong place.

It looked... well... too nice.

the hotel

The following morning, after meeting another solo traveller, Paolo from Milan,over breakfast, we both went to the immigration office a few blocks from the hotel and with Paolo´s Spanish had it all sorted in a blink of an eye.

No seriously - and remember this is South America - they issued me with a letter for customs really quickly. I can only think that a lot of stupid poor saps like me do exactly the same thing. (Go with it - I´m trying to alleviate the embarrassment)

I´m afraid to have to say that the nicest thing about Paraguay (or at least the few square metres I experienced)was the hotel. The countryside was...well...like a cup of really milky weak tepid tea.

scenic paraguay

Asuncion had so little to offer that Paolo and I felt we had done it very good justice in 3 hours.

Currently I am now in Montevideo in Uruguay and loving it. I liked the place 5 minutes into the bus trip from the airport. I have just returned from 7 hours of walking around town. It is fascinating with some excellent pieces of Art Nouveau and Deco architecture. The sun is shining, and the people are smiling, and I finally worked out how to get some damned money out of the automatic teller.

iguacu falls

more falls

yet more falls

ho hum

bored yet?

overlooking one of the cascades

...well they keep kerb-crawling

24 hours

2009-09-19T11:15:00.002+10:00

I have been here for 24 hours and slept for 12 of them.

I have just eaten possibilty the worst cheesecake in the known civilized world (as the uncivilized have not yet progressed to cheesecake) It was the consistency of soft silicon rubber with considerably less taste. The biscuit base was a thin stain on the bottom with no resemblance to anything biscuity. On top of this extravaganza was a paste of something that could possibly once have been fruit. (A long time ago in another galaxy)

This was after ordering nachos which turned out to be a sea of guacomole on a plate with a flotilla of cornchip sailing around in diminishing circles as if being sucked down into a whirlpool.

I watched a motorcyclist ride a good 50 metres down a busy road clutching a subway sandwich IN BOTH HANDS - not actually eating it, rather trying to determine what was inside said roll.

Once darkness fell, a myriad of garbage-rummagers came out and descended on the city´s refuse.

I have just returned to my hostel to bump into a fellow student from COFA.

some b.a. graffiti

some more

the soap on a stick in my lunchspot bathroom. The action needed to use this phallic device meant it was preferable to be the only one in the bathroom at the time.

night time architecture

perfection... a cafe that also sells motorbikes. Or a motorbike store that has a cafe. (I prefer the first interpretation)

habla nothing

2009-09-19T03:27:00.002+10:00

My Spanish is sadly lacking, and I have a tendency to pronounce everything the way the French do out of habit (French being the only language I have actually put any effort into bastardising)

So a lot of my questions are generally met with raised eyebrows and ¨Que?¨

Buenos Aires is currently cold and wet - and so am I. It also is a gridded city and looks like an old delapidated Canberra.

And its vast.

I´ve been walking all morning and dont seemed to have gotten anywhere.

But its great - after all - I´m in Argentina! (62)

(will add photos shortly)

priorities

2009-09-14T14:19:00.005+10:00

"my name is Terry...and I am a caffeineaholic."

OK I admit it. I can't do without my coffee.

In the past I have given up smoking, alcohol, meat and fish, and...other things. But I cannot, nay will not give up coffee.

I tried once - worst 5 hours of my life. To heap horror onto the horror I replaced it with ... .decaffeinated That's like replacing Laurence Olivier with Ben Stiller.

(Ugghh.. I can't believe I've stooped to putting the words 'decaffeinated' AND 'Ben Stiller' on my blog.)

And so - the first, and most important item in my luggage has always been my plunger-mug. (Or 'cafetière cup' if you like) A brilliant invention up there with the kidney dialysis machine and Tim Tams.

It is a coffee plunger built into a mug. Add ground coffee, hot water, plunge and drink. It's an emergency make-do replacement when there isn't an espresso machine within coo-ee, and eliminates the need of that other abomination (shudder)... instant coffee.

my little preciousssss...

...but the malady lingers on.

2009-08-15T18:32:00.006+10:00

I've been a little remiss with my posting it seems. I am still not over my pleurisy but it is improving slowly. But I have been busy nonetheless.

I have been working on a new piece of sculpture since early May - though not directly travel related it does pertain to my journey through life.

(See I can make excuses for just about anything.)

Here is a sneak preview!

(click for a larger view)

It is difficult to photograph - but in reality you can see right into the heart of the iMac G3 down to the circuit boards, disc drive and screws and washers.

I'm fairly pleased with the result.

*(If you are interested in seeing more of my mesh work click on 'My Art Website' link to the right under 'Worth a Butchers'. There are examples of my work going back 20 years!)

coffers and coughers

2009-07-11T23:01:00.009+10:00

I have been a little under the weather for the past 6 weeks.

And with the trip looming I have been forced financially to keep working, which hasn't helped the healing.

Currently convalescing from a malady that this clue, if you know your Tennessee Williams, should enlighten you:

So with a fair amount of recuperation time up my sleeve I have had plenty of opportunity to spend on the finer details of my forthcoming adventure.

Here is an extract from my itinerary as it so far stands:

(click for larger view)

Yes I know it smacks of anal-retentiveness, but let me tell you - with dwindling days 'til my dotage, I am more and more conscious of the fact that I am not likely to get the opportunity to return to a lot of the countries I visit.

One of the remarkable things about the internet is the degree to which you can plan an overseas trip to maximise the time you have there.

These days I can achieve at least double that which i could in the days when I would simply set off with an out of date Lonely Planet under my arm.

I know many of you would hanker after those halcyon days where wandering like a will-o'-the-wisp seemed like the simple essence of backpacking travel.

But how often did I return home from a trip to be asked "And what did you think of the ------?" to which I could only reply "THAT was THERE???"

I am far better informed and prepared these days and thanks to the 'www' I save bucket loads of money by doing this pre-travel research.

y'know what I REALLY love?

2009-07-06T15:14:00.004+10:00

...that I can sit in my local cafe in Sydney, Australia and book and pay for a room in a hostel in El Chalten Argentina.
The internet ROCKS!

guess where?

2009-05-08T22:10:00.001+10:00

As I will be away for my birthday in October (no surprises there!) I will let you try and guess where I will be on the day.

Here is a little hint..........

wings, wheels and a rudder.

2009-04-30T20:17:00.005+10:00

Now I have actually booked my flight it feels more real. So I have begun to sort out some of the finer details.

I fly to Buenos Aires on September 17th, and then a few days later I fly up to Iguacu Falls. These amazing waterfalls border 3 countries - Brazil, Argentina and Paraguay. I will stay overnight in Argentina, cross the river into Brazil and then later walk over a bridge into Paraguay.

Then I head to the capital of Paraguay, Asunción, by bus for a couple of days and then fly to Montevideo in Uruguay. From there I bus it across to Colonia where I catch the ferry back to Buenos Aires.

A couple of days or so later I will probably fly to Mendoza so I can experience crossing the Andes to the capital of Chile, Santiago, by bus. The scenery is supposed to be spectacular.

From Santiago I head south by bus, stopping here and there (including the still active Volcano Villarrica which I hope to climb) until I get to Punta Arenas in southern Patagonia. From here I want to travel across to Tierra del Fuego.

Then it's a little north to Torres del Paine in Chile for a 7 day camping trek through the mountains, followed by another trip across the border back into Argentina to the Los Glaciaros National Park and the spectacular Mount Fitz Roy. After that I fly back to Buenos Aires for a couple of more days before heading home.

It might seem a little over-planned - but I intend to maximise every day I have for the 6 weeks.

trip route (click to enlarge)

uncharacteristically vacillatory

2009-04-15T21:30:00.026+10:00

I know I had set my mind on Iran.

What you didn't know was that after that post below I had had a change of mind and then decided I really must do the Baltoro Glacier Trek in North Eastern Pakistan.

"What...are you MAD??!!" is the usual exclamation at this point - followed by lots of words like Taliban, bombs, hostage, death, etc.

But really, if you stopped listening to or reading the utter drivel pumped out by moronic journalists who regurgitate snippets of gossip and hearsay, embellished with puerile globs of their own bigoted and ill informed ideas about places they have never been to, don't understand and probably cannot even spell; then sure it probably isn't the best place to go.

There is a great deal of hysteria whipped up about Pakistan which serves various powers' vested interests in certain wars being fought in certain neighbouring countries.

Much of North Eastern Pakistan I believe has, in its remoteness and isolation, continued along much as it has always done unaffected (and possibly unconcerned) about troubles around the Afghan border.

The North Eastern Frontier of Pakistan has to have some of the most beautiful and extraordinary scenery of anywhere in the world. Try Google Image searches for any of the following: Baltoro Glacier, Mashabrum, K2, Hindukush, Hunza Valley, Trango Towers, Rakaposhi and Fairy Meadows, and you will see what I mean.

The North Western Frontier.........well I wouldn't go there for quids. Full of bloody wackos.

The Pakistan trip was all but a reality - to the extent that I had even bought the Pakistan/Karakorum Highway Lonely Planet. But something held me back.

Possibly the fact that I had absolutely no money.

But also I realised that if I was to get there it was most likely to be mid to late September and I know that the high pass, Gondogoro La, would be getting seriously tricky by late September. At the best of times one needs crampons and ropes to get over it.

So 2 days ago I went online to see if Pakistan flights had (wistfully) come down in price - when a small ad by Qantas caught my eye.

It said - "Sydney - South America - AU$1033.00 (incl.taxes)

It seems unbelievable. Usually these offers come with a swag of conditions such as: you must leave on a Thursday at 3.30am, travel in a group of 25 or more, stay 2 days, travel with a canoe and your name must be Nigel.

I quickly entered a couple of random dates around September - and sure enough, it was genuine.

I have had an Argentina/Chile trip semi planned in the back of my head for quite a few years - but getting to South America from Sydney was always very expensive. So this was too good to miss.

Guess what I'm spending my Economic Stimulus Package bonus on?

Thanks Kev.

Here are a few photos from the web to show why I am going:
(click photos to enlarge)

torres del paine at sunrise

cerro torre, los glaciares national park

iguacu falls

perito moreno glacier

patagonia

volcano villarica (must climb...must climb...)

mt fitzroy

I'll do Pakistan next year.

return to rightful owners.

2009-03-12T12:51:00.009+11:00

Fifty years ago today, Tibetans in Lhasa were erecting barricades as part of the March 10th 1959 uprising against the Chinese invasion of Tibet. Around 86,000 Tibetans died in the badly outnumbered and short lived rebellion.

(Click here for a current statement by H.H. the Dalai Lama on the anniversary.)

In memory of the most incredible and beautiful country I have been to I want to add some notes from my journey there in 2002.

Often in defence of China, people will state that the Chinese have brought improved education, health and other benefits to the people. They also say the people were living a downtrodden feudal existence before the Chinese "liberated" them. These spurious arguments are naive and often made by people who have never even set foot in the country and have not witnessed the reality of the lives of Tibetans both in the past and the present day.

The truth is - Tibetans are third class citizens in their own country. During my trip across part of Tibet I witnessed several things that made me realise just how subjugated the Tibetans have become to their Chinese masters.

One was the subsidising of Chinese restaurants and businesses in order to make Chinese goods and services much cheaper, thus trying to price Tibetan businesses out of the market.

Another being the Tibetan written language, with regards public signage etc, which has been relegated to a very small scale in comparison to the Chinese characters. Also Chinese is now the official spoken language.

spot the Tibetan script (photo source)

lhasa shop

Once when driving across the Tibetan plateau we stopped to spend the night in a small town called Tingri - basically 40 - 50 mud brick dwellings scattered either side of the highway. On telegraph poles either end of the town were loudspeakers. All day long these blared out Chinese music, news and radio. You couldn't avoid it.

It reminded me of a scene from Scorsese's amazing film KUNDUN where immediately after the Chinese invasion of Lhasa, loud speakers are set up all over the city playing Chinese propaganda.

The young Dalai Lama comments "They have even taken our silence".

edge of tingri

tingri - the one horse town

Another moment during the trip, our group was waylaid on a coach back from visiting some ruined monasteries by some very officious looking Chinese officials. We were shepherded by them out of the coach and into what can only be described as an almost finished, newly built monastery. We were then all led around by officials into various parts of the buildings including a place where around a dozen monks were seated going through the prayer rituals.

However, the entire building and grounds felt horribly fake and sterile, and the monks looked uncomfortable and unhappy. As we, by that stage, had already visited numerous genuine and very old monasteries, the whole experience left everyone in the group feeling unpleasant and wanting to get the hell away from there.

This structure and our forced viewing was clearly meant to represent the generous nature of the Chinese in promoting and rebuilding Tibetan culture. It felt as plastic and as cheap and soulless as Disneyland.

a genuine one - ganden monastery

and another - samye monastery ( we stayed overnight here)

10,000

2009-02-15T10:36:00.006+11:00

is the number of visitors to this blog as of today.

I lost the page counter on the blog's first page and don't know why it stopped working after 18 months or so. Fortunately I have also been running a smart little programme called "Google Analytics" which allows me to track the blog site via an interesting collection of varying data. (Interesting that is for those types that find numbers and graphs interesting!)

Although it does NOT allow me to know WHO is accessing the blog it can tell me some interesting things such as in the last 3 months:

- there were 1,288 visitors

- 57% were first time visitors
- 30% had visited 200 times or more (THAT surprised me!)

- they came from 454 different cities around the world

cities accessing the blog

- 69% used Firefox whilst
- 25% used Internet Explorer

- search engine keywords that led them to the blog included:

* "closing down" "soaps" "guest soaps"
* has anybody driven from vinales to trinidad?
* blundstone boots dangerous in icy conditions

It's a relief to know there are actually people out there looking!!

remembering sue

2009-02-02T11:59:00.011+11:00

I know I am in danger of turning this blog into a memorial, but I wanted to mark the passing of a close and longtime friend of 20 years who took her life 9 years ago today.

Sue Howard was a very talented Sydney painter who won several awards for her work. I really felt that at the time of her death she was just hitting full stride with her creative development.

sue in my Paris studio

She and I met when we both worked at the 'salubrious' Old Spaghetti Factory in the Rocks, Sydney in 1980. (A nasty fast food joint that churned out third rate pasta for the masses.)

We clicked immediately as we both shared a love of artmaking and travel.

Many years ago she and I discussed how great it would be to be able to buy a little house in the south of France and settle there to live and make work. My desire was little more than a whim really, but Sue went ahead and did it. Unfortunately the fantasy was a long way from reality and she had many years of hardship because of it.

In 1995 I was awarded a studio through the Art Gallery of NSW to live and work in Paris. This was an incredible opportunity to spend quality time in a city that I have been to many times and love dearly. It turned out to be one of the best times of my life. Every day all I had to think about was either making art or wandering the streets of Paris investigating its lanes and alleyways, monuments and cafes.

the studio workspace

The studio was situated in the Cite Internationale des Arts, on the banks of the Seine right alongside Ile St. Louis (the smaller of the two islands) on the edge of the Marais. My studio was on a corner of the building that housed around 250 or more different ateliers. From my windows I could see the Seine, a beautiful old Palais and a Gothic arts library.

view from studio

night view from window

view from window

The Cite, I believe, has around 300 studios in several locations around Paris and they provide live in residencies for artists across all media - visual artists, writers, musicians, singers, dancers etc. My neighbours included a Swiss sculptor, a Croatian painter, an American Opera Singer and a Romanian concert pianist.

some friends made

One afternoon there was a knock at my studio door and when I answered there was Sue. She had travelled up from Italy where she had been staying to Sue-prise me! I almost fell over. It was incredible to be able to spend some time with her in that amazing city.

small abstract by sue (oil on paper 20c x 18cm)
(poor photo quality - taken under glass.)

the plan as it now stans...

2009-01-15T15:03:00.006+11:00

Further consideration of my next trip i have expanded the idea to cover two of Iran's neighbours - Turkmenistan and Uzbekistan.

I have long harboured the desire to see Bukhara and Samarkand, so this seems like the perfect opportunity. Turkmenistan popped up as it is sandwiched between the two places I want to see.

Preliminary investigation seems to suggest that Turkmenistan will be the most difficult to organise. It appears the simplest visa to obtain is the transit visa which gives you about 3 - 5 days to skip across the country (which in itself seems to suggest there is not a tremendous amount to see in the place...)

I have found a place called Merv which has considerable historical significance, but a quick Google image search shows Merv is a long way to go for not a great deal.

So the plan so far is to fly to Iran - preferably Shiraz (to avoid backtracking), then continue on to Isfahan, Qom, Tehran and Mashhad in Iran, cross to Ashkabat in Turkemneistan and head overland to Darvaza in the middle of the Karakum desert.

Then I cross the border at Urgench and hopefully visit Khiva before heading down to Bukhara, Samarkand and finally ending in Tashkent. Will then try and fly to Norway and London en-route home.

proposed route (click to enlarge)

bukhara (photo source)

the registan, samarkand

germinating...

2009-01-09T13:39:00.006+11:00

Now is as good a time as any to begin thinking about my next trip.

There are about a dozen potential plans sitting quietly in the back of my head - it's a matter of deciding which are the most desirable/practical/logical.

Kilimanjaro was a good example of all three. At my advancing age I seriously need to consider which places require greater physical stamina than others - and do them first! The Trans - Siberian rail trip has been on the back burner for years - but lets face it - I could be loaded onto a train in a hospital bed in my 90's to do a 10 day rail trip.

But I think I have settled on the next choice: Iran.

These images helped convince me!

landscape
(photo from here)

history (palace of persepolis)

islamic architecture (nasir-ol-molk_mosque shiraz)

mountains to climb (mt. damarvand)

Well - the idea has been planted - let's see what this year brings!

hippo histrionics

2008-12-14T13:33:00.003+11:00

As mentioned earlier, this is the piece of filming I was doing when we were under threat from a hippo in the Serengeti!!

happy birthday

2008-12-13T13:00:00.000+11:00

Happy Birthday mate. Miss you.

tarangire panorama

2008-11-05T14:20:00.001+11:00

kili route

2008-11-05T13:57:00.004+11:00

(click to enlarge)

(click to enlarge)

phurther photos...

2008-11-05T12:13:00.006+11:00

kili climb day one in the rainforest

neil and terry kili day one

kili breakfast day two

kili day two - porters' trail

kili day three - terry in the trees

kili day three landscape

kili day three landscape

the breakfast wall

neil resting kili day four

kili trail day four

hippo pool lake manyara

acacia thorns - detail

the beloved baobab

dik-dik tarangire national park

stonetown harbour zanzibar

safari collage

2008-10-29T22:54:00.002+11:00

olduvai gorge panorama

2008-10-29T22:36:00.010+11:00

more olduvai gorge info here

more zanzibar...

2008-10-29T22:27:00.005+11:00

stonetown waterfront

Chlorocebus pygerythrus - prettier than its name
(vervet monkey)

six o'clock dhow

stonetown crumbling away

crumbling abstract

yellow prisoners

upwards abstract

tabletop abstract

corrugated abstract

singabore

2008-10-29T21:36:00.002+11:00

OK - I admit it. I don't like Singapore.

The suburbs look like a giant lego town and the city is basically one massive shopping mall.

I have been there about 4 times now but to be honest never for longer than one day.

It's just that it's so...so..so...clean! It feels like Disneyland rather than a city. I feel no soul there, it's as if the plastic wrap has just been taken off.

I spent 11 hours there on my way home. I wandered around the Orchard Rd area watching the general public overloaded with shopping bags for several hours, tormented shopkeepers by window shopping but not going inside. Then finally went to the movies to kill a couple of hours. ("Blindness" - don't rush, it makes you wish you were)

It doesn't help the place that it is usually the last stopover before getting home, which doesn't really help enamour the city to one.

However, their train system makes Sydney's look like Kazakh State Rail.

kili summit glacier

2008-10-27T20:36:00.003+11:00

panorama of a glacier at the summit of kilimanjaro
*click to enlarge

random zanzibar

2008-10-23T22:15:00.007+11:00

Some random pics from around Zanzibar:

small sails

door

door

door

dhows at sunset

i wondered why there were no cows

mask

world game

zanzi-(200)bar

2008-10-22T19:25:00.006+11:00

diving has been a blast.

I've taken to it like a ...umm..duck to..err

Anyway, I have now completed 12 dives, 6 in the north at Nungwi - the very northern most tip of Zanzibar (BTW the post heading is a diving joke)and the other 6 off the coast of Stonetown, the capital city of this small but historically important island.

I left Neil to fly home at Kilimanjaro airport and flew direct to Zanzibar, heading straight to Nungwi. As soon as I arrived and had lunch, the dive centre started me on the dive theory. More study?

back to school

The following morning I was in the water practicing my fin pivots, BCD underwater removal, signing, etc etc. By the end of the 3rd full day I had passed the course.

getting in the BCD can be tricky

ready to go

out the front of my bungalow

safari time

2008-10-22T18:32:00.004+11:00

tanzanian landscape

A six day safari in hindsight was a little too long.

I won't bore you with loads of chat about Zebras, Giraffes and Lions, or post a plethora of pictures of same. You all know what African animals are like and as most of us have been exposed to the wonders of David Attenborough, my own collection of photos is embarrassingly amateurish.

zebra crossing (groan...)

But in a nutshell, Neil and I began at a place called Lake Manyara which gave us our first glimpse of Hippos, Gazelle, Monkeys and also Elephants up close. It was here that we had a baby elephant getting a little stroppy and practicing being aggressive with us. It would advance towards our landrover stamping its feet and shaking its head and then turn scaredy cat and run into the bushes. Shortly after it would emerge and do the same thing. Very endearing.

From Manyara we took a long drive via Olduvai Gorge where they found the earliest hominid footprints,

olduvai gorge

out into the Serengeti. It was here we saw our first leopard.

It was also here that I was chased by a hippo.

We had gone out around 6am for an early morning game drive. We found ourselves at the hippo pool, which also happens to be one of the few places you are allowed out of your vehicle. The pool is a couple of metres down a muddy slope - far too steep for the unwieldy beasts to scale. But to one side there is a cluster of thick bushes, and when we stopped the landrover a large hippo suddenly emerged from the bushes to within a few metres of us and bellowed at us before disappearing back into the undergrowth.

After a short while it seemed like the animal had wandered back down to the pool.

So we left the car and I wandered over to the muddy bank overlooking the pool. I decided to use the 'film' option on my camera for the first time as the hippos were moving about and yawning a lot.

I began filming when suddenly I heard our guide yell "Hippo....RUN!!"

I spun around, took a step, slipped in the mud, hit the ground, sprang up, lost a shoe - hesitated between saving my shoe or saving my life for several minutes, then finally made it back to the car.

By this time, said hippo had given up on us as a bad joke and gone back to bathing. My camera was still running, and when I played it back to our guide he was weeping with laughter. I will try and post the video when I get home.

hippo pool

After Serengeti we went to Ngorongoro crater, where we rounded up our 'Big Five' (Lion, Leopard, Water Buffalo, Elephant and Rhino) by spotting (from a distance) the Black Rhinoceros.

From Ngorongoro we then headed to a Bushman's camp. These bushmen are different from the Masai, and live a far more basic and nomadic life. They sleep on animal skins and do not build shelters except in the 'wet', and appear to keep no possessions except minimal clothing, weapons and (I'm guessing) a few pots for water and cooking.

We joined a small group of men for an early morning hunt. Not the most ideal adventure for a vegetarian. Fortunately, big game is scarce this time of year so their hunt consisted of a solitary bird for the time we were with them. (Not so fortunate for said bird).

bushman

But it was fascinating to watch one of the men making an arrow when we first arrived.

Finally, our last game drive was at a place called Tarangire. This was another park that gave us more of the same.

dusty and tired

One of the things that I was particularly struck by were the baobabs. These magnificent trees were sometimes enormous in scale, and were currently without their foliage. Their stark silhouettes against the darkening African skies is an image I will long remember.

beautiful baobab

kili day six

2008-10-22T18:28:00.002+11:00

Well it was all over bar the tipping.

The following days walk down to the gate was short and uneventful. We passed back into the tree line and soon were in the rainforest region once more.

our crew

By late lunchtime Neil and I were back in Moshi at the Coffee Shop patting ourselves very firmly on our backs. Tomorrow morning we were heading off on the six day safari.

kili day five

2008-10-22T17:50:00.003+11:00

The long road to the top.

After having stuffed us like fattened calves for the slaughter every day on the mountain, our crew then decided it was in our best interests to accomplish the 6 - 7 hour uphill slog by setting off with a cup of tea and two biscuits.

Not Tim Tams or Chocolate Digestives. No - Rich Tea. (You know the ones - they are always the ones left over from the Mixed Varieties pack of biscuits.)

There's no need to go into details about the climb - you've seen Lord of the Rings and Frodo and Sam's trials on Mt.Doom. Well that was a walk in the park as far as I'm concerned.

the end in sight

But reaching the top was brilliant. Amazing. Dizzying (that was the altitude.)

Taking photos was tricky as after only a minute in the biting air, the camera's battery would freeze and I would have to stick it under my arm to warm up. (I originally stuck my two spare batteries down my undies but didn't like the looks I was getting when trying to fish them out.)

The stay at the top is very brief and a quick descent was advisable. Heading down was possibly worse than going up - except for the ash-slope 'skiing' which was great fun.

heading down

Neil and I finally arrived back at base camp tired and wobbly for a one hour rest, a quick lunch and then another 3 -4 hour walk to the next camp.

I found no evidence whatsoever.

Fortunately it was a gentle downhill slope all the way and we arrived with about an hour to spare before dinner and our last camp on the mountain.