New Zealand: Our last legs

We arrived in Auckland at the end of October 1991. As per usual we had no plans, but we had about 5 weeks to play with and a guidebook that we’d picked up somewhere along the way (Lonely Planet books were a valuable commodity you could swap with people going in the opposite direction).

We spent a few days in Auckland in a Youth Hostel, planning our time. The first night we had spotted a little advert on the notice board advertising bike hire…or more specifically tandem hire. Exciting huh?  Certainly a different way of seeing the country…It didn’t take us long to decide that we would go for it and hire it… After all we had never done any cycle touring…And, apart from a little day out on a tourist tandem somewhere in Australia and a play on a friend’s back  home, we hadn’t really ridden a tandem before either…We hired it from a guy called Bruce , who lived way out in the suburbs somewhere (Auckland suburbs are huge), and he included a big yellow travel box to go on the back of it…We did a bit of provision shopping (like buying waterproofs, jeans and jumpers as we had no cold weather gear and New Zealand is not the tropical paradise that some people expect) and were as ready for the adventure as we could be.

We had a day just pootling around Auckland visiting a number of pretty coves and making sure we knew how the bike worked, and having our first experience of windy New Zealand. It was howling!

The overnight train to Wellington was our first adventure. The bike went somewhere in the guard’s van and we settled in for what I described as a “never ending night of wakefulness”. Once we reached the other end (we didn’t see anything of the dark North Island) we rode from the train to the ferry terminal and had 3 breezy hours on the Interislander enjoying the views of the two islands.

The ferry docks at the other side (the South Island) in a small place called Picton, and from there we basically climbed on the bike, turned right and headed off over the scenic road along Queen Charlotte’s Sound. I have great memories of this as a winding scenic drive up and over headlands alongside pretty little bays. We were surrounded by the hills, covered in yellow gorse (which was imported by us helpful Europeans at an earlier stage) and the blue waters of the Sound. What a fantastic start to our cycling adventure.

We pedalled about 36km along the very hilly route and then found the only ‘Devonshire tea’ of our trip. It was served up by a gay couple in a bungalow miles from anywhere who had produced some of the best scones ever, and who flirted dreadfully, showing great interest in our bike and then waving us off and giving me an orchid. It was the first of many countryside experiences that New Zealand did so well!

Havelock was a small town just a bit further along, where Ernest Rutherford had spent his early years. We stayed in a Youth Hostel which had been the schoolhouse where he had studied, prior to going off to split atoms.

The Youth Hostel sold freshly laid eggs, so that was our breakfast sorted. This was the life!! Our aim was to get to Nelson, and so we pedalled off into the countryside, stopping often for snacks, coffees, and punctures…We’d had 3 before we got to Nelson, 75km later.

During our trek in Nepal we’d met and walked with some Kiwis (there are Kiwis everywhere in the world so that should be no surprise), and had arranged to visit them in Nelson. Typically they lived way up the side of a fairly steep hill, but the effort of getting up there was rewarded by the incredible views from their house. Kiwis really do seem to mean it when they invite you to stay with them, and they were no exception displaying generous Kiwi hospitality (best roast NZ lamb and local wines) and showing off their homeland. We also spent a lot of time on travel talk – they were seasoned travellers, with masses of photos to show and stories of their 6 months travels each year – life goals?

They showed us some of the local hills, and views, and demonstrated the Kiwi love of sport. Even Mark joined in and got up to watch the Australia vs England rugby world cup final match. A 3.30am start to watch England lose at Twickenham 6-12.

Our incredible hosts had considered our journey, and to help us on our way they drove us (and our big bike) the first bit in their camper van and dropped us off after a picnic lunch to complete the last 35kms to Murchison. That terrain was such fun!! It was gently undulating and so green. The tandem was speeding along, possibly as a result of our couple of days of being very well-fed in Nelson, and we were happy to fight our way through a typical headwind and some gently-falling NZ rain…

Our next day was one for seriously showing off…We did a magnificent 98km to Westport which is on the West coast of the South Island. The best part was that we’d met a couple of lads the night before whilst we had coffee. They were so impressed by the performance of our mean-machine that they tucked in behind us, on their solo bikes, and used us to slip-stream for a couple of hours. Some peloton.

After we’d let them go…we found ourselves following the Buller river, through the beautiful Buller Gorge. The river had carved its way through the rocks and the gorge was fairly narrow with steep rocky sides. And the road, carved out of the rock, made it feel like you were riding along in a rock tunnel.

We were also heard to often encourage ourselves to keep pedalling with the energising chant of “Buller, Buller”. We were possibly a little tired on arrival at Westport having spent the day showing off and pushing ourselves…

The next day was my 29th birthday!! As a special treat we cycled 130km from Westport to Greymouth. That was a our biggest ride. And as a special birthday treat, Mark nipped out to the supermarket before I got up, and stashed a nice heavy bottle of wine in the panniers. Generous huh? I think he didn’t trust that the shops would still be open by the time we made it through the day…

Initially we headed along a detour past the Cape Foulwind seal colony. I have always been a sucker for detours to see creatures!! We were treated to seeing them playing in the surf.

It was such a beautiful day. It was certainly a birthday to remember. That coast is just idyllic – lots of gorgeous beaches where we were able to have our picnics sitting watching the waves (and possibly splatting a few sandflies). We did see signs to watch out for penguins but they obviously saw us first. In fact during the trip the only penguin that we managed to see was a dead yellow-eyed one at a beach slightly further down the coast.

Punakaiki Rocks was a worthwhile stop. The pancake rocks was a must-see on all the tours going down the West coast, and they were just a short stroll from the road. We’ve seen them a few more times since, notably last year, and the pathways and safety features are considerably more developed these days!

The terrain during this day varied from fairly flat to struggles up and over promontories. We were having a few issues with our gears towards the end of the day (blame that bottle of wine) so by the time we got to our destination we were struggling and were so happy to arrive at our backpacker accommodation. We’d just done 130km..and as we collapsed outside the backpackers a German girl followed us in and announced she’d just done 158km. This was our first Pavlova Backpacker experience (but notably not our last). Their USP was that they tended to be in interesting buildings, were painted bright pink and everyone who arrived was treated to a piece of fresh Pavlova…(there have been vicious debates over the years about who invented this dessert…any excuse to fight with the Australians! I’m happy to be convinced that it is all Kiwi!)

So for my evening birthday celebration…I chose to get takeaway fish and chips (fush and chups), drink the wine and pig out on double portions of the pavlova. Perfect!

Our next day of cycling wasn’t too challenging and we made great progress on the 40km to Hokitika, continued for a pleasant undulating 30km or so, then had coffee and cake before heading off for the last 22km to Lake Ianthe cabins. This was to help shorten our next long day – there were limited places to stop along the sparsely populated West Coast, so you had to plan the stops. You remember that issue we’d started to have with the gears. Well, it became a really big issue and at about 10km to go we noticed that the small chain ring was buckled. Those last few kilometres was completed successfully by pushing uphill and coasting down the other side.

The cabins were, of course, miles from anywhere. Our tools, of course, weren’t up to the job of fixing it, and of course, we didn’t have a plan.

The plan developed overnight. We hitched back to Hokitika, the nearest place with a bike shop. We bought the bits we needed and tried to hitch back. After a long time and no cars, we eventually headed back into town and managed to get a bus. Typically the bits we’d bought were metric sizes…and the bike needed imperial. We phoned Bruce, the owner, and he arranged to get a spare air-freighted to us, (whilst also suggesting that he had said to often tighten the bolts…). Mark hitched back the next day (having learned our lesson about the expense of buses back!) and the part didn’t arrive…until the next day!! So I had a solo day and night in the cabin (in a quiet wooded backwater) whilst he bunked up at a backpackers back in Hokitika waiting for the next flight to arrive.

Long-story short(ish)…he returned, we didn’t still have all the right bits, so we called the owner of the backpackers in Hokitika, he collected us with his trailer, and we then re-bought the bits from the bike shop that we’d taken back twice already, and finally were fixed – with committee help from all the other guests in the garden…

In the meantime we’d seen a bit of Hokitika courtesy of the owner of the backpackers who’d taken us for little trips out, in his 1957 Nash Rambler, to see glow worm caves, the beach and get fish and chips.

A couple of days later we were all fixed and riding back down past the cabins where we’d stayed, and we’d managed to postpone our flight out of NZ for a few days, so were able to relax and enjoy! We stopped off at the end of the day at small-town Harihari, having got cold and wet…but enjoyed a night with beers and more fish and chips (it is a NZ delicacy) with a couple we’d met that day honeymooning on their bikes…(now there’s an idea…)

68km the next day took as far as Franz Joseph. I recorded that it was a fairly flat route except for Mount Hercules. Our plan was to go and see the glacier the same day, but the heavens opened and instead we explored the town learning about them. The DOC (Department of Conservation) places are brilliant in NZ – interesting and free so always worth a look.

The rains were intent on us not getting much of a glimpse of the glacier the next day either, and although we set out to see it we got drenched and retreated back to town. Watching the rain for 4 hours or so was not part of the non-plan.

Eventually we got there in the late afternoon, and looked at the amazing beast – NZ is one of the few places in the world where you can see a glacier close to the sea. It’s just 12 miles from the Tasman. The cloud was low over the glacier but we were able to walk almost close enough to touch it, up a pebbly river bed. We appreciated it, by taking photos and having chocolate snacks, then turned round to head back to our Pavlova for the night. As we turned we noticed the incoming storm heading up the valley. It was minutes before we were soaked to the skin, and the pebbly dry river bed was quickly becoming a bit more of a river…Mark was not impressed by my inability to leap over streams that were quickly becoming torrents!

 

There was a 23km ride to Fox Glacier. There were some serious hills along there and I think we weren’t overly impressed by our new chain-wheel…or our legs and energy levels were fading so we had to push… We had a look round the DOC information point – and then headed further south. Another 35km and we’d made it to the Pinewood Motel, which was our planned destination for the day. We’d had a brief stop for sandwiches and sandfly attacks at the end of the Copland Valley track which takes you up to Mount Cook – and I think that was the only time we actually fell off the tandem. Funny the things you remember, but neither of us were hurt – just had slightly dented pride. Pinewood was cheap and a pretty good cabin ($12 for a basic room) and the proprietor was lovely – he wanted to chat, gave us banana cake and milk and sugar. What more could tired travellers want…

Lunch the next day was at Lake Moeraki.

We wandered down to the beach and didn’t get to see the promised seals or penguins there! I think the morning had been a very tiring ride, but we continued after lunch to Haast. There were 3 steep saddles to go over. I proudly recorded that we didn’t get off… The day’s ride had been 90km with the last bit pretty flat. To add insult to injury the Haast Motel had changed its name, so we cycled on past and had to return. There was nowhere else!! (there are a few more options these days). The dorm beds were really basic in the now-named Haast Heritage Hotel, so we splashed out (we’d pretty much run out of money so were now into using the credit card…) and had a proper room for not much more than 2 dorm beds plus the extra for bedding (but equivalent to 3 nights in hostels in most other places…rant, rave!!).

We’d been dreading the Haast Pass for days – it was all anyone talked about when we told them where we were going (and once you’ve headed down that West coast there is no other road anyway…).

There was about 60km of gentle climbing along the valley. There were opportunities to stop, view the river and waterfalls, and load up on carbs…

Then we passed the Haast Gates and within minutes were pushing the bike. We alternated pushing and grunting up the slope. Then came upon a very welcome sight of a bus that had recently passed us, with its passengers laughing and waving, broken-down in a lay-by. Those laughing and waving Ozzies were lounging by their bus, consuming coffee and salmon biscuits. And they insisted on feeding and watering us before we continued up, up, up. We were prepared then for a big push to get over the top, and suddenly after a bit of undulating road, we reached a sign. ‘Haast Pass’. We’d done it. We were tempted (my diary records) to add the words ‘f-ing high, amazing if you’ve cycled it’, but we saved our energies for the rest of the ride.

As all cyclists know after such a tough uphill ride there is the incredible down to go…Yipppeeee…Only this one was hampered a little by the road suddenly reverting to gravel. And downhill on gravel, with road tyres on a light-weight road tandem, at speed would have been pretty hair-raising, so all that effort was rewarded with a dusty and stony slow descent down the other side…

Mid way down, in the forest were signs to The Blue Pools. If there were DOC signs suggesting a short walk then we’d learnt that they were worth doing. So off we went. And the pools were blue. They were very blue. And they were icy. The huge trout swimming around in them didn’t seem to care.

Makaroa was our stopping point. It remains ingrained in my memory as we stopped in the tea rooms in front of the accommodation. We each had the most welcome, most gigantic and most delicious piece of carrot cake ever known to man. It has gone down in family folklore history.

Our night was spent in a 6 bed A-frame cabin, cooking tinned stew (referred to as dog-food in my diary) and wallowing in our achievement. It had been an 85km day but one of the hardest (and most dreaded) of the trip.

The next day was a relatively easy 65km as we were still heading downwards. The road was still unsealed though so it was a day of breathing dust, as the cars didn’t slow down for us poor cyclists. My other complaint, as a result of the rutted gravel roads, was of feeling slightly uncomfortable on the bike – I wrote, ‘nothing that 6 pairs of cycling pants wouldn’t cure’.

The views of the day were stunning. Riding along Lake Wanaka and Lake Hawea and then down a valley back to the other end of Lake Wanaka. They were million dollar views.

Wanaka was popular with tourists. The quality of the Backpackers showed it – we even had en-suite facilities. The town itself had a variety of places to choose from to eat, and there was a Maze and Puzzle place where we spent time doing puzzles and looking at holograms. What an idyllic setting for a town. Little did we know we would get to know it better when my friend settled there and we spent days walking the hills and swimming in the lake on subsequent visits.

The next leg of the journey included an ‘easy’ 56km to Cromwell where we refuelled. Cakes had definitely become a welcome part of our trip. The next 60km was tougher as the wind had picked up, and seemed to be blowing directly in our faces down the Kawarau river gorge. The area had been settled back in the days of the Otago gold rush, and there were occasional places to stop and watch the river and read about its history. More recently, as the gorge opened out as we got towards Queenstown, there had been an increase in growing grapes so we were able to stop and have bottomless coffees (and more cake) in the winery cafe.

The other thing that the Kawarau Gorge was famous for was Bungy jumping. In fact, it is where it all began. Just 3 years earlier the first commercial jumping had begun. You were invited to jump 43m off the historic Kawarau bridge into the gorge, either on your own or with a friend. Attached to just a stretchy bit of rope. It was fascinating to watch.

But just looking down on this one was enough to put me off.

The last 25km into Queenstown wasn’t too bad in terms of the terrain, but the wind kept us working. Queenstown was another amazing spot for a town – arguably even prettier than Wanaka, and it was so touristed! We checked into the Pavlova’s, which was situated in the old maternity hospital…

I noted that we shopped (probably for tuna) and ate another of the ‘6000 things to make with tuna-fish’ meals.

Queenstown was a rest day. We watched the boats on the lake and watched other people take a cruise across Lake Wakatipu aboard the iconic century-old coal fired steamship, the TSS Earnslaw.

We went the lazy way up Bob’s Peak, which is 450m above the town. We went up in a gondola, and the views from the top were spectacular. You can see mountains all around. Queenstown was however, in my humble opinion, overwhelmed by tourism and even back then the number of high adrenaline activities were always apparent, with the bungy, the jet boats on the quiet rivers, the scenic helicopter flights etc, all being heard in the otherwise idyllic setting…

After a day of rest it was always good to get back on the bike and the journey from Queenstown seemed like easy living. Back past the Kawarau gorge and another look at those Bungy jumpers – I had a secret bet with myself that Mark would have a go, but I was wrong. We had a food break in Cromwell (after 60km) and then the next 36 km to Alexandra was down a river valley, following the Clutha river towards Dunedin. The road was along the side of the valley and in the valley we could see the earthworks and preparation for a huge dam. There were many houses and land to be flooded in the Lake Dunstan-to-be. The Clutha river is the  highest volume river in NZ and there were a couple of hydroelectric stations being built, one at Clyde. The Clyde dam was almost finished and the valley was to be flooded shortly after we left. We whizzed past on our way down the valley, with the wind behind us, unaware of the disruption and political upheaval that the scheme was causing.  I suspect that was our fastest day on the bike.

Typically, the next day was to be our slowest. The first 6km took us over 30mins. It was hilly, but it was so windy! When we slowed down as went uphill we were blown off the road. After an hour we stopped  for a coffee and then continued the struggle to Roxburgh. That was not a pleasant ride… We’d done 40 km in 3hours…

In Roxburgh we reconsidered our plan…There was a bus going through mid-afternoon, so we ate, took off the pedals and waited for the bus. The driver stowed the bike in the luggage compartment and we were back on the road!!

We had a few days in Dunedin. I had a vague contact there and went to look around a school for a friend who was considering working there. Mark went to look round Speight’s Brewery. We got to borrow a car to visit the albatross colony out at the end of the Otago Peninsula and had a couple of evenings being spoiled by our new friends.

Our next stop was Christchurch. We did that by train – and as we looked out of the train over the countryside we were relieved that we had – there appeared to be miles and miles of sheep farming. Just flat land…and you know how much we loved hills!!

A couple of days exploring the impressive city of Christchurch. Little did we know the devastation that would befall it in the future. We spent time seeing some museums, learning about the early settlers, and the Antarctic voyages. We also wandered the university and discovered where our friend Rutherford had studied before splitting his atoms.

Little did we know that that day of very unpleasant windy cycling was our last. From Christchurch we figured we didn’t really have enough time left to cycle much further so we booked another train. The journey from Christchurch to Wellington was very pretty, the train going along the rugged coast.

We got back to Picton and returned to Wellington on that Interislander ferry.  Funnily enough we met the German girl who’d upstaged us with her mileage earlier in the trip. She was exhausted as she’d done everything the hard way… (we may have gloated a little).

Wellington was to be a touristy day, but the weather was not encouraging. We did get the cable car up to the Botanic gardens and had a picnic up there in the beautiful rose gardens. But then due to weather, enthusiasm and possibly a bit of exhaustion we crashed out and went to see Thelma and Louise at the movies. Strangely there was an intermission during the film!

We then got back on that overnight ‘express’ to Auckland where we returned our tandem to Bruce and spent a few last days shopping and chilling. We explored the harbour and Devonport and enjoyed some time chatting with other people we met. I think we were pretty exhausted by our little NZ adventure, but we also had an incredible sense of achievement. We’d cycled over 1100km and seen a good chunk of the South Island.

No regrets? My only regret was not getting to see any of the North Island, particularly the famous geothermal town of Rotorua. Its really strange how life works out though as 10 years later I accepted a job in that very town, and it became home for a while!

 

Australia: straight down the middle

Australia. We had about 6 weeks in this huge country before our flight out in late October 1991. What to do? We arrived with few plans. In fact no plans, other than flying out of Sydney (which was nearly 2000 miles away – as the crow flies…and we didn’t have that ability despite visiting a few aviation museums). So, we settled into a backpackers in Darwin and started to hatch a plan. Firstly we checked our money reserves. They were starting to look pretty paltry – especially as our months of cheap living were over. There was no travelling and living on about £4 a day in Oz.

In between lounging by the hostel’s pool (watching a wombat in the tree!), chatting to other travellers and exploring the locality, we kept checking the notice boards. This was how you found out stuff in those days… We’d thought we might get a lift to Perth…and we did but the people going planned to do it in just a few days…We thought that was just too quick, all driving and no exploring along the way… And once you get to Perth, its a long, long way to Sydney. We could see all of our time being eaten away just getting from A to B (or Darwin to Perth to Sydney).

Instead we decided to bus it to Sydney, in a few stages. It was a fairly expensive option but enabled us to plan where we wanted to go (and meant that we’d get to the right place in the end)…and although it wasn’t going as the crow flies, it was going as the Greyhound goes (the best part of 3000 miles).

Our first stop was Katherine. It was a small town with a huge gorge nearby. We hired ourselves a canoe and spent a day just paddling down the Katherine Gorge. It was spectacular.

One of the great things about travelling was catching up with other people at the end of the day and chatting about what you’d done and seen. During our Katherine paddling we met up with a couple and after helping lift their canoe over rocky areas we also met up with them over a few beers later in the day. They must have taken some photos too.

The gorge was a delight for both scenery and a bit of gentle swimming. I think the attraction of the swims paled a bit for me after seeing the beware of the crocodiles signs…

Alice Springs was next and was a quiet town (although I believe it gets quite busy during the annual dry river regatta…). While we were there we explored the flying doctor homestead (the service reportedly developed after the telegraph operator had to do an operation on an infected bladder with a penknife). We would have gone to the school of the air too, but they were on holiday. We did see the telegraph station though and noted that it was 100 years since the world was linked via wires! We also learned the more shocking historical fact that it wasn’t until 1967 (so only 24 years before) that Australia held a referendum to decide whether the Aboriginal people should be counted as Australians. The tour suggested that prior to this their status was equivalent to kangaroos .

Of course, you couldn’t go to Australia’s Red Centre without going to see the big rocks. They are amazing. For hundreds of miles you travel through red scrubby desert – and it is really red. It is also really, really flat. The roads are straight and the buses race along with few stops, just for food, occasional stops in the middle of nowhere for people to get on or off, and the occasional bumps when you hit kangaroos. If you’ve hit a rabbit in your car you might be able to imagine the impact of a swiftly moving body of a muscly kangaroo hitting a swiftly moving bus. It’s quite an impact…

The rocks. They are probably a great geography lesson, but to the casual observer they are just these huge rocks that suddenly rise out of the earth. They too are red. People have always flocked to see them, and for us it was no different – there were bus loads of people going to see them, particularly at sunset when Ayer’s Rock was reported to change colour. We’d figured over the year that the best sunsets are after the sun has gone down, so we were the last getting back on the bus that evening – and perhaps we witnessed the glow of the rocks.

All of the accommodation at Ayers Rock was at one small place called Yulara. There was a range of places to stay from plush hotels to segregated dormitory bunks. The bunks were the most expensive beds that we stayed in 1991 (at A$19.50 for a bed and A$8 for a sheet, pillow and blanket). The security was also the poorest. In the middle of the night I woke up to see a man standing and staring at the girl in the bunk opposite me. I was quite impressed with my loud and quick response…

The day after the sunset viewing we had a short tour around the area (unless you have your own vehicle you are at the mercy of bus tours, it’s too far to walk anywhere). The Olgas and the big rock were just breathtaking.

The tour included time to climb Ayers Rock, Uluru. We did just that, along with a constant stream of others. It was a tough climb, up over 300m, often reliant on the chain to drag yourself up.

The views from the top confirmed what we already knew – you could see just red desert for miles around.

It was quite a feat to climb the rock. And it was just rock – there were some bits of loose stone, but mostly it was pretty smooth, with some occasional craters and a very occasional tree. And it was a popular thing to do…with a visitors book at the top if you were so inclined to queue to sign it.

After the climb the tour took us to the local village, where we went round the museum and discovered that the local Aboriginal people worship the mountain and did not want people to climb it…Why did they take us there after the climb…?

Australia is such a huge country…a number of nights and days on buses and in small towns to travel north to south. Coober Pedy was another stop – a rocky place where I believe Mad Max was filmed. Much of the town is underground – it is so hot and dry that the coolest places are below ground. They mine opals there too (the largest opal field in the world) and there are some seriously impressive underground hotels, showrooms…and less impressive museums of mining.

After our trip from north to south we found ourselves in the lush and green city of Adelaide. It was so refreshing just to see grass and not to be covered in dust all the time. Refreshing also to sample some of the local produce…

A wine tour – why not!?  It was a good day out sampling a number of wines and heady liqueurs. Strangely the trip also included a visit to a toy factory (what is it with the Antipodean fascination with extra large stuff…?) and a dam with a whispering wall.

As well as the wine we explored the local hills, and as total cheapskates watched some free cricket (Mark hates cricket but it was free to wander in!!)

And we found William Light, founder of Adelaide, pointing down at the city he’d found.

Broken Hill was our last stop between Adelaide and Sydney, on either side of night buses. It was a mining community miles from anywhere, where there were lots of historical plaques showing what the town had looked like. I noted in my diary that there clearly was little left as it had all been replaced by BP stations and supermarkets.

We spent a couple of days in Sydney. Whilst we were there we phoned home!! This was a rare event. However we know we did it from a bank of phones in Kings Cross Sydney. We know we did it because in the Qantas magazine in Spring 1992 there was a photo of us – it was the place that had the most outgoing overseas calls from anywhere in Australia.  I guess things are quite different these days… (surely no-one would write an article about people making phone calls, or maybe they would if they used phone booths?)

We also headed to a small place just south of Sydney, Wollongong, visiting a couple we’d met in Agra in India, and Pokhara in Nepal.  It was so nice to stay somewhere a few days, and do very normal things…like cooking and doing the garden. Although there were some pretty abnormal things too, like collecting a couple of sheep in the back of a very small car to help with mowing the lawn…

They took us to visit the local Naval base (where he worked) where we got to see the local population of kangaroos and if you were really lucky you might spot a koala in the trees.

We also had a trip then to Canberra with our friend, sleeping at her Mum’s and meeting the whole family – getting involved in a birthday party, entertaining the kids, drinking wine etc. All so normal after a months of travelling.

Canberra, as the seat of government, was also an interesting place to visit and we spent a good day at parliament house and exploring the war memorial. We’d already had some education during one of our evenings watching Gallipoli.

And then finally back to Sydney… Our last few days wandering the city. You could climb up one of the bridge gantries and look over the city. It was prior to the days of tourists being allowed (or encouraged) to climb bridges. I imagine the city skyline, apart from the obvious bits, has changed a bit now…

That was the end of Australia, for 1991. We did go back there in 2006… but that’s another story. For now, it’s time to get on a plane and travel to our final destination of 1991, New Zealand…

 

 

 

Beautiful, beautiful Bali

We arrived at Denpasar airport, Bali, in mid-September 1991. It was a quick and efficient arrival (with our bags being off the plane before us) and we soon found ourselves in a taxi to the nearby town, Kuta.

Although I have titled this beautiful Bali, Kuta wasn’t. There were, however, lots of insistent hawkers trying to off-load fake Rolexes on us, often suggesting their beauty.

We moved on quickly the next day by bus to Ubud, which is a small inland town nestled amongst the rice paddies and rolling hills. We noticed immediately that inland from Kuta Bali was already looking a lot more promising.

There were plenty of ‘hotel’ touts waiting for us when we got off the bus, but they were not as insistent as in previous places, and we felt able to wander up and down the street looking at the possible options. It’s amazing thinking back at how easy it was to find where all the accommodation was just by reading the guidebook and following the simple maps outlining the town streets. The guest-houses tended to be a number of little bungalows (moving on from our previous experiences of ‘sheds’) in large gardens. They were hidden away from the street by tall walls with  welcoming arched-entrances to the gardens. The gardens were green and well-cared for with colourful plants and flowers. Beautiful. (I recorded the one we stayed in as being 12000 Rupiah per night – the off-season price which had plummeted from Rp20000 when we first looked – there were Rp3300 to the £1).

The food in Ubud was fantastic, from the banana jaffles (an Australian import to South East Asia – basically a fruit-filled waffle) on the front porch of the bungalow to the satay and gado gado around town. So much fresh produce… It was also a lovely little town to wander around with many arty shops, selling batik, paintings and Balinese wood carvings. There was also a monkey forest at the end of the town where you could while away time watching the monkeys jumping through the trees.

We also visited Antonio Blanco’s house. I couldn’t remember anything about him so just googled him and “women are the focal point of his paintings and one could say that Antonio was a painter of the eternal feminine and his style is romantic-expressive and dreamy” (Wikipedia). My diary entry is slightly different…  ‘he seems to be a pervert with a nice house and garden. Weird pictures, mostly female nudes from porn magazines’. Clearly I have always been so appreciative of great art and culture. I did like his garden though.

From Ubud we hired a jeep to explore the island. Initially we noticed that the back door wouldn’t lock so we had the pleasure and entertainment of watching 4 men with a piece of wire and screwdrivers fighting with it. Whether we did ever lock it or not after that I don’t remember.

As soon as we left the busy roads around Ubud, the whole pace of life changed and we could properly appreciate Bali – and it was beautiful. We arrived pretty quickly at the Bat Cave Temple where there appeared to be a huge festival going on. People were crowded together, wearing bright colours and carrying offerings, and they welcomed us to join them.

Opposite the cave temple the sand was totally black showing the volcanic history of the area.

Further on along the coast we suddenly came to a bay where there were fishing boats pulled onto the white sand. It was so different from the previous bay. The outrigger canoes were painted in bright colours with those amazing swordfish-like noses (not the nautical term I’m sure). Little did we know at that point that 10 years later we would be back and jumping out of those boats with a 3 and 5 year old to snorkel and look at the incredible fish and coral below the crystal-clear waters.

We also found ourselves in a village where we heard music and were dragged/encouraged into a garden/cafe to watch a man plonking away on a bamboo xylophone, whilst his brother wove a plate from palms and we drank a potent coconut drink. (He assured us no alcohol…). The man showed us a huge scrap-book of names, addresses and photos (presumably of all the other unsuspecting souls that he’d encouraged into his garden) then showed us how to play on a small pipe made from bamboo. It was a fascinating noise/tune, but at the time he was also continuously chewing the red betel nut that stains teeth and tongue red and he had gross inch-long thumb-nails and it was all more than I could cope with for one day, so we didn’t stay for an encore! (Perhaps as a result of the potent coconut drink?).

As we continued our travels on a narrow road over a headland, which wasn’t yet properly surfaced, we saw lots of people working on the land. They often stopped and waved. They gave the impression of enjoying entertaining tourists with their everyday activities. We passed a number of processions too and stopped whilst they moved past us, watching the women carry burning offerings on large silver trays and huge piles of fruit on their heads.

Later in the day as we headed down from a headland there was a flotilla of blue-sailed dug-out canoes returning home after a day fishing. Beautiful…

You can see from the checkered sails that they appeared to be made from the same stuff that those big blanket bags are made from. Simple but effective.

Down at sea level we passed some salt-fields.  Again we watched women workers, carrying buckets of salt from the dug-out vats where it had been dried out.

We drove back to our place through hills where the fields had been cut over the years to grow the rice – some as narrow as 4′ wide. Beautiful, and possibly treacherous.

 

The next day was spent driving through rice paddies. I had never seen somewhere so green! Beautiful!!

I don’t think I quite understood exactly how rice was grown prior to this trip (other than in paddy fields) so this was quite a revelation to me. We spent ages just sitting watching and admiring the view.

We also visited the Mother Temple, where we had to dress up to go up to the temple. It was quite a climb up and then we were pretty disappointed when we got to the top, because they wouldn’t let us in to the temple complex. It was so different from places we’d already been where they’d welcomed and encouraged us in – especially as this one had asked for a steep donation (well, about £3) for the sarong to cover us…

Moving on we came to Lake Batur. From there you could see the highest volcanic peak of the island – Mount Batur. Our plan was to get up early the next morning and climb up to the crater, but for that evening we watched the sun set and chatted to a young girl at the lake edge – learning how to balance her basket of souvenirs on our heads…

It was another fail though. When we woke up after a cold night we decided we were just too tired to climb the mountain! (A first for us to not go to the highest point?). Instead we headed north through the green hills and countryside for another night at another beach.

The last day we drove back to Ubud. We found some very impressive galleries to peruse the amazing wood carvings. It was disconcerting though to come to places where everything was priced in US dollars. For one thing in most places there were no prices. It was part of the haggling game to work out what the price should be…or, at least, what you were prepared to pay. And the other worry was that we were told that as we weren’t with a tour group we could immediately reduce the price of anything by 50%…

Back in Kuta we found a place to stay not far from the airport so that we could walk there the next morning ready for our flight out. The prices of the rooms were so inflated in comparison to the idyllic places we’d been staying. The beach was pretty grim and the walk to it was along a road of building sites, where we had to dodge numerous holes in the pavements which showed the deep storm-drains below. We were again surrounded by rip-off watch salesmen…and all of the delights of nasty souvenir shops and stalls.

As well as the general feeling of being in a resort that was still being built, we found ourselves surrounded by drunken tattooed Aussie beer drinkers. It was enough for us to put pen to paper and write an amusing ditty – I mentioned before the lack of culture…

We’ve seen some horrible places in our time

But Kuta’s right up there in front of the line

It’s so tacky

Everything’s placky

Coming here is almost a crime…

The airport in the morning was something to behold too. We were there at 5.45am and the place was teeming with people still partying from the night (and possibly the week) before. Beer everywhere…

I’ve said previously it would be a real shame if people went to these all-you-can-eat-drink resorts and didn’t see the rest of the country. Perhaps really it’s a great result!!

Bali was beautiful, beautiful…

Singapore, a brief story

We arrived in Singapore, in early September 1991, after a long bus ride (I think we’d been travelling for about 12 hour including changing buses and crossing the border etc). It was 8pm and typically for our level of organisation we had no Singaporean dollars, just Malaysian. After some bartering and general discussion we managed to get a minibus into the City and found our accommodation. It was full. Back in ‘the olden days’ there was none of that booking in advance on the internet, so this often happened as we turned up to places that were suggested in the guidebook. However, as it usually does, it turned out fine as there were other places nearby. We found a place just down the road, which was just out of our intended (meagre) budget, but out of exhaustion and necessity we settled down there for the night – enjoying the unaccustomed luxury of hot showers (not really needed on the equator) and a TV.

Of course we moved on the next morning – we couldn’t afford ourselves that level of decadence. Back then, and I am sure they won’t be allowed to do this now, especially as it wasn’t allowed then, many travellers were offered cheap accommodation in apartments that had been converted (boarded out) into numerous ‘rooms’  or ‘cubicles that just contain beds’. It was one of these that we found ourselves in – feeling slightly guilty for the flagrant law-breaking that we were engaging in and encouraging…But also enjoying the clean, modern space with hot water, tea and toast in the mornings and a bargain price!! Such conflicting loyalties about doing the right thing.

Singapore is a small island country, and city, at the end of the Malaysian peninsula. It has a colourful and turbulent history and had recently proved international observers very wrong that it could survive independently. When we arrived it was seen as a successful high-income economy that had developed over a very short period of time, after being ruled by us Brits, being occupied by Japan during WWII and having been (unsuccessfully) part of Malaysia for a very short while.

After the places we’d been for the last 8 months, Singapore was a reminder of the sort of basic things that we had always taken for granted, but hadn’t experienced in a while. Flushing toilets for one example. We no longer had a tap and bucket next to the toilet which you used to ‘sluice’ down after each use. It was also scrupulously clean. Everywhere. There was not a single piece of litter anywhere. There was no spitting on the streets. There was no evidence of poverty and people sleeping on the streets. There were notices everywhere reminding you that these things were not allowed, and clearly the enforcement had worked. It also felt very safe, and there were none of the touts on the street offering food, rooms carpets, or illicit entertainment that we’d met elsewhere.

Singapore looked like a really modern, high-rise city, and for the most part it was. There were some areas though, China Town and Little India, where the old buildings and facades had been kept. That’s where we spent our first day, wandering, admiring the clear affluent and British colonial influences of the past. Much of it was however, at that time, declining.

 

There were suggestions at the time that the city had been cleaned up so much that tourism had declined. I don’t know whether this is true or not but it was suggested that one of the streets, previously known for its colourful brothels, was being encouraged to open up for business again, both to encourage its businesses and to encourage tourists back – obviously red-light districts are interesting.

We managed to find fresh and cheap food, keeping to the expectations of our last few months. Singapore was a place where you felt that eating from street-food vendors was more acceptable, and standards of cleanliness were higher. A number of evenings were spent at the satay stalls…

We also walked miles along the waterfronts, gazing upwards at the high-rise blocks (again something we hadn’t seen for a while). The temptation to splash out and experience an evening in Raffles and have a renowned Singapore Sling was dashed by the fact that the whole hotel was having a refurb. That was probably a relief to us for both our financial and wardrobe reserves!

Singapore Zoo was a pleasant place to spend a day. It was quite different from the zoos we’d seen so far on our travels. This one had huge enclosures, was very green with grass and trees, and the animals looked healthy and well cared-for. There was lots of information about conservation and how they were working with others to increase the populations of rare species in the wild. It felt altogether more worthy that the spartan, concrete enclosures that we had witnessed elsewhere.

I particularly loved watching the polar bears in their glass-sided enclosure. Thinking back now though, the Singapore climate, just by the equator, is probably not one where you should expect to see Polar Bears…

We spent a day at Sentosa Island. The island had a significant military history and had been identified as a perfect spot to develop into a resort in the 1960s and 70s. We had a sceptical view of whether it was a place we really wanted to go, but sometimes you just have to go and experience these places…and, as it turned out, it was an interesting day out. I suspect it is significantly more developed now… There was no bridge over to the island then so we started our day with a boat trip, then had a monorail tour around the island – which in my diary I recorded as ‘through loads of building sites with an horrifically boring commentary’. We watched the ‘musical fountains’ for a while and then stopped off at the aquarium. 

I loved it! I had never been in such a place before. It was probably one of the early examples of the huge glass tunnels with moving foot-ways taking you through the depths of the ocean. I was mesmerised, and so we had to go round the circuit at least a couple of times… The photos were rubbish,, but I got to see the incredible rays and sharks and colourful fish. I was like a kid in a sweet shop… I have always been this easy to please!!

Fort Silosa was a remnant of the military past which was also pretty interesting, and there were opportunities, as there were through our Asian travels, to put yourself in the shoes (or at least in the face) of a historical guardsman.

And that was really it for our brief stay in Singapore. A whole country! Overall a bit of a shock to the system, in terms of the cleanliness and orderliness. I suspect you could argue sanitised.

This trip was full of contrasts!

 

 

Wanderings through Malaysia

A long bus ride from Bangkok got us out of Thailand just before our visas ran out. We arrived in Malaysia and settled in to yet another country and different kind of life. It appeared that Malaysia was more diverse than anywhere else we had been. It seemed to be a good mix of Malay, Indian and Chinese cultures. It was evident in the buildings, the food and the people.

First though, after a few days with Cath, we had some chores to do and a nice rooftop area in Georgetown enabled us to catch up with the laundry.

We sat up on this roof ‘terrace’ every night eating different kinds of melon bought from one of the local street vendors.

One evening we also had a visitor in our room. We had a basic room with a fan (none of that expensive air-con for us). We’d opened the shutters and were sitting on the bed enjoying the cooler air wafting down from the fan when suddenly a huge creature (OK, probably not very huge) started flapping around the room. We were a bit spooked initially, but did manage to tun off the fan – although we knew it was unlikely to hit anything, we really didn’t fancy a room full of sliced up bat. We sat with the shutters wide open, trying to encourage him to fly back out, but for what seemed like an age he just circled and circled.

I suspect in the last 29 years that Georgetown will have changed beyond recognition. When we arrived, via a ferry from Butterworth, onto the island known as Penang, it was a relatively low-rise city. The one notable exception to this was the Komtar Tower. It was in the midst of a shopping area and had to be worth exploration.

It cost us a few Malaysian dollars to go up to the top. As a clever marketing ploy they also give you a ticket with your entry fee for $5 off an item in the gift shop at the top.  Following a lengthy time appreciating the views, and a drink and cake, we spent an age perusing the gift shop… This was where we decided that the majority of things were really not  worthy of purchase, not even with the discount. And it was where our little game “if you had to have something in this window” originated. The object of the game is to identify the most hideous thing and imagine putting everyone out of their misery of even viewing it, by buying it and dropping it from the top of the Komtar tower. As it turned out the Komtar tower was secure enough to avoid anyone dropping anything to its definitive demise from the top. Also, as you probably are aware, we were also way too mean to actually buy something expensive to destroy (I’d like to reframe that as non-materialistic and reluctant to waste…). We were also way too mean to not use our $5 vouchers, so after probably hours of searching (and possibly too much giggling/hysteria) we bought an attractive pack of cards with views of the city…So we finished with a purchase that was useful and almost free (we had to pay an extra $2 on top of the vouchers…not to mention the entry to the tower fee).

I bet the views from the top are now significantly different though!!

Georgetown was a city of red-tiled roofs, and ramshackle buildings. There was always something going on around the place, and it was a joy to wander around.

The number of ‘hawkers’ and people hassling you to sell something or scam you were much reduced after some of the other places we’d been…with the exception of the chap here behind the bike, using his lines on these unsuspecting travellers (he’d tried us the day before).

There was a huge Botanical Garden which was a delight to wander around, making friends with the resident population.

Just on the outskirts of the town there was a hill. We, even then, needed to get to the top. This time though, there was an impressive funicular railway up it. And then surprisingly there was another which took you to the top. It was lovely up at there, especially if you love just sitting around. It was cooler (at about 600m) than down in the town. Just sitting around watching the locals paid off, as one of the inquisitive ones came to be with us. He appeared to enjoy our company for an extended period of time. We wanted to take him home!!

A local tourist tried to get him to play with her and have photographs. He scratched and bit her…then came back to us to show us his appreciation (and we know he was enjoying being with us as he had a huge (for a small monkey) erection! Not sure we should be proud of that).

Despite our previous exploits on motor bikes, we hired another one to explore Penang Island. We found evidence of a rapidly increasing tourist trade, with expanding holiday areas along the coast. We also found a butterfly house, where we stopped and I just loved watching these huge things gliding past me. You could watch eggs being laid and butterflies hatching from their cocoons. I was in my element!

After Gorgetown we tried to go out and explore a bit more of the countryside. We took a bus to the Cameron Highlands where we discovered that as well as a lot of rain it was also cold!! Way too cold for us and despite extra night-time blankets I shivered through the night. We just weren’t equipped for the highlands…and the weather wasn’t looking great, so we didn’t stay long…but the bus ride back down was memorable for the mad driving down a winding road with parts of it obscured by low cloud.

Instead we headed to Kuala Lumpur.

Malaysia was great at celebrating the outdoors and natural world, demonstrated by  the majority of my photos being creatures and flowers. In KL there was a huge newly-built walk-through bird garden. I remember it being either free or very cheap as it was new and we spent a couple of pleasant afternoons in there.

There was also an orchid garden and hibiscus garden. Just so colourful. Exotic.

KL struck us as a pleasant, clean and vibrant city. There were plenty of new buildings, with their Muslim-styled architecture, and there were older buildings. And there were brand-new buildings being built behind the facades of old ones. it was refreshing to see that such a quickly developing city had the time and awareness of preserving the old, whether for historical value or to keep  the character for visitors.

We then took a short trip to Malacca which showed off it’s Dutch heritage.

We went on a river trip there where we saw some large monitor lizards and lung fish in the smelly mud. The highlight might have been the ridiculous head-gear that we were loaned… Shady huh?

We also went to the ‘son et lumiere’ and were impressed by the sound and light of the show – but were maybe a bit confused about the story-line. The most memorable parts of it were a repeated chorus of “Merdeka, boom, boom, bang-a-bang”. We continued using and perhaps embellished this line for a while – and only now have I googled the Merdeka bit which means freedom or independence! We didn’t have Google then.

During our travels we stayed on the peninsula of Malaysia, but having travelled a fair bit down the west we treated ourselves to a short but decadent flight over to the the north east coast to avoid a very long bus ride.

We landed at a town called Kuala Terengaru, ready to explore the eastern coast. One of my enduring memories of the place was that we decided to go for a swim, as the local brand new public pool was very close to where we were staying. We were obviously a bit naive and as we went off to our respective changing rooms we had no idea that we were also going to different pools. Mark found himself in the 50m men’s pool and I found myself on my own for an hour or so in the women’s 25m pool. We did manage a brief conversation through a wall at one point…and I entertained a group of giggling schoolgirls in the ladies changing rooms (just by being there!).

It was probably our first real exposure to the Muslim religion as the majority of places we’d travelled in India were predominantly Hindu. So this was the first place that we were also woken early in the morning by the call to prayer.

Heading south along the coast a little we went on a river trip from a place called Marang. We saw numerous animals initially but then stopped off to see the local people at work: panning for gold; using monkeys to collect coconuts; making caramel from coconut sugar and plaiting palm leaves to make things from. And cocoa pods growing (I had never seen chocolate growing before!). All fascinating stuff.

Then a batik factory. Batik is everywhere along the coast – the working conditions for these people were horrendous…you can clearly see the potential for accidents with the open fire, hot wax and dye. They probably earned a pittance too.

The coast is a holiday haven – and we indulged ourselves, boat trips, snorkelling and swimming.

Down the coast a little we stopped at the village Rantau Abang. We had read that it was a good place to see the Leatherback Turtle. We went down to the Turtle Conservation Site where we read about the amazing creatures who chose this steep beach for their egg-laying. It was seen as a perfect place for them as they didn’t have to make their way up a long beach. We were in for a surprising night.

At about 1.20am we were woken by loud cries of “Turtle, turtle” so everyone scrambled to get up and dressed ready to see a rare sighting of these creatures. We were shepherded by the guides down to a van, then at the North beach we were shown the way over a rickety bridge and a fair way along the beach to where there was an incredibly bright light. There, a crowd had gathered. All gathered around a 7ft turtle. We saw it was heading down the beach…That seemed a little strange, because if it had just arrived on the beach then surely it would be busy laying it’s eggs. Even more strange was that one of the guides kept sticking a large stake in the ground so that it turned around and went back up the beach. It definitely wanted to go down the beach though, but as the guides were dependent on getting their cash if you saw a turtle, then it was sort of understandable what they were doing…

When they eventually allowed the poor creature to go down to the water, they spread a plastic sheet on the sand in front of it so that it got onto it and was transferred into a dinghy – ready to be transferred to another beach ready to be ‘shown’ to another crowd of hopeful onlookers.

We were horrified. We had thought that as we were seeing the turtles at a conservation site that we would be seeing a natural event. No way!! We were seeing some animal cruelty of a high order that was being fuelled by the tourist economy – us Westerners wanting to see a rare event. The next days were taken up with some serious letter writing to the WWF (who were supposedly involved in the conservation there). Sadly, but maybe unsurprisingly, having just Googled the area it appears that from the 1950s when there were around 11,000 nestings that by 1999 it had dropped to fewer than 10. Certainly our viewings in 1991 would have discouraged any animal to return there.

Our last Malaysian stay was in Cherating. It was a pleasant little settlement with a beautiful expanse of beach. We were surrounded by palm tress and had our own little bungalow (shed) with its own bathroom (extended wall with no roof). And, oh look, the opportunity to do some more laundry!

We spent some relaxed days here and also made our own batik t-shirts. It was such a relaxing way to while away the time – totally engrossed in the process. That’s probably not how those people who do it every day in awful conditions see it.

In the next bay there was a ClubMed hotel – one of those places that you don’t ever have to leave. They did have a lovely beach accessible from their compound, jelly-fish free, with clear blue waters. It would have been a real shame if people actually did travel all the way to Malaysia without seeing the people and their way of lives and eating the amazing food on offer everywhere.

Of all the places we travelled in 1991 the food in Malaysia was my favourite. The mix of Indian, Chinese and the Malay cuisines was perfect. There was so much fresh produce, with especially impressive fruit and nut offerings.  You are lucky that Instagramming food had yet to be invented. I have, you will be relieved to know, not one single picture of my Gado Gado or Nasi Goreng. I do have very fond memories of them though.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Thailand, and a bit of colour

Suddenly our senses got another shock. This time, it was the sheer overwhelming colour of the place. A fair bit of it gold.

Perhaps we were feeling better, perhaps the rest and recuperation had done us good, or perhaps Thailand was just more colourful than China.

We went to see the world’s largest reclining Buddha. We’d already seen the largest sitting-on-the-top-of-a-hill Buddha in Hong Kong. In fairness this one was pretty big, lying indoors, and I managed to only get dark pictures of his toes…

Wherever we went there were colourful shrines, always decorated with flowers, incense and candles. Everyone had a shrine in the front of their house, and fed it daily. We saw dancers on the street and people generally wore bright clothes. There were bright window displays of colourful silks, opportunities to buy blingy jewellery and a huge number of offers to view very colourful activities involving ping-pong balls.

Our time in Thailand included the end of June, July, and a few days of August 1991 (when my sister, Cath, and her boyfriend made an appearance). During our Thai-time we visited Bangkok a number of times, trying to get to the bottom (no pun intended) of the recurrent illness that I was experiencing. We went to visit a doctor and his wife (probably to the dismay of the travel insurers) who completed a raft of tests, and gave me more meds to try, before going off on trips then returning for results.

Bangkok itself was a busy city – lots of people and horrific traffic congestion. We returned from one trip sitting on a bus for two hours just getting beyond the city limits. It would have been quicker to walk…

There were things going on everywhere though, and it was a pleasant place to explore. There were lots of monuments (different again to anywhere we’d been before) and they were colourful and opulent.

It was fairly easy to travel around and people were friendly – that was such a difference after being treated so suspiciously in China. Thailand had a reputation for having the smiliest people – and for the most part that was what we experienced. Sometimes you did get the impression that the ready smiles were partly fuelled by the lure of the tourist dollar (or Bhat).

It was good to explore some of the city waterways by boat, just to get away from the busy roads.

From Bangkok we travelled to some of the holiday islands. We had a week in Koh Samui, just reading, eating well (the abundance of fresh fruit and fresh bread) and enjoying the company of other travellers. It was pretty basic accommodation – we had a hut with a straw roof and were allocated a bucket of water each every day.  Whilst we were there I think we had thunderstorms every night. Lots of rain and a straw roof didn’t work too well together…we slept round the puddles. And caught up with any sleep we’d missed during our lazy sunny daytimes. It was a beautiful, quiet island with idyllic beaches until the weekend when the young professionals from Bangkok danced in the next bay until the early hours. We suffered greatly those nights when we had to walk on the moonlit beach and sit on the rocks watching the stars.

After this trip we tracked back to the doctor and I reported being so much better from his prescribed medications – wanting to give him some credit, even though this was a recurrent pattern. It was at this point that he said he needed to treat me properly as I had typhoid. Typhoid!! Like really!! And I’d had the travel jabs – was typhoid one of the ones that had really made me ill when I’d had it? We took his advice and paid him huge sums of cash for a nice cocktail of drugs to be taken for a month. Each day I needed to take 16 tablets of 3 different antibiotics. Oh fun!!

I had never been too bad at taking tablets, but some of these were monster-sized. I have fond memories (not) of the struggles that I had being unable to get them down me. Suffice to say that the only way to take my meds was to sit in a public place – I could not run round a restuarant chucking them back up.

Another trip out was to a town called Nakhon Ratchasima (now often known as Korat – can’t imagine why that is preferred). It was a very quiet little town, only accessible by rail or bus in those days,  where we had the hottest (spice) food we had ever experienced. This so soon after the doctor had suggested plain foods…

It was also a town favoured by some American Vets who’d been there since the Vietnam war, and we ate with them in the Veterans of Foreign Wars cafe on a number of occasions, and one night watched them as they downed numerous beers. They’d clearly been doing the same since they’d demobbed. Not a bad place to do it I imagine. We also were ‘adopted’ by a Thai English teacher, Mona Lisa (yes, really), who introduced us to her students and we had a really funny evening and traditional dinner with them. It was weird though because at the end of the evening they all left together and suddenly – apparently it wasn’t what we had said, rather the Thai equivalent of Coronation St was about to start!

Nakhon Ratchasima has a number of significant historical and religious sites around that you can explore, as well as silk-producing factory shops (more like factories than our understanding these days of factory shops).

 

Chiang Mai was another trip out of the big city. It’s a small (or it was then) city in the northern mountains of the country.  We hired a motorbike for some exploration of the nearby countryside. I am not a natural – and this photo is a real example of the camera lying.

We did make it up to a temple in the hills, after a minor argument with a ditch (I was not a great pillion passenger either as I tended to lean the wrong way…).

We also had a trip to a number of factory shops – but as ever we were never good shoppers – and preferred a day-trip to the zoo.

From Chiang Mai we flew on a tiny little plane to a hillside town called Mae Hong Son where we found a very rustic place to stay – all wood and palm leaves. It really was out in the middle of nowhere – and we could see the landing strip from our garden so Mark was happy going out each day to watch the landing and take off (of the one plane a day).

We trekked up to the top of a hill to see a temple – and the views of the green valleys.

We took a day trip to the Burmese border. There were a few of us in the back of an open jeep. That day it really, really rained, so not only did they need chains on the tyres to get a grip of the road surface we needed a makeshift roof (plastic sheet). This was at the height of my medication too – and it made me feel sick and burpy (not great for travel-sickness) – so I poked my head out in the rain anyway! As you can see I was not that impressed.

I remember on the way down the driver appeared to just get each tyre in a rut on the wet, muddy road and slide down…

At the border there was a small village, and we could see how people lived out there in the rural outposts. Not dissimilar to so many of the villages we had been to in Nepal.

Rain was a feature of that day and a few others in Thailand. Typical of those months there I assume. Back in Bangkok for a few days we found ourselves walking around the city centre during one of the most dramatic rainstorms I have ever witnessed. It was so sudden and so heavy that the road suddenly became a river and although we still had reasonably dry feet walking on the raised pavements we were joined by thousands of cockroaches and then rats out of the flooded drains… We moved pretty quickly back to our accommodation that day – didn’t want a scared, panicking rat assuming our legs were drainpipes or something.

I think you could do a day-trip to Kanchanaburi from Bangkok, but we spent a couple of days there. It was a sobering place where you could visit the allied war cemeteries, the great Bridge over the River Kwai and a museum detailing the building of the death railway. As in many other places the hostels and cafes showed the relevant movies into the evenings.

As an antidote to the sobering information around us we enjoyed some respite in the coffee shops and had ‘friends’ join us.

Thailand is well-known for its islands and beaches, so off we went to another holiday spot. This time to Krabi and a nearby beach called Phra Nang.

We had to get onto one of the long-tailed boats, and precariously off at the other end, carrying a huge backpack…I’m sure there was no awareness of health and safety back then. Phra Nang was a relatively busy (for travelling types) beachy-place – and again we found ourselves in a tiny thatched hut (cottage would have been too grand a term). Mark had his birthday whilst we were there…and this is our celebration cake! (I clearly hadn’t mastered the flash (or procuring birthday cakes) etc but it gives an idea of our accommodation).

We also went on boat trips to visit the famous islands and caves.

The area had particularly sprung to fame 15 years earlier with a James Bond boat chase. As well as the secluded islands and caves we visited this beach, where you could buy your James Bond tat and paraphernalia.

A treat was to stay overnight on a floating island. As soon as the boat trips finished the place was quiet, just a few tourists and the locals. It was a real community – a fishing (and tourist) village. The floorboards making up the streets didn’t always feel entirely secure, and some of the walkways needed you to jump between the boards.There was  no traffic though…and below you was just the briny.

We spent our last few Thai-days with my sister back in Bangkok – sorry Cath, I have no photos of that time…they do exist but must have been on Mark’s camera!! We  went on trips to places we’d already seen and explored places we hadn’t. I remember some fun times at the night markets with them haggling for t-shirts (which they got at great prices but gave us the next day as none of them fitted). We ate well with them and were reminded of the kind of opulent luxury that you could find in places when you weren’t travelling on £5 a day!!

 

 

We’ll work in Hong Kong

Imagine spending the best part of 4 months in a couple of the world’s poorest countries, then taking a flight and landing suddenly in one of the world’s richest. Culture shock!!

I think that’s probably how we felt after our flight to Hong Kong at the end of April 1991. From previous blogs you will have noticed that we had relaxed into ‘travelling’ gear, consisting of T shirts and flowery trousers. We arrived in Hong Kong where everyone seemed to wear suits and designer gear. Low level buildings had suddenly been replaced by vertiginous glassy high-tech sky-scrapers.

We met my brother Pete, who’d been working there for a while, in one of the huge (upmarket) sparkly hotels on the waterfront. He was wearing a suit too – was that just to show us up…?

He took us back to his place on an enviable commute on one of the regular ferries out to Discovery Bay, Lantau Island. It was a short, but very sweaty (suddenly so humid) walk up the hill to his shared apartment on the 10th floor. Lantau was in the early stages of building on any reasonably flat land and Discovery Bay appeared to be a recently-built community, with a small shopping area and leisure centre with buildings all around. Some were fairly low level and others were tower blocks. We spent some happy hours watching people from the balcony – it was the early days of karaoke and people in nearby flats were dressing up and singing in the privacy (or so they perhaps thought) of their own apartments.

Our plan was to stay a few days, find jobs and accommodation and earn a bit of cash to continue our travels.

We settled in for a few days on Pete’s couches, exploring a bit and updating our wardrobes and doing essentials like getting haircuts. We booked an appointment for a job interview with an English language school and looked at cheap accommodation. I think that shocked us as much as the sudden change in the culture around us, and the sobering thought that days spent in an English-speaking booth would only just cover the rent. Whilst we wandered this alien place we had a sudden idea: “Let’s go to China”.

So that is what we did…

We explored the idea of going up the Pearl river by boat to Canton/Guangzhou and a couple of days later we were settling into an overnight bunk in a weirdly open-plan boat with hundreds of bunks. Certainly ‘cattle class’.

We woke up the next morning in another alien place. We moved into a Youth Hostel and wandered about the city, fascinated by the huge groups of people in parks doing their Tai Chi.

Memorable moments included the city market where everything that you could possibly imagine was for sale, and plenty more, including snakes, frogs, hedgehogs and monkeys. There were flattened roasted pigs faces everywhere.

Mealtimes were fascinating. And challenging. Restaurants were generally huge, multi- storey buildings with huge tables and we were just allocated places on these tables, often to the bemusement (or amusement) of the locals. One had indoor waterfalls and streams that you could sit by. Ordering food was fun. We had a guide-book with some basic pictographs of foods. We tried that. Some limited success. Sometimes we wandered around pointing at other peoples’ food. That worked pretty well. Generally it was a lot of gesturing and pot-luck what you actually ate in the end. Good job we weren’t very fussy back then. We stayed in one hotel where a starter always arrived first – either small slippery mushrooms or peanuts – all to be managed with chopsticks – that always entertained us until the main course, and perhaps the waiting staff too.

Some days we became lazy and broke our rules about eating local and representative of where we were. The American Colonel appeared to have taken up many prime real-estate positions and was preparing his famous chicken (that appears in buckets) and we occasionally succumbed. These places were also popular with the locals judging by the queues.

People-watching was one of our favourite past-times (nothing new there). Again people were interested in us. It was so different from India and Nepal though. People wanted to chat, but didn’t feel safe talking to us. We often had the experience of someone sidling up to sit or stand near us, and then talking to us, without ever looking our way. Some told us they couldn’t be seen talking to foreigners, others told us that they secretly listened to World Services.

There were always people out and about at the tourist sites. The difference in China, that we noticed, was that everything was pristine. The monuments had all been restored to look brand-new, and the people were mostly out and about in their best clothes. We found this really amusing because at that time pop-socks were the obvious height of fashion along with frilly and lacy tiered dresses. We found ourselves highly entertained by the ‘fashion victims’ who were out and about enjoying the sights – and taking it in turns to be photographed by their friends (this was very much pre selfie-stick days). This amusement may well have been us feeling inadequate in our recently bought t-shirts and jeans (a change from our Indian traveller gear).

Everywhere was busy and we found refuge from the busy streets in quiet(er) parks where we enjoyed endless cups of tea. (OK, I know I don’t drink tea, but Indian chai and Chinese tea are different – and perhaps when travelling, I too, am different).

After a few days in Guangzhou wandering its parks, where strangely we met up with someone Mark used to work with, we headed off for another adventure. This one was an eye-opener from the moment we arrived at the train station. There were huge waiting rooms for each train. We waited in ours, listening to the canned music and chat that was a constant everywhere in China, until there was some announcement. At that point everyone (apart from us!) raced for the doors…we meekly followed once the doors opened…and the stampede continued down corridors and to the train. It was an incredible spectacle of seething humanity. I am amazed that people were’t killed in the crush. the funny part was that all seats and bunks were numbered anyway and those of us that were slow getting to the carriage and our bunks still got our places…

We had 2 nights on that train…I remember sleep being elusive due to the other 5 people in our bit of the carriage (triple bunks) and the ubiquitous canned music and what we imagined was regular propaganda updates over the speaker-system. I suspect our travelling moods were strained by being stir-crazy in that weird tin-can situation. Train food was served up in a very impressive restaurant car, comfortable and calm with waiters, tablecloths etc…and these irritating travellers wandering up and down the carriage pointing at other peoples’ food!

Beijing was our destination. We did get there eventually and settled into our usual occupation of exploring the streets (still shocked to remember that in one area where we strayed into the public toilets at the bottom of a tower block there was no running water and they were presumably the toilets for that block – just imagine that night-soil image) and the tourist sites. We watched the dressed-up locals out enjoying themselves and we were shocked more by just how sanitised everything was. Objets d’art in The Forbidden City were labelled as being thousands of years old, but were clearly either heavily restored or replicas.

The Forbidden City was huge, but also was a bit repetitive – lots of similar buildings with artefacts in each of the buildings. I may just be a bit of a heathen and lacking appreciation of culture! I think I was also annoyed by having to join in a tourist queue and pay significantly more than Chinese tourists.

Sitting in Tienanmen Square was way more interesting. It was 2 years, almost to the day in early May, since the Massacre. People slyly talked to us as we sat watching the world, and their kites, go by. Some talked about what had happened. Others were less forthcoming. We went to one of the hotels near the square (good places to get a drink and a cake!) and read some of the books available in English. Apparently a massacre did not occur. The students rioted due to American propaganda, and the army moved in to help them with food, tents etc, then helped them to leave. There were many attacks on the army by the students, and there were gory pictures of the injured and dying. One caption read ‘This soldier was carrying a machine gun but preferred to die himself at the hands of the protesters to using his weapon on innocent people’. Interestingly no protesters were killed but many soldiers were. The book was produced by the government. Very different stories from the ones we’d heard before.

We also went to the zoo whilst in Beijing to see the giant pandas. We were quite upset by the poor conditions that all the animals were kept in, and didn’t stay long. There were large areas of gardens for the people…

Whilst in China there was one thing that we had to see. The big wall. Being the cheapskates that we were (OK, still are) we went to the local bus station and booked a tour (not via one of the big westernised hotels…). So we found ourselves on a bus, obviously the only non-Chinese, and bemused by where we were at each stop… There were a few stops: the Ming Tombs; an underground palace; a strange underground chamber of horrors and waxworks and then the wall. Or not…Instead a weird folk museum of Mongolian History and Genghis Khan’s attempts to unify Mongolia. We began to wonder if we were on the wrong trip…

Then we got to a hugely crowded place, with so many tat-and-trinket souvenir shops. We knew we’d made it! Crowds walking and jostling on the wall up to a high point, then lots of posed photos, awarding of certificates and return journeys down. Except for the intrepid few…Walk on about 25 m from the top-spot and there was no-one else. We had a lovely walk along this amazing monument and had our bit of peace – and no certificates! A Chinese day out to remember.

Our last stop in China was Shanghai after another one of those interesting train journeys (though luckily not quite as long). They are not my most positive memories of travel! I do like to sleep beyond 5am and am not keen on having no choice but loud piped music! Shanghai was a busy city and accommodation was in huge dorm rooms. We met a girl who’d been travelling with a group of Chinese art students that she’d met on a train. Since arriving in Shanghai the teacher suddenly was no longer able to meet with her and she was worrying that he had disappeared as his students had complained that she had joined them.

Shanghai was a very beautiful city to wander along the river-front, The Bund. The buildings were elegant and the people were out in their Sunday best. I imagine this scene has changed massively since 1991.

We spent a lot of time just wandering and people watching, and also managed to find an office in one of the buildings for a shipping company who were sailing back to Hong Kong, and had room for up to 18 passengers (hardly a cruise!!).

Our last night in Shanghai was at a Chinese circus. It featured a lot of acrobats which were pretty good, although not quite as perfect as we’d hoped with a couple of injuries! I also wasn’t happy as there were elephant balancing acts, some monkeys riding bikes and the finale of a panda riding in a cart tossing a ball and supposedly blowing a trumpet. Bizarre. Bizarrely too the whole audience just got up and headed for the door as the whole troupe came back to bow.

The ‘cruise’ was a great way to travel back to Hong Kong, initially along a very polluted area where there was so much industry and smog on the river. Then out to sea.

We had our own port-hole, bunks and bathroom and spent the three day cruise reading, sleeping and chilling on the deck. One of the other passengers wanted to engage us all in deck games..but I drew the line at a bit of a swim in the tiny deck pool.

On this cruise I also discovered that eels for breakfast are not my favourite things. That morning was the last that I went for the Chinese breakfast and the other two I went with the toast and jam option.

We arrived back in Hong Kong in the midst of a wild electric storm. We had what looked like a laser and fireworks display from the boat. The following morning we were able to disembark and head back to Lantau.

Mark had a week or so back in the UK for his sister’s wedding so I stayed put. I have memories of making the most of the leisure club in Discovery Bay (with a borrowed entry pass…) and then meeting him on his return.

I went to the airport and watched the unbelievable landings of the jets. This was prior to the new airport being built on reclaimed land on Lantau. The old airport jutted out into the sea and the planes descended almost between tower blocks.

Our last few days on Hong Kong included walks around the green, hilly island of Lantau.

A new giant Buddha had recently been built and we went to see. It was a quiet and untouristed part of the island. Things are very different now as we discovered last year.  Worship of various kinds…

 

Then it was time to move on again. It’d been an interesting journey for our first foray into the far east, although it doesn’t strike me as my favourite part of the trip. Looking back I think we were shocked by the difference in wealth, after our time in India and Nepal.  China didn’t seem quite real to us either (perhaps partly as we only saw cities and the bits of cities we were allowed to see). Everything was pristine, artefacts had been fixed and there seemed to be a huge disparity between what we were told there and what we’d read before. People were friendly but were also very wary, and it was difficult to get a really good picture of what ‘normal’ life was like.

Perhaps we were a bit jaded from our earlier travels, exhausted by our trekking, and possibly a little lacklustre due to our underlying health condition (which we discovered later). It was probably perfect timing that we had had the opportunity to chill a bit in the comfort of Pete’s place before moving on. Thanks Pete!

 

 

 

 

 

 

Nepal’s all about the mountains?

India was all but done in early March 1991. But first we thought we’d do a little preparation for our trip into those famous Nepalese mountains.

From Darjeeling you can trek in what I guess are the foothills of the Himalayas and see the giant peaks in the distance. We opted for a three-day trek and after a short bus ride off we went. Looking at the options on the internet there are now roads and lots of organised tours… However back then, we followed the guidelines in one of our books and set off to walk. Our main aim was to trek to Sandakphu to stand on a ridge and watch the sunrise. It took two days walking upwards to get there, one of them walking through cloud. The accommodation along the way was basic and our torches and sleeping bags (with neck-cords tightly pulled for warmth) were used at last. We’d also invested in attractive yak-wool jumpers to stave off the extreme temperatures. Quite a fashion statement.

Our accommodation and the views from the ridge at 5am:

That certainly whetted our appetite for reaching Nepal-proper.

People living in the mountains had very basic living standards but were friendly and welcoming of all us foreigners. Our last night, after hours of unrelenting downhill, was spent at a very pleasant lodge – with many more creature comforts than most. When we arrived and kicked off our walking boots and settled in to our room, we had chocolate biscuits and tea delivered to our room followed later by a disgusting-looking jug each of fermenting grain of some sort. This place was run by an entrepreneur and there was no bill for the room or the continuous hospitality…”just pay what you think it’s worth…”.

There’s one thing I do remember vividly from the next morning . As a popular place, highly recommended in the guidebook, there were many people staying there and there just weren’t enough facilities…and those that there were had certainly been visited too many times during the night by people really not at their best. Suffice to say we had a walk out into the fields (looking for an appropriate bush or two) to meet our needs that day – and that was one time that confirmed for us that anywhere you are in India, even in remote mountain villages, it is very rare that you are never more than a couple of metres away from someone. Not great for those of us who enjoy our privacy at such moments!

Back in Darjeeling we set off on the long journey into Nepal. There were some shenanigans at the border. I have memories of arriving in a bus, transferring to a very crowded taxi (7 travellers and their packs in a standard-size car) for about a mile across the border, money changing and a hot meal in what seemed to be a no-man’s land between the two countries, before getting on the overnight bus… This was just a very basic service bus, with no acknowledgement of the fact it was going for hours. It did stop a few times overnight to pick up people and provisions. There were toilet stops (not for the fainthearted) and chai stops. I don’t think there was much sleeping done. This was the kind of bus with live animals (or, at least, chickens) in the luggage racks. The road was rough, more potholes than tarmac (and deep mud after a wild storm) and mad driving. These roads often have large life-saving slogans painted onto rocks that you pass.

My one abiding memory of the trip was stopping early in the morning to unload some of the provisions – they were piled up on the roof of the bus – why send a truck when a bus with roof-space  is going that way anyway? Wooden crates of tomatoes were passed down, but some were dropped – and we had tomatoes raining down the sides of the windows and splatting on the sides of the road. I wish we’d had a video of those moments – but it probably was funnier actually being there (and the colours, sounds etc were probably heightened by the lack of sleep).

Kathmandu was such a relief. We were amazed by just how much more westernised it was than anywhere we’d been in India. Everywhere we went there were little shops geared up for the traveller…and there were things to eat on the menus that looked very tempting for people who’d been eating curries for 3 meals a day for the last 3 months…whether we relaxed our guard, or whether we would have got it anyway, we will never know. But we were both ill. Mark a little bit, and me, seriously. I think I lost a week of my life with only vague recollections of Mark bringing in a doctor, taking medications that he brought, swapping beds as the mattress was soaked through with my feverish sweats and sitting on the toilet and throwing up at the same time…Oh joy. Too much information?

After a week I was able to make it to the International Travel Clinic where I was prescribed more drugs for ‘Traveller’s diarrhoea’. Whilst we were there waiting someone came out of one of the surgery rooms and announced to his partner, “I’ve got Typhoid”, and I said to Mark – I felt last week how he looks now. A couple of months later, after testing in Thailand, it was confirmed that indeed I had had Typhoid.

Anyway, once you feel a bit better you can carry on. We discussed going home, but figured we’d be just feeling weak there and might as well recuperate (and perhaps resume being careful of what we ate) in the exotic locations we found ourselves in…

Kathmandu is (or at least was prior to their devastating earthquake in 2015) a very ornate city with incredible buildings around every corner. We were bowled over. It was as surprising to us as India had been – and significantly different. It was also considerably more touristed too, with the world landing there on a regular basis for their pilgrimages into the mountains.

The temples were fascinating, and not only for us.  These were real working temples, not just for tourists, but for locals and some furry friends as well. I could spend hours watching the world go by and the antics of the creatures (locals, monkeys and tourists).

During our explorations we also discovered that Katmandu wasn’t quite the sanitised and westernised place that we initially had got the idea of… Just down by the river all of the town’s rubbish was thrown and it was a hive of activity for all sorts of creatures, including vultures and rats.

Perhaps we’d found this out just a little too late. It was galling because although we’d had a couple of incidents of sickness in India it was always short-lived and manageable…and perhaps we’d been lured into a false sense of familiarity and eaten a tomato or something that hadn’t been peeled or boiled. Hopefully you live and learn… (There might be a message in there for the weird days we’re living through now…complacency).

Whilst in the Kathmandu Valley we had a day trip out to a small town called Bhaktapur (which was also devastated in 2015) where the pace of life was different again. It was a small city that focussed on making clay pots. Everywhere we went there were craftsmen at work.

It was also built with bricks – and if you look closely behind where the potter is working you can see why such a place may have suffered extemely from the trembling earth.

The city square was ornate too, and had developed over time into a real haven for travellers, with coffee shops moving into the tall buildings giving perfect views of the city and mountains in the distance. It also gave great views of the children playing in the streets below. Yes, this was 1991 and not the Victorian ages. I wonder if they still play with hoops and sticks?

Again the kids were fascinating for us. I loved the fact that they didn’t bother with nappies for the little ones. They either didn’t wear any pants at all or had trousers with no gussets… specially designed open rear ends…to just squat and go. I don’t have a picture of that!

One last thing about Kathmandu…it was one of the few places we’d planned on visiting, so we had shared the main Post Office’s address with family and friends. Back in those days, prior to e-mail and instant messaging (and in a time and place where phone calls were difficult and relatively expensive from small telephone shops) the post was a major lifeline. And for us travellers arriving in a city with a Post Restante was a real treat. Any letters that had been sent for us were filed alphabetically in boxes in the Post Restante room and just waited to be picked up. Usually you showed your passport and were allowed to rifle through the boxes yourself. It was always good to get news from home, and we’d have time sitting outside, with all the other travellers, finding out what was happening in our other world.

Still no mountains?

Nepal is known for its mountains, but in the South of the country to the West of Kathmandu is a National Park known for its Bengal Tiger community. Who’d have guessed that we went to Nepal to go on safari…?

It was a fairly low-key experience. We stayed in a small village and could just go out for walks down the river and watch the lifestyle of people in a very rural community. And join in with playing with the kids and  that world-wide game of skimming stones.

We could also go out for a walk, with a guide, into the park to see the animals. We did just that, with a young guide, armed with a…stick. I loved it. It is such a priviledge and unbelievably uplifting to see animals in their own habitat.

The animals that we saw on this particular walk however, were, the endangered white rhino. I was in my element and see them we did. In retrospect it was probably quite a stupid thing to do – as it appears were many of our experiences during the year – but I was following the guide with Mark behind me and we were creeping through the grasslands and low bushes, happily taking pictures of the things he pointed out to us. He wasn’t ready however, to see a white rhino with its calf just in front of us in a clearing. I know it shocked him because he stopped abruptly, and so did the 2 of us close behind him, crashing into him, then as he disentangled himself from the two of us he scarpered quickly to a safe distance away. It may have looked like a comic-book scenario and it was probably at this point that he told us that white rhinos have quite poor eyesight and to protect themselves and their young they are quite likely to charge anything that moves… and they weigh 3 tons. Strangely enough I didn’t get a picture of that baby rhino and his mum.

We also had a day trip out in a jeep looking for the elusive tiger. We saw other animals but not the big cat. We also went to an elephant sanctuary. The elephants were working animals in the park. There have probably been many discussions about their treatment over the years, but what we saw at that time were animals that appeared to be carefully looked after that were part of everyday life. (They were very cute too).

There are some mountains in Nepal too…And we did go to them. And we did trek.

The trek into the mountains starts with a bus ride from Pokhara, which we reached by bus from Kathmandu. One of those two bus rides was one of the most scary experiences of my life. Nepali roads were bad, and driving was extremely bad, and the conditions were such that bits of road had washed away and basically I thought I was going to die.

However, I didn’t and we started the trek to Annapurna base camp. Every day was different. The track was clear (did we have maps? err, no) and I think we only made a mistake once, leading to a couple of hours serious up and down being repeated!).

The scenery was awe-inspiring. The walking was tough.

The first few days were through rice paddies, rhododendron forests (who knew that they were native to the mountains?) and bamboo. There were farms with animals and terraces and small villages with crops drying.

Along the way there were many river valleys that have had bridges built over them to reduce walking times – and ensure they are crossable year round. My family now laugh at me being pathetic and scared about crossing rope-bridges. My fears may have started on some of these long flimsy-seeming bridges crossing pretty wide river valleys. As we walked over one a herd of donkeys came trotting towards us. I didn’t think that I would survive Indiana Jones-style if this bridge was to snap under their weight!

Along the way there were lodges for trekkers. And there were many porters carrying heavy packs. They were often running along the trails, in bare feet and had baskets on their backs suspended on a strap around the front of their forehead. They carried travellers packs (one we saw was carrying probably 8 huge backpacks for an Israeli group that had upset their other porters), tents, food and provisions for the villages and lodges higher up the slopes. Understandably the cost of food and drink increased the higher you got.

One of the lodges, which was at a point where people continue on a circuit walk or commit to going onwards to the base camp, had many provisions for sale (chocolate mostly) and the choice of hot or cold showers. Showers were pretty rare in India or Nepal at that stage (we were usually allocated a bucket of water and had a scoop to douse ourselves with), but this was luxury. Well, luxury for some, as Mark didn’t read the sign on the cubicle door and was treated to an icy Himalayan shower! Funny afterwards of course, and funnier for the rest of us.

Soon after this stop we were beyond the snow line. There was one point I almost stopped and went back – there was a steep ravine to the side of the snowy footprints, but I persevered. And we made it beyond to the incredible views of the fishtail mountain, Machapuchare.

Our goal though was a ‘hotel’ at Machupuchare Base Camp, just a short distance from Annapurna Base Camp. We got there, and settled in for the night. It was so cold up there!! The lodge was a single storey group of rooms, with a central dining area. Under the huge table was a fire, and that’s where we spent the evening in the company of other hardy souls. Not sure any of the rest of them were as cold as me overnight though – I slept wearing a pair of trousers on my head…!

The next morning we climbed the final slope to the base Camp. We set off at about 5am because we had to get up and back down again before the snow stated to melt (or we’d disappear into the snow..). This was our destination:

Romantic eh?

My romantic now-husband obviously thought so (or was it altitude sickness – we were at 4200m) after our efforts and success in scaling the mountain. That is where he proposed to me and these are pictures of us (shortly after chocolate and a celebratory cup of hot lemon), before we made our way back down again. I’m still not sure that he mentioned marriage or that I said yes, but there we are!

That was Nepal!! Pretty memorable eh!?

 

 

 

India back then…

Here we are, 1991. India.

The intrepid young travellers (not too young!) arrived in Bombay (Mumbai), armed with a 2-month train travel pass.

Imagine our shock. We arrived, having never been to a developing country (Crete on a package tour was as exotic as we’d got) and having no real idea of what to do…We’d never been ‘travelling’.

We probably looked petrified…but two English girls took us under their wings (perhaps just wanting to split the taxi fare) and off we went. We’d already had a car crash, and some bribing of officials (“baksheesh, backsheesh”) before we left the airport. Just thinking about it I can feel the anxiety levels rising…

The 40 minute drive to the city centre was a baptism of fire for us amateurish travellers. That trip took us through miles of some of the poorest slums in India. We saw the sort of things that we’d only ever seen on TV and it was the start of our serious bout of culture shock. There were miles and miles of makeshift buildings, tarpaulins and pallets of wood, bits of corrugated iron and masses of people. The people were often just crouching down watching the world go by. Or they were walking carrying buckets of water from the standpipes, or washing under them, or washing clothes. Or crouching down in the gutters urinating. Some showed an interest in the traffic going by, tapping on car windows and begging, or just ignored it.

The girls had a place booked for the night. Not us! The intrepid ones… So we dived into a place near theirs, accepted a box-like room and just hid!! After a while we did venture out. The sights, smells and noise were overwhelming. And there were people everywhere.

The first night was another eye-opener. In the habit of getting up for a wee in the night I ventured out into the communal area outside the box-room…Scattered around were a number of couches and on each one there were people sleeping. Where had they all come from? More shockingly though, as I walked into the bathroom, a rat scampered up the wall and out of the window. That quickly cured that night-time habit!!

It didn’t take us long to get almost used to our new ‘normal’, with the biggest decisions in life being where to go, what to eat and when to sleep. India was fascinating. The things that were so shocking to our senses on those first few days are probably the things that we most remember now and quickly became our favourite parts of the experience. Those sights, smells and that noise.

Wherever we went there were people. And back then they were fascinated with us foreigners. It would be interesting to go back and see if the digital age and increase in tourism has dampened that interest. We were always surrounded by kids…interested in us and trying out their knowledge of current affairs (“Margaret Thatcher”, “Geoffrey Boycott”, “Liverpool, Manchester United”) – and generously and surreptitiously sharing their nits!

Usually I wouldn’t post photos of kids, but all of these will be in their 30s or 40s now. This one is the one I sometimes wonder about…begging around India Gate.

India was a great place to travel around. The trains were dusty and basic (despite being 1st Class), but our booked seats were always available. This was despite being booked in offices miles away and days before. But our names appeared on the sides of carriages, on paper that we’d seen written on in the booking office in triplicate! I wonder if computers have now replaced those huge dusty tomes – and will they be as efficient?

With our 60 day train pass we travelled a fair few miles (sometimes it would have been quicker by bus) and saw some incredible sights. Our route from Bombay to Calcutta and Darjeeling via a wiggly line demonstrates just how much, and how little, ground we covered.

India has some of the most majestic and ornate monuments and buildings that you can possibly imagine. As well as that most famous one, the railway stations and palaces were places to wander and explore, and be amazed by the opulence.

As well as the ornate buildings the carvings were extraordinary. They varied from figures and statues to caves, temples and whole compounds of religious offerings. We learned much about religion, and much about the pleasures of the flesh (as depicted in very graphic Karma Sutra carvings in a small town called Khajuraho).

We visited temples, ruins, zoos, museums, beaches, and we did very ordinary things like having a haircut, shopping in the market and just going for a walk. The ordinary became the extraordinary as with all things in India. Mostly it was beyond our expectations and imagination.

That simple ordinary haircut and shave was with a cut-throat razor – he was left with a moustache though for some bizarre reason…probably a symbol of manhood, although I think just sitting in that chair was manly enough facing that barber with a huge sharp knife…

Wherever we went people were interested in us. But we were also interested in them. Mostly people were friendly and welcoming. Some were very tactile (some a little too tactile – almost leading to an accidental death when pushed away at the top of an open staircase on the top of a ruin), and generous with helping us find our way (although we never did figure out that head wobble – yes, no or maybe..?).

One day we were taken out to see a hill tribe, the Todas, by taxi with another couple. Travelling was cheap enough for us to be able to afford a taxi and driver for the day. The Todas were said to have hardly ever seen Westerners before. It was quite an experience – and looking back we probably fell easily for that line. Looking at the photos and thinking back, for people who had never really seen Westerners before, they were clearly pretty good at posing for the camera!! It was like visiting a living museum though and I hope that they benefited from our visit (and probably many subsequent visits over the next days with the entrepreneurial taxi driver…).

Wherever we went we were impressed by the hard-working ways of the people we saw. There were few machines or high-tech equipment to make work easier. Much ‘woman’s work’ was manual labour.

People made do with what they had and kept working with things, mending and mending them. I wonder if it’s still the same…I imagine in some places it is, and in other places that technology and progress has changed the face of the country (for some).

Sometimes the cultural and religious differences were so extreme that it reawakened our culture-shock. One place that really was a challenge was Varanasi. This is the city with the huge river Ganges flowing through, where many pilgrims visit, and where it’s sacred to die.

Wandering the ghats or hiring a small boat on the river was a real eye-opener. The river was, to our eyes and noses, less than fragrant and fresh. The whole of the community could however be seen there: washing; doing the laundry; swimming; exercising the livestock; and burning the dead. Through the narrow streets there were often colourful funeral processions with the body being carried (at a run) on the mourners’ shoulders, down to the riverside where a ceremony took place. We were able to witness such a ceremony with a local explaining what was happening. Not for those with a weak Western constitution…

As well as the trains we also used other methods of transport, perhaps the most memorable being a river ‘cruise’ in the backwaters of Kerala in South India. We spent a day cruising, playing cards and watching the world go past, India style.

Another wild adventure for us was a day trip into the Rajasthan desert, by camel. We were staying in the most beautiful of Indian cities, Jaisalmer. The trip out there from Jodphur was the slowest train ride ever. It took a whole day to do the relatively short distance (less than 300km) through the desert, moving often at not much than walking pace and stopping often at places that didn’t look like stations, but where we were able to pick up snacks (like battered deep-fried chilli peppers – ouch!) and the ubiquitous chai (sweet milky tea poured from a great height).

Jaisalmer itself was like a place from an Arabian Nights fairy tale. It’s ornate buildings were all made from sandstone and the inner walled city had no roads, just narrow lanes and beautiful merchant’s houses, called haveli (yup, that’s me peeking out from the most ornate bedroom window ever).

Our day trip out into the desert by camel involved an 8 hour trek. Now, for those unaccustomed to riding camels, as we certainly were, 8 hours on a camel is pretty uncomfortable. As we chose to do a one-day trip we were also doing the same distance as many other people doing a leisurely 2-day trip, so to fit it in we had to spend some time on the camels at speed… So an uncomfortable camel experience became a very uncomfortable one! The day, starting very early, demonstrated a huge range in temperatures too. We set off in many clothes, and coats. By midday it was really hot. One of our camel-handlers liked Mark’s coat so much that once he’d taken it off he wore it for the rest of the day – becoming so comfortable in it that he also slept through much of the camel jogging…

The desert was stunning though.

There were signs of civilisation miles from anywhere, and so ornate.

Whilst we were travelling the (first) Gulf War was being fought. We had a few reminders about it in various places – few tourists in some places, comments about Saddam Hussein being a good man in other places and occasional glimpses of the news. The lack of communication and regular news updates was so different from today when we have updates whenever we want them. One memorable day however we heard the news that the war was over.

We were exploring the Jantar Mantar in Jaipur that day which is a selection of interesting ancient structures that allow you to observe astronomical positions with the naked eye. Not much use on a sunny day obviously…

The end of our India trip, involved yet another train. This one however went into the mountains north of Calcutta and to a hill-station (where the Brits used to go in the summer to avoid the dry and stifling heat of the cities) in the famous town of Darjeeling. The train climbed up through hills covered in (yes, you guessed it) tea plantations. The hills so green after the desert! Green dotted with the bright colours of saris of women picking those top tea leaves for your daily cuppa.

This train was different though – the Darjeeling Himalayan Railway which now has UNESCO heritage status – chugs 50 miles up into the mountains. Just getting up the hills was a challenge, and the engineers surpassed themselves back in the 1880s. The narrow-gauge railway circled round at times, zigzagging in places, using gravity and ingenuity to get up the next slope… It was fascinating… It didn’t look at all dangerous.

India had of course won us over. People had told us you love it or hate it and that to really get used to it you have to be there at least 6 weeks. We managed a few weeks longer, and there is no doubt that during out travels India posed us the most challenges, showed us the greatest differences from our ‘norms’ and introduced us to travelling big-time. We faced sickness, succumbed to scams and were overwhelmed by the sheer intensity of it all.

Maybe one day we’ll go back and see if things have changed at all…

Retirement and going back in time…

It’s a stage of life we almost all get to. We chose to do it pretty early. I’m talking retirement (although many people might be forced into it as self-isolation increases).

So what’s it like? Well, it is a big change!! When you have always worked all day, 5 days a week, plus driving an hour or so each day, there’s suddenly a lot of time to account for. So it’s the perfect opportunity to do all the things that you always wanted to do but didn’t have time for…

I’m not sure I ever thought about what I always wanted to do but didn’t…

However having moved house and explored the new area, and taken a trip or two…and having settled into a pleasant routine of leisure time and voluntary activities, there was always going to be that little list of things that needed to be done… on a rainy day last November I decided to attack the things that never made it out of the useful cupboard downstairs after moving. I inevitably sorted them into another useful cupboard, and as I did so discovered things that have been languishing untouched for many years. You’ll be relieved to hear I’m not going to share all of them, but one of the things I found was a large box of photos and negatives from the days when photography involved 35mm films, developing and printing. Back then some got religiously filed in albums, but most of them probably got stuffed in a box never to be looked at again.

At the top of this particular box was a stash of 33 sets of film negatives from a round-the-world trip in 1991. Exciting stuff eh? Add to this that when clearing out Mark’s parents’ house last year I also discovered a film scanner – one where you can feed the negatives into a little box and the photo appears magically on the computer screen. These things together added up to a perfect little activity to while away some rainy days…

So that is what I have done. Typically the simple act of feeding the negatives into a scanner took way longer than I could have possibly imagined. A few technical issues along the way meant that I ended up copying over some and needing to redo the lot! Then I discovered that the first half I’d scanned on a low resolution so I did them again too… After such a labour of love I decided I needed to do something with them…

And here it is. A (re)visit to that trip of many years ago. You may think that there is nothing more tedious than hearing about someone’s recent holiday and seeing all of the photos. Well maybe someone’s holiday from nearly 30 years ago is worse? At least as a blog you can choose whether to read or not. So this is the warning – the blogs to come are my memories of that trip. The pictures are my photographs. I may have edited some of them slightly – I obviously was unable to photograph a horizontal horizon even then! But the scenes are mostly just as we found them (although I suspect the colours have degraded over time in the aforementioned box).

We set off in early 1991 equipped with an SLR each. I knew nothing about how to use one as I’d always had a compact camera. I’d bought myself a Pentax P30 with two lenses – and Mark gave me some basic lessons on how to use it. We bought lots of film before we set off, and carried them. In those days unless you got them processed you had no idea of how successful your shots were – and as film canisters are easier to carry than prints we just carried them with us, and printed them 12 months later. Probably not the best way to learn to use your new kit!! Now though, having moved to a mirrorless digital camera where you can see exactly what you’re taking (and taking masses of pictures of the same thing), I really am amazed by how few pictures I took of places we went – and in reality how few were really rubbish. Looking at them you may disagree!

The trip took us 11+ months, and we headed through Asia and into Australia and New Zealand. We had never done any ‘travelling’ together before, just a couple of short holidays. We saved up for it over the preceding 12 months, spurred on by my lodger Briony (whose idea it was to do it in the first place – then she didn’t), by working, rarely going out and just treating ourselves to a shared bottle of wine on a Friday night. (Perhaps life hasn’t really changed that much – although the wine may have got a little stronger!)

We planned a rough outline for the trip – a few flights – bought a couple of Lonely Planet books, and chatted to my friend Julia who had just done a trip to India. We then visited a man in a tower block in Wembley who sold us our train pass for the first 2 months. We bought ourselves huge rucksacks, had a few travel jabs, and off we went.

Back in 1991, for those of us who remember that far back.., there were no mobile phones and no internet, so doing anything like this was based on what you read in a book or what others told you. We must have been mad! Or just young.