So! Less than 12 hours left... That's if the plane leaves as planned. It's been an amazing nine months that somehow simultaneously feels like years and just a few weeks. Everyone's already started asking what the highlights were so here's a run down:
1st= Hiking from yurt to yurt in Kyrgyzstan. Drinking kumis (fermented horse milk) and hot tea as the sun set over the meadows and then cosying into a wonderful warm bed.
1st= Japan (the whole damn country for its great design, sushi, lovely people and wonderful baths but particularly Kyoto)
2nd Evenings full of ridiculously long and elaborate toasts in Georgian restaurants followed by restorative hikes to tiny remote churches.
3rd Endless lovely food and the joys of the open road in Oz.
4th Eating like kings in China and Hong kong, and watching the Olympics.
5th Following tigers on elephant back through the forest in India.
The other common question seems to be whether we wanted to kill each other. Answer: only occasionally... On the whole we ambled along pretty well. Tom would say that I still don't know how to cross the road and I maintain that he gets too enthusiastic about his bartering. Luckily they have price tags and traffic lights back home.
If I start lavishing you with more details than this over one too many gin and tonics tell me I'm turning into an old travelling bore and I promise I'll stop!
Before I go for good (although there might be some more photos if I can be bothered) here are a few more number ones:
- Most embarrassing moment: Not releasing we didn't have double entry visas for Uzbekistan until we'd left its neighbour...
- Worst toilets: India generally and the overflowing one on the ferry across the Caspian, shared between twenty of us for 3 days, some with stomach bugs.
- Best toilets: Japan's automated warming, washing, noise producing marvels.
- Country where we were most photographed by random strangers: Uzbekistan followed by India. What strange albums they must have.
- Most hippies: Pushkar in India and Byron Bay in Australia.
- Most irritating fellow tourist: The guy living in a Japanese hostel who claimed to have pulled his tonsils out with a toothbrush as they were annoying him, to have teeth that fell out and regrew every couple of years, to be making a Kung Fu film and to play in a Japanese jazz band.
- Longest train journey: 36 hours through the deserts of Kazakhstan.
- Most surreal bedroom: An open air bed in the yard of a lady in Aralsk, now miles from the Aral Sea, and a government hotel in the semi ruined palace at Orchha in India with a bath the size of a small car.
- Weirdest food: kumis (see above), barbecued sheep gullet, pig ear and knuckle. We turned down the deep fried baby birds.
- Most ex-KGB moment: when policemen in Kyrgyzstan repeatedly came up to Tom and warned him journalists weren't allowed to cross into Uzbekistan. It happened too many times to be a coincidence.
- Best meals: People 7 in Shanghai, the tasting menu at Circa in Melbourne and fresh sushi 6am from the fish market in Tokyo
- Most persistent song of the trip: Fat bottomed girls and something annoying in Russian.
- Winner of the most scrabble games: Me (but only just which is pretty shameful when playing a dyslexic).
- Winner of the most connect 4 games: Tom
- Winner of the most card games: Hard to be sure as we were well into the hundreds....
Monday 22 December 2008
Friday 12 December 2008
Mumbai lows and tiger hunting highs
It's been a strange couple of weeks. Suddenly nine months of loafing has become a two week holiday and every moment seems precious. We've posed for photos with guns and small children, seen the teeth of a tiger and almost missed the Taj Mahal.
The shootings in Mumbai were a horrible shock, even more so as we were oblivious in the mountains for the first day of the crisis. We'd been to several of the places attacked and stayed just round the corner from the Taj Hotel.
Luckily the closest we got to it all was a couple of days later in the northern town of Chandigarh. We were admiring old bracelets assembled into chickens and men with brocken tea pots for hands when a bunch of jubilant off-duty marines turned up and insisted on posing for photos with us and some of their guns. Very surreal but they were nice guys with guns so we agreed.
Chandigarh was planned by Le Corbusier, a great lover of straight lines ("the curve is ruinous, difficult, dangerous" apparently), but it has evolved into a very Indian version of modernism with al fresco barbers set up among the leafy arcades and chapati makers crouching among the stark facades. I'm not sure what the great man would have made of the junk yard art either.
We went one night to the beautiful 1950s cinema to watch Yuvraj the film we were extras in. Sitting in isolation among just a handful of bored children we made it through two and half hours of hindi with the odd english phrase ("la la la anti-family man la la") and several power cuts. Just as we were coming to our appearance in the dances at the end, the screen suddenly flicked off, the house lights went on and the last stray dog filed out. Maybe we'll have more luck with a DVD!
Our next stop was the Corbett national park where we ended up chasing a tiger on elephant-back, all very colonial. The elephant wasn't terribly pleased and kept trumpeting as the tiger turned and growled. We asked later what kind of defences we had on board and the handler pointed to a small pointed stick. We spent the rest of the day on a smug post-tiger potting high infuritating everyone else we met and then somehow managed to get another peek from a jeep in the evening.
Our other stops were Varanasi, very spiritual and beautiful in the misty morning light but far too full of excrement for my liking, and Agra where we marched towards the Taj Mahal wondering why we were visiting when we already had a picture postcard view wedged in our minds. In the end, we went through the gate and burst into laughter. The winter fog had come down and just the faintest outline was visible.
We're now admiring erotic temple sculptures (gravity defying bestiality, lovely) and posing in photos of school outings (at their request).
The shootings in Mumbai were a horrible shock, even more so as we were oblivious in the mountains for the first day of the crisis. We'd been to several of the places attacked and stayed just round the corner from the Taj Hotel.
Luckily the closest we got to it all was a couple of days later in the northern town of Chandigarh. We were admiring old bracelets assembled into chickens and men with brocken tea pots for hands when a bunch of jubilant off-duty marines turned up and insisted on posing for photos with us and some of their guns. Very surreal but they were nice guys with guns so we agreed.
Chandigarh was planned by Le Corbusier, a great lover of straight lines ("the curve is ruinous, difficult, dangerous" apparently), but it has evolved into a very Indian version of modernism with al fresco barbers set up among the leafy arcades and chapati makers crouching among the stark facades. I'm not sure what the great man would have made of the junk yard art either.
We went one night to the beautiful 1950s cinema to watch Yuvraj the film we were extras in. Sitting in isolation among just a handful of bored children we made it through two and half hours of hindi with the odd english phrase ("la la la anti-family man la la") and several power cuts. Just as we were coming to our appearance in the dances at the end, the screen suddenly flicked off, the house lights went on and the last stray dog filed out. Maybe we'll have more luck with a DVD!
Our next stop was the Corbett national park where we ended up chasing a tiger on elephant-back, all very colonial. The elephant wasn't terribly pleased and kept trumpeting as the tiger turned and growled. We asked later what kind of defences we had on board and the handler pointed to a small pointed stick. We spent the rest of the day on a smug post-tiger potting high infuritating everyone else we met and then somehow managed to get another peek from a jeep in the evening.
Our other stops were Varanasi, very spiritual and beautiful in the misty morning light but far too full of excrement for my liking, and Agra where we marched towards the Taj Mahal wondering why we were visiting when we already had a picture postcard view wedged in our minds. In the end, we went through the gate and burst into laughter. The winter fog had come down and just the faintest outline was visible.
We're now admiring erotic temple sculptures (gravity defying bestiality, lovely) and posing in photos of school outings (at their request).
Tuesday 25 November 2008
Saturday 15 November 2008
Teetotal vegetarians and Bollywood superstars
Mumbai predictably was a huge shock after Sydney: a mad whirl of coloured saris, crazed rickshaw drivers and stray dogs. Looming Neogothic train stations to match London, crumbling Art Deco apartments, red buses and cricket but with palm trees, dust and Bollywood. Luckily there are mighty fine cake shops to help newcomers adjust, particularly those staying in the bed-bug luxuries of the Salvation Army hostel.
We spent a day as badly dressed ball goers in the back of the next big blockbuster, an instant introduction to the celebrity gossip and a chance to wear someone else’s ill-fitting shoes, then wandered the backstreets past temples strewn with drying laundry and small boys flying kites.
The town itself was choked with pilgrims, men in day-glo yellow turbans, women in firey hewed saris with huge noserings covering half their faces. They'd come to bathe in the lake and were out on the terraces surrounding it from five in the morning.
We're now in Jodphur - the "blue city" and ancient capital of the princely state of Marwar ("the land of death"). A dark fort with cannon-ball scars sits on a vast rock overhanging the cluttered rooftops of the old city, looking out to the desert beyond. Inside are huge spikes to deter elephant charges, the handprints of widows leaving to throw themselves on their husbands' funeral pyres and Christmas baubles bought by the British. Tonight we board the night train to Jaisalmer further in the deserts to the west.
We spent a day as badly dressed ball goers in the back of the next big blockbuster, an instant introduction to the celebrity gossip and a chance to wear someone else’s ill-fitting shoes, then wandered the backstreets past temples strewn with drying laundry and small boys flying kites.
Rajasthan’s deserts further north seem to concentrate the madness. The women dress in deep pink, yellows and oranges, cows loiter chewing plastic bags and monkeys practice James Bond-style leaps between rooftops. Our first stop was the "pink" city of Jaipur, rather more red in reality and full of infuriatingly ingenious touts, but with an amazing observatory full of multi-storey Escer-esque sun and moon dials accurate to the nearest two seconds.
The town itself was choked with pilgrims, men in day-glo yellow turbans, women in firey hewed saris with huge noserings covering half their faces. They'd come to bathe in the lake and were out on the terraces surrounding it from five in the morning.
We're now in Jodphur - the "blue city" and ancient capital of the princely state of Marwar ("the land of death"). A dark fort with cannon-ball scars sits on a vast rock overhanging the cluttered rooftops of the old city, looking out to the desert beyond. Inside are huge spikes to deter elephant charges, the handprints of widows leaving to throw themselves on their husbands' funeral pyres and Christmas baubles bought by the British. Tonight we board the night train to Jaisalmer further in the deserts to the west.
Thursday 30 October 2008
And so to India
Wow. Just one more country left... We fly into Mumbai tomorrow night and out again on the 23rd December bound finally for home. I'm a little nervous about plunging into the maelstrom but I'm sure it'll be fine once we're there?!
Our guest blogger's done such a good job of charting the last few weeks that there doesn't seem much left to say (thanks Liam). I'd just like to add that he was a great traveling companion, always keen on a strange photo opportunity (what happened to the one of Tom kissing a statue?) and a great civilising influence, helping lure us away from the hippie temptations of Byron Bay.
Australia's been a ball - a deliciously gluttonous one - and hopefully we've now got enough bodyfat to make it through India with a bit left over for the great British winter...
Our guest blogger's done such a good job of charting the last few weeks that there doesn't seem much left to say (thanks Liam). I'd just like to add that he was a great traveling companion, always keen on a strange photo opportunity (what happened to the one of Tom kissing a statue?) and a great civilising influence, helping lure us away from the hippie temptations of Byron Bay.
Australia's been a ball - a deliciously gluttonous one - and hopefully we've now got enough bodyfat to make it through India with a bit left over for the great British winter...
Monday 13 October 2008
Playing catch-up
So somehow more than a month has slipped by. One reason I was keen to leave London was that time seemed to go so fast there but comfortable developed countries, evenings with old friends and our own small routines are speeding the clock up again.
We spent our last days in Japan trying more onsen (baths) in the strange southern town of Beppu where steam from the many hot springs rises up through manhole covers and men lounge around in the weird mixed mud baths watching women in little towels dash around like frightened penguins then caught the dizzyingly fast bullet train to Tokyo. There we lost ourselves in the crowds of commuters and wandered toy shops with vending machines full of strange cartoon toys and eye-popping manga stores. We also managed a visit to the "lost in translation" bar at the top of the Hyatt and early morning sushi at the huge, otherworldly and rather sad fish market. Tom was rewarded for his dancing skills at a local festival near our hostel with a pink sash and a bag of household cleaning products.
Next was our first plane journey and Hong Kong. Gwen, a friend from Oxford High, took us to drink cocktails at a friend's party on the 43rd floor, looking across at the beleagured banking sector in its glittering towers, and the next night for some delicious and slightly crazy Chinese food. Particularly partial to the spare ribs with strawberry but not a huge fan of stinky durian.
We also tested out the Hong Kong tourist board's free "tea appreciation" class, learning to sniff our tiny cups after finishing them, and its early morning tai chi on the harbour front with uber-enthusiatic Jimmy and the glamorous Pandora.
The final day was Tom's 30th birthday eve so we swopped our hostel in Kowloon's decaying and cat-infested Mirador Mansions for a roof-top swimming pool near Soho and went for another roof terrace cocktail among the futuristic walkways of Central. We failed to get an upgrade the next day but did manage to wangle some free champagne from a lady in duty-free...
The last couple of weeks in Australia have brought more reunions. We spent four lovely days with Izzy and Andy in Sydney's southern suburbs eating great sausages and admiring the gorgeous national parks on their doorstep. They even tried not to laugh when I realised that having given my passport to the Indian Embassy I'd have to swap my plane up north to Byron Bay for a 14-hour bus journey...
I made it to Byron eventually and caught up with Tom (he'd had his driving licence so could still fly) and the next day we picked up Liam from the airport. Since then we've been heading south in our big family car, Tom's surfboard strapped to the roof, singing along to our two CDs: 'Rocktober' and Now 368 (or something similar) which Liam is using to bring our musical education up to date. We've laughed at the guitar-strumming digeridoo-worshipping pseudo-hippes of 'the arts factory guesthouse' in Byron, drunk beers on a bright moonlit beach, watched whales breaching offshore and hiked through swampy rainforest with some friendly leeches.
We've still not persuaded Liam to sleep in a tent, but we're working on it. In return he's threatening to take us to kareoke when we reach Sydney...
We spent our last days in Japan trying more onsen (baths) in the strange southern town of Beppu where steam from the many hot springs rises up through manhole covers and men lounge around in the weird mixed mud baths watching women in little towels dash around like frightened penguins then caught the dizzyingly fast bullet train to Tokyo. There we lost ourselves in the crowds of commuters and wandered toy shops with vending machines full of strange cartoon toys and eye-popping manga stores. We also managed a visit to the "lost in translation" bar at the top of the Hyatt and early morning sushi at the huge, otherworldly and rather sad fish market. Tom was rewarded for his dancing skills at a local festival near our hostel with a pink sash and a bag of household cleaning products.
Next was our first plane journey and Hong Kong. Gwen, a friend from Oxford High, took us to drink cocktails at a friend's party on the 43rd floor, looking across at the beleagured banking sector in its glittering towers, and the next night for some delicious and slightly crazy Chinese food. Particularly partial to the spare ribs with strawberry but not a huge fan of stinky durian.
We also tested out the Hong Kong tourist board's free "tea appreciation" class, learning to sniff our tiny cups after finishing them, and its early morning tai chi on the harbour front with uber-enthusiatic Jimmy and the glamorous Pandora.
The final day was Tom's 30th birthday eve so we swopped our hostel in Kowloon's decaying and cat-infested Mirador Mansions for a roof-top swimming pool near Soho and went for another roof terrace cocktail among the futuristic walkways of Central. We failed to get an upgrade the next day but did manage to wangle some free champagne from a lady in duty-free...
The last couple of weeks in Australia have brought more reunions. We spent four lovely days with Izzy and Andy in Sydney's southern suburbs eating great sausages and admiring the gorgeous national parks on their doorstep. They even tried not to laugh when I realised that having given my passport to the Indian Embassy I'd have to swap my plane up north to Byron Bay for a 14-hour bus journey...
I made it to Byron eventually and caught up with Tom (he'd had his driving licence so could still fly) and the next day we picked up Liam from the airport. Since then we've been heading south in our big family car, Tom's surfboard strapped to the roof, singing along to our two CDs: 'Rocktober' and Now 368 (or something similar) which Liam is using to bring our musical education up to date. We've laughed at the guitar-strumming digeridoo-worshipping pseudo-hippes of 'the arts factory guesthouse' in Byron, drunk beers on a bright moonlit beach, watched whales breaching offshore and hiked through swampy rainforest with some friendly leeches.
We've still not persuaded Liam to sleep in a tent, but we're working on it. In return he's threatening to take us to kareoke when we reach Sydney...
Saturday 20 September 2008
The legend of the "beer fairy"
As presented in glorious technicolour by the Sapporo brewing museum...
... and stream bathing
The section in the foreground was baking. Oddly Tom`s ice cream seems to have vanished from the photograph?!
Monday 8 September 2008
Going Japanese
Well, we`ve made it to Japan... There`s a nice symmetry to starting our overlanding on an island off Europe and finishing on another off Asia.
We sailed from the end of the Bund in Singapore, watching the skyscrapers disappear as we slid past miles of shipyards to the sea. Apart from the sick bags that appeared a few hours in, the ship was an early introduction to Japan: endless vending machines selling weird energy drinks, spotless bathrooms and a neat little capsule-like cabin with our own tiny seating area and picture window. On the second evening we stood on deck in the rain watching the flashing lights along the coast as we slipped between two of the main islands and the next morning we were in Osaka.
Our first real stop was Kyoto and we found it rather hard to leave. It`s a gorgeous city surrounded by green hills, with streets full of old wooden houses, glimpses of geishas and a myriad of shrines and temples. The basic layout of most of the religious sites is similar, but many of the key ones seem to pick one thing and excel at it. We`ve seen the largest tori (gateway) in Japan and a shrine with so many that they form red tunnels snaking for miles through the hills, the largest indoor buddha, excessive sproutings of stone lanterns and another temple with 1001 1000-armed goddesses of mercy (although they only actually have 42 arms as each can save 25 worlds).
From Kyoto we went south for a few days to some ancient pilgrimage trails through hills dotted with hot springs. In one you dig your own hole out of the pebbles in the river bank, sit there contemplating the hills (or eating an ice cream) until nicely boiled, then wade into the cut-glass green of the river and let yourself get washed away by the current. We also tried the bath in our guesthouse where you sit next door to a large black fish and cooked eggs in another pool while waiting for the bus.
There are plenty of smaller surprises too: freshwater crabs wandering country roads and overfriendly deer that steal and eat your map, lucky dip blessings in the temples and mind-blowing sushi just off the boat, builders wearing cloven-hoof boots and loud speakers announcing midday to fields of rice, toilets that make waterfall noises when you sit down and the fluffy toilet seat covers for sale in ultra-minamalist Muji. Everything is incredibly compact and everyone obeys the rules except cyclists who monopolise the pavement and leave their bikes in huge fleets in front of each of the signs banning bicycle parking.
We sailed from the end of the Bund in Singapore, watching the skyscrapers disappear as we slid past miles of shipyards to the sea. Apart from the sick bags that appeared a few hours in, the ship was an early introduction to Japan: endless vending machines selling weird energy drinks, spotless bathrooms and a neat little capsule-like cabin with our own tiny seating area and picture window. On the second evening we stood on deck in the rain watching the flashing lights along the coast as we slipped between two of the main islands and the next morning we were in Osaka.
Our first real stop was Kyoto and we found it rather hard to leave. It`s a gorgeous city surrounded by green hills, with streets full of old wooden houses, glimpses of geishas and a myriad of shrines and temples. The basic layout of most of the religious sites is similar, but many of the key ones seem to pick one thing and excel at it. We`ve seen the largest tori (gateway) in Japan and a shrine with so many that they form red tunnels snaking for miles through the hills, the largest indoor buddha, excessive sproutings of stone lanterns and another temple with 1001 1000-armed goddesses of mercy (although they only actually have 42 arms as each can save 25 worlds).
From Kyoto we went south for a few days to some ancient pilgrimage trails through hills dotted with hot springs. In one you dig your own hole out of the pebbles in the river bank, sit there contemplating the hills (or eating an ice cream) until nicely boiled, then wade into the cut-glass green of the river and let yourself get washed away by the current. We also tried the bath in our guesthouse where you sit next door to a large black fish and cooked eggs in another pool while waiting for the bus.
There are plenty of smaller surprises too: freshwater crabs wandering country roads and overfriendly deer that steal and eat your map, lucky dip blessings in the temples and mind-blowing sushi just off the boat, builders wearing cloven-hoof boots and loud speakers announcing midday to fields of rice, toilets that make waterfall noises when you sit down and the fluffy toilet seat covers for sale in ultra-minamalist Muji. Everything is incredibly compact and everyone obeys the rules except cyclists who monopolise the pavement and leave their bikes in huge fleets in front of each of the signs banning bicycle parking.
Sunday 24 August 2008
Friday 22 August 2008
From coast to coast
Four and half months and we've made it to the edge of the Pacific. Standing on Shanghai's Bund a couple of nights ago, the stone buildings of the old foreign concession behind us, the bustling river and neon-lit skyscrapers ahead, we at once felt close to London and a million miles away.
Much of our route through China has been decided for us. In the far west and the Tibetan areas it was impossible to go anywhere but the major towns without an expensive escort; no one would sell us a bus ticket and foreigners are not allowed to hire cars. Sichuan is also partially closed because of the earthquake.
But as with the rest of the trip our best experiences have often been in places where we had few expectations. Urumqi is a bland modern city but wandering the main park watching local people move between spontaneously formed choirs, waltz beneath small pagodas or play chess we noticed more and more had stopped to look up at the sun. We'd been told we wouldn't be able to see anything of the solar eclipse so far east but half an hour later we were in dusk surrounded by people holding up an odd array of used photographic films and X-ray plates.
Later we went for dinner at the huge night market. At ten to six there was nothing there. Five minutes later the police waved forward the hundred or more wheeled carts thronged in a cloud of charcoal at the end of the street and by seven there were rows of brightly lit stands prepared to grill anything that once moved, plastic chairs lining the pavement and armies of beer vendors. Tom tried the small strips of rubbery sheep's oesophagus but we both drew the line at still wriggling insect larvae.
Further west in Xi'an and Beijing normal service was resumed and we joined throngs of Chinese tourists at the government's clearly delineated range of sites. Most were none the worse for their touristification but it's odd to climb a mountain without once leaving a paved staircases and to find hordes of hand-bag wielding tourists at the top disgorged from not one but three cable cars. Even the tranquil waterfalls and bamboo forests where they filmed parts of crounching tiger, hidden dragon were not immune. Boring stretches of the path were equipped with little fairy-light covered pavillions and the final waterfall was acessorised by a string of unicycle and motorbike riding trapeze artists.
Olympic-crazy Beijing was especially busy but we loved it nonetheless from the swanky peking duck restaurant to the murky old alleyways and the misty grandeur of the summer palace to the bustling counterfeit clothing market. There's something a little disallusioning about seeing olympians bartering for fake gucci watches but the main olympic park which we managed to sneak into for the first day of the athletics was much more impressive than I'd expected. Finally there was dinner with mysterious "frances the diplomat" at the beautiful old courtyard house of his "entrepreneur" friend. The entrepreneur spent much of the time painting calligraphy onto huge scrolls while Frances held court at a table with an automatically revolving central section and a range of "big" and "medium-sized" bosses none of whom ever let on what business they worked in. I put a fair amount of my energy to avoiding the deep-fried chick carcasses revolving past in a nest of fried noodles.
We were only given a 30-day visa so have decided to extend the overlanding further west. Final destination: Tokyo.
Much of our route through China has been decided for us. In the far west and the Tibetan areas it was impossible to go anywhere but the major towns without an expensive escort; no one would sell us a bus ticket and foreigners are not allowed to hire cars. Sichuan is also partially closed because of the earthquake.
But as with the rest of the trip our best experiences have often been in places where we had few expectations. Urumqi is a bland modern city but wandering the main park watching local people move between spontaneously formed choirs, waltz beneath small pagodas or play chess we noticed more and more had stopped to look up at the sun. We'd been told we wouldn't be able to see anything of the solar eclipse so far east but half an hour later we were in dusk surrounded by people holding up an odd array of used photographic films and X-ray plates.
Later we went for dinner at the huge night market. At ten to six there was nothing there. Five minutes later the police waved forward the hundred or more wheeled carts thronged in a cloud of charcoal at the end of the street and by seven there were rows of brightly lit stands prepared to grill anything that once moved, plastic chairs lining the pavement and armies of beer vendors. Tom tried the small strips of rubbery sheep's oesophagus but we both drew the line at still wriggling insect larvae.
Further west in Xi'an and Beijing normal service was resumed and we joined throngs of Chinese tourists at the government's clearly delineated range of sites. Most were none the worse for their touristification but it's odd to climb a mountain without once leaving a paved staircases and to find hordes of hand-bag wielding tourists at the top disgorged from not one but three cable cars. Even the tranquil waterfalls and bamboo forests where they filmed parts of crounching tiger, hidden dragon were not immune. Boring stretches of the path were equipped with little fairy-light covered pavillions and the final waterfall was acessorised by a string of unicycle and motorbike riding trapeze artists.
Olympic-crazy Beijing was especially busy but we loved it nonetheless from the swanky peking duck restaurant to the murky old alleyways and the misty grandeur of the summer palace to the bustling counterfeit clothing market. There's something a little disallusioning about seeing olympians bartering for fake gucci watches but the main olympic park which we managed to sneak into for the first day of the athletics was much more impressive than I'd expected. Finally there was dinner with mysterious "frances the diplomat" at the beautiful old courtyard house of his "entrepreneur" friend. The entrepreneur spent much of the time painting calligraphy onto huge scrolls while Frances held court at a table with an automatically revolving central section and a range of "big" and "medium-sized" bosses none of whom ever let on what business they worked in. I put a fair amount of my energy to avoiding the deep-fried chick carcasses revolving past in a nest of fried noodles.
We were only given a 30-day visa so have decided to extend the overlanding further west. Final destination: Tokyo.
Wednesday 30 July 2008
Over the mountains to China
The end of the Soviet Union! No more Ladas piled with furniture, crumbling Soviet concrete or forlorn statues of Lenin. Instead we've stepped forward in time to huge supermarkets with automated lockers, solar-powered mobile phone masts and spookily silent electric mopeds. There's still the odd yurt, but it's likely to be made of concrete.
The Uighurs who live in this part of China are muslim like other central Asians and their traditional lifestyle is pretty similar with mud-walled houses, old men with wispy white beards and funny hats, countless mutton kebabs and bustling bazaars. Nonetheless the march of modern China seems pretty relentless and much of Kashgar's "old town" is a living museum with ticket offices and explanatory signs.
We've spent our time resting aching muscles and meandering the streets. I've also got a new and possibly mis-judged Chinese hair cut. Don't think they were very used to wavy hair (see photo on Tom's page).
Uzbekistan might have the key silk road cities but the last couple of weeks have been better for conjuring up camel caravans of the mind. Osh bazaar in the southwest of Kyrgyzstan is said to be "older than Rome" and seems completely out of proportion with the size of the town. Among the mass of stalls we found the fatty bottoms of the local sheep hanging opaque and rubbery like actors' prosthetics and jars full of wriggling leeches.
A few days later we were in a taxi winding deep into the mountains along a secretive valley to Tash Rabat, a 15th century caravanserai. The equivalent of an old coaching inn in England but built around a big domed roof, it's still surrounded by horses and yurts, as well as the occasional party of picnicking Kyrgyz. After a night in a palatial yurt with glowing stove we stomped our way up and over the pass, close to 4000m, to Chatyr-Kol, a long icy lake where the shepherds' children used up our camera batteries photographing themselves and their donkey and I helped milk a yak.
The next morning while we were eating (a very dairy-based) breakfast it started to snow. The traders of the past would have trekked round to the mountain passes on the other side of the lake but border politics meant we had to hike back and get a car. It was probably for the best; it's 70km from the border to the official Chinese immigration post at the foot of the hills and we ended up waiting for hours while men in masks searched every inch of Tom's bag.
The Uighurs who live in this part of China are muslim like other central Asians and their traditional lifestyle is pretty similar with mud-walled houses, old men with wispy white beards and funny hats, countless mutton kebabs and bustling bazaars. Nonetheless the march of modern China seems pretty relentless and much of Kashgar's "old town" is a living museum with ticket offices and explanatory signs.
We've spent our time resting aching muscles and meandering the streets. I've also got a new and possibly mis-judged Chinese hair cut. Don't think they were very used to wavy hair (see photo on Tom's page).
Friday 18 July 2008
Visa joys
Somehow, much to our surprise, we've managed to get Chinese visas. In fact, they were so easy to arrange from Tashkent that it felt like a bit of an anti-climax.
We felt rather less smug when we got back to the Kyrgyz border yesterday and discovered our visas for here were not multiple entry ones as we'd though, leaving us stuck in no-mans land. Luckily the Kyrgyz border guards are pretty accomodating and sent out a consulate from the next town to fit us out with brand new visas for a small 'emergency fee'/bribe.
We felt rather less smug when we got back to the Kyrgyz border yesterday and discovered our visas for here were not multiple entry ones as we'd though, leaving us stuck in no-mans land. Luckily the Kyrgyz border guards are pretty accomodating and sent out a consulate from the next town to fit us out with brand new visas for a small 'emergency fee'/bribe.
Monday 7 July 2008
In which our brave(ish) heros head for the hills and face some difficult decisions
Feeling rather sore today after realising I've spent nine of the past ten days walking. Kyrgyzstan is a hiker's paradise, crammed with unfeasibly scenic hills and mountains and with guides for hire for less than a tenner. Its tourism industry is apparently growing fast but we've seen no more than a couple of foreigners a day and they're still outnumbered by the old men in tall felt hats and left-over statues of Lenin.
We spent the first four days in the mountains in the east of the country where turquoise lakes lurk among the peaks and there's barely enough oxygen for the groundhogs let along two panting 'angliski's. Luckily we'd taken the precaution of hiring a porter so were slightly surprised when he didn't offer to carry any of our stuff. All became clear on the first evening when a full Kyrgyz meal appeared complete with paper napkins, ketchup and a jar of nutella.
The walk ended at some hot springs where we soaked away some of the aches before jumping on a bus to the jailoos (high meadows) in the centre of the country where families of shepherds still spend the summer. Unfortunately a vital part of the minibus fell off along the way leaving petrol gushing from its innards. The driver eventually plugged the hole with a piece of cloth and replaced some of the lost fuel (chain-smoking all the while) and Tom became part of the push-start crew, expected to leap out and push the bus after every stop.
The hills were just as stunning as the mountain, mile upon mile of rolling green velvet interrupted only by groups of yurts, the odd patch of edelweiss and some lakes. We spent the first night camping (lighting a dung fire to liven up the evening) and then walked from yurt to yurt. The only hazard was the fermented mare's milk forced on us at every stage but I think I'm acquiring a taste for it. It's sour and slightly fizzy with a smoky aftertaste which comes from the barrels it's made in but somehow not as bad as that description would suggest.
We're now back in the capital, Bishkek, missing the hills and trying to decide whether it's worth making a final attempt at the elusive Chinese visas or cutting our losses and flying to Malaysia instead. Both options require an Uzbek visa so we'll be at their embassy tomorrow clutching letters of introduction and a pet translator. Fingers crossed...
Tuesday 24 June 2008
Photo
Thıs ıs the fırst tıme I've found a computer that wants to upload pıctures, and thıs was the only one wıth both of us on my memory card. It's taken in the rather odd park at the top of Almaty's cable car.
Khazakhstan
It's been a strange couple of weeks. Tourısts are stıll very much a novelty here and no one speaks Englısh, or the strange collectıon of gestures for thıngs lıke 'how many chıldren' that the Uzbeks seem to have worked out. Instead they just repeat themselves ın Russıan louder and louder and slower and slower untıl you nod regardless.
Stıll, the language barrıer hasn't stopped us befrıendıng lots of old ladıes called Roza and beıng cooked lunch by one of them. A drunk couple on the bus yesterday also gave us a rıng, a keyrıng made by theır daughter and a pıne branch before we managed to escape.
We've also spent a rıdıculously large amount of tıme on a traın (30 hours), appeared on TV (see Tom's blog for more detaıls), eaten camel and drunk theır mılk, and swum ın the Aral Sea (there ısn't much else to do once you fınally fınd ıt).
Fat-bottomed sheep make the world go around
Or Central Asıa at least - I've eaten so much fatty mutton ın the last month I may turn ınto a sheep.
Wednesday 11 June 2008
Ugh...
... food poisoning. It had to happen eventually as everyone else we've met in Uzbekistan has had at least one bout but that doesn't make it any nicer. Luckily my stomach chose somewhere with air con and English TV channels (including BBC World - odd as the website seems to be blocked by the government). Not so useful was Alisher, the crazy owner of our hall-of-mirrors guesthouse, who thought vodka and salt would help - not true.
Other than the offending plov (a kind of oily mutton risotto and big national favourite) I quite liked Tashkent. Not much in the way of sights but lots of policemen twirling day-glo orange disco batons and some strange Soviet tower blocks with Uzbek carpet patterns set into the concrete. At the weekend the various lakes and ponds were full of boys swimming and everyone drives one of the three cars Daewoo makes in the country.
We also went to the opera (a pricey $2) where half the audience chattered on their mobiles. The cast also had to cope with numerous camera flashes and one guy who was twice the height of everyone else on stage. When we went in search of a drink in the interval the bar in the lavish foyer only sold 1.5 litre bottles of fizzy pop.
Other than the offending plov (a kind of oily mutton risotto and big national favourite) I quite liked Tashkent. Not much in the way of sights but lots of policemen twirling day-glo orange disco batons and some strange Soviet tower blocks with Uzbek carpet patterns set into the concrete. At the weekend the various lakes and ponds were full of boys swimming and everyone drives one of the three cars Daewoo makes in the country.
We also went to the opera (a pricey $2) where half the audience chattered on their mobiles. The cast also had to cope with numerous camera flashes and one guy who was twice the height of everyone else on stage. When we went in search of a drink in the interval the bar in the lavish foyer only sold 1.5 litre bottles of fizzy pop.
Thursday 5 June 2008
Four weeks, two stans and one ferry
Well we've finally made it to the fabled stans. Unfortunately it seems most of the internet cafes are too slow for this site so apologies for the big gap and here's a summary of the last four weeks:
1. The ferry across the Caspian: This was supposed to last between 12 and 18 hours. I guessed 16 and Tom, ever the optimist, 14. In the end it took 53, most of them spent within sight of Turkmenistan waiting for train to take the wagons out of the hold beneath us. That's 53 hours sharing a squat toilet with a girl with diarrhoea and an overland bus group who drank every drop of alcohol on the boat, mixing the final dregs with the rehydration salts from their 1st aid kit. Like being on a cruise ship without the cruising... (or enough food)
2. Ashgabat: The white marble capital of Turkmenistan, dripping in oil dollars, was meant to resemble Kuwait but also seems a bit like Milton Keynes. There are enormous roads laid out on a numerical grid, ridiculous gold statues and every type of fountain under the sun. There aren't however many people around so it's hard to tell how much they like the place or whether they'd rather the money was spent on more schools and hospitals.
Most of the statues were put up by the former president Turkmenbashi ("father of the Turkmens") the Great who died a cople of years ago and are of himself. The one that rotates to face the sun is pretty good but my favourite was the earthquake monument. Built to commemorate a 1948 earthquake that killed 90% of the city's population, it's a black bull with a shattered globe on its back. Right in the middle a woman is holding out a little gold statue of Turkmenbashi.
3. The Karakum desert: our first desert and it rained. You can only travel in Turkmenistan with a guide but here it was worth the expense as ours had a four-wheel drive and a tent so we were able to head off in the dunes to see the weird Darvesa gas craters. These three huge circular pits seem to have been an accidental creation of Soviet gas prospectors but no one is quite sure. Two have bubbling mud and water and the third, which we camped by, does a good impression of your average Biblical-style hell.
4. The silk road cities: It's a bit unfair to bump Khiva, Bukhara and Samarkand into one bullet point but I've already written too much. Our overall impression was of far too much heat (30 degrees at 9 in the morning) and lots and lots of blue tiles. There are minarets, mausoleums, mosques and medrassas throughout all three and they're all covered in beautiful swirling blue patterns and a good handful of turquoise domes.
The degree of restoration seems a bit excessive in some places (the Soviets even invented a new dome in one case) but it does help recreate the atmosphere and there are still a few romantic ruins if you search around.
Everyone raves about Bukhara but we preferred Khiva, packed into its city walls, and Samarkand which is more spread out but has by far the most impressive buildings.
5. Nurata mountains: We broke up the blue tiles a bit with a visit to a homestay in the mountains north of Samarkand. Just back this morning and I'm already missing our breezy tapchan (tea platform) under the walnut trees. No one spoke english but there were endless cups of green tea, beds under the stars and lots of baby animals. With most things still donkey powered it was unnervingly like stepping into an old black and white photograph of ye olde devon.
1. The ferry across the Caspian: This was supposed to last between 12 and 18 hours. I guessed 16 and Tom, ever the optimist, 14. In the end it took 53, most of them spent within sight of Turkmenistan waiting for train to take the wagons out of the hold beneath us. That's 53 hours sharing a squat toilet with a girl with diarrhoea and an overland bus group who drank every drop of alcohol on the boat, mixing the final dregs with the rehydration salts from their 1st aid kit. Like being on a cruise ship without the cruising... (or enough food)
2. Ashgabat: The white marble capital of Turkmenistan, dripping in oil dollars, was meant to resemble Kuwait but also seems a bit like Milton Keynes. There are enormous roads laid out on a numerical grid, ridiculous gold statues and every type of fountain under the sun. There aren't however many people around so it's hard to tell how much they like the place or whether they'd rather the money was spent on more schools and hospitals.
Most of the statues were put up by the former president Turkmenbashi ("father of the Turkmens") the Great who died a cople of years ago and are of himself. The one that rotates to face the sun is pretty good but my favourite was the earthquake monument. Built to commemorate a 1948 earthquake that killed 90% of the city's population, it's a black bull with a shattered globe on its back. Right in the middle a woman is holding out a little gold statue of Turkmenbashi.
3. The Karakum desert: our first desert and it rained. You can only travel in Turkmenistan with a guide but here it was worth the expense as ours had a four-wheel drive and a tent so we were able to head off in the dunes to see the weird Darvesa gas craters. These three huge circular pits seem to have been an accidental creation of Soviet gas prospectors but no one is quite sure. Two have bubbling mud and water and the third, which we camped by, does a good impression of your average Biblical-style hell.
4. The silk road cities: It's a bit unfair to bump Khiva, Bukhara and Samarkand into one bullet point but I've already written too much. Our overall impression was of far too much heat (30 degrees at 9 in the morning) and lots and lots of blue tiles. There are minarets, mausoleums, mosques and medrassas throughout all three and they're all covered in beautiful swirling blue patterns and a good handful of turquoise domes.
The degree of restoration seems a bit excessive in some places (the Soviets even invented a new dome in one case) but it does help recreate the atmosphere and there are still a few romantic ruins if you search around.
Everyone raves about Bukhara but we preferred Khiva, packed into its city walls, and Samarkand which is more spread out but has by far the most impressive buildings.
5. Nurata mountains: We broke up the blue tiles a bit with a visit to a homestay in the mountains north of Samarkand. Just back this morning and I'm already missing our breezy tapchan (tea platform) under the walnut trees. No one spoke english but there were endless cups of green tea, beds under the stars and lots of baby animals. With most things still donkey powered it was unnervingly like stepping into an old black and white photograph of ye olde devon.
Sunday 11 May 2008
Gorgeous Georgia
We've just crossed into Azerbaijan on the night train after a couple of weeks in Georgia. Parts of it are dilapidated to a point somewhere beyond scenic but there is a nice laid-back atmosphere and the countryside is varied and beautiful. The struggling economy has forced many people to grow their own food, and there's fresh produce for sale everywhere, but the most remarkable thing is their amazing generosity. Lots of places claim to be hospitable but the Georgians take it to extremes. At times it felt impossible to go out for a meal without someone giving us alcohol (nice but a bit exhausting after a while).
On one particularly surreal day a group of teenagers adopted us on the bus to Mtskheta - the ancient capital - and escorted us around the various churches, devoutly kissing icons and lighting candles as they went. Afterwards they lit a fire and insisted we join them for a barbeque and several rounds of vodka.
We staggered back to Tbilisi and went for a quiet supper in a local cafe but found ourselves drinking home-made wine with the owner and an elderly actor from the theatre over the road. The latter made endless elaborate toasts to England, Georgia and Shakespeare and some poor guy from the next table was roped in to translate.
Another rather different trip out of Tbilisi left us snowed into the Caucasus mountains near the Russian border. Crossing the pass into the town where we were staying the bus (really just a Ford Transit minibus) started sliding backwards and we all had to get out and push. We spent half an hour trying to get past the sticky patch before the driver reluctantly pulled out a set of chains for one of the back wheels and another 15 minutes before he cracked and got out the second set.
The rest of the day's buses were cancelled and the next morning there was thick fog and 10cm of snow on the ground. It's frustrating to know there are huge mountains all around which you can't see but luckily our homestay was a good one with warm radiators and endless plates of hot food.
Anyway, got a bit carried away. We're now in Baku which is rather grander with oil-money paying for extensive renovation of the old town and huge SUVs everywhere (favourite so far is the gigantuan and appropriately named Nissan Armada). It's odd not having to look out for holes in the pavement and missing manhole covers the whole time but we're missing the strange squigely script and herds of battered Ladas.
On one particularly surreal day a group of teenagers adopted us on the bus to Mtskheta - the ancient capital - and escorted us around the various churches, devoutly kissing icons and lighting candles as they went. Afterwards they lit a fire and insisted we join them for a barbeque and several rounds of vodka.
We staggered back to Tbilisi and went for a quiet supper in a local cafe but found ourselves drinking home-made wine with the owner and an elderly actor from the theatre over the road. The latter made endless elaborate toasts to England, Georgia and Shakespeare and some poor guy from the next table was roped in to translate.
Another rather different trip out of Tbilisi left us snowed into the Caucasus mountains near the Russian border. Crossing the pass into the town where we were staying the bus (really just a Ford Transit minibus) started sliding backwards and we all had to get out and push. We spent half an hour trying to get past the sticky patch before the driver reluctantly pulled out a set of chains for one of the back wheels and another 15 minutes before he cracked and got out the second set.
The rest of the day's buses were cancelled and the next morning there was thick fog and 10cm of snow on the ground. It's frustrating to know there are huge mountains all around which you can't see but luckily our homestay was a good one with warm radiators and endless plates of hot food.
Anyway, got a bit carried away. We're now in Baku which is rather grander with oil-money paying for extensive renovation of the old town and huge SUVs everywhere (favourite so far is the gigantuan and appropriately named Nissan Armada). It's odd not having to look out for holes in the pavement and missing manhole covers the whole time but we're missing the strange squigely script and herds of battered Ladas.
Monday 28 April 2008
Capadoccıa
We've spent the last few days in the weird hobbit lands of Capadoccia in central Turkey, wandering through valleys cut deep ınto brıghtly coloured layers of volcanıc ash and past fleets of rather phallıc rock towers. Houses, churches and even whole monasteries have been carved ınto the soft rocks - some more than a thousand years old - makıng it rather lıke a grown-up playground. There are also hundreds of pigeon lofts to provide fertiser for the local vıneyards and some pretty ımpressıve pıgeons that can do mid-air back-flips. Best of all though was a hot-aır balloon rıde at dawn thıs mornıng. Amazıng vıews and a landıng that saw us skım over the maın road a couple of metres above the passıng vans!
Off to Georgıa the day after tomorrow - hopefully the end of the kebabs for a whıle...
Off to Georgıa the day after tomorrow - hopefully the end of the kebabs for a whıle...
Monday 21 April 2008
Turkey
Two weeks in and we've made it through Europe at least... The train journey to Vıenna was amazıngly easy, although we struggled to fınd much to do wıth our afternoon ın Cologne besıdes makıng Lego versıons of ourselves from bıg pıck-and-mıx boxes of heads, bodıes and legs.
Vıenna was the fırst proper stop and the most cultural. We watched the Spanısh horses practısıng theır dancıng and theır human counterparts ın a €3 ballet at the opera house. Also found Beethoven's tomb ın a graveyard large enough to have ıts own bus servıce and redıscovered the joys of hostel bunks.
Budapest was less scrubbed, requırıng a bıt more effort to ımagıne ıts glory days but we ended up lıkıng ıt more for that. We developed a taste for the murky waters of the thermal baths (one lot are 500 years old and lıt by just a few holes ın the domed roof) and I found out that Hungarıan veggıe burgers are just a normal burger wıth the meaty bıt taken out, whıch seems a bıt unfaır. There are also some nıce bars hıdden ın the central courtyards of derelıct buıldıngs, hard to fınd behınd plastıc strıp curtaıns but well worth ıt as long as you don't try takıng on the locals at table football (pretty humılıatıng).
Next stop was raıny Romanıa where we gave the wıld dogs of Bucarest a mıss and settled ınstead for the vampıres of Brasov, a small town deep ın Transylvanıa. From there we got the 24-hour traın to Istanbul - quıte a test of stamına when there's no restaurant car and they wake you several tımes ın the early hours of the mornıng for passport checks and then to queue for a vısa - and here we are. Happy so far, despıte crowds of Australıans preparıng to go to Gallıpolı for Anzac day, but we're gettıng a bıt worrıed about the chances of gettıng a Chınese vısa. There may be a change of plan on ıts way...
Vıenna was the fırst proper stop and the most cultural. We watched the Spanısh horses practısıng theır dancıng and theır human counterparts ın a €3 ballet at the opera house. Also found Beethoven's tomb ın a graveyard large enough to have ıts own bus servıce and redıscovered the joys of hostel bunks.
Budapest was less scrubbed, requırıng a bıt more effort to ımagıne ıts glory days but we ended up lıkıng ıt more for that. We developed a taste for the murky waters of the thermal baths (one lot are 500 years old and lıt by just a few holes ın the domed roof) and I found out that Hungarıan veggıe burgers are just a normal burger wıth the meaty bıt taken out, whıch seems a bıt unfaır. There are also some nıce bars hıdden ın the central courtyards of derelıct buıldıngs, hard to fınd behınd plastıc strıp curtaıns but well worth ıt as long as you don't try takıng on the locals at table football (pretty humılıatıng).
Next stop was raıny Romanıa where we gave the wıld dogs of Bucarest a mıss and settled ınstead for the vampıres of Brasov, a small town deep ın Transylvanıa. From there we got the 24-hour traın to Istanbul - quıte a test of stamına when there's no restaurant car and they wake you several tımes ın the early hours of the mornıng for passport checks and then to queue for a vısa - and here we are. Happy so far, despıte crowds of Australıans preparıng to go to Gallıpolı for Anzac day, but we're gettıng a bıt worrıed about the chances of gettıng a Chınese vısa. There may be a change of plan on ıts way...
Wednesday 2 April 2008
Packing and pre-departure nerves
Hello and welcome to my first attempt at blogging - I'll try and keep it interesting! We'll be setting off on the Eurostar from King's Cross next Tuesday and in the meantime I've been quite enjoying my life of unemployment: up at nine, a run, leisurely breakfast with the papers etc. There's packing to be done but it never seems as urgent when there's coffee around. Having a spot of pre-departure nerves too but keep telling myself that's only normal.
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