Hi there friends, and greetings from Old Blighty (England, to those of you who are unaware). Yes, I've made it back alive and well, a bit browner than I was when I left in November and with a seemingly insatiable appetite for noodles- I'm seriously not sick of them yet, despite the fact that I'm pretty sure I consumed enough noodles during my trip to keep the entire population of Braunschweig gastronomically satisfied for the whole of 2014. Before I wrap this blog up, I'll let you know what I got up to on Bali. I warn you now, it involves a lot of perspiration (ladylike, eh?).
I arrived safe and sound to a very rainy Bali and was greeted at the airport by an absolutely delightful taxi driver who had the joyous task of taking me up to Ubud. My my, he was a chatty fellow. Not just that, but apparently he was also not wholly against serenading his passengers; I was treated to a medley of 80's hits, including 'Unchained Melody' and 'Time Of My Life'. I'm not entirely sure what I did to deserve it but needless to say it was a pretty amusing taxi ride. He also lamented the fact that he wasn't able to get anywhere near "The Julia Roberts" when she was in town filming that modern day classic 'Eat, Pray, Love', a film which has earned the prestigious accolade of 'Most infuriating and tedious film I have ever had the misfortune of seeing in the cinema'. If you haven't seen it, don't bother (unless you enjoy watching Julia Roberts eat spaghetti and traipsing around in floaty dresses for 2.5 hours). It turns out the ghost of EPL ('Eat, Pray, Love') would haunt me at every turn during our stay in Ubud.
The first day on Bali was spent alone, wandering around and being asked if I wanted a taxi every 2 minutes, which I did not. I was awaiting the arrival of my sister and a friend, so just sort of hung around watching the minutes slide past. Little did I know that only one member of the expected party was winging their way to Bali: upon check-in in Amsterdam, my sister was informed, in no uncertain terms, that she was not able to board the flight. Before you jump to any conclusions, she's not a criminal or on the run from the law, and she wasn't wielding a great big knife or a belt made of grenades: her passport simply wasn't valid for long enough and so she wasn't allowed to fly. Let that be a warning to you-when they write stuff about passport validity, they really mean it. Luckily though, my friend arrived with no issues, other than the fact that she was a little emotionally overwhelmed by the whole experience. We solved that problem with banana sandwiches.
The next evening saw the arrival of another friend, but during the day, Friend 1 (Nikki) and I went for a wander round the area and the town of Ubud. Lovely as it is, you cannot move in Ubud for what we later named EPL's (Eat, Pray, Love tourists): a typical EPL is a woman between the ages of 35 and 60 with long, flowing hair either piled messily on top of her head (the intention, I guess, is that it looks like the wind and some birds and, you know, spirits or something have caused her hair to just fall into the style, but actually it requires some careful grooming) or waving freely in the wind. She wears numerous layers of billowing, unstructured fabric in muted colours of the earth, probably some kind of beaded jewellery and a dreamy, wistful look on her face- presumably she's looking for a hunky, rugged man to sweep her off her feet. The town is absolutely swarming with them. Ubud also appeared to be very popular with ALL OF CHINA. When you're not batting the EPL's loose fitting fabrics out of your face, you are navigating your way around hoards of Chinese tourists who have an incredible talent for taking up all the space available on the pavement. However, despite the distractions, we managed a good long stroll around the outskirts of the town and then swooned at all the lovely things on offer to buy. Friend 2 (Rosie) arrived safe and sound in the evening, and the adventure could truly begin.
I'll spare you every detail of every day spent in Ubud and just give a sweeping summary of all the fun that was had: we took a very cool trip out to visit the world's greenest school, creatively named 'The Green School'. Yes, a visit to a school sounds completely lame and boring, but believe me when I say it was actually very amazing: all the buildings are made from bamboo and other nature-y things, and were probably built by little woodland creatures with mini tools (at least that's what was going through my mind when we were being told lots of probably very interesting facts about it). It also has a mud pit. An actual great big muddy mud pit so the kids can roll around in it and have mud fights. When I saw it, it took a LOT of willpower to fight my inner child and not run at it and do an amazing belly slide right the way through it. Our transport there and back was provided by yet another wonderful taxi driver by the name of Wayan who delighted in telling us about his five wives, his numerous children (the exact number of which he wasn't entirely certain) and the spicy food on Bali which "gives you power"- wink wink.
One day in Ubud was dedicated to exploring the surrounding rice fields which are now UNESCO protected because they are so very beautiful. Our trusty guide book had provided us with a fool proof track to follow and so we were pretty confident that we would have no problems. Wrong! Even the Lonely Planet can't dictate the weather and it turned out that the path we wanted to take had been destroyed in a landslide, but being the intrepid explorers we are, we ambled towards a slightly different path. Unfortunately this path began with a very enterprising rice farmer who wanted us to pay quite a fair whack for entry into his field. We were dithering around in a way only clueless tourists can do until we were rescued by a lovely Balinese chap who, as luck should have it, happened to be a guide. And so it was that we hired him to take us through the rice fields. Well, he said they were rice fields; judging by the ridiculous heat and humidity, I'm convinced that actually we spent 2 hours walking through some kind of magical outdoor sauna. It was really a lovely walk but the experience was slightly marred by the feeling that I had just gotten out of the shower, knowing full well that it was not water that was making my clothes very, very damp (I've just read that back and have realised what a disgusting human being I am- sorry about that). The other highlight of Ubud was a cooking course-SURPRISE! Yes, once again, my stomach dictated my actions and led me to signing us up for another day of what was essentially hastily chopping things up so we could eat them faster. We prepared and WOLFED an amazing array of dishes, which included a very pleasing amount of peanut sauce and coconut milk. If you have a nut allergy, you should probably steer clear of Bali. Or just suck it up, consume all the lovely nutty foods and accept the tongue swelling and dodgy stomach that follow. Personally, I think the second option is by far superior.
After a lovely stay in Ubud, we headed South to the unremarkable town of Ungasan, where we stayed in a remarkable villa. It was ridiculously nice, complete with a pool, outdoor kitchen, outdoor bathrooms and a pair of housekeepers who brought us fresh papaya. It goes without saying that a large majority of our time there was spent lazing around by the pool and getting burnt on parts of our body that we'd missed during the liberal application of suncream, so it looked like our stomach/ upper back/ left mid-shin were perpetually embarrassed about something. We survived an apocalyptic storm, visited a beautiful cliff top temple, took the world's slowest funicular railway to a bar built into a cliff face, got caught in a HUGE rainstorm and lamented the fact that we are not gorgeous, lithe, blonde surfer chicks. Overall, we had a cracking few days there. Nikki and Rosie flew back to Singapore, leaving me to enjoy a final few days alone in the town of Sanur. If it's a wild time you're looking for, you can rule out Sanur: it is a snoozy beach town that is jam-packed with elderly Australian and Dutch tourists. It was absolutely perfect (I'm not even being sarcastic). I spent the days wandering around town, along the beach and hanging around the little pool at my hostel. The most 'exciting' thing that happened was a French guy in my room had obviously indulged a little too much in some kind of substance and spent the night shouting in his sleep before falling spectacularly flat on his face from his top bunk bed (much to the 'delight' of some Germans in the room who were looking very disgruntled the next day).
For the last two days of my trip I returned to Singapore to stay with Rosie. 'Ah yes,' I thought, 'just sit back, relax and calm yourself before heading back to reality'. Sadly on the first night, that was not to be: Rosie and her boyfriend were out for the night, and I had opted for a night in front of the TV. All was going well until I wanted to have a shower: in the flat, the bathroom is an ensuite next to the bedroom, both of which are separated from the living room and kitchen by a door that can be locked from inside the bedroom. I was about to cook myself up some dinner when I decided to have a quick shower first before setting up camp on the sofa for the evening. But alas, the door to the bedroom, and therefore the bathroom, had somehow locked itself from the inside. At this moment, I had a slight panic but did as all normal people do when they have a problem and chose to ignore it. Unfortunately for me, prior to going to the supermarket to get stuff for tea, I had drunk 3 pints of water and a very generous cup of tea, meaning that I wasn't able to ignore the problem for too long before I started to have the feeling that, yes yes, my bladder was filling up nicely. I had a little look for the key but to no avail. I tried to contact Rosie. No answer. I asked the guys on duty down at the entrance to the complex if they had a key: they didn't (absurd). I knocked on the neighbours' doors. All out. I paced around and tried to find a sitting position that would lessen the feeling of desperation. There are none. I half ran-half hopped back down to the entrance to beg for help and was directed by two very amused guards to the bathroom next to the swimming pool. That ordeal over, I was once again able to relax and watch TV until Rosie returned. When she and her boyfriend got back, we turned the flat upside down looking for the key, called a locksmith and promptly decided against calling him out (his price was extortionate!), tried to pick the lock with a hair pin (it doesn't work like in the films), had several attempts at breaking the door down using various body parts before giving up and decamping to his parents' house for the remainder of the night. Very dramatic indeed.
Luckily the rest of my time was not so stressful and I had a lovely last couple of days reading, walking around and shopping before heading off to Changi airport, and back to the cold climes of Western Europe. And that, dear friends (or more likely by this point, one single determined friend), is where I am now- back on the sofa in my living room in Thornbury, drinking copious amounts of tea, safe in the knowledge that I am not going to get locked out of the bathroom. Thanks and well done for persevering with my blog- I hope you enjoyed it, at least a little bit. I had a great time writing it. Byeeeeeeeeeee
Friday, 21 February 2014
Friday, 31 January 2014
Bye Malaysia, hello Singapore aaaand bye Singapore!
So it appears that it is becoming increasingly harder to keep up to date with this little bloggity blog, but never fear, there are not many left to come as my trip is slowly coming to an end. I'm currently back in Singapore, where I have, as luck would have it, met up with Fin once again. He is probably not so thrilled.
Where did I leave off? Ohhhh yes yes, we had waved goodbye to Kuala Lumpur. Well, I'm going to really condense this because the bulk of the Malaysia trip was spent eating many, many fried things and curries, and I'm certain that no one is too interested in hearing about how many naan breads and rotis I've chomped through (it's an embarrassingly large number). We left KL for the Cameron Highlands on an incredibly luxurious coach and had a painful and windy four hour trip up into the mountains. We saw a lot of durians growing along the sides of the road but thank heavens that our couch was well protected from the perennial stink of SE Asia; there's a reason they're banned in so many hotels and public places. We reached the little town of Tanah Rata where we found our "guesthouse" lurking behind a derelict construction site. I used speech marks there because it more resembled a toilet block in a prison or mental institution than a place where paying customers come to while away a few nice days in the mountains. Needless to say, we dumped our stuff and got out of there pretty sharpish, on the hunt for dinner. Our couple of days in Highlands were predominantly spent planning how to avoid going back to the cell: we visited a delightful tea plantation, had a good old laugh with some Indian waiters, found a statue of some giant vegetables, spent several hours buying as little as possible in Starbucks, and had numerous photos taken with a Malaysian baby and his grandfather. All in a day's work.
The next stop on our Malaysian adventure was the glorious and beautiful town of Georgetown on Penang island. It is an absolute cracker, I tell you. All colonial cuteness and charm, and packed to the gills with incredible food and cafes. It boasts, in my scientific opinion, the densest population of Chinese temples in any town ever in life. They are all quite spectacular, so if you are lucky enough to witness my photo slideshow when I get back, prepare yourself for an entire section of Chinese temples. Maybe I'll provide some dim sum to help you get out the other side alive. Georgetown also has a wonderful funicular railway. It is quite well hidden, especially if you wait for 45 minutes at the wrong bus stop, but once you eventually make it, it is all worth it. We were lucky enough to have a lunatic for a bus driver on the way back, who zipped around the roads like he was on a Formula One track, and also not thinking twice about stopping off for a little snack on the way down, leaving a full bus of people waiting for him. I was annoyed until I realised he was eating Indian food, and then I commended him on his excellent choice of cuisine. In a nutshell, Georgetown is one of the most wonderful and delicious places I've ever been, so you should go there now!
Next stop: Langkawi island, a tropical paradise hiding unparalleled levels of bad service. The beach was stunning, so no bad words there, but we were staying in the 'Easy Hotel' (false advertising) which was anything but easy. We made a little complaint about the world's worst breakfast and from then on, fully expected to find some kind of dead animal lurking under the kid's duvets which graced our beds every night, so vicious were the stares we were being given by the staff. But what the heck, we spent a few beautiful days on the beach, swimming in the clear blue sea and hanging around in a French cafe, the owner of which seemed to think that everyone was just speaking in French, even when he was spoken to in English. He saw our looks of blatant confusion and gallantly ignored them, ploughing on in French until we just smiled and said 'oui' to whatever he said. We spent our last night there on the beach with a banana split and watching the sun go down. Clichéd? I couldn't care less!
Back in KL for one day, we did what all good tourists do and went to Ikea and Tesco. Our paths then parted ways: Sarah headed back to the Bodge and I went down to Melaka for a day. Melaka is another great little town, full of mad little shops and durian treats in all their glory. The hostel I stayed in was an absolute treat, the owner being a keen cyclist, and so I found myself back on a bike and cycling to a local night market, where me and my fellow hostel friends proceeded to eat almost everything we could get our hands on, including chicken on a stick. It was a classy affair.
Finally, I reached Singapore where I was met by Fin and a friend, Rosie, who was kind enough to let us crash on her floor. We've spent the last couple of days looking at the city from various heights (including the highest al fresco bar in the world), marvelling at the madness of Chinese New Year and weeping at the price of various commodities. It is bonkers.
Tomorrow I'm off to my last proper destination of Bali, where I will cleanse my chakra, do the downward facing dog and eat raw vegetables masquerading as delicious treats. Or maybe not.
Where did I leave off? Ohhhh yes yes, we had waved goodbye to Kuala Lumpur. Well, I'm going to really condense this because the bulk of the Malaysia trip was spent eating many, many fried things and curries, and I'm certain that no one is too interested in hearing about how many naan breads and rotis I've chomped through (it's an embarrassingly large number). We left KL for the Cameron Highlands on an incredibly luxurious coach and had a painful and windy four hour trip up into the mountains. We saw a lot of durians growing along the sides of the road but thank heavens that our couch was well protected from the perennial stink of SE Asia; there's a reason they're banned in so many hotels and public places. We reached the little town of Tanah Rata where we found our "guesthouse" lurking behind a derelict construction site. I used speech marks there because it more resembled a toilet block in a prison or mental institution than a place where paying customers come to while away a few nice days in the mountains. Needless to say, we dumped our stuff and got out of there pretty sharpish, on the hunt for dinner. Our couple of days in Highlands were predominantly spent planning how to avoid going back to the cell: we visited a delightful tea plantation, had a good old laugh with some Indian waiters, found a statue of some giant vegetables, spent several hours buying as little as possible in Starbucks, and had numerous photos taken with a Malaysian baby and his grandfather. All in a day's work.
The next stop on our Malaysian adventure was the glorious and beautiful town of Georgetown on Penang island. It is an absolute cracker, I tell you. All colonial cuteness and charm, and packed to the gills with incredible food and cafes. It boasts, in my scientific opinion, the densest population of Chinese temples in any town ever in life. They are all quite spectacular, so if you are lucky enough to witness my photo slideshow when I get back, prepare yourself for an entire section of Chinese temples. Maybe I'll provide some dim sum to help you get out the other side alive. Georgetown also has a wonderful funicular railway. It is quite well hidden, especially if you wait for 45 minutes at the wrong bus stop, but once you eventually make it, it is all worth it. We were lucky enough to have a lunatic for a bus driver on the way back, who zipped around the roads like he was on a Formula One track, and also not thinking twice about stopping off for a little snack on the way down, leaving a full bus of people waiting for him. I was annoyed until I realised he was eating Indian food, and then I commended him on his excellent choice of cuisine. In a nutshell, Georgetown is one of the most wonderful and delicious places I've ever been, so you should go there now!
Next stop: Langkawi island, a tropical paradise hiding unparalleled levels of bad service. The beach was stunning, so no bad words there, but we were staying in the 'Easy Hotel' (false advertising) which was anything but easy. We made a little complaint about the world's worst breakfast and from then on, fully expected to find some kind of dead animal lurking under the kid's duvets which graced our beds every night, so vicious were the stares we were being given by the staff. But what the heck, we spent a few beautiful days on the beach, swimming in the clear blue sea and hanging around in a French cafe, the owner of which seemed to think that everyone was just speaking in French, even when he was spoken to in English. He saw our looks of blatant confusion and gallantly ignored them, ploughing on in French until we just smiled and said 'oui' to whatever he said. We spent our last night there on the beach with a banana split and watching the sun go down. Clichéd? I couldn't care less!
Back in KL for one day, we did what all good tourists do and went to Ikea and Tesco. Our paths then parted ways: Sarah headed back to the Bodge and I went down to Melaka for a day. Melaka is another great little town, full of mad little shops and durian treats in all their glory. The hostel I stayed in was an absolute treat, the owner being a keen cyclist, and so I found myself back on a bike and cycling to a local night market, where me and my fellow hostel friends proceeded to eat almost everything we could get our hands on, including chicken on a stick. It was a classy affair.
Finally, I reached Singapore where I was met by Fin and a friend, Rosie, who was kind enough to let us crash on her floor. We've spent the last couple of days looking at the city from various heights (including the highest al fresco bar in the world), marvelling at the madness of Chinese New Year and weeping at the price of various commodities. It is bonkers.
Tomorrow I'm off to my last proper destination of Bali, where I will cleanse my chakra, do the downward facing dog and eat raw vegetables masquerading as delicious treats. Or maybe not.
Friday, 17 January 2014
Welcome to Kuala London
Here I am in Malaysia, truly Asia (that is the very catchy jungle which some genius from Malaysia Tourism office came up with). Let me tell you, Malaysia, truly Asia bears an uncanny resemblance to London, or at least Kuala Lumpur does. It's all concrete apartment blocks, big, shiny skyscrapers, busy roads and Topshop. Sadly, I still can't afford the latter-sob sob sob. The big difference, language aside, is that the people here are so darn tootin nice! Sorry to anyone who lives in London, but you are just not the friendliest of people to outsiders. Kuala Lumps, on the other hand, could not be nicer if it tried. We had been in the central station all of 5 minutes when a very pleasant young gent escorted us all the way to the monorail station and then paid for our tickets. His reasoning was that it was the prophet's birthday. Our reasoning was that he was simply a delightful person. Could it get any better than that? Normally not. But WAIT: there we were, in a very local Indian restaurant looking completely baffled by absolutely everything, when an old chap waved us over to sit with him. So we did. He then told us a lot of things which I'm sure were very interesting, but I could barely hear him, so I was just nodding and smiling which seemed more than sufficient. He trotted off after helping us order our very tasty lunch-served on a banana leaf-but as he left, he called over to us and told us lunch was on the house,simply because we were brave tourists who ventured into the gastronomic unknown. We suspect he paid for us, but whatever happened, it made us so very happy for the rest of the day! I've been inspired to pay for random people's lunches now when I go home, although I suspect that people in Braunschweig might just think I'm weird. Maybe I should be stealth about it. It would be a great excuse to wear a cape, like some kind of lunch-themed superhero.
Last night, after a day of walking all over the city, we indulged in a food tour (what else?). We took a train out to some random spot way out of the centre and waited for our guy, Charles, to come and pick us up. Well, we waited and waited, wondered, and waited, and sure enough, 15 minutes too late, a young guy screeched up in his car, sticking his tongue out at us. It transpired that Charles was a complete lad and genuinely nice guy. We drove around the suburbs of KL (well, he drove. Sarah and I were busy looking at the terrifyingly small gaps between us and neighbouring cars and ditches), stopping off in numerous places to sample local delicacies. My my my, Malaysia is a dreaaaammm when it comes to food: it has incredible Chinese and Indian food, as well as wonderful traditional Malay dishes. Every time we stopped, I had a little weep because everything was just so flippin delicious. Except durian, the so-called king of the fruits. It does NOT deserve that accolade because it is like eating death. Slimy, gooey, smelly death. Sarah likened it to a mushed up roast dinner, in both taste and texture. So to durian, I say a big fat NO. Other than that, it was a very amusing evening. Mainly because we were being driven around KL by a 3rd generation Indian wide boy.
Today was quite a change of scenery: we experienced the Thaipusam festival at the Batu Caves. If you haven't heard of it, look it up. It was bonkers. It's a Hindu festival celebrating the God of war (I think-we read about it this morning but my brain is quite tired right now) and consists mainly of something like 500,000 people hitting up the Batu Caves to watch men carrying GIGANTIC and elaborate, hmmmm, decorations, I guess you could say, 272 steps up into the caves. A lot of them have hooks attaching their own skin to the decorations, or they have things like lemons, limes, roses or leaves hooked onto their backs and metal rods through their lips. It sounds crazy-partly because it is- but I'm sure there is a great significance behind it all. It was absolutely amazing. We also witnessed a wild-haired man walking over swords that were held aloft, sort of like a floating and moving footpath. A sharp footpath made of SWORDS. The whole day was spent with my great gob open in amazement and disbelief. A mind boggling experience.
The day ended with a very cosy train trip back to the city centre, during which, of course, we made another lovely Malaysian friend - a 47 year old man who has been married 14 years and has 2 children, aged 2 and 6, and can no longer work because he was in a motorbike accident with an Indian woman, which messed up his hand. His main question to me was 'Why don't you use shampoo?'. I was naturally overwhelmed by the flattery.
Tomorrow we head North to the Cameron Highlands where we plan to dither around some tea plantations and revel in the cooler climes. Bye for now!
Last night, after a day of walking all over the city, we indulged in a food tour (what else?). We took a train out to some random spot way out of the centre and waited for our guy, Charles, to come and pick us up. Well, we waited and waited, wondered, and waited, and sure enough, 15 minutes too late, a young guy screeched up in his car, sticking his tongue out at us. It transpired that Charles was a complete lad and genuinely nice guy. We drove around the suburbs of KL (well, he drove. Sarah and I were busy looking at the terrifyingly small gaps between us and neighbouring cars and ditches), stopping off in numerous places to sample local delicacies. My my my, Malaysia is a dreaaaammm when it comes to food: it has incredible Chinese and Indian food, as well as wonderful traditional Malay dishes. Every time we stopped, I had a little weep because everything was just so flippin delicious. Except durian, the so-called king of the fruits. It does NOT deserve that accolade because it is like eating death. Slimy, gooey, smelly death. Sarah likened it to a mushed up roast dinner, in both taste and texture. So to durian, I say a big fat NO. Other than that, it was a very amusing evening. Mainly because we were being driven around KL by a 3rd generation Indian wide boy.
Today was quite a change of scenery: we experienced the Thaipusam festival at the Batu Caves. If you haven't heard of it, look it up. It was bonkers. It's a Hindu festival celebrating the God of war (I think-we read about it this morning but my brain is quite tired right now) and consists mainly of something like 500,000 people hitting up the Batu Caves to watch men carrying GIGANTIC and elaborate, hmmmm, decorations, I guess you could say, 272 steps up into the caves. A lot of them have hooks attaching their own skin to the decorations, or they have things like lemons, limes, roses or leaves hooked onto their backs and metal rods through their lips. It sounds crazy-partly because it is- but I'm sure there is a great significance behind it all. It was absolutely amazing. We also witnessed a wild-haired man walking over swords that were held aloft, sort of like a floating and moving footpath. A sharp footpath made of SWORDS. The whole day was spent with my great gob open in amazement and disbelief. A mind boggling experience.
The day ended with a very cosy train trip back to the city centre, during which, of course, we made another lovely Malaysian friend - a 47 year old man who has been married 14 years and has 2 children, aged 2 and 6, and can no longer work because he was in a motorbike accident with an Indian woman, which messed up his hand. His main question to me was 'Why don't you use shampoo?'. I was naturally overwhelmed by the flattery.
Tomorrow we head North to the Cameron Highlands where we plan to dither around some tea plantations and revel in the cooler climes. Bye for now!
Friday, 10 January 2014
1000km done!
Yes, you read that correctly- I have cycled 1000km. Not only that, but my legs and arse are still very much in tact and surprisingly pain free. Success!
This would be the mother of all posts if I went through and listed everything that happened, and I'm pretty sure it would be unfathomably dull for the large majority of people. To this end, you can think of this as the highlights package. Given that most of you reading belong to a very select group of family and perhaps two non-relatives, you can rest assured that I will provide a blow by blow account of every pedal along the way, so you have that thrilling prospect on your horizons! But for now, here is kind of a quick summary of funny/interesting/ tasty things that happened:
- we cycled. And cycled. And cycled. And then, just for good measure, we cycled a bit more. Miraculously, I made it to the end without any major issues and I was mighty surprised that my legs had not been transformed into stiff, leaden poles after over 1000km. Even more surprising was that my rear end almost didn't even notice that it had been sitting on what was essentially nothing more than an arrow head for 19 days. Whoever invented padded shorts should be knighted for their services to bums all over the globe, and then promptly stripped of their knighthood for creating the least attractive item of clothing known to mankind. Padded shorts make dungarees look like entirely seductive and alluring attire (which we all know is so, so wrong). Physical pain aside, my bike did not quite make it to the end without difficulty. One day, whilst waiting around for another group member to be treated after a fall, my back tyre suddenly thought "Wow, I've been putting in some serious hours. Time for me to give up". And so it did in the most spectacular fashion; exploding completely randomly and making us run for cover because we thought a rogue monk had come out to shoot us. Not an hour later, having been fitted wit a new tyre, my bike gave up again and decided that it is no longer the most fun to cart around a clumsy Brit and all her worldly belongings (read: many, many malaria tablets). That aside, it served me well, even managing to survive a face-on collision with a truck door which opened directly into me.
-dog chases were a very prominent feature of the trip, with almost everyone being chased by packs of unruly dogs at some point. My own experience happened along a dusty road, in a rare moment of solo cycling: one of the dogs was fully giving me the evil eyes and they chased me for about 50m. I was squealing and flailing like a mad thing on wheels, which the locals apparently interpreted as some kind of travelling comedy routine and just laughed at me. A lot.
-I have learnt Khmer (the language spoken here). Well, I say learnt: I am now fully qualified to point at and name about 5 fruits and animals. I can also say that I drink alcohol-however, I thought it meant 'I`m thirsty' (as I was mistakenly led to believe), so I was basically giving people the impression that I have a drinking problem a few times a day.
-as a group, we consumed a very large amount of rice and eggs. Rice was involved at pretty much every single meal, and, such was the love of rice of one of our guides, when rice was not on the menu, he ordered it anyway. And eggs, sooo many eggs: fried, boiled, omlette-ified, scrambled and once fertilised- there was really no limit to the number of eggs we could consume in a day. All in the name of protein!
-Cambodians like to say hello to people on bikes. Every day, and I really mean every day, as we were cycling merrily along, seemingly in the middle of nowhere, a couple of kids would suddenly come racing out of thin air and ambush us, screaming 'hellohellohellohellohellohello'. This would start a kind of chain reaction and the next half hour would pass in a frenzy of shouting and waving, which is quite dangerous on a road full of pot holes. They also thoroughly enjoy it if you smile at them, so for big long stretches of the route, I was cycling with a big grin plastered to my face. I realise now that they could well have just been laughing at me, rather than smiling with me because I think I must have looked quite insane.
-perhaps the best thing to come out of this trip is that I have discovered the joy of Cambodia! I don't want to get too mushy on you, but it really is a delightful country. The recent history is truly awful and confusing and difficult, but the country as I experienced it is full of spirit and energy. We saw some beautiful scenery and buildings along the way, but the real gem of le Cambodge (as the French so hilariously call it) is the people. Anyone who can put up with my butchering of their language deserves every positive accolade in the book.
I'm now relaxing at the seaside with many, many French and Russian people before heading off to Malaysia to eat my entire body weight (and then some) in fried snacks and fish heads.
Thanks Bodge, you've been a dream!
This would be the mother of all posts if I went through and listed everything that happened, and I'm pretty sure it would be unfathomably dull for the large majority of people. To this end, you can think of this as the highlights package. Given that most of you reading belong to a very select group of family and perhaps two non-relatives, you can rest assured that I will provide a blow by blow account of every pedal along the way, so you have that thrilling prospect on your horizons! But for now, here is kind of a quick summary of funny/interesting/ tasty things that happened:
- we cycled. And cycled. And cycled. And then, just for good measure, we cycled a bit more. Miraculously, I made it to the end without any major issues and I was mighty surprised that my legs had not been transformed into stiff, leaden poles after over 1000km. Even more surprising was that my rear end almost didn't even notice that it had been sitting on what was essentially nothing more than an arrow head for 19 days. Whoever invented padded shorts should be knighted for their services to bums all over the globe, and then promptly stripped of their knighthood for creating the least attractive item of clothing known to mankind. Padded shorts make dungarees look like entirely seductive and alluring attire (which we all know is so, so wrong). Physical pain aside, my bike did not quite make it to the end without difficulty. One day, whilst waiting around for another group member to be treated after a fall, my back tyre suddenly thought "Wow, I've been putting in some serious hours. Time for me to give up". And so it did in the most spectacular fashion; exploding completely randomly and making us run for cover because we thought a rogue monk had come out to shoot us. Not an hour later, having been fitted wit a new tyre, my bike gave up again and decided that it is no longer the most fun to cart around a clumsy Brit and all her worldly belongings (read: many, many malaria tablets). That aside, it served me well, even managing to survive a face-on collision with a truck door which opened directly into me.
-dog chases were a very prominent feature of the trip, with almost everyone being chased by packs of unruly dogs at some point. My own experience happened along a dusty road, in a rare moment of solo cycling: one of the dogs was fully giving me the evil eyes and they chased me for about 50m. I was squealing and flailing like a mad thing on wheels, which the locals apparently interpreted as some kind of travelling comedy routine and just laughed at me. A lot.
-I have learnt Khmer (the language spoken here). Well, I say learnt: I am now fully qualified to point at and name about 5 fruits and animals. I can also say that I drink alcohol-however, I thought it meant 'I`m thirsty' (as I was mistakenly led to believe), so I was basically giving people the impression that I have a drinking problem a few times a day.
-as a group, we consumed a very large amount of rice and eggs. Rice was involved at pretty much every single meal, and, such was the love of rice of one of our guides, when rice was not on the menu, he ordered it anyway. And eggs, sooo many eggs: fried, boiled, omlette-ified, scrambled and once fertilised- there was really no limit to the number of eggs we could consume in a day. All in the name of protein!
-Cambodians like to say hello to people on bikes. Every day, and I really mean every day, as we were cycling merrily along, seemingly in the middle of nowhere, a couple of kids would suddenly come racing out of thin air and ambush us, screaming 'hellohellohellohellohellohello'. This would start a kind of chain reaction and the next half hour would pass in a frenzy of shouting and waving, which is quite dangerous on a road full of pot holes. They also thoroughly enjoy it if you smile at them, so for big long stretches of the route, I was cycling with a big grin plastered to my face. I realise now that they could well have just been laughing at me, rather than smiling with me because I think I must have looked quite insane.
-perhaps the best thing to come out of this trip is that I have discovered the joy of Cambodia! I don't want to get too mushy on you, but it really is a delightful country. The recent history is truly awful and confusing and difficult, but the country as I experienced it is full of spirit and energy. We saw some beautiful scenery and buildings along the way, but the real gem of le Cambodge (as the French so hilariously call it) is the people. Anyone who can put up with my butchering of their language deserves every positive accolade in the book.
I'm now relaxing at the seaside with many, many French and Russian people before heading off to Malaysia to eat my entire body weight (and then some) in fried snacks and fish heads.
Thanks Bodge, you've been a dream!
Wednesday, 25 December 2013
All I want for Christmas is a 3.45am wake up call
And thank Santa for that- I got it! First and foremost, MERRY CHRISTMAS ONE AND ALL. I hope you had/are having a smashing day. Mine was certainly a Christmas I will not forget in a hurry, I can tell ya!
But I’ll rewind a bit first to get you up to speed...
The first day of biking was quite a test of my pain threshold, as you may or may not be able to imagine. We had quite an easy going start, lulling us nicely into a highly false sense of security. After a bike fitting and a kick-off coconut together, we took a maiden voyage out around the Siem Reap area. Here´s a fun fact for you folks at home- Siem Reap is home to a substantial number of bumpy roads. And here´s another fun fact for you- mountain bike seats are very, very hard. Now put those two together and maybe you have an idea about the fun we had on our first day out and about. I felt a lot of the time like I was sitting on a rock which was breaking quite capably through the lovely padding in the bum area I´d so carefully crafted in Vietnam. Luckily for us, numbness kicks in quite quickly, so after about half an hour, I was more or less unable to feel anything below my tum for the rest of the day, which only poses a problem when you try and dismount like an elegant lady type person and not some kind of half human/half octopus. That first day, we visited a pagoda where some monks were busy monking around the place, and were told about the history of PEPY, the organisation who is behind all this madness. It is mighty interesting but I wont´t bore you with the details right now. Before leaving, we blessed by the big guy on campus (a 77 year old monk who has been a monk for 60 years. 60 actual full years!) and he seemed to get quite a bit of amusement out of the fact that we´re going everywhere by bike. Being laughed at by a monk can now be officially ticked off the list. The day ended with a trip to the Cambodian Circus which, thank Buddha, did not involve any clowns. Just a French Father Christmas.
Day two was, well, a bit on the painful side to start with. Turns out my rear end is quite sensitive, so it took a while to get used to, or rather go numb, to the pain. The day began with a Meg Skinner fave- a cooking class! Again, I will spare you the tasty details for fear of boring you stupid. But I can assure you, it was very delicious indeed. We overran slightly and so had a very quick zoom back to the hostel to grab some stuff and head out for a little 40km ride to a whopping great reservoir. The ride was realllllly fun and I felt all intrepid because there was some very light mountain biking terrain involved- all rocks and sand and mud and what not. Miraculously, I didn´t fall off. I did, however, manage to uproot quite a lot of plants on my way round, looking quite like a bushman when I finally emerged onto the main road. Again, we were late arriving back to town, so I had a whole 25 minutes to sort my life out before being picked up and taken to a Christmas Eve party. Evidently, I am able to get ready in a flash when I´m under a bit of time pressure and I was not the big sweaty mess I had expected to be, which was nice. Mainly for the people who encountered me that evening. It was a great party and I even managed to pass myself off as a Belgian to a Dutch guy (I choose to ignore the fact that he was quite merry on mulled wine at the time).
And so today, Christmas Day, we woke up at 3.45 to make our way to Angkor Wat at sunrise. As did every other tourist in Siem Reap, apparently- it was like Picadilly Circus down there. The sun did its thing and, following breakfast, we had a full day of touring part of the Angkor complex, which is nothing short of incredible. As usual, my brain has failed its purpose to retain knowledge and I can barely remember anything we were told, but I remember it being very fascinating. Lots of stuff about kings and dancers and angry Vietnamese people. We headed back around 3pm and are now about to go out for a Christmas dinner- that festive classic of scallops with chilli and lemongrass!
So here I bid you goodnight. We leave Siem Reap tomorrow and the real adventure begins- wish me luck!!
But I’ll rewind a bit first to get you up to speed...
The first day of biking was quite a test of my pain threshold, as you may or may not be able to imagine. We had quite an easy going start, lulling us nicely into a highly false sense of security. After a bike fitting and a kick-off coconut together, we took a maiden voyage out around the Siem Reap area. Here´s a fun fact for you folks at home- Siem Reap is home to a substantial number of bumpy roads. And here´s another fun fact for you- mountain bike seats are very, very hard. Now put those two together and maybe you have an idea about the fun we had on our first day out and about. I felt a lot of the time like I was sitting on a rock which was breaking quite capably through the lovely padding in the bum area I´d so carefully crafted in Vietnam. Luckily for us, numbness kicks in quite quickly, so after about half an hour, I was more or less unable to feel anything below my tum for the rest of the day, which only poses a problem when you try and dismount like an elegant lady type person and not some kind of half human/half octopus. That first day, we visited a pagoda where some monks were busy monking around the place, and were told about the history of PEPY, the organisation who is behind all this madness. It is mighty interesting but I wont´t bore you with the details right now. Before leaving, we blessed by the big guy on campus (a 77 year old monk who has been a monk for 60 years. 60 actual full years!) and he seemed to get quite a bit of amusement out of the fact that we´re going everywhere by bike. Being laughed at by a monk can now be officially ticked off the list. The day ended with a trip to the Cambodian Circus which, thank Buddha, did not involve any clowns. Just a French Father Christmas.
Day two was, well, a bit on the painful side to start with. Turns out my rear end is quite sensitive, so it took a while to get used to, or rather go numb, to the pain. The day began with a Meg Skinner fave- a cooking class! Again, I will spare you the tasty details for fear of boring you stupid. But I can assure you, it was very delicious indeed. We overran slightly and so had a very quick zoom back to the hostel to grab some stuff and head out for a little 40km ride to a whopping great reservoir. The ride was realllllly fun and I felt all intrepid because there was some very light mountain biking terrain involved- all rocks and sand and mud and what not. Miraculously, I didn´t fall off. I did, however, manage to uproot quite a lot of plants on my way round, looking quite like a bushman when I finally emerged onto the main road. Again, we were late arriving back to town, so I had a whole 25 minutes to sort my life out before being picked up and taken to a Christmas Eve party. Evidently, I am able to get ready in a flash when I´m under a bit of time pressure and I was not the big sweaty mess I had expected to be, which was nice. Mainly for the people who encountered me that evening. It was a great party and I even managed to pass myself off as a Belgian to a Dutch guy (I choose to ignore the fact that he was quite merry on mulled wine at the time).
And so today, Christmas Day, we woke up at 3.45 to make our way to Angkor Wat at sunrise. As did every other tourist in Siem Reap, apparently- it was like Picadilly Circus down there. The sun did its thing and, following breakfast, we had a full day of touring part of the Angkor complex, which is nothing short of incredible. As usual, my brain has failed its purpose to retain knowledge and I can barely remember anything we were told, but I remember it being very fascinating. Lots of stuff about kings and dancers and angry Vietnamese people. We headed back around 3pm and are now about to go out for a Christmas dinner- that festive classic of scallops with chilli and lemongrass!
So here I bid you goodnight. We leave Siem Reap tomorrow and the real adventure begins- wish me luck!!
Saturday, 21 December 2013
Hey look, another new country!
And here I am in Cambodia, finally on the brink of my main reason for travelling all this way-the big, scary bike ride. The official first day is tomorrow, so I am free this evening to sit and ponder my fate. I will mainly be thinking about my poor bum and its impending ordeal.
Before I give you an account of my very brief encounter with Thailand, I would just like to make a little dedication to my great aunt Mary. She opened the doors to not only a new country, but also to a whole new side of our family for which I am so grateful, because they are all rather fabulous characters. She was a cracking lady and I hope that I am still climbing mountains and swimming in the sea at 6am when I hit my 80s.
So, yes, my week in Thailand. Well, I hate-but really I mean love-to report that the large majority of my time was spent lazing around on the beach. Sorry! The day after my epic stroll through Bangkok, I went to meet an old friend from uni. He has significantly higher standards than I do, so I found myself in a very fancy hotel, jumping on a bed which was big enough for Henry the VIII and all his wives. Saying that, all of them in a bed at one time would be a very gory affair, given that he beheaded a couple of them. But there would have been more than enough space for the bodies and their heads, and any other heads lying around. Ok, be quiet now, brain. Anyway, after seeing that the bed was a great bed for jumping on, I thought I would check out the rooftop pool (I told you-high standards). Well that plan was tragically poo-pooed when I realised that I was incapable of working the lift. So I just hung around in the room- I didn‘t even want to look at that stupid pool anyway. Once my friend arrived, the evening was spent reminiscing about uni and laughing about how out of touch with the world I am.
The next day, it was beach tiiiiiime! This will be a very short section because really, what can I say? We were in a beach bungalow, 2 seconds from the sea, with nothing to do but relax and watch the world, and the Russians, go by. It was ridiculously lazy. So much so that I was slightly ashamed at how little I did. But before you shake your heads and judge me, remember that I am on the cusp of a world of bike-induced pain!
Upon returning to Bangkok, after yet another bump-tastic bus ride, we headed over to MBK, a.k.a. the best place to buy everything you will never need in life. And I mean everything. It was like a flippin labyrinth. I was really hoping that David Bowie would pop up in his Jared The Goblin King outfit and sing about the babe with the power of voodoo. Sadly, this dream was not fulfilled-instead, I was faced with stall upon stall of, well, stuff. It was a little overwhelming for provincial bumpkins like myself, but my friend was in his element and came away with some pretty decent fake Rolexes. Once we were sufficiently disorientated and dazed, we headed back for a final evening of chat before I left for Cambodia. And here I am!
I‘m not sure how much I’ll be able to update this bad boy in the next month (you can breathe a collective sigh of relief) so see you when I see you. Wish me luck! And Merry Christmas!
Before I give you an account of my very brief encounter with Thailand, I would just like to make a little dedication to my great aunt Mary. She opened the doors to not only a new country, but also to a whole new side of our family for which I am so grateful, because they are all rather fabulous characters. She was a cracking lady and I hope that I am still climbing mountains and swimming in the sea at 6am when I hit my 80s.
So, yes, my week in Thailand. Well, I hate-but really I mean love-to report that the large majority of my time was spent lazing around on the beach. Sorry! The day after my epic stroll through Bangkok, I went to meet an old friend from uni. He has significantly higher standards than I do, so I found myself in a very fancy hotel, jumping on a bed which was big enough for Henry the VIII and all his wives. Saying that, all of them in a bed at one time would be a very gory affair, given that he beheaded a couple of them. But there would have been more than enough space for the bodies and their heads, and any other heads lying around. Ok, be quiet now, brain. Anyway, after seeing that the bed was a great bed for jumping on, I thought I would check out the rooftop pool (I told you-high standards). Well that plan was tragically poo-pooed when I realised that I was incapable of working the lift. So I just hung around in the room- I didn‘t even want to look at that stupid pool anyway. Once my friend arrived, the evening was spent reminiscing about uni and laughing about how out of touch with the world I am.
The next day, it was beach tiiiiiime! This will be a very short section because really, what can I say? We were in a beach bungalow, 2 seconds from the sea, with nothing to do but relax and watch the world, and the Russians, go by. It was ridiculously lazy. So much so that I was slightly ashamed at how little I did. But before you shake your heads and judge me, remember that I am on the cusp of a world of bike-induced pain!
Upon returning to Bangkok, after yet another bump-tastic bus ride, we headed over to MBK, a.k.a. the best place to buy everything you will never need in life. And I mean everything. It was like a flippin labyrinth. I was really hoping that David Bowie would pop up in his Jared The Goblin King outfit and sing about the babe with the power of voodoo. Sadly, this dream was not fulfilled-instead, I was faced with stall upon stall of, well, stuff. It was a little overwhelming for provincial bumpkins like myself, but my friend was in his element and came away with some pretty decent fake Rolexes. Once we were sufficiently disorientated and dazed, we headed back for a final evening of chat before I left for Cambodia. And here I am!
I‘m not sure how much I’ll be able to update this bad boy in the next month (you can breathe a collective sigh of relief) so see you when I see you. Wish me luck! And Merry Christmas!
Sunday, 15 December 2013
And so begins my fleeting romance with Thailand
Lawwwwdy, Bangkok is big. And hot, very, very hot. Having spent the day walking around yesterday, I've come to the realisation that Bangkok is not an ideal destination for those who have little money to their name. I'm not a big shopper, but I even I was tempted to just to empty my bank account and throw money at almost every stand I passed at the market I visited, gleefully yelling "I may have no money left, but look at alllll the beautiful t-shirts I have. La la la la". I managed to control that urge, mainly because I was hungry and so decided that, in that moment, food was preferable to a traditional Thai silk suit (which I would have bought otherwise, obviously, and paraded around Braunschweig in).
I arrived here the day before yesterday, after a very short flight from Saigon. The last day in Saigon was unexpectedly busy: I had banked on just a bit of shopping, a lot of eating, and a great deal of overheating, but Saigon had other plans for us. First of all, culture was the name of the game, and we dawdled off to the War Remnants museum, wholly unaware of what awaited us. I don't really want to write too much about it, because it really was quite harrowing. It was definitely an effective exhibition, but it was incredibly difficult to look at.
After that, we both needed a pick me up, so we went off in search of everyone's favourite friends, carbs and sugar. Sugar arrived in the form of a totally ridiculous oreo-flavoured drink. Actually, drink is not the right word: it was more like a huge melted ice cream with oreos in it. That lasted all of ten minutes (by which, I mean 5) once it came to the table. Fin wasn't too keen on the idea of a sugar coma and instead, opted for that Vietnamese classic, a bacon sandwich. It was a fine specimen, I must say and from the ensuing silence, I think Fin enjoyed it as well. That too was devoured at lightning speed. A couple of hours later, we headed out to meet a friend and for our last meal together in Vietnam. To mark this momentous occasion, we naturally went to a French cafe- tres normal. The night ended in an airplane themed bar, where all the staff were dressed as air stewards. And that, dear friends, was that for Vietnam.
Bangkok is like another world. Unfortunately for my hair, and general outward appearance, the heat and humidity is even more intense than in Saigon. It's lucky I'm not out here looking for male attention, because I have a feeling that I would scare the living daylights out of any poor, unsuspecting objects of my desire. Having made some strategic allies on the plane (this was when I still looked vaguely normal), I was at least confident that I would eventually make it to my hostel and not end up wandering some back alley like the Wild Woman of the West. My comrades and I spent the afternoon and evening together, sampling the delights of the famous Khao San Road: gangs of giant, loud lads in singlets, girls in barely-there shorts, older gents prowling around for young meat- a real treat. Well, less treat, more awful, seedy horror. I called it a night and thankfully found my way back to the hostel without a single wrong turn! Be proud, dear parents.
As I said, yesterday was full of walking. 7 hours to be precise. In 32 degree heat to be even more precise. Despite that, it was very enjoyable to see the city alone but I must have looked like a total madwoman: every time I checked the map and realised I was exactly where I wanted to be, I couldn't help but grin and nod in self-congratulation. Sometimes I even threw in a little celebratory hand gesture. No wonder no-one spoke to me all day. The only time I had a slight panic was when I couldn't find the way out of a shopping centre, but we've all been there, right?
Hope everyone is well and in the festive spirit!
I arrived here the day before yesterday, after a very short flight from Saigon. The last day in Saigon was unexpectedly busy: I had banked on just a bit of shopping, a lot of eating, and a great deal of overheating, but Saigon had other plans for us. First of all, culture was the name of the game, and we dawdled off to the War Remnants museum, wholly unaware of what awaited us. I don't really want to write too much about it, because it really was quite harrowing. It was definitely an effective exhibition, but it was incredibly difficult to look at.
After that, we both needed a pick me up, so we went off in search of everyone's favourite friends, carbs and sugar. Sugar arrived in the form of a totally ridiculous oreo-flavoured drink. Actually, drink is not the right word: it was more like a huge melted ice cream with oreos in it. That lasted all of ten minutes (by which, I mean 5) once it came to the table. Fin wasn't too keen on the idea of a sugar coma and instead, opted for that Vietnamese classic, a bacon sandwich. It was a fine specimen, I must say and from the ensuing silence, I think Fin enjoyed it as well. That too was devoured at lightning speed. A couple of hours later, we headed out to meet a friend and for our last meal together in Vietnam. To mark this momentous occasion, we naturally went to a French cafe- tres normal. The night ended in an airplane themed bar, where all the staff were dressed as air stewards. And that, dear friends, was that for Vietnam.
Bangkok is like another world. Unfortunately for my hair, and general outward appearance, the heat and humidity is even more intense than in Saigon. It's lucky I'm not out here looking for male attention, because I have a feeling that I would scare the living daylights out of any poor, unsuspecting objects of my desire. Having made some strategic allies on the plane (this was when I still looked vaguely normal), I was at least confident that I would eventually make it to my hostel and not end up wandering some back alley like the Wild Woman of the West. My comrades and I spent the afternoon and evening together, sampling the delights of the famous Khao San Road: gangs of giant, loud lads in singlets, girls in barely-there shorts, older gents prowling around for young meat- a real treat. Well, less treat, more awful, seedy horror. I called it a night and thankfully found my way back to the hostel without a single wrong turn! Be proud, dear parents.
As I said, yesterday was full of walking. 7 hours to be precise. In 32 degree heat to be even more precise. Despite that, it was very enjoyable to see the city alone but I must have looked like a total madwoman: every time I checked the map and realised I was exactly where I wanted to be, I couldn't help but grin and nod in self-congratulation. Sometimes I even threw in a little celebratory hand gesture. No wonder no-one spoke to me all day. The only time I had a slight panic was when I couldn't find the way out of a shopping centre, but we've all been there, right?
Hope everyone is well and in the festive spirit!
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