Russian Spy is back!

I landed back at Heathrow earlier this morning, and once I've sorted a few things out, I'll write a post to wrap this blog up. But for now, I was just going through my emails as I couldn't always gain access, and can't believe what I've found. Back in early April it would seem I got an email from 'Russian Spy' whom I met on the train in January (for anyone who's forgotten, check out the 'Plans for World Domination' post). Complete with picture on the right, it reads as follows;

'hello Nicola! I'm sure u remember me. that crazy russian in the train to Irkutsk early in spring. honestly speaking I'm not that sort of people. how was your journey? succesfully? P.S. request for maintenace a friendship. if your response is negative- please send a blank message. my name is Alex(ay)'

Any ideas what my response should be?

I'm on my way home

:(

Look how high the mountain was

When flying across from Sandakan back to Kota Kinabalu, most of the group who were sitting on the righthand side of the plane were treated to the sight of Mount Kinabalu, from really close distance. I'm assured that mountain was actually equally as high as the altitude of the aircraft, which I found hard to believe until from the airport, I took a picture of the mountain in the distance. It is quite high.

Anyway, thought you'd be pleased to know that I managed to get my flight to Singapore successfully in time. It was a tricky flight, that called by Kuching in Sarawak, Borneo. I thought I may have messed up when 5 minute after stepping off the plane for the 45minute stop, urgent calls for me came across the loud speakers, but when I responded to them, nobody seemed to care. I waited nervously for the flight to board and I think the ploblem was that I'd forgotten to pick up a new boarding pass, I found it creased up on a table near the gate.

I'll miss Borneo, it was a really interesting country, and my two weeks flew by. Tourism isn't too high there at the minute, but guess it'll soon take off. As a result, the locals seem genuinely pleased to see you and keen to help, rather than viewing you as a source of money to be exploited, which can often feel the case in many other places I've visited.

It's made for sitting on

I like the idea that there are people well travelled enough to be staying in a hostel in Kota Kinabalu, yet still won't have encountered the western toilet system.

Bad Monkey

Camera Shy

Wildlife of Borneo

The main reason I wanted to visit Borneo for so long, was to see Orang Utans in the wild. During my jungle time we did manage to make the most of a dry morning and get out for a dawn boat ride, and fortunately succeeded in spotting one in some trees. We also saw a big family of Probiscus monkeys too, and plenty of long tailed monkeys along with lots of other interesting creatures. But after packing down our muddy camp and leaving without a trace, we moved on to Sandakan, where, from there we got into a another boat and set off for Turtle Island. This is a collection of three real desert islands type places, surrounded entirely by bright yellow sand in the clear blue waters just off from the Phillipines border. These islands are a protected conservation area for the survival of the turtles. Every night up to 80 of the animals crawl ashore to lay 40-120 eggs in the beach before covering them over and returning back to the sea.

Only one of the islands is open to visitors, and during the day there isn't much to do other than snorkel or relax of the beach. But in the evening, every visitor (only about 25 of them) waits in the canteen for the call of 'Turtle Time!'. Then from there, be it 9pm, 3am, or anything in between, we drop everything and go out to watch the process as one of the turtles lays her eggs as the ranger sneakily steals them whilst she looks the other way, before they get buried somewhere else safe from lizzards and other preditors. Finally we're able to watch as a freshly hatched batch of eggs from two months prior get realeased into sea.

The eggs are buried in a pen filled with mesh cylinders, one batch of eggs lie below each cylinder. During the day there's not much to see, just sand, but once the sun goes down, up to 30 of this cylinders fill with mini turtles who'd just clawed their way to the surface. For me, that was the best bit of the evening. One minute there's nothing, then all of a sudden there are hundereds of turtles everywhere. Most pop up with their mesh pen, and a ranger gathers them into washing baskets. I saw him fill three right to the top. He doesn't wash them though, just carries them to the water. Apparently the survival rate of baby turtles is incredibly low, 1% or something even less maybe, and I can see why, some hatchlings were reappearing back up the beach after mistaking the lights of the main lodge for the moon...good luck little ones, you're going to need it!

After turtle island, it was another really early start to get oursleves back over to main land Borneo and to Sepilok Orang Utan Rehibilitation Center to catch the morning feeding time. Only three Orang Utans came for their breakfast of bananas and milk, but it was cool to see them clamber their way out of the trees as they slowly get closer. The Center is good, mostly rainforest with one viewing area, so when the Orang Utans feel ready, they can venture further out into the woodlands and fend entirely for themselves. I like Orang Utans, I think they would be my favourite, but I also took the opportunity to visit a Probiscus Monkey Sanctuary and see the big-nosed creatures a bit closer up. This sanctuary was good too, as again the monkeys were free to roam the rainforest, but 3 families and group of batchelers decided to stay closer by. It was intersting and clear to see how the four groups interacted and the hirachy of importance between not just them as collectives, but between the individuals with in their circles too.

As much as I liked all the creatures mentioned in this post, I've decided to head it up with a picture of a generic pest of a monkey.

To the Jungle

Reunited with my washing, the time came to set off for the Jungle. Due to a flat tyres that couldn't be fixed until a driver vs. mechanic game of chess had been played, and heavy ran that eventually worked it's way through the seals of the bus for an internal downpour, we arrived very late and were forced to write off any plans of jungle stays that night. Instead we were split up and distributed around various villages and spent the night in the houses of local families. Not expecting us until the following night, most households were caught by surprise, mine weren't even home when I arrived. The stay was good, but maybe not as productive as it could have been. For the best part of the evening we were back at main base for dinner and a cultural performance, then when we returned 'home', were advised to rest. The next half day with the family was largly the same. We did spend time talking to the family, but attempts to help with household chores or meals found us sat waiting for food whilst watching Asian X-Factor after being told once more to rest. My family were lovely though, and they did live a very remote and traditional life, it just would have been nice to help out more.

By the early afternoon the next day, we'd all moved out of our houses and reconviened ready for our jungle time. Armed mainly with waterproofs and hammocks, the boats were loaded, and after a couple of little stops along the Kinabatangan River, we climbed ashore to hang our beds before the usual afternoon downpour struck. After a quick lesson, we all managed to get hammocks, mozzie nets and shelters up in good time, and I think all passed the weight tolerance test, eventually.

The rain did arrive as expected and forced boat trips and night hikes to be called off, leaving us sat around all evening playing cards, drinking Milo and chatting. We all were on high leach alert so had everything tucked into everything, and daren't look down incase we caught site of one of the Jungle Superbugs about our person withing the light our headtorches. It's probably the most still I've sat for a long time.

Bed time soon rolled around and it was discovered that although the hammocks were up, not everyone managed to get the water-proof shelter in place as effectively as it perhaps needed to be! Anyway the guides donated their beds to those with unsleepable situations, leaving one of them a comfy spot on the camp table. Since being in the rainforest, I've seen giant versions of most regular bugs, so didn't envy that Jungle dude.

The Hammocks were great, quite enclosed with the net and all, a little coffin like and claustraphobic maybe, but if you don't mind that and are short enough, then it's really quite comfy. The rest of the group were taller and didn't like it, but I personally (after listening to the Jungle Book for effect) had a great nights sleep. One thing I did learn about my group however was, as nice and helpful as they all are, if you find a big bug in your little hanging tent, no matter how pathetic and desperate your cries for help may be, once safely and stable in their beds, no-one will dare risk moving to help. Instead it would appear to be more productive to laugh. Cheers for that!

No boiling eggs...

...whilst in the hot springs. And don't wash your towel in there either...maybe feet are also banned, I'm not sure.

Jungle Bugs

After completing our stroll up the mountain it was time to chill in Poring and enjoy the hot springs that it had to offer. In need of the oportunity to soak in some hot water (cold showers tend to be the norm) after a few aching muscles, the hot springs didn't quite manage to live up to expectations. The springs aren't as natural as you may expect and although the water is hot, it is actually to be enjoyed within one of the many outdoor bath tubs that take a good hour to fill. It's a funny place though, being a popular stop for those that climbed Mt. Kinabalu the day previous, the villagers of Poring must think that all tourists walk with a limp and grimace!

Still keen to make the make the most of the grounds of the Poring Hot Springs area, and determined to loosen my leg muscles off some how, I set off alone on the 3.5km walk to what was promised to be a spectacular waterfall. Most of the group had decided to spend their day doing anything but walking, apart from two others who'd set of much earlier for the same waterfall.

By the end of my water-logged decent of the mountain, my boots had puddles in them so were out to dry. My clothes were also dripping, so to take the presure off me drying the stuff, I splashed out on the local laundry service (as run by an 8-year-old). Anyway, this left me with just shorts, T-Shirt and flipflops to walk in. This was fine until the rain started...again. I didn't think to much of it, just an annoyingly wet walk through some woods. The route seemed to lead me to edge around river rocks and wade across smaller waterfall pools before disappearing into the trees. I realised this wasn't as an obviouse path as I'd expected and a few times found myself confused which way to go. It's only then I realised I'd not informed anyone of whereabouts as I'd supposed to, so wondered what I would do if I didn't pick the right directons on my way back. I wasn't the only one. When reaching a section of fallen canopy, the deep bramble appearence with armies of ants on patrol created a difficult barrier for me, and looking down a I found a note left by the two other group members. Apparently they too were concerned about getting lost forever so left themselves a paper trail for a rescue party to find.

It was then that it started and I realised I was in a jungle. As I moved for a closer look at the note I spied a problem, it was an attack of the Leeches! They're horrible. Freaked out, I went to brush the first off, but it was still there, stuck fast. Eventually I detached it and turned my attention to the rest of my legs when next I caught one crawling up the soul of my footwear towards my toes...fast. It wasn't quite there yet so I just wiped the edge of my flipflop on the ground and was stressed to see it was still hanging on, crawling nearer to reaching me. It was like some sort of super bug, everytime I brushed it off, it got knocked off balance a little, but quickly steadied itself and wriggled on. I scraped the soul on the ground, a fallen tree and used a twig (which consiquently snapped) whilst all the time shouting at it, and still it just rolled a bit then climbed up more. I did eventually win the battle, and in celebration decided I'd seen waterfalls before so best I be getting back...quickly. My walk was more of a fast march to minimise the time each foot was on the ground, thus preventing leeches getting docking time onto feet - I didn't want a repeat of the last fight. When walking through long grassy sections, I even comtemplated ways to stop both legs brushing through the wet greenary and being subject to high leech risk, but excepted hopping wasn't going to help matters.

It was a funny walk back. I saw things like giant earth worms (like small snakes) and giant milipedes. I was torn between taking a picture of these rare sights to me or getting quickly to a safe zone, so found my self marching back and forth as I battled with my decisions. Eventually the camera always won over and I marched stupidly on the spot until I was ready to shoot, stopped to avoid camera shake, then began my enthusiatic steps the second the shutter clicked. I stopped for regular leech spot checks on my walk back and caught further seven in the act. I wasn't happy.

Making it back alive, the one thing I learnt was why you must always where long pants in the jungle, and as we were headed there for the night the next day, I was harassed to discover my (and only my) laundry had gone missing. So I'm leech-hating and trouserless. All that I can buy in this tiny, tiny village are braceletts or t-shirts, which aren't going to help, at this rate I'll be jungle trekking in my PJ bottoms, which I guess is the SE Asia way, but not ideal. After asking everyone I met in the village if they'd seen my clothes, eventually the owner came home from school and put her homework to one side and finally found my stuff under the cabinate or something! That was a happy moment, and to be fair my clothes were smelling the best they have since I left in January, just like mum had washed them.

Monkey Mountain

Not Monkey Mountain but Mt. Kinabalu. However, the rocks on the pyramid shape in the early morning light look to me like the face of a monkey.

The Mountain

Before we all knew it, we were in a lodge right at the base of the mountain packing our bags ready for the 2 day climb. The were two possible routes to take, the most common and shorter Summit trail, or as myself and 3 others opted for, the 8km Mesilau trail. With the two kilometers extra to walk, it wasn't appealing to most but as we would all decend via the Summit trail, I fancied the change of scenary. It was a good walk, but after heading 'up' for 1km, heading straight back down was demoralising, but soon it was back to the uphill struggle again! Actually it was mostly enjoyable, passing waterfalls and over streams (where I momentarily lost Sparticus the walking stick to the water...thank you mountain guide for jumping in a recuing it!). The trail was pretty narrow and consisted of rocks as steps up nearly the entire way, but at more delapidated sections, ladders type structures had been placed. It was a long plod, but it was interesting to see how the scenary varied greatly along the way as our altitude increased.

The final 2km on that first day were the worst. Rain was starting to put in an apperence and the trail got more taxing. I found my energy suddenly just drained completely, concerned it was the altitude doing it's thing, I was relieved to find that a packet of biscuits worked wonders! As a group we'd spread out now, we all just had to get up to the lodge at our own pace, and finally we all did by about 5pm. Here we were all to refuel and rest for some hours before getting up at 2am for the final push to summit in time for sunrise. I was happy to see my insomnia had kicked in as soon as my head hit the pillow. 2 minutes previous I couldn't have kept my eyes open.

When 2am came around I realised this was the earliest I'd awoken for sunrise, and hoped it would be my last for this trip. I think only about 100 people each day are allowed on the trail, so everyone gathered for an early breakfast before, in the cold, a snake of headlamps set off for the summit. Things were instatly tougher with many really had to fight the effects of altitude sickness, a fair few needed to turn back. I was fortunate not get any so just kept making my way onwards and upwards. The route across sheets of granite was marked out by white ropes, some for guidence, some to be used to pull ourselves up. In a few places it looked as if falling would be a bad future plan, but after the worst of it, the gradients calmed down and the main aim was not to get lost as clouds quickly float in obscuring vision of any reasonable distance. Fortunately it was a pretty clear night and all the clouds were a long way below. I counted down each half kilometer to complete the 2k to the summit and was gutted to find when I got there, the final peak was another kilometer yet, damn mountain guides lying to me! Nearing the top I realised I'd lost the group, but looking back I could only see a dotted line of white lights disappearing into the distance, so continued on. The final bit was the most difficult as a scramble needing both hands was required to make it up and over huge boulders to fianlly reach Low's peak at 4095m (13,432ft). Here I found a jaggedy rock to sit precariously on and wrapped up warm whilst I awaited the sun and the rest of the group.

The summit was interesting, nothing there but a signpost, flimsy wire fence intended to encourage people not to fall over the side, and a handful of other climbers. Up there the air was really thin, the temperature had dropped to around zero and most interestingly to me, anything in a packet had bloated to it's maximum and was ready burst.

The descent was easier, maybe because we were all keen to just get this challange over with already, but also because we stopped having to fight gravity and the air continially got more comfortable to breathe in. The sun was bright and hot, and illuminated all that we'd encountered on the way up, some of it quite frightening. My clumsy ways struck and I fell on my way down, but only a meter or so, which was good for my health (excelpt my leg), but bad because it just meant I still had a long way to go the conventional the way.

Back at the hut we got a second breakfast (it's now 9am) before packing up and setting off back down the the base. I think I hated every 6km of it. The rain suddenly just came down (as it often does in these parts) and didn't stop all day. Within about 20mins the trail was more of a stream rushing down hill and no amount of waterproofing could keep me or my stuff dry. Finally reaching the bottom we had lunch and sat dazed waiting for the group to become complete before moving on!

I’m Supingi, your Mountain Guide

I’ve just left Borneo and now I’m not up a mountain or in the jungle, I thought it’s about time I stopped making excuses and updated things on here.

One of the things I’ve been most looking forward to on this trip was the climb up to the summit of Mount Kinabalu, the highest mountain in South East Asia (although this has been disputed), and the first few days of the trip were dominated by the challenge ahead. I know I had underestimated the seriousness of the inpending hike, and it’s fair to say I wasn’t alone. I knew it would be tough, and I knew altitude would probably play a part, but after having 2 meetings a day in preparation leading up to the ‘big day’, it became apparent that it was going to be tougher than a long, steep trek.

So it all started at first meal in Kota Kinabalu in Malaysia’s Sabah region of Borneo, where we were given an overview of the upcoming two weeks, but talk of the mountain lingered longer, and everyone quickly began to doubt what they‘d signed up to. We got ourselves to bed early that night and the next day made a start by gathering the necessary supplies before heading to Kiau, a small and remote village shadowed by the mountain itself. Here we were given beds for the night in the local church and introduced to ‘Supingi, your mountain guide’ (his favourite phrase) and his gang of helpers at rice wine fueled house party. Supingi continued to build the mountain nerves before proceeding to introduce us to home made rice wine, to which strict rules to his drinking game we all had to abide.

After a couple of hours the locals of the village had clambered up the hill to the house and joined us, wholey intoxicated from a full days drinking, and introduced themselves (more than several times) before continuing with their astounding levels of drunkeness. A couple of the guys performed with a guitar and drum kit made from spoons and bottles. It proved to be a good bonding experience for the group that had only met the previous evening, as we all worked to defend each other from the inappropriateness of the locals, particulary Jackson whom appeared to have arrived to the house a swamp. At the end of the evening a few of us held back for a couple more rice wines (that had severely deteriated in quality as the evening went on) and watched as the locals couldn’t take anymore and passed out in quick succession. Calling it a night, we found and lead the way back to the church as our supposed escorts followed behind oblivious to everything!

The next morning, whilst the locals emmerged still very drunk from the night before, Supingi met us at the church and insisted we were to put the mountain out of our minds and not think about it…as he pointed it out to us high up in the clouds. Thanks Supingi!

Borneo Buddies

It's been a while since I've had an oportunity to 'blog up', so now, as I'm reaching the end of my tour of Malaysian Borneo, I'm going to start the next series of posts. It's going to take a while as the past week or so has been pretty intense, but I'll start by introducing the group I've been spending my time with. Here we all are prior to tackling Mt. Kinabalu that rises behind us...we didn't look so happy the next day when it was finally all over!

I'll be fine

I'm off to tackle the mountain over the next few days, and after that I'm into the jungle. In an attempt to reassure, the guide kindly told us the deadliest thing out here was...The Mosquito!

I'm not worried at all!

Broadening my culinary horizons

Later I'm off to meet my a new group, with who I'll make my way through the jumgle, spend some time with Orangutans and climb Mt. Kinabalu. I don't expect to get loads of WiFi during this so thought I'd share with you now the fact that I've finally broken away from my travelling staple of chicken fried rice! This meal of fish, chosen by me (sorry fish! Although it was already dead) got BBQ'd and served up along the harber front for less than 2 pounds. If you like fresh seafood, this is a great place to visit, but a bad place to come if you're a fish.

Friendly Malaysia

I've not been in Malaysia long but my first impressions of the people are great. Ready to speak in a mix of basic Malay words and broken English, everyone here speaks my home language fantastically, which is great, and helps earn me major brownie points when I do attempt a bit of Malaysian anyway. On top of that, everyone just seems really nice.

In my first hour out I met a guy in the street who started convosation as I walked past. With it being late and on a quiet road in a big new place I was naturally suspicious as he rattled off questions like he'd rehearsed them, as I tried to make a polite exit. Seeing I wanted to get away, he said he could see I was an independant person and wished me all the best. I said thank you and began to turn. He then said 'What do you do at home?' making convosation again. I said I was a student (nobody wants to waste their time mugging a student, they're always skint). Apparently he was a lecturer of art so asked what I studied. I didn't want to make common ground so decided to stay away from courses of a creative nature, which was hard, but I stuttered a bit and then said physiotherapy. He again acknowledged I was keen to walk on and bid me farewell once more as I turned to go. But, then again struck up convostation 'When's your birthday?'. 'Err...I don't know...December' I'm really distracted and looking for the danger, is he keeping me occupied for someone to run past and take my camera? Will he take it? Or is he just really nice? He then rattles off a load of stuff and I think he's manner is why I was cautious. He spoke like Derren Brown, saying line after line, jumping from topic to topic in a very calm and collected way. Having a bad initial gut instinct, I've been taught to listen to that and assume somethings no right, so got convinced he was trying to hypnotise me! He went on...'My birthday is on the 5th, the same as the King's, yours is the 14th, see how that works, 1 and 4 equals 5, the numbers always work in patterns, just now I've been watching that fountain over there, it's beautiful isn't it, can you see it there, actually I've just done a lecture in the Hilton, I say Hilton of course, it's not called that anymore, and you study physiotherapy, how does that work, I met a swedish girl earler who does the same....' It was late, 10 or11pm maybe, and for someone just walking past, to me it was weird, especially as he knew I didn't want to stop. He had such a definite, educated and rehearsed manner about him that I was beginning to think he'd have me willingly handing over my stuff and not realising it til an hour or so later. As odd as it was, I reckon maybe he was just super nice, and I just really tired and nervous, although he honestly shouldn't be stopping girls in the street for small talk at that time!

Apart from that, everyone has been really friendly and helpful (apparently too helpful here, they'll tell you what you want to hear so as not to disappoint, so be careful when asking about busses for example. They might say one is going where you want to go, it may well not be). In the hotel at breakfast the head guy singled me out. 'How is everything?' I agreed it was good. 'And the food?' I told him it was very nice. Then went on with 'And how about my staff, are they ok? And your room? Is the standard ok?' He's listing everything about the hotel, the services, facilities, housekeeping etc. I'm just saying 'Yeah, yeah, all is very good thank you...Yeah that's good too...Yep and that...Everything is fine' Apparently if there's anything I need, I'm to let him know. I watched him for a bit as he wandered the rest of restaurant but he didn't approach anyone else for an impromptu survey...I think he liked my accent, it seems to be the cause of most unwanted conversations!

Seriously though the people are really nice. Nobody hassles you and everyone smiles and says hello. A friend of a friend even very kindly came to to take me out at short notice and picked my up from my hotel. She took me to a really nice bar too. One 34 floors up complete with open air areas, swimming pool and fantastic views of the Patronas towers. But with my time in KL done, I've headed over to Sabah, Malaysian Borneo and wonder whether there'll be the same atmosphere here too, it feels like a different country altogether.

A big thank you to BMB back home!

One other thing about having the Marriott planned was having a known address for somewhere, allowing, should anyone have felt the need to, things to be sent to me.

It was a great to get an envelope from the guys and girls back at work, although I don't mean to sound ungreatful, but I only got the picture, you forgot to put the actual straightners in!

Seriuosly though, thank you very much (particulary to Damian who I suspect instigated it), it really made my day and made me laugh and smile lots. Your messages were all great although most I can't repeat on here! It was a fantastic surprise (particulary after arriving into a big city all on my own!) and I feel very lucky to have you all on my side, miss you all!

Cheers! x

Not where I'm staying...for a change

I've been enjoying my past couple of days in Kuala Lumpur. The city is nice with some interesting architecture, but better than that, my parents very kindly gave me some Marriott vouchers to use somewhere along my way. I've forgotten what normal hotel rooms are like, and here at the JW Marriott in Kuala Lumpur, it's a luxurious reminder.

Firstly, it was nice not to have to get a bus that inevitably terminates at the drivers guesthouse, staying somewhere established meant an official airport bus went straight to the door. It was then nice to not have to walk around looking for somewhere cheap enough for the night, inspect the room, decide it's a little dubious, then just stay there anyway.

Doing my best to fit in on arrival, I kept my backpack in it's slightly colourful flightbag to appear a little less backpackery, although the lime green sausage shaped luggage I was left with didn't help much. Anyway, I feel completly spoilt, I've free tea and everything! And a sperate shower (that works) rather than usual bathroom/shower cubical in one that always does something unexpected. I've got a bath too, and lots and lots of hot water, amazing. The bed is super comfy, and as the room is sealed, unlike my usual standard, I'm not under mozzie attack all the time, meaning no need to position my sleeping bag sized net over a double bed, held up with duck-tape and weighed down with water bottles. Being able to skip that along with my other anti-mosquito rituals and 'rat patrol' duties, bed time is much simpler! The only thing I was missing was a little line of marching ants, I've grown quite fond of them. I'm not carrying my own aet around in my bag anymore, I encouraged them to move out back in the Mekong Delta (they'll like it there).

Anyway, up on the 19th floor, with a view of the Patronas Towers, think I wanted to spend my entire 2 Kuala Lumpur days in the hotel enjoying comforts I'd forgotten. I even planed to get to bed a little earlier so I can fit a nap on the sofa in...simple pleasures!

KL confirmed

After the suspiciously short flight, once in the city, I started by tracking down the Patronas Towers to confirm and reassure to myself that the pilot did actually fly us to Kuala Lumpur and not somewhere 'same same, but different'.

Holiday Monks

Designated Monk seating area at Krabi Airport. Must be low season.

Why I prefer trains...

It was finally time for me to leave Thailand for the last time (on this trip) and get myself to Kuala Lumpur. With the Orient Express very slightly out of my price range, and a 24 hour bus not sounding appealing (especially with knowledge of a few overnight crashes recently and awkward overland border crossing points), I found myself a cheap flight. Already running into problems as I'd booked it for the wrong day (due to my confussion over my KL to Borneo flight), I struggled to convince the lady at my guesthouse that there are buses that go to the airport from Krabi town...I just need to know where to meet it. She insisted that I had to be driven by her son until I managed to prove the exsistance of the shuttle bus (there is also a public bus, but to get her to agree to that was asking too much). Suddenly she remembered there was a shuttle service afterall, and instantly knew the number to call off the top of her head!

I surprised myself when I got to the airport with plenty of time, so found a quiet corner in the departure lounge to listen to some music. One time I looked up to see the room full, the next it was entirely empty. I thought it strange that everyone would have gone, and having watch troubles, I hurridly worked to confirm the time to myself. Putting it down to it the fact it was a whole hour till my flight, and Krabi being only a small airport, I assumed people tend to leave themselves less time here, and will start arriving soon.

Bording time soon rolls round, and looking about now, I can see that still not a soul has arrived, and even the people working at the gift counter and coffee bar have left. Certain this isn't right and slightly concerned that still I'm there on the wrong day, I go for an explore. A confused AirAsia assistant spies me and hurries over. Turns out I was in the Domestic Lounge, not the International Lounge. I hadn't even cleared immegration! The International Lounge was reassuringly busier...and bording fast when I arrived.

Pleased to be on the plane, I reflect on how many flights I've come close to missing...Hong Kong-Bangkok, Krabi-KL and KL-Borneo. I was pretty late for my St London-Petersburg flight too, leaving only my Hanoi-Bangkok flight (which I booked the day before) and Bangkok-Krabi flight (which I was already at the airport for) that have gone smoothly. I also reflect on the only other time I've flown on my own somewhere, and remember how 30mins prior to take-off, instead of being at London City Airport bound for Edingburgh, I was sat outside Tate & Lyle Sugar factory after getting on the wrong shuttle bus from Canning Town. I'm beginning to not like planes and think I have a mental block towards them. Next time I'll get the train.

Anyway, it's a three hour flight so I use the last of my Thai Baht to get an expensively cheap meal. Hated doing it, but I'd be hungry later otherwise, and it's rubbish trying to find your way into a big city feeling weak. I was really baffled when we touched down just 40 minutes after take-off. Took me ages to confirm I'd gotten on the right plane and was in the correct city! If I hadn't already nearly made it to the end of my trip, I'd think my travelling future was bleak.

Has anyone seen...

...my other flipflop?

Whilst sitting with my head down cowering from some rain, I noticed my flipflops didn't match as they once did. After some closer inspection I could then see that they were in fact different in colour, with different detailing and logos, and even different in size. I'm not sure how I hadn't noticed before. I have no idea when the switch could have happened, but almost certainly it was within the last week.

If by any chance someone has stumbled across this site, that is wandering around with odd footwear, and has recently been in Southern Thailand...get in touch if you want to swap back right feet! Cheers!

Swim (and kiss) with the fishes

Naturally High

In true dedication to this blog, whilst in Phi Phi, I took the the time to find a vertical cliff face to scale, to get you a picture of the best view I could find. I hope you appreciate the effort.

Actually I climbed a bit in Krabi too, where the bays in Railay are considered to be one of the premier areas for it in the world, and although the views there were stunning too, I left my camera safely at the bottom. The only reason I took it up in Phi Phi was because my climbing partner seemed to prefer taking pictures than keeping both hands on the rope that kept me safe. Thought it best to take it away from him.

Holiday over, back to work!

I've reached the end of my weeks holiday from travelling, which I spent hanging around the Andaman coast in Thailand. I had a few days in Krabi, and then on to Ko Lanta. Ko Lanta was too sleepy for me, and even though my intention was to just chill out for a few days, after a few hours of hammock time whilst sheltering from the rain in the porch of my own personal £5 beach hut (complete with ants as standard), I was bored and decided was time to leave for Ko Phi Phi asap.

Ko Phi Phi is certainly livelier and had more to keep me occupied. One of the main things I did with my time was a snorkling trip, which wasn't without it's mishaps. Getting a good distance away from land on the way to bamboo island, our propella fell off, leaving us little else to do but float about and wait for a passing boat to tow us. Continuing this arrangement for some time, a new boat eventually caught up with us at another bay. The moment the switch was made, the boat that had previously been doing all the towing, instantly suffered the same propella fate as us, and the tow tables turned as we tied our boats together once more, this time in reverse.

Anyway that's my free time over with, back to the job of travelling for my final few weeks. I had hoped for a bit of time in Phuket, but being notoriously bad with dates where trips are concerned, my calendar confusion struck again. Convinced my flight from Kuala Lumpa to Borneo was Saturday, I'm lucky my parents are on the ball enough to send me a panicked email and inform me it was actually Friday (this is exactly why I give out copies of my itinary, I can't be trusted). It's slightly annoying as I'd resultantly booked other flights and accomodation incorrectly, but with everything put right now (at cost), I'm back on track.

Back in the Land of Thai

From Hanoi, I flew down to Krabi to spend some time in the Thai islands for a holiday before I make my away across to Borneo. Mourning the loss of the group, I was back hunting for my own accommodation once more, and found quite a nice little place with the obligatory ant colony in the corner, and lack of roof across the bathroom. It's great being a backpacker again!

Bike of burden

In South East Asia, the only limit to what can be carried on the back of a bike is the number of bungee ties you have.

Last 'nam post

Before reaching the end point on our Reunification Express route in Hanoi, we made a brief stop at Hue, but as this isn’t a place that impressed me half as much as the others, I’ll gloss over it. I think my main memory from there would be having a bad moped driver who nearly wrote me off…twice. So straight to Hanoi then.

My time in Hanoi was pretty short but I was there long enough to visit the Hanoi Hilton, a name given to a prison used to house American pilots shot down during the Vietnam/American war, and gain my hat trick of dead, communist world leaders, this time Ho Chi Minh. Ho Chi Minh’s Museleum was far more reminiscent of the Russian’s Lenin version than it was of China’s, although I think that’s because the links are close. So close in fact that Ho Chi Minhs body has an annual month long holiday to Russia every November for maintenance. And speaking of dead people, the train delivered us into Hanoi early enough to witness the city zombies take to the streets, their routine the same as the quieter town zombies. Something that was more odd about a Hanoi morning was at about 7am, megaphone style loud speakers began talking (shouting) to the streets below before eventually breaking into patriotic song some time later, nobody responded to it though.

Hanoi was mostly about parting with the group, which is always a shame, stocking up on propaganda posters and planning a couple of days at Halong Bay, to which actually three other members of the group joined me on. Halong Bay is beautiful, a protected area of around 2000 Karst mountains and rocks rising from the sea. We stayed on our boat for the night and enjoyed the views as the sun set and atmosphere changed. The captain of our boat invited us to join him and his sea friends for drinks, (vodka disguised as tea, mildly mixed with coke and housed in a pot), whilst a floating corner store style boat (that stocked little more than vodka, beer, Oreos, Pringles and coke) circled demanding ’Buy something!’. The next morning was good as we took to kayaks to explore caves and find monkeys, which was easy, before sailing back and returning to Hanoi where we, as the remaining four of the group said our goodbyes and all went separate ways.

Fine Vietnamese Cuisine

After not seing Special K on a shelf anywhere for nealy 3 months, this was a big occasion!

Good Morning Vietnam...again

By staying up late so much in this country I was able to witness a typical Vietnamese morning. At about 5am, a few zombie like charactors start to appear walking the streets slowly. Within about 10mins there's 20 more, then 20 more than that, until within no time at all, there's litterally hundreds of half asleep locals wondering around. All of them are walking by barely lifting their feet and swinging both arms in unison, none of them communicate, but some clap. By 5.30am it's like being in 28 Days Later as everywhere you look, zombiefied people stagger about in the dark, now roughly all heading in the same direction. At 6am the sun suddenly appears and every single person instantly snaps out of their sleepy state to line up by the river to take part in an early morning keep-fit class for an hour.

Moped taxi drivers however, prefer to sleep like normal people...well almost.

Hoi An

Hoi An was easily my favourite place in Vietnam, and is the place to go if you want anything made. The streets are narrow and filled with traditional fronted tailor shops. Trying on clothes here leaves you needing a very good excuse not buy, as within a couple of hours they'll make you a new item of clothing that fits you perfectly, in the colours you want and deliver it direct to your hotel for you. All for next to nothing. I think the the entire group had clothes made whilst here and I like the principal of being able to design your own stuff, go away for swim and a smoothie before cycling back a few hours later for a fitting as they work complete your order by the next morning.

I think the funniest (fuuny-weird) thing that happened here was after having a great day, a few of us hit a cool local bar before most headed home. The remaining two aimed to jump on our bikes and find somewhere else and succeeded easily enough. Things changed when two women asked if they could join us and then sat either side. My women, from Belgium, managed to offend me instantly by responding to my short introductory sentance with 'You have a problem with the way you speak'. A little taken back I explained I had a slight lisp but people generally don't notice. 'Oh, they notice! They just don't tell you.' She very kindly replied. Apparently I sound like I have marbles in mouth. What happened to my Queens English? Last I heard I had a melody to my voice! Keen to stay polite, I joked about my speech inpediment until she tried to make ammends. She asked if impediment meant disability, like when you lose a leg, and with me agreeing somewhat she explained she too had an impedimant of sorts. It's near 3am and there's no one else about now really but it's too late to abort the convosation so have to crack on. I guess that maybe she has only 9 toes, but I was wrong. 8 toes? 7 toes? 6? I really don't know what to say so continue to count down until she steps in with 'I have a disease of the blood'. I can hazard a guess at what this is, the women is pretty pale and skinny, so attempt to agree it's a rubbish topic of chat anyway, lets find a new one. She wispers in my ear that she's HIV anyway. Great, what can I say to that? I tell her that I now like have marbles in my mouth and am thinking of getting some more.

Feeling quite awkward, I turn to my Irish counterpart to see if he can bail me out of this grave conversation. I was upset to see his new friend, although Kiwi, is actually part Irish and a fantastic singer, and between them they're jollily belting out 'It's a Long Way to Tipperary'. I turn back to to my Belgium 'friend' to continue our discusion on deadly illnesses.

Back on the train

Saigon to Nha Trang marked the first night on a sleeper train for a while, and the beggining of another country long journey. Determined to 'Russian' it up a bit, the way all long train trips should be, I stopped messing about with the whisky and turned back to the vodka for this leg of my route. It has to be said, the Vietnamese people seemed to live up to the Russian stereotype more and a visit to restaurant cart had us welcomed open arms for a change whilst a very merry crowd of locals drank the night away. We didn't stop with them but did the same in our own cabin, and got to bed in time to grab ourselves 20 mins sleep. It's shame the first thing we had to do after getting off was get on a boat! It was ok, I soon adjusted and it turned out to be the perfect place to recover. But I've learnt that not only does South East Asia have Jungle Bugs, it also has Sea Fleas. Don't know what they were, but everytime we jumped into the water we came under attack from some sort of tiny, biting mite!

Fully recovered and rested, the next day was excellent. Before some group bonding at a near by mud bath, we took a motorcycle tour to a local orphanage and had a great time with the kids. To pose for the picture and the see the results was like the most fun they'd ever had. And despite them all looking as happy as can be, we all couldn't help but feel really sad for them. It was a great place though, and once everyone had managed to shake the kids off their backs and retrieve their cameras back off them, some followed us out to say good-bye. It seemed very Long Way Down for a moment, except Charley Boorman and Ewan McGregor never rode away on the back of a mopeds!

Saigon

Ho Chi Minh City, or Saigon as it is still most commonly known, is another city that I actually enjoyed being in. Finding somewhere to stay for the 2 nights until I joined my new group was easier than I expected too. Accomodation was instantly more pricey than I'd gotten used to, but walking down the main backpackers haunt, you'll be amazed at how many crazy ladies will attempt to drag you into their homes. Still not that strong, I find myself saying "No I don't need a room thank you, I was just going to check this place out..." All the while getting dragged down an allyway and led up some stairs as the lady declares "Same same". Same same is the best phrase ever, it applies to everything that isn't actually the same but they are trying to pass off otherwise! I hear it at least 6 times a day and have successfully managed to include it effortlessly in to my vocabulary.

The first lady led me into her tiny front from and I felt quite guilty to be there. Her son was sprawled out across the floor with severe MS and the husband was kicked into action to show me about after the lady successfully caught and brought me back. I made some excuses and left in search of somewhere more obvious, but found resistance to these determined women futile, and stayed with one down the road, again walking through the living area and having other family members put to work upon my arrival. It was actually a really nice little place even if the sons sitting around beating their shins with baseball bats (in preparation for boxing matches I assume) did seem unnerving.

After joining the tour however, I was back to an far higher level accommodation comfort, right up to 2 whole stars. It was great to have hot water, be able to keep my shoes on inside and not have to sit up on rat patrol all night.

I'd heard the people of Vietnam were mostly out to scam you, and although I found this somewhat true whilst on my own in the Mekong Delta, once in a group I was sheltered from it all. Infact I found everyone to be very nice, apart if you make the mistake to stand in front of someones fruit stall for too long not buying. Expect a mango to be thrown at you as encouragement to move along!

Time is Saigon was focussed around the Vietnam/American War. Just about everywhere I visited here was connected to it, from the Reunification Palace, War Remnants Museum and Cu Chi Tunnles (a little way out of town). Like Cambodia, Vietnam has a shocking and disturbing history, and the people today still suffer immensly for it, this time more with the horrific chemicals that the US drowned the area in. The Cu Chi tunnles were the highlight of Saigon for me, and it was facinating to see how inventive the people of this country were at fighting the Americans. Moving their whole life underground they devised a series of tunnles, inventions and traps that made it impossible for the US to take them over. Our leader Ngon spoke about the people of the tunnles in first person a lot, and although she denies being in the Viet Cong, we think otherwise and wonder how many Americans she captured back in the day!

Look both ways, then walk anyway

After finally making back onto the worn trail of Vietnam, I think the first thing everyone noticed about was the impossibility of crossing the road. The are litterally nearly as many bikes as there are people in Ho Chi Minh City and Hanoi, and it seems at rush hour every single one of them is out and on the same stretch of road as the one you want to make it over.

Crossing is easier than it looks though, but it is worth noting that rather than brakes, Vietnamese bikers prefer to use the horn instead. Essentially you edge nearer to the band of traffic as you prepare mentally to step out. Then before you've taken the plunge, one bike will career round the back of you followed by several more and before you've stepped anywhere, you're in the middle of the traffic. There's not much left to do now but keep walking slowly and only stop for cars and busses, the bikes will always mangae to dodge you...you hope. Upon reaching the halfway mark it's time to rapidly switch you attention to the other direction and continue forward. Never ever go back. Nearing the other side, don't celebrate making it alive until you're actually on the pavement. No matter how near to it you are, one stray bike will always cut infront of you and encourage others to do the same, putting you back in the middle of the traffic once more.

If you can bare to take your eyes off the rows on 10 strong mopeds coming at you, it is advisable to try and look both ways. You wouldn't expect anything to be coming at you from the left with a herd of bikes speeding forward from the right, but there will be at least 5 bikes going the wrong way in the wrong lane. Nobody gets hurt though, organised chaos just seems to work here.

Good Morning Vietnam!

Sorry, had to start at least one post with this title. I'd been concious that it's been a few days or so since I updated this blog, but signing in now I realise it's been more like two weeks. Vietnam is that good my 13 days between Saigon and Hanoi have felt like a weekend break. Normally I update this when I can, and when travelling with people it's harder to find time, meaning I just have to do it during the night when the others are sleeping. But I've been lucky to have some great company whilst in a fantastic country, that when everyone's asleep, even the last of the Aussies, the remaining Brits didn't let the side down making the most of just about every hour in each place. I honestly averaged about 2 hours sleep a night and got less on a couple of occasions. Peddling around the streets is great fun, even better night, especially when motoped taxi's accept you don't need a ride so cruise along beside you offering noodle soup instead!

As I always seem to end up saying about each new country I visit, Vietnam has to be the best place I've been so far (not counting Russia of course), but this time I think I'll stick to it, it's really going to take some beating. I hope there's more to my praise for 'Nam than just the fact that everywhere I look there's red, yellow, stars, hammers and sickles...I love that! It makes me feel a little like being back in Russia, just a tad warmer. I've been away quite a while now and lost touch with current events back home, so fingers crossed the UK have adopted an entirly red version of the Union Jack and maybe even got themselves a little gold star and hammer & sickle to put on there somewhere too!

Meet the group

Let me introduce my new travel buddies that joined me, or I them, on Vietnam's Reunificationh Express. From left to right, top to bottom, Joe, Kirk, Me, Lynn, Phil, Jo, Erin, Susen (the rock), Natasha, Sarah and Ngon (the group leader). I’ll give an honourable mention to Joe as the only other UK representative in a group that otherwise hails entirely from Australia. Out-numbered for a change!

I'll also give a special mention to Susen. She doesn’t exist, although it took everyone, including our leader, a good few hours on the first day to deduce this. In her place we retrieved a head shaped rock from an island off Nha Trang, gave it a face and lovingly carried the new ‘Susen’ everywhere we went from then on. With the tour over, Susen will travel back south with our Ngon and her next group until she reaches her resting place back on the island.

And last but not least, there is one missing member of the group from this picture, but I think he deserves his own post.

I do love trains

It's been a while since a did a train journey of any reasonable distance, but right now I'm happy because I'm at the start of Vietnam's Reunification Express railway in Ho Chi Minh City, or Saigon as it's more commonly known here. I'll get a few nights on the train as it makes it's way north to Hanoi. And I must be getting bored of myself because I decided to find a tour to join for the 10 day trip to gain myself some consistant companionship. The group of 10 is great and I think it's fair to say that in the 24 hours I've spent with them, they've not been a bad influence in the slightest...oh, apart from the AK47 I shot yesterday (which broke whilst in my control)!

Plucked

I think this chicken doesn't have the brightest of futures.

The Road to Vietnam

I'm getting so acustomed to the moped way that it has suddenly become my first mode of transport, and even sitting side-saddle through the middle of a busy free-for-all junction doesn't seem dangerous anymore. Admittedly however, I was a little nervous before my first experience and, like I was his mother or something, gave my driver a pre-departure talking to. "Now you don't go too fast. And we both wear helmets Ok? And I want you to pick a side of the road and stick to it. And absolutely no crazy overtaking. Do you understand? Don't just smile and nod at me...I'm serious, do you understand?" But with a couple of trips under my belt, it was time for to embark on the road to Vietnam. I'm assured, and can full well believe, that a 5-seat taxi will be filled with at least eight other paople, so really the only way to get myself from the sleepy Cambodian town of Kampot, across the border into Vietnam, is by moped. I'm skeptical on how ideal it is having my big bag with me as well as my daypack, but this is never going to be a problem to a true South-East Asian, so moped it is. Besides, it's the only fitting way to arrive into the land of scooter.

After a little less than two hour trip along roads that were laking in the 'flat' department, I did manage to enter Vietnam without any real issue, but getting to where I wanted to be after took more effort. To start with, this is the quietest border I've seen. Newly opened last year, I was the only tourist switching coutries when I arrived, and probably the first for days if the amount of time it took the official to scroll through the dates on his stamp is anything to go by. On the otherside I'm met by a new moped driver and a hotel owner from the near by Ha Tien, who's been waiting patiently for some pray to arrive (that's me). A further 30 minutes on the bike got me into the town where it's still laking in a Western moral support for me. I seemed to have two options, one is stay at the guys hotel and get the morning bus out, the other is pay the same guy to drive me to a town where I can catch a lunch time bus to my chosen destination. I'm sure there are more busses that he's not telling me about, but what can I do?! Having two minutes to myself to explore or think isn't an option so I just opt to leave immediately on a further hours bike ride to a lovely coastal area with plenty of scenic views of Southern Vietnam.

The town isn't so captivating though. Apparently the caves are beautiful, but the 'Vegas' style neon lit buddhas inside did little to enhance their surroundings. The people in Vietnam however, so far are lovely. The second I crossed the border I'm happy to see everyone is wearing comical (conical...I mean conical) hats and amazed at almost how instatly the scenery has changed. The people are so lovely in fact, that whilst waiting for my bus at the offical clearing under the big tree, a group of locals are more than welcoming for me to join them as they strap blades to chicken's legs before commencing with the cock fight itself. Not keen to watch, they brought to show me the deceased bird, which was actually a nice, if not unwanted, gesture.

My (mini)bus arrives and on I got for what I'm certain was a hugely inflated price, with a pile more Vietnamese than what will comfortably fit. Still far from the beaten path they are curious by me, and even I am now. How did I end up here? It doesn't matter, in five hours I should be at Can Tho, the heart of the Mekong Delta, I hope. Shattered, I attempt to sleep but am suddenly snapped back to conciousness by a sharp and loud buzzing sound. My eyes open to see the iron age fan close above my head to the left, and to the right, a vietnamese women looking horrified at her now slightly mangled finger. What did she just do and why was her hand there anyway?! Hearing the sound of obstructions in the fan blade, everyone in the bus is looking at me and saying stuff I don't understand. The women continues to stare dazed at her finger. Soon lots of shrill voices are discussing something very loudly and gestures are made at me towards the fan. Seeing some loose wires I contemplate the possibility of the women having got electrocuted maybe. The vietnamese continue to look at me hopefully and pointing to the fan and I think maybe they want me to switch it off so I reach out to discover whether the button in the middle is a switch or bolt. This is met with screams and yells as they all shake they're arms as ALL communicate 'no'! But still they look at me and then the point to the fan expectantly whilst my neighbour continuse to gaze at her bloody finger baffled, but I don't know what they want from me so minme my hand getting severed before closing my eyes and going back to sleep.

Sleep isn't long lived as nearing the Mekong Delta the roads conditions demonstrate that this bus really has no suspension. Litterally being lifted quite high of my seat, I still hold the possibility of getting electricuted in my mind and just an overal fear of the fan, that I wide eyed I sit doing my best to wedge myself down and avoid hitting my head on the 'windmill of death' that is getting dangerously close...much to the amusement of the other passengers! Absolutely done in by my long day the mini bus collides with something before I'm dropped off and taken to my heotel on one last moped ride.

The mission was worth it I guess, I achieved another 4am start (in a powercut) to make it to the floating markets before sunrise. The markets are cool, boats generally specialise in one product and fill their boat to overfill with it. They then hang one product high on a mast so shoppers can identify the floating stalls they require. The rest of the water ways are beautiful too, really what I'd imagine floating through narrower parts of the Amazon to be like, very junglefied. The water trails are the center of life here and it's nice to see how families work and dependend on such natural resources. The people continue to be as friendly as ever and all appear welcoming as the whole way, various kids appear and run along side waving for short distances.

You know you're a backpacker when...

...just having bread for dinner seems excessive, you find yourself 'borrowing' toilet roll from your last hotel, loosing track of $5 is devastating, and you discover you're not the only one living out of your backpack.

I guess I'm off to by some insect killer now, I feel like the Pied Piper of ants!

I need a holiday

I suspect this post won't generate me much sympathy, but travelling is actually really hard work. So before tackling Vietnam, I decided a day or two of nothing was in order and headed for Cambodia's beaches at Sihanoukville. I heard it can't compare to the those of Southern Thailand, but it'll have to do.