31/2 days in Kochi. 7hrs of day one spent recovering 600+ photos from SD cards infected with a feckin computer virus from that last feckin hotel! I fell asleep dreaming of progress bars, error messages and strange thoughts of Trojan horses rolling through my panoramas.
My other days have been a bit more relaxed; wandering along the shoreline watching the locals manoeuvre the chinese fishing nets and the occasional tourist try their might and tangle themselves in it's web of ropes and counter-weights. I've flexed my bargaining muscles on some xmas gifts which once I've figured out the posting procedure should reach folks in time for Easter.
And today I'm just writing, reading and drinking coffee on a balcony. Killing time before my 18hr journey back to Palolem via tuk and train. Oh Yeah! That's gonna be fun!!
Tuesday, December 16, 2008
On the road with Ewelina and Geeta.
So I've spent the past 2 weeks working. Feel sorry for me! 4* board and lodging all paid for - what a shitter!
I met Geeta and Ewelina from work at Chennai airport to begin a fortnight of temples, wildlife and beaches. We start off well; our first tour guide aims hard for the title of most annoyingly talkative man in India - no mean feet. For a tour of temples he seems strangely focused on Engineering Colleges and factories. My only amusement comes from the broken and rusting machinery surrounding the crumbling institutes where "the finest engineers are highly educated. The best in the world!" This pride in his country is nice at first but becomes painful in his insistence; "India was the first to master architecture and construction" - regardless of factual accuracy, look around! What went wrong?! "We invented irrigation" - not sure about this one either but again take a look around, each pipe is bunged up or broken and the waterways are full of plastic and human waste. Inventing is one thing, a little bit of maintenance wouldn't go astray. And; "This is the largest Bas-Relief in the world" - It's not I delight in telling him but as with other such remarks I am rebuffed simply by "And over here......"
The next guide is an improvement by more than a short yard, though possibly just as full of shit. We're in Pondicherry, an old French colony now divided into an Indian side and a French side. In India it's business as usual but cross the canal and Bonjour! The signs are in French, the people speak French, the menus have more sandwiches, the waiters have more attitude, there's less rubbish and what there is looks more expensive. Just stick a berray on that elephant and we are there!
Our guide tells us his story of his youthful love forbidden by his beloveds father. Of death-threats, local mafia and fleeing under cover of darkness only to be cast out by his own father also. A father who denied him even on his deathbed, willing the substantial family fortune to his squandering younger brother. Now, he tells a damn good story by my cynical side is mulling it over and thinking; you've been watching a Bollywood movie over breakfast. Regardless, he's kept us entertained and he gets his tip.
We carry on our tour to Tanjor and Madurai where we see more temples which despite labels of 6BC still seem to be under construction. An indistinguishable continuum of guides utter the same spiel about Shiva, Gnesha and the other 298 incarnations of this god or that. No wonder the building is taking so long if there's 300 worship breaks worked into the schedule!
Each guide also tries to shepherd us into "very reasonable Government Emporium, just looking". Despite a couple of initial purchases, the girls soon see that you can get the same thing on the street for a quarter of the price. Still, good places for clean toilets.
We head to Periyar Wildlife Sanctuary for Ewelina's birthday. Not too shabby a place for a celebration -4* hotel with cottage style rooms. Granted it lacked the dancing girls and tequila shots but it did at least have the all important embarrassment factor when all the staff and guests joined together for a rather tuneless rendition of Happy Birthday. At Periyar we also take an Elephant ride (do not sit at the back!), a boat safari )mainly photos of our disinterested faces as the wildlife seemed to be preoccupied elsewhere) and a traditional Kerali dance show. Here we were seated separately (from other tourists as well) at the front like VIPs. Geeta thought thi
s was great. I soon felt otherwise as our positioning made it painfully obvious that I was stifling my laughter.
With Indian pride the narrator boastfully informs us that by using only their facial expressions and dance, the players will portray every emotion known to man and the epic story will unravel itself before our very eyes. Sadly, to me the story they are enacting is a complete mystery despite having the plot badly typed out on a piece of paper. The expressions though keep me smiling. The masterful range from panto axe murderer to inflatable friend with a scale of constipation bridging the two. Now this is Art.
Onwards to the backwaters. Cruising along the coastal lakes of South India in wooden canoes and palm thatched housebo
ats is just cool. Simple as that. At night you get the feeling that you're pioneering on some Empirical expedition. In the morning you see the other 200 houseboats doing the same thing and the illusion is slightly dented. But I don't care. It's still cool and I want to live on a boat.
So to the last hotel of our 2 week tour. Geeta has spent 3 days without stepping foot in a shop and is beginning to get the shakes so is quite happy to be hitting a tourist spot. Ewelina however would turn out not to be so happy. a broken foot can really take the shine off your day! Quite how she managed to fall over on the only flat road in India is a mystery?!? But Hallelujah for the medicinal powers if Ayurveda and the highly qualified doctor at the hotel; "is just a sprain and requires massage madam" - "AAAAARRRRRGGGGGGHHHHHHH!!!!!!!!" She nearly pulled off my fingers and screamed so hard I spent 5 minutes looking for the baby! But hey, at least it was the last day.
Saturday 13th we say goodbye. Geeta enjoyed herself, Ewelina's leaving in a wheelchair and I'm off to catch a train to Kochi.
I met Geeta and Ewelina from work at Chennai airport to begin a fortnight of temples, wildlife and beaches. We start off well; our first tour guide aims hard for the title of most annoyingly talkative man in India - no mean feet. For a tour of temples he seems strangely focused on Engineering Colleges and factories. My only amusement comes from the broken and rusting machinery surrounding the crumbling institutes where "the finest engineers are highly educated. The best in the world!" This pride in his country is nice at first but becomes painful in his insistence; "India was the first to master architecture and construction" - regardless of factual accuracy, look around! What went wrong?! "We invented irrigation" - not sure about this one either but again take a look around, each pipe is bunged up or broken and the waterways are full of plastic and human waste. Inventing is one thing, a little bit of maintenance wouldn't go astray. And; "This is the largest Bas-Relief in the world" - It's not I delight in telling him but as with other such remarks I am rebuffed simply by "And over here......"
The next guide is an improvement by more than a short yard, though possibly just as full of shit. We're in Pondicherry, an old French colony now divided into an Indian side and a French side. In India it's business as usual but cross the canal and Bonjour! The signs are in French, the people speak French, the menus have more sandwiches, the waiters have more attitude, there's less rubbish and what there is looks more expensive. Just stick a berray on that elephant and we are there!
Our guide tells us his story of his youthful love forbidden by his beloveds father. Of death-threats, local mafia and fleeing under cover of darkness only to be cast out by his own father also. A father who denied him even on his deathbed, willing the substantial family fortune to his squandering younger brother. Now, he tells a damn good story by my cynical side is mulling it over and thinking; you've been watching a Bollywood movie over breakfast. Regardless, he's kept us entertained and he gets his tip.
We carry on our tour to Tanjor and Madurai where we see more temples which despite labels of 6BC still seem to be under construction. An indistinguishable continuum of guides utter the same spiel about Shiva, Gnesha and the other 298 incarnations of this god or that. No wonder the building is taking so long if there's 300 worship breaks worked into the schedule!
Each guide also tries to shepherd us into "very reasonable Government Emporium, just looking". Despite a couple of initial purchases, the girls soon see that you can get the same thing on the street for a quarter of the price. Still, good places for clean toilets.
We head to Periyar Wildlife Sanctuary for Ewelina's birthday. Not too shabby a place for a celebration -4* hotel with cottage style rooms. Granted it lacked the dancing girls and tequila shots but it did at least have the all important embarrassment factor when all the staff and guests joined together for a rather tuneless rendition of Happy Birthday. At Periyar we also take an Elephant ride (do not sit at the back!), a boat safari )mainly photos of our disinterested faces as the wildlife seemed to be preoccupied elsewhere) and a traditional Kerali dance show. Here we were seated separately (from other tourists as well) at the front like VIPs. Geeta thought thi
s was great. I soon felt otherwise as our positioning made it painfully obvious that I was stifling my laughter.With Indian pride the narrator boastfully informs us that by using only their facial expressions and dance, the players will portray every emotion known to man and the epic story will unravel itself before our very eyes. Sadly, to me the story they are enacting is a complete mystery despite having the plot badly typed out on a piece of paper. The expressions though keep me smiling. The masterful range from panto axe murderer to inflatable friend with a scale of constipation bridging the two. Now this is Art.
Onwards to the backwaters. Cruising along the coastal lakes of South India in wooden canoes and palm thatched housebo
ats is just cool. Simple as that. At night you get the feeling that you're pioneering on some Empirical expedition. In the morning you see the other 200 houseboats doing the same thing and the illusion is slightly dented. But I don't care. It's still cool and I want to live on a boat.So to the last hotel of our 2 week tour. Geeta has spent 3 days without stepping foot in a shop and is beginning to get the shakes so is quite happy to be hitting a tourist spot. Ewelina however would turn out not to be so happy. a broken foot can really take the shine off your day! Quite how she managed to fall over on the only flat road in India is a mystery?!? But Hallelujah for the medicinal powers if Ayurveda and the highly qualified doctor at the hotel; "is just a sprain and requires massage madam" - "AAAAARRRRRGGGGGGHHHHHHH!!!!!!!!" She nearly pulled off my fingers and screamed so hard I spent 5 minutes looking for the baby! But hey, at least it was the last day.
Saturday 13th we say goodbye. Geeta enjoyed herself, Ewelina's leaving in a wheelchair and I'm off to catch a train to Kochi.
The road to Chennai.
It took me 5 days to get from Honey Valley to Chennai. First stop; a Tibetan settlement and Elephant sanctuary. Myself and Des spent the day with an Indian couple who have had an arranged marriage yet weren't too keen on the notion and now plan to get divorced after another 8 months. Despite this they've come on holiday together and seem very much in love. Confusing. I already can't really bend my head round the arranged deal so no big change there. Des offers her advice and wisdom with stories of soul mates, affairs, break-ups, visas and finding yourself. I, at least, am even more confused.
The rest of the journey to Chennai was more notable for the things I didn't do.
In Mysore, after a morning spent running around sorting my phone and bank, I bypassed the famous palace, shunned the temples and ignored the ashrams. Instead I run for the hills - Ooty - another 5hr bus journey. I just love them buses!
In Ooty I do absolutely none of the hiking it is famous for. I'm hemmed in by decidedly Scottish weather with the visibility of pouring milk into your eyes. So off on the mountain train (5hrs) to Mettapalayum. Breaking my onward journey with an overnight stay here is a shitty, shitty idea. Travel Tip: If it's not even mentioned in the Lonely Planet take that as a sign. There was nothing there. It was a bus stop masquerading as a town! Not even a TV in my room - just the wire! AAAAARRRGGGHHHHH!!!
My day is spent e-mailing and reading about the attacks on Mumbai. As you can imagine; not the most reassuring news to read when you're heading to one of the four big Indian cities.
So I board my 10hr train to Chennai and get little time to be concerned as I meet Rob (An older Ozzy fella I'd already met in Ooty) and Arava (an Indian with misplaced illusions of being an American). Arava Keeps us busy with questions about life, death, religion, western values, marriage, war and savoury flavoured snacks. It's only his financing the constant flow of coffee that saves his continuous jumble of unrelated inquiries from hammering me into a coma.
What was I worried about? This is Chennai at 6am on a Friday and i can see that terrorists would have had a hard time doing damage here. It's just been hit by a bloody cyclone! My tuk hydrofoils towards the hostel area and I spend the first hour of the morning selecting a hostel that although partially flooded does at least still have it's windows.
A walk into town ensures the need for a shower after wading knee deep along the main road. Yup, perfect timing for a visit. I am resigned to reading in my room during the downpours of which there are more than a few.
For one dry interval, I decide to venture out for a Chai. Outside I spy the casual gait of an Ozzy gent in a rather hideous shirt and Bermuda shorts combo; Craig! The Ozzy from Goa. After a very unsuccessful visit to the beach, myself, Craig and Michelle take refuge from the deluge in a local bar - as good a place as any to stay dry!
We also check out 'DeathRace' at the local cinema. Now, I'm not saying that the young men of India are sexually repressed to the point of exploding in a mushroom cloud of testosterone and over active eyebrows but each and every time a woman came on screen the theatre erupted like feeding time at the monkey cage. Whoops, whistles and the occasional disturbing groan echoed forward from the back rows. One poor sod, clearly caught up in the moment and not paying attention, continued his whooping as a bare chested Jason Stratham strode across the screen. Promptly ridiculed by his companions and most of the surrounding viewers, I'd imagine he stayed quiet for the remainder of the film.
Saturday 29th was spent blowing a weeks budget on a guitar, reluctantly turning down offers of bit parts in Tamil movies (that would've been a nice addition to the DVD collection) and learning the following;
Attempting a pub crawl in Chennai is a God Damn stupid idea! We end up in 'Cheers'. A club with decor from the 80's, music from all the bad part of the early 90's and absolutely no women! They're not allowed to go out to bars! What is the point?!? What am I to look at!?! There's lots of men; listening to bad techno, watching 'Last Action Hero' with their arms around each other eating cucumbers! My eyebrow raises yet this is not a gay bar. That at least might have some funny cheesy music. No, this is what passes for a nightlife in Chennai and it is the biggest shower of shite. I am relieved when it closes at 11pm. I polish off my bottle of diesel water and head home.
The rest of the journey to Chennai was more notable for the things I didn't do.
In Mysore, after a morning spent running around sorting my phone and bank, I bypassed the famous palace, shunned the temples and ignored the ashrams. Instead I run for the hills - Ooty - another 5hr bus journey. I just love them buses!
In Ooty I do absolutely none of the hiking it is famous for. I'm hemmed in by decidedly Scottish weather with the visibility of pouring milk into your eyes. So off on the mountain train (5hrs) to Mettapalayum. Breaking my onward journey with an overnight stay here is a shitty, shitty idea. Travel Tip: If it's not even mentioned in the Lonely Planet take that as a sign. There was nothing there. It was a bus stop masquerading as a town! Not even a TV in my room - just the wire! AAAAARRRGGGHHHHH!!!
My day is spent e-mailing and reading about the attacks on Mumbai. As you can imagine; not the most reassuring news to read when you're heading to one of the four big Indian cities.
So I board my 10hr train to Chennai and get little time to be concerned as I meet Rob (An older Ozzy fella I'd already met in Ooty) and Arava (an Indian with misplaced illusions of being an American). Arava Keeps us busy with questions about life, death, religion, western values, marriage, war and savoury flavoured snacks. It's only his financing the constant flow of coffee that saves his continuous jumble of unrelated inquiries from hammering me into a coma.
What was I worried about? This is Chennai at 6am on a Friday and i can see that terrorists would have had a hard time doing damage here. It's just been hit by a bloody cyclone! My tuk hydrofoils towards the hostel area and I spend the first hour of the morning selecting a hostel that although partially flooded does at least still have it's windows.
A walk into town ensures the need for a shower after wading knee deep along the main road. Yup, perfect timing for a visit. I am resigned to reading in my room during the downpours of which there are more than a few.
For one dry interval, I decide to venture out for a Chai. Outside I spy the casual gait of an Ozzy gent in a rather hideous shirt and Bermuda shorts combo; Craig! The Ozzy from Goa. After a very unsuccessful visit to the beach, myself, Craig and Michelle take refuge from the deluge in a local bar - as good a place as any to stay dry!
We also check out 'DeathRace' at the local cinema. Now, I'm not saying that the young men of India are sexually repressed to the point of exploding in a mushroom cloud of testosterone and over active eyebrows but each and every time a woman came on screen the theatre erupted like feeding time at the monkey cage. Whoops, whistles and the occasional disturbing groan echoed forward from the back rows. One poor sod, clearly caught up in the moment and not paying attention, continued his whooping as a bare chested Jason Stratham strode across the screen. Promptly ridiculed by his companions and most of the surrounding viewers, I'd imagine he stayed quiet for the remainder of the film.
Saturday 29th was spent blowing a weeks budget on a guitar, reluctantly turning down offers of bit parts in Tamil movies (that would've been a nice addition to the DVD collection) and learning the following;
Attempting a pub crawl in Chennai is a God Damn stupid idea! We end up in 'Cheers'. A club with decor from the 80's, music from all the bad part of the early 90's and absolutely no women! They're not allowed to go out to bars! What is the point?!? What am I to look at!?! There's lots of men; listening to bad techno, watching 'Last Action Hero' with their arms around each other eating cucumbers! My eyebrow raises yet this is not a gay bar. That at least might have some funny cheesy music. No, this is what passes for a nightlife in Chennai and it is the biggest shower of shite. I am relieved when it closes at 11pm. I polish off my bottle of diesel water and head home.
Tuesday, November 25, 2008
Honey Valley.
After climbing the highest peak on my 3rd day of trekking, I arrive at Honey Valley. This is paradise. Okay, so that might sound a bit over the top but, if after 21km of hiking (the last 5km solo with the instructions; there should be signs?) you reach an isolated coffee plantation in the middle of nowhere and someone hands you hot water and a cold beer - then I think paradise is appropriate.
I've spent 5 days here mainly reading, writing and becoming the Honey Valley Scrabble champion. I've also managed to crack my scalp open by landing head first on a pretty solid rock whilst crossing a river on the way back from a short trek. Luckily my Field nurse; Des was on hand to stop the bleeding with her nice orange scarf and make me look like a fairly feminine Rambo in the process.
Des is one of the group of very interesting folk I've met here. I'm pretty sure her love life will make it into print one day - should make a good read. I also met Karen who has the Job everyone wants - Getting paid to travel and update guidebooks! What a Bitch!!
Jack whose crammed a few lifetimes into his 50yrs and has that calmness that comes from seeing lots of life's highs and lows and then taking it down to the simplicity of ending the day with a beer and a cigarette.
Alissa who manages to do the crazily enthusiastic American thing without you wanting to wrap her head in Gaffa tape - impressive.
And lastly I met Fred - making his way down India on an old Enfield with about 5Rupees to his name. Best of British to you Fred!
I've spent 5 days here mainly reading, writing and becoming the Honey Valley Scrabble champion. I've also managed to crack my scalp open by landing head first on a pretty solid rock whilst crossing a river on the way back from a short trek. Luckily my Field nurse; Des was on hand to stop the bleeding with her nice orange scarf and make me look like a fairly feminine Rambo in the process.
Des is one of the group of very interesting folk I've met here. I'm pretty sure her love life will make it into print one day - should make a good read. I also met Karen who has the Job everyone wants - Getting paid to travel and update guidebooks! What a Bitch!!
Jack whose crammed a few lifetimes into his 50yrs and has that calmness that comes from seeing lots of life's highs and lows and then taking it down to the simplicity of ending the day with a beer and a cigarette.
Alissa who manages to do the crazily enthusiastic American thing without you wanting to wrap her head in Gaffa tape - impressive.
And lastly I met Fred - making his way down India on an old Enfield with about 5Rupees to his name. Best of British to you Fred!
Buses.
My faith in Indian transport is restored! Last time I only had the pleasure of traveling on trains for my long distance journeys. This time I've felt the joy that you can only get from a near death experience: the community bus.
Some charity should really be shipping playstations or the like to India so these drivers can satisfy their fighter pilot fantasies without endangering public lives. Still, the attitude/faith held by these people has to be admired and it does seem to get everybody from A to B on time and mostly in one piece;
It doesn't matter that my bus is 100yrs old and held together by string and tape,
It doesn't matter that we have 150 people on a 60seat bus,
It doesn't matter that my conductor is hanging from the flapping back door as I race over a high bridge,
It doesn't matter that I'm mapping out a new roller coaster course on route,
It doesn't matter that the road resembles a Curly Wurly,
It doesn't even matter that my brakes are screeching out a passable Wacko Jacko impersonation on each corner.
Hey, as long as the flashing LEDs on my framed holographic deity are still working then we're all okay.
Some charity should really be shipping playstations or the like to India so these drivers can satisfy their fighter pilot fantasies without endangering public lives. Still, the attitude/faith held by these people has to be admired and it does seem to get everybody from A to B on time and mostly in one piece;
It doesn't matter that my bus is 100yrs old and held together by string and tape,
It doesn't matter that we have 150 people on a 60seat bus,
It doesn't matter that my conductor is hanging from the flapping back door as I race over a high bridge,
It doesn't matter that I'm mapping out a new roller coaster course on route,
It doesn't matter that the road resembles a Curly Wurly,
It doesn't even matter that my brakes are screeching out a passable Wacko Jacko impersonation on each corner.
Hey, as long as the flashing LEDs on my framed holographic deity are still working then we're all okay.
Mountain Trekking!!!????!!!!!!
Mountains!? Heat!? Humid!? Altitude!? Exercise!? None of these words are remotely appealing to me! I've got arthritis for God's sake! I've also long maintained a balanced diet of Lager and Cider and have now had to carry (drag) that investment up 3 mountains! My body is screaming at me. Actually, my feet are so pounded into submission that they can't say anything, my knees are muttering something incoherent in amongst the quivering but I'm pretty sure they're pissed off. My beer belly's being the most vocal; "What are you doing? No, no, stop. You don't want to exercise. I wanna stay! There must be an Irish pub around here somewhere. Whad'ya say??" I've reassured him that we'll be together for some time to come.
I've hiked 65km over the past few days and what have I learnt? That it's quite difficult to admire the view from 5500 ft when your chest is about to reenact the birth scene from Alien. There are also some useful phrases used to quicken your pace; "Most of the snakes around here aren't poisonous", "The Elephants around here are quite aggressive and can run at 35mph (I sure as hell can't!) and my personal favourite; "This is Tiger country, we lost a cow around here last week"!!
Goan, Goan, Goan.
So, after my mum's comment that I seem to be drinking my way around the globe I head to Goa and more specifically to a 24hr bar where bottles are 50p and half that at happy hour. Needless to say; most of my hours were exceedingly happy. It's in this bar that I've striven to enrich myself culturally; meeting a group of fellow Brits and engaging in such civilised behaviour as Palm tree dancing, spoon balancing and having my flops used to spank random gentlemen ( I was neither the slapper nor the slappee!) As is assured to happen when you drink with people named Ginger Joe and Noodles; the finishing point for each evening crept closer and closer to 6am.
I've also met some interesting characters in the form of Havi; a Spaniard starting a craze in neck piercing, Dr. Phil; not a doctor of course but a Canadian surfer dude who has perfected (through constantly being connected to the tail end of a spliff) the arts of lazy enthusiasm (like, yeah man, I'll be totally up for that in a few hours. Whadya say I roll a little one?) and making everything seem like a conspiracy through random emphasis and "inverted comma fingers". Impossible not to like someone like that.
There was Craig; at first appearances your typical Ozzy bloke who then surprised traders by bargaining in Hindi to great financial gain - good little move. And then there was John; an Englishman who had been drawn to Sweden. A shrewd manoeuvre if you've seen the female of the Swedish species. It's John who I can blame for the various Transformeresque noises that emanated from my body whilst undertaking the ancient art of making fat westerners suffer (otherwise known as Yoga). Now, I'm sure that Yoga is good for you - painful exertions always seem to be. But, I'm also sure that the little bendy Guru teaching us was having a private little giggle as the class began with what seemed remarkably like a slow motion YMCA. And, try this one at home; sit down, cross your legs, put your arms through the gaps in your legs to your elbows, reach forward and bring your palms to your ears. Oh, and remember to focus on your breathing! Bloody hell!! I'm now on my back, knotted like a pretzel and far closer to kissing my own arse than I ever wished to be.
This was my quest to balance out the alcohol consumption. I also tried my hand at Kayaking both in a time travelling trip 2km up a river (felt very Apocalypse Now even if I'm in the wrong country) and in the sea trying to surf the waves in. the latter mainly involved inhaling a lot of sea water or face planting straight into the sand but I'm sure it all looked manly and cool to the girls on the beach.
Anyway, this was Goa; stay in a hut on the beach, a good meal is 2quid and the beer is cheap. It's all too easy. I've met people that have been here for yonks and it would be easy for days to slip into weeks. So, before that happens I'm heading off the beaten track a little. Besides, looks like I'll be back at Xmas for more drinks with Ginger Joe.
Tuesday, November 4, 2008
Photos
All my photos from Kenya and Romania are now on Flickr - Click on the pic at the top right of this page.
Transylvania-ah-ah
If there ever were any Vampires here; they must have very quickly died of blood alcohol poisoning. I've had the local moonshine; Palenka (something like a peachy petrol) forced upon me by a woman defiently fending off the grim reaper by means of pickling! The motto of this trip has become; "well, it'd be rude not to".
Other alchoholic stimuli has been more welcome. My friends; Marc and Gyongy have concocted a pretty decent bit of vino and with a stockpile of 180 litres!! I haven't minded tucking in. And if that's not good enough, a crate of beer is a fiver! happy days!
All this booze has been well earn't though - see picture of the little bit of firewood we had to move!!
I don't want to give the impression that this has been a total piss up - there's been a fair bit of culture aswell. 2 footy matches and laughing at various signs such as the FANY bus company, the tin of CRAP which is good on toast and the menu favourite; CU UNT (with butter).
Tonight is Cluj vs Bourdeux (obligitary hurling abuse at the french) followed by a 6am flight back
to London where I'll spend a few hours before flying on to India. I imagine I'm going to find this all a tad tiring but hey, there's a Goan beach and even cheaper beer waiting at the other end! (yes, I have a very smug face on just now that you'd probably like to smack)
Thanks Marc and Gyongy for playing hosts this week, and for the lessons;
* Petrol is really bloody flamable!
* Heights still scare the shit out of me, even when Marc's the one about to die.
* I will never eat Tripe.
Other alchoholic stimuli has been more welcome. My friends; Marc and Gyongy have concocted a pretty decent bit of vino and with a stockpile of 180 litres!! I haven't minded tucking in. And if that's not good enough, a crate of beer is a fiver! happy days!
All this booze has been well earn't though - see picture of the little bit of firewood we had to move!!
I don't want to give the impression that this has been a total piss up - there's been a fair bit of culture aswell. 2 footy matches and laughing at various signs such as the FANY bus company, the tin of CRAP which is good on toast and the menu favourite; CU UNT (with butter).
Tonight is Cluj vs Bourdeux (obligitary hurling abuse at the french) followed by a 6am flight back
to London where I'll spend a few hours before flying on to India. I imagine I'm going to find this all a tad tiring but hey, there's a Goan beach and even cheaper beer waiting at the other end! (yes, I have a very smug face on just now that you'd probably like to smack)Thanks Marc and Gyongy for playing hosts this week, and for the lessons;
* Petrol is really bloody flamable!
* Heights still scare the shit out of me, even when Marc's the one about to die.
* I will never eat Tripe.
Wednesday, October 29, 2008
Mombasa
So, I left Kenya last week and have been to busy faffing about with all the things I should have organised months ago to update the blog. Little things mostly like getting a bank card and buying travel insurance yesterday - nothing too important.
The main bit to talk about from Mombasa is obviously my Dad's wedding which went more or less smoothly. There were little hitches such as me having the wrong size tux (might have been an idea to try it on before the wedding day - had.jpg)
to wear it open which left me looking like I was about to belt out a bit of opera for most of the photos), there was the last minute learning how to tie bow ties, the arguments with the chef over the wedding dinner menu and the photographer who had decided that an abstract theme was appropriate. But hey, the champas flowed and all were kept merry!
All in all we spent 9 days at a 5* resort - just enough time too laze about and give myself 3rd degree sunburn. Entertainment took the form of hundreds of rounds of gin rummy over beers whilst discussing (mocking) my 16 yr old brother's love life and giving him the benefit of my wisdom (bitter cynicism). When this grew tired, we took up the traditional past-time of laughing at foreigner's names. You may think this bad but I challenge you to be served by 'Minga' and not find it funny! Not to mention 'Weldone' - why couldn't they put steak on the menu just once?!?
Anyway, the highlight (apart from the wedding of course!) was the snorkelling. Kenya has 1 of the 3 best coral reefs in the world and we spent a couple of hours swimming amongst brightly coloured fish, elaborate coral formations
, all manner of shelled creatures and then putting sea cucumbers down each other's shorts. Not mature, not very nice but funny none the less.
There was meant to be other water sports on the go but the Kayaks lacked the small but important addition of paddles and the wind surfing seemed to coincide the the sceduled sitting by the pool with a drink and some food - damn shame!
I did partake in a game of beach volleyball but ended up doing a passable impression of Dale Winton stacking shelves so thought I'd give it a miss from then on.
So all that was a lot of fun but not the real Kenya we had seen glimpses of the week before. We were very isolated in the resort with local contact limited to the souvinier sellars on the beach (who ripped us off at every opportunity, but spending double what we would in the local market only cost us an extra couple of quid which means a lot more to them than to me so fair play)
It was humbling and uncomfortable to think that we were paying for an orange juice what the field workers we had seen in Nakura earnt in a day. At least the tips that we handed to the waiters and service staff went back to their families in these areas rather than all the money going to the big tour company.
The main bit to talk about from Mombasa is obviously my Dad's wedding which went more or less smoothly. There were little hitches such as me having the wrong size tux (might have been an idea to try it on before the wedding day - had
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to wear it open which left me looking like I was about to belt out a bit of opera for most of the photos), there was the last minute learning how to tie bow ties, the arguments with the chef over the wedding dinner menu and the photographer who had decided that an abstract theme was appropriate. But hey, the champas flowed and all were kept merry!All in all we spent 9 days at a 5* resort - just enough time too laze about and give myself 3rd degree sunburn. Entertainment took the form of hundreds of rounds of gin rummy over beers whilst discussing (mocking) my 16 yr old brother's love life and giving him the benefit of my wisdom (bitter cynicism). When this grew tired, we took up the traditional past-time of laughing at foreigner's names. You may think this bad but I challenge you to be served by 'Minga' and not find it funny! Not to mention 'Weldone' - why couldn't they put steak on the menu just once?!?
Anyway, the highlight (apart from the wedding of course!) was the snorkelling. Kenya has 1 of the 3 best coral reefs in the world and we spent a couple of hours swimming amongst brightly coloured fish, elaborate coral formations
, all manner of shelled creatures and then putting sea cucumbers down each other's shorts. Not mature, not very nice but funny none the less.There was meant to be other water sports on the go but the Kayaks lacked the small but important addition of paddles and the wind surfing seemed to coincide the the sceduled sitting by the pool with a drink and some food - damn shame!
I did partake in a game of beach volleyball but ended up doing a passable impression of Dale Winton stacking shelves so thought I'd give it a miss from then on.
So all that was a lot of fun but not the real Kenya we had seen glimpses of the week before. We were very isolated in the resort with local contact limited to the souvinier sellars on the beach (who ripped us off at every opportunity, but spending double what we would in the local market only cost us an extra couple of quid which means a lot more to them than to me so fair play)
It was humbling and uncomfortable to think that we were paying for an orange juice what the field workers we had seen in Nakura earnt in a day. At least the tips that we handed to the waiters and service staff went back to their families in these areas rather than all the money going to the big tour company.
Tuesday, October 14, 2008
Kenya - Masi Mara
So, to kick off my year or so of travels I'm in Kenya for a couple of weeks for my Dad's wedding. This has both the good point of giving me a trial run for packing etc (already got a pile of stuff I'm not going to bother taking) and the bad point of getting me used to 5star when I'm more likely to be seeing stars through the holes in my rooms for the next year.
Kenya has been absolutely amazing so far. We have spent the first week in the bush and on safari in the Masi Mara. We visited a local school - very humbling and really demonstrated the level of poverty here. My youngest brother had bit of a reality check when told that some children walked 15km a day to attend the school! He may be rethinking asking Mum for lifts to his friends houses constantly - we'll see.
We've seen a shed load of wildlife (not an actual shed obviously, that wouldn't be very impressive); Hippos, Water Buffalo, Hyena eating Water Buffalo, a flock of over 1 million Flamingo (try fitting them in that shed), Rhinos, Lions, Elephants, Giraffes, Warthogs (nothing like the lion king, these are ugly as sin), Crocs, Wilderbeast, Zebra, Cheetahs, Baboons and more. Nearly worth getting up at 6am for the game drives.
The highlight had to be Friday; up at 4.30am (okay shit start but it gets better), took a hot airr balloon over the Mara for sunrise, chased some Rhino (sensible from the air, not advisable on ground), landed in the middle of nowhere for a champagne breakfast, listened to an American gentleman ask the guys at the souvenir stand if they took visa??!! Look around buddy!!
Then spent the afternoon on a game drive and saw a Lioness make a kill of a Wilderbeast and teach her cubs how to hunt. We were only about 10 ft away which was very cool but I could have forgone seeing her rip the penis off - collective "ooooh!" from the onlookers.This was followed on Saturday by a visit to a Masi village
I'm pretty convinced they changed the words of their songs as there was some definite sniggering. The 12yr old in our group was very disappointed to have to give back the machete they sold him.
We then took a very small plane to Nairobi (you've never experienced turbulance until you've flown in one of these! Does anyone know what a "Squelch"switch does?) where we ended up watching England vs Kazachstan whilst being serenaded by a very very poor Kenyan Jazz cover band - a very surreal day indeed! And to round it off; Dad smashed his head in the pool - should make for some good wedding snaps!
We're now in Mombasa chilling at a beach resort for the week and holding the wedding. I'll probably post again on the weekend, maybe with some wedding disaster video I can get cash for.
The connection is to slow to upload any photos on this post or to Flickr here but I'll post a link once I've done it.
Hope you're all well -There's a subscription link on this page if you want to keep up to date with my travels.
Karibu! (been told that means welcome but i may have just insulted your mother - sorry)
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