155 days and I'm beginning to take a little strain. Don't get me wrong I'm still loving it but certain aspects of constantly being on the move begin to take there toll. For me, personally, its not the dirt, the loneliness, or the living out of a bag, its not the threat of malaria or even sleeping in a different bed every few days (107 different beds in 6 months...) that I'm struggling with. But, for me, the biggest singular issue that i have had to cope with has been constipation.
For the last 3 months i can honestly say that taking a shit has been one of the hardest parts of my day - to the point that when i finally do 'let a prisoner out' or 'drop the kids at the pool' i let out cries of joy and go so far as running round the room giving myself high fives. Christ I'm sad.
Moving on...for the last month and half myself and Mark have been trekking round SE Asia trying to take in the culture, the history and the vibe, whilst battling to not get sucked into the fun, the partying, the readily available drugs (which even plague the restaurant menus) and the progressively free minded plethora of female backpackers...its been rough.
We kicked off in Laos and spent a fantastic 10 days circling this little country. Out of the three countries we have just come through it has to have been my favorite, the people are friendly, everything is ridiculously cheap, Health and Safety does not exist and it hasn't yet been reached by bus loads of fat German tourists (but i feel it is only a matter of time..). The highlight had to have been our two day trek into the mountains. Myself and mark were accompanied by a little guide called Poi. The two days consisted of mountain biking, hiking and kayaking, all of which Mark managed to skillfully fail in. Not 15 minutes into the bike ride 'The Shark' managed to mistake the front break from the back break and in doing so almost completed a 360 (reckon he got to about 335 degrees). He came away with a little less skin on his arms and legs and the knowledge that trekking-guides from Laos have no experience in medical procedures. From there, and i don't like to rub it in, he managed to fall into a a rice patty and slip off a kayak - much to the amusement of Poi ...and myself. That evening was a memorable one as we spent the night in a remote mountain village getting acquainted with the local whiskey (lao-lao) and watching karaoke videos with a hut full of old women with no teeth (not much has changed since Rhodes).
From here we travelled a few hours south into a town called VangVieng - literally a one road town next to a beautiful river. VangVieng exists wholly to serve the many backpackers passing through it. It consists of makeshift restaurants and bars that are adorned with hammocks and cushions and continually show re-runs of Friends. One can only leave these restaurants if you are lucky enough to have the strength or experience of being able to break out of a coma or perhaps have beaten cancer. The menus take into account for every taste and if wanted one can order from the 'Happy Menu' where the options consist of your food being accompanied by 'Weed', 'Magic Mushrooms' or 'Opium'...when the bill comes instead of getting after dinner mints they serve baseball-bat size joints. Eat your heart out Olly Holly.
After finally being able to gather enough strength to leave VangVieng we headed down to a place called 4000 Islands - where the Mekong river breaks into many different parts and creates 1000's of islands (4000 to be exact). All we did here for 4 days was lie in our hammocks, talk smut and drink beer - bring on the culture.
Into Cambodia and after a 17 hour bus trip from hell (we hit a dog, experienced Cambodia's worst pop songs on a continual 1 hour loop and almost bludgeoned to death our bus driver with a sharpened spoon- I wish we had), we finally got where we wanted to be, well almost. Phnom Pen.
We had decided that when we were in Cambodia we wanted to try and get involved in helping out a bit, you know a bit of wholesome charity work in a distant country etc etc. So when we stumbled upon a little restaurant that was run by an orphanage we were delighted to find out that for every beer drank 20c would be donated to the kids and there plight to fight poverty. So we sucked it up and decided to lend a hand - think we smashed about a case and half of the local brew and felt proud to have given those little buggers a better start in life. Eat your heart Angelina Jolie...
Cambodia consisted of many laughs, many frustrations and many prostitutes (that we successfully avoided). Its a weird kind of place, absolutely beautiful but still so affected by what happened there just over 30 years ago. I'm proud to say that the best day of my life happened in Cambodia....the shooting range, where we managed to blow about 2 week's budget on shooting anything we could get our hands on. Yes, I'll admit that when asked if we wanted to shoot a live duck with an AK47 we jumped at the chance, a little too readily, but we made sure that after we had pumped 62 rounds into it's lifeless body we were allowed to give our trophy to our tuk-tuk driver to feed him, his wife and 11 children. In retrospect i think we were lucky that they were, at the time, out of live cows as we were quite prepared (in our frenzied state) to pay $300 dollars for a Heffer and one shot at it with a rocket propelled grenade.
Moving swiftly on as i realise this blog is beginning to grow longer than an English winter (by the way how is it over there at the moment?).
Vietnam, i think the country's name should be changed to 'Viet-fukin-nam', it has to go down as one of the most frustrating countries of all time. I don't know whether its because I'm a little tired and a bit cranky but the week or so i spent there, for me, wasn't the most memorable. Its a country that has realised, in the last few years, that tourism is an industry they can be royally rewarded for. Rightly so, it has all the boxes ticked as a holiday destination hot spot, but they just haven't got it right. Rip offs, too many Germans and a tourist route you cant seem to vier off from all make it a place that i wouldn't rush back to.
Although we did have some laughs. Mark and i met up with some Australian friends (one in particular i had been hoping to see for a while...) and had a great few days drinking too much, going on cheap tours (which i have to say are the best kind as long as they serve alcohol), hitting mud-baths and other random sights, and generally acting like 12 year olds.
The next few weeks see me kicking back on the island's of Thailand with the same Aussies from Viet-fukin-nam, before heading off to Beijing for a day...Christmas day...to see a man about a job (don't ask).
Hope you're all well, love to the family, friends and the chain that ties you to your desk.
Kisses.
Wednesday 12 December 2007
Wednesday 24 October 2007
India - where the hell does one start..??
Let me just start off by saying that South Africa's recent win at the World Cup didn't go unnoticed in India...okay to a billion or so Indians it did, but I however got caught up in the action like never before. Due to the complete lack of coverage in the far-away town i was in, i had to resort to getting royally drunk by myself, in my hotel room, receiving commentary via text from my Mum - and this was at 2am local time. The celebrations went on till the early hours and we, sorry I, partied like it was 1995.
I've now spent four weeks here, and everyday of those four weeks has presented me with a moment of humour, a moment of frustration and a moment of pure bewilderment - simply put, this country is like nothing Ive ever experienced. Its nuts, certifiable, absolutely crazy and i love it.
I spent a week in Goa, India's beach playground. I cant say i was blown away by the place but it did have its charm. The week was spent visiting different beaches and trying to grasp the complete spectrum of people living in Goa. The place is littered with foreigners from all backgrounds. I met a recovering cocaine addict who had, that night, dropped three pills??? a long haired 60 year old hippy who like to be called Weeeeeee Pete, claimed he'd smoked more pot than Howard Marks and hadn't left Goa for 15 years and finally an ex-con called Rolland who had been in prison on three different continents and was now in India to 'find himself' (i think the authorities may have been trying to 'find' Rolland...). One can gather the calibre of long term foreigners lingering around Goa... All in all though it was a cool place.
Onto the state of Kanartaka, where i had arranged to meet up with an old family friend at a Yoga school in Mysore and then planned to do some trekking in the hills of a place called Ooty.
The week passed with a myriad of activities. I endured a 17 hour bus ride with a drunk Indian sharing my bunk, who's calloused feet i got to now intimately as they were consistently positioned under my nose. I popped Imodium's like they were tick-tak's as on an onslaught of traveler's sickness made a certain part of my body look like the Japanese flag. I paid a small fortune to a small Indian man to massage my entire body for two hours only to have it end with me close to tears and in a rather unhappy state; i was then 'pressure steamed' by the same individual in a contraption that could have originated in the London Dungeons loosing a layer of skin in the process (please refer to photos, facebook, 'India: chapter 2'). We were asked to pose for literally 1oo's of photos with Indian families, holding kicking, screaming children while pictures were snapped. We ate curries that made our fillings melt, climbed hills with views that made our jaws drop, danced with a thousand Indians at a Hindi music festival, met colourful, wonderful and downright weird people all along the way and even managed to have high tea at the Savoy...
This in all of five days, and i think that's what India is all about, it throws the best and the worst of things at you all at once and somehow, through all the ordered chaos, you have to submit to it.
Onto Kerela and its backwaters and beaches. I spent a relaxing few nights in the town of Cochin, eating massive amounts of sea food, lying in the sun, sleeping and trying in vain to find a place to watch the World Cup final.
Highlights had to be learning to climb a coconut tree - which i will now update my C.V with; accompanying a couple of fishermen on their morning run (we didn't catch much) and having a great conversation with a guy called Rishnu. Rishnu could not speak a word of English, but that didn't stop us having a 40 minute conversation on the the ferry back from one of the Islands. It was around mid-night and from what i could gather he was a 50 year old fisherman with a wife and three kids. As we had a our multilingual conversation he produced the fattest joint i have ever had the good fortune to come across - we chatted and smoked. As we smoked either i learnt to speak Hindi or he became fluent in English but it was a meeting of two minds. I think we agreed to set up a fishing export business with an attached hotel and guesthouse, he would do the bulk of the fishing, run the books and be concierge at our hotel, i would market and sell the fish in all corners of the globe - it was promising, although i failed to get Rishnu's email address.
From here I had planned to hire out a converted rice boat for a few days to cruise the waters, luckily i managed to find some other people to do the trip with, which greatly reduced the cost. If i recommend one thing in India it is to rent a houseboat in the backwaters of Kerala - beer flowed like water (although we had to ask the crew to set out on foot twice to go and purchase more), the prawns and fish were huge, resembling something that could only have been genetically modified by Tescos but confident in the fact that it was all pulled up from the depths of the fertile backwaters of this area. A great way to get drunk, eat well and see the local culture. Do it.
And now i sit and type from a beach side resort, built on top of a cliff - Varkala, another interesting place. India is endless and so could this blog be if it weren't for the fact it's time to go and watch the sunset. Its been packed to the rafters with so many sights, stories and experiences that i smile everytime i think of the place. But beyond its beauty, its dirt, its grime, its temples, its churches and its rip-offs, beyond the chaos, the languages, its cows and all its culture there is the Indian himself - and that for me has been what's made it so unique. They are the most friendly, open and easily approachable people i have ever come across and there's a billion of them...and i think this could be a good thing for the world...
And onto my next stop - SE Asia. The thought of crystal clear waters, white sand beaches, shooting AK47's at chickens and having massages that all end happily draw me to the countries of Thailand, Vietnam, Cambodia and Laos.
Two months and all in the company of the one and only Mark 'The Shark' Earl...
Oh god, i only hope we get out alive....
I've now spent four weeks here, and everyday of those four weeks has presented me with a moment of humour, a moment of frustration and a moment of pure bewilderment - simply put, this country is like nothing Ive ever experienced. Its nuts, certifiable, absolutely crazy and i love it.
I spent a week in Goa, India's beach playground. I cant say i was blown away by the place but it did have its charm. The week was spent visiting different beaches and trying to grasp the complete spectrum of people living in Goa. The place is littered with foreigners from all backgrounds. I met a recovering cocaine addict who had, that night, dropped three pills??? a long haired 60 year old hippy who like to be called Weeeeeee Pete, claimed he'd smoked more pot than Howard Marks and hadn't left Goa for 15 years and finally an ex-con called Rolland who had been in prison on three different continents and was now in India to 'find himself' (i think the authorities may have been trying to 'find' Rolland...). One can gather the calibre of long term foreigners lingering around Goa... All in all though it was a cool place.
Onto the state of Kanartaka, where i had arranged to meet up with an old family friend at a Yoga school in Mysore and then planned to do some trekking in the hills of a place called Ooty.
The week passed with a myriad of activities. I endured a 17 hour bus ride with a drunk Indian sharing my bunk, who's calloused feet i got to now intimately as they were consistently positioned under my nose. I popped Imodium's like they were tick-tak's as on an onslaught of traveler's sickness made a certain part of my body look like the Japanese flag. I paid a small fortune to a small Indian man to massage my entire body for two hours only to have it end with me close to tears and in a rather unhappy state; i was then 'pressure steamed' by the same individual in a contraption that could have originated in the London Dungeons loosing a layer of skin in the process (please refer to photos, facebook, 'India: chapter 2'). We were asked to pose for literally 1oo's of photos with Indian families, holding kicking, screaming children while pictures were snapped. We ate curries that made our fillings melt, climbed hills with views that made our jaws drop, danced with a thousand Indians at a Hindi music festival, met colourful, wonderful and downright weird people all along the way and even managed to have high tea at the Savoy...
This in all of five days, and i think that's what India is all about, it throws the best and the worst of things at you all at once and somehow, through all the ordered chaos, you have to submit to it.
Onto Kerela and its backwaters and beaches. I spent a relaxing few nights in the town of Cochin, eating massive amounts of sea food, lying in the sun, sleeping and trying in vain to find a place to watch the World Cup final.
Highlights had to be learning to climb a coconut tree - which i will now update my C.V with; accompanying a couple of fishermen on their morning run (we didn't catch much) and having a great conversation with a guy called Rishnu. Rishnu could not speak a word of English, but that didn't stop us having a 40 minute conversation on the the ferry back from one of the Islands. It was around mid-night and from what i could gather he was a 50 year old fisherman with a wife and three kids. As we had a our multilingual conversation he produced the fattest joint i have ever had the good fortune to come across - we chatted and smoked. As we smoked either i learnt to speak Hindi or he became fluent in English but it was a meeting of two minds. I think we agreed to set up a fishing export business with an attached hotel and guesthouse, he would do the bulk of the fishing, run the books and be concierge at our hotel, i would market and sell the fish in all corners of the globe - it was promising, although i failed to get Rishnu's email address.
From here I had planned to hire out a converted rice boat for a few days to cruise the waters, luckily i managed to find some other people to do the trip with, which greatly reduced the cost. If i recommend one thing in India it is to rent a houseboat in the backwaters of Kerala - beer flowed like water (although we had to ask the crew to set out on foot twice to go and purchase more), the prawns and fish were huge, resembling something that could only have been genetically modified by Tescos but confident in the fact that it was all pulled up from the depths of the fertile backwaters of this area. A great way to get drunk, eat well and see the local culture. Do it.
And now i sit and type from a beach side resort, built on top of a cliff - Varkala, another interesting place. India is endless and so could this blog be if it weren't for the fact it's time to go and watch the sunset. Its been packed to the rafters with so many sights, stories and experiences that i smile everytime i think of the place. But beyond its beauty, its dirt, its grime, its temples, its churches and its rip-offs, beyond the chaos, the languages, its cows and all its culture there is the Indian himself - and that for me has been what's made it so unique. They are the most friendly, open and easily approachable people i have ever come across and there's a billion of them...and i think this could be a good thing for the world...
And onto my next stop - SE Asia. The thought of crystal clear waters, white sand beaches, shooting AK47's at chickens and having massages that all end happily draw me to the countries of Thailand, Vietnam, Cambodia and Laos.
Two months and all in the company of the one and only Mark 'The Shark' Earl...
Oh god, i only hope we get out alive....
Wednesday 26 September 2007
Serbia, Montenegro, Croatia and Bosnia
63 days into it, 12 countries down and its just about time to say goodbye to the east of Europe...the 5'o'clock shadow i was hoping to cultivate into the rough, wiry, chiseled look hasn't amounted to much more than patchy bum fluff, I'm tired, a little dirty and sick of showering with shoes on. Ive learnt some invaluable lessons - underwear can be worn for at least 4 days and possibly 5 if you don't mind turning them inside out, taxi drivers are less trustworthy than gypsies, don't ask Muslim women if they find Ramadan a good way to loose excess pounds and never, ever, get you haircut in Poland...
The last few weeks have seen me visit 4 unbelievable countries that have, without doubt, left me on a massive high as i leave this leg of the world trip...
I left Macedonia and took a 12 hour bus to Belgrade, an edgy city that isn't much to look at but has a great feeling to it. The bus rolled into the city around 3am and as we all got off i realised that being in a dodgy downtown Serbian bus station at 3 am wasn't ideal...and almost as i was thinking this i saw a pickpocket quickly and quietly helping himself to my fellow passengers pockets...before i could think of something sensible to do i heard myself shouting, "Hey you bastard what the hell!" and as the words came out my mouth i immediately regretted it - he stopped, looked at me with the eyes of Lucifer himself, and began making his way straight towards me...oh Christ oh Christ...as he did i tried to gesture to the other onlookers in my best Serbian sign language just what the hell he was doing and as soon as they realised what was going down i became witness to my first episode of mob justice.. People threw wild hay-makers, kicks, duffel bags and violent abuse at this Serbian villain and in a matter of seconds he became an imprint on the pavement - i was amazed, shocked and a little shaken. As i walked away from the scene getting big, friendly, Serbian pats on the back and with women offering their daughters as a gesture of thanks and goodwill i thought to myself....only in Eastern Europe.
Moving on towards the Adriatic coast i decided to get the sleeper train down to Montenegro, where i planned to spend a few lazy weeks sipping cocktails and mingling with the locals. The train trip didn't go without incident and as i entered my sleeping carriage i realised that once again it was going to be a long night, in a foreign country, far from home.
I opened the door and came face to face with two elderly women who immediately started hurling a barrage of abuse and general hatred towards me...oh joy. As i was relegated by the evil pensioners to the top bunk of the carriage they immediate started laughing and cracking jokes in my direction...what the hell was my crime??? I took the constant abuse for a little over two hours when i decided, no more. As they chain smoked and casually hurled blame for a 100 years of communist oppression and tyranny at me i started replying with something along the lines of, "Yes my gypsy whore of a friend you should have been wiped out in the Serb-Croat war, but don't worry I'll probably smother you with my pillow a little later..." and as they continued to chain smoke I decided to stay awake the whole night and fill the carriage with as many farts as was humanly possible....
They finally departed at their stop in the early hours of the morning and as they shouted a final message to me i responded with the customary, "Rot in hell evil pirate hookers" and for the first time in 11 hours i closed my eyes and didn't fear being castrated.
Into Montenegro where i spent a blissful few days taking in the sights of a jaw dropping'ly beautiful coastline but always had the feeling that it wouldn't be this way for long as the commercial tourist scene has already began to line the beaches...
From there into everyone's favourite - Croatia. 10 days of rubbing shoulders with bus loads of Japanese tourists in Dubrovnik, drooling over yachts parked in Hvar, handing over bundles of cash for cocktails in Korcula, avoiding fat German nudists in Brac and just generally taking in a great destination that will, i have no doubt, be over-priced and over-visited within the next few years...if not already.
And to the last but almost certainly best spot on the trip so far...Sarajevo. I was about 12 when it all happened and can only remember snippets from news casts about something happening in a far away place, to a city i had never heard of. A siege and bitter war that lasted for 4 years. The city is still pocketed with 1000's of bullet holes and scared with the marks of bombshells - its almost unbelievable and to think this happened just a little over 10 years ago is too sobering for thought. The people are friendly and welcoming and only want to bring to light and explain to outsiders the hell they went through...get there if you ever get the chance.
So there we go...the end of the first leg and I'm ready to leave - I've had my fill of this side of Europe and all it has to offer, I've loved it but am ready for another continent and a change of stride. I've been scratching at that travel itch but its definitely still there - call it a rash that wont clear.
Onto India and 6 weeks without having a solid shit. Bring it.
The last few weeks have seen me visit 4 unbelievable countries that have, without doubt, left me on a massive high as i leave this leg of the world trip...
I left Macedonia and took a 12 hour bus to Belgrade, an edgy city that isn't much to look at but has a great feeling to it. The bus rolled into the city around 3am and as we all got off i realised that being in a dodgy downtown Serbian bus station at 3 am wasn't ideal...and almost as i was thinking this i saw a pickpocket quickly and quietly helping himself to my fellow passengers pockets...before i could think of something sensible to do i heard myself shouting, "Hey you bastard what the hell!" and as the words came out my mouth i immediately regretted it - he stopped, looked at me with the eyes of Lucifer himself, and began making his way straight towards me...oh Christ oh Christ...as he did i tried to gesture to the other onlookers in my best Serbian sign language just what the hell he was doing and as soon as they realised what was going down i became witness to my first episode of mob justice.. People threw wild hay-makers, kicks, duffel bags and violent abuse at this Serbian villain and in a matter of seconds he became an imprint on the pavement - i was amazed, shocked and a little shaken. As i walked away from the scene getting big, friendly, Serbian pats on the back and with women offering their daughters as a gesture of thanks and goodwill i thought to myself....only in Eastern Europe.
Moving on towards the Adriatic coast i decided to get the sleeper train down to Montenegro, where i planned to spend a few lazy weeks sipping cocktails and mingling with the locals. The train trip didn't go without incident and as i entered my sleeping carriage i realised that once again it was going to be a long night, in a foreign country, far from home.
I opened the door and came face to face with two elderly women who immediately started hurling a barrage of abuse and general hatred towards me...oh joy. As i was relegated by the evil pensioners to the top bunk of the carriage they immediate started laughing and cracking jokes in my direction...what the hell was my crime??? I took the constant abuse for a little over two hours when i decided, no more. As they chain smoked and casually hurled blame for a 100 years of communist oppression and tyranny at me i started replying with something along the lines of, "Yes my gypsy whore of a friend you should have been wiped out in the Serb-Croat war, but don't worry I'll probably smother you with my pillow a little later..." and as they continued to chain smoke I decided to stay awake the whole night and fill the carriage with as many farts as was humanly possible....
They finally departed at their stop in the early hours of the morning and as they shouted a final message to me i responded with the customary, "Rot in hell evil pirate hookers" and for the first time in 11 hours i closed my eyes and didn't fear being castrated.
Into Montenegro where i spent a blissful few days taking in the sights of a jaw dropping'ly beautiful coastline but always had the feeling that it wouldn't be this way for long as the commercial tourist scene has already began to line the beaches...
From there into everyone's favourite - Croatia. 10 days of rubbing shoulders with bus loads of Japanese tourists in Dubrovnik, drooling over yachts parked in Hvar, handing over bundles of cash for cocktails in Korcula, avoiding fat German nudists in Brac and just generally taking in a great destination that will, i have no doubt, be over-priced and over-visited within the next few years...if not already.
And to the last but almost certainly best spot on the trip so far...Sarajevo. I was about 12 when it all happened and can only remember snippets from news casts about something happening in a far away place, to a city i had never heard of. A siege and bitter war that lasted for 4 years. The city is still pocketed with 1000's of bullet holes and scared with the marks of bombshells - its almost unbelievable and to think this happened just a little over 10 years ago is too sobering for thought. The people are friendly and welcoming and only want to bring to light and explain to outsiders the hell they went through...get there if you ever get the chance.
So there we go...the end of the first leg and I'm ready to leave - I've had my fill of this side of Europe and all it has to offer, I've loved it but am ready for another continent and a change of stride. I've been scratching at that travel itch but its definitely still there - call it a rash that wont clear.
Onto India and 6 weeks without having a solid shit. Bring it.
Monday 20 August 2007
Poland, Czech Republic, Bulgaria and Macedonia
Five weeks into it, and i now have a tan like a roadside beggar in the Sudan and an ever growing boep that would make the most robust of Blue Bull's supporters envious, the good life is taking its toll on the chisseld'ness of my features...bugger.
So...Poland, an interesting place. To summarise, we had planned to hit the Great Lakes where one could apparently go on a days canoeing where a bottle of Vodka is included with your canoe. However due to the lack of English spoken in the North of Poland and the bus system being more confusing than a contraceptive in a township, we didn't end up getting there.
We then ended up in a place called Gdansk on the Polish coast, a great little spot that, if it hadn't have rained non-stop would have been my favourite place so far - we were deeply unlucky in Poland, but as always seemed to be the case in that country, I came off slightly worse than the others....After growing my hair for the last 6 months trying desperately to resemble something of the wild, rough, chiseled features of that ever appealing ¨Camel Man¨ look i decided enough was enough and realised that i was kidding nobody. It was time to get it cut. I selected the hairdressers and as i entered, with my two friends sniggering behind me, i had a passing thought that this may not be the most sensible place to get it done...
She was red haired, fiery eyed, looked like the Devil's sister and spoke not a word of the Queen's good English. As i nervously explained, with my best polish accent, that I'd like a little off the sides and a slight trim on the top i caught a look in her eye that resembled excitement crossed with wicked pleasure - i wasn't going to get my way.
She started with the top and carelessly hacked away with no real intention at my patiently grown curls, cigarette hanging from her mouth she involved herself in full conversation with the other ladies in the salon. I think the topic was on different ways to boil cabbage, but i cant be sure. Once she had satisfactorily destroyed the top of my head with genuine contempt, she decided to go to town on the back and sides. Her weapon? a pair of clippers that looked like a petrol-engined weed strimmer - and had a similar effect. About an hour later and with both Will and Beau in fits of laughter, i left Cruella De Vil's lair looking like, well...shit. Please refer to the photos uploaded on Facebook for the proof.
From the North we took the sleeper train down to Krakow - it wasn't a pleasant journey but went without incident, which was lucky as we had heard some bad stories about that route. Krakow turned out to be a fantastic place, we had 4 nights there and every one of them, thanks to the two Aussies i was with, were lined with the blurred and sporadic memory that accompanies a good night out. The City, although packed with tourists was beautiful and still somehow quaint.
The highlight though and i know it may seem odd, if not wrong to say, was our visit to Auschwitz. The only way i can describe it is sobering, vast and truly harrowing in its industrial capacity to destroy human lives, not more than 60 years ago. Important to see.
Both the Aussies flew out of Krakow on the last night and left me to gather my dignity and name from the gutter of Krakow's nightclubs and move on to the Czech Republic.
I spent a week in Czech and enjoyed almost all of it. I stayed in a small student town called Olomouc that resembled and felt exactly like Grahamstown. I then moved onto Cesky Krumlov which was a real highlight - picturesque beauty surrounded by a slow moving river that allows and invites a laid back attitude. One of the days was spent floating down river on a raft, with a couple dozen beers, two pommies and 16km's of ever increasing drunkenness capped off with a final leg of rapids that defeated three drunk men and a flat raft. Happy days.
Prague, beautiful, but not worth the effort of the crowds and the prices.
I then flew to Bulgaria and embarked on four days of heaven and one of hell. The first day saw me take a three hour bus to Golden Sands, where i had booked a night in a hotel (the absent 'S' in that word making such a difference to a backpacker wanting a goodnight sleep...). It turned out to be Blackpool with a lot more heat, more red skin and probably an extra measure of tackiness thrown in. After a night of listening to screaming kids, swearing mothers, drunken brawls and the odd vomiting tourist i was ready to put a black mark through Bulgaria and move on.
As luck would have it i didn't and decided to move to Varna (the town next door) to a hostel called, "Gregory's". Que my 4 days where the fun police were not present... some say it's not always the destination that makes a place great but the people you meet there, this was the case here. Four days that saw spear fishing, of which i now hold the Hostel record (had to get that in there) cocktail drinking, sun lounging, and casual conversation that almost always ended with watching a new sun rise. A great place and some even better people.
As i sit here now i can breath a sigh of relief, having caught up with the present day on my blog (Mum hope you're happy now). I have spent two nights in Macedonia at a place called lake Ochrid - it took 12 hours on a bus that saw me sandwiched between two Os du Randt lookalikes that didn't seem to realise i was there (how I missed that old lady with the sweets...), but it was worth every armpit-chewing mile of the journey as lake Ochrid is a little pearl of a place, that I'm sorry i have to leave.
Stay well and happy travels...on the tube.
So...Poland, an interesting place. To summarise, we had planned to hit the Great Lakes where one could apparently go on a days canoeing where a bottle of Vodka is included with your canoe. However due to the lack of English spoken in the North of Poland and the bus system being more confusing than a contraceptive in a township, we didn't end up getting there.
We then ended up in a place called Gdansk on the Polish coast, a great little spot that, if it hadn't have rained non-stop would have been my favourite place so far - we were deeply unlucky in Poland, but as always seemed to be the case in that country, I came off slightly worse than the others....After growing my hair for the last 6 months trying desperately to resemble something of the wild, rough, chiseled features of that ever appealing ¨Camel Man¨ look i decided enough was enough and realised that i was kidding nobody. It was time to get it cut. I selected the hairdressers and as i entered, with my two friends sniggering behind me, i had a passing thought that this may not be the most sensible place to get it done...
She was red haired, fiery eyed, looked like the Devil's sister and spoke not a word of the Queen's good English. As i nervously explained, with my best polish accent, that I'd like a little off the sides and a slight trim on the top i caught a look in her eye that resembled excitement crossed with wicked pleasure - i wasn't going to get my way.
She started with the top and carelessly hacked away with no real intention at my patiently grown curls, cigarette hanging from her mouth she involved herself in full conversation with the other ladies in the salon. I think the topic was on different ways to boil cabbage, but i cant be sure. Once she had satisfactorily destroyed the top of my head with genuine contempt, she decided to go to town on the back and sides. Her weapon? a pair of clippers that looked like a petrol-engined weed strimmer - and had a similar effect. About an hour later and with both Will and Beau in fits of laughter, i left Cruella De Vil's lair looking like, well...shit. Please refer to the photos uploaded on Facebook for the proof.
From the North we took the sleeper train down to Krakow - it wasn't a pleasant journey but went without incident, which was lucky as we had heard some bad stories about that route. Krakow turned out to be a fantastic place, we had 4 nights there and every one of them, thanks to the two Aussies i was with, were lined with the blurred and sporadic memory that accompanies a good night out. The City, although packed with tourists was beautiful and still somehow quaint.
The highlight though and i know it may seem odd, if not wrong to say, was our visit to Auschwitz. The only way i can describe it is sobering, vast and truly harrowing in its industrial capacity to destroy human lives, not more than 60 years ago. Important to see.
Both the Aussies flew out of Krakow on the last night and left me to gather my dignity and name from the gutter of Krakow's nightclubs and move on to the Czech Republic.
I spent a week in Czech and enjoyed almost all of it. I stayed in a small student town called Olomouc that resembled and felt exactly like Grahamstown. I then moved onto Cesky Krumlov which was a real highlight - picturesque beauty surrounded by a slow moving river that allows and invites a laid back attitude. One of the days was spent floating down river on a raft, with a couple dozen beers, two pommies and 16km's of ever increasing drunkenness capped off with a final leg of rapids that defeated three drunk men and a flat raft. Happy days.
Prague, beautiful, but not worth the effort of the crowds and the prices.
I then flew to Bulgaria and embarked on four days of heaven and one of hell. The first day saw me take a three hour bus to Golden Sands, where i had booked a night in a hotel (the absent 'S' in that word making such a difference to a backpacker wanting a goodnight sleep...). It turned out to be Blackpool with a lot more heat, more red skin and probably an extra measure of tackiness thrown in. After a night of listening to screaming kids, swearing mothers, drunken brawls and the odd vomiting tourist i was ready to put a black mark through Bulgaria and move on.
As luck would have it i didn't and decided to move to Varna (the town next door) to a hostel called, "Gregory's". Que my 4 days where the fun police were not present... some say it's not always the destination that makes a place great but the people you meet there, this was the case here. Four days that saw spear fishing, of which i now hold the Hostel record (had to get that in there) cocktail drinking, sun lounging, and casual conversation that almost always ended with watching a new sun rise. A great place and some even better people.
As i sit here now i can breath a sigh of relief, having caught up with the present day on my blog (Mum hope you're happy now). I have spent two nights in Macedonia at a place called lake Ochrid - it took 12 hours on a bus that saw me sandwiched between two Os du Randt lookalikes that didn't seem to realise i was there (how I missed that old lady with the sweets...), but it was worth every armpit-chewing mile of the journey as lake Ochrid is a little pearl of a place, that I'm sorry i have to leave.
Stay well and happy travels...on the tube.
Friday 10 August 2007
Estonia, Latvia, Lithuania
Its almost been 3 weeks and all very non-stop, five countries down and i am currently sitting in the Czech Republic after having said good bye to some of my friends who were on the road with me. I've come to the realisation that i am going to have to be far more careful with my money as is it seems to be going down quicker than mum's knickers on Father's Day. From here on out its me by my lonesome, and for some reason i cant get Celine Dion's epic love song, 'All by myself' out of my head...bring on dinner for one and kicking stones back to my hostel all alone...
We kicked off in Estonia, and mother of God the rumors were true... The women that line the streets, bars and clubs all resemble something from a cover of Vogue and for some reason they are ALL like that, we started to think they must root out any women that aren't physiologically perfect and hide them in some cordoned off area away from the public eye, clever chaps wish we knew how to do that. We spent 3 nights in Tallinn trying desperately to dodge the rain, and the ever present stag groups that mob the town, Tallinn is picturesque and charming, but still overshadowed by the women and their beauty - well done God.
Riga, Latvia - an amazing city that i would have loved to have visited 4 - 5 years ago as it has sadly been connected by yet another plethora of budget airlines. It is now littered with tourists, stag groups and locals who resent foreigners and bask in ripping them off. Remind me to thank Stelios and his Easy Jet empire next time i see him. We left Latvia shortly after, wanting to get a taste of the slightly less visited Lithuania.
Into Vilnius - Lithuania's, beautiful, stylish and friendly capital city. It has all the markings of Tallinn and Riga yet none of the horrible let downs. I loved it, we all loved it. Our team of two, grew to three as Beau, another Aussie mate, met up with us. We spent 4 great nights, taking in the sights, hitting the turps and charming the pants of the locals (or so we thought)
Anyway the night continued with the rather lovely old lady consistently feeding me with boiled sweets that tasted mildly of an Old Spice and Mentadent P fusion of flavour. At scheduled intervals she would slyly nudge me and pass me over another handful. I dare not refuse, but when she started to wake me on the hour, every hour for my allotted dose of the boiled delicacy i started to wonder if anyone would miss her should she not make it to Poland...
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
