Adventures of Ropper

Ahhh Glasshoper

2006-12-05T03:11:00.000-08:00

Hello again

Sorry!! I've been so caught up in the political turmoil of Oaxaca that I have forgotten to tell you about the cultural side of life here.

Despite the turmoil, day to day life has to go on for these poor people and this is no more evident than in the Casa de Mezcale (House of Mezcale) which is a typical local's pub. Mezcale is the local Tequila which is made from a specially grown cactus and comes in various flavours including the infamous one with the Worm in it. The worm is actually a parasite that lives on the cactus and is there as an indicator to the flavour and not, as urban legend leads you to believe, a prised treasure to be swallowed. Mezcale is so smooth and easy to drink that I wonder how on earth I ever managed to drink the rubbish we get back in the UK, it is also a lot stronger so it's not advisable to drink it until the end of a good night out - a valuable lesson that I unfortunately learnt all to quickly. Eating places in Oaxaca are varied and numerous but there is one speciality that can only be purchased on the streets from indigenous vendors. The speciality in question is Chapulines, a delicacy of grasshoppers cooked in lemon juice and chilies which is served with Guacamole and Cactus salad and believe me it is absolutely delicious. Just as delicious but slightly more unusual, was the meal I had in what appeared to be a disused warehouse that had been sectioned off into eating areas, each accommodating up to thirty people. Every eating area had open fires and meats off every shape size and colour, slowly roasting on suspended hooks or being cooked on a grate like a barbecue - the aromas were enough to make you feel hungry even after you had just eaten. One place I ate at simply gave you a dish when you arrived and left you to wander around the extensive raw buffet, filling your dish with anything and everything you wanted them to cook for you - once again it was delicious. I can see why, in more peaceful times, Oaxaca is considered to be one of the best places to visit in Mexico, but Mexico City is only a couple of days away and I was itching to get there but not before my scheduled visit to Puebla.

Puebla is an interesting little place with over 360 churches and some great little eating houses to sample some famous Mexican Mole (moh-lay). The main attraction of Puebla however, is not the Mole but the view of Mexico's second highest volcano, Popocatepeti, which is active and monitored by scientists all the time. Popocatepeti literally means Smoking Mountain and at 17,887 feet, it is the most impressive volcano I have seen in Central America and is also the only place in Mexico you can see snow all year round. Puebla is just 40 kilometres to the west of the volcano and it is on permanent high alert and ready to evacuate at a days notice, should the "Big Bugger" decide to put on a display of power again as it has done many times in recent years.
Puebla also has another problem, it is also so close to Mexico City that any gossip from the capital, arrives here almost immediately. And gossip about a City on the verge of revolution had to be equally as mouthwatering as the Mole so you'll not be surprised to hear that I was on the first available bus to Mexico City two days later.

It's a widely held and well documented belief that the Mexican political system is riddled with corruption, so when the Mexican people went to the ballot box this year lots of them wondered why they even bother to vote at all. An unusually high proportion of the population, fed up with corruption, turned out to vote against the government which resulted in the increasingly popular opposition party gaining half the votes. The problem is that nobody believes that the present government could possibly have taken the other half of the votes cast, and are subsequently convinced that the result is unequivocal proof of government vote rigging. Mexican law does not allow for two parties to form a coalition, but the laws of the land also forbids a re-run of the elections, which has resulted in the present government claiming that they are undefeated thus they are still in power. Unhappy with the way the election was run and the government's refusal to relinquish power, the Mexican people have taken to the streets in their tens of thousands to protest and have been there for months. When I first arrived in Mexico City, I thought I had seen some large protests in Buenos Aries and Oaxaca, but they were nothing to what I was about to witness here. Mexico is a huge city split into two halves, North and South, by a very wide eight lane road, Paso De La Reformat, which cuts right through the City centre. This usually busy road, lined with statues and busts of heroes from Mexico's revolutionary past, has been brought to a standstill for the last couple of months, by throngs of protesters who have erected marquees, tents and shelters over every inch of it. Everywhere there are slogans and posters depicting the government as caricatures of Hitler and Stalin and calling out for revolution - they do like a good revolution in Central America and I have to say I get pretty excited to. After a week in Mexico City I new that I needed more time here, but all this talk of revolution reminded me that I needed to jump on a plane to Cuba in time to wish Fidel Castro a happy birthday and find out more about the most famous revolutionary of them all - Che Guevara. I was caught between the devil and the deep blue sea (oops! sorry for mentioning blue seas again) so the simple solution was to buy a return ticket and explore more when I get back.

Cuba, brace yourself!

Living the Revolution

2006-11-16T04:16:00.000-08:00

Palenque

With my tail between my legs I skulked out of Merida on the bus and once more headed for luscious jungles and the beautiful town of Palenque, which is famous for it's waterfalls amongst other things - yes ruins. You know how, many children have a comfort blanket? well my comforter seems to be the jungle, I always head there when the going gets tough. This particular jungle had something very special to offer me, a waterfall deep into the interior and plummeting hundreds of feet down into a jungle canyon where it has formed a large swimming hole. As I descended the makeshift steps down the wall of the canyon I stopped several times and prayed that this waterfall was going to be worth it because I knew I had to come out the same knee crunching way. The waterfall was worth every leg wobbling step and the icy cool water was a blessing in disguise not just to cool my sweaty body but also just to sit on a rock and steep my weary feet - all I needed was a knotted hankie on my head and I would have looked like the rosy cheeked grandad on one of those old cartoon postcards from Skegness or somewhere. I also visited the mystical Ancient ruins of Palenque but I'll let you off the hook this time and head off without further ado to my next destination, San Cristobal.

The journey to San Cristobal from Palenque can only be described as eye popping. Setting of early again, the bus started to climb immediately up into the mountains, and it continued to climb for at least another hour or so, through the lush jungle terrain, before it finally levelled out. The relief didn't last very long before once again the bus was chugging its way through mountain passes with sheer drops of hundreds of feet just inches away from the window I had my nose pressed up against. It wasn't too bad going up as the bus was pretty old and rickety and couldn't really pick up any speed, not so on the downhill stretches though, and I think the driver must have been on a promise or something the way he was driving that bus. All the same, the scenery was spectacular and it was a bit like being on the roller coaster at Blackpool only cheaper. It was quite a long journey and the bus stopped twice for pee breaks, each time at a cafe next to a beautiful waterfall, firstly at the Agua Azul waterfall then at Misol Ha waterfall.

My first impression on reaching San Cristobal was "I think I'm going to like it here" and even though my bottle had deserted me recently, my gut feelings hadn't, it's a great little town with some great little bars and a multitude of good quality, cheap eating places. During my time in San Cristobal, I frequented two bars in particular, the Revolutionaries bar which was about twenty foot square and had a nine piece band on a stage the size of a hatchback car, and The Reggae Bar across the street complete with a Bob Marley tribute band. The Reggae Bar also had a nightclub attached to it at the rear which only opened at weekends and was a great place to Salsa or Merengue the night away. San Cristobal is one of those places that you visit and feel totally at home almost immediately and I would have stayed a lot longer had it not been for a chance meeting with another traveller who had intended going to my next destination, Oaxaca but had changed his mind because of reports of civil unrest there. Information like that was like a red rag to a bull and I was on the overnight bus that evening.

The colonial City of Oaxaca is considered to be one of Mexico's finest but the sight that greeted me when I got of the bus was anything but. All around me, walls were daubed with red painted slogans saying murderers and things like tourist go home, the two main Plazas had road blocks of corrugated iron leaving only a small gap to walk through and everywhere thousands of angry people were huddled under temporary tarpaulin shelters - "what the hell is going on" I thought to myself. As I walked through the main Plaza a young woman offered me a Kojak style lollipop then asked me in broken English to make a donation to the cause. I asked her to explain to me what was going on and she took me, rather nervously to the steps of a church where we met up with more young people and the horrific happenings of two days earlier was explained to me in full. This group of young people were university students and they were there supporting a two week long sit in staged by school teachers and parents. The sit in was a protest against the local government's decision to stop all its subsidies to the children of the Indigenous mountain people, effectively denying them any chance of even the most basic education. The teachers were also demanding that their salaries should rise to the same level as all other teachers in Mexico. Two days earlier on the 14th of July at 4am, the teachers, parents and children were sleeping in their homemade shelters as they had done every night for the two weeks prior, when two helicopters flew overhead dropping canisters of tear gas. Minutes later the police marched in shooting indisciminately into the shelters allegedly killing six women and four children and beating anyone else they came across with their batons. The police were finally halted by the enraged protesters and driven from the plaza but not before they had arrested and taken away 16 of the most prominent teachers who have not been seen since. During my stay in Oaxaca I didn't see a single Policeman which had a strangely unnerving effect on me, not because I was a tourist in an angry town and had no protection, but because it made me suspicious about what the authorities were planning next. Protests to the national government have apparently fallen on deaf ears and the whole incident seems to have been brushed under the carpet and hushed up. I get the impression that the local government have effectively controlled and restricted any publication of the incident as I am pretty sure the worlds press do not know about this. As I sat on the church steps listening to the students, two men walked past and spat on the ground in front of me and shouted what I am sure was abuse at me. The students immediately jumped to my defence and got into a verbal exchange with the men who left shortly afterwards. Although in a minority there are some of the residents of Oaxaca who believe that tourists are to blame for this this whole ugly mess, and to an extent they are right. If the reports I heard are correct, tourism and the wealth it creates for certain corrupt politicians, is the widely believed reason for the government's withdrawal of subsidies and subsequent violent actions. The indigenous Mayan people who sell their goods on the markets here, are said to be Mexico's only pure direct descendants of the long gone Mayan culture. The clothes they wear and their traditional way of life are the main attractions for tourists visiting Oaxaca and the government is said to have stated that if they were educated then this way of life would disappear. Almost a noble gesture, some may think, but most people believe that the lost tourist revenue that lines the pockets of the hierarchy. is the real thinking behind this philosophy. When the teachers and their majority of supporters took to the streets in protest they believe that the effect on tourism there actions had, prompted the government to take such dramatic action in an effort to protect their nice little earner. The students who had befriended me were trying to raise funds to produce posters and fliers in different languages to hand out to tourists in an effort to let the world know what happened here, so I gladly accepted their request for grammatical help on an English version.

The next and penultimate stop on my journey to Mexico City was to be Pueblo to learn about Mexico's revolutionary history but I can't imagine that hearing about the past will be as interesting for me as witnessing and experiencing the turmoil of the present - we'll just have to wait and see.

The Day The Bottle Died

2006-11-12T04:14:00.000-08:00

Hello from Mexico

Traveling for 12 hours on a rickety old bus whose air conditioning unit was obviously stuck on the freeeeeeeze setting and constantly dripped cold water on me, I finally reached my next destination, Playa Del Carmen in Mexico. Just south of Cancun, Playa Del Carmen is a popular holiday location for Mexicans and tourists alike with its beautiful beaches and proper streets and pavements. Normally I would not stay in such a touristy seaside holiday destination for long, but when I found out what was on offer close at hand, then I knew that an extended visit was on the cards and that is exactly how it turned out. My first port of call was the Mayan ruins of Tulum which was only a short bus ride away and is listed in the top five of Mayan ruins to visit. Unlike all the other Mayan ruins I have visited, Tulum is not situated in dense jungle, instead it was constructed on a cliff top looking out across the bluest sea gently lapping up onto a beach with the whitest sand, I have ever seen. The extensive ruins of Tulum are exceptionally well preserved and renovated but the three hours it takes you to cover the whole site in the blistering Mexican sun is absolutely strength sapping.I developed a theory as to why the Mayans may have built this city in this location so when I finished my tour of the site, I followed in the theoretical footsteps of the original residents and submerged myself in the Azure waters of this part of the Caribbean for about an hour before jumping on the bus back to Playa Del Carmen with my knickers still dripping wet.

Playa Del Carmen's night life is vast and varied whilst remaining wonderfully subdued and understated. The many bars here nearly all have live music on and you can take your pick from Blues to Be Bop and dance, drink and make merriment until the early hours of the morning - so I stayed in the hostel every night and sipped my hot Cocoa before going to bed early - oops my nose is growing.

Mexico is also famous for its Cenotes which are beautiful blue lagoons in underground caves where the roof has partly caved in exposing them to the sunlight. Playa Del Carmen has its fair share of Cenotes and over the next couple of days I intended to swim in every single one that I could find. The first Cenote I visited was accessible only by a makeshift ladder that just seemed to go down and down for ever but the descent was well worth it for what was awaiting me. About twenty feet up the wall of the cave there was a natural precipice that the young local children climbed up to and jumped off, competing with each other to make the biggest splash "it would be rude not to" I thought to myself so up the wall I clambered. The water in these Cenotes is so clear that you can see the bottom but they are so deep that you could never reach the bottom without Scuba gear. It's a different story though when you are up there trying to pluck up the courage to jump The water is so clear and still that it looks as though it isn't there at all and that you are jumping straight onto the rocks on the bottom, it also has the added effect of appearing to be a lot higher than it actually is. After quite a while standing on the high dive board mentally making excuses and giving myself numerous good reasons not to jump, I suddenly became aware of all the puzzled little locals eyes looking up at me with my knees knocking and my bottom lip held firmly by my top teeth. I had no choice, peer pressure was nagging at me and after all, they had just done it without any hesitation, so off into the unknown I launched myself. With the inaugural jump out of the way there was no to be holding me back, triple somersaults, back flips, round turns with two half hitches - well maybe not but I did dive off once. What I didn't know at that first Cenote was that this was not as it felt, the ultimate buzz, and that each one I was to visit next would just get better than the one before it. After a couple of days of higher and higher, better and better Cenote conquering I thought I was king of the Cenotes, I hadn't realised it at the time but I still had to experience what really was to be the ultimate, but that is in another town and for another time. Flippin heck, all this excitement could kill me, it was about time for me to take unprecedented action and force myself to relax a tad in this great little holiday hideaway and give myself a triple dose of the medicinal compound I have named as vitamin "T" = Tacos, Tortas and Tequilas. I had fully intended on going to Cancun next but negative reports from fellow travellers and such a good time in Playa Del Carmen convinced me that I should draw on my dwindling reserves of resolve and journey west towards the countries capital, Mexico City, taking in as many arduous adventures and Pueblos as would surely cross my path. One last ruin (Coba) before I go, but because I am fairly sure you must all be getting "ruin fatigue" by now I'll spare you the details, and it's off to Merida
I'm sorry but on the way to Merida lies the most popular and photographed Mayan ruin - no this is not your cue like the adverts on telly to go and put the kettle on, so stay put and listen for just a little while longer. The ruin in question is known as Chichen Itza and if you have ever seen a picture of a Mayan ruin in a book this will probably be where it is. On the day I arrived it was blazing hot so I set off to get the photograph that would make me rich, scantily clad and carrying nothing but a packet of cigarettes, a small bottle of water and my trusty old camera, non of which proved to be of any use in the end. What on earth could spoil all three of them? I had just about arrived at the beginning of the city when the heavens opened soaking my fags, rendering my digital camera useless and leaving me wondering what on earth I had brought water with me for. so I just skipped the ruins and got back on the bus On then to Merida and a date with fate - the ultimate buzz Cenote.

Merida is a fairly large city being the state capital but churches, markets and Mayan ruins didn't even enter my head during my stay, Cenotes of significance were the single minded focus of my attention. I'm sure I could hold an audience's attention for quite a while with the descriptions of the beautiful sinkholes I visited whilst in Merida but the one I call the "Ultimate" pales them all into insignificance. Other than a really long hot walk, after a couple of hours on a stuffy bus and twenty minutes on a bicycle rickshaw, there is only one way to get to "Ultimate" and that is by a type of railway carriage pulled by a horse. There is only one rail track to the "Ultimate" and as the horse trundles it's way through the countryside pulling the open carriage over rail tracks that make the Bridge over the River Kwi look modern, it disturbed large swarms of the most beautiful butterflies that filled the air in a festival of colour. Because there is only one track, when you meet a carriage returning from the Cenote, one of them has to give way and hand manage their carriage off the tracks to allow the other one to pass. There doesn't seem to be any protocol to this ritual other than the biggest driver always seems to get right of way - unfortunately my driver was just a kid. When I finally reached the "Ultimate" the whole in the roof was tiny and looking down through it almost blocked out the natural light, so from above you could not see what was in store for you. Thankfully there was another way in and the local land owner had realised that this was potentially an up and coming tourist attraction, so he had developed the other entrance and even lit the way in with artificial light. When you enter the cave the first thing you see is an artificial diving platform about 15ft high but looking around there doesn't appear to be any other place to jump from. I don't know if the owners 12 year old son shows off for every tourist that visits the Cenote but I can tell you he impressed me when he suddenly arrived, dived in and swam to the other side of the cave, then when he emerged from the water started to climb the sheer rock wall in front of him. Effortlessly he scaled the wall as if he had suckers on his hands and feet, ever onward ever upward he just kept going. By the time he stopped at an elevated ledge and turned his back on the wall he was just a speck in the distance. It was like watching someone commit suicide when he just fell forward and plummeted down to the wall of water that he was about to hit. I have a confession to make - when I saw that young lad emerge from the water with a smug smile on his face, my bottle went and I couldn't bring myself to even contemplate emulating him - I had finally met my match, he had inadvertently taught me fear.

C you all later

A Nasty suck - Belize me

2006-11-10T12:22:00.000-08:00

Hello my friends

I almost feel ashamed to report again from another paradise Island with all the usual attributes so I'm not even going to mention the turquoise waters, the golden sands etc. etc. etc. lest I make you jealous.

Before setting out for Caye Caulker I spent some time in the Capital of Belize - Belize City, which despite being a nice quaint little city (having a population of only 70,000), it doesn't have a great deal to offer the sightseeing tourist who is looking for splendid architecture and such like. Not a great deal to wax lyrical about here so I'll shut me gob and get on with the best bits of Belize the country.
Belize boasts that it has the worlds longest barrier reef, and before I hear all my Ozzie cobbers screaming profanities and gasping with disbelief, the Belizeans do have a point. The Great Barrier Reef was allegedly damaged by the French when, many years ago, they conducted Nuclear tests in the erea, wipeing out a chunk of the Reef and effectively splitting it into two. According to Belize, despite being classified as the second longest reef in the world, its reef is continuous it is therefore the longest. I have no opinion either way on the debate, in fact It is matter-less to me either way as I have snorkeled both of them and find them both equally impressive
Caye Caulker is a Coral Island about a two hour boat ride off the East coast of Belize . As I approached the Island I was surprised to see that there was in fact two Islands and not one, as I had read. Interestingly enough though, what I read was correct originally, correct that is until thirteen years ago when a huge a hurricane hit the Island sweeping away a section in the middle leaving two seperate halves. The channel created between the two halves of the Island is, surprisingly enough, known as the "Split" and it's a great place to snorkel if your prepared to swim like mad all the time just to stay still - the currents are really strong. I'm not sure what the population of this wonderful little place is but it only has one sandy street lined on both sides by quaint little wooden houses and it takes less than twenty minutes to walk its length and two minutes to cross from one side to the other. As you would expect, this fabulous little place is a favourite leisure time destination for mainland Belizeans but fortunately for me there are not a lot of other tourists here, so keep this info to yourself. As you can imagine, an Island as small as this can only really offer waterborne activities and a few bars to relax in when the hustle and bustle of a hard days play is over, but Hey, who am I to complain about a local way of life. My first day was spent ambling around, sampling the Islands cuisine and checking out what Rastafarian style adventures were on offer for the unsuspecting traveller. It was obvious that I only had two choices, lying around on the beach or go out in a boat, so when I discovered a local place called Ragamuffin Boat Tours with the slogan "go slowly" I decided to check it out. Ragamuffin tours are basically an all day booze cruise with food and drink supplied and some very special snorkeling thrown in - sounded good to me so I booked up for the following day with the excited anticipation of Charlie in the Chocolate Factory. The cruise started at 8am so I was there, already in the cafe next to the jetty at 7.30am tucking into a full English breakfast complete with a cup of tea, by the time crew and other passengers arrived. We had no sooner hoisted the sail and received our obligatory safety talk than the fist of our many complimentary drinks were in our hands, Bob Marley was blasting out the speakers and the captain had everybody falling about laughing with his Corny jokes and his fishy tales - this was destined to be a long, fun filled, hilarious day. By the time we hit our second dive site of the trip at about midday, everyone was getting a little bit tipsy and the party was in full swing, which was a good job as we were about to need a fair snifter of Dutch courage to get us through the next hours snorkeling. The captain informed us that we were about to dive for our lunch, as he looked down to the sea bed through the crystal clear water and pointed out some enormous Conchs the size of footballs. The only problem was that we could also see many stingrays and sharks swimming about down there - the need for so much booze became painfully obvious - but, the captain assured us that there hadn't been a shark attack in the area for many years and the Stingrays were as placid as a sleeping goldfish, so over the side we trustingly jumped. It was literally only minutes before the captain burst into whole hearted unrestrained laughter as he threw loads of cut up fruit into the water beside us and we were instantly surrounded by dozens of Nursery Sharks thrashing about in the water in a feeding frenzy. The captain jumped in beside us and assured us we had nothing to fear from this type of shark as they don't have teeth. "All very well," I thought, "but I bet they could give you a nasty suck". After the shark encounter on the surface it was time to take a sharp intake of breath and dive deeper to the sea bed below and say hello to those nice little Stingrays. Because they feed by suction on the bottom of the sea bed, Stingray's mouths are on the underside of their bodies, so we were not in any danger from them as long as we approached them from the front and stayed clear of the barbs on their tails which the would only use for self defence anyway. We even got the chance to handle one of them once the captain had showed us how to do it without harming them - you want to try holding your breath underwater with a huge satisfied smile beaming across your mush from ear to ear, it ain't easy.

Back on board the boat, we necked yet another alcoholic drink and scoffed the Conchs we had collected - even raw they are surprisingly good - before setting sail for another dive site for even more diversity of marine life including Moray eels and Barracudas, both of which have a vicious set of gnashers that could inflict you with some serious souvenirs. Two more dive sites and numerous more colourful tropical fish later and it was time to weigh anchor, splice the main brace and set sail for home, to the dulcet tones of Rod Stewart accompanied by a drunken hoard of would be's, screeching out an almost unrecognisably version of Sailor. To finish off a perfect day the captain even entrusted me to take the Helm and get us all back to dry land safely, then presented me with an official crew T shirt for doing so. A couple of cold beers to wash down my delicious Lobster dinner that evening, completed the perfect day in a perfect way so it was early to bed for an early boat back to the mainland in the morning for a long travel day to Playa del Carmen in Mexico.

Hasta Luego

Don't loose your head over a game of football son

2006-11-07T08:53:00.000-08:00

Hello again, I think I'm starting to spoil you all with the frequency of reports these days, But I had "The Force" with me on this one.

I arrived at Tikal at 4am to catch the incredible view of the ruins as the sun rose on it, unfortunately the mosquitoes had the same idea and bang, didn't they just love it - I must have been the Mosquito version of the lottery jackpot. Despite feeling like a pin cushion, the trek through the jungle was a very enjoyable and interesting one with lots of unusual creatures of the night and an extremely knowledgeable guide, BUT - and don't you just know there is usually a BUT attached to my adventures, things rarely go to plan - as the evenings veil of darkness rolled back to reveal the glory of a new day dawning, all I could see was MIST! The morning sun burned off most of the mist fairly quickly but not quickly enough to afford me the pleasure of seeing the ruins in all their magnificent splendour, illuminated by a spectacular Guatemalan sunrise. As far as I'm concerned you can keep the Pyramids of Egypt, they all look the same to me
and although they are undoubtedly a tremendous fete of engineering construction, once you've seen one you've seen them all. Mayans on the other hand, built their practical Pyramid type structures in inaccessible places and lived in them, whole cities and communities of aristocrats, artists, scholars, tradesmen and farmers lived and worked here in a variety of different buildings. The most spectacular buildings are as you would expect, places of worship, some of which tower so high that they protrude out above the jungle canopy and the panoramic views from the summit are breathtaking, breathtaking that is, if the flipping climb up there hasn't already left you breathless. The Mayan culture is a fascinating one with many complexities to it but you are going to have to read up on it for yourself if you're interested as I would be stuck at this bloody computer for hours on end if I started. I will however wet your appetite with one or two goodies to arouse your interest.

Many of the Mayan carvings depict rulers, generals and holy men and it is not unusual to note that they often had six fingers or toes on one hand or foot and four or even five on the other. The official guide books tell you that this was not a mistake on behalf of the stonemasons but that interbreeding was so common that many Mayans often had strange deformities - it's no wonder that they played flutes and not pianos! It may have been an advantage though in the local football matches - I kid you not, every Mayan city has a ball park and played each other in a strange form of football on a regular basis. The pitch is only about the size of a tennis court and has walls down either side sloping in at a forty five degree angle. Don't expect me to even attempt an explanation of the rules - it would be easier trying to explain the offside rule in our football game to a group of footy hating women. I don't think the F.A. would approve of the rewards for the winning team either - they got to cut off the heads of the loosing team as a sacrificial thank you to the Gods? Don't loose you heads over a silly game lads! Offering blood to the Gods played a huge part in the everyday lives of the Mayans but all isn't as it seems, it was not within the power of ordinary Mayans to order a human sacrifice to the Gods so they had to make do with a sort of do it yourself version. Every household had a small, freestanding type of sacrificial alter, not dissimilar to the ornamental bird baths that you would have in your garden at home, into which they would pour human blood and set it on fire somehow, wafting the smoke around with their hands to spread it out amongst the Gods. All well and good so far but it's where they got the blood from that is enough to make your toes curl. To get enough human blood to satisfy the Gods the women would cut their own faces or other parts of their bodies or stick thorns through their tongues and the men would even go to the ultimate eye watering extremity of giving themselves - wait for it - a sort of incomplete circumcision - ouch!

Enough, enough I hear you cry, so I'll leave you with one last little bit of info about Tikal before heading of for my next country, Belize. I haven't seen the Star Wars film, Return of the Jedi, but I am reliably informed that Tikal was the location for the filming of the Ewok planet of Endor????? so maybe some of you out there know exactly what this place looks like.

On to Belize now - another country but the same old story on the buses, peddle to the metal, Bob Marley on the radio, a slogan about Jesus obscuring half the windscreen and an apparent death wish to visit him early in every drivers heart. None the less, I arrived at my first destination in Belize safe and sound although one guy nearly didn't make it when the back door that he was leaning against, suddenly flew open and he just managed to hold on and pull himself back into the bus.

The first destination in question was the Trek Stop Eco Friendly hostel just outside San Ignacio from where I could easily reach the Ruins of Xunantunich and Caracol.

San Ignacio is a lovely little place with friendly locals and some nice bars and eating places. Having said that, there is not a lot to do in terms of a buzzing night life or even late bars but as I said, the locals were friendly and made the effort to come and introduce themselves to me as soon as they realised I was not a septic tank (Yank), so it was very pleasant and welcoming, especially because Creole was once again widely spoken. Trying to learn to speak a little bit of Creole was an absolute hoot as it is so hard to miss big chunks of a sentence out, it's a bit like trying to speak like Norman Collier used to do on his supposedly broken microphone. An example of this would be "Me han no chuch maan" which is a way of telling someone that if they are aggressive towards you you will fight back; It literally means "my hand doesn't go to church". Even the hostel I stayed in was pleasant and laid back although it was an hours walk from the pub, but that didn't really matter as the locals would always stop and pick you up if they saw you on the road late at night.

The Mayan ruins of Xunantunich and Caracol were not as spectacular as Tikal but they were still very interesting and different, and they did have the most informative well presented Mayan museum that I had seen so far. Back at the hostel there was the added bonus of a free butterfly farm where rarer species were bred to be released into the wild by the hostel owner, who incidentally also had the unusual hobby of collecting Tarantulas for the guests to see and hold before releasing them back into the wild - all in all a totally relaxing place to spend a few days. With my batteries charged to the full, lead in my pencil and armed with some mouth watering information about a great Island to visit, I was off on my wanderings again with a Falderee Falderah and a knapsack on my back.

Caye Caulker here I come!

See you all there!

Rub a Dub Dub

2006-10-28T06:21:00.000-07:00

Hello again - Here's another report before the Alzheimer's disease gets too bad. I was convinced I had already written this report but it appears I was only dreaming.

Rio Dulce literally means Rtver Sweet but I can tell you it was nothing like sweet when I arrived here. It was after all the rainy season here and the water levels had risen considerable breaching the river bank and flooding the jungle floor some two hundred metres inland. This flooding resulted in reducing the foraging area for ground dwelling animals so they had been forced to move closer to human habitation and the area that I was to stay in - rub your hands Ropper, get your jungle joggers on, and let's have an adventure. Unfortunately, because the prey had moved so much closer, so had their dangerous predators. Normally this wouldn't bother me one iota, but I always listen to the advice of the local inhabitants and in this case the advice was "under no circumstances venture further into the jungle away from the river" It transpired that the huge influx of dangerous predators were predominately highly venomous snakes whose camouflage was so good that it would be highly likely that I would step on one and it would defend itself. No problem, I would just find a local snake expert, ply him with copious quantities of free alcohol and get him to promise to take me snake hunting the following day when he'd sobered up. It's amazing how many of locals become snake experts at the thought of free beer, but non of them were willing to take me out into the jungle. It obviously really was to far to dangerous, as they say in Manhattan "It's a jungle out there" and there are many other things to see around here.

Downstream from where I was staying, where the Rio Dulce meets the Caribbean, nestled on the riverbank is the picturesque Garifuna town of Livingston. Livingston can only be accessed by boat and as I boarded the boat that goes there each day, the skipper told me to expect a couple of nice little surprises along the way. The first pleasant surprise was that instead of the murky brown waters that the rains had caused in the main river, lots of little inlets and tributary waterways were much cleaner and so picturesque. On one such waterway, as we passed quaint little huts on stilts. we came to a huge green carpet of water lilies. It wasn't just the quantity of water lilies that made this place so impressive, but the actual size of them - up to three feet in diameter and perfectly round like huge green pizzas - it almost looked as though you could get out of the boat and walk across them just as the numerous birds were doing. The other inhabitants on this floating raft included, as you can imagine, many different species of frogs and in one case a large green frog sitting perfectly still, smack bang in the middle of a lily. A girl who was in the boat with me described the scene perfectly when she said "I'm sure if I kissed that frog, it would turn into a handsome Prince" and if you think of a child's colouring book version of a big frog on a lily pad then you'll visualise the picture perfectly - it was surreal. Further down stream, Captain Kirk pointed out a cliff of many colours which looked like an artists mixing pallet with the main colour being a yellowish beige, a sure sign of sulphur and the smell of rotten eggs confirmed this. Our skipper moored the boat to a fallen tree trunk near to the cliff and told us to put our hands into the water on both sides of the boat. On one side of the boat the water was cold but on the cliff side of the boat (I would say on the Port or Starboard side of the boat but that would be akin to asking you to appreciate the skills of a Mime Artist on the radio) the water was as warm as bath water. There is only one thing to do when you've been travelling for a while and you come across hot water, no matter how smelly it is, that is to jump in and have a good scrub down. Shining like a new pin and being able to sniff my own own armpits for the first time in a long while without passing out, we continued our journey down the river to Livingston without the usual entourage of of groupie flies that I had sort of got used to. There is nothing much to do in Livingston but it is well worth a look at and being on the Caribbean coast, the local dialect is wonderfully Creole.
Back at my flooded base camp I was told of an old Spanish fort on the river that could not only be reached by canoe but that also had a tunnel that could be canoed through, so the following morning I borrowed a canoe and set off in search of history. The fort was only about a mile away and I could easily have walked there along the bank in half an hour or so - but hindsight is a wonderful thing and canoeing is one of my favourite pastimes - or at least it was! The fort was up river and with the rains swelling it to record highs, it was flowing at a rate of knots that meant I couldn't stop paddling for a split second lest I ended up further down river than where I started from. I did eventually reach the illusive fort some time later, absolutely knackered and sweating like a fat bloke in a bakery, only to find that the unusual height of the river had rendered the tunnel accessible only to those who had scuba gear. For every negative there is a positive and the paddle down steam was a blast, taking only a fraction of the time to return, in fact I was going so fast that I nearly overshot the mark and returned to Livingston.
All good stuff but there aren't any Mayan ruins here so it was time to move on because I was only two or three days away from famous ruins of Tikal deep in the jungle. Tikal couldn't be reached in one day so I gritted my teeth and suffered a visit to yet another beautiful Caribbean Island - Flores. It's all right for you lot sitting at home with your feet up, watching the telly and scoffing your Prawn Cocktail crisps washed down with a can of beer, but stop being so flipping shellfish ( oops! a Freudian slip ) and spare a thought for little old me - forced to inhabit Paradise Islands day after day, surrounded only by Palm Trees and beautiful bronzed babes to shelter me and my ice cold Cuba Libra ( Vodka and Coke ) from the hot Caribbean sun!

I'm sorry but I'm going to leave you there for the time being, try to make the best of a bad job and speak to you all again when I escape the shackles of Utopia and resurface at the Mayan city of Tikal.

Death Squads

2006-10-22T12:08:00.000-07:00

Hi - how you all diddling out there? I seem to flying through Central America so there's not to many more of these reports for you to wade through so bare with me for a while and get your teeth into this one.

After a Salsa lesson and a late night out in Antigua, I left the "Bad Boy" behind and jumped on another chicken bus for a three hour drive to Lake Atitlan stopping off at Solola on the way to check out the market.

The first thing you notice when you arrive in Panajachel on the shores of Lake Atitlan is the three volcanoes that dominate the skyline and I decided there and then that I was definitely not going to climb any of them unless I was told about some special feature that could not be found anywhere else. Guess what! ................ I wasn't, so I didn't and I bet you are all so pleased that you don't have to live through yet another Volcano report. One of the main attractions here and my reason for coming, is the Indigenous people who live here and the market goods they produce and sell. Markets are fast becoming one of my favourite attractions of my travels; the colours, the diversity of handicrafts produced and the local vendors who are so engaging and entrepreneurial, all make for fascinating people watching opportunities.

Bacon and eggs with a cup of Liptons tea for breakfast in a local cafe, was a special treat that I certainly didn't expect to find in a little off the beat place like Panajachel, but boy will I remember it for a long time to come. With a happy tum and a spring in my step like a Peacock strutting it's funky stuff in front of a female, I boarded a little boat with a few friends, and sailed off to a remote beach for a spot of sunbathing and snorkeling - just for a change. By midday the sun gets far too hot to lie around in, so it was the perfect time to set off and visit an Indigenous village community. The Indigenous people who live here are direct descendants of the Mayans and the only English they seem to speak is "one Quetzal please" whilst holding out their hands with palms upturned and a cheesy grin on their little faces, as they strike up a pose for the cameras - bless their cotton socks. Being descendants of the Mayan people is very evident when you visit these lovely warm people and see the patterns in the fabulously colourful textiles they weave. The Mayans worshipped the sun and the moon amongst other things and had many ways to symbolise them, all of which can be seen intricately woven into their textiles, and seeing these wonderfully crafted fabrics on the market stalls was a timely reminder for me that I was now in a part of the World where Mayan city ruins can be seen in many of the jungles here. Perhaps it was now time to forget the Volcanoes, or at least put them on the back burner for a while, don my Indiana Jones outfit complete with whip, hat and shoulder bag ( don't laugh ) and start making plans for my favourite type of adventure. Firstly though, I have to go back to Antigua as I received an email from Nancy giving me a contact number of a Street Children project in Guatemala City. On the way back to Antigua the chicken bus stopped at Chchicasenango for what is reputedly Central America's largest market, and by gum from what I've seen I couldn't argue with that, it's absolutely enormous. I was a bit saddened though when I saw the amount of musical instruments on sale made out of the armoured shell of Armadillo, there must have been hundreds of them. I don't know whether or not they eat Armadillo, if they do I suppose it is justifiable not to waste any of it but if they kill it solely to make ornate gifts for tourists, I find that repulsive. You can buy just about anything on this market from dried Iguanas to a new wife but even I have standards to maintain and besides, it was hard to tell which was which!

Back in Antigua I was about to experience one of the biggest frustrations of my life and in facing these frustrations I inadvertently put myself into what could have been the greatest danger of my travels so far.

In a society where the poorest have little or no chance of escaping the chains of poverty, Guatemalan street kids face even greater hardships than most and as if that isn't enough they even have to dodge Death Squads just for being homeless. Merely trying to survive, the Street Kids of Guatemala sell bananas, Scavenge through garbage dumps, sleep in doorways or beside an abandoned railway station and very often turn to sniffing industrial solvents to alleviate the pangs of hunger. Bad enough you may think, but as I mentioned these kids also have to contend with Death Squads. The organisers and sponsors of the Death Squads call it "Social Cleansing" to justify the kidnapping, torture and murder of these helpless children that they call vermin, Didn't Hitler use similar terminology to justify his actions? In one case I heard about, a young boy of eleven was found in a sack, ......... he had been severely beaten then shot through the head before being dumped. These death squads are made up of privately funded Security forces who believe that their actions will send a message to other children to get off the streets; but where can they go? The Guatemalan government do not supply one single hostel for homeless children and openly concede that prosecutions against Police officers and Private Security guards for crimes against children, are extremely rare. Trying to get information about Guatemalan street kids resulted in me being asked to leave Libraries, being totally ignored and even being pointed at on the streets. Even when I tried to talk to the Charity whose phone number Nancy had emailed me, I was met with suspicion making it abundantly clear that they were uncomfortable about talking to me. Maybe I was getting a bit paranoid, but on one day, everywhere I went and every time I turned around or saw a reflection in a shop window, the same two armed security guards were there, looking in my direction. I knew that I couldn't stay forever so I took this as an indication that my welcome had expired and it was time to leave Antigua City and head off in search Mayan ruins and some jungle adventures - it's a lot safer.

Bad boys galore

2006-10-15T06:42:00.000-07:00

Hello, is there anybody still out there reading these reports?

After a super long travel day once again across land and water in a manner that I am fast becoming accustomed to, I finally arrived at the beautiful volcanic Island of Ometepe in the middle of Lake Nicaragua. Ometepe was formed by two adjacent volcanoes, Madera and Concepcion, erupting and forming a land bridge between them. At 16,000 feet, Concepcion is the bigger of the two and is the only one still active though there is no immediate concerns about its stability, at least not for the moment.

The minute you cross the border into Nicaragua from Costa Rica you immediately notice the huge drop in the standard of living but also the lack of urgency that simple lifestyles always seem to generate. For the visitor, this translates into an inexpensive place to visit but a hard place to travel around due to the lack of any effective infrastructure, and a transport system that wouldn't be out of place in a Flintstones movie. This stark contrast between to neighbouring countries is further highlighted when you realise that Nicaragua doesn't appear to have hot water anywhere and an electricity supply (where it exists) that breaks down several times per day leaving whole cities and towns in darkness.

Ometepe is one of the wealthier places as it receives lots of visitors each year simply to see the volcanoes and to swim in the lagoon created by its beautiful waterfall, which in the ever increasing temperatures as you head North through Central America, is a treat not to be missed. Although this is a wealthier part of Nicaragua it is still very poor and it's normal to see women washing the families clothes in the local stream, children with no shoes and to encounter begging for food. Other than climbing the Volcano and bathing in the lagoon the only other thing to do here is to relax with a cold beer on one of its many lovely beaches all of which I reluctantly had to try. You know how time flies when you're enjoying yourself and all too soon it was time to move on and check out the Capital, Granada.

Granada is a city that seems to be undergoing a huge face lift but at the moment it is like a building site with areas that don't even have a road, just a mud track. Other than the numerous markets and some great little nightspots there is not much to write home about in Granada and likewise with my next destination, a sleepy little town over the border into Honduras, called Comayagua, which does boast the worlds oldest working clock but not a lot else. The clock is said to be 800 years old so at least the locals have had their monies worth out of it.
As you probably will have realised by now I love meeting the locals and one of the best ways to do this is by visiting little Island communities so you'll not be surprised to hear that my stay in Comayagua was very brief as there is another Island drawing me ever closer into it's bosom. The Island in question is called Roatan and yes it has beautiful clean beaches, brilliant snorkeling, wonderful turquoise water and a Rastafarian pace of life, but slap my thighs with a wet piece of Haddock, I'll suffer all that for a few days in the interest of travel. After a few chill out nights at one of the local bars which is illuminated only by candlelight, and a DJ's whose decks were apparently having a bad case of the hiccups, it was once again time give shank's pony a bit of exercise and trundle my way across another border to Antigua in Guatemala via a overnight stop in Copan.

Antigua is a great place to visit with its bustling Mayan markets and a bit of a special "Bad Boy". The bad boy in question is of course a huge, active volcano; the special thing about this particular volcano is not just the fact that it is constantly active but that you can also go right up to the lava flow in relative safety if you have the bottle and heat resistant skin. Unfortunately I can't for the love of me remember its name but I can tell you that to see this baby in action is absolutely unforgettable. Perhaps just as unforgettable is the breathtaking bus ride just to get to the foothills of this amazing natural phenomenon. Setting of from down town Antigua in the early hours of a typical muggy Central American morning, I was fairly confident of what to expect on the one hour journey' having become used to being a reluctant participant in Latin Americas unbridled version of the Wacky Races. As you sit there Rubbing your hands and grinning to yourself I can picture you all shaking your heads and thinking - this is not going to be a typical run of the mill journey, and how right you would be - as the hurricane said to the palm tree " hold on to your nuts baby this is no ordinary blow job" When will I ever learn? The bus to the Volcano doesn't have a timetable, just a fixed fee for getting there and back so the more times the driver can do it in one day, the more he earns. Simple really, but when you see the state of the "crashed many times" buses and see the mountain roads that they have to travel on to get to there destination, given that there doesn't seem to be any speed restrictions or even if there was there was nobody there to enforce them, it doesn't really instill you with a great deal of confidence. I sat in the aisle seat of the bus as I wasn't keen to look out of the window down to the sheer drops of hundreds of feet on parts of the road that surely weren't wide enough to accommodate two vehicles passing each other in opposite directions and definitely not at breakneck speed; but they did! The amount if times I, and other unsuspecting passengers, where flung out of our seats and ended up floundering on the floor defies description, but it did make for some great opportunities to get intimate with the locals, share a few laughs and practise some superlatives in my best Spanish.

Arriving at the Volcano safely was a fete of achievement in its own right and as I stepped of the bus I was convinced that having survived that experience there was no way that this Volcano could hurt me - I was invincible.Climbing up to where the lava flow safe to view took a couple of hours through surprisingly thick jungle. I was surprised by the density of the jungle because I'm sure, like me, you would assume that any vegetation growing on the side of a constantly active volcano would be destroyed or at the very least scorched or stunted. The reason became clear as I reached the lava flow which wasn't coming from the crater of the volcano but from a fracture in the side of it which directed it down a valley away from the jungle. This fracture in the Volcano's side is also the reason that there is no danger of the Volcano suddenly erupting as it acts like a safety valve on a pressure cooker, effectively releasing any build up of pressure in a controlled manner. Standing just a few feet from flowing red hot molten lava is awe inspiring as you suddenly come to realise that the world was not formed millions of years ago, but is actually still being formed now and I was there witnessing it happening. The heat radiating from the lava is unbelievable so I couldn't stand near it for more than a couple of seconds and when I threw my walking stick into it, it just reduced it to ashes almost on impact. Another indication of the intensity of the heat was when suddenly vegetation nearby just burst into flames spontaneously, so although I was safe from an eruption I still had to keep my wits about me and keep a watchful eye on what was going on around me. I don't have any idea of how long I stood hypnotised by the sheer beauty of this volcanic lava flow but I did know that there were a lot more volcanoes to see on my travels and that this one would take some beating, so it's there I'm going to leave you with the image of me slowly roasting like a pig on a spit, and head off for Panajachel on the banks of Lake Atitlan for a couple of days.

Bocas del toro

2006-10-10T06:14:00.000-07:00

Hello to everyone from Bocas Del Toro (not Tores as I wrote in my last report) a beautiful little Island in the Caribbean off the coast of Coste Rica - I hate to keep rubbing it in - but this Island has turquoise waters, 12 months of sunshine per year, golden beaches and is one of a group of small coral Islands that is host to countless varieties of wildlife and most importantly the Gnobe tribal people. The Island is fast becoming a travellers rest so finding somewhere to stay here isn't hard as everybody is jumping on the bandwagon and turning their substantial wooden colonial homes into tourist accommodation. The couple I stayed with are a German couple who have been here for many years converting their home into a hostel type hotel complete with hammock filled gardens, a sun kissed veranda, free tea making facilities and as much free fresh fruit as you can eat. Sitting on the veranda when I first arrived was quite a confusing experience as I could hear a baby crying, a dog barking, cockerels crowing and many other sounds right beside me but none of the aforementioned creatures were anywhere in sight. It was only when I heard a mouth full of abuse hurled at a passing local, that I realised that it wasn't a mouth full of abuse but more accurately a beak full of abuse. The guilty bird was a beautiful green and red Parrot sitting in the bushes right next to me, so well camouflaged in a green bush with red flowers that I would not have seen it if it had kept it's big gob shut. I became quite attached with this bird over the next few days, and I could have sat for hours, amused by his antics, but there was more pressing things on my mind and the reason I had come to these islands - the Gnobe tribe and Red Frog Beach.

Water taxis are common in this part of the world so getting to all the other Islands is no problem and every driver is local and knowledgeable so they double up as guides. Trips to the Islands Tribal villages have become big business and therefore commercial so I was a bit disappointed when we arrived at one Island community to find it was a purpose built village especially for tourists. Never mind next on the agenda was a local snorkeling hot spot teaming with multi coloured parrot fish etc. then on to a floating restaurant for a delicious seafood platter lunch washed down with a cool beer - what can I say. Over lunch I got the opportunity to get a chat with the driver of the boat and would you Adam and Eve it, he is a true Gnobe. I explained my disappointment at the village I had seen and he offered to take me to his home and meet his family and watch his mother making traditional Gnobe jewelry if I would like that - would I ever! Arriving at his Island, I could immediately sense the difference, with the children coming to greet you, the old folk staring inquisitively out of their open fronted huts, fishing nets being repaired by old men whose life story was etched into their faces and dogs barking, chickens running around etc. etc. Unlike my first Gnobe village, this was a true Island community, living much as they had for generations past. In this Gnobe culture it is forbidden to marry anyone who is not 100% Gnobe so there is no dilution of their race. Each family in this 200 strong community is allocated an equal plot of land to farm if they so desire and a plot on which to live. The children, like children the world over, play simple hide and seek games constantly and always seem to have something to eat in their hands albeit a morsel of anything that is freely available from their natural surroundings. What an experience! All good things come to an end though, and all to soon it was time to leave these lovely people and head off to Red Frog Beach to see - yes - red frogs. Red Frogs are highly poisonous and were used to tip the end of blow-darts in the past but these days they are protected as a valuable resource to attract tourists. You could sit a Red Frog on a 1 pence piece and still see the outer rim so finding them is not as easy as you might think but the wardens will gladly find one for you if you are having a problem spotting one. Apart from the frogs this beach is used by turtles laying their eggs but although you can easily see the tracks leading up the beach to their nests, this marine exodus only happens at night and nobody is allowed on the beach after sunset so as not to disturb them. Next on the agenda was a visit to swan beach to see?.............. come on use your imagination. Well you'll be surprised to hear as far as the locals are concerned there has never been any swans seen in the area - the beach gets it's name from its shape which, from the cliffs above, looks like a swan complete with neck and head. The shape of the head and neck form a calm sheltered shallow bay that attracts many marine creatures and you can just wade out off the beach and snorkel till your hearts content.

"Ah!, what a fabulous day" I thought to myself as I sat that evening in a beach front restaurant, watching the beautiful red sun setting whilst washing down the final mouthful of Delicious lobster with glass of Cabernet - backpacking can be tough at times but the rewards are so much the sweeter when they do come along. The nightlife on Bocos Del Toro is everything from Rastafarian to Latin American and one that I went to was even built on the water around the wreck of an old boat which is lit up at night and everybody just strips off and dives in to explore the wreck once they get suitably tanked up with the local hooch - the whole place is just so laid back it is a pity I had to leave after a couple of days.
I'm pretty sure that as you read this you must be thinking " if it is so good why does he have to leave " well the reason is quite simple. I have seen so many beautiful places around the world that I would never have seen if stopped at the first paradise I came to and besides I am pretty sure I have more beautiful Utopias to see yet. Next up then I had the alternative of a long boatride along the mainland caoast and catch my next bus to my next destination and indeed my next country or just jet boat back to the mainland and spend hours extra on a bus all the way. I bet you can't guess which option I was swayed towards.

Leaving Bocas Del Toro via Dolphin bay - oh did I forget to mention the dolphins that play around the water taxis putting on a show for the tourists? well, dolphins are so commonplace arn't they - I obviously chose the sea route and I looked forward to Costa Rica but obviously took a little bit of Panama with me so .............................

I'll speak to you all again soon when I reach Costa Rica

Sleepy San Jose to Swinging Monteverde

2006-10-09T06:40:00.000-07:00

Greetings from San Jose.

Why anybody would want to “know the way to San Jose” is a mystery to me, it is really just an ordinary city with nothing much to do or see, in fact the only good thing to come out of San Jose is the road to La Fortuna which is where I’m about to take you now.

La Fortuna is a nice little town at the foot of an active Volcano, and yet nobody who lives here seems to be worried in the slightest about this bad boy who spits and grumbles constantly. La Fortuna is a recent name for the town and derives its name from the good fortune that quite recently befell it, recent that is, in terms of being in the living memory of most of its adult residents. The Arenal volcano, at the foot of which the town of La Fortuna lies, Erupted on the 29th June 1978 spurting out molten lava all over the place but luckily for the residents the wall of the crater on the opposite side to the town, collapsed sending the flow in the opposite direction. Even now the volcano is still continually erupting and it’s quite sobering to watch the lava flow flowing down the side it with the odd earth tremor and the huge bangs of rocks being spat hundreds of feet into the air and exploding. It is especially good to see at night and you can’t help but thinking that the shops here wouldn’t make much money from the sale of fireworks if they ever decided to celebrate bonfire night. One advantage to having one of these bad boys right on your doorstep is that they invariably have hot springs as a by-product and this particular volcano has more than it’s share of these natural bath tubs. Sitting, relaxing, in a natural hot spa with a box of the local Vino Tinto, so I was reliably informed, is a perfect way, to relieve the stress of travelling so I decided to give it a go – well it would be rude not to – AHHHHHHH.

Suitably refreshed and after a good nights sleep, I faced a long days travel to my next destination on my hit list, Monteverde and the cloud forests where, if I’m lucky, I might get to see tree frogs. Monteverde literally means Mountains Green and it certainly lives up to its name with some of the most stunning scenery I have seen in Central America. Getting here though was a long arduous journey firstly by chicken bus on which I had to stand for three hours, then by boat for three hours, then finally another packed chicken bus for another couple of hours. Little did I know it at the time but the rapidly deteriorating transport system I was starting to experience was to be the norm for most of the rest of my Central American travels – fun but tiring. It didn’t take me long upon arrival to find out that not only could I easily hire a jungle guide but that also the cloud forest here boasts one of the longest series of canopy zip lines in the Americas, needless to say I booked my place immediately. The following morning I set off with my jungle guide for a couple of hours, of strenuous uphill slog through dense cloud forest and over specially erected canopy walkways which gave you a great view down to the forest floor but nothing much else other than a few spider monkeys and a couple of roosting Owls. I was starting to get a bit disillusioned with the whole experience by the time we reached the furthermost point of our outward journey, when suddenly there it was, the wooden ladder up to the top of an enormous tree and the start of the homeward bound trip via canopy zip lines. The first zip line looked very long (perhaps a couple of hundred yards) but compared to what was to come, was tiny. After a series of six or seven of these increasingly lengthening white knuckle rides, we finally reached the ultimate pants filler. This last zip line was over half a mile long and took you clear out of the canopy over a valley 200 yards below at speeds that would be illegal on British roads, it was tremendous – what a ride! Then, just when you think it’s all over, there’s one last surprise if you have the bottle to try it – a rope swing – sounds tame I know, but you have to see this one to believe it, it would make Tarzan’s knees knock. You start off by jumping of the edge of a purpose built platform and plummeting twenty feet straight down before the rope takes up the slack. The rope at this point is almost horizontal to you and must be at least 50 foot long, the arc of your swing is enormous and although you are probably only in the air for 30 seconds or so, it feels like you are flying for ages. This Diarrhoea inducing ride was made even more exhilarating for me when my guide challenged me to do it backwards – I can never resist a slap in the face with a gauntlet and this was my last day in Costa Rica before moving on to Nicaragua, so it just had to be done. Thank god I had dark brown pants on!
I'm off now to wipe me bum, bin me shreddies and hit the road again so I'll report to you all very soon from my next country of origin.

T T F N

It aint half hot mum

2006-10-07T06:39:00.000-07:00

Panama at last, but was it worth all the hassle of getting here - of course it was.

Panama city doesn't have a great deal to offer the visitor, although that depends on what you are looking for I suppose. The Panama canal though is definitely worth a look at, it is an incredible piece of engineering. You would think that with the amount of huge ships passing through as a shortcut from the Atlantic to the Pacific that this would generate some sort of local wealth, but the reality is that huge sections of the population live in relative poverty and slum areas are not uncommon. After three days in Panama City I'd had enough so it was time to get my sack on my back, head off through the rest of Panama and see if I could get into trouble somewhere, so off I set on the Volcano trail. All through Central America a rift in the Earths crust has created Volcano's, many of them still active, and Panama has it's fair share, so it seemed perfectly natural for me to want to climb a couple to see how close I could get to an active Lava flow. First stop, El Valle, and my first opportunity to sleep in the crater of a volcano, albeit an extinct one - I hope! El Valle is a small community that, as I say, has grown up inside the crater of a volcano and it is a great opportunity to explore the centre of a Volcano in relative safety and begin to understand how these bad boys work. No sooner had I arrived in El Valle and sorted out my accommodation, than I went in search of the local mountain man that I had been told about in a cafe. He wasn't hard to find but unfortunately he was fully booked and would not be available for some weeks to guide me, but he was more than happy to sit and give me lots of information about where to go and what to see in exchange for a beer or two. Two things in particular that he told me about got my mouth watering, India Dormida Waterfall and petroglyphs thought to be thousands of years old. Setting of early the next morning in already searing temperatures, I started the accent of the wall of the crater in search of the ancient rock carvings that I had been told about only to be met by local children who told me I would easily get lost if I didn't enlist one of them as a guide for a small fee. I love it when I am approached by local entrepreneurial children and in this case I knew that it would only cost me a pittance and would be worth every Peso just to learn about their culture. I chose my guide, then had a game of marbles with him and his mates before setting off to find the rock carvings which in hindsight I would never have found without his help. The rock carving itself is pretty uninspirational but there is something heartwarming when you have a local child of about 12 years old with you enthusiastically translating what you are seeing into recognisable images of the constellations etc. It is extremely interesting and amusing as he stands there in front of the rock face with a stick in his hand pointing out what is what, like a lecturer in front of a flip chart, and all in good broken English. Unfortunately my guide had to leave me at this point as he had afternoon school to attend and nothing in the world could get him to miss that, but before he left he did point me in the right direction of a viewing point that would give me the best possible view of the whole crater. The view from the vantage point was as good as he said it would be and put into context the enormity of the volcano - the crater was in excess of 1 mile diameter. In the afternoon the temperature got so high that it became a mission just getting to these darn waterfalls that the mountain man had recommended but it was well worth the slog to swim in the crystal clear cool waters of the lagoon it had formed. In the evening there is absolutely nothing to do in El Valle as there isn't even a bar in the place, but as luck would have it, every month the locals have a "Disco" and tonight was the night! Suitably attired in my best travel togs, I swaggered down to the barn where all the action was allegedly going to happen and the sight that greeted me as I entered the barn was like stepping back in time. "Still", I thought, "it's better than a poke in the eye with a plastic daff" but only just and at least they had a makeshift bar. Let me try to set the scene for you. The barn was quite big with chairs down the left hand side and chairs down the right hand side and a big empty space in the middle for dancing which nobody was using - are you starting to get the picture? Yes, one side of the room had all the pretty girls sitting primly in their Sunday best with their hands clutching handbags on their laps and the other side of the room had all the lads sitting gazing longingly across but no-one seemed prepared to make the first move - time for old swivel hips to spring into action and break the ice but not until I had sampled a couple of bottles of the local grog which, at 50 cents a bottle, was so easy to do. The first girl I got up to dance was obviously expecting a straightforward Salsa - what she expected and what she got were totally different, but she did seem to enjoy it and so did the rest of the girls who kept getting me back up to dance every time I tried to sit down. Many of the guys liked it as well and I ended up like a dance instructor showing them all the unusual moves - Latin Americans are fantastic dancers so I felt quite privileged. Unfortunately you always get one or two knackers and a couple of the local guys seemed to see me as competition for the limited amount of local girls available and started acting aggressively, shouting abuse and dunching in to me on purpose on the dance floor so I left before the last Waltz had even started.

The following day stated out as a blistering hot one and with the once a month entertainment over and no prospect of anything in its place I decided to mount up and mosie on over to Boquet which will best be remembered or forgotten for food poison and rain.

Well I’m going to leave you all for now and head off for Bocas Del Tores where I'm told the Gnobe People have their own Island and still live their traditional indigenous way

Panama or Bust

2006-10-05T06:37:00.000-07:00

Sorry to everybody for the length of time it has taken for me to get another update to you all but somehow my travels through Central America just haven´t afforded me the luxury of spare time. - a reason not an excuse.

Sadly leaving the Galapagos Islands behind should have signalled the end of the South American adventure and the beginning of the Central American leg but as you can imagine and I'm sure you will not be surprised, things did not follow the intended route. I had intended going straight to Panama as I had already bought my exit ticket for a set date (more about that later) which meant I would only have a limited time there. I say limited but the reality of my research into Panama suggested that with the the size of the country and the limited "Must see things" to visit, then I had more than enough alloted time there. A few choices of what to do and where to go next seemed to loom up in front of me as if to say "change your plans or you'll regret it for the rest of your life"so I decided to go completely in the opposite direction to the way I was travelling and headed back south to Belem at the mouth of the Amazon to revisit a special friend - "Twud B rude not 2" - and I'm so glad that I did.

There's a bit of a story to how I got there but in short, I ended up living in the Favella slums on the edge of the city where no outsider would normally dare to venture, but as a guest of the Franco De Castro family I was welcomed by all and was totally safe to walk around,. although I was warned never to take a photograph if I didn't want that status to change very rapidly. The Franco De Castro family are a prominent family in this lawless part of town and to be a "family" guest was like having the Godfather as a best mate so I didn't ask too many question about the ins and outs of their lives. The shack I stayed in was just a crudely built hut made of scrap wood and rusty old corrugated iron, with so many gaps in the walls that there wasn't a need for windows, Inside all there were hooks in the walls to hang a hammock up and a hole in the floor for a toilet. no electricity, running water, furniture or anything else -just hooks and a hole! Life is really hard for these people who are viewed "as scum" by society but being born into this lifestyle is like being sentenced to a life of hardship with little or no chance of escape.

Stealing food is an art form here and a necessary everyday event that is organised and orchestrated by gang leaders with disciplined precision Surprisingly enough though, violence is frowned upon by leaders in the community and many families have no other choice than to try to eek out a living by selling home made goods on the streets of downtown Belem. There are also charities who try to break the downward spiral of social deprivation through education programmes for the children, but as with all programmes of this kind, if the authorities don't actively support them, it is merely a sticky plaster solution that treats the wound but not the cause.

I'm going to leave the Favella for now as I can feel myself getting on my soap box and straying from the storyline a bit.

My time with the Franco De Castro family was a very special time for me and a great honour - certainly one of the highlights of my trip - thank you Ahyla if you ever get to read this

Panama next but with the added bonus of a little detour through Suriname would be nice! What could be simpler?

Trying to get a flight to Suriname from Belem is a right rigmarole with special Visa regulations and bureaucratic nonsensical officialdom to negotiate your way delicately through before the airlines would even give you any information about flights. This process takes a minimum of three days to complete and when I eventually got the aforesaid documentation, I excitedly scurried along to the appropriate bookings desk like a little old lady clutching her pension book on a Friday morning, only to be told " Sorry the office is now closed for the weekend and doesn't open again until Monday ". Increasingly my trip to Suriname was looking as though it was not meant to be, was some great force from above was was trying to tell me not to go there? - Red rag to a bull springs to mind!

Monday morning took a long time to arrive but when it did I was a well honed, lean mean verbal machine with a hunger for victory, as an arrogant air of confidence surged through my weary body - bring on the Bureaucrats like lambs to the slaughter. You know when you watch somebody on the telly daydreaming who suddenly wake up to reality to find out that their bubble has just burst and the viewer is left in no mind as to what's happened because of a strange decelerating sound that finishes the scene off? If I could emulate that sound then the rest of this page would be just that!

Things didn't go to the plan I had mulled over in my head and so carefully rehearsed all weekend, instead, a new script had been written but somebody had forgotten to give me a copy. The paperwork I had received and so lovingly caressed and cherished all weekend, turned out to be about as much use as an inflatable dartboard, I had been given the wrong forms to fill in! Those of you who know me well know that I don't give up easily but equally I that I believe everything happens for a reason, so with a smile on my face and a Torah roora lay I decided that I had wasted enough time and that Panama was eagerly awaiting my arrival, or perhaps not. Getting into Panama is only possible if you have proof of your leaving date so prior to setting off from the UK, clever old me booked and payed for a bus ticket to Costa Rica From Panama. ..... What is it about me that dictates every simple task has to become become an adventure and a challenge? To get a next day flight to Panama from Belem without going half way round the southern hemisphere is only possible through Copa Airlines and they only have one flight per day that leaves at 4.30 AM. Unfortunately the ticket sales office doesn't open until midnight and it was now only 11.00AM so I had just had to settle down in the airport for a long wait not even knowing if I could get a seat on that flight or indeed any other flight within the next few days. As luck would have it there was a seat available - my god, was my luck changing? - HELL NO! Of course it wasn't

Belem, as if aware of some enormous potential, was conspiring to keep me there so you will not be surprised to hear, there was a problem with my exit ticket out of Panama so the Airline would not sell me a flight. All airlines flying into Panama had received a directive from the Panamanian government stating that a flight into the country could not be purchased without purchasing a flight out. I had no choice, despite protesting strongly, but to purchase the extra exit flight that I had no intention of using. It turns out that this was a misinterpretation by the airline staff and I hadn't needed a FLIGHT, only the proof of leaving that I already had. I am still fighting the airlines to get my money back.

At last the South American adventure was over and I can now begin to relate to you all the Central American adventures which as usual was pretty eventful.

Hasta Luego.

So much to say - so little time

2006-08-13T15:31:00.000-07:00

It appears that great chunks of report have not arrived and as I write this I am planning the last stages of this travel adventure and will be back in the UK soon so I am going to miss the whole central America journey out and see you all in person soon. For those i am not likely to see ( Kev and Eva in New Zealand in particular - and Simmy? I`ll see you in Spain soon ) I will try to update the missing bits when I get back to the UK so you will get the chance to read about them if you are interested

One last little report though, because as far as the cultural experiences of my travels go - this is up there with the best of them.

Leaving the Galapagos Islands behind I had a few choices of what to do and where to go next so I decided to go completely in the opposite direction to the way I was travelling and headed back to Belem at the mouth of the Amazon to meet a friend and I'm so glad I did. I ended up living in the Favella slums on the edge of the city where no outsider would normally dare to venture, but as a guest of the Franco De Castro family I was welcomed by all and was totally safe to walk around. although I was instructed never to take a photograph or that would all change very rapidly. The Franco De Castro family are a prominent family in this lawless part of town and to be their guest was like having the Godfather as a best mate so I didn't ask too many question about the ins and outs of their lives. The shack I stayed in was just a crudely built hut made of scrap wood and rusty old corrugated iron, with so many gaps in the walls that there wasn't a need for windows, Inside all there was was hooks in the walls to hang a hammock up and a hole in the floor for a toilet. it had no electricity, running water, furniture or anything else -just two hooks and a hole! Life is really hard for these people who are viewed "as scum" by society but being born into this lifestyle is like being sentenced to a life of hardship with little or no chance of escape. Stealing food is an art form here and a necessary everyday event that is organised and orchestrated by gang leaders with military precision, surprisingly though violence is frowned upon by leaders in the community and many families try to eek out a living by selling home made goods on the streets of downtown Belem. There are also charities who try to break the downward spiral of social deprivation through education programmes for the children, but as with all programmes of this kind, if the authorities don't actively support them, it is merely a sticky plaster solution that treats the wound but not the cause.

I'm going to leave the Favella for now as I can feel myself getting on my soap box and straying from the storyline a bit.

My time with the Franco De Castro family was a very special time for me and a great honour - certainly one of the highlights of my trip - thank you Ahyla if you ever get to read this.

Panama next but with a little detour through Suriname! what could be simpler? Oh my god what a nightmare.

And I`m afraid that's where I going to leave it for now

Hasta Luego Amigos

Boobies and Frigates ???????????

2006-06-17T05:53:00.000-07:00

Galapagos - where on earth do I start?

The Galapagos fetish started for me about 50 years ago when I was just a nipper. I have always had a fascination with wildlife and I suppose birds are my favourite creatures so it was not surprising that, after seeing a book all about the birds of the Galapagos Islands, I started dreaming of someday going there. This round the world trip has been planned with the Galapagos in mind, in fact the trip is really about going to Galapagos and back to the UK in a round about way and in such a way that I could see as much as I could of the world in doing so.

Flying out of Quito to the Islands to pick up a boat was probably the best flight I have ever taken, not because the plane or the service on board was anything special, but because I was about to finally fulfil a lifelong dream. The feeling I had when the plane started to make its decent was probably as exciting as it will be landing back in the UK and seeing my family again - the anticipation was overwhelming. As we touched down my first thoughts were " I hope I get to see lonesome George, a Blue Footed Boobie and a Frigate Bird, if I see all three then this trip will be worth every penny" Boy was I in for a surprise, the minute I stepped of the plane I looked up to the sky and above me was an aerial dog fight going on between 6 or 7 Majestic Frigates fighting over a scrap of food that one of them had managed to nick from somewhere. What a welcome, but these were not the Great Frigate with the scarlet, inflated, balloon like throats that I had seen in that book all those years ago, but frigates they were and that was good enough to stop me in my tracks and whisper out loud "Wow" totally oblivious to the fact that I was holding everybody up in the queue behind me. Waiting at the airport for my guide to pick me up and take me to my boat, I saw Pelicans by the dozens and scores of Gannet like birds flying overhead; I had no Idea at that time that they were indeed Blue Footed Boobies, although it was impossible to see their feet from that distance. My guide soon turned up and we drove the short distance to the dock where my home for the next ten days, "The Pelacano", was anchored just offshore, but its Zodiac inflatable was waiting to transfer me to the boat and to the start of my most memorable adventure so far on this journey. Just getting into the Zodiac was an adventure to start with, as there were sea lions lying everywhere, on the boardwalks, on bench seating in the bus shelter and even in boats that were tied up alongside the jetty. We literally had to step over these sunbathing beauties to get to the Zodiac inflatable, they had absolutely no fear of us and it felt so good to be accepted by them as guests in their home. Even the short boat ride to the Pelicano was a wildlife safari with multi coloured tropical fish clearly visible through the Crystal clear Turquoise water and sea lions mucking about and showing off, putting on a special show just for the strange looking newcomers. It was on this little trip that I found out that the Gannet like birds flying all around us and diving into the water from great heights, were Blue footed and Nazca Boobies. Once aboard and under sail we were joined and piloted by Great Frigates, their red throats clearly visible as they soared just above and alongside our vessel - wow, what a start - all I needed now was Lonesome George and I’d only been here an hour. We sailed on through the night and when I awoke in the morning we had anchored just off an island and the sight that greeted me as I left my cabin was Boobies diving. Frigate birds soaring, sea lions playing and a beautiful Island awaiting my pleasure after an unbelievable cooked breakfast (Sigh) This, the first Island we visited, had fabulous sandy beaches covered in female sea lions with pups but we were given a cautionary note before landing - these females are all the property of one male and he will protect them if try to touch them. At first there was no sign of this Jack the Lad womaniser but when he did appear it was clear to me that you don’t mess with this bad boy, he is enormous, can you imagine standing face to face with monster seal that’s stood as tall as me when he was down on all fours as it were. Despite his enormous bulk, when this guy gets the hump with you or another would be boyfriend who gives a second glance to one of his wives, he can run along the beach at great speed and doesn’t stop for anything, crushing anything in his attack path including his own offspring.
Fortunately this guy is used to tourists and as long as we stayed on the designated paths and did exactly what our guide told us we would not disturb the residents or even be an intrusion. Also on this beach and on the rocky lava outcrops we stood side by side with Penguins - no I’m not going mad - Penguins on the Equator, nothing is unusual in the Galapagos Islands. Everywhere you look along the black volcanic rock you can see big red moving masses, which are Sally Lightfoot crabs and what you don't see until you nearly step on them is dozens of Galapagos Marine Iguanas - the only true Marine Iguana in the world. Walking around the Island was like walking around a zoo without cages, the animals and birds did not give a hoot as you passed and even stepped over them even when they had young - I was on the first morning of day one and had already seen more than I could have dreamt of, my expectations having been well surpassed

If I continue this report on a day to day basis you will all get bored pretty quickly as it just got better and better as the voyage went on but it is a visual thing and very specific to me, so I'll have to fill you all in when I get back and show you the pictures.

I am going to indulge you just a bit though, because I did manage to meet Lonesome George. For those of you who may not have a clue what I’m talking about, Lonesome George Is a species of Giant Tortoise but he is the last one of his kind in the world. Each Island in the Galapagos has its own species of giant tortoise and in George’s case his Islands friends and family were hunted to extinction by passing sailors etc. Then one day as if by a miracle somebody discovered that there was still a tortoise on the Island - George - but despite extensive searching, a female has never been found so when George dies we will witness the extinction of a species much to the shame of the human race. George was discovered many years ago now and I believe he is over 150 years old so time is running out for him. He has been supplied with two females of a species closest to him genetically but he doesn’t seem interested or perhaps he has been alone so long that he doesn’t know what to do. There has been talk of cloning him and making a female but I’m sure the moral argument about such a dramatic intervention will go on long after his death.

Each Island we visited got better and better with the best being saved till last and I can only say to everybody that if you put together a hit list of the top ten places you would like to visit in the world, then it would not be complete without the inclusion of The Galapagos Islands.

Well that's all your getting on Galapagos until I see you all in person - don't worry though, the next reports have mishaps in to cheer you all up

Missing in cyberspace since 08/06/2006 It's been a long time coming but I`m almost there

2006-06-08T15:26:00.000-07:00

On my way to the Ecuador border and Otavalo which was my first port of call in Ecuador, I stopped off at Zipaquira Salt Cathedral - it’s amazing. The cathedral is deep inside a mountain and was cut out by hand. There are several different levels to it with an enormous Chapel at the deepest point. I really don't think I could possibly describe this place to you - it’s absolutely unbelievable and to try to put it into words would do it an injustice.

On then to Ecuador after a surprisingly painless border crossing, my base for the next few days was the beautiful town of Otavala. Otavala lies at an altitude of 2,530 m above sea level and has a population of just 22,000 including the hillside tribes. The most notable and famous thing about Otavala is its enormous Saturday market and in the Plaza Bolivar, a statue of Ruminahui, Athualpa`s general who fought the Spanish when they tried to occupy the town in the 16th century and the Incas before that.

The market is fantastic, it is said to be the biggest of its kind in South America, I think that every occupant of this town has a stall selling home made handicrafts such as beautifully woven cloths, hats made from reeds, a 101 different things you can do with Alpaca, clothes and so much more, honestly it's phenomenal. Add to this spectacle the fact that Otavalo men wear their jet black hair long and platted with broad brimmed hats, white calf length trousers and blue Ponchos whilst the women wear beautifully embroidered colourful blouses, shoulder straps and are festooned in gold and colourful beads, and you just feel so happy to be part of it all. All the local families speak Quichua as their first language and Spanish as their second making the whole experience feel even more authentic. Apart from the wildlife and the local culture the most enjoyable experiences on my travels are always the markets and this one at Otovala is one of the most impressive I have seen anywhere in the world, but as usual I had to leave and it was time to move on to ventures new and in this case, the Galapagos Islands awaited me.

The starting point for my Galapagos adventure was Quito and I had 5 days after my arrival to wait for my boat, so I had a great opportunity to explore the second highest Capital city in the world, and I'm so pleased I did. Above the city at an altitude of 4,100 mtrs above sea level, is the jump off point of the, now commonplace cable car, and a great view of the city in all its splendour. An adventure had seemed long overdue so it was quite refreshing when, after seeing the vista from the top through the thickening black cloud, the trip back down the mountain did not quite go as smoothly as it perhaps should have! Every afternoon in Quito at this time of year, the cloud thickens, blacking out the sun, and within minutes you are caught in the middle of a horrendous thunder and lightning storm. Cable car day for me was to be no different with the storm arriving bang on cue, which in normal circumstances, did not effect the operation of the cable car. Today however was a special day - I was on board??? The predictable storm arrived at the top of the mountain just shortly after I did and, whilst it was unfortunate that it gave me very little time to enjoy the view, it was an absolute beauty of a spectacle. I think it is probably the first time in my life that I have actually been right up there smack bang in the middle of a thunder and lightening storm, and boy what a show it was that I witnessed. Unfortunately I was overdue for a pre arranged rendezvous with some friends so I couldn't stay up there longer to ride the storm out and had to start making my way back down, and anyway, the thought of riding a cable car through a storm like this one was a pretty exciting prospect too. Jumping into the cable car, the thought that lightning could possibly hit it, never even entered my head - after all this was a normal everyday event. The cable car leaves the summit station extremely quickly then slows down dramatically as you get over the edge of the mountain top and start you’re decent. The car I was in had only just completed this manoeuvre when there was a huge clap of thunder followed by a blinding flash of lightening and the pagoda I was riding in suddenly came to a halt leaving me and three other passengers dangling high on a zip wire and exposed to whatever the storm decided to throw at us. We hung there for what seemed to be quite a long time, with the only movement being the constant swaying of the pagoda in the relentless wind, before eventually continuing out decent safely to the bottom of the mountain. At the base that control staff told us that the stopping of the cable car was a standard procedure in these conditions and that we were not in any danger whatsoever, unfortunately we were in the only cable car that was without a working intercom so we couldn't be contacted or reassured as we dangled there with neither toilet paper nor incontinence pants as a comforter.

One of the other many attractions to visit whilst in Quito is the equator monument which stands 30 metres high and was erected to acknowledge the accomplishments of the Geolitic mission between 1736 -42. The Equator has some real peculiarities such as when you actually try to walk along the imaginary line that is the equator you keep falling off either north or south as if being pulled. Another interesting feature is how the water flows in different directions down the plughole on either side of the line - there are many other experiments that they show you here but you will just have to come here yourself to see them as I have a date with Galapagos pending.

I really don’t know where to start my report on the Galapagos Islands - you might as well get an encyclopaedia on wildlife and read the index. I’m once again going to leave you hanging while I find some new superlatives to describe this part of my trip.

Report to you all soon

Lost in cyber space since 30/05/2006 Silly Mugger!

2006-05-30T15:29:00.000-07:00

After a hot breakfast at camp it was time to bid Adieus to Allen and Juan and get moving to Ecuador via Colombia and ultimately the Galapagos Islands. Just typing Galapagos brings a smile to my face but more of that later.

Travelling to the Colombian border is incredibly scenic. It is hard to understand how Venezuela can be both one of the most beautiful countries on earth whilst at the same time be one of the most turbulent - it really is a shame that this country can not get it's act together because it would surely be one of the worlds favourite tourist destinations. Colombia was getting closer but I still had one last place to visit in Venezuela - Merida. Merida is a must on any Venezuelan itinerary almost as important as Angel Falls, because it has the worlds highest and longest cable car ride covering 12 Kilometres and rising to 4'765 meters to the Pico Espejo.

Early the following morning my travels took me from Merida and on to Barinas and a border crossing into Colombia. The border crossing was a bit dodgy and once again all those crossing the border at this point seemed to go through effortlessly until it got to me, it has to be something to do with the grin on my face or something because it happens at nearly every border control I come to. This time it seemed to be something about my passport photo or something because the guard who had stopped me got every other guard to look at the passport then look at me? Maybe they suspected me of being a celebrity or something but they wanted to know all about my work etc. It was with a sigh of relief that I was finally admitted into the country though I know I still have a flight to contend with and getting out of the country was always going to be the hardest part. Once in Colombia it was on to Cucuta for the night before heading off to Cartagena the following day. Cartagena de las Indias is one of the most beautiful cities in South America with a rich history, great weather, fabulous beaches and enough charm to decorate a Christmas tree. Cartagena is another one of South Americas beautiful walled cities and it is this seemingly impregnable series of walls, built in the 17th century to protect the city from numerous pirate attacks, that is the main attraction. Inside the city walls lies numerous Plazas and cobbled walkways, impressive churches and an ambiance that could calm a rabid dog on a hot summers day. It was this very ambiance and the felling of security that the walls afforded me. that was almost my undoing. It was quite late on evening and I was returning to my hotel with another traveller, he carried on to the hotel whilst I stopped to buy a packet of cigarettes from the local store. I could see the hotel up the picturesque cobbled street not 50 yds away and as I stood getting served I saw my friend enter the hotel. As I walked up the street to the hotel a young looking man was walking down the opposite way - nothing unusual about that as Cartagena is a well lit place that is open all night and where everybody seems to know each other. As we passed each other and exchanged pleasantries he suddenly pulled a knife and shouted "money, money". I don`t know why, and in any other circumstances I would have just handed over the money, but in this instance without thinking I just looked down at the knife and laughed. Seemingly put off his stroke by this he momentarily looked down at the knife as if to check what I was laughing at, in that split second of hesitation I hit him with every ounce of power I had - he just dropped to the ground like a sack of spuds. As the staff in the hotel came running out to see what the commotion was, he got up and ran, minus a broken tooth which was still embedded in my knuckle. Needless to say that as the hotel staff cleaned up my knuckle wound they also gave me a telling off saying that I could have got myself killed. Good advice and normally I would heed such warnings but this wasn't a premeditated action it just happened in an instant and was over before I had time to think or consider the consequences. The rest of my stay in Cartagena was wonderful and without incident and it would appear that my attacker didn't live in the Walled city but in an outlying area and was unlikely to step within the walls for some time to come. There is so much to see and do in the area around Caragena that you can easily be spoilt for choice and I was so I'm going to skip all the boring bits about bathing in a volcanic mud pool or sailing out to the Rosario Islands etc. etc. and take you straight to Santa Marta and the Tayrona National Park, and the Carri bean Sea.

Camped on a beach looking out over the Carri bean Sea might be a chore but someone has to do so I made the decision to offer myself up like a lamb to the slaughter and have a few days here. Really guys it's nothing special just more of the same old golden beaches, turquoise water, coconuts fresh from the trees, turtles coming up the beach to lay their eggs, exotic wildlife everywhere, ,,,, but! I don't want to bore you with all that so I'll skip a huge chunk of heaven and catch up with you all in Bogota - The Colombian Capital,

Suitably refreshed I arrived in Bogota to last only one day before heading off for Villa de Leyva and the Enormous Dinosaur fossils it is famous for as well as the largest village squares in the Americas This was to be my last stop in Colombia before heading of for Ecuador and you know what Galapagos

Land of the Giants - part 2

2006-05-29T12:26:00.000-07:00

Hola Amigos!

I’m back from my Galapagos adventure with loads to tell you all but I realise I have left you all hanging on in Venezuela waiting for part 2 of the Llanos adventure so here goes - I hope it was worth waiting for, I'm sure it is if I can describe it accurately.

When I last reported in I had just had an amazing day but as I mentioned it was about six in the evening and Allen, my crazy guide had decided that the day was not over yet, and if what he had planned for me sounds crazy - the reality was ten times as mad. After a quick bite to eat and a cup of Lipton’s Tea, yes he had even managed to get some Lipton’s Tea bags for me though god knows where or how he managed to pull that one off, it was time to don our head torches and jump into a hollowed out log with an engine attached to it! "Hurry hurry" he kept saying, with immediacy in his voice that had me puzzled - after all it was going to be dark all night - wasn't it? At the time of clambering into our Amazonian version of a Flintstones canoe, it was dusk and not yet really dark - surely the creatures of the night wouldn't be active until the cover of darkness gave them a degree of safety. The reason for the urgency became all too apparent 15 minutes later as we drifted silently downstream into the unknown, unknown that was to me but not Allen and Juan who had once again joined us as our eyes in the dark. The natural world in most cases is unpredictable and elusive but there are some dramas that are enacted out every day and night at exactly the same time in relation to the sun and moon. With the split second accuracy of Big Ben striking midnight or the Ebb and Flow of the tides on Whitley Bay beach. It was exactly 5.55 pm when we turned the boat to point upstream and tied up to a half submerged tree in the middle of the river. I sat there in complete silence as I waited for something special to happen. Looking at Allen and Juan was like looking at two human statues a bit like those you see on holiday who paint themselves silver and strike a motionless pose in the hope that passing tourists will give them some Euros as a reward for their diligence. The difference with these two statues was that you could almost feel the intensity as their eyes and ears strained to the flow, scanning the river, listening and watching for the impending occurrence. Suddenly as if by some unheard cue, both of them pointed to the sky at exactly the same moment shouting "There" I looked up and all I could see was a solitary Cattle Egret, a beautiful white stork like bird which is common in the area so I was a bit perplexed at all the excitement, then came another and another, then half a dozen more then flocks of them all coming in and roosting in the trees of the river bank. It wasn't long before there were hundreds and hundreds of them turning the darkening trees into a mass of white. It was a fantastic sight to see - a true privilege to witness but it wasn't over yet. Just as it appeared that the full spectacle was drawing to a close a second wave of birds came flocking in but this time it wasn't cattle Egrets it was Scarlet Ibis. These most beautiful of birds are exactly what their name suggests - scarlet - and added to the white sheet that adorned the trees of the river bank, made for a spectacular show that would be hard to surpass for poetic natural beauty. I never thought the sight of a red and white army would stir up any emotions other than Daydream Believer and Peter Reed. As we sat there silently savouring this incredible display of colour and elegance, the night sky darkened and the whole scene took on a different beauty as a fully waxed moon rose casting new shadows and light that illuminated the riverbank in a completely different way to that we had witnessed earlier.

Drifting in and out of little backwaters and small streams for the rest of the evening, we saw all manner of creatures of the night but the highlight had to be when Juan incredibly spotted a Brown Tree Boa 20 yards away, perfectly camouflaged and completely motionless in the trees on the riverbank - remember this was the dead of night and by this time the usual storm clouds had gathered completely blocking out any light we had had earlier from the moon - it was pitch black. Even when we got right up close I still couldn't see it such was its camouflage, so Juan jumped out of the boat and caught it for me so I could get a good look at it. That evening, back in the village, a full moon festival was in full swing as we returned, so even though I was almost asleep on my feet and I had an early start in the morning, I felt it my duty to add a bit of "Geordie Culture" to the proceedings - well it would have been rude not too! I joined in just about everything that was going on but I drew the line at their version of Karaoke which amounted to wearing a funny hat and screeching as loud and as long as you can without taking a breath. It all sounded the same to me but a panel of judges scrutinised the 30 or so contestants, awarding prizes for longevity and yes "harmony"? Dawn was breaking when I finally flopped into my hammock but there wasn’t going to be much chance of sleep with round two and three of the Karaoke competition still to come. As it turned out the Karaoke was of no consequence, no sooner had I got comfortable in my pit than it was time for Allen’s special wake up call - "tip the old bugger out of his hammock" he shouted to Juan. Over breakfast Allen explained to me the agenda for the day, it was going to be a bit special, as if yesterday wasn’t!!! Today we were going in search of Pink and Grey Dolphins, Parana fishing, Alligator hunting and if we were really lucky - Anaconda hunting. Today was to be my last day on this river before moving on early tomorrow so Allen was determined to make my last day a special one promising "we won’t return until we have caught you an Anaconda even if it takes us all night" - come on Allen, even my enthusiasm for the natural world has its limits. It was a pretty special day even by my "everything is beautiful" standards, starting off with Parana fishing which gained me my boy scouts badge in Punching the lights out of Parana's flapping about in the bottom of your dugout next to your bare feet. Evidently it is the best way to put them out of their misery quickly, you just hold them down by the tail and give them a right hook to the jaw, which is all very well if every punch is as accurate and powerful as Mike Tyson’s otherwise you just keep punching the bottom of the boat and believe me that hurts. At a certain spot in the river Juan stopped the boat again and sat making weird screeching sounds which, after the Karaoke last night, just sounded like practise for tonight. Allen joined in and the two of them started beating the side of the boat as well. I had spent enough time with these two characters to know by now that what they were doing had to have a purpose or this case a Porpoise. Yes it wasn’t long before Grey Dolphins were surfacing out of nowhere and playing all around the boat but no pink ones yet which didn’t bother me too much having already seen a couple on the Rio Amazonas. Pink dolphins were to come though, but that was later, on a tributary river, and when they did appear it wasn’t fleeting glances like before this was a full on show for the Gringo, surfacing in twos and threes and staying on the surface for quite a while. Alligators were next on the hit list of Ropers travels but that had to wait until dark and I certainly didn’t expect to catch one myself and hold in my hands, OK it was only a baby one but they can still bite as well you know. Allen and Juan did catch bigger ones but they insisted I stayed in the boat while they did so - experience is the key to survival in those situations and I was quite happy just to watch these two experts at work. Many other sights were on offer all day including a punk bird with claws on its wings - prehistoric or what? But the icing on the cake was to be an Anaconda and that I had to wait for until very late in the night during the usual torrential storm with deafening thunder supported by sheet lightning - and we are in the middle of a river. It was extremely late or very early depending on how you view midnight, and the torrential rain made seeing anything very difficult, but we kept going scanning the edge of the riverbank for a 20 ft snake that can crush an adult alligator. Such is their camouflage that they are best spotted at night when they are on the move and hunting you just have to hope that you do spot it before it spots you! It was so late and we were so wet that I think even Allen was starting to think that we were not going to see one and I’m pretty sure that Juan was guiding us back to the village when all of a sudden Juan shouted and Allen leaped off the side of the boat and plunged his arms deep into the water emerging with an Anaconda firmly wrapped around his arm. It wasn’t the monster we had hoped for, in fact it was only about six foot long, but an Anaconda it was and that was good enough for me.

There is so much more to tell about the Llanos but I have SO many other tales to tell and so little time to tell them that its time to move on to Angel falls - disappointing that's all I’ll say for now, but the lagoon of waterfalls with the tribal village on the shore - much more impressive. I can’t remember what the place I call the Lagoon of waterfalls is really called but I’m sure you’ll get the gist of it by that name.
The lagoon is still in the Llanos but in a more forested part of the Amazon and it is absolutely stunning. It is not really a lagoon I suppose, more a coming together of seven rivers and waterfalls that form a fab lake before heading off as one river to somewhere or other. On the Northern shore lies a beautiful Indian village with what must be the happiest kids on earth - I spent hours swimming in the lagoon with them playing games like Piggy in the middle and a form of water rugby with an unusually light fruit that still hurts when it hits you. I spent two blissful days and nights with them, lazing in my hammock on the banks of the lagoon and eating some of the most unusual but tasty vegetarian meals on my travels so far. As for the waterfalls, they weren’t as impressive as Iguassu but the setting was magnificent and you could walk right under most of them into caves that were once used by the tribes to hide themselves and their weapons from raiding tribes and in one case the waterfall is named after this - Axe Falls.
Monkeys playing in the trees, Toucan and Macaws flying past, sunshine all day and lovely cool water to play in, I don’t need to rub it in anymore do I? The next place Allen had arranged for me to stay was a purpose built adventure site on the other side of Angel falls so a little four setter plane was the best way to get there. The flight took us past Angel falls but as I said earlier, there wasn’t much to see as there had not been rain for months, reducing what I’m sure is a raging cascade most of the time, to a tame trickle and the flight path was not really as close to the falls as I had expected. Arriving at the adventure camp was luxury, with running water, a dining area and all the equipment for just about every adventurous activity you could think of - for me it was to be white water rafting with a difference. Looking at the raging river thundering past the camp was enough to get the adrenaline going but when I saw what we were about to set sail in I was reminded of The Owl and the Pussycat Poem as my bowels loosened considerably. I was given a canoeing helmet, a life jacket and an inflated truck inner tube; I could do nothing for laughing as I looked at Allen in disbelief, shrugging his shoulders and smirking like a kid at school having just got one over on the teacher. It was better than any white knuckle ride at Blackpool even though the inner tube got to the bridge before I did. In total there were six sets of major rapids and I managed to dismount and remount my trusty rubber stead at least ten times over a period of 45 mins - it was some ride. Other adventures like Canopy Surfing way up in the tops of the jungle seemed quite tame after that, but none the less enjoyable.

Well that's all you’re getting for now as I have to move on to some of my other adventures and some near misses to tell you about too, so until next time - keep turning on and tuning in

Llanos - the land of giants part 1

2006-05-14T13:23:00.000-07:00

Leaving the Amazon was a big tug on the heartstrings but there again it’s been like that everywhere. I've made so many friends, some of them fellow travellers but most of them locals who just seem to take me into their hearts, I feel so welcome everywhere I go but as they say home is where the heart is and heading north to Venezuela, it now feels like I'm starting to make my way home. Before I get home though I have many gob smacking experiences ahead not least of which is getting into, through and out of Venezuela. Heading north out of Brazil and into Venezuela by bus should, in theory, be a pretty uneventful event, and to an extent it was. The problem lies with the route I took through what turns out to be bandit country - yes that's right the last hundred kilometres to the boarder is evidently very lawless. About 1,000 sq klm of northern Amazonia has been handed over by the government to Indigenous Indian tribes who are basically autonomous and set their own laws. Excellent you may think, I know I did, but the only trouble with that is that they live deep in the jungle far from the road I was travelling, which leaves a corridor of what is essentially no mans land in which bandits are known to operate. This essential piece of travel information didn't come to light until the bus was well on its way and had stopped at a service station for a pee stop. As we got back on the bus the driver made an important announcement telling us about the bandits and instructing us to keep the windows shut at all times and put our passports in a safe place. I remember just smiling to myself and thinking "yes Ropper this is your life - every day is an adventure" I really wasn't that bothered, thinking that this route is travelled daily by buses and lorries - it can't be that bad or the authorities would be doing something about it, and I had seen soldiers on route. It was only when the driver informed us that four soldiers had been found dead not too long ago with poisonous darts in them that I really started to feel uneasy. It turns out that they were not on our road but deep in the jungle searching for Bandits and had gone into an area that they weren't permitted to. Still worrying though as I had the blowpipe that I made in the jungle, stashed away in my rucksack somewhere in the hold of the bus. All's well that ends well though and the trip to the boarder went off without any signs of trouble and it was reassuring to see lots of armed soldiers all along the route. The boarder crossing was a surprisingly simple one for South America but the journey to Boa Vista took a lifetime because we were stopped so many times by the army. Every time they stopped us they checked our passports and searched the bus for what, don't know but they weren't very friendly looking so I resisted smiling and making wise cracks, though it was hard. The less said about Boa Vista the better, it's a really unwelcoming town full of armed men who look menacingly at you as you pass. The armed men in question, apart from soldiers and police, were security guards, every shop, bar and street corner seemed to have one, I couldn't wait to get out the place. As a first impression of what to expect from Venezuela, was not a good one and the next town I stopped at, Santa Helena, did nothing to change impression. Fortunately, Cuidad Bolivar, was better and after all I was heading for the next "must do" on my itinerary - Angel Falls. To get to angel falls I first had to go to Canaima which completely changed my opinion of Venezuela. Sleeping in my hammock in a purpose built shelter, beside a Lagoon with several impressive waterfalls roaring out a constant reminder of nature's untameable power, and Monkeys, Toucans and hummingbirds acting as though I wasn't even there, was another one of those " if my mates could see me now" experiences. The flight over Angel falls two days later was to say the least disappointing, It hadn't rained for some time and the volume of water flowing over the falls was at an all time low reducing it to a trickle and the flight itself was just a quick fly past giving you no time to take in the immensity of the 1 klm drop.

To get to Colombia, across Venezuela, it's almost impossible to avoid the Llanos, a vast area of flat lands that flood during the wet season literally turning it into a huge lake and wetland area. Not to visit the Llanos whilst in Venezuela would be akin to not visiting the Amazon when in Brazil, it's one the worlds unique wildlife havens. The rainy season had not yet started so the plains were reduced to many rivers and smaller watering holes which in turn meant fewer places for the wildlife to drink and a greater concentrations of animals in smaller areas. Reading about this place in books simply can't do it justice; the wildlife that lives here is like an A to Z of rare endangered species. It's great being in the middle of nowhere if you know where to go, so how the devil was I going to know what direction to take or what to look for when I arrived somewhere - the answer lay in a guy called Allan, an entomologist, born of British parents in Barbados. Allan had come to the Llanos 20 years ago in search of new species of butterfly and has been wandering the Llanos ever since. Allan's knowledge of the Llanos and its inhabitants are well known in the area, having a new species of butterfly named after him and having been enlisted several times by film makers to catch Giant Anacondas for documentaries. Never promising anything for definite, Allen told me that we had a chance of seeing a Giant Anteater, Giant River Otters, the worlds largest Rodent, Pink River Dolphins, Alligators, Scarlet Ibis and so much more. I couldn't be sure whether or not he was full of bull but what the heck if I see a small percentage of what he tells me is out there I'll be as happy as fox in a hen coop. On our first day of travel I was told to keep my eyes peeled for Giant Anteaters, a huge dog like creature with an enormous bushy tail and a snout like Barry Manillo. Allen’s record, so he told me, for seeing these elusive creatures was five on one day. It was a beautiful morning (6am) when we set off and it wasn't long before my tally of bird species was up in the thirties with 5 kinds of Heron, Whistling Ducks, Egrets, numerous birds of prey, Spoonbills, Swans and yes, the prize of them all for me, the fabulous Scarlet Ibis and all before breakfast. Our first sighting of a Giant Anteater followed soon after and I'm sure Allan made more noise laughing at my frenzied excitement than I did leaping up and down and babbling incomprehensibly whilst acting out a simulation of a simpleton having an epileptic fit. These things are huge, impressive creatures, about the size of a Shetland pony with a tail the same length as its body and twice as bushy as Basil Brush's and a snout to put the fear of god into even the bravest of ants. As if all this excitement wasn't enough for me, Capybara (the world’s largest rodent) were just another half hour away and then two more Giant Anteaters, then huge eight foot Caiman (type of alligator) then another Giant Anteater, then a huge freshwater Electric Eel, then a fifth Giant Anteater! Equalling Allan’s record - I'm hyperventilating just writing this report - I'll have to stop for a cup of tea.

Slurp slurp slurp etc. etc. .................................................................................

I'm getting strange looks of the other people in the Internet cafe; god knows what sort of web site they must be thinking I'm logged on to???

Back in the land of Giants now, as dusk was approaching and we headed for a village to spend the night, totally unexpected and unusual enough to get even Allan excited, we walked past a small lake about the size of Tynemouth Boating lake and Allan suddenly grabbed me by the arm and put his finger upright in front of his mouth whispering shush, his eyes as wide as a psycho. What he had heard was a Giant River Otter calling to its young. We crouched in the grass for a few moments while Allen made the call of a young Otter in distress. Within minutes two adult and two baby Otters were there in front of us, apparently standing vertical in the water and scanning the surrounding area in a similar way to that of Meercats. Absolutely incredible - these beautiful rarities are enormous and this must count as one of the most moving experiences I have ever had. At the village, after a meal, I suddenly realised I hadn't eaten a thing, I'd been to busy enthusing to everyone about the day I'd had and the things I'd seen, they must have been thinking "will he ever shut up or even take a breath" but they were to polite to say anything they just sat smiling at rantings. I could have been excused to think that I had just experienced one of the best days of my life but Allen had other ideas, a boat turned up that Allen had arranged to meet and I was to go out in search of Alligators and Giant Anacondas - in the dark, is this man mad?.
I'm going to leave you all hanging for the time being as there is a boat awating to take out to the Galapagos Islands for ten days so I’ll try to update you with part two when I get back to dry land - watch this space I hope it will be worth waiting for.

Symmy thanx for reminding me that I haven't told you all the passport tale yet - I'll probably keep that one till I get home, its a beauty.

Caboclos - sounds rude doesn't it?

2006-05-12T04:32:00.000-07:00

Having arrived safely in Menaus it was time to take stock of my adventures and prepare myself mentally for the next two legs of the journey - the Amazon proper and the vast expanses of the Llanos in Venezuela.

Manaus is a city worth visiting for its diversity alone, its mix of cultures are great to see but what is more amazing is just how modern its way of life is given its geographic location in the heart of the Amazon with very little in the way of infrastructure to reach it other than the river. Two days in Menaus was all I had time to stay as I had an appointment with adventure that I certainly was not going to miss. I had arranged to go on expedition deep into the jungle to experience the true native lifestyle of the Caboclas, the native tribe of this region. The first task was to get to where they live and that meant a trip by "road" ?? North to Itacoatiara for 184Km then on, North-easterly to a small village called Lindoia nestled on the banks of the Urubu River. At the village I was met by the guide who had brought a boat downriver to take me to the tribe. The first thing that hit me was the fact that so many of these people could speak, or at least understand English.

It turns out that in the areas history many missionaries had visited and set up schools and churches in a attempt to "convert the savages" to Christianity. It would appear that the missionaries were pretty successful as the majority of people in this area are deeply religious and mixed with their own traditional beliefs, their love of their land and its flora and fauna are fiercely protected. Another strange thing about this part of the Amazon interior pleasantly dawns on you pretty quickly - the lack of mosquitoes! Honestly it’s unbelievable after months of constantly being bitten I am in what would be perceived as the worst place on Earth for mosquitoes, and it’s totally free of them. It would be nice to think that the locals had cleared the area in readiness of my arrival but the truth is that this region is a unique botanical sanctuary with many varieties of medicinal plants. The chemicals given off by the unique vegetation as it dies and decomposes filters into the waterways making the rivers and ponds acidic. The acidity of the water eliminates the lavers of the mosquito making it impossible for them to breed here - paradise. Arriving at the village early in the evening was at first sight slightly disappointing as the sleeping accommodation that my hammock was to be strung up in was traditional but new and looked purpose built for tourists. This was an impression that was to change pretty quickly. The place I had arrived at was indeed a purpose built area that is being developed for Eco-tourism by the local indigenous Indians with help from the government agencies, in an attempt to allow the ever encroaching outside world in, whilst controlling and limiting its impact on the environment and the way of life of its inhabitants who were to be my hosts and guides for the next few days. Luxury, for me, lasted one night before we set off early in the morning, firstly by river then on foot deeper and deeper into the jungle. As we trekked deeper into the jungle it became more and more dense as the seedlings on the jungle floor fought for any available space and light that had dodged the all consuming blanket coverage of the canopy. This all changed however after a few kilometres, suddenly there was more space on the jungle floor as the trees grew taller and the smells, that constantly alerted your senses, changed. Further and further into the jungle you realise that the habitat was changing constantly and the trees, unbelievably got taller and taller still. In a clearing, several hours into the interior, we stopped having arrived at what was obviously going to be my home for at least the night. It turned out to be my home for the whole duration of my jungle adventure and what a location it was.

The first task for me was to find two trees suitable for slinging up my hammock, whilst my hosts started a fire in readiness for our evening feast. The jungle temperatures stay pretty well constant day and night but plummet to bearable levels of heat at night in the clearings and for this reason all sort of animals visit the area but this I wasn't to find out till later that night. Having set up camp and eaten an incredibly delicious meal. I was ready for my pit but Juan, my guide, had other ideas for me. Dusk was approaching, and as it did, the dimming light and the shadows it cast created all sorts of weird images from what was after all just trees, but to me I saw things that were really there, pathways between trees that didn't really exist and things moving that were no more than flickerings thrown out by the glowing embers of the dwindling fire. Juan told me that if I was to learn about the animals of the jungle then the only time to "see" many of them was at night so off we set into the unknown, unknown; that was at least for me. Juan has incredible night vision and it wasn't long before he spotted our first snake. I'll probably remember for the rest of my life the thought that went through my head as he pointed out this beautiful little thing no more than six inches long - "Do you call that a snake, I've been bitten by bigger snakes than that in Thailand and survived" His whole demeanour changed however as he carefully caught this little beauty and explained to me that this was one of the most venomous snakes in the area, capable of inflicting serious pain and days of fever if it bit you. Next on the agenda, just to make me feel perfectly safe in my hammock and put my mind at rest, was a mouse size whole in the ground that was obviously significant, prompting him to draw his machete from its sheath as he poked the hole with a stick. I was hoping he wasn't going to kill whatever was in the hole but my benevolence faltered somewhat when he withdrew the stick with an enormous Black Tarantula spider clinging on to it. The knife was used to hold the monster down while he maneuvered it into a position to pick it up so I could get a good view of its fearsome jaws. I have seen Tarantulas before but this one was big enough to steal your weekly shopping from Sainsbury's and run off with it! All this venom and we were only a couple of hundred yards from our camp. We continued our excursion for about another hour before returning to camp and although Juan pointed out many things that he saw fleeting glances of, I didn't see a thing I only heard the noises of scampering in the undergrowth. Back at camp that evening, the rustling in the jungle all around us ensured that I wasn't going to oversleep in the morning if I ever got to sleep at all.

As it happens, whether it was complete confidence in Juan or the fact that I was totally shattered, I slept like a baby only waking up to the aromatic smells of breakfast being cooked as dawn rose the following morning. As we sat eating our breakfast all of a sudden an unearthly sound, of what seemed to be a hurricane heading our way, filled the air. Juan quickly told me to grab my small day-sack that we had prepared the previous day and follow him. I wasn't, sure if his voice was filled with excitement or terror but I did know that my life was in his hands and I was totally confident in his judgement, so without hesitation I followed at what felt like fifty miles an hour trying to keep up with him as he bounded through the jungle like an antelope being chased by a lion. The noise we had heard was the cry of Howler Monkeys heading our way and Juan wanted to make sure we were in a suitably camouflaged hideout when they passed. Unfortunately something must have spooked them and they changed direction before ever reaching our hide. Not to worry though, the Amazon is teaming with life if you know how to find it and I was in the hands of an expert and it wasn't long before Juan heard the sound of Spider Monkeys quite near by so we stayed where we were and Juan made the call of a baby Spider Monkey in distress. Ten minutes later there they were, in the trees right above our heads, screaming, jumping up and down and swinging through the canopy in an aggressive manor, warning us not to mess with these bad boys - fantastic.

The longer I stayed in the jungle the more I became in tune with it and soon began to recognise different sounds and more importantly smells. The smells are so important because, although seeing Toucans, Macaws, Chameleons, snakes and so much more, the flora and fauna are vitally important to survival and you need to distinguish similar plants by smell as one can save your life whilst an almost identical one can cost you it. One thing of particular interest to me was how to find pure drinking water. In the jungles of South East Asia I was taught how to recognise which Bamboo will produce pure water when cut in a certain way but the Amazon doesn't have much in the way of such bamboo across vast swathes of it. What the Amazon does have is vines hanging everywhere, vines that are suitable for emulating Tarzan, vines that are particularly suitable for stringing bows (as in bow and arrow) and vines that will give you fresh drinking water when cut in a certain place. I can't begin to describe the pleasure of standing under the hanging part of a freshly cut vine and allowing the crystal clear, cold water, pour down your parched throat. Juan even made me a cup of tea from the bark of a tree and the vine water which tasted refreshingly like Earl Grey - unbelievable.

I could go on forever describing the skills I learnt such as which trees to use for making eating and cooking utensils, which trees to use for instant paper, how to catch and hold snakes and Tarantulas, seeds and berries to use for what such as the Tento seeds used for ceremonial dress and so much more, but one of the highlights was making my own blowpipe and darts. Blowpipes are made from a particular sapling which has a hard perfectly straight exterior with a core that is much softer, almost like Bolsa Wood. The fascinating part about making a blowpipe, and one that has always puzzled me, is how they hollow them out with such precision. The answer lies in another tree that grows long thin offshoots that has barbs along its length similar to a blackberry vine at home. These long, straight, unbendable barbed rods come in varying degrees of thickness depending on their age. Using a very fine rod at first, a pilot hole is drilled through, almost like a cleaning out the drains with drain rods, then progressively using larger rods the softer core of this branch is gradually removed to produce a hollow tube of exactly the required bore, All that is left to do after that is to make the all important mouthpiece from a type of boxwood and the darts from spines of another tree with flights made from a sort of dried grass. Simple eh? Not so! The barbed rod used to hollow out the blowpipe rips the hands of amateurs apart whilst the experts don’t even get a scratch - guess which category I'm in!

I have so much more to tell about but as usual I'm going to save a lot of it for when I meet you guys personally and besides I have to move on to the Venezuelan Llanos and tales of the giant Anteaters. I am also writing this at altitude with a lack of oxygen, so I am finding it very hard and slow going
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Just a quick hello to Kev and Eva down in New Zealand before I go and love to my Mother and my angels - I'm missing you all so much.
Symmy - Hows the weather in Spain in October / November
Steve the drummer - Where's the sarky coments? I'm missing them
John I'm approaching the USA in a couple of months - Have you got Anthony’s phone No
Boy wonder - Hows the van going? and more importantly how’s your love life, better than the van I hope
Farrer - if you're reading these reports I would love to hear from you
Jilly baby - Love getting your emails, keep them coming
Everybody else at the Lodge, Monkey, Black Horse and back at home in general - I would love to hear from you all.

Tales of the riverbank

2006-05-04T03:35:00.000-07:00

Looking at the web site today it is obvious that some reports are not all getting through and because time us of the essence I am going to skip them for now and update you all personally when I return in September. For now the main thing to update you on is the Amazon before Venezuela then Columbia where I am now.

Belem is a beautiful city at the mouth of the Rio Amazonian and a great place to have a few days chilling before the five day boat trip to Manous deep into the Amazon and probably the last real town before pure jungle and real tribes. Sailing up the Amazon river is a wonderful experience as you do not actually realise that you have left the sea and are now in the river because it is so wide that you are unable to see either shore at times. after a day or two the river narrows at times to become just what you imagine the Amazon to be - jungle closing in on you from both sides as if it is going to swallow you up never to be seen again, it really is like being on the African Queen with Humphrey Bogart and Lauren Bacall or whoever it was in the film. The smells and the sounds are what really fire up the imagination especially when you are gently rocking in your hammock, strung up to any two points on deck that will support you and nightfall is cloaking you in a blanket of mystery and intrigue. It is at this point that you realise you are merely a privileged visitor to a habitat that has it's own laws and timescales and one that you disregard at your own peril - the jungle really does have a humbling effect on you when you have no blanket to hide under and no place to go but where you are. Having said that, if you embrace it for what it is, the jungle is one of the most welcoming places on Earth and will willingly reveal to you all its mysteries and treasures, proudly showing off like a mother with her new born child. The deeper into the interior you sail the more personal the experience becomes and when you see a freshwater Amazonian Dolphin surface beside you it is easy to believe that this special treat is staged just for you. The majority of Dolphin in the Amazon are beautiful grey dolphins but what I really wanted to see was the rare and elusive Pink Dolphins and being the luckiest man on Earth, on day five I was finally rewarded with a pair of these magnificent creatures surfacing together. It was only a fleeting glimpse but one that will stick in my mind forever - I really do feel honoured and special having seen something in the wild that not many people have witnessed. Sailing up the Amazon is a lifetime adventure that could stand up there in its own right as the trip to top all trips but as part of a global adventure is truly a privileged experience but you also know that there is more to come when you finally hit Terra Firma. Apart from the Dolphins, Monkeys and all the other animals that become part of your daily life, there is one other special drama that the Amazon is about to enact for you and that is the boarding parties of local tribal children who apparently risk life and limb to meet and greet you. It all starts with a glimpse upstream to a sighting of a waterside village and a "get your camera ready" thought running through your head. What you are about to witness defies description but I am going to try it anyway - oh how I wished I had taken a descriptive writing course before leaving the UK. The boat I am sailing on is a motorised vessel that travels upstream against the flow of the Amazon at a relatively fast rate of knots and because of this, anything coming downstream seems to pass you at twice the speed therefore making it seemingly impossible for anyone in a craft going the opposite way to get on board. I was told to expect the unexpected! When I first caught a glimpse of a tribal village on a bend in the river, probably about half a kilometre upstream, I could also see many pieces of what looked like tree trunks floating about as if anchored to the spot. Obviously these pieces of wood were going to be canoes or something so I started to feel quite excited at the images I would see as we passed the village, images that I had seen on TV programmes I was really going to see for myself. What I was about to witness surpassed even my wildest dreams and preconceived expectations. Shortly after first seeing the village and the canoes, I saw what looked to be a mass, waterborne exodus of the village as if fleeing in panic from some unseen danger that was about to envelop them. This flotilla of fleeing villagers looked to me as if they were leaping straight from the frying pan into the fire. Their flight was taking them straight into the path of our boat and as we got nearer to collision it became apparent that not only were these crafts, in some cases merely pieces of bark, but the groups on board were all children some of them no older than 6 or 7 years old. My heart was in my mouth as we got nearer to disaster, so much so that I put my camera down and mentally prepared myself to jump over board with anything that would float in a bid to rescue who I could. As we got to within 50 metres of the children and my worst nightmare was about to unfold, they suddenly all manoeuvred their crafts to face downstream and started to paddle furiously towards us as if playing a game of chicken - I was soberly reminded of some of the stupid daredevil stunts I got up to when I was a kid. It looked to me that each and everyone of them hit the font of our boat and for some unknown reason were deflected alternatively to either side of our boat like a police motorbike stunt team veering off one by one first left the next right and so on. Looking over the side of the boat and witnessing this miraculous escape of lives, it was quickly dawning on me that this was a well rehearsed, perfectly orchestrated event that had been choreographed with precision timing so many times before. Even as I stood there in awe with my bottom jaw hitting my chest and my eyes bulging like the organ stops in the Phantom of the Opera, what happened next was even more amazing. The side of our boat had car tyres hanging along its length as bumpers to avoid damage when docking at a port and as these flimsy boats full of kids flew past us a young boy on the first one grabbed a hold of a tyre with one arm and was pulled of his canoe with a fierce jerk. As he hung on to the tyre with one hand his other hand was holding a 20ft rope attached to his canoe full of siblings. Within seconds the slack on the rope became taught and the young lad was effectively towing the rest of his group along with one hand, against the current. As if this show of amazing strength from such a young lad wasn’t enough, another boat full of children latched on to the back of his canoe then another on to the back of that one and another on the end of the chain. This young lad was not only holding a chain of four boats with one hand but was actually towing them all through the water at speed; the strain must have been immense. Next came the boarding technique which consisted of the first boat in the convoy hauling itself in to the young lad who, still only hanging on to the side of our boat with on hand, then tied their boat up and the youngsters clambered on board. With the first boat now firmly tied to our boat the first young lad climbed on board to a rapturous round of applause. One by one the other boats hauled themselves in bringing with them fruit and food to sell. This drama was being enacted on both sides of the boat simultaneously and at the end of the ¨Boarding Show¨¨ we had in excess of 15 young native girls and boys aboard. This boarding show was to be re-enacted several times as we sailed further up stream and on one occasion the human tow bar was an incredible young girl who told us she was ten years old. As always, in my rucksack, I carry gifts for the children of the tribes I meet and on this occasion I had for the first time, dozens of packets of balloons in addition to the normal stock of hair bands, pens, notebooks and sweets. The coloured pens come in packs of ten pens and it was lovely to see that when you gave a pack to a child they immediately opened them and shared with their friends - not so the balloons. I wasn’t sure whether the children would know what balloons were but they obviously did and their little faces beamed when I handed the first packet out, but the little girl who got them stuffed them straight down her knickers and was off like a whippet - there was no way she was going to share this prize possession with anybody else. Luckily I had enough packets to give every child one so everyone was happy.

The tales of the riverbank could go on forever but I have so much more to update you all on that I going to leave the river for now and get myself motivated to sit at the computer for hours next time I find one, and tell you about living in the jungle and the sights and sounds of my favourite habitat on earth.

Just a quick hello to everyone who has emailed me and congratulation to Ronnie on the birth of his first. Also Wedding congratulations to Jennie and Rob and I hope I’ll see you In Australia when next I’m down there, and a huge thanx to Geoff who puts all this on the website for you all to read - I owe you a few beers when I get home in September.

Update from venezuela

2006-04-21T07:40:00.000-07:00

Hi everybody

I’ve just escaped the jungle and am now in Caracas, Venezuela, the first time I have been in civilization for a long time though to describe Caracas as civilized stretches it a bit as every security guard and doorman carries a gun and a semi automatic rifle, I’m not allowed to walk the streets in shorts as that identifies me as a tourist and the road to the airport has just been attacked and they have blown up the bridge effectively cutting off the airport as a means of escape.

Anyway I have just got to an internet for the first time in a long while and it seems like there big chunks of my reports missing so I’m trying to send you all bits that are still available and hopefully send more info as and when I can. After leaving Rio Brazil just got better and better but to report on every little place I visited would just be more of the same IE beautiful place, beautiful people. The main adventure started again when I got to Belem to start my adventure up the Amazon by boat, which is where I’ll start my next report when I get the chance but for now I must do some personal emails to people who are worried about my safety having not heard from me for so long Until the Amazonian Adventure - love to everyone and watch this space

God made the world in 6 days - the 7th day he devoted to Rio

2006-04-10T07:35:00.000-07:00

I arrived in Rio on a bus with Duran Duran belting out of the bus stereo system, I bet you can’t guess what song they where playing?

God made the world in 6 days ................ is a famous local saying by the Cariocas (The Brazilians of Rio) because of the outstanding beauty of the area. This is a city of beaches, Samba, Carnival and football and with a population of around 7 million, is one of the most densely populated areas of the world outside of Carnival time, at Carnival time god only knows what the population swells to.

Obviously the famous sights of Rio have to be done by any visitor to this incredible city so my first port of call after booking in to a hotel was Corcovado and Christ the redeemer - it’s absolutely mind blowing, the sheer size of it and the fact that it is the biggest piece of Art Decor in the world. It took 13 years from conception to completion and is everything your wildest dreams could imagine. From The Christ to Sugarloaf Mountain next and once again worthy of a trip to Rio even if there was nothing else on offer. The views from the two cable car rides to get to the top are breathtaking and on the day I was up there we had an added bonus of a red sunset setting behind Christ the Redeemer in the distance. Then of course there are the beaches of Ipanema, Leblon and Copacabana. Unfortunately it turns out that I left Sao Paulo the day before U2 were giving a free concert and arrived in Rio the day after the Rolling stones had perfumed free to an audience of two million on Copacabana Beach - got that planning all wrong then?

Tango and Samba

2006-03-14T04:23:00.000-08:00

Buenos Aires, also known as The Paris of South America because of its lovely green parks, plazas and wide Boulevards, has a reputation for its nightlife and believe me this is not an exaggeration. The bars, restaurants and nightclubs are open all hours and the hostel I stayed in was as good as anywhere I’ve been so far. The hostel however was not the one that had been recommended to me by so many other travellers. When I arrived in Buenos Aires I decided, as it was only 6 in the evening, it would be good fun to try and get there by public transport and so see some of the city as I went along. Finding the Hostel was really quite easy but it took a long time to get there by bus so I didn’t arrive there until around 8.30pm only to find there was no room at the inn. The same was true of all the other hostels in the area as almost every traveller in the world was there to head for Rio and the Carnival. There was a nice little pub on the corner of one street so, feeling quite hungry and tired, I popped in for flavoured water and a Steak that must have been 2 inches thick and the size of a tea-plate which I found was to be the norm in Argentina. As I sat grappling with the monster steak a voice said "any luck with accommodation"? I turned to where the voice was coming from and it was a guy I had met for all of ten minutes in Malacca all those months ago, who had remembered me. He had found a "great place" just a bus ride away that wasn’t in any of the guide books as it had just opened. It took me almost an hour to finally get this steak to yield but it gave me time to read this guy and finally I said “Twud be rude not to, Lets go!” True to his word the hostel was brand new and Ab Fab, the staff were a hoot and the party never stopped. I spent 4 days there and could have stayed even longer as it was smack bang in the middle of everything and a great place to view B.A. from. The guy who had showed me this place, Michael, had lived in B.A. for six months a year ago so he knew everywhere to go and everything to see in this beautiful city. There is another side to this extremely friendly city and it’s even more friendly inhabitants, the local hobby seems to be peaceful demonstrations. Everywhere you go the roads are blocked off with people quietly demonstrating though what about is not clear. It would appear that people even spend their lunch breaks eating their sarnies whilst sitting in the first demonstration available. I couldn’t resist so I joined a demonstration to see if I could find out what it was all about. “It’s about women’s rights”” one lady informed me, much to the displeasure of another who told me it was about the treatment of immigrants, only to be told by a third who had overheard the conversation that it was about some guy who had been wrongly jailed for speaking up against corruption. As soon as the opportunity arose I sneaked away leaving the three women doing verbal battle which looked as though it could get nasty - oops!

The Carnival in Rio was only 15 days away and I had so much to see and such distances to travel that I thought it best to leave Buenos Aires and get moving before I caused a riot or got locked up as an enemy of the state. As I compose this next bit I am in the northern half of Brazil, travelling without a passport, and just about to start my journey through the Amazon to Venezuela so I’m going to miss out most of the nitty gritty and just try to get you all up to date as best I can, well at least up to the Carnival in Rio.

Leaving B A was sad but it had to be done sooner rather than later as I seem to be warming to capital cities all of a sudden and almost coming to a halt with my travels. I knew I had to pass through Uruguay at some stage so I jumped on a boat across the River Plate straight into Uruguay and an absolutely picture of a town called Colonia.
Colonia has many historical claims to fame but for me one thing stood out more than even the beautiful cobbled streets that could have been straight out of a Charles Dickens novel, was the cars! Everywhere you looked there were vintage cars of every kind just left to rot or being used as outdoor sitting areas for cafes. Honestly any motor enthusiast coming to this little place that time forgot would be like a child in a sweet shop. Some day some motor dealer is going to find this place and ship all these valuable little beauties back to the UK and make an absolute fortune whilst giving nothing to the poor people who know no other. Moving on swiftly, as to stay here for more than a day would probably mean never leaving the place; I headed straight for the capital - Montevideo. It was becoming increasingly obvious that leaving Uruguay was not going to be an easy task - Montevideo was a capital city version of Colonia with beautiful architecture, cars from the 1930´s, steak to die for and cafes and bars that just relax you as you listen to the strains of Tango music. Rio was still a long long way away and long before I get there, Iguazu Falls were still waiting to charm and seduce me even further. Pushing on and travelling mainly on overnight buses which were usually in excess of 10 hour journeys, I visited Salto, Concordia, Posadas then San Ignacio Mini where the Jesuit ruins were featured in the film ``The Mission``.

Built in 1696 these well preserved ruins give you a great insight into how the Jesuits lived when they came here to convert the Guarani Indians to Catholicism. From here it is just a hop step and jump to Iguazu falls but the decision about which side to view them from -Argentina or Brazil - is a nightmare, in the end I decided to do both and if it meant I might miss the opening day of the Carnival then so be it. Iguazu Falls are without doubt one of the most amazing things I have ever seen in my life. Iguazu Falls are the most magnificent waterfalls in the world, unlike most other waterfalls that have just one or two cataracts, Iguazu has 275 cataracts that I speed boated underneath getting absolutely drenched, then walked through the rainforest and catwalks above the falls to the famous Devils Throat finally completing the two days with a Helicopter ride for panoramic pictures and an overall view of Iguazu in it’s full glory.

Next on the list were another couple of overnight bus trips visiting first the beautiful lively university city of Curitiba then on to Sao Paulo (named after me) the world’s fastest growing city with a population of 19 million people before I got there. Sao Paulo is one of the strangest cities I have ever been in with ash trays on outside tables at petrol stations, Friday nights apparently reserved for men only on the streets where they kiss and fondle each other openly and pubs that don’t bother opening if they can get away with just handing out the beers from a window.

Just two more days travelling and one more place to see before Rio I was glad to get out of Sao Paulo. The last stop before Rio is Paraty and another one of those stunning little towns that I was getting used to in Brazil. Paraty is a beautiful old pirate town that is paved with stone slabs in such a way as to let the two highest tides of the year wash over them and completely clean the streets - pretty clever for pirates some 300 years ago!

Well maties I’m going to leave this report there because the next one is all about Rio De Janeiro which is an epic tale all of it’s own and the reason I’ve been travelling through Brazil without a passport.

City of Surprises, One Eyed Willie and The Dancing Duck

2006-02-22T07:46:00.000-08:00

Hola

Flying half way around the world from New Zealand to Chile is a trip I wouldn't want to do again, I arrived in Santiago absolutely shattered. As we touched down in Santiago I had a real uneasy feeling about being here, I don't know what it was but I know my gut instincts are usually right and it didn't take long before I knew what it was. As I walked out of the Airport terminal a guy asked me if I needed a taxi and I told him that I didn't have any Pesos yet. "No problemo" he said as he pointed out where the ATM was, so I thanked him and went to get some money from the machine, as I did I looked around the terminal and realised that there wasn't the usual stands with Hostel and Hotel addresses so I had no Idea where about in town was the best area. When I came back out of the terminal the same guy was standing there as though he was waiting for me, he seemed a nice enough guy and there was police standing all around so I asked him if he knew any hostels near the city centre. He pulled out of his pocket a load of Hostel and Hotel brochures for me to look at and choose somewhere. When I eventually decided on a hostel I told him I would accept his offer of a Taxi so he shouted over the road to one and told the driver where I wanted to be. As I got in the taxi he told me how much the taxi would be and then asked for his "Finding Fee" of 100 Pesos (about 2.50p) I didn't really mind because he had been helpful and if this was the way of this country then so be it.

Diving into town is a 30 minute journey which cost me 500 Pesos plus I had to pay two road tolls on the way. Things were starting to click and my suspicions were confirmed when I got to the Hostel and the guy there explained to me that I had just been ripped off twice and to be very careful in the city. When your money starts going down fast you tend to learn your lessons very quickly and believe me almost every time you try to buy something they try to con you into paying more.

Santiago is a sprawling dirty looking city but a great city to be in once you know what you’re doing and despite the con culture of the place I never felt as though I was in danger. Obviously exploring the nooks and crannies was high on my list of priorities so with very little money in my pocket and a defunked credit card to hand over if I got mugged, it was off to the back of beyond to see the real sights. This city should be nicknamed The City Of Surprises because every corner I turned or backstreet I went down brought me to another great market or an amazing park or just some beautiful buildings and unlike other countries I had visited the diversity of these markets is unbelievable, I don’t think I saw two stalls anywhere selling the same things - It's a good job I didn't bring a woman with me because I would be bankrupt in two days and have so much to carry that I'd have to hire a Sherpa to help me.

On the evening of my first night I continued with the "Lets see if there's a bar down this side street mentality" that had served me so well in other countries and once again I found some brill places and street cafes including one that didn't shut until 7 am the next morning and a manageress who, although she couldn't speak English and I can barely speak Spanish, seemed to take a shine to me. If you're reading this Mark you know the rest of the story and I'm sure, like me you'll have a smile on your face as you think back to a trip we once had! For the rest of you, yes I even managed to get a lock in here so Pohwla if you manage to read this HELLO. Unfortunately my time in Chile was always planned as a short one so I had two choices either fly to Argentina or find a way over the mighty Andes _ no prizes for guessing which was first choice. At the local bus station I asked in my worst Spanish which bus went to Argentine and was pointed in the direction of a bus with Mendoza on the front. I hadn't a map and had even less clue where on earth Mendoza was but what the hell it was a day bus and surely had to cross the Andes to get to Argentina in daylight so Mendoza it was.

Just as I had hoped the bus did cross the Andes and I’m so glad I took this option instead of flying. As I’m sure you can imagine the scenery is absolutely breathtaking and the border crossing into Argentina must be one of the Highest I’ve ever done. I finally arrived in Mendoza at midnight only to find that once again the place was deserted, I had no local currency and there wasn’t any information about hotels and hostels. I did find an ATM after a little walkabout and bumped into what was going to be my sole buddy for the duration of my stay - One eyed Willie - a beautiful stray dog that was cross between an Alsatian and a Husky who had a glass eye. Willie approached me with his tail wagging as though we were long lost friends who hadn’t seen each other for years. He was such a lovely dog that I couldn’t resist giving him a pat on the head and a rub behind the ears. As I sat pondering which direction to take with One Eyed Willie snuggling up beside me, two backpackers arrived for an overnight bus to Buenos Aires. They gave me directions to a good hostel they had been staying in which was only a thirty minute walk away so with my worldly possessions on my back I set off once again into the unknown. The streets were deserted but One Eyed Willie had decided to come along for the trip so I had my new found friend for company and protection through the streets that he seemed to know so well, in fact he led the way all the time as if he knew exactly which hostel I was looking for. As I approached the area of town that the hostel was in, the street cafes were still open and traders selling their wares from makeshift stalls were everywhere. I knew instantly that this was a place I wanted to stay in for more than just a night and when I arrived at the hostel and saw how good and cheap it was my mind was made up so despite being short on time to get to Buenos Aires, I booked in for three nights. When I came out of the hostel in the morning One Eyed Willie was still sitting there where I had left him the night before so as good friends do we did breakfast. Willie was a constant companion during my three day stay in Mendoza which was a bit of a challenge at times sneaking him into bars etc. but what the hell I’ve been kicked out of better places. The park area next to where I was staying is the place to be in the evening as the whole of the population seem to go there and listen to buskers playing, street acts perfuming and market traders selling their hand made crafts. Everybody seemed to take to me and Willie even the Duck that I had seen many times following this guy just like Willie was with me but the difference with this duck was that it performed in the park at the command of its owner, honestly I couldn’t stop laughing when I first saw Dancing duck’s performing. Dressed up like something from a Beatrix Potter tale the duck would start dancing at the command of her master then pick up a plastic cup in her bill and go round the spectators quacking for money. I loved this place and could have happily stayed for a lot longer but sadly three days flew over so quickly and I had to be on my way if I was to reach Rio de Janeiro in time for the Carnival, so I said my fond farewells to Willie and headed for Buenos Aires for a couple of days before the final 16 day push to Rio.
Just as I left Willie I now have to leave you all but don't worry I’ll be in touch very soon for the next update as I’m assured access to the internet will get easier as I near Rio.

Once again thanks to everyone who have posted messages I really look forward to reading them even if I don’t always have the opportunity to reply.
See you all in Buenos Aires.

Adventures of Ropper

2006-01-30T18:58:00.000-08:00

Adventures of Ropper

Kia Ora

2006-01-30T18:39:00.000-08:00

Kia Ora

As you can probably gather I've arrived in New Zealand safe and sound, my baggage arrived at the same time and I was allowed through customs without a single hitch!
I'm obviously really suspicious about a hitch free entry into a country there must be a master plan or a cunning ploy to get me later or something, either that or NZ is going to be a boring place but first impressions don't bear that theory out. My first night in Auckland blew any theory of boring out of the water with a visit to the local watering holes.

Just before I wax lyrical about NZ I've realised that I missed an important part of Oz out - I think I set a new world record! From picking up the camper van in the North, I drove over 5000 km south to Melbourne through every type of terrain, driving both day and night through Kangaroo infested countryside (or so the numerous roadside warnings suggested) and believe it or not the only bloody roos I saw in my whole time in Australia were two dead wallabies on the roadside.

I digress, back now to NZ and my first blistering hot night in Auckland when for some unknown and unexpected reason it rained which is not a godsend here as this is a non smoking country in every bar, cafe or public place, which meant if I wanted a smoke I had to stand outside the bar trying to get a draw out of a soggy tab. Not to be beaten I went in search of somewhere I could get a drink and have a smoke inside, a mission that I should have realised would take me out of civilisation as we know it and into a shady underworld of dimmed lights, dodgy dressers and a language that I was assured was English but that I didn't understand a word of. The Backpacking area of Auckland is on the edge of a pretty seedy part of town to start with but as I walked in search of my Utopia I must have strayed through a black whole or something. Suddenly there where no street lights anymore or at least not many and only half of them working at the best of places, but an Oasis or two was about to appear. Out of the darkness it came - a strange mixture of shimmering neon lights and music to wine and dine a new girlfriend to, but the first little place I came to had no lights outside just music coming from upstairs and a sign outside naming the place "Lipstix". Why do I never learn? I went upstairs and the first thing I saw was a bar with an ashtray on it and I thought I'd hit the jackpot, and I had because after serving me with a beer and giving me a light for my cigarette on came the dancing girls and I was given the "Menu" honestly it was a professionally printed menu, of sex and costs. In all honesty I had realised before this where I was but I decided just to act naive and maybe I'd get a second beer out of it before being escorted out by THOR the Viking doorman. I did get a second beer and a third and a fourth, and ended up having a great laugh with the doorman and the Madame when I explained that all I wanted was a beer and a cigarette and had walked into the place by mistake. After several more beers and laughs as I told the tales of my travels to all the staff it was time for me to go home and as I bid my fond farewells and emerged back onto street level. It was obvious that all the rest of the bars in town were shut, so not only had I scored a place to have a ciggie and a beer but I had also got my usual lock-in sorted out on my first night. On my second night I had a good look around at some of the other bars in town which to my surprise all shut before midnight. So it was off to my new local where I drank, smoked and laughed till early in the morning, I'm sure if I wanted I could have got a job there making the customers laugh and relax as they nervously awaited their turn in the tub.

Two days is more than enough time for me in any big city so the following morning it was off to god knows where, I had just decided to jump on the first bus that came along and get off wherever it stopped. This idea was not one of my better ones as you really have to book in advance any interstate travel if you want to get a seat. I knew I had to go to Wellington at some time during my stay to deliver a letter to Moira’s son, so I booked a seat and travelled through the night to Wellington only to find Neil and Yolanda were away for the day. I had two choices, I could hang around until the following day and fulfil my promise to hand deliver a letter, or jump straight on the ferry to South Island and head for my impending encounter with Baa Baa Black Sheep. I new I had to come back to Wellington on my way back to Auckland for my flight to South America so the ferry it was, on what was to be the coldest day I've had since leaving the UK and surprise surprise, it rained all the way across the Marlborough Sound to Picton.

Picton, for being a major port of entry is surprisingly small with only one main street and only two bars, one of which is hidden up a backstreet so obviously that's where I went. It was supposed to be an Irish bar and it was but with a difference, it was tiny and only locals drank there including my first Maori encounter - Mickey THE 20 stone local taxi driver. Already I wash wishing I had put more time aside for NZ as it is a wonderfully friendly place with people who would gladly give you anything you need to make your stay enjoyable.

The next stop on South Island was to be a reunion with local sheep shearing Kiwi, Kev and his wife Eva who I had met in Moscow, Siberia and again in Mongolia. On the way to Christchurch to meet these guys is a place called Kaikoure which means "eat Crayfish" and is renowned for its whale and dolphin watching and all things marine so I just had to stop there for at least one day and night. Kaikoura is a great little seaside village on a small peninsular right in the migration path of all sorts of whales and also has a resident Pod of Humpback Whales. Camera at the ready I boarded a vessel and went in search of these magnificent creatures but wouldn't you just know it, I had brought the bad weather with me and the sea swells were so bad that we had to turn back before we got a chance to see any Whales. All was not lost though, I did get a great view of Wandering Albatross and New Zealand Fur Seal and besides I knew I was coming back this way at which time I would stop for as long as it takes to get a sighting. I arrived in Christchurch in the evening and met Kev in a pub just around the corner from his house Unfortunately Kev and Eva were going away for the weekend but told me just to use the house as my own and they would see me when they got back. In true Kiwi style Kev made a phone call and suddenly the plan changed, I was to go with them to a sort of Holiday cottage in a seaside village called Akaroa where they were to meet up with friends. It was very similar to a group of us back home going to the Bunkhouse for the weekend; only ten times better if you can believe that's possible.

The first person I met from the group was Lowlow (as in cowcow) who is so funny I just knew the weekend would be great and it was. Lowlow went diving for Paua, a seafood delicacy, and brought back 23 of these huge shellfish/molluscs. Paua are like huge limpets about 5 inches across with the most beautiful shells and I was about to have my first lesson in how to get these huge suckers out of their shells and I even accepted the invitation to eat one raw - wow is all I can say to describe the taste. I had an incredible weekend with lots of tales to tell you all when I get home not least of which is Kev's chicken dance! and Hectors dolphin in the bay.

Back in Christchurch Kev received a phone call to shear some sheep for a local farmer, and this will get you rugby fans (Paul in Warrington) watering at the mouth, the farmer in question was non other than the Infamous All Black - Richard Loe - I couldn't wait. An early start in the morning got us to the farm for 7.15 to start shearing at 7.30 and for the first couple of hours I just stood watching three shearers scalping sheep at a rate of 1 every 2 minutes or so. After "smoky", that's just a term WE sheep shearers use for the first break, I got to have a look round the farm with Richard and what a nice guy he is, and I'm not just saying that because he's got calf muscles like a Heifer, arms the size of my waist, and the reputation of a raging bull, he genuinely is a nice guy to be on the right side of. In the afternoon, rather than stand around looking like an expecting father at the impending birth, I got stuck into bailing the wool firstly before finally being given the opportunity to undress a sheep. With sheers in my hand and a glint in my eye like Sweeney Todd, Edward "Ropper" scissor hands set to work dismembering a poor sheep. I think I did pretty well for my first attempt but you know that syndrome when you take something apart for the first time and you always have bits left over when you put it back together but it still works? Well sheep are no exception - I've convinced myself that they can still live a fulfilled life with only three legs attached and no tail!

It was a great experience, though I'm not so sure that the sheep would agree, but alas there is so much to see in NZ that I had to be moving on and the shearers would just have to manage without my expert help. Next on the agenda was the West coast, Mount Cook, The Franz Josef and Fox Glaciers etc. and time was running out so I hired a car, packed a toothbrush and a couple of T shirts and set off not really knowing where I was going or how to get there. Fortunately for me the first hitch hikers I came across were two Polish girls (hello Isabella) who at least knew where they were going and had some sort of inclination on how to get there, so I just went with the flow and followed their instructions. When I finally reached Mount Cook it was blatantly obvious that I could not get to see very much of the vast Southern Alps in the time I had so there was only one thing for it - hitch a lift on a plane and fly over them. There is a company who fly trips over the Alps on a daily basis but all the seats on the small six seater plane were taken, all of them that was except the co-pilots seat right up there next to the jockey... I don't know whether it was my sob story about the distance I had travelled especially for this flight or just the sheer pitiful sight of a grown man crying, but it worked - I had the best seat in the house but with one condition, I did have to reluctantly promise not to take over the controls unless the jockey died!!! Honestly the thought never crossed my mind. It was a great flight and a great night in the local boozer, that was until I met Helga, the man eating German, who insisted we should travel together in her hired camper van and share the costs. I'm not sure you could get anybody else in the van once she hauled her substantial self in but anyway I explained that I had also hired a vehicle so it wasn't practical. She was a really canny lass but when I told her that I was heading off for a place called Hanaka and she told me "that's where I'm going too - how do you get there??? - we'll have to meet up for a meal and a drink - have you got anywhere to stay?” the alarm bells started ringing. I did drive to Hanaka then on to Twizel before finally stopping at Fairle some 100klm further on. On a more serious note though, if anybody tells you just how munificent and beautiful the West coast of the South Island is, just nod and smile because believe me it is not possible to over exaggerate just how stunning this place is. Time was running out for me and with only four days before my flight to Chile and a second attempt to see the whales to fit in, I had to start heading back to the best Hostel in the world - Kev and Eva’s Backpacking Utopia - By invitation only. The following day I said my goodbyes to two very special people who made New Zealand a home from home for me and somewhere I would love to come back to, and headed north for my impending encounter with some of the biggest creatures on Earth. Having been a tad disappointed with my first whale watch only served to make the second even more special. As we sailed out to the deeper waters where the Humpback feed we were joined by Dusky Dolphins who swam along side us for quite some time seemingly escorting us to where the whales were feeding. Humpback Whales dive very deep to feed only coming up to breath every 1 or so hours and if you see more than one in a day you are having a good one. I had a very special day - a migratory pod of 10 or 12 Whales had arrived in the area to feed joining the resident bachelors which meant the chances of multiple sightings was good. The first sight of a Humpback you get is a 2 to 3 metre spray of water in the distance as they surface to breathe and clear their blowholes, floating on or just under the surface for quite some time before they dive and if you’re very lucky, "High Tailing" as they dive. On my voyage of discovery we saw 8 whales and 3 High Tailing dives one of which I managed to get on camera.

So much has happened in New Zealand that I'm going to have to keep loads of tales till I get home but I have to say these are some of the friendliest people on earth and this country is somewhere I could definitely hang my hat. For now though it's off to South America in a couple of hours time for part two of this trip with about another twenty countries to visit before returning to the UK.

Before I sign off and out just another thank you to Kev and Eva who really did make this visit a special one and a quick hello to Cootsy who unfortunately I didn't manage to catch up with while I was Down Under - maybe next time Eh!

Guday, Guday, Guday

2006-01-11T04:06:00.000-08:00

Guday, Guday, Guday

Well as I'm sure you will gather I'm in Oz at the moment but fly off to New Zealand tomorrow so I'm going to try to get you all bang up to date with my travels thus far..
Before I do though I just want to say hello to a few people who have sent me emails, it really is a comforter when you start to feel a bit isolated that people are reading my tales and not only has it given them a laugh but they have taken the time to respond either to the web or to my personal email address ( roppa54@yahoo.co.uk )

Hello John, sorry to hear the wedding is off bruv I'll just have to take you to Whitley when I get back and we'll see what happens. When I lost all my stuff in Beijing I lost all my addresses and phone numbers including Anthony’s so I have no way of contacting him when I get to the States, perhaps you could send it to me -cheers.

Eva & Kev - I'll be in NZ in a days time so get the sheep ready for shearing I'm raring to go - Will give you a ring in a couple of days time to finalise arrangements mate.

Joanne and Paul in Warrington how's Everton doing? It was great to hear from you and see the pictures from Mongolia - Oh my god! All the best and keep in touch mates.
Hello also to Scouse Mat, Cleopatra Tracy, Ozzies Graeme and Jess, and all the other wonderful people I've met so far, sorry I can't mention you all by name as there is so many of you and so little time

Well the time of reckoning is upon us and the Australian adventure needs an airing but where to start and what to include?

You know that feeling you get when the inevitable is about to happen? Well I flew into Cairns from Singapore at 5.30am thinking “I’ve only had two flights so far on these adventures and both times my luggage went somewhere else I wonder if I'm going to maintain my 100% record? Standing at the conveyor belt with a smirk on my face I stood and watched as the baggage was taken off item by item and the crowds started dwindling till only a couple of people were left (me included) waiting for their cases to pop out of that little magic hole that spews out suitcases, holdalls and odd shaped packages into the Airport. Guess what? My bag arrived! It may have been the last one to arrive but the little Ripper, seemingly wagging its little straps, got there. There must have been a bit of an over confident jaunty spring in my step as I skipped over to the "Nothing to declare gate" whistling Waltzing Matilda and grinning like a simpleton in a sweet factory, because I never made it to the gate instead I was headed off at Guday Bruce Creek and sent to the dreaded "little room" to await the impending interrogation and body search - I hope she's got warm hands! As it happens it was a big ugly bloke who simply electronically scanned me, not so for my poor faithful companion, they just unceremoniously ripped the guts out of it even going through my dirty washing - oh how I grinned when they had to put their hands into my sweaty socks that were still wet from the night before and then make the sniffer dogs check them out, I bet that dog will never work again. It took about an hour to go through every single item I had on me including taking batteries out of everything and getting my toothpowder everywhere, the suddenly it was all over. The guards just said everything is ok; pack your bags you're free to go? I asked if there was an explanation and he just turned and gave me a filthy look as he left. Welcome to Australia Ropper!

I was 2 hours behind everybody else leaving the Airport so any chance of the local touts and courtesy buses to give you a lift into the city and sort out some digs was well gone. The Airport was completely deserted and it turned out that the next flight in wasn't due for another 4 hours so it was time to do what I do best - have an adventure. I loaded old faithful onto my back, my day sack onto my front and headed out of the lovely air conditioned airport smack bang into a welcoming party of dozens of females who were all over me the minute they saw me - Bloody Mossies - did you know it's only the female that bites. I had so many bites that if you joined up all the dots you would have a perfect picture of ME. Good eh?

Once in town I had an address of someone who was a good friend of Aussie Graeme who I first met in Vietnam, and this friend of his ran a hostel. When I knocked at the door Chris came out and said "you must be Ropper? Graeme emailed me and told me all about you" Oh shit I thought, I hope he didn't tell him everything or I'll never get a room. It was a great place and I stayed there for a couple of days visiting all the "Abbo Pubs" that I was warned not to, I had a great time. Two days after arriving I had to pick up a Camper van that I had booked before leaving England, and head out on the open Road - sounds good eh?

(I'm just logging off for an hour or so to grab a cuppa and a Tab and I'll tell you more when I get back.)

Ahhhhh that's better, couldn't find a cafe that was open so I had a couple of beers instead - well it would be rude not to.

Now where was I? Oh yes heading out on the open road wasn't I? Well I've got to say that the worst thing I did when planning the Australian leg of my trip was to hire a camper van but more of that later. I set of from Cairns heading north to Cape Tribulation and the Rain forests of northern Queensland on the advice of Graeme and I've got to say, in typical Aussie terminology, "He certainly didn't sell me a bum steer".

The Rain Forests of Queensland are as good as the Amazon and even better than the Cameron Highlands! The wildlife here is unique, rare and just so beautiful, as is the coastland and beaches. This is the place that's known as the place where the Rainforest meets the Reef and it is exactly that, it's defies description. Captain Cook named it Cape Tribulation when he first discovered Australia, because this was the first place he hit (literally!) As he approached land, the water was so shallow over the reef that he bottomed out and damaged the hull of his boat and later wrote in his log that "this was the place that our troubles began"

I spent a great couple of days in Cape Tribulation seeing cassowary, platypus, beautiful butterflies and some incredible trees and plants in what is said to be one of the world’s oldest unspoilt rainforests. I think at this juncture in my travel tails it is perhaps time to tell you an interesting little tale that has been unfolding since China and is becoming uncannily true almost to the extent that it has me wondering. I have a nickname that other travellers have begun to give me - The Rain Man. As I've travelled south down through south East Asia every place I've been to has complained that the rains haven't arrived on time. Each place I've been to I've joked with them saying "Don't worry the rain follows me everywhere I go" and without exception the rain arrives within a day of my arrival. I mention this now because Cape Tribulations annual punctual rain was two months overdue and there were concerns that water levels were so low that they would have to be rationed with no forecast of rain in the immediate future. When I arrived at the forest lodge and heard about their plight I told them of my wet travels throughout Asia and said to them that the rain would come now that I'm here (not honestly believing they would). Bugger me! You would not believe how much rain fell that night and right through the following day' so much so that I was told if I didn't leave within a day or two I wouldn't get through the floods for days. Strangely that’s been the story right down through Eastern Australia and I know its just coincidence but it’s a great story to tell everywhere I go and it then comes true.

Life in a camper van in Australia is a nightmare if you're travelling alone and even worse if your planning was so crap that all you do every day is drive, drive, drive and eventually arrive at a small town that doesn't allow you to camp anywhere except official caravan parks that charge you the earth and are always out of town with not a bar in sight for miles. Honestly I thought I was going crazy at one point having not spoken to a soul for days and nights just driving all day then pulling in to a lay-by in the middle of nowhere just to sit and twiddle my thumbs till morning all the time hoping the cops didn't spot me. They did once and it cost me 120$ to get out of jail in the morning and get the van back. I hadn't realised just how big Oz is and if I was to meet up with friends in Sydney for New Years Eve I would have to just keep driving and not stop anywhere for more than an overnight kip. Xmas Eve and Day of course would be different. I pulled into a town at 4pm on Xmas eve only to find it was shut, that’s right the TOWN was shut, even the traffic lights had been turned off! The hotels had Guests in but no staff other than a security guard to let them in and out of their rooms, every bar and bottle shop was closed and if you wanted to eat there was one cafe advertising that they would be open - the day after Boxing Day!

I didn’t make it to Sydney for New Years Eve as I got caught up in horrendous bush fires that kept turning me back and even main highways were closed off.

I'm going to close my account of Oz here with a little summary of what has been the worst leg of my travels so far. I am so annoyed at myself for not planning this part of the trip properly, Oz is a beautiful country with incredible wildlife and mile after mile of the most beautiful beaches on earth and I haven't been able to enjoy it properly. I hope I don't sound negative about Australia because the fault lays with me not the country.

I'm going to leave you with one little story which probably summarises just how your mind goes when you're wandering aimlessly. A few years ago I was out with my wife Judith having a surprise celebration meal. I remember it so well because it was the day that I got my first ever mobile phone. As we sat having our meal a phone started to ring and after a while of this ring, ring ringing my wife said "that's your phone you know", to which I replied in all earnest "it couldn't be, nobody knows I'm here". I mention this story because I didn't think I could be that stupid again until two days ago when I saw on the map a place called 90 mile beach and I thought I've just got to see that. When you stand at the beginning of 90 mile beach it just goes on for ever and I just had to go for a walk if only to relive the boredom of driving. I walked for miles totally lost in my thoughts and talking away to myself when I suddenly became aware of my own voice saying "Bloody hell I wonder how long this beach is"

I’ve got to go now and get ready for my flight so I'll speak to you all from NZ when next I report.

The missing link

2006-01-10T04:00:00.000-08:00

It appears that this part of my journey is lost somewhere in the annuls of evolution so you'll have to insert this into the page prior to Kuala Lumpa. I hope that makes sense to you all. The problem is, is that I've visited so many places and seen so many things that I haven't reported on yet, that my mind is a miss mash of "what happened where" never mind I'll try to recount as much as possible.

Just as other travellers had told me the Cameron Highlands are a must for any traveller in the Maylan peninsular, it's as breathtaking as a dip in the Artic Ocean in January. There's nothing much to do for nightlife but everything else about the area more than makes up for that. The Cameron Highlands is one of the country’s most fertile areas and as such a major farming area of both agricultural land and jungles, believed to be millions of years old and in which live many Aboriginal Tribes who still hunt using poison darts and blowpipes.

The first place I visited was the Boh Tea Plantation, which is enormous, - boring eh? On the contrary, it's a fascinating place where I learned which leaves to pick for the highest quality tea. After that it was on to the factory to watch the whole process of turning the leaves into tea then of course sampling the final product with a fag (cigarette you morons) in the tea gardens, a really enjoyable experience.

Other surprisingly good areas I visited included Cactus valley, a honey bee farm and a strawberry farm which made it's own not to be missed strawberry ice cream, but the best place of all was a butterfly farm where I got to come literally face to face with not only the many species of beautiful butterflies that landed on me but also a 5 inch black Scorpion that took a shine to my T Shirt and decided it wanted to climb up it and give me a nibble on the ear, a huge Rhinoceros Beetle, a massive Leaf Insect and many more Incredible insects and reptiles. Oh! I nearly forgot about the gold nuggets hanging in the trees. Everywhere there were these gold strings hanging down from the leaves with an ingot of gold about the size of a large pea on the end of them, honestly if you put one round your neck on a Saturday night in Whitley nobody would be able to tell that you weren't a real Charva, that is until these things Morph. Yeah that’s right they are the Puppa of one of the butterflies, I’ve never seen anything like it before these things really do shine like gold.

All of the above was wicked but the best was still to come. The following day, setting off by 4WD for an early morning start I was off with a guide to visit one of the Rain forest tribes, the Orang Asli, in their village to learn about their culture and lifestyle and maybe even get the chance to learn how to use a blowpipe. It was a really hot day when we set off but it had rained heavily all night so the prospect of impassable rivers and washed out tracks was a real concern for my guide but he assured me if I didn't mind really roughing it he would get me there somehow - At that point I was secretly hoping the tracks had been washed out. The journey was a bit touch and go to say the least but the drivers skills got us about two hours into the jungle before it was time to leave the vehicle and get some exercise. After about half an hour of walking we stopped for a break and waited, and waited and patiently waited, for what? I had no idea. All was to become clear very soon. As we sat waiting two of the local tribesmen came to meet us and guide us from that point on, we had waited because this is their land and to just walk through it without their permission would be an insult and disrespectful The reason they had taken a while to collect us was that they had already been scouting the forest for a particular thing that they new I would want to see and as the opportunity is rare they had done their homework. Trekking through the steamy humid jungle with these super fit guys certainly brings out the Macho in you. Every time I slipped into a bog or tripped over a tree trunk or was left gasping for breath at the bottom of a hill, an excuse of some sort came to mind -you know the sort of thing -"I just stopped to admire this amazing twig" or "I was seeing how deep the water was" anyway they knew and just smiled to themselves and carried on. As we walked through forest the two tribesmen pushed on relentlessly not saying a word, almost as if I wasn't there. The breakthrough came when I starting asking my guide questions about what was edible, what trees where used for what and how do you find water was drinkable. As my guide translated my questions for our hosts they slowed right down and seemed to take great pleasure in pointing out everything about the rainforest and its ecology - I was loving it. After perhaps an hour at this leisurely pace of education and discovery, all of a sudden the pace grew and the air of excitement and change of tone in their voices told me that something special was about to happen. You don't get much more special than this - we veered of the track to our right and picked our way up a hill through dense bamboo until there it was - the world’s largest flower, the RAFFLESIA. This flower is so big that no stem could support it so it just looked as though someone had picked from somewhere and laid it on the ground and what made it more special is that it takes five years to develop before finally flowering for just a few days before it dies. To chance coming across one by yourself could take a lifetime, that is if you ever saw one yet alone stumble on it just as it flowers. This particular specimen was probably just a bit bigger than a dustbin lid or the wheel of a racing bike and had started to dull from the bright crimson when it first opens. When it first opens it stinks of rotting flesh which attracts a particular type of fly who inadvertently pollinates it when they leave with no dead meat to eat. It's hard to describe the RAFFLESIA but if you get the chance look it up on the web. As I stumbled backwards down the hill to get far enough away to fit it all into a photo, I saw what looked like a cream coloured brain lying on the ground and my first reaction was to touch it to see what it was. As I knelt down beside it to explore it further the words of Narccisi, my Amazon guide from Peru, rang through my head - "Mr Paul no, it kill you" I thought better of touching it and brought it to the attention of my Orang Asli guides who told me through my interpreter that it was a fungus and had I touched it, it would have exploded spreading its spores everywhere including all over me, sticking to me are causing severe irritation for many days. This is how it spreads it's spores by sticking to a host animal they will flee from the dust and spend the next few days itching and dislodging the spores to new pastures where they can germinate.

Travelling on through the forest after that just seemed to me to feel as though I was meant to be there and the enthusiasm I greeted everything new to me with seemed to give my hosts almost as much pleasure and I'm sure they took me on a little detour because of this. The detour was to a crystal clear forest stream and waterfall with Jacuzzi - oh man I can't tell you how good that was but I'm sure you can imagine just how long I soaked in the pool, all that was missing was a cold beer although that would probably spoiled the purity of the whole experience. There's Lots more to tell but I'll save some for when I get back because we finally reached the Orang Asli village where I was greeted by about a dozen children in traditional children’s costume - that's right not a stitch on and just doing what children do best - laughing, playing and making as much noise as they can jumping in and out of the river without a care in the world - it was wonderful. The Blowpipe lesson was next on the agenda though they told me I would not have poison darts to use as they liked their children and families to much. "Come on" I thought, how difficult can this be after all I was a crack shot from the back seats of the pictures with my pea shooter when I was a kid - never missed a ladies hat once. Anyway I was just grateful that they were going to allow me to use something as special as a 5ft blowpipe, hand crafted out of bamboo in such a skilful way. The blowpipe I was about to use was about thirty years old and had been handed down from generation to generation (I sort of wished I had done the same with my peashooter) It wasn't going to be hard, they simply put a target on the side of the hut and from 30ft away blew this bamboo dart within an inch of a black dot marked on it. My turn. They loaded the blowpipe, halved the distance to the target, instructed me on how to blow then did a runner for cover? Just as well because my first attempt didn't even hit the hut and the pet dog hasn't been seen again. I did get the hang of it after a few (many) goes and as the day ended I sat in the only pub back in town with a memory to savour all my life - what a day.

Well mates I hope that fills in the gaps a bit, it's Kuala Lumpa after this and I'm sure you have that story.

Absolutely Malacca-erd

2006-01-03T06:09:00.000-08:00

Happy new year everyone I hope you're having a better one than me, I'm in Eastern Australia surrounded by bush fires and getting turned back everywhere I go. That’s a story for later but for now I need to bring you up to date with Malaya. I've checked the web site and the story of the Cameron Highlands hasn't been posted yet so if it has been lost I'll update it later. (haven’t got it yet, will slot it in as and when – geoff-editor)

On leaving the Cameron Highlands I headed south for Kuala Lumpur via a six hour journey in an air conditioned luxury coach at a cost of 3 pounds - It's so cheap to travel around Asia in luxury if you want it. The first thing you see as you approach KL is the Petronas Towers and what a sight they are, unfortunately I wasn't able to go up to the top as the Asian Summit was about to take place there and the whole area was blocked off for security purposes. KL's futuristic high rise buildings are an incredible sight, they make New York look amateur - you either like it or Kuala lump it - personally as a person who hates big cities I was pleasantly surprised. I stopped in a hostel down in China Town on the edge of the Golden Triangle but found a club just a short taxi drive away that was easy to get to but by the time I left, early morning, it wasn't easy to get back from so it was imperative that I befriended some locals.

I only spent a few days in KL but managed to see most of the best, thanks to the local knowledge of my new Malaysian friends. One shrine I visited, the Batu caves, had something like 282 steps to climb to get to it but was worth it just for the view looking back. There's not really a lot to tell you about my adventures in K L, it was a nice place to visit, but as with most Capital cities it's not a place I would hang my hat for long. So its time to move on to my next destination in Malaya - Malacca.

On the face of it Malacca is just another small city, albeit with an interesting colonial past, so I only intended to stay for a couple of days before heading for Singapore. Sometimes my plans don't always go to script and a chance meeting made sure that this was to be the case again as it has been so many times in the past. I booked in to a little family run hotel on the edge of china town, in a pretty dodgy looking area that proved to be the place that everybody knew everybody in the whole of Malacca. The landlady is a woman called Jasmine who has two kids and it took less than an hour in Malacca before I was good friends with her and her husband and of course the kids. Jasmine told me all the places to go and who owned what so all I had to do was to say Jasmine sent me and I would be welcomed with open arms. I tried it on my first night and it worked a treat - already I was starting to feel at home there. The next day I visited China town and found a great little cafe that understood exactly what I wanted when I asked for a cup of tea, which was treat after some of the concoctions I had had previously and the usual "Drawn Tea” which is so sweet and sickly. Whilst sitting at this cafe a woman and a man who seemed to be local but spoke to each other in really good English, sat at the next table. It wasn't long before they noticed that the joking and laughing they were doing had me smiling to and they introduced themselves and sat with me for a chat. It turned out they had worked together locally as tour guides for many years and had just met up with each other again, both having friends coming that they were going to show around town. When they invited me to join them I obviously replied "twud be rude not to" which over the following week became Choo's (the woman) catchphrase. Choo has worked as a tour guide for Australian students for ten years and she also freelances for advertising companies and T.V. finding locations and people/characters for advertising. There is not a person in Malacca who doesn't know Choo so getting around town takes an absolute age but it meant that I was getting to know everybody and they were getting to know me, so much so that after a few days people were driving past, tooting their horns and shouting “Hello Ropper”, many even stopping to see if I wanted a lift anywhere. It also turned out that Choo and Jasmine were old friends and everytime Choo was in town you can guess where she stays, I had hit the jackpot with a personal guide and celebrity at my disposal. After the initial meeting in the cafe and the guided tour it was late and time for a beer but I hadn't seen a pub all day - no problem - Choo took me to what looked like a house but turned out to be a locals pub that didn't need signs or tourists. Richard the owner welcomed me with open arms and guess where the barmaid (his girlfriend) stayed! Jasmine’s! Lock-ins became the norm and a lift home was always insisted on by my hosts after taking me to some incredible eating places that didn't even open till 2am for the local traders when they finished work. Eating, I was soon to discover, is a Malaccan hobby and takes up most of their spare time and energy but none of them are fat! It is so cheap to eat out in Malacca that nobody cooks at home unless they have big families.

With only two children, Jasmine and her husband, Mr. Yen, ate out every night and always insisted that I join them but wouldn't let me pay for anything. I ate some amazing things sometimes with utensils and sometimes using only my right hand off a banana leaf for a plate. I've added to my list of things eaten including Birds nest soup and Monitor Lizard. I was awake very early one morning and as I looked out into the already sun baked road I saw what I thought was a Crocodile disappear down an open drain, it turned out to be a Monitor Lizard about a metre in length. All the drainage system in Malacca is open and full of Monitor Lizards who live off sewerage, so when I was first asked if I fancied trying Monitor Lizard I was a bit dubious but it turns out that they don't eat the local ones from the rivers and drains but ones that live in the countryside out of town.

There are so many highlights to my Malacca visit that I could write all day about them and still wouldn't cover everything - things like the tea professor whom I spent four hours with drinking all sorts of tea to increase my Libido and staying power and at the same time wetting myself at all the stories he was telling. Also the local fisherman/river guide who took me on the river tour illegally poaching (he was a friend of Choo) and the street trader who collects anything English and has an amazing collection of car headlights and bicycle bells and horns. The list is endless but for now I'm going to stop because the next report will be from Oz as I stayed in Malacca so long that I had to virtually skip Singapore and head straight into trouble in Australia.

Just a quickie

2005-12-19T06:05:00.000-08:00

Just a quick line to let you know I've arrived in Oz, I've got loads of updating to do but I haven’t slept for two days, I’ve just arrived (5.30 am) and spent an hour with customs where they emptied all my bags and went through everything including me with a fine tooth comb, then just left me to pack everything away again without an explanation. Desperately need some sleep somewhere but too early for hostels. Will try and update you later.

Almost up to date

2005-12-07T08:57:00.000-08:00

Hello again

I think I left you all last report on my way to Hat Yai, well the less said about that the better. Hat Yai is the last city before the border crossing into Malaya and it's not really a very friendly place unless you're a old, overweight Malayan guy who comes over the border from the puritanical Muslim south to have dirty weekends with the youngest girls you can find, they really are hypocritical sleazebags who make your flesh creep.

Even when you do cross the frontier into Malaya the story doesn’t change just the nationality - Chinese girls. So as well as having bed bugs in the hotels, Penang was just as sleazy and I got out as quick as I could and escaped via a six hour bus ride to the Cameron Highlands, and WOW, this place is everything I didn't realise I was missing. At an altitude in excess of 6000ft in the midst of pristine rainforest the opportunity for real adventure is all around me with Aboriginal tribes and amazing flora, fauna and wildlife. I hadn't realised it but this is the first time I've really smiled since leaving Ao Nang.

Well that's you all up to date with where I am now but I'll keep you informed about the adventures that surely await me, probably not till I get to Kuala Lumpa as the Internet isn't in abundance here And there is only one Bar which is where I'm heading now - twud be rude not to

Land of Smiles

2005-12-01T03:56:00.000-08:00

Before I greet you all with a Sawadee Khrap I'll just finish the China, Vietnam and Cambodia adventures with a little overview. These are three wonderful countries with wonderful people and definitely worth visiting. In china once you get out of Bangkok and start heading south you'll find everything you imagined China would be, is true. In Vietnam everything you may have thought will probably be a misconception, it's a country that has put the hardships of the past behind them and is working hard to build a new future. If you want to see Vietnam in all its glory do it soon because this will be a major tourist place in the future. Cambodia? What can I say it has everything and nothing and has certainly grabbed a big spot in my heart. One special memory (and there are many) was the day I visited Angkor Watt. As I approached the entrance to the temple along with hundreds of other tourists I noticed a young monk far over the field to my right. He was standing in front of some trees and behind him there appeared to be a building nestled in amongst the trees. As usual I couldn't help myself, I just had to go where nobody else did and explore. As I approached the young monk he looked puzzled but smiled and bowed his head putting his hands together in front of his forehead not his mouth, the high position of his hands told me he was greeting me with the level of respect he would normally use for for an elder more senior monk, I was flattered and humbled at the same time. We spoke for a while about the temple and I asked him how many monks lived in the Watt, he gave me a huge smile and asked me to follow him through the trees. As we walked he told me about his life and his family telling me he had become a monk because he didn't have any work skills to support his mother and siblings so becoming a monk would bring them good luck and good fortune. I was so engrossed in our conversation that I hadn't realised we had arrived at the building I had glimpsed through the trees, it was an ancient Pagoda that the monks were painstakingly restoring and the wooden building that they all lived in. The monk told me that I could go in and look around the Pagoda but that I must walk around in a clockwise direction and be very quiet as the Master was meditating. I felt quite nervous as I entered especially when the young monk had declined my invitation to join me saying that he was afraid of the Master. The building was ornate and beautiful but my eyes were constantly drawn to the Master as he sat cross legged on the floor watching me walking towards him. Memories of getting sent to the Headmasters study for a caning when I was at school came to mind but as I got close enough to him he smiled, greeted me with the usual hands to face and a bow of the head then gestured to me to sit facing him. Unlike every other person I had met in Asia he didn't ask me a single question about my marital status, family or occupation he just put his hands in the meditation position and invited me to do the same - I was being invited to meditate with a monk of the highest order -WOW. We sat in that position with our eyes closed for what must have been half an hour until he finally gave me a "chant" which I assume was a blessing or prayer, then got to his feet bowed his head to me with hands to the face and left the Pagoda. Outside the young monk was still waiting for me and as I explained what had just happened he just nodded and smiled as if he knew what would happen in there. Next on my guided tour was the monks living and sleeping quarters which was just bamboo shelter on stilts. As I entered to the sound of many monks chanting I had a feeling of peace and tranquillity which is hard to describe but it was similar to the feeling of freedom had felt when I finally got rid of the last things I owned and set off on this adventure with my entire world on my back. The sleeping arrangements are perhaps as you would expect with older monks on a platform and younger ones on the floor. I sat for quite some time learning about allsorts and in return helped him with his English homework which he had to study for 4 hours every day. He told me that it was very unusual to have tourists approach monks and talk to them so he was grateful for what I had done and believe me the feeling was mutual.

Well it’s on to Thailand now and arriving in Bangkok I was constantly thinking of Cambodia - should I continue my travel or should I end this Journey now and go back?
Either way I knew I didn't want to be in Bangkok so it was great when Mat, a scouse I had travelled with told me he was to meet others we had been travelling with in a place called Krabi in a few days then travel with them to Singapore before heading home to the UK. There was only one thing to do, we jumped on a flight and in just over an hour we were in Paradise and met up with some old friends for a drink and a meal and an exchange of travel tales. The group were only there for two days before they were scheduled to leave so I booked into the same bungalows for the two days then I would have to head off north to Bangkok for my trip to Nepal - at least that was the plan! Three weeks and many traveller reunions later I just knew I had to drag myself away from Phi Phi and Ao Nang having already missed my trip to Nepal it was time to leave Thailand and head of south to Malaya if I was to catch my flight from Singapore to Australia for Christmas.

I can honestly say to all of you who bet I would bring a Thai bride home with me, 'how close you were to being right' This aptly named country "the land of smiles" has some of the most beautiful women in the world, not just in terms of looks but in their whole attitude to life even after a Tsunami still being able to genuinely greet you into their lives and homes. I have so many friends here, that leaving is like leaving home again.

Next stop Hat Yai and a last few nights in Thailand before a border crossing into Malaya.
And that’s where I’m going to leave you all for now - almost up to date.

Cambodia - Heaven and Hell

2005-11-30T04:51:00.000-08:00

Hi everyone

I'm now on an Island off the west coast of Malaya and I really need to catch up with my updates but so much has been happening since Vietnam that it would take me forever so I'm just going to give you all an overview and I'll keep the juicy bits for when I get home.

The last part of Vietnam was the Mekong Delta and a family home stay. The Mekong comes all the way from the plateaus of Tibet, through china, Laos and Cambodia then fans out as it Reaches Vietnam forming nine tributaries giving it it's Vietnamese name "Cuu Long" which means Nine Dragons. It's an absolutely great place to visit because the only way to get around is by little wooden boats through the maze of waterways that are used to transport everything from schoolchildren to mountains of rice husks and basket loads of exotic fruit and vegetables. Floating around the water highways there's something to see at every turn but if you ever visit be careful of the local rice wine it's pretty potent and my excuse for all the adventures and mischief I got up to....enough said about that for now?

Leaving Vietnam was quite a sad thing but I've got some great memories of a beautiful country with beautiful people and a feeling of safeness everywhere I visited.

On then to Phnom Penh, the capital of Cambodia and an unusual frontier crossing. Travelling by bus I had to get off the bus at the Vietnam side walk over the border into Cambodia Carrying my rucksack then jump back on the same bus at the other side. Phnom Penh is a great place, full of life and with great people, it's so easy to feel at ease with yourself, but all the time I had an uneasy feeling about what I new I just had to go and see ... Tuol Sleng and the killing fields of Cheoung Ek. These are really hard places to visit but a must if you are to understand the total madness and evil that enveloped the country during the time of the Khmer Rouge and its shocking Year Zero policy. During Pol Pots regime when the Khmer Rouge took the city of Phnom Penh in April 1975, the entire population where forced into the countryside and the mass slaughter of its own people began. Most of the country's intellectual and political community did not survive along with over one million of their compatriots. Tuol Sleng was a High school which the Khmer Rouge tuned into torture camp S-21 where it's believed that over 17,000 Cambodians were imprisoned, tortured and then sent to the extermination camp at Cheoung Ek. The image of the skulls and bones of so many people including children and babies will live with me forever and the way they were killed is unbelievable. I was about to describe to you all some of the atrocities but as I sit here in an internet cafe with tears steaming down my face I cannot bring myself to do it and even spelling the words "Khmer Rouge" using capital letters is hard as it feels like I'm being disrespectful to those who died.

From Phnom Penh a six hour boat trip took me to Siam Reap and nothing could have prepared me for the poverty I was about to witness. Siam Reap is the home of Angkor Watt and many more incredibly awe inspiring Watts (temples), yet amid the beauty and the throng of affluent tourists, children plead for food, even scraps that you would normally throw away and the makeshift shacks that the locals call home' can't help but touch even the most hard hearted. As I sat with a group of young children chatting to them ( it's unbelievable how good they speak English having not had any education whatsoever ) the stories they had to tell moved me to wonder whether to continue with my world trip or to stay and set up some kind of Orphanage and education project with the money instead. Worse was to come. The children who first greeted me were poor but able bodied. In the town of Siam Reap itself I met many children who were not only homeless but who also had legs and/or arms missing as a result of stumbling across on of the millions of land mines that still litter the countryside even today.

One evening as I played games with some young children, having just bought them food from one of the many street hawkers who eek out a living selling food to tourists, I noticed one little girl, probably aged about 4 or 5, who was not laughing and playing like the rest. Speaking to the local traders I found out that this little girl's parents had died of AIDS and she was supposedly being looked after by her Grandmother. I say supposedly because this was about 2 o'clock in the morning and no grandmother in sight, evidently this was the norm and it was left to the local traders to sort of half keep an eye on her. As all this was unfolding, a German girl, Antje, who I'd been travelling with, was watching me with the children and had seen how clingy the little girl became as soon as I gave her some attention. It was obvious to me that what the little wanted most was a cuddle but in a country that is a favourite target for the Garry Glitters of this world, I knew I shouldn’t. I gestured to Antje to give the girl a hug which she did willingly. The little girl cuddled into Antje and within minutes she had the most beautiful smile radiating from her face, started laughing at the funny faces I was pulling and before long she was laughing and even joining in the games. It really was one of those priceless moments in life. I spend many a quiet moment wondering what lies in store for that beautiful child who has nobody to give her a cuddle or kiss her better when she hurts herself.

Amid all this despair, Cambodian people are so friendly and welcoming and it truly is a wonderful country to visit, so it was heart-warming when I heard of a project, set up by a remarkable local man, who has set up projects to help. Aki Ra was once a member of the Khmer Rouge whose role was to organise the planting of millions of landmines all over the country, today he has set up an orphanage for children whose lives have been shattered by those very same mines. He and his wife look after so many children that its hard to see how they manage but when I went to his home where he has turned his garden into a landmine museum' the children were so happy and well looked after, that I just wanted to meet the guy. Unfortunately Aki Ra was not there as he spends most of his time out in the jungle searching for mines and defusing them. The danger he puts himself into daily is totally off his own back as he is not paid by anyone to do this, this is purely a selfless act. Unfortunately I don't have his website address to hand but I will publish at some stage soon and please, when I do, take the time to read it.

Leaving Cambodia nearly Didn't Happen but I knew in my heart that I had to press on and that this journey would almost definitely produce many more tear jerking sights and experiences. Leaving Cambodia was tough in more ways than one as it took 12 hours on the back of a small pick up truck, crammed in with six other travellers, over dirt tracks and terrain that would test a land rover to it's limits, in fact at one stage we came to a bridge that had collapsed and we crossed it very reluctantly over two flimsy planks. Alls well that ends well and as you know I've survived and in doing so have reinforced my belief that heaven and hell are not above and below us but are in fact the same place here on earth depending on your experience of that place.

Next report... Thailand and Malaya, until then keep smiling and I'll see you all in no time.

PS great to hear from you Mark - congrats to Jennie and Ronnie - and If you can Geoff, I still need that address from Moira,

Well I'm off to dry my eyes and wet the babies head for Ronnie and Jen - twud be rude not to.

Haing a whale of a time ....not!

2005-11-15T07:35:00.000-08:00

Sitting on a golden beach in the glorious sunshine waiting for a boat to Whale Island I would have loved to see the grin on my face, only one thing could have improved it... a pint of John Smiths.

Whale Island is a tiny Island with a secluded beach about the size of Cullercoats, development on the Island has been limited to one tiny resort of bamboo huts so it really is an Island hideaway. As I waited for the boat the pictures in my head just got more and more romantic by the minute and when the boat arrived and dropped me off on the Island it was everything I had dreamed of and more. BUT 1 hour after arriving it started to pour with rain and didn't stop until I was leaving two days later, everything I own was wet and ahead of me a 2hour bus ride to Nha Trang then an eight hour overnight train journey to Saigon.

Arriving in Saigon in the very early hours is a great time as you get to see the city gradually come to life with exercise fanatics, pots of noodle soup (pho) bubbling away ready for the breakfast rush and by mid morning the tree lined boulevards packed with thousands of motorbikes. Saigon has a population of 7 million who between them own 3 million motorbikes so you can imagine the sight.

Sound Romantic? Well it is until you see the range of crippling injuries and deformities to children as a result of the American war. Even now children are being born with limbs missing, blind, deformed, big black blotches covering their bodies, as a result of the chemical bombs dropped by the Americans. A visit to the war remnants museum would have even the hardest man in tears when you see photos of an American soldier laughing as he holds up a child’s tattered clothing with what little body parts are left still in it or the picture of a prisoner tied up and thrown out of a flying helicopter because he wouldn't talk. The images, taken by reporters at the time, are as horrific as they are numerous, but somehow never got a showing in the western world. A visit to the hundreds of kilometres of underground passages and living quarters where the locals lived and conducted their war from is a testament to the strength and determination of these wonderful people to fight for their motherland. Despite all that happened in this the dirtiest of wars, Viets are so friendly to anyone in their country even Americans and have no hesitation in telling you that it was not the fault of the young Americans soldiers who were sent there, they where merely carrying out orders and didn't even want to be there.
I'm going to have to stop there for the time being as the images in my head are quite upsetting.

Still to come is the Mekong Delta then my trip across Cambodia which is equally as upsetting and wonderful

Fishes and Missus

2005-11-13T07:34:00.000-08:00

Sawadee

I sat yesterday for 2 hours updating you all on my adventures only to have the computer crash just before I was ready to send it so here goes for a second attempt.

My last update, if I remember correctly, I was heading for Hoi An which is about half way between Hanoi and Saigon ( Ho Chi Minh City ) on the east coast of Vietnam. Hoi An at first glance is a town caught in a time warp from days of old with sleepy little streets with a laid back feeling to everything. Nestling on the banks of the Bon Rover, fish and almost anything that lives in the sea and is edible is on the menu of the local scoffing places so it was inevitable that there would be a fish market and that was to be my goal. The fish market starts really early in the morning but it's an adventure I wouldn't have missed for the world. It's incredible, it's like a human version of the feeding frenzy of a shoal of Piranha, it's certainly not for the squeamish and as usual I couldn't help myself I just had to get into the thick of it. As I my way through the almost impenetrable outer fortress of fish, fish boxes and beautiful fish filleting women slitting the gizzards of anything that moved with a glint in their eye and huge smiles on their faces, I realised why I was the only tourist in there - one false move and I was on the menu that evening. Being in the inner sanctum was like being in a totally different town to all the other tourists and there was more near misses to come. As the fish market gradually faded out other market stalls where appearing and taking over available space and I was still on the inside looking out, much to the amusement of the traders who were all women, and even better I was in their private canteen. I was offered a chair, which I gladly accepted and spent hours with them chatting away as best I could in my best Mandarin which they seemed to understand, at least that’s what I thought! The next day I was back in there again and even more woman joined the party laughing and giggling at every word I uttered especially when I offered to wash the dishes which consisted of putting the plates in a bucket and lowering them into a hole in the ground that was the local well. What I didn't realise was that they were all single and offering to marry me, and I was nodding to every one of them and putting my thumbs up with a big grin on my face. When I was told what I was doing by a local who spoke pretty good English, it was time to beat a hasty retreat in case someone’s brother or father came looking for me with a bloody big filleting knife.

Yes it was time to hide away on a castaway Island somewhere and I knew just the place ... Whale Island... tiny secluded Tropical Island in the South China Sea with golden sans, coral reefs and crystal clear turquoise water. The following morning it was an early bus ride to Danang, hop aboard the Reunification Express for a 9 hour train journey then another two hours on a bus to a beach for a boat to my Island paradise.

That’s all for now folks as there is a cold beer screaming out for me and I always accept such temptation... well twud be rude not to!

Update after a long silence

2005-11-11T07:27:00.000-08:00

Hi everybody,

My apologies for the lack of updates for a while but since leaving china it's been a pretty traumatic journey through Vietnam and Cambodia form the horrors of the Vietnam War through the unbelievable mass murders of the Khmer Rouge to Phi Phi where I am now and the aftermath of the Tsunami. So much so that every time I have sat at a computer I've been unable to see the keys for the tears in my eyes and even now as I sit in paradise I'm finding this hard to write but here goes.

I think my last update saw me arrive in Hanoi minus luggage, and transfer to the city, well I eventually got to where I was supposed to be and immediately had to go emergency shopping once again for clothes to wear. The sight that greeted me as I left the hotel was mind-blowing, Millions of people on motorbikes and scooters. It’s hard to describe but trying to cross the roads is like trying to run around in a shower so none of the droplets wet you, or like being in a Yamaha/Suzuki wildebeest stampede. Honestly I saw whole families on one scooter, that's mother, father and thee children including babies and not a crash helmet in sight.

Three days in Hanoi was enough for me and I was glad to tem up with others who would be my travelling buddies through to Bangkok. I suppose I better tell you one tale from Hanoi before the other members of the group get there first. After a group meal we all decided to go to a club but the doormen who let everybody else in decided that because my shorts didn't cover my knees they wouldn't let me in. When asked, the doorman conceded that if I was a girl with shorts on the would let me in but as I left all my wigs at home I had to think of a cunning plan and lo and behold my salvation was standing right next to me. I didn't really know her as we had just met but Emily had a sort of wrap around garment that you put on like a sort nappy and they looked like local fisherman’s pants. Emily being a good sport had no hesitation in swapping with me, the problem was that there was nowhere to change but out on the street and I had gone commando that night! There was no other alternative but to just change in the street so we did. It didn’t seem to bother anybody - except the local policeman? Who had been standing nearby watching everything? As he approached us saying god knows what and waving his baton the changeover was complete and we escaped into the nightclub pretty pronto and got away with it despite the puzzled looks from the doormen and almost every other punter in the place.

The following day it was time to get out of Hanoi before the police finally caught up with us and a twelve hour overnight train journey saw us arriving in Hue. The train journey itself is perhaps worth another tale but that’s probably best told by Aussie Graeme or scouse Matt or even best left untold until I finally arrive back in the UK.
Hue is a lovely place and its steeped in history such as the Heavenly Lady Pagoda made famous in almost every silk painting you will have seen and the Perfume River that runs right through the heart of the city and oh yes the tomb of my hero - Emperor Minh Mang who fathered 142 children. Anyway no real adventures to report from Hue unless someone tells you otherwise so it’s off to Hoi Anon a four hour bus journey through the spectacular Ocean Cloud Pass.
That’s all for now, until tomorrow when I'll continue my account of Vietnam etc.

Hong Kong "pooey"

2005-10-13T03:05:00.000-07:00

Greetings everyone

Well surprise surprise, the boarder crossing from China to the Kowloon peninsular went really smoothly. The place I am staying in is just on the boarder of Kowloon and the New territories which is Hong Kong but not the Island. 5 stops on a fabulous underground gets me to Central on Hong Kong Island and another world - you know I have learned the basics of the Chinese language - well all of a sudden I'm in a place that speaks Cantonese just my luck. It was latish when I arrived in Hong Kong but an absolutely delicious Thai meal and a few beers with travelling friends was just the dogs -oops - just the donkeys - oops - just the job.

My first full day in Hong Kong saw me doing what I enjoy most in capital cities, jumping on and off local transport and getting lost. I was a bit disappointed that getting lost in Hong Kong isn't easy but a great consolation was that I found the only bar in all the province that sells Newcastle brown on draft, what a result.

My second full day in Hong Kong was going to be about posting stuff home and sending personal emails to family etc. only to find that two days after the national holiday week in China they have another bank holiday to honour their dead? This is called Chung Yeung and apart from the bars most public services are closed so I used the time to sort out laundry etc.

That evening I tried the local bars in Kowloon but soon got bored and headed for the land of Brown ale and honey. When I got there the owner was playing 60's pop songs and if you could tell him who sang them you got a free Tequila, well you know me I can't keep my big mouth shut and just kept shouting out the answers. Brown ale and Tequila definitely is a no-no in a place where you barely know your way home sober. Anyway I found my way back to base ok and slept like a log.

O.K. its wed 12th Oct and I'm setting off for Hanoi via Bangkok which if a strange way to get to Hanoi should not be problematic. (Matt & Charlie, Debs & bob, you're going to love this one)

When I got to Hong Kong airport I tried to book my two flights and luggage transfer straight through to Hanoi but the authorities for some reason said it couldn't be done, they said I had to fly to Bangkok, pick up my luggage, leave through immigration and then check in for my next flight through Thai airlines. This would be all very well under normal circumstances but the arrival time of my flight in Bangkok was just 1hr 50mins before my connecting flight to Hanoi and given that you have to check in 2hrs before departure I was in for trouble. Arriving in Thailand and going through the immigration can be a long drawn out task at times but when you've stood in the queue for 25mins.

Knowing you are going to miss your next flight then the guy at the immigration decides to put you to one side because you have not filled your address in Thailand out on the form, even the most placid of us can develop a facial tick. I was finally sent to another part of the airport (bearing in mind I still hadn't reached the baggage roundabout) now accepting the fact that Hanoi would have to wait another day for the pleasure of my company.

At the transfer desk that I finally arrived at the staff could not have been any more helpful, Within minutes of describing my plight he had redirected my baggage to the Hanoi flight, sorted out my check in, issued me with a boarding pass and told me I had 15mins to get to gate 4 for my flight. I arrived at gate 4 with 5mins to spare, had a tab then boarded the plane for what was in the end a great flight. Arriving in Hanoi I couldn't believe that what started out as a non runner had made a late sprit for the line and I actually was in Hanoi on the right day at the right time. All I had to do now was to pick up my bags and meet the guy who was booked to take me to my accommodation in the city. My bags are always the last ones to be unloaded from the plane so it was no surprise that I was the last person standing there thinking oh no not again, but yes once again I had arrived in one destination and my worldly possessions had buggered off on holiday somewhere else, then to cap it all the transfer I HAD BOOKED TO MY HOTEL DIDN'T TURN UP EITHER!!! And that's where I'm going to leave you for today********

2005-10-08T09:50:00.000-07:00

Ni Hao, well on to the last leg of my adventure in china so I'll try to bring you bang up to date today before I set off for Hong Kong. The Longmen Grottoes in Louyang are an incredible sight, thousands of Buddhas carved into caves and every nook and cranny of the cliffs. Buddhas as small as 10cm and as big as 18mtrs have survived 1500 years of turbulent history during times when religion was banned. The White Horse temple has also survived with its beautiful tree lined courtyards, this is particularly important as it is the first Buddhist temple built in china and is the home of Chinese Buddhism. It gets its name from the two white horses that transported the huge gold statue of Buddha all the way from India to Louyang to take pride of place in the temple.

As well as the grottoes and the temple, Louyang is a place to experience disappearing way of daily life in China that is fast becoming westernised. Peony square is the place to be first thing in the morning if you want to see the locals practicing Tai Chi or ballroom dancing and even old men taking their birds for walks - don't be silly, they carry them in their cages not drag them around on a lead. Sadly other than the diehards doing Tai Chi I didn't get to see all this as it was STILL raining.

But every city has an adventure lurking in the shadows somewhere and if anybody will stumble across it I will. I decided to have breakfast the local way so I set off in search of the most obscure out of the way back street cafe I could find and after about an hours trek through labyrinths and mazes of backstreets I found the perfect place. Backstreet eating places are very often just a table or two in an otherwise empty room through what looks like someone’s back door without any identification as to what it is but the locals obviously all know. The place I found was great, even the locals didn't seem to have discovered this one, it had just one table and a few chairs around it and just through an opening you could see a woman cooking noodles, soup and dumplings, a traditional breakfast if ever I was going to get one. I wandered in, plonked myself down at the table and ordered a cup of green tea from the woman who apparently found me very amusing. I had started to get used to the fact that everywhere I went the locals would see me as a novelty. With the tea came the man of the establishment, two young children, two other women and before long the rest of the neighbourhood. Breakfast was great though it was quite hard to eat when everybody around you is either staring at you or constantly practising their limited English on you. After breakfast I stood up, thanked everybody in Chinese and signalled that I wished to pay the bill which brought about raptures of laughter. It suddenly started to dawn on me what was going on - it wasn't a cafe, I had walked into someone’s kitchen sat down and joined the family for breakfast!

Where else in the world could you do that without getting a gob full of verbal, they are amazingly friendly people with a great sense of humour.

Next stop Yichang, an eleven hour train journey and an early morning arrival for a bus transfer to the Yangtse River and the boat that was to be home for the next three days. I'd love to tell you it was a bit like Dirk Bogard and the African Queen but the truth is it was like a floating hotel with 5star service, unsuited facilities and a bar and dance floor. I boarded the boat just below the Three Gorges Dam which completed stage 2 in 2003 and saw the water rise to an impressive 135m above sea level. When stage 3 is completed in 2009 the water level will rise to 175m displacing millions of people from their submerged farms and homes to supply 10% of the countries electricity through 14 massive turbines effectively reducing the fossil fuel burning by a huge amount. I could talk forever about the pros and cons of such a project and give you more facts than you could shake a shitty stick at but I'll reserve judgement for a later date when the environmental of such a project will become more apparent, suffice to say I have concerns about the safety should the cracks that have already appeared in the dam become anything more.

We climbed the 135m water level through a series of huge locks which took about three hours. Once on the Yangtze lake we immediately started cruising through the three gorges which gives the dam it's name and they are beautiful, sheer cliffs shooting perpendicular from the water to god knows what height, There's not a lot to tell you about the trip other than the constantly wonderful scenery and the fact that I still hadn't seen the sun or the sky since before Beijing. Onboard the boat itself was a great experience with some lovely people and the odd session on the lash even overcoming my natural shyness to get up on stage and entertain the other passengers on a talent night - I don't know what got into me!!

Captains log 05 /10 / 2005 - Disembark cruise ship in Chongqing and some time to kill before an afternoon flight to Guilin and a 3 hour bus ride to Yangshuo. Chongqing doesn't have a lot to offer but there is a park at the highest point in the city which is really nice. Everywhere in the park people where sitting at tables playing Ma jong or cards or simply hanging their beautiful cages with songbirds in the trees, the sound of all the birds singing was lovely. At the highest point in the park there was a P.A. system and people where just getting up and singing traditional Chinese songs - it had to be done didn't it and a rendering of the Blaydon races went down a storm.

On then to Yangshuo and the Toblerone type mountains of the Karst landscape that just blows your mind away and takes you into the fairytale like paintings that the west associates with china, words would fail to describe it adequately. Yangshuo itself is a blend of east meets west in a place called paradise, it's simply heaven; water buffalos, fishermen on bamboo rafts with cormorants, people harvesting in the paddie fields etc. etc. This place is backpackers heaven and indeed lots of people I have met tell me they where just passing through and decided to stay for a while - 6years for one of them - many others 1 year plus. The atmosphere is so laid back, the nightlife vibrant and the cuisine is worth a special mention. One meal I had in the 7th heaven bar was snake; firstly they brought a live snake out to the table and let me stroke it! It’s only bloody venomous isn't it then they took it away and made some into soup and fried the rest - it was delicious, and the blood? Yes you guessed right it was brought to me mixed with local rice alcohol which tasted alright but the after effects are amazing. I can't see it taking over from Viagra for ethical reasons but it may or may not be the fact that I'm taking Malaria tablets but either way I just wanted to sleep and dream forever. I have also had a Chinese language lesson and have learned to say please, thank you, you are beautiful, and I love you - I can't imagine what else I need to learn

Well it's getting to the time that I have to get ready for a 14hr train journey to Guangzhou then another from Guangzhou to Hong Kong when I'll try to report in again before I set off for Vietnam.

ZOI JION

Into China - mishaps and new food experiences

2005-10-06T04:10:00.000-07:00

Hello one and all I gather the web site is coming on well but I cant access it in china as it is blocked by the government (Telling you that could wind me up in the clink) anyway it's been so long since I Last saw a computer with keys on that I'm weeks behind with my updates and the memory is fading fast with all the new adventurers taking up the limited space in my brain.

I had loads to tell you about Mongolia but I'll just have to give you a quick update. Firstly getting out of Mongolia was not as straight forward as it should have been - when the border guards on the train checked everybody’s passports guess whose passport was the only one they queried? They took my passport away and confined me to my cabin; it appears that my passport had not been stamped correctly on entry so I was effectively an illegal immigrant! After an hour or so they gave me my passport back and I left the country, somewhat begrudgingly as I loved Mongolia and anyway it would have been a much more exciting story to get kicked out wouldn't it?

On arriving in Beijing every other passenger that I had travelled the transibrian with got picked up and transferred to their accommodation in Beijing, but where was my transfer - I had booked it and paid for it. I stood in the railway station for two hours with no Chinese money or anywhere to change any, nobody spoke English and my Chinese was limited to a smile and hello. The locals just looked at me as if I was a divvy. I finally got a taxi driver to phone my hotel on his mobile phone only to be told I didn't have a reservation!!!!!!!!!!??

The taxi driver was really good actually; he took me to the hotel so I could sort the mess out and only charged me four times the going rate when I finally got some money from an atm. It turns out my hotel room was booked for the following night and the travel agent had got the arrival date of month long train journey wrong for me but right for everybody else on the train

I suppose alls well that ends well so I booked the extra night in the hotel , dropped off my sack in my room and headed for the bar area which is another taxi ride away ( about 8 km) and duly got my mobile pinched. I was feeling a bit pissed off with the last 24hrs so I decided to get a taxi back to the hotel. With my usual fore planning I had picked up a business card from the hotel lobby with the name and address of the hotel in both English and Chinese - unfortunately most of the drivers can't read English OR Chinese. How the hell this country is going to cope with Olympic tourism is beyond me and there's so much smog the Marathon will have to be run indoors on a 400mtre track. There is a lot to see in Beijing but honestly the following evening when I lost my wallet with all my money, debit card and addresses I decided that the sooner I got on a slow boat to the rest of China the better.

The highlights of Beijing for me was the fact that where I was staying was so far out of the centre that I was the only ethnic there and as I explored the backstreets and ghettos I was stopped so many times and asked if they could take a photo of me with one of their family, the people are so friendly and if you make the effort to try and learn a little Chinese they really appreciate it and will even invite you to eat with them. A word of caution here though and this is the gospel truth, I had such a meal that was absolutely fab and I had been so hungry that I held my fat contented tummy and thought "just the dogs bollocks" and it was, I'll use that saying with hesitance in the future. The great wall was a good'n as well as I walked for about 14klm on a remote section of the wall which was particularly tough going as it just keeps going up and down over the peaks of the mountains with no consideration for tourists.

Another great highlight was leaving, I hadn't seen the sun all the time I was in Beijing and was looking forward to sky again. I left Beijing on an overnight train to Xi'an which took 14 hours but awaiting me at the end was thousands of Terracotta warriors who I new would be there to greet me. The Terracotta warriors are impressive and I'm glad I saw them but still no sun and not a paddy field in sight. Still Xi'an is a good city to visit, it's more authentically Chinese, the people are making great strides to embrace western culture while retaining their own culture, and if the Olympics where to be held here I'm convinced that this city could handle it and the world would love them. Unfortunately it rained the whole time in Xi'an (pronounced She ann) and I didn't have enough time here but it is a city that is well worth visiting if only to cycle around the city walls which would take you several hours.

Another train journey from Xi'an to LOUYANG the centre of Chinese Buddhism and the amazing longmen grottos. Which is where I have to close for the night but I may get time to update a bit more tomorrow as this is all quite factual and I’m MISSING OUT ALL THE MISHAPS and you need to know them

Well twud be rude not to!

Quickie from Beijing

2005-09-26T07:09:00.000-07:00

Can't wait to get out of Beijing even after the trouble getting in!

Unfortunately I still haven’t got time to tell you the Mongolian / China tale as I've only got 20mins in an underground cafe with no lights and no characters on the keyboard - honestly every time I strike a letter I have to guess then delete and try another one until I get it right.

I don't know when I'll get to a computer next as I leave for the paddy fields tomorrow, surely that should be no problem?

Into Mongolia

2005-09-25T08:54:00.000-07:00

Latest from Mongolia.

Hello campers

I can't remember where I got up to exactly but I know I haven't told of the Mongolian mindblower, her name is Bogie but that’s a tale for later. Just before I leave Russia for good though here’s a few hints for anyone wanting to go to Moscow and Siberia. Moscow is a great city with lots to see unfortunately it's full of Muscovites! Russian men mentally mark out a pavement like a road and a great way to learn Russian swearwords is to walk on the wrong side during rush hour, Russians are also extremely rude and take great pride in it seeing it as "manly", oh and here’s a great one - the reason everything in officialdom takes so long and is complicated is that officials are so corrupt (especially the police) they figure if they muck you around for long enough you'll get so pissed off that you'll offer them a bribe and then everything becomes so easy and is done in minutes. But all is not lost the further from Moscow you get the nicer the people become even the "mad axeman" which I'm sure some of my fellow travellers will tell you about.

Anyway on to Mongolia and the highlight of the trans sib. It was 24c when I left Siberia heading south for the Goby (stone) Desert And bugger me didn't we head straight into a snow blizzard! Thank god I had me winter draws with me because the temperature dipped dramatically from there on and I was destined for a Nomadic Ger (Tent). It would be hard to describe life with a nomadic tribe in such a harsh environment but believe me take every preconceived notion you may have, bin it and start again. Without doubt the ger is warmer than most houses with double glazing and central heating - it’s out of this world. Picture this if you can? I arrive at the nomads camp to be welcomed by ORCHIRBAT, probably the most famous and photographed Nomadic Mongolians, and you wouldn’t believe it but I actually had a mag with his photo in with me. In his ger was pictures of him with loads of famous people who had visited him even prince Michael of Kent, but I was to go one better than that rabble. He actually moved out of his head honcho ger into a smaller one and I got the honour of sleeping in it. his wife SORSOR never stopped during the time we (there were 4 other travellers there too) stayed with her and her family, making sure we were looked after in true Mongolian Fashion - with a smile and so much courtesy. It just kept getting better by the minute the kids just wanted to play with us all the time and the 4 ferocious Mongolian dogs who guarded the herd from wolves attacking would even accompany us to the toilet in the middle of the night which was comforting as the loo was a hole on the ground, about 100 metres from the camp in the sand dunes. Squatting that low on an icy cold night during a full moon knowing full well there’s a wolf out there who would see your bare arse as a tasty bit of rump, made sure that constipation was never an issue and you learned to crap faster than Linford Christie could run 100mtrs. I had a sort of average nights sleep on my first night. Because I was so excited at the possibility of seeing a wolf, I must have gone to the loo 20 times through the night even though I didn't need it. The dogs cottoned on to this pretty quick and after a while just stuck a paw up at me and let me get on with it. I hope it wasn't my fault distracting the dogs but when I got up in the morning one of the dogs was standing guard over a dead sheep. OCHIRBAT seemed undeterred and just pointed over saying wolf.

Today was the day we were going to visit a temple and there was another great surprise in store for us, we were to be dressed up in nomadic clothes for our little excursion, but not just any clothes, our hosts Sunday best as it where. We learned later that this was unique and a major honour as it just doesn't happen.

Then (you know what I'm going to say don't you) just when I thought things couldn't get better they did! That evening when we arrived back at camp all OCHIRBAT'S family had arrived to give us a special meet the family evening. What a night! We gave the family gifts and they gave us home made alcohol in the form of fermented mares milk and home made vodka, both of which are intended to render you senseless. I'm going to stop there on the nomadic leg and save some goodies for when/if I return.

Back in the commercial world we spent two days in a tourist ger camp with showers and sit on toilets, initially I thought I don’t want to be here then as if by magic people starting appearing that I had met earlier in the trip so it was nice to catch up with everyone and swap tales. Oh! Did I mention this place had a bar? Time here was spent in his camp horse riding and archery and did I mention there was a bar - I really didn't want to go drinking but you know me I'll sacrifice my own beliefs for others so I had one or two - well it would be rude not tooooooo.

Quickly moving on and missing a great chunk out of the story for reasons of censorship ( I'm Sure the KGB have followed since Moscow for not sitting up on a seat properly outside my hotel), an early morning transfer to ULAANBAATAR for a day and night before boarding the train for the final leg to Beijing at 7am. Hell - when in Ulaanbaatar Do as the Ulaanbaatarians do - so it was night clubbing and dancing until 3am with Bogie.

I'm going to leave the leg to Beijing for the next instalment, you’ll love this one
Until then remember this - if you lead a life of debauchery you'll go to hell so you get to do it twice!

Update from Siberia

2005-09-21T10:07:00.000-07:00

Another posting has just arrived from the adventurer

HELLO EVERYONE

I can't remember where I got up to on my last report so if I go over old ground just delete it. Since leaving Moscow I’ve successfully negotiated Siberia and crossed the Gobi desert in Mongolia and I'm now in Ulaanbaatar the capital of Mongolia.

The first part of the Siberian trip was 4 days and nights on the train in a 4 berth sleeping carriage with 2 English girls and a German girl. the English girls are doing virtually the same trip as me to china then they fly home, I'm pretty sure they will be sending some pictures to you and snitching on me so I’ll leave them to tell the tale as they see it. Briefly the 4 days to Lake Baikal was spent gazing out the window at trees, trees, and more trees so I spy lasted one minute. Lake Baikal is amazing, it's the biggest freshwater lake in the world with an eco system all of it's own enabling you to drink crystal clear water straight from the lake it even has the worlds only freshwater seals, it's the deepest lake in the world, and if the whole population of the world lived by the lake there would be enough fresh water for them for forty years. Tradition has it that anyone brave/daft enough to swim in its icy cold water will live an extra year, I met two other friends there who I'm sure will tell the tale of "the mad Geordie and the lake”. I met them while staying in an IZBA with a Siberian lady called Guillina. An Izba is a traditional Siberian home it's basically a big stove with four wooden rooms built around in a square so that a part of the stove is in every room. The toilet is a hole in the ground at the bottom of the garden and there’s no running water, all water has to be bucketed from a well.

There is one more special feature about an Izba and that is the BANYA a wooden hut at the other end of the garden with a stove in it, it's a sauna without steam and when you’re hot enough you just wash yourself down with buckets of water, it's amazing.

I was 4 days in Irkuts at lake Baikal and the had to drag me away kicking and screaming to catch the train to Mongolia - another two nights and one day without I spy. The border crossing from Russia to Mongolia takes 12 HOURS to complete the paperwork on a stationary train?

Anyway that’s all your getting for now as the Mongolian leg is awesome and deserves an entry all of its own and I’m going to go and get myself cleaned up for a date with three gorgeous Mongolian girls who have nicknamed me the smiling tourist and they're taking clubbing Mongolian style.

I'll log in again when I get to china and maybe I'll get time to look at the site myself, well twud b rude not to.

Russian Adventure

2005-09-15T14:22:00.000-07:00

Got an e-mail from Roppa this morning with an update of the first part of the epic journey. Here it is:

Hi peeps,

I'm finally in a place, allbeit for only a short time, where i can send you some info.

I always said if yhis trip went to plan I'd be dissapointed, well I can tell from day 1 I'm not going to be.I arrived in Moscow Mon 5th Sept but my rucksack with everything I own in went on it's own hols somewhere else? Trying to explain to russian officials was a nightmare and I was stuck in the airport fo an extre 2 hours, with a guy waiting outside for me who could have no knowledge whether I had arrived or not. I didn't expect to see him when i got outside. When I finally got a reciept for my missing luggage I still couldn't get out the airport for security guards, police, TV cameras,Press photographers etc. etc.I thought now thats what i call a welcome but it wasn't for me it just happened that Mike Tyson had just arrived too to sign a sponsorship deal. It' a good job they kept us seperated I can tell you, I bet his luggage was all there.

Anyway I finally escaped and to my amazement there was a little guy standing outside with a big piece of paper with my name on it. I was wisked off to my hotel in a Lada that defies description but that flew along at 140kph and a driver who couldn't speak english.I dropped my coat into my room (well that was all I had) and headed straight for the bar, a few Baltikas and off to bed.

The next day Nadia was coming to meet me and take me arround Moscow, Sorry did I not mention Nadia? ah well another time perhaps.7 stops on the metro on the blue line and we where in Moscow cntre. Did all the touristy bit and visited the Kremlin, Red Square, Lennins Tomb etc. then we did the non tourist bit which was fab, the real moscow. Early in th afternoon Nadia had to leave and I was to make my own way back (cleaver me had counted the stations - this would be a doddle) Nadia explained which central station to get on and the name of the station to get off, which phonetically sounds BAG-RAT-SEE-OWEN but trying to recognise that in russian letters is another story.I just kept nooding to Nadia and pretending to know what the hell she was talking about so as not to look like the utter plonker I was. I should have known by the big kiss and the prolonged hug that she wasn't expecting to see me alive again!

When you buy a ticket for the metro in moscow it is not to any specific destination you just buy as many journeys as you want at a standard price per journey, each time you get on then off that is a journey.I had bought 2 journeys, one into Moscow and one out on the blue line.Let the fun begin- when I got to the underground the metro map there had two blue lines niether of them the colour blue that I was Looking for! I thought what the hell - I jumped on a train and counted to 7- wrong, never mind I bought another 2 journeys and headed back to Moscow from the opposite platform. Count to 7 and we're sorted I thought? Iwas back in Moscow but at a completely different station. Half an hours walk and I was back in Familliar territory - where I started from. I jumped on another train counted to 7 and BINGO this time I'd cracked it.

Back at the hotel I realised that I hadn't eaten for two days as British Airways had no catering on flights at the moment, I arrived so late in the evening because of the luggage milarky and had skipped breakfast in favour of Nadia, but i was still in the clothes I left newcasle in and stinking so I had to find a street vender who looked as scruffy as me. I did and guess what she was selling - SMOKED FISH -perfect, I thoroughly enjoyed it and stunk even more but I didn't care I went to bed with a smile on my face and the thought of a four day train jouney the next day with no luggage and little prospect of getting it in deepest siberia.

Thats all I have time for for now ,tune in for the next eppisode when I next hit civilisation-

TWUD B RUDE NOT 2

Roppa

Text message from Siberia

2005-09-10T13:59:00.000-07:00

As I hadn't heard from him I sent him a text asking how he was getting on and whether his luggage had turned up. In typical Ropper style he replied

"4,500K INTO SIBERIA AND STILL NO LUGGAGE. I ALWAYS SAID I COULD DO THIS ON A SMILE AND A PASSPORT"

ROPPER’S ITINERARY

2005-09-06T13:12:00.000-07:00

5 September 2005

Fly to Heathrow then to Moscow

Tuesday 6th September 2005

Trans-Siberian Railway, 19 days travel stopping of at many villages etc and exploring Siberia. On to Mongolia, living in a Ger with a nomadic tribe before continuing on to China’s capital Beijing.

24 September 2005

Arrive in Beijing for two nights/days rest

26 September 2005

15 days travelling China, including Great Wall, Forbidden City, Tiananmen Square, Xi’au and the Terracotta Warriors, Luo Yang (The Ancient Capital), Yangtse river (third longest in the world) and the three gorges, yanshuo (two full days learning Chinese culture) then pressing on to Hong Kong.

10 October 2005

2 days/night to explore Hong Kong, the crossroads between east and west.

12 October 2005

Fly to Hanoi in North Vietnam

2 days in Hanoi so pull up a stool and have a local beer “Bia Hoi” before visiting the mausoleum complex of the legendary Ho Chi Minh and then perhaps sampling the famous Ch Ca Fish meal. Moving on I travel south for 12 days to Saigon (Ho Chi Minh City) stopping off at Hue for a dragon boat ride on the Perfume River, then Hoi An, Nha Trang and While Island – described as the most heavenly place on earth where I intend to spend a couple of days before heading for the Mekong Delta with its 9 tributaries and a truly Viet way of life – on then to Siagon.

27 October 2005

No time to dilly-dally too long because Cambodia awaits me, and a friend is expecting me. So much to say about Cambodia so I’ll keep it brief and you can read my report when I get there. First port of call over the border from Vietnam is Phnom Penh and amongst other things the infamous Killing Fields. From Phnom Penh I travel to Siem Reap and the highlight of this country, Angkor Wat – only discovered in the 19th century it is Asia’s equivalent to Machu Pichu in Peru. 2½ days to explore this and the other temples then its on over the border to Bangkok in Thailand.

4-19 November 2005

Thailand after the Tsunami? I have deliberately not made any plans for Thailand until I get there and see for myself – who knows, I may be of some use.

19 November 2005

I fly from Bangkok to Kathmandu and one of my life’s tasks, on “the things I’d love to do list”, climb Annapurna (well at least a good way up it). Problems have already occurred on this little jaunt – the King of Nepal has disbanded the government and the Maoists are not happy and have called for a total blockade of all the roads into the country “watch this space” – I’ll get there!

4 December 2005

If I’ve conquered and survived then it’s back off to Bangkok and once again no special plans

4 –19 December 2005

I travel south through Thailand to Malya and then on to Singapore.

19 December 2005

Pick up a camper van and its East Coast exploration down the Great Barrier Reef. Christmas Day: seafood barbie and a couple of tinnies on Bondi Beach or somewhere. New Year’s Eve – Sydney Harbour then continuing on to Melbourne

12 January 2006

Fly to Auckland in New Zealand for a couple of weeks well earned HOLDAY!

31 January 2006

Fly from Auckland around the bottom of the world to Santiago in Chile

31 January 2006

I am going to have to blag my way into Chile as you can only get in if you have proof of when you leave. Either way I have to find a way to get to Argentina – a smile usually does the trick!

February 2006

Buenos Aires: I must leave Buenos Aires by 9 February 2006 at the latest if I am to get to Rio on time for the Mardi gras. Buenos Aires is where the tango was born. So guess what I’ll be doing on leaving Buenos Aires (A.K.A. Paris of South America)? I will head to Montevideo, the Capital of Uruguay and more tango! Then on to the city of Concordia and its famous hot springs. Next on the list is San Ignalio Mini and on to the Iguazu Falls. The world’s most magnificent falls, unlike most other falls that have one or two cataracts, Igazu has 275. If I can, I’m going under by speed boat and over by helicopter! Onward, onward, forever onward to Rio!

24 February 2006

5 wonderful days in Rio at the Mardi Gras, Sugar Loaf Mountain, Copacobana beach, etc, etc.

28 February 2006

70 days of travel ahead – suffice to say it will be tough. Briefly it foes Rio→Amazon→ Amazon→ Amazon→ Amazon→Venezuala→Angel Falls→Columbia→Equador!

8 May 2005

Arrive at Quito in Equador (second highest capital city in the world) and five days in a HOTEL!

13 May 2006

All aboard and sailing off to the Galapagos Islands and “Lonesome George”, the last of his species of giant tortoise.

22 May 2006

Arrive back in Quito and find a way to get to Panama.

31 May 2006

Leave Panama for Costa Rica, Honduras, Elsalvador, Guatamala, Belize then Mexico in July 2006

From here it’s all too early to say – Route 66 is calling me!

He has arrived in Moscow

2005-09-06T12:31:00.000-07:00

Had a a brief call from Paul this morning at around 11am uk time. He has arrived safely in Moscow but his luggage hasn't yet. Hopefully it will turn up soon.

He is exploring the city and getting lost on the underground Metro system. Further updates as and when!

The Party

2005-09-04T06:30:00.000-07:00

Well we gave him a great send off. The Black Horse has never been so packed. With Jacky D acting as MC and Hocus Pocus providing a brilliant rock show a grand night was had by all. It was nice to see some old faces making an appearance for the night including Phil and Audrey Cleaver. (ex landlords of the Monky).

Ropper's duet with Jim and the lads from Hocus Pocus performing Born To Be Wild was a real show stopper (see the photo). And his moving speech left barely a dry eye in the house.

I expect there were a few sore heads this morning judging by the state of some of the revellers.

The Adventure Begins

2005-09-03T11:42:00.000-07:00

Ropper is about to tour the world. The farewell party is on Saturday 03/09/2005. After that he heads East. We will be posting a full itinerary here soon. He will also be sending us back regular bulletins and hopefully photographs (if we can work out how to do it).

Watch this space