Indo

After landing in Jakarta airport I took a bus into central Jakarta and then an Ojek to Jalan Jaksa which is the first port of call for most backpackers when they arrive.  The next day I decided to see what Jakarta had to offer in the way of sightseeing. I first visited the Indonesian National Monument, Monas then tried to walk to the old Dutch districts close to the marina. After about 10 minutes I realised how none pedestrian friendly the city was. The traffic is manic and the cars park all over the sidewalks, when there are sidewalks that is. Jakarta is one of the top most polluted cities in the world and I certainly didn’t fall in love with it so I booked a train ticket for the following morning to Yogyakarta.

I had an almost sleepless night thanks to all the mosquitoes in my room- something that seems to have plagued me ever since- I slept through my alarm and had to pack and get to the train station in 15 minutesl. Luckily I caught the train by the skin of my teeth and was heading towards Yogya the so called cultural capital of Java.

Yogyakarta or Yogya as its known for short was a totally different kettle of fish to Jakarta, the small maze of back alleys are full of restaurants and traditional Batik art shops, horse and carts trot down the roads and there are many things to see in and around the small city.

I took a sunrise tour of Borobudur, an ancient Buddhist temple that in the morning sits among a low mist, pierced only by a few distant peaks of volcanoes.

After a week in Yogya I took an organised tour that would head to Mt Bromo- a still active volcano on the east side of Java- where we would spend one night and then get up early to watch the sun rise over Mt Bromo. By the time we had reached our hotel it was already dark and the temperature was far cooler than it had been in Yogya. The journey to the hotel had been extremely steep and from the barely visible silhouettes of large peaks against the night sky it was obvious that the landscape had changed dramatically.

We woke at 3am and bleary eyed got in the back of a jeep and drove for 20 minutes followed by a 10 minute walk further up to the view point. It was still pitch black when we got there, the landscape occasionally lit up by forks of lightening from a distant storm. Slowly the sun begun to rise and shed light on a strange Mars like landscape. In the distance stood Mt Bromo. White plumes of steam billowing out, behind, dark grey clouds and occasional lightening bolt from the passing storm.

Once the sun had risen we took the jeeps to the base of Mt Bromo and walked up to the edge of the crater. The first thing I noticed was how bad the gasses smell that come out of a volcano, this wasent helped by the fact I was hideously out of breath. Me and a Frenchman I had met called Tony spent some time taking photos then got back in our Jeep and headed to the hotel.

We all boarded a minibus and started our journey towards Bali. Now that it was light we could see the landscape that we missed last night. The climate was cool and vegetable fields covered the land even up the sides of the mountains in places that you wouldnt believe people could even stand straight on. It wasent like the terraced paddy fields you normally see in mountain areas of Asia. The fields seem to just cling to the sides of almost vertical slopes. Due to the cooler climate they are able to grow most of the vegetables that would normally be seen growing around Europe.

After many hours on the road and a small ferry crossing to Bali we reached Denpasar. It was around 9pm by the time we arrived and me Tony and a few other tourist all just booked into a hotel close by for the night. In the morning everyone had a plan of where they were heading to next apart from me. I hadent planned anything and really didnt know a thing about Bali apart from Kuta was full of Australians. So I said goodbye to everyone and decided to walk into town and find an internet cafe to do abit of research. I walked for about an hour and found no internet cafes. I was about to give up and walk the hour back to the bus park when Tony on the back of a ojek pulled up next to me. He said he was heading to Sanur and that if I wanted to he would send the ojek back to pick me up.

We stayed in a little homestay, Tony left for Kuta the next morning as Sanur was too quiet for him. I ended up staying a few days and then taking a minibus up to a picturesque little town in the hills called Ubud. The area surrounding Ubud is all beautifully terraced paddy fields. One of the main things to see in Ubud is the monkey forest. As the name suggests its a forest with monkeys in but there is also a temple and many stone statues covered in moss and lichens.  I spent around a week in Ubud relaxing before heading to Kuta to catch my flight to Singapore.

Plans End

It was strange being back on the busy neon signed Khaosan road. I felt differently about it this time around, maybe because I was now a little more accustomed to South East Asia and I knew my way around. But it was odd being back on my own.

I found a hostel owned by Nepalese people which was one of the most basic rooms I have ever stayed in, just a matress on the floor with about 2 foot of floor space, a fan and a shared bathroom.

I tried to spend as little time around Khaosan as possible. I had a few days to kill before I could get a train down to Butterworth – A town on the western coast of Malaysia. I spent most of my time exploring the back alleys and canals of Bangkok. One day I ended up in a market called ‘The iron bridge market’ It is a small market on a bridge that covers one of Bangkok’s many canal’s. 1 metre wide isle’s and low ceiling’s with hundreds of electrical wires hanging from it, surrounded by small stalls selling smuggled electronic goods, from remote control cars to cameras.

A couple of days later I boarded the night train to Butterworth. In the morning I chatted to an American girl on the train and decided to head over to the island of Penang seeing as I was there and I didn’t much fancy getting on another coach or train. Penang was nice but I was eager to get down to Kuala Lumpur to meet a friend of mine so in the morning I caught a coach down to Kuala Lumpur.

You cant help being impressed by the huge sky scrapers and tower blocks that you see when you enter Kuala Lumpur for the first time. Walking down Petaling street in Chinatown which is the tourist hub of KL you see the usual market stalls selling the fake ray bans and watches that every market in SEA sells and smoke rises from great metal buckets where chestnuts are being roasted. Another thing that surprised me about Malaysia was the amount of Indian people there.

The following day I met my friend Sueann, who took me to a nightmarket in Bangsar to try a few different traditional Malay dishes and after for drinks with a few of her friends.

Me with an milk ice tea or was is ice milk it? it seems you can put those words in any order and get a different thing, and beef rendang (photo stolen from Sueann)

Some more assorted dishes 

I spent the week in KL walking from one freezing cold aircontioned shopping centre to the next, which seems to be a favourite past time of people in KL, that and watching the fountains outside the Petronas Towers.

When I reached Kuala Lumpur it marked the end of my planned trip so from here on I was freestyling. I decided to book a flight to Jakarta as it was one of the closest destinations to KL.

The weekend before I flew to Jakarta Future Music Festival Asia was on in KL and luckily Sueann had a few vip tickets so I got to see De La Soul, PSY (the guy that sings that annoying Gagnam Style song) and The Prodigy, all for free.

Campuchia

Thanks to Pat I have some images from Cambodia so I figured I may aswell blog it.

On the bus to Sihanoukville

The night we sold the last bike (Red Fury of course) we booked tickets for the morning to Sihanoukville.  The bus took about 13 hours with a change of buses at Phnom Penh. From the minute we crossed the border it became apparent that Cambodia is not a rich country, there is rubbish everywhere and children begging on the streets.

We spent a couple of nights in Sihanoukville. Everyone we had met had raved about it saying it was such a great place but none of us were convinced, so we arranged to go to one of the many islands where two of our friends were working.

On the boat to the island

We arrived on the island where we each started a tab and were handed hammocks. Off we went into the woods and made a makeshift camp. The island was about as close to Alex Garlands ‘The Beach’ as most of us would get. Everyone just smokes weed, snorkels, spear fish’s and plays volleyball. It was a stoner’s paradise, apart from the incessant mosquito bites.

Setting up our camp

Mine and Stu’s hammocks. The mosquitoes bite right through the bottoms of the hammocks.

 

View from the camp.

View of the camp from the sea.

The next day we went out snorkelling over the coral reef then as it was our friends last night working on the island we took a boat out fishing and then to another bar on a different part of the island.

Harry spear fishing for bait.

Preparing some bait.

 

 

Mark doing abit of fishing.

Dan and his catch.

 

At the bar, later on.

Stu was due to leave the following morning and head straight to Bangkok to fly back to England none of the rest of us had a plan, but in the morning Mark – already packed and ready to leave – woke us up telling us he was leaving. I was pretty happy about this, the mosquitoes were getting on my nerves and the way of life on the island wasn’t for me.

We said goodbye to Stu that evening. It was sad to see our little group parting after everything we had been through together. The next day we took a bus back to Phnom Penh. I had packed my digital camera stupidly at the top of my backpack and someone had stolen it.we spent a few days there and visited the S-21 museum, an old school that the Khmer Rouge had turned into a prison and had tortured people before sending them off to the killing fields.

Market in Phnom Penh.

View of S-21

 

and another. Good shot Pat.

Some cells in S-21

 

A skull with a bullet hole in the top.

Mark at the kings memorial building.

This is a particularly nasty mosquito bite I got on my arm!

We then travelled to Siem Reap and met up with one of Pat’s friends who was living there. He showed us around, everyone was impressed with Siem Reap. I think we though that the only decent thing there was Angkor Wat but it was actually my favourite place in Cambodia. We went to see the sunrise over Angkor Wat which was nice but there was far too many tourist’s. There had been a power cut in Siem Reap while we were there and everything had to run off generators. Just to stay cool we ended up wondering around supermarkets for the air conditioning as the hotel refused to turn on the generator till it was dark.

Mark, Pat and Dan had booked flights out from Siem Reap so it was time for us to all to part way’s I had a bus booked at about 7am, so we said sleepy fairlwells and I took a minibus 10 and a half hours back to Khaosan road. I had completed the full circle of Thailand, Laos, Vietnam and Cambodia.

No more pictures after this as I have no camera, but ill try to update this blog anyway.

Minsk Diaries

5 guys with 5 old Russian Minsk motorcycles and about 2000km to cover. This was no doubt going to be an adventure!

Preparing to leave Hanoi

The first of many breakdowns for Red Fury

On route to Mai Chau

My bike was nicknamed Fizzy Pop due to the sound of its exhaust. pop pop pop!

We left the hectic traffic of Hanoi on the 4th of January on a grey day – infact everyday had been grey since we arrived. Not long after leaving the city we realised Mark’s bike clearly had some power issues but we carried on towards our first nights stop.  As night fell we reached a mountain pass and ascended into the thick grey mist that seems to cover the whole of Northern Vietnam. Lorries headlights loomed out of the dark mist, overtaking the lorries crawling up the hills was dangerous due to barely any visibility. We reached the small town of Mai Chau wet, hungry and tired.

Men working on the paddy fields

1km out of Mai Chau

We spent the next morning fixing problems with the bikes that the previous day had brought up. we set off around 2pm only to get 2km down the road and Mark’s bike broke. We spent till 6 trying to fix it then towed it back to Mai Chau where the local mechanic fixed the bike within 10 minutes.

The village drunk. Pat had to distract him before he broke the bike even more.

1km out of Mai Chau

Minsk mechanic fixing Red Fury.

The next day started off well, we were making good progress through muddy mountain roads and paddy field carved valleys. As we drove children ran out from there houses to wave at us. I nearly had an accident when a calf ran out right infront of me, I was convinced I would hit it is so I put my leg out, luckily I just missed it but ended up kicking it.

Rickety bridge

View up the river.

Mark being a “Geoffrey”

The roads in Vietnam are dangerous, small roads, big trucks, cattle, potholes that will swallow your bike the list is endless. Not only these problems but not one of our travel insurances would cover us if we crashed as it is illegal to drive without a Vietnamese license. Anyway I digress, at around 12 we stopped to take some photos and the local builders invited us into their camp to have lunch with them and drink rice wine. After saying fairwell to our new friends we hit the road again. A little later we were waved down by some people who invited us in for tea. Its amazing how friendly the Vietnamese people are outside of the cities. At 6pm Mark’s bike broke down again, luckily outside a mechanic’s but he said it wouldnt be done till the morning and that there was a hotel 5km down the road so off we went.

Paddy fields.

Group shot and then….

A local builder turned up.

Having rice and stew with rice wine.

Mark on the old thuoc lao

Another random tea and thuoc lao break.

We pulled up outside a big wooden well lit house, not sure if it was a hotel or not we walked in and found people sitting around a table drinking tea. We asked if we could stay here, they looked at each other and then said yes no problem we asked how much and they said free then off two of them went and brought back eggs and noodles which they cooked for us and gave us whiskey. It was at this point that it dawn on us that this was just some ones house.

Having dinner at our “hotel”

Mine and Dan’s room for the night.

Some of the inside of the house. The owner built it all himself.

A sculptor the owner made.

The outside of the house.

A table he also made

In the morning the mechanic “fixed” marks bike and we drove on to a town called Thai Hoa, By the way people looked at us it seemed they had never seen a westerner in their town before. As Mark’s bike was still playing up the next day we found a Minsk mechanic who we later named Mr Miyagi. He said he could fix it but it wouldn’t be ready till the evening. So it was that we spent another day in Thai Hoa.

Cat and dog at the mechanics.

The Thai Hoa drunk who bought us a few beers.

We set off in high spirits the next day and Mark’s bike broke about 1km out of Thai Hoa. By this point Marks bike had earned the nickname of “Red Fury” I’m not sure why but maybe because it made us all pretty furies at times. We towed it back to Miyagi and he fixed it only to break down about 6km out of Thai Hoa, a local guy on a Minsk managed to get it fixed. We managed to get to Vinh by around 8.30pm and checked into a 3 star hotel.

Another breakdown for Red Fury.

We spent the following day just sleeping in and wondering about visiting the old gates of Vinh, the city had been heavily bombed during the war and not many of the old buildings had been left.

Bomb craters. I’m not sure what this place was but it was clearly important as there were pictures of it in the war museum in HCMC.

Patty cakes.

They had some planes and other things there.

Unexploded american bomb.

After setting off and having a few more problems with Mark’s bike which meant cleaning the spark plug everytime he turned the bike off we made good progress infact maybe too good progress as we got pulled over and 2 of us were fined 300,000 dong each thats about £10 for speeding. As we were driving along a dirt track a guy driving beside us invited us back to his for some tea so we followed him to his house where him and his family who were farmers lived. They fed us dinner and rice wine and invited us to stay the night so we accepted.

At Mr. Lings house.

Mr. Ling serving up some homebrewed rice wine shots.

Stu harvesting some strange root which was boiled and served with molasses for desert.

We had to go to the local police station to have our passports photocopied. They were all nice about it and gave us cigarettes.

After one of the most uncomfortable nights I have ever had on a bed which was just wooden planks we set off and reached Cou Lac, a little tourist town on the edge of the Phong Ne Ke Bang national park.

Time to get our telly tubby macs out.

Dan on an old airstrip that is now a very long straight road.

Relaxing.

Cou Lac

We spent the following day preparing for the jungle run, a 250km drive through the national park where there are no houses shops or petrol stations.

We had been told that the guards would probably lower the barrier and not let us into the park and we should duck under it and carry on but to our joy they opened it for us and we travelled on. We reached another checkpoint luckily without a barrier and the guards waved us down but we just carried on. The road wound up the mountains into the mist where Dan’s bike decided to break down. We ended up towing it East out of the park to Dong Hoi, only 20miles from Cou Lac where we had started.

In the jungle.

DK mobil about to be towed.

River in the jungle.

The next day Dan’s bike had decided to start working again so we drove West and back onto the jungle road. This road was one of the best rides of the trip winding up and down mountains with spectacular views. Everything was going well until the sun started to set and my bike broke. We took the rear wheel off and it turned out the rear sprocket had sheered completely off, so we towed it 10km to the town of Khe Sanh. We booked into a guesthouse and went out for dinner where we met a local English teacher who we planned to meet the following day to eat dog meat. After alot of beers and rice wine the guesthouse owner rode up to us to tell us the police wouldnt accept my friends passport photocopies and that we had to go back and talk to him. He told them they had to leave. At this point it was around 1am. as it is illegal for bikes to be towed I pushed my bike up the hill and rolled it about 2km down to the North/South checkpoint where the others caught up with me. Pat and Stu then towed my bike and I rode Stu’s bike which had not headlights and neither did Dans. After about 20kms we were pulled over by the police. We were drunk, towing one bike and two bikes had no headlights. Luckily the police didnt seemed bothered and said we could carry on. Dans bike broke down a few times but we managed to limp the 60km to Dong Ha by about 5am and checked into a hotel.

The weather cleared up nicely.

click to enlarge

Stu.

The next day we just slept and lazed around. None of us wanted to acknowledge the fact that my bike was very broke. The following morning I got up and managed to find the only Minsk mechanic in town. who fixed the bike and worked on the other bikes aswell. That evening he invited us to play football with him and his friends in the Dong Ha football stadium.

Us with Master Mechanic Tien

Me on one of Tiens custom Minsk’s

Testing out his custom Honda

We made it to Hue the next day the only problem was Pat’s bike had a puncture but it didnt take long to fix. We spent about a week in Hue just drinking. It was the first time we had seen many tourist since we left Hanoi. It was also the first time we had seen the sun in weeks.

We did actually find a couple of hours one day to visit some sights.

Living statues.

Me and Mark looking abit bored.

Giant Vietnamese flag in Hue.

Hue Citadel.

Us at the best bar in Hue we spent so much time there we got free t-shirts and our photo on the wall!

After Hue we drove down to Da Nang. It seemed that the problems we had had with the bikes had ironed themselves out apart from Mark’s bike struggled with the hills. We drove over the High Van Pass unfortunately the sun was setting so we missed the best of the views. A lorry had driven into the ditch on the side, it had been full of pigs which were now either impaled or running around wildly on the road, it was a horrible sight.

Not long before the High Van Pass.

We spent a day in Da Nang which is a big city but didnt seemed to have anything to offer tourists.

The next stop was Hoi An which was only a 30min drive down the coast. Hoi An is a beautiful old trading town. Colourful paper lanterns hang from old buildings and paper boats with candles float down the river. We ended up staying here around a week again.

We drove down the coast to a city called Quang Ngai where we spent one night. We got up early the next morning determined to drive to Nha Trang. This was the most dangerous part of the trip, 400km along Highway 1 the main route that links Hanoi and HCMC. It’s the road all the lorries and coaches take. We had more than a few near accidents on this stretch. You would be driving along with a coach coming towards you and then another coach would overtake that coach and you would have to quickly swerve onto the hard shoulder. Anyway we survived it and made it to Nha Trang at about 10pm.

Seaside.

This was at some deserted beach resort in the middle of nowhere.

We all loved Nha Trang, beautiful beach and great nightlife. We spent Lunar New year there partying on the beach. Unfortunately we spent too long in places like Hue and Hoi An. Stu was due to fly home from Bangkok on the 26th and it was already the 12th, we stilled had to get to HCMC, sell the bikes and see Cambodia. So we made the decision to take the night train with the bikes to HCMC. It was sad to have come so close to finishing our goal and not quite completing it but we had no choice, frankly I’m surprised no one had any major injuries along the trip and no one was too keen on doing another 200 odd miles down the treacherous highway 1. If we had taken Highway 1 all the way to HCMC  it would have been far less miles than we had already covered anyway.

Panoramic from our penthouse in Nha Trang. click to enlarge

Panoramic of Nha Trang Beach. Click to enlarge.

Eating lobster on the beach.

We arrived at 3.30am on my birthday and couldnt find a hotel till around 10am. we had a sleep then tried to go out to celebrate but it didnt seem like HCMC had much to off in the way of nightlife. We spent the following few days sitting outside a bar trying to sell the bikes within 4 days we had sold them all. Next stop Cambodia.

HCMC and the end of our motorbike adventure.

Before we left Hanoi we were told that Minsk’s always breakdown but looking back on it I wouldn’t have gone with any other bike. Some of the best experiences we had were from the breakdowns. Along with trekking in the Himalayas it was one of the best things I have ever done. Also big thanks to Mark, Stu, Dan, Pat and everyone we met along the way, it wouldn’t have been the same without you.

I had my digital camera stolen on a bus in Cambodia and hadnt backed alot of my photos up so some of these are my photos and alot of them are Pat’s.

Dash for Hanoi

After booking my flight to Bangkok, I realised that your supposed to have a ticket booked out of Thailand to get a visa, so that they know you will be leaving within 30 days. This sent me into a panic but I decided to just risk it anyway. Luckily it paid off and no ticket was asked for.

I arrived on Khaosan road in the evening. The temperature in Thailand was a shock. It had been around 22 degrees Celsius in Nepal and not humid. In Bangkok it was about 35 and very humid. I walked down Khaosan road with all its neon signs trying to find a cheap looking guesthouse. I thought Lakeside had been pretty touristy but here was another level, the street was streaming with tourists and Hawkers selling all kinds of things from fake driving license to strange instruments that from what i can tell sound like a frogs mating call. The area has all the western fast food restaurants, KFC, Mcdonalds, Burger king. I decided not to stay long.

The next day I got up early, intent on finding the train station to book my ticket North to Nong Khai. Most of the tourists were still probably in bed nursing hangovers. A few however were just lying passed out on the street. It didn’t fill me with pride.

I ended up spending a couple of enjoyable hours wondering around real Bangkok looking for the railway station. Everyone had no idea what I was saying when I asked where Hua Lamphong station was. I ended up booking it in a travel agent.

The night train to the Laos border was great. It was like luxury class compared to the sleeper trains in India and it was only 2nd class.

Once i arrived in Laos i took a tuk tuk to Vientiane. The tuk tuk helpfully dropped me off at some random bus park no where near the area with the hotels. I guess thats what you get for bargaining on a price.

The next day I took a minibus up to Vang Vieng. Made famous by tubing. For anyone who doesn’t know what that is, the people set up a load of bars along the Namsong river and tourists used to float down in large inner tubes while drinking excessive amounts at the bars but a couple of months ago the government came and tore all the bars down as too many tourists were drowning (i think around 22 last year)

I found a guest house just outside of the main part of town and checked in. Laoy who ran the guest house was so friendly, he told me all the rooms were now full so he didnt have to work, we took his motorbike on a tour of some of Vang Viengs sights.

I spent a few relaxing days with Laoy and his family but decided to head for Hanoi for Christmas as my Visa for Vietnam had already started at the beginning of December. The journey took 31 hours in total. My bed on the sleeper bus was right at the back with 2 other people with 3 beds above us, it was nicknamed “the cave”. on the ceiling were written things like ‘ driver=heartattack’ and ‘road to hell’.

I spent 11 days in Hanoi including Christmas and New Years. It was a drunken blur of an 11 days, always trying to stay a step ahead of the inevitable hangover that was chasing me. I had my phone stolen on Christmas Eve. Despite this I managed to buy an old Russian 125cc 2 stroke Minsk motorbike for $350. On boxing day I was chatting to a group of guys from Chelmsford about my friend Sean who is in a coma, it turns out they know him and a bunch of my other friends back in London. They too were planning on driving down south on bikes so we decided to travel down together. The entire time we had been in Hanoi we haden’t seen the sun and it was cold. So as soon as the others found bikes we would head south in search of the sun.

Bangkok

Lucky Buddha, Bangkok

View from the White Mount, Bangkok

Bangkok

Another temple, Bangkok

View of sugar cane fields from my bed on the train

On the train crossing the friendship bridge over the Mekong between Thailand and Laos

View from the top of Pha Poak

View from the top of Pha Poak

Laoy sitting on top of Pha Poak

One of the many waterfalls in Vang Vieng

One of the many waterfalls in Vang Vieng

View from the window in my bedroom, Vang Vieng

Ho Guom Lake, Hanoi

The Cathedral in Hanoi

The Hanoi Hilton

Inside the Hanoi Hilton

The old Citadel of Hanoi

Cua Bac Relic

The Terai

Basically i’m already in Laos so pretty behind on my blog. I spent a while writing the first bit then panicked and just rushed the rest, sorry.

I was invited by my aunt to go to her husband’s nieces wedding with her and two of my cousins. It was a chance to learn a little more about this beautiful country and its culture, so I jumped at it.

The wedding was to be held down in Butwal near the Nepal India border in the area known as the Terai. The Terai is a thin slither of land that runs the entire length of south Nepal. It is flat and completely covered by paddie fields as far as you can see.

The journey there took 7 hours and ran along the most winding roads I have ever been on. The hanging decorations at the top of the windscreen swinging from side to side while the standing passengers held on with white knuckles. It’s lucky I don’t get motion sickness. It’s a common sight on Nepali buses to see plastic bags being handed out. This confused me a little the first time I saw it but I didn’t give it much thought. It wasn’t until a later bus journey when I saw an old woman, discreetly covering her face with her shall, then throwing the bag and its content out of the window that I realised what they were for.

I’ve only travelled on local busses, they have a certain energy. The bus boys hang from the open door calling out the final destination and banging on the side of the bus to signal for the driver to start or stop while the latest Bollywood hits blare out from tinny speakers. The outside of the busses are painted with pictures of Hindu gods or Nike and Adidas logos, on the backs are slogans like “no time for love”. You see the big coaches, marked “Tourist only” but the idea doesn’t appeal to me. It was the same in India, tourist staying in hotels, coaches ferrying them from one tourist attraction to the next. Their only real view of the country is through a tinted pane of glass from their air conditioned bubble. I can understand how that might appeal to older travellers but it isn’t for me.

An added bonus of travelling to Butwal was that only a couple of hours by bus is Lumbini, the birth place of Buddha. Lumbini is a rectangular piece of land 2km by 6km. Within it are many Buddhist temples built by different nations, each in their own unique style. Unfortunately at this time most are still under construction.

Hindu weddings take place in the brides house. The bride and her guests wait in apprehension for the arrival of the groom and his family. All the weddng presents sit under a brightly coloured marquee. Once the groom arrives accompanied by a band the ceremony begins. The bride and groom sit for a few hours while they recieve presents and blessings from family and guests. In the evening both families part ways, the grooms family go off and celebrate and the brides family go back to their homes.

It was sad leaving Pokhara and my family. I woke up early to a grey misty morning and said my goodbyes. It had started to rain by the time i left for the bus station. It was the first rain i had seen for a long time and i hadnt missed it.

At the zoo in Butwal with my aunt cousin and my aunts sister in law

me, Daniel and Angela on a rickshaw

One of many temples in Lumbini cant remember which but looks Tibetan to me.

Lots of prayer flags

The building that covers the place where Buddha was born

I think this is the Myanmar Buddhist temple

The Thai Buddhist temple

They were filming some kind of movie here i think.

I dont remember which temple this was either

The bride and groom and Angela on the right

Sunset shot. Obviously.

The end of the wedding. The groom taking his new wife off.

This is the view from the top of my aunts house. pretty amazing to wake up to this. I miss it.

me with my grandfather, granny and one of my aunts.

Angela and Kaji before we went to another wedding in Pokhara. Kaji is wearing a traditional Gurung cast outfit.

Meet the Family – Pokhara

Pokhara’s Lakeside had changed a lot in the 15 years since I had last visited, the dirt road with a few hotels and restaurants was now a busy tourist street, not that there weren’t tourists before but now they far outnumbered the locals. The dirt track had been replaced by a well maintained road; all along it are large hotels and restaurants of every cuisine that travellers could need to get a little taste of home or something more exotic. In the centre of the road are islands with large Banyan trees growing on them, hanging, tentacle like from their branches are roots that grow down in a futile effort to plant themselves in the concrete ground beneath.  In the distance, paragliders gently float around the hilltop village of Sarangkot like scattered dandelion seeds in a summer breeze.

I spent my first few nights in different guesthouses as I had no way of contacting my family. It was nice to have a little time to myself, getting up when I felt like it, eating when I was hungry and going to sleep when I was tired.  After I had spent a day doing nothing but relaxing and eating I decided on my second day to rent a boat and go out on Phewa Lake, it had been one of my favourite things to do as a child but after a couple of hours and a pair of aching arms I realised that renting the boat for the whole day had been too ambitious, so I beach the boat and walk up to the World Peace Stupa that looks out over Phewa Lake and Pokhara.

A few days later I met up with my aunt and she insisted I stayed with her at her house. She rents rooms out to tourists who want to stay for a few months and she had a spare room so I took her up on her offer. My next few days were spent visiting many family members with my cousin Angela.

A couple of weeks into my stay I went with my two cousins and aunt to stay with some relatives in a small village a few hours’ drive outside Pokhara. The dirt track was very rough. It weaved along the side of hills. Here and there cherry blossoms stood out from the green forest’s.  We were squeezed into the back of a pickup up truck with 10 other people and their luggage, travelling in Nepal is an intimate affair. Unlike the packed tubes in London, strangers chat, joke and occasionally sing. You call everyone brother or sister, father or mother or grandfather or grandmother- not in a communist way despite the sickle and hammers painted on walls during the Maoist insurgency.

We arrived as the sun was setting. The house was traditional with a slate roof and mud walls, inside the low ceiling was made lower by hundreds of drying corn cobs still in their husk’s. The room was lit by a single oil lamp and a small cooking fire set into the mud floor. Around the fire were long, woven straw mats to sit on. Outside the stars twinkled. On the hillsides around, you could see a few lights that looked like the reflection of the stars in the waters of  a still lake. Below fireflies danced above the ripe rice paddies stretching out beneath.

I woke before sunrise and sat out on the veranda. As the sun rose it unveiled such beautiful views. To the North were the Himalayas bathed in orange light from the rising sun. To the East lay Phewa Lake and Pokhara, half obscured by morning mist. All around the hills were carved with paddie fields, dotted upon them were haystacks that looked like ice cream cones turned upside down. As the sun began to arc into the sky, women came out from their houses and put out to dry, mats covered in freshly harvested millet.

Another highlight of my stay was the festival of Tihar (known as Dewali in India), the festival of lights. The festival lasts five days and is another of the major festivals in the Hindu calendar. Houses are covered in fairy lights and balconies and house fronts in rows of night lights. Outside their homes they paint decorated circles with a line that runs into the house; this is to bring Lakshmi, goddess of wealth into their homes. If you walk down any street you will more than likely see crowds of people gathered around children dancing, from traditional Nepali dancing to break dancing.

(I thought at the end of my posts I would put a note of what I am or have been reading.)

What I am/have been reading: The Beach by Alex Garland

The pictures are a mixture, some are from my phone some from my camera and others from my cousins camera.

Out boating on Phewa like the small island to the right has a Hindu temple on it.

Small panoramic from the world peace stupa. Unfortunately it was cloudy so its not such a good view of the mountains.(click to enlarge)

Devi’s fall. Supposedly a tourist called David fell in and drowned here. the waterfall goes straight underground.

One of my aunts, my cousin Angela and another cousin Ankit in Mahindra Cave.

My cousin, my aunt and me.

Watching Paragliders taking off from Sarangkot.

Dam side on Phewa Lake.

Rice harvesting by the Seti River.

The house my father was born in.

Dancing during the Tihar festival.

view from the village we stayed in.

The laying out of millet to dry and the house we spent the night in.

Me, my cousin Daniel and Angela.

My aunt Kaji’s birthday meal.

my aunt Kaji, her daughter Angela and me.

The Annapurna Circuit

I meant to spend a little more time on this post but I have been very busy meeting family and so on, so sorry if its a bit rough.

Here is the map again you might find it useful.

Day 1

I woke up feeling pretty nervous; I had done no research or training for the trek and didn’t realise quite how serious and hard it would be. At breakfast Navin’s mother told me she had heard on the news that 3 trekkers had died the day before doing the same trek that I was about to embark on. It was a sobering reminder that it wasn’t going to be easy.

I met my guide Raj at the bus station at 7am and said my farewells to Navin. The minibus to Besi Sahar took 6 hours, from there we had to find a bus to Bulebhule but all the buses were full so we ended up sitting on top of the bus on the luggage rack surrounded by bags of grain and luggage in true Nepali fashion. The roads were little more than rocky mud tracks. We held on tight as the bus tilted and pitched violently trying to shake us of like a giant mental bucking bronco. After an uncomfortable hour or so we reached Bulebhule and the beginning of our trek.

(some of these pictures were taken by my guide Raj. You can click on them to enlarge them)

Riding ontop of a bus to Bhulebule

More from the top of the bus.

Day 2

After a quick breakfast we set off at 7am heading north towards our first nights stop at Jagat. The route follows the Marsyandi River all the way to the Thorung La Pass. We walked along the path in the morning dew, surrounded by rice paddies and banana trees, the constant sound of crickets and the roar of the Marsyandi in our ears. We stopped for lunch at a little hotel in Syange, overlooking a beautiful waterfall that drops 111m. We reached Jagat at 1pm, we both felt like we could go a little further and as it was still early we walked an extra hour to Chamje.

At dinner I chatted to a group of 3 Indians we had passed earlier in the day who were doing the Thorung La Pass as well. One of the best things about the trek is how friendly everyone is. If you meet someone at a hotel or along the trek the chances are you will see them again as most people follow the same route and stops.

The water fall at Syange

Dal Bhat time!

The road just before Jagat

More of the road

Day 3

We set off from Chamje at 7am. The scenery had changed dramatically from the fertile green fields of Bulebhule. We were now in a narrow gorge; on either side were steep rock faces, the road had been carved into one side. Far below you could see the milky blue waters of the Marsyandi and marijuana plants grew in abundance along the road. As we reached Dharapani the gorge widened and forked. We had planned to stay here, but again we decided to go further to Thanchok. Exhausted we walked the many steps up to Timang nearly being run down by herds of goats.

View from Chamje

The new road just before Tal

The roads are a little rough.

The village of Tal

Another photo of the amazing roads

Goat herds at Thanchok

Manaslu? not sure

Day 4

The nights were getting colder. In the morning the ground was frosty and the sky’s clear which gave us great views of Manaslu Mountain. The days walk was easy in comparison to the day be fore’s. The valley was wide and the path was surrounded by tall pine trees. Here and there were wood cutting camps. Men with large old fashioned saws – the ones where there is a man on top and a man underneath – cut the pine trees into planks working from 7.30am to 5pm everyday. Around the wood cutting camps the smell of pine filled the cold crisp air and the floor was littered with dry needles and cones. As we walked we would occasionally hear the distant sound of bells which grew louder until a line of pack mules came into view, sometimes ladened with trekking equipment and sometimes with supplies for the local shops or guesthouses.

We reached Upper Pisang around 2.30am. Pisang is split into two parts, upper and lower. Upper Pisang sits on the side of the valley looking out over Annapurna 2 and 4. The walls of the houses are made from stones; the roofs are made of wood tiles with stones on to hold them down in the winter winds.

Most guesthouses advertise “hot showers” this is normally a trickle of lukewarm water coming from a shower head, it’s usually outside and the walls are made from planks with large gaps between that the freezing cold mountain wind cut straight through.

I think this is Annapurna 2

At Chame

On the way to Pisang

Just after Bhratang

Bhuddist Temple above Pisang

View from my hotel window in Upper Pisang

Day 5

The day started off easy, following the river through the deep wide valley. We passed Mring Tso Lake with its clear blue waters, prayer flags and amazing views of the mountains. A couple of Kilometres later the path suddenly turned, zig zagging up a steep 400m ascent to the small village of Ghyaru. As we continued the land became more arid. The pines grew shorter and had been twisted by the winds into unnatural shapes, here and there Yaks grazed on the short dry grass. We arrived at Manang, our last major stop before the pass at around 2pm. I bumped into the Indian’s again; one of them had gone home a few days before as it was too cold for him.

A little pond just after Pisang

Mring Tso Tal

Another view of Mring Tso Tal

One of the Annapurnas

and again

The village of Ghyaru

The village of Ghyaru on the left and an Annapurna on the right

Intesting rock?

View of Humde and Annapurna 3 behind

The village of Ngawal

Another view of Humde and the airport

Day 6

Today was rest and high altitude acclimatisation day, so we decided to walk up to a lake called Ice Lake. It was hardly a rest; the lake is about 1100m above Manang and the dust and loose stone path zig zags straight up with no flat or downhill parts to it. It took us 3 hours to reach the lake, one and a half hours less than the sign post said it would. We were the first to arrive that morning. It was extremely calm just the faint roar of the Marsyandi deep in the valley and the sound of wind in the feathers of a large white bird with brown tipped wings as it soared overhead. The lake offers some of the best views of the Himalayas I have ever seen.

After a knee killing hour and half of sliding back down the path to Manang, I attended the AMS (Acute Mountain Sickness) talk that is given every day. It doesn’t do much to steady your nerves but its good information. The doctor said you are supposed to eat around 4000 calories a day just to break even as you’re burning so many more calories. Your heart rate goes up and you breathe more as the percentage of oxygen in your blood is far lower than at sea level, then he checked everyone’s oxygen levels, if yours was below 84% he suggested you didn’t go higher. If someone at sea level had 84% oxygen level he said they would be sent straight to intensive care. Luckily mine was 94%.

In the evening I took a stroll to Gangapurna Lake. A milk blue lake made from the melt waters of a glacier that comes down from between Gangapurna and Annapurna 3. After, I went to watch 7 Years in Tibet at one of 2 small projector halls in Manang. It was in a dusty cellar of a shop, two rows of wooden benches covered in goatskins and a small wood burning stove in the middle. It cost around £1.30 which included free tea and a bag of popcorn. After, I had dinner with an Australian and American I had met earlier in the day and played dice games.

View from close to Manang looking back at Braga

The village of Braga

Ice Lake and Annapurna 3

Another of Ice Lake

Annapurna 3 I think

From inside a shack at Ice Lake

Gangapurna, below it Gangapurna lake and Manang

Taken going down from Ice Lake. I dont have photoshop so its very roughly put together. Click to enlarge

View of Braga from above

Manang from near Gangapurna Lake

Gangapurna Lake

Day 7

Sleeping in high altitudes can be difficult, it gives you strange and vivid dreams, sometimes you will wake up gasping for breath or you just can’t sleep at all. After a bad night’s sleep and my day in Manang I couldn’t wait to get moving again. We set off pretty late; in the distance you could see groups of trekkers already winding their way up the mountain side.

It’s a humbling experience being in the Himalayas, surrounded by some of the world’s highest peaks, take the feeling you get when you stand below huge skyscrapers like in Manhattan then times it by 20 and you might get something of the same feeling.

As we walked I could hear what sounded like the distant rumble of thunder after a while I realised it was from small avalanches on the side of Gangapurna. We reached Ledar early at around 12.30 I wanted to go further but the doctor had advised against it. The higher we got the more basic the hotels became; the one we stayed in had no lights in the rooms and no shower. I spent the rest of the day finishing off Shantaram which I had been reading for the past 6 months.

Ledar

Another view of Ledar

Day 8

We left Ledar at 7.15am, the walk to Thorung Phedi went through narrow landslide areas, and you could see where huge rocks had slid down the sides of the valley and come to rest at the bottom or across the path causing the path to be re-routed around them.  We arrived at Phedi around 8.30am. Raj’s feet were hurting so he arrived about half an hour after me. Once he had caught up we started the 400m ascent to high camp where we would spend the night. The higher up we climbed the more the sky changed to azure blue.

The worst part of trekking is the waiting. You spend hours sitting around waiting for it to get late enough to go to sleep. A pack of cards and a good book are essential; unfortunately I had finished Shantaram so I started re-reading it.

As soon as the sun goes down-which is always early as you are surrounded by huge peaks- the temperature plummets. I spent a lot of the nights wearing long johns, jeans a t-shirt and hoody inside a sleeping bag with a blanket on top but it still takes an age for your feet to warm to a comfortable temperature.

Half way up to high camp from Thorung Phedi

Looking up towards high camp. its steeper than it looks.

View from my window at high camp

My bedroom at high camp, pretty basic and very cold

Day 9

We left high camp at 4.45am, many people had already set off around 4am but after about 45 minutes we had passed them all. It was still dark but the moon was bright and the stars twinkled in the clear sky, behind us we could see small lights from people’s head torches like glow worms in the distance.

The path was steep, at that high altitude you get out of breath very easily, every small incline seems like a mountain and after you reach the summit there is always another one. You can rest for a couple of minutes to get your breath back but after taking another 20 steps your back to gasping for air like an asthmatic, which is painful when the air is so cold. I had a water bottle strap to the side of my backpack and after half an hour of setting off from high camp it had frozen solid.

As we reached the Thorung La Pass-an hour and a half after leaving high camp- the sun was just rising to chase the moon from the sky; Sunrise at 5,416m (for anyone needing something to compare that to, the highest mountain in the UK is Ben Nevis which is 1344m) is a pretty awe inspiring thing. We only stayed for 15minutes as it was so cold, we had been the first to reach the top and by the time we left there was still no sign of anyone else. The walk down to Mutkinath was very hard, it drops around 1600m on loose gravel paths, when you have an extra 15kg on your back it puts a lot of strain on your joints.

We got to Muktinath in the ancient kingdom of Mustang at 9am. I decided to do the next day’s walk to Jomsom that day, as I was pretty keen to get back to civilisation with hot showers, warm nights and internet. Raj’s feet were still hurting so he took a jeep to Jomsom and I walked.

It was all downhill to the little town of Kagbeni, and then the path follows the Gandaki River. The river bed is wide but at this time of year there is not a lot of water running through it.

The area is famous for Ammonite Fossils from the Jurassic period, it used to be the seabed of the Tethis Ocean before Eurasia and India collided into each other forming the Himalayas.

The wind through the valley near Jomsom is unrelenting, you constantly get buffeted by the wind that whips up great clouds of dust and sand that sting your eyes and face and forces you to stop and turn the other way until it passes.

By the time I reached the apple orchards of Jomsom, the blisters that had formed on the walk down from the Pass were painful and I was exhausted but extremely relieved to have reached the end of my trek and happy in the knowledge that I didn’t have to get up and walk the next day.

Me infront of the Thorung La Pass sign

My guide Raj infront of the Thorung La Pass sign

Sunrise looking down towards Mustang

The view looking back towards high camp

More sunrise photos

View looking out over Muktinath

Another from Muktinath

Heading down to Kagbeni

From Kagbeni looking down the Gandaki River towards Jomsom

Day 10

There are no direct busses from Jomsom to Pokhara. The first bus we took we had booked the day before so it wasn’t too crowded, it took 3 hours to get from Jomsom to Ghasa. From there we got on an overcrowded bus that the seats were so close together that my legs wouldn’t fit in straight, it was a very uncomfortable 6 hours to the town of Beni. From Beni it was 4 hours to Pokhara. The bus driver had a little accident with a truck that left me covered in the glass from the trucks mirror.

Once we arrived me and Raj got a drink and said our goodbyes. I must admit that it was nice to be back on my own again.

When I read this I realise that a lot of it seems like I’m just moaning about stuff. I have to say that the trek was one of the hardest things I have ever done but also one of the most amazing. It’s one of those things that you can’t fully appreciate until you have finished it. We had walked over 90 miles and been over 5000m above sea level in 8 days.

Dashain In Kathmandu

After spending my first day in Kathmandu I realised how different Nepal is to India. The streets are clean and there are few to none touts. I spent my time in India not trusting anyone. Most conversations were pretty predictable, they mostly went something like this:

“What is your name”

“Which country?”

If your reply is England the normal response is

“Lovely Jubbley” and sometimes “Lovely Jubbly, top banana”

Then

“Would you like to see my brothers/uncles/fathers shop?” or “Do you need rickshaw/taxi/train tickets?” and sometimes “You want to buy Hash?”

India is an amazing place but its a shame that its so hard to tell whether somone is being genuinely nice or just trying to sell you something. This might sound a little racist but if you have been to India im sure you will understand where im coming from. I do miss the great energy and hustle and bustle of Indian streets among many other things though.

Without knowing it I had arrived in Kathmandu just in time for Nepals most auspicious festival – Dashain. The festival lasts for 15 days. Hindu’s perform many Puja’s – Hindu rituals involving offerings of food, alcohol and other things. They are performed at Temples and at home. An example of this is on one day they worship there vehicles by cleaning them, decorating them with garlands of flowers and sometimes sacrificing an animal. This ensures that the driver and passenger of that vehicle is kept safe until the next Dashain.

I am lucky enough to have a family friend in Kathmandu. Navin and his family have been amazing hosts and welcomed me into there home for the past 8 days. Kindly spending there time off for Dashain to show me all around Kathmandu and teach me more about this amazing country.

I have seen and done so much in Kathmandu that I cant write about it all but I will write about the highlights.

Navin was kind enough to let me borrow his motorbike to get around(dont worry mum i was careful). The traffic in Kathmandu is crazy! But it was still great fun once i got used to it.

Swayambhu is a Buddhist complex that sits astride a hill inside the Kathmandu valley. In the center is a huge Stupa. It offers amazing views of Kathmandu especially at sunrise or sunset. I spent a morning climbing up and down the 365 steps leading up to it to train for the Annapurna Circuit trek.

I also visited the ancient city of Bhaktapur which used to be the old capital of Nepal. It has beautiful narrow passageways surrounded by old brick houses with elaborately carved door and window frames.

Another interesting place i went to was Kathmandu’s Durbar Square where the old palace is and also Freak Street. Freak Street used to be the old tourist area where hippies used to go in the 60’s and 70’s until hash was banned and Thamel became the new tourist district.

Tomorrow I am setting off on an 11 day trek around the Annapurna Circuit. I have to admit that I am more than a little apprehensive. The highest point is the Thorung La pass at 5,416m above sea level the risk of getting serious high altitude sickness is a real danger. Here is an itinerary of my next 11 days.

Here is a link to a map.
26th/day 1 bus from KTM to Bhulebule (bottom right ish on the map)
27th/day 2 trek from Bhulebule to Jagat
28th/day 3 Jagat to Dharapani
29th/day 4 Dharapani to Chame
30th/day 5 Chame to Pisang
31st/day 6 Pisang to Manang
1st/day 7 1 day in Manang to acclimatise to high altitude including a breifing on acute mountain sickness!
2nd/day 8 Manang to Thorung Phedi
3rd/ day 9 the hardest day from Phedi to Muktinath going through the Thorung La pass at 5,416m
4th/ day 10 Muktinath to Jomsom
5th/day 11 Take jeep from Jomsom to Pokhara
There is so much more I could write about but i feel this post is already text heavy so I will let the pictures do the talking.

Swayambhu Stupa.

Me and the Swayambhu Stupa.

I cant remember the name of this place.

Boudhanath Stupa.

The white monastery. A monastery for female Buddhist monks. The red monastery is for males.

Taken from the white monastery. On the nearest hill is the red monastery the next one to the left im not sure what it is then to the left of that is Swayambhu.

The old Palace in Durbar Square, Kathmandu.

The view from a temple around 2 hours drive from KTM.

Rooftop view with Swayambhu on the right.

Fighting kites from a rooftop.

Nyatapola temple in Bhaktapur.

India To Nepal

On the 16th of October at 1pm I caught the Gorakhpur Express. The train was very crowded. Full of people heading home to Nepal to see there families and celebrate Dashain. I spent the 7 hours that it took to reach Gorakhpur squeezed onto my top berth surrounded by bags of flower and luggage. We arrived in Gorakhpur after sunset. I arranged my onwards travel to Kathmandu and got a cheap room in a hotel. The room was very dirty and full of mosquito’s  I must of been bitten over 30 times including on my eyelids and lips.

I woke at 5am after only a few hours broken sleep and caught a packed bus to Sunauli which sits on the border of Nepal and India. I crossed the border without any problems and got on the coach – I use this term very loosely.After being on the bus for half an hour huge shapes of hills appeared out of the haze like a giant natural barrier. After the relatively flat lands of Rajasthan and Uttar Pradesh it was a wonderful sight. It meant I had reached Nepal! The journey from the border to Kathmandu was a little scary. The road snakes beside the Trisuli river. clinging to the cliffs with a sheer drop on one side, down to the boulders and white water of the Trisuli. I arrived in Kathmandu’s tourist/trekking district (Thamel) around 8pm, excited to be in Nepal and having had my first hot shower in 13 days I went to sleep happy.

From the bus I’m not sure what the river is called.

One of my Gangster mates on the bus.

In transit.

View of the Trisuli. Taken from my phone.