tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-40494506225066640042024-03-12T16:33:33.626-07:005particleMe, my camera and the world. This is my travel diary.5particlehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15999628401112567274noreply@blogger.comBlogger134125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4049450622506664004.post-90100815559786195122013-01-04T08:02:00.000-08:002013-01-28T08:09:16.691-08:00The big island, Hawaii<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
The little 50 seater jet from Honolulu to Hilo was great fun. I couldn't stand upright. It took off what seemed like vertical then banked steeply squashing you into the seat. The weather was stormy which delayed us 30 minutes. The flight to the big island only took 45 minutes. You NEED to hire a car on the big island - it's more Polynesian than American, and public transport is minimal. The conversation with Avis went something like this;<br />
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Me: Hi! I'd like a car for 3 days - what's the cheapest you have?<br />
Avis: We have a special right now - for $90 a day you could have that;<br />
*points to bright blue convertible Mustang*<br />
Me: *wide-eyed* ooh, I'll take the Mustang!<br />
Avis: Great! You won't regret it!<br />
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So there I am - sitting in a purring, left-hand drive, automatic Mustang in the pitch black airport car park. I've not driven a car in over a year. I change from park to drive, release the handbrake and cruise out of the airport - ill prepared but ready for adventure - I know Volcano village is about 20 miles south-west. It's raining hard, then clears quickly leaving an incredible vista of the stars through the windscreen (shield?). I take it easy, I have no idea what this car's capable of - I notice that the traction control is on and sports mode is off - I think I'll leave it like that for the moment.<br />
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Volcano village is tiny - one general store, the lava cafe, a Thai restaurant, a petrol station and some tourist accommodation. My hostel was called HoloHolo and was hard to find down some tiny dark roads. The hostel is deathly quiet, and quite cold. In the dorm room were two US geologists studying the volcano - they were getting up at 3am the next day to go to the lava lake - something that's off-bounds to tourists. I asked if I could join them, but special permits were required.<br />
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My reason for coming to this Island was to see some lava. The geologists said that the walk from crater drive was now 7 miles over old lava terrain, and impossible if you didn't know where to look for the lava. They suggested going from the north side, but it would require a guide as it would be on private land - costing $300 on your own, or $150 in a group. Also the rain was a factor - it was constantly raining heavily. As time went on I didn't find people willing to shell out $150, and I wasn't prepared to pay $300 - so the lava idea faded.<br />
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I took a drive in the rain down crater drive, where you pass various dated lava flows. The road winds down a huge hill to the sea and then the road stops abruptly, where a 2003 lava flow decided to cross! It's from here that you can hike 7 miles to the active flow if you so wished.<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Lava says no to road</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">A flow from early 2000</td></tr>
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I spend the last night before flying out in Hilo at a little guest house slightly out of town, called the Hilo tropical garden hostel. I meet up with two gnarly Alaskans who'd fled to Hawaii from the oppressive cold - as they (and many Alaskans) do every year. We drive up to the observatory at Mauna Kea. An interesting drive that steadily climbs and climbs and climbs, seemingly never-ending. The only indication that you're getting higher is the car using more and more fuel. We hit the clouds and heavy rain for 10 minutes then pop out into brilliant sunshine, and the observatory at around 13,000ft. From base (at the bottom of the Pacific) to the peak (33.000ft) it's twice as high as Everest (base to peak) We're not able to drive to the summit in my muscle car - this is only accessible by 4x4. There's some great little walks around the area on the red martian landscape but the wind-speed is incredible!<br />
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5particlehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15999628401112567274noreply@blogger.com1Hawaii, USA19.8967662 -155.582781800000025.1338041999999984 -176.2370788 34.659728199999996 -134.92848480000004tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4049450622506664004.post-7137299259867327122013-01-01T04:53:00.000-08:002013-03-02T04:54:39.845-08:00O'ahu, Hawaii<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
I arrived in Honolulu before I left Sydney. Crossing the international date line fiddles with the mind a little. This became especially apparent when I arrived at the hostel on Waikiki beach and asked to check in. On seeing the a frown and and pursed lips on the face of the friendly receptionist I immediately realised that I'd not actually booked a room for that night. I could only think of the high-end hotels around the area and how much this mistake might cost me! Sleeping on the beach popped into my head, but in raining season probably not an option. I popped on the net and checked for any spaces in hostels - but of course, with new years eve the next day, there was nothing. I ditched the bag and went on a rece to the hotels in the area to get an idea of prices. All were between $350 and $450 per night, and seemed to be only the high-class rooms - although I must admit it was tempting to grab a penthouse suite with spa, and full sea-view for one night. Eventually (and quite close to the hostel) I found a hotel that had a $125 room - I took it immediately!<br />
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Back at the hostel I grabbed my bag and got chatting to a friendly, cute girl from New Zealand. We were both heading down the beach so decided to hang out. I had to get changed into my swimming shorts at the hotel but the room wasn't ready. The receptionist said I could use the bag room to get changed, but there was CCTV with a monitor in reception - she promised not to look and I donned my shorts, superman style.<br />
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The next 18 hours, we decided, was our new years eve - a sleep-deprived whirlwind of conversation, sunshine, swimming, cocktails and terry-towelling jumpsuits - I've rarely had such a fantastic, instant, connection with someone. At 5am the next morning I waved my new partner-in-crime off in a taxi - she, sadly, had to fly home.<br />
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After catching up on sleep I moved to the hostel, where I had a booking for that evening. The official new years was that evening, but I wasn't feeling it - dramatically missing my Kiwi buddy. In my hostel room were some welcoming Argentinians who'd already started the celebrations - they thrust a beer in my hand and the party, once again, started!<br />
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At midnight thousands gathered on Waikiki beach to watch the fireworks. Afterwards we did a little clubbing, dancing about to some dubstep then ended up swimming in the sea around 3am. The dip sobered me up quickly and then I had to go back and get some kip. New years eve (part 2) complete.<br />
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5particlehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15999628401112567274noreply@blogger.com0Waikiki Beach, Honolulu, HI 96815, USA21.2773026 -157.826537621.2625061 -157.8467076 21.292099099999998 -157.8063676tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4049450622506664004.post-71756270052920893162012-12-25T23:40:00.000-08:002013-01-05T23:41:44.351-08:00Christchurch, New Zealand<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
Christchurch feels like a ghost town. Looking at the still-evacuated security guarded buildings, empty car park like spaces, spire-less Churches and shops with fallen chairs and fluorescent light dangling down anyone would think this happened yesterday. It's horrifying to walk around - one can only imagine the terror. Being here on Christmas eve/day makes it even quieter - there's almost no-one about. But the spirit of the people to bounce back is very evident - pop-up things have popped up everywhere; old buses turned into bars; shipping containers turned into a mall; palettes turned into a makeshift theatre and gig venue; street corners into mini-golf! When I was there they'd just opened up the area around Cathedral square, with a view of the battered Cathedral and the promising plans for the future. It's going to take a long time but you can feel the optimism. I'm sure this is going to be a stunning city once again, but with a green and youthful edge.<br />
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5particlehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15999628401112567274noreply@blogger.com0Christchurch, New Zealand-43.5320544 172.63622540000006-43.9005584 171.99077840000007 -43.1635504 173.28167240000005tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4049450622506664004.post-45064415621063990882012-12-21T22:55:00.000-08:002013-01-05T22:57:09.171-08:00Mount Cook, New Zealand<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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The entry into Mount Cook national park wasn't anything special - mainly because of the low, drizzle-dropping clouds.We past a glacial lake, which is supposed to be bluer than blue, but today was just blue (the coach drivers words not mine). Arriving at the YHA there was nothing to be seen around, and the rain was relentless so after a brisk walk about I retreated to the common room and did some reading. The hostel resembles an alpine chalet - and makes me think about dusting the snowboard off. I pop a few emails home to friends to see if any plans are afoot. There's a sauna - I've always wanted to like saunas but feel like I'm going to die. I can sit for about 2 minutes before gasping for cool air. It mocked me every time I walked past! </div>
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Next morning I'm up at sunrise and out. The weather had cleared and the surrounding mountains were super-epic! The sun was scorching a hole in my head within two minutes, I had to break out the hat. I'd make a cheese sandwich and bought some peanut bars, and also stocked up with water. There's a nice walk up to the glacier face (or as close as you can get) called the Hooker trail. It reminded me of the trek up to Everest a lot - with cute bridges and rough scree-like terrain. It takes about 2 hours to get there. On arrival I was amazed to see an iceberg - I've never seen an iceberg before. It's was just there, sitting in the lake, looking kinda stuck on the bottom. I wonder how common they are. The other walk is called the red tarn, or tarn... I forget. This walk's steep up, with some nice views. I would say the most scenic part of this whole area is on the glacial plains though - with the flowering lupins and the soft blowing grass you would be happy to lay in the grass and never wake up again :)</div>
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I wanted to do a stargazing tour, and the YHA had a poster with a 10% discount. They called for me but the company said the offer had been retracted. They had one space left on the tour and I asked If I could get that for the 10% off price - they said no. I decided to go solo and wondered off onto the plain. The stars pop out of the sky from everywhere - billions and billions! I didn't had a release or tripod to get the absolute best shots but here's my efforts;</div>
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5particlehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15999628401112567274noreply@blogger.com0Mount Cook, Aoraki/Mount Cook National Park, Canterbury 7999, New Zealand-43.595 170.1416666-72.9920585 128.8330726 -14.197941499999999 -148.54973940000002tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4049450622506664004.post-84861240859842530122012-12-20T21:46:00.000-08:002013-01-05T21:48:06.915-08:00Queenstown, New Zealand<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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The Queenstown YHA is stunning, set in a big old building with a kitchen and communal area overlooking the lake. I hadn't pre-booked a room and (again) was lucky enough to grab the last bed. Also staying there was someone I'd met in Kaikoura - the backpacker world is a small world! Qneenstown itself is ridiculously picturesque. Everywhere you look is crystal clear water or rugged mountain peaks (the Remarkables, as made famous by Lord of the Rings). The town itself is tourist central, with pretty much every shop catering for one extreme sport or another. From here you can go parachute jumping, bungee jumping, rafting, jetboating, river-surfing, skiing, heli-boarding, mountain biking, water-skiing, diving... the list is endless. </div>
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We opted for one non-extreme and one extreme. The non-extreme was a trip to Milford Sounds - the gigantic glacier-carver inlet on the west coast. We booked a BBQ bus. The driver had an amazingly dry sense of humour - very entertaining. The journey to Milford is about 4 hours - with a half-way stop for the BBQ. Cooked from a trailer at the back of the bus it took about 45 minutes, while we walked amongst the forest and sat by the river. Back on the road we snaked up the mountain past some incredible scenery - New Zealand must be the most beautiful place on the planet. At the top of the pass you go through a tunnel and pop out into the top of the Sound.</div>
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<span style="text-align: left;">On the boat you get a real sense of the size of the Sound as the boat keeps close to the vertical cliffs. Occasionally you see seals basking in the sunshine. The boat gets to the sea and U-turns back to dock, via (almost literally!) some impressive waterfalls. </span></div>
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Fergburger! An institution in Queenstown. One of my top 3 burgers ever... totes. I opted for a smelly blue-cheese coated meat-fest. We ate these on the beach, and washed it down with some pear cider while the sun sets. </div>
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I've been wanting to skydive somewhere beautiful for years. I've been refused several times due to bad weather conditions - mainly in Cape Town but also recently in Franz and Fox. Today was going to be the day! I booked with a company recommended by the YHA, with a discount. All was set and we paid, and got in the van - when 20 minutes into the drive the car radio blarted out that the wind was too strong to jump - foiled again! Back at the town centre they said that another company did jumps from a different area, and that we should try them. They were indeed still jumping and we got a slot on the next plane. The guy doing the safety briefing was a Brummie - it was reassuring to hear the accent.</div>
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The jump site was stunning, surrounded by mountains and people falling from the sky. The cameramen are insane - they have to get to the ground before the customers and swoop down, skimming the ground at incredible speeds. There's music, giant chess and toilets to ease you before heading out. You're put into a jumpsuit and harness, then greeted by your cameraman and tandem. The planes are tiny - you're attached to your tandem then slotted in for the order of exit. I have no fear of heights but the brain says "no, this is wrong" when you're balanced on the edge of the plane door, with the cameraman hanging off the wing. The tandem then holds your head back for safety and slides you out. Once out you're in a spin, you have no idea which way anything is for a second or two, until the tandem corrects it. Our fall was 45 seconds but felt like 5! When the chute opens you start to feel the adrenaline - I would love to do this solo, the buzz must be ridiculous! The tandem asks if you're ok - I was in wooping American mode so he did a few spins and spirals down to the ground for a feather-light landing. </div>
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5particlehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15999628401112567274noreply@blogger.com0Queenstown, New Zealand-45.0311622 168.66264350000006-45.120947199999996 168.50128200000006 -44.9413772 168.82400500000006tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4049450622506664004.post-4868333351288380002012-12-17T21:03:00.000-08:002012-12-23T21:10:27.782-08:00Franz Joseph, New Zealand<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
Once off the tranz-alpine train from Christchurch I considered getting a car for the remaining journey around the south island. This would be ideal and cost-efficient if there was two or more of us, but as it was only me the cheapest option would be $508, for 8 days - the most expensive quote was $1200! I ditched that idea as there's no guarantee I'd meet a hitch-hiker, or someone in a hostel going the same direction. Back to the bus then - I hopped on the intercity.<br />
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Franz Joseph lies at the foot of a glacier on the west coast of the south island. A tiny town - most of it geared to tourism. The YHA is big, with some large, busy rooms. Mine was a 10 bed dorm, and was populated by girls - mostly German. Sometime you have to pinch yourself to realise that you're not in Germany, there's SO many Germans here it's unbelievable. However, the girl underneath me was from Birmingham - so we had a catch-up making silly noises (the Brummie accent) at each other to try and drown out the Germans. In the common room everybody was busy behind a laptop - maybe 25 people all connecting to the outside world, but nobody connecting to the people around them. I sat and watched for a while entranced - then opened my laptop.<br />
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I walked up to the glacier, but as it's considered a hazard at the moment (they're blasting the face to make it tourist safe) you can only get within 2km of it (unless you take a helicopter). It's a good 3 hour walk from the town, though a forest area, with signs telling you where the glacier was 500 years ago. I was spotted a mile off (literally) by two Germans I'd met on the dolphin boat in Kaikoura - they said my red beanie was quite distinctive! I caught a 30 minute bus around to the Fox glacier for a look around. This one's much more accessible - you can get within 500m of it, and the walk up is much more impressive. You can also walk up onto this one with a guide - no helicopter required. Unfortunately there's no YHA in Fox, so my discount vouchers weren't valid.<br />
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Back in Franz I went to the Kiwi experience. For $30 (which goes towards the conservation) you get to see one of these super-cute little things - but as they're nocturnal you're in an almost pitch-black room with only red glowing lights. I really wanted to hold one, they're little balls of fluff - but their sensitive endangered nature doesn't allow handling - boo! There's islands in Marlborough sounds that have had all predators (cats, stoats) removed - and Kiwi's installed.<br />
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Photos coming soon - I haven't actually found internet fast enough to upload them yet<br />
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5particlehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15999628401112567274noreply@blogger.com0Franz Josef Glacier, Westland National Park, West Coast 7886, New Zealand-43.4666667 170.18333329999996-66.9249552 128.87473929999996 -20.0083782 -148.50807270000007tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4049450622506664004.post-64207696835072621372012-12-16T16:36:00.000-08:002012-12-23T16:47:50.962-08:00Tranz-Alpine railway<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
After the brain-fart on the buses (you can call me Blakey) all was once again going smooth. The only hitch was that I didn't pre-book the YHA Christchurch early enough - there's still a real shortage of accommodation here since the earthquake. I stayed at a place called "at the right place" - also a backpackers. It was nice, apart from two English guys and one Irish who decided they would get exceedingly drunk in the common room while everyone was relaxed watching films. They fought with each other, called everyone in the room "gay", balanced bottles of Becks as decorations on the Christmas tree then knocked the tree over onto a poor French girl. Within 20 minutes everyone had gone to their rooms - god help the people that were in the dorm with them. I didn't feel like I was "at the right place"<div>
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I woke up excited the next morning, a journey on the tranz-alpine railway to Greymouth on the west coast - billed as "one of the most scenic train journeys in the world". Like an airport the bags are checked in and you take your seat next to a huge, and ridiculously clean, window. It's very comfortable, and quiet, and air-conditioned. There's a lot of older couples on the train - I think I was the only single person, and certainly the only backpacker. The train rumbles off through the beautiful flatlands surrounding Christchurch and the mountains loom into view. As soon as this happens everybody heads to the outdoor viewing car, which is great! The first part is stunning, the train grinding up to Arthurs pass, across the top of the alps. Snow-capped peaks, rushing rivers and flowery meadows breeze past, the air is so fresh, the body almost rejects it as unknown. The trains stops at various points on the way up, then at Arthurs pass at the top.</div>
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The food and drinks are reasonably priced - the cheese and steak pie was amazing! On the way down from the pass en route to Greymouth the scenery is still lovely, but it becomes bushier on the sides, and you get to see less. I spent most of the journey in the open viewing car - I didn't like being stuck in the sterile, quiet carriages - by the end of the journey I was craving the Asian style trains: open windows, noise, food sellers plying the aisles, uncomfortable seats and people on the roof - but that's just me. In hindsight I would hire a car and drive from Christchurch to Greymouth. It's a lot cheaper and the route is the same but you can stop where you like and explore, take pictures or grab some food.</div>
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5particlehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15999628401112567274noreply@blogger.com0Greymouth, New Zealand-42.4503925 171.21076229999994-42.637728 170.88803879999995 -42.263056999999996 171.53348579999994tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4049450622506664004.post-12676007555714740672012-12-14T21:11:00.000-08:002013-01-28T07:35:13.572-08:00Kaikoura, New Zealand<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
I came here with one thing in mind: swimming with dolphins. There was a 05:30am trip or an 08:30 trip. The 05:30 trip was recommended by someone I'd met, as the dolphins fed over night, had full bellies and were playful until the sun's up when they have a kip (Incidentally they sleep one brain hemisphere at a time). So, I book the dolphin swim and check into the hostel. This YHA must have the best view from the bedroom of any hostel that I've ever stayed in. The view over the bay to the mountains is jaw-dropping - a view you could quite easily spend the rest of your life looking at.<br />
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After a bottle of crisp New Zealand white last night I head to bed. I'm startled awake by an air-raid siren - my initial thought was TSUNAMI! Others in the dorm thought the same, and we waited to see if the hostel owner came to drag everyone out and up to the hills. No-one came so we assumed all was ok and went back to sleep with one eye open. My 4am alarm sounds and I'm startled awake again. The dolphins and cool water help me exit the bed. I thought I'd be the only one on the swim - who on earth's going to want to get up at this time? Turns out it's a full trip - 20 people (mostly Germans) are ready to swim. We're kitted with super-tight wetsuits, flippers, masks and hoods for the cold cold sea. Jumping on a bus we're taken to a harbour 20 minutes away - and loaded onto a boat that's out of the water. I've never been on a boat out the water before! We're gently lowered in and soon on our way - hunting dolphins with our eyes. We're all told to keep a lookout and within 10 minutes there's fins popping out all around us and we stop. We quickly perch on the back of the boat ready to slide into the clear, icy water. By now the dolphins are showing-off and jumping around us - somersaults and back-flips. The staff tell us that the pod is possibly 100+ and they're extremely playful - we're lucky to be getting in, but maybe they say that to everyone :)<br />
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In the water we're all making ridiculous noises to attract their attention. I can't help but think it must confuse them more than attract them, but they come and check us all out - circling and eyeballing us. There's an amazing feeling staring into the eye of a dolphin - something moves inside you. We're in the water for over an hour - with occasional jumps back onto the boat to track a different pod.<br />
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Back on the boat we get changed and have some hot chocolate with biscuits - a nice touch! Unfortunately I'm still waiting on pictures of me in the water. I'll post them if they ever turn up.<br />
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The area around Kaikoura is insanely beautiful and wild. The town has a seaside resort feel but if not for tourism would be a quarter of the size I'm sure. Whale watching, seal spotting and tramping are high on the agenda here also.</div>
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5particlehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15999628401112567274noreply@blogger.com0Kaikoura, New Zealand-42.4008174 173.68138599999997-42.4008174 173.68138599999997 -42.4008174 173.68138599999997tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4049450622506664004.post-45811802101197371072012-12-13T15:14:00.000-08:002012-12-23T15:41:33.368-08:00Wellington, New Zealand<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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Another lovely journey on the intercity through the Tongariro national park and its highly active volcano. As usual the drivers are super-informative and friendly. We stop at a curious farm cafe for a coffee and savoury scone. Out back there's some ducks, chickens, sheeps and some fluffy Llama type animals. In Wellington i'm dropped off at the main bus terminal then take a windy walk through town to the enormous YHA - this place has six floors!</div>
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Let it be known from the start that I love this place. This city was designed for people. Everything connects together perfectly. You can amble about along the whole waterfront, taking in bars, businesses, the museum, planks to jump into the crystal blue harbour from, sailing clubs, rowing clubs, helicopter taxi's - the list is endless. Businessmen on skateboards, joggers and cyclists happily share the board walk. There's no sense of one-up-man-ship here - no feeling of 'my house is bigger than your house' or 'my boat is faster than your boat' - everybody just seems happy to be there, and why wouldn't they?</div>
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20 minutes on the bus and you're on a remote beach at Island bay. From here are walking/cycling tracks around the point to red rocks and a seal colony - but it was off-season, and there was only one seal. Back in the city you can get up Mount Victoria in 45 minutes with an amazing 360 of the whole area. Down a track and some steep roads brings you back to sea level, and a beach fronted by some beautiful houses. This is where I shall live, if I ever come into some money - everything is so expensive. beer I ever drunk, at $11 (£5.50) for a pint - eek</div>
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My usually great YHA experience was tainted by two young German guys in the dorm - and they were without doubt the two most annoying bastards I've ever had the misfortune to share with. I got back the room at lunchtime to collect something and they were asleep, the room was pitch dark and stuffy with the windows closed. I grabbed my stuff and headed back out. Getting back to the room about 5pm they'd just got out of bed, I said hi but got no response. The window was still closed and the curtains drawn - I opened them, to looks of disgust. There were many power sockets in the room in use, charging their phones, laptops and mp3 players. I asked to use the one next to my bed and received a "no". I pointed at a spare one next to their bunk and said use that one. They couldn't as there was no signal there, and the phone was downloading. I bluntly said that I'm going to use this socket, just for 20 minutes, and unplugged the phone. Then they were obviously imitating my frustration in German. As they'd been sleeping all day they were full of beans - they didn't go out and talked and talked and talked - several times I told them to be quiet. At 2am they woke me up leaving the room and I though AHHH great, now I can get sleep, as I need to get the ferry at 7am next morning. They came back half an hour later with a McDonalds, eating it in the room and talking talking talking! I couldn't beleive it. I didn't say anything, I took some deep breaths to relax and put thoughts of killing them both out of my head and tried to get some sleep. What can you do? Some people really are arseholes. </div>
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5particlehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15999628401112567274noreply@blogger.com0Wellington, New Zealand-41.2864603 174.77623600000004-41.6685098 174.13078900000005 -40.9044108 175.42168300000003tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4049450622506664004.post-10855561840841805122012-12-12T15:37:00.000-08:002012-12-23T21:11:01.120-08:00Picton, New Zealand<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
Quite tired after the annoying German twins last night I wander onto the 8am inter-island ferry, heading for the south island. The crossing is fantastic, with clears skies and a cool, refreshing breeze - this (and two coffees) soon clear my sleepy head.<br />
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Arriving in Picton there's two hours to kill, so I head for some fish and chips with (ironically) two nice Germans I'd met on the boat. This is where an epic brain-fart started, lasting two days. I missed my one o'clock bus. I saw it driving past then realised. This meant staying in Picton for a night until the bus the next day! I got on the intercity website and booked a bus for the next day.</div>
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Turns out Picton is beautiful, with a pretty little harbour and quiet town. The YHA is like someone's house from old times. It was full of characters: a hippy Dutch motorcyclist, an 86 year old Englishman (just recovering from a stroke and going against his doctors advice not to travel) visiting his nephew, a young Dutch guy with a serious speech impediment, a slightly crazy Swedish lady and a down-to-earth Irish dude from Cork (the only place I've been to in Ireland). I spent the afternoon walking in the hills and lazing about in the sunshine near the harbour. </div>
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Next day I go to get the bus at 1pm and the driver says that my name's not on the list. I tell him that I definitely booked it and he calls the head office. He tells me that I'd booked the 9am bus, and that was long gone! He laughs at my stupidity and kindly lets me on the bus. *brain fart!*</div>
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5particlehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15999628401112567274noreply@blogger.com0Picton, New Zealand-41.2905926 174.00100440000006-41.386031599999995 173.83964290000006 -41.1951536 174.16236590000005tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4049450622506664004.post-20881006124074170842012-12-08T20:46:00.000-08:002013-11-16T07:59:04.091-08:00Rotorua, New Zealand<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
This place is like a movie set. Little chocolate-box houses sit on freshly manicured lawns protected by cute little fences. The roads are dead quiet - there's little traffic. The first thing you notice is the eggy stench as you enter the town. There's steaming egg flavoured geysers everywhere - even the church car park has steam hissing out of it. This is why people come here - and the various geo-thermal wonderlands (Wai O Tapu being the most famous) attract many day-trippers from around New Zealand.<br />
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I checked into a Nomad hostel again! I know I said I wouldn't after Auckland but the travel desk told me it was much quieter - which it is. Unlike Auckland the rooms are huge and airy, with big opening windows letting in lovely fresh egg-air! On arrival I had an 8-bed dorm to myself.<br />
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I went for a walk to the thermal area next to the lake. There's a few spa's here using the natural heat from the ground for the jacuzzi's and mineral pools. I was keen to have a spa, but it was quite pricey, and there were lots of couples - I would feel a little odd sitting there alone. Past the thermal area is the stunning old colonial bath house - now an art gallery and museum. With the bowling green in front it's screaming England at me! I chat about the weather with a friendly bowler, like a true Englishman.<br />
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Further round is a visitor centre, a few cafe's and a helicopter tour operator - with landing pads floating out on the bay. I sit and watch the heli-tours come and go. I have this geeky obsession with aviation, in particular helicopters. Several times I've thought about blowing my savings on lessons, with the view to becoming a pilot in some beautiful part of the world - Alaska, the Caribbean, Norway, Pacific island hopping... but it costs (on average) $90,000 to get a basic commercial licence - then you need 1000's of flight hours to even be looked at by one of these exotic positions - and there's minimal positions out there (I've checked!). Most likely you'd be servicing oil rigs, or flying rubber dog shit out of China.<br />
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I continue walking around the lake then turn back when the zinging midday sunshine fades and an evening chill starts to bite - I love this weather.<br />
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That evening four mid-twenties German girls check into the dorm. One is half-German half-Thai - a pleasing combination. They're all very friendly and certainly not shy - getting changed in front of me doesn't seem to bother them in the slightest (do they not know my ageing heart can't cope with that kind of stress??) They try and get me out on the pub crawl but I decline, stating that I don't drink (not actually too far from the truth at the moment), and get into bed with my laptop (at this very moment I can hear face-palming!)</div>
5particlehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15999628401112567274noreply@blogger.com1Rotorua, New Zealand-38.1368478 176.2497461-38.3366778 175.93388910000002 -37.9370178 176.5656031tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4049450622506664004.post-60764108943604245792012-12-05T21:51:00.000-08:002012-12-09T21:52:34.284-08:00Auckland, New Zealand<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
I had to transfer planes in Melbourne - an English passenger freaked me out by telling me I needed a Australian visa for transferring. This made no sense, and I the interweb didn't mention anything of this, but the lack of sleep was exaggerating everything and all through security I was convinced I was going to get deported back to Bali. Turns out there was no issue with a visa for transferring passengers, he was full of shit. The only issue was the ridiculously drawn-out luggage screening process, on a transfer. My bags were screened 4 times in Indonesia before I got on the plane. Where do they thing I'd been since then?? <div>
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On the plane my paranoia turned to New Zealand immigration, and the little form they hand out asking a million questions about what you have with you, and where have you been. I was positive on 2 of these questions - I was carrying coffee beans and I'd been jungle trekking in the last 30 days. I thought this over a lot. I'd better declare the coffee beans, as they're sure to scan my luggage. The trekking I decided to half-declare, as it'd been nearly 30 days since Borneo, and I'd been walking around the volcanoes of Java for a week. When interviewed at immigration (they're strict!) I mentioned the beans and she let them pass. I said that I'd been trekking around some volcanoes and she looked at the soles of my boots - and let them pass also. Good-o! New Zealand here I am!</div>
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I'd booked into the fat camel nomad hostel. Each floor was like an apartment with 4 or 5 rooms, each containing 3 bunk beds - the rooms could barely fit these bunk beds. On entering the room there were some 20 year old's discussing last nights bucket drinking feats, and whether or not the alcohol was as strong as it is in Europe. I said hi (and was mostly ignored) and went to the bedroom. Mom - when you came into my room as a teenager and asked me if a bomb had exploded, I have the utmost understanding and sympathy at this point! There were clothes, bags, washing products and wires EVERYWHERE! It was incredibly muskly, like no fresh air had ever passed through. I was exhausted from the journey and after some food I was asleep. I woke early the next morning, and in the bed opposite were boy and girl in bottom bunk, and underneath me were boy and girl in bottom bunk! I hate it when couples book shared dorm's then decide to sleep in the same bed - it's just rude - or maybe that's just me being a prude.</div>
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The non-humid cool air is literally a breath of fresh air - I can feel my lungs grabbing as much as they can hold. It was a little rainy from the "mini-hurricane" which had passed over - this left the ground soggy and I LOVE that soggy grassy tree-bark smell - it's incredibly comforting! Walking past a group of taxi drivers and them not even noticing you feels a little odd - I almost want to say hey guys, possible fare here! Just not standing out like a sore thumb feels nice - although I do stand out a little, as I'm remarkably browner than everyone else (apart from the Maori's). There's a great "who shot the stars" exhibition at the Auckland gallery - showcasing the best rock and roll photography over the decades. There was also a cute outdoor salsa night on at the local square - I went there instead of a pub crawl they were trying to get me to go on at the hostel.</div>
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Auckland is OK, nothing special. I was ready to head south within one day.</div>
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5particlehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15999628401112567274noreply@blogger.com0Auckland, New Zealand-36.8484597 174.7633315-37.2550762 174.1316175 -36.4418432 175.39504549999998tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4049450622506664004.post-44716985813920418902012-12-01T22:55:00.000-08:002012-12-07T22:32:18.829-08:00Kuta, Bali, Indonesia<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
I'm only here because I fly to New Zealand in a few days. It also means I have completed the three "krazy K's" (Kathmandu, KhaoSan, Kuta).<br />
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Kuta's like an extremely tanned, toned, beautiful, young, noisy, flowering tree - wearing flip-flops and an alcohol-branded t-shirt, and sporting many tattoos. I feel like a little white stick-insect clinging to the edge of this foliage, unable to enter! It's a Bintang beer army and they're planning something. Most people are Australian - the touts and sellers know this and when you approach they shout "G'day mate, how's it ghan?" At first It was funny, and I would say "ah man, I'm from England!" (which some then reply with "lovely jubbly!") but after a few days, and hundreds of people (per hour) saying this I now plug myself into the mp3 player when walking around. Who can blame them though? There's lots of money here and the sellers have t-shirts, massages, Viagra, cigarettes, stubby-holders, air-guns, marijuana, motorbikes, tazers, stickers saying "I fuck retarded midgets", sunglasses, crossboes, surfboards, island excursions, hats, wooden penis bottle openers, money changing, food and beer to sell.<br />
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My day goes like this;<br />
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<b>6am</b> - wake up and take the 15 minute walk to the beach when it's quiet. Run, read and relax in the nice morning air. <b>8am</b> - the surfboard sellers arrive on the beach - hire a board for two hours and surf (badly). <b>10am</b> - back to the guest house and have some breakfast by the pool. <b>11am until 4pm</b> - stay in the guest house reading, writing and cooling off in the pool. <b>5pm</b> - Sunset walk with the camera, then find somewhere for dinner before the Bintang evening army gets out (I guiltily had a KFC one day). <b>7pm</b> - Back to the guest house past the already busy bars pumping out EXTREMELY loud English and American chart hits. <b>8pm</b> - In bed sleeping!<br />
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The beach itself is is long, sandy and a little dirty. The high-tide line leaves a colourful line of washed up plastic and dead wood. This morning it was nice to see the "Bali beach clean-up team" sponsored by Coca-Cola and Quicksilver) - but curiously they only cleaned away the big pieces of wood and seaweed. I can only assume as this causes more of a hazard for the hundreds of surfers and swimmers than a little plastic bottle.<br />
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5particlehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15999628401112567274noreply@blogger.com0Kuta 80361, Indonesia-8.725478 115.177939-8.8510375 115.0200105 -8.5999185000000011 115.33586749999999tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4049450622506664004.post-69576130456801912982012-11-29T22:18:00.000-08:002012-12-05T01:45:25.475-08:00Ubud, Bali, Indonesia<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
I wanted to get to Kuta to pick up a motorbike so I could go inland to Ubud and further north to some more volcanoes. Bizarrely there's no bus to Kuta (the main tourist area) from the capital. I grudgingly pay 50,000 for a minivan to take me. In Kuta I hire a motorbike for 5 days and head to the hills.<br />
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Getting out of Kuta and back though Denpasar is a nightmare - the traffic is horrendous. Once out though the roads are great, and fairly empty. I keep going north and ascending higher and higher. As I approach the mount Batur caldera is starts to rain. I have no raincoat and get soaked - which is extremely refreshing at first but the cool altitude air soon makes you cold! After seeing Bromo in Java this area is nothing special but still nice. On the roads around the caldera people actually ride up to you on their bikes and try and sell you tours or trinkets, or stop you to "talk" - in all the times I've had to say no to someone selling something it's the first time on a motorbike!</div>
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Quite cold now I head for Ubud, further back down to the coast. I stop at a coffee plantation for a kopi Luwak. A Luwak is a cute furry thing that looks like a weasel. They eat the coffee beans and poo them out intact. People collect, clean and roast these beans - the beans journey is supposed to add to the flavour. The owner brought out a range of different coffee and tea for me to try (and ultimately buy from the extensive shop). I would say the Luwak kopi tastes rich, and like chocolate - but would never replace traditional coffee for me. I wanted to say hello to the Luwak out of the cage but it was sleeping and the guy said no :(</div>
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Ubud's nice. There's a billion spa's and art galleries and some FABULOUS architecture. Traditional Balinese architecture is incredible - the most beautiful and geometric I've ever seen. The shapes and details are truly astonishing. Hindu temples containing this wonderful art are everywhere - even most homes have their own temple. I stayed at Eka's home stay which has a fine family temple attached. </div>
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I went to the monkey forest! On entrance you can buy bananas but as soon as you walk in you're mobbed - monkeys climbing all over you trying to grab the bananas! A particularly large one jumped on me and took the whole bunch. I love monkeys, but not all over me. Even when you have no food they tug at stuff, or try and grab your water bottle or sunglasses - keep everything locked down is the rule here. <br />
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On the ride back to Kuta I got stopped by the insanely corrupt police. I've heard that most tourists get stopped at least once on bikes - I spoke to one guy who'd paid out over 1,000,000 Rupiah in fines! The reason for stopping me was that my front wheel was on a pedestrian crossing when stopped at a red light. When he told me this I seriously thought it was a joke. As we were speaking, locals were JUMPING the red light with no helmet, some were even going the wrong way over the red light!! Corrupt policeman #1 showed me a piece of "official" printed A4 paper stating a 500,000 fine. I said that I wouldn't pay it... I can't pay it - I literally didn't have that cash on me. I had 250,000 and he said "give me this" I said no, and that I would give them 20,000. At this point another corrupt policeman turned up and they had a conversation. The corrupt policeman #2 turned to me and got angry, saying I must pay now or I go to court - he was certainly trying to freak me out. Corrupt policeman #1 was now making 'don't mess with him' faces at me. I slapped 200,000 in his hand and he put it in his pocket then said "go".<br />
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Back at the guest house I was speaking to a Balinese lady. She said "Just get a court slip from them and leave - pay nothing. Nothing will come of it. I know because my husband is a policeman! You can't do anything in Bali without being ripped off, everybody is corrupt!" - then she ranted about a printer cartridge that she'd taken in and it'd been swapped or something.<br />
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I wanted to get stopped again, to test the theory - but never did! :) </div>
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5particlehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15999628401112567274noreply@blogger.com0Jalan Suweta, Ubud 80571, Indonesia-8.4973881 115.2658424-8.9993386 114.6341284 -7.9954376000000007 115.8975564tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4049450622506664004.post-10019226353796061332012-11-27T21:31:00.000-08:002012-12-04T00:16:10.694-08:00Java to Bali - not my favourite journey<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
I now needed to get to the next island in the Indonesian chain. The Cemoro Lawang sexy bus dropped me outside a private bus shop - with (of course) someone there to "meet" me. He was trying to get me on his bus to the ferry port (for 50,000 Rupiah), where I could get across to Bali. I really wanted to get the train - and was convinced it was cheaper. The bus guy said that the train station was far, far away. The problem is you're never quite sure if they're just saying that to get you on their bus, but it's not a problem - I can get a local bus across the town. This, also according to the bus guy, was not possible. Now I know this isn't true - there's ALWAYS a bus to somewhere from somewhere! I asked a few local drivers but didn't get much sense. After 20 minutes the bus guy came back and said he'd take me to the station for 10,000 - I agreed. It wasn't so far away - maybe 10 minutes drive. I booked a ticket but had to wait until 4pm for the train to arrive. The ticket was 30,000 - so in total I've only saved 10,000 Rupiah by not catching the bus - and I have to wait for two hours! The moral of this story? Stop being so stubborn and GET THE BUS THAT'S OFFERED TO YOU!!<br />
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In the station I needed the toilet. A guy who was hanging about said it would cost "dua ribu" (two thousand). I paid and sat back down, then noticed two other men sitting with him, all looking at me and laughing. Someone else wanted the toilet and asked how much to which he replied "Satu" - meaning one. I know I know I know, this is peanuts - one thousand is nothing - but, tired from an early start and with a very sore knee, I was annoyed (more by the sniggering than the money). I went over and tried to say that I heard the toilet was one thousand for a local but two for a tourist? They just sat there grinning at me, saying "dua dua". I sat back down, plugged myself into my mp3 player, closed my eyes and waited for the train.<br />
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The train took 5 hours to get to the ferry port (another reason to get the bus!). At the port I decided to find somewhere to stay as it was now nearly 10pm. I walked up and down the main street, but there was nothing in my price range so I got on the ferry. The ferry was small, and had an extremely loud karaoke system in the lounge! Thank you mp3 player - sometimes I have no idea what I would've done without it on this trip. Occasionally looking out of the window it seemed like we were going around in circles. I went outside to see what was happening and we were going around in circles. The driver was trying to park at the car ramp but couldn't. We would approach at bad angles, but instead of adjusting it the driver would pull completely back and go around for another attempt. No joke: this went on for 30 minutes! I'm guessing the driver was a trainee.<br />
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At the port in Bali there's nothing but organised tour buses at this time (midnight) - I needed to get to the capital (Denpasar). The next bus wasn't until 7am. I considered sleeping on the grass verge but decided that A: I wouldn't be able to sleep and B: my stuff might get robbed if I did nod off. I met a man who's uncle had a hotel nearby and they did me a good rate, as It was late. He took me there on his motorbike. The hotel room was posh - aircon and a massive plush bed! This, I was utterly glad to see - and I slept like a baby.<br />
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Next morning and my knee was fine, like nothing had ever happened. I walked out of the hotel and was confronted with a giant Buddha - how I missed you! I got on the Denpasar bus - this journey would cost me 30,000 and take 5 hours. On the bus were 3 young Balinese lads. They seemed highly amused by my presence and whispered to each other then snickered while glancing at me. They then were taking pictures 'secretly'. I know there's a language barrier but did they think I was completely stupid? This went on for about an hour - I ignored them - once again plugging myself in! I don't mind if people talk to me, or ask for a picture - I like meeting people - but when it's done like this it's just weird!!<br />
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5particlehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15999628401112567274noreply@blogger.com0Jalan Melati, Denpasar 80232, Indonesia-8.65629 115.222099-8.7818730000000009 115.0641705 -8.530707 115.3800275tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4049450622506664004.post-734275200851837212012-11-25T20:45:00.000-08:002012-12-02T20:48:33.026-08:00Cemoro Lawang, Java, Indonesia<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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Cemoro Lawang is a small village on the north-east corner of the tengger caldera - containing dormant mount Batok, active mount Bromo and very active mount Semeru. The bottom of the caldera is a lifeless flatland of black volcanic ash, called the sea of sands. Bromo last erupted in 2011 (people died) and now smoulders white sulphurous smoke menacingly (when volcano smoke turns brown there's an issue!) - Semeru erupts every 20 minutes, throwing a massive puff of smoke high into the sky.<br />
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99.9% of people come with organised Jeep tours. They leave Bali at 8pm the previous day, or Surabaya at midnight, or somewhere else early and drive here for sunrise at 5am. I didn't want to do this - I wanted to get here under my own steam, and stay in Cemoro Lawang. I caught a bus to Tunpang and asked about to see if someone can get me into the national park. After not much success and heavy rain now falling I hid under some tarpaulin, where a man was serving noodles - I had some and a kopi. When the rain subsided someone said their friend would take me on a motorbike for 150,000 - which I declined. Eventually I got them down to 100,000 and we set off - my big rucksack between the drivers legs and my camera bag on my back, under my fetching silver rain poncho that I'd just bought.<br />
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We climbed up, and up, and up, and up. It got cold and we were swallowed by thick mist. At times the road was so steep that I had to get off and walk, while the driver revved the poor bike up the hill. I say road, but it was more of a path, with volcanic sand and large holes. At this point I remember thinking what on earth am I doing?? Have I completely lost my mind this time?? I had no idea where we are, I can't see in front of my face, I had no helmet and I just gave this guy 100,000 to bounce me up to the top of an active volcanic caldera. My arms and legs were aching so much from gripping the bike seat!<br />
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Eventually it flattened out and we burst out above the mist. We were riding along the top of one of the caldera arms that reach out into the land below. All around were villages and their farms, growing everything imaginable in the cool air and fertile volcanic soil - they slope steeply down the side of these caldera arms. After a while we hit a downward section then suddenly it opened out into a beautiful, green savannah with the caldera wall surrounding us. I'd read about this on the internet - you don't see this on the jeep tour! Another 20 minutes and we dropped further onto the caldera floor and the road turned into a black volcanic expanse as we entered the sea of sand. Crossing this sand was sketchy - the bike slithered and dithered but the driver was skilled and held it well.<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Cafe</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Helpful people!</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Savannah</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Sea of sand</td></tr>
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Arriving at the village it was damp, and you couldn't see much. This is pretty typical in the mountains here, the best time is certainly the morning. I plodded about in the rain looking for a cheap place to stay. A lady let me sit under a shelter with her, which I thought was nice - then I realised she was selling fried banana - which was tasty. Later I found a "homestay". This term baffles me. It suggests that you'll spend time with a family, eating food with them and enjoying a warm fire in the evening (or something). In reality they've built some cheap rooms at the back of their house, and you never quite know who, or if indeed there is a family at all! Whatever the case - I was glad to have a room.<br />
After a walk about the village I realised that there's nothing to do, and nothing to see with the clouds, so went back to the room for an early night - ready for a 3am start tomorrow.<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">My room</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Pondok Wisata homestay</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The high street</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Kitty on a rug</td></tr>
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I was woken by vehicles - tourist Jeeps - lots of them - from here/there and everywhere. I was a little late waking so threw on my clothes and grabbed my bag and torch. The walk up to viewpoint 2 is fine, if steep at the end - the only danger are the Jeeps roaring past every minute, typically oblivious to ped's. I have to jump off the road several times! After an hour you're there and passing those hundred + Jeeps parked up on the roadside. Now there are tourists and horses and hawkers to dodge. The sun is beginning to rise and the view is unworldly, with cool mist trapped in the caldera, waiting for the sun to come and release it. Bromo simmers quietly and Semaru releases its trademark puff of smoke every so often. People jostle for a position to get the best photo. An American man is stressed and tells people to "MOVE please, I need to get this shot". It's all too much for me and I continue following the steep dirt path to viewpoint 1 - the summit - not accessible by Jeep. It takes an hour to get to the top - and the view isn't much better, but it's a lot quieter!<br />
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At 8am it's already scorching hot and the clouds are moving up. I have some fried potato and banana at a little shop at start the walk back down.<br />
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So hot on the way down. All the tourists have already gone and the place is deserted. Some farmers ask me to eat some rice with them - I politely decline as I'm full of banana and potato. Further down an old man offers me some food - which I also politely decline. The locals are lovely!<br />
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I walk back though Cemoro Lawang and down the hill into the caldera. My left knee felt weird, kinda twitchy after the walk down, but I carry on across the sea of sand. It takes about 30 minutes to get across by foot - you can take a horse, motorbike or Jeep also if you want. You walk past the Hindu temple (only the Hindu's would build a temple in such a crazy location!) and up some steep, loose sand - then up the 100 or so steps to the crater rim. Standing up there is awesome, looking down into the huge, steaming hole far below! Occasionally the sulphurous steam blows over you, forcing you to cover your face. I stayed here for a long time - I love things like this. To think there's an enormous lava lake not so far below you, that could potentially erupt at any second, is humbling.<br />
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On the way back down my knee was in severe pain. I had to stop every two or three steps and when I got to the bottom I rested at a little stall and had some noodles and coffee, trying to work out what on earth I'd done to my knee. After stopping for some pictures with Indonesian worshippers (Muslim and Hindu) I had to get on a motorbike taxi - I couldn't walk any more. I think I was trekking for 5 hours, my knee was not happy! Back at Cemoro I grab my rucksack and find the local bus out. I have to sit around for 2 hours waiting for the "sexy" bus to fill up, so grab a nasi special (rice, chicken, egg, sausage) and a 100plus energy drink. I poke and prod my knee for a bit.<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Hi Death! How are you?</td></tr>
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5particlehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15999628401112567274noreply@blogger.com2Mt Bromo, Sukapura 67254, Indonesia-7.9430556 112.9538889-8.0688661 112.7959604 -7.8172451 113.11181739999999tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4049450622506664004.post-26073678992383936502012-11-22T23:41:00.000-08:002012-11-25T23:45:24.347-08:00Malang, Java, Indonesia<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
There's a really nice hostel on the roof of the Helios hotel. Small bamboo huts with double beds, and a large barn with comfy four storey bunk beds. There's a great little cafe with some local and western food. I took one of the top bunks in the barn, it's quite a climb.<br />
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Malang is a big, busy city, but has a compact, town feel to it. It's pleasant to walk around and the people are extremely friendly and cool. I saw some fixed-wheel bikes - a sure sign of lurking hipsters! There's also a lot of coffee shops serving up some tasty hot (or iced) Java - these coffee shops are populated with buzzing students, heads buried deep in their Mac's. I only spent one night here though, planning my route down through Java, and into the Bromo national park.</div>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Gun emplacement on a Lotus flower, held by a hand - WTF!?</td></tr>
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5particlehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15999628401112567274noreply@blogger.com0Malang, Indonesia-7.981894 112.626503-8.044793499999999 112.547539 -7.9189944999999993 112.705467tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4049450622506664004.post-56767269944212915612012-11-22T19:34:00.000-08:002012-11-22T19:35:09.709-08:00Batu, Java, Indonesia<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
"Saya suka tiket" I said at the booth - the lady gestured me inside the station. At security I said "Di mana tiket" and the guard gestured me though. I couldn't see any other booth, so assumed I could buy a ticket on the train. I got on the 8am train, heading for Malang. At the next few stops the train filled up, and I realised that I needed a ticket - seeing that everyone was waving one about and looking for their seats! I managed to ask the nice family sitting next to me where I should now get a ticket. They laughed then spoke to a train guard, who also laughed. By this time a few people, and more guards were interested in what was happening, and someone speaking a little English came to translate. I needed to get off the train at the next stop, get a ticket then get back on - they will hold the train for me. I got off and a guard came with me to the booth to make sure I got a ticket quickly, I paid the 4000 (from the stop I was at to Malang!) then got back on, in plenty of time. The people here are tremendously nice and very helpful. The internet said not to bother with the hassle of slow, crowded trains - I should get an AC minibus - but this is what I want from travelling, these are the best moments!<br />
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Arriving at Malang station I now needed to get to Batu. I first had to get a minivan to the Tlogomas bus terminal for 2500 Rupiah, then another minivan to Batu for 2500 Rupiah. These minivans are the size of a pea but can, remarkably, carry around 15 or 16 people - as I found out on the second journey. My rucksack and camera bag were piled up in my face, and I had a chair and electric oven at my feet, which an old granny was taking somewhere. An old man wanted to get on but no-one moved - he had to almost crawl his way over peoples legs to get to a space. We arrived at Batu terminal and everyone exploded out.<br />
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I'd not booked anything, thinking it was a small place and I could just walk about looking for a room. Not the case! Batu's quite big, and is slowly getting engulfed by Malang. I walked about looking for rooms, but all were expensive resorts - one place was 1,000,000 Rupiah per night! After an hour, and with the afternoon rains closing in, I was thinking about going to Malang when three men (one speaking good English) pulled up and asked what I was doing. I said I was looking for "ekonomi hotel". They told me to get in and that they could help. I showed them an area that wikitravel suggested and they took me there, asking people along the way, and even phoning his sister for advice on cheap hotels! I ended up at a place called the Arumdalu hotel - and they had rooms for 70,000 Rupiah (£5). The men and I had a round of photographs, they took my Facebook details and drove off.<br />
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Soon after arriving the heavens opened and it rained ALL afternoon and into the evening. I didn't go out exploring, had some dinner in the hotel and read a book called Bangkok eight that I'd picked up in a bookswap. Not the sort of book I'd normally go for but it's quite absorbing. I think I was possibly the only guest in the hotel. The swimming pool was empty and being cleaned - ready for the high-season and the influx of wealthy tourists from Surabaya and Melang.<br />
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Determined to see this cute colonial mountain town I was up at 5:30am and out by 6am. Nothing was open, and just a few people were wandering about - <i>all</i> of those people said hello! It was already misty and cool, and felt a little like rain. There's apple orchards here and you can buy apples and apple related products everywhere! There's supposed to be a Hindu temple but I could not find it at all, asking people left me a little more lost - time to learn a little more of the language! I went back for my free breakfast - an enormous buffet, I'm sure for only me! (I had seconds). The town is cute and serves as a great base for hiking - but I had lots of this to come further east - so I packed the bags and headed back to Malang.<br />
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5particlehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15999628401112567274noreply@blogger.com0Batu, Indonesia-7.8700325 112.524315-7.9329335 112.445351 -7.8071315 112.603279tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4049450622506664004.post-40202129877342316942012-11-20T22:39:00.000-08:002012-11-21T22:56:32.120-08:00Surabaya, Java, Indonesia<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
My watch had decided to give up, I assume from the humidity. I had the clock on my phone set an hour earlier than it was (time's not so important when travelling!), so randomly glancing at a clock 2 hours before my flight was due to leave was a blessing. I had to fly to KL first. For some reason I used up the last of my Ringgits on 5 milka chocolate bars, which were all eaten in the two following days. On the plane was a strange Englishman - young but weary looking - he told me his life story in under five minutes. Said he had a worm in his arm and wanted to see a doctor in KL. Off the plane and on the taxiway tarmac he sparked a cigarette immediately (the ground crew didn't seem to mind) then dashed off somewhere. I later saw him, still, in KL airport, speaking to an official. At the bag carousel the luggage came - people collected them and left. All bags gone the carousel stopped and I stood alone. At the Air Asia lost property desk I told them what had happened and they produced my bag from behind the counter, saying that it had arrived on an earlier flight! Wtf - I'd only arrived an hour and a half before the flight! I wondered off, bemused. It was now 3am and my connecting flight to Indonesia was at 7am.<br />
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The next flight was tiring. I kept dozing off on the plane, that dozing where you jump, and make loud noises - waking yourself up! Eventually we arrive, and I avoid the airport taxi's and get a city cab from the departure drop-off. The traffic in Surabaya is horrendous - I can really feel Indonesia as the 4th most populous place on the planet. I'd chosen a hostel called "Ikurus to Live". The taxi driver spoke no English but seemed to know the address and we eventually arrive.<br />
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It's listed as a homestay but apart from the fact the owners are living somewhere in the building it's more like a posh hostel, or not so posh hotel. It's quite slick, with marble floors, posh paintings and even the water butt has a embroidered cover! The dorm room has three very comfortable beds, right next to each other. I have the room to myself. The staff (owners?) speak no English - only one girl speaks a small amount. Outside of the hostel is normal for this part of the world :)<br />
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English is rarely spoken, other than hello and bye bye, especially out of the cities. Lucky for me Indonesian (Bahasa) is VERY similar to Malay (where I just came from), and is an extremely easy language to learn - there's no tenses, no gender and no conjugation. For plural (or to stress) the same word is said twice. Here's a few basics that you can almost live by (until they come back with a lightning fast sentence, assuming you can speak Bahasa!).<br />
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Hallo<br />
Ya - Yes<br />
Tidak - No<br />
Tolong - Please<br />
Terima Khasi - Thank you<br />
Nama saya - My name is...<br />
Berapa - How many / how much?<br />
Apa - What<br />
Di Mana - Where<br />
Kapan - When<br />
Makanan - Food<br />
Minum - Drink<br />
Kopi - Coffee<br />
Teh - Tea<br />
Ayam - Chicken (careful not to order Ayan - epilepsy!)<br />
Bakmi - Noodle<br />
Goreng - Fried<br />
Beras - Rice<br />
1 - Satu<br />
2 - Duo<br />
3 - Tiga<br />
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5particlehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15999628401112567274noreply@blogger.com0Surabaya, Indonesia-7.289166 112.734398-7.415169 112.5764695 -7.163163 112.8923265tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4049450622506664004.post-24125323309478033532012-11-19T12:11:00.001-08:002012-11-19T12:11:59.600-08:00Kota Kinabalu, Borneo<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
Mostly a hopping off point for the rest of Sabah, but actually quite a pleasant city in itself. Away from the pedestrian-unfriendly highways there's cute, leafy backstreets with little cafe's, and a bright seafront promenade with a giant statue of a swordfish. I had a good nose about in the shops and markets.<br />
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The hostel is called Tropicana. It's nice, and clean, and has a restaurant attached. The staff are friendly, but spend all of their time glued to the TV downstairs - you feel like you're interrupting them when you ask for something! I was the only person in my dorm room. The other (female) dorm was occupied by three young, giggly English girls, who had been trekking in the Philippines, and could hardly walk - literally limping around the hostel.<br />
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I only have two photos for you at the moment :)<br />
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5particlehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15999628401112567274noreply@blogger.com0Kota Kinabalu, Sabah, Malaysia5.976474 116.1157775.8501354999999995 115.9578485 6.1028125 116.27370549999999tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4049450622506664004.post-78561962665525599852012-11-17T11:39:00.000-08:002012-11-19T11:49:56.637-08:00Kudat, Borneo<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
The flight over Palawan and down into Borneo was stunning - the pilot seemed to be weaving around enormous black anvil-topped thunderclouds - with a golden sunset backdrop and crystal blue waters below nature was really pulling out amazing colour combinations from her palette! I might say that this was the most beautiful flight I've ever been on - my face (then camera) was glued to the window for the whole flight.<br />
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I got off the flight and crashed out in a hostel - feeling extremely tired. Next morning I felt a lot better and headed out first thing to find a bus to take me to the northern tip of Borneo. I'm heading to a hostel called Tampat Do Aman. My family are friends with the parents of Howard, who's been out here for seven years, is married to a lovely Borneo lady, and has slowly but steadily been building this business. His aim is to put as much back to the village as he can, so he employs locals for all of the work - and has a few western volunteers on-site as extra hands. Everybody knows and respects him greatly! </div>
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The rickety bus costs 20 Ringgits and takes about five hours. It drops you in Kudat main town, and Howard personally picks everybody up to take them the 30km to the very northern tip of Borneo.</div>
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The resort itself is sustainable, with compost toilets, all made from local wood and put together in a traditional way. There's bungalows, just big enough for a double bed, and a traditional Rungus longhouse with ten (I think) rooms, some with double and some with bunk beds. There's a communal area and they've just finished a fantastic little museum, full of interesting artefacts from the surrounding areas. For breakfast there's a shuttle (mostly Howard) that takes you down to the beach, where his restaurant is. There's surfboards, snorkels, kayaks and mountain bikes here. He also has some motorbikes and a battered (characterful) Proton to rent if you so wish.</div>
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You can do as much or as little as you want here. I did a jungle walk with Freddie, a German volunteer, and I got eaten alive by mosquitoes. I also spent some time on the surfboards. One evening I was failing to surf when the distant sky turned jet black and it started raining - it had a dramatic effect on the sea, smoothing and taming it with each droplet, only letting the waves roll in. I stopped surfing and sat on the board, soaking up the serene atmosphere with my lower half in the hot sea and my upper half in the cool rain!</div>
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There were two mom cats (with no names) in the lodge. One had three kittens (days old) and the other had two (weeks old). The days old mom decided she wanted a week old kitten to feed also and stole one of the others - though days old mom didn't seem too bothered having only one to look after. She took a shine to my bed and I regularly came back to find the kitten in my bed, or hanging precariously on the mosquito net on the outside! In the end I put a box in my room for them to sleep in, the mom seemed happy with this and would happily meow her way into my mosquito net for some attention in the middle of the night.</div>
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In my diary of Melaka and Penang in West Malaysia I raved about the food - and I'm so glad to be back here, I missed it so much. The Malay, Chinese and Indian influences excite me greatly - it truly must be some of the tastiest food in the world!</div>
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There was a village wedding happening on the beach, and they invited us to join them at every opportunity. This corner of Borneo is actually Christian - there was pork, and a lot of beer and locally brewed rice wine. We were fed <i>so</i> much food - they kept putting fresh trays, loaded with tasty things, in front of us. When our drinks were gone (and even before) they were topped up, or we were forced to drink shots of rice wine. Everyone was ridiculously friendly, I think I spoke and danced with most people. There was a party guy, who kept coming around with cans of beer and a bottle of brandy - mixing them together in a glass and getting us to do shots. Me, the three volunteers, an Australian girl and a Canadian couple got exceedingly drunk - I think the Canadian man threw up. We learned how to dance like a bird and me and Freddie impressed the locals with a karaoke rendition of Let it be. I rolled into bed and passed out to the pleasant sound of millions of jungle critters.<br />
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I was rudely awoken from my hangover sleep by a sharp pain in my right elbow. Having no idea what was happening I fumbled for my torch - finding blood dripping down my arm, but nothing in sight - and this was inside my mosquito net. I jumped out of bed and looked around the bed but still found nothing. I went to the communal area and examined the bite more - there was a definite hole, and my elbow was starting to swell up, and become flushed, like a poison was irritating the skin. I didn't want to get back into bed after this, so stayed up. A few hours later Howard came and had a look, as he's an expert in jungle stuff. He said it looked like a centipede bite, of which some contain poison, although not lethal to humans - that would explain the swelling and painful aching elbow! He ripped a plant from the ground and squeezed a white, sticky liquid from it and onto the bite - he said it's a natural painkiller, but I forget the name of the plant :(</div>
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Nature's in control here. From the billions of bugs to the insane greenery, everywhere, climbing everything. Giant leaves the locals use as umbrellas when it rains! Howard said that clearing the lodge area is a constant battle - leave it for one day and nature takes over again. </div>
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5particlehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15999628401112567274noreply@blogger.com0Borneo-1.1061234 114.1439354-9.2006824 104.0365134 6.9884356000000007 124.2513574tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4049450622506664004.post-81530451739207936712012-11-13T21:59:00.003-08:002012-11-14T04:25:44.682-08:00Puerto Princessa, Philippines<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
Palawan is a big island but only has two main roads; one going north and one going south - I like this simplicity! The capital, Puerto, is in the middle and is a fairly big city, but nothing on the scale of Manila. I stayed in a place called the Badjao Inn - recommended on wikitravel. There were, however, no other western tourists here - as soon as they land in Palawan they're whisked off in minivans to the beaches. I'd decided to spend a few days here - how bad can it be? Any westerner here seems to have a young Filippino girl on his arm - I looked particularly out of place not having one. I went to a busy restaurant hoping to meet some people. It was an odd place, staffed by hundreds of people with a projection TV showing the comedy show "Just for laughs" - everybody was staring at it while eating. They had a DJ supplying the (very loud) sounds. While eating my pork adobo my ears were treated to the song that goes "my neck, my back, lick my pu... and my cr..." - no-one in the restaurant batted an eyelid. At 8pm a band came on containing 3 Filippino dudes and their instruments and 4 Filippino girls dressed in pretty much nothing. They were bad, and I left as soon as they'd finished the first song!<br />
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I wanted to go to Sabang, and the UNESCO underground river. If you don't do it in a tour you have to go to the office in Puerto and get a permit. Then I hired a motorbike for the fantastic 70km trip. The roads are winding up, down, in and out of hills, through smiling villages and along mangrove beaches - truly beautiful - I have about 10 minutes of great video! Once there you're assigned a slot (they limit visitor numbers) - mine was 9:30am the next morning. I found a cheap beach hut and threw my bag in, then the rains came - HEAVY! There's <i>nothing</i> to do when it's raining in Sabang (there's not much to do when it's not raining!), so I read, and played sudoku. Eventually they stopped and I had another lonely dinner on the seafront - most people just come here for the day in groups, then go back to Puerto.<br />
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I was woken at 1am by a cockroach walking on my face! Oddly this is the first time this has ever happened to me, in all of my travels - or at least the first time I've woken up. I'm not sure how it got in, as I was under a mosquito net! I brushed it off and away - I actually don't mind cockroaches, anything that doesn't bite me is fine by me. I killed two mosquitoes who were also inside the net (wtf) and went back to sleep.<br />
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Next morning I went to the registration place and showed my permit. I paid the 400 Pesos fee and the 40 Pesos tax - then had to pay 200 Pesos as I wasn't in a group - they then bolted me onto a group of Filippinos. Getting on the first boat is crazy! Imagine 20 boats, all with outriggers, trying to get to one little badly made concrete dock, while rough sea waves are battering the dock! Tip: wear flip-flops - you get very wet just trying to get in the boat. I was wearing my walking boots as I was on the motorbike and they were socked through in seconds (they're still wet now). One on the boat it's a rough ride around the coast to a secluded beach, when you walk a little through the jungle, then get on another boat (more feet wetting) that takes you into the cave.<br />
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The cave is a monster - you can go 1.8km on the boat (it goes 8km in total). I sat at the front so had to hold the torch with the camp Filippino man shouting where to point it, in not-very-understandable English. Thankfully the Filippino girl behind me could see I was struggling to hear and translated. I wanted to point the torch at what I wanted to look at (cute hanging bats mostly) - but was told to move it, and point it a the rock that looks like "Sharon Stone" or the one that looks like "Jesus" or the one that looks like "Mary" or "the last supper" - seriously - can we have some useful information? Does anyone care that that rock looks like a carrot?? Tour over, my feet got a little wetter and I got on the bike and made the lovely rolling journey back to Puerto.<br />
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On my last day in Puerto I still didn't meet anyone. Traditional Filippino food is ok but just essentially just seafood or meat, in a sauce with rice. Vegetarians would have a nightmare - on one menu, under the "vegetables" section there was "vegetables with pork". Unfortunately American style diners selling burgers, fried chicken, hot-dogs, shakes, pizza and all that jazz are taking over, and it's not even good junk. I ordered some fried chicken and chip from a major Filippino chain, and got a tiny piece of dry chicken with five (count 'em!) undercooked chips!<br />
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I'm going to sound like a moaning tourist git now (and I probably am, especially as I'm a little travel weary at the moment). The people are friendly, the diving and snorkelling is world-class and the beaches are amazing - but I just don't get a spark from this country like I have with others, something's missing for me - that cultural high that gets inside you and makes you feel fuzzy and excited about a place - it's just not there for me - however there are another 6998 islands to explore :)<br />
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I'm now in the airport, drinking an Americano from "Seattle's finest", while the latest news and basketball from the US is on the TV. I await my plane to Borneo.<br />
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5particlehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15999628401112567274noreply@blogger.com0Puerto Princesa, Philippines9.9672163 118.785519.4667803 118.153796 10.467652300000001 119.417224tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4049450622506664004.post-77279771096163764822012-11-08T03:13:00.001-08:002012-11-08T04:35:13.196-08:00El Nido, Philippines<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
Manilla's a bad introduction to the Philippines. It's severely under-developed for tourism, most people spend a day or two there before hopping on another plane or boat. I caught a flight for Puerto Princessa, on the beautiful island of Palawan - the last frontier of the Philippines. At first I wasn't exactly sure where to go from Manilla - there's seven-thousand one-hundred and something islands to choose from, with maybe 100,000 beaches - if combined they would form the longest beach in the world! El Nido seemed to be the quiet haven I needed after being in big cities. From Puerto (as the locals call it) I get a minibus (600 Pesos) up to the northern tip of Palawan. It takes six hours and the roads are barely roads in sections! I read that El Nido can be inaccessible in the monsoon rains.<br />
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The town is a tightly-packed and spilling onto the beach. It's surrounded by the same karst limestone formations I saw in Malaysia, Thailand, Laos and Vietnam - they sit on the same fault line. This is where Alex Garland gained inspiration for "The beach" - but told everyone it was Thailand so they wouldn't flock here. My instant thought is with Ton Sai (Thailand), but there's no rock climbing here - and the beach (and food) is better in Thailand IMO (grilled chicken and papaya salad ANYONE!?) The local vibe is extremely laid back - if you're doing nothing you're doing too much! After diving and snorkelling I did "nothing" as much as I could handle, but then had to do <i>something</i> as I'd booked two weeks here - as Cebu pacific airlines decided I needed an onward (or return) ticket or I wasn't getting on the plane (I had to quick-book something in the airport - how much time do you give yourself in this situation, knowing nothing about where you're going!? I'd also like to add that this isn't a government requirement, and I've never done it anywhere else in Asia yet (I hate planning ahead - who knows what you might want to do?? So it's put me on edge a little - I've planned the next three flights!<br />
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I now have a daily routine as follows: After breakfast I hire a kayak for three hours and find some deserted beaches (it's easy). Back for lunch time in my favourite cafe "The Sanctuary". They serve a delicious red bean salad and the <i>best</i> coffee in El Nido (none of this 3 in one instant shit - c'mon, what is this stuff???). After lunch I hire a mountain bike for a two hour sweat-fest punctuated by diving into the sea at various beaches. I'd also like to run on the beaches but, sadly, as with most Asian beaches, there's some litter with occasional broken glass and tin-can tops. To counter-act this daily goodness the evening is spend stuffing myself with an incredible local dish called pork adobo, which is fatty pork stewed in vinegar and garlic, and served with rice - I'll be cooking this when I get home, guaranteed! Beer is stupidly cheap at 40 pence a bottle (San Miguel) so it's rude not to have one... or two.<br />
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5particlehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15999628401112567274noreply@blogger.com0Palawan, Philippines9.4462305 118.39294175.439873 113.3392307 13.452588 123.44665269999999tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4049450622506664004.post-66875165678509974562012-11-01T20:57:00.000-07:002012-11-01T22:56:06.175-07:00Manila, Philippines<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
Wow, it's hot here. Following a tip from a good friend I avoided the yellow cabs and went up to the departures to grab a white (city) cab that was dropping passengers off - you can save a lot of money, as the white cabs don't pay airport fee's. Manilla (or Hong Kong) airport stupidly decided to break my padlock open, even though it was just hanging there, not securing anything. They also cut the string-pull on the top of my bag for some reason - thanks airport people!<br />
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My hostel (Where 2 Next) is on a backstreet, on the edge of the tourist area. A nice place with a Korean restaurant and a bar attached - the beds in the mixed dorm are super-comfortable! Heading out for a look around I was told by the staff not to flash cameras and phones and keep my wallet safe! At night there's all sorts of interesting people walking about - scantily clad girls try and drag you into many seedy looking bars and clubs, dope-peddlers offer their wares, trinket sellers push sunglasses and jewellery at you and cycle rickshaw drivers appear from all directions!<br />
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This is the first Catholic majority country I've been to on my travels and there's lots to see in old Churches and Spanish colonial features - by lunchtime though I'm so hot, and have to retire back to the hostel or the extremely confusing mall - and this is getting into winter! The seafront is not much to look at - polluted with huge cranes and trucks parked up. There's a statue of some parents playing with a child but the arms, and anything else that could easily be levered off, are missing! Rizal park is nice for a stroll, although I slipped (comedy banana skin style!) on one of the numerous dog turds sitting around! The jeepneys are excellent - it would be great to photograph all of them in Manila.<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Jeepney!</td></tr>
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5particlehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15999628401112567274noreply@blogger.com0Manila, Philippines14.5995124 120.984219514.5380484 120.9052555 14.660976400000001 121.0631835tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4049450622506664004.post-13779697533082186212012-10-30T17:53:00.002-07:002012-11-01T20:42:10.932-07:00Hong Kong<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
In Seoul airport the clerk at Jeju airlines told me that I need an onwards ticket to board the aircraft - I had none. I said that I didn't think I did need one, and I get 180 days to stay. After already waiting for ages behind hundreds of people who all seemed to have 20 suitcases each she made me wait longer while she checked with her Hong Kong connection. Finally she said it was OK (yes I knew!) and I could go through. Security was packed - it took an age. I made it with minutes to spare - I was literally the last person on the plane, through no fault of my own. But after this I vow to arrive at airports THREE hours before the flight leaves - I can't be doing with the stress of running about <br />
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I <b>love</b> Hong Kong! It's got all elements of almost everywhere I've been so far, plus a welcome Englishness in the buses, the traffic lights, the police, the signs - I even saw a black cab! I felt quite at home immediately. I stayed at the Hong Kong hostel in Causeway. The not-so-friendly staff put me in the "welcome mansion" - another building over the road. It was like having my own apartment as there was no-one else there, apart from a Russian guy who spoke pretty much no English. I have no idea why he was there. although he did say "shops" to me and he was out from 11am to 11pm, every day! He insisted on having the windows closed and locked (despite being on the 8th floor with bars on the window), and the room door closed (despite being behind 5 levels of security), meaning the room was ridiculously hot - I moved to the sofa most nights, which was comfortable and cool.<br />
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I didn't do much high-up sight-seeing as most of the time was rain and fog. I did go to the peak, you have to when In HK! The view was zero; it was paying to go to an extremely expensive, high shopping mall. Most of my time I enjoyed walking about, soaking up the busy streets, dipping into Chinese cafe's and galleries. I caught up with my good Russian friend from Malaysia, who now lives there, and we celebrated Halloween with some friends from his Uni - arriving home at 7am - I've not had a blow out like that in a long time!<br />
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5particlehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15999628401112567274noreply@blogger.com0Rte Twisk, Tai Mo Shan, Hong Kong22.396428 114.10949722.1615215 113.79364000000001 22.6313345 114.425354