Queenstown, New Zealand

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. 

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.

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. 

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. 

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.

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. 

Java to Bali - not my favourite journey

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!!

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.

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.

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.

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!!

Mandalay, Myanmar

I got on the overnight bus (10,000 Kyat), found my seat and got comfortable. The bus didn't sound too healthy but we lurched off anyway. I knew I would get no sleep; for me it's impossible on sitting buses so I plugged myself into my mp3 player and closed my eyes. I've almost developed a musical meditation state that gets me through the night.  We travelled not 100 metres when the engine groaned and we stopped in a cloud of brown smoke. For an hour the driver, conductor and technical passengers crowded around the stricken engine, banging stuff and trying to start it. At one point someone actually climbed into the engine bay. Eventually it roared to life, everyone jumped on and we quickly set off! Everything was sweet then for hours until we hit the hills, when the engine sounded awful, like two very old, rusty, robots arm-wrestling. Stopping at a service station it decided it'd had enough and again everyone crowded around the back of the bus, this time for many hours.

We arrived in Mandalay only three hours over schedule. Extremely tired I asked the tuk-tuk driver to take me to the cheapest room he knew. At the ET hotel I shared a twin room with a 19 year old English journalist, Chris, for $5 each. Many people told me they didn't like Mandalay, that it was dirty and busy, with nothing to do. I really like it! For one its drier than Yangon, and less busy. The roads are in an interesting grid formation which looks easy on a map, but the amount of times we got lost is ridiculous. I called MandalayMotorbike@gmail.com (092014265) to get some out-of-town action but they were $5 more than some bloke on the street, who offered his motorbike for $10 a day. My motorbike had no speedometer, no mirrors, and didn't like the electric start, but my journalist buddy's bike was good. Biking around Mandalay itself is intense, and for Chris this was baptism by fire - first time on a motorbike, ever! I felt a little responsible and kept an eye on him (being the now experienced rider I am - ahem), but he quickly picked it up and before long we were out of town and cruising brand new tarmac, completely devoid of other traffic. We had no maps, and got lost several times, but the beautiful people of Myanmar happily pointed us in the right directions, or literally jumped on their bikes and told us to follow them down winding dirt roads and riverside paths! Stopping at a village cafe for snacks we were soon surrounded by what seemed like the whole village; they sat and watched us eat. I'm guessing not many tourists have ever been here. We found the snake temple, the teak bridge and the other tourist sites, but the best thing was just being out there in the wilds, meeting the people!

Sunken temple

Curious village kids 

Are you sure we should ride these bikes through the river??

Maybe you'd like crab for lunch?

Who lives in a house like this?

Beautiful wilderness of Myanmar

Back in Mandalay we dodged the busy traffic up to Mandalay hill. A wonderful and never-ending set of steps through Monasteries and Shrines to the top of the hill gives some spectacular views of the flooded plains and distant hills. The sun glimmering on the Buddhist gold and jewels on the Temple at the top is blinding.

Breathtaking views and shimmering gold temples

Chris, as he's just here for a few weeks writing about Myanmar, came straight from England. He wasn't particularly interested in Burmese food, partly because the chances of getting sick are quite high. For this reason we ate mostly at Western style venues; burgers, chips and coke (I've never seen anyone drink so much coke) being the main diet. In Mandalay there's a place called V-club that caters for the weak-stomached!

We both wanted to get as far away from the main areas as possible (even though there was hardly anybody about anyway). Lasho is the furthest east you can possibly go before you get to military checkpoints, and ultimately the Chinese border; we decided this was the place to go. At Mandalay railway station we find a train to Lasho and tell the clerk we'd like to go there. The journey will cost $30 (one-way) and will take 18 hours. He suggested we take first class. I pulled out a $100 note and he inspected it at great length, eventually deciding that he didn't like the serial number sequence. Bewildered, I offered others, but being in the same sequence range he refused them also. We had enough money if we used all of our Kyats and a $20 note that Chris had. Unfortunately the $20 note had a slight mark on it and he refused that also. He told us to come back to the station later; I had no idea why this would be different but we huffed and left. 

Back at the station at 8pm and the same clerk straight away accepted my $100 bill. I wondered what sequence of events had occurred since. It can only have been government decided. Maybe they needed to check something, maybe us? Was it to do with the distant destination? We now had our tickets and were to catch the train at 4am the next morning.

Sunset from the hotel roof

Na Trang, Vietnam

Na Trang is the costa del sol of Vietnam. The seafront is littered with huge non-descript international hotels, bars and disco's. We arrive off the night bus at the office of Cuc Tung at 6am and have a nice Banh Mi (baguette) and Ca Phe from a street seller while waiting for the office to open.

On the night bus

It opens at 7am and a miserable man rudely tells us that we should have booked the ticket the day before. We complained that we'd tried yesterday but he shrugs and tells us we'll now have to go tomorrow, then rides off on his moped. Er OK, we'll just stay in Na Trang then shall we! Out of pure annoyance I'd just like to post this link to someone having a mega-moan about Cuc Tung.

Cuc Tung - they don't want to help you

We book the ticket for same time next morning and check into a nice little guest house (Cam Tien - $10 for an a/c double) and proceeded to be bored by Na Trang. The beach itself wasn't too bad though and I sat and watched the kite surfers for quite a while. I also liked the lit Eiffel tower cable supports over to Pearl island, or whatever it's called. This really could be any generic beach resort in the world if it wasn't for the communist reminders dotted amongst the capitalist backdrop. I feel like I've written too much about this place already.

Don't forget, will you?

The most interesting thing in Na Trang?

Hue, Vietnam

After the mission getting to Phong Nha we wondered how to get out. Luckily there was a pre-booked minibus direct to Hue, from the farmstay. At 6am a swish mini-minibus dropped us to the decrepid main minibus. We were the only westerners on this loaded bus and had to bounce around at the back while the bus growled down the bumpy road, all windows open, melodic horn to blaring! I like these journeys as they're a lot more memorable than easy, comfortable ones. Talitha over-hydrated before embarking and half way through the journey desperately needed the toilet. We stop at a garage and the driver refuses to let her go, as it's a quick fuel stop. He informs her that we'll stop in five minutes time, to the sympathies of the other passengers. Fifteen minutes later we stop and Talitha bolts!
An hour later and we're at the Hue bus depot just out of towm. We ignore the motorbike taxis and hop on a crowded local bus, bags and all, prompting some discussion and pointing from other passengers. We squeeze off and sweat our way across the bridge to Hue backpackers; our home for the next few days.

The bus - once the crowds departed

Hue backpackers (they also have a branch in Hanoi) has everything the discerning MC Hammer-trouser-westerner could want: beer, grungy (grungie?) guitar music, burger and beer (beerger) nights, fish & chips nights, curry nights, drinking games, many flavoured vodka shots (one called arse), pretty barmaids and silly t-shirts for sale. We settle into the comfortable dorm, meet our new roomie, Ozzzie David, then scoot off down the road in search of food.

HQ

Our first culture stop was the citadel. Now pretty much flattened from the French then Americans it's not much to look at but has a fascinating history and some amazing carp in the entrance pond. Out the back entrance we carry on the walk around the city walls, grab a sweet coffee and stroll through the markets before heading back to western headquarters.

Work it... yea, more hips... MORE HIPS

David tells us that it's his birthday today so we have a burger and wash it down with a few Huda and festival beers (it is beerger night after all). We inform the staff and they very kindly sort a delicious cake and sing happy birthday as only the Vietnamese could. The cake gets munched by everyone in the bar and we continue with the drinking, buying David a shot of arse (vodka and fish oil) to really send him on his way! Hic.

I've been left partuicularly numb in the religion region since leaving India. Apparently only 20% of Vietnamese are active Buddhists but Hue is touted as the spiritual capital of Vietnam so i'm expecting to see something. We hire bicycles and head off in the specific direction of a temple & pagoda, to a complete fail (some issues with the Lonely Planet map guv!). But this is not an issue. My favourite days in cities have always been to go with no plan. In this case we found some hyper-local backstreets, giant Catholic graveyards, a huge warrior statue and a vegetarian restaurant that gave us some pork!

"vegetarian" restaurant (the food was delicious)

Waiting for the train...

When I pop my clogs I would like a statue of me - this size.

Where's Hoochie-Minh?

Breaking from the random cycle routing I could see a temple from a hill, so decided that would be our next destination. An hour later, and a bike race with some local kids, we find a deserted back-street leading to what seems like an extremely Buddhist area containing a Thai Monastery, a temple, some large Buddha statues, an incredibly lifelike waxwork of "Hoa Thuong Ho Nhan" (I hope I have that correct) and some plastic wild animals. I cannot find any information about it on the web. Maybe someone reading this might know?

Writing above the Monastery entrance

Hoa Thuong Ho Nhan & me. Same Same!

Many mini-Stupa'

Vietnamese kiss: day 3

Sri Lanka buses

I thought the bus drivers in India were insane but after riding local smoke-belching metal-monster buses down the Sri Lankan coast i'd say that these guys win. Wait at a bus stop and one comes screeching to walking pace and you jump in the back door - mid-jump the conductor shouts something that sounds like "alle alle" and the bus roars off again while you fight your way in to try and wedge yourself somewhere. The bus by now is at top speed and overtaking everything with 5 to 10 second blasts on the horn when approaching something. When i say overtaking I mean forcing cars on the other side off the road.. This seems perfectly acceptible to the person coming the other way. I don't have a particularly large self-preservation nodule but i feared for my life on several occasions. The funniest part is the absolute calm of the locals on the buses: men chatting, children laughing, grannies asleep!

The driver and conductor are a tight team. Barking commands up and down the bus: who's getting on who's getting off, waving arms when overtaking, collecting cash, choosing which Sri Lanka music to play on the big sound systems. The whole theatre is very interesting to watch.

The government buses are rickety old Tata buses, painted red. The private Leyland (slightly more expensive buses) are white and are totally customised as the driver/conductor team see fit. They're amazingly boasting: turbo injection, super-intercooler, express and all manner of flames, stickers and things hanging off the front. On the inside the seats and seat posts are patterned, the light fittings have trims, there's fancy curtains and Buddha items.My favourites are the absolutely fantastic flashing Buddha pictures with the Hindu gods flashing next to him. 

When the bus stops all manner of people jump on and make their way down the aisle selling their wares. Food and posters/maps are the main fayre but today a gnarly man with one arm got on and started banging a tambourine against his stump while humming. I liked him and gave him 20 rupees.

Once at the destination and on checking my limbs were intact I had to smile and acknowledge the driver as I leapt from the bus (still moving) Good work sir! Does Sri Lanka have a bus racing team? It should!

I love the buses here. These are definitely one of the highlights of the trip. You can get a real feel for the culture.