Auckland, New Zealand

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?? 

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!

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.

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.

Auckland is OK, nothing special. I was ready to head south within one day.

Post-mini-hurricane

Sniff sniff - ahhhh !!

El Nido, Philippines

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.

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 something 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!

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 best 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.

My beach :)

Live blog from Hong Kong!

I'm *almost* up to date with the blog, just a few more items to add to Korea. And I thought I'd treat you to a live update, which has never occurred before! It's not going to be particularly interesting as I'm just sitting here doing nothing; I shall go out after posting this - I'm not really a sad individual!

So it's now 8pm Hong Kong time (1pm UK time) - I'm in the Causeway area on Hong Kong island and - how can I put this - it's like hot London with lots of Chinese people. The double-decker buses are here, the pavements, the tree-lined streets, the signs and traffic lights... you get the idea. The most noticeable thing though is the lack of overhead spaghetti wiring everywhere; it's tidily underneath the streets - where it should be!

Me, live now! Notice the odd cat pictures

Halloween weekend - this weekend

Childish I know ... but funny ... c'mon!

Ho Chi Minh, Vietnam

I much prefer Saigon as the city name (no disrespect to Ho Chi Minh intended) and this is our last stop in Vietnam. After some mildly "meh" beach breaks it feels good to be back in the city. We arrive in a cracking storm in the evening. I love 'em, I could sit for hours watching the skies for piercing forks of light and feeling the ground-trembling rumbles of thunder. Off the bus it's wet, but we don't have far to go to the hotel (Hoang Kahn - $15 per night / triple room) which has already been sorted for us by Emily who came the previous day.

I took a tour out to to the Cu Chi tunnels, about 1 hour out of Saigon. These 121km of tunnels were used for defensive and offensive purposes as well as supply routes, and living. The Americans couldn't penetrate with ground force (there were booby-traps everywhere!) or ponding the area with bombs dropped from B-52's bombs. On entering you're given a sticker and shown a quick anti-American video from that time, then a demonstration of some of the gruesome traps, then our guide shows us the holes and entrances they used, inviting us to have a go. However, a girl got stuck and it took a while, and four people, to pull her out, so we didn't get a go.

Now you see him...

Me and about 4 others did all three tunnels, getting progressively smaller until you're pretty much crawling on hands and knees. There are exits at the end of each tunnel should you wish to bail out. How the VC spent all that time down there in that heat and darkness I'll never fathom! As soon as  I was out into the fresh air my body exploded with sweat. I don't think I've ever sweat that much in such a short space of time.

While all this is happening you can hear gunfire from the range. After the tunnels you're taken over there and shown the array of weapons that you can fire, for a meaty price. I've never done anything like this before, and never will again so stumped up 350,000 dong for 10 shots of an AK-47, the Russian made, Vietnamese weapon of choice. It's quite unnerving being led to the firing range; the guns are deafening. As I walk down I've not had a chance to pop on my ear defenders and the Australian chap before me is mid-way though his 10 shots on a monster M60. Anyone that knows a little about guns would know that this is the American daddy of hand-held weapons, its insanely loud thumps instantly gave me tinnitus. I quickly put on my ear protectors! The weapons are attached to the the rails which is almost a shame but understandable; what's to stop a tourist turning around and killing the first ten people in sight, or indeed breaking their shoulder with the savage recoil? I squeeze the trigger and fire my 10 rounds, at a distant target on a huge dirt mound; slow at first, then BAM BAM BAM BAM *click* (empty). I have no idea if it hit it (the target or the dirt mound!) but it was fun, and an adrenaline rush! I head back to the holding area, collecting a full metal jacket on the way, with a big smile on my mush :)

A to the muthafuckin' K home-boy, A to the muthafuckin' kayyyyyyyy

The bus dropped some of us at the war museum on the way back to Saigon, where I met up with Talitha and Emily. The museum has a particularly interesting war photography section on the top floor - you need to have balls of steel to be a wartime photographer. London born Larry Burrows is a particular favourite, he took some powerfully striking shots before the helicopter he was in was shot down over northern Laos (incidentally not far from where I'm writing this diary now). In the museum grounds there's a selection of American war machines (no Vietnamese though, oddly enough) and I'm instantly drawn to the Huey, where Talitha ops for the big black fire-spitting tank.

One day this shall be mine

Hoochie and the war machine

Every evening we're out on the street. There are people everywhere, perched on tiny plastic seats, spilling out onto the road. There's now a large group of us, collected from various parts of Vietnam (mostly Emily's Ha Long naked party cruise!). This is pretty much the evening theme for the next few days! Bia hoi is cheaper than water and flows like water. We don't move except to make space for more people or to shuffle under the canvas when the rains come or to go and see Emily do a couple of impromptu gigs in a nearby bar. Good times :)