Travel tips – Keep a Journal

Too many years spent staring out of the window have prompted me to listen to the inner adventurous child. Get out there and explore and when you’re finished explore some more, it said. Well, in-between jobs and keeping my family sane I thought! 

I’ll do my best though – I will travel when I can and along the way observe and photograph everything my wide eyes can see. This isn’t your typical sugar coated blog about the luxuries of Thailand, ticking off bucket lists or trying to run around the world with a scorecard aiming for the most number of countries visited.

That’s madness – how can you enjoy those beautiful places, really feel cultures and landscapes?

Instead, blogs should tell stories, share a ‘sense’ of a place – If I decide to dedicate many posts about a particular time spent in say, China, then so be it – blog readers deserve to experience all the sights, quirks and delights that have challenged, excited and amazed me. There’s hundreds of global nomad style blogs out there which paint picture of a whirlwind touring experience of our planet, some do it very well – but I want a bit more dirt under my fingernails.

Captures those sights with your camera but don’t forget to preserve those thoughts on paper too.

So, how do you keep track of all the wonderful things you’ve seen? By keeping a journal, the old fashioned way. When you travel you are blessed (or cursed) by many hours of travelling from one place to another. These are the golden moments where you can have time alone with just your thoughts. It would be difficult to remember everything that has happened on the journey, I’ve tried to recall just a few days back – it’s tough! I can’t remember what I had for dinner two days ago – But, with a diary keeping tracks of your adventures couldn’t be easier.

…See an amazing new species of bird out of the window? Jot it down…..

…Ridden on the back of an elephant through a gnat infested swamp? Jot that one down too

…Pestered by local market traders in the Grand Bazaar? Scribble those thoughts

Any experience, good or bad goes into my journal – it’s fascinating when you return home to re-discover your past adventures and also perfect for keeping on top of your travel blog too. It’s also very handy keeping old tickets, receipts and contacts in which are always gathered along the way. Your collection of journals wouldn’t look out of place on the bookshelf next to all those travel guides collected on your journeys either!

Let’s go!

Sometimes, Bribery Helps

Sometimes, Bribery Helps

Last night I traveled the train again and was thankful that it was close to 10pm which in China meant ‘lights out, no more talking’. Within 10 minutes most people were asleep and the busy packed train heaved with sound of the carriages clunking and a chorus of snorers competing for air. This was to be a long journey, around 14 hours from here in Guilin to somewhere near Wuhan, via an additional 5 hour coach drive.

So that’ll be the best part of 19 hours either lying down or sitting on my backside.

During the coach trip we stopped at a dusty roadside stall and public toilet which was more like a Roman outhouse. The toilet consisted of one single open trench running around the edge of a small block house. I stood over the tile cladded abyss and immediately felt a sensation of retraction in the nether region, I couldn’t go. Nothing, zip. I was being watched. Peering over my shoulder behind me was a small man who was squat, straddled over the trench looking up at me, staring and smoking a crudely rolled cigarette, calmly going through his ablutions. I was put off, distracted and unable to continue so I hurriedly zipped up and left for the bus – I’ll wait I thought, even if it’s another 3 hours! Time to practice self control.

Wuhan is a dizzying mixture of high rise accommodation towers mixed with some of the poorest and decaying settlements I have seen so far on this journey. The atmosphere was buzzing, everyone was busy and it felt like a movie scene with actors entering left or right of screen peddling wares and going about their business. Small alcoves in the base of tower blocks housed an array of different trades such as cobblers, grocers, metal workers and basket weavers.

I was particular taken by the lush tree lined streets which provided excellent shade in addition to breaking up the monotonous amounts of concrete.

We were making our way to a small port to board a cruiser to take us on the next leg of the journey down the great Yangtze river. Though, this wasn’t the usual port and things seemed suspicious when we made our way through pot-holed back streets through industrial yards and scrap heaps. I could see our boat in the port, which looked more suited to offloading rubble and shipping containers than tourist cruises. Ahead was a set of locked metal gates and a small guard house with a gathering of men standing around, smoking and looking at our crowd of travelers. It became apparent that we couldn’t enter the boat just yet.

One of the guardsmen approached the coach leader and indicated that we had to take our hand luggage with us through the gate and security scanner but couldn’t take any of our larger bags. Even though we were only 50 yards from the boat and could have easily taken our suitcases and bags from the coach onto the boat with ease (if it wasn’t for this darn gate!) We filed through, shuffling along somewhat bewildered by all of this.

The machine beeped constantly with every small bag that passed through but the guardsmen showed no concern and waved us through. The men milling around seemed agitated and began flapping arms and raising their voices and gesturing at us to turn around and walk to the boat.

Sheepishly we obeyed and looking back we saw the men emptying the cargo hold on the coach of all our luggage. The coach leader remained at the guard house and was being hassled for money to pay the men for the privilege of taking our luggage through the gate and a few yards to the boat. We were concerned about this blatant bribery but were told the only way to avoid paying would be to return to the previous village and carry them ourselves back to the boat (where I suspect we would have been stopped again anyway!). The only way, was to pay.

When in Rome…(or China)

I’m unclear what my name meant but the tutor stuck up his thumb saying, ‘its goooooood!’

There is a lot of black ink on my fingers this morning as I’ve just returned from a lesson in calligraphy, which was fantastic. Our tutor collected us from the hostel and led us through the streets to an underground workshop where a row of newspaper covered trestle tables were arranged. We all sat as the tutor poured black ink into a number of small dishes on the table in front of us. On the tables were large A3 sized pieces of very thin tissue paper (almost like crepe) which had feint red grids on.

One by one the guide went to each of us and wrote the number 1 to 10 and 0 in English. We copied these familiar numbers using long elegant strokes from bulbous brushes which ended in a fine point. It took a little while to get used to handling the brush, it was tricky to gauge the amount of pressure I could apply as the paper would soak up a huge amount before dispersing it through he thin layers, creating a blob mess. Lines that started neat and sharp took on a fuzzy smudged appearance. Perseverance led to me mastering this hurdle fairly quickly and I was absorbed in this fine art, I think I actually had my tongue sticking out the side of my mouth for most of the time.

We learnt to write in Chinese characters meaning ‘sun, ‘moon’ and ‘stream’ in addition to writing our names which appears to be based on tonal syllables rather than any obvious literal meaning. I’m unclear what my name meant but the tutor stuck up his thumb saying, ‘its goooooood!’

The rest of the morning I spent visiting the large park in the centre of Yangshuo, sitting by the river watching touts drum up business from other tourists. Later I had a couple of terrible games of pool with our host, Victor;  it was so hot and humid the cue wouldn’t slide properly through my hand. Prior to this I had told Victor that I was pretty good at pool but he surprised me by being a demon at the game, turns out he has a great skill in many things including sleight of hand card tricks, impressive!

We grabbed our kit from the hostel and filed into a privately booked coach to leave this wonderful place. Our next leg of the journey was another overnight train, 14 hours of bunking it. The coach ride was extremely cheap, I recall it worked out o £15 to take all 16 of us for a 2 hour ride.

I’m currently sat in Guilin train station; our train is delayed for 1.5 hours. The huge waiting room is crammed full of travellers, some sat like us on rows of metal seats, sleeping or generally milling around. The atmosphere is noisy but heightened, everybody seems to be in good spirits and it reminds me of the waiting room at Heathrow at the start of this trip, such a contrast – everyone is happy to be travelling somewhere.

Many people are stocking up on noodle pots prior to boarding the train, seems to be the staple diet in China when you’re on the move.
I almost forgot to mention the Lotus Vegetarian Restaurant in Yangshuo – simply the best meal I’ve had on the whole China trip, delicious veggie dishes beautifully presented and using ingredients in an imaginative way in amazing traditional restaurant settings – dirt cheap too. I recall some veggie meatball style delights, taro and sweet potato, gorgeous marinated tofu and a very delicious bottle of Heineken lager.

Earlier we visited the market to buy provisions as we wouldn’t be able to source breakfast or dinner whilst on the train – apart from small trolley which occasionally passed us in the corridors. I had bought a whole heap of junk food – the shop had a huge amount of brightly coloured, ghastly looking foodstuffs, none of which appeared to hold too much nutritional value. I too bought noodles in a pot, shrimp flavour in addition to some coffee flavoured milk tea and honey injected dates (they removed the stones and replaced with honey – genius idea!)

Next stop – the Yangtze

Hiking to the Moon

Our destination was a place called Moon Hill a popular ‘stop off’ point en route where one of the limestone peaks is a massive shaped arch spanning a small gorge standing high above the landscape below.

It’s an amazing sight and for 15 Yuan we could climb around 800 steps through a bamboo forest to stand beneath the arch. Each of us acquired a tiny local woman clutching a fan and cool box with beer, water and postcards in. They had leapt out of nowhere when we were arriving on our bikes, we had heard this distant screaming and shouting as someone proclaimed, ‘They’re coming!’ Around 20 ladies streamed across the busy road into our convoy of bikes causing chaos amongst the ranks – after previously pedalling for an age and feeling a bit tired we were taken surprise by this event!

So, leaving our bikes at the café we took to trek up the hillside, me with my very own woman. She was very nice, spoke great English and taught me to say 1,2,3,4 and 5 in Chinese and attempted to fan me on the journey – I felt awkward as we were advised to best ignore these ladies but I found her company enjoyable even though she was fanning the forest beyond me more than my actual face. She had befriended me perfectly and showed me a photo of her two sons, one 13 and the other 15. She pointed to the general direction where she lived, on a small farm – she had no other job other than gaining what she could from hot, sweating, out of breath tourists climbing to Moon Hill. I knew at some point I would have to give her some money. She stuck with me the whole journey, right to the peak.

At the summit the tree line disappeared allowing for some great views of the surrounding landscape, much the same as before but from a higher elevation, as if I was inside a hot air balloon.

There were stalactite rock formations hanging from the archway of Moon Hill itself and walking beneath this I could view an even more expansive vista before me. I felt quite worn out and dizzy from the climb and gulped water in an attempt to level my head a little.

We descended and I gave my unofficial guide some money and asked that she walk the reaming path alone, she seemed a bit miffed by this but I felt she could have gained more money from some of the other tourists, especially some heavy-set Germans who had just arrived at the foot of the hill.

                                                             

At the foot of the hill, back in the café area I treated myself to a delicious mango prawn dinner and chewed the fat with the rest of the group around our table whilst waiting for my forehead to dry a little. We all retrieved our bikes and cycled back via a different to Yangshuo. I arrived back at the hostel looking for the welcome embrace of a shower and clean clothes. Some of the cycling group headed out for a Chinese cooking lesson but I decided to stay behind and write a few postcards. Tomorrow I will be participating in a calligraphy lesson where I hop to lean how to write my name in Chinese characters.

Let’s escape this crazy place

“My hangover didn’t lend itself well to this orchestra of sound and I felt my head was rotating on my neck”

I awoke with a fuzzy head, but otherwise well rested. A few drinks of local beer went down a little too easily last night as I witnessed my fellow companions devouring their roasted dog. Perhaps I needed the drinks to help block out the sight.

After breakfast, (which was surprisingly a full English) I met with some of the hostel guests in the lobby to venture into the town, collect bikes and set out to explore the neighbouring countryside. The air was still, heavy and slightly spitting with rain though the mist was amazing and enveloped every feature of the landscape. We set off, first through the edge of town, a journey which can only be described as ‘manic’!

I had happily seen the apparent random nature of the drivers from the relative safety of a bus but now I was vulnerable, exposed to the onslaught of Chinese traffic. Each side of the road acted as a rough guide for the direction of vehicles to follow but in the middle, well, anything goes and it went everywhere.

Every type of vehicle had a horn which seemed to be attached to both the brake and accelerator. They honk if they’re coming up behind you, honk when they pass and honk when you are no-where near them! If you don’t have a horn, you have a bell or a breed of livestock which could bellow for you. My hangover didn’t lend itself well to this orchestra of sound and I felt my head was rotating on my neck attempting to pinpoint the sounds of danger approaching. I’ve got to get out of this crazy place, it was going to either be me or the cow.

Suddenly, we veered off down a side street and instantly there was peace, no vehicles, no bikes, pedestrians or wandering chickens just the sound of my heartbeat and panting breath which was slowly subsiding.

Before us stood the majestic limestone peaks which jutted out from the flat plains of crops and plantations. Throughout the immense valley every inch of land had been used for agriculture. Citrus trees aligned flooded rice paddy fields in neat rows, numerous leaf greens, banana stands, strawberries and melons galore.

After the initial town traffic experience this was much better, perfect in fact – calm, beautiful and very very humid.

I was rooting for the bird

Two ‘authentic’ bamboo rafts floated before me, bobbing around in the fast moving river. I say authentic though these were really fake plastic bamboo rafts with outboard motors strapped to the back.

A large group of us descended onto a narrow concrete jetty and climbed on-board the vessels each securing a tiny plastic seat under a flapping canopy. We set off and immediately entered a surreal landscape and despite the wobbling boat and noisy engine it was actually a tranquil trip. The tall limestone peaks took on an array of strange angles and features. Each was unique, all random and other-worldly, completely captivating and the initial chatter of the people in the boats turned into quiet admiration with occasional ‘oooh’ exclamations.

This was a part of China that I did not expect and happily spent the whole day travelling the water and craning my neck to see every inch of this land. My eyes were satisfied and now we return to satisfy my stomach which had began to protest at being left out.

After dinner I walked through the local market to the edge of the river to board another boat for an evening cruise.  As we set off the lights of the jetty flickered into the distance and we sank into the darkness of the waters. In the distance a faint glow came up the river and I could just make out the ghostly figure of a man standing upright straddling the edges of a long, thin rowing boat. As the boat approached I could see another shape, smaller and hunched.

A Cormorant!

The bird darted in and out of the water aided by the lamp on the row boat occasionally bringing a few tiny fish to the surface. Every time the bird emerged the fisherman would reach down to grab the fish from the beak of the bird, though it couldn’t swallow if it wanted to as they have their necks loosely tied with string. Every so often however the bird would contort its neck moving the string noose which would allow the fish to slip down it’s throat  and before the man could swipe it. A great cheer and laughter from our boat would erupt every time this happened – I think it was only fair that the bird got to keep the spoils of its labour.

Another bonus under the lamplight was the magical selection of insects that were attracted under the glow. There was some genuinely freaky and peculiar looking specimens amongst them, after a while most people were more attracted to these than the fishing bird. I suppose it didn’t help that most of the time the fisherman was yacking away on his mobile phone – somehow spoiling the romantic view of this traditional show.

The return journey showed Yangshou illuminated in all its glory. The streets were full of blinking neon lights and tiny bunting lights cascaded from every lamppost and stretched into the distance along the shore. Above the streets and looming down like giant Gods were the limestone peaks, ever present and ever watchful. The towering cliffs lit up and casting shadows through the shrubs and trees clinging to the surfaces.

Back at the hostel and bunch of Australian traveller with me have just ordered dog from the menu. It came with an array of noodles and vegetables and was quite dark in colour. They tried a few bites before deciding it was a bit too ‘game like’ and left the rest. Tomorrow they’ve decided to try roasted bamboo rat instead.

Yangshou – Land of adventure

The buildings jutted out across the canals and looked like they could slip into the waters at any given moment

Yangshou, hooray! My lower back is happy after the epic night train journey. The streets are bustling with people as I made my way around the town to the hostels. Each alleyway offered an amazing view of everyday life with street vendors selling steaming dumplings, intricate carved wood items, fabric markets and mountains of unusual food produce. The network of tree lined lanes accompanied a series of canals and streams with tiny bridges allowing access to precariously built homes and shops. These buildings jutted out across the canals and looked like they could slip into the waters at any given moment.

My new home for a few days was The Explorer hostel and it was great, an amazing place in the heart of the ‘adventure’ district of Yangshou – this area was a mecca for backpackers who came to indulge in the extreme sports on offer which consisted mainly of rock climbing (due to the fantastic limestone peaks) Caving and hot air balloon rides.

The area had more tourists than locals but had a great feel, not too over the top. There’s something charming about mass produced Chinese tourist trinkets – they don’t seem to look as offensive as the plastic, faded junk that sometimes adorns tourist traps. I think you could have a happy smiling Buddha with some written Chinese characters on anything and it would look fine! On the narrow lanes you could find the usual peddlers with their tourist radar coming for you and one trader I always seem to pass would only say “watch, watch” whilst pointing to the 5 Rolex’s strapped to his wrist.

I headed back to the hostel to catch a few hours sleep only to find the bed was as hard as granite, maybe even made from the landscape itself. I jumped up and headed out again, where could I relax a little? A ride down the river on a traditional boat would be the perfect answer……

Planes, Trains and Trains, mostly

Through my squinting eyes I could make out the most amazing landscape stretching before me.  Ridges and terraces of paddy fields clung to the lower slopes of majestic high limestone mountains

Last night saw me trekking to the train station in Guiling – it’s the hard sleeper option all the way to Yangshou. Each carriage was divided into 20 or so door-less rooms with 6 short bunk beds squeezed into the available space. I claimed the top bunk – naturally. It’s the rule that never changes no matter which country you are in – similar to claiming the back seats on a coach – usually where the cool kids sit, smoking and chewing gum. My smugness did subside slightly when I climbed onto the bunk and instantly became wedged between the mattress and the ceiling. I squirmed and flipped onto my back only to stare directly at the roof of the carriage. I could raise my head barely an inch and it would touch the ceiling! Too late – all the other passengers hurried into their ample spaced bunks and settled in. No problem I thought – it’s only 13 hours to Yangshou. I can do this. I met with a group of Australians on the lower bunks of our deluxe bedroom suite and chatted about things ‘back home’ in our respective countries until lights out at 10pm. Just as it went dark my body decided to play a trick on me and request a comfort break. I had to navigate over rucksacks, pots of noodles and escaped bundles of socks to get there. Awaiting me was a delightful squat toilet with a twitching light that would strobe the surroundings. My aim could have been better to be honest. Back in bed I fell asleep to the ‘click clack’ sound of the train and a giant groaning air conditioning unit which I discovered was also attached to the ceiling by my head.     

Early morning and leaving the train I boarded a small coach to take me the final stretch to Yangshou. Through my squinting eyes I could make out the most amazing landscape stretching before me.  Ridges and terraces of paddy fields clung to the lower slopes of majestic high limestone mountains known as karst peaks. Each covered in a mass of small shrubs and trees occasionally revealing the eroded and streaked limestone face of the rock below. The valley floors were a network of tracks and paths criss-crossed with irrigation canals. Every available parcel of land had been turned over to agriculture and small shacks and homes were dotted around each with a token farmer and ox combination tending to the land. This was simply stunning, something that took my breath away and a million miles from the hustle of the concrete peaks in Hong Kong – I couldn’t wait to get out to explore it all.

Leaving the Island in Style

During the crossing I peered out of the window through the sea spray and fog and could just about make out a group of terns skimming the water.

The first nights sleep in China was an eventful one, it was incredibly humid and the air conditioning unit wheezed and spluttered in the corner of the room – occasionally it released a tiny element of cool air which I hoped would find its way to my hot forehead. During the night I was awoken by an intense thunder and lightning storm. The flashes of light cast strange shadows across my hotel room walls and even with eyes closed it would penetrate through my eyelids. This was just a brief stopover in Hong Kong as the next place on this whistle-stop tour is Guangzhou, the third largest city in China. It’s about 120km north of Hong Kong and to start the journey I need to leave the island, in style – with a nippy trip on the hydrofoil ferry.

During the crossing I peered out of the window through the sea spray and fog and could just about make out a group of terns skimming the water. As we left the tall skyscrapers of Hong Kong harbour behind the waters became choppy though the hydrofoil seemed to lift and ride upon the crest of the waves. The low cloud bank increased and visibility became impossible except for the rare glimpse of land beyond – hills and islands appeared in a flash before dissolving out of view again. There were hundreds of small boats each with a crane attached at the rear – they seemed to be dredging and releasing the contents on-board.

It’s calm on the ferry – the other passengers are amusing themselves in games, chatting and catching up on sleep. I’ve opted to scribble in my journal whilst listening to a special China playlist on my Ipod. The tunes I’ve chosen however don’t reflect this magnificent landscape – I need huge, epic songs to complement the surroundings. Much of the music I’ve heard so far in this country sounds crazy, like children’s television songs.

A few fellow passengers who are making the journey with me have gathered around to look at their recent purchases from the market. They had a wide array of items – t shirts, watches, bags and sunglasses, all logo brands and well known names. I discovered that they were likely to be counterfeits but I honestly couldn’t see anything wrong in terms of quality. You could hold up a real ‘Ben Sherman’ shirt next to some of these here and I’d be pushed to guess the fake one. In particular the Oakleys were good – or Foakleys as I began calling them – y’know, Fake Oakleys. These were around HK15 which is around £1.40 back home. I may have to discard a few pairs of pants in my bag to allow for a little bit of shopping when I reach the markets of Beijing. In the meantime there’s three hours to waste on-board the ferry before the next mode of transport – overnight sleeper train.

Touchdown Hong Kong

The view on the way down was amazing. A vast hilly landscape was revealed covered in scrub with every flat levelled spit of land crammed full of ridiculously high skyscrapers

Doha was a very quick stop over, I was there long enough to watch hundreds of airport staff driving a crazy selection of vehicles seemingly anyway on the tarmac. Every vehicle had a flashing beacon light adorning the roof which bathed the whole site in a strobe of orange. They had no sense of direction but a real sense of urgency. . I think they were just having fun really.

The flight to here was uneventful apart from a strange chorus of belching from my fellow passengers, they seemed to be experiencing side effects from travel sickness medication and were now filling the air with the sounds of a mating frog ritual. The two muscle men seen at Heathrow airport were sat near me, barely fitting into their tiny seats, I could see beads of sweat and a pulsating nerve on their foreheads – perhaps they need to have a protein milkshake top up?

Qatar airlines are very attentive and regularly visited with plates upon plates of food and drinks. Due to the changes in time zones I became confused with the meals and in which order to eat. Was it dinner now? Surely not. This meant I had some interesting ingredients at some peculiar times. Tuna, salmon with rice and spinach for breakfast anyone? yum!

The view from the planes window on the way down was amazing. A vast hilly landscape was revealed covered in scrub and trees in blossom full of pink and white blooms. It appeared that every flat levelled spit of land was crammed full of ridiculously high skyscrapers. The shuttle bus flew through this fantastic landscape and my neck felt like it was made out of rubber due to my excitement at taking mental images of everything I could see.

Dropping off my bags at the hotel I decided to bumble around for a bit as was feeling slightly wired from the long journey. The humidity here at street level was intense and the smells wafting from each street corner were of vendors selling a delicious array of dumplings, noodles and spicy meals. It was close to evening and soon the Symphony of Light would be presented in a spectacular sound and light show across Hong Kong harbour. Lasers, lights and fireworks would burst from the tallest skyscrapers of the central district accompanied by a plethora of traditional and modern boats.

I boarded the metro which is incredibly fast, I think we did 2 stops in under a minute that would otherwise take 40 minutes to walk on the streets above. When I emerged onto the harbour plaza there was a sea of people buzzing around enjoying the warm evening air and squeezing into gaps along the harbour wall to await the show. As I walked around I couldn’t help but notice how far and high I could see over the tops of peoples heads.

In this district they didn’t let up on the high rise buildings and although I felt tall these buildings beamed down on me keeping my height in check. Air conditioning units hung from ever balcony and a network of bamboo scaffolding poles gripped to numerous buildings – it looks fragile but they are incredibly strong, flexible and impressive.

The harbour side vista is vast – almost over the top! The show didn’t disappoint and filled my retinas with beams of colourful lights accompanied with a triumphant symphonic soundtrack. I couldn’t stop gawping at the sheer size of it all and the number of buildings crammed into every available gap. Apparently these buildings are carefully positioned based on Feng Shui principles and as such harmonise within the landscape.

After the show I walked through the Avenue of Stars where famous movie actors are immortalised in floor plaques much like the Hollywood counterpart. I’m told there’s Bruce Lee and Jackie Chans here somewhere but I just couldn’t find it with all the people flowing through the place. On the way back to hotel I met up with a couple of  ladies who were touring China too and we spied a noodle bar to indulge in. This would be my first proper Chinese meal since the mountain of food on the plane. One delicious prawn dumpling soup later I was ready to get my head down. As we left the heavens opened and giant, warm globules of rain poured down soaking us instantly. My shoes instantly filled with water as we dashed though the streets navigating our way back to the hotel.

One strange thing I noticed back in my hotel room was that all my belonging from the plane now smelled very strongly of  fish. Most odd.