The Big Trip

2005-10-08T22:07:00.000+10:00

They think its all over... it is now...

If there's still an audience out there for our musings even when we're not globetrotting, drop on by Bansey.com.

Until then... adieu, ciao, goodbye, etc...

2005-08-16T14:17:00.000+10:00

And now, the end is near...

Great news for fans of meaningless facts and figures as the final stats have been collated.

Visit the Stats Main Page for the overview and the following pages for the specifics.

- Cycling average and top speeds in "Banz Vs The Cheetah"
- Hill climbing fun in "Sherpa Vic's Altitude Sickness"
- Previous poll results in "The Burning Question"
- If you have advice on how to calculate the energy we expended cycling look here and contact us
- See how my physiology changed (until I got sick of doing it) in Boro Bear's Changes page
- How many books we read and what we thought of them in the Book stats page

2005-08-08T21:55:00.000+10:00

Hyper Super Mega Gallery update

The settled computing environment here has meant we've been able to upload all the pictures that we had stored offline on the portable harddisk. I have been working night and day to get these done but I reckon it's worth it.

We've got...

- the olde worlde town of Pingyao
- Buddhist caves and the birthplace of kung fu at Luoyang
- Terracotta Warriors at Xi'an
- Our slpendid four-day cruise up the Yangtze river
- Large Chinese mammals, Pandas and the odd Ailuropoda melanoleuca at Chengdu
- New and improved Tibet: The Road To Everest shots
- Tweaked Tibet Part II galleries with fewer Everest shots

EXTRA! EXTRA! Now with expanded India galleries.

- Our return to the "cricket playing, drive on the left" world is celebrated in the Kathmandu gallery
- India 1 is from Delhi to Fatehpur Sikri
- Fatehpur Sikri to Udaipur is seen in India 2
- Our road trip is completed in the Udaipur to Delhi India 3 gallery

Get 'em while they're hot.

2005-08-05T20:54:00.000+10:00

Straggling Galleries

The second Thailand gallery, from Phuket
and the Malaysia one are now ready to be viewed.

2005-07-20T05:20:00.000+10:00

The Penultimate

When we headed out from Stockton Town Hall all those months ago we really didn't envision what our homecoming would be like.

We are soon going to find out. We are now in Singapore and tonight is our last night abroad as we catch our flight back to Brisbane tomorrow night at 21:20.

Its only a 7 hour flight which will hopefully pass in a blur of great first release movies, delicious food and quiet rest. Generally our flights pass with a straight-to-video film (why is it that the films are always fantastic on the flights going the opposite direction than we are??), inedible food and screaming children kicking the back of our chair. I think we're due one of the former.

Singapore is an island that has a lot of rules. Fined if you don't flush a public toilet, no chewing gum and no urinating in the lift (do you really need to spell that rule out?). As a result it is a very safe destination, but one can't help feeling that they've regulated all the fun out. As a government minister mentioned when trying to dissuade visitors that Singapore was "boring" - "we need to think seriously about the issue of having fun". I think he's missed the point really....

Do we sound jaded? Well, we certainly feel it. We've had a great time, but we've definitely got the back-to-school vibe. The trip back to reality is complete as I may even have a phone interview on Friday afternoon. Oh well, it could be double Maths....

2005-07-13T18:57:00.000+10:00

See our India Galleries

Take a whistle-stop tour of Rajasthan at our India 1 and India 2 galleries.

2005-07-09T22:44:00.001+10:00

Assam Enchanted Evening

The Cameron Highlands is the tea caddy of Malaysia so we were naturally drawn there. The bus ride is just over 6 hours with the last couple along winding hairpin roads that take you up a couple of thousand metres above sea level and down about 10 degrees centigrade. The temperature change was especially welcome until I realised I had left my jumper with the 2 bags of non-essential items back at the hostel in Kuala Lumpur. Silly me.

We mostly spent our time soaking up the atmosphere but on Thursday we went on a full day trip which took us to the best spots in the area. We started at the (proper) Boh plantation and had an informative lecture on all thing tea related. The tea bushes cling to the side of the rolling hills and make the landscape look like it's wall to wall carpeted in lush green. From here we had a walk through the mossy forest, a magical place dripping with soft green mosses and lichens; a place where you could easily imagine bumping into a goblin or, terrifyingly, a Lord of the Rings fan. It was here we learned some Malaysian bushcraft, notably how to use the native plants to kill, cure, make things smell nice, make things taste nice and make things look nice. The springy path underfoot was a delight and well worth the 1-3 million years it took to produce - thanks trees! (I was going to say I never met a tree I didn't like but then remembered the time I had to dig up a rose bush.)

After our exertions we were in need of a cuppa so we went to a place that produces 4 million cups of tea a day. That seems like a lot until you remeber that our mate Spencer can easily account for 800,000 of them in an afternoon. We saw grinders grinding the green leaves, belts rolling the ground up bits to the heaters, mechanical sieves sorting and grading, and trolleys, well, just standing around but they were still fairly exciting. In the grand scheme of things. Tea things that is. After feigning interest in the finer points of the process we were allowed to get a cup of the good stuff in the cafeteria and, to give Boh its dues, it was right up there with the Tetleys and PG Tipses of this world.

The afternoon was spent visiting an aborigne village, strolling to and bathing in a waterfall and then having a blow dart demonstration. After the chief showed his undoubted ability to hit a flip-flop from 10 paces we were given a go. I hit the side of the house with my first effort and then took out a bit of Malaysia about a meter from the end of the pipe with my second. Woodlouse for tea for me then. Vic was much better and would have been dining royally that evening, even if it meant that the chief had to hop to the shops for the Vienetta. We then had a short drive home past more tea plantations, orchid farms and veggie patches.

When we returned we saw everyone clustered around the TV watching the terrible news from London. Our thoughts with all those who are there.

2005-07-04T16:45:00.000+10:00

Escape from Phuket

We didn't enjoy Phuket quite as much as Samui but that was more us than the island. We had a nice excursion to James Bond island although were disappointed with the size of it. Movie wizardry seems to have pumped up a 30 metre high, 5 metre across rock into a super villain's hideaway. Scaramanga probably bought it sight unseen on the strength of an estate agent's blurb...

"Spacious and secluded Thai island with room for conservatory, high-powered laser, etc. Ideal holiday home or hideaway for international hitman.""

We had hoped to catch the train down from Surat Thani in Thailand there was only one train at 1:30 in the morning. We decided to make it easy on ourselves and get the bus. Three minibuses and ten and a half hours later we were across the border in Butterworth, Malaysia. We knew there were buses every hour so were a bit disappointed to see them coming and going and leaving us behind. We finally snapped when the 4 people who'd arrived after us were placed and we were left behind for the 11:45pm bus. Words were exchanged, temperatures rose; we decided to take our business to the rival firm next door and write off the ticket we had bought. It was then we realised that we were in the grips of the Butterworth Bus Mafia and that the rival company was, in fact, run by the same people. We graciously accepted a place on the 11:45 bus.

And then, at 5am, a mere 20 hours after setting off, we arrived in Kuala Lumpur to take our place on the hostel floor (they were booked solid).

Despite a poor start Malaysia is winning us over. KL is friendly enough and tomorrow we head off to the Cameron Highlands which is, excitingly, tea country.

2005-07-03T21:06:00.000+10:00

More galleries

Carved caves and hanging temples in Datong
Our Himalayan adventures in Tibet

Thanks Malaysian internet facilities!

2005-06-26T22:31:00.000+10:00

Land of Smiles

Well our overnight stay in Koh Samui was lengthened to err... umm.. two weeks!? Part of this was due to our fantastic spot at Moon Bungalows where we had a lovely beach 100 metres away. Part was due to our overload of shopping and our heavy bags. Part of it is just travel tiredness and the fact that we like to have some sense of permanency to a place. It was a wrench to leave especially having made some good friends in Claire and Mark (hi guys!).

But we did and we've now made our way to Phuket via the most backpacker-crowded ferry I've ever seen. As Martin said, it would be a big loss to the backpacking fraternity if the boat went down. We hadn't thought about our dates and were leaving on the same ferry as all the full moon party attendees. Listening to their conversations about the party, we didn't feel that we'd missed that much (eg. "I was so stoned Dude!"). We needed our witys about us to attend a quiz at an expat bar on Samui the next night... and lost by one point. Questions that are haunting us now include where the first winter olympics were held, the number of times Borg won Wimbledon before losing to McEnroe and the European country which has a white flag with a red cross on it.

Mark had been to Phuket before making it to Koh Samui and had recommended a nice hotel at bargain prices. We're now in unknown luxury land of air-conditioning, mini-bar, satellite TV and DVD players (though it doesn't seem to like some of our dodgy Chinese bought ones). We're here for about 5 days before we head to our penultimate country of the trip, Malaysia. I hear its national dish is satay - so I'm getting excited already.

In the meantime we're off for a big bowl of Tom Yum Gaeng (Banz's minus the prawns of course!).

2005-06-18T22:36:00.000+10:00

And finally...

Good news gallery fans! We have finally, after a fair amount of slaving away, prepared a couple of new galleries for your perusal.

Beijing
The Great Wall

Enjoy!

2005-06-13T16:07:00.000+10:00

Seven Nights in Bangkok

After waving a sad farewell to Lisa in Delhi, we wasted no time in jumping on a flight to Bangkok. We definitely enjoyed India and will be back, but I think its a small dose country for us. Much respect to the six monthers out there.

The change upon hitting Thailand was sudden and welcome. Simple things like walking down the street and not having any hassle were commonplace.

As we've been to Bangkok a couple of times before we were quite content to primarily catch up on emails, shop, catch up with our friends Anthony and Tu, oh and did I mention shop! Our first morning after arrival was spent in Chatachak weekend market. I love Chatachak as there's a huge amount of stuff there, quite a bit of variety and because a lot of Thais shopt there is not the silly prices that you get at the more touristy markets like Patpong. My alarming (to Banz) shoe fetish has continued here and we are now at shoe critical mass of 11 pairs of shoes. I've never been a shoe person, but the cheap prices and styles (mainly sandals) available in India and Thailand have sent me on a buying frenzy. I did point out that the amount of paid for 11 pairs is equivalent to about 25 english pounds. I don't think he's convinced though...

We also found time to go to the cinema. Hooray for Thai subtitles! In two days we went three times and have managed to see

Sin City - we absolutely loved this film and are excited by the prospects of sequels in the next couple of years. If anyone has found a definition of what all the colours mean send it on to us. Viewing pleasure was increased by being the only two people in a "luxury" cinema with sofas and blankets (Thai air-conditioning is of the arctic standard).

Mr and Mrs Smith - great no brainer that we really enjoyed. Brad Pitt in suits - Jennifer Anniston are you nuts? Angelina Jolie kicked butt and can't really imagine Nicole Kidman (originally destined for the role) doing it as well.

Star Wars III - and then we went and spoiled it all by watching Revenge of the Sith. What a waste of time this film was. Anakin Skywalker is the one but somehow is the stupidest person ever. Definitely has sullied the memory of the original trio with this one. Worst moment - Anakin's first moments as a suited and booted Darth Vader and is informed of Padme's death. Darth lurches forward Frankenstein's monster style and lets out a James Earl Jones induced "Noooooooooooo" whilst holding his hands in the air.

We put our horrific Revenge of the Sith moment behind us and had dinner with our friends' Anthony and Tu at a fabulous Italian place near their house. I've been craving pasta since being in India (craved curry whilst in Italy - no pleasing some people) so this was a great treat. It was also great to catch up with them and share some experiences of India together. They've had extensive business dealings there to which I hope their patience is one day rewarded.

Darth Vader was not the only one to be suited and booted during our Bangkok stay. On our first trip to Bangkok five years ago we (Banz, Spence and HiG) had some made to measure suits done. These suits looked great on the boys and Banz decided to get another made for job searching purposes. We journeyed back to our friends at Arena Fashions for a fitting and were warmly welcomed back. One pinstriped number later and Banz is looking dressed to kill. Well at least dressed to obtain a highly paid IT position (fingers crossed!).

We have now ventured south and are chilling out on Koh Samui for a while before continuing onto other islands and then further south through Malaysia and finally onto Singapore. The trip is coming to a definite end as we have booked our flight out of Singapore for July 20th. Our feelings are both of sadness and excitement.

We'll see how that changes as the final date approaches.

2005-06-05T15:22:00.000+10:00

Things We've Learnt About India

1. You can have too much curry

2. Indian Salesmen are the most tenacious in the world. We mostly managed to shake them off.

3. Completely unrelated to No.2. We are now carrying a third bag full of shopping.

4. Cricketers are the real stars of India... well that and a couple of ubiquitous Bollywood Stars who to our untrained eyes just look smug. Download our favourite, the Oye Bubbly Video for Pepsi here (make sure you download the Music Video, not the TV Commercial). Sachin, Dravid et al appear at about the three minute mark. If anyone speaks Hindi we'd love a translation.

5. Praising the Indian top 6 increases your chances of getting money off in a shop.

6. Telling them that VVS Laxman broke Australian hearts in the series before the last one and you're even more likely to get a discount. Swings and roundabouts....

2005-06-02T17:47:00.000+10:00

Cows, Crows & Crowds

Well, we are back in Delhi after our two week tour of Rajasthan for a last couple of days shopping before heading to Thailand on Saturday.

Our driver, Mr Goswami, dealt with all the problems the Indian roads could throw at him which comprised just about every permutation of 2, 3 and 4 wheels (taxis, crazy taxis, cars, carts, bikes, trikes, tractors and trucks) the combined with 2, 3 and 4 legs (men, women, kids (human), kids (goat), pigs, camels, cows, dogs and the occasional ox. In fact we soon learned that chicken and chipmunks are found on many Indian roads and not just in a monastery KFC.

The upside of the tarmac melting temperatures is that we have had a lot of forts, temples and palaces more or less to ourselves and this has been the best thing for us. The Sun Temple at Ranakpur, near Udaipur, is beautiful and airy, constructed as it is of white marble and dozens of columns but the two lesser temples were as memorable for being deserted and peaceful.

We have seen a number of forts in the last fortnight but none better than Meherangarh in Joghpur. The entrance fee was a bit more than usual but this included an excellent audio guide which was not only informative but meant the usual chancers offering to show you round, pointing out the bleeding obvious, were nowhere to be seen. Money well spent. The initial climb takes you past fortified, spiked gates, many studded with cannonball holes, and into the inner buildings. The courtyards were scorching but inside was cool thanks to the use of light-coloured marble and many carved screens which let breezes in while keeping out prying eyes. The views of the plain below were also stunning and we spent three hours exploring and refuelling on tea and cakes.

Fans of Globe Trekker may have seen the visit to the Rat Temple. We certainly had and were a bit nervous at the thought of hundreds of rats crawling over our feet. In the end the rats were suffering from the heat as much as we were and contented themselves for the most part in sleeping huddled in corners or drinking from the bin lid of milk. The odd one did scurry across our path causing our eyes to widen momentarily but I don't think the locals noticed. They might have heard our shreiks though.

And that was just about it for our road trip. The two weeks flew past in a whirl of temples, palaces, forts, fairly nice hotels and not enough swimming pools.

Thailand next. That's where we'll get the pictures uploaded.....I can feel it in my bones.

2005-05-25T22:05:00.000+10:00

Mad dogs, Englishmen and a couple of Aussie girls...

Our first week of touring Northern India has been a pretty eventful one. Since Agra we took our show to Jaipur after our proposed tiger safari in Ranthambore was cancelled for stocktaking. The glamour of it. Jaipur is a pretty city and we spent some hot lunchtimes braving the 42c heat to see the Pink Palace and the Amber Fort, which is majestically situated on the hills outside town overlooking the river. After a false start (it was almost like watching me try to get a horse started) we took the slightly touristy but enjoyable elephant ride up to the top. Inside the fort was three parts scorched sandstone to one part menacing monkey, a combination that we found to our liking.

Our extra night in Jaipur gave us the chance to browse the bazaars, soak up the local culture and visit Pizza Hut. Well, there is a limit to how much curry you can eat.

Pushkar, a highly religious town where alcohol and meat are banned, followed next. The heat here was offset slightly by the fact our hotel had a swimming pool and we spent the next day and a half engaged in light sightseeing, getting harrassed by the locals (No, we really, really, REALLY don't want to buy two marionettes) and attempting to grow gills.

Now we are in the pretty city of Udaipur, home to many lakes, palaces and temples. Admittedly the lakes have dried up but the temples and palaces are stil around. Today's attempt to melt in the noonday sun took us to the fantastic Monsoon Palace, high on the hills above town and utterly deserted apart from the monkeys, a chipmunk which had moved in to one of the upstairs rooms and a bat in the basement. Our solitary creepings added much to the atmosphere of the place and made it one of the highlights of India so far.

(Note to those awaiting new galleries - a seemingly promising spot has turned out to be a bust so we may have to wait until Thailand. And I though India was meant to be the home of whizz-bang technology. After all, that's where all the helpdesks are...)

2005-05-19T22:11:00.000+10:00

Rupee Madness
After 11 days of altitude sickness, 6 of which involved long days bouncing about in the jeep, we were ready to spread out and unwind for a few days and Kathmandu proved to be the perfect place.

Our hotel's chef proved a master of French toast and these daily feasts set us up for lazy days of shopping and minor sightseeing. The shops of Thamel overflow with beautiful handmade photo albums and paper products, t-shirts custom embroidered by sewingmachine wizards, sarongs and wraps of all colours and materials as well as the usual chess sets and North Fake jackets. The prices were reasonable and our haggling skills well-honed so we feel like we got a couple of bargains. The Nepalese people have a great attitude and if you want it, they can make it, and it was this - and the great food - which made our stay in Kathmandu a great one.

We flew to Delhi on the 14th after the most exhaustive security checks ever encountered. My backpack has been x-rayed so many times that I'm scared to dump it down heavily in case it gets angry, turns green and fills me in. Delhi was a bit of a culture shock but not the overwhelming one we expected. The people speak English, drive (primarily) on the left, like cricket and love curry. It's like South Harrow really except, with temperatures in the 40c area, a bit warmer.

Our friend Lisa arrived on Sunday to find us in UEFA cup spot (Boro) and relegation (WBA for our mate Spence) fever. Incredibly 5 results went the right way thanks to Mark Schwarzer and my home-made West Brom shirt (which has bailed them out twice now).

We are now in Jaipur on the third day of our 16-day tour of Rajahstan, and will be here until Sunday. On Tuesday we saw the Taj Mahal which, despite its familiarity, is amazing. The power of the bulding lies in its ability to inspire from a distance with its elegant dome and towers as well as close up as you marvel at the almost endless ornamentation. Semi-precious stones, inlaid flush to the surface of the marble cover every surface, forming flowers, patterns and writing. Yesterday's highlight was Fathepur-Sikri, the former capital abandoned for lack of water. Grand courtyards and red sandstone buildings stand empty next to puzzlingly green lawns.

(Our search for an internet cafe with the means to upload pictures is sadly ongoing.)

2005-05-10T22:42:00.000+10:00

High Anxiety

Our flight to Lhasa was fine. The scenery outside of the plane was fantastic (Martin is working as we speak to get these photos up) though the food inside gave us a slight cause for concern if it was a sign of things to come (salty porridge....?).

The flight was on-time and when we landed we started to wonder if all this talk of Altitude Sickness is just lies. Headaches, dizzyness, out-of-breath, yeah right. We were fine and we're only in the airport (kind of like that time we beat jet lag and woke up in a hotel room in Gympie at 9 o'clock at night - try finding food at that time of night in Gympie!).

It was another two hours before we were able to feel its first effects. The airport at Lhasa is over 90 kms outside of town and so felt fine for the two hour coach journey into town. We arrived at our Hotel and proceeded to walk up two flights of stairs to the reception. After the first flight we started to breath heavily and by the second we were panting like we'd just done the Ventoux. After checking into our room we discovered we needed to have a good lie down (involving a four hour nap) after which we had the strangest feeling in the world - the dizzyness of being tipsy combined with a hangover size headache. Hmm, hardly seems fair to have them both at the same time.

Its probably a good time now to say we were pretty disappointed with Tibet. Perhaps our perceptions were too unrealistic. We knew it wasn't going to be the Shangri-la of "Lost Horizon" fame and we knew that the Chinese had altered it forever, but we just couldn't get a good feeling for it. Maybe it was the harrassing monks shouting "Money, money!" at any white-faced tourists they see or being persistently overcharged by shopkeepers. Alternatively it could be the sinister Non-Government operators (NGOs) who seem to each have a token Tibetan with them in each of the restaurants we went to. Tibet's case also wasn't helped by the profusion of 17 year olds on their gap year whose Mummy has given them a round-the-world ticket which gives them a stop in 20 different countries for five days. I hope somebody back home will tell them how stupid they look in their collection of "ethnic" hats. I didn't have the heart.

As it stands we were happy to leave Lhasa and head towards the border on a Jeep trek that would take in some of the sights as well as Mt Everest Base Camp. We were lucky to be paired with Ana and Juan Carlos (from Spain and Argentina) for the trip. Apart from an opportunity to practice my ever-diminishing spanish, Ana and Juan Carlos were great companions and always up for a laugh. Lucky this as we keep running into them here in Kathmandu!

We departed on my birthday (4:00am start - that's why I'm starting to look old!) and over the next few days passed through several of Tibet's towns, monasteries and forts. All these were only a pre-cursor for the big one - Everest. All through the last couple of days our guidebooks had promised glimpses of Everest. It wasn't until Day 4 as we went over our highest pass that we saw it. I'm not going to bother with words as the four of us in the jeep certainly didn't. Instead we jumped out of the jeep and were giddy as children (not just the altitude this time) and ran about photographing Everest and us in various combinations. After half an hour here we jumped back in the jeep and headed towards Everest Base Camp where we would spend the night.

Everest Base Camp was an interesting place for an evening, but I can't imagine spending five weeks there as some of the mountaineers we met had. All that time for acclimitisation must drive them potty. One climber we met, Humphrey Murphy is hoping to go up in a few days time if the weather is right. We've got our fingers crossed for him and will be keeping an eye on Explorer's Web for his progress.

After Everest, we thought the last day would be a disappointment. Thankfully it wasn't. As we lost 4,000 metres of altitude and headed to Nepal the road hugged the river and we had some amazing scenery. The friendliest border crossing ever, a cheap and tasty dhal bat lunch and a five hour bus ride later and we were in Kathmandu. Obviously there are bigger issues in Nepal with the Maoist rebels in the countryside (our bus went through about 6 roadblocks), but Kathmandu is fine and a friendly and welcoming place.

We definitely feel we're back into our world now - driving on the left, cricket in the streets and fantastic food. Namaste.

2005-04-27T19:56:00.000+10:00

Fly Me to Tibet

We've now had a couple of days in Chengdu and have enjoyed relaxing at a very cool hostel we found called Mix & Backpackers. We had actually met Mix (the proprietor of this fine establishment) in Beijing as he was travelling around China seeking cooperation and referrals from other hostels.

Mix has setup a great hostel and we're disappointed to not be able to spend longer here. Tomorrow we're flying to Lhasa. Despite a 5am start we're excited and can't wait to experience Tibet.

2005-04-25T14:27:00.000+10:00

Cruising the Yangze

We last left you in Datong and the aforementioned Great Firewall of China is still playing havoc with our attempts to update the website or upload photos. Frustrating as memory cards are starting to move as slow as me on a fully loaded bike going uphill.

From Datong we stopped off in the town of Pingyao. When we got off the train we were slightly concerned to see the usual tower blocks that mark Chinese towns abounding around the station. After ditching the persistent trishaw drivers, we wandered for a bit and finally found the walls that enclose the old city. We entered through a gap and found the charming old town that we had been expecting. The instructions for our chosen hotel were vague so we followed our mother's advice and asked a policeman (who was playing pool at the time). He attempted no english niceties and bundled us (Banz, myself and another traveller, Nick) into his van. Two minutes later we were deposited at the front of our hotel and before we knew it he had left.

We had a pleasant day in Pingyao, just rambling about, checking out the old town. Allegedly ghosts from the Ming Dynasty still wander the streets after dark as the streets are still the same as they were in the ghosts' heyday. We didn't see any, but were content to be the usual point of interest for passing schoolchildren and pensioners.

We chatted with Nick over dinner but were put off exchanging emails by his turning his nose up at our books while recommending the Robbie Williams biography.

Next stop was Luoyang. We had booked a hard sleeper (basically a dorm on wheels) to take us there and were a bit distressed to find we arrived at 2:10 in the morning. Nevertheless we sleepily piled into a taxi and made some new friends by waking receptionists in the budget hotels we had selected. All were full or not as budget as we expected. The driver moved on regardless and despite continually pointing at "luxury hotel" in our phrasebook we managed to steer him in the right direction and were comfortably ensconced in our room by 3 am. Only problem was we were too tired to sleep and so didn't nod off until after 4. Imagine our joy when the same taxi driver knocked on our door at ten o'clock to take us on an overpriced tour of the local sights. Our response really wouldn't be allowed out by the Chinese authorities.

The principal sites of Luoyang were the Longman Caves and the park where Peonies grow. The Longman Caves were fantastic despite the persistent use of megaphones by Chinese tour guides. It didn't seem to matter how small the groups were, the megaphone was always necessary. So much for the serenity.

The Peony Park (for the life of me I can't remember the correct name) is the reason half of China flocks to Luoyang in the Springtime. A handful of reasonably pretty flowers was hardly compensation for finding our hotel was full and we couldn't extend our stay for one night. As a result, Banz had to spend a good couple of hours making contacts with doormen from Five Star Hotels as they organised a night for us in a reasonably priced Three Star. Our thanks to the good people at the Triumphal Arches are eternal.

The extra day was required as we had a one hour bus journey to Shaolin Si - the birthplace of Kung Fu. We were pretty disappointed with the temple grounds as it was more elderly Chinese tourists than kickass Chinese monks. Saying that, the Garden of the Thousand Pagodas was pretty interesting and the return journey was enlivened by the showing of Jet Li's first movie called Shaolin Temple (shot in and around Shaolin Si). Of course, the bus conductor turned it off with 20 minutes of the film and forty minutes of the journey to go so he could talk in Chinese about another temple we were passing.

From Luoyang it was a short six hour train ride to Xi'an. Xi'an seems to want to be the Chinese Las Vegas with its flashing neon lights. We were just happy to see Pizza Hut and welcomed some comfort food from "home". The other reason to visit Xi'an was to see the Terracotta Warriors which were as impressive as expected.

We had a panic as we coordinated our train and boat journeys. With a lot of phoning, emailing and a dash to the station we were set to travel to Yichang and catch the President No. 4 boat to Chongqing. There are several options for journeying up the Yangze, but we had decided to treat ourselves and go for the 4 star option. It was a decision that paid off as we had air-conditioned en-suite accommodation with fantastic meals whilst on-board. At our first dinner we were alarmed to discover that all the other guests were in tour groups and we were to sit at a table by ourselves. Another cause for concern was the table next to our's which had an average age of 75. The third concern was when all the tour groups were in turn introduced and then finally, we were told there was a group of Australians on board. When nobody else had put there hand up we realised they meant us and reluctantly rose our hands.

Not being used to the Tour Group way of things, we were raised from our beds the next morning at 6:40 by piped Chinese muzak and made our way as instructed to the dining room. We were pleasantly surprised to learn that we would be dining with 2 Chinese couples as well as a couple from Singapore for the rest of the trip. It was also over breakfast that people started to sidle up to us and say, "So you're the Australians". I think this was partly due to the friendliness of the people involved (hello Peter, Richard, Hilary and Julian!) but also due to our novelty factor as independant travellers. "You mean you're travelling alone!?", was the often heard remark when we said we weren't with a group.

The next few days passed in a whirl of amazing scenery (especially the Three Gorges), great food (battered coconut), the opportunity to learn mahjong as well as flying a kite off the back of the boat (and almost through some powerlines).

After four days of luxury we have now journeyed onto Chengdu where we hope to organise our onward travel to Tibet.

2005-04-11T19:20:00.000+10:00

The Great Firewall of China

Well, we're having issues with keeping the site up-to-date as we would like here in China. The big issue is the aptly named Great Firewall of China. Our website is unable to be seen. They also block the BBC website so at least we're in good company....

We are now currently in Datong. Its a smallish town by Chinese standards of only six million people. It has to be said that we're one of the prime attractions in town though. We had heard and read stories of the Chinese propensity for staring at caucasians. We thought thought that the stories were overblown. We also thought that this would be the case in small provincial towns that don't have two of the main attractions of China nearby that attract a string of international visitors. We were wrong.

Sitting in a restaurant by the window on Saturday night we were constantly the subject of double and then triple takes and then staring - not just from people walking by, but from people on bikes and scooters (we were actually quite alarmed for their safety). One little boy (about 6) walked past with his table tennis bat in one hand and his Dad in the other, pointed and stared and then came in to say hello and test his english. Incredibly sweet as he then became very shy and would look down on the floor when we talked to him. Banz was most disappointed that he forgot to drop into the conversation one of our easily remembered Mandarin words - ping pong.

Previously on Saturday we had been to visit the Yungang Caves and the Hanging Temple. The Yungang Caves were amazing. Buddhas of various sizes (the biggest about three stories) were housed in about 50 caves. As well as the Buddhas the caves themselves were intricately painted and carved. According to our guidebooks, the earliest caves were created by sculptors and painters from as far away as present day Afghanistan and India.

From here we braved our Chinese driver (mobile phone constantly in one hand whilst overtaking on bends in the road on a mountain) and headed the Hanging Temple. I was a bit disappointed with these as a lot of the work was destroyed during the Cultural Revolution and looks a bit Disney-fied and quaint. Banz went for a closer investigation whilst I practised my Mandarin much to the amusement of the stallholders trying to get me to buy verdigree turtles.

In a couple of hours we'll jump on our train and head to Taiyuan. We're mainly using this as a staging post en route to Pingyao which is a well preserved town which dates mainly from the Ming Dynasty where we'll arrive tomorrow.

2005-04-05T17:29:00.000+10:00

Mutton overdose

We managed to tear ourselves away from English language TV for an overnight trip to Terelj national park, an hour's drive from Ulaan Baatar. We had decided on a short trip so that the three of us could spend a night in a ger with a Mongolian family before Hig's departure to Beijing. Our decision proved to be a good one. We were welcomed warmly into the ger (the traditional Mongolian dwelling which is a semi-solid tent with felt lined walls and a log burning stove for warmth and cooking) and must have observed entiquette sufficiently as we were served tradition milk tea and nibbles. The milk tea was a bit of a shock to the system given the added ingredients of salt, flour and mutton fat but we put as brave a face on it as possible.

While lunch was prepared we went for a walk in the woods and marvelled at the beauty of the surrounding tree-lined mountains and rocky slopes. We mucked around in the snow, saw a woodpecker and returned for a lunch of mutton while the horses were prepared. Hig had never ridden a horse before and I'm strictly a novice but Victoria is a bit more competent. Our linguistic skills meant that we couldn't explain this to our hosts so Vic and Hig were led on the tranquil horses while I was left to roam free. Actually, I was left to stroll 50 metres behind the others despite my attempts to coax a trot from my nag with a series of friendly words and the liberal application of heels to ribs (mine to his although we both knew these roles could be reversed at any time). Hig was thrilled to be aboard but Victoria wasn't getting much from being walked through the snow.

After my horse had stalled in a nibble filled area I was handed a twig of encouragement which got the nag to speed up a little and got me ut in front to explore. Our explorations led us, as if by magic, to a very unexpected venue, namely a model dinosaur park. Our first inkling something was in store was the sight of a T-Rex staring us out from behind a fence. We had the chance to pay the gun-toting guard 500 togrog (25p) to view the models. Up close they were a bit scabby but it was enjoyable posing with the huge reptiles for comedy photos. Vic used the opportunity to show off her horse skills because afterwards she was allowd off the leash. Hig confirmed his amateur status in the remount. Earlier he had under applied the leaping power so decided not to make the same mistake twice. He managed this by catapulting himself righ tover the other side. He stayed on the leash.

We returned to the ger after 2 fun hours to find our evening mutton all but ready to go. After eating we had a happy evening throwing logs on the fire and playing cards. Vic turned in early and Hig and I stayed up talking. We'd been advised not to open the door to any Mongolian speakers but at 11:30 we heard tyres creaking through the snow, boots crunching on the ice, knuckles rapping on the door and Mongolian unintelligibles issued from without. We looked at each other and noiselessly made a variety of 'keep quiet' signs. Despite the fact our talking must have been overheard from miles away and the light was on and the fire was lit, they went away. The steps receded, the voices died down and then suddenly they were back, and in increased numbers. This time we thought we recognised our hostess and, although she was speaking Mongolian, we let her in. There was a simple explanation for this late-night visit: they had come for the guns and ammunition. There was, however, no explanation for what they needed them for but we were sure it was something innocent. The look on Victoria's face as I woke her to explain that Mongolians were here and they needed the gun hidden in her bed was a picture...

The following day Hig and I explored the hills, tried to invent a new extreme sport called "ice belly sledging" and succeeded in inventing a new crap sport called "snow belly flopping".

***************************************************

Our 10 day trip into the Gobi interior taught us a couple of things: Mongolia is an incredibly beautiful and varied country, you don't need roads to get from A to B and you can have too much mutton.

Our trip from UB started when Sumuya, our driver, and Ayunga, our interpretor/cook/guide, turned up at the hostel in the the khaki jeep and marvelled at the amount of water we were taking. Once again we were taking our fluid responsibilities seriously when faced with a desert, unaware that we'd be visiting a shop every couple of days.

Our driving started inauspiciously with a snow bogging but after this Sumuya didn't put a foot, or wheel, wrong be it on snow, ice, sand, dust or mud. Often these five elements were combined in a sort of thick soup which passes for roads outside the capital.

Our first day's drive was more like a safari than anything with us excitedly spotting camels, sheep, goats, cattle, gazelle, vultures and eagles. The Gobi is incredibly flat so it's possible to spot a camel on the horizon or a horse 5 kilometres away.

The highlights of our trip were...

1) The Flaming Cliffs, a series of towering red rockfaces which are straight out of Indiana Jones. We found strange objects embedded in the stony walls which could have been dinosaur eggs. Or round rocks.

2) Bumping over rocks for 4 hours to see a waterfall. Which was frozen.

3) Climbing an extinct volcano and exploring the Great White Lake.

4) Horse riding (Vic) and horse clinging to (me) with a Mongolian family. My unruly mount had to be lassoed, snorting and pawing the ground, before I could climb up. I tentatively tried to control him but things didn't pan out.

And now we are in Beijing, trying to find a decent web cafe where we can view the Big Trip website, but enjoying everything else.

More to follow...!

2005-04-05T17:22:00.000+10:00

More galleries!

Galleries for...

Russia - Lake Baikal (1 & 2)
Russia - Ulan Ude
Mongolia - Terelj National Park
Mongolia - 10 day Gobi and Central Mongolia Trip (1,2 & 3)

2005-03-17T21:29:00.000+10:00

Mega Update for the Galleries

Today had its ups and downs. We said goodbye to Hig (downer) but were able to do a mega update and clear all the photos off the digital camera (upper).

For your viewing pleasure the following galleries are now available -

Latvia and Estonia
St Petersburg
Pushkin
Russian Dacha
Moscow
Trans-Siberian Railway
Irkutsk

As always use the forward and back buttons down the bottom of each gallery to navigate. Watch this space as the Lake Baikal and first Mongolian galleries are imminent.

2005-03-12T18:42:00.000+10:00

A short note on cold weather

As expected, we have experienced some cold weather since arriving in Eastern Europe and Eurasia in February and March but I think the biggest shock has been discovering that Darlington station isn't actually the coldest place on earth. Our top three moments of chilliness on the Big Trip have been...

3) The shock of snow in Bulgaria after months of following the sun through France, Italy, Greece, Egypt & Jordan, and the pleasant temperatures in Istanbul. We learned here the truth about 'no bad weather, only inappropriate clothes'.

2) Leaving the dacha with the thermometer touching -21c. There was no wind so we were surprised to find our covered up bits stayed quite warm. At this temperature our eyes watered and the tears froze on our eyelashes. Frost formed on the beards of those who had them and the hats of all. Hands could operate cameras outside of the gloves for about 30 seconds before becoming painful and a bit useless.

1) Our second day at Lake Baikal saw temperatures at a manageable -18c but strong winds which dragged it down to -30c or more. My tear ducts iced up and I was shivering uncontrollably despite wearing a woolly hat, scarf, Buff over my lower face, sunglasses, thinsulate glove liners, sheepskin gloves, thermal top, long sleeve t-shirt, fleece, thick coat, thermal trousers, trousers, two pairs of socks and hiking shoes. The camera had to be kept inside my gloves for it to even work and my hands were numb and throbbed with pain in the time it took me to change the battery.

2005-03-12T17:00:00.000+10:00

Mongol Empires

We last left you as we were heading for Lake Baikal, the deepest lake in the world. I wish I could think of the words to describe this place. All I can say is that it is probably one of the most beautiful and magical places that I've seen in my life.

We spent 4 days and 3 nights there on a tour with Jack Sheremetoff from Baikaler tours. Our nights were spent in a homestay on the island of Olkhon (the largest island on the lake) eating the best food we ate in our entire time in Russia. During the days Jack would take us for walks on the lake as well as a memorable day driving across the ice to see some ice caves and sacred sites (the area is understandably very important to the indigenous Buryiat people) and lunching on the local salmon (omul) which was absolutely delicious. We've got literally hundreds of photos and as soon as we can get a fast internet connection we'll have them up for you to see - though I'm not sure they'll do it justice.

Since then we've had a day trip to Ulan Ude. We arrived at 6:30am, napped for a couple of hours, went off to the Datsan (Buddhist Monastery), returned to Ulan Ude and saw the world's biggest Lenin head (really!) before testing our Russian for the last time at the hotel restaurant and retiring relatively early.

The next morning we were again on the train, this time departing at 6:30am and travelling to the Russia-Mongolia border. The train stopped at the border and after about an hour of waiting (and being reassured by a Danish girl who had talked to the providnitsa that the train would be there for 4 hours), Banz and I went in search of some food at a local market as the restaurant carriage on the train had closed. Whilst at the market buying very random items to spend the last of our roubles (noodles, strange kind of marshmallows and the largest bag of biscuits you've ever seen), we began to be alarmed by the fact that we could here train whistles. As we quickly paid for our goods (which had been added up on an abacus) and returned to the station, we saw to our dismay an empty platform where our train once had stood. We immediately panicked and started running up the tracks (me having to pick my way through the ice as I still slip over at the slightest patch). The train was there being shunted about and locomotives and carriages being added and subtracted. We met a worker halfway there and started shouting "ULAN BATOR!! ULAN BATOR!!" at him and he calmly told us to wait there and the train would be coming back to this very spot. The train was true to his words and as it pulled up, we ran and found our carriage, Banz opened the door (without waiting for the stairs to be lowered) and threw his three packets of chicken noodles and then himself on. I waited for the provodnitsa to lower the stairs and then hauled myself and biscuits on. We then found Hig who had been doing his own panicking (his was more for the fact that he would've had to carry our backpacks as well as his own if we didn't make the train). After we sat down, made ourselves a cup of tea and tried to relax we began getting visits from the other foreigners on board who had been alerted by Hig to our absence. We had become carriage celebrities!

The train then finished shunting and returned to the exact same spot on the platform where we had left it for our sojourn to the market. And stayed there for five hours. Yes, five hours - the majority of which we spent playing cards and incorrectly filling out Russian customs declarations.

We then travelled through no man's land to the Mongolian border and filled out four forms (2 customs, 1 entry and 1 health clearance) before actually continuing the journey to Ulan Bator where we are now. Ulan Bator seems quite relaxed and we've been excited by simple things like English in a menu, BBC World Service being on FM and clear instead of SW and crackly and the ABC (Australian Broadcasting Corporation) having a channel on our TV in our room. Makes a nice change from attempting to follow Beverly Hills 90210 in Russian.

2005-03-05T19:36:00.000+10:00

A delightful weekend in the country

Much has happened since our last blog starting with our trip to a Russian dacha near Staritsa, a small town between St Petersberg and Moscow. This excursion promised snowy horseriding and simple living but delivered something much different...

We had arranged to be picked up at Tver station when our train arrived at 4:30am but half an hour's standing around in -18c temperatures gave us an indication something had gone awry. A few quick phone calls later (10 roubles of change doesn't go as far as you may think) and we knew that Pasha's car had failed to start and we had to make our own way there. A taxi driver was soon woken up and a price arranged. What our cabbie lacked in local knowledge he made up for in persistance. After multiple wrong turns and tracks that petered into nothing we arrived at the rendez-vous point and were met by Pasha and his horse drawn sleigh.

Pasha could be described as a somewaht cynical, world-weary man of few words. We soon came to think of him as a miserable sod. His place was very basic and featured a couple of heated rooms (the second warmed after we confounded his expectations by being able to light the wood burning stove (those Nibthwaite bonfires taught me much)), an outside loo 30 metres from the house (temperatures were routinely -20), a shower which looked like a deathtrap and a kitchen which would have shamed the Clampett family. Brave faces were applied but we all felt that our original estimate of 4 days here would be more than enough.

Hig and I were lucky enough to accompany Pasha into town after the car was tractor tow-started. Our host didn't open up much and exchanges like...

Hig: Your English is very good, where did you learn it?
Pasha: So is yours, where did you learn it?

...didn't really offer much encouragement. Our trip to town was primarily aimed at stocking up on food supplies for our time there (four days immediately cut to three on viewing the house, subsequntly cut to two after an afternoon with Pasha.) Letting him know we were going a couple of days early had a detrimental effect on suppliles, something we only found out about back at the 20-kilometres-from-town homestead when it turned out Pasha had 'run out of Roubles'. We had two days of eating pasta and tomato sauce and fried bread and tomato mush to look forward to. (Recipes for tomato mush available on request.) The live chicken in the basket was eyed up more than once. (Hig had seen a way to hypnotise a chicken on Tv but couldn't remember what it was. As a result we missed the chance to see a hen eating an onion thinking it was an apple.)

That's not to say we didn't enjoy ourselves. The scenery was breathtaking, Pasha's neighbour Kolya was a character and feeding logs into the fire never grew dull. The three of us also had a good laugh at the situation in a 'gallows humour' kind of way. The night before we left Vic tried to get Pasha to arrange a taxi which he was at first reluctant to do. He simply gave Vic the phone and a few cab numbers and let her get on with - pretty typical of the man. Eventually after a wall of Russian was clearly between us and a lift out he stepped in and arranged the pick up, not 100 metres from his house but over a kilometer away over the frozen Volga. The next day we set off with full packs in -21c temperatures like Scott, Oates and, er, Smith of the Antarctic and tramped through the snowy wastes. Despite ice forming on our eyelashes and stubbly chins we weren't that cold and the walk in the dawn light rates as one of the high spots of the trip.

From there, to Moscow and an amazing few days wandering around seeing Red Square, St Basil's Cathedral, the Kremlin, Lenin's Mausoleum (closed), the massive GUM shopping centre and the even bigger Hotel Russya. We had a fun afternoon looking round a market and bought some souvenirs but turned our nose up at the stamp album of a shady bloke and his mate despite the rather fetching Hitler collection he needed to shift to buy vodka.

We caught the train from Moscow at 9:35 on Tuesday night and got into Irkutsk at 12:40 early on Saturday morning, a barely credible 75 hours and 5,100 kilometers later. Life aboard the train was surprisingly good. Things were helped by having our compartment of four to ourselves for all but the first five hours and we whiled away the hours watching endless pine trees and silver birches drift by, counting the kilometer markers, drinking tea and coffee from the supply of boiling water in the carriage samovar and playing cards. Despite the time passing fairly painlessly we were all happy to get off today, slightly train-lagged as we have crossed 5 time zones and in desperate need of a shower.

From Irkutsk we plan to visit the worlds deepest freshwater lake at Baikal after which we'll astound one and all with some Siberia stats and facts. Bet you can't wait...

2005-02-23T02:27:00.000+10:00

Last Train to Tver

The walking tour of St Petersberg was on Sunday and from 10:30 to 3:30 we wandered the streets of the former capital and saw the sights. From the Nevisky Prospect (Main Street), across canals and bridges to the Hermitage we saw historic spots like the place where water was drawn during the seige of Leningrad, the place where people gather to Walrus* and the Peter and Paul Fortress. We also saw the Church of the Savior on Spilt Blood which is a mass of onion-shaped domes in bright Teris like coloured mosaics.

We learned the origin of the Russian 'drinky-drinky' sign which is to flick your neck with your index finger. Apparently the weather vane of the Peter and Paul Church was damaged in a storm and was needed to be fixed quickly for the visit of some dignitary or other. It was going to take too long to get the scaffolding sorted but luckily a passing Siberian peasant stepped in. He shinned up the 120+ metre spire using a length of rope and skills honed on the massive trees of his home region and, tools in hand, worked away for a day and a half to fix it. When he got down the Tsar was so impressed he gave him the coat off his back, 5,000 Rubles and got him a tattoo of the double headed eagle on his neck. All barmen were then ordered to give the man bearing this tattoo all the free drinks he wanted, which actually turned out to be quite a lot. And the legend lives on...

Today's sightseeing trip was to Tsarkoye Selo (AKA Tsar's Village) which is the former out of town retreat of the Tsars. It's about 15km out of town and was built by Catherine The Great who was of the opinion that, when it comes to buildings, more is more. The palace is a mass of blue facade and gold statues and is the sort of place you'd need a scooter to get around. The snowy grounds contain various smaller palaces, a pyramid where Catherine buried her pet dogs and The Chessman Column which was built to commemmorate a naval battle over the Turks. The temperature was between -5 and -10 with a couple of degrees of windchill so we kept moving where possible and kept the gloves even when operating the camera.

Tonight at 11pm we head off to the countryside between here and Moscow to a little place called Staritsa for a few days horse riding and making snowmen, possibly out of ourselves.

*Walrussing is the noble pastime of cutting a hole in the ice, diving in and having a quick swim. We would have had a go but none of us had our trunks on. Maybe next time...

2005-02-18T23:10:00.000+10:00

White Nights in St Pete

Well for those of you keeping track Boro managed a 0-0 draw with Bolton. The game wasn't as dull as the scoreline suggests and it gave us an excuse to stay at the Dickens pub for extra deep-fried Latvian garlic bread.

Football could hold us no longer in Riga (even though the Dickens was showing Boro's game last night - 2-2 with AK Graz for those taking notes - played at the Arnold Schwarzanegger Stadium, seriously - check here...). Our appointment with HiG was duly approaching so we hopped a bus for six hours to our last EU outpost of Estonia. HiG arrived on time to the tiny Tallinn airport. We welcomed him and a supply of Marks and Spencer Teacakes and headed back into the city. The bus journey took only about 10 minutes as the airport is only about 3kms from the edge of the city. After dumping off our gear we all headed out into the evening to find some food and drink. After quite a bit of fruitless searching (a lot of places in Tallinn shut at 10pm, so had their doors locked for 9:30) we managed to refuel at a Tex-Mex eatery.

Next morning found Banz with a bad headache and achey joints. After ensuring that it was a bit of a cold and not a hangover, HiG and I left him to recuperate whilst we explored the Old Town. The area itself is quite compact and so after a couple of hours wandering about and checking out a couple of churches we had seen most of the Old Town sites. We then went in search of the Central Bus Station for our tickets for St Petersburg for the next day. We checked before boarding the tram that it was heading to the bus station - though of course we didn't specify which one and ended up at a suburban, rather than inter-city station. After jumping on the tram back the other way (and giving the locals some amusement at our pitiful attempts to validate our tickets) we were on our way. 10 minutes later and we had our tickets and were ready to leave the next morning at 11:00.

The bus journey to St Petersburg was rather uneventful. So uneventful that the bus pretty much didn't even stop for longer than one five minute period to stretch our legs between Tallinn and the border, and then again when we had to go through Russian customs.

Russian customs was surprisingly quick and efficient. Where's the whole queueing experience we've been expecting? One amusing "highlight" was the fact that Banz and HiG had to have their bags x-rayed whilst when I mimed to the operator putting my bag through, he just waved me through the beeping metal detector.

Upon arrival, we were able to distinguish where the Metro was (in cyrillic, Metpo) and after being pointed in the right direction by a local arrived at our stop and soon after our hostel for the next five nights.

All three of us were starving by this stage and found a local eatery with buffet style meals. We broke their system though when we had our hot meats and cold salads on one plate and then realised that the hot veg options were next door. The food isn't kept hot and so has to be microwaved once you have all your food on the plate. Queue our three plates having side orders of salad scraped onto secondary plates before being microwaved and returned complete with a stern Russian look.

We're taking it easy today and are going to have a more indepth tour tomorrow when we join a walking tour from the Hostel.

2005-02-12T21:27:00.000+10:00

Warsaw Pact off to Lithuania and Latvia

Our time in Lithuania and Latvia is short due to our deadline of meeting HiG in Tallinn on Tuesday (though according to a Japanese woman I met in reception at our hostel in Riga, 10 days is way too short for Japan and way too long for Riga - she's been here for 3 years teaching, so perhaps she needs a break).

Our original two days in Vilnius was extended to three due to a night spent imbibing Vana Tallinn (or Estonian Gutrot as we've since christened it). Our two other days were spent wandering about the Vilnius Old Town (vainly searching for the Frank Zappa statue) and on a day trip to Trakai to see the castle.

The trip took about 20 minutes from Vilnius by bus to arrive at the touristy village. After leaving the bus stop it wasn't at first evident which way to go, but we followed our noses and soon worked out that we were on the right trail. A bit of cross country walking through the snow and next thing we knew we were walking across the frozen lake to the castle itself. Banz later remarked that it was a great idea to build this castle on an island in the middle of the lake - for six months of the year it would be damn hard to get to.... the other six you would have to be careful that you didn't slip over as you rolled your cannons, trebuchets and other heavy armaments from Age of Empires over the ice.

Yesterday was our time for our first bus trip of The Big Trip Part II. I really don't like buses but unfortunately in the Baltics you don't have much choice. When you weigh up a fifteen hour/several change train journey against a four and a bit hour direct bus there isn't really a question. We haven't exactly been blown away by Riga (despite a fantastic curry last night - not exactly a selling point for Riga itself). I guess we're not going to be able to judge tonight when in true Aussie/English abroad style we're going to an Irish Pub to watch an injury-ravaged Boro side play Bolton. A good result might just put a nice shine on our time in Riga, a bad one may lead to an early departure for Tallinn.

Some New Gallery Updates Below
Warsaw
Gdansk and Malbork
Lithuania

2005-02-08T23:21:00.000+10:00

The Lingua Franca

Just a quick note to say that the number of countries that Banz's french has paid off in has risen yet again. From hotel rooms in (of course) France, Italy, Bulgaria and Hungary, last night we were able to add ordering a kebab in Poland. That's five and counting.

2005-02-08T22:10:00.000+10:00

On the road again

After 7 weeks or so of lounging about in the UK (thanks to Wardy, Hig, Easto, The Brooksies, Trish and Sandra & Pino for putting us up) we are back on the road again.

Our first stop was Warsaw where we stayed with Sandra's sister Beata and her husband Jerzy in their new place outside town. It was a nice way to ease ourselves back into the travelling with a lift from the airport and more home cooked food (all delicious apart from the Stomach Soup...) than you could shake a stick at. On Wednesday Sandra's Mum and Dad showed us round a snowy Warsaw from the Palace of Culture and Science (Stalin Building) to the Royal Castle. The Stalin Bulding is a gift from the Soviet era and towers above the centre of the city. It is now a multiplex cinema among other things so it seems as if it has been afforded the proper degree of respect. The Royal Castle has been completely rebuilt since the war when it, like 90% of central Warsaw, was destroyed.

From Warsaw we headed north to Gdansk, a very pretty and historic seaside town, the birthplace of the Solidarity movement in 1980. The 'Roads To Freedom' exhibition at the site of the shipyard where Solidarity started is a very moving and brilliantly informative depiction of the events which started the collapse of Communism in Poland, and wider Europe for that matter.

From Gdansk we headed to Malbork to see the famous castle. We had visited it a couple of years earlier but illness had prevented us from doing more than photographing the outside and buying a postcard. This time we were not to be denied and left our backpacks at the station and tramped the mile or so to the huge redbrick build. The interior of the castle was fantastically empty - there was only one other person there on a chilly Monday in February - so we had the place to ourselves. Heaven knows how long you'd have to queue to get your photo taken on the olde-worlde latrine in summer but we were straight in and out although, to be honest, it was hardly the weather for retiring in there with the Guardian crossword. As castle lovers we were in our element as we explored the walkways, courtyards, cloisters and stairwells until the cold finally drove us into a nearby restaurant.

Malbork was just a daytime stopover on our way back to Warsaw and then Vilnius in Lithuania. Once again the railway schedulers arranged things so the border guards come and visit at 4am and an unexpected 1 hour time difference had us scrambling off the train with coats flapping. If Poland was coolish then Lithuania is positively chilly (I am saving the big hitters of the low temperature descriptive world for Siberia) but our multiple layers of clothes are holding up well despite our Polish hosts' derision of our shoes.

We have a couple of days in Lithuania before heading off to Latvia at the end of the week. Tomorrow is a big day for the Bansey barnet as a barber has been located next to the hostel and all that remains is to learn how to say 'short back and sides' in Lithuanian.

2005-01-27T02:18:00.000+10:00

Embassy World Champion

Since arriving back in London on Thursday we have spent a fair chunk of our time arranging visas. Victoria has concentrated on downloading, printing and filling in the forms and I have done the legwork.

On Friday it was a 6:45am start to get to China early to beat the queues. In fact, I was so early, there were no queues so, in true Tortoise & Hare fashion, I went and had a quick cup of tea. When I got back there were 30 or so people ahead of me but even so I was in and out by 9:30. I had to get same day service in order to get the passports back for a visit to the Russians on Monday.

The Russian system but the onus on standing in the street shivering while groups of 3 people were admitted at 20, 30 or 40 minute intervals. I'd been there an hour and a half before I got in but from there it only took 5 minutes to get sorted. It's hard to know why the process takes so long...

Tuesday was Russian pick-up day and I had the chance to meet someone in the queue whose planning let him down. Apparently he turned up at the airport in good time, queued for his flight to Moscow and then was told he needed a visa. Alarmed, he postponed his flight for 24 hours and high-tailed it to Kensington to stand in the cold with everyone else. It was just before 11 when I chatted to him and the last application is at 11:45. I came out after collecting our visas at around quarter to twelve and the queue was down to just one person - the guy who was meant to fly the next day. I didn't see what happened but I would like to think he got sorted and is now over there.

Today's visit was an easy one; the Nepalese embassy, once again in Kensington. There were no queues and I was in and out in 5 minutes although I have to pop back tomorrow to collect the passports.

2005-01-20T20:01:00.000+10:00

On the move again

Our Christmas and New Year stay with Hig is now coming to and end and this afternoon we catch the train to London where we will be reunited with Wardy and his floor. We've had a great time up in the North East with highlights being...

- Christmas day with our homemade tree, prezzies and sausage and mash lunch. We did especially well this year with Hig rather unexpectedly giving us the gift of gentrification. One of his presents was a piece of land each in Scotland which entitles us to be known as Lord and Lady Bansey.

- New Year's Eve with mulled wine, firing up the shisha and chatting to the neighbours until 6am.

- My birthday bash in Darlo with Vic, Hig, Wardy and my niece Laura. The cocktails flowed to such an extent that our foot-long bill was comprised of a good nine inches of booze.

The next couple of weeks in London promises to be good with a fair bit of catching up on the cards and the bonus of having Sky Sports at Wardy's.

2004-12-25T22:13:00.000+10:00

Merry Christmas!

What a year! It's hard to think back and realise what a downer we were on last Christmas with the house and everything stalling as it always seemed to. I'd like to say I've completely forgotten that feeling, but I think it's still at the back of my mind...

Our bright spot was our visit to Canada to spend with Martin's brother Lloyd and family, Yvonne, Laura, Amy and Rich.

Anyway, this year we're happily ensconced at HiG's enjoying the festivities. Presents have been opened and I'm enjoying my annual box of Ferrero Rocher. So there's nothing left to do but to wish all our family and friends (both new and old) a Merry Christmas. If you're still out there travelling I hope you have found some new friends to share the day with.

Martin and Victoria
x

2004-12-15T10:25:00.000+10:00

New Galleries

Our latest galleries from Bulgaria and Romania are now up.

2004-12-14T18:51:00.000+10:00

Men in hats

We had planned to fly back to England last Thursday but various men (and one woman) in hats changed all that. We bought train tickets from Brasov in Romania to Warsaw in Poland and I explained that we had our bikes. The lady at the counter said we'd need to see the conductor but it shouldn't be a problem. It sounded like the same deal as Istanbul - Plovdiv and Sofia - Bucharest so we weren't that concerned.

In fact the journey started out that way too. The first conductor needed 'tipping' to allow us to put the bikes in a spare compartment and all was going well until we reached the Hungarian border. At this point she left the train and a new set of conductors got on. We decided to play dumb and claim the last conductor had said we'd be fine all the way through to Warsaw but he was having none of it. He demanded 20 Euros per bike which would get us as far as the border. Our choice was pay up or get off. It suddenly became clear that we were going to face this situation not only in Hungary but Slovakia, Czech Republic and finally Poland. Forty Euros a time would mean the bikes would cost double what we had and it was mouch more thatn we could afford. Especially when we knew the money was going straight into some bent conductors pocket.

In the end I used my acting skills to persuade him we only had a small amount (less than 5) of euros and a couple of dollar bills which he took as the 'fee' for the bikes to Budapest. We decided to hop off there, find out where we could get a slow train and continue our journey later that evening or the next day. At the station we got our tickets ammended and were told to have a chat to the conductor. Like fools we assumed this would be a better situation.

Margit met us at the station and asked us if we needed accommodation. As it happened we did and she showed us to an apartment she lets out and was generally very nice to us. I nipped out to get us some grub (we hadn't eaten all day) and ended a somewhat fraught day by not being able to recognise our lobby door among the many similar ones on our street. I increasingly frantically tried the key in any number with no joy. In fact, I was about to throw a small stone at a like looking lit window when I remembered a travel agents we'd walked past was 50m further up the street. Two minutes later all was well but it was hardly the perfect way to end the day.

Our train was not until 11:50 and we got up feeling as if we'd made the right decision: a night in a bed always being preferable to one on a train. When the train arrived I headed off to use my charm on the conductor to see if I could get the bikes safely chained up in a quiet bit of carriage near the engine. They'd be in out of the way and it seemed to be an amicable solution. In fact, the only solution acceptable was to give the conductor 40 euros. This would get us to Slovakia where naturally the same game would start again. It was, in every way, too much. If we can't take bike on the train then why weren't we told when we bought the tickets? If you can - as bunging the conductor proves - then why can't you do it in some legitimate way? I was pretty angry at this point and ready to fight anyone in a peaked cap, ready in fact to do what I could to bring the Hungarian state to its knees. In the end we decided the only thing we could do was to get in touch with our old mate Stelios at easyJet and get him to get us the hell out of there.

So while I munched my fish paste pasty (don't ask) Vic went webbing and got our tickets changed. At 5:30pm we were in the air and at 7ish we were calling Wardy from the airport to ask for a room. Thankfully, his floor was available and we spent a couple of relaxing days there with TV we could understand and food options which didn't involving miming and pointing.

While in the Harrow area I nipped back to see the old flat and was dismayed to see our nice hardwood door had been replaced with a white uPVC one with those flat, brass-coloured, parallelogram-shaped numbers stuck to the window. "48" was on one pane, "A" on the other. Another highlight was the Harrow Tesco. (Not a sentence you'd ever expect to read...) While in the checkout queue I was asked to pass the 'Next Customer' bar by the old bloke behind me. As I did he unloaded his trolley and asked me to "guess how much this kettle cost". I told him I had no idea. "£5.27", he replied, "but I don't know how good it'll be so I bought two."

We stuck to our original plan of getting the Thursday train to Darlington and that's where we are now. Hig seemed quite pleased with his present of a sheesha but, to be honest, a bit less thrilled by the stinking cold we gave him as well. Some people, eh?

2004-12-01T20:49:00.001+10:00

Escape from Sophia

Our arrival in Sophia was relatively painless and we made our way through the streets to our Hostel (the fantastic Hostel Mostel). And we're still here.... all that is about to change though as we're getting our act together and will be getting the sleeper train to Bucharest tonight.

We do have an excuse for our delay in getting to Romania though. The Romanian Embassy here in Sophia take 5 working days to process your visa. It was annoying though when I got to the Embassy today and handed over my passport and $40US ($40US for a piece of paper!) and they then went through a pile of papers on the desk, grabbed my application which had no changes and then stuck the piece of paper in my passport.

Frustrating, but it has given us an opportunity to relax here and meet some fellow travellers as well as sampling the local beverages. Imported "brand" drinks cost about 6 times the cost of the local brew so we've tried the local rum (with the fantastic name of "Pom"), the local beers and of course the wine. Most of the wine was quite drinkable but when Banz and a couple of fellow travellers went for a late night run they bought back one bottle which cost a total of 0.95 lev (approx 34 of your English pence or 84 Aussie Cents). Unfortunately this wine had the colour and bouquet of red cordial with none of the sugary taste or post-drink hyperactivity. We stuck to the expensive 3 or 4 lev bottles after that!

So our three or so weeks in Bulgaria will finish tonight. We had originally planned to spend about a month in Romania after enjoying it so much on our first trip there back in 1998 (also our first trip together - ahhh!), but time is against us, so it will just be 3 or 4 days before heading up to Warsaw to meet up with Beatre, Gerry, Kuba and Victor and getting our flight back to the UK next Thursday, December 9th.

We've enjoyed our time here in Bulgaria and will definitely come back as there's a lot more here than we realised.

We still haven't got to grips with the yes/no headshaking thing, but we proudly translated a Bulgarian calendar with cyrillic into its Italian food equivalents the other night.

2004-12-01T20:49:00.000+10:00

Fame and its trappings

After writing the blog below earlier today I thought I'd have a general surf of the web. I saw a link for this site - The Hungry Cyclist which has been set up by Tom who is doing a tour starting in Toronto and going across Canada and then down through South America by bike. Tom's obsession is all about food (a man after our own hearts) and when I saw that he was going to Cuba I thought I'd pass on some info about the gastronomic delights of Cuba (well, I let him know that it was a bit hit or miss, but you could get lucky!).

After sending off the mail I kept exploring his site and imagine my surprise when I found that we were in his Links section. To quote -

The Big Trip - Full of whacky facts about the two riders and what they are up to this site is great fun!

We promise we won't let it go to our heads.

2004-11-22T23:30:00.000+10:00

Cabin Fever

We finally got on our bikes again, got lucky with the weather and hit the roads of Bulgaria. It's a pretty hilly country but our route hugged the lowlands and on the first day of riding we set off from Plovdiv and headed down highway no. 8. It's a fairly busy road but the Saturday traffic gave us plenty of room and we whizzed along at 18 km/h. There weren't too many food opportunities to be had on the way but our excitement was very real when we spotted a sign for a service station with the little knife and fork symbol next to it. And it was just outside the town of Pazardzhik, our destination.

We've lost count of the number of times we've fancied sausage and chips over the last few months but for once our wishes came true. The waitress at the "Road House" seemed a little surprised to see a couple of cyclists turn up, especially when we asked to sit outside. Our linguistic overlap was small but the pictures in the menu meant we could get our hands on exactly the sausages we wanted. Life was good!

We managed to find 3 hotels in Pazardzhik; one expensive and crappy, one full and one expensive but with a bath. We chose option 3 and actually got upgraded to an apartment for no extra cost. It was fantastic to lounge about in our first baths since France and I took advantage to the tune of 3 per day. We spent a couple of extra days in Pazardzhik due to a stomach upset for Vic and some sore legs for both but got moving again on Wednesday.

The no. 8 highway was not as pleasant on a weekday and a noticeable headwind (the only type they have) made everything a bit of a grind. It was hard but enjoyable and the scenery was lovely. Hills loomed on either side and the sunlight lit them up when it broke through the clouds. We rode with our thermals, Buff hats and thick socks & gloves on and were just about warm enough. At about 4 o'clock we reached Belovo and it became obvious that it wasn't a big enough town to have a hotel. As we resigned ourselves to getting the train the 20 kilometers to Kostenets we met an Anglo-Bulgarian couple, who own the town's Aladdin's cave second-hand shop, and they showed us the way to a holiday cottage owned by friends of theirs. It's a nice little place but with not much to do...

On Thursday night I decided to nip to the shop to get supplies and managed to take a tumble down the steps and ended up by going right over on my left ankle. I bravely tried to shrug it off but the slightest amount of pressure on it caused me agony. I dragged myself up the steps and back into the room to make a pasty-faced report to Victoria. She said I didn't look good. The swelling started immediately but our proddings indicated nothing was broken. (Photos to follow gore fans!) That was Thursday night and today, Monday, on the advice of the handy doctor next door, I went to the hospital. The doctor prodded me, sent me for an x-ray and then proscribed some ibuprofen gel and tablets and told me not to do much walking. There goes tomorrow's Belovo marathon...

So for the last 3 days we have sat around the house, listening to the World Service, reading and getting frostbite every time we leave the one heated room. We really need to get out of the village of Belovo so tomorrow, against doctor's orders, we plan to get the train to Sofia.

2004-11-11T06:06:00.000+10:00

Back in Europe

To be completely honest, we don't really know anything about Bulgaria except that they nod their heads when they mean no and shake them when they mean yes - no confusion there then.

We had elected to get the sleeper overnight from Istanbul to Plovdiv, Bulgaria's second city. We had had a quick scan through our slowly disintegrating Rough Guide and thought it looked like an interesting first stop.

The train journey was broken up with the two border controls - leaving Turkey and arriving in Bulgaria. Every other time we have crossed a border on a train, the officials get on and walk through the compartment checking your passport there, but Turkey was different. The train stopped at what looked like an abandoned cargo station at 3 in the morning. We then were herded into a railway underpass where we waited. Did I mention it was raining? After 20 minutes, we were then directed to a passport office where we were duly stamped out of Turkey. Back to the train and we waited there whilst an immigration officer went through the train and double-checked that our papers were in order. We didn't want to take our shoes off and get back into our bunks in case it was the same story again on the Bulgarian side. Fortunately our conductor came and put us out of our misery and assured us that the Bulgarian Immigration officer would stamp us in on the train. They were true to his word and we were able to enter Bulgaria by just sleepily smiling at the officer from the comfort of our bunk beds.

We then slept comfortably until we were on the outskirts of Plovdiv. On arrival, the bikes and us were unloaded swiftly and the train continued on to Sophia. Our first stop was the local cafe for some breakfast. Not just any breakfast, as we were looking forward to our first sausages since August. Unfortunately, they were out but we made do with the next best thing in pork rissoles. We passed the meal in the hope that the cyrillic alphabet will become easier to decipher as we go along. Some serious study is required.

After breakfast I guarded the bikes while Banz went searching for some accommodation. During his fruitless trawl along Plovdiv's main drag, I was asked the time by Diane, a student. We got chatting and she asked me with a look of concern, "Why do you come to Bulgaria?" and when I answered for tourism, she guffawed and said, "this is my home, I was born here, but I do not love it here, my dream is to go to America". I questioned her further on this and she explained that she is going to Ohio, but has no friends or family or a job there. I told her that I had been to Cleveland seven years ago and she was very interested and was asking me all sorts of questions about what it was like, was it better than here? For the first question, I didn't want to tell her that I only went for the Rock and Roll Hall of Fame (which was undeniably the highlight of all the museums I went to in the States), so I just hedged my bets and said it seemed nice and that the people were friendly. For the second, I didn't feel that I was in a position to answer the question since I'd only been in Plovdiv for all of 45 minutes and had been mainly based in and around the train station for the majority of that. I was rescued by the arrival of her friends from Uni and we said our goodbyes.

Banz returned and since he'd done the talking in the cafe, it was my turn to ring a number in our Rough Guide which was an agency for rooms. Armed with our Eastern European Phrasebook I hunted down a phone and made a call. My attempt in Bulgarian was cut short with a "Je parle francais" which I countered with a "Do you speak English?" which again was returned with a "Je parle francais". I did my best "mon mari parles francais" and hung up for Banz to attempt to rescue the point. He returned as the conquering lingua franca hero - complete with prices and directions to the agency. I guess we need to get to South America or Japan before my limited language skills can be of use again whereas Banz's french has come in handy in Italy and now Bulgaria as well as the villages of France. Within 20 minutes, we were ensconced in our bedroom (with spare room on the side for the bikes) with the telly on (with lots of english channels). Today we were pleasantly surprised to see Boro's game from Sunday being replayed on Bulgarian tv at 3 in the afternoon. Well, it was pleasant until we saw Bolton's blatant time-wasting methods firsthand. Ahh, the joys of foreign tv.

Despite the skepticism of the youth of Plovdiv (our waiter from our first evening also looked incredulous when we told him we'd come to Bulgaria for tourism in winter), we like what we've seen of Bulgaria so far. The people are friendly (and really well-dressed - they would look at home in London) and the food is cheap.

All looks good for country number 9 of The Big Trip.

2004-11-07T00:22:00.000+10:00

You can always start!

Yesterday we were having a wander around a smaller bazaar near our hotel. In the bazaar is a fantastic pipe shop with pipes of all shapes and sizes (our particular favourite being a pipe with Sherlock Holmes smoking a pipe on the bowl).

As we walked past we had the following exchange with the salesman -

Pipe Salesman - Do you want a pipe?
Banz and Vic - No thanks, we don't smoke.
Pipe Salesman - Well, you can always start!

2004-11-06T01:45:00.000+10:00

Jumpers and Shoes

On Monday night we packed our bags into an Amman mini-bus, said a tearful farewell to the Chili House and headed off to the airport. Our flight was at 4:30am but the couple of hours or so before we checked in passed quickly enough. We both managed to sleep for the entire 2 hours we were in the air which had the happy consequence of us missing whatever meal gets served at 5am.

When we reclaimed our bags we noticed that something had been taken - the toolkit which is normally attached to my bike but which we'd moved to the tent bag for safety. It's a pain and we have notified the airline and await their next move...

Istanbul has caused us to shift the stuff around our bags so that suncream and shorts are down the bottom and weird things like jumpers, shoes and socks are dragged out of semi-retirement. It's a nice change to wander about wrapped up in what for us is chilly weather.

On Wednesday we visited the amazingly ornate Blue Mosque which is very active but peaceful at the same time. Yesterday we had a Turkish bath which is a real not-to-be-missed experience. You start by relaxing on heated marble slabs before the bath masters arrive to whisk you to an ajoining room. The first stage is a good soaking with warm water and then an all over scrub with a rough cotton mitten. Dead skin and black muck of some nature is stripped away from what you assume is a reasonably clean body. It's a bit like putting the Dyson round for the first time. After the scrub comes a lathering up with what seems to be a pillow case full of shaving foam. You lie down for this part which leaves you so relaxed you can't defend yourself against the massage which is a combination of pinching, kneading and squishing followed by the sort of treatment normally administered in a pub carpark. I now know what Metallica's drumkit feels like. Saying that, it does feel good when it's over!

The afternoon was spent bargain hunting in the Grand Bazaar. I bought a couple of shirts and, faced with a rainbow of colours, chose red yet again. I don't know if the end of the trip will see me swear off red shirts for life or cling on to them like a sartorial security blanket. As we walked along one shopkeeper shouted across that he recognised me from last year when I was in Istanbul, but that last time I was here with my Russian girlfriend. I think he was mistaking me for Sean Connery in From Russia With Love but I'll forgive him for such an easy mistake.

2004-10-31T23:11:00.000+10:00

Hot new Jordan pics gallery

Well, we'll get our Google hits higher with a title like that if nothing else...

The following galleries are now up -

Wadi Rum
Petra
Aqaba & Amman

We also have a new poll containing Banz's selection of "jokes" that he's thought up about Jordan.

Tuesday morning we're flying out to Istanbul, where we'll spend a couple of days before rejoining Europe and getting on the bikes again as we head to Bulgaria.

2004-10-30T21:59:00.000+10:00

Amman for all seasons

The above title is more than just a rather poor pun because Amman has done what southern France, Italy, Greece and Egypt could not; it has given us some rain! On Thursday night, as we sat sampling the delightful middle-eastern dish of cheesy chilli topped fries, the clouds gathered, the thunder flashed, the lightning rumbled (or something) and first small, then large, drops of rain started falling. It was very exciting as the last rain we'd seen was over 170 days in Troyes. It didn't last but we got a second shower yesterday. It was wonderful to get a lungful of that 'after rain' smell we in England associate so readily with cricket, Wimbledon and Bansey BBBQs.

Earlier in the week we visited the amazing site of Petra. The rocky valley contains around 800 tombs, the most spectacular and famous of which is the Treasury. For us this tomb was the highlight of the Big Trip so far and no pictures or words can do justice to catching a glimpse of a column or piece of facade as you approach through the high-sided sandstone canyon. The teasing approach leads to a natural courtyard with the massive tomb at the far end, beautifully preserved and truly awe-inspiring.

I went back for a second day to tackle the 800 step climb to the monastery, a similar structure to the Treasury, which suffers for being viewed second. It was an enjoyable walk up and the views were magnificent.

In the evening we had tea (lots of tea) with the man over the road from the hotel who makes sand pictures inside glass bottles. He was a lovely bloke and showed us the mysteries of his art and gave us the chance to make our own. Vic was first up and made an excellent camel, hills and stripey patterned affair which will take pride of place as soon as we're back in the mantlepiece owning business. My attempt was going swimmingly too; camels were a bit mis-shapen but charming, the hills had character, my yellow sun had passers-by reaching for the factor 15 and the clouds were an absolute triumph. You can only imagine the scene when our friend's brother decided to try to tidy up one of my camels and succeeded in making it worse. I was absolutely furious - it was as if Da Vinci's flatmate had strolled in, grabbed a pain brush and slapped a black 'tache on the Mona Lisa. Frankly, I almost cried but maintained enough dignity to sit in a moody huff. To be fair to the shop owner, he took it all in his stride, stoppered up the travesty and popped on the shelf with the others.

Our journey to Amman was notable for our first experience of a sandstorm. One moment the sky was clear, the next we were plunged into a thick 'lentil-souper' of dust. Yellowy-orange light and visibility of between two and ten metres gave everything a strange unreal feeling. Our driver was of the opinion that the sooner out of there the better and kept his foot down which resulted in one very near miss as a stationery Merc appeared ahead of us. A screech and a swerve sent us perilously close to the car in front and the side of the road but thankfully all was OK.

Amman is a nice town built on a number of hills - there's barely a flat spot to be found - and it has things we'd almost forgotten existed like taxis with metres and shops with prices. Jordan is much more expensive than Egypt but the standard of living here seems much higher.

2004-10-24T01:14:00.000+10:00

Censorship of Jordan

After the horrific ferry journey mentioned by Banz below, we were happy to finally be in our hotel room, air-con and the telly on as we searched for some english language programming.

Imagine my delight when I saw that Gone With the Wind had just started on the Jordan Movie Channel. I sit back and enjoy the film as always until we get to Rhett and Scarlett's first kiss. Its cut! Next kiss. Also cut! But they don't just cut out the kissing, they take out the entire section of film between any/all kisses which means that any dialogue or plot is lost. Luckily I could still follow Gone With The Wind, but it made me wonder what the Jordanian censor's scissors would do to a Tarantino film.

I guess 1939 Hollywood morals are still too much for Jordan in 2004.

2004-10-23T04:10:00.001+10:00

Plenty of Rum but no Jungle

The Dahab escape committee finally got their act together on Monday and sprung us out of the lounging area outside the Morgana restaurant. The journey to the port of Nuweiba was not quite as smooth as we'd hoped as our cab let us down when the other people we didn't know were meant to accompany us failed to show up (if that makes any sense). Once at Nuweiba things got marginally worse. The check-in procedure was a bit of a farce which meant I ended up having to dash from the brigadier's office (a very nice man) to passport control with a uniformed guard in tow in a bid to get stamps to say we've left Egypt. It was a mad rush to get aboard the ferry for 2:30 but luckily we managed and with only two and a quarter hours to spare! (We think the ferry was due to leave at 3ish but, in Egypt, who knows?).

The ferry was crammed with people by the time it left, all armed with bags of grub, electric kettles(!) and cookers, on full alert for the moment the day's Ramadan fast ended just after 5 o'clock. I discovered a hidden EP50 note which allowed us to get cold drinks and chocolate from the snack bar which we wolfed down when everyone else started eating. Our respect was rewarded with 2 lots of dates from our fellow passengers.

I'd like to try and forget the fact that we landed in Aqaba at 7:30pm but didn't get off the boat for another 3 hours. One day that may happen but only hypnotherapy will erase the memory of the on-board toilets (why is everyone rolling their trouser legs up? Ah...)

Aqaba feels very different from Egypt; the streets are cleaner, the roads have markings, the drivers are less toot-happy and the traffic lights seem to be there for a reason. However, Jordan is a lot pricier than Egypt but nowhere near as bad as Western Europe so 25JD (about 21GBP/47 AUD) gets us a nice hotel room with air-con and a great view of the harbour but no turn-down service or choccy on the pillow.

Yesterday we went to Wadi Rum, Lawrence of Arabia country, and spent a day bumping around in the back of a pick-up truck marvelling at the desert-and-sandstone-mountain scenery and stopping to ride a camel (which did an awesome Chewbacca impression) and take lots of photos. It's a fantastic place and, despite the fact that there are plenty of other groups in jeeps knocking about, one that really feels big and empty. Our evening was spent tucking into a delicious Bedouin meal of chicken, spuds and rice in a big tent made of blankets and watching the stars. (Galleries will follow when we find a place to upload the pictures.)

We are now back in Aqaba and head off to Petra on Sunday with a bit of luck.

Blimey, I managed a whole Jordan post without mentioning Winston Churchill and the back of a taxi.

2004-10-16T03:43:00.000+10:00

The Gravitational Pull of Dahab

Well, we're still in Dahab. We did mean to leave earlier this week, but, well, you know....

To be fair, I have had a job this last week. The 880-odd pages of The Count of Monte Cristo aren't going to read themselves. Believe me, I've tried. I've been lugging it around (front left pannier) since picking it up from Martina Franka in Italy. I'm up to about page 500, but Banz is starting to get nervous as he knows it will soon be his burden to carry.

On Tuesday we did actually manage to rouse ourselves away from sipping fresh mango juice and reading the great works of literature to take a day trip to the Blue Hole which is a popular snorkelling spot near here. Although full of curious fish, I was disappointed to see that a lot of the coral was dead. I also had to admit to our French snorkelling colleagues, Nicholas and Xena, that the Great Barrier Reef was much better for snorkelling opportunities.

It was fascinating watching the scuba divers float about 10 metres below us and send their silver jellyfish bubbles of oxygen up. We're both keen to learn to scuba dive, but money and time constraints have made us decide to add that to the to do list when we get back home.

We have decided that we are definitely leaving on Sunday. It will be a short hop to Nuweiba, from where we will get the ferry to Ataba, before making tracks to Wadi Rum (Lawrence of Arabia's stomping ground) and then heading to Petra to try and recreate the closing scene of Indiana Jones and the Last Crusade (minus the galloping horses of course).

From Amman, we will fly to Turkey (Syria - you don't know what you're missing!), before re-joining Europe and taking in Bulgaria, Romania, Ukraine and Poland.

Our original plan was to head straight through from Poland to the Baltics and then Russia. This original plan did not take into account that we would be getting to Russia in approximately January. It didn't work for Napoleon and Hitler to invade Russia in winter, and somehow we don't think it will work for The Big Trip.

So bearing this in mind there are two simple facts. One, we have some fantastic friends in Warsaw (thankyou Beatre and Gerry and to Sandra for arranging) with whom we can leave our bikes and two, Easyjet now fly from Warsaw to Luton. So, for 70 pounds round trip, we have decided to return to England for six weeks to visit family, friends and see Boro play Partizan Belgrade in the Uefa Cup.

It also give us the opportunity to satisfy the food cravings that seem to stick in the mind soon after the question, "If you could have any food right now, what would it be?" is uttered. I've never wanted bacon more since I've been in a country where you can't have it.

We arrive on December 9th and are heading straight up to Teesside (trains are stupidly expensive the week before Christmas) and will be back down in London for about 10 days before we return to Warsaw on January 31st. Its not cold in Russia in February is it?

We hope that the Jaflong, Wagamama's and the Parmo retailers of Teesside are now on high alert.

2004-10-11T05:55:00.000+10:00

Lazing in Dahab

As ferry veterans we were looking forward to the short hop from Hurghada to Sharm el-Sheikh but the reality was somewhat different to our expectations. A genuine attempt at security (x-raying all our stuff before and, somewhat bizarrely, after the journey) bookended the sort of ride more suitable to Chessington World Of Adventure than the world of mass passenger transit. We had wondered why passengers were not allowed on deck during the crossing but after 10 minutes, when the boat started pitching, yawing and doing other weird things from "The Dictioanry Of Maritime Terms", we understood why. It was at this point a member of the crew started handing out wax-paper bags. I can only think it was because it was too rough to put our litter in the bins.

Against the odds we bumped into Andre again and we arranged a taxi to take us and a Swiss chap the 80 or so kilometers up the coast to Dahab, a laid-back traveller haunt. The atmosphere here is very different to the rest of Egypt and much needed it is too after 5 weeks of bartering for everything from bottled water to souvenirs and being lured into papyrus shops. There's coral reef to explore here but as appealing are the beach-front cafes where you can lounge all day drinking pop, nibbling snacks, reading and musing on life's problems with closed eyes. We managed to stretch breakfast out until 6pm the other day but we're not proud of it.

From here the plan is to move on to Jordan where we expect to stay for a couple of weeks before flying on to Turkey.

Oh, and tomorrow it will be 6 months since we set off from Stockton Town Hall!

2004-10-09T01:39:00.000+10:00

Just to let you all know we're safe...

From our last blog you should know that we are currently in Sinai. Fortunately we are not in Nuweiba or Taba, but in a place called Dahab which is about 70 kilometres away from Nuweiba. Dahab is very safe and you would not have known that the blasts had happened. We are going to hang around here for a few days before we head north to Jordan. Obviously we will wait to see what the situation is before progressing, but everything appears that this will be an okay route to take.

Our thoughts are with our two Israeli friends from the feluca trip, Ohad and Hagar, who from discussions with other guys from our feluca, we think were in the area. Hope you are both fine and please let us know that you got home okay.

There is a lot of info at the BBC website here, if you want to read more as well as a map of Sinai here.

2004-10-07T05:07:00.000+10:00

The Big Blog

As you can see from our gallery updates quite a lot has happened since our last proper blog. We finally left the desert oases for the Nile courtesy of a dusty 9 hour train ride. The carriage was pretty basic but quiet and the bikes got to ride in the same level as comfort as us. The journey may have been hot and slow but it was made for us by the staion masters at Kharga who saw us arrive on our bikes and insisted on getting us seats, making us tea and letting us use the phone to arrange our accommodation in Luxor.

We had been advised that Luxor could be a bit hectic so we arranged a tour from Cairo. This involved us getting the train to Aswan, sight seeing there and at Abu Simbel before felucca-ing down the Nile to see more temples.

There are two dams at Aswan, a charming little one built by the English and a monstrosity of Russo-Egyptian construction. Sadly for us we spent our time at the High Dam which has to be the least photogenic and most dull touristattraction in the world. If only we could have spent more time at the smaller one which looked interesting and atteactive... Our other attraction in Aswan was the temple of Philae which was one of the many moved to avoid being swamped by Lake Nasser. Philae reached by boat and is pretty spectacular. Much of it seems in good order but it was unclear if that is due to the reconstruction or not. Definitely a good place to visit.

Our stay in Aswan was whistle-stop as our only night's stay was interrupted by our 3am alarm call for Abu Simbel. All those wishing to visit Rameses II most blatant (and successful) attempt at being remembered need to be in the 4am convoy for the near 3 hour drive. This temple was also moved piece by piece and I think anyone who has blearily heard the alarm going would second our mate Doug when he asks, "While they were moving it, couldn't they have moved it closer to Aswan?". Saying that, the massive four figure fronted structure, carved into the rock face and looking out across the water, is an amazing sight. The boy Rameses certainly made the most of his 60-odd years of Pharoanic power.

We'd packed a 9 hour day in by 1 o'clock when were shuttled off to meet our felucca. We'd heard a few bad things about them but had decided to book something with people we trusted in Cairo to avoid the pitfalls. When we arrived on the boat there was already some tension in the air as a few of our fellow travellers had been hanging around since mid-morning being told various things about the departure time. When we set sail though the problems melted away as we tacked serenely across and down the Nile. The huge steamers sailed past every now and then but we didn't regret our decision for a moment as we chatted to Myka and Andre (our boat had us 4, the other, 10 or so others) and lazed about reading while the palm trees slid by. An unexplained stop to take on an extra crew member caused brief tension ('5 minutes' is Egyptian for 'I'll see you when I see you') but all in all we had a good first day aboard. After dinner we bonded with the other crew by playing an excellent murder/mystery card game.

Day 2 was meant to involve a camel market in the afternoon but we backed out when we learned the transport to would be at rip-off prices. This threatened the good humour of the boat once again but things soon calmed down once we were back on the water. This was a defining feature of the felucca ride: when we were sailing, all was good but when we weren't... The problems were minor but avoidable and while they didn't make the 2 night journey something we regretted, they certainly created an atmosphere of tension between customer and crew which could have been avoided.

Day 3 involved an early start, temples at Kom Ombo and Edfu and mini-bus ride to Luxor. The next two days saw us visit temples at Karnak, Luxor, Valley of The Kings, Hatsetshput and Valley of the Queens which has left us slightly burned out from the sight of obelisks and statues. They are all interesting in their own way but I think time and distance is needed for us to fully appreciate them all.

We needed a few days relaxing in Luxor after our temple visits and we went back on our principles and paid a few visits to The Kings Head pub. The atmosphere was relaxed, they had English footy on and had mashed potato on the menu. What more could you ask?

We are currwntly in Hurghada with many a German ("Do your Jimmy Cagney")but we get the ferry to Sinai tomorrow.

2004-10-04T02:48:00.000+10:00

Another mass gallery update...

Between fighting with feluca captains and seeing yet more temples (sad, but if I never see another Egyptian Temple, it'll be too soon), we have managed to do an update of our time in Luxor, Aswan & Abu Simbel, Feluca Ride and back to Luxor again...

They are -

Aswan and Abu Simbel

The Feluca Trip

Luxor

Andre's Feluca Collection

Blog to follow shortly...

2004-09-26T22:58:00.000+10:00

Egyptian drivers

We have been in Egypt a month now and have witnessed a lot of the locals driving around from various viewpoints. We've been pedestrians engaged in a high-stakes game of Frogger and taxi passengers steeling ourselves for the negotiation phase of the journey. We've cycled and tried mainly to stay out of the way and ridden on buses (mini, micro & normal) and wondered exactly what, if any, is the maximum capacity of such a vehicle.

For all our travelling, this is what we have discovered.

1) The horn has many uses but the most common are :-
- telling someone who may not see you that you are coming their way
- telling someone who has seen you that you're not stopping
- asking someone who's in your way to move over
- expressing your joy at being able to move freely
- expressing your frustration at not being able to move at all
- advising the person in front that there is a gap in the wall of traffic
- saying 'hello'
- saying 'goodbye'

2) Crossing the road is safe as long as you have your wits about you or when you use a little old lady as a shield.

3) The inside lane on a muli-lane road is reserved for stationary traffic, donkeys & carts, pedestrians, street sweepers and anything out of the ordinary.

4) Headights after dark, when on out of town roads, are used in an intricate ritual which can be difficult to understand at first. Do not be confused or alarmed when the driver turns off his lights as another car approaches, this just enables him to make his vehicle more noticable when he turns them back on. The intermittent flashing that follows this initial greeting seems to be a way of communicating about road conditions and the location of RADAR traps.

2004-09-26T06:12:00.000+10:00

The other side of the desert

(See the galleries for our Western Oases pics.)

The road from Cairo took us, via the bus, across to the most northern Western Oasis town of Bahariya. I was recovering from a cold (not paint-fume induced sniffles as first thought) and Vic was just at the start of the same ailment. We spent a couple of days straightening the kinks from our mudguards - courtesy of the luggage loader on the bus - as well as buying the water and scouring a conservative Muslim town for alcohol to burn in our stove.

When the day finally dawned for our 180km ride across the Black and White deserts it found us in high spirits and confident mood which even the blazing sun couldn't evaporate. Yet... The Baharia - Farafra road is a fairly busy one with commercial vehicles making up the bulk of the early traffic and safari tours taking over towards lunchtime. Whatever the vehicle, they all gave us a toot and a wave. One guy in a pick-up truck even stopped, 3-point turned and gave us a big handful of dates! It was great feeling that people were looking out for us and keen to know what we were doing.

The breeze was at our backs and our legs felt no ill effects from drag racing the locals on our way home the night before! The Black Desert is so named for the dark dusting which is sprinkled over the more conventional yellow-coloured sand, making the hills look like slightly singed caramel desserts.

Onward we rode and had 40 kms under our belts before our first attempt at a lunch stop. In the comfort of the hotel we'd decided to put the tent up at 12ish and snooze until the day got cooler but the constant breeze, lack of suitable tent pegs and general wind-catching properties of a huge sheet of nylon made it impossible. From my vantage point on the crest of a tiny bank I proclaimed that I could see trees in the distance. (Being still within the confines of the oasis this wasn't as deranged as it may sound.) Victoria was skeptical but humoured me. In what goes down as a rare triumph for yours truly the trees and, incredibly, a couple of buildings duly arrived not 5kms down the road. We had stumbled on Baharia's ambulance station, which must be pretty busy looking after camels with twisted ankles but little else. The trees and shade were soon honoured with two napping cyclists.

Our afternoon session took us rather gallingly past a cafeteria which could have sold us some of the water we had dragged this far. But never mind. With 50-odd kilometers on the clock and sundown approaching it was time to find and out of the way spot for the night. The plan was see a secluded nook, haul the bikes into and lay low until it got dark. We were probably being a bit overcautious but didn't necessarily want to advertise where we were sleeping to any passers-by. As if by magic, a cluster of trees and small dunes approached only 30 metres from the road. The clear road. Like a flash we were pushing the bikes across the soft sand, sand which really didn't make it easy for us. As if by magic the traffic started up again and we could tell from the toots we'd been spotted. We pondered what to do but the decision was made for us when one pick-up truck stopped up the road. Time to move on. As we passed him he asked if we were going to sleep there and I made the universal "dodgy tum" sign. He offered to take us to a hotel but we declined and kept moving.

Darkness was fast approaching by now and the desert flattened out. Fifteen minutes passed before we came across a couple of sandy mounds that fitted the bill. The road had been clear for ages so we set about the task of dragging the bikes to safety. Predictably, this was the signal for cars to approach from all angles but this time we made it in time. We made a quick meal of sand, corned beef, eggs and sand before tucking in under the stars. I slept with one eye and ear trained on the road for a couple of hours before finally dropping off. The next we knew we were waking up covered in a heavy dew.

Soon after we got up we realised we had problems... Perhaps fate had seen my dodgy tum mime. Maybe I'm allergic to sand. Whatever the reason, things were looking bad for us doing 2 more days in the desert. We battled on a few kilometers more before taking advantage of a rare bit of shade and settling in to wait for rescue. We didn't have long to wait. First Said and Mahar stopped to chat, give us water and breakfast but sadly not a lift as they were heading the wrong way. The next passers-by were Sophy and Suliman who were heading to Farafra and soon had us loaded in the back of their pick-up. They wouldn't hear of accepting anything for their kindness and even ended up buying us drinks a couple of nights later as we sat up till 2am chatting. (It turned out they were staying at our hotel.)

We can't say we failed as we had a fantastic day's ride and a night under the stars but it was sad that we weren't able to accomplish what we set out to. Still, our desire to cycle has been reignited after so many weeks of trains and buses. All we need now is a bit of luck and towns that are closer together!

2004-09-16T23:37:00.000+10:00

Off to the desert

Our last few days in Cairo have been spent sorting out the bikes and researching our water requirements for a 3 day ride through the desert. Our plan at the moment is to pop a 1.5 litre bottle in every pannier and the water bag on the back. Although the road between Bahariya and Farafra oases has no roadhouses there are plenty of passing jeep safaris who will help us out if we get short. Hopefully, it won't come to that though!

Our ride between oases takes us through the Black Desert, the White Desert and past the Crystal Mountain. I'm guessing the Emerald City will be on our route although it's not mentioned in The Lonely Planet. We are going to attempt 60kms a day and sleep behind a handy sand dune when we get tired. Watch this space in a week or so when we reach civilisation again!

Today we finally managed to visit the Egyptian Museum which is 5 minutes walk from the hostel. There's no getting away from the fact that the antiquities are amazing but the place could do with a bit better organisation. It seems almost wilfully disordered which means you need a guide to make sense of it. As is the Egyptian way much of the time the terms and conditions change somewhere between beginning and end and both parties leave feeling cheated. I must stress however that this isn't ALWAYS the case.

2004-09-14T19:17:00.000+10:00

A brief journey through the Egyptian parcel post system

Yesterday we popped to the post office to send a parcel of souvenirs to Australia. This is what happened...

i) we found the right building at the 3rd attempt and were told by the guy in the foyer to head up to the 2nd floor...

ii) where we saw The Man At The Packing Station. He examined the parcel for contraband and, on seeing it was just the standard tourist stuff, sent us to The Nice Lady Down The Hall...

iii) who took our details, the recipient's details and informed us there'd be a EP7 'application fee', which is payable at the office next door...

iv) which is staffed by three guys, one of whom - The Worker - took our paperwork and application fee and produced two triplicated receipts. He handed them to us and sent us to The Man At The Packing Station...

v) who showed us a patch of floor where we could box up the stuff while he checked our paperwork. (There was a short pause for noon prayers.) He then took a look at my Oz learner's licence (thankfully accepated in lieu of our passports) before sealing our parcel with official string and lead weight. He then sent us to The Weighing Man...

vi) who lives in a building round the corner. The Weighing Man ensures our papers are in order and our parcel properly addressed and weighed before taking our cash. He then hands us back our form and sends us back up to The Nice Lady Down The Hall...

vii) who takes it, swaps it for a chit and sends us back to The Weighing Man...

viii) who takes the chit, returns our exasperated "you've got to laugh" looks and confirms, to our relief, that it's over.

The Egytpian Post Office: an excellent way to get fit and meet people. (Give yourself 2 hours.)

2004-09-14T00:22:00.000+10:00

Desert Safari

When we arrived in town we noticed that the desert safari options were many, although probably not varied, so we put off making a decision immediately. Luckily for us, as we lazed around the pool, fate was working away in the background... Tom and Nicki were planning to stay at The Desert Rose and met a man on the bus from Alex who did safaris in Siwa. Separately Hayley and Louis bumped into Ahmed and before you can say 'happy sand-realted coincidence' the trip was arranged. There were 2 more spaces in the jeep for us which was handy.

Ahmed of Siwa Safaris picked us up at 11ish and we were soon heading towards the edge of town to a point where the road neatly cuts a lake in two. The left side is fresh water and the right salt, complete with a solid ice-white crust. Pretty amazing to look at really.

From here we visited a ruined village, heard a shaggy dog story about tomb raiders before having a look at a 5 metre deep natural spring. The cool clear water seeps up through the porous rocks here forming a beautiful natural pool. We all looked at it longingly but this one's not for swimming in. Thankfully we only had to wait a few minutes longer before we were putting our cozzies on and diving in an even better natural pool. The water is cool without being cold and is constantly flowing up from underground. Our schedule had us here for 4 or more hours and we all spent as much time as we could swimming, diving in and, somewhat childishly, taking it in turns to fetch a specific rock form the bottom.

This took up most of a brilliantly laid back afternoon, along with lunch and a quick dip in a nearby salt lake, which is a very odd experience. The water is shallow, warm as on bath night and home to a billion salty needles. We hobbled out to a deep enough spot and, being ultra-careful not to get any water in our eyes, laid back and bobbed like corks. It's a great novelty which wears off about the first time you run aground and get a bum full of salt spikes. It's also a bit hard on mozzie bites and grazes!

After the salt we needed one last dip in the pool before visiting a Bedouin mud village which was occupied as recently as 100 years ago. The mud bricks are baked hard in the sun but are not as happy in the rain. Each downpour causes major damage although the last big rain was in 1984. Our safari so far had been around the outskirts of town but with sunset approaching we headed towards The Great Sand Sea. Ahmed certainly knows what he's doing which was highlighted when a rival jeepster went flying past us only to get thoroughly bogged 5 minutes later. Anyone seen the latest Ray Mears?

The desert sunset was very pretty as seen from our spot on the top of a dune and, as most had a contemplative moment, I took the chance to jump off the top and get sand up my shirt. Our camp for the night was a couple of thick balnkets sheltered from the wind by the jeep and a windbreak and it was here that we ate the hearty veggie stew and couscous which was the best grub we'd had since getting to Egypt. And from someone who's dined at KFC Alexandria that's pretty high praise.

With full tums and a ceiling of stars it was an early night for all. The breeze soon died down but the air stayed beautifully cool and Vic and I slept so soundly we didn't even notice the visitors who investigated camp as we slumbered. Tiny mouse footprints came from miles of empty sand to have a sniff at our campsite. One track came within a couple of centimetres of my blanket before my feet scared him off.

In the morning we woke naturally to see the sunrise before tucking into bread, cheese, jam and lashings of tea. No-one was in any sort of hurry so we headed back sometime in the middle of the morning after a good chat and a hair-raising dune descent or two.

All in all it was a fantastic trip with the emphasis on relaxing as much as sightseeing.

2004-09-12T03:39:00.000+10:00

Mega Gallery Update!!

We have slaved round the clock to get our Egypt galleries up to date. And here they are...

Cairo
Alexandria
Giza
Sikkara
Siwa Town
Siwa Safari

Also, the more observant of you will notice the main gallery page looks slightly different. Don't worry, the other galleries are still there if you need your weekly fix of Boro at Cardiff.

2004-09-12T01:10:00.000+10:00

Siwan Desert Rose

After the general malaise that had affected us in Alexandria, it was with a spring in our step that we stepped onto our bus to Siwa. We had heard and read many things about Siwa - a place geographically isolated from the rest of Egypt until a road was built in the 1980s, where they speak a different language and where Alexander the Great made a pilgrimage to see the Oracle to confirm that yes, he was the son of Zeus and therefore a god and could rule Egypt.

The journey of 9 hours seemed to pass quite effortlessly with a couple of stops along the way at resthouses in the middle of nowhere as well as people being dropped off at places where there was nothing but desert as far as the eye can see on all the points of the compass.

Another question raised was the piles of rocks in straight lines heading to the horizon on both sides of the road and about five metres apart. What do they mean? Are they borders or symbols of land division or something else entirely?

We had prebooked our hotel and on arrival were greeted by several Siwan boys of about 10 (all with perfect English) who wanted to take us to our destinations. All guessed that I was Australian, so either they're a good judge of accent or a lot of us Aussies make the journey. Mahmood was the first boy to talk to me so we chose him to take us. We went round the corner in his donkey cart before being deposited with his older brother (maybe Dad?) and they took us out to our hotel in their 4wd. On the way we were offered a Desert Safari as well as taxi service whenever required. Although persistent, there was no real pressure and it made a nice change from the "Hello, where you from?" hassle of Cairo.

After being dropped off by Mahmood at the Desert Rose, we were greeted by a group of German holidaymakers who were occupying the pool. We soon joined them and the last couple of days travel and stresses were eased away by the cool underground spring fed water. We were to spend a lot of time in the pool before we left.

The Desert Rose is a totally appropriate name for the hotel. However, the one problem for us being the connotation with the rubbish Sting song of the same name which we thankfully only know the chorus of.

After relaxing in the pool, we were soon greeted by Ali, the caretaker and shown around. As the sun set, we watched from the roof terrace and chatted to an Aussie couple from Bendigo, Louis and Hayley. The four of us chatted for quite a while before hunger pains and the mosquitos drove us to the kitchen where Louis and Hayley shared their provisions with us (our hunger had returned after an enforced fast before the bus journey).

There is no electricity at the Desert Rose, but the lanterns and candles only add to the atmosphere as people sit around reading, chatting and playing backgammon (Banz 2 - Vic 1) around the central courtyard.

Our stay in Siwa followed a pattern of a lot of relaxing, chilling and resting apart from our Desert Safari which we'll write about seperately. Although not every site was ticked off, our stay gave us a definite taster for more and when I go back I would most definitely stay at the Desert Rose again

2004-09-12T00:28:00.000+10:00

Ice Cold in Alex

After general embassy disappointment and the realisation that we can't just chill out in Cairo for too long, we caught the train to Alexandria. The train takes you through the Egyptian Delta and it was interesting to watch the city give way to farmland before again giving way to the suburbs or Alexandria.

The oven-door heat of Cairo was replaced with the sea breeze of Alexandria. We had got off the train one stop early and so after a bit of working out where we were, we jumped on the tram and headed to our hotel. Our first choice, the Hotel Union was full and so we took our chances with the Hotel Crillon. To put it mildly it was dirty and creepy, but budget options in Alexandria are limited - prices start at around 50 - 80 Egyptian Pounds (roughly 5 - 8 British Pounds/12 - 20 Aussie Dollars) for budget accommodation before jumping to $100US a night. We didn't get to try the breakfast that was included without choice as a bad case of Ramses Revenge had overtaken us both (we both prefer the Chessington Ride). Our first night was spent lying in bed, listening to the call to prayer and realising that we were a long way from home.

We managed to get out of the hotel about 1pm and shoved some comfort food down our throats from McDonald's (I was craving a milkshake for some reason) before taking on the services of a man with a horse and cart to take us to two of Alexandria's main sites, both with links to its former glory. Our first stop was its new library which looks impressive from the outside though we didn't venture inside as you require a ticket, and they were only for sale a few blocks back. After wandering around there, our man calmly took our horse and cart through three lanes of traffic on either side of the road and headed off to Fort Qaitby, which is built on the former site of the the Lighthouse of Alexandria, one of the Seven Wonders of the Ancient World. The ride was interesting as we got to see beach life Egyptian style. The beaches were packed and the few women that we saw swimming were still wearing full dress (trousers or skirt, long-sleeved shirt and headscarf). I decided to hold off on swimming until we got to Siwa.

The area around Fort Qaitby had a definite promenade feel to it and we were quite happy to wander about as men fished on the rocks nearby and kids dared each other to jump from the highest ones into the sea. As the Lighthouse was completely destroyed in a couple of earthquakes in 1303 and 1329 there is not a lot to see, but it was definitely worth the journey to soak up the atmosphere.

Our man was waiting for us and promptly took us back to the downtown area. When we arrived we paid him the agreed fee plus a small tip. He took them both and with the money in each hand gestured that the main fee was for him and the tip for his horse. It was very sweet and is something we need to remember when we're being hassled by our next papyrus or perfume seller.

We were too late to see two of the other sites in Alexandria which we had wanted. The Catacombs and Pompey's Pillar will just have to wait until next time we're in Alexandria when hopefully there will be more options for budget accommodation available to us there.

2004-08-30T03:49:00.000+10:00

Papyrus, perfume and Pyramids

Our first steps on African soil took us through Cairo airport, past a half-hearted customs man and across the car park where our transport to the hostel was waiting.

"Good job they sent a minibus", remarked Vic as we wheeled our 8 bags, 2 boxed up bikes across the tarmac. Predictably, we were not heading to the minibus but to a small, battle scarred taxi. The driver was unfazed and soon had the bikes on the roof, lashed securely with a bungee cord and what looked a lot like a strip of cotton sheet. When we arrived at the hostel we were mobbed by assorted helpers who lugged our stuff up the stairs (unasked) and then milled hopefully around. They were out of luck this time as our trip to the bank had left us with nothing smaller than an Egyptian 50 pound note.

Since arriving on Monday we have visited the pyramids, explored downtown, been to a couple of embassies, been laid low with an upset stomach, had ample opportunity to buy papyrus and relaxed.

The pyramids were as incredible as they promised to be. The hustle and bustle of cartmen and camel wranglers adds to the atmosphere of the place which is only half an hour's bus ride from Cairo. We didn't take them up on their offers of transport deciding to wander the site ourselves which gave us the opportunity to spend time at the bits we wanted to. I had a claustrophobic trip inside a pyramid, down a steep, low ramp to the the stifling interior. There's not much down there and the bustle of fellow tourists makes it difficult to get any feeling of mystery or solitude. We are planning another trip to see the nighttime sound and light show.

One small setback we have had has been with our Syrian visa. We were unable to get it before leaving as it would have expired sometime in Italy or Greece so we had to apply here. The official at the embassy made it pretty clear that the rule about applying in your country of residence was not one he could bend for a British passport holder, whatever the reason. Vic's Oz passport would have been fine as was that of a Canadian guy who applied in the same circumstances as us. We have exhausted our options here but will try again in Jordan.

The locals round our hostel never miss an opportunity to chat to us as we wander about. Frustratingly this often leads to a predictable series of events...

i) our new friend has a cousin in the UK and a mate in Oz
ii) he's not trying to sell us anything...
iii) but if we have a moment (just a moment) he would like to show us his home
iv) which happens to be a papyrus/perfume/nick-nack shop

There follows an offer of tea and a sales pitch. We are becoming better at escaping - we find that having to dash back for a call from the embassy a good one - but it's sad that we are starting to view all people who approach us (and there are plenty who don't want anything other than to talk) as hustlers.

Saying that, if anyone does want some perfume, I can let them have some Omar Sharif for a very good price.

2004-08-28T23:40:00.000+10:00

Olympics Footnote

Yes, we really can't let the Olympics go... Its kind of surreal seeing them on TV after actually having been there. There is also the added bonus of Egypt getting their first gold medal since London 1948. Never mind that we were sitting watching the Greco-Roman Wrestling and ridiculing it with them the day before their man took home the gold. A gold medal is a gold medal.

We have also been able to follow all the furore of the "Lay Down Sally" incident. We just realised we had talked to couple at the Australia-Italy Baseball match who had a daughter who was in the Rowing Eights. Her name definitely wasn't Sally, but the name Lindsey is ringing a bell even though a fruitless search hasn't been able to confirm a Lindsey in the Eights for us.

Whilst packing our bikes into cardboard boxes at the airport, two members of the Swiss Women's cycling team came along to put their high-tech bike boxes through the oversized luggage section. We got chatting to one and asked her how her games had been, was she happy with her results and would she be at Beijing. We told her we had been at the Men's Road Race, the Time Trial and the Track Cycling. We didn't realise until we later saw a photo of the Women's Time Trial winners that we had been chatting to Karin Thuerig who had won Bronze.

Missed a great photo opportunity, but that's another reason to go to Beijing!

Footnote: Banz reckons he recognised her but didn't want to say anything, but I'm not so sure....

2004-08-26T21:13:00.000+10:00

Final Olympic galleries uploaded

The last of our Olympic pics are now here...

Days 6 & 7

Days 8 & 9

2004-08-26T00:02:00.000+10:00

Olympics Report: Days 8 & 9

These were the events which for us may have been non-starters. We'd booked the tickets before we set off and had them delivered to Hig in Darlo. To get them this far we needed letters of authorisation, photocopies of our passports and poor Hig to stay in waiting for the postie and playing on his PC. From there they had to meet us in Greece and that was where another mate came to the rescue. Gibbo, who I met on the Spanish golf tour in 2003, is an Athens resident so we got his address and Hig popped them in the post and we crossed our fingers. The tickets arrived on Friday and I met Gibbo outside the Olympic stadium in between events for the handover.

Thanks go out to Hig and Gibbo for the parts thet played in the tickets' Athens-Darlington-Athens journey!

Our big tickets were for the a swimming finals night which was high on quality and understandably less so in quantity. The first event was the women's 50m freestyle which was won by Inge de Bruijn. Having seen her compatriot get gold earlier in the women's TT we thought the Dutch must be scooping the top medals by the bucketload. A glance at the table showed us that we'd stood through their national anthem on 2/3 of the occasions it's been played at these games.

The event we were looking forward to most, the men's 1500m freestyle final, did not disappoint. Grant Hackett was the big medal hope and duly led from the start but he was chased gamely by the American Larsen Jensen (or is that Jensen Larsen?) and Brit David Davies. Hackett's two pusuers closed the gap, Davies to a length or so and Jensen actually managing to draw level with 2 lengths to go. The crowd loved it, the Aussie swimming coaches less so. Slowly over the last 100m Hackett showed his class and eased away to clinch the gold with Davies clearly overjoyed to get on the podium. (Apparently, Hackett celebrated long and hard later that evening to such an extent that he was unable to make his destination clear to the Greek-speaking cabbie. With great resourcefulness he called the only person he knew who spoke Greek, an Aussie actor from Melbourne, who explained what was happening and saved the gold medalist from a night on a park bench.)

The remaining swimming highlight was the women's 4x100 medley relay which was unexpectedly and excitingly won by Australia. Britain were disqualified, perhaps for walking instead of swimming. The US won some relay or other too...

Day 9 saw us get up early after a night's carousing to watch Japan marmalise Greece in the men's baseball. A rowdy home support were subdued by the Japanese scoring but came to life as three tiny Japanese girls screamed their team on. Every "Hellas, Hellas" cheer was matched with a "Nippon, Nippon", slightly higher in pitch and lower in volume. After a fair bit of this interplay the Japanese girls sportingly started a cheer for the home team. Not wishing to be outdone the crowd responded in kind which led to the bizarre situation of the three girls cheering on Greece and the rest of the crowd shouting for Japan!

The heat of the day sapped us but we had to stagger to the bus and Metro to get to the Olympic velodrome to watch some track cycling. It's our first experience of this and we thoroughly enjoyed it. We saw women's and men's sprint which generally involves 2 slow (almost walking pace) tactical laps and one lap of hammer down sprinting. Great fun to watch. After that we saw the women's pursuit bronze race followed by the final. The Katy Mactier (OZ) vs Sarah Ulmer (NZ) gold medal race was a corker with the Kiwi girl breaking the world record to win.

The evening concluded with men's team pursuit. This is 16 laps where two teams of 4 riders each start on opposite sides of the track. The GB team were the first to impress by actually catching and overtaking their French opposition. The Oz team were next up and not only did the same thing to their opposition but set a new world record in the process.

Sadly our Olympics ended here. We have had such a great time that we are definitely going to start a Beijing fund for 2008!

2004-08-21T23:51:00.000+10:00

Olympics Report: Days 5 - 7

Day 5 was the cycling time trial for both men and women. We managed to get a pretty much prime spot, about 50 metres from the start ramp with the finish line 30 metres down the road across the central reservation. In the time trial riders go off individually and race against the clock. This means there's always something happening be it riders starting, reaching a checkpoint or finishing. In the women's defending champ Leontien Zijlaard-Van Moorsel did it again with Aussie hopeful Oenone Wood 6th and Brit Nicole Cooke 19th.

The men's competion featured a host of big name cyclists who went off in 3 batches. Britain's Stuart Dangerfield in an ice-water soaked suit covered the 48 kilometers in 1:03.00 which was good enough for a top 30 finish. The main contenders went off at 5pm and at the splits it became obvious that the medals would be going to 3 of 4 riders; Michael Rogers of Australia, Ekimov the Russian and the Americans Bobby Julich and cycling legend/hero Tyler Hamilton. (For those who don't know, Hamilton broke his collar bone in the 2002 Giro d'Italia and rode on. The pain was such that afterwards he had to have 11 teeth which he'd ground down capped. In 2003 in the Tour de France he broke his collar bone again on day 1 and rode to 4th place.) In the end it was Rogers who missed out by just 3 seconds with Hamilton first, Ekimov second and Julich third.

After the presentations we headed to the press tent to hang about and were rewarded with an unbelievable chance to see the medalists on their way in. We were allowed onto the road with them and there were only about 10 fans about. On their way in I took Tyler's photo for some random bloke who got me to take the snap of them together on his mobile phone. After they went in we had maybe half an hour of hanging about. We weren't sure if they'd be coming back out but a prominently dressed US cycling fan (Dory. See gallery!) seemed to think they would so we waited. Return they did and incredibly we got Tyler and Bobby Julich's autographs as well as photos of us with him, newly minted gold medal still round his neck! Throughout the mini-scrum Tyler kept smiling for our cameras and autographing results sheets. What a truly great sportsman!

It'd be hard to top that but the Australia vs India men's hockey match came pretty close. The tannoy got things going by playing Punjabi MC for the Indian fans, who didn't need much encouragement, and Down Under for the always vocal Aussies. The game itself was a cracker. India scored first which brought a massive cheer from their numerically superior supporters but celebrations were cut short 5 minutes later as Oz equalised. Australia went 2-1 up early in the second half before 3 minutes of madness saw their lead doubled and then cancelled out at 3-3. The score stayed this way, despite pretty constant Oz pressure, until, with three seconds on the clock, Michael Brennan popped up to score the winner. We had moved to an Aussie enclave after the GB match (we got slaughtered 5-1 by Spain) and, as you can imagine, went nuts.

We've also seen women's hockey where Oz drew 2-2 with Korea, men's baseball when Japan caned Canada 9-1 and the Oz female basketballers silence a booing home crowd with a ruthless 77-40 destruction of Greece.

Finally, during a baseball game, if the ball goes into the crowd then you get to keep it. In the Australia games we've been in spots where the ball never goes so I have had to spend the odd 15 minutes milling about food concourses with small children waiting for mis-hits to land. With no joy. At yesterday's game we were sat in a more likely spot and a Canadian obliged by sending one into the crowd 20 metres from where we sat. As the ball was in the air I was scrambling across the seats trying not to shred my shins and, to a lesser extent, tread on people. The spectator under it declined to make an attempt to catch so when the ball landed there was a happy Teessider prepared to suffer splinters and grazed knees to dive on the ball. The crowd roared (perhaps only in my head) as I raised the captured ball aloft. Second best Olympic moment ever!

2004-08-21T23:17:00.000+10:00

Gallery updates!

The galleries have been updated with new pics from mainland Greece and the Olympics.

Find them here :-

Mainland Greece

Olympics: days 1-4

Olympics: day 5

2004-08-17T23:19:00.000+10:00

Olympic Report: Days 1 - 4

We were in a bar on Friday night and the TV was showing a packed sporting venue shin-deep in water. "Great", I thought, "the test match is on". But as wider sports lovers are probably aware, the footage was from Athens not Manchester. The ceremony got us fully into the Olympic spirit and raring to go for our first event, the Men's Road Race, the next day.

We managed to get a good spot just after the first corner and saw the riders take the first couple of laps. The prospect of 5 hours in the sun was a bit too much so we decamped to the ticket booth to pick up our tickets for the remaining events. After a coffee and a quick e-mail check I headed back to the course and found a fairly quiet spot 130 metres from the finish line for the last 3 laps. From here it was more about atmosphere than the view and there was plenty of that as the spectators thumped the Athens 2004 hoardings as the riders approached and whizzed past. In the end Paolo Bettini took the gold and I walked off with a (somewhat blurry but he was shifting) photo of him 10 seconds before he crossed the line.

Sunday was a full day at the Helleniko Complex for Men's baseball and hockey. Not a combined sport but it's an idea for the future... Australia took on the highly fancied Cubans. The gap in quality was pretty wide at times but to their credit the Australians kept themselves in the game till the very end, frequently getting out of tricky situations, and were a bit unlucky that 2 Cubans managed to latch on to score a couple of home runs. In the end the Australians had men on bases in the 9th but couldn't do enough to get them home. Nevertheless, it was a cracking morning's entertainment and augers well for the rest of the competition.

In the evening was hockey and we saw Korea draw with Spain. The Koreans were cheered on by a small but noisy cluster of fans who drummed up a bit of partisan support. It was a bit sad when Spain equalised but the noise level from our right never dropped for a momet. England on the other hand did enough to overcome an occasionally useful Egyptian side. Highlight of the day was when an Egyptian lad cynically took out one of the GB players and then writhed around in agony. This didn't stop him being sent off and it was a touching moment as he limped off, hand in hand with the physio.

Yesterday was tennis at the main Olympic complex. It's a great place, full of sweeping arches and reflecting pools. We had a decent shop before the Philipoussis - Rochus match started but perhaps we should have stayed in the megastore a bit longer. The Poo comfortably took the first set before going 3-0 down in the second. At this point he seemed to lose interest and tried to win every point in 1 or 2 shots. In the end he lost the second set 6-0 to the fun-sized Belgian and then got off to a slow start in the final set. In all Philipoussis lost 9 games on the trot, with barely a game point in any of them, before rallying briefly, very briefly, and going down 6-1. His mind was clearly elsewhere.

On the way out of the stadium Vic was interviewed (we think for Oz TV) about Thorpedo's victory in the 200m freestyle, which came as news to her. We're not sure if her reaction will make the Australian airwaves but here's hoping...

2004-08-12T04:02:00.000+10:00

Where to spot us at the Olympics, and

we need your suggestions for a banner. We figure that this will probably be our only personal visit to the Olympics (well, until Brisbane 2016, or Stockton 2020), so we're going the whole hog and want to do a tacky banner so you can pick us out of the crowd when you're watching Australia vs India in the Men's Hockey (you were going to watch that anyway weren't you?). So add any suggestions you have (preferably clever and witty - reflects better on us that way) to the tag-board.

Anyway, our events (so far) are -
(All times are Greek times, for England minus 2 hours, for Queensland, add 7 hours and everyone else go to timeanddate.com).

Saturday 14th August
12:45 - 19:10
Men's Cycling Road Race
Men's Cycling Road Race Medal Ceremony

Sunday 15th August
10:30 - 13:30
Men's Baseball Preliminaries - Cuba vs Australia

18:00 - 21:30
Men's Hockey Preliminaries - Korea vs Spain
Men's Hockey Preliminaries - Great Britain vs Egypt

Monday 16th August
17:00 - 23:00
Tennis
Men's Singles First Round
Women's Singles First Round
Men's Doubles First Round
Women's Doubles First Round

Wednesday 18th August
13:00 - 19:00
Women's Cycling Individual Time Trial
Women's Cycling Individual Time Trial Medal Ceremony

Men's Cycling Individual Time Trial
Men's Cycling Individual Time Trial Medal Ceremony

Thursday 19th August
18:30 - 22:00
Men's Hockey Preliminaries - Great Britain vs Spain
Men's Hockey Preliminaries - Australia vs India

Friday 20th August
20:00 - 0:00
Women's Basketball Preliminaries - Australia vs Greece
Women's Basketball Preliminaries - Nigeria vs Brazil

Saturday 21st August
19:30 - 21:00
Swimming
Women's 50m Freestyle Final
Men's 1500m Freestyle Final
Women's 50m Freestyle Medal Ceremony
Women's 4 x 100m Medley Relay Final
Men's 1500m Freestyle Medal Ceremony
Men's 4 x 100m Medley Relay Final
Women's 4 x 100m Medley Relay Medal Ceremony
Men's 4 x 100m Medley Relay Medal Ceremony

Sunday 22nd August
Cycling Track
Women's Sprint 1/8 Finals
Men's Sprint 1/16 Finals
Women's Sprint 1/8 Finals Repechages
Men's Sprint 1/16 Repechages
Women's Individual Pursuit Final 3-4
Women's Individual Pursuit Final 1-2
Women's Individual Pursuit Medal Ceremony
Men's Sprint 1/8 Finals
Men's Team Pursuit First Round
Men's Sprint 1/8 Finals Repechages

2004-08-12T03:44:00.000+10:00

No relation to Olympia Dukakis

Well as you can imagine there is talk of nothing else in Greece besides the Olympics. The Banseys have also been caught by this excitement and can only imagine that this will reach fever pitch by the time we reach Athens tomorrow night.

Today, we thought we would get in the mood with a day trip to Olympia. We're currently staying in Pyrgos, a pretty, small town on the coast about 100km south of Patras. From here we caught a bus to Olympia. The journey should only take half an hour, but our bus was packed with Greek pensioners who'd made the journey to market and were on their way home laden with goods. This stretched the trip close to the hour mark as they were dropped off at various tin sheds in the middle of nowhere.

We finally reached Olympia and had a quick look in the Museum which housed the antiquities found at the site as well as giving an overview of the history of the ancient games. We then wandered down to the site itself. As you can imagine it was besieged by American, German and French tourist packs all following their leaders like sheep. If there is one reason for independant travel, then surely this is it. Luckily for us the site is large enough for you to wander off in any direction and lose the hordes.

Whilst the ruins haven't been excavated to the extent of say, Pompei, there is plenty to see and the feeling from being in this place of history was definitely worth the journey and wandering around in the Greek midday sun (mad dogs and Englishmen.... and Aussies). You can understand why they have no trouble lighting the Olympic flame from here. In the aforementioned Greek midday sun we had the hilarious site of a German presenter having to film a piece where he had to run the length of the ancient running track before saying a few words to camera. The cameraman obviously had it in for him as he had to do it twice whist we were there. After the second attempt, the presenter did his run and speaking part and then headed straight for the shade of an olive tree (definitely the smartest way to escape the heat).

A good site with more info about Olympia can be found here.

2004-08-06T21:24:00.000+10:00

Reasons for Chilling in Kalamata

Says it all really....

2004-08-05T01:03:00.000+10:00

Good news everyone

The planets have aligned allowing us to upload new pictures to the galleries. The new additions are :-

Sicily
Italy
The Ionian Islands

We also have 2 brand new pages! One dedicated to a certain sweaty someone who likes riding up mountains and one highlighting the heroes and villains of the Big trip.

2004-08-02T21:26:00.000+10:00

Fallen Hurdles

Well our plan to cycle to the Mani Peninsula fell at the first hurdle.

At the top of the big hill on our way out of Kalamata, we came across Diana Rooms. The views are amazing as from our room we look out over the mountains and sea. The room has untold luxuries (for us anyway) of a fridge, tv and air-conditioning all for a very reasonable price. So, within about two minutes of arriving we quickly decided that we'll stay here for a week, chill, read and watch telly (the Greeks have the right idea of subtitling english shows instead of dubbing them that the French and Italians do) and use this as a base to explore Mani.

So far, we haven't moved far from the room in case we miss an episode of Lizzy Maguire or The World's Funniest Commercials, but we plan to.

After our week in the sun, we're heading back north to pay our respects at Olympia (maybe an offering or two to the gods for the Aussie Olympic Team), before making our way on to Athens for the Games themselves. We've managed to book into a Youth Hostel Dorm for our stay, as the prices some of the hoteliers are charging would scare a Saudi prince. We looked up one hotel we stayed at two years ago on a visit to Athens and the islands. We paid 40 Euros then. We looked it up a week ago and its charging 380 Euros a night now. It was barely worth 40.

Book Crossing

Whilst reading an imported copy of The Sunday Times (Banz had to read about an English cricketing victory in as much detail as possible), we read about this site, BookCrossing.com. A simple, but great idea (as all good websites are), where when you've finished reading a book, you "release it" into the world after writing a review on BookCrossing's site. We've been doing a similar thing with putting the Big Trip's URL into books that we've left behind, but on the site you're able to actually leave a note where you've left it and people can "go hunting". For our reading list, go here.

2004-07-26T21:35:00.000+10:00

Postcard from Patras

Our island hopping schedule took us from Kefalonia to Lefkada, seemingly the windsurfing capital of the world, for a couple of days of swimming and lying on the pebbles. The lounging around gave us plenty of reading time and we have now reduced the weight of books we're carrying to such an extent that we can be seen hovering round the English language sections of the Greek Waterstones. Or maybe that's because (call us Ishmaels) we're too scared of Moby Dick.

We are now in Greece's 3rd largest city, Patras, and have been here a couple of days doing big city things. Yesterday we went to the cinema for the first time since Darlington to see Troy (when in Rome...) and Spider-Man 2. We were prepared to set up camp at the multiplex until we saw the rest of the films on offer - although we were briefly intrigued by "Rrrrrrr!!".

The plan for tomorrow us to catch the train down to Kalamata and then ride down through mainland Greece before a quick hop to Kythira and Crete. It's been a while since we've done any proper cycling and we're a bit nervous. Not as much as we were at the start but then Stockton high street will do that at the best of times.

We were wondering when we'll start to feel the pull toward Australia rather than the pull away from England. At the moment we still get the English papers if we can and the general feeling is of looking back not forward - when we're not simply looking out at the crystal blue Aegean that is... We reckon the Trans-Siberian will finally snap the invisible cord tying me back to England.

2004-07-18T22:50:00.000+10:00

Updates!

The stats intro, altitude sickness and Vs cheetah pages have been updated.

Also, an all new Big Trip reading stats page has been added !

2004-07-17T22:08:00.000+10:00

Grecian 2004

We have moved on since the last post, as we must really. The journey from Catania in Sicily to Taranto in Puglia (on the arch of the sole of the boot of Italy) was a 2 day, 1 ferry & 6 train epic which involved far too much loading, unloading, waiting and dashing for our liking. The lastest "should we send BoB home" referendum saw a swing from 1 yes and 1 abstention to a landslide 2 yesses (does that look right?) with Brindisi earmarked as the end of the road for our trusty trailer.

BoB's big day in Brindisi finally arrived courtesy of Rob Walsh's Italian cousin at Tavoni shipping. The original measurement and, as a result, price were on the high side but a bit of creative dismantling and the discovery of a box which could have been made to measure saved the day. We had a night at the youth hostel (typical guest book comment: "THIS PLACE ROCKS!!!!!!!") to repack our stuff, get rid of any unwanted items and generally rejig things. It was a bit surprising how easily this was done, especially as we are carrying enough books to be able to make an impromptu shelter should the tent fail us. (And having read 'Robinson Crusoe', don't think we couldn't...) Packing BoB off was a slightly sad affair but it will make our lives a lot easier when we catch ferries and trains although it will mean a reduction in the number of admiring glances and inquiries we receive.

Our destination from Brindisi was Sami in Kefalonia which, we were unreliably informed by the ticket agent, we could reach from Igoumenitsa in Greece. We duly disembarked at 4am after a pleasant night sleeping on deck only to be told (when the port woke up) that we'd have to continue on to Patras. That was where our boat was headed before we got off. Nevertheless, 2 ferries later we were there. Well, here really. The budget is loving the place almost as much as we are although its appreciation of the hills, crystal blue water and pebbly beaches leaves a bit to be desired.

I went for a ride today; a 50km round trip up the island's high point, Mount Enos. The views were incredible all the way with towns, valleys and the coastline showing themselves as I climbed. On the way up I managed to outsprint a chunky farm dog (thankfully he was more built for 1-on-1 savagery than speed), outfox a herd of goats (I manoeuvered them to the side of the road using pebbles (no goats were harmed in the making of this blog)) and outsmart anyone who said I'd fall off twice (the last 7km were up a loose gravelly road - ask my knee and elbow if it was easy riding). On the way down I managed to overtake a car and clock up a rather alarming 72 km/h on what was the best descent of the trip so far. Well, since the last one...

2004-07-04T21:54:00.000+10:00

Downtown Palermo

It seems appropriate for us to be in Sicily to mark the passing of screen legend Marlon Brondo. We passed "Corleone" on the train but it's wasn't known if they were in special mourning for the man who will be forever linked to their town.

We spent a couple of days in Palermo then caught the train to Catania to avoid the drivers, hills and heat. That was yesterday and today I cycled 30-odd kilometers up Mount Etna. Well, once you've conquered the mountains you might as well move up to volcanoes. I got to 1900 metres which is as far as the snack bars and tourist tack and that was as far as I could go. The road from here is for minibuses and hikers so I left them to it and freewheeled home.

One of the best things about riding the bike is that it gives my hair a devil-may-care windswept look. It hasn't been cut since we set off and the last time it was this long the A-Team were on TV... I have also discarded my conscientious shaving regime in favour of getting the orange plastic razor out every week to 10 days. Or couple of weeks maybe. As I result I go from being a shaggy scruff to a shiny, clean shaven scruff. A miraculous transformation which has hoteliers and campsite owners wondering if my younger brother has turned up.

This post is brought to you courtesy of local restaurant opening times. As soon as the clock strikes 8:00 we're decamping to the Chinese over the road. Sweet and Sour pizza and fried rice please mate.

2004-07-02T23:22:00.000+10:00

We're off to Sicily and Updates Available Now

We're currently waiting for our ferry to take us from Sardinia to Sicily (cue the whistling of the Godfather theme).

We're not cycling much in Italy as bascially every Italian driver is nuts and thinks they don't need to change their line when overtaking us (cue me seeing a campervan overtake Banz with about 2 inches to spare).

We'll see a bit more of Sicily as well as visit some good friends in Southern Italy before we get a ferry to Greece and continue riding there. Rural Greece is meant to be very quiet (though hilly), so we're looking forward to that.

In the meantime, just so you haven't forgotten our smiling faces (they are except when hill climbing), we've updated and added the following pages to the Galleries -

England

Belgium

France - Nord Pas Du Calais

France - Picardy

France - Champagne

France - Burgundy

France - Rhone Alps

France - Provence

France - Corsica

Italy - Sardinia

as well as updating the following pages -

Overall Statistics

Physiology Changes

Burning Questions

and of course, scroll down for the latest poll.

2004-06-26T02:35:00.000+10:00

What I do when Banz rides up mountains....

I've been relatively quiet on the blog front since the start of the Big Trip, which those of you who know me, may well find surprising....

Of course I've been sharing the daily adventure and logistical necessities with Banz. From sending him out each morning in search of croissants, to telling him where I exactly want the tent positioned (usually as far as possible from where he has dumped all his panniers on the ground, whilst I leave mine stealthily attached to my bike and just wheel them to the new location), the struggles and rewards are generally shared between us. That is, except for the masochistic world of hill climbing.

As our mate Spence asked, "What does Vic do while you're off doing your Julie Andrews impression??".

Obviously this impression is totally at odds with Banz's, who hopes to run into Tyler Hamilton in a bar one day and be able to say, "That Mt Ventoux eh?"

For his two big mountain rides that have been described here, I've been more than content to either indulge myself in the girly pastimes of either shopping (Mt Ventoux Day) or improving my tan (Corsica nightmare ride day). By the way, the tan on my legs is fantastic and obviously gets better each day I ride.

Don't get me wrong, the satisfaction of reaching the top of a hard climb and surveying all below you and knowing you got here under your own steam (as well as lugging four excess novels knicked from the book exchange at the last campsite) is a fantastic feeling. The downhill section which lasts for approximately one fifth of the length of the uphill is also brilliant as well as seeing the speeds which your computer would have no hope of registering under normal circumstances.

It's just that well, climbing for the sake of climbing seems a bit silly to me.

I don't want to start sounding like a girly girl who doesn't understand the offside rule and so thinks football is stupid, but the whole thing of climbing these hills just strikes me as pointless. Nobody could've been prouder of Banz than I was after his successful Mt Ventoux ride, and, in a weird sort of way I was prouder of him after his unsuccessful day in the mountains in Corsica, and I'm more than happy at shout at him, "GET ON THE PEDALS!!!" as he heads off, its just not for me.

I'll ride up hills - but only if they're in my way.....

2004-06-12T21:04:00.000+10:00

A day in the country

We duly caught our ferry to Corsica after a much less trying trip to the port than the one in Hull. It's a sign of the times that we didn't want the crossing to end so that we could further enjoy the luxury of our cabin.

The port of Ajaccio is touristy but with good reason as the town occupies a beautiful patch of coastline with a backdrop of green rolling hills and their rockier cousins. Our campsite is 10 minutes ride from town, 2 minutes walk from the beach and about 100 metres up the side of a hill.

Given Corsica's many hills and my new found enjoyment of cycling in low gears I decided to go for a ride into the mountainous interior. Buoyed by recent triumphs I decided to have a go at a challenging 140km jaunt from Ajaccio to Corte, the island's capital. The ride would take me over 6 passes from 200 to 1,400 metres and I had the last train to catch at 18:35.

I set off at 5:30 to give myself a chance and to get some miles in before the heat got too much. It took me 45 minutes to get out of town but only another half an hour to crest the Col de Linsticone (200m +). A quick stop to auto-timer a photo, grab a handful of energy-boosting melange exotique and I was off. The road swept gently round the side of the hill with the sun starting to extract the scent from the maquis bushes which are everywhere on the island. Soon enough the second climb started in earnest so I dropped down the gears and spun slowly up the extra 400 vertical metres which were distributed pretty evenly over 6 or 7 kilometers of road. Two down (well, up really) and things were going well.

The descent from Col de St Sebastiano (~500m) is fast and winding, taking you all the way back down the coast. I then had about 10 fast kilometers by the clear blue sea before the inevitable turn towards the mountains. I branched off at Sagone and had about 10 minutes of easy riding before the gradient once again forced me into the low gears. I'd been riding a couple of hours by now and was happy enough to be gaining height and improving my view. It took me over an hour to climb to the 10kms or so to Vico and the Col de St Antoine but it took an awful lot out of me. I stopped for refreshments.

The ride up this 3rd hill had been hard. I'd been in the saddle for well over 3 hours and my legs and head were starting to ask a few questions. While enjoying an orange juice, I got the map out and started to formulate a Plan B. The best I could come up with (that wasn't riding back from Vico) was to push on up the next hill and instead of heading to Corte, turn towards the coast (got to be downhill) and head to Porto and see if they have a bus back to Ajaccio.

The Plan B made me feel a bit better. Climb 4 was up to the Col de Sevi, a leg battering 1,100m above sea level. What happened over the next 2 hours was about as far from fun as I can imagine. The bike and I reached an uneasy truce and we settled into the lowest gear it had. About half the time this was manageable but in a painfully slow way. The rest of the times it was either not low enough ("Get on the pedals" - Vic's favourite phrase of cycling encouragement) or too low. It didn't occur to me to change up when my legs spun wildly, only to sit there and enjoy the ride.

The trees thinned out, the sun beat down, the energy seeped slowly out of my legs and dripped onto the road below. The yellow kilometer markers crept past at a rate of one every 8 or 9 minutes. It was hard. Eventually, I saw the road heading straight to the top and a couple of corners later I was on it. This section was maybe 600 metres long but it took 2 rest stops to get there. I just couldn't get my brain to tell my legs to keep pushing. As it had to, the top arrived.

I got the photo and was happily sharing my egg sarnies with a couple of wild boar until they started getting a bit uncontrollable. Onwards and downwards I went. I rolled to a campsite outside Evisa with 70km on the clock and over 5 hours in the saddle. I asked for bus options and was delighted to hear from the campsite lady that one was due in 45 minutes and would happily take me and my bike back to Ajaccio. I used the only muscles so far not ground into oblivion and smiled. All I had to do was wait for the bus and flag it down.

I set about waiting in the shade. Cars passed. Vans passed. Motorbikes passed. No buses though. A camper van pulled in and the owners went for a coffee. Still no buses. As I waited another white van approached and as it went past I saw the names of towns like 'Vico' and 'Saglone' painted on it. I waved but it was gone. My bus was a minibus and it was heading over the hills without me.

The campsite lady came to ask how it was going, wondering where the bus was as it normally passes every days. I couldn't bring myself to explain so just looked puzzled while trying not to cry. Time passed and it became obvious the driver wasn't going to nip back to Evisa for his sarnies. The campsite lady was very puzzled but we agreed that the only explanation was that the bus had been early and we'd missed it while I was having a glass of juice.

We hit upon another plan. Accost the coffee drinking camper van owners and ask them to take me, not to Havana, to Ajaccio. If they were going that way. They were Austrians and in a tri-lingual negotiation, we got them to take me to Vico where they had accommodation booked. Not ideal but it got me back over the Col de Sevi which I'd spent the last 20 minutes descending.

From Vico to the campsite was 40 kilometers with the 500 metre climb of earlier in the way. Three more hours in the saddle and I was back at the tent I'd left 13 hours earlier with a slightly haunted look on my face. My day trip to Corte had been a failure but I have learned a valuable lesson about cycling in the mountains.

The final stats were :-
Distance : 110km
Ride Time : 8:17.37
Altitude Gained : 2437m

2004-06-08T20:03:00.000+10:00

Stats Updated!

The stats pages have now been updated. Check out the introduction page for records and overall figures as well as "Vic's Altitude Sickness" and "Banz Vs The Cheetah" for a more specific breakdown.

Those who don't want to know the results, look away now. Our top speed has edged us past the mighty elk and within touching distance of the quarter horse. Shockingly our average speed is languishing below the chicken and just above the mouse. I can categorically state that we are carrying more stuff than either of these creatures. On the climbing front, we are on our second ascent of Everest and have nearly escaped the watery clutches of the Marianas Trench.

2004-06-08T01:32:00.000+10:00

I can see the sea

Here are a few miscellaneous updates...

We are now in Marseille with our tickets to Corsica in the bag. We sail not at dawn but at 6pm tomorrow. The voyage to Ajaccio is 11 hours and we're hoping to be on the beach by lunchtime on Wednesday. "Have you got sand in your gears?" "No, I'm getting some change to buy an ice cream."

We have spent the last couple of days trying to get the website up to date and should hopefully be able to upload the last mainland France pictures to the galleries tomorrow if we can find an internet cafe owner who'll let us.

We've clocked up over 1,000 km on the bikes since wobbling down Stockton highstreet (a first for Vic if not for me) and the bikes are keen to have a bit of TLC.

Our tanlines are still a bit odd. My 2 pairs of cycle shorts and swimming trunks are all different lengths giving my legs rather attractive brown, pink and white stripes. For some reason, everytime I put my shorts on I get the urge for Neopolitan ice cream...

2004-06-04T23:28:00.000+10:00

I've got hills...they're multiplying

Research at Lyon showed us that the Rhone doesn't readily share its valley with stinking cyclists. The cyclable route which we thought we could imagine into being never materialised so we got the train from Lyon an hour down the track to Valence. It was on this journey, as the hills got a bit more impressive looking, that I decided to test myself in the mountains. Obviously without the luggage.

While Vic explored the town and prepared herself for the inevitable lower body rebuilding process, I girded my loins and hit the road. The route I planned took me from Valence up two 1,000m plus climbs; Col des Limouches and Col de Tourniol. The road to the bottom of the hill was flat but sadly not level and I had slightly over-warm legs as the road tilted skyward. The climb up 'Limouches' (I feel I can call the mountain that now) was 12 kilometers of hairpins and raised me a further 700 metres above the valley floor. The views of the town below and Valence in the distance were stunning and the constant gradient allowed me to sit on my second lowest gear (having saved one for emergencies) and spin to the top of 1086m.

The plan was to do the Tourniol as well, figuring I'd have done most of its 1145m already. The swooping ascent took off a few more metres than I'd have liked allowing me to whizz through the high meadows of La Vacherie. The road up the Tourniol was smaller and more gritty than the previous one but it didn't really affect me as I crept up on badly protesting legs. Eventually, as I was overtaken by ladybirds and even the cows had grown bored of watching me, I reached the top. The descent on the gravelly road was a bit more sedate than could have been expected but the valley seemed a nicer thing to look at than plunge headlong into.

The conquering hero struggled the 10 or so kilometers back to town after notching over 4 hours in the saddle to ride nearly 80km up over 1300 vertical metres. The hot shower and energy drinks did a little to revive but I was early to bed that night.

The riding from Valence was largely with the help of the Mistral which gave us a little shove but not enough to let us freewheel up the hills. And there were hills a plenty... We stayed at the pretty town of Crest with its Donjon (sadly nothing to do with Don Johnson) and La Begude de Mazenc, a town with about 14 more letters in its name than open shops. It was around this time that Vic's back started to really play up. We think it's due to the bending and lifting involved with camping which causes an old boating injury to flare up. Whatever it stems from it makes cycling up hills a very painful business for Vic. After one 8km climb to many we had no choice but to rest up in the town of Taulignan before pushing on here, to Vaison La Romaine.

The stay here has allowed me to go climbing again, this time up the big one: Mont Ventoux. The Giant of Provence sits in the Rhone Valley attracting cyclists from the likes of Lance Armstrong down. Its 1912m summit is considered one of the hardest climbs around and the Tour de France regularly sends the riders through Bedoin and up the 21km to the top. Yesterday I desided to join them...

It's about 20km from Vaison to Bedoin with the 448m Col De La Madelein thrown in to get the pulse rate up. The climb from Bedoin had me thinking "is this it" as I tried not to go too fast. A couple of kilometers of this took me to St Esteve where the road steepens and turns towards the treeline. The change in gradient had me hopping up through the gears to find something comfortable but without giving up the lowest of the low. With the summit visible and the climb starting in earnest I had been reduced to my second lowest gear. Ventoux is famous for getting you up to Chalet Reynard without resorting to hairpins. The gradient was unrelenting and I soon had to claim my last gear. I spent the next 1 hour 45 minutes slogging up through the trees with nothing to look at but the tarmac in front, climbing away endlessly. I had planned to stop if the view was good but there was no view at all so I drank my water and juice and ate my energy bars as I rode. When the trees thinned out and the Mistral started to gust I knew I was almost through the first stage...the 15kms to Chalet Reynard.

I'd been riding 3 hours 15 minutes by this stage with about 2 on the Ventoux. A quick coffee stop with 2 veteran climbers filled me with a bit of worry. It was getting pretty windy and I was warned that the last 6km to the top may not be possible...

"C'est difficile?"

"Non, c'est dangereuse..."

I hadn't come this far to turn around but didn't fancy getting blown off the side of a mountain. Then I saw other people going up and figured it must be safe so climbed back on the bike. The last part of the climb winds up the barren upper slopes where nothing as sensible as a pine tree stands in the way of the Mistral. The procession of cyclists was pretty constant by now and I joined them for the buffeting. The road would creep sideways on to the wind (2nd lowest gear, spinning nicely) before turning straight into it (lowest gear, on the pedals, gusts bringing me to a standstill). The climb is on the inside of the road which is safer as those descinding did so with feet unclipped and at little over walking pace.

The 5kms from the chalet to the memorial for Tom Simpson (a British rider and World Champion who died of exhaustion on the Ventoux) took me over 45 minutes. I paused to read the messages, left a memento and headed back up the hill. Less than 5 minutes later I was at the top. The wind was howling, the gift shop tacky and the carpark swarming with Germans in 4x4s who weren't prepared to lose a parking space to some wobbly cyclist. Saying that, it felt pretty good to be up there.

The climb took me nearly 3 hours and had me bathed in sweat, the descent of 35 minutes had me shivering despite having the map stuffed up my jumper. Well, Boro shirt. Luckily the ride back to the campsite warmed me up.

There's a club for people who have ridden over 100 cols (five of which have to be over 2000 metres). I guess I'm now 1/25th of the way there...

2004-05-25T00:36:00.000+10:00

So you're saying Brad Pitt is in a different Troyes?

We spent a couple of days in St Quentin before catching the train to Troyes. We had an hour and a half in Paris to change trains so spent the first 75 minutes milling around and eating sandwiches. We spent the last 15 minutes pushing our bikes the wrong way up one-way streets transferring from Paris-Nord to Paris-Est station. We had given up hope of catching our train as successive Parisians ummed and ahhed about the best way to get to the station but somehow, with only 30 seconds to spare, we managed to drag the bikes and BoB onto the decidedly non-bike carriage. The conductor was pretty unimpressed with us and gave us 2 helpful lectures on the subject of "Arriving in good time for your train".

Troyes itself is a nice spot. It's the former capital of Champagne but is now famous for having a vaguely Champagne cork shaped old town, a mid-table second division footy team and a rubbish mini-golf course. At least that's what it says in our Lonely Planet.

The terrain in the Champagne region is of the rolling hills variety which is putting steel into our legs whether we want it or not. The weather before Troyes had turned cold and cloudy but we have had nothing but blue skies since then. Well, the odd nocturnal thunderstorm to test our new bike garage (4 bin bags Gaffa taped together) but that adds to the fun in a tent.

Like all free bars, once we ran out of Champagne we were into Burgundy, a region which manages to be even more hilly than its neighbour. Our route took us through such notable towns as :-

Bar-sur-Seine
Pretty, no campsite despite the rumours. Spent a couple of days flicking through French TV in our cheap hotel waiting for Eurovision to start.

Chatillon-sur-Ource
Pretty, campsite atop the worlds steepest, biggest (ant) hill

Recey-sur-Ource
Makes Harlow seem pretty and friendly. Totally closed at 3pm on Thursday. Was scene of wild rejoicing on leaving.

Grancey-le-Chateau-Neuvelle
Olde worlde pretty. Free (closed, camped anyway) camping. Home to amorous or pugnacious cat population.

Dijon : Full

Yes, our legs carried us up mountains and down the hills all the way to Dijon. We arrived at 3pm to be told that everywhere for miles around was fully booked. I looked incredulous. The tourist office guy explained that there were many exhibitions and sporting events happening that weekend but didn't go into details although he did let slip one such attraction was a classic motorbike rally in a town 20km away. If only we'd known...

Anyway, it was Dijon's loss as we took the news stoically, decamped to the station and got the next train to Lyon. This turned out to be a much more accommodating place despite having the undoubted attraction of the then two time, now three time, champions of the French league. Sadly for them they have a counterfeit Juninho playing for them but I think Vic and I are the only ones who've noticed.

The ride to Dijon saw PBs tumbling as the longest day (both in Kms and from (tent) door to (hotel) door) and highest daily average speed records were shattered. The stats may be updated to reflected this.

From here we are planning to head down the Rhone valley to Marseille.

2004-05-09T01:01:00.000+10:00

Hill, Canals and %*!#ing Canals

Douai released us from its clutches on the first of May and we decided to try our luck beside the canals again. We charted a route on the "Sensee" out of Douai which would take us east towards the "Canal de la Sambre a l'Oise". The map showed the l'Oise canal winding its way down to Reims and we liked the idea of a bit of flat riding.

The "Sensee" canal path was a bit rough at times and it seemed whichever side we were on was wrong. On one occasion we had whizzed along a few kilometers from one of the regular road crossings to find a 1 meter high pile of rubble across the path. "Charming", we thought, hauling our stuff over. The path quickly deteriorated to a mud track before more piles of rubble appeared. As well as signs reading "Interdit au public". Once again we'd picked the wrong side but it wasn't too difficult to get over to the passable side. The second day on the canal was a treat though and by early afternoon we'd reached the point where we had to head cross-country to the other canal.

This is where the hills came into play and we climbed and descended for a couple of hours in search of food and camping. Being Sunday the former was hard to find but we thought we knew of a campsite within easy reach. Armed with this knowledge we stopped at a the only open eaterie we'd seen, in the town of Iwuy. The medals and awards on the wall coupled with the well-dressed customers told us this was no greasy cuiller. Despite the fact that we were rosy cheeked and wearing lycra we were welcomed in and celebrated with two of the best steaks we've ever had. Our enquiry about the campsite 3kms away was met with a shake of the head. After our award-winning chef had done some calling around it turned out there was a place about 15km over the hills and far away. We saddled up with more than heavy hearts but put in a stirling effort to get there in about an hour and a half. The campsite at Solesmes was where Vic spent an enjoyable, if wet and windy, birthday.

Two more days in the hills followed, providing the stats with 2 of the top 4 daily altitude gains. Our legs are getting much better at tackling the climbs and, even though it's still a slog, there's a real satisfaction when you get to the top. On Thursday (7th May) we reached the l'Oise canal but that's where it went a bit wrong. The paths on Thursday were rutted and potholed but passable, but yesterday they disappeared altogether. We were forced to retrace our path first thing in the morning when the tarmac turned to long grass. This meant we took 40 minutes to get back outside the campsite. We decided to follow the roads to the next point they crossed the canal and reassess. The path was still longish grass but the lockkeeper lady told us it was passable en velo as the grass was cut. It did seem feasible and she was insistent so we thanked her, gave her son a little koala and set off. What followed was a travesty of disinformation as we ploughed along a tiny, half forgotten, definitely not cut, path by the canal. By the time we realised it wasn't getting any better it was easier to go on than back. So if anyone out there sees a small child by a lock at Noyales, go get our koala back. Not that we're bitter.

Suddenly our sweeping canal route to Reims was off the agenda and so a bit of rejigging was needed. We decided to head to St Quentin, a decent-sized town where we could further research our route. The map showed the town to be about 20km away with about 4km section on a busy looking main road. The alternative route added an extra 5kms, probably over hills. We took the minor roads to a village called Marcy and, as the rain came down, started asking about camping. A local farmed didn't seem keen to let us camp on his land but said there was camping in the next village. He pointed us down, up and over the hills via the back roads and seemd to stifle a "sacre bleu!" when I asked about the busy N29. We decided to ask at the town hall, as much to get out of the rain as anything. The lady there thought we could probably make it to Homblieres by the direct route as it was all downhill and only a couple of kilometers. We decided to give it a go as an extra half an hour's cycling in icy rain didn't appeal.

As we approached the national road we saw a couple of cars whizz by in both directions at pretty cycle-unfriendly speeds. The next village lay tantalisingly at the bottom of the hill so, in a gap in the traffic, we went for it. The gap didn't last long and we were soon being passed by lorries and cars in a tumult of noise and spray. We didn't dare pedal for fear of wobbling and we coasted down with me listening out for the traffic and Vic forced to watch it skim past me. As soon as the pavement appeared we took it, counted our blessing and made a policy decision regarding main roads.

Homblieres is 6km from St Quentin and the kindly shop keeper who guided us to our campsite last night (in proper hazard light motorcade fashion) outdid himself today by giving us a lift into town. The second koala of the day has definitely gone to a good home.

2004-04-30T02:02:00.000+10:00

Happy Birthday Connor! and Updates

We don't usually do special personalised messages here at Big Trip (we'll send you one if you pay us enough though....), but we wanted to send our nephew and godson, Connor a very Happy 9th Birthday message for today. Miss you lots and hope you had a great day.

For everyone else who isn't Connor you can go and check out the updated Big Trip Stats.

2004-04-30T00:28:00.000+10:00

On level ground

The last 8 days have seen us head south with a vengeance. We used the Belgian canal paths to good effect and followed them all the way to Ieper (Ypres). With no hills to slow us we covered nearly 50 Kms on the day we got there and were rewarded with a nice campsite which had a mini-golf course. This got me thinking that it would be a great idea to play mini-golf wherever we could and devote part of the Big Trip to a transcontinental novelty putting tournament. Surprisingly, Vic too thought it would be a good idea. Actually, it's not that surprising given her record against me. I won't dwell on it but the Belgian Championship went Vic's way thanks in no small part to an 8-shot swing on the 10th hole where she calmly followed my 9 with a hole-in-1.

From Ieper we followed minor roads to the border town of Westouter which sits atop the only decent-sized hill for miles around. We struggled up from the quiet village below along deserted roads to be greeted by a throng of daytrippers promenading up and down the main street at the top. It was most unexpected and we never really got to the bottom of what the attraction was - there was no view to speak of, the prices didn't seem that different in Belgium and France and the cafes were nothing special. It was almost as if the souvenir shops brought the visitors not vice versa.

Having paid our departure tax in the form of nearly 100 vertical metres we were free to coast into France. Almost immediately our fellow cyclists became more friendly and I became confident that the language I couldn't express myself in was French. The last week has seen us become slightly better at making and breaking camp, we have identified and sent home some unecessary bits and we have embraced the local's love of the pattiserie.

Our route from Westouter took us to Aubers, Raimbeaucourt and now Douai (which, oddly enough, is twinned with Harrow). Our accommodation in Raimbeaucourt was unusual to say the least... We had run out of steam by 4ish and started looking for somewhere to stay. Town after town had no hotels, campsites, guest houses or hostels and by the time we got a positive lead it was getting on for 6 o'clock. The village we were pointed to was a couple of kilometers away so we decided to see if there were any front garden options on the way. The residents seemed reluctant but reckoned the local farmer may be more helpful so we headed off to try our luck.

As we toured the streets I spotted a bloke in a farmyard and set about turning the bike round. While I was doing so Vic had started chatting to a chap who had what looked like a python draped around his neck. This was obviously not the case as it was actually a boa constrictor. It turned out the family had no fewer than 9 snakes to keep the 2 dogs and 2 ponies company and we spent 10 minutes looking at them and using our basic foreign language skills to find out about snakes, bikes and stuff like that. However, we didn't think we knew them well enough at this point to ask about the large collection of swords and knives. Anyway, as time was ticking on and we were getting along so well, I asked if they had a spare bit of grass that we might camp on and to our delight they did. The grass was long and Michel, Michelle and Therese supremely hospitable as they treat us to a home cooked five-course meal. They truly were a lovely, friendly bunch who couldn't do enough for us, right down to breakfast and a contact in Greece.

With nearly 400kms on the clock we are starting to feel like proper cyclists. If you don't believe us, ask to see our strange tan lines.

2004-04-21T23:30:00.000+10:00

Goodbye England

The road from York to Hull was said to be flat and so it was. The cycle path out of York is traffic free and features one of the best things I`ve seen for a while. The section from the just past York racecourse to Riccall has a scale model of the solar system. The sun is at the York end and is a couple of metres across. As you cycle along you are greeted by Mercury, Venus, Earth and Mars within the first kilometer. From here the distances start to get a bit bigger and the flat and largely straight nature of the path really helps you imagine you are whizzing across space. Each new planet was a good reason to stop which was necessary as we later found out we had been traveling in excess of 10 tmes the speed of light.

A couple of days cheap camping was welcome over the next few days before our last few UK pints for a while with our mate Nik in North Ferriby. Facing the final 15kms the next day was not the easiest thing to do. Hull itself saw us of with ever heavier rain as we searched for a route to the ferry port which avoided the busy A63. The highlight was following a dockside path for several kilometers to find our route blocked by a 50-step footbridge. Behind us lay the A63 so we had no choice but to unload the bikes and carry our stuff over. 45 minutes later we were across and picking our way across a lock which was clearley not designed for laden cyclists. We both had visions of our bags snagging and pitching into the deep, brown Humber.

We were thouroughly soaked and cold (and with a flat BoB tyre) by the time we reached the ferry. Our 15 k journey had turned out to be 27 and taken us four and a half hours.

We are now in Belgium for more flat cycling. We stayed in the hostel near Zeebrugge the first night then covered nearly 50kms to a village called Wilkeskerk. The last 10 were in search of somewhere to stay and after the heartbreak of being turned away from a campsite because they were closed we were ready to pitch anywhere. We stopped to ask a farmer directions and, using my fairly rusty schoolboy French, managed to get him to allow us to put the tent up on his front lawn. The farmer was a star, even bringing us out a bottle of water.

Our route seems to be changing at the moment and is taking us west towards France instead of South. Watch this space for details!

2004-04-14T21:07:00.000+10:00

And so it begins...

After much waiting and planning we finally loaded the bags and Bob and climbed on our bikes outside Stockton town hall. Our lack of fitness was a worry as was the amount of stuff we're carrying but my biggest concern was being unable to navigate us out of my home town. Well...it's been a while since I've lived there.

The opening few miles were through some of Teesside's less inspiring industrial estates before the countryside welcomed us at Maltby. Suddenly the trip started to make sense as we got used to the feel of the laden bikes on the quiet back roads. The next couple of hours passed very pleasantly as we made good progress on the gently undulating lanes, our main company being fellow cyclists rather than cars.

Soon after lunch the terrain started to get a bit more severe and we had to get off and push the bikes - not an easy task in itself - but even so our first destination of Osmotherley was well in our sights despite the best efforts of the hills of Swainby.

The day would have been a perfect start to the trip but Vic's wheels slid from under her on the gravel path down to the campsite. She fell pretty heavily and really banged her knee. The sight of blood running down her leg into her sock was sickening but apart from a deep cut there seemed to be no internal damage. We hobbled into camp and set up the tent but the injury meant we had to have an enforced rest day on Monday. Better safe than sorry at this stage!

Vic's knee was still a bit tender on Tuesday but with the ferry waiting in Hull on the 18th we had no choice but to press on. The steep hills of the North York moors stopped our progress almost dead; the uphills too steep to cycle and the big downhill on a gravel offroad section which was too skiddy ride. As a result we covered less than 9 gruelling kilometers in the first 3 hours of the day.

After lunch things speeded up a bit and we made a lot of great progress but we made a pragmatic decision. We decided to ride on to Thirsk and get the train down to York and save a day. This would allow Vic's knee to rest further and allow us to sort out a few logistical bits and pieces.

So here we are in York. The first 2 days in the saddle were hard but good and we're on our way.

2004-04-11T03:47:00.000+10:00

Snapshots from Singapore

We've dug out some snapshots from a photoshoot that we attended in Singapore. Enjoy!

2004-04-02T17:19:00.000+10:00

The Queen Sees Us Off

Who would've thought that the Queen (well Queen Liz II) was a fan of the Big Trip?

In that expose in the UK Sunday papers a couple of months ago there was no Big Trip mug or lunchbox amongst the acres of tuppleware that supposedly inhabit Buck House.

My republican leanings are also well known, so you can imagine my surprise when as Banz and I ate our lunch in a patch of sun in Harrow town centre on Wednesday and watched some workers putting together a platform, we were informed that the Queen was visiting on Thursday.

I never thought that she would be a fan, but yet here she was appearing in the town centre that we've come to know and shop in over the last few years (love is a very strong word), as well as driving past the end of Nibthwaite Road (Banz did mention that the loft room that caused us all this grief for a year would've made a fantastic sniper's nest) so she could pay her respects and wave us on our way before we caught the train up to Darlo to visit with HiG.

Thanks Liz - we didn't know you cared.

For the full story - CLICK HERE!

2004-03-30T06:44:00.000+10:00

Singapore Slung Out

We have taken a couple of days out in Singapore in order to break up the long haul back to England. From what we've seen so far the Singaporean people seem to be a cosmopolitan mix of races and beliefs who happily get along, love their technology and are happy to make a dollar. They have also embraced many elements of their collonial past, none moreso than the Raffles Hotel and the Singapore Cricket Club.

The SCC occupies a prime chunk of riverside real estate (the original planners obviously had clear priorities) and the typical English pavillion looks strangely out of place amongst the exotic, creeper covered trees. As we passed we saw a game was about to start so we entered through a side gate, by-passed the members' area and took a seat in the 'public' area with the players and spectators.

It was pretty busy but we found a spot next to a lunching ex-pat and set about arranging a couple of cold drinks. A short time passed before we attracted a waiter who, on taking our order, asked us for our coupons. Naturally, we had none but were told we could get them from reception. I was pointed to the members' bar, which was located in the late 19th century. I could have looked more out of place walking through in my shorts and flip flops but unfortunately I'd left my suit of armour at the hotel.

On reaching reception it was made very clear that the Singapore Cricket Club was members only and that it would be best for all concerned if we abandonned our hopes of watching today's game. I said I'd break the news to Vic and made my walk of shame back through the G&T-sipping retired Majors. How I longed for the anonimity that a good suit of armour brings...

Plan B became to get the hell out of there before we got thrown out. Little did I know that in my absence Vic had been chatting to our table made and our non-status had been identified as a problem. Luckily Mary was an SCC member and was happy to sign us in. We made our way together on the now familiar journey to main reception. The look on the receptionist's face was a treat; a rapid flux of deference and confusion with a hint of thwarted malevolence thrown in. (Go on, try to picture it.) My new friend quickly put the phone down (I dread to think) and with Mary's help set about signing me in and arranging some coupons.

Over drinks we discovered that Mary has been in Singapore for 30 years and we picked up a few sight-seeing tips and must see locations. In return we offered accommodation tips for Mary's next destination, Brisbane. We settled in for a few drinks in the cool shade and spent a happy hour chatting away.

And for those who were wondering, the cricket we saw wasn't up to much.

2004-03-20T18:56:00.001+10:00

Stop Press

We've updated the Galleries.

The latest updates are -

Farewells in London

Farewell to the Jaflong

Farewell to Work

Boro Winning the Carling Cup - Build-Up

Boro Actually Winning the Cup

Thailand

Mackay, Australia

and more to come!

2004-03-20T18:56:00.000+10:00

View from the train

The Sunlander train, with its small but large enough air-conditioned compartments, rattles through the North Queensland countryside. Sometimes tiptoing through the one-street towns, sometimes bounding through the lush green pasture and sugar cane on its way down to Brisbane.

The sugar cane is grown almost defiantly these days, at odds with economic reality. The families who for generations have grown, harvested and refined it seem unwilling - or unable - to come to terms with the fact that sugar production abroad is cheaper and their export share is shrinking. What happened in the coalfields and shipyards of the Northeast of England seems to be happening on the cane farms of Northern Queensland.

Australia's vastness seems almost manageable by train. The miles of bush are regularly broken by small habitations and the view is frequently punctuated by signs of human life; a telegraph pole, a dirt road, a water pump or a barbed wire fence. It's worth remembering though that the majority of the population lives within a (powerful) stone's throw of the ocean and the train naturally follows this path.

2004-03-16T14:25:00.000+10:00

Catch the action at the backyard cricket

We are now in Oz after a brief stopover in the world's most highly rated airport (Changi, Singapore) and after a night in Brisbane we headed once more to the airport for the one and half hour flight up the coast to Mackay to visit Vic's family.

The highlight of the visit so far has to be the thrilling game of backyard cricket which was played out in front of a sadly indifferent crowd. A few warmup knocks saw honours even between our nephew Connor (age 9, Australia's hope for the future) and me (age 27 (ish), English sometime golden-armed plodder). Who could have guessed what was to follow...?

With the light fading the Aussie youngster launched a brutal attack on the bowling and plundered boundary after boundary on his way to a quickfire fifty. But he was not finished there and, once this first milestone was reached, seemed to go up a gear as the assault continued. After 2 consecutive straight sixes it was difficult to know if the bowler or the woman whose garden was being peppered was praying harder for a wicket. He was nerveless in the nineties and stole a quick single to bring up three figures. Connor was offered the light on 106, declined it and then fell shortly after.

Bansey strode to the crease needing 111 to win. The advancing gloom was frequently illuminated by the tourist's flashing blade as the ball was scorched to all parts. Boundaries were recognised by sound rather than sight as the light disappeared completely. There was a palpable buzz among the crowd which by now consisted solely of mosquitos. Bansey reached fifty and then, with an exquisitely timed push through long off, to his maiden century. With the victory in sight Bansey then contrived to top edge a viciously seaming ball and the bowler made no mistake. The youngster had prevailed and once again an English touring side leaves this sun drenched country with a broken heart.

2004-03-10T22:04:00.000+10:00

5 things we learnt in Thailand...

1) I am XXL in shorts
2) Original Oakley sunglasses are expensive; original Orly ones are not
3) There's only one bloke in the whole of Bangkok selling Boro shirts. And he watched the cup final as well.
4) Thai taxi drivers are forbidden by law to stay in a lane that isn't moving
5) The resident guitarist in the Silom Road Mexican restaurant knows all the words to "Waltzing Matilda"

2004-03-08T00:29:00.000+10:00

Random (sleep) patterns

This blog comes to you from the Land of Smiles where we are on a week stopover on the way to Oz. Our body clocks seem to be as reliable as the Patpong Ronexes at the moment but we are ever hopeful of beating jet lag. So far we have managed a 6:30am start, two 4 hour afternoon naps and an audacious 1pm sleep-in on the day we checked out of our hotel. I think the Singha brewery may be partly responsible for the last one though.

Seeing the locals driving around Bangkok has given a few moments of concern and we'll definitely need to be on our toes. From what we can gather, the road markings are more a suggestion than something to be slavishly adhered to. If you think you can squeeze 5 cars across the road then go for it...feel free to use the hard shoulder and don't worry about those chevrons. For all that, the average Thai seems to have a better attitude to motoring and all incidents are met with a smile, a shrug or, at the most, a reluctant peep from the horn. It'd be interesting to see that approach in London...

From Bangkok we persuaded a taxi driver to take us the 2 hours or so to Pattaya where we are visiting friends for a couple of days. His fare home was taken care of when a guy on a scooter pulled alongside, tapped on the window and asked if he was going back to Bangkok.

From here it's off to Oz where my visa will get a chance to strut its stuff - only 9 months since its first appearence in my passport.

2004-03-03T22:27:00.000+10:00

So...who won then?

Well it finally happened and Boro won a trophy. I'll leave the post-match analysis to the professionals with their 128-years-of -hurt, disallowed/not given penalties, popping champagne corks and sour grapes.

For us the weekend started properly when we pitched out tent, laid our our whizzy -8c rated sleeping bags and headed to the pub for liquid insulation. A couple of hours later we were in our thermals, ski socks and woolly hats and prepared for a good night's sleep. The cold had an ally in keeping us awake in the shape of some fellow campers who mistakenly thought we all wanted to listen to their music till the small hours.

When peace was finally restored we discovered how cold it was. Perched on the thin foam strip of the insulated mat made me feel a bit like a penguin's egg being carried by a less than careful parent. To say we were warm would be a gross overstatement but we are still alive and only bits that were exposed to the cold air suffered any frostbite. Still, we managed to snatch a couple of hours of shivery sleep before the sun chased Jack Frost away.

The matchday plan was to head to the Fly Me To The Moon rendez-vous and pick up our ticket. While there we would see if there was a spare and if not head out among the market forces to see what we could procure. One ticket was duly obtained via legitimate means so off we went in search of another. There followed a fair amount of approaching likely looking characters, furtive whispers and price conferences. We eventually found our man who had a mate who knew a bloke who had a ticket. Our connection was down a sidestreet away from the police and was not generally the sort of place you'd be comfortable peeling a wad of twenties from your wallet. But what can you do?

Once I had a ticket it was time to split up and take our seats. Vic was among the MSS faithful and I was up the slightly pricier seats with what was rumoured to be Joseph Job's family (pic to follow). And then the game. Early goals. Goal-keeping howler. Brilliant saves. End to end action. Golden opportunities spurned. Time passing slowly. The final whistle.

It all had a slightly unreal feel about it in the end. Seeing Boro clearly fired up but still able to play proper, uninhibited football was more proof than the result that we have come a long way under Steve Gibson, Bryan Robson and now Steve McClaren. Boro, like the Banseys, are planning a foray into Europe!

So how was the second night under canvas? Better ask the people who didn't decamp to the Cathedral Hotel for real beds and a TV showing extended highlights of some game played earlier.

2004-02-24T23:35:00.000+10:00

Its finally happened...

Who would've thought that the flat would go through? At times, we certainly didn't, but it has happened. Last Wednesday, 18th February, after over a year of trying, Banz and I became homeless.

So, what now?

Well, after a strange feeling of relief and numbness, yet not quite happiness, we handed our notice in at work, booked our flights for Australia and came to the conclusion that The Big Trip is actually going to happen.... and boy, are we unfit!

You see a year ago, we were primed, fit, had been cycling to work each day, had completed the Coast to Coast and were eating well. The depression that set in after the loft room fiasco of 2003 meant that much chocolate, chips and lager were consumed in a fruitless effort to make us feel better. That and not really feeling like riding our bikes didn't help. But the eight months between then and now have given us something that I think is more important - a determination and resolve that we discovered when the chips were down. We're doing this trip. Come hell or high water (we don't want either to be honest - especially whilst camping). We're definitely doing this trip.

Our timeline is now -

27/02 - Finish Work
29/02 - Be in Cardiff to watch the mighty Boro lift the Carling Cup
03/03 - Fly from London to Bangkok
10/03 - Fly from Bangkok to Brisbane
12/03 - Fly to Mackay from Brisbane
18/03 - Get the overnight train from Mackay to Brisbane
26/03 - Fly from Brisbane to Singapore
30/03 - Fly from Singapore to London

We haven't decided yet, but we should be heading up to Teesside soon after we return to London and then setting off a week or so after that. Keep checking back here for finalised details.

In the meantime, you may have noticed that the site is looking different. The time lost through no longer having a Playstation, Cable TV and for a time, standard TV have not been wasted. Look around and see what we mean and make sure you give us some feedback on what you think. Highlights include the Cycling Nickname Generator and The Poll. You can also show your support for The Big Trip and get along to the Gift Shop.

2004-02-04T20:52:00.000+10:00

11 Heroes Revealed

It can't have escaped the notice of sports lovers the world over that the mighty Boro stormed past hapless Arsenal to reach the final of the Carling Cup last night.

Here at the Big Trip we can exclusively reveal the 11 heroes who made the victory possible. The search for lucky items of clothes is a tireless one as far as Middlesbrough Football Club are concerned but it seems as if we have stumbled across a winning combination.

It's unclear whether individual items inspire individual positions as per our photo (although it'd be nice to think my socks were responsible for another solid central defensive performance) but it seems obvious that overall the lucky clothes played a blinder.

As we have mentioned previously, Boro doing well is something of a rarity so moments like these are to be cherished. Especially when the shock is so great it forces my boss (who's an Arsenal fan) to call in sick rather than face up to the defeat. He was always well enough to come in after our numerous 4-1 drubbings though...

Anyway next stop Cardiff on the 29th!

2004-01-29T19:52:00.000+10:00

Snow Days!

After weeks of being told that it was going to snow here in London, it finally dumped it down in about 30 minutes last night.

Thankfully we were just about to go into Tesco just around the corner from our house and with everyone fleeing, we were able to have pretty much the entire supermarket to ourselves (yet it still strangely took 20 minutes to get served for a Lottery Ticket - some things never change).

Traffic was already queueing up on the roads and we were thankful for the short walk home. A quick snowball fight for the benefit of our neighbour's video camera (try as we might we couldn't get her 18 month old son involved) and we were safely ensconced in the house with the central heating blasting out.

Last year, London received about two inches on the 30th January - so it seems to be becoming an annual event. Maybe it could be a tourist attraction a la changing of the guards? You read it here first.

2004-01-21T21:39:00.000+10:00

Glory Supporting Boro Fans

As mentioned last Tuesday we went off to Highbury last night to see the underdogs Arsenal take on the league leaders Boro (for reality's sake please reverse the two adjectives describing the teams) for a place in the Coca-Carling Cup Final. We went with heavy hearts after the battering the lads received a couple of weeks ago at the hands of Arsenal.

We had just got through the gates as kick-off happened and took our places (nobody was seated) in the packed Boro end. What ensued was a fantastic game. The Boro end continually outsung Arsenal (do their fans not sing at all?) and our players responded magnificently. Although there was a lot of Arsenal pressure early on, they never looked like really finishing off their overly-tricky play and after several good chances (especially Juninho's shot bouncing off the post), we rightfully went ahead with a Juninho goal. They again applied pressure but were unable to break through our defence and we were unlucky when a couple of shots went wide. The game finished 1-0 to the good guys for once.

Our long journey home was improved by seeing lots of glum Arsenal supporters on the train who were occasionally broken by ecstatic looking Boro fans grinning back at us.

Fingers crossed Arsenal will stick to their youth mixed with crap older players policy and we'll stick a couple of goals past them at the Riverside and make the final at Cardiff. Bring on Bolton or Villa.

Note for international users - Boro never beat Arsenal. Ever. Well except for once in 2001, but apart from that never. Boro have never won an important cup in their history (going back over 100 years) and this could be our best chance yet. COME ON BORO!