Blog Fail. Also, AUSTRALIA!

So I've been a slacker and not blogged for ages.


It's been a ride. We've been through several countries. On the one hand, we've had several kinds of lurgy, and my face got infected. On the other hand, we've eaten the most spectacular food and seen some amazing scenery.

There's a whole load of stuff I've not written about - Kuala Lumpur, Otres Beach, Koh Samed, Penang and the Cameron Highlands. to name a few.

Alice is much more efficient and has already blogged about most of the above. If you haven't checked out her blog already, check the links above for pic and ting. Yes... yes... cop out.



We're currently in Hervey Bay, having landed in Brisbane. We're living in a camper van and driving up Australia's east coast. Every few nights we're stopping in at a camp site and having a shower an filling up on water for our portable kitchen. The rest of the time, we're trying to stay in free rest stops. Australia is EXPENSIVE and apparently nothing is free. I'm facing up to the certainty that eating out will be a very rare occurrence. I'm loving cooking out of the back of a van though - we had homemade burgers on the edge of a field full of cattle last night. They didn't seem to mind.

Spending time in a country where the natives speak English is a great feeling, as is being able to drive around. When we picked up our camper van, we had to wait about an hour in the reception, so the staff threw in a free GPS unit. This has been a life saver and, combined with the sensible road system and signs, driving around Oz has been a breeze.
 
Because we're in the van, Internet access is hard to come by and I'm not sure that I'll be able to upload photos and catch up with all the old bloggage. In fact, just accessing AC power is something of a luxury. 




We're off to visit Frazer Island tomorrow and then to explore some more of Oz by road, before hitting Sydney some time between Christmas and New Year.

As soon as we've managed to charge Alice's camera we'll take loads of photos and do a big update, promise.

The Path to Enlightenment

Aloha and namaste.

So on the way to enlightenment there's this plane crash, right, and a bald bloke playing backgammon on the beach. There's a polar bear that nobody really, properly explains. We have to type this code in every 24 hours. Then, after a load of faffing about we're suddenly, inscrutably in the 70s and everyone loses interest.

Finally, after exhibiting superhuman endurance and sticking with it until the finale, we're punched in the eyes repeatedly and left to wonder what just happened.

Siem Reap and Angkor Wat

**We've been without fast Internet for a while and uploading photos has been slooow. I've got so much to catch up on. So I'm just going to crack on with the words and upload the pics later**

When we reach a new location, emerging blinking from a bus or train, there are two good rules of thumb. Walk or take public transport when you can - I always feel better orientated and get a much better sense of place, plus I don't have to bargain with local drivers from a position of ignorance. If walking's not possible it's best to approach a taxi driver rather than go with one who approaches you.

A Holiday In Cambodia

After just over a week lazing by the Mekong it was time to leave.
We booked transport across the border to Cambodia, less than an hour away, and onward to the first enclave of civilisation following, Kratie.

There were some shenanigans at the border. Some bribes were avoided by paying a little extra to have someone process our visas in advance. It would have worked out about the same either way. The actual border crossing was made on foot. As we shuffled uncertainty from Laos to Cambodia, between immigration roadblocks, a group of Western tourists passed us coming the other way. The scene was reminiscent of a 60s Cold War spy exchange.

Don Det

Vang Vieng to Don Det was a bit of a haul. We took an initial coach to Vientiane, caught an overnight connection to Pak Se, rested for an evening before jumping on a minibus and then a ferry to Si Phan Don, the Four Thousand Islands. All in all the journey was the best part of a thousand kilometres.

What can I say? We could have travelled twice as far in one stretch and it would have been worth it. Don Det is beautiful.

Vang Vieng

Vang Vieng: infamous Laos party town; home of tubing; site of numerous drunken tourist deaths every year.

I'd heard terrible things about Vang Vieng. I visualised an endless, bobbing procession of Western kids, smacked up on opiates and buckets of Lao Lao whisky, floating on inner tubes, vomiting into the Nam Khong. Last year 27 tourists died tubing, from drowning or leaping into the river from a great height and breaking their heads open on rocks.

Whether it was a low-season lull or the fact that most of the riverside bars had been closed due to tourist deaths a few weeks before, we saw very little evidence of Vang Vieng's seedier side.

We saw was a quiet, if very tourist-centric, town on the banks of the river, surrounded by beautiful countryside. We found a nice guest house on the Southern end of town, called Jammee, and ended up staying for about week.

We were keen to get out and soak up some of the natural beauty that Vang Vieng is also famous for. Just ouside of the town, across the river, extends green countryside and limestone mountains. A few days after we arrived, we rented a couple of shoddy beach cruisers and attempted to the Phou Kham caves, site of the locally famous "blue lagoon". Our bikes were awful, the sun was blazing, and the road was atrocious. I think we managed to get about 4km out of town before we had to admit defeat and turn back.

Resolving to try again with better gear, we settled for Xang caves - a small set of caves extending into one of the surrounding mountains - just down the road from our guest house.

The climb up

The interior - best I could get with my camera phone

After a lengthy climb, the caves themselves were blessedly cool if a little small and underwhelming. A quick three minute walk from the entrance brought you out into the open air again.

The view from the top

At the base of the mountain, a river flowed out of the cave system on its way to the Nam Khong. The water was wonderfully cold. Shoals of fish nibbled at my toes.

My cave lust not quite sated, the next day we saddled up on some proper mountain bikes and made for Phou Kham once again. It was raining heavily most of the way there but the improved gear and temperature made all the difference and, after about an hour's ride past several places purporting to be Phou Kham, we found the real deal.

Unlike Xang there were no stairs and no lights in the caves. We rented head torches at the bottom and hoisted ourselves up a cliff face to the entrance.

The cave itself was very dark but large - no hand rails, no walkways as in Xang, just dripping limestone. It was excellent. My camera phone was woefully inadequate at taking photos in the dark but this video might give you an idea...

The Blue Lagoon

No... upper.. body... strength...

On the way back, the weather was lovely and I managed to take a few pics, along with a video. Feel free to mute before playing it.

Journey to Vang Vieng

Our guesthouse offers private minibus transport to Vang Vieng for 120,000 kip. This is marginally cheaper than the public coach, or VIP bus, from the coach station across town and leaves at a more sociable hour in the morning. We've found that tourist minibuses in SE Asia tend to be a bit more cramped than the coaches but where you can find them at a good price, compensate for the lack of space by picking you up and having fewer stops en route.

As we clamber into our transport at just after nine in the morning, we see a smattering of other backpacker types already seated. There are three Dutch girls, one English and two Aussies blokes, with a Japanese couple in the back. I'm pretty sure I'm the oldest in the vehicle by at least five years.

Our driver slides the side door shut, swings into the front seat. He wears enormous sunglasses, a CK tshirt and has his hair slicked back. We start our journey to Vang Viene. I'm pretty comfy. Alice and I are kitted out with cake purchased from the Luang Prabang night market the previous evening, egg and bacon sarnies from our guest house, and bottles of water. I settle into the seat and begin to read as we leave the town behind us.

Kuang Si

An hour's drive outside Luang Prabang is Kuang Si falls. At the very entrance is the usual cluster of souvenir shops and restaurants that I'm now accustomed to seeing at every tourist attraction we come across. However, the few touts hanging around are very laid back and there's a generally relaxed and pleasant atmosphere. There are also a lot of locals around, on their way up to to the falls - always a good sign.

Luang Prabang

Luang Prabang is a relaxed town at the confluence of the Mekong and Nam Khan rivers. Much of it seems to exist to support the throughput of Europeans and Japanese, so the extent to which the town itself exhibits true Laos culture is questionable. Nevertheless it has it's own sleepy charm, rather than being tourist-hell and we stick around for about a week, eating noodle soup and exploring.

The Mekong

The next two days where to be spent on the slow boat along the Mekong to Luang Prabang. Wikitravel suggested that the going rate for thr trip was about 250,000kip (£20). Our guest house offered a slow boat ticket, transport to the dock and a sandwich to eat on the journey for the same price. It's been our experience that buying tickets direct from the point of departure can save you a lot of money, with agents adding on massive commission but this seemed like a pretty good deal.

The next morning, we took a ride to the dock and waited for the guy from our guest house to sort our tickets. There were a few other backpackers with us, who had all apparently crossed the border that morning. Some had bought a package deal in Chiang Mai to Luang Prabang. Our guide handed out the tickets and set about giving us some advice on what to expect from the trip.

Border Crossing to Laos

In both Thailand and Laos there's a form of public transport called a songthaew, which literally means "two rows". It's a covered vehicle with two benches in the back, usually either a large pickup or small minivan type vehicle. They operate like a cross between a bus and a taxi - you can flag them down from anywhere along the road, share them with other passengers and the driver will take what he considers to be the best route that links all the desired stops. They tend to be cheaper than taxis or tuk tuks, the price varying depending on the number of passengers and the distance to your stop.

The songthaew we took to the Chiang Mai bus station took a rather circuituous route. We intended to take a bus from Chiang Mai to Chiang Khong, site of the main border crossing between Northern Thailand and Laos. By the time we reached the bus station the coach we wanted was full. Rather than wait four hours for the next one, we elected to take a coach to Chiang Rai and get a local bus further on to Chiang Khong.

Quick Update - No Internetz

Sabaidee boys and girls. We're in Laos right now, in a guest house on the banks of the Mekong. We're in Don Det, which is a tiny island of Si Phan Don: the four thousand islands.

It's our third week in Laos and loads has happened. I've got several blog posts typed and a ton of pictures and videos, but the upload speed here is painfully slow and I've not been able to get any media up.

So as soon as it's possible, I'll show you some photos. It's beautiful here.

Laters xx

Chiang Mai

More pictures after the jump.

Check Alice's post here.

Sukhothai

After a load of waffly posts I'll not bore you with words for a while. Sukhothai is an old capitol of Thailand and a UNESCO world heritage site. We bombed round it on bikes. Check the pictures.

Bangkok

We fly from the Andamans to Kolkata, where we while away about 8 hours before our connection to Bangkok. Again my body clock is screwed: it's light when it shouldn't be; I'm eating when I should be sleeping. I bumble through the whole thing in a haze.

I'm snapped awake by Bangkok airport. After living in a hut on a tropical island, landing in Bangkok is like traveling to the future. Everything is impossibly high tech - enormous glass windows and moving metal walkways. It's spotless and impeccably organised. The BTS Skytrain connects directly with the airport. I'm so excited to get on that I nearly wee: the doors are automatic; it has LCD screens; diagrams on the walls depict the line you're on and update as you travel along; a nice robot lady tells you over a speaker which station you're arriving at. Come on, it's a train, IN THE SKY!

Havelock Island - Part 2

Havelock is beautiful: white sand, endless sky and brilliant blue water.

As we leave the docks, an auto driver offers to take us up to village 5 for 10rs, as long as we take a look round a couple of resorts. He's up front about getting a kickback if we end up staying at one of the places he takes us to. This seems like a good deal - our rickshaw ends up costing less than the local bus.

Havelock Island - Part 1

I'm sitting in Venom, which is not a shit club in Newbury with giant fibreglass snakes on the dance floor. It is, in fact, a first floor bar - part of a resort across the road from our accommodation at Havelock 5. Some of the villages on the island have names but all of them are conveniently numbered. Some really are villages where locals live and work. Others, like 5, are little more than a line of resorts, restaurants and scuba clubs along a stretch of beach.

Despite the incongruous dance music that strains from a tortured speaker behind the bar and its unfortunate name, Venom is actually quite a nice place. It's all stained wood and wicker furniture, open on three sides. The barmen are really nice and remember what Alice and I like to drink from our first visit. They serve awesome homemade fish fingers.

Tonight I'm here by myself. Alice is back at our resort indulging in some Wimbledon. I've escaped to catch up on some long-overdue journalling and reflect on the last few days

Port Blair

We're in the Andamans!

Port Blair feels very much like another Indian town. Alice says she's looking for something different now and whilst I understand why, I'm feeling like I'm starting to "get" India, or maybe even this whole travelling thing. I feel relaxed and optimistic.

After a bit of an explore of the Abardeen Bazaar area in which we're situated, it becomes apparent that there aren't really that many places to eat or hang out. There are lots of shops though.

Earlier, during a power cut, we wandered into a dingy underground bar, looking for somewhere to get a drink. I had flashbacks to the episode in the Alleppey booze queue but we managed not to get killed. There were no women in the place. I tried to get a vodka and lemonade for Alice and met with some initial confusion. There was no issue getting a Kingfisher strong. It looked like most of the clientele had experienced similar ease, several times.

We've found some information about the other Islands and Havelock looks to be the place to go. There is a tourist information office about twenty minutes walk away, which was full of helpful people. Nobody tried to sell us anything. We can go down to Phoenix ("phonics") jetty tomorrow and, it being low season, shouldn't have any problems buying a ticket there and getting on the ferry.

Chennai

I'm in Zama Longe. It's 6pm and dark and outside. The hammering of heavy rain has replaced the hammering of construction work from earlier.

We arrived here last night at about midnight, after a 15 hour train journey. It was dark and raining then too. Our taxi pulled up outside our residence and everything was locked up. A couple of guys were hanging around outside and shouted to us when I tried to open the gates. One of them pressed the buzzer for us and got an electric shock from the exposed wires. Our taxi driver called for us on his mobile and an old man in a grubby vest came down to let us in.

Alleppey

I'm sitting in the train station in Alleppey with Alice. It's 08:10 and our train has just been delayed until 08:45. The station is probably the most pleasant I've experienced in India. Usually, they are a seething mass of bodies and, I'm sorry to say, smell of toilet. Sometimes, the edge of the platform is being used as a toilet.
Here, the air is fresh and there are few people. I can hear birds singing.

Excuses, excuses

So... it's been a while.

I'm not dead.

Tired of lugging around an ever-increasing burden of books on my back, I picked up a Kindle in a Bankok shopping centre. Free wireless is everywhere here and I've been downloading books like a loon.

First on the list was A Song of Fire and Ice, which was adapted into the TV series A Game of Thrones. Game of Thrones can be expressed as an equation thusly...

Quick Update - Thai Side

Sawasdee kids! I'm in Bangkok right now. I know, right?

After spending the last week on a tropical island, I feel like I've travelled into the future. I'll do some proper updates in a day or so and upload some pictures of white sands and blue sea.

For now, I just wanted to upload a pictographicular representationment of our journey so far because I'm very excited.

I wanted to get the lines all in red like Indiana Jones but, alas, only boringest black was available.

Mental.

Kerala - God's Own Country

I sit in the front lounge/dining room of Mathew's house, at Green Palms Homestay. The smell of fresh curry leaves in hot coconut oil wafts past my nose from the kitchen at the back of the house.
One side of the lounge is almost completely open. Two columns that stretch from floor to ceiling frame a generous entranceway. On either side are low walls, about knee height. The rest is fresh air, affording me a view of a garden filled with shrubs, flowers, mango and passion fruit trees.

Paratha

The king of Indian breads. I think these best accompany curry dishes - they're great at soaking up all the tasty gravy.

Some of the technique is hard to describe. I've done my best but words aren't really enough. Check back later for a video of me cocking it up, along with one of an expert showing you how it's really done.

Fish Fry

This is essentially a marinade that can be used with lots of different fish. On this occasion, we had sardines. I wept salty tears of joy.

Coconut Chutney

This stuff is awesome. No more to be said. Just make it and eat it.

Mezhukka

This is a Keralan way of cooking vegetables. The version we witnessed used long beans and coconut pieces. We were told that you can use many different kinds of veg, and substitute potato for the pieces of coconut. The previous day we ate a version cooked with gherkins.

Thoren

This is a coconut and veg based dish. We saw it cooked with shredded papaya but this can be substituted with cabbage and carrot, spinach or beetroot. Like most of the other dishes we saw, it was cooked in a deep, wok-like pan. The only difference being that the flat part at the very base was narrower than a wok, meaning that even a little oil pooled quite deeply.

Cooking in Kerala

We're currently in Kerala, holed up in a homestay with a local family and it's fantastic. I'll tell you all about it in a later post but for now I want to talk about my favourite thing - FOOD!

The grandmother of the family we're staying with has been cooking us the most delicious food. Words fail me. Seriously, I'm thinking about settling down here.

I think I've put most of the weight I lost back on in a couple of days.

We had the privilege of watching granny cook lunch and the next few posts will be recipes for some of the dishes we saw.

Alice has some action shots of the cooking in her blog.

Have a go, especially the coconut chutney.

Bengaluru!

Bangalore is great. Like Mumbai, it feels more cosmopolitan and it's considerably more expensive than other places we've stayed. I spend more in a day here than a week of living in Hampi.
I feel relaxed and comfortable here, despite the big city feel of the place and the ubiquitous traffic. It's partly the familiarity - we're based near the Residency Rd, MG Rd, Brigade Rd triangle - but there are other factors too. Nobody tries to sell me anything. Hardly anyone stares at us. I feel less conspicuous and more at home.

Hampi

Hospet is the nearest town to Hampi, and this is where our train from Mumbai stops. As it pulls into the station rickshaw drivers wait eagerly at the end of the platform, waiting to leap into the moving train.

One guy spots me a mile off and begins to herd us to the exit as we disembark. He wants 250rs to take us the 14km to Hampi. We walk out of the station and past the long line of waiting rickshaws to his, which is parked around the corner out of sight. By the time we've reached it, we're down to 150rs. Although his ride's seen better days and he doesn't wear a brown jacket that all auto drivers seem obliged to wear, he seems ok and we've just spent five minutes talking the price down.

We get in.

Anyone can leave comments now...

I have changed the settings on the blog so that anyone can leave a comment. You don't need an account or anything, honest.

No pressure...

12 Days In Goa

Ok, let's get this out of the way first. When my Mum was studying psychology a few years ago, she decided that my Dad had an anal fixation because he was constantly talking about his arse (not out of it, although that may or may not also be true) and the things that emerged from it (happy belated fathers' day, Dad!). The content of this blog so far and Alice's general experience of our relationship will attest that this runs in the family.

On the way to Goa, I got the shits again. In the middle of the night. On the train.

In fact, from now on even if I've not explicitly mentioned it, just assume that I have one kind of stomach upset or another and that'll just save us both some time.

Anyway, Goa...

Mumbai

I'm on the night train to Goa, waiting for the train to leave Mubai CST. I'll need to recap on the last few days but, before I do, I want to describe what's happening right now...

Udaipur

Udaipur is supposed to be one of India's most beautiful cities. I confess that after the previous night's travel, we don't explore too much on arrival. We find a nice place to chill out called "The Whistling Teal", locally known as the "vslingtea". This makes it initially quite hard to locate.

Pushkar

The train from Jodphur takes us to Ajmer, which is the closest station to Pushkar. We take a taxi out of Ajmer, up and over the surrounding hills. The roads wind back and forth along the hillside, turning sharply before traversing the slope once more. At one bend, we meet a bus so long that it must straddle both side of the road to make the turn. This is a slow process. As soon as there is an inch of room for the bus to make use of, it is filled with a car or a moped trying to squeeze through. Not for the first time, I am baffled by the way traffic works here.

Once down into Pushkar, we have to brake suddenly for an enormous monkey. Grey fur, dark face, enormous tail curved up and around over its head, it looks about 4ft tall and lopes across the road in front of us. Surreal. I am unsure if what I've just seen was real. The taxi driver appears unfazed.

Our hotel, Pushkar Villas, is run by a happy old man with a great big paunch and a twinkle in his eye. Hi response to almost everything is "Ha" (yes), and he sticks his tongue out at intervals for seemingly no reason. I like him instantly.

Jodphur

If you're sitting in the UK reading this, perhaps at work, you'll probably think that what I'm about to say next is crazy, ungrateful or both. I know we are incredibly priveliged to be able to travel like this and some of the things we've seen and done have been amazing. That said the trip so far has been hard at times. Not the kind of hard that daily life is for scores of people we pass every day, but hard in comparison to the kind of existence I inhabited before I left. Our schedule so far has been pretty gruelling, with never more than 2 nights in one place, interspersed with night trains. If you add to that the shits, homesickness, lack of sleep, culture shock, the shits, living out of a bag, being surrounded by starnge people and strange things, a drastic change in diet, travelling at odd times and missing meals, sometimes several in a row, and the shits, it has been challenging.

Also, the shits.

I choose to say this for a few reasons: honesty, as a record, as a reminder that this is one of the reasons that I came on this trip. I choose to say this now because I'd like to offer some explanation for my lack of words about or pictures of Jodphur.

The Desert

I write this from the scant shade of a thorny tree, atop a sand dune. The only sounds are the wind-blown sand, the chat of the camel drivers and the relentless crunching and tearing of Alice's camel eating the scenery. It has been doing so since we arrived here about 20 minutes ago. It's a machine. Alice has named it "Crunchy" for obvious reasons. I have named mine "Roy" because I'm not so good at naming things.

Roy has been laying on the ground since we stopped to rest. As we crested the dune, he was breathing so hard I thought he was going to pass out. He now looks at me with an air of disdain, chin on the sand. He is the smallest camel in the group and I am the largest person.

Jaisalmer

Driving into Jaisalmer, you could be mistaken for thinking you'd entered into a desert state somewhere in the Middle-East: from the geography to the architecture. The sun blazes. Sewerage/drainage channels run down the sides of, and occasionally criss-cross the streets. A family of pigs wallows in one, blinking smugly at me through the heat. I haven't had a bacon sandwich for weeks.

Our hotel - The Royal Jaisalmer- is great. There is a series of small rooms around a pool, dazzlingly colourful in the midday sun.

We rest here for the day after another sleepless night train.

An enormous fort dominates the city. It is a lot less touristy here. Judging by the number of hotels being built, I get the sense that it will not be this way for long. Still, the further we get from the start of our trip, the more relaxed it gets: perhaps I am just getting used to it; perhaps it's a little of both.

We eat in the rooftop restaurant above the hotel. Sheets hanging from the ceiling, it looks like a bedouin tent. We wait to be collected for our desert safari.

Jaipur

Jaipur is, so far, a highlight.

We get off the train and by the time arrive at our hotel, it's about 11:30. The hotel - the Ajjan Nivas - is beautiful. Our room is clean and comfortable and they even cook some chips for us after the kitchen has closed. I've barely eaten anything for days and my stomach is officially in love.

The next day, we are collected by "Ritchie", the little auto driver with the metro hair that drove us to the hotel the night before. He gave us such a heartfelt speech and was so pleasant to us that we decided to take him up on his offer of showing us around the next day.

Agra

It's on our second night in Varanasi that I get sick. The wait at the train station on the baking platform and the shivering night train to Agra are a bit of a blur. We only have one night in Agra and I spend the first day in bed, trying to get better.

On the second day, we go out to see the Taj Mahal but I'm still a bit wobbly and it's very hot. The Taj Mahal is beautiful from the outside. The inside is dark and very crowded and I later can't remember much about it of note. We do the circuit and rest in the gardens for a while.

Alice has written more about it here.

Next up: Jaipur, the capital of Rajasthan.

Varanasi

We arrive in Varanasi train station at 7.30 in the morning. I imagined that the motion of the train would rock me to sleep, leaving me refreshed and ready to go on arrival. Unfortunately, Indian railway sleeper berths are not built for someone my height. This, coupled with the motion of the train, is a little like being gently but firmly in the head all night.

I emerge bleary-eyed into Varanasi station. It is teaming with people, including a horde or taxi and auto drivers who descend upon us. We are rescued by the guy we booked to pick us up. For the first time, I am grateful for being collared in Delhi.

Delhi-Baby Steps

Alice wrote about our little circus of a city tour here so I won't bore you guys with that. Real sleep deprivation and strange surroundings are making minor things surprisingly difficult to deal with. The hardest thing right now is feeling like a big, white, money-sweating, target. It's so hard not to be suspicious of everyone and it saddens me. This is because I don't want this trip to be a long series of no. I know that this country is full of wonderful, friendly people. How will we ever meet these people if we are instantly defensive and negative?

A Brief Interlude

It's been a while without any posts, partially because of scarcity of Internet access and partially because I've been ill. When I say ill, I mean the kind of tooth-chattering, night-shivering fever I've not had since I was a kid. You can couple that with the sort of near dysentery that Iceland-plugging d-list slebs dream about before bikini season.

Delhi - Day One

We've arrived!

I'm typing this in the, frankly, quite upmarket Smyle Inn.

We landed in Delhi yesterday morning after an overnight flight. With all the excitement, I slept not a wink. Catching a cab from the Indira Gandhi airport, we made our way to the hostel.

Lift off!

Just a quick update before we leave: in an hour and a half we set off for Heathrow Airport.

And now, for the first time, PICTURES!

Below is everything I'm taking with me. This is all I have for at least the next year of my life...

I've just repacked my bag for what must be the 20th time this week. Worryingly, I have already lost my toothbrush. This does not bode well for the rest of the trip.

Here it is all packed...

I have included a tin of Pringles for scale.

So that's it. The next time you here from me, we'll be in Delhi eating aloo paratha and drinking mango lassi (thanks Shroff).

To everyone we're leaving behind - we miss you already!

Sad Goodbyes

Here I am, just days away from setting off to Delhi. An 11 hour flight is all that stands between us and the rest of the world. I am excited.

I'm typing this on the M4, having just left Bristol and my friends behind. I am sad.

Alice and I have almost whittled our worldly possessions down to a single bag each. We're basically homeless. I have no fixed abode. I am scared.

So it's with a strange mix of emotions that I contemplate our onward journey. I thought this would be a good time to record my first ramble on this blog. Hopefully, I'll have the opportunity to keep a record of what happens to us on the road, keep in touch with everyone in the UK, and not plunge into a self indulgent word wank and bore everyone to death.

Off to a good start then...

I've been thinking a great deal about what to take with me on our travels. Packing light has been a key consideration so I'm only taking a few books. One of them is called The Narrow Road To The Deep North by a guy named Matsuo Basho, a Japanese poet who lived in the 17th century, in what is now Tokyo. Basho threw away his posessions, left the city life behind and went walkabout through what was an unforgiving and dangerous countryside. He travelled thousands of miles on foot through Japan and penned what was basically a travel diary as he went: beautiful prose punctuated with haikus. It chronicles his adventures whilst distilling some serious Japanese wisdom, boiled down into a kind of fruity Zen chutney.

Well, I'm no poet; I'm rubbish at haikus, and I haven't even left the UK yet so I've no exciting tales to tell.

Instead, I'll leave you with a quote from the man himself (thanks Wikipedia)...

"every day is a journey, and the journey itself home."