This is what backpacking feels like.  I remember now.  A blistering hot day with a headcold on the Rum Cuillin.

A week before that, we came in on the ferry.   Connections between places are made suddenly obvious with water travel, not apparent until you leave dry land.

Out from the village, and south to Dibidil, past gaping fissures in the rock and diagonal water falls into the sea.  The hirsel here was built in 1848, after the clearance, and lived in by ‘Johnny Come Over’ and his wife, her sister and 6 children.

So we took Johnny up on his offer, and stayed the night.  Old Norse forms the basis of most place names on Rum. Dibidil simply means ‘deep dale’.  There’s a cuckoo in the glen.  The sun left the hills blushing, and Eigg rested under moonlight.  This one is for John H. 

We walked round to Papadil, the priest’s glen, on a soaking wet path. Feral goats gazed and grazed lazily as we picked our way across the marshy places.  Papadil is an interesting place – once the home of an early Christian hermit, then a hunting lodge, nowadays long suffering planted native policies are consumed by rhododendrons.

After Papadil, an exhausting few hours of contouring under Ruinsival and it’s upthrust plateau – off path and sidefooting and covering a km an hour or less across a rocky hinterland, finally to Harris, with its strange raised sea shore, which we took for man made, but isn’t.

The weather came in, and I went to visit the Bulloughs, the old owners of Rum, at the Mausoleum.  Skye Air Sea Rescue buzzed the tent in the gloaming at 10.30pm, I remembered not to wave at them.  Looking for a couple who had come unstuck coming down from Hallival, dehydrated, we later heard.

My girlfriend calls this ‘forcing art to nature’ which makes me laugh out loud, but all I did was place the antler – it’s not a stage set, only a prop.  I’m not sure it’s art or nature, either.  But there are ghosts here on Rum, and lots of them, and that is worth an intervention, an acknowledgment of some sort or another.  A ceremony for memory.

More hills, hills and goats, walking north now, always the sea on our left flank, across open moorland in the sunshine, past future wild camps by hidden lochans.

Slowly to the rounded summits of Orval and Fionchra, a sweeping inverted S of a ridge with a pleasing logic in relation to our destination.  The Rum Cuillin are now behind us, as we hide from cold winds behind our bags to eat.

Down to Guirdil bothy before the storm hit, and the rafters shook, and the walls sweated cold water from rain pushed through by the gale.  Someone has been cutting live wood from the enclosure.  I have an eco-whinge, and pen a bad haiku in purple ink and pin it to the wall, appealing to future visitors to leave the saw on the hook.

In between successive weather fronts I went outside to listen to the Sound of Canna.

Deer graze in the shelter of the ruins, goats eat kelp on the beach.  A few moments of stillness in between gusts and squalls.  There’s a cuckoo in the glen.  More heavy memory:  ”An ‘immemorial isle of graves’ for, as an anonymous writer says, ‘there is nothing left to mark the presence of its old population save the foundations of their dwellings. Their lives and their legends have no other memorials but the nettles growing in waste places.” (Waugh 1883). 

Slow to clear in the morning and a river to cross, in spate and my partner is frightened.  Running fast but knee deep at the beach, then more rolling moor.  Then, quiet smiles as bodies chime with contours – it’s day 3, and we are in motion, off trail in the backcountry.  Canna glistens, cold and clear.  In the distance we see Ranger Mike, who lives at Kilmory.  Later on at camp, he approaches to talk.  Ranger Mike is the only person we meet in our 4 day circuit of the Island.

The huge beach at Kilmory, where the red deer project is based, and then round the headland a little further, to somewhere that shall remain nameless here, because it is too finely balanced to manage too many visitors.  A beach camp, watching eiders and oyster catchers glide into land at bird’s eye level, nesting gulls on the dunes and the Skye Cuillin drawing clouds like a magnet from the four quarters of the sea.

The ‘golden’ hour, and a Minky whale skull.  Heaven, an empty gas canister, and burnt fingers in a driftwood fire.

To go further south east around the coast I had heard was not easy, full of tussocks and deer fencing, so another line was chosen.  A straight line this time, up and over, steeply through waist high heather and narrow crags and yet more quiet water lochans big and small, following a burn that once fed the sheilings, a line used by calving deer to hide their newborn whilst they come down to the shore to feed.  Yes, this is what backpacking feels like, I remember it now.

Back to the village past full grown oak, birch and Caledonian pine trees planted by the Bulloughs and the Nature Conversancy Council.  Successfully identifying the chat of a Stone Chat, a big deal for big city dwellers.  Not onto the Kilmory track.  We take an older path, a memory line, soaking wet but better used to keep it open.  A corner store that welcomed us back, an island people, a new community Trust, some room around the collar at last.  Then a day spent thermarest surfing, nursing a cold.  There’s a cuckoo in the glen here too.  A visit to the hunting lodge built by an eccentric Edwardian millionaire.  It’s another universe.  Kinloch was lost in time, but is no longer an ‘’immemorial Isle of graves’’, at least not here in the village.

But we have work to do before we leave – the central mountains beckon.  The Rum Cuillin is a long, 13 hour day out.  On the way we walk past hundreds of tiny burrows.  There are no rabbits on Rum, these are Manx Sheerwater nests.  Rum hosts 1/3 of the world population.  Hallival looking to Skye.

Following a massive sweep of crumbling rock across 6 summits, another inverted S, the complex and shattered descents harder than the climbs, but most of the scrambling is easy enough and not exposed unless you choose the harder lines.

Up before Askival’s Pinnacle, Sheerwater beaks scattered on a ridge betray an Eagle’s feeding place. By the time we reach the pass of gold, before Trollabhal, we are ourselves as shattered as this high wild line.  Joined at the hip, at the side of the mountain.  As it should be.

Ainshval looks like it won’t go at all, but it does.  Slowly.  We reach the last hill and look out to sea.  Yes, this is what backpacking feels like.

And Eigg, calm and welcoming, seems to acknowledge our efforts on a thirsty descent, down hard and steep from Sgurr nan Gillean. 

Let’s stay at the bothy in the deep glen again tonight.  We can walk to the ferry in the morning.

Non vital Statistics:

Distance?  36m or 59km, or thereabouts. 

Upness? – a fair bit, especially on the 2nd and 6th days

Wet feet? – excellent odds at 3/7 against

Cheese consumed? – lots

How beastly? – total tick fest, but spared midges except in Kinloch

Cover via Amazon

Long-distance hikers commonly refer to America’s triple crown hiking trails. The pictures, top to bottom, follow the order below.

Appalachian Trail (AT)  This is the grand daddy. It runs through 14 states from Georgia to Maine and is 2178 miles long. Many aspiring thru-hikers start with this trail. Most begin in Georgia, in Spring,  hoping to follow seasonal weather as they plod north. You should allow six months to hike the AT. By general consent, the toughest parts are the White Mountains of New Hampshire and the Mahoosucs in Maine. It is still the  most popular long-distance hiking trail in America–maybe the world.

Pacific Crest Trail (PCT)  Incredibly scenic and gaining in popularity, the PCT runs from the Mexican border into British Columbia, Canada. It is 2650 miles long, longer than the AT, but most thru-hikers finish it in less than six months. This may be due to the long, wide, scenic traverses along the “crests” of mountain chains, which make for easier hiking. Where much of the AT is dense, the PCT is more open. The PCT includes part of the Mojave Desert, Yosemite, and the Cascade Mountains.

Continental Divide Trail (CDT)  Still a work in progress (almost complete) this rigorous but rewarding trail also extends from the Mexican border to Canada. It is about 3100 miles long and has a spectacular run through the Rocky Mountains. Navigation skills–map and compass–are needed to thru-hike this trail. Many sections are not well marked and one needs to constantly focus on bearing to avoid getting lost–lest you end up like the bones above, which I hiked by in southern New Mexico.

For a thorough description of these three trails, I suggest the book Hiking the Triple Crown, by Karen Berger.

Related articles

• PCT Basics (baxterandkitten.wordpress.com)
• Trail Angels and Trail Magic (takealonghike.com)
• US National Trail System Expands By 650 Miles (gadling.com)
• Thoughts on through hiking (mikejurasiusatwalkabout2013.com)

Then came the bad news:

‘First we need to talk to you about money…’ the production manager had said, in a leveling manner that made me heart sink a little.

Aware that the average wage in Vietnam is reported to be $185 per month (that’s around 120 English pounds) I wasn’t looking forward to the conversation regarding salary.

Explaining that all of their current staff are Vietnamese, the PM tried to soften the blow of their pending offer by padding it out with lots of explanation about pay rates in Vietnam. They made it clear that their proposal was very much a compromise – I was being presented a greatly inflated rate as a Westerner with native English speaking skills.

$300 (approx. 190 pounds) per month to work 8.30 – 5.30, 6 days a week.

That was the offer. Genuinely, it was a generous one when you consider that it is probably almost twice as much as some of their current staff. But, I couldn’t afford to accept a job that would equate to working for around $1.50 per hour (that’s around 90 pence); no matter how interesting it would sound on my CV.

This experience caused great reflection on my part about the huge pay divides between Westerners (working for Western companies or working here as native English teachers) and local Vietnamese. As I had been offered a job at a Vietnamese company, the offer was reflective of their salary budgets for the local workers. Thus, the reason why Westerners are generally not employed by local companies. Ever.

Native English teachers in Vietnam are paid a minimum wage of $20 per hour. It is no secret that foreign teachers are paid generously, earning up to ten times that of Vietnamese teachers. As the country becomes increasingly globalized, English is in huge demand and work is plentiful for foreign teachers with a face that fits. By this, I essentially mean a Caucasian face. I have seen numerous job adverts in Vietnam which state in no uncertain terms that the applicant must be of ‘European appearance’. 9 times out of 10 you are asked to submit a photograph along with your application. In fact, when offered my current teaching job, the employer was not shy about admitting they ‘liked my appearance.’ I don’t think they meant my outfit.

When I consider that I am working alongside teachers who are being paid up to 10 times less than me for their time, it makes me feel a little uncomfortable. In fairness, it’s not just my white face, I am a native English speaker which is a specialist skill in this country. Nevertheless, there is just something that doesn’t feel right about the set up. It is also a concern that this obvious pay divide strengthens the preconceptions that Vietnamese have about ‘rich foreigners’ and leads to a lot of resentment from Vietnamese teachers towards foreign teachers. In fact, I fear it leads to resentment from locals towards foreigners in general.

Even the best paid jobs in Vietnam still barely cover what a Westerner will pay for rent here. Workers in the finance and insurance industries have the highest average salary, at around $260 per month. Admittedly these are averages,and CEO’s of some Vietnamese companies are reported to earn around $900, but this is barely even representative of a minority of the workforce and is a very unusual salary to earn. Interestingly, large pay divides can also be found within these companies and while the CEO earns this respectable wage, administration staff in the same company will often be paid around $100-125 per month.

These low averages raise questions about how the local people afford to live. I am at a loss to understand how they fund their brand new Vespas and smart clothes. What I am perhaps not grasping, is the extent of the hugely inflated prices that we, as foreigners, pay for everything.

This ‘foreigner tax’ is one of my main gripes about living in Vietnam (and most who visit the country, I suspect). Westerners are charged grossly increased prices for most things here including food, taxi fares and accommodation. While I can’t help feeling cheated knowing that I have been a victim of severely hiked prices, considering the huge pay gap between Westerners and locals does soften the blow somewhat. Despite this blatant over charging, the cost of living to pay ratio still sits well in our favour. You can rent a nice room in an apartment for 200 dollars per month and a bowl of delicious street food will set you back two dollars, where it might cost a local one dollar.

Another consideration is that most young Vietnamese will stay in the family home long after they are married and have children of their own so, in actual fact, living expenses are fairly low. In no way am I advocating the huge gap in salaries, as I’m sure that living with 10 people in one home isn’t an ideal situation, just trying to get my head around it. Low living costs combined with largely deflated prices obviously serves to make living on these low wages feasible. Unfortunately feasible does not always equal comfortable.

Perhaps I am giving it too much thought. Society here has always been more focused on family than material goods. Vietnam was recently voted the second happiest country on the planet while the UK came in 41st, so something must be working. It only goes to prove that money doesn’t buy happiness.

Fishing by the lake – there are worse ways to earn a living

Sources:
CNN
Report by Ministry of Labor, Invalids and Social Affairs
Thanh Nien News
Happy Planet Index, New Economics Foundation

I left Inverness yesterday just before 1pm to begin my travels with a short trip down to Stirling. I said goodbye to my mum at the train station and quickly boarded the train before we both became emotional wrecks! Stirling is beautiful and historic, and as soon as I saw the Wallace Monument looming over the city on top of Abbey Craig it felt like coming back to my second home. I suppose after five years of living here it isn’t surprising!

I had decided to make this my first stop because one of my best friends, Andrea, was singing at the local music venue, Tolbooth Stirling. She set up the entire show, chose all of the songs and there is no doubt that she can sing. I also found out last night that she can make me cry like a little girl by singing to me and handing me a gorgeous rose in front of the crowd! She was truly phenomenal (and I’m not just saying that because I’m biased!) and as an extra bonus I was able to hang out with all my old work colleagues. It was an unforgettable evening… Aside from only getting five hours sleep!

I’m now sitting in one of the wee local coffee shops passing the time with my last hot chocolate in Scotland before I catch the train down to London Kings Cross Station. I reckon over the next year I’m going to have to teach myself to enjoy coffee!

Also, while I’m here I’d like to thank everyone for taking the time to read my ramblings. It means a lot to know people out there are consistently reading my words (probably not of wisdom!) and enjoying my posts. I really hope that you have been enjoying my posts as much as I have enjoyed writing them and that you’ll continue to follow me as I begin my adventure into South America.

Adiós Scotland, until next time.

When someone goes on a hike they are a passive observer of nature.

When one goes backpacking they go as far as to immerse themselves within nature.

But if you enter into the wild with nothing and build your own tools, shelter, and eat what the forest provides then you are interacting with nature.

And if you climb a mountain you are conquerer of nature.

If you are a poor steward of these gifts, you are a destroyer of nature.

Zion National Park, UT
2013

Toots and I had planned to get back on the trail today but, a day off was in order.

Breakfast with real, brewed coffee (not instant). A hot shower and luke warm hot tub. Grocery shopping and stocking up on snacks. Pizza and a cold beer. Phone calls and updates. These are all the wonderfully mundane, simple and wonderful things that this zero day was made of.

I think I’m ready again for the mountains. Tomorrow my feet will be back on the trail.

I just read a blog that really inspired me to write this long-overdue musing about my Europe trip. Yes, crazy as it is, it was 2 years ago; and many things happened. Many things happened between then and now; sometimes things just spiraled down without control. Yet three weeks ago when I checked in that hostel in the back alley on Taylor Street, I felt like that kid again. With a black backpack on her shoulder, excited for no reason, happy perhaps simply because here it was, her life bundled in that tiny backpack, no money and no nothing, tomorrow was another day running the streets of SF looking for an apt, and yet here she was, excited for that tomorrow. Been trying desperately to feel that way again for a while, and then I read this blog that made me remember.

(http://www.gocnhinalan.com/bai-tieng-anh/country-vietnamese-backpackers-popular-speaker.html)

Just have to be a backpacker again.

It was not about a good meal or a good bed – that would be lovely, but that was not it- it was about getting that bicycle on the road, not even sure if you were gonna make it through the rolling endless hills of Tuscany, then ended up in the middle of nowhere, and thank God, found a farm house where an old man that grew grape and made wine in his basement picked you up and gave you fresh bread and handmade prosciutto; it was about boarding that last boat to a town whose name you can’t even pronounce, not knowing where you were gonna sleep tonight, then realized you didn’t have your passport with you, then roamed the streets at 12:00am until you found two policemen who took you to someone who was ready to take you in w/o the papers; it was about meeting an amazing Croatian girl on the 1 am train to Rome, and talked with her about your family and your lost passport, and how because of that you had to go all the way from Venice to Rome to visit your embassy, then walked with her to her tiny apartment near Piazza Navona, drank coffee at her kitchen table and listened to Rome’s wake up, watched TV with her cat and slept there as though you knew her all your life….

My dear, it was about tasting life, the bitter, the sour, the sweet, the spicy, and loving it!

A few weeks ago, I went home to Batesville with Matt for his nephew’s graduation events. I love the feel of a small town – granted I probably would never actually be able to live in one. Everyone knows everyone. Everyone in the town helps celebrate big family events. And when you walk around town everyone smiles and waves at you. We hung out Saturday afternoon/evening at the graduation party eating good food, playing yard games, and trying to catch some fish. It was absolutely wonderful!! I got to see some childhood pictures of Matt and his family that just made my heart melt. We spent the night and we were able to get some quality time in with Maggie, who had come in from Colorado, and the rest of the fam. Overall, a successful and lovely weekend!!

The Haakinson Clan + Lola and I

This city girl has no problem de-hooking a fishy

Matt, Mags and Isabella hanging out on the trampoline

Two cutie pies

{Fun}

In getting Lola and myself ready for our vacation in Colorado, we have been trying to hike around with her in her child carrier. There are days that she likes it more than others, but this past week she went with me and we had a blast! I love the stories that she tells me while we walk around. Sometimes she sings songs that she completely makes up or others that I know well. I love those moments with her! She is just such a sweetie pie! Many of the stories that she tells me involve Dora and Swiper. Sometimes there are animals chasing us or we are animals. It’s so wonderful the stories that she comes up with. The imagination that she has been blessed with is just so amazing to me – until it comes back to bite me when she tells me some elaborate stories later on as a teenager; hopefully that day never comes! Right now I am just savoring the sweet moments that I get to share with my love bug that may be few and far between when she becomes a teenager and has way more important things to do.

Hanging out with my little one

Yes I did take her out in her jammies. But she was comfy and it worked out well anyways

A very cute older lady was out taking pictures with her husband and offered to take a picture of Lola and me. So sweet!

{Splash}

Last week was my last week of work before the craziness of the summer. I was lucky enough to have some PTO left and had two full days off to enjoy. We spent one of those days at my Aunt Debbie’s house swimming and playing. Lola seemed to have forgotten her love for the water and clung to me for dear life. I thought she was going to scream bloody murder every time I lifted my hand from her life jacket or arms in order to scratch an itch or to adjust my sunglasses. We have since had a much more successful trip to the pool (more on that in a later post). She still had an amazing time! Time in the pool is always followed by a bath of course. And what better place to take a bath than in a bath tub that is a Lola-sized swimming pool?!?! My aunt has a huge bathtub and Lola enjoyed swimming around and playing in there.

About 10 minutes later she was screaming like crazy for me to hold her and not let her sink to the bottom of the pool – and she still had her floatie on!

Much more relaxed Lola

{Peace}

Again with the hiking and the backpack and the IMA. We just love the IMA! So here are some more pictures of us hiking around the IMA. LOL. This trip, however, was short lived since Lola decided to pee on herself instead of warning us in enough time to get her to a secluded area of grass. She got her pants and shoes covered so I, having no fear of urine at this point in my career as a mom, threw her up on my shoulders and gave her a ride up there all the way back to the car. Not trying to say that I’m a total bad ass because I’m sure there are plenty of other moms out there that would have no problem hoisting their urine-saturated kiddo onto there shoulders for a few minute ride back to the car, but in that moment I was very proud of myself

Trying to get all three of us was quite the task

So peaceful

Love her so much

I think this sums up a peaceful place for me

And then she does this and it isn’t so peaceful anymore LOL

Sony a65 — 50mm Macro Lens — f/2.8 — 8 sec — ISO-200

My father and I hiked up a local mountain yesterday and spent the night for father’s day; a storm blew up about 4am, but it was all good! I had fun, and I’m glad to have spent the day with my dad.

Returning to the Lakeside scene i was too happy to know what day it was. All days are the same. They are all hot and they are all bright. I bobbed my head in the dust clouds street dreaming of what demented and shady new friends lay ahead in the dope sick brothels called backpacker hotels.
I strolled the baked dust roads with my pack and faded eyes.

i checked for Chewy but he wasnt around. lots of pushy ‘friends’ had replaced him. i decided to get a room and consider who to pretend to trust. i was cajoled down a wood-walled alley which became a gangplank which became a loooong dark hallway that bloomed out into a lake front patio of molded bamboo furniture under bamboo umbrellas and bamboo tables. 

so im shown a room. it’s a closet with a plank for a door. you slide and balance the plank for privacy. they used linoleum scraps as tiny throw rugs over the holes to rank “lake” below.
the room tilted deeply like a popping trapezoid. Everything leaned toward the sun where a fist-size gap yawned between the floor, the wall and the lake. the lake slop slurped again and again across the floor, infusing the soggy wood with this nauseous animal perfume.

i asked doubtfully about another room.

“this room only 3 dollar.” 

“do you have a safe or a locker?”

“oooh. locker is my brother’s bathroom, very safe.”

“let me see another room. you have a 4 dollar room?”

“you like weed?”

“yeah but i want another room”

“wait you look weed.”

he returned in half a second with a fat sandwich bag of weed. it was the same size Chewy offered to me for 5 dollars, but gave me for free when he was lit up on Speed.

“60 dollar.”

“WHAT? no. i go.” i stood, slung on my 2 backpacks and stepped out the hole in the wall.

dude started yelling fast and angry in Khmer toward the front desk.

Yeah, it is beginning. sometimes you can taste a pull toward violence long before it begins.

i started down the long dark hall toward the busy labyrinth out front. the end of the hall suddenly  became clogged with handsome young men. they gathered quickly in button down shirts, untucked and long dress pants, very dusty and probably too small. anyway they were there to make me do something i didn’t want to do. 

when i think of my life, i always remember the hallways and the fight for the door: the metal school corridors, the psych-hospital halls’ double locked security doors, and many american jails with gunmen and keyrings; blacked out hallways of downtown LA and now this shanty hotel hall … a skinny brown fist punches my hair from behind.

Oh, no, this wont do. i was born in New York City. you don’t knock me in the skull from behind and stand there waiting. i turned and sensed him. he was scared. but i was indignant. so disrespectful to abuse me so half-halfheartedly. all those cousins and no one ever taught you to fight? i dropped my bags, pushed him backwards and he cracked into the wood-panel wall.
i straightened up & stepped forward toward the sunlit end of the hall. Got to be The Ugly American. i knew i wouldn’t get past the dudes at the end, especially not with two backpacks. from that day on i only use one backpack, no matter how far i’m going. 

almost to the exit i was completely surrounded by those same young men. their faces were expressing some kind of annoyed anger. i hadnt done much except refuse to be ripped off and then shoved a teenager through the wall. it wasnt even a proper wall.

Everyone but me was yelling at once. finally someone figured to yell at me in english.

“You pay!You pay!”

“No way!” (i thought they were trying to intimidate me into buying that overpriced dirt weed. i’ve fought dudes in new york and atlanta and new orleans and san francisco and los angeles on exactly this same scam.

it’s completely ineffective unless the mark is scared. but i dont die. so come again, mister?

turns out they settled for me to rent the hotel room for $3 and just fucking split. that was okay with me.

i reemerged from the rank hall, now clogged with anorexic dogs taking shade, into the atomic sun. Alone i carried on down the mud-holed trail for a more relaxed hotel experience.

Landing in Turkey with little to slow us down we rushed through customs to get our visas. This goes relatively fast and as soon as we’re through we hit up the currency exchange booth and grab 200TRY. Our plan is to head to the tram station that will take us to a stop near our lodging. The terminal winds about leading us underground. Like the subways of NYC we align ourselves with the outbound car that separates us from Sultanahmet (Old Town) and Ataturk Airport.

From the airport its about an hour to our destination with one transfer to make. The last leg of the ride is standing room only, and we are packed in shoulder to shoulder, me with my heavy backpack on and Jaclyn with her suitcase by her side. Just when I sense Jaclyn can take no more we hit the 16th stop, our destination.

Stepping off the bus we’re hit with sensory overload. The Muezzin begins calling out just as the heavens open in a heavy downpour and the fog rolls in from the sea blanketing the city. Thankfully we can see lights from the various minarets but in a city like this it’s not easy to navigate by the unfamiliar structures in this monsoon.

A later view of the Blue Mosque

Our Pension is just southeast of the Agia Sophia. So with our heads held high against the rain we confidently work our way to the monument where we run into the Hippodrome… which is actually northwest of the Agia Sophia! In our discombobulated state we thought the Blue Mosque was the Agia Sophia.

Now backtracking, the right way, we decide to ask for a little assistance to which a local obliges to show us the way. “Just here” he says, taking us around a colorful complex lined with swanky cafes emitting their scent of sweet pastries and coffee. Just what the soul needs to recover on a day like this.

Completely soaked to the core we hit our destination, The Side Pension & Hotel. Pronounced “sii-deh”, a family owned operation that stands up to its reputation as a warm establishment with the sophistication of a Byzantine guest house and rates for the global traveler that still has bills to pay back home! We promptly strip down and unload our packs as they were not impervious to the storm we just encountered. Our room starts to look like a laundry mat.

At this point we are wet, tired and hungry. Our plan is to spend the evening over dinner and drinks. After changing into some dry clothes, we narrow down our choices of cafes and restaurants from Rick Steve’s guide on Istanbul to Cankurtaran Sosyal Tesisleri. A local gem with a view to the Sea of Marmara. They serve a variety of seafood dishes, kebabs, and  most importantly, kunafeh (a pastry of shredded wheat with cheese, honey, and pistachios. I’m mildly addicted!)

After the perfect introductory dinner we wander the streets for a while but decided to call it a day so we could get up early and get straight to our long list of sights in the city. The next morning the clouds had parted and we started with the complimentary breakfast on the rooftop with these views.

Hagia Sophia

And to my Left.

The Blue Mosque

Sleep Here- http://www.sidehotel.com/english/index.asp

Eat Here-  http://www.cankurtarantesisleri.com/

Next time on Yallah, bye…

Catch our tour of Istanbul as we explore the various monuments of Old Town.

900 miles, three gas fillups, one baby tumbleweed, land so flat that we could see the beginning AND the end of a train.

I realized that I don’t trust anyone or anything in Nevada. This might have something to due with how many episodes of Xfiles I have seen. I just think that everyone living out in the middle of nowhere is involved in a cult/religious uprising/government conspiracy/hiding from the law. After dinner at a casino, because nothing else is open that late on a Sunday (past 7pm), we found one dingy motel room with outlets that didn’t work, but managed to have a bottle opener attached to the bathroom sink, and stopped for the night.

We woke in the morning to drive the final three something hours, and I felt like I kept having to take pictures and to pick my jaw up off the floor. We are in the the most beautiful place I’ve ever seen. The sky is so big. The air tastes like clouds and the sun feels brighter somehow. People are happy and friendly, and I’ve seen four meese. I hear water rushing all around me, everything is green green green and full of promise and all I want to do is hike to the top of something tall and then roll down the hill.

Tomorrow we are taking a river float down a river where we are guaranteed to meet a bear that wants to be friendly with me. Then we plan on letting the town of Jackson Hole, with it’s many cowboy bars, showing us a thing or two about how to have a good time.

I am so, so, so happy. To be drinking in fresh air, eating BBQ everything, nothing better to do but have a good time. Everything about the rest of life will get really real in a few weeks, but for now, it’s just 5 o’clock right here.

There’s a child screaming. In front of us. I. Can’t. Run. Away.

Since we only had one day in town, we decided to climb the fortress at the top of the hill to get a good look at the city.

M is not happy with me climbing up some broken wall to take this photo:

Of course at the top of the fortress there is a cross:

And here is a nice view of the city:

After a few hours of strolling we decided to end our visit with some Georgian wine. It was ‘meh’, the Georgian wine bought in Vancouver definitely tasted better.

First we went to Zugdidi then we switched to a minibus heading for Mestia. At the minibus station, there is a tiny little booth where you buy your tickets. And since all the minibus signs are in Georgian we had to ask around to find the right bus. The Mestia station is literally just a bus with the sign in English and Georgian. We arrived at Zugdidi at around 1:45pm and after waiting around the minibus for an hour there was only one other old granny going. The bus driver said if we wanted to go now he would for 30 Lari each instead of the 15 Lari, we agreed and off we went on a minibus with broken seats onto the mountain highway. The ride was quite an adventure as there were numerous cows and large boulders lying everywhere that required dodging. About 30km from our destination there was a large landslide where we had to wait for an hour before it was cleared. As we didn’t have a guesthouse reserved the minibus driver just dropped us of at one. For 35 Lari per person we were given 3 meals ( they will pack a small lunch if you ask). The price seems to be the going rate for guesthouses with shared washrooms. The meals were quite good with multiple dishes. There doesn’t seem to be Internet in any guesthouse. There was also a hostel called “Seti hostel” in the centre of town but their rate was 20 Lari per person in a 6 bed dorm with no meals. Given that there is only 2 restaurants in the town I don’t think that was a good deal.

We had one full day in Mestia, of which we spent hiking up to the cross and to a small lake ( which we didn’t manage to see). The hike took around 8 hours because we took the long route. The scenery was spectacular and the weather was fantastic. I will let the photos speak for themselves.

An old man tending to his garden patch:

A long climb up:

The million dollar view:

The Cross:

Leaving Mestia was a challenge. We had told the guesthouse lady we wanted the bus to Tbilisi and she said she would reserve a spot for us at 6am. Except that the bus driver who picked us up, kicked us out after 2 mins because the bus was full of locals and instead told us to take the minibus to Batumi which was in the opposite direction. So from 6am to 8am we waited in the minibus not knowing if it was going or not. Luckily everything worked out an the minibus driver dropped is off in Zugdidi and transferred the cash to the driver bound for Tbilisi. In the end we reached Tbilisi at around 6pm and the total cost of the journey was 30 Lari.

We agree that Mestia is beautiful but perhaps if we ever go back we would fly from Tbilisi which supposedly only cost 76 Lari. Unfortunately while we were there we were informed there ha been no flights into Mestia for several months already.

What a view:

Travel tip: From Batumi take the markertesh to Zigdidi and ask the driver to drop you off where the markertesh for Mestia is (12 Lari). From Zugdidi the ride to Mestia should be 15 lari but if there is no other passengers expect to pay 30 Lari. There are minibuses to Zugdidi at 7am, 11am and later. From Zugdidi there are busses to Mestia a 7am, and supposedly 2pm & 9pm.

“You’re off to great places. Today is your day. Your mountain is waiting. So get on your way.” Dr Seuss

Sunflower, France

Grebbestad, Sweden

Great Wall of China, China

Routeburn Track, New Zealand

Cable Beach, Broome, Western Australia

My first overseas trip as an adult was on a three-month architecture study tour of Europe with RMIT (Royal Melbourne Institute of Technology). Although I wasn’t an architectural student, the tour was open to friends and family, and I decided to go. I’d actually completed the first year of a Bachelor of Education in Art and Craft, but didn’t really know what I wanted to do in terms of a career. I wasn’t all that keen on becoming a teacher, but I loved art. In that first year at college, I studied a variety of subjects and discovered a love for photography. That, combined with the study tour, is ultimately what set me on course to pursue photography, writing and editing… and more travel than I ever imagined was possible when I was 19 years old.

When I think about all the places I’ve been since then, I feel incredibly lucky. Some countries/experiences were on my ‘bucket list’ for a long time, such as Peru and hiking the Inca Trail. Others I visited after making a spur of the moment decision, such as participating in a Charity Challenge to trek on the Great Wall of China (to raise money for the Cancer Council). In this blog, I’d like to share 100 images of some of the places/landmarks/wildlife that I’ve been fortunate to see in the last 28 years.

What are your favourite places? Please share in the comments section below.

New York, USA

Lake Malawi, Malawi

Split, Croatia

Serengeti National Park, Tanzania

Lake Louise, Banff National Park, Alberta, Canada

Croatia

Sulphur Skyline, Jasper National Park, Canada

Mt Kilimanjaro, Tanzania

Great Wall of China

Carcassonne, France

Horseshoe Bay, British Columbia, Canada

Mt Kilimanjaro, Tanzania

Mt Edith Cavell, Jasper National Park, Alberta, Canada

Peyto Lake, Alberta, Canada

Sydney Opera House, NSW, Australia

Leaning Tower of Pisa, Italy

Wineglass Bay, Tasmania, Australia

Kangaroo Island, South Australia

Lonesome George, Galapagos Islands, Ecuador

The Devil’s Marbles, Northern Territory, Australia

Ollytaytambo, Peru

Zhongnan Mountain, China

Elk, Jasper National Park, Alberta, Canada

Fiji

Northern Territory, Australia

Prague, Czech Republic

Midsummer, Sweden

Mendenhall Glacier, Alaska, USA

The Parthenon, Athens, Greece

Athabasca Falls, Alberta, Canada

Bernini fountain in Rome, Italy

Canadian Rockies, Alberta, Canada

The Temple of Philae, Egypt

The Ramparts, Tonquin Valley, Jasper National Park, Canada

Santorini, Greece

Mountain gorilla, Uganda

Oktoberfest, Munich, Germany

New Orleans, USA

Elephant, Chobe National Park, Botswana

Waterfall in The Kimberley, Western Australia

Katherine Gorge, Northern Territory, Australia

Melk Abbey, Austria

Horseshoe Falls, Tasmania, Australia

London, UK

Oia, Santorini, Greece

Amsterdam, Netherlands

Twelve Apostles, Victoria, Australia

Inca Trail, Peru

London, UK

Graffiti in Berlin, Germany

Jabiru, Northern Territory, Australia

Darwin, Northern Territory, Australia

Crypt Lake hike, Waterton Lakes National Park, Alberta, Canada

Rottnest Island, Western Australia

Hinchinbrook Island, Queensland, Australia

Ireland

Wildflowers, The Pilbara, Western Australia

Bungy jump, Queenstown, New Zealand

Galapagos Islands, Ecuador

Mt Oberon, Wilsons Promontory, Victoria, Australia

Montague Island, NSW, Australia

Passau, Germany

El Questro Station, The Kimberley, Australia

Brown bears, Croatia

Salt-water crocodile, Northern Territory, Australia

Machu Picchu, Peru

Raymond Island, Victoria, Australia

Yankee Stadium, New York, USA

Great Ocean Road, Australia

Little Mermaid, Copenhagen, Denmark

Ovakango Delta, Botswana

The Eiffel Tower, Paris, France

Blue-footed booby, Galapagos Islands, Ecuador

Singapore Zoo, Singapore

Cesky Krumlov, Czech Republic

Venice, Italy

Cuzco, Peru

David by Michelangelo, Florence, Italy

Flam, Norway

Victoria Falls, Zimbabwe/Zambia

Cradle Mountain, Tasmania, Australia

Refuge Cove, Wilsons Promontory, Australia

Vatican City, Italy

United Arab Emirates

Lake Kariba, Zimbabwe

Flinders Street Station, Melbourne, Victoria, Australia

Dan Foley’s Pub, Ireland

Copenhagen, Denmark

Blue Mountains, NSW, Australia

Jabiru, Northern Territory, Australia

Milford Sound, New Zealand

Ayers Rock, Northern Territory, Australia

Rhinos, Ngorongoro Crater, Tanzania

New York, USA

The Pyramids and the Sphinx, Cairo, Egypt

Just met these people….oddly enough we’re going all the same places….

The whole reason we went there was to see Mount Fuji and it can be notoriously difficult to get a clear view of as the clouds often cover it. So we went for a little wander around the town to get some stuff from the local supermarket for breakfast and lunch and to scope out the town. Scoping didn’t take long as it was pretty small, but on the way up the hill we were greeted with just a hint of Fuji’s beauty.

This was nice but the undoubted highlight of the town was the discovery that Japanese Supermarkets love giving out free samples of their products and are too polite to say no or STOP! So we wandered around the aisles at least 3 times and nailed everything in sight! Got to save the pennies as Japan is pretty damn expensive. In out time in the supermarket I think we ‘sampled’ cold coffee, duck gouza, spring roll, chicken and pasta sauce, tempura, pickled squid, seafood noodles, and 10 different types of cakes, breads and pastries (the lemon croissant thing was the nuts!) After over-staying our welcome we grabbed some sushi and went to find somewhere peaceful to eat it. We failed miserably and ended up eating it sat on a small brick wall, in what seemed to be the busiest short cut in town. It did however seem to hugely entertain the locals as they all smiled, slowed down and waved with glee!

After this we wandered down to the bridge and got some awesome photos but more worryingly managed to spook some old dear into falling off her bike as she passed us. It was pretty weird really, we saw her coming so stood on the raised curb of the bridge to let her pass but as she went passed she decided to swerve and clipped her pedal on the side of the bridge causing her to go out of control, fortunately she hit the raised curb and not go into the oncoming traffic or over the bridge (to a 50 foot drop to the lake). We ran to help her as her husband was a bit further ahead and she was pretty shaken up and had cut her lip pretty badly. Thankfully Caroline had some tissues so we gave her the whole pack and she was very polite and I guess a little embarrassed. We wandered into town and found an automatic baseball practice range! It was awesome I of course went macho and went straight for the 100 km/h cage and failed miserably. We moved to the 80 km/h and did better, although it was at this point Caroline’s competitive streak came out in all its glory. After failing to make any ‘significant’ connections with the balls the bottom lip came out and the bat was blamed!

Our second day here was pretty cool as we went up the cable car to get a better view of the peak, unfortunately it was a little cloudy, but Caroline managed to get a couple of crystal clear snaps early in the morning. The evening was a little more lively as we shared a few beers and dinner with two Aussies, an American soldier, a New Yorker and a German. We wandered up the hill to a local recommendation, after nearly giving up we found it and were treated with a pretty spectacular restaurant. There was a giant water wheel outside and behind the sliding doors was a huge room consisting of straw matting and sunken tables. It was like something straight out of Kill Bill. The food was the local specialty of thick noodle soups with all sorts of various ingredients, there were a couple of lads who sampled the wild boar. We decided against the chicken gizzards and the snapping turtle!

Next up we headed to the ancient town city of Matsumoto via bus and train. The key here is to know how long each part of the journey should last and keep an eye on the time because there aren’t a lot of signs to help and the announcements aren’t often in English. That reminds me of the first bit of the title of this blog… NOISES! Everywhere you go in Japan something is making a noise at you. The pedestrian crossings, of which there are thousands, either bird tweet or play you the magic roundabout theme tune, every other shop is either playing music or has someone on a megaphone outside it shouting their latest deals, in the big cities the neon billboards play music and their slot machine arcades (Packchinos) are possibly the loudest places on earth with a deafening concoction of techno music and the thunder of the ball bearings the locals all seem to play with, mixed in with the fact you can smoke in there makes it possibly the worst place on Earth.

Back to Matsumoto. This time we were staying at Backpackers Matsumoto which was run by a very lovely Irishman called Brain and his Japanese wife. They only opened it in February and it was a lovely converted traditional old Japanese home. It was the closest we came to staying in a Ryokan (traditional Japanese guest houses). It was a great little experience as we slept on futons on the floor in our separate bedroom complete with rice paper sliding doors. The city is most famous for its ancient castle. We went to look around it and it made for some amazing photos and inspired me to start learning a bit more about my camera and its 1000′s of settings. I’m pretty pleased with this little beauty:

I decided to not go inside the castle and let Caroline go and get a history lesson from her local guide Morio. Whilst in Matsumoto we also went a ridiculously steep walk which was about two hours up pretty uphill mountain roads, which were practically deserted apart from one old man who was cycling down who stopped for a chat even though he didn’t speak a word of English and us only three words of Japanese, but he seemed delighted to speak to us for twenty minutes whilst pointing at a few places on our map and laughing and smiling a lot! In hindsight its moments like that which will make this trip special! At the top we enjoyed our hard earned packed lunch (Ham sandwiches and crisps! Remember the budget,) beside a very beautiful lake.

The next day we set off for the Ancient town of Takayama but stopped off in the Japanese Alps to sample something of a Japanese tradition called an Onsen. This takes us to the third bit of our blog title NAKEDNESS! The Onsens are traditional hot spas where the outdoor pools of varying temperatures are all supplied by the water from the local natural hot springs which are fully of eggy sulphur. They are like spas but full of rules and protocols you are meant to follow. The first of which is that you have to be naked when you are in the bathing area. So Caroline and I went our separate ways for a few hours as there are separate bathing areas for men and women. I can only speak for myself for the next part! Swallowing my British prudishness I stripped of and strolled confidently into the baths (thanks to Rich and the gents at Reach Fitness, being naked isn’t as daunting as it used to be). The first thing you have to do is wash yourself whilst sitting on a stool, kinda weird but hey-ho. The only thing you have to conserve any modesty is a small towel, the size of a large flannel (big enough I hear you all say), but there are strictly no towels allowed in the pools so you have to put it on your head whilst in the water! So out into the fresh air I strolled. Thankfully it was a nice sunny day so things were ok!! The first pool was a pleasant temperature but was in a wooden barrel so I couldn’t be sure if I was bathing in the drains or not, so quickly jumped out. The temperatures of the 8 or 9 pools were all different, and the hottest one was pretty full on, I only managed a couple of minutes in there. The Onsen was a great experience and the nudity wasn’t as bad as we feared, and we both left a bit more relaxed. Great value for less than four quid!!

We arrived to the old town of Takayama in a pretty torrential downpour, only our second bit of rain, which is pretty good considering its rainy season in Japan. The town is famous for its old streets where all the buildings are still made of wood and it was really very quaint to walk down them. The other thing it is famous for is its Hida beef.

These delectable skewers are made of a very special marbled beef and are cooked right in front of you and basted with a little soy sauce. They were amazing. We also wandered the food market and nailed the free samples!

We went out for dinner that night and had a bizarre experience when we tried our luck in a restaurant that seemed busy with locals. We poked our cheery British heads in to enquire about a table for two. The waitress looked at the chef in a little panic, he grunted in Japanese and put us in the corner by the door, despite the free tables elsewhere. We immediately wanted to bail, they then handed us the menu, which stated there would be a cover charge to begin with, at that point we’d had enough, made our excuses and left, much to the anger of the chef, whose biggest problem was that we had wiped our hands on the moist napkins! This is our only one real gripe with Japan. Quite a few times we have been made to feel a little unwelcome as tourists. Many bars have a cover charge if you are a tourist and some of the bars won’t even let you in if you aren’t Japanese. It’s really strange because the vast majority of Japanese people we’ve met are so friendly and nice, yet there is this kind of slight prejudice against you as an outsider. We also came across it in Tokyo and Kyoto, its the kind of thing that you wouldn’t get away with in England.

Our second to last stop was to the city of Kyoto which is famous for its Geisha girls who are the most respected in Japan. We wandered around the Gion district trying to catch a glimpse of these made-up ladies, Caroline swears she saw one in the front seat of a taxi, I’m not convinced. Kyoto seemed like a cool city but was almost impossible to get a reasonably priced beer without having to pay the tourist tax. There was a street full of about 200 bars but none of them were particularly welcoming.

Last up was the city of Osaka, the old capital city of Japan. This was an amazing city and a shame we didn’t get more than a day there. In the one day we were there we went to the Aquarium which was amazing but horrendously busy. We also went up the Osaka Sky Tower which had a floating roof garden on the 39th floor and gave us amazing views over the sprawling city. Another little side note was whilst looking like stereotypical lost tourists an elderly Japanese gentleman asked where we were going, we told him and he said he would show us. Rather than point he actually walked us there which was a good 10 minutes away through a very complicated route. He never expected anything in return, he just said he went to England last year and had loved it. It’s moments like that which make you smile.

We spent the night in a capsule hotel, which was certainly an experience, it was a little like sleeping in a morgue or a spaceship (haven’t done either). You basically get assigned a pod number and that is your capsule, there is a radio, a plug socket and a light in there and that is it. Pretty damn weird but worth doing once.

We finished the night by going to an awesome Takoyaki restaurant. The Takoyaki are balls of batter that are carefully cooked and have a piece of octopus put in the middle of the. They are delicious. Cooked on the outside and gooey in the middle, and you cover them in BBQ sauce and spices. We also had some wicked squid Tepanyaki noodles and an Osakan speciality cabbage pancake called Odenmeyaki (or something!). It was a belting way to finish off our time in Japan.

We absolutely loved so much about Japan; the people, the traditions, the food (especially), the weather and the ease of travel.

Today we left Osaka and are heading to Laos eventually. So far we have been in 3 countries in 12 hours; Japan (Osaka), China (Shanghai) and Thailand (Bangkok). We are currently sitting in a particularly crap airport in Bangkok waiting to fly up to Chaing Rai before crossing over the border to Laos where we will be catching the slow boat down the Mekong to Luang Prabang.

The final tale of joy comes from Caroline World. Now the toilets in Japan are pretty special, in that they have a squirty bidet feature that cleans things when you are finished. Obviously all these controls are in Japanese. But the third button along sometimes has a ladies face on it (see below)…

Caroline was a little unsure of what this feature was for and asked me, “is that for ladies to wash their face with?”
After a pause I told her probably best not to try it!

We’ve been busy with the camera and please feel free to check out the latest snaps.
Japan after Tokyo Album

Miss you all, but have had an amazing start and we are looking forward to so much more to come.

Tom and Caroline.
X

Upon disembarking the train at Hamburg’s Hauptbahnhof station I immediately noticed how industrial the city looked. And the first impression is rightly earned, as Hamburg hosts many manufacturing facilities and a massive port to deal with all the material goods coming in an going out. Unlike most manufacturing cities back home in North America, Hamburg seems to be thriving, even affluent. Surely part of this is because the Germans were smart enough to make quality goods for rich people instead trying to race china to the bottom of the bargain bin. But the well developed and very prosperous looking city centre made me think there must be another facet to Hamburg that I wasn’t immediately seeing. Like any proper former student I turned to wikipedia to confirm my suspicions, and found out Hamburg is host to a substantial banking and media sector. That being said, despite these distinctly white collar economic pillars, the whole of Hamburg feels distinctly blue collar albeit in its own German way. I kind of like it. Most people here seem very down to earth and not too judgemental. It almost felt natural to stroll through the park alongside the locals, which is something that doesn’t seem to happen all too often when you’re backpacking.

There were also human baby skeletons, or maybe they were fetal skeletons.  Close enough to the same thing…

There were also these awesome little guys.  Who’s a cute little pickled mutant? Who is? Who is? …

The gardens outside… to end on a nicer note.