tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-51687037973145025802024-03-13T08:28:49.167-07:00Travelling in Rollers... an insight into the mind of a novice backpackerMiss Travellerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16155798908665931458noreply@blogger.comBlogger14125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5168703797314502580.post-24155644182382650662013-08-19T23:13:00.000-07:002013-08-19T23:13:39.339-07:00That’s All (for now), Folks<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
<div class="MsoNormal">
<i> ”Challenge
yourself with something you know you could never do, and what you’ll find is
that you can overcome anything.” (Anonymous)<o:p></o:p></i></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<i><br /></i></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN">I'm sitting in a VERY posh hotel room, looking out onto
the Bangkok skyline (thanks, TravelZoo) and thought it fitting that I round up
the last eight months with some final words. In just a few short hours, we’ll
be at the airport and will kiss Thai soil goodbye for the very last time as we
embark on our new adventures ‘Down Under’. Watch out, Sydney, we’re coming for
you! <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN">If anyone would've told me a few years ago that I’d have
backpacked for eight months, I’d have been a bit dubious, to say the least. In
reality, I'm not sure why it’s called ‘backpacking’. You really don’t spend
that much time carrying your bag. Anyway, there are downsides, of course, that
Lonely Planet fails to mention. Ridiculously long, uncomfortable journeys, crap
accommodation, things NEVER going to plan, inevitable dodgy stomach somewhere
along the line… it’s definitely not for the faint-hearted. To be immersed in a
culture so different to your own and adapt to their way of life can be hard at
times. However, we Brits don’t realise how lucky we are – wherever we travel in
the world, the universal language of communication is always English. I've met
countless French, Dutch, German people who have to forego their mother tongue
and try to communicate daily in a language that isn't their own. I think the
hardest thing for me, at first, was to become ‘carefree’. I always like to have
a plan and pride myself on being meticulous and organised. In the end, I
accepted that there was nothing I could do if that bus was two hours late, or
the hostel didn't have our reservation. You deal with it. Same goes for my
appearance. Being ‘unpolished’ is OK when you’re a traveller. Material things
aside, being away from home for so long is also a strong test of character. It’s
hard to see Facebook updates and photos of what everyone’s doing and the
thought that I’ll miss some of my closest friends’ weddings next year is really
hard to stomach. On the other hand, I know that this experience is a once in a
lifetime opportunity and I’d be stupid to give that up. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN">I can honestly say that this is the best decision I've ever made and am so
proud of myself to have stepped out of my comfort zone and done something I've
always dreamed of doing. I've visited some amazing place and met some
incredible people, but I don’t mind saying now that the traveller in me is
ready for a rest. I need some stability. I'm excited to actually unpack and
hang up my clothes and be in one place for longer than a few days. To wash my
clothes in a washing machine rather than a sink (sorry, Mum) and to actually
cook a meal (well, watch Ste cook for me) rather than go out; just some of the
little things I've missed. I feel I'm ready to get back in the rat-race (if
anyone will have me!) and can’t wait to see the funds in my bank account
actually increase rather than deplete. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN"><br /></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN">So, that’s it, done and dusted. This isn't the last you’ll hear from me;
once I'm up and running in Australia, I’ll write and let you know what’s what. Lastly,
if I can give you all one piece of advice from my experience, it’s to never
give up on your dream, however small it is. To lose a few pounds, save for
those Louboutins (on my list), buy a house or travel the world… the only thing
stopping you is YOU. Anything is possible if you put your mind to it, and I'm
the living example. Gidday for now, I’ll see you on the other side…<o:p></o:p></span></div>
</div>
Miss Travellerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16155798908665931458noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5168703797314502580.post-66557381486207198602013-08-19T10:50:00.000-07:002013-08-19T10:50:00.673-07:00Good Morning, Noon and Night, Vietnam: A six week tour <div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
<div class="MsoNormal">
<i><span lang="EN">“Twenty years from now you will be more disappointed by the things you didn't do than by the ones you did do. So throw off the bowlines, sail away
from the safe harbour Catch the trade winds in your sails. Explore. Dream.
Discover.” – </span></i><span lang="EN">Mark Twain<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN">Hey, guys! Long time, no blog? Apologies, it’s been a whirlwind past few
weeks. The beginning of the end of our (South East Asia) travels is upon us,
and today I'm going to recall our time in Vietnam. It’s easy to draw
comparisons with Thailand – the vastness of the country (it takes AGES to get
anywhere. I reckon I've spent nearly a full week out of the six we spent here
in transit), the food, the people… Whilst I still haven’t made up my mind,
there’s one thing that I do know. There’s something here for everyone. There’s
the mountains of Sapa for those who are climbing inclined (see what I did
there?!), big, bustling cities like Hanoi and Saigon for the culture vultures
and last, but not least, those all-important beaches in Nha Trang and Mui Ne
for sun worshippers like moi. Anyone who says they didn't like Vietnam clearly
spent too much (or too little) time in one place – once you've seen a few of
the cities you get a general vibe as to what’s more your ‘thing’; mine was a no
brainer from the start – anything involving the art of sunbathing will always
be a winner in my book!<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN">I'm not going to sit here and give a full blow-by-blow account of each city
we visited (if you’re that way inclined, invest in a guidebook. Much more
informative than I’ll ever be). No, I'm just going to reflect on some of the
highlights and see where it takes me. Right, let’s start with this.
Stereotypes. We all know what one is and probably judge others due to them. We
all do it. The media and society in general are to blame. Anyway, the reason I
bring it up is that, whilst participating in some obligatory culture stuff on
another ‘city’ tour; this time, in the capital Saigon (also known as Ho Chi
Minh. Confusing, I know. Anyone else think that they were two separate places?
No, just me then…) we got talking to two British girls. One was from Nottingham
(I was slightly perplexed, disappointed even, that she did know where ‘Ocean’
was and did not share in my happy memories of drinking apple VKs whilst dancing
to the Bay-watch theme tune) and the other, from London. A ‘posh’ Southerner.
Who was quick to comment that, when she learned we were from Liverpool, she
didn't think that ‘people from Liverpool travelled’. Excuse me? What are we,
aliens? Or too busy robbing hub-caps and wandering in the streets in our
Lacoste trackies and Rockports? Get a grip, love. How can someone make such a
flippant comment in this day and age?<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN">Her comment got me thinking: what is a ‘typical’ traveller? Anyone who has
read my previous blogs will remember my categories of what ‘type’ of traveller
you are, but not once did I factor in where anyone was from. Or age, for that
matter. I guess the ‘stereotypical’ answer to that would be the 18-23 group,
either before or after university. It got me thinking, are me and the Mac too
old for travelling? With a combined age of over FIFTY (good God), are we ‘past’
it? Well, after becoming buds with a British couple poolside in Mui Ne, I can
tell you we’re definitely not. And I left there feeling completely inspired and
energised. Mui Ne itself is a beautiful resort in the South of Vietnam but,
unfortunately, is beginning to lose its authentic charm due to the huge Russian
influence. Vietnam is to Russia what Spain is to us Brits so the locals are
catering more and more to them with all shops having Russian sign-age and most
restaurants handing out Russian menus. Now, I personally don’t know anyone
Russian so I don’t mean to offend when I say this. They’re very, well, <i>abrupt</i> in their way of communicating.
Almost aggressive. ANYWAY, back to our British buds. Amongst the crowds of
Russians we got chatting to two Brits by the pool. They’d been travelling for
almost a year and, by the sounds of it, had had a fantastic time. And they were
both in their forties. They’d decided to quit their jobs and see the world.
They weren't weird, hippies, or ‘strange’ in any way. Just a ‘normal’ couple
wanting to see the world while they could. After meeting them, I reviewed my
thoughts on the ‘stereotypical’ traveller. You’re never too bloody old. If you
want to see the world, go out and see it. What’s holding you back is YOU (there’s
an inspiring travel quote for you!)<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN">Right, less philosophical crap and more on Vietnam! I have to say, the
Vietnamese are a noisy lot. Just in general, whether they’re on their phone,
walking down the street… An hour plane journey from Hanoi to Nha Trang
literally felt like an eternity. There were children EVERYWHERE. Parents either
had no control of their kids running wild in the aisles or didn't care that
their brats were jumping up and down in their seat whilst touching the overhead
TVs and throwing sweets all at the same time. No, they were more interested in
listening to their music or chatting to their neighbour. Both in raised
decibels; Vietnam obviously doesn't sell headphones. This was also apparent on
the many night buses we endured whilst here. They love to listen to music as a
bedside accompaniment, as I do. Just they do it out loud. I spent many a
sleepless night listening to (or trying to block out, rather) the dulcet tones
of Vietnamese singers murdering 90’s classics. Bless them; maybe they've
foregone headphones to purchase their bus tickets? Nope, wrong again. Most
Vietnamese tend to prefer the aisle. No, not the aisle seat, the ACTUAL aisle. Makeshift
mattresses are laid out and they literally sprawl out for the journey. Not
ideal on an eighteen hour bus and you need the toilet. Trying to step over them
in the dark to navigate to the back of the bus is impossible. The worlds’
trickiest assault course. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN">As expected, Vietnam has lost a lot of its authenticity due to the masses
of tourists. We wanted to experience some ‘real’ Vietnam, hence our visit to
Ninh Binh. It’s a small town two hours south of Hanoi and it’s virtually
untouched by tourists. So much so that there are no actual restaurants and to
this day I’m thankful that our guest house did food. Nat + no food equals hell!
We thought we’d take advantage of being among the few tourists and visit the
local sights. ‘Tam Coc’ is a selection of beautiful caves set against a
backdrop of limestone mountains (very picturesque) and a tranquil boat ride
around the caves seemed like a great way to kick-start the day. Ha. The lady
rowing our boat clearly fancied a leg workout rather than her arms, as she
preferred to row and steer the boat with her feet. She must've had legs of
steel, to ferry two Westerners around; she was only tiny! Feeling bad, I
offered to help, and was immediately given an oar. Rowing is hard work, that’s
all I have to say. So, the serene boat ride I’d envisaged turned into a workout
with me concentrating on the rowing rather than the scenery. The fitness fun
continued as we approached ‘Mua Cave’; just a mere 470 steps to the top of this
mountain that boasts spectacular panoramic views. Have you ever counted to 470?
It’s long and tedious, believe me. And to top it all off, the view wasn't even
that great as it was masked by clouds and fog! <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN">With the travels coming to an end, I thought it best to get myself sorted.
I mean, I've adopted the carefree attitude of a seasoned traveller the past few
months, but I can hardly rock up to an interview in Sydney with bushy eyebrows,
horrific hair and crap clothes now can I? The Scouse in me point blank refuses.
So, Hanoi was my refuge, if you like, to get back to some form of normality. A
quick and cheap eyebrow wax gave me two separate ones again and I threw out the
Harem pants and tattered Havaianas and replaced them with good old H&M
basics. Reluctantly, it was time for a trim, too. I'm VERY particular about my
tresses; my hair is my ‘thing’, you see, and at home I let no one bar a few
select individuals cut it. So, you can imagine my hesitation letting people who
can’t even speak English loose on it. The lad in Tony & Guy was very sweet,
bless him, but I was paranoid he’d cut too much off so made him show me the
amount he was cutting off each time. And I have a lot of hair. He did a great
job, though, and even curly blow dried it for good measure at the end. I
sauntered out of there feeling very Carrie Bradshaw-esque. After five minutes
in the heat, though, it was more of a birds’ nest. Bloody humidity…<i><o:p></o:p></i></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN"><br /></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN">And that’s it, my friends. Vietnam in a nutshell. Stay tuned for a final
‘farewell’ post rounding up the last eight months… It’ll be emotional. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
</div>
Miss Travellerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16155798908665931458noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5168703797314502580.post-44390769040430801422013-07-09T10:48:00.001-07:002013-07-09T10:49:29.216-07:00Angkor WHAT?!: A short snippet from my time in Cambodia<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
<div class="MsoNormal">
<i><span style="background-color: white; background-position: initial initial; background-repeat: initial initial;">“All journeys have secret destinations of
which the traveller is unaware...” –<span class="apple-converted-space"> </span></span><span style="border: 1pt none windowtext; padding: 0cm; text-decoration: none;"><a href="http://plato.stanford.edu/entries/buber/">Martin Buber</a></span><o:p></o:p></i></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<i><br /></i></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN">Hello all! Hope you’re fine
and dandy this lovely month of July? Travels are going well, we haven’t run out
of money (yet) and the tans are coming on nicely. My white bits are becoming
that white that I think I’ll become clinically depressed if I ever return to
that shade again. Come to think of it, I don’t think I've ever let myself get
THAT white; I used to apply fake tan as regularly as I brush my teeth. So, this
installment will fill you all in on the sights and sounds of Cambodia: I
literally knew nothing about its history so was going in with an open mind (Do
not judge: after a quick browse in my trusted ‘Lonely Planet’ I was as clued up
as the next traveller!) Oh, before we start: can’t believe we've FINALLY won
Wimbledon! Well in Andy lad, about bloody time too! Although I bet his
girlfriend was dying to get some selfies with Posh Spice rather than watch her
boyfriend play tennis AGAIN. I hope he buys her a nice bag (or engagement ring)
for her patience… <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN">While we’re on the subject of
sport… only when travelling would I find myself cycling at 4.30am. Yes, you
read this right. 4.30 IN THE MORNING. I'm familiar with this time when
stumbling in after a night out, but never to participate in self-inflicted
exercise. Let me explain… the city of Siem Reap draws international crowds who
flock to visit the famed Angkor Wat complex, a huge site housing ancient temple
ruins. Some of you may be interested to know that Angelina Jolie filmed scenes for
‘Tomb Raider’ at many of the temple sites here; consequently, one of the local cocktails
is named after her and she adopted one of her kids from here (not from the
temple site, nor as a result of the alcohol, I'm sure) Anyway, the guide books
advise that it’s best to experience the ruins early in the morning and by
bicycle. Early and Exercise: probably two of my least favourite words. So this
is how I found myself in front of the main temple, Angkor Wat, watching the
sunrise from the comfort of my bicycle seat. The ruins themselves are pretty
impressive but, in all honesty, once you've seen a couple of them, they all
blend into one. The Taj Mahal was way more spectacular, if we’re talking
wonders of the world here. I actually enjoyed the cycling; it took me back to
when I was a kid, continuously riding around the block as I wasn't allowed to
go on ‘proper’ roads! The four of us (us two and our fellow ‘flash packers’ Neil
and Rach), we must've cycled close to 40km that day: luckily, it was flat
terrain otherwise I’d still be on the way back now!<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN">I can’t write a blog about
Cambodia without mentioning its tumultuous past; the horrific events that took
place in the seventies still remain at the forefront of Cambodians’ minds even
today. From the capital, Phnom Penh, we took a trip to Choeung Ek aka ‘The
Killing Fields’, the site where almost nine thousand innocent citizens were
brutally executed between 1975 and 1979 as a result of Pol Pot’s ‘Khmer Rouge’
regime. I don’t want to turn this into a history lesson, but just Google the
name and you can read about this extreme communist and his drastic ways in
order to create a ‘perfect’ communist state. I've visited Auschwitz in the
past, and the same feelings of sadness, pity and anger were evoked as I stepped
through the gates. The informative audio guide leads you around the site, past
mass graves where bodies were strewn once guards had killed the victims with a
variety of implements. Guns were not used as bullets were too expensive;
instead, they used trowels, knives and other makeshift weapons whilst victims’
screams were masked by propaganda music blaring out of speakers attached to
trees. The most shocking sight of all, for me, had to be ‘the Killing Tree’. As
it sounds, this was what guards used to smash babies heads against before
dumping them into the nearest open grave. There are no words, really, are
there? And to think this was all going on during most of our parents’ lifetimes…
We concluded the day with a visit to the former high school now known as the ‘S-21’
museum; it was taken over by the Khmer Rouge in the seventies and was used as a
sort of holding ground and torture camp before its’ victims were shipped off to
their fateful end at the Killing Fields. Classrooms became torture rooms (some of
the devices are on show) and the photographs that line the walls (the Khmer
Rouge was very precise when it came to documenting their prisoners) serve both as
a memorial but also a chilling reminder as to what went on here. The whole day
is probably one of my most sobering memories of the entire trip. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN">Right, let’s lighten this mood…
What does ‘back to basics’ mean to you? Nature? Tranquility? Yeah, me too… So,
when we booked a couple of nights on an island off the coast of Sihanoukville,
I envisaged a beach hut, a hammock and nothing but the sun, sea and sand to
keep me entertained. Oh, Koh Rong, I got it SO wrong! This island is filled
with Westerners and is set up to be the next ‘party’ place: no police, no rules…
Oh, and no electricity. Our place kindly turned on a generator between 5 and
11pm; how kind. Would've been useful if I’d have had a plug socket,
though. Couple this with no hot water, a long drop with a bucket-flush system
of a toilet and some oddly smelling sheets and towels; obviously I was in my
element. There was only one thing for it… to get PISSED. My tolerance has
lowered considerably since leaving the UK (not that it was sky high anyway) and
a few drinks turned into me (loudly) teaching anyone in close proximity how to
play ‘Ride the Bus’. I’d obviously ridden it far too many times by the end of
the night as I was half dragged, half carried home to spew my guts up all over
the floor of our hovel, sorry, hut! I was also absolutely devastated to
discover the next morning that, somehow, I’d managed to wear home some flip flops
that were definitely not my REAL Havaianas. These weren't even branded. Oh, and
were about three sizes too small for me. So, I’d lost my shoes, my dignity… safe
to say, we left the next day!<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN"><br /></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN">So that, in short, sums up our
three weeks in Cambodia. Cycling, card games and cheap drinks! Aside from what
I've written about, I found the people to be extremely friendly, the history
fascinating and the scenery breathtaking. A definite ‘must’ as a stop on the ‘Backpacker’
trail. Next up, Vietnam: what can happen next? Stay tuned kids, you’ll find out
very shortly… <o:p></o:p></span></div>
</div>
Miss Travellerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16155798908665931458noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5168703797314502580.post-24838836409619737522013-06-13T02:06:00.000-07:002013-06-13T02:06:08.130-07:00Livin' la vida Laos!<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
<div class="MsoNormal">
<i><span lang="EN">'All you've got to do is decide to go and the hardest part is over. So go!'
(Tony Wheeler, Cofounder- Lonely Planet) <o:p></o:p></span></i></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<i><span lang="EN"><br /></span></i></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN">Hello all! How’ve you been? Glad to see the UK has had some decent weather
recently – about bloody time. Everyone’s happier in the sun, right? Well,
something needs to be attributed to the hordes of engagement, wedding and baby
news that have reached my tanned ears over the past month! CONGRATULATIONS to
everyone involved, 2014 is going to be a momentous year! Anyway, back to
Gibbo’s travel news. In just a few short months, we will finally grace
Australia with our presence; the travelling dream will be (almost) over as we
will have to hunt for something completely foreign to us… employment. In the
meantime, thankfully, we still have a few more countries to tick off the list.
This stop: Laos. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN">Now, I admit, I'm not the most cultured sweet in the tin, and all I knew of
Laos was that it was home to the infamous ‘Tubing’ frenzy, a ‘must-see’ on the
backpacker route. After spending almost a month here, I can vouch that Laos is
so much more than this. It’s a country bursting with history and a culture so
rich it’s hard not to take an interest. You can imagine my surprise, and
delight, when strolling around the streets of Luang Prabang I came across so
many signs in French. Yep, so, apparently the French have been to Laos and made
quite an impact! This is obvious when you notice the quaint, colonial-style buildings
that dominate the city and it was refreshing to read information guides in
something other than badly-translated English (although, je regrette, my French
isn't what it once was). <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN">Did you know that Laos is the most heavily bombed country, by capita, in
the world? I certainly didn't. It was on a visit to the COPE visitor centre in
Vientiane, a hidden gem that I really recommend all backpackers visit, that my
eyes were truly opened as to what Laos has been through throughout history.
COPE is a non-profit organisation that provides rehabilitation and prosthetic
limbs, particularly for those affected by land mines. Laos was used as a dumping
ground in the seventies for all of the USA’s unused bombs, originally intended
for Vietnam. As a result of this, many of these cluster bombs remain undetected
due to the sheer volumes that were dispersed, providing a daily threat for
those living in rural areas. The people here are so poor that farming is a way
of life; they do it to survive, not for financial gain. If detonated, these
bombs can cause catastrophic injuries and tear apart whole families. COPE aims
to educate those in rural areas about the dangers of foraging for metal, as
many still do this to earn extra money to feed their families. It’s saddening
to think that the country is still affected by something that happened over
forty years ago; I can’t even imagine living somewhere that I’d be in constant
fear for my life and that of my family. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN">I know you all love hearing about my transport escapades, so get ready to
feast your eyes on this corker. We decided to shun the ‘bog standard’ coach as
our entry into Laos from Thailand, in favour of a two day ‘Slow Boat’ journey
along the Mekong River. Hint: the key is the name… SLOW. A journey that would
take a matter of hours by road is extended out over forty eight hours on a long
boat<i>. ‘It’s such a great experience’,
‘the view is amazing’</i>, were some of the benefits sold to us by the ticket
vendors; oh, go on then, it can’t be that bad... So, we found ourselves
squashed into rows of disused coach seats laid out on this tail boat (not
nailed to the floor I might add) to begin this epic journey. As you can
imagine, you are restricted as to what you can do in such a confined space and
many passengers turned to drinking to pass the time. One such backpacker
decided to do just this and, bless her, in true ‘booze cruise’ style, decided
to try and match some Aussie lads ‘can for can’ on local beer. This resulted in
her chucking her insides up into the river a while later, in plain view of the
entire boat. Nice one, love, you've DEFO impressed them now! <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN">To break up the journey, the ticket included a night stopover in a small
town named Pakbeng; this place has literally been thrown together to house slow
boat guests for the night and is one of the weirdest places I've ever set foot
in. Within minutes of setting foot on dry land, I was offered marijuana, opium…
To be honest, I probably should've taken up this offer to numb my senses as the
accommodation here leaves something to be desired. We did A LOT of searching
until we found a place that was half decent; half decent, as in, this place
didn't have bed bugs. Thankfully, it was only for one night and we resumed our
voyage early the next morning. All in all, the experience wasn't that
breathtaking and, in hindsight, the bus would've been just as viable an option.
But, hey, this is what travelling’s all about, interesting experiences to relay
to you people!<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN">While we’re on the subject of weird and wacky transport options, let me
tell you about our first ‘Sleeper Bus’ experience. Yeah, we've done overnight
buses before where your seat reclines, but this one had actual beds. Or so it
claimed. We were travelling from Vientiane, the capital, to the lesser-known
island of Don Dhet. The beds themselves are like little bunks, two people in
each, laid out in place of seats. This would've been fine, but only as we
boarded the bus we detected a <i>slight</i>
issue. We’d been assigned different beds. I'm a friendly person, but really
didn't fancy snuggling up to a random Laotian guy for the next twelve hours. I
asked if he minded swapping beds so the Mac and I could share the same bunk. He
said no. What an idiot. He was on his own, so who did it matter who he slept
next to?! Anyway, the guy next to Stevie was more compliant and moved, so ‘The
Flash-packers’ were reunited once again and slept soundly all the way to Don
Dhet. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN">The island itself is pretty basic – there’s no ATM, the electricity cuts
out at some point every day – yet despite this, we found some great
accommodation and spent a few days just ‘doing nothing’, which is fast becoming
one of my favourite past-times. It was here we experienced a TRULY awkward
moment, proper ‘cringe’ factor. We were the only ones eating breakfast in the
restaurant one day and the Belgian owner and his Laotian wife seemed to be
having a disagreement over something or other. This quickly escalated into her
bursting into tears and shouting comments like <i>‘Your drinking is a problem’, ‘You don’t love the children any more ,
‘Why do you make me feel like this?’</i> You could cut the tension with a knife;
I was frightened to chew my muesli in case it made a sound. Did they not
realise we were there?! We couldn't just get up and leave, it was too obvious.
So we just had to sit it out until there was an opportunity to bail. I've never
been so interested in the bottom of a bowl before… Anyway, the guy did
apologise to us later, saying <i>‘you shouldn't have had to hear that’</i>. Er, yes mate, we shouldn't. Save it for
Jeremy Kyle! Just shows, no matter where you are in the world, everybody loves
a bit of drama!<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN">I'm going to end with my experience of tubing. Deemed ‘the craziest party
of your life’ on one website, you only have to type it into Google to get a
general gist of the carnage. The concept is, basically, renting an inner tyre ring
and letting the current take you down the Nam Song River. Along the way, you
encounter the infamous bars, zip-lines and rope-swings and copious amounts of
alcohol. Recipe for disaster? Not so much, according to the thousands of
backpackers who used to congregate to the small Laotian town all year round.
Many of my friends had been over the past few years, saying it was ‘insane’ and
I ‘HAD to go’. Well, let me tell you folks, it’s NOTHING compared to what is
used to be. Late last year, the Laos Government carried out a crackdown on the
tubing industry, pulling down all but two of the riverside bars. This was as a
result of the death of twenty two tourists in the river in 2011 and an
unconfirmed number as of yet for last year. Nowadays, the experience is quite
relaxed, but you can’t help but think you’re floating through a ghost town.
Remnants of bar shacks line the banks, slides remain unused… I predict Vang
Vieng will close its tubing doors for good in the next few years and suffer
massively as a result. At the end of the day, nobody forces you to drink
alcohol, so your decision to dive head first into the river or swing off a
zip-line is your choice, albeit inebriated. Having said that, the bars were
obviously not Health and Safety approved (where is, though, in these types of
places?) and have to take some of the blame. I'm glad I did it, but, in the
wise words of my cousin, ‘Go Tubing, get your T shirt, and get out!’<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN"><br /></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN">And that’s it, Laos in a nutshell. I’d regale
you with tales for hours, but I'm slightly preoccupied with dusting off my
bikinis for our next destination… Cambodia! I haven’t set foot on a beach since
Thailand so you can imagine my excitement to get a tan again. Yes, I know
there’s more to Cambodia than the beaches; just a small matter of a temple
called Angkor Wat that’s kind of a big deal, apparently. So, see you next time –
over and out! <o:p></o:p></span></div>
</div>
Miss Travellerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16155798908665931458noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5168703797314502580.post-84830073306940672712013-05-18T09:07:00.000-07:002013-05-18T09:07:24.024-07:00Thailand #3 – Adventures ‘up North’!<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal">
<i><span lang="EN">'Tourists don't know where they've been, travellers don't know where
they're going...' (Paul Thesany)<o:p></o:p></span></i></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<i><span lang="EN"><br /></span></i></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN">Hi guys! Feels like an AGE since I wrote my last post; time sure does fly
when you’re having fun! So, after our three days in the lap of luxury at the <i>JW Marriott, Khao Lak</i>, it was time to
embark upon what was to be our last month in Thailand. Long gone were the
beaches of the South; from now on, our daily views would consist of the
beautiful mountains and general greenery of Northern Thailand. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN">First stop… Chiang Mai. As luck would have it, our visit coincided with the
huge ‘Songkran’ festival. This city is noted as one of the best to be in to
partake in the annual water festival marking the beginning of Thai New Year. I
envisioned us watching some nice water shows to bring in the New Year... How wrong
I was! Stupidly, we decided to take a ‘tuk-tuk’ from the bus station to our new
digs; HUGE mistake. Within ten minutes we were drenched. Literally sopping wet.
(Note to self: travel via a ‘closed-air’ vehicle during a water festival)
During the four day spectacle, locals and tourists alike line the streets and aim
to soak everything and everyone using an array of tools, from shop bought water
pistols to a good old bucket. It brings good luck apparently, although I'm sure
it brought on a few colds as well after four days of being repeatedly doused in
ice cold water. Don’t get me wrong, it was loads of fun – I particularly
enjoyed chucking water all over girls who’d made a little too much effort to
come to a water festival (eye-liner, anyone?!) Although, after a while, I’d have
to pretend that it was <i>fine</i> when
groups of Thai kids found it hilarious to come up and soak me. Just as I’d
wrung myself out. Aren't children the best?!<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN">Now, most of you know that I'm all about the animals; how could I not be,
having been brought up in a house riddled with strays and RSPCA cast-off's?! So,
you can imagine my excitement when I found out I’d be able to get up close to
both tigers and elephants in Chiang Mai. ‘Tiger Kingdom’ comprises of about
thirty Bengal tigers, ranging from a few months to about two years old, which </span><span lang="EN">have all been
bred in captivity. Obviously, they’ll never be able to be set free </span><span style="background: white; mso-bidi-font-family: Tahoma;">into the wild and
therefore will always remain in captivity. This is not ideal, but given the
current situation in regards to the near extinction of the species, it's
understood to be better than to have no tigers at all. I thoroughly read up on
this place before we went as I did not want to pay to contribute to animal
cruelty. A lot of the reviews are written by vets and all of them agree that
the animals are not drugged, which was my major reservation against going. In
fact, the tigers have been used to humans since birth and therefore do not see
us as the enemy. Yes, they appear pretty docile and are not fazed when you’re
with them up close, but this isn't down to anything medicinal. They’re a nocturnal
species so obviously aren't going to be ‘bright eyed and bushy tailed’ during
daytime visiting hours. I mean, would YOU want to be running round in 40 degree
heat? They all appear to be healthy and well fed, too, with shiny coats and nice,
white teeth. Good enough for me. We chose to go in with the ‘small’ category;
the cubs were about three to four months old and were, as you can imagine,
unbelievably cute. They were relaxed and, well, happy. They seemed to have a
great relationship with the people who care for them, who were not violent
towards them in the slightest, from what I saw. The entire experience was
rather surreal; there I was, stroking these cubs as I would a bunch of kittens
when in reality, they’ll grow up to be one of the biggest predators in the
world. It’s just a shame that they’ll never be able to experience true freedom,
like their relatives in the wild. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="background: white; mso-bidi-font-family: Tahoma;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN">I've always felt a connection with elephants; my earliest memory is
sticking my arm out of the window of the car at the Safari Park, only to have
it disappear up the trunk of a nosey Nelly So, when I heard about the plight
of one Thai woman to save domestic, or ‘working’, elephants from abominable
cruelty, I knew I had to visit ‘Elephant Nature Park’, just outside of Chiang
Mai. Lek, this amazing lady, actively goes out into the Thai community and pays
the owners of these elephants to give them up so they can come and live out the
rest of their lives in her amazing reserve. You've all seen, or at least heard
of, companies offering elephant rides and individuals in rural areas who still
use elephants in labour tasks. These are what are classed as ‘working’
elephants. These activities obviously do not come naturally to elephants and they
have to endure what can only be described as horrific cruelty in order to
become submissive. It’s a good job we were shown the documentary detailing this
at the end of the day, otherwise I’d have been in tears for the entire
experience. Grown men were openly weeping at the footage, it’s that bad. It
will DEFINITELY make you think twice about riding an elephant. No animal
deserves to go through what they do; it’s known as ‘breaking their spirit’ and
it’s a wonder that these beautiful creatures can go on living after suffering
the abuse and torture their owners put them through. This all changes, though,
once Lek gets her hands on them. She leaves them to their own devices to roam
around the huge sanctuary, complete with river, so they can wander freely. They
each have an assigned ‘mahout’ (their own personal ‘carer’, if you like) who
follows them around all day, offering constant fruit treats and a bit of TLC.
What an amazing place. I couldn't wait to get involved. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN">We participated in several ‘feeding times’; there is a central feeding
station where each elephant has their own individual basket filled with food
specific to their own dietary requirements. Some of the older ones, bless them,
can’t digest certain foods and their teeth aren't strong enough to crunch
through some of the fruits and vegetables. Several times throughout the day,
the mahouts lead their elephants toward the station where the volunteers are
free to feed the elephant their basket. You forget how intelligent these
animals are; the younger ones, rather than wait to be fed each piece
individually, impatiently grab the whole basket with their trunk and filter out
the tastiest morsels, leaving the bits they don’t find so appealing (normally
fruit with medicine hidden in it!). The older ones are more than happy for you
to place the food in their trunk, or even their mouth, and are more than happy
for you to touch them as they contentedly chew their meal. It was then time to
grab a bucket and head down to the river to join in with ‘bathing time’.
Elephants love water and their favourite past-time is to cool themselves off in
it. Some fully submerge themselves in the water – a sight worth seeing – and
although it felt weird, chucking buckets of water over an elephant, there was
no question that they loved it. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN">Throughout the day, as we got more and more acquainted with each individual
elephant, we were told of their history and how they came to be rescued. Each
story is heart-wrenching. Most of the elephants here are physically disabled in
some way, due to their previous working conditions. A few are blind, having
been poked in the eye with sharp sticks as a form of discipline; others are
maimed, having been tortured or having old injuries that were not treated. One
particular elephant, bless her, had her hips broken after her owner physically
forced a male onto her back to procreate, and will never walk normally again. It
makes you sick to the stomach to think there are individuals out there that can
live with themselves after treating these animals in such a way and not feel a
single shred of guilt. As the sanctuary is self-funded, I can only hope us
tourists continue to visit so Lek can carry on with her inspiring mission to
save such an awesome creature. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN">Before I found us any more animal-based activities to do and ended up
forking out our entire travel fund to help a few elephants, we decided to move
on from Chiang Mai and visit the lesser known cities of Pai and Chiang Rai. Pai
was, by far, my favourite place in the North and I’d recommend it to anyone. It’s
a small place full of hippies; the Pretentious Posse were out in full force
(minus their shoes, obviously!) We visited a few waterfalls and generally
chilled out after the craziness of ‘Songkran’. I must tell you about our
journey from Pai-Chiang Rai; you’d think by now we’d be used to travelling in
all sorts of conditions, whether it be hot/cold/cramped… Try a packed minibus
travelling at speeds of 100 mph on windy, mountain roads at 6am. NOT pleasant.
Both of us had plastic bags at the ready, the Mac was the colour of off-milk and
I had my eye-mask on, desperately trying to concentrate on anything other than
heaving my guts up. I never get motion sickness, but after that journey I'm VERY wary of travelling by minibus! I don’t know whether the driver had a hot
date hence the rush; there was an adorable baby girl on-board who managed to sleep
through all of this, but THEN decided to exercise her lungs just as we returned
to a normal speed. Not so cute then. It gets worse… After driving for nearly
two hours more than the estimated arrival time, the driver stops the van on a
busy, market street and starts pointing at an official-looking building,
shouting ‘Visa! Visa!’. We just looked at each other. We’d somehow managed to
get on a bus that was doing a visa-run to the Laos border. WHAT THE HELL? Alarm
bells really should’ve started ringing hours before, as we were loading our
rucksacks into the van. We were the only passengers with luggage. But I was so
tired, and I am a bit dozy, so didn't think anything of it. The driver
obviously didn't speak any English (why would he?!) but somehow we were finally
dropped at the bus station in Chiang Rai, five hours later than planned. Ah well,
at least the rest of the passengers found it hilarious that we’d sat on the bus
all day for no reason whatsoever!<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN">And that’s it, my friends. That concludes our Thailand adventure (for now).
In a way, I've come to think of Thailand as my second home; we've been
in-and-out countless times and it seems so familiar now. I do think it’s time
we moved on, though, and experienced somewhere completely different with a new
culture and surroundings. And with four months left until Australia… right
then, Laos, let’s be having you!<o:p></o:p></span></div>
</div>
Miss Travellerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16155798908665931458noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5168703797314502580.post-46452951780410854202013-04-25T23:46:00.000-07:002013-04-25T23:46:04.404-07:00‘Now, THIS is more like it!’ – How the ‘Flashpackers’ should ALWAYS roll!<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN">I don’t usually do this. Dedicate an entire blog post to just one place we've stayed in as, considering we average about two hostels a week, you can imagine
why. Far too much work! However, after just three days at this resort, I feel
the need to express to you all just how GOOD it is. JW Marriott Khao Lak, we
salute you!<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN">After three months of ‘slumming’ it in mostly hostels and a few guest houses we felt it was time to treat ourselves. After all, we’re no spring
chickens (well, Stevie certainly isn't ! Now, for those of you not familiar
with the site ‘TravelZoo’, I suggest you get it in your life immediately! I
look at it as an upmarket ‘Groupon’ – as well as local deals, it offers huge
discounts on hotels worldwide, and they’re all at least 4*; no Hotel Ibis deals
on this site! Now, after a few bad experiences with ‘Groupon’, I was a little
dubious, but having heard great things off of friends I decided to give it a
go. I came across our little gem of a deal a few months ago; the Marriott in
Khao Lak is ranked within the top four places to stay in Phuket, Thailand on
‘TripAdvisor’ and every single review raved about how relaxing it was, the
infinity pool bar, the food, amazing resort… I was sold! <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN">We flew into Phuket airport from Singapore and, after about an hour and a
half taxi ride, we approached the hotel entrance. We then drove for about another
twenty minutes – this is how huge the place is – just to get to the reception,
where some lovely staff greeted us and took our bags. I think they were a bit
taken aback with the sight of two hefty rucksacks as opposed to the designer
luggage they’re no doubt used to, but hey, we’re all paying customers, albeit
heavily discounted ones! After a refreshing welcome drink we were shown to our
‘Deluxe Pool View’ room… most of the hostels we’d stayed in could've camped out
in just the bathroom! The room was lovely and spacious, great balcony, cosy
bathrobe and slippers… we were like two kids at Christmas!<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN">Only being there for three days, we tried to utilise all the resort had on
offer. There is a state of the art gym on site (yawn), but we donned our gym
gear and headed off for the first proper workout of the trip. It’s more modern
than any gym I've ever been to – the treadmill was calculating about a thousand
things with every step I took; everything from the distance I ran (not long
enough) to how many calories I burnt per second, or so it seemed (again, far
too few for my liking). Also included in our ‘TravelZoo’ package was an hour
Thai massage each; after our experience in Bangkok, I wasn't holding out much
hope. This is the Marriott, though, remember? OF COURSE it’s going to be great!
The hour went by far too quickly, the massage itself was so relaxing,
especially after my gym session; the lady even braided my hair, bless her –
don’t think she realised she’d be there for an age due to the amount of hair I
have! Even the heat felt different whilst we were there – somehow more bearable.
Maybe this had something to do with the large, fluffy beach towels provided at
the pool or private beach, or the constant offerings of iced water/watermelon/cold
face towels all day; talk about sun bed service!<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN">I've saved the best for last… that’s right, you've guessed it, the food.
Now, so far on our travels, as far as breakfast goes, the general opinion has
been ‘OK’. I mean, how excited can you get over some bread and a coffee? Well,
I’d obviously never been to the Marriott before! On day one, we thought we may
as well take advantage of the ‘free breakfast’, so off we trotted for what we
thought was the obligatory tea and toast. How wrong we were. The room was the
size of a small food court and had various stations offering everything from
fresh fruit shakes, cereals, breads, eggs-to-order, to Thai soups and noodles
plus Western favourites like sausages, bacon, waffles… We were in our element!
I have never eaten so much for breakfast in my life; it’s a good job we were
only there for three days! And, with five, well priced restaurants on site, there
are plenty of choices for dinner (much) later on.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN">So, as you can fathom, we had a crap time and are urging people to never go
here. Or not. Seriously, I can’t recommend it enough. It would be perfect for a
honeymoon (I hear the suites are to die for) or for those just wanting a
relaxed getaway. The service is outstanding; the resort is absolutely fabulous… I'm just sorry we only had three days. I’ll be avidly checking ‘TravelZoo’ from
now on as I’d buy the deal again without hesitation. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN">Our next destination wouldn't be QUITE as glamorous – a weekend-long water
fight in the North of Thailand to celebrate Thai New Year. Oh, go on then…<o:p></o:p></span></div>
</div>
Miss Travellerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16155798908665931458noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5168703797314502580.post-26880391024829183382013-04-20T02:58:00.000-07:002013-04-20T02:58:55.035-07:00On the ‘Visa’ Run: Malaysia and Singapore<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal">
<i><span lang="EN">‘To awaken quite alone in a strange town is one
of the pleasantest sensations in the world…’ (Freya Stark)<o:p></o:p></span></i></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<i><span lang="EN"><br /></span></i></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN">Hello all! Let me start by wishing anyone who is running the London
Marathon tomorrow a massive GOOD LUCK! A few of my closest buds have been
pounding the pavements for a good while now in preparation for the big day and
are raising money for several different charities. It obviously takes such
dedication and motivation to run for that prolonged period of time (I get bored
after twenty minutes) so WELL DONE for getting this far… p.s., they say
adrenaline carries you through the last couple of miles!<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN">So, here are the latest, much-anticipated updates of the Flashpackers’
whereabouts! Our Thai visa was up and rather than do a ‘visa dash’ day run to a
</span>neighbouring<span lang="EN"> border, we thought we’d spend some actual time
in Malaysia and Singapore, of which we’d heard great things. Why the hell not? I'm quite enjoying my rapidly growing stamp collection decorating the pages of
my passport! We flew into Malaysia from Thailand then decided to take the four
hour bus from Malaysia into Singapore. This was one of my first experiences
crossing a country border via land, as opposed to the air. All seemed pretty
standard; getting an ‘exit’ stamp from Malaysia and walking through to get my ‘entrance’
one into Singapore. That is, until a guard pulled us aside and led us down a
darkened corridor. Oh no, where were we going? Has Stevie’s juvenile criminal past
finally caught up with him?! So, we stopped outside a small room housing a
contraption resembling a wind machine in it. We had to hand over our passports
and individually walk through this device. At one point I did start to panic –
did they think we were carrying drugs? I mean, I know I had the equivalent of a
small pharmacy in my medicine bag, but the strongest thing they’d find was some
cold sore cream, after having run out of painkillers after Full Moon! Anyway,
as I passed through, I was sprayed from all angles with some sort of disinfectant.
The guard had obviously spotted our </span>dishevelled<span lang="EN"> appearance and the hefty
backpacks and assumed we were carrying all sorts of germs. Nice. Ah well, this
brings a new meaning to ‘feeling refreshed’ as you touch down in a different
country!<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN">Everyone’s heard of Kuala Lumpur in Malaysia, right? So, there was no
problem in researching ‘things to do’ there; we even managed to visit Melaka, a
not-so-well known city further south. Singapore was slightly more difficult…did
you know that Singapore has no capital city? Well, I didn't Geography not
being one of my strong points, it took me a while to </span>realise<span lang="EN"> why searching for ‘cities to stay in in Singapore’ was proving
unsuccessful! It’s actually a South-east Asian island city-state (to you and me,
it’s like a cosmopolitan city that also happens to be a country!) To me, there
were a lot of similarities between the two countries; both had really efficient
public transport, countless shopping malls… But if I had to choose, Singapore
has that little extra <i>je ne sais quoi</i>.
The skyline at dusk, paired with the lights reflecting off of the water, was
very picturesque and I felt very relaxed there. Probably something to do with
the fact that Singapore is often projected as ‘the safest city in Asia’. Especially
for women. <span style="font-variant: small-caps;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN">Our ten day tour would provide a much needed change of scenery; after a
month of surveying nothing but the sea and sweating our days away on the beach,
walking around fabulous, air-conditioned shopping malls and seeing some sights
was a very welcoming thought! However, we had been told these countries were a
lot more expensive than what we’d been used to. GREAT. Just what we need.
Especially since I’d just discovered that the gem that is my bank (with whom I affectionately
share part of my name) had been charging me the world each time I withdrew
money. I could've chartered a bloody plane to Singapore with the amount they’d
taken! So, with purse strings tightly fastened, we braced ourselves for ten
days of extreme budgeting. Upon reflection, it wasn't as bad as we’d expected.
It’s common sense - you have to be prepared to part with your pennies if you
want to experience some of the major tourist attractions (sightseeing tours in
Kuala Lumpur, animal attractions in Singapore). Being a veteran </span>traveller<span lang="EN">, though (hello three months living out of a backpack!), you do your
research and </span>realise<span lang="EN"> that, contrary to what some say, the best things
in life (to do) really are free!<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN">Now, I do LOVE to shop. Back in the UK, it’s actually impossible for me to
go shopping and not come back laden with bags… I’ll wear it all at some point,
right? Well, SLIGHTLY different here when everything I buy, I have to carry. It
does not help when it seems ALL of my adored shops from back home seemed to
surround me everywhere we went both in Malaysia and in Singapore. It took
massive amounts of self- control to not have a bit of a ‘Supermarket Sweep’
moment in TopShop and hide the evidence in the bottom of Stevie’s backpack!
Malaysia and Singapore, by the way, are GREAT for shopping; however, the amount
of luxury stores definitely overpowers my high street </span>favourites<span lang="EN">. In Singapore alone, there are four Louis Vuitton stores. FOUR. It’s not
as if each one has queues out of the door – I’d understand if the crowds
resembled those a la the Next sales back home – but I walked past a few with
not a single customer in! Anyway, my point is, window shopping is a fabulous <u>free</u>
activity and we spent many a day perusing the hundreds of stores in the comfort
of an air conditioned mall. Talking of free activities, there is an amazing
water and light show outside the Marina Bay shopping mall in Singapore
(coincidentally next to a Louis Vuitton) which is well worth seeing, and their Botanical
Gardens are a great place to spend a day wandering aimlessly through the
different sections of plants, trees, flowers… you get the picture! Kuala Lumpur
even has a free bus comprising of two different routes that outlined the major
attractions of the city, which is a godsend. Another way you can get ripped off
is in choosing your method of transport; although it’s easy to just jump in a
cab, there are many cheaper alternatives. The Underground systems in Malaysia
and Singapore are quick and easy to use – a single trip costing less than the
price of a Happy Meal! Yes, there were times we got slightly lost – it did have
to be the time we were carrying ALL our bags – but hey, by doing your research
and seeking out cheaper options, it left us more money to spend on one of our </span>favourite<span lang="EN"> things… FOOD. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN">After spending a month in Thailand we were used to street food so sought it
out where possible. In all honesty, there wasn't much to offer street-side in
Malaysia and Singapore so we resorted to food courts. Now, this is where you
can go wrong ; if you head to the ‘international’ food courts with all the
familiar chains (Subway, Nando’s, Pizza Hut…) although tempting, you will spend
more pennies than if you eat in a ‘local’ one. They are a fraction of the price
and, if you don’t mind rice and noodles, very tasty at the same time. I must
mention that, as a traveller, you definitely make the most out of the free
things on offer. This includes any amenities of your digs. Examples include a
free breakfast – alright, it may be some toast and a coffee, but it’s better
than nothing, right? In KL we stayed in a great hostel that served mounds of rice
and noodles as well as ‘normal’ breakfast items. Not the most conventional way
to start the day, but hey, if it’s free, I’ll force them down! Every little
helps – free toiletries, complimentary bottles of water… it makes the stay a
little bit more memorable and sets the place apart from its competitors. By the
way, fellow hostel dwellers, if you’re not already on to it, invest in an eye
mask. It’s the perfect solution to avoid being the’ kill joy’ in the dorm who
wants to turn all the lights out. Also comes in handy for napping on
planes/buses/trains… I haven’t had mine off!<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN">This next paragraph is counteracting all previous advice I've given on
seeking out the ‘free’ activities a place has to offer. In Singapore, we took
the plunge and splurged on two activities that we deemed ‘essential’: a visit
to Universal Studios and our very first Night Safari. Now, I could be classed
as a veteran of theme parks, having visited each one in Orlando, Florida near
enough every year since birth. Stevie jumped on the bandwagon a few years ago
on yet another Gibbo outing to the ‘sunshine state’, so together, we decided to
tackle Singapore’s version. It did not disappoint. It was pretty much the same
layout as our Floridian favourite plus a few new additions, including a whole
section devoted to ‘Madagascar’ (both mine and Steph’s most adored film – <i>‘I like to move it, move it</i>’) and ‘Far Far
Away’, the home of Shrek and Donkey (Jennie P’s favourite!). For the first time
in almost three months, we forgot we were travellers and raced around the place
like kids from ride to ride (well, most rides; I still retain my ‘wimp’ status
as I refused to go on the ‘big’ roller coasters!). It was actually here that I
experienced my first bout of home sickness; wandering round the park trying to
follow the map isn't normally my job, that’s left up to Sue, pointing out all
the available toilets and eateries along the way. There’s normally a herd of
us, so it was very strange telling the ride attendant ‘two’ instead of about ‘a
dozen’. Yes, we spent a small fortune, but it was definitely worth it, even for
the fond memories it evoked of past trips with the family. Speaking of herds,
we also forked out for Singapore’s Night Safari; as we’re not nearing Africa any time soon, we decided on the next best thing! It actually makes perfect
sense – the animals tend to sleep and hide away during the scorching
temperatures of the day, and tend to be more active and alert at night. A tram
safari takes you around several geographical zones of the world, housing many
of the worlds’ nocturnal species. The walking trails allow you to explore these
zones at your own pace and view the animals up close. This is definitely a must
for all animal lovers – what I liked most was the ‘open air’ layout, with not a
cage or barbed wire fence in sight. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN">So, after ten days of (window) shopping and (free) sightseeing, the tan was
beginning to fade. We waved goodbye to Malaysia and Singapore and boarded a
flight back to our second home, Thailand. This time, though, we had a little
treat in-store, something to DEFINITELY boost our rankings in the ‘Flashpacker
Hall of Fame’. Stay tuned…<o:p></o:p></span></div>
</div>
Miss Travellerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16155798908665931458noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5168703797314502580.post-4497936867544793702013-04-04T09:12:00.000-07:002013-04-04T09:12:18.998-07:00Thailand #2: Phuket and The Islands<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal">
<i><span lang="EN">‘A traveller without observation is a bird
without wings…’ (Maslih Eddin Saadi)<o:p></o:p></span></i></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<i><span lang="EN"><br /></span></i></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN">Right, whilst I'm <i>extremely </i>energetic
after my first caffeine fix in almost three months, I thought I’d take the
opportunity to fill you in on my whereabouts the past few weeks. It’s been a
bit hectic, trying to fit so much in in such a short space of time, but that’s
the beauty of travelling; you like somewhere, you just stay… if it’s minging,
you bail! So, today’s instalment will relay our adventures on the journey from
Bangkok to Phuket then our visit to several of the islands in the southern
region of Thailand. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN">To start off, I've decided to sum up the islands we visited in a sort of
‘awards’ style; we’d be here all day if I described each one in detail! So,
first of all, the ‘<i>Best Beach’</i> has to
be Maya Bay, Ko Phi Phi. Some of you may have heard of it - it was where ‘The
Beach’ was filmed. Despite its fame, the beach itself remains relatively
intact: there are no hotels/resorts here and tourists visit in their hundreds
on a day trip via speedboat, which is the only way to access it. As you
approach the bay itself, it’s like something off of a postcard; a backdrop of
cliffs against the turquoise water, surrounded by white sand. There’s a small
cove directly opposite the bay that we swam out to, where the view of Maya Bay
itself was absolutely stunning. It was actually on Phi Phi that I shocked
even myself by donning a snorkel and put my head under the water for the first
time in years! What the hell, no amount of Frizz Ease can save me now, after
almost three months <i>au naturel</i>! The
views under water are even more spectacular – fish of all sorts of shapes,
sizes and colours happily swim past you, not a care in the world. I’d love to
take the next step and do some diving; money permitting, in the future… never
say never! <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<i><span lang="EN">‘Best Night Out’</span></i><span lang="EN"> has to be the Full Moon Party, Ko Pha Ngan.
Hands down. Thousands flock to this tiny island at the end of every month and
it does NOT disappoint. Kitted out in the obligatory ‘Full Moon’ vest and neon
body paint, we sipped/downed our ‘buckets’ (such an ingenious way to serve
drinks, although you do question what actually goes into them) and joined the
throng of party-goers on the beach until the wee hours. Well, that was the plan
before SOMEONE had a few too many buckets (not me, for once!) I do feel partly
responsible; earlier in the evening I felt it my duty to introduce ‘Ring of
Fire’ as a pre-drinking activity to our dorm, and this probably added to the
end result of having to pull a stumbling Stevie from the sea and take him home.
It was such a good night, well worth the hype; if anyone is planning on
visiting the island, co-ordinate it so you’re there for Full Moon as I'm not
sure the island has the same appeal at any other time. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<i><span lang="EN">‘Best Sea’ </span></i><span lang="EN">is awarded to Ko Tao, a diver’s paradise. Unfortunately,
we didn't have the time to do any ourselves but both novice and experienced
divers congregate here as it’s rated second in the world (Cairns, Australia is
rated first, in case you were wondering.) We stayed near to Sairee Beach and
the water was SO clear and warm; very shallow, so not the best if you wanted a
swim, but perfect to catch a few rays! </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<i><br /></i></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<i>‘Best
Food’</i> goes to Patong, Phuket. The street food is some of the best I've ever
tasted – and with a large market with several stalls, we weren't spoiled for
choice. Corn on the cobs, sausages, kebabs, pad Thai sticky rice, fresh fruit…
all for a fraction of the price you’d pay in the restaurants. Phuket was also
the place we were introduced to ‘Swenson’s’, a diner that sells anything ice
cream related, from Snicker sundaes to cream cakes (we've probably visited here
a little <i>too </i>often ever since, to be
honest.) </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Finally, <i>‘Best Sunset’</i> has
to go to Klong Klang beach, Ko Lanta. This beautiful little island isn't as
touristy as some of the others, which is why it’s probably my favourite; you
get a sense of the ‘real’ Thailand, whereas it’s quite easy to forget you’re
actually in South-East Asia on some of the others. There was only one bar on the
beach here and it was the perfect location to witness the most beautiful sunset
each evening. Bliss.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN">People often ask me, <i>‘How do you get
from place to place?’, </i>and the answer is always the cheapest way possible!
To save some pennies, we took an overnight bus from Bangkok to Phuket; after
the horrific stories I’d heard in India of this mode of transport I prepared myself
for the worst. In all honesty, it was absolutely fine! Thailand has what they
call ‘VIP’ buses and, for a fraction more than the standard option, there’s a
toilet, you get reclining seats, blankets… they even feed you! I think
travelling overnight is a godsend for your budget as you are eradicating a
nights accommodation and also not wasting a day sweating on a bus when you
could be on a beach/in a bar! Now, travelling to the islands is a different
story – the only way to access them is by boat from the mainland. You buy your
tickets from one of the many tour operators on the mainland (you can try
haggling your price but they all charge pretty much the same; make sure it
includes a pick up from your hostel!) The ferries themselves are massive, thank
God – I do not fare well on small boats – and you can almost always get a seat
inside away from the sun (a must when you’re hung-over.) The journeys can be
long, and sometimes you have to swap ferries in the middle of the ocean via a
plank (not the easiest when I'm weighed down by two bloody rucksacks!) The only
bad thing is they can be massively overcrowded – when we were leaving Ko Pha
Ngan after the Full Moon Party, it was literally like a mass exodus: people in
droves were piling on top of each other to get a seat… not one for the claustrophobic I can tell you! <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN">On the islands themselves, depending where you are, taxis are replaced by
tuk-tuks (always negotiate your price!) and cars with scooters. The latter is
the ideal method of transport, in my book, as you have the freedom to go where
you want when you want. In Ko Lanta (probably one of the most undeveloped
islands we visited, in terms of tourism) we hired one for a couple of days and
found some spectacular beaches off the beaten track that no tuk-tuk driver would've a) knew about or b) been able to get to. In terms of my scooter
driving skills, I'm still in the VERY early stages; after rolling backwards
whilst attempting to drive uphill, it was agreed that He should stick to the
main road driving for now. I'm now the ‘copilot’ and have been relegated to the
passenger seat. Lucky me.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<i><span lang="EN">‘Where are you staying, hotels or hostels?’ </span></i><span lang="EN">Again, keeping an eye on the
bank balance and shying away (ever so slightly) from our ‘ Flash-packer’
reputation, we've been staying in hostels on pretty much all of the Islands in
Thailand (<i>‘Gibbo? In a hostel?’</i> I
hear you say). A tip, with regards to accommodation, is DO YOUR RESEARCH. I've always had a keen eye for a bargain, so I've spent countless hours at my laptop
perusing ‘TripAdvisor’ (a traveller’s Bible) whilst searching for a non-hovel. If
you shop around you can get some great deals at some decent places. Everyone
assumes hostels are cheap and hotels are expensive. Not always the case, my
friends; we stayed in a hotel in Ko Samui (complete with two infinity pools)
that cost us less than a Subway meal deal. Fact. Right, let’s get one thing
straight: (most) hostels aren't dives. I'm sure many of you can vouch for this;
ours in Ko Pha Ngan had its own pool and club! Nowadays, they are uber modern
social hubs; yes you have to sleep in a bunk bed and there is zero space to
put your stuff, but who cares? Now, as a couple, you may find it strange that we've actively chosen to stay in separate beds for a part of our trip. It’s actually
not that uncommon – we've met several couples who are staying in dorms for the
same reasons as ourselves; to cut costs and to socialise. When you’re
travelling alone, you have no choice but to talk to people and make friends. In
a couple, people are more wary of approaching you, they think; <i>‘they’re a couple, leave them to it’</i>. Luckily
enough, we've met some great people through staying in dorms and it goes to
show that once you make the effort to talk to people, it makes the experience
so much more worthwhile. </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN">Amongst all the fabulous experiences we’re having, a few bumps along the
road were to be expected. Now, I knew I’d run into some creepy crawlies along
the way, and it wasn't long before I had my first run in with a cockroach. We
were staying in a guest house in Phuket and were just leaving to go out for
some food; I opened our door and saw, what can only be described, as a
cockroach on steroids lying on its back. It was HUGE. And alive, due to it
writhing around. Great. I had to literally psych myself up to run past it to
get out. It must've taken a shining to us as, when we returned a few hours
later, it was STILL there. Right, time for backup. I went and found the guest house owner and, armed with her brush, came up to remove it. It took the
three of us, (well, the two of us hovered in a corner) quite some time until we
could make a break to our room and lock the door. The noise out of it was
something else; it sounded like a cat screeching. No word of a lie; I'm literally getting goose bumps as I write this at the thought of re-living it! <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN">As we have a limited wardrobe, this unfortunately means that we spend a lot
of time hunting for laundry services! Luckily enough, it’s dirt cheap and
everything NORMALLY comes back in one piece. There was an unfortunate incident
in Ko Pha Ngan where we were counting out our items that had just returned when
I held up a pair of decrepit green Y fronts. Oh dear, seems the laundry lady
had mixed these up in our washing. Oh no, hang on, we've got these – some lucky
sod has gained a brand new All Saints vest! Stevie was not best pleased – you
know how much he loves his vests!<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN">For those of you who have read one if my earlier blogs detailing the
different types of traveller you can encounter, I came into contact with FAR
too many of the <b>Pretentious Posse</b> on
the islands! Understandably, there were a lot of <b>Party People</b> there especially for Full Moon, but the former seemed
to dominate every beach that I went to! First of all, it is NOT acceptable to
bring a hula hoop to the beach. Or travelling. Why would you even think, when
packing your rucksack, ‘Oh, mustn't forget my hula hoop’. Who even owns one
anyway, bar five year olds? This did not stop several girls who, every day,
decided to show off their skills at a select spot at the pool/beach so EVERYONE
could see them. Some were good; I’ll give them that, but get a grip love,
there’s only so much gyrating I can take before I’ll come and snap your hoop in
two. Same for girls doing yoga pool/beach side; I don’t CARE that you can wrap
your legs around yourself, f**k off and do it in your room! <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN">So, after nearly a month of island hopping it’s time to repack the
rucksacks; a Thai visa only lasts thirty days so we need somewhere close by to
go next. After a month on the beach we need a break, bit of a change of
scenery. So, we’re swapping the sun, sea and sand for a bit more sun, shopping
and sightseeing… Malaysia and Singapore, we’re on our way!<o:p></o:p></span></div>
</div>
Miss Travellerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16155798908665931458noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5168703797314502580.post-13039236370421677752013-03-23T08:33:00.000-07:002013-03-23T08:33:25.626-07:00Thailand #1: Bangkok<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal">
<i><span lang="EN">'One's destination is never a place, but a new way of seeing things...'
(Henry Miller)<o:p></o:p></span></i></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<i><span lang="EN"><br /></span></i></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN">What do you associate with Thailand... the food? Lady Boys? Ping Pong?!
Stereotypes come with the territory nowadays, and if I'd chosen to listen to
all the ones associated with this particular country, I probably wouldn't have
even bothered coming! We've all seen 'The Hangover 2', and while the antics are
indeed hilarious, I really didn't fancy ending up in a Thai prison as a result
of some scam. Probably drug related. (OK, maybe this is a bit extreme.)
However, being the hardcore travellers we are (eight weeks and counting), the
promise of some sun and cheap living was enough of a reason to get on that
plane. I can honestly say it's one of the best decisions we've made. From what
we've seen so far of it, Thailand is absolutely stunning – so much ancient
history coupled with by far some of the best beaches you'll ever see. But
enough about the beaches - the next installment will be about our island
hopping adventures - today I thought I'd concentrate on the notorious capital,
Bangkok. This, for me, has been the biggest surprise of all - I loved every
minute of it and can definitely see why so many westerners jump at the chance
to come and work here. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN">I'm going to try really hard and not make comparisons with India although
it's quite difficult not to: both countries are worlds apart in every possible
way. Our time in India was amazing and I'm so glad I had the opportunity to
experience such a weird and wonderful place, but after spending almost two
months there, I didn't expect Thailand to be so, well, <i>modern</i>. Take our
first taxi ride from the airport to the hostel, for example. I'd become so used
to the constant beeping of horns that after a few minutes’ drive IN SILENCE I
realised that driving in Bangkok wasn't the 'wacky races' that we'd been used
to. What a relief! The cars were actually in decent nick too - we wouldn't have
to worry about risking our lives by getting in death traps from now on! The streets
are so clean, the skyline made up of impressive high rise buildings, <i>there's
a sky train?! Water taxis?! </i>I could definitely get used to this! <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN">I would never put 'shopping' and 'Bangkok' in the same sentence. Until now,
that is. The only downside is that, being a traveller, most of the stuff I'd
normally jump at the chance of buying is not very practical! I challenge anyone
to come here and not walk away with something 'blag' - I've seen some of the
best 'fakes' here than anywhere else, even Dubai. I've wistfully walked past Mulberry’s,
Chanel’s, Louboutin’s... trying to rationalise with myself that denim shorts and
flip flops are all that I need in the foreseeable future (a <i>teeny</i> part
of me still thinks that I could rock a Mulberry with my backpack, though.)
There are shopping malls on every street corner: there's one in particular,
MBK, with seven floors. <i>Seven</i> floors. There's a whole floor purely
dedicated to electronics - 'blag' iPhones, iPads and ‘Beats’ headphones galore!
I tell you, it's taken amazing willpower (on my part) to resist such
temptation, although I admit I got a bit hyper when I found a mall with a
Topshop, Zara, H&M AND Forever 21 in. There isn't even a Forever 21 in
Liverpool, for God's sake! And if you tire of the malls, there are always the
markets - 'Chatuchak' market happens every Saturday, and it's a sodding maze:
without a map we would have definitely gotten lost! The advantage of a market
is that you name your price - we've gotten pretty good at bartering: tip - always
halve the asking price and go from there! This particular place was a winner
with me as they have a 'pet' section; there are puppies of any breed you could
want: Chows, Chihuahuas, and, my absolute favourite, Pugs (I do admit they look
like they've ran into a wall, but they're <i>so</i> cute!)<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN">Aside from the shopping, Bangkok is famed for its cuisine: Thai food is a
favourite of mine so I was excited to try it on its home turf. Now, these malls
are equipped with massive food courts, boasting international as well as
traditional Thai food. But if you want to experience how the locals eat, and
save a few pennies, head to the street. Street food is a concept slightly
foreign to us Brits - although we're partial to the odd burger van, the idea of
eating our dinner at the road side is a bit odd. Well, not here. I was a bit
apprehensive at first, after six weeks off the meat, but I had nothing to worry
about as it’s all freshly cooked right in front of you. I'm a bit of a spice
freak so I love the fact that chillies are a staple ingredient to almost
everything! Yes, there are some things that I can't bring myself to try - deep
fried scorpions do not make my mouth water - but there's so much else to choose
from: traditional 'Pad Thai', noodle soups, seafood, fresh fruit... and all for
a fraction of the price you'd pay in a restaurant and probably nicer, if I'm
honest. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN">I have become somewhat more relaxed in my appearance whilst travelling. I
admit, a tan does help so there’s no need to pile on the bronzer and you can’t
go wrong with shorts and a vest in the heat! But without my trusty rollers and extensive
wardrobe, it’s quite hard to feel, well, <i>nice</i>.
In India it didn't really bother me – I was actively trying to cover up to
avoid ‘Peeping Toms’ – but here in Bangkok it’s a completely different kettle
of fish. The women take so much pride in their appearance, a refreshing change
after staring at sari’s for so long. Just walking down the street, you see
girls with perfectly tonged hair rocking a smoky eye holding onto their designer
handbag. And it’s early morning! They also love their heels – kind of reminds
me of being back in the ‘Pool, although I must say they are slightly more
elegant than some of the WAG wannabes you see strutting round Liverpool One.
Whereas us Scousers all have our spray tan fix on speed dial, Thai women are
taking it to the other extreme and actually bleaching their skin to achieve a
porcelain complexion. I'm not kidding – <i>actively
making yourself pale?</i> Unheard of where I come from. Shops are filled with
‘whitening’ creams, pastes, gels… adverts on the television are promoting this
‘fresh’ complexion, but surely this is more dangerous than applying a bit of
Sun Shimmer? At least we can scrub ours off; these poor girls are actually
damaging their skin for good. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN">I can't write about Bangkok and not mention Lady Boys, they come hand in
hand. We'd been warned to expect them, but I was in no way prepared for the
sheer amount of them. They're everywhere! I actually quite like it - it shows
how opened minded the country is and how accepting they are of different sexual
orientations. My first encounter with a ‘she he’ was in Boots: I was happily
stocking up on EVERYTHING and went up to a sales assistant to ask her if what I
was holding was actually face moisturiser (Thai is impossible to decipher). I
was met with a resounding 'Yes' in the deepest voice - not ladylike at all!
Upon closer inspection, she was indeed a 'he'! Honestly, from far away, you
would have no idea - their make-up is impeccable with not a hair out of place,
cracking figures and some with boobs worthy of a Beverly Hills plastic surgeon.
The Mac also made a friend in the lovely ‘Pam’ who cut his hair, not realising
it was a fella until he saw her rather large hands in the mirror chopping away
at his barnet! These are the 'upmarket' ones: there are others that fall into
the 'transvestite' category and wouldn't be out of place at a cabaret, bless
them. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN">Aside from this, the Lady Boys are not the only attraction to the bright
lights of Bangkok: the abundance of 'go-go' bars in the tourist districts bring
with them the presence of many 'working' girls, where the job description goes
far beyond the bar. These 'bar beer' girls are not outright prostitutes: when they
set their sights on a western man, their intentions are way past the bedroom.
They look at it as a business deal where they are compensated for their time
and basically act as a girlfriend for the duration of the gentleman's holiday.
They are rewarded for their time with day trips, meals, nights out on the town
and presents. Very ‘Pretty Woman-esque’. This is why older, more vulnerable men
are always a target because they tend to have more of a disposable income and,
frankly, cannot believe their luck that they've managed to bag a Thai girl in
her twenties. I don’t believe for a second that these men are unaware of what
they’re getting themselves into – being ‘had off’ here is so highly publicised
that they must just be that desperate for company. Who am I to judge, though? I
lost count of the amount of times I saw a Thai girl strolling hand-in-hand with
a man old enough to be their dad. I don’t know why; hiring a girl is probably
easier than renting a scooter here. Many of these girls are lured from rural
regions during the 'dry' season, knowing this type of work will bring home the
bacon. It’s quite funny to watch them work their magic but, if I was trying to
lure a western gent, I’d start by making myself look half decent; some of the
girls hanging around outside these bars look like they've just got up! And
their dancing leaves something to be desired – what is sexy about a girl
half-arsed swaying her hips to the beat whilst walking around a pole? Not much,
in my book!<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN">As well as seeing a real live Lady Boy, Bangkok is the first place I've experienced a Thai massage. I pictured picture a calm, peaceful atmosphere on
one of those tables with a hole for your head, maybe a bit of Zen-like music…
Not lying face down on a makeshift mattress fully clothed and packed in with
countless others like sardines! It was not relaxing in the slightest – the
woman I had was either extremely tired or bored as she yawned her way through
it and seemed more interested in having a chat to the woman next to her. Oh
well, what do you expect for £3?! On another note, if you've ever been to a
Thai cinema, you’ll know what a strange experience it is, watching the
trailers. I was contentedly munching on my popcorn (note: they have caramel
flavoured popcorn, a real winner) watching the trailers when, all of a sudden,
everyone in the theatre stands up. ‘<i>What’s
going on</i>?’ I'm thinking, ‘<i>Are we
evacuating</i>?’ Turns out it’s customary at the beginning of every film to pay
tribute to the Thai King, and a montage of him and his family accompanied by a
big ballad (could be the Thai national anthem, for all I know) blasts out for a
couple of minutes. Then everyone sits down and carries on like nothing’s
happened. Very strange. Imagine if we all had to get up and sing our national
anthem before every film? People would be going mental that their nachos were
getting cold!<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN">Bangkok is a city with something for everyone – it’s a major business hub
with a lot of companies having international offices here, and the shopping and night-life rival those of other major tourist hotspots. However, if you’re more
of a ‘culture vulture’ there’s plenty to do in terms of sightseeing – we spent
a good few days viewing ancient Buddhist temples, wandering around the Grand
Palace and sailing down the Chao Phraya River. There is one place we did go to
that not many guidebooks mention; I’d never even heard of this place, but I am
travelling with the world’s biggest geek when it comes to researching a city!
The Siriraj Medical Museum is located inside an actual working hospital (bit of
a nightmare to find) and it rose to fame in the early nineteenth century as
Thailand’s first western medical centre. What a weird little place this is. Bodies
preserved in formaldehyde to display certain conditions and the extent of some
injuries. Babies with the most horrendous disfigurements, skulls with bullet
holes… They've even got some bodies that have naturally mummified – the labels
next to them explained they were those of rapists and murderers and were preserved
as a warning. Lovely. What a way to brighten your day. If you’re medically
minded or genuinely interested in this sort of thing, I guess it would be
extremely fascinating, but I can just about deal with a paper cut, let alone
pictures of bodies blown to pieces!<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN">So, as much as I enjoyed the sights and sounds of Bangkok, my tan was
beginning to fade: it’d been a few weeks since Goa and I was starting to have
sun withdrawal symptoms! The islands were calling… what ‘first’s’ could I tick
off the list next? Snorkelling Maybe a bit of diving… More importantly, as luck
would have it, we’d be in the vicinity of the infamous ‘Full Moon’ Party.
Buckets of alcohol, neon body paint… Oh dear!<o:p></o:p></span></div>
</div>
Miss Travellerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16155798908665931458noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5168703797314502580.post-86841253350341837562013-03-04T09:24:00.003-08:002013-03-04T09:25:16.900-08:00'Wrapping up India in 14 days': A haphazard fortnight from Delhi-Rajasthan-back to Delhi!<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
<br />
<i>'No one realises how beautiful it is to travel until he comes home and rests his head on his old, familiar pillow...' </i>(Lin Yutang)<br />
<br />
Hi all! Before I start, I just want to say a massive thank you to you all for taking the time to read these blogs. I know they're a tad lengthy - once I start I can't stop - but I try to make them as relate-able and as 'me' as possible - the whole point of doing this was to relay my experiences, not reel off a list of sights we've seen. I've had some lovely feedback so far, so ta very much! India has opened my eyes in so many ways and I think it's fitting, in the last installment from India, to talk about the weird and wonderful things I've observed along the way. I can only imagine how boring it would be to read, in depth, about the in's and out's of each temple that we've been to so we'll go with a more 'general' theme!<br />
<br />
So, to pick up where we last left off, we jetted in to Delhi from Goa. After a hectic 3 days (including a day trip to the world famous 'Taj Mahal' which, despite the rain, was stunning), we were to embark on a 10 day tour of Rajasthan; Jaipur, Jodhpur, Udaipur, Pushkar and finally Amritsar. The plan was then to train it back to Delhi from Amritsar for the night before finally swapping the naan of India for the noodles of Thailand. Sounds nice and simple, right? Well, observation one: things NEVER go to plan in India. Ever. You could be the most organised person in the world (aka Me) and things just happen that are way beyond your control. Take our trip to Rajasthan - rather than try and navigate our way to each of the cities, we decided to book a tour with a tourist office. In doing so, we'd avoid the hassle of booking public transport, hotels, sightseeing... it was all included. Happy days. And do you know what? It was going SO well! Dev, our driver for the week, was a legend - he did the hard part of driving 6/7 hours a day while we snored away contentedly on the back seat. He took us to all the sights, some even off the tourist track, and always knew when it was time to stop off for a quick cup of (Masala) tea! His English wasn't the best (this is the norm. You ask an Indian a question, and the reply comes in the form of a head tilt - the equivalent of a shoulder shrug - so you never really know what's going on), but he did come to a halt on several occasions - one time he actually REVERSED on the motorway - just so we could catch a glimpse of some of the local wildlife. Bless him, maybe he thought that we didn't have cows/goats/deer in England?! Anyway, long story short, we never actually made it to our last destination, Amritsar, due to the bloody company not telling our Dev what time to get us to the train station. So, there we were, after a 10 hour car trip, stranded in Delhi for 3 days until we flew to Thailand. Fuming wasn't the word. I'm absolutely gutted we didn't make it to Amritsar to see the 'Golden Temple' and to witness the Indian and Pakistani soldiers strut their stuff at the daily procession at 'Wagah' on the border. At the same time, it's an excuse to go back in the future, so all isn't lost (apart from the sodding train ticket money!) The tour company finally put us up in a hotel for 2 nights, at our request, but refused to reimburse us for the train we'd paid for as they claimed it was 'our fault' that we'd missed it. What a joke. What you notice in India is that businesses are completely money orientated and customer service falls to the wayside, but given the state of their economy, do you blame them? It's the norm here for westerners to be charged more for entry to tourist sites too - I was shocked at first, but again, you just get used to it.<br />
<br />
In order to get from city to city, we had some EPIC car journeys, I'm talking 6 hours a day at least. It was during this time that I stared out of the window, a lot, and saw some things that you wouldn't believe. I may have touched on the whole 'peeing in public' thing before, but it still completely astounds me. You'll see all walks of life 'unzip and drip' roadside here, from the homeless to men in suits. I've even seen the odd woman squatting in broad daylight. Now, at home, you may see the odd car pulled over on the hard shoulder of the M6, normally with a small child hanging out of it. Fair enough, if a kid needs to go they need to go! However, if a grown man is caught short, then SURELY you can hold it until the next services? (By the way, services here are a hole in the floor, if you're lucky). The smell of piss, coupled with the piles of rubbish accumulating roadside, is, then, an OBVIOUS location for the homeless to pitch their tents and set up their little businesses. I mean, I know they don't have much choice as to where they decide to reside, but personally I'd prefer some sort of field and at least have some greenery to look at, rather than traffic! I read somewhere that the poverty in India is 'borne with a kind of stoical resignation'. Poverty is a huge problem, there's no denying it here - within minutes of driving into Delhi, beggars were shoving their hands through the taxi windows. Give them their due, they are persistent. I consider myself a giving person, but I'm of the mentality that if I help one, I have to help the others and this is physically impossible. Now, I'm no politics expert in the slightest, but surely by now someone of government status should be doing something to help? They rush to throw up these 5* complexes yet the 'rural poor' community accounts for 4/5ths of India's inhabitants, who undoubtedly have no access to clean water. It's an absolute joke.<br />
<br />
I've never really given the saying 'kids do the funniest things' much thought. Until these car journeys. As well as pissing, obviously, favourite past times of the Indian kids living in rural areas seem to be rolling used tyres back and forward between them as a game at the roadside and jumping on the back and the top of moving vehicles and holding on for dear life. I'll never forget witnessing a small boy, no more than three, standing on his own with not a stitch on, throwing an empty crisp packet up into the air and catching it on the way back down. Literally, the next time a child you know complains of having nothing to do, please relay this story; it was actually quite a sad moment, when I think back to my childhood and the amount of toys I had and probably never used. Talking of tyres, we inevitably got a flat this one day. The state of the roads leaves nothing to be desired - I'm surprised I actually managed to sleep at all, what with the constant dodge of potholes/cattle/traffic. We managed to make it to a nearby town; while the lads got out to talk tyres, I decided to get some shut eye. A knocking on the window stirred me - three schoolboys were peering in through the window. I waved, they waved back. I wound the window down to have a chat - surprisingly, my new friends didn't really have that good a grasp of English. What they were more interested in was the contents of my day pack. I then proceeded to do a 'show and tell' of its contents, everything from the Ipod to my perfume! One took a particular shine to my Chanel, spraying it everywhere like it was deodorant; I didn't have the heart to tell him it cost a bomb! I then showed them my pack of personalized playing cards (a leaving gift from home) which they loved, especially once I pointed out that each of the 52 cards had a delightful picture of me on. They loved them that much that I gave them the 2 joker cards; so now somewhere in rural Rajasthan I may be something of a local celebrity!<br />
<br />
During these car trips, when Mr Kindle, Laptop and Ipod failed me, I turned to my trusty guidebook of India to help me pass the time. So, apparently more than 80% of the Indian population are Hindu, and a good Hindu must follow 3 principles on their path to salvation - righteousness, prosperity honestly achieved and, finally, pleasure. Well, for starters, how is taking photos of Western women against their will in any way righteous? And I don't think Brahma would approve of his Hindu's harassing westerners for tips as a form of self prosperity: in Jaipur a guy followed us round a museum reading out the signs below the things we were looking at, and then had the cheek to ask for a tip! Does he not realise we can read?! And as for pleasure, well, I genuinely think the Indians who we came across enjoyed ripping us off! Twice we took an advantage of an airport pick up that failed to show, we got completely scammed for buying an umbrella at the Taj Mahal (they must have seen us coming!), and don't get me started on the 'holy' festival we went to in Pushkar. Good Karma? My a**e! I think the Hindi population we have encountered should take a leaf out of Gandhi's book. To be honest I didn't really know that much about him before we got to India but we managed to visit the spot where he was assassinated and the place where he was cremated in Delhi. Reading all the material there made it clear what an inspiration he is to world, not just India. On a completely different note, what I also found interesting is that the women apply red ochre to their hair parting to denote their married status. Now, seriously, what's wrong with a ring? Red is quite a tricky colour - it doesn't suit everyone - and what if you happen to tie your hair up and cover your parting one day?! Same with the saris - they are absolutely beautiful - but could you really be bothered getting all wrapped up in one everyday? What if you were just having a day on the couch?!<br />
<br />
Having encountered many travellers along the way, I've noticed some differences between how people approach the notion of travelling and what they want to get out of the experience. So, we have the 'Party People' who are here to have an alcohol-fuelled good time. Every night. They probably don't see much of the city they're in as they'll sleep off their hangover during the day and get up when the sun goes down. Next, we have the 'Hardcore Hippies', those who walk around with no shoes on, dreadlocks, probably carrying some sort of instrument... They've probably been travelling for so long they've forgotten where 'home' is. We also have the 'Flashpackers' - they embrace the culture of each place ie get down with the local dress code, but still retain a sense of modernity by having a laptop and mobile phone. The 'Pretentious Posse' are a mix of all of the above - for example, they will see how a HH (Hardcore Hippie) dresses, decide that that's how they're going to look, but do it in such a way that screams they're trying too hard! And finally, we have the 'Laid Back Lids' who are genuinely so carefree they probably don't know what day it is, how much money they have or where they're sleeping tonight. I bet you all know someone that fits into a category, yes?!<br />
<br />
I could go on for hours, but they are just some snippets into my insights of India. I surprised myself by loving it a lot more than I thought I would. Favourite places? Goa, for the beaches, and Udaipur, for the European vibe with its cobbled streets and everything centred around the gorgeous lake Pichola. Favourite food? Pretty much anything of the vegetarian variety - you haven't tasted Indian food until you've been here, the local takeaway really doesn't cut it (I've spent 6 weeks here and not once have I seen an onion bhaji on the menu). What I won't miss? Being 'papped' on a daily basis! Well, that brings India to a close, let's see what Thailand has in store! Keep tuning in to find out...</div>
Miss Travellerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16155798908665931458noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5168703797314502580.post-19362877420126875332013-02-17T12:19:00.000-08:002013-02-17T12:19:18.072-08:00'All Go-an Things Must Come To An End': Finishing up in South Goa<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
<br />
<i>'People travel to faraway places to watch, in fascination, the kind of people they ignore at home...' (Dagobert D Runes)</i><br />
<br />
'Namaste' guys! (for those of you who aren't down with Hindi, 'what's happening'?!) Hope you're all good and enjoyed Pancake Day/Valentines Day and are sticking to Lent so far! As a homage to our British roots, we decided to seek out some pancakes whilst in Goa. We didn't have to look far; pancakes, or 'crepes', feature heavily on an Indian dessert menu: to be honest, they're the only option on an Indian dessert menu! Now, I'm not the biggest lover of pancakes, unlike Mr Mac, who has sampled pretty much every filling there is on offer, but a banana and Nutella one did hit the spot that night! With regards to Valentines Day, over the years I have been spoilt rotten with lovely cards, flowers, a cheeky city break here and there... this year was no exception. I was treated to a tub of Pringles and a Bounty in Goa airport, paid for by our joint account. Who says romance is dead?! (to be fair, I really enjoyed them!) Valentines Day isn't as celebrated here as it is back home, and I didn't expect him to lug around cards and such like in his rucksack from the UK! Ironically, 'Valentines Day' was the film they were showing on our flight to Delhi, so all romance was not lost! What have you all given up for Lent? The usual? Chocolate/alcohol... As some of you remember, back in uni days, Lent was the time I'd pretty much give up eating anything in favour of cabbage soup, the odd ryvita and anything on my 'allowed list' (which was pretty non existent.) Giving something up while travelling is a completely different kettle of fish. It's not as easy to say 'I'll give up chocolate/crisps/bread...' because, more often than not, you're in a place that looks a bit dodge and it's best for your stomach if you go for the packaged Twix rather than the sandwiches with flies crawling over them. It's so weird that we're a few days in to Lent and I've eaten stuff that normally would be on the 'out of bounds' list, but you know what? If it's going to keep me Delhi belly free, then so be it. (For the record, we've both said we'll give up fizzy drinks. I don't really drink them anyway but it's more to say I've given something up!)<br />
<br />
Anyway, enough chit chat. I left things last time as we prepared to go South in Goa to see what the crack was with their beaches. Many people have asked, 'Did you not get bored?' 'Once you've seen one beach, don't they all look the same?'. In short, No and No! We both wanted to completely chill out during our first few weeks of travelling - we both worked our arses off towards the end saving wise and deserved a break - and I think every beach has its own character. Yes, the sea and the sand do get a bit repetitive, but a certain atmosphere can make each beach unique - in the previous blog, I favoured Mandrem beach for its tranquillity as opposed to Vagator, where I was hassled with 'lucky lucky's' and the Indian paparazzi aka tourists! OK, so from Mandrem we travelled about an hour south to a hotel which, as listed on its website, was 'close to Baga, Calangute, and Candolim beaches'. Sweet, three in one, we thought. So, it turns out that their definition of 'close' was, in reality, an hour walk to the closest one. Are they messing? We were in the middle of nowhere in a resort I'd never even heard of (note to self: THOROUGHLY RESEARCH accommodation before you book it. Somewhere that's cheap, for example, may not be as ideal location wise as somewhere slightly more expensive but, as always, LOCATION LOCATION LOCATION!).<br />
<br />
We had no choice but to sort ourselves out with some sort of transport. Now, I class myself as a half decent driver (some may heartily disagree) but was in no way prepared for the Indian preferred method of travel - a scooter. I'm sound on a push bike so how hard could one with an engine be? Bloody hard, I'll tell you that! Mix that with the insane traffic and it was a recipe for disaster! In the end, He took the reins and ferried us around and I was limited to wobbling up and down the dirt road outside the hotel 'for practice'. I think I did pretty well, but in his words, I'm 'definitely not roadworthy yet'. Anyway, our little scooter was a godsend for those couple of days as we had the freedom to whiz round the local beaches. Calangute beach was, in a word, vile: it was so dirty and jam packed with sunbeds lined up like sardines in a tin. And THIS was where the Brits had been hiding - we passed so many bars with signs for 'Full English Breakfasts' outside. I don't get it, never have - why do Brits go on holiday to a foreign country and not sample local food? Why do we feel the need to have our comforts as a 'safety net'? YOU'RE ONLY ON HOLIDAY FOR A WEEK OR SO. DEAL WITH IT. Baga beach was alright, and we couldn't find Candolim; we ended up stopping at this little cove which turned out to be a place called Sinquerim beach which was fab, bar the family who came over to my sun bed and asked for a photo (what a surprise). I obliged, in hope they'd leave me alone, but I was sadly mistaken: the WHOLE family appeared (as in like 10 of them) and proceeded to have individual photos taken with me. One by one. In the end I had to politely tell them to do one as my stomach was hurting from breathing in so much. Mr Mac was a bit gutted - he stood there flexing in hope of a cheeky snap, but they just weren't interested. Bless.<br />
<br />
We did forego the beach one day (shock horror) to actually go and do some sightseeing (Goa does have other things to see, bar its beaches!) We hired a taxi driver for the day who, for £12, took us out and about for 8 hours. £12 wouldn't get me into town at home, and I live 20 minutes away! This method of transport is much more economical than, say, going to each individual sight separately, and you haven't got the hassle of trying to bargain with each driver. As you'll see from my Facebook pics, we went to Old Goa and visited some beautiful churches, including 'Bom Jesus' where the remains of St Francis Xavier, the 'Apostle of the Orient' are held. We popped to a spice plantation (far too many plants to remember) and then stopped off in the capital, Panjim. As much as it pained me to be separated from my sun bed for a few hours, I think it's good to go and actually see some of the sites when you're away, otherwise you may as well have just gone to the local sunbeds at home and saved yourself a few quid!<br />
<br />
We've all stayed in places abroad. You know what makes good service. Helpful and friendly staff who are there when you need them but for the most part leave you to your own devices. Up until now we'd had no problems whatsoever. That's until we met George. When we pulled up outside our hotel in the middle of nowhere, it reminded me a bit of the Addams family house - set behind wrought iron gates shrouded in shrubbery. It didn't look busy. At all. In fact, I didn't see any other guests the whole time we were there. Despite this, there were an abundant number of staff that, quite frankly, had nothing to do, so spent their time standing round looking like spare parts. This is true of many places in India, I've noticed; surely the managers, in a bid to save on personnel expenses, would assess the ratio of employees to customers? Anyway, as we were checking in we were greeted by a young Indian guy who introduced himself as George, who said that he'd be happy to 'serve' us as his family were in the UK and he felt like he was our 'brother'. Bless him. So, as the days went on, his visits to our room became more and more frequent - knocking to 'check up on us' and to see 'what we were doing'; I actually had to blag that I was 'working' so he'd go away and I could write my blog in peace one night! He had no concept of personal space - he would hover outside our room for us to come out, sit next to us whenever we sat downstairs to use the Internet and use ANY excuse to make physical contact, particularly with me (sorry mate, but you've defo seen a freckle before, no need to start counting them on my arm...) If he ever saw that the Mac was on his own, he'd sprint up to our room, in the hope that I was there. Over friendly some may say? No, just a plain wierdo. Well, it all came to a head when it was time to check out... there were signs up saying we had to check out by 11, but good old George had said we could leave at midday (course he did). To be fair, it's not like the place was mad busy so it really didn't make a difference what time we left. Anyway, the phone rings just before 11... a guy is making sure we're checking out at 11. We were like, 'yeah, we'll be down in about half an hour'. The phone then rings in 5 minute intervals asking where we were and we'd be getting charged an extra day. GET A GRIP. Have you ever heard of a grace period? We were both pretty angry by the time we got down to reception, even more so when they presented me with a bill for photocopying our passports. Are you kidding? I told them, in no uncertain terms, I'd be paying for sweet nothing and then George floats in asking us if we had any tips for him?! Yeah, here's a tip for you - f**k off! In all seriousness, it made me very uncomfortable and if I was travelling on my own I'd have probably moved hotels, he was that bad. It kind of puts a dampener on this part of the trip; we laugh about it now but it just shows how something, or someone, can affect your perception of a place. I'm in no hurry to return to that part of Goa, that's for sure!<br />
<br />
On a much brighter note, our final days in Goa were some of the best of the entire trip. We spent 2 days at Benaulim beach, a quaint little place where we had the luxury of a pool at our digs (it was so nice to be sand free for once!) and spent our last week in a beach hut on Palolem beach. Jason Bourne famously jogs along these shores in the second 'Bourne' film; I had all these visions of me enjoying an early morning run along here whilst watching the sun rise... the only running I did was from the sun bed to the sea: the sand was bloody hot! The 'Cuba Beach Bungalows' had been recommended to us (well in the Jo's!) and it was the perfect end to our Goa experience. We'd step out from our hut onto the sand, there was (nearly) always a bed right outside and the sea was less than a 100m dash. At night, the beach itself was busier than the main road - the restaurants put all their tables out on the sand to entice the beach revellers in. What's more perfect than eating dinner under the stars, a moonlit stroll along the beach and falling asleep listening to the sound of the waves? Not much, in my book.<br />
<br />
So, this is where the story ends. For today. Goa was, in short, amazing. I'd recommend it to ANYONE and would go back in a heartbeat. I've left a happier and healthier person (healthier colour wise, I no longer resemble a ghost. NOT healthy in a food sense - can't remember the last time I had any fruit. 5 a day for me now consists of 5 different types of carbohydrate a day!) Our next venture sees us trade the shores of Goa for the sights of Delhi. Oh god, the home of Delhi Belly. Can we put it off any longer? Watch this space...<br />
<div>
<br /></div>
</div>
Miss Travellerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16155798908665931458noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5168703797314502580.post-84458654141302263212013-02-03T05:01:00.000-08:002013-02-03T05:01:37.211-08:00<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal">
<u><span lang="EN">'Life's a Beach': Tales from North Goa <o:p></o:p></span></u></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<i><span lang="EN"><br /></span></i></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<i><span lang="EN">'There are no foreign lands. It is the traveller only who is
foreign...' (Robert Louis Stevenson)<o:p></o:p></span></i></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN">Greetings loved ones! Hope you all survived January in one piece? By now,
New Year's resolutions have definitely been broken - sales of chocolate are on
the up, gyms are back to their empty states... This is precisely why I didn't
make any this year; all I promised myself was to document my travels (check)
and take more photos (sort of check - I WILL get round to uploading some I
promise, otherwise you'll all start to think I've gone into hiding rather than
travelling the world!) So, I believe we left things last time on the train
journey from Mumbai to Goa - I can't believe that was almost 2 weeks ago! Time
sure does fly when you're having fun! We started out at the top of Northern Goa
and have slowly started to work our way down the coast and visited several
resorts along the way... Warning, this blog will contain descriptions of white
sandy beaches and clear blue seas, so if you are of the jealous disposition I
suggest you look away now!<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN">As most of you are well aware, I am a BIG fan of tanning and will go to the
ends of the earth to achieve that golden glow, real or fake. So, you can
imagine my actual joy when we decided to spend a month on the beaches of Goa, Don't
get me wrong, I do love a city break but for me, nothing beats lying on a sun bed catching some rays. I see it almost as a sport - a daily competition to
be darker than the previous one. However, being part of a couple travelling has
opened my eyes to the importance of COMPROMISE. I, for example, could lie on a sun bed from dusk ‘til dawn; the English rose complexion of my other half
prevents him from getting any enjoyment from long periods of sunbathing. So, we
work it so we only spend a few hours at the beach a day, or we alternate a day
at the beach with a day sightseeing. It pains me to think I could be a near
native colour by now, but, actually, I've got the next 2 years to work on that.
2 weeks in, I can happily report that I am no longer the colour of a ghost and,
despite Indian women constantly commenting on my <i>'lovely WHITE skin'</i>, I
am confident that fake tan may be a thing of my past… for now (a HUGE statement
to make: I've kept so many brands in business for years!) As an experienced
tanner, I pride myself on knowing when enough’s enough to avoid the inevitable
burn; I did not factor in the side effects of anti-malaria tablets. Like any
medication, you tend to neglect reading about any effects they may have and I
chose to ignore that mine could make your skin <i>'extra sensitive to light'</i>
and produce <i>'red patches'. </i>They weren't wrong. To date, I've had to deal
with a nice red hand (yes, just the one) and my knees, of ALL places. On a more
positive note, my skin is spot-free! Freckles have replaced the blemishes that
used to frequent my face back home, something which I now attribute to all the
slap I used to put on. My makeup bag STILL remains buried at the bottom of my
rucksack acquiring dust (honestly, I'm a changed woman, definitely embracing my
inner hippie... more on that later). <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN">Anyway, enough about me, you're all wanting to know about Goa, right? OK,
so after our epic train journey we arrived at Thivim station and took a taxi to
the Asterix hostel in Vagator, North Goa. This hostel is ranked #1 on TripAdvisor
and I can honestly say that my experience here diminishes all of my previous
views on hostels (see previous blog). It was founded by 2 guys who wanted to
create a haven for travellers, so quit their daily jobs and did just that.
There is a great communal area (essential in my eyes) and over the week we
stayed there we met some great people. Now, I don't know about you, but the art
of approaching people when travelling reminds me of your first day at
school/uni. You have to make friends and the only way to do this is to TALK to
people! As we get older, we take friendship for granted and forget the initial
awkwardness when it comes to meeting new people. On our first morning, at
breakfast, we decided to put our game faces on, look approachable and try and
mingle. No such luck. I turned to him and was like, <b>'what's wrong with us?',
</b>and then realised the problem. He was only sitting there in his
prescription sunglasses. Essential for him, but to an outsider, we were totally
unapproachable! Fortunately, later on, we jumped right in - after the first few
minutes you wonder why you'd been so apprehensive in the first place.
Everyone's in the same boat. It's actually amazing, the different types of
people you can meet at a hostel - we met fellow Northerners travelling (what
can I say? Scousers just migrate towards each another and there's always a Manc
about!), a Canadian who was passing through after attending a work colleague’s
Indian wedding (hey Gavin!), even a Londoner who'd come over to get his teeth
done! (To be fair, when he told me how much he was paying I did consider
trading my travel fund in for a fabulous set of veneers!) Of course, the
downside to all of this is that eventually reality sets in: people have to move
on. But I guess you have to be grateful you had the opportunity to meet these
people and, especially travellers, you'll more than likely bump into them
somewhere along the way. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN">Vagator beach is split into 3 different parts - the furthest one, Ozran,
being the quietest and is where we spent most of our days. So, you know how in
the UK, travel companies organise day trips to, say, Brighton beach for
tourists? Well, it seems that Indian tour operators do the same. Coaches come
by the bucket load, full of Indian tourists who live inland, and they pour out
onto the Goan beaches for the day. You have never seen anything like it. Fully
clothed men and women running into the sea like they've never seen a beach
before (this may even be the case).What’s more shocking is that these tourists,
predominantly male, have never seen western women before, let alone western
women in bikinis. So they feel the need to document evidence that they've seen
one to show their mates back home by shoving their phones in my face as I'm
trying to sunbathe. The polite ones ask if it's OK to take a photo; this is
fine, I have time to breathe in and smile. Some are quite discreet - they'll
pretend to be taking a picture of their mate who has conveniently positioned
himself beside my sun bed - but others literally snap away. Our hostel warned
us of this, explaining that it was the 'norm' and to just ignore them. How can
I ignore a gang of old men ogling me as I'm putting my cream on? It's just weird.
What's more weird is that these guys have probably got wives, daughters... This
behaviour doesn't end on the beach; even on a night out westerners are seen as
celebrities. It’s normally after a few Kingfishers that I've posed for god
knows how many photos with gangs of Indian guys, who are SO grateful and rush
to shake your hand after the photo. Maybe I should start charging?!<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN">There’s an inner hippie inside every traveller. Fact. The carefree, relaxed
style is soon adopted by someone travelling for a long period of time. In fact,
Goa is home to many ex-pat hippies aka Leathers as they are known (they are
literally the colour of mahogany, they've been here that long) and I've seen
some sights when it comes to their dress sense. I myself have jumped straight
on the hippie bandwagon – at the local Anjuna flea market I kitted myself out
with some infamous ‘Ali Baba’ pants, a floaty dress and a few anklets and
bracelets so I'm good to go. The great thing is at these markets you can haggle
your price down as much as you can and you walk away with some complete
bargains. What’s more entertaining is how they entice you to their particular
stall – I've heard ‘Come look at my cheap rubbish’ and ‘Cheaper than Primark at
my shop’ to name but a few. I'm not sure they even know what they’re saying! Keeping
in with the hippie way of life, I am still a practising vegetarian. I literally
do not miss meat and I could grow accustomed to chickpeas and lentils on a
regular basis. I'm probably eating a tad over the recommended daily
carbohydrate allowance but if it keeps Delhi Belly at bay, I’ll deal with the
extra pounds! IT IS SO CHEAP TO EAT IN INDIA. We go out for dinner and for a starter,
main and drink each it’s like £9. For both of us. It’s insane. Also, booze is
ridiculously cheap too – a Kingfisher can set you back about 60p. One club we
went to was 400 rupees entry (roughly £5) and it was all you can drink all
night. How do they make any money? Trance music and nightlife in Goa pretty
much come hand in hand – when I first heard Basshunter blasting out of some
club speakers it did take me back about 10 years, but you soon become
accustomed to it (the hippies are that off their faces that they probably can’t
even hear the music!) <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN">OK, so this paragraph is really for my mum as I know she’s been dying to
ask me about a) if I'm doing any washing and b) the welfare of all the animals.
Well Sue, you’ll be pleased to know that we've had some washing done, finally!
10 days in and all I’d done was the odd rinse in the sink and made use of my mini
washing line (gracias VLC Chicas). This seems a relatively short time, but sun
cream and sweat quickly become embedded in everything. We found a lady who
offered to do laundry for us – she actually followed us back to our room where
we were both like madmen – chucking stuff out of our rucksacks and stripping
off to give her everything that had been worn! 35 items for 600 rupees (roughly
£7) and we’re back to being (relatively) clean. Animal wise, surprisingly, it’s
a positive report. Cats aren't very common, well, I haven’t seen many. Of
course there are strays, like anywhere, but none I've seen are mistreated or
underweight. In fact, I've seen more dogs with collars on than I have strays.
There is an equivalent of the RSPCA that take the stray dogs in for 20 days,
neuter and treat them for any ailments they have, collar them and then release
them back where they were picked up. I've stroked many a Rottweiler, Alsatian,
Great Dane (and a one eyed dog) that have been fully vaccinated and belonged to
a hotel/restaurant so chill out Mother! What is strange is the amount of cows
around and their attitude towards tourists. For religious reasons, Indians
cannot harm a cow - they are seen as holy. So it’s commonplace to see them
wandering the streets and chilling on the beach. I've even seen people patting
them as you would a dog, they’re that placid. An animal I have dealt with far
too much already however is the mosquito. I have never got on with this
godforsaken insect and would actively play a part in eradicating them forever
(more on this later). <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN">So, after a week in Vagator, we felt like it was time to pack up again and
move on. Originally, our plan was to head south, but we’d heard a few people
mention a beach further north that was quiet and absolutely stunning; as we
have no fixed agenda, we decided to see what the fuss was about. When we were
looking for a place to stay up there on-line I came across somewhere a bit
alternative: a yoga retreat where the accommodation was a luxury tent with a
shared bathroom. None of these things would normally appeal to me, but when in
Rome… So we booked for 2 nights and hoped for the best. We drove past signs for
‘The Mandala Resort’ in the taxi along the main beach road when, all of a
sudden, the taxi took a turn down this dirt road. They weren't messing when
they said we’d be staying in a tent – were we heading for some old camp-site Actually,
the place itself was situated within its own grounds and was, literally, an
oasis of calm and tranquillity I felt so relaxed the entire time we were there
– it was as if we were at one with nature. Our tent (it was pretty big, with a
double bed and wardrobe in) was situated in a coconut grove lined with palm
trees, the shared bathroom situation was actually an open air wash room with
separate shower cubicles and western toilets, and we fell asleep each night listening
to the sound of the ocean. So, this beach everyone was harping on about… we set
off to find it, and within 15 minutes we set foot onto white sand looking out
at clear blue water. Ashvem/Mandrem beach is relatively untouched by tourists
bar a huge presence of Russians – they seem to be the main tourists in Goa and they
are slowly taking over the business here too. A lot of the menus at the beach
bars were listed in both Russian and English and many taxi drivers were quick
to inform us of their dislike towards them - their work was slowly drying up
due to the influx of Russians arriving looking for jobs. Anyway, it was in this
calm, Zen-like frame of mind that I decided to sign up for an 8.30am yoga class
one morning. Now, I associate exercise with sweat – I don’t feel like I've done
anything unless I'm pounding the treadmill or cross-trainer. If I'm honest, I've always done yoga/Pilates via a DVD at home when I've been too lazy to go to
the gym; I viewed them as an ‘easy’ alternative. How wrong I was. Yoga isn't about how much you can sweat; it’s all about the breathing, holding the pose,
focus and concentration. And believe me; the sweat pours out of you –
especially in 30 degree heat! 4 of us did the 2 hour class in a marquee overlooking
a river, and it must've been in this relaxed state that I failed to realise I’d
been getting eaten alive by mosquitoes It was only when I passed by a mirror
after the class that I spotted my head looking like a dartboard! I’d only been
bitten on the forehead, THE most noticeable place. Bloody things! After a thick
layer of some anti-histamine cream (thanks Sue!) my forehead returned to a less
swollen state. This experience in itself has put me off yoga (nothing to do
with the aches and pains I felt for days after…)<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN">2 nights was definitely not enough at Mandrem beach – it was far too
‘postcard’ like to just up and leave so suddenly. On one of our many strolls
along the shore we noticed these beach huts set apart from the rest, buried in
a cluster of palm trees. Beach huts definitely are the way to go in Goa – it’s
all about the location! - So we went to enquire price-wise. The ‘Riva’ resort
is actually still under construction – it’s going to be a beast of a place to
stay once it’s all done – so we were able to negotiate a decent price for 2
nights. Now, when I say ‘decent’, it’s not in a traveller sense – what we paid
probably could've fed us for a week. This has led to the apt nickname: ‘<i>The Flashpackers’. </i>Our room had a
balcony, hot water, a proper mattress, a TV (I didn't speak to Him for the
whole 2 days, he was in his element). So, budgeting might not be our strong
point so far: to be fair, we've been ripped off a fair few times, and they say
you always overspend in the first country you visit while travelling.
Unfortunately, I've resigned myself to the fact that hostels and cold showers
are going to be my foreseeable future, but you know what? The places I’ll see
and the people I’ll meet will mean so much more than if there’s sufficient
closet space for my ever growing collection of Ali Baba’s. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN">This is where the story ends for now… next stop on the agenda is Southern
Goa which, according to my trusty guidebook, is ‘<i>much more sedate than the North’ </i>in terms of westerners. Brilliant.
I best prepare myself for the Indian paparazzi-style onslaught on the beach
then…<o:p></o:p></span></div>
</div>
Miss Travellerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16155798908665931458noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5168703797314502580.post-81688045238581999242013-01-21T13:02:00.000-08:002013-01-21T13:02:29.509-08:00Being 'hard done by' in Mumbai: Capital city of Chaos!<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;"><i><span lang="EN">'The world is a book and those who do not travel
read only one page...'</span></i><span lang="EN"> (St. Augustine)<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;"><span lang="EN"><br /></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN"><span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;">Hello everyone! Hope you're all well? Word on the street is that there's 4
feet of snow or something stupid where you are? One word… gutted. So, I'm
currently sitting on a train taking us from Mumbai to Goa. It started off as a
12 hour journey; if that wasn't bad enough, we are now delayed by four hours.
With nothing but a packet of crisps each (we were told, in no uncertain terms,
to not eat the food on the train and crisps were all that was on offer in the
station at 6am), what the hell was I going to do for 16 hours? Well, I did what
I do best... SLEEP! After a nice little 9 hours I'm as fresh as a daisy! I was
told I’d be ‘<i>amazed’</i> at the scenery
on the journey down but, being on top bunk facing the OPPOSITE direction to the
window, all I’m looking at is a decrepit wall! I have therefore decided to
provide the next installment of my blog to you fine people!<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN"><span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;"><br /></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN"><span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;">Where do I even begin? I apologise in advance if this chapter is a bit
lengthy - there's so much I want to share and don't know where to start! First
of all, I can honestly say that, so far, India has been one huge shock. A
positive shock. I was expecting to touch down at the airport and immediately be
accosted by beggars, whilst dodging cows and other livestock in the street. I
couldn't have been more wrong. Yes, I have seen the odd goat here and there
minding its own business on the pavement, and I have had to politely ignore
people thrusting their upturned palms in my face asking for spare change and
decline whatever piece of jewellery/fluffy toy/postcard they're trying to sell
to me. But it's nowhere near as bad as I thought. According to a guy we got
talking to one evening, over the last 15 years Mumbai has made a huge effort to
'clean up' to encourage more tourism. They must be doing a hell of a job as I
was expecting it to be much, much worse. But this is only one city, India is a
huge country. As the weeks go on I guess I'll have comparisons to make but so
far it has been a pleasant surprise!<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN"><span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;"><br /></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN"><span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;">So, as most of you know, I'm more used to slumming it in a water bungalow
in the Maldives as opposed to a HOSTEL. Don't get me wrong, I've done the whole
'hostel' thing before - I've enjoyed many a night in a dorm, but knowing that
it was temporary. This is my life for the next 2 years. But when in Rome and
all... Anyway, we'd pre-booked 2 nights somewhere so we had some sort of base
when we arrived (more on the arrival later). The 'Travellers Inn' didn't have a
communal area - a nightmare I guess if you're trying to meet people; WIFI was
only available in the corridors and breakfast was brought to your room each
morning (toast and a banana if you're curious). We had booked an AC room with a
private bathroom; in reality, the shower head was actually over the toilet and
the bloody fan could've won first prize in the 'How to keep someone awake at
night' competition, closely followed by a ticking clock on the wall which
echoed incessantly. However, the term 'AC' is fast becoming my favourite word -
you can't beat a bit of air con. Especially in the heat. <o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN"><span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;"><br /></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN"><span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;">Everyone is familiar with the term 'Delhi Belly' - I'd been told to stock
up on every medicine/potion ever made in order to combat the inevitable. Touch
wood, and I know it's only been 4 days, but I've remained unscathed. Many
travel journals advise 'Don't eat this, don't eat that...', but if I followed
everything I'd read, all I'd be eating is dust! So, to play it safe, I have
decided to avoid meat and salads for the first week or two. Now, as most of you
know, I do love a good salad, and without it, I've been forced to turn to my
arch-enemy for comfort and reassurance - carbohydrates. Toast for breakfast,
followed by a sandwich at lunch, rounded off with a cheeky naan and rice at
dinner... I best buck up before I don a bikini in Goa or I may be mistaken for
an albino whale! I've always enjoyed Indian food, but there's nothing quite
like the real thing - the blends of spices they use bring out such amazing
colours and flavours that no takeaway at home can rival. Luckily for me, there
are a lot of vegetarian options here and I haven't had one bad meal so far. <o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN"><span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;"><br /></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN"><span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;">Most guide books say that 3-4 days in Mumbai is enough to fully experience
it - and after 3 full days I feel we’ve experienced pretty much what is has to
offer. We visited the notorious 'Gateway to India' - a huge arch (very similar
to the Arc de Triomphe) right on the waterfront that was built by the British
to celebrate its empire many years ago. To be honest, what was more memorable
for me there was the amount of scam artists - several times we were approached
by Indian men wanting to have a photo taken with us, then wanting us to pay for
having had the photo taken! I'd seen this before so I was quick to move away -
I mean seriously, we have our own camera to take photos so why on earth would I
pay someone to take one? Madness. Also, for a country stricken with poverty,
these guys were going about with quite decent cameras with built in printers...
scamming obviously does pay. Talking of scams, let me tell you about our
arrival. So, I'd organised a transfer with our hotel that they'd meet us at the
airport; the guy I'd been emailing said it would be 1800 rupees (roughly £20)
and it would take approximately 40 minutes. Fabulous. So, after a shaky start
at baggage reclaim (my rucksack did not appear for what felt like HOURS and i
was starting to think of what life would be like without my tinted
moisturiser), we wandered through the arrivals hall, backpacks on our backs and
daypacks on our front (honestly, our street cred has completely disappeared)
and, surprise surprise, there's no one there to meet us. A man quickly jumped
in, asking where we were staying, and confirmed no one had turned up from our hotel.
To be fair, he did ring through to our hotel where they admitted there'd been
an '<i>admin error'</i>, read, they'd simply
forgotten. Brilliant, Anyway, his mate appears saying he'd take us - but it was
actually an hour and a half journey and it would cost us double than what we
were quoted! Looking back, we were well and truly conned, but at the time we were
tired and maybe did let our guard down. At times, I won't lie, I did have
visions of us being captured and held hostage, especially when we changed taxis
mid route into <i>'a bigger and more
comfortable car'</i> and there being no meter in what was supposed to be a
taxi. In the end, as we pulled up to the hotel I would've given the driver
triple the fare, just so long as I set foot on solid ground! <o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN"><span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;"><br /></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN"><span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;">Taxis themselves are cheap as chips in Mumbai - a 20 minute journey could
cost as little as 40 rupees (barely 50p). But they're not soft these drivers -
you'd hand them a 100 rupee note (just over a pound) and they'd just keep it
and not offer you the change. I mean, I'm really not arsed for a quid, but they
could at least offer you the change! But kudos to them all, because I would not
drive here if someone paid me to. It is INSANE. There is no organisation
whatsoever - lanes just merge into one another and, if you put your arm out of
the window, you can easily touch another car - they're that close to one
another! But the crazy thing is that there are rickshaws, motorbikes, even
pushbikes, all sharing the road space and it's SO dangerous, but no one bats an
eyelid. They're too busy beeping their horns at nobody in particular to pay too
much attention to the roads! Same with the trains -at any time of day, it's
like being on the tube at 5pm. People are literally hanging out of the doors
(which remain open by the way) and it's normal to jump on/off apparently. While
the train's still moving. Unbelievable. <o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN"><span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;"><br /></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN"><span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;">OK, so everyone’s seen ‘<i>Slumdog Millionaire</i>’, right? So in your head that’s
exactly what a slum looks like. Well, that’s what I thought until I experienced
one first hand here in Mumbai. Our hotel was offering a ‘<i>Slum tour’</i> – a 3 hour trip where an inhabitant from the slum itself
brought you in to experience what life is really like for a large percentage of
the Indian population. This slum in question is one of the ‘richer’ ones –
Industry plays a huge part in its function and everyone seems to have a trade.
We witnessed people recycling aluminium, plastic, cardboard… literally, nothing
goes to waste as they try to sell every little thing back to companies for
profit. Honestly, the next time someone moans to me about hating their job, I’ll
flip. Try working seven days a week for a fiver a day. The working conditions here
are abysmal – Health and Safety would have a field day in there – but what
struck me most is that everyone seems to be happy and there is a strong sense
of community spirit. So much so that, apparently, the Government has tried to
entice the slum community out into newly built accommodation (they want to
flatten the slum to make way for new buildings) but as of yet to no avail.
Their livelihood depends on the trades they can carry out in the slum – if that
is taken away from them they will literally have nothing. However, the reality
is that over one million people are living in such cramped conditions. We walked/ducked
our way through countless alleyways, passing curtain after curtain serving as
makeshift doors to homes that are barely ten square feet, whilst dodging electricity
wires and open drains. The slum receives 3 hours of water usage a day; the
government shut it down for the rest. Imagine that. What really tipped it for
me was to see a young girl just shitting in the street. When I pointed this out
to the guide, he merely shrugged and told me that most of the homes did not
even have a hole in the ground, thus forcing the people out into the street to
do their business. Obviously we attracted a lot of attention whilst walking
round and we got to meet some of the kids attending a local school. They were
all mesmerised by the Mac – it literally made his day when one of the kids
asked if he was a body builder! But they were desperate to shake our hands and
touch us – without tourists they could probably go through life without ever
seeing, let alone meeting a white person. The tour really did open my eyes – we
always wonder ‘<i>how the other half live’</i>,
referring to those more fortunate than us, but maybe we should consider the
other end of the spectrum – those without running water and basic sanitary
conditions. <o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN"><span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;"><br /></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN"><span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;">One other thing I must mention is my perception of Indian women. I was gob
smacked when out one night at Café Leopold in Colaba (think the Malia strip
with more markets and less bars) I saw two girls, probably about my age,
necking back Budweiser’s like there was no tomorrow (mind you, the kitten heels
were unforgivable . But, like any other young generation, people seem to be a
lot more relaxed when it comes to their dress and behaviour. Men openly hold
hands in the street. Now, I don’t know if this is a cultural thing or what, but
in a country where the Karma Sutra originated, who knows? Alcohol and food seem
to be an integral part of the social culture here - I witnessed many a group of
locals enjoying a yard/fish bowl of Kingfisher, a beer which I am begrudged to
drink now to ‘<i>fit in’</i> with the
travellers. Surprisingly, we have seen a lot of ‘couple’ travellers so far, way
more than I expected to. And you know when there’s a traveller about, you can
spot them a mile off – the obligatory backpack, baggy trousers, long hair… we
even saw a lad that fitted this description perfectly buying a flute, to which
the Mac commented, ‘<i>what a scruffy twat’</i>. I'm sure the poor guy would've said the same thing if he’d witnessed the Mac
asking me for a hair product ‘<i>so he didn't look like a gobshite’</i>. Oh dear, someone needs to embrace their ‘<i>au naturel’</i> side a bit more I think, and
for once, it isn't me! I'm actually shocked to report that my makeup bag hasn't left the confines of my rucksack – there’s just no need for it. I mean, I actually
go out. For a meal. With no makeup on. And clothes wise, well, let me tell you
this – normally, the slightest bit of heat and I'm there, wearing as little as
possible for maximum tanning exposure. But it’s different here – it’s a city so
I am covering up purposefully so as not to attract any unwanted attention. I'm sure this will change as soon as I hit the beaches in the South. Or maybe this
is a turning point in my life – out go the rollers to make way for some
dreadlocks. Let’s see what Goa has in store for us…</span><o:p></o:p></span></div>
</div>
Miss Travellerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16155798908665931458noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5168703797314502580.post-24471425178405272242013-01-16T15:31:00.000-08:002013-01-17T14:44:09.459-08:00Pre-Travel Jitters: WHAT AM I GOING TO WEAR?!<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;">OK, let's get one thing straight. I do not pack lightly. Ever. If I'm going somewhere on a night out, I rock up with at least three outfits, <i>'just in case'</i>. I am the girl who took an extension lead on a camping trip to the countryside in the hope I'd find somewhere to plug in a CD player. And I never go anywhere without two of my most prized possessions - my heated rollers and my fake eyelashes. I would not call myself vain or high maintenance by any means - I admit that, without a decent spray tan, I do resemble a milk bottle and I can leave the house without looking like I'm going to a photo shoot. Being a Scouse girl, it is drummed into you from an early age to take pride in your appearance; undoubtedly, as those of you who have experienced a night out in the 'Pool have witnessed, some girls take this to the extreme. One cannot escape viewings of girls in Topshop wearing their rollers on a Saturday afternoon and, more recently, the appearance of the <i>'Scousebrow'</i> (Google it if you don't know what I mean). </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;">It's always been a dream of mine to travel the world - studying languages at university helped me to discover life beyond England and, after 3 years of doing a job that I knew wasn't for me, decided it was time for a change. Luckily enough, my boyfriend felt the same way, so we booked to head to India, South East Asia and Australia to start a new chapter in both of our lives. Anyway, my point is that when I decided to give up my job and the cosmetic comforts of home to embark on a life changing adventure across the world, a few questions popped to mind. First of all, how big was the biggest rucksack known to man? Where could I buy one? And lastly, how on earth do I pack for 18 months?? On my year abroad a few years back I moved to Paris and Valencia for 4 and 6 months respectively. That year I kept EasyJet and Ryanair in business with the amounts I paid in excess luggage. And I wasn't carrying that stuff on my back either. <b>Oh God, this was going to be a nightmare...</b></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;">Friends reassured me: <i>'You'll be fine, when you've got a tan you literally won't care what you're wearing. Everything will look good'</i>. For starters, how can walking shoes look good on anyone? (Although mine are quite snazzy - black and 'hot' pink!) And just 4 bikinis? Really? I had 10 originally, but according an article I read on <i>'What to take travelling'</i>, I had to be <i>'cruel to be kind'</i> and cut anything unnecessary. The author was obviously male. Anyway, after a dummy run packing, I realised my compact 60 litre pack was a <b>tad</b> on the small side. The sleeping bag barely fitted in, let alone my selection of tribal leggings and harem pants (None of this would be suitable to wear at home, but were impulse purchases with the mentality <i>'I'll <b>definitely</b> wear this travelling'</i>. We will see). I then had to seek out a larger model (I am forever in your debt Mr Blundell).</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;">Preparing to go travelling has given me an insight into what the world of a backpacker might be like - carefree and relaxed, going from place to place with nothing but the bag on your back and a mind full of memories. With so much stress in our daily lives, who wouldn't want a bit of that? So what if I haven't taken my Moroccan hair oil? In fact, dare I say it, I'm quite looking forward to going <i>'au naturel'</i> in terms of being fresh faced - I'm just not sure the other half is fully prepared to witness it everyday for the next 18 months!</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;">So, the bloody thing's packed now and I'm leaving it well and truly sealed until we get to Mumbai. I'll then worry about how to strategically fit everything in again; failing that, I might adopt some sort of donkey/carthorse to accompany me along the way....</span><br />
<br />Miss Travellerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16155798908665931458noreply@blogger.com1