This is my life

When you travel for an extended period of time, you do a surprising amount of mundane things.  When spending hours and hours on uncomfortable journeys or wondering when there will be a clean room with hot water again, you can forget why this travelling lark was such a great idea.  But then suddenly you realise that you are having one of those "Wow, this is my life and I'm living it!" moments.  Some are high-adrenalin but others are more contemplative.  As a conclusion to my trip, here are some of the selected highlights of when I sat back, grinned and thought... "Yes, this is why I'm here".

• Arriving into Istanbul by train, the Bosphorus glistening in the early morning sunshine.
• Exploring Syrrhus archeological site in northern Syria - just me, John, our driver and a French archaeologist
• The locals' hamam in Damascus -  the building was 800 years old and no English was spoken
• Enjoying the silence and solitude of the hiking trails of the Dana National Reserve in Jordan
• Spending an hour with the Sabyinyo gorilla family in Rwanda
• Serengeti Balloon ride, lying waiting for the balloon to tip upright and take off
• Driving through the early evening sunshine in the Serengeti, head out of the top of the jeep scanning the "endless plains"
• Helicopter ride (front seat) over Victoria Falls, Zimbabwe
• Okavango Delta, Botswana - being poled through the reeds on a hot day
• Listening to the lions roaring at night at the campsite waterhole in Etosha National Park, Namibia
• Standing at the Cape of Good Hope - the south-western most point of Africa and a long way from London
• Eating fresh fish and drinking cold beer all afternoon at the fish market in Maputo, Mozambique
• Attempting, and failing, to cross the Lowari pass (northern Pakistan) by jeep in the dark, due to landslides.
• Stepping off the side of the hill at Sarangkot to (tandem!) paraglide above Pokhara, Nepal
• Enjoying the majesty of the Himalayas, in particular the Annapurna mountain range from the viewpoint just below Poon Hill
• Lying in the meditation room at Sadhana Yoga, watching the paragliders against the deep blue sky
• Gazing at Mount Everest on the overland journey (Friendship Highway) from Kathmandu to Lhasa
• Idling away my time on Koh Rong island off the Cambodian coast.  Swim, eat, read, snooze, swim, read, eat, take a stroll, swim, beer, eat, play cards, sleep...
• The wind in my hair on the back of an Easy Rider motorbike for five days from Dalat to Danang, Vietnam
• Crossing the Gokteik Viaduct in northern Burma; standing at the open door at the end of the carriage
• Watching the sunset from the top of the ferry while travelling down the Irrawaddy River from Katha to Mandalay
• Pathein to Chaung Tha in Burma - sitting in the front seat of the bus watching chickens being  thrown up to an empty wicker basket
• Watching the leopardess teach her cubs to hunt a wild boar in Yala National Park, Sri Lanka
• Enjoying the view from Ella's Rock over the tea plantations in Ella, Sri Lanka after the long tough climb.
• Watching the fishermen haul in their catch on Uppuveli Beach (near Trincomalee, Sri Lanka), with a cold beer in hand

Idling Irrawaddy Days

“Arrive Wednesday 5pm” was as much English as the man at the ferry ticket office was willing to offer.  For $7 this seemed like a bargain.  Laden with our new blankets and plastic floor mats (local bamboo appears to have gone out of fashion and has been replaced by Thai imports), we boarded our ferry for the three day/two night “cruise” from Katha to Mandalay.  The first task at hand was to secure our spot on deck.  At first, the crew wanted to ignore our deck tickets and install us in a cabin but we insisted and were led up to the main deck.  The whole purpose of the trip was to live amongst the locals and watch the world go by on the banks of the Irrawaddy.  We hadn’t realised though, that as far as the locals were concerned, we were the entertainment…

These government ferries run several times a week.  An “express” had left that morning which would only take two days and one night but we were on the slow boat.  They carry passengers and a lot of produce along the Irrawaddy, on a route which is ill-served by buses or other forms of transport.  The ferry had spent all afternoon in port loading goods onto the lower deck.  One of the crew led us to the corner of the main deck and offered us a raised wooden frame.  With its excellent vantage point, we snapped it up and settled into our new home.  A lady soon came to see us and, with her small amount of English, informed us that she ran the kitchen selling rice and noodle dishes.  Perfect!

We had hoped to be the only foreigners on board but in the end were joined by two Germans, an Austrian and an Australian.  They were instructed to take up position on the floor near us.  It makes the staring game a lot easier if all the foreigners sit together…  As they were far less prepared than us, the captain’s wife went off and found some old mats for them to use.

We departed from Katha just after 5pm, in time to enjoy our first sunset on board.  We didn’t go far before we stopped to collect more people and goods and this carried on until the early hours, finally anchoring around 1am.  After a hearty meal of vegetable fried rice, we curled up in our sleep sheets and blankets.  We enjoyed some interaction with the locals, discussing where we were all going to and coming from, taking their photos and the local face paint “tanakha” was brought out for Lynn to try.  Our neighbours were two lovely giggling ladies and two very fashionable boys in their early twenties.  The boys would have fitted right in in Soho or the East Village: white jeans, blue jeans, skinny shorts with tartan rim, a selection of belts, ripped t-shirts, winklepicker boots... and the occasional longyi.  For the rest of the trip, they changed outfits at least five times a day. 

The thick blankets performed admirably in the cold of the night, so much so that we missed the loading of three large wooden benches and the arrival of a lot more people onto the main deck.  It didn’t take long in the morning for the locals to realise that these lovely wooden benches were a perfect viewing position in the “stare and laugh at the foreigners” game.  As everything we did caused great amusement, it seemed only right to provide as much entertainment as possible.  Rather than going and sitting in the kitchen area, I brought our breakfast of rice with nuts and tea leaf salad back to the bed along with a flask of tea.  Stepping up onto our bed and over the flask caused the audience to collapse in hysterics.

Although very misty, we set sail around 8.30am but by 10am we had stopped again.  We were beginning to fully understand why this was referred to as the slow boat.  To enjoy this journey, you really must be able to switch off from any sense of time and sit back and absorb the sights around you.  A few good books help too…

In the end the loading at this stop took four hours and the porters’ work was back-breaking.  A group of very lean men set about loading ~50 oil drums onto the bottom deck.  Each one required the guidance of two men down a wooden plank.  The oil drum was definitely in charge, the men there to do their best to guide the drum onto the ferry.  A huge thud was heard each time a drum landed on board.  A bamboo pole was then inserted into the two handles on top of the drum, placed onto the shoulders of two men and lifted into its storage position.  Hundreds of big bags of rice followed along with other sundries – bananas, wooden planks.  The sand on the bank deteriorated with each load and remedial work had to be continually carried out to prevent a landslide.  Fascinating viewing.

Late afternoon we stopped at a busy small town where some of our new friends left us.  As we pulled in alongside a very similar ferry, we spotted two fellow travellers, Kristiaan and Klaus, who we had met in Katha.  They had been due to remain in Katha for another couple of days but it turned out that an “express” had left that morning and they had both decided to jump on board.  We were a little amused that they had left only that morning and had still reached this town ahead of us.  We only unloaded a small amount of produce at this stop and were soon on our way again.  After a beautiful sunset and another vegetable fried rice for dinner (we had mimed for plain rice and vegetables…oh well), we were ready for bed at 6.05pm.  The boat continued to stop and load more produce and people until midnight.  Sometimes we would simply anchor in the middle of the river and a small boat would pull up alongside and pass over their produce.

The 2^nd night was much warmer than the first and we woke to a beautiful sunny morning.  The boat set off by 8am and we seemed to be making excellent progress.  This progress was suddenly halted mid morning when we had to stop and provide assistance to the “express” boat which had become stuck on a sandbank in the middle of the river.  The captains spoke for a couple of hours by radio and in the end we moved slowly around them, seemingly creating sufficient agitation in the water and sand to free them.  I will admit that it was a little upsetting to see them steam past us about an hour laterJ.  Kristiaan and Klaus waved.

We had been due to arrive into port in Mandalay that afternoon at around 5pm but it became clear as the afternoon progressed, and we continued to stop at every small village, that another night on board was likely.  Our friends (the fashion victims) told us that we would likely arrive into Mandalay at around 9am the next morning.  A brief “but I really need a shower*, preferably hot” moment was solved by watching sunset from the top of the boat.  Those foreigners without cosy blankets looked like they might cry whilst we smugly considered the extra cost benefit from another night of usage.

We were much reduced in passenger numbers by now as we had been unloading people all afternoon, often just onto a random section of isolated beach.  Come nightfall, the wooden benches reached their destination and our audience had to find new positions for monitoring our funny foreign habits.  There was quite a party atmosphere as everyone on our side of the boat had been together for several days.  A much quieter night ensued though as we were no longer loading people or goods.

Of course we didn’t arrive into Mandalay at 9am but at 1pm!  We donated our blankets and mats to those who looked like they needed them more than us and enjoyed one last meal from the kitchen.  With so much more room on deck, we played with the cook’s young children and some of the shyer teenagers suddenly discovered a love of posing for the camera.  After four days, it felt sad to disembark.  If you would like time to stand still for a short time, there is little better to recommend than the slow boat from Katha to Mandalay.  It is helpful in Burma to remember that for much of the country (unlike the developed cities of Rangoon and Mandalay), small scale agriculture is the way of life.  All you see along the banks of the river are farms and pagodas.  Boats of all shapes and sizes chug up and down the river, creating connections.

We decided to walk the hour into town to re-introduce a sense of exercise into our lives, slightly annoying the trishaw drivers at the port.  About halfway into town, a trishaw driver approached me to see if we needed a ride.  “No thank you,” I said, “we’re walking”.  “Have you just come off the Katha boat?” he asked, before cycling off laughing.  When we later bumped into Kristiaan for a beer, we were happy to discover that the “express” ferry had in fact only reach Mandalay one hour before we did!  Not so fast after all; exactly as it should be.

Irrawaddy photos

* I would like to note that whilst the foreigners may not have showered for four days, all the locals took a wash each day in the river using their longyi for discretion.

Irrawaddy / Ayeyarwaddy = same same

An accidental day trip to Kachin State

“It’ll be here in an hour – this is Myanmar!” the nice man had exclaimed when I wondered when our train might arrive.  I laughed, “It’s really not so different in England!”  We boarded the 4.30pm train from Mandalay to Katha just over an hour late.  Upper Class was not quite so “upper” on this train, which was a shame as the journey to Naba (for Katha) was overnight.  Nevertheless, in preparation for our ferry journey back to Mandalay, we had new blankets so warmth would not be an issue.  Despite the lack of reclining seats, we consoled ourselves by ordering from the menu: our dinner would be delivered directly to us in our seats (playing safe with vegetable fried rice).  We could even buy beer.

The experience was quite different to the ‘Mandalay – Hsipaw’ line.  The carriage was full of vendors moving up and down filling the air with the call for their wares, nuns were collecting alms and we no longer had an attentive conductor keen to ensure our comfort.  The train progressed very bumpily through the pitch black night – only an occasional farmer’s roaring fire was visible.  The uncomfortable nature of the seating meant that the night passed very slowly.  Finally sitting up at 6.50am (just before our scheduled arrival time), I figured we had at least another hour to go (due to the late departure) but maybe longer as the train had stopped for long periods in the night.  When I enquired of some of our fellow passengers, they said “Naba?  About another three hours”.

This train journey was supposed to be uneventful and simply the easiest way to travel to Katha.  Unlike the Hsipaw train, we would be travelling mainly in the dark.  However, an unheard of event (Myanmar Railways making up time) changed the course of our day.  It turned out that we had arrived at and left Naba earlier than planned.  The conductor had not thought to point this out (perhaps because, the night before, we had seen no reason why he should move us to inferior seats so that a man in black velvet flipflops could have ours).  I perhaps should have guessed some time later when one of the vendors on the train insisted on giving me a “Kachin State” breakfast – coconut rice steamed in a bamboo pole (yummie!).  After 60 years of conflict, the Kachin State army had signed a ceasefire with the Burmese government earlier in the week – we were not supposed to be in Kachin State*…

Weary with so little sleep, we ordered breakfast and went back to our books, very keen for the train journey to be over.  Finally, 3 ½ hours later, we were told that we had arrived at Naba and we should disembark.  Climbing down onto the platform, something seemed not quite right.  For a start, the station sign read “Namma”.  A keen motorbike driver wanted to take us somewhere for 1000 kyat but there were blank faces when we mentioned ‘bus’ & ‘Katha’.  No-one spoke much English but everyone wanted to help!  A lot of life takes place at railway stations and there were plenty of people milling around, not seemingly intending to travel anywhere.  We had just livened up their Sunday.

Our train now long departed, it was eventually understood that we wanted Naba, not Namma, and everyone pointed back in the direction from where we had come.  We were escorted to station master’s office, sat down in the VIP waiting area, and the situation explained.  The station master (who had a good smattering of English) scratched his head and went into his office to start making calls.  The local military guard (in a hoodie) looked at us in a bemused way.  It was beginning to dawn on us that we were over 3 hours into Kachin State, possibly four hours beyond our original destination.

Our original platform helpers hung around to stare and smile at the funny white people.  Suddenly, plates were brought in and a variety of nuts and sunflower seeds laid out for us!  The high school English teacher was summoned to the station to act as translator.  He said not to worry; the station master would sort everything out for us.  To be honest, we weren’t worried at all, we thought the whole thing really rather amusing.  I could see the anecdote unfolding before my eyes.  In the meantime, some cakes arrived for our pleasure.

Fortunately, one daytime stopping train goes back down from Myitkyina to Mandalay each day and it was due in 1 ½ hours.  There was an earlier express train that came through but they didn’t stop that for us J  I did wonder at one point!  The school teacher was very kind but did keep telling us that it was not safe for us to be there.  We were to remain in the VIP waiting area until the train arrived.  Word of our presence went round the village and one by one, the villages came to stare and giggle at us from the door.  As the school teacher told us, “You are very strange looking to them.  We never see foreigners here.”

Not unpredictably in Burma, our passports** were requested, but amusingly all they wrote down was: Rooney/Liverpool, Shaffer/Texas.  This led to the obligatory football conversation.  The military man then gave the school teacher questions to ask us to ascertain why we were here and did our “got off the train at the wrong stop” story add up.  Journalists and NGO workers are not well loved by the Burmese authorities.  I saw the school teacher write two questions down in the exercise book he was given.  He looked uncomfortable so I steered the conversation to answer the questions – “What was our purpose in Burma?”, “Where are their cases?”  Efficiently, we had left our main rucksacks in Mandalay as they would be superfluous on the ferry.  As such, we were only carrying a small day pack each and two very large blanket bags!

We pulled out our itinerary (scribbled on a sheet of paper) and Burma guide book.  The station master took the guide book away and took a long look through – we were never sure if this was simple curiosity or if he was looking for something more sinister?!  Our military friend watched over his shoulder.  We discussed our route around Burma and in the end this all seemed enough to convince them that we were simply travellers trying to get to Katha.

Afterwards, the military guard gave the school teacher permission to take us outside the train station into the village’s main square.  Hearing of our plight, one of the food vendors had decided that she would like to meet us and present us with some complimentary special Kachin State food: she cooked us up some banana fritters and fried dough rings with a molasses sauce on the side.  We took them back to the waiting room to enjoy on the train (due any minute now).

The lovely school teacher remained with us, occasionally shaking his head and telling us that it was not safe for us to travel in this region.  I asked if he was able to travel around the area (his home town was 10 miles away) but in the presence of the military guard, I had obviously asked the wrong question.  He lowered his eyes and we quickly changed the subject.  An hour late, the “down” train arrived.  Shortly before it arrived, our military man disappeared, changed out of his hoodie and reappeared on the platform in his full uniform carrying a large gun.  Along with four more junior soldiers, they stood on each side of the track awaiting the train.  We wondered if this happened for all trains but realised that we hadn’t seen this when our original train had arrived.

As the train pulled in, we were requested to remain in the VIP seating area whilst the station master went off to view our seats and speak to the conductor (we were not charged a new fare).  We were happy to travel back in standard class (hard upright wooden seats) but the station master deemed this unsuitable for foreigners and secured the last two Upper Class seats for us (nice reclining airline seats again).  As we were escorted onto the train, a prisoner was escorted off the train by the five armed military guards.

There was no way we would be allowed to miss our station again and so four hours later when we arrived back into Naba, the friendly conductor came to make sure that we did indeed disembark.  He enjoyed telling the story to a few of the local passengers and they all laughed heartily at our expense.  We smiled and shrugged our shoulders as we waved goodbye.  Once off the train at the right stop, travelling to Katha is really easy peasy.  A bus awaits each train and for a few pence, it transports you the 16 miles to Katha in a just under an hour!  We arrived in the dark and once we had picked from the two guesthouses in Katha which accept foreigners, there was nothing to do but enjoy beer and noodles from the night market.  All the locals were very excited about the big game on TV that evening (Arsenal vs Man Utd) but we simply needed a very good night’s sleep.

Katha itself is a very sleepy place.  It has no internet connection and sees maybe 20-30 tourists each week in the high season.  Life revolves around the markets and the arrivals and departures of the government ferries which come and go various times each week.  To foreigners, it is most famous as being the place where George Orwell was stationed with the British army and on which he based his book ‘Burmese Days’.  The following morning, we wandered around and checked out old the British Officer’s Club, the Tennis Club next door and what we think was Joss’ house.

After this quick tour, we purchased floor mats for the ferry as we had heard that it gets very cold sleeping on the deck.  Added to the lovely big blankets we had bought in Mandalay, we predicted that we would be toasty!  Shopping completed, we retired to a riverside beer station to while away the time until the ferry’s departure at 5pm.  We had an excellent vantage point for watching the locals come to bathe in their longyis in the river and the water taxis load and unload continual streams of passengers and motorbikes.

Finally the loading of our ferry was complete, we were nicely relaxed and it was time to drift off down river.

* Tourists are allowed to travel by train into the Kachin State, but only to disembark at Myitkyina (approx another six hours from Namma).  Once you arrive in Myitkina, you are forbidden to travel on anywhere else and buses will not let you board.  The only way back out is the long train journey back to Katha/Mandalay!

** In Burma, each foreigner has to be registered each evening at the local immigration service.  Only licensed hotels can accept foreigners and they must send over an updated guest list each night.

The “131 Up”: Mandalay to Hsipaw

The 3am wake-up was brutal.  It felt even worse when we realised that the hotel had not booked us a taxi to the train station as requested.  The night porter suggested we walk a couple of blocks and we would find one.  Really?  At 3.15am?  Inevitably we ended up walking the 30 minutes to the station through the empty streets of Mandalay.

As we got closer to the station, we started to see signs of life.  What is less visible during waking hours is just how many people live on the streets on the ramp leading up to the station and on the station platforms themselves.  During the day, this is camouflaged by market vendors outside the station and travellers on the platforms.

We boarded our train and in no time were buying onion and potato bhajis through the window of our “Upper Class” carriage.  The carriage was fairly comfortable and kitted out with business class seats from a long-ago refitted aircraft.  The reclining seats still had the foot rests attached to the back and the trays in the arms.  Despite the bad press for Myanmar Railways departure times, the "131 Up" left Mandalay just after 4am, heading out into the darkness.  Our carriage was very quiet as all the locals curled up on the seats under the blankets they had thoughtfully brought with them.  As the windows were all open, it was chilly.  Just before departure a 40 year old monk jumped on board and couldn’t resist the idea of sitting next to me for a chat.

While the rest of the carriage slept, he talked to us about his 15 years in a monastery in Thailand and then read our palms (I’m guaranteed a long life apparently).  As Lynn drifted off to sleep in the seat opposite, the monk informed me of his preference for foreign women over Burmese women.  I might have felt more disposed towards him if he hadn’t stood up every ten minutes to lean over me and spit red betel juice out of the window.  I was keen now to enjoy a little snooze myself but first I had to make clear to my new friend that he couldn’t curl up on my shoulder to go to sleep.

At 8am we pulled into Pyin Oo Lwin (an old British hill station), our monk said his farewells and there was an influx of eight foreigners of varying nationalities (8am being a far more civilised time to join a train!).  We munched on the delicious red rice and chick pea stew that a silent monk had presented to us whilst contemplating the day ahead and the crossing of the Gokteik Viaduct.  The train line we were on was built by the British a long time ago.  When faced with an impossible valley to cross, they simply commissioned the Pennsylvanian Steel Company to build the world’s second highest railway viaduct.  Built in 1901, this viaduct has remained in service ever since despite having only received some “remedial work” in the 1990s.  I think that the good people of Pennsylvania can be very proud at this feat of engineering.

We made our way slowly up through the glorious countryside, enjoying the life along the tracks: the endless neat vegetable patches, the golden wheat fields, the pagodas and the children waving as the train went by…  This is the slow life: the 131 miles from Mandalay to Hsipaw takes a leisurely 12 hours.  With all the windows open and the sun beating down, you can still work on your tan whilst enjoying the gentle breeze.  The train does rock a lot and you do wonder if you are going to get thrown off the track but in the end, you just get thrown out of your seat from time to time!  The answer is to just relax and enjoy the slightly fairground nature of the journey.

The train conductor was very proud of the Upper Class carriage and kept it spotless as passengers came and went.  This is a man in tune with his foreign passengers – they are on this train to cross the Gokteik Viaduct.  For the ten to fifteen minutes before arriving at the Gokteik Viaduct, you start to get glimpses of this magnificent structure and I will admit that it does look ever so fragile!  The train pulls into Gokteik station before the crossing in order to change gear.  During the stop, you are encouraged to jump down from the train to take a good look and a few photos.  Our conductor positively insisted that we go through this rite of passage.  Shortly afterwards, we started to crawl across.  We, the foreigners, were captivated whilst the locals mainly read their books or slept.  The conductor gestured to me to follow him and he lead me to the end of the carriage where I could stand at the open door and look straight down – I held on very tight!  This is a truly awesome experience – in the original, not the over-used - sense of the word.  I sat back smiling for the rest of our journey to Hsipaw.

Hsipaw is a small dusty town from where you can trek up to various Palaung villages.  With rented bikes for a day, we roamed around town and then in the mid afternoon headed up to the Sunset Hill to read our books and enjoy the view and the silence.  A monastery lies at the top and shortly after we arrived, a monk came out to see us with a visitor’s book.  We filled in our details but as he walked away, he suddenly spun around: “Rooney?! Manchester United?”  “No, Liverpool!”  He walked away tickled but appeared again ten minutes later with a flask of tea and some glasses.

The next day we trekked up the Palaung village of Pankam with our guide “Mr Bean”.  Here, we stayed with a family in a long house, were invited in for tea by another family, read our books at sunset under the Banyan tree (my Aung Sang Suu Kyi book caused Mr Bean much bafflement) and enjoyed the scandal of a night wedding between a young girl and a previously married man.

Before we knew it, we were back in Hsipaw.  It was early morning again and we were setting off by train to complete the return journey over the Gokteik Viaduct…

Facebook photos - Gokteik Viaduct

Facebook photos - Pankam Village

Forty Eight Hours in Burma

A handful of observations about Burma, acquired in my first 48 hours:

• Despite the Western media portrayal, Burma feel s fairly developed.  I was expecting Kathmandu, not six lane highways and clean streets.
• There are no motorbikes in Rangoon (Yangon)… begging the question, is this really Asia? Normal moto service is resumed in Mandalay.
• Cars drive on the right but so many of the steering wheels are also on the right… car manufacturing has never caught up with the 1970s overnight road lane switch.
• In the middle of roads and roundabouts, there is manicured foliage.
• 75% of all cars are white*
• Your man on the street does not have a mobile phone… unheard of in even the poorest African country.  SIMs are available for $500-1000. If you get caught out and about and need to make a call, ladies sit with landline phones by the side of the road.
• Dagon Extra Strong contains 8% alcohol.  I may stick to the Myanmar draft else risk becoming far too animated.
• Street food rocks; particularly those little butter nutty pancakes, hot out of the pan…
• I’m legally allowed to go to Hsipaw on the train via the Gokteik Viaduct.  My train hero, Paul Theroux, managed it in 1975 but only with a soldier escort and on the sly.
• When you turn on the sink tap, water comes out of a hole in the wall onto the floor… ok maybe that’s just our hotel J
• Burma is proving to be a very friendly place.  Parents encourage their young children to stop what they are doing to say hello to us.  Teenagers think we are hilarious and post-hello, disappear off giggling.
• When away from the tourist streets, everyone has a smile and a hello for us.  One man walking past simply said “Thank you”.

* Source: Cath Statistics Ltd

The Dangers of Hoi An

This entry was to be called “Vietnamese Efficiency” but I am writing this from a delayed train J  In defence of the Vietnamese Railways, this is the first of five long distance trains which has left late, and it may yet make up the lost 40 minutes.  The other journeys (9-16 hours) arrived spot on time, or even early.  For all the pick-ups and drop offs we have required throughout Vietnam, everything has gone to plan.

Vietnamese trains have carried me all the way up to 3km short of the Chinese border (Lao Cai for Sapa) and are now whizzing me past empty rice fields back to Saigon.  So many of the countries I have visited this year have been having unseasonal weather (rain during dry season, monsoons carrying on a month beyond normal etc…) and Vietnam has been no exception.  Whilst luck has most definitely not been on our side, we have “enjoyed” thoroughly awful weather!  The phrases “I think it might be brightening up…”, “I see some blue over there in the distance…” have been heard one too many times.

Our schedule has been go-go-go.  From Kep in Cambodia to Phu Quoc island, then up through the Mekong Delta via a home stay in Can Tho and then the craziness of Saigon.  From here to Dalat followed by a five day motorbike journey from Dalat to Danang.  Train up to Hanoi, continuing up to Sapa for Christmas, back to Hanoi and out to Halong Bay before another overnight train bringing us to the Imperial City of Hue and then our New Year four day “low cost chill out” near the beach in the sleepy old-world village of Hoi An.

With the beach only 6km away by £1-a-day bike hire, we dreamed of happy days reading on the pristine sand with the occasional dip into the clear blue ocean… but then the rain started.  This is when life became dangerous for the budget.  There are not too many things to in Hoi An in the rain, apart from… shopping (and cookery courses).  Between personal tailoring, art, and silk lanterns, there are sufficient opportunities to put a severe dent in a girl’s budget.  As this is high season in Vietnam, our train sleepers to Saigon were already booked and couldn’t be changed.  We caved into the dangers of Hoi An.

Three days and six fittings later, I had three new dresses, a pair of trousers and a shirt (at a very reasonable price, thank you J ).  In addition to this rucksack-refresh, I had acquired two leaf paintings and an un-confess-able number of silk lanterns of all shapes, sizes and colours.  As the rucksack needing packing again shortly, a trip to the Post Office was looming.  A recce trip suggested that three month seamail option was surprisingly affordable.

With time to kill on our last morning, we donned our rain coats and boots and headed downstairs to brave the torrential downpour and head up to the Post Office.  For the first time, the hotel manager proved useful and not intent on over-charging us for a service.  If we would like to sit down and wait five minutes, she would call and ask the Post Office staff to come to the hotel and arrange our packages… at no extra cost!  We didn’t quite believe it but sat down and waited.

Quite literally five minutes later, two ladies arrived on a moped, carrying a selection of free boxes and a blue bag with all the requirements for a mini-Post Office.  The blue VNPT rain coat helped to give them away!  Taking a quick look at our purchases they set to work creating boxes in the right shape and size whilst we busied ourselves with the paperwork.  They had a dizzying array of tape guns with them – brown tape to cover the box, blue VNPT-branded tape for the edges and clear tape to cover the address labels.  The magic blue bag also contained a set of metal weighing scales… all very Mary Poppins.

Before long we had paid (they had even brought change in both dollars and dong…) and the two ladies were reloading everything onto their moped (never underestimate what the Vietnamese will load onto their bikes) and our flying Post Office had left.  We sat, slightly bemused, wondering how we would spend the morning now that our main errand had been dealt with so efficiently.  We idled with our books, wallets locked away, not trusting ourselves to venture onto the streets of Hoi An again.  Our boxes had sailed.

"Service with a smile": that'll be my box on the lady's knees at the back...  Lynn's at the front, with the magic blue bag on top of it.

The Art of Idleness

I’m not very good at being idle but it seems like a skill that should be relatively easy to acquire during a year-long sabbatical.  However, nine months in, I realized that I really hadn't spent much time doing “nothing”.  If not engaged in travelling (due to the amount of “bumping” involved in journeying in developing countries, this cannot be considered idle time!) or fitting in lots of sightseeing and activities then one is usually planning ahead and working out where to go next, how to get there, where to stay, how long to stay, what to do and how to do it.  Even when seemingly doing ‘nothing’, my brain is working on a mental to-do list and generally trying to find the answers to the meaning of life (all of them, all at once).

The Oxford English Dictionary gives a couple of good descriptions of ‘idleness’:

“Idleness – a state of inaction; inactivity”

“Idleness – characterized by inaction or absence of significant activity”

I quite like the second one – “significant” being the operative word.  It also offers “laziness; indolence” but I find these to be far too judgemental and derogatory.  In our busier and busier lives, “idleness” seems like a luxury, but one which could allow us to regain control for short periods of time and give the poor old brain a welcome rest.  If meditation isn’t my thing then maybe selective ‘idleness’ can be.

In the beautiful, laid-back and friendly environment of Cambodia, it seemed time to give this a go.  The project started in Sihanoukville but really came into its own on a paradise-style island called Koh Rong.  In my beach bungalow in Sihanoukville, I set myself the task of not doing anything all day (apart from eat and read) and, more significantly, not to feel any guilt.  The experiment went pretty well (the laptop remained largely turned off) but as I didn’t actually like Sihanoukville (some great views but utterly lacking in charm), it wasn’t the place to continue putting the theory into practice.

Koh Rong is an island 30 miles off the coast of Cambodia and takes 2-3 hours by boat, depending on the weather.  It is a small island with a handful of villages, and in the main village there are about 75 local families.  Koh Rong has only had tourist development on it for a couple of years and the four “resorts” are small low- keys affairs aimed at the lower end of the market (bungalows from $15-$45 dollars).  One boat runs back and forwards to the mainland each day, weather depending.  If you arrive without a room reservation and everything is full, there is no way back that day but a couple of enterprising locals have basic guesthouses or one of the expats might find you an unfinished building to sleep in.

Idling seemed to come very naturally for me at Monkey Island resort and my experiment made great strides forward.  I sacrificed an “en-suite” bathroom for a sea front bungalow so that I could lie in my hammock and watch the sea and sky unimpeded by man-made structures.  Life is simple on the island.  There is no mains electricity and the resort’s generator only comes on for lights from dusk until midnight (they use a car battery during the day for the bar/restaurant, recharged in the evening).  With no fan or aircon, you don’t linger long in bed after sunrise and so I quickly settled into a routine beginning with an early morning swim followed by some quality time in my hammock before heading off the 20m to the restaurant for breakfast.

The gentle rhythm of the rest of the day involved mainly swimming, reading, gazing, snoozing, eating (repeatedly, in a variety of orders) as well as watching the local entertainment. In the mornings, the local children would scamper around in the water laughing and splashing and then in the afternoon, a little black dog would practice his favourite game of winding up the water buffalo, resulting in the odd chase up the beach.

I had attempted to idle elsewhere but in the end I concluded that it was easy to idle on the island as the conditions were just right:

1.       Everyone around you is also living in a relaxed manner

2.       The limited decisions required were only based on a couple of options: “Stripy t-shirt or blue sundress over my bikini?”, “Daily squid special or vegetable curry?”, “Breakfast now or swim first?”, “Fresh lime juice or a beer?”, “Stroll to the other lovely beach or just stay here?”, “Read book or gaze out at the view?”

3.       Everything is padlock-able (every traveller worth their salt has an assortment of combination padlocks) and so there is no need to carry a key.

4.       No electricity means no wifi and so any random thoughts worth capturing were jotted down with old-fashioned pen and paper and put aside to be used at a later date (i.e. now)

I enjoyed watching the new backpackers arrive off the boat each afternoon, from the comfort of my hammock.  They would stop along the beach and shake their heads in wonder, gazing at the paradise they had chosen. Often, the water buffalo would be taking his afternoon bathe.  The only thing to do when you arrive is to throw your cossie on and sprint into the clear blue, shallow warm water.  Once they had finished their swims, I would head into the water for my sunset hour bathe.  I don’t think I’ve spent so long in the water since France in early 90s.

In my four days on the Koh Rong, I did manage a challenging jungle hike/climb to the other side of the island to the reward of a magnificent empty beach and a water taxi home.  And, whilst my brain may have been idle of any daily concerns, I have been working my way through this year’s Man Booker short list.  This intellectual pursuit feels like utter luxury and fitted perfectly into the idleness agenda.  With only “The Sisters Brothers” left on the list, I concur with the judges; Julian Barnes' “The Sense of an Ending” is still my favourite.

Returning to the mainland, I worked my way down the coast via Kampot to an eco-retreat/organic farm up among the pepper farms near Kep.  There is plenty to do and see in this area and so it was time for a new type of idling: integrating it into days that also contained significant activity.  Many of the people who come out to the Vine Retreat are expats looking to escape the craziness of Phnom Penh (they quickly become repeat customers).  Whilst I’ve been here, there has been a fascinating mix of people: short & long term travellers, Phnom Penh expats and local NGO workers.  Whilst lying by the pool, I often hear day visitors exclaiming from the balcony, “ooh, c’est magnifique…”.

I instantly felt at home here.  I think that there is something very comforting about leaving your shoes outside on the rack with everyone else’s (guests & staff) and wandering around barefoot.  There are eight simple guest rooms (excellent mattresses and sheets) and two floors full of places to sit and relax – you can choose from the long communal table, hammocks, floor cushions and, my personal favourite, the raised cushioned benches along the outside of the balcony.  These overlook the garden and swimming pool, as well as the local pepper farms and hills, and on a clear day, Vietnam.  While having an aperitif with your book, the resident cat might come and curl up on your lap.

I seem to need time and space for idling and lots of natural light and fresh air.  These are in plentiful supply at the Vine Retreat and again, there is a pleasing lack of choice!  In the evening, you can have their daily set menu (sourced from their organic vegetable garden and fruit trees) and so the only question is, what time would you like it?  It obviously helps that the incredibly friendly staff make your bed every day, serve you lovely healthy food and often pop by with a glass of water and an encouraging word.

Here I have managed to fit in a day trip to Kampot, a visit to the local village & NGO, a tour of the farm and pepper plantation, a good early morning hike up a local hill in addition to hours of interesting conversation with other guests, dips in the pool and yet more reading.  If I make tentative plans then they inevitably change as I go with the flow and take the opportunities that present themselves.  I haven’t felt guilty in days.

So, what is the point of all this idling and have I mastered it?  I’ve definitely improved!  It’s good for the spirit.  If achievable in spurts in a busy city lifestyle, then it has the potential to hand back control.  I think I might need a hammock in London…

Idling photos:

Koh Rong

The Vine Retreat

Want to know more about idling?  I recently enjoyed Tom Hodgkinson’s book “How to be Idle” which is described as:

“an antidote to the work-obsessed culture which puts so many obstacles between ourselves and our dreams. Hodgkinson presents us with a laid-back argument for a new contract between routine and chaos, an argument for experiencing life to the full and living in the moment”.  

Dodging torrential downpours

From Kathmandu, I was due to fly to Bangkok, visit Maria (fellow African trucker) and then the vague plan was to head north by train and work my way to Luang Prabang (Laos) via the slow boat.  These plans were however rendered useless by the floods in Bangkok.  This became apparent on the Wednesday I arrived in Lhasa but as I had booked my flight with Nepal Airlines and it was Diwali and then Saturday (non-working day in Nepal), changing the ticket with the Nepali travel agent took a lot longer than expected.  Finally on Sunday afternoon my Monday flight was changed and my new destination was Kuala Lumpur on an overnight flight.

It felt time to leave Nepal.  After the freezing temperatures in Tibet and the subsequent chilly weather in Nagarkot (lovely place 1 ½ hours outside Kathmandu), it was time to find some warmth, guaranteed hot showers and clean toilets.  After a chaotic check-in (everyone tells you to avoid Nepal Airlines – more for the disorganisation rather than any safety problems – but they are half the price of Thai Air!), Nepal Airlines came up trumps and upgraded me to business class.

Landing into Kuala Lumpur was like entering a forgotten universe – air conditioning, clean toilets, road lane markings…  I am a city girl at heart and enjoyed my two days in KL wandering around, indulging in a little clothing and nice toiletry shopping and varying my diet to include properly cooked pasta and eggs Benedict.  I rode the monorail and prepared to head off to Penang by train.  The weather was most definitely a lot warmer (and humid) but as it is monsoon season here, every afternoon was livened up by a big thunderstorm.  I’ve always loved a good thunderstorm (these competed well with hols in the Dordogne in the 1980s) and enjoyed my first KL one whilst having afternoon tea on a covered outdoor terrace.

A very uneventful 7 ½ hour train journey took me from KL to Butterworth.  From the train station you can walk directly to the ferry which will take you to Georgetown, Penang for the pricely sum of 25p.  The ferries run every 10 mins or so and take no time at all.  In the end I stayed for five days in Penang pottering around the old town looking into all the workshops, visiting the Cheong Fatt Tze mansion and jumping on the bus up to the beach at Batu Ferringhi.  I did do a cookery course (#1 thing to do on Trip Advisor, chef had made TV appearances..) which I looked forward to telling you all about.  Alas, it was largely underwhelming and so there is little to recount.  The weather precluded much else and there is a limit to how many shopping centres a girl wants to visit.

A three hour ferry carried me up to Langkawi Island to laze by the beach for a few days.  After day one, the weather was generally kind to me and I enjoyed some long sunny days reading by the sea & the pool as well as doing a little island hopping.  I found a fab spot at Frangipani Beach to sip a Tiger beer and watch the sun set.  Whilst lovely, my budget on Langkawi couldn’t afford me a dreamy bungalow on a beach and so it seemed like time to move on.

Singapore had never been on the agenda but the flight times and prices to Siem Reap with Silk Air made the most sense and so I decided to spend two days in the “clean” city.  I will admit to a few prejudices before arriving – that it would be too clean and boring.  I’m happy to admit that I warmed to Singapore very much and took advantage of being in a big city by going to the National Museum, both the cinema and theatre (Indian dance performance) and partaking in a very pleasant Tanqueray Ten Sling at the Long Bar at Raffles.  

Have to dash, boarding for my flight to Siem Reap is being called.  Angkor Wat awaits…

Seven days in Tibet

If you need a little recap of your Tibetan history, here are a few (admittedly biased) pointers.  The Chinese attacked and “liberated” Tibet in 1950.  Tibet ultimately suffered from its own introspective nature and failed to find any help from the outside world.  Many Tibetans subsquently fled in 1959 following a failed uprising.  Fearing kidnap, the 14^th Dalai Lama also fled at this time, and along with the exiled government, is now based in India in Dharamshala.  In the years following, many monasteries were shut down (some were later re-opened).  These monasteries now function under tight political control and exist largely for tourism.  Following the unrest in 2008, many monks were killed or arrested and so their numbers are dramatically down.  Chinese permission must be sought for any monk to enter an order.

Being so close to Tibet seemed too good an opportunity to pass up, even if, in some regards, entering Tibet from Nepal rather than via China is pretty restrictive.  To travel to Tibet from Nepal, you must join a group and be accompanied at all times by a guide.  The entry requirements change quite regularly depending on how paranoid the Chinese are feeling.  Travelling to Tibet either from Nepal or China requires a special TAR (Tibet Autonomous Region) permit.  There is no such thing as independent travel and foreigners are banned from public buses.

Lots of travel agencies in Kathmandu sell trips to Tibet.  They all take a similar form – five days driving and then 2 ½ days in Lhasa before either flying or driving back to Kathmandu.  This is the classic overland route along the Friendship Highway.  When booking such a trip, you should definitely bear in mind the Lonely Planet warning that your guide will be “pretty useless” and that if you think you have booked a jeep rather than a bus or a single supplement, you should expect to be disappointed!  My expectations were therefore set before I booked and my travel agent was honest about the bus and that the first two nights’ accommodation would be “very basic”.  I was travelling for the scenery, remoteness and the sense of mystery.

The night before the trip started, my passport was returned to me (phew!), along with a photocopy of my new Tibet visa (the real entry and exit visas was handed over the next day so that everyone had less time to lose them before we got to the border).  I had been told a couple of days before that there would be 25 people in the group.  Essentially all the tour agencies pool their clients together and all trips leave either on a Tuesday or Saturday.  Arriving at the bus the next morning, this number had increased to 37 people and therefore two buses.  After the beautiful journey to the border, we learned that actually, there would be sixty of us in total and two larger more comfortable buses on the Chinese side to collect us.  It says a lot about some of the journeys I had made in Nepal that I actually thought that the bus for the Nepal side of the journey was pretty comfy!

As soon as you cross the border you see the greater wealth of the Chinese.  On the Nepal side, immigration is somewhat chaotic and old but as soon as you get across, there are armed border guards and a shiny immigration building.  Suddenly you are assigned a number (from your group visa – I was no 11) and everything is conducted in order.  Not such an easy task with sixty people who don’t know each other.  We never did work out who the ever delaying number 8 was…  The main aim of the customs checks appears to be to find pro-Tibetan literature and any photos of the current Dalai Lama.  My Lonely Planet was conveniently hidden on Kindle but a few others had their hard copies investigated, flicked through and returned (I later heard that others flying into Lhasa had theirs confiscated).  It is intriguing (and decidedly disappointing) that the Chinese refuse to put any mention of your Tibet trip into your passport.  Would I be travelling incognito in China?  I think not J  Army controls continued daily all the way to Lhasa.

At the border, we were amazed to see some of the packages that were being carried across.  Men and women were waiting to carry up to 100kg parcels across the border (China to Nepal).  The lorries don’t attempt to cross (the road on the Nepal side is not wide enough to handle them) and so each parcel (maybe 350 woolen sweaters for example) is stood up (this takes three men) and, using a head strap, someone then loads it onto their back and crosses through customs to deliver them to someone on the other side.  I can’t imagine these (mainly women) are paid very much for this back breaking work.

Once out of customs, two buses were supposed to be waiting for the 60 of us but only one was available and so, after some delay, the rest of us were sent ten minutes up the road in taxis.  We then hung around in cold for an hour until the one bus appeared with our black shell suit and shade wearing Chinese guide (I never did find out what the one bus did for an hour…).  After a bite to eat, we again waited for more taxis to be arranged to transport us to our first overnight stop of Nyalam.  It should have been a beautiful 1 ½ hour journey but sadly, due to the transport disorganisation, we ended up making it mainly in the dark.  The guesthouse definitely lived up to its “basic” description with grim toilets and no showers.  The four bed dorm rooms were actually fine but my word they were freezing (rumour was -7C).  I was glad of my thermals and sleeping bag!

One of the very strange things about crossing the border is that your clock moves forward 2 ¼ hours.  The time in Tibet is very unnaturally aligned to Beijing time (around 4,000km away) , making for very strange sunrise and sunset times.  The sun rises very late and the heat of the afternoon sun continues well into what we would expect to be the balmy end of the afternoon.

The next morning marked the start of a big day and we were due to set off at 10am (far too late in everyone’s opinion apart from the guide).  Sadly, bus number two had still not appeared.  Cutting costs, the agents had sent it on an extra journey to the border and so we didn’t start our long day of driving until after 11am.  It was really at this point that we realised that we had absolutely no recourse to anybody and that all complaints would go unheard.  You have to show some respect to our guide for his ability to shrug his shoulders and look “not bothered” regardless of the complainant and the nature/justification of their complaint.

This was not however to detract from the main highlight of the day – various views of Mount Everest.  The weather was very much on our side – bright crisp blue (as it remained throughout our journey).  We reached some heady altitude heights this day – crossing passes three passes above 5,000m, the highest being 5,150m at Tong La Pass.  Many people were really feeling the altitude this day but I seemed to manage fine (no racing up hills!) and never suffered more than a couple of easily remedied headaches and a little breathlessness climbing stairs.  Keep hydrated and eat light meals seems to be the best advice.  I’m really not convinced about the need to take Diamox.  It surely isn’t good for you to take a drug which speeds up the heart…  If you give the body time, it is perfectly capable of learning to cope with the reduction of oxygen in the air.

I did enjoy gazing at Mount Everest although at first I was definitely looking at the wrong mountain… our guide wasn’t very clear.  I actually thought that the mountain that I chose as Everest was in many ways more impressive but maybe that was simply a perspective thing from our first viewing point.  Our best view all day was from the town where we ate lunch, Tingri.  If you walk away from the main strip then there is a lovely peaceful view of the mountain range which is perfect for photo opportunities.  And so from here onto our second “basic” overnight stop in Lhatse.  Hilariously, Torunn (Norwegian girl who had coincidentally also been at Sadhana at the same time as me), scored us an amazing “upgrade” – a room with only twin beds (not four) and with duvets, soft pillows and that classic hotel “white striped” bedding.  We apologised to everyone else about our good fortune and let them come and use our ensuite J (still had freezing water though!).  I farmed out my warm sleeping bag and silk liner to a needy cause.

Day three was a relatively short drive and we arrived at our hotel in Shigatse before midday.  Shigatse is famous for the Tashilumpo Monastery which was founded in the 1400s and is the traditional seat of successive Pachen Lamas (Tibetan religious leader, second behind the Dalai Lama who is the head of state).  During the visit, it was forbidden to ask any questions about the 11^th Pachen Lama.  The one chosen by the 14^th Dalai Lama “disappeared” with his family and the Chinese selected their own, who resides in Beijing and is never seen.  Sshhh, you never know who might be listening…

Again, day four was a short drive to Gyantse.  It should have taken about 90 minutes but our shell suit guide and cowboy bus driver managed to draw it out to three hours.  The journey was very attractive - brown hills looming large over the golden fields where wheat and barley had just been harvested.  Gyantse offered us lovely tree lined streets through the old town (the leaves were turning golden and dropping) and the famous Kumbum monastery.

As you drive through Tibet, it is starkly apparent what a tough life the people lead.  This is a very remote part of the world and, the odd sparkly Chinese building aside, people live very simply alongside their animals.  Based on the level of hygiene on view, these are hardy folk.  Having read “Seven Years in Tibet” whilst trekking in Nepal, my appreciation increased as I began to visualise the epic journey through such unforgiving terrain.  The Tibetan people are clearly battling hard to maintain some religious freedom, continuing to make pilgrimages to their monasteries and temples and hang up their prayer flags.

A long day on day five took us up over the Kharola Pass (5,010m), around the magnificent Yamdrok Lake, arriving into Lhasa, the highest inhabited plateau on earth, at the end of the afternoon.  Lhasa itself is now unrecognisable from the world that Heinrich Harrer described in “Seven Years in Tibet”.  Very much a Chinese city, the population has risen from 20-30,000 to 500,000 people (for the most part, not Tibetans).  There are fast highways, wide featureless avenues and electronics shops abound.  Armed police and soldiers stand patrol on every corner, ready to quell any discontent, not least in the square in front of the Jokhang Temple.

Nevertheless, Lhasa is a wonderful place and if you focus on the old town, you can watch a more traditional way of life and enjoy views of the Potala as, from that angle, it still rises majestically above the city.  Just ignore all the semi-automatic weapons on display.  The Potala Palace is a truly magnificent structure and fascinating to visit.  My particular highlights in Lhasa were watching the monks debating at the Sera Monastery (slapping their hands to make a point and alternating between whole hearted laughter and seriousness) and looking out at the Potala Palace and Barkhor Square from the Jokhang Temple.

Overall, from a comfort point of view, my expectations were generally exceeded (they had been set very low!).  Things improved every day until everything was very comfortable in Lhasa, staying at the Trichang Labrang hotel.  This former residence of the 14^th Dalai Lama’s tutor has been beautifully restored.  The food throughout was reasonable (fried rice, chowmein, noodle soup) and although I generally didn’t trust the meat, I was a convert to the yak burger in Lhasa!  It did seem a struggle to get fresh vegetables but there was plenty of fruit to buy in the streets.  After the first two nights, the standard of hotel was pretty good – especially considering what a budget trip we were on.

Flying out of Lhasa back to Kathmandu was very special indeed and, from my window seat, provided continual views of the Himalayas on the very close horizon.  I was number 11 for the last time as our exit visas were taken away, theoretically removing all formal written trace of the visit.

So, should you go?  Absolutely!  Tibet is a wonderful place and the scenery spectacular.  There is clearly a rich history to be explored.  If you are travelling from Nepal and want to travel by jeep (more comfortable than a bus and more flexible than having to move around in a group of 60!), then make sure that your trip doesn’t leave Kathmandu on a Tuesday or Saturday.  That way you shouldn’t end up on the “throw them all together” trip with useless guide.  If you want the budget trip like me then shop around in Kathmandu and find the cheapest package (mine was $365 for the trip, $85 for the visa  and then the cost of the flight) as no matter what you pay, there is only one type of bus and one type of shared hotel room.  The alternative is to fly into Beijing and take the world’s highest railway – 48 hours to Lhasa by comfortable train.  Having said that, I’m not sure I would have wanted to miss either the overland journey and its scenery, or the flight back to Kathmandu from Lhasa over the Himalayan mountain range.  Maybe I’ll just have to go again one day… and visit a free Tibet?

Photos from Tibet

Itinerary:

Day1: Drive to Nepal/Tibet border.  Continue to Nyalam.  Sleep at 3,700m

Day2: Nyalam to Lhatse, lunch in Tingri (~8 hours).  View Mount Everest.  Sleep at 4,350m

Day3: Lhatse to Shigatse arriving at lunchtime.  Tashilumpo Monastery. Sleep at 3,900m

Day4: Shigatse to Gyantse arriving at lunchtime.  Visit Kumbum.  Sleep at 3,950m

Day5: Gyantse to Lhasa (~8 hours).  Sleep at 3,650m

Day6-7: Lhasa – visit Potala Palace, Jokhana Temple, Drepung Monastery, Sera Monastery

Day8: Fly from Lhasa to Kathmandu over the Himalayas

You are what you eat; you are what you think

Checking into Sadhana Yoga for a 10 day “Yoga Holiday” offered the chance to purge my system of all the UK summer excess of red wine and fancy food.  Within a day of arriving at Sadhana, you relax into the warm family environment, the gentle daily routine and the wonderful food which magically appears at various points throughout the day.  The hardest part is making it up the hill to the house on day one.  However, if you can manage that, you can achieve anything that Sadhana then throws at you!

The routine starts each morning at 5.30am with the ringing of the gong.  This is the signal to get out of bed in order to be ready for meditation at 5.45am.  This may not sound gentle but, when 9pm becomes a “late” bedtime, it really is not so bad.  It is perfectly acceptable to enter the meditation room and lie down on your mat and cover yourself with a blanket for a few minutes.  Or you can be over-keen and do some stretches…maybe not.

After 15 minutes of instructor-led exercises to prepare the body for stillness, you take your cross legged position (there are a variety to chose from, some harder than others), ready for 30-40 minutes of meditation.  I very quickly realised that “mantra” meditation was not for me.  The purpose of meditation is to clear the brain of all thoughts and focus on the here and now.  With mantra meditation you repeat an expression (“mantra”) continually for the period of the session, sometimes aloud, sometimes in your head.  Sadhana’s chosen mantra is “so-ham”.  I found this to be too associated to the town of a terrible crime in England.  Despite trying my own mantra instead, I generally couldn’t clear my brain and stop it from racing.  Its natural state is at least two threads of thought at a time. 

On two occasions I did manage to remain in my cross-legged position for the entire session.  Afterwards, it took my legs a good ten minutes to forgive me.  Throughout my stay, I continued to attend morning meditation and after completing the exercises, would lie down and look at the trees and the sky.  After a while, I even managed to stay awake in this position!  I would sit at the back of the room to avoid disturbing others.  For afternoon meditation, I would lie and contemplate the paragliders – their graceful movements in the sky were very relaxing to watch.  Eventually I abandoned afternoon meditation for some quiet time on the upstairs balcony with a book.  I realised that what I was really looking for is a way to relax the brain and that cross legged, closed-eye meditation is not necessarily the way for me to achieve that.

After meditation, you enjoy a cup of herbal tea and then go down into the garden for ”nasal cleansing” with your neti pot.  This sounds as funny as it is in practice.  However, if you can get past the fact of feeling ever so slightly silly, then this exercise is very effective at cleaning the nasal passages.  You tilt your head and pour water into one nostril to flow out of the other, switching nostril half way through.  You then force out the water using a number of funny exercises, culminating in a bizarre chicken-style jump.  This was considered essential for our morning yoga practice which focussed heavily on breathing exercises.  Hatha yoga is gentle rather than being a workout.  Gloriously, all of our yoga took place in the courtyard outside and you could gaze at the view over the lake or up to the Peace Pagoda while holding your position.

The morning is the busiest part of the day at Sadhana.  A mountain walk is offered before breakfast and then either a steam or mud bath.  After lunch you are free to chill out, pop next door for slow internet, debate meditation failures with fellow naughty back-rowers or bask in sunshine and breeze on the 5^th floor balcony.

Things gear up again at 3.30pm when the gong chimes for Karma Yoga.  Karma Yoga is a half hour slot devoted to a selfless task.  We would all be asked to do something to help with the upkeep of Sadhana.  Generally this would be some kind of non-strenuous task – watering plants, weeding in the garden, hoovering the meditation room or setting up the cushions for chanting.  The best part of Karma Yoga (apart from being helpful obviously) is that afterwards you go upstairs for Masala tea and big bowls of popcorn!  It was one of our favourite parts of the day.  From here we moved onto chanting with Durga and then to the final yoga practice of the day with Asanga.

After four days, I decided that it was time for fasting (there is no requirement to fast at Sadhana – it was purely choice).  The gastric cleansing took four days in total.  On day one, you are given two apples per meal plus a honey/lemon drink.  In between meals, you can consume as much water and herbal tea as you want (how generous!).  On day two, you are only given one apple per meal and on day three, none!  I’m proud to say that the packet of sour cream and chive crisps on the shelf in my room remained untouched for the entire exercise.  In fact, they didn’t really ever appeal.  I would however eat my apples out on the balcony looking out towards the lake with my back to the dining room, trying to ignore all the lovely food smells from inside!

On day four, you begin to “cleanse”.  This involves drinking a large quantity of a salt water mixture combined with a series of exercises which encourages your body to flush out all the rubbish.  I wasn’t very good at this bit as I struggled to drink the required quantity of water.  Nevertheless, the process ended up being generally successful.  You are gradually brought back onto food with a rice/lentil soup for lunch and dinner (tasty and filling, if bland) and then a delicious porridge the next morning for breakfast.

As an exercise, I’m not sure if it made any lasting physical difference but fasting is an interesting experience.  Many people in the world exist on very little food – in quantity as well as in flavour and variety.  It does no harm to remember that.  I was surprised that I didn’t really ever feel hunger pangs during the day.  I had expected to feel quite sleepy during the day but although I was low on energy on days 2&3, my brain felt sharp.  Admittedly, I was living a low-key life style at Sadhana.  I managed all the activities on the first two days but did take things easy on day three.  When I did feel hunger was during the night – on both nights two and three, I woke up hungry and struggled to get back to sleep.  Gulps of water were not enough to satisfy the body.  I was happy to enjoy another couple of days of normal food again before I left Sadhana to return to the relative metropolis of Pokhara.

During my time at Sadhana Yoga, there were anywhere between 10 and 19 people staying.  Every day, people come and go.  Some stay a couple of days, others 6 or 10.  Many people extend their stay each morning until they have no choice but to get back to the real world.  On occasion, people stay for months!  I was particularly fortunate with the great company I enjoyed while I was there – American, Swiss, South Korean, Israeli, Australian, French and Nepali.  Asanga (yoga guru) and his wife Durga and their children welcome you into their home and take care of you.  Bipin and Surrenda run around making sure that everything runs smoothly and Sunita controls the delicious food coming out of the kitchen – fresh banana lassi and fruit-laden muesli for breakfast, tasty dal bhat for lunch and generally a soup with chapattis for dinner.

You shouldn’t go to Sadhana if you are feeling cynical. You need to be in the mood to embrace what is on offer.  What I liked was that everything was so chilled out – no-one was taking anything too seriously.  Definitely lots of people there were looking to make a breakthrough with meditation but everyone was respectful of anyone’s reason for being there.  Some people came to relax in a calm environment, others with the purpose of practicing yoga.  I was thrilled to meet so many interesting people my own age, also taking some time out.  Throughout my time at the top of the hill, there was lots of humour but no obligations and this resulted in plenty of time to think and relax whilst enjoying great company and food.  Stop by next time you are in Nepal – there’s no need for a reservation!

Sadhana daily routine

5.30am: wake-up gong

5.45am: pre-meditation practice

6am: meditation

7am: tea

7.15am: nasal cleansing

7.30am: morning yoga

9am: mountain walk

9.45am: breakfast

10am: mud bath, steam bath or simply relax

Midday: pre-meditation exercises

12.15pm: afternoon meditation

1pm: lunch

3.30pm: karma yoga

4pm: masala tea and popcorn

4.30pm: chanting

5.30pm: evening yoga

6.45pm: dinner

8pm: bed?!?

Annapurna Panorama

The Annapurna mountain range lies in the Nepali Himalayas. Annapurna 1 (8091m) was first conquered by a small French expedition, led by Maurice Herzog, in 1950 (he wrote a famous book).  The summit of Everest (8850m) was not reached until 1953, in a British led expedition.  Today many people enjoy the trekking around Annapurna and/or Everest ranges in a variety of different forms and lengths.

I had intended to complete the 10 day Annapurna Sanctuary trek (up to Annapurna Base Camp – 4130m) but I was slightly mislead by the trekking company I had chosen.  In the end, I made the decision to shorten my trek to the Annapurna Panorama trip – a five day trek which provides a view of the Himalayan mountain range from Poon Hill (3210m).  My fellow trekkers were Melissa and Anil (from Shepherd’s Bush!) and a Finn called Bakka.  Our small group was accompanied by our Nepali guide, Fatta, and two young porters.

We set off on a Monday morning on our “teahouse” trek – a two hour drive from Pokhara to Naya Pul and then a leisurely 3 ½ hour walk to our first overnight stop at Hile.  Teahouses are small guesthouses in villages up in the hills which provide simple accommodation (think plywood walls!) and food. You will always be guaranteed a dal baht (plate of rice, dal, curry, pickles & vegetables) with as many refills as you need to fill up those hollow legs.  Moving away from dal baht can result in some very interesting dishes – you might find that your spaghetti arrives sizzling!

Day two of the trek was by far the hardest in terms of height gained and “up”.  We started at 1430m and slept up at 2860m.  The day started with four hours continual uphill.  You are generally walking on man-made steps but they are of varying heights and so this can end up being quite a strain, particularly if one suffers from short legs J.  However, after heavy monsoon rain overnight, we had a beautiful clear morning and had discovered the healing qualities of the “hot lemon” tea stop.

As we were trekking the week before the Dasain festival, many goats were being brought down the trail.  Every family sacrifices a goat for Dasain and so this is big business.  The goats are brought from Tibet or China and many herders bring the goats overland to increase their margins (trucks are expensive).  They buy the goats for $100 and sell them at market for $200.  Four or five men will be herding a couple of hundred goats for 7/8 days and it can get somewhat chaotic!  Goats are pesky creatures who quite like to dart off as well as stop for frequent grass feeds.  For us, they provided the perfect excuse to have regular breaks to let them pass – you don’t want to get caught up in the middle of a hundred goats coming down a narrow mountain pass!  There is a distinct smell of goats’ cheese each time they pass – not necessarily in a good way, even for an aficionado like me.

On the morning of 3^rd day, we enjoyed a clear view of the Himalayas from our base at Ghorapani (2860m), including Annapurna South, Himchuli and Fish Tail.  On day 4, we covered a lot of distance, up and down with the some very enjoyable “undulating” stretches.  Each time we looked back, we couldn’t believe how far we had come.  All day we ploughed on in the knowledge that we would be ending the day at the hot springs at Jhinu.  We soothed our aching bones in the gloriously hot water as the river raced past on the other side of the wall – the only thing lacking was a nice cold beer!

As my legs felt like lead by the end of the trek (hardcore downhill on the last day), I think the 10 day trek may have been a step too far.  It took a couple of leg massages before I could stand up without wincing!  Far better to relax in Pokhara and then come up to Sadhana Yoga for a 10 day retreat.  Sadly, with only a vegetarian menu, there was no goat on the menu for Dasain!

An armchair in the sky

All year I have wanted to jump into the sky.  My desire to skydive in Namibia was sadly thwarted due to local bureaucracy.  One of the many advantages to travelling to Pokhara from Kathmandu was that Pokhara is THE place in Nepal for paragliding.  As soon as I arrived in Pokhara yesterday, I wanted to seize the moment and go and sort out a flight.  I visited several paragliding places for a chat before finally plumping for Sunrise Paragliding.  They seemed suitably professional and were offering a 15% discount for a one hour “Cross Country” flight.  I signed on the dotted line.

This morning, after a light breakfast, I had extra time to wind myself up as they were running behind schedule due to having had to fit in all the flights which hadn’t been possible yesterday (due to weather conditions).  We finally left the office an hour and a half late for the 20 minute drive up to the take off site at Sarangkot: three passengers and three pilots.  I was quiet on the way up.

Things happen pretty quickly once you get to the take-off spot.  My pilot, Herve “The Master”, has been paragliding for 22 years (4 here, 18 near Chamonix).  He is one of the elder statesmen of the Pokhara paragliding world and instantly put me at ease.  Within minutes, I was strapped into my “armchair” and ready to take off.  When Herve said “walk”, we walked and when Herve said “run”, we ran – up and away without any fuss.  I felt surprisingly calm about the whole thing and relaxed back into my armchair.  Beyond the undemanding “walk, now run”, as a tandem passenger, you have nothing to do other than enjoy the flight and take photographs.

Paragliding is of course all about the wind and taking advantage of the thermals.  We moved around watching the birds and then Herve took his guide from them.  Before long, we were moving higher and higher thanks to the thermals and ended up in the clouds.  I had asked Herve before we took off about how it would feel.  “Like being on a motorbike with the wind in your face”, he said.  I was amazed at how peaceful it was and that he could and I could converse normally.  This was important so that I could listen to his advice to “look forward, not down”.  It was very liberating to be floating in the sky looking down over the Pokhara valley.  Watching the other paragliders, they seemed to be whizzing around (like on a motorbike) but from where I was sitting, it felt that we moved around very gently.

We had excellent weather conditions in the end and were able to stay up for pretty much an hour.  It was too cloudy to see the Himalayas but I'll be seeing them up close in a few days time.  We climbed high up above Sarangkot, moved around over various villages and then hovered for a while above the forest trees looking for monkeys.  We then spent some time over the lake before coming into a very gentle landing – again, I was surprised at how easy it was.  Bizarrely, landing had been one of the main fears for the whole thing.

My stomach has now recovered sufficiently for me to be enjoying a Gorkha beer with some chips at Moondance.  New to-do list: where can I skydive in the following countries?  Nepal, Thailand, Laos, Vietnam, Cambodia.  Answers on a postcard please.

Paragliding photos