Impressions of India

“Life changing”, “mind blowing”, “earth shattering”, “transformation of the soul” – all these may be used to describe India’s profound influence on the modern-day traveller. In fact, it has been having these effects on travellers for thousands of years, and we have found out that nothing has changed.

The organised chaos which is India is a never-ending pool of amazement and surprises. Daily one is amazed by how inefficient things are, but then at the same time, no problem is too great to solve. It is a source of constant frustration, but also wonder. As long as you have an open mind, and are operating at 100% (i.e. not sick or down in any way), India will be what you make of it.

A further 10 pages could be filled with a broad-scale philosophical breakdown and analysis of India’s innumerable quirks, but, like experiencing India, it only all starts to make sense once you dig a little deeper, release yourself to situations out of your control, that you see, smell, taste, sense, and feel a fraction (let’s not give ourselves too much credit) of what India is all about.

So to specifics, and one of the great topical themes: India’s public transport!!!

 It does not matter how amazing a country’s road network is. If it has a population of 1.2billion people, there will NEVER be enough trains, buses, trucks, taxis, tuk-tuks, or cars. Yet, it doesn’t help when the main highways are no bigger or better than the M13, and 90% of the roads are 1 lane either way. With the % of population that can afford vehicles, there are too many vehicles on the road as it is, hence it takes an aeon to get anywhere. Congestion is just a fact of life.

The road outside Delhi Railway Station - Pahar Ganj. It's a bit difficult to capture, but it is a game of Russian Roulette trying to cross here!

General congestion in Pahar Ganj, Main Bazaar Road

Typical street-side activity

ROAD FACTS: 18 hours to do 300kms, Hardiwar – Manali. 14hours to do 195kms, Kaza – Manali. Bus with Pneumonic drill suspension, Manali – Mcleod Ganj.

India has one of the world’s largest railway networks. The only areas that aren’t covered are in North India, and that is due to a small engineering problem called the Himalayas. You can catch 3 day trains from the West to the East, or from North (Delhi) to South (Kerala). A fantastic way to travel, it provides you with an authentic experience, as the people sharing your cabin will no doubtedly be local, and so it is somewhat of a lucky packet!

RAILWAY FACTS: Average number of people on board an 1800 max passenger train during rush hour, 7000. Number of people using the Delhi underground (Delhi Metro) during rush hour, 4 million.

We found this out the hard way in Delhi. We wanted to get back to Pahar Ganj, the crazy cheap traveller ghetto, and decided to use the Metro from the main junction station, Ranjiv Chowk. WOW, it was insane. I have never seen such a high concentration of people. We were standing in a mob of locals, all pushing and shoving (there is NO SUCH THING as a queue in India), waiting for the train to arrive. Once it pulled in, pandemonium broke out. For starters, the train was packed to overflowing, but before anyone had started to get out, the Metro-thirsty locals all pushed forward to get onto the train. Naturally a deadlock was produced, and Romy and I were just trying to stay upright and not get trampled. I never thought I’d be in that environment. You see those sorts of clips on Youtube or email, but to be right in the middle of it.. And the thing is, that is what they deal with EVERYDAY of their lives, but it is ok. Organised chaos. They all will get home, eventually. You just can’t afford to be bothered by the elbow in your ribcage, the foot on your shoe, the smelly breath on your face, or the pit of fury caressing your nose.

Delhi Central Train Station - evening time.

Every single carriage is jam-packed with people like this. People spilling out of every nook and cranny.

The stations themselves are a sight to behold. A colossal mix of passengers, porters, merchants, dogs, luggage, and let’s not forget cows. The cows are the freest sentient beings in India. The could chose to walk the circumference if they wanted, and nobody would stop them or even ask why (not that you would get an answer). Anyway, this results in the average person having to constantly avoid stepping in cow dung. It is everywhere. And I mean everywhere.

Therefore, at stations you find: thousands of people rushing to make the train in time, porters rushing around with 50kgs of luggage on their heads, cows milling about, shitting everywhere. Dogs eating shit and anything else they can find, Whole families of 20 locals sleeping on the platforms on pieces of cardboard. Barely visible with the amount of flies on them, rubbish strewn everywhere. The smell of human faeces and arid smell of B.O, exponentially made worse by the 90% humidity in 40 degree heat. Incessant gawking  due to our “exoticness.”

It is an experience within itself, and it you need to be operating at 100% in order to handle the craziness. So imagine having to deal with just such a morning train journey, when just a few short hours ago, you were blasting out of both ends any piece of solid or amount of liquid available in your system. It happened when we had to go from Delhi to Agra, and the Belly of Delhi struck with all its viciousness. I thought the Belly of Doom was going to kill me, in truth, waiting to get on the train almost did. Thank you Romy Nightingale. Without you, surely I would have perished.

And then you have the public buses…

How these rust buckets and racing slicks are allowed to be on the roads, who knows. As the pictures will attest, they give you ZERO encouragement. Without literary coating, they are pieces of shit. But any bus trip you will make will give you some of the more lasting memories.

The familiar chaos ensues at the bus station when a bus arrives to pick up passengers. Before the bus has pulled into the parking lot, a hoard of locals try storm the bus, rendering the on board passengers stuck. The driver, instead of coming to a halt, swings around dramatically, and into the middle of nowhere (at this point a few locals are hanging desperately to the door handle, about to be flung to the tar. The driver then ridiculously proceeds to do a 10 point turn, eventually coming to a halt in the middle of nowhere (usually blocking some other bus from coming in our going out), whilst most of the locals have managed to storm the ship and loot all available seats. IT MAKES NO SENSE!! And it happens EVERY TIME!!

You have to join them if you want to beat them. And usually we are able to get a seat. OR, especially for the longer journeys, you can do the CIVILISED thing, buy tickets in advance, and then when you get on your bus and you have 2 grannies, 1 spitting youth and 2 spitting workers on your 2 seats, you can show them your seat numbers and politely tell them to shove off. Organised chaos I tell you. Those buses are ALWAYS full, from start to finish.

Specimen "A", what a beaut!

Specimen "B"

This bus we caught from Agra to the ancient city of Fatephur Sikri. Top speed couldn't have been more than 40km/h before the whole thing shook like a super-charged vibrator.

A summary of the more interesting bus trips:

Hardiwar – Manali. This was a night bus. Left at 4pm, arrived 10am. 18 hours!! HORRENDOUS!! The bus only had bench seats. As usually my knees were by my ears. As usual, all aboard (men and women), were constantly coughing, spluttering, hoicking, and spitting. So no such thing as sleeping. And it was our first introduction to roads with many many hairpin bends as we climbed up and down into the Himalayas. Our first driver was great, but the second was gung-f’ing-ho, and attacked bends like Sebbastian Loeb. This resulted in white knuckles and grey hair for us, and motion sickness for the band of brothers in the back. They were chundering all over the show. And with a habit of keeping all the windows open, unless you need to spit, the aroma , coupled with the sound effects, was simply lovely.

Manali – Kaza (Spiti Valley). Day bus. 12 hours to do 195kms (14 on the way back). Our first taste of the mountain roads and passes that have been built to reach the most inaccessible and remote villages. As the pictures on facebook show, the scenery was incredible. If you can handle the sensation of being tossed around like a piece of rice in a salt shaker, the bus trip is bearable as it is a pleasure to just take it all in. Wow. This trip goes up and over the Rohtang Pass, open only a few months each year, at 4000m, then Kunzum La Pass, at 4500m, and from the lush green of Manali and the Lahul Valleys, into the rain-shadow desert of Spiti Valley. This whole region is a network of valleys, where you could literally spend months in, exploring different villages, climbing different mountains.

Going up and down the massive passes, you have to have nerves of steel. The buses themselves may be pieces of shit, the roads may only be wide enough to fit 1 or 1.5 vehicles (another hugely frustrating gem of Indian inefficiency), but the drivers are brilliant.

An example of the kinds of roads that cause chundering and an average speed of 15km/h. This was on the road between Kaza and Mud in Spiti Valley. See Romy's facebook album for more pictures of this incredible part of India.

More pretty scenery.

Snuff! The Spiti Valley has a largely Tibetan feel due to refugees etc. These ballies are wearing traditional hat.

Our mountain bus! 12 hours on this guy. We are parked at the Kunzum La pass, where all vehicles make a loop around a sacred Gompa, for blessing for the rest of the journey. Prayer flags are then hung on the fence. A special place.

Indian inefficiency creates problems. But no problem is too large for the Indians to solve. Makes sense right?

These drivers will be able to nurse the bus past a truck on the right hand side, a rock in the middle of the road/dirt track, and a 200m precipice on the left hand side, and then laugh and spit afterwards. They will reverse to within a millimetre of impending doom to let a series of vehicles through. It is not so much fun whilst it is happening, but there skill really is amazing. And what makes it more of a feat, is that they don’t really have side mirrors, as these will just be smashed off in the chaotic and narrow streets of town. We’ve also seen cows walk aimlessly into parked bikes, knocking them to the floor, walking into a side mirror just takes it right off! Instead, the bus conductor dons a whistle, and he will blow that thing and be the eyes and ears of the bus driver. Great teamwork.

On the return trip, the bus was full as a result of what I’ve describe earlier. I spent the first 1.5 hours standing! (We were lucky, we had met some Israelis who had spent 12 hours sitting on their bags on the middle isle!) We had to deal with a flat tire, 30 men watching, 1 man changing. I had an old granny sleeping on my shoulder, Romy couldn’t sit back because there was a guy with his arms wrapped around her chair – he was sitting on his friends lap however. Then you get people standing down the isle, ass in faces, coughing in your face. At one stop, 3 foreigners climbed aboard with all this hectic climbing equipment, bags, oh and 2 dogs! And no one even blinks an eye (staring is common practice). And that is another Indian gem: expect ANYTHING. Nothing is too strange.

"Who will budge first.. the truck driver vs bus driver and irate passengers. The guy with the cowboy hat actually got out and started shouting and gesturing until the truck had no choice but to reverse until a piece of land wide enough for both vehicles was found. This happens constantly. With up to 10 other vehicles behind, it can take forever. Patience is a virtue!

Nice trucky nice trucky...

Lastly, our 10 hour trip from Manali to Dharamsala (where the Dalai Lama is in residence), was on the worst rust bucket of them all. I fantasised that it could be a ‘racing’ bus on low profiles. In reality, it simply didn’t have any suspension. It felt like sitting on the handles of a pneumatic drill. See the photo’s to see this beaut.

Think these buses operated in Thailand in the 80's..

Romy improvising to keep the back of the seat off her lap.

Kiff funky interior though. Smelt funky too.

Low-rider!

Look of joy!

Windows held in place with putty! It rained on the way to Dharamsala, and rivers were pouring in, luckily not on  our side!

The stories could go on, but as there is so much more to each of the above events , so to there is so much more to India than its transport….. Some more of which will be shared soon. I will however leave you with some photo's of various overloaded people carriers..

Auto-rickshaw. Designed for 4, they can in fact fit +-12. I experienced on like this in Chitrakut. 5 of us in the front! I was half sitting on the driver's lap, had one guy on my lap, and he had another guy half on his lap. Just had to laugh.

A common sight..

50 people crammed in the bus, another 20 on top!

He probably travelled 60kms like this.

If it has an engine..

BAAI

Luke and Romy

Covert Operation - Vietnam Style

OPERATION “STING”

Vietnam, Operation Sting – Some backround information is necessary for this part of the journey. The ‘backround’ info will be fully explained in due course!

It began on 15 March.. The last day of our 10 day motorbike adventure through the northernest Vietnamese province of Ha Giang (pronounced Ha Zang). We had set off at 6:30am to get to return our bikes to Sa Pa, and then get back down to Lao Cai for the overnight train to Hanoi. A day where it took us 6 hours to do 41kms, we had to endure torrential downpours, freezing cold, blinding fog – it pushed us to breaking point. Needless to say, the overnight train was booked just in time, after nearly 10 hours on the bikes.

Exhausted, we collapsed into our sleepers for the 7 hour trip. 6am, arrive in Hanoi – still freezing cold due to the Winter monsoon bringing ice winds down from China. Snowed in Sa Pa that night, first time in 3 years. Got to love mother nature. Whisked away by taxi to the north east bus station to organise a 3 hour bus ride to Ha Long Bay. As is usual with the Vietnamese, we got harassed at the station by in-your-face hawkers everywhere trying to get you onto their bus at an overpriced rate. The bastard ticket booth operators are always mates with the bus owners, and so don’t offer tourists the actual rate. We were in no mood for bargaining and heckling, so accepted a slightly expensive ticket, onto what turned out to be a slightly inferior bus. Small, cramped, uncomfortable, cold. We knew this was going to be a long ride.

Long, turned out to be 5 hours instead of 3 due to the amount of stops we made. Literally every couple kms (or in the towns every cross road), the bus driver would slow down , and the hustler would open the doors and yell “ GA GO BA MA AAAHH AHH YA YA”, or something to that effect, to try and get more people on the bus. A non-full bus is not an option, not at any stage of the trip.

So it was icy-cold hell. Then, when we got to Ha Long City, the operators wanted to drop us off on the side of the road, and catch a xe om (motorbike taxi drivers that will rape you for every penny you have) the rest of the way. Now we had our 2 big bags in the boot, and 3 smaller rucksacks, 2 yoga mats, and a packet of food on the bus with us, so there was no ways we were getting on motorbikes.

An argument ensued (with no one understanding a word), and eventually they carried on and dropped us off at a more convenient location. We walked to the nearest hotel, bargained a cheap room, and went upstairs. Opened our bags, and realised – adding insult to the injury that was the shit awful bus ride, that my waterproof bag containing all my NB luggage (harddrive, Brit passport, camera and cellphone charger, ipod, 10000 Baht = R2500, and other nb bits and pieces) had been removed from the rucksack which was stored under my feet/seat by someone on the bus! Big panic stations – went and reported it to the police who had to get immigrations and everything – took about 5 hours to create a police report.

Lessons learnt:

• 1.       Be extra vigilant if you are tired and fatigued and on the move – extra locks, extra red bull, anything that helps you not look like an easy target
• 2.       Don’t carry so much luggage around, it becomes too much to keep an eye on everything. 1 main bag, 1 small bag, and maybe 1 other miscellaneous item, that’s it.
• 3.       LOCKS LOCKS LOCKS. My fault for being complacent. LOCK EVERYTHING, ALWAYS.
• 4.       Keep your important documents and items that are REALLY important on your person or not out of your sight at all times (thank you Dad for this one).
• 5.       Don’t go to South East Asia if you are over 6 feet tall or else you won’t fit in bus seats, or anywhere for that matter.

So anyway, it was shit, shouldn’t have happened, but did, and that is how you learn.

Then, on 19 March, the first day of sunshine we had experienced in 20 days of being in Vietnam, after an awesome 4 hour boat ride through the limestone karsts of Ha Long Bay, I received a phone call from some dude speaking Vietnamese. What I did hear though, was “passport”. Thinking it was the police, we managed to locate a local at a coffee shop who could speak English. Turned out, it was some random guy who said he had my passport, and that he would return it to me for 10 million Dong (about R3000). But, of course, that was negotiable. After a few backwards and forwards phone calls, lots of arguing and deciphering, we were left wondering what to do. Sick and tired of this, refusing to be extorted, and with some advice from another local, we wrote the scenario down, with the guy’s number, got the helpful local to translate it, and went off to the police to see what could be done about it.

This was about 2pm. We sat at the police station for a good hour, they really don’t speak any English, and I was getting majorly despondent. To our surprise, the next thing an interpreter who works as the concierge at a nearby hotel arrives to help explain. Then the immigration officer rocks up. Then 4 plain-clothes, rough looking, loud speaking, cigarette chaining, tea drinking detectives arrive, and things start to get a little more interesting.

Together, they hatched a plan to nab the crook. The thing was – there was no ways he could have had our number, unless he had all my stuff which had the sim card pack inside, with the Viettel number on it. So Romes and I were certain he had to be the thief. The detectives, using the interpreter, phoned the guy to try and set up a meeting, find out exactly what he had, how much he wanted, and where to do the swap.

We put him on speaker phone for the detectives to hear, and a long conversation ensued between the concierge and the suspect. After the phone call, and even more intense conversation occurred between all the detectives – lots of shouting scheming and smoking. All this time, Romy and I were just sitting there… Just sitting, not knowing what was going on!

The concierge eventually spoke to us and said that the detectives would take us to meet the suspect, and that an agreed price of 3 000 000 VND had been settled upon (about R1200), but he couldn’t tell us whether we would get the money back?! Next thing, more intense conversing and cigarette smoking going on outside, the one mean looking detective (think Viet Cong army general out of Rambo 4), started changing his number plates on his pimped out black, with blacked out tinted windows, new Honda Civic. A while later, we were asked to get into the vehicle, accompanied by General and his associate.

Off we went. Romy in the front passenger, myself and Associate in the back, General driving (and smoking). Wishing we had been informed of what the hell was actually going to happen. Was I really going to have to pay 3’000’000 VND for my passport? Was this just the way things were done in Vietnam? Corruption and coercion being the norm? Would it be a set up like in the movies? Me walking away with my cash and things? So many questions – no answers at this stage.

 Ha Long city is split into 2 halves across the bay, joined by a large suspension bridge. We headed for the northern side. This wouldn’t have stressed us out had we known where we were going and what was actually going to happen. Obviously at this stage we knew that a setup was taking place – we just didn’t know how it was going to end – or even if the cops were good cops or bad cops. I won’t lie – I had pictured things going horribly wrong, 2 unknown tourists, stepping into an unmarked car, on our way to who knows where.. The imagination can be a terrible thing!

Next, we pulled over on the side of the road to where another unmarked car was parked – this time a black Toyota Corolla. Associate sitting in the back with me hopped out, words were exchanged between him and General, and he jumped into the next car which was occupied by another dodgy looking detective. The trip resumed, no words being exchanged (none would have been understood in any case), in the black Civic, yet Romy and my minds racing. After another 15 or so minutes, driving into the unknown, we pulled over next to an ATM for me to make the VND 3000000 withdrawal. Back up Corolla nowhere to be seen. Literally waiting for me and helping me across the road was well groomed chap in a suit jacket. “Now who the hell is this?” I thought. He jumped into the back of the car with me, so clearly he was another official – turned out to be the immigration officer who spoke fairly decent english.

We drove up the road, and eventually pulled over. On the sidewalk, this sketchy looking character shuffled up to the car. It was him, the dodgy looking dude on the bus wearing a Viet Cong hat and a pink fluffy scarf (Romy had “your team’d” him to me)!! He stared into the front, and clearly recognised Romy. So now what?! He had nothing on him. “This is the guy!” I exclaimed. He came to the back door, which the immigration officer opened for him. He peered in and asked (in Vietnamese) where the money was. I pulled the cash out of my pocket and showed it to him (like in the movies – I fanned the notes out), and said “bring the bag, otherwise no cash”. Off he disappeared up the street for a minute or two, then he came back down with a black plastic bag. At this point, we still had no idea what exactly was supposed to happen, and were just praying that justice would prevail!

The door was opened for him, and we asked him to put the bag on the floor of the car, then I’d hand over the cash. I identified a few things in the packet. Next thing, 2 detectives suddenly pulled up out of nowhere, gripped the thief around the neck from behind, and tag-team tackled him to the floor. Romy and I just sat in the car gobsmacked. I just grabbed the packet and kept it close to me and stuffed the cash back into my pocket! A scuffle ensued which resulted in the thief being thrown into the back of the Civic with me. I jumped out as I was like “nought”, but got told to get back in. here I had to confirm that the items were mine in front of the thief, who by now had a few bruises, had lost his shoes, and was firmly handcuffed. He was then yanked and thrown into the Corolla, and we all sped off back to the police station. It all happened so fast. It happened how I could have assumed it should happen. And had someone just gave us the low down, the nerves would have been far less frayed!

On the way back, there was silence. Romy and I just thinking to ourselves, “did that just happen??” Felt like straight out of the movies – these guys have clearly watched The Soprano’s, Law and Order, CSI: Miami (yes, General, the chaining-Vietnamese Horatio “WAAAAAAAHHHH”).Got my passport back (big relief), and a couple plug adaptors – but all the electronic stuff was nowhere to be found.

Back in the police station (it was now around 7pm), a lengthy process of writing statements and having them translated was undertaken. Guess all the smokes and tea are the only things that gets the cops through the paperwork! The last wacked incident in this whole scenario was being invited to eat supper with the detectives in the main boardroom. In we go, joining 6 of them, plus the thief – sitting handcuffed to a chair, shoeless, battered, bruised, defeated. As if to rub salt into his wounds, we all had a merry old feast: Rice, soup, veg, meat, prawns, followed by rounds of tea and cigarettes. Yes, cigarettes – it seemed as good a time as ever to relapse. After all, it had been one LONG, crazy day, and saying no to General Horatio after all his hard work, the fear and exhilaration he had created in us, just seemed plain impolite.

And around 10.30pm, that was that. We all shook hands, exchanged numbers in case they should recover any more info leading to my stuff from the thief, said our goodbyes, and caught a taxi back to our hotel. And that was that.

PS - Due to not wanting to cross over to the other side of the law, no photo's were taken, not even sneaky ones, so you'll have to take my word for all the above.

BEER OF THAILAND

BEERS OF THAILAND

A most enjoyable topic to discuss.

 Maybe we were spoilt with ridiculously cheap beer in Malawi, but I honestly thought the beer would be slightly cheaper here. About R12-R15 (Chang – Singha) for a quart from a 7/11 or shop/store, to R20-R30 per quart from a bar. So definitely a few beers every night is out of the question for the shoe-stringing travellers!

Enough with the negative, now for the analysis;

The beers available are, in alphabetical order: Chang, Heineken, Leo, Singha and Tiger.

Chang – the cheapest of the above, most widely advertised, and most widely consumed by both Thai and backpacker alike. A full bodied lager, with just the right mix of bitterness, a hint of sweetness in the aftertaste, it can be most likened to a Black Label. The 2 mirrored elephants on its label give it a greater sense of power. After a few, they do become a bit heavy, and I’m sure would go down like nails as a regmaaker. However, with alcohol content of 6.4%, gives one more reason to prefer it.

Heineken – we’re in Thailand, we don’t drink it back in RSA,  so why here?!

Leo – the dark horse in the pack. Middle of the range price, with a distinct and pleasant agreement with the palate, would probably be enjoyed most by seasoned Hansa drinkers. If it were also 6.4%, it could very well have the edge over Chang (Then again, if it were 6.5% - it would definitely have the edge!!! Such mizers!) Snarling or smiling leopard on the label also gives it some cred.

Singha – the more well-off traveller’s choice, this beer seems restricted to 50 year old Europeans with 2 week Thai-getaway Thai girfriends. It is slightly more refined, slightly smoother on the palate, and a great beer to treat yourself with every now and again. With white label with gold griffin emblem, definitely looks the more classy, but at this stage I’ll stick to my Chang thanks.

Tiger – drank this one night in Koh Lanta just before the Job 2 Do concert, so will try put together a coherent analysis. Think it was the same price/slightly cheaper than Singha. I had changed to this after a good few Changs (see above comments), and because it has a blue label with this mean looking Tiger emblem, ready to jump you, glaring and snarling at you. Awesome label! All I can say is, beer tasted great..

So in ranking them:

1.      1 - Chang

2.       2 - The rest of the above except Heineken

3.      3 -  Heineken

What is an new discovery, and something the purists (of which South Africans always are - same like rugby etc), is drinking beer with a few blocks of ice. It is just so damn hot and humid that a beer left for 5 mins goes warm. Add to the fact that when you sit down to have a beer, you are hot, sweaty and parched - so it actually makes good sense! Although I won't be drinking beer like this all the time, it definitely adds 10 points to the refreshment factor - there really is nothing like it!!

The fact of the matter remains, whether in Thailand, Mozambique, Australia or South Africa, after a hot, humid day, with a parched mouth, there is nothing that can be more enjoyable than an ice cold beer, and where one or the other may be preferred, any one of them will always be appreciated.

Your typical beer fridge.

Just arrived in Vietnam, and the beer is WAY cheaper.. expect more analysis in the near future.

Travelling with Romy....

TRAVELLING WITH ROMY

Romy and her bites:

Travelling with Romy does have its perks. For instance, a brief comparison of Romy’s legs, and my legs, will indicate that A – She does not apply Peaceful Sleep, B - Does not adequately cover up, C – Has a scent which sends mozzies, sand flies, jellyfish and other unseen insects into a feeding frenzy, or D – All of the above.

I can tell you all now, that A, B and by default D are not the correct answers. See photos attached of Romy’s legs, after spraying, wearing happy pants, mozzie band.. You name it, Romes has tried it. Every day a few more marks and welts pop up. Bad for Romes, great for me. I’m just fine thank you for asking! Arms and legs no welts, beard coming along nicely..

Extrapolate those wounds on her legs to pretty much 90% of her body, and that leaves Romy as a bit of an itchy, scratchy wreck. A great thanks goes out to the tube of Anthisan in our medical kit!

Exhibit A

Exhibit B

Romy and “At”:

Those of you from Malawi (that includes Grant and Kate as they heard us talking about it enough), will all have fond memories of Oom At.

Rather annoying, always popping up and disrupting progress, practical in some ways, in others completely impractical, always getting in the way! This is the only way to describe Romy’s Patong hangover buy – her gargantuan hat to keep the sun out of her eyes. The only time it’s effective, is when lying on the beach, and there is little or no breeze to speak of. The slightest gust, and At wants to take off and fly away. His brim is so wide, when wearing At, Romy is only able to see ½ of Thailand. He is so damn large, that the only way to transport him is to attach him via a karabiner to the handle atop Romy’s bag, where he bounces and sways from side to side, looking ridiculous. Can’t let him go though – too much character!

Look at that monstrosity!! 

The little peak attached to Oom At is a lot more decent isn't it!

Latest update - At is no longer with us. He simply couldn't leave the culture and weather of Thailand behind!! Naah - the truth of it is that we couldn't check him in when we flew to Hanoi. He was even too large for oversize baggage. They just scoffed at the suggestion that he WOULD fit in the hold. Bastards. Bye Bye At.

First "while" in Thailand

To all those waiting for some info on how things are going (Dayne), sorry this first post of the blog has taken so long.. (more photo's to be added)

You see, there just has not been any time whatsoever. One of the greatest lessons learnt so far, is simply how busy one becomes. There is never a shortage of things to do, events to partake in, even if it entails lying on the beach doing nothing except catching some rays.. Or chilling in a hammock after a long, honest day's exploring.. You can't write a blog at those times.

There are designated times to do these things, time designated to eating for example.

Now when it comes to food, you understand just HOW important it is to both Romy and I. This is not something to be taken lightly, as the effects of going without can be catastrophic!! Brain stops working, tensions mount. Roughly 90% of all the arguments/little niggles and “fights” that Romy and I have had, which, I think, are not many, have occurred when one or the other or both of us have been ravenous.

Anyway, the Thai food is absolutely amazing!! The variety, aromas, sights, smells, tastes, burns, price, all of it.. WOW. I think I may have had Pad Thai (fried noodles with veg, usually sprouts, carrot, cabbage, with egg and crushed nuts to sprinkle) nearly every day, be it breakfast lunch or supper. The reason – everyone does it differently, and it’s just SO good. From the food markets you can get it for 30Baht, about R7.50.. LEKKA!

Night Market.. YUUMMMM!!

Lots of kebabs of chicken, prawns, pork, squid.. When you pass these your insides turn and twist and gyrate, screaming “give me give me!!” – Think of braai smell, only with a Thai spice twist..

Variety at market = awesomeness

SQUID KEBABS!!

Tucking in to goodness.. we were the only ones using our fingers - go figure!!

mmmm Soup!

Tucking in to these AMAZING pancake things in Trang - Trang has best food by far, just haven't got there with the blog yet!

There have been a few winners, and a few failures. Within the first week we had broken all the ‘rules’ about what not to eat and we have been fine.. hey, you have to try everything once!! Truth be told, we could still get a little bit more adventurous, will let you know how that goes…

The best meal so far must have been when we were staying in Patong, Phuket. We had had a huge party that night (more on that in a future post), and on the way home we passed a night market. Stomachs yelling “GIVE ME GIVE ME” we gunned straight for the kebab stand. Romy ordered livers on a stick (superb!), and  I ordered this delicious smelling/looking braaied pork – a whole bag of it!

Started drunkinly munching on the stuff, thought “hmm, first couple of pieces a bit fatty”, couple more pieces just as fatty.. What I’d ordered was a huge bag of pork fat, but not cooked enough to be called Crackling. Soft, squigy, fatty, pork fat. Mapped about 2/3’s of the bag. No short term damage done.

But that aside – honestly there is nothing we have eaten so far which has not been delicious. The dodgy looking soups, pancakes, sausage thingies, rice dishes, noodle dishes.. All great, which is also a good thing as you can’t expect to get what you ordered from a menu either. At least at a market you can point to that-which-you-have-no-idea-what-it-is, and get what you want.

Awesome stuff, but enough about food!! Now you know how important it was seeing as I discussed it first!

So far, in as brief as possible we have visited the following:

First up, flew into Phuket Island, and went through to Phuket Town. Thought this would be a great starting point for doing the islands around the Andaman Sea. Not really what we expected at all. Very built up, but with old buildings, not many high rises. In our opinion – kak place, why would anyone ever want to go there?!

Phuket does have some great beaches though (beaches not bietches), on the West coast – Patong, Kata and Karon. After 2 nights of acclimatising (i.e. – “Where the fuck are we?!”) we decided to head to Patong, which we were subsequently told by our helpful guesthouse host Mannit, was “Busy Busy”.

It was the first time we had properly packed our backpacks, as on the flights we had an extra bag etc to make things more convenient. Haha – there’s a picture with Romy with her backpack on laughing about it, it was all we could do. Man we were full to the brim (never mind the 7.5 litres of water I stashed into my bag). Walking with those bags, in that heat, not really knowing where you are going except “pink bus pink bus”.. It does test one’s confidence and staying power within themselves. But looking back even over this short period, it’s amazing to see how quickly you adapt and get used to it! And somehow the bags have either stretched or we’ve lost some stuff, because there’s more space, and the bags are definitely lighter…

Kief - All packed and ready to roll!

Pink bus stop - but the wrong pink bus stop!!

Back to Patong – Whoa. The only thing I could compare it to, is a coastal Camden Town, on horse steroids!! I think I heard someone compare it to the French Riviera, on horse steroids, but I cannot comment on that. One thing for certain – the place is crazy!!

What I’m sure was once a happy, quaint little coastal village, has been transformed into a sinful metropolis, a modern day Sodom & Gomorrah, swarming with tourists wanting drugs, booze, ping pong shows, or sexy time with local Thai girls or lady boys. Oh and a little bit of sun on the side. You won’t believe it until you experience the vibe of the place.

Packed Patong

Packed beaches either side

Romy dodging all manner of motorised vehicles and drunken holiday goers

The place was full of paradoxes. The amount of overweight, rather hideous looking Europeans, with a toight looking Thai on his arm was frightening – EVERYWHERE you looked. Yet at the same time, honest looking 60+ year old couples just wandering around with their cameras, just wanting to have a nice peaceful holiday??

Buses and taxis and motorbikes and scooters – everytime you cross the street *ZOOOM* “Oh hello life, almost lost you there..”. Yet, we had originally wanted to stay at a place called Cheap Charlie’s backpackers, but they had no room for us. The owner, Greg, said “no problem, phone me when you get to Patong, and I’ll take you to a place across  the street where you will get accommodation.” So we phoned him, outside a McDonalds. 40 min (should have been 10), this hippy looking ballie with oversize sunglasses, and one of those little pony tails to the side, made out of a bit of hair just at the base of his head, drives up in a klapped out Hilux, and kindly picks us up and sorts us out.

During the day – busy costal town, beach is packed with tourists, not much free sand, all taken up with beach loungers and umbrellas. Fools going parasailing for literally 2.5mins.

At night – Bangla Road, lights, sounds, Thai boxing, sex, beer, cocktails, buckets, ladyboys, ping pong shows, sex, music, mayhem, madness, mortified!!

Cocktails – Probably our favourite place was an old VW Kombi, painted bright pink, open top, kitted with some banging sound, with a few tables and chairs laid out in front, and serving the most awesome cocktails. A bit pricy, but what isn’t in Patong. Definitely worth the vintage points!

The PIENK VW.. Yeah!

Romy dodging more traffic...

Bangla Road Mayhem

Mortified – that seems to be the most apt word to describe Romy after the ping pong show we attended (only live once..) Shooting ping pongs, pulling out strings of razor blades, popping balloons 3m away with a well-directed dart, playing an instrument similar to a harmonica, LIVE BUDGIES, in the words of the Sound of Music, “These are a few of my favourite things..” Haha, no not really, but was a seriaas eye opener. Note – as with the Springfield Ballet, best attended once raucously drunk!

Love it, hate it.. The list goes on and on! An Aussie guy, let’s just call him Bruce, said that it was his absolute favourite place in Thailand. Then again, he was handing out Jagers, had a few chops, and had a bit of a mullet. For Romy and I – glad we experienced it, but been there, done that, never again. After 2 nights there, and a total of 4 nights in Phuket, we decided enough was enough, and hightailed it out of there by ferry to Koh Phi Phi, and some much sought after cheap, beautiful island existence.

Day 5 – morning ferry to Phi Phi. We were really excited as to what to expect – very keen to get away from commercial tourist mania. Well, I’m afraid to say, Phi Phi is also tourist central – although light years better than Patong in that regard. Romy summed Phi Phi up precisely, when she said that it was too beautiful for its own good. And it is. Wow. The postcards and the photos do not do it justice. No wonder tourists flock to it. Amazingly white sand beaches, breathtaking limestone cliffs, turquoise crystal clear water, supreme snorkeling. It is paradise (a word I’m sure I will be using regularly).

Koh Phi Phi amazingness - see facebook for more!

Most of this was wiped out by the tsunami - has pretty much all been rebuilt - perfect for the 2 week getaway, but not the best for a real chilled thai authentic experience

mean hike up many many stairs to this viewpoint!

Once we had dumped out kit in our bungalow, we headed straight for the beach. At the north end of the beach were a couple backpackerish/hippyish bars, we went to Stones, which in our opinion had the best vibe going, with chill out mats and palm leaf shade on the beachfront. Mango shakes were ordered. Apparently fire shows from 9-10pm – mental note made.

By this stage of our travels, Romy and I had already made a few rules. The first being that if you do 3 loskop or stupid acts, or one major act of folly, the other person can challenge the culprit to any ridiculous dare that the other chooses.

After a couple of Chang quarts from Cheap-O, aptly named as he had a little corner store selling the cheapest beer and cheapest water, Romes and I went to watch the fire show. We were sitting on the sand by another place called Hippies, and we had to get up for some reason. Either to go to the loo or to pay Cheap-O another visit. Anyway, when we got back down to the beach we parked off at another spot. About 45mins later, it was now dark, I suddenly realised that I didn’t have my camera on me! Panic stations, frenetic search in the sand after retracing of steps, found the thing half buried in the sand where we previously were sitting. Romy may have gripped my throat with her hand out of frustration with me – at this stage no photos had been backed up! So that counted as a major act of folly – dare coming up..

The fire show at Stones was mind blowing – guys and girls that do this every day of their lives, for a living. Chains, staff, short baton-type sticks, a hula-hoop with about 10 different places of fire, all backed up by some banging psyc trance and later some dubstep (interesting but effective combination). We’d seen a couple people smoking spliffs, and 
our eyes were scanning the periphery for the supplier.

Yeah - he was pretty insane!

What we organised was the biggest bat I’ve seen since the days of Powerbong. Was naturally very excited to be smoking some Thai pot. Upon lighting the bat however, I was most disappointed, and I exclaimed to Romy, with a look of utmost disgust on my face, “Tastes like JUT!!” Well – that guy sure showed me. Not being a pot smoker for a very long long time, I’d forgotten that you scoff at the outset of smoking any kind of spliff at your own peril! We didn’t even finish it! What followed was much pontificating, philosophising, laughing and other weird garbled noises, coming predominantly from Romy I imagine..

One moment of epiphany was the DJ box layout – it was actually really awesome. Where the fire show had been was on a platform made out of compacted sand on a wooden base. Just behind this platform, raised about 3-4m on palm tree stilts, was the DJ box, with him looking down over the transpiring events. In our enlightened state, we figured that the reason it was like this, was because if there was another tsunami, the DJ all the way up there, would be safe and unaffected, still able to bang his tunes, and the party, even though being swept away, would still carry on… great hey….

Now where the fire show had taken place, it turned into a dancefloor afterwards. Every now and then, one of the people who were doing the show would get up and go jam, doing all this weird and cool looking shit – everyone of a different nationality had their own style of dancing, was pretty kiff to watch. My dare was to go onto the dancefloor when no one was on it, a bit pissed and very goofed up, and jam. So I did – wasn’t long before I wasn’t mentally moving my appendages, they were jamming all by themselves.. I only wish that my mates were there to come jam too, tunes were too good!

At this stage, being 22 Feb 2011, no more dares have been given out, although I am on 1 for losing my headlight (DOH) – but due to a number of factors including price, importance, replaceability, it doesn’t count as a major act of folly!

The next couple days were spent on Phi Phi, just soaking up the sun, enjoying the beauty, and spending hours in the water – snorkeling, snorkeling and more snorkeling! The variety and amount of fish – amazing! On one of the days, we caught a long tail boat with a German/Polish couple we’d met, (the guy Ludwig had his arm in a sling from a fall in the deep outback of Aus – took 3 days to get him to a hospital to operate), and a few others, and did a tour of Phi Phi Don (where the accommodation is), Phi Phi Ley (where The Beach was shot), Monkey Island and Bamboo Island. Along the way we stopped off a few times in order to snorkel. The snorkeling off Long Beach was probably the best – quite a few Black Tip sharks.. very cool!

On the last day we were there (3 days, 4 nights), we decided to go for a walk, explore the island by foot. We walked to a few amazing viewpoints, and down to another lesser known part of the island called Rantee Bay. For me, the best part of Phi Phi. Not as beautiful as the main areas, no big bars/clubs/restaurants/markets/shops/divingshops, but really laid back, proper backpacker vibe Bay, few bungalow places, away from the maddening crowd, with their own rustic bars. But it’s all about what you are looking for I suppose!

Day ?? – Koh Lanta. Spent 4 or 5 nights on this island.

Koh Lanta was a fantastic place – quite a few tourists, but the island was large enough for everyone to be adequately dispersed. A large local community/population of very friendly people, meant that a degree of integration has been achieved, and interaction was really easy. Spent the first night at a resort called the Blue Andaman, and went for a swim/walk later that day, where we discovered a beautiful looking bay with a few rustic looking backpacker bars and bamboo bungalows. Went and spoke to the guys at Sea Culture, and they had a bungalow available for us the following day, cheaper than where we were staying and MUCH more suited to our style.

A lesson was thus learnt – one that  we have and will use many times in the future – book into a place for one night, doesn’t matter how it is, that day, do some exploring and find something for the following nights, more suited to what you want, and guaranteed you will find something, cheaper and nicer!

Sea Culture Was also the first place that kind of met our expectations of what Thai islands would be like – laid back, a few travellers, Thais with dreads smoking small palm leaf cigarettes and joints.. A place you could lose yourself and stay for a couple months at least!

Sea Culture - great spot to unwind.. so naaice!

Hired our first scooter – Eric, to do some exploring. Best way to get around if the island is big enough. Although the roads can be quite busy – might is right, other drivers are generally well aware, and if accidents happen, it seems it’s generally due to driver/rider incompetence (like the one girl who had driven into a bush around a bend).

Eric did give us a scare however. With Romy on the back, I started to do a U-Turn to get back to our resort. The proverbial “Stuck-Accelerator” occurred, which caused the turning circle to be much bigger. Jammed the front brake a couple times, all that induced was some slidage and nearly slipping out, as the back break didn’t work. Ended up smashing into a parked Isuzu bakkie, clipping the side mirror. But that straightened us out and I switched off the bike and we came to a halt. Was expecting the worst as the sound was quite loud, as it always is, and I was sure we’d smashed the mirror off. Luckily though, The mirror was able to clip back into the place, and no damage was done to the body of the bakkie or the body of Eric as I realised I’d put my leg inbetween the 2. The bruise and lump on my shin subsequently provided evidence of this. A near miss, but simply taking it easy on the road will keep you safe. Bad Eric.

How cool do I look on Eric!?!

Koh Lanta Old Town pier - Romy looking like an evil version of Knight Rider..

Umm... we must have been stationery??!

Went and visited the National Park in the south of the island. Really pretty, some beautiful large trees which we still need to find the names for. Visited the Old Town – like a sleepy fishing village. The night markets in Lanta were also awesome – loads of clothes, gadgets, general crap, and amazing food!

Lanta has a great balance of what anyone may be looking for. Ie Long Beach – heavily resorted and populated with tourists up north, through to Klong Khong we were in the middle, through to very isolated, serene and untouched bays such as Kantiang.Days were spent lying in hammocks, playing back gammon and checkers, swimming, a bit of snorkelling, walks, eating. Was really relaxed and just what we needed.

Our humble bamboo bungalow - perfect!

Beach outside Sea Culture

More beach - other side..

A typical night's activities...

On one of the nights ,9 Feb, we went to a reggae concert – main act was a famous Thai reggae group called Job 2 Do (do do do do da ya – is his most famous and most catchy tune, maybe try youtube it). See separate post for a more thorough description of this night.

After our last full day there, with Romy sporting a monumental hangover, we had one last mellow night, with slight reluctance and heavy hearts, yet excitement for the new destinations ahead, departed by minibus ferry for the lesser known southern town of Trang.

More detail of places visited and stories worth retelling coming up in future posts…

Laters,

In sunsets so sumptuous.. we say farewell.. 

Luke and Romy