A 26 hour Tuk-Tuk, boat, bus, train and van ride was all that separated Koh Tao from Thailands second city
Chiang Mai. We headed north to see off the drinking as our livers were becoming as weak a Liberal Democrat leader (oooh Satire). Instead we saw off our drinks and found ourselves entering a smart Thai Nightclub in nothing more than a t-shirt, shorts and (as a result of full moon party anticts) odd pairs of flip-flops. Although initially unsure about our presence in the seemingly Thai only nightclub, the locals soon changed attitude and they were shooting glasses of Johnny Walker and frolicking with us like old friends. For me this was one of the first times I'd interacted with Thai people without them asking 'Where you go?' and trying to shove me into whatever vehicle they have at their disposal. Turns out these unexpectedly shy, reserved people are pretty kind and giving on their own turf - could have been the drink of course. The next day we felt compelled to find adventure, to find danger, to prove ourselves men. So we entered the jungle and into a kingdom of Tigers; whom we wrestled until they tapped out or were knocked out. In victory we ripped off our shirts, smeared ourselves with our own blood and sacrificed a lamb. Okay, I might have exaggerated some of that. Firstly, we were in a controlled environment with tiger trainers. Secondly, there wasn't technically any wrestling - just some casual stroking and belly rubbing. Thirdly, all that stuff about ripped shirts, blood, lambs etc. may have just been put in for effect (and the tigers were unfortunately quite sedated). But I stand by my statement about the tigers, there were definitely tigers there. On the subject of Tigers I have a riddle for you: Imagine you are in a forest surrounded by tigers. The tigers circle you in every direction. You have no equipment/tools to defend yourself, just your bare hands. The area in the middle of the tigers, in which you stand, is empty (no trees etc.). The tigers are about to attack. What do you do? See the bottom of this thread for the answer. After some Muay Thai training and ditching a rather Strange Girl that had tagged onto our (now somewhat smaller) group, we made like Lancastrians and headed for Pai. Pai is a small town near Chiang Mai, from where we were about to embark on a trek. The first day of which we rode elephants, swam by a small waterfall and hiked for three hours up and down mountains as sharp as teeth to a small hill tribe village. In truth, this first village was exciting, but felt quite falsified and over-visited as there was another tour group staying at the same time as us. Nevertheless, we made a fire, ate locally sourced food and ended the evening like Reeves and Mortimer and searched the sky for Shooting Stars. However, the next day this somewhat standard trek was to alter into a once in a lifetime journey. We had been getting on well with our tourguide Terry, a man who at 23 still lives in the hills and had not seen his first village until he was 17. Midway through our six hour trek, Terry decided that we could stay with his family in his village. Later we'd find out we were only the second group to visit his village and the previous group were there three years before. The hike was at times gruelling, but the destination (to quote Woolworths) was 'well worth it'. Once we arrived, we challenged the locals to a game of volleyball and spent the evening washing in rivers, killing chickens and integrating with village folk young and old over some home-made and seemingly lethal bamboo cups of rice whisky. Terry then suggested that he and his family spend another night with us treking further into the hills to hunt, make fire and sleep under the stars. Now on reflection, this may sound like the opening to a horror film as some lonely travellers get led by men with guns into an unknown forest, miles from anywhere. But as is evident from this rather lengthy blog and not simply two words stating 'help me' this was safe as wooden houses. The hunting wasn't that sucessful as the hill tribesmen left us westerners behind after a while to do it properly - they didn't catch anything. In the meantime I took a leaf out of their book and shot a tree (pun-cough). After drinking more rum than a pirate before an AA meeting, we slept fireside under stars and trees. We studied our surrounding and could do nothing but smile at each other; were quite content - again it could have been the drink of course. Down the hills, through a hilltop temple and a jump off a 10 meter high waterfall later, we drove and bamboo rafted back to Chiang Mai to see some familiar full moon faces (if any of them read this, I apologise your faces do not look moon shaped). After a couple of days I headed my own way off to Chiang Rai and my cheapest room to date at a mere 90 Baht room. Sure the lights didn't work and mosquitoes chewed me up like hubba-bubba, but at the equivalent of two pounds I couldn't really complain. Chiang Rai is further off the beaten track and so still witholds Thailands hippy past. I spent the evening sitting in a circle at Teepee Bar and singing Nirvana accompanied by a guitarist and Jools Holland's harmonicist. Heading towards Laos I stopped off for the night in Chiang Khong. A peaceful town, I made like Peter Andre and rode a bike about town. Later, peacefully listening to Belle and Sebastien, a man dressed in loose kharkis and a round flat cricket hat casually strolled up to me as I sat, book in hand, overlooking the Mekong river. He stalled, then through a strong American accent proclaimed with a knowing smile "hey, you're too relaxed man. Too relaxed." I smiled as he left. He was right. My bowls hadn't leaked, nor had I melted under the beaming sun down into the Mekong. By that merit he was quite wrong; I wasn't too relaxed. But despite the heat of the sun I was certainly chilled, very chilled. Answer to riddle: Stop imagining.
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I stood and stared curiously at the man infront of me. He was certainly taller and no doubt stronger than me, but I wasn't scared. I'd find out later that he had recently been training as a Muay Thai boxer and so any physical confrontation probably should have been avoided at all costs; but, in my eyes, I had little choice. What did he expect me to do? He had asked me a question and the small crowd around me were awaiting an answer.
Had I been sober I probably would have reacted differently. But in my hazy Rum ridden state there seemed no other option and besides, a few seconds had now past and the situation was becoming ever more risky. So I reacted as any man would. I clenched my fist, slowly raised back my arm and in one swift movement thrashed him across his Tom and Harrys. For a moment out eyes met. Mine crossed with fiery determination and a aire of curiosity; his initially aglaze with a smile that slowly drifted to a sickening fear. I paused and explained, 'yes. Yes I do know what the capital of Thailand is'. To smooth things over, I went for a drink or two. In fact, my for my first week in Thailand that's pretty much all I did. I had arrived on Khao San Road, for some, backpackers paradise - but it was messy. There were other sides to Bangkok though. The Grand Palace and Wat Prakeaw were golden and sparkly to attract the simplist of simpletons and so I was VERY attracted to them. Likewise, it was pretty amazing seeing the Emerald Buddha statue at Wat Phra Kaew. The background behind this being that despite travelling for hundreds of years across South-East Asia as an intricately carved wooden statue, only when it was damaged by a lightning storm in 1434 was its emerald treasure truly uncovered. It was impressive, until I got told off for taking pictures. Bangkok has odd smells. One corner whiffs you with incense, then some-kind of meat based concoction and finally with a derrière pong. I haven't seen any other pong yet, but that seems as easy to get to as a tuk-tuk. It's very easy to get a Tuk-Tuk. For the perversely tempted, Bangkok is the city of temptations. Heading south, next stop was Koh Phangan's Full Moon Party and a stay at The Dancing Elephant. Despite being somewhat disappointed with the lack of flamboyant trunks (although I did later purchase some pretty luminous swim shorts) I at least found myself some Yankedoodles, Criminals, Double-Dutch, Beefeaters and Canadians to hang around with. Some Green Curry later and (as usual) we went drinking. The beach, the beach, the beach was (at least partly) on fire! Fire ropes, fire limbo, fire hoops and fire entertainers flooded the sand; whilst, the air often had a few fireworks.... But at least there were a few buckets to deal with any imminent dangers. Unfortunately, I suspect these buckets would worsen the situation, containing as they did a full bottle of rum, a red bull and a can of coke (and by suspect I mean know, a firefighter kindly told me so). Thus, it was quite hot. So as a group we elected to cool off. Not in that nearby sea, no, instead we had the bright idea of delving into the on beach foam party. If you the reader (and I talk to you specifically not in that novelistic or radio presenter manner of making you feel individual and special, but rather as the readership of this blog is likely to be totalling one) take any advice from this blog be it this - beach foam parties are not a good idea. I left dressed as the Sahara. After a day on the beach, we spent the evening watching some Muay Thai Boxing. They were bashing each other for sixes and sevens. As some of them only looked six or seven, this made for quite a disturbing sight. Although, a few fights and drinks later we were all going at it hammers and tongs - I'd feel guilty later though, perhaps the tongs were a bit much. Hours later we were listing to the words "Barbra Streisand", "Riverside" and "We no speak Americano" on repeat until the cows came home. I did not bring any cows home, just a headache and some dirty clothes. The morning after, people hobbled and stumbled to find cups of tea and their own choice of fruit juice. Some hobbled more than others as many were burnt, scared or had some rather unfortunate sand rashes. But this wasn't everyone. Crashing through Amongst the zombies came bright eyed glowstick lovers with more energy than the duracell bunny. It was 12.30 and for some the party was still in full swing. Something tells me they weren't on the mango juice. Walking on the beach the next day was like walking in to a pub in Bermondsey, as I found myself trying my best not to be glassed - or at least my feet did. Instead, we jumped on a boat and headed over to the other side of the island to somewhere where this problem would siece to exist - the inappropriately named Bottle Beach. We spent the day playing ultimate frisbee and cutting up coconuts. I was going to start drinking again, but I lost my bottle... Ba dum dum splash. Partied out we headed to Koh Tao to baske in the sun and swim with the fish. It rained. However, after a day of rest, we went on a boat and snorkled around all of the bays. I saw sharks, Tiger fish, and more colours of fish than a rainbow. We finished the day at the picaresque Japanese Garden, it was a good way to finish. P.S. You look really good today and that top really suits you. As should have been written on 13/01/2011.
Out with the old and in with the view. Walking through Shanghai is like entering a Jetsons cartoon as futuristic buildings of varying shapes and sizes tower above you. Most prominent amongt them is the Oriental Pearl TV Tower which stands at the side of the Bund and resembles a rocket piercing into the sky. It stands there with two purple spheres planted along its length, one large and one small, like a verticle snake that's swallowed one massive mouse for dinner and finished off with a smaller one for desert. Whilst, to its side like an enormous bottle opener stands the Shanghai World Financial Building. Overall it makes for an odd combination. The Bund itself is pretty impressive, but not if you're looking for a traditional China town. In reality, Shanghai seems as Chinese as Michael Macintyre: you think you spot something oriental, but it turns out it's just a lookalike. The buildings along the Bund prove this point. Despite the area being so misty you can't see half the buildings on it, you'll notice that on one side buildings are higher and stranger than an ageing hippy but the other side is classically European and could easily stretch along the Thames or the Seine. A few steps from the Bund on to Nanjing Road and this is proven further as Western shops do their northern Australian impression and flood the high streets. Walking along the street you can see it all: from H&M to Zara and McDonalds as often as you can say Chicken McNuggets. Shanghai is a business city and it turns out shopping is big business. This is not to say you can't find authentic if you search hard enough. For dinner I had it all - Chinese Hot Pot style. The idea behind this seems to be: if we've got it put it in. Pork? Yeah all right. Meatballs? Go on then. Chicken feet? Yeah, why not. I tell you why not: because it's like chewing on an old ladies finger! Quite unsurprisingly, I was ill most of the time I was in Shanghai. When not performing my Metro trick of simultaneously grossing out the Chinese and running a woolly hat, I did some basic sightseeing. I saw some coins, writing bowls in Shanghai Museum: which was fittingly fascinating. Also, after seeing Jing'an Temple and Jade Buddha Temple I realised I had seen enough temples to give me, well, throbbing temples. Next on the agenda was Hong Kong and in truth I was looking forward to something new. Just as well as this city looked as new as an Ipad with wings. After a good night's sleep I took the advice of someone I had spoken to the previous day and headed straight to Hong Kong Park. Situated in the heart of the city, the park is overlooked by towering skyscrapers but somehow allows for escapism. It's also a smorgasbord of different opportunities. I visited the aviary, the clock tower, the tai chi garden and the Olympic square buts still had time to potter about in the tea museum. Next I was on top of the world (or at least Hong Kong) at The Peak. This spot allows you to see across the city and understand how the city intertwines with the Island's landscape. One side of the view shows huge buildings and a sea full of trading ships, the other shows a landscape packed with rocks, trees and bays. Hong Kong may be busy, but there's always a spot for a quieter break. One of the most peaceful things to do of course is Thai Chi. Unfortunately it starts at 8; which, to any lazy traveller is about 4 hours too early. Still, I braved it out (cold milk coffee in hand) and struted my stuff in slow controlled movements. A bird flapped its wings, there was a rocking motion and a ball was carried to the side, then it finished. I was as chilled as a frozen pea. In the words of Daft Punk, there were Harder, Better, Faster, Stronger things to do. I braved the hustle and bustle of the Ladies Market and didn't buy any fake watches, I had a few TsingTaos in both the Lang Kwai Fong and Soho areas and most vivid of all watched the Symphony of Lights along Victoria Harbour. The Syphony of Lights is one of the most bizarre things I have ever seen. At 8 0'Clock there is an announcement and suddenly each building along Hong Kong Island was being introduced as if they were lining up for Chelsea. Although, in true big band style they each had their own sound effects and lit up each time they played. After 20 minutes of what sounded like Disneys 'It's a Small World' being blasted out, the crowd subsided confused as to whether this marked the future or a space-age ideal that was better off left to the Sci-fi writers. Equally strange to a western visitor is the Avenue of Stars which lines up to its side. Just like the Hollywood Walk of Fame, but with a Chinese twist, the road is paved with big names - and I'm not just referring to Anthony Wong Chau Sang! All I recognised were Bruce Lee and Jackie Chan. After seeing the heart of the city I began travelling further afield. I explored the wonders of Lamma Island, still a small fishing Island, and Lantau Island, home of the Giant Buddha and Po Lin Monastery. If there is one thing worth trekking away from the main Island it would be the Giant Buddha which is larger than Andy Gray's hate mail sack. The Buddha sits high up in the hills and to me was the perfect symbol for a city which to me oozes with tranquillity. As written on 03/01/2011.
After a brief stint rambling my way through South Korea, which is not to say I talked anyone’s ears off but rather that I spent two days lost and worn out with a backpack making me droop over like a man fifty years my senior, I felt once more that I was embarking on an exciting new adventure. I was off to the oriental unknown and not knowing how China reacts to foreigners, Beijing had me clenching. I need not have worried. My first thoughts on the city was that it has the vaguely smoky allure of a post match poker table and as the first experience for most Westerners on arrival in Beijing is to be pushed, shoved out of the way and stared at on the train into town, this appears to be a city with a competitive edge. Once off, dogs run free on the streets but if I were them I’d run as quick as I could as you never know what’s for dinner. As I’m not a massive dog fan, once I’d dropped my bags off I headed to where they could never catch me – the Metro. That being simply because they would be unable to bypass the security that floods the underground. Although, I’d imagine that, if by some fortune they were able to break through those barriers, even they may be able to afford the train fare which charges a staggeringly minuscule 20p. In truth I was unsure where to head on my first night in China’s imperial city, so I headed north of Jiandemen and departed towards the surface to view what appeared ablaze before me as a gigantic weaved basket. It was of course China’s national stadium, The Birds Nest, which glows majestically amongst the 2008 Olympic Village. I was blown away - and not just because Beijing is windier than a dog with the munchies for chocolate. In the morning I felt I’d become part of a reality TV show. I headed to the Pearl (and later in the week the Silk) market and haggled with Apprentice flair for a jacket that no doubt a week later I’d be discarding quicker than Mary Bale does her cats. Sir Alan may have fired me, but I felt my puffa was worth 30 squids. Prepared for all elements, I finally had time to appreciate the wonders of Beijng’s rich history. The Temple of Heaven was heavenly, the Summer Palace was quite the palace and the Forbidden City was... well in truth it was just a city, it was nice but I didn’t really see what the fuss was about on that one. Although, Jingshan Park which overlooks the city to the north showed it was larger and grander than a big grandfather clock*. Of course, central both physically and psychologically to Beijing’s history is Tiananmen Square. Visually bare with a large portrait of Mao surrounded by Chinese flags overlooking it from the northern edge, the square is left sterile as a doctor’s glove. Flat and open, winds rip across your face making it a hostile place to stand for long; although, it’s important to take a moment to envisage the mass slaughter that occurred here when students occupied the square in 1989 and were brutally killed by the government, who claimed their acts as ‘social chaos’. In that context, maybe being ‘kettled’ on Oxford Street isn’t too bad. As if Tiananmen was not emblematic enough of China’s Communist history, in the middle of the square lay Chairman Mao’s Memoriam. Frozen throughout the night, every morning Mao is raised to the surface like a vampire into a see through casket (yes, I assume this is to stop him getting rornery). Visiting him is stranger than a lama in a top hat, as it’s difficult to believe it’s him as the preserving process leaves him looking like a waxwork caricature of himself. Stranger still, hundreds of people still bring flowers each day and so having been rushed through, I left feeling dizzy as I walked past the amusing collection of Mao souvenirs available at the exit. Conversely, my favourite sights in the city was the Lama Temple which hosts (amongst many) an 18 meters tall Buddha that both monks and the public pray to daily, as well as the understated Bell and Drum Towers which enable you to observe the method by which Chinese has historicallyshared the time, with a traditional drum performance. Also, these towers provide a great view of the traditional Hútòngs.This is not to mention my trip to the Jinshanling to Simatai section of the Great Wall of China. The Wall takes your breath away and not just because of the steep hills, as it snakes across the tips of mountains and off into the distance. Towards the end of my time here was New Years, where I drank a few too many Tsing Tao’s in the Hútòngs but loved every minute. Turns out Beijing’s a lot more than nine million bicycles. *Yeah, that’s right a grandfather clock. What’s wrong with that as a simile? It works; I mean it’s large and grand and... okay, fine, we’ll put some diamonds in it too then. It’s larger and grander than a big grandfather clock with DIAMONDS! Happy now? As written on 26/12/2010.
Off with my scarf, coat and glovely finger warmers (but not my hoody - no one removes Mr hoodington) as the temperature was 10 degrees higher in Kyoto than in Sapporo, Mika's winter wonderland. And it was beautiful. Having remained Japan's capital until 1868, Kyoto has kept a tight hold on its history with the same resilience as a cat-lady hoards her thimbles. Most famous and possibly the most beautiful attraction in Kyoto is the Golden Pavillion at Kinkaku-ji. Situated just North East of the main city, the pavilion lye's serenely over a small lake in which fish tumble and chase after one another. Under a bright light the pavilion glimmers. Then on the other side of the city, rising amongst the hills is Kiyomizudera temple. With an abundance of traditional monuments packed tightly together, this temple was probably my favourite in the whole of Japan. To its side clusters of graves ripple down the hill quite beautifully, but also strangely, as they face towards the motorway like children ticking off their ‘I-spy cars’ books. Not quite the peaceful Buddhist way. Also, having left the temple at sunset I was able to walk through Gion as the Geisha came out to play – playing what I’m not sure as having asked an anthropologist studying the subject she was pretty secretive and quite the oddball so I swiftly bumbled away as uniformed as ever. Next on the horizon was Osaka, which although smaller than Tokyo is bigger in the bizarre as I found out in the busy Miniambi district in Nanba; an area where large crabs, dragons and karate sensai hang gawking off buildings whilst locals rush around below them trying to sell everything from fake glasses to ties in vending machines. With only one day in the city I went straight to Osaka Castle which, despite its intricately detailed rooftop, towers menacingly over Osaka. Also, whilst streetside I won a huge pack of supersize soy sauce wotsits on a Japanese pin ball machine, but let down the Europeans when both a German man and I lost heavily in an international beer pong competition to two Japanese beer pong virgins – bad times. Kobe was next and as I was only aware of it because of its earthquake in 1995 I wasn’t sure what to do. Merikan park and Kobe’s Harbourland (which hosts a small Brightonesque theme park) were both nice and there were some strange going-ons in Chinatown where a North Korean man campaigned for support by ranting to a bemused public crossing the road – but otherwise it was pretty samey. Aside from that, a strenuous uphill walk made my calves as tight as Joan River’s Botoxed face, as I made my way to Kitano-cho to view some quirky street performers and choose not to go into the very European styled old houses. Then the next day it was time to deck the halls with boughs of Jolly as it was Christmas Eve! So, feeling jingly I decided (I’m not sure why) to embark on a trip to Hiroshima. It was all very bleak. As is customary, I strolled through Peace Park and past the A-Dome; which, after visiting the Peace Memorial Museum was very moving and upsetting, leaving everyone who entered disappointed in the past but mainly fearing what the future might bring. After starting off with the general account of the history of the A-Bomb attack, the museum breaks you as it begins telling the details of individuals whose skin melted and whose faces deformed which shocks you until your stomach churns. I left pretty abruptly after. That night I headed to Fukuoka and on arriving in the hostel was gifted two small choccys and an ‘I <3 FUK’ sticker as Christmas presents. The next day it be Chrimbo! Yeah that’s right Xmas - the big man’s birthday! So, as is traditional in the festive period I ate Sushi, drank Sake and dressed as Father Christmas. I’m now on a ferry making my way to Busan in South Korea, but I’ll just be korearing through as I leave for Beijing on the 28th. To Busan my hearties! Long gone were the toasty days of India, I was now in Northern Japan and it turns out that Hokkaido is colder than a particularly
irritated bald kangaroo. Fortunately, my university housemate Mika’s house was especially warm.Mika’s family treated me like a king; in fact, they fed me like a Tudor. For starters (I guess by that merit the main course and dessert as well) every meal was like a three or four dish banquet. Breakfast would consist of a fruit bowl, a hot stew and something savoury; whilst, the rest of the day was made up of Japanese favourites with many side dishes:Okonomyaki, Tempura, Sashimi, Sushi, Ramen and Soba – which you are encouraged to sip, slurp and suck. Apparently it shows that you enjoyed the meal: I felt it showed a bit too much saliva and a tendency for spillage. It is also courteous to say ‘Itadakikass’ before and ‘Gotisosama’ after eating to show your appreciation for the food. After my choppy chop stick skills I think everyone was probably appreciative that I was able to finish at all. On a food theme, one of the first things I did in Sapporo was to make handmade Motchi (rice cakes). Feeling like a lumberjack but dressed as a milk maid I beat the cooked rice with a large wooden hammer. Between blows, another would fold and rotate the mixture – a daring pursuit with my aim. I'd say that by the end of it we'd become pretty smooth with the whole procedure; but, dressed in a pinafore, smooth probably isn't the word. Also, in Hokkaido I had the privilege of relaxing in an Onsen. Located amongst some of the giant hedgehog shaped mountains (with trees poking out at all angles) that cover Hokkaido’s landscape, the hot natural springs were perfectly tranquil – even whilst surrounded by an abundance of starker’s Japanese men. The strangest thing about the experience though was the concept of bathing outdoors in the snow; as, after an hour your body is as wrinkled as a champion gurner while your hair freezes like a teenager that's just applied a litre of asdas own brand hair gel. Quite the look! Once out, I fell to sleep like a wrinkled old baby. I have also seen many sights in and around Sapporo: from their TV Tower to their Clock Tower and from Historic central buildings such as Shiyokan and the former Hokkaido Governement Building to the Historical Villiage of Hokkaido. All the while, like throughout Japan cubed cars race around cubed houses making japan look like a giant game of Tetris. Throughout my time here I’ve learnt some basic Japanese but of the time I feel like a toddler learning his first words as I point at inanimate objects and exclaim "factory" or "sign". Just as well Mika and her family knew some English, otherwise I would have been clueless. Sam’s basic conversation made Japaneasy: Konnichiwa - Hello Sayonara/Jerne (casual) - Goodbye Arrigato godaimass/Arrigato (casual) - Thank You Oishi - Tasty Kirai – I don’t like Kirei - Beautiful Atatakai - Warm Samui – Cold Ipai - Full Hai - Yes Ne -No As written 11/12/2010.After 22 ½ hours of travelling I arrived in Tokyo tired, ratty and (with my initial night’s stay booked for the wrong day) with nowhere to stay.
Having tried a couple of full hostels I found myself stood motionless like a fox in the headlights. I froze; not because of the size of the city, nor out of tired frustration. Instead, I stood still so as to adhere to Tokyo’s collective habit of waiting endlessly to cross a road. On every corner of Tokyo stands a pelican crossing with a green/red man hanging above and regardless of whether there is a vehicle in sight, everyone stands there like statues waiting to cross. First I thought they were brainwashed, then I thought this could be part of their meditating culture and then I stopped thinking and just crossed anyway. Behind me the lights began tweeting and a stampede of Tokyo(agogoers?) battled for floor space – I was better off ahead. Despite being one of the strongest economic powers in the world with weirdness on every corner, Tokyo is shockingly safe, quiet and friendly. Bikes are left unlocked all over the place and even its attractions are quiet – unsurprising in the Buddhist temples, but the Imperial Palace and Tokyo Tower are just as deserted. But then turn the corner and even Brian Blessed would be searching for his ear plugs after half an hour in Akihabara’s electric district or under the bright lights of Shibuya. Sonic’s not just a game here but a way of life as you rush up and down stairs pulling your hair out (although I think chasing Tails is left for Roppongi’s clubbing district). This is a city full of contrast. The skyline says it all as huge skyscrapers share streets with traditional temples and serene parks. But the overall impression is stranger Carlo Ancelotti’s eyebrow. Tokyo seems undecided whether to reflect the East or West. Having been a closed off Samurai state until the fall of the Tokugawa shogunate in the late 19th Century, Japan and Tokyo in particular strove to equal Western architecture. Consequently, western architects were employed across the middle of the 20thCentury to help impress the world, developing areas of central Tokyo. Tokyo copied and advanced on Western designs, most visible in Tokyo Tower which not only copies the design of the Eiffel Tower but also cheekily surpasses it in size by 13 meters (The Eiffel Tower is 320 meters tall). But it’s not the size but the way you use it, as despite its added height, Tokyo Tower is crammed amongst other buildings and is painted in community service orange and granny sweater beige. As such, it lacks the beauty and forward thinking of Paris. But in reaction to this Japan has fought to keep hold of its past, rebuilding and preserving many of the Temples and historic landmarks that were destroyed in WW2. Like a Mitchell and Webb sketch Tokyo’s skyline is left looking pretty monotone, but every now and then its genius! Despite its large population, Tokyo is also one of the cleanest places I’ve ever been, which is really odd as there seem to be no bins and vending machines every few steps. The people are health fanatics as many still wear flu masks and some won’t sit next to me on the underground – but then I get that in England too. This is not to mention the toilets; which, heated at a temperature that makes you feel like you’ve jumped in too soon after the person before. Also, everyone should be careful not to press the wrong button as you may get a bit of a shock – or maybe a pleasant surprise! I have also heard rumours that Tokyo has a number of secret night cleaners, sweeping and washing the streets – keeps them on the streets I guess. In the meantime, I’ve eaten plenty of Sushi, seen Mount Fuji and given Wagner some wailing lessons when attempting Karaoke. I’m currently waiting for an internal flight over to Hokkaido to see my university flat mate Mika. Having heard that it’s nippier than Jordan’s tank top I think I may need to buy another jumper when I get there! The last few days have been pretty topsy-turvy. Not just because we've weaved in and out of countless
sights across Agra, Bharatpur, Jaipur and back to Dehli again; no that's fine, but with a bus full of travellers each with a belly full of Dehli one stop has often needed to become two or three. Everyone’s been sympathetic to each other’s needs though, as a sense of been there ruined the t-shirt is shared amongst all of us. The food’s great in the most part. The dishes have more layers than a Dan Brown novel but quite common amongst them all is a surprising use of cinnamon and chilli. Not too strong, despite North India’s reputation, Indians prefer to eat their food for flavour not for bragging rights as us English often might. The issue that became apparent to the weak stomached amongst us was that with three highly spiced dishes each day we were soon shocking ourselves by opting for a bit of tea and toast or simpler still a few chips. This is all made worse by the knowledge that it only takes one underdone chicken skewer to make you spring up and do your Forest Gump impression all the way to the washrooms. India tends to smell faintly of cinnamon and incense. No individual has smelt foul, but about to depart to Japan I worry this may be a shared sensory illusion – we’ll see if I get a bit more walking space on the streets of Tokyo. Despite all this, when well we’ve seen a lot. From the busy tourist attractions of the Taj Mahal, baby Taj and Red Fort of Agra, to the untouched temple and step-well in the remote village of Bharatpur and on to Jaipur’s Barbie-tastic ‘pink city’ attractions. However, I think I found a new idol in visiting Fatehpur Sikri, briefly Akbar The Great’s imperial capital. To give you a brief background on Akbar (1556-1605), as the third Moghul ruler he brought together Hindu, Muslim and Christian belief systems marrying a wife of each religion and utilising the architectural influences of all three in building this new kingdom. Although illiterate, he brought a sense of democracy in his reign as widows were allowed to remarry and criminals were only punished if there was sufficient evidence (if there was their heads would be crushed by elephants). But Akbar was also a player! With three wives and up to 5,000 mistresses he loved the chat up lines, one poetic verse of his reads, ‘I am not a drinker, but I drink. I am not a drinker, but I drink; not alcohol, but your eyes.’ He also liked a game or two, playing many games of ‘hide and seek’ around his kingdom and better still effectively a game of human chess with women naked but for see-through ‘Hollywood’ dresses. Best still he made them move squares by doing hop scotch! My new plan in life is to become and emperor – great Ganesha bring me luck! Just left my mum at Dehli airport and am flying to Tokyo via Sri Lanka. Not sure where I’m staying or how to get there, but that’s the fun of it right? With our plane delayed by a couple of hours, we arrived in Delhi around 1.30. After finally collecting our bags (and with a precautionary stop in the airports fully functioning toilets) we got into our pre-booked taxi. Unsurprisingly, even in the car park our driver was tooting more than a sensitive derrière after a Friday night binging at the Maharajah in Bexley village.The roads are insane, with a mix of cars, vans, motorised rickshaws, bicycles and seemingly suicidal streetwalkers. There is no order, as three lanes apparently translates as five and often cars simply drive on the other side - or otherwise will simply appear to park up in the middle of it all. In the city, cars and people are wedged together tighter than the loose skin on Gordon Ramsey's face.
It's not surprising though, as with a population of 15 million crammed into the bastis (shanty town districts) the stories of buses toppling over and passengers getting taken out by overhanging cables seems very conceivable. The busiest sections are probably on the metro system. Although we avoided the rush hour traffic, the coaches were packed. If we'd been a tin of peas we were near enough mushy by the end of it. It's all fascinating tough - even aside from the constant hooting from what my mum affectionately calls the toot-toots. Today we visited both a practising Sikh Temple and Jama Masjid (the largest Muslim temple in the world). This seemed strange as with 75% of Indians being Hindu, yet; as the architectural landscape of Delhi and the North is heavily influenced by the Moghuls rule (Persian based settlers) this seemingly makes more sense. Both the temples and the mosque required that we remove our shoes as we were very conscious not to offend or disturb. The Sikh Temple also required we covered our heads amd washed our feet (This may have just been so we didn’t make their shorts dirty as we trod over and around them as they prayed). Further to this we have also seen India Gate (memorial to those killed in WW1), Parliament, Humayan’s Tomb (supposedly the influence of the Taj Mahal), Red Fort and Connault Place. Currently travelling across Agra by coach, we have seen camels, cows, elephants and horses on route as well a whole load of people stuffed in and hanging out of far fewer vehicles. Oh, there goes another toot-toot honking up our boot-boot and a man walking in middle of a duel carriageway – but then again I wouldn’t have expected anything less! |
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Samuel FryTraveller Archives
June 2011
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