The Travel Bug Goes Forth 493q48

The TRAVEL BUG Goes Forth

Michael SN Godfrey

Copyright © 2020 by Michael SN Godfrey.

ISBN: Softcover 978-1-5437-5590-9 eBook 978-1-5437-5589-3

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced by any means, graphic, electronic, or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, taping or by any information storage retrieval system without the written permission of the author except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles and reviews.

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CONTENTS

Chapter 1

INDONESIA: Attend ‘Nyepi’ New Year prayers on the beach in Bali – fly to Ambo

2

MALAYSIA: – SARAWAK. Visits to a logging concession up river from Bintulu in

3

PAKISTAN & CHINA: Travelling on the Karakorum Highway with visits to Skard

4

INDONESIA: – PAPUA. a photographic group to witness the Baliem festival i

5

ITALY: – us visiting Milan – Verona – Venice – Florence – Pisa – La Spezia an

6

MALAYSIA: – PANGKOR and KEDAH. Visit Pangkor Island and feed some Pied

7

THE CAUCASUS: Visit AZERBAIJAN – GEORGIA – ARMENIA, and take a tra

8

HOLY LAND: Take a trip to the main Biblical sites.

9

MALAYSIA: - SARAWAK. Exploring the town of Kuching.

10

JORDAN: – From Aqaba by road to Petra. Visiting the iconic ruins at PETRA.

11

MALAYSIA: - SABAH. A road trip to see the Orangutan at Sepilok – Sukau – Dan

12

PORTUGAL & SPAIN: us on a Camino pilgrimage trek from Porto in Portuga

13

CHINA: – YUNNAN & SICHUAN. Visit the Red Fields at Dongchuan – Kunming

14

MALAYSIA: – KUALA GULA. Follow us in the search for the Milky Stork and sp

15

INDONESIA – PONTIANAK. Spend time in a town with the name of a female gho

16

ROMANIA & BULGARIA: The old city of Bucharest – Dracula’s Castle in Transy

17

MALAYSIA: – SARAWAK. A return visit to Ba’Kelalan in the Kelabit Highlands.

18

INDIA: – NAGALAND & ASSAM. Visit Kohima in Nagaland to attend an annual

19

CHINA: - YUNNAN & LAOS. Kunming – Dali – Teonchong by train and bus – th

20

MALAYSIA: – PAHANG. Visit the abandoned underground tin mines at Sungai Le

21

CENTRAL ASIA: – KAZAKHSTAN & KYRGYZSTAN. Visit Arslanbob for the w

22

JAPAN:- Explore the Kii Peninsular, following the Kumano Kodo Shinto/Buddhist

PREFACE

Michael Stephen Newton Godfrey was born in London, England in 1939, and enjoyed an English ‘Public School’ education.

Trained and qualified as a Quantity Surveyor with a British construction company, before spending the majority of his working life in Nigeria, Afghanistan, Oman, the UAE, Malaysia and Mauritius, as well as stints back in England.

He is a Fellow of the Royal Institution of Chartered Surveyors, and an Associate of the Chartered Institute of Arbitrators.

Retiring in Malaysia in 1999, he enjoys travelling to interesting but out of the way destinations with Lian, his Malaysian wife. As well as being an excellent travelling companion, Lian does the research for the trips.

This is the fourth book in the TRAVEL BUG series, following ‘Catch the Travel Bug’, ‘No Cure for the Travel Bug’, and ‘The Travel Bug Goes Viral’. The book continues to follow the trials and tribulations encountered by independent travellers visiting places often thought to be off the beaten track.

Traveling alone gives us a much better opportunity to use local transport and so meet up with some of the local population, and it also gives the flexibility of being able to extend or reduce our stay in a location.

As one gets older, the ability to travel is very dependant on being able to walk with ease, so we try to keep fit with tennis and walking.

Each chapter is self-contained, and covers a different trip, and is not meant to be a guidebook. Just pick a chapter in the Contents page that interests you, sit in your favourite armchair, and let us transport you there.

I suggest that checking locations on Google Earth may be instructive and make our trips a little more ‘down to earth’.

CHAPTER 1

Indonesia: Bali, Ambon and Seram.

Young dancers arrive for the festival.

The Banda Islands of Indonesia were famed for the nutmeg trees, (Myristica fragrans) from which the spices mace and nutmeg were obtained. Most of the islands in the group were under the control of the VOC, the Dutch East India Company. All apart from one small outlying one called Run, measuring only 2.25mile x 3/4mile wide (3.6km x 1.25km). At one time, Britain istered this pretty volcanic island. Following the First Anglo-Dutch War, the island was due to be returned to the British, but this did not happen. Then, after the Second Anglo-Dutch War, the Treaty of Breda was signed in 1667 AD, wherein one clause agreed that Run would belong to the Dutch, and the British would keep the Island of Manhattan, (called New Amsterdam by the Dutch) renaming it, New York.

Whew! – What a story. What a difference there is now between Run and a relatively similar sized New York.

We simply have to visit Run Island, now called Pulau Run by the Indonesians.

But how do we get there? First fly to Ambon in the Maluku Islands, before taking a ferry for the 150-mile (245km) trip to Banda Island. From there it is a 16-mile (25km) trip in a small boat to Pulau Run. The journey sounds a piece of cake – no problem. There is even an airport on Banda.

So Lian started planning the trip, which includes attending the famous Balinese New Year seashore prayers.

Kuala Lumpur to Bali: Indonesia.

It was mid-March when we set off, taking a Grab cab to KLIA2 airport. The Hokkien speaking driver never stopped talking and laughing. Fast lips and fast driving.

Had breakfast in Burger King before taking the three-hour Air Asia 10:20 am flight to Bali.

The taxi drivers, as usual, will try to rip off their engers, and they wanted 200,000Rps (US$14) for the short trip into Kuta. But Lian kept walking, and one agreed at half that amount. He can also offer us a nine-hour drive for 600,000Rps (US$42) the next day to visit the main east coast ‘puja’ (prayer) sites.

We had a booking at Sandy Bay Resort in Kuta for one night and checked in. It soon started to rain, with one heavy shower.

Out at 3:30 pm for three hours. Lian was looking for a SIM card, and for another hotel. It’s a bit depressing in the drizzle.

So many tourists now have tattoos, and they are showing them off on arms and legs. Maybe now more on women than men?

Lian checked with some beach traders for the timing of prayers there tomorrow.

After a good dinner at ‘Fat Chow’, we were tired and slept well.

We are at the beach by 7:30 am wearing basic white tops. The white clothing represents purity. Many Balinese were already there for their ‘Nyepi’ New Year’s prayers. The men all wear a white shirt, usually long sleeve, with two sarongs, the outer one being white. On their heads, they wear their traditional headgear, but with a white cloth wrapped on the outside. The women wear brightly coloured and patterned sarongs, lacey white tops, and a coloured scarf circles the waist. Fresh flowers adorn their tied-up hair.

Various processions of people from other villages arrive in lorries, and walk along the beach to their allotted places, carrying their religious artefacts. Many carry multi-coloured fringed silken umbrellas on tall poles. Their various-shaped flags flutter in the wind. On their heads, the women carry food and items for the prayers. How can they do this so gracefully? The sky is blue, and the beach feels blessed with the worshipers’ presence.

In the background, we can hear the hypnotic sound of the Gamelan music played on the traditional xylophone type instruments.

The people are very amicable. As well as large groups of worshipers, some families were enjoying private pujas (prayers). Lian was invited to a man and two women in simple prayers, and she was blessed with a sprinkling of water and had grains of rice pressed onto her forehead.

By 10 am, the people start leaving as it is getting quite hot.

We cross the road and have a buffet breakfast in the Samudra hotel.

Here I noticed that my Peak camera strap had left black marks on one shoulder of my white cotton long-sleeved shirt. The skid marks came from the two ‘nonslip’ bands on the middle of the strap. (Later, Peak sent me a replacement strap that had a different design of the non-slip section. No mention, however, was made regarding the spoilt shirt – but I didn’t expect them to).

We had spotted a big crowd to the north and found it quite a lot larger. Several women seemed to go into a trance and would rush towards the sea waving their arms around. They are each pursued by a couple of men who stop them going too deep and drag them back up the beach to the ‘puja’ area.

Some women leave a small offering of a variety of flowers in a woven bamboo basket along the high-tide line. Their prayers will be carried away by the incoming tide.

Several times Lian, although Buddhist, will kneel before a priest and will be blessed with holy water flicked over her.

There were so many photos to take. Undoubtedly the photographic opportunities far exceeded my expectations.

We went back to our hotel by 1 pm and rested until 3:15 pm when we returned to the beach. At this time, we were not expecting much then, as we thought that the main prayers finished in the morning. Wrong again.

The primary prayer area was now opposite the Hard Rock Hotel.

Many villages each had prayer stalls set up side by side. We watch as processions arrive and slowly fill their respective areas. The highlight was a large group of young girls – depicting virgins. They had highly decorated headdresses, gold and white sarongs, and each was made up to look like a Nepalese Kumari child goddess, with lots of eye makeup.

As we waited, the sky grew darker, and the rain came. This chased away many of the watching tourists, but the locals all had to find what shelter they could under the trees lining the beach. Some priests just sat and got soaked. Lian had her umbrella, and I had my light raincoat and a wet bag. But we still got completely soaked by the time we returned. The little girls had to carry on their dance routine in the drizzle. They were excellent; with their swaying bodies and elaborate hand movements. It was about 5:30 pm when the worshipers streamed off the beach. Small high-sided lorries transported the worshipers back to their villages.

Returning to the hotel, we hung up our clothes to dry, before we enjoyed a hot shower.

Some locations in the world seem to emit strong spiritual vibrations; and Bali, Jerusalem, and Tibet head my list by far.

Time for a little background on the religion of Bali. Although Indonesia is predominantly Muslim, some islands are majority Christian. Bali, however, is unique, as most of the population practice a form of Hinduism that is different from that practised in India. This Hinduism includes ‘three causes for wellbeing’: harmony among people, harmony with nature and the environment, and harmony with God. Maybe it is this that has empowered the Balinese people

with a certain grace and serenity that we have not seen elsewhere.

Our heaster at school, CH Gilkes, took us for religious instruction. Although a staunch Christian school, he tried to open our minds to other religions. He explained that when he said that ‘God is like a mountain, and the main religions are all looking at the same mountain, but from different directions’.

The following morning, we left by hire car to drive up into the hills to Tukad Ceprung, and the holy spring temple at Pura Tirtha Empul Tampak Spring. Here devotees were bathing in spring water pouring from pipes spouting out along one wall of a long pool. Several tourists, all wearing green robes, with a red sash, were also cleansing their souls in the water, where we could see fish swimming.

In another large but shallow pool, we could see the black sandy bottom pulsating with fresh water coming into the pool. Multi-coloured carp were swimming around and waiting to be fed. The temple comprised many small thatch-roofed shrines set in landscaped courtyards.

Later in the morning, Ketut our driver, took us to visit another temple at Gunung Kawi, Tampaksiring. These shrines are set in a steep valley, and there were many steps down alongside very photogenic flooded terraced rice fields. The shrines were built in the 11th century to worship an ancient king and his two sons. The main temple comprises four shrines carved into a 40-foot (12m) high cliff. A similar temple, but with five shrines, is located on the other side of a stream. Access across the steam is by a curved stone bridge.

On the way back, we stopped at another temple, Pura Batwan. This is a more traditional Balinese temple with massive gateways of brick and carved stone, and small thatched-roofed shrines.

The last day of the new year festival, Saturday is the traditional ‘Nyepi Silence Day’. All Balinese stay at home and do not work. Hotels guests are not allowed out of their hotel, and food is available in the hotel. This rule also applies to foreign tourists. All flights in and out of Bali are suspended for the 24 hours. Even the BBC reported that Internet services would not be available in Bali that day. Is it possible for the younger generation to forego texting for 24 hours? People caught outside their home or hotel, are sentenced to do temple cleaning for a month.

The traffic was heavy with several diversions as the town prepared for Silence Day, so we only arrived back at our hotel at 3:30 pm.

We had booked flights to leave on Friday evening, and at 9:30 pm we flew from Denpasar airport in Bali, to Makassar in southern Sulawesi.

We noted that in the seat pockets of the Lion Air flight were Invocation Cards. These contain separate prayers for all the major religions to have a safe journey – and included different prayers for Protestants and Catholics. At Makassar, we had a 4.1/2-hour wait. Here we managed a catnap stretched out on a few seats, before taking the onward flight to Ambon. Although the plane was full, we managed to get emergency seats, so I have legroom for my long legs.

Ambon.

We landed in Ambon at 6:15 am, just as dawn was breaking. We walked down the stairs and across the tarmac to the Arrivals Hall. Imagine our surprise as a seven-piece Hawaiian band greeted us, under a sign saying ‘Welcome Paradise

of Moluccas Archipelligos’, as we waited for our bags.

The taxi driver did not waste any time in taking us to the ‘Biz@ Hotel’, where we had a booking. The room was not yet ready, so we went for breakfast. Although smallish, the room was relatively modern.

At the airport, Lian had asked about flying to Banda. A private flight was leaving in the morning but was fully booked. Then the owner intended to use it for a while. So, we have little choice but to take a five-hour ferryboat ride.

The receptionist made a booking for us the next morning. As it takes an hour to reach Tulehu port, we planned to leave the hotel at 7 am. The ferry leaves at 9 am.

Did some washing, and then had a rest, before going out for a noodle lunch.

The pavements had at one time been covered with six-sided concrete pavers, about 6” (15cm) wide. But now the pavements are in an awful condition, as there has been no maintenance, and being a pedestrian is not easy.

Later in the afternoon, we went for a walk towards the waterfront, but all we could see were the warehouses of Ambon Docks, with no view of the water.

We found a supermarket, and this was fairly basic. But it sold all the items needed to set up a kitchen, lots of tinned butter and cheese, but no fresh fruit or vegetables.

Next morning, we had a quick breakfast. The ordered taxi did not arrive, but we got another and reached the port before 8 am.

The whole of this area, being volcanic, can be subject to a Tsunami. Many towns we have notices showing potential danger areas, and road signs are showing the evacuation routes to higher and safer ground.

Many villages we have Christian crosses set out along the roadside. Some even have lights on them.

The taxi driver loves his horn and uses it more times than his clutch.

Reaching the port, we were told that today’s ferry was cancelled, as seas were too rough, and that we should try again on Tuesday, in three days! They only have two ferries a week to Banda, on Saturday and Tuesday, and returning the next day.

So, what was our Plan B? At present, there was no Plan B.

In the port waiting-room, Lian spoke to some people who had come from the north coast of Seram and had stayed at the Lisar Bahari Sawai. Lian took some details, and perhaps we could go there?

Three other ferryboats are being loaded for other nearby destinations. We boarded one down a very steep gangplank, and I cracked my head on the

bulkhead. The boat was full, with standing room only. Only then we found that this was not going where we wanted.

Ambon to Seram.

So, we clambered off and moved to the ferry going to Seram. Again, it was very crowded, and we had to stand for half an hour before getting a place sitting on some steps. The ferry got underway at 9:30 am and sailed eastward along the north coast of Pulau Haruku before stopping in Pulau Saparua an hour later. Even before the boat docked, women were jumping down from the pier with foodstuffs to sell to the engers. Many engers got off here, and we managed to find two seats. The ferry left at 11 am with the sea continuing to be calm, as some nearby islands protect it. Arrived at the Masohi-Amahai port at mid-day, and took a Minibus into the town terminal. Here we took a shared taxi for the three-hour drive across to the north coast.

The island of Seram is mountainous and volcanic, and approximately 215 miles (345km) east to west, and 30 miles (50km) across.

Each village we is lined with crosses of different sizes, planted into the roadside verge. The favoured cross in most of the communities, has a clear red plastic heart attached, and a purple ribbon draped along the crossbar.

By 1:15 pm, we had left the plain, and started to climb through the thick rain forest. Rounding a bend, we see a tree across the road, and three men asked for 5,000Rps (US$.35) before they would let us . Our driver looked very nervous. The road crossed a couple of highpoints, at one point reaching over 4,000ft (1,200m).

Arriving at Sawai, we dropped off the other engers, and the taxi took us through narrow lanes to the other side of the village.

Lisar Bahari Sawai - N Seram.

Drove through gates into the parking area of the ‘Lisar Bahari Sawai Guest House’, where Dino, the resort manager, greeted us. All the accommodation was in four huts set out over the water, and accessed by timber boardwalks.

Our hut was the furthest away. The rooms are basic: without a fan, airconditioning, hot water, or Wi-Fi. Power only comes on from 6:45 pm to 6 am. Over the water, the toilet waste drops in the sea.

We seem to be the only guests. The owner’s son, Zain, arranged for us to go bird watching the next morning, with a pick-up at 6 am.

We learnt that ‘Sawai’ is pronounced as ‘Sa- why’.

Had a walk through the village and took a few photos. The village hugs the seashore, and the forested mountainside looms above it. To the north, the steep cliffs drop right into the sea. Many of the wooden houses sit on timber piles driven into the seabed. All the houses have a simple canoe or dugout tied up. We are informed that this is a Muslim village with a population of 400 to 500. The village on the road out is Protestant, with a population of 320.

We sat on our verandah, looking down into the crystal-clear seawater at the fish, sea urchins, and the corals.

Dinner was served at 7:45 pm; deep-fried fish, green beans, rice, carrot and potato soup. We were hungry, and it tasted good.

There is no ceiling to our room, and we look up to see the high thatched roof that covers the five separate bedrooms and the dining area. There is also an outside veranda area, where we took all our meals.

I slept OK, but Lian said she was disturbed by some lights in the corridor, so she had to find the switches and turn them off.

Set the alarm for 5:15 am. Had time for a coffee and some sweet bread before setting off birding. Lian sat on the back of the bird guide’s motorbike, and I clambered on the back of an ‘ojek’ motorbike taxi. Dawn was breaking as we left in the dark at 6 am.

Our guide, Butija, turned out to be an excellent guide. He brought the Indonesian translation of our Birds of Wallacea. No binoculars, but he spotted the birds very well. We soon stopped at a very tall durian tree and were surprised to see beautiful Seram Salmon-crested Cockatoos feeding on unripe durians as they hung from the branches.

We tried a fallen durian found by the ‘ojek’ driver. This was unripe, with a white and quite a hard nut lining, and with little smell.

Fifteen birds are endemic (found nowhere else in the world) to Seram, and with Butija, we were very fortunate to see ten of these within just 4.3/4hours’ bird watching. Spotted one well-hidden nest, with a grey and yellow head just showing. The little bird flew out of the nest so fast that we were unable to confirm its species, apart from noting it was a female Sunbird.

Time to check the bird list of our sightings with Butija, making use of both of our bird guide books.

The water today is quite choppy, as a strong wind is coming from the north directly onto our verandah eating area. Found that one of my socks had gone ‘awol’, blown away by the wind, and I never saw it again.

Lunch was served; grilled fish, fish soup, greens, and rice. We found the fish very filling.

Our write up on Seran and a map were blown into the sea. By the time I got in to rescue them, the papers had nearly disintegrated. I had, however, managed to scratch my leg on a slippery ladder, so this had to be cleaned, as it was bleeding.

Had a rest, but first had to brush off the pieces of thatch that had showered down onto our beds. At 3 pm, a snack of fried banana covered with coconut shavings and molasses was served.

We went for a walk through the village and over a small headland to the next bay. Some of the tallest trees are durian trees and grow to about 60ft (20m) high, but Butija says they can grow considerably taller.

The villagers have tiled a small stream leading to the sea. Here women can do their washing, or wash their hair even though the water is a bit brackish. Chickens and cockerels have the full range of the village, as do several goats. Men play volleyball on the paved play area next to the mosque.

We can look into the houses, and notice that the people use wood for cooking.

Lian tops up her phone card at a small hut.

We returned to our verandah for some tea, and to watch the sunset. An Australian Biologist and photographer, Gary B Wilson, came over to say hello.

Dinner was based on whitebait, a fish curry, vegetable, rice, noodles, and fried corn patties. Butija came for a chat and gave some further information on local birding and other relevant information, such as that the sea to Banda is usually calm from April to August.

Sawai to Ambon.

We were woken by the screeching of Cockatoos high on the hill. The sea is ‘millpond’ flat, and we look down from the verandah to see a selection of various corals and colourful fish. A quite amazing sight. A pinkish blush tints the sea and clouds to the north. Power turned off at 6.40am, plunging the bathroom into a black hole.

Enjoyed our breakfast of omelette and pancakes at 7:15 am and left by taxi an hour later. Before we left, the manager wrote us an introduction for Pulau Haruku, as we intended to visit this island.

Our driver smokes only Marlboro cigarettes and did not take the packet of the local Galah cigarettes that we offered him. It was 11:15 am when we arrived at the port, and we used the waiting room to keep out of the sun.

We boarded the ferry for Ambon at 1 pm. It’s smaller than the one we came over on, but seats are available. We have booked seat numbers, and we have plenty of knee room, even if we are right in front of the steps down to the engine room. Women are selling snacks, and some engers have bought durian on board.

The ferry left the dock soon after 2 pm. The sea was calm, and we went directly to Pulau Ambon, docking at 3:45 pm.

We now needed to find accommodation nearby so that we could proceed to Pulau Haruku the following morning.

A taxi driver helped us to find a place to stay not too far from the port. We saw one awful place before we checked into ‘Hotel SEA’. Enjoyed a cold Bintang beer, and then a good shave and a shower. Later, Lian found the traffic noise too much, as our room overlooked the heavy traffic driving onto a big bridge. After an argument with reception, we moved to a much quieter room.

Ambon - Saparua – Ambon.

Our reason for visiting the island of Haruku was to try to find the local Dusky Scrub Fowl, a chicken-sized Megapod, that lays its eggs in the ground, where it is incubated by the hot sun. But the accommodation was a problem, so we decided instead to take a day trip to Saparua Island.

We took a minibus out to the port, which took over half-an-hour, even driving fast.

Tickets were bought, and we boarded just five minutes before the scheduled departure time. However, we only left at 9:30 am.

Lian spoke to a young woman and found out there is no return ferry in the afternoon, even though the hotel reception had told us there would be. If you have to return in the afternoon, then you have to take a speedboat.

Reaching Porto Haria fifty minutes later, we took a minibus into Saparua town, about eight minutes away. The town is small, with a one-way system in the town centre. It is a very Christian town if the white crosses lining the street are telling the truth. The shopkeepers are Hokkien, but Lian met only one lady who could still speak this Chinese dialect. The market was quite small and of little interest. Durian fruit are being sold all along the street. There must be a glut at the moment. A few men in the fish market called me over for a photograph, and wanted me to drink a white liquid that I guess was some locally brewed ‘samsu’. I politely declined. Lian bought packets of pulut (glutinous) rice, grated coconut, and ‘gula malaka’ (palm sugar) wrapped in a banana leaf. Very tasty, and we bought another couple to take back with us on our return from a wander.

Went to have a look at the old Dutch Fort, Benteng Duurstede. Built in 1676, all that now remains is a wall about 12ft (3.1/2m) high around a circular compound, with notches cut out the top of the wall to fit canons.

It was sweltering hot and humid. We went back to the port on the back of two motorbike taxis.

There was already a man wanting to return to Ambon, so we negotiated a price with the boatman and agreed to share the cost. We walked along the jetty to a small speedboat with its 40HP Yamaha outboard engine. Then a woman and a young man boarded. The boatman said that it was his mother and brother, but this would not alter the price the three of us were paying. The boat had two plastic seats at the front, and one was reserved for the driver, then bench seats each side that could take three at a squeeze, knee to knee.

When we started, we were following the ferry route that goes to the south of Haruku. The sea became very choppy, and the hull was cracking down on the sea with spine crunching crashes. The captain then decides, quite rightly, to take the longer route around the north of the island. Even there we met some small white horses. Should they call them ponies?

The boat looked worn and basic. I think that fibreglass can fail if not made well and is subjected to too much stress. I reckon we were going that way but said nothing. Even if I had, Lian could not have heard me above the engine and sea noise. The return trip took us an hour and ten minutes.

We were soon in a minibus, and the driver was kind enough to take us past his terminal and dropped us back at the Biz Hotel.

Ambon.

I had some problems trying to find the Lion Air office in town. According to their website and literature, they had an office at the Amboina Hotel, but when we got there were told they had moved to the Amaris Hotel. But by then, their office had closed. So, we will return in the morning.

Next day we were told the additional price for bringing forward our flight by a day. We had to pay cash, as they had no landline to take a credit card machine. But at least we will save on the additional night’s hotel. The Lion Air website still shows its office as the Ambonia Hotel, yet they moved a year ago. Hardly the way to run an airline.

We picked up an ‘angot’ (minibus) to take us to the museum to the south of town. The driver was quite a joker. His 22-year-old daughter is studying English, so he phoned her and ed me the phone to have a conversation with her in English. Must it, it did not go so well. Anyway, he even took us to the museum entrance, which was up a switchback road.

The museum, however, was not up to much. It specializes in wedding dresses and notes that Indonesia comprises more than three hundred ethnic groups spread over about 17,300 islands. The dresses have obvious foreign influences from Persia, Holland, the Middle East, Portugal and Spain.

Took an ‘angot’ to the minibus ‘terminal’, and walked through a busy market to another terminal for minibuses going northwards. Here we took an ‘angot’ to the Commonwealth War Grave Commission site, known locally as the ‘Australian gravesite’. The setting was impressive with three of the biggest ‘raintrees’ I have seen, all covered with ferns and even some weaver bird nests. The grass was neatly cut, and the individual markers set out in perfect formation. It is a moving place to wander around. The majority of those buried here were from Australia, but there are many from Britain. One section was for Indian Muslims, and we noted one who was a Sepoy in the 9th Jat Regiment. A lone Jew is interned, and his plaque tells us he was an able seaman and had died on HMS “Encounter”.

There was also a section set aside for the Dutch. Many of the markers were unnamed, and ‘Known only to God’. Sadly, so many young men died in the two world wars.

Took a minibus back to the terminal, before getting onto another to find our hotel. This one had a circular route which took us back past the War Graves and the Hotel Sea. My iPad and Google Maps helped follow our route, and we were even able to direct the minibus driver, who did not know the Biz Hotel.

What a delight to get into an aircon room. Used the 2nd swipe card to keep in the power slot, so we had power on while we were out.

Went for a walk later in the afternoon to find that Benteng (Fort) Victoria is now an army camp.

We stopped for a look around Maranatha Protestant Cathedral. There were security guards at the main gates, and they let us through. Although all the Cathedral entrance doors were locked, we found a caretaker who was kind enough to let us in for a look round.

On our last full day in Ambon, we planned to visit Fort Amsterdam on the north coast.

Firstly, we took an ‘angot’ to the terminal at the market. Then found a small blue minibus marked ‘Hila’ on its signboard, as this is the small town we need to go. We then have to wait until it fills up. This time the minibus had seats instead of bench seats, but there was not much room.

Left at 9:20 am once the minibus was full, and an hour later arrived at Hila village. We then took a couple of ‘ojek’ (motorbike taxis) for a six-minute-drive, westwards to the old Fort. Built by the Portuguese, and later taken over by the Dutch East Indies Company in 1637. It comprises a three-storey blockhouse building within a walled compound, surrounded by breadfruit trees and the sea. Lian signed the visitor’s book and gave the guard a couple of packs of cigarettes.

Leaving the Fort, we went next door to the old church. The watchman let us in and was tipped with a packet of fags.

Walking back towards the village we saw some very picturesque houses with thatch roofs. An old man invited us to look inside one. It comprised a lounge, with a dining area behind it, and four side bedrooms. He was delighted with the fags Lian gave him.

A minibus picked us up to go back to Biz, and I had a front seat. We picked up more engers on the way back to town. The road along the coast was picturesque. Many houses were drying spices, including cloves, laid out on cloth by the side of the roadway.

The music played in most of the minibuses have the bass notes turned fully on, and your ribs twanged with the vibration. It took us an hour and a half from the Fort back to our hotel.

Ambon- Jakarta – Kuala Lumpur.

After breakfast in the hotel, we went to the Lion Air office and checked in for our flights. We were given front-row economy seats on each flight.

It was raining all morning, so we relaxed in our room with the TV. In the early afternoon, we took a taxi for the half-hour drive to the airport. From Ambon, we flew to Jakarta via Makassar. Here we had to take a shuttle bus from the Domestic to the International Terminal for our flight to Kuala Lumpur. It took us just under 13 hours from our Ambon hotel to reach our home in Malaysia.

CHAPTER 2

Sarawak: Logging in a Timber Concession in the 1970s.

Iban longhouse at Kuala Sigu.

This story may not be about a trip that Lian and I have taken together, but I hope you will agree that it follows the Travel Bug requirements.

The concession visits are based on my diary entries and extracts from letters to family in England.

You will appreciate that at this time, GPS was not freely available, and Google Earth had not been introduced.

Background.

From October 1975 to April 1982, I was working as General Manager of a Malaysian construction company, with the Taylor Woodrow Group as the foreign partner.

In 1976 the Malaysian Chairman of the construction company had the opportunity of acquiring a logging concession in Sarawak, covering an area of approximately 640 square miles (165,750 hectares) – the area of Surrey in England. The concession area was in hill forest about 30 miles (48km) inland. At the time there were no roads into the interior, and the only access would be by river from the seaside town of Bintulu. After felling, the logs would be taken by river down to Bintulu for exporting by sea.

The whole of the northwestern facing coastline of the island of Borneo is subject to the northeast monsoon that brings heavy rains from December to March. This period is known as the ‘Landas’ season. Historically this had made logging very difficult, as the logs could not be extracted, as the logging roads became imable, and the log rafts tended to break up in the heavy seas as they were taken out to the big ships lying offshore. Consequently, the price of logs during this period increased considerably, but dropped once the Landas finished and more logs became available.

As civil engineering contractors, our London based office had to consider the feasibility of constructing well-engineered stone-paved roads into and within the concession, such that logs could be hauled out even during the ‘Landas’.

One of the many logging problems is the method of transporting the logs downstream. Logs are considered either to be ‘floaters’ or ‘sinkers’, depending on whether or not they could float in the river water. The non-floaters have to be shipped by barge to the cargo ship. The floaters can be chained or tied together to form rafts, and then floated downstream with a small boat to guide them. But it takes an experienced man to know which log is going to float and which will sink. If you make a mistake, then it is difficult to raise a sunken log.

Historically, only floaters could be rafted downriver, but these could be severely damaged by marine borer worms if they were kept too long tied up in log ponds in Bintulu.

Therefore, the company had to consider whether the additional costs of providing all-weather roads, and using barges to take all the logs downriver and out to the ships, would be an economic proposition after taking into the increased income from better quality logs, and the additional income during the Landas season.

The company also investigated direct marketing to the major end-s and plywood mills in Japan and Korea.

Although there was an established set of rules for all logging contractors, the Authorities often turned a blind eye, and this would save costs for the extractor. Being a foreign partner, we had to assume that the rules would have to be obeyed to the letter.

Being already based in Kuala Lumpur, I was within a one-day trip of Bintulu. I was therefore involved in some of the preliminary visits to the concession area, prior to the company committing to go ahead with the local partners in the project.

A First Visit to the concession. (16th–18th September 1976)

The trip upriver from Bintulu in Sarawak was exciting, new, and quite exhausting.

Neil MacDonald had been brought over from the company’s Oman operations to act as the surveyor. I was to take him over to Sarawak to introduce him to our s, escort him upriver, point him in the right direction, and then scarper back to civilization as soon as feasible.

The Managing Director from our London management had flown over the concession area, but had been unable to inspect the timber on the ground. It was

therefore thought prudent to locate the western boundary (the one nearest the river extraction point) of the concession area, and to see if it had already been subject to any selective logging, and thus taking the cream of the crop. We would also investigate whether the river would be big enough to take the barges needed to carry the logs down to the sea, and thus locate a possible site for a jetty. Neil would return later to plan any road routes into the concession for the forty-ton logging lorries to bring the logs to the jetty.

Neil and I waited at a small ramshackle timber jetty (like the one in the film ‘Jaws’ that got towed away), and waited for an hour or so before our boatman, Patrick Lasam, got the boat going, and he and the forest guide, Johari, nosed the small aluminium boat up to the jetty for us to load up.

The delay was because Bintulu had just run out of petrol, and we needed about twenty gallons, that we had to buy piecemeal in the town, and at various small villages as we went upriver.

The 40hp outboard kept us going quite well for a couple of hours, although we did shear a couple of split pins on the propeller. Then - whiz- another spit pin gone? No - the propeller had gone completely. The river was 200ft (60m) wide, muddy and deep. And no - we didn’t even have a paddle in this aluminium boat. But we did have a spare 9.1/2hp outboard, which we fitted and chugged along at about 5mph (8kph). No speed meant no wind or breeze, so it was damn hot. About lunchtime, we stopped at a small schoolhouse at the confluence of the Binio River and borrowed a wooden longboat from the heaster. Just a very long and thin canoe, which went quite well and we doubled our speed, even with the 9.1/2 hp on it.

We had ed several ‘longhouses’. These are in long thin timber single-storey houses, built on stilts and maybe 200ft (60m) long. They have an outside open verandah the whole length of the building, and half the width of the inside of the longhouse is one single living room for the entire tribe. The other half is divided

into separate rooms to give some privacy for the individual families.

Well, we reached one longhouse, and the guide and the boatman wanted to stop there at about 3:30 pm.

“No - we will go on,” we said.

“OK”, they replied.

We should have listened, as only about 200yds (180m) further on we came to some rapids. Try as we could, we couldn’t get the canoe over them. So, we returned and the guide arranged for us to stay at the longhouse of Kuala Sigu.

After climbing up a sloping pole with notches cut in it that was supposed to be a staircase, we sat on the floor of the long room.

This Iban tribe had seen a white man precisely a year earlier when Shell was investigating a coal outcrop, but they were quite frightened of my beard. Mind you - they also looked quite awesome! Some of the men were tattooed all over their bodies and had big holes in their ears. The younger boys were, however, wearing flared tros. Many of the women were bare-breasted.

There were women, children, babies, dogs, cats and cockerels around us. Everyone was giving one wretched dog hell, and he continually yelped.

An old lady mistook us for missionaries and wanted to know what time the church service would start.

To escape the inspection and to cool down, we went down to the muddy river to swim and bathe - followed and still watched by big brown eyes.

Darkness fell, and we were advised to move into the chief’s room. The crowd followed, and someone put up a Tilley lamp, which gave much better light than the small oil lamps.

The boatman cooked some rice, and we poured a tin of sardines over it. I was also given a handful of a mixture of dried sago and coconut to eat. Funnily enough, it tasted very nice - just like a Swiss breakfast cereal. And it seemed to expand and fill one’s stomach.

I was allowed to point to an area of the floor that I could sleep. Sleep! Yes, you can laugh. My bony hips just didn’t soften up, and the split bamboo flooring was quite sharp. I spent much of the night turning from my right side to my left side, to lying on my back etc. Man - the noise! Children crying, men coughing, funny creaking noises in rhythm, dogs scratching for fleas, and a cat ran over me. And whenever it got quiet, a cockerel would crow, without even waiting for the dawn. Then they would all start again; it was a vicious circle.

The previous evening Neil and I had been forced to hold a ‘doctor’s surgery’. Women brought children with sores, scabs, whooping cough (?), fevers, headaches and the ‘shits’. Although we said we weren’t doctors, they all wanted a bit of ‘white man’s medicine’.

So, we gave out some salt tablets and vitamin pills. Then the other women came in. They must have thought we had X-ray eyes, as they carefully bared the parts of their bodies covering their internal problems. Then when the men came, we politely told them to piss off.

At the crack of dawn, we cooked up some tea, and had a handful of sago. Neil and I proceeded into the unknown, together with our forest guide and three local Iban guides from the longhouse (Edit Ab Alim, Mail Ab Endons and Meagi Ab Angat).

The first twenty minutes were spent in a small canoe, which was manhandled over those rapids. Then off into the forest. The first half-mile (800m) or so took a long, long time. The locals had cut down all the big trees to plant their hill rice. They grow only one crop, and then move on with their ‘slash and burn’ cultivation. The trees remained as they fell, all higgledy pigaldy, and after three years the undergrowth was as thick as a hedge. Two men chopped and cut their way with parangs, and then we would catch them up and rest, while they went further ahead.

At last, we got through and back into the real virgin forest. It’s dark, as the umbrella of the big trees hides out the sun, which luckily also cuts down the undergrowth. You can walk reasonably easily, and the little men kept a cracking pace, slashing small trees and undergrowth to make an easy path for me. The trouble is that they only clear a path for 5’ 6” (165cm) person so my top 12” (30cm) had to look after itself, which ed for the Elastoplast over my nose for a couple of days afterwards.

We walked and walked up and down steep hills, across dried-up streams, and even across fallen trees over rivers. We were soon into an area that even the local guides didn’t know. If we had not got a com, we would soon have been lost, as the sun only just trickled through the trees. By late morning we were fairly sure that we had reached the concession area, and after lunch of cold rice and

sardines, we started on another route back, which would take us around the main hill that we had crossed. But luck and judgment were not with us, and we were tiring fast. It soon became apparent that we were going back up the big hill. But at least it was in the right direction. Suddenly the guides became excited, as we were back on the original path we had made in the morning. We were the greatest navigators of the forests! The trouble was that we had intended to be two or three miles (3-5km) further to the east.

Now, these little men were nearly running, and Neil and I were on our last legs and needed to rest every half hour or so. On steep climbs, I had to pull myself up the slopes by holding young saplings.

Then we were back to the overgrown part, which had caused us so much trouble that morning. My thighs were nearly solid, and climbing up on the big trunks and over them was really difficult. I took some stupid risks and jumped from fallen log to fallen log. If I fell, I knew someone would pick me up.

I was so pleased to reach that river and little canoe. My mouth was parched. We had simply run with sweat all day, and were getting slightly dehydrated. We shot the rapids with the boatmen paddling frantically.

We were at home. Yes, the longhouse was now our home.

I had cramp and had my leg massaged with some Chinese medicine. It worked, and we went down to the river to sit and soak and bathe. It had been a great day, and we had seen no sign of any previous logging.

It took some hours for the three guides to tell the day’s story to the rest of the

tribe, who thought it great fun that I had got caught up in some creepers and had to be hacked out.

I then took quite a few photos, which came out very well.

That night I slept deeply. Even the split bamboo of the floor felt soft, and I was told that a lovely girl came into the room and slept close by. There were about eleven of us sharing that one room.

Next morning, we were up early and started the long boat ride back to Bintulu. We borrowed a spare propeller from a logging camp near the school, where we returned the longboat. We finished up with having the head of the 40 hp motor stripped down and a new head gasket fitted. And boy, the boat really moved then!

On a later trip, I returned to the Kuala Sigu longhouse and gave them copies of their photographs. They were delighted, as many had never seen pictures of themselves before. The ladies all rushed off to put on their favourite conically stitched bras, and have their photos retaken. But this simply wasn’t the same.

A second trip to the concession. (17th – 18th November 1976)

When I flew into Bintulu on 15th Nov, I was met by Neil, who announced that he had been unable to arrange for a boat upriver the next day. However, with luck, we should have something for the day afterwards.

So, the next day was spent picking up local information and generally seeing people from the Forest Dept., the District Officer, the power company, the telephone company and the police chief. We ordered a 14ft (4.25m) plywood speedboat, but this would take three weeks to make. We also looked at houses, flats and office space for rent.

At soon after 7 am the following day, we went along to the Forestry Dept pier, and surprise, surprise, a boat appeared by 7:30 am. It wasn’t the aluminium boat, but a plywood one. Also, it had no spare engine but did have a 40 hp main one, which was better than I expected. The driver, Patrick, who we had used before, only had two cans of petrol, so we would have to fill up the other three at Sebauh about 18 miles (29km) upstream, as again there was no more fuel in town.

We had intended to bomb up the river to look at the proposed campsite, and then try to return in one day. The speedboat had a very small plywood canopy that would at least keep off the sun or the rain. We were praying that the monsoon would hold off for as long as possible, as Neil thought that the rain would make any jungle walking nearly impossible.

The boat went well, although my head was dangerously near the roof, and touched it every time we took off after going over any other boats’ wake. After about 18 miles, the town of Sebauh was in sight. Then as we throttled back, the bow of the boat dropped back into the water (previously we had been planning along), I noticed that there was a lot of water in the boat, and it appeared to be rising visibly. The bloody boat was sinking - fast. We just couldn’t bail out quickly enough. Big ants were appearing and lining up along the side of the boat. They had got the message before we had. Luckily, as we reached the main jetty, Neil and I jumped out, before sending Patrick along to the Forestry Dept jetty, a couple of hundred yards away. He just made it OK, but I later found my Nikon camera very damp, with water inside the lense.

We then explained our plight to the local Forestry Officer, who was most kind and lent us a 16ft (4.85m) open aluminium boat, which they were not using, as they had no engine for it. So we swapped engines and were ready for the off again. Water was well up in the old speedboat, which was already resting on the river bottom. It appears that the curved plywood bottom had sprung open like an old boot.

The new boat flew along, and we kept our fingers crossed. Stopped at a village and picked up some petrol and spent a further ten minutes while a mechanic had a look at the throttle.

At mid-day, we arrived at our destination, an ‘X’ that Neil had marked on a tree.

After a quick tin of warm corned beef (French, and quite disgusting) and a tin of baked beans (British, and excellent), Neil and I started walking. We had two hours if we kept to our schedule.

We had put on our canvas and rubber jungle boots, and travelled light - Neil with his parang.

We followed the survey path due east. Even this path wasn’t always too easy to find. The forest was not as clear as the one we had walked in before.

Within ten minutes, we had walked through a swamp, and I had mud up to my knees and very squelchy feet. Within half an hour, I was already tired. The hills were steep and slippery, as we had had heavy rain overnight, and the small streams had difficult steep embankments. It was just like playing a hard game of squash.

We turned back after fifty minutes, and it took us much longer to return. Twice we had to backtrack as we had left our path. Must say I was pleased to see the boat.

Neil’s boots had rotted, and slowly and surely disintegrated until we had to bind the soles onto his feet with string. Quite annoying as mine also started splitting as we returned. Although they had been washed previously, they had obviously not dried properly. We will have to buy some more pairs in Kuala Lumpur, as funnily enough, they are not available in Sarawak shops. The ‘baddies’ use similar boots, and the Army didn’t want the locals to use them, as they might then be confused with the communist insurgents.

So far it hadn’t rained, and so we set off fast downstream for Bintulu with our fingers crossed. Patrick did very well, considering his seemingly complete lack of boat or engine sense. His specialty was ploughing through any muck he sees floating on the surface and seems surprised when the propeller gets tangled up. Anyway, within three hours and five minutes we were back in Bintulu, including a stop for petrol.

We went through one shower on the way back but still saw enough sun to burn my arms, hands and forehead. My hair has gone two shades lighter.

In the evening we had dinner at a local market stall as the hotel has no restaurant, and took along a forest guard and a schoolteacher who had taken us around in his car the previous day to see the flats and offices.

Early days, & bacon sandwiches.

I had regular trips to Bintulu and the concession camp at Lubuk Tapang (fire ant jetty) for a year or so. We used to fly into Bintulu from Kuching on a Fokker Friendship. Noisy and creaky, but I always felt confident, as I always assumed that they could glide should they lose engine power, unlike a jet which would drop like a stone.

We would be met as we got to the little wooden airport terminal, by the only available transport, a bicycle with a platform and a third wheel. The owner would pile the platform high with the suitcases and boxes, and push the bike out through the gate and along the road to the only hotel, the Hoover Hotel. engers walked alongside the bike. The Hoover dominated the town with its four storeys.

Later, of course, several hotels sprouted up, and taxis appeared.

Our logging manager, Norman Beeken, and his wife, Muriel, had their logging experience from many years in West Africa. When we flew over, we would usually bring a suitcase full of bread from the Regent Hotel in Kuala Lumpur, together with a few hard to find groceries. The local bakers were still baking the soft sweet bread that their local customers were used to.

The trips up the river were started early, as soon as it got light. The breeze was cool, and we had our breakfast on the speedboat. This comprised of hard-boiled eggs, and bacon sandwiches washed down with hot black coffee. I still use Muriel’s sandwiches as a yardstick for what they should taste like, and they are very rarely beaten. Perhaps it was a combination of the bucking boat, the breeze and the company, but it was something that still sticks in my mind.

Once the concession camp was completed, the Beekens moved up to the camp, and the bacon sandwiches never quite tasted the same.

I made monthly visits to Bintulu and the logging camp until April ’82.

The concession was sold a couple of years later, and by that time 40-seater powerboats were plying the river between our camp and Bintulu. They were covered and skinned to look like 747’s, and even had TV onboard showing the latest Chinese videos.

CHAPTER 3

Pakistan & China: Karakorum Highway to Kashgar.

Three children and a goat come to say “Hello”.

The Karakorum Highway is a bucket-list-worthy trip. It crosses from northern Pakistan over the Karakorum’s wild high es and into China where it ed the old Silk Road oasis of Kashgar.

It is here that the geological Asian, Kohistan and Indian Plates collide, throwing up the Hindu Kush, the Pamirs, the Karakorums, and the Himalayas. The only way through was to take the ancient camel and donkey trail.

Then the Karakorum Highway (KKH) was built in the ‘60s and ‘70s by both Pakistan and China, and in 1986 it was opened to travellers. Over a thousand Pakistani and Chinese workers lost their lives during the construction, mainly due to landslides.

It was late September when we ed a group, and made the return trip during a period when it was relatively safe.

Arriving from Singapore in Lahore at 11:40 pm, we were not allowed off the aircraft and had to wait an hour and a half before our onward thirty-minute flight into Islamabad. Here we were given only three rooms between the fourteen of us. After a 7 am breakfast, we were in time for the 9 am flight to Skardu, in Baltistan. During the 45-minute flight, we ed magnificent mountain scenery, including views of Nanga Parbat, the world’s ninth highest mountain in at 26,660ft (8,125m).

Skardu. 7,500 ft (2,290m)

We checked into the K2 Motel, with its breathtaking views. After lunch, we all had a rest to catch up with our lack of sleep before we all went for a walk prior to dinner. Some boys were playing cricket, so I ed in for long enough for them to find out that I was pretty useless.

Up early for a walk around town before breakfast. We then took four Jeeps for a 5.5 mile (9km) trip to the Satpara Lake where we took a short boat ride. Before the ride, the lake was millpond smooth and reflecting the nearby mountains.

On the way back we stopped to inspect a 7th century sitting Buddha carved in the rock. One Jeep broke down for some time, and we were ed by a yak train and a few goats.

After a hotel lunch, we walked in the town. As the sun was setting, we watched polo being played on the dusty polo ground. It reminded me of watching ‘buzkashi’ in Afghanistan, an early and much rougher form of polo, where a dead sheep is carried and dropped in a circle. ing the cricket ground, I took the opportunity of having a haircut in a nearby barbers hole-in-wall shop.

Skardu to Gilgit. - 130 miles (210km).

Skardu is in a valley on an offshoot to the east of the main KKH. Leaving at 7:30 am, we stopped at Shangri-La. The fuselage of a pre-war old DC-3 sits in the gardens as proof that this is the real and original Shangri-La. We picked apples to munch.

We stopped to walk over a frail rope suspension bridge spanning a distance of 370 feet (113m).

The road is narrow but became wider when we reach the main KKH, just south of Gilgit. A small road gang was busy on maintenance works.

We enjoy several views of Nanga Parbat.

In Gilgit, we stayed at the PTDC Gilgit (Pakistan Tourist Development Corporation.) We are at 4,900 ft (1,500m) above sea level.

Gilgit to Ganesh – the Hunza Valley. - 70 miles (112km)

Spent the morning in the market, where I had my boots polished.

We left about 11 am and were soon in the broad Hunza Valley. We stopped for lunch in a garden at the base of Rakaposhi and had a magnificent view of this snow-covered mountain.

On the way, we made a halt at the Hunza Valley Memorial 103 for those who died building the road. It was in a local script and then in English. It read: ‘In memory of their gallant men who preferred to make the Karakorams their

permanent abode. There shall be – in that rich soil a richer dust concealed. 19661972.’

We checked into the PTDC motel in Ganesh village at 7,500 ft (2,300m). For dinner, we had an open-air barbeque.

It was 4:30 am when we all left by Jeep for the ride to the ‘Eagles Nest’ where we sat to watch the sunrise. It was an extraordinary moment when the sun first hit on the very tip of the mountain across the valley. The snow was turned to fire, that slowly made its way down the steep slope and onto the smaller mountain tops, before finally reaching the valley below.

Back to the hotel for breakfast before visiting the Altit Fort, the old home of the Khan of Hunza. The Fort is built on a rocky hillside, with a vertical drop on one side to the river below. From the Fort we could look down onto the single-storey houses, all crowded together, with stone walls and flat mud roofs laid in timber. We walked in a garden and met an elderly man sitting in the shade of a tree. He had a magnificent beard and moustache as he sat proudly with his grandson on his lap.

At one point, we stopped at a road maintenance point where a man was living in a simple camp with a shoulder-high stone wall covered with a tarpaulin. Lian and another girl were invited to have a look inside. A simple mosque had been built on a raised stone platform, open to the heavens and with a few white painted boulders placed around the edge. The man was living a hard life in a harsh landscape.

Wherever there was any flat land, then the village would use it for agriculture and trees were planted. The favourite seemed to be a tall slim member of the Poplar family, as it was fast-growing and the trunk was straight. These bush

poles were ideal for ing the flat roofs of the house.

Later in the afternoon we all went to Karimabad, the capital of Hunza, to see the bazaar. The residents were all busy putting up decorations for the forthcoming visit of the Aga Khan. We had hoped to buy some local mulberry wine, but due to the visit, there was none available. Lian and I walked back to the hotel.

Next morning we took the bus down to Karimabad, and then wandered alongside the picturesque watercourse. The water is greyish, as it was full of mica from the melting glacier. A woman walked past carrying a huge bundle of animal feed on her back that she had collected.

In the afternoon we took an ‘optional tour’ up the Nagar Valley to see the base of the Bualtar Glacier, Hoper. Then we had a steep and long walk on the glacier, which was very dirty.

We by a farmer using eight donkeys in a row to walk in circles threshing the wheat.

It was a full moon, and the hotel baked us a ‘moon’ cake. This may have been served as an apology, as there was no hot water. We then sat to watch a local cultural dance – but it was strictly men only dancing.

Ganesh to Sust. Approx 70 miles (112km)

After breakfast, we said goodbye to two of our group who were returning to

Lahore.

Setting off again, Lian and I saw a Wallcreeper on a cliffside as we ed Altit Fort. This small grey bird shows spectacular crimson patches on its wings as it flies.

Outside Sust was a lorry park and the last place to fill with diesel before crossing into China. We arrived at Sust, 10,170 ft (3,100m), in time for lunch and booked into the new PTDC motel.

Sust is just a village, and after a walk around, we continued alongside the KKH where a local dog accompanied us.

Sust to Tashkurghan in China. 80 miles (128km)

After breakfast, we were taken in a Pakistani Government bus to their immigration office, leaving our guide at the hotel. There were several checkpoints on the way, and we had to show our ports. As our guide had not supplied a manifest, it took us some time to complete one long detailed list and any other all the paperwork they needed.

Once back in our bus we set off through the narrow gorges, climbing to the 15,520 ft (4,730m) Khunjarab , said to be the highest public road in the world.

We can often see parts of the original track on the other side of the valley, where the travellers had built low stone bunds to widen the narrow trail.

We stopped for photos at the border posts marking Pakistan and China.

CHINA.

The road opens up to a broader valley. It was here that we saw alongside us what appeared to be the shadow of a low flying plane. We shouted for the driver to pull over. We then had the thrill of watching a pair of Lammergeiers – Bearded Vultures glide down and sit on some nearby rocks. These huge birds can have a wingspan of nearly 9ft (2.7m). They have the habit of taking the bones of their dead prey high up and dropping them onto rocks to break them in order to reach the marrow.

It was time to put our watches to China / Beijing time, minus 3 hours, and enjoy a picnic. Here we saw yaks, camels and some marmots. Also saw several yurts with the Tajik families nearby. We stopped and walked over to say hello to them, all the time keeping an eye on their big dogs.

A herd of Bactrian camels, with their two humps, crossed the road guarded by a herdsman on a horse.

It was 5:30 pm, Pakistan time, when we arrived at the Chinese Immigration near Tashkurghan - 11,800 ft (3,600m).

Here we were met by our Chinese guide, and we moved our bags into a Chinese bus. It was only a five-minute drive to the Pamir Hotel. A filthy place, with hot water only at 8-9am and 10-11pm. The dinner was ended with some badly baked mooncakes, and we tried a bottle of Chinese red plonk wine.

Tashkurghan to Kashgar. 180 miles (290km)

For breakfast, we were served an awful porridge, and we were not sorry to be on our way.

The road ran across a flat plain, and a picnic lunch was taken beside the beautiful Karakul Lake.

We stopped at the small town of Upal for watermelons. There we saw many pool tables set up at the roadsides, and butchers with their meat hung up in the open and covered with wasps. Giant woks were being used for cooking rice and mutton, and steamed buns stuffed with chopped mutton were being sold. We tried one, but found it too fatty for our taste.

We then visited the tomb of Mahmud al-Kashgari, a prominent Uighur scholar and linguist. A TV crew were filming there, so we saw the local girls all dressed up in their finest clothes.

Arrived in Kashgar to find that the Seman Hotel claimed we had no bookings, so we finished up by checking into the Kashgar Guesthouse. We found this newish accommodation just about OK. We were assigned the bridal suite complete with a four-poster bed bedecked with red curtains. When bedtime came, we laid our heads on pillows filled with rice husks.

The whole trip had been planned so that we would reach Kashgar on a Saturday and attend the world-renowned weekly Sunday Market.

Early the next morning we went to the Abakh Hoja Tomb, only to find it under renovation.

So off we set for the Sunday Market, and it far exceeded our expectations. We ed a throng walking along to the market grounds. People came from miles away, and expect to be able to do all their shopping and socializing. Suddenly I was nudged in the kidneys. It was from the nose of a donkey pulling a cart loaded with produce, and he wanted to . The driver nodded to me and smiled. The then said something that sounded like “Push, push” to the donkey, who once again started to nudge some people aside.

The market area is split up into different areas. Horses are re-shoed after being lifted off the ground using webbing straps under their tummy and tied to a trestle. One area is for horse sales, and we see riders having a ‘test drive’ and charging at the crowd and pulling up at the last minute. A similar ‘roadtest’ is being undertaken with a horse and cart - it’s like watching Boadicea driving through a battlefield.

In another area, a row of barber’s chairs is full of men having their heads shaved clean and their beards trimmed.

Baskets of broken tobacco leaves are for sale.

Another section is full of piles of old radios and other old electrical equipment.

I watched some old men with long wispy white beards sitting on a wall in front of the mosque. They all wear long wool coats and have black riding boots, and although they all wear hats, the hats are in a variety of styles.

We were taken to see a typical Uighur house, and on the way back we watch women quarrelling outside the market

We returned to the hotel for lunch before proceeding to the museum. Unfortunately, this was quite grotty, so we went on to visit a mosque.

Kashgar to Tashkurghan.

It was the end of September when we started making our way back the way we had come, finishing our road trip in Rawalpindi.

Our driver had the bad habit of coasting around corners out of gear. I have no idea why he does this. Does he think this will save fuel?

Arrived at the Pamir Hotel to find they had overbooked, but Lian and I did get a room. Popped into their Karaoke Room, but the machine broke down.

Here we bought four bottles of wine to take with us.

Tashkurghan – Gulmit.

The distance from here to Islamabad is 307 miles (495km).

There were a lot of tourists at the Chinese immigration and lots of bad temper. The office only opened at 10.30 am, Beijing time, and it was a National Holiday. The border guards wanted to take away our wine, so we opened it and poured it away.

PAKISTAN.

The Chinese guide came as far as Sust in Pakistan, where we picked up our Pakistani bus and guide. We herds of goats and sheep. They can look very similar, so the word ‘shoats’ springs to mind.

Two young girls and their little brother have a brown goat. Both girls wear hats and both sport necklaces. Could they be gipsies?

We stayed the night at the ‘Silk Road Lodge’ in Gulmit. Although basic, it was charming and had super views.

Gulmit to Chilas.

The wind blew up in the night, and we had a shower. After breakfast, we took four Jeeps up to Borith Lake. Rather swampy, but we took a walk around it to do some bird watching.

Back at the hotel, we went down to inspect the suspension bridge. Left Gulmit at 12:30 pm for the five and a half-hour drive to Chilas. At one point, we stopped to look at a hot spring coming from the rocks. At Chilas we overnighted at the ‘Shangri-La Midway House’.

Chilas to Abbottabad.

After an early breakfast, we were on the road by 7 am. Near the border and police post, were early Buddhist rock carvings at Shatyai and Shatial. We soon crossed the border and left Pakistani Kashmir for northern Pakistan.

It was 6:30 pm when we arrived at the ‘Shimla Resort Hotel’ in Abbottabad.

Abbottabad to Islamabad.

The Taxila Valley was for many centuries, the ‘holy land’ for Buddhism.

We visited a Jaulian stupa, and then the 2nd century BC stupa base at Sirdap, as well as the Taxila Museum

The accommodation was at the Regency Hotel, Islamabad, and we had time for some last-minute shopping in the evening.

Islamabad to Lahore.

Before going to the airport, we took a few hours visiting the Raja Bazaar in Rawalpindi.

Our half-hour flight to Lahore was without incident. We were taken on a tour of the city, including visits to the Museum, the Fort and a Mosque, before checking into the ‘Holiday Inn’. We then had a free day there before our flight home via Singapore.

Although we had not much time birdwatching, we had seen 42 species of birds, of which four were new to us.

CHAPTER 4

Indonesia: Papua – Land of the penis sheath.

Tribesmen arrive in full regalia, Wamena

Papua is the largest and most easterly province in Indonesia. It was earlier known as Irian Jaya and occupies the western side of a large island, with independent Papua New Guinea on the eastern side.

Some years ago, we had an amazing trip to Wamena in the highlands of Papua, the ‘land of the penis sheath’, and we had hoped at some time to revisit it.

We had read that an annual Baliem festival is held in Wamena, when all the tribesmen come down from their villages in their full tribal regalia, for dancing and war games. It is d as ‘Art of Dance & War’.

Lian booked to an Indonesian photography group to attend the three-day Baliem festival, led by Dodi Sandrani . The cost would include flights from Jayapura to Wamena (and return), local hotel and food, transport, and festival entrance fees. We would have to find our way to Jayapura on the north coast of Papua.

Kuala Lumpur to Sentani.

It was early August when we took Batik Air for their two-hour flight from Kuala Lumpur to Jakarta.

Batik Air is part of the Lion Group. In the seat pocket, they have an Invocation Card. The card contains prayers in Bahasa Indonesia and English for the main religions: Islam (this section was also written in both Jawi and Arabic), Protestant, Catholic, Hindu, ‘Budha’, and ‘Khonghucu’.

A stewardess presents us each with a paper bag containing a soft roll of an unknown meat patty. Maybe it’s chicken? The pack also includes a muffin. A small plastic cup of water was also given, and a coffee or tea when we asked for it.

Films were shown, but no headphones ed out. (Next time I must to bring some earphones)

A bus took us from the plane to the terminal, where I was charged US$35 for a Visa-on-arrival, even though the Internet states that there was now no charge for a British port.

Once through immigration, we took the shuttle bus to the Jakarta domestic terminal.

We had been advised that cigarettes would be useful gifts to hand out to the festival participants, so bought a local carton to take with us.

We had bookings on Batik Air’s five-hour midnight flight from Jakarta to Jayapura on the northern coast of Papua. After a very long taxi around the airport runways, we took off at half-past mid-night for Jayapura. The airport we land at is in Sentani, 13miles (21km) away.

I can see Invocation cards in the business class, but none on our row of seats. Are we economy engers all non- believers? Wrong information, as Lian has found a card in her seat pocket.

A stewardess comes around, and we were fed ‘nasi goreng’ (fried rice) and a muffin. Then, before landing, a bun with some kind of filling.

Sentani.

We landed at Sentani airport at 7:30 am local time to witness a magnificent sunrise, with a band of black clouds above the orange band.

They have a new terminal, and we even arrived through the ‘elephant’s trunk’ sky bridge, which is more than you can say for Jakarta. The locals have brought vast amounts of luggage and boxes with them.

We had a reservation at the Hotel Ratna Manjungal, where we had stayed ten years previously. It has not changed. We have a large room on the 1st floor: the air conditioner works, but there is no shower, only cold water in a ‘mandi’ (a waist-high water tank, supplying the water to pour over yourself using a small bucket, as you stand on the bathroom floor). No toilet paper provided, but you do get a towel and breakfast. Payment by cash only, no credit cards accepted.

They have transport to drop us at the airport next morning, when we are due to meet up with our photographic group.

Had some coffee in their restaurant, and Lian asked for a pail of hot water.

We then bathed and had a rest for a couple of hours, as we were tired after the night on the plane. The bed is OK with a bottom sheet and a thin blanket as the top sheet. So, we unpacked our own travel sheets – a simple cotton sheet sewn up like a sleeping bag.

Went out for a walk and to check out other hotels for our return. The Rasen, next door, is better with a hot water shower and just a little more expensive. The Horex is a good standard and only opened four months ago, and they also take credit cards.

Lian bought ‘pisang goreng’ (deep-fried banana in batter) at a small stall. We then went into ‘Mickey’s’ restaurant and had noodle soup and vegetables.

Later in the afternoon, we went out walking again. The main road is busy, with lots of motorbikes. The pavement is nonexistent, and the forecourts to the shops go from concrete to dirt. One has to walk very carefully. We had dinner in the ‘Mandala’, a new, bright small restaurant. Lian had porridge, and I had rice and fried prawns.

It was dark here by 6 pm.

No water supply to the bathroom until we asked them to turn it on from downstairs. The toilet does not flush, so use the bucket from the ‘mandi’.

The early morning prayers were broadcast in full from a local mosque.

Sentani to Wamena.

The breakfast was not very appealing and comprised cold ‘nasi goreng’ (fried rice) and omelette squares, bread and peanut butter. Used the hotel shuttle van to the airport

At 8 am, we met up with the group at the airport. There are twelve of us in the group, including Dodi Sandrani, our leader.

The airport is packed with tourists going to Wamena. The names of seven different airlines are on the departure board, showing the next seven departures.

Our flight is the Trigana Airlines 10:20 am flight, with an eta half an hour later. It was thirty-five minutes late leaving. Our plane seemed to come in to land very fast, and we swung around a bit as we braked heavily, but landed safely. We are at 2,700ft (825m) above sea level (asl).

Wamena.

We were driven to the ‘Baliem Pilamo Hotel’ in several 4-seater vehicles. The hotel was a delightful surprise and is the best hotel in town. We were allocated

an excellent room: with two lounge chairs, hot water kettle, TV, hot water shower, king size bed. Pleasant gardens surround the rooms.

Dodi had booked our six rooms when he was here last year, and he will make another booking for next year. Otherwise, no accommodation is available for the many tourists visiting the ceremony.

Went to the dining room for a briefing by Dodi, where we all introduced ourselves to everyone. We all enjoyed a lunch of fried rice, fried egg, fried chicken, and a freshwater crayfish, water, and tea.

Dodi arranged transport to take Lian and I to find the Hotel Nyak, where we had stayed ten years ago. We spotted only one man on the road with a penis sheath. Nothing at the old hotel seemed to have changed, and we found our end room and the little overgrown garden we had used. Opposite Hotel Nyak is the abandoned old airport terminal building. The transport then took us back to our hotel.

Found that although they have Wi-Fi, it is not free. So, Dodi helped Lian to buy a 10gig SIM card for her phone. She can use that as a personal ‘hot spot’ to supply both of our iPads — a clever idea.

Did some washing, and had a hot shower and a rest.

We all met up again at 6:30 pm and Dodi showed some of his photos before having dinner.

I was quite cold at night, and my feet never got toasty.

Had our breakfast at 6:30 am. It was a fairly basic buffet: noodles, omelette roll, cereals, toast, jams, and local coffee or tea.

Arrived at the Pesta (Festival) Site, 6 miles (10km) away by 8:30 am. We were warned that we could not photograph anyone on the roadside without being liable for some payment to them. But in the Pesta Site, there are no such restrictions.

Leaving the hotel, we drove south and then turned right onto a slowly climbing stone track into Walesi District.

As well as the VIP stand, they have a concrete grandstand and a smaller wooden one. These are on located on two adjacent sides of a big stone and dirt-covered field.

Our four vehicles were parked side by side, and we went for a walk around.

Then we heard a commotion, as a lorry arrived full of muscular tribesmen complete with penis sheaths, feathers in their hair, and all held either a 5ft bow and a handful of arrows, or a 12-14ft (3.5-4.25m) long spear. Naked, apart from maybe a ‘dangler’ of rope or leaves covering their backside, and perhaps blackened in parts with soot and pig fat. A wild boar tooth is often pierced through the nose, and may either be turned down or turned up. The overall effect is pretty frightening but impressive. Every man is dressed differently, although the shape of the gourd penis – the ‘koceka’ for each tribal group is a different shape. The penis sheath is tied at the base around the back of the exposed

testicles, and the top is kept in the erect position by a string tied around the waist.

The people are mid/dark brown, with broad noses and heavy brows. The hair is curly and wiry. Many of the warriors wear a long white knitted bib on their chests, and one bracelet around their forearm of dog hair, or sometimes a bundle of leaves. Many have a bunch of black feathers with paler tips tied to their hair and hanging on the nape of their necks. I tried to find what bird they came from by checking the pages of our bird field guide but to no avail. Many of them wear a garland of coloured feathers on their heads, and some will have a single feather protruding from above their forehead. Some tribes have parts of their body covered with a clay slurry, while many have their faces blackened with a mixture of soot and pig fat. We also see several with ‘rasta’ style hair, or with knitted skull caps – but all are adorned with feathers in their hair. Lian thinks the thighlength platted ‘rasta’ hair must be a wig.

The tribal women wear their hair short and curly, but some have them woven into a corn-cob braid style. Most carry a locally woven bag hanging down their backs and suspended from their heads. This bag is somewhat like a hammock and can take shopping, a piglet or often a baby. Many women wear a grass skirt over new shorts whereas other tribes have a skirt made from the same material as the hammock-like sling bag. Most have a necklace and are bare-breasted.

One man seems to be the only representative of his tribe. His ‘koceka’ is probably 9-inch (23cm) diameter and 24-inch (60cm) long. It looks like a small cannon and needs two wide bandages to hold it in position. The effect was somewhat spoilt, by his wearing socks and trekking shoes.

Photographers are going into a frenzy, and snapping away. The Chinese are the worst offenders, pushing to the front and getting in everyone’s way. Both Lian and I had to have a few words with some. Language was not a problem, and they understood our sign language.

More groups arrived, both male and female. Many women are bare-breasted. The tribesmen often ran down the slope from the parking area onto the main field, waving their weapons in the air, and this was quite a sight. As well as a few stone-aged axes, most carry very long and straight spears, while others carry short bows and a handful of arrows.

By 10:30 am, most of the fourteen different groups performing today had arrived, and we stood and waited while several local dignitaries made their speeches in Bahasa.

We are informed that there are 42 districts, and each receives US$25,000 from the government to perform here.

A big group of girls from the Catholic school were painting patterns on their faces and legs using toothpaste. I was given a ‘chicken foot’ design on one cheek, and Lian had an attractive S-shaped design of spots across her face.

It was getting hot, and I took off the long-sleeved Baliem T-shirt that Dodi gave us yesterday, leaving on my own.

We can see up to three drones flying overhead and filming the occasion.

Back to the cars for a boxed lunch of rice, chicken and vegetables.

The Pesta was attempting to set a world record for the number of spears thrown

at one go. Stacks of wooden spears had been set out all around the fields and targets set up. All the men were invited to have a go. My spear was bent like a banana. Then, on the countdown of five, we all yelled a war cry and hurled the spears. In our line, only one ‘tourist warrior’ hit the target, and mine very nearly rattled the bottom of the wooden frame.

Then we were treated to many demonstrations of mock fights between the various tribes. There was always a story behind each warrior event. Usually, because of a woman being kidnapped, or someone wife stealing, or a man being killed in a drunken fight. The fights all seemed to have the same choreographer. The tribes either advanced, or then retreated while rattling their spears, or firing their arrows. The arrows are going everywhere, including into the hundreds of spectators. Every now and then someone gets ‘killed’, and they die in a fantastic dramatic way as they lay on their backs kicking about their arms and legs. Then stillness, before they flay around again like frogs attached to a battery. They get enthusiastic cheers and claps. Perhaps they later can win an Oscar?

We went to watch as they opened up a ‘bakar batu’. A pig had been put in a pit with yams and potatoes and covered with hot stones and leaves and left for five hours to slowly cook. Four women slowly uncovered the palm and banana leaf fronds and took off the heated stones using wooden prongs. First some yams, then the whole pig, that had been opened up flat, and then more yams. It was quite photogenic, with the steam coming off the banana leaves, as they open the pit.

The mountains guarding the valley on each side were quite beautiful.

ed out quite a few cigarettes to some of the tribesmen, and Lian gave pencils to some of the school-age kids.

Dodi spotted a small endemic bird; black, with a white rump and wing bar, and speckled on the head and chest. It looked young, Lian picked it up, but it fluttered away about 30 yards (30m). Even before it landed, a local boy had picked up and thrown a stone and hit the bird. Lian was upset and rescued the juvenile Pied Bush Chat, but it soon ed away.

Left the Pesta Site at 4:15 pm and reached the Hotel just before 5 pm.

Time for a coffee and clean up. I had to wash the bottom of my tros and a knee, as they had been sprayed with red betel nut stain. The locals seem to like this and spit the red juice everywhere.

Dinner was at 6 pm, and today the food came on time, whereas yesterday the preorder took an hour.

I enjoyed my shower. Found I have been sunburnt on my lower face, despite using sunblock.

Next morning, we left the hotel at 8 am after breakfast.

This time we took a different route to the Pesta Site. We crossed a bridge and drove alongside a fast-flowing river, where we stopped for a landscape photo shoot before reaching the Pesta site.

The programme was similar to the previous day, with many groups arriving and dancing about so we could take photos, followed by the inter-tribal fights.

More photos were taken as a group waited to unload from an old bus. We ed out quite a few fags to the guys, who never refused them. Often, they indicated that they wanted one more to push behind an ear, as well as the one between the lips.

We ate our packed lunch in the cars.

Then back to the field to have a look at some of the afternoon tribes (15 were due today). Some groups had tros, but there were more than enough testicles and bums, and plenty of bare breasts, even though these did not look very perky.

We could see some rain clouds around the valley, but we were spared. Not so hot today, but plenty of sun. Today I had used more sunblock and wore fingerless gloves.

We left the Pesta at 4 pm. David, our driver, nearly had a motorbike and pillion rider off, as they had a severe wobble right in front of us.

There was a real jam in the market area, so luckily, we were going slowly when our car hit a pig. There was a huge squeal and then shouts from the crowd. Fortunately, the pig walked away and got on with nosing around for food. We were back at the hotel in forty-five minutes.

Time for some tea, and to start charging our batteries and gadgets.

It was interesting that apart from the usual SLR cameras being used, there were three of us were using Fujifilm X mirrorless cameras, including Dodi.

At dinner, we were told that arrangements had been made for us to go to a village for a ‘bakar batu’, where we have ordered a small pig to be cooked. The additional cost would be Rps600,000 (US$43) each. I paid in US$ as I had insufficient local currency.

It was 7 am, and we were a little late having breakfast. Most of the food was already gone. Today, however, the kitchen made a fresh omelette that I enjoyed.

It took thirty-five minutes to reach Akima village. We parked in a parking area, just outside the village with the mummy that we had visited ten years previously. But our destination was another village, about ten-minutes-walk away. We stopped in a grassy area, with a wooden watch-tower, and magnificent wooded hills behind.

The 66-year-old village chief, Pak Yali, came out to meet us. He then climbed the tower with his bow and arrow and directed a mock battle with the warriors. He then led us to his village gateway and gave us his blessing before we climbed over the stile with its curved straw roof. Outside the gate was an enormous and evil-looking hog, and I was pleased to get into the compound safely.

The agreed arrangement was that we could take as many photos as we wished.

They were also going to cook the piglet we bought them in the ‘bakar batu’.

A fire was lighted using the tradition friction method, by rubbing a rattan loop in a wooden groove laid on straw and tinder. The men then started a fire of logs and wood and covered it with big stones. A pit had already been dug, and lined with leaves and covered with yams.

We watched as two warriors held the stretched-out piglet, while the chief shot it in the side with his bow and arrow. A quick death would be good luck. The piglet screamed in pain and took some time to die. It was then put onto the fire, and had all the hair scraped off, before being laid down on a bed of banana leaves. A warrior with a sharp bamboo splint then sliced off the tail and the ears. They were laid out for presentation on a banana leaf, and we all cried out “waaa waaa” in celebration before it was taken into the men’s hut. The warrior then cut up the piglet, so it lay flat, with the entrails next to it.

The hot stones were then laid in the cooking pit using wooden tongs. Both men and women helped with this chore. The meat was then put on the hot rocks, and covered with more leaves to cook slowly.

We had plenty of time to photograph the women and the children and hand out cigarettes. Lian had pencils for the children and soon had them doing graffiti on the wooden door openings using their names. Most of the small boys were wearing a small ‘koceka’, just like their dad.

One older woman at first refused to have her picture taken and to show her hands, that had several missing digits. It is the custom here that when a woman loses a close relative, then she will have a finger digit cut off. This must be very painful, and the risk of infection very high. But a few cigarettes later, and she suddenly became quite amicable.

Our group had a packed lunch of rice, fish, an egg, and vegetables.

We later watched the tribesmen opening the cooking pit, and then dining on the vegetables and meat. The men and boys had the pig meat first, and later cut up what little was left and took it over to where the women folk were eating.

We then drove for an hour, back to the Pesta.

According to the programme, at 2 pm the Kab Yuhulkimo tribe were due to arrive. This is the tribe with the hooped skirts. But when we enquired, we were told that they had not come, although one man was there as a guest. We soon found this elderly man with the bamboo hooped skirt, lifted at the front so his ‘koceka’ - penis sheath- could jut out.

The pig races were great fun, and complete chaos, as the racers had little idea what they should do. Here is not unusual for a woman to suckle a piglet. The piglet knows when it is on to a good thing, so will follow that woman around. This is the basis for a pig race.

The 100ft (30m) long course is marked out with string between the lanes. The woman is supposed to jog down the course, turn around, and then shuffle back. The piglet is supposed to follow, and the first one back can be declared the winner. That sounds straightforward, doesn’t it? But perhaps no one explained the rules to the women, who all seemed confused, especially the bit about turning around and coming back to the starting line. The piglets certainly had no idea, and just chased after each other, or the racer with the largest breasts.

I walked away before the judges could come to any kind of decision, and they are probably still there!

The tribal fights were still going on, and look to be replays of the fights on the previous two days.

We wandered to the far end. Tribesmen were sitting in a tight ring, playing stringed instruments and singing, and having a great time.

People are selling ‘sireh’, and many are chewing and spitting the red juice on the floor. The locals are treating the occasion as a fun spot. One group of men were gambling, but I could not understand what game they played. The banker had a stack of red IDR100,000 notes, and the players have crunched up or rolled notes of an unknown denomination before them.

One group of performers had a small cage with them, containing a Short-tailed Paradigalla, one of the famed Birds of Paradise.

We move back to the car, enjoying the whole party atmosphere. We left at 4 pm amid a crowd of vehicles and pedestrians making their way homewards and reached the hotel half an hour later.

We really needed to wash our hands, and only then enjoyed a cup of tea and some fruitcake we had brought with us.

We heard that an Indonesian had been evacuated for surgery, after being speared in the throat. No-one knows how it happened.

After dinner, the Photo competition was held. Each of the group could submit a maximum of two photos to Dodi, the judge. I could not submit, as I had no way of sending him a photo. Lian submitted her two iPhone photos via ‘Whatsapp.’ The first prize awarded was a leather camera bag, and the second a book. Dodi then showed us all the pix submitted and gave his comments on each.

We have noted several electrical cuts, usually for about five minutes.

To date, we have been fortunate with the weather, with no rain.

Wamena - Sentani – Nimbokran.

After breakfast, Lian and I went for a walk around the block. Not much to see as most shops sell similar items, such as a small general store, or building materials. Although the town looks scruffy, it is still cleaner than Sentani.

Soon after 10 am we checked in for 35-minute Trigana flight to Sentani.

Wamena airport has had a poor safety record recently. We can see the crashed cargo plane than went off the side of the runway.

As well as watching several cargo planes arrive, we see a few small Cessna size planes taking off for the dirt strips further up the valley.

Our plane arrived an hour-and-a-half late, so only took off at 1:15 pm. This gave us plenty of time to say goodbye to our new friends and thank Dodi for a very special experience.

We thought that we should not leave Papua without seeing some of the Birds of Paradise (BOP) in the wild, so had booked a night at Nimbokran together with a guide.

Met Pak Jamil with his car, and we left the airport at 2:10 pm for the 38 miles (60 km) drive to Nimbokran.

Leaving the airport, we proceed westwards, before turning left and driving to the banks of the Sentani Lake. The road follows the lakeside apart from one obvious detour. We see some magnificent scenery, but no time to stop and photograph it. On reaching the far south-western end, the road turns inland over a mountain range. On reaching a river, we turned right and followed it westwards. The whole route is like a great dipper, with hardly any straight road. We crossed over a river on a steel bridge and soon took a right turn to the village.

We arrived at Pak Jamil’s house in Nimbokran just before 4 pm.

Our room is basic, but OK: a tiled floor, two simple beds with a bottom sheet, a table, a fan, and two power points. Access to the two bathrooms is from the lounge/kitchen/dining area. A little paint on the rendered walls would undoubtedly improve the look.

Dropped our bags, grabbed a banana, binoculars and camera, and drove off five minutes later for some birding.

Taken to a flat but mostly abandoned rice field area and spotted six different species before it started to rain.

Pak Jamil sorted out some rubber boots for us to use for the next mornings’ birding. We then got our things ready before taking a shower.

Our dinner had been sitting on the table and was already cold; boiled rice, a vegetable, fried egg, and jagong in batter, taufu, and tempe (fermented bean curd). It was then followed by fresh pineapple and papaya. Eating food cold is quite normal in Malaysia and Indonesia. Lian asked for the rice to be warmed up, and it was actually a very tasty dinner.

We were disappointed to hear that the nearby tree where a Papuan Frogmouth roosted, had been cut down, and the bird had gone. However, Lian heard a call in the night that may have been this bird, as it is unlikely to have moved too far.

An early start was planned; waking at 3:30 am, breakfast at 4 am, and leaving the house at 4:30 am.

We did not need the alarm, as a Jungle Fowl cockerel awoke us at 2:50 am with its strangulated call.

For breakfast, we were served Nasi Goreng (fried rice) and omelette. As it rained at 4 am, Jamil suggests delaying the start, so it was 5 am when we left the house and drove for only a couple of minutes. Then we followed a path through a plantation and into the forest. The track was very muddy, and we walked along

8” to 9” (20cm) wide access boards left by the loggers. Some were still in excellent condition. It was pitch dark, so we needed our torches. Some areas had no boards and were extremely muddy. It often sucked at the rubber boots, trying hard to drag them from your feet. Luckily, we brought along our trekking sticks. At one time the mud took the end section from Lian’s walking stick, but she realized it at once and went back to get it. I was not so fortunate and lost the rubber end cap off mine.

After an hour, we reached a spot, and Jamil pointed to a very tall tree and some branches about 70ft (20m) high. It was getting light. We stood and watched, and sure enough, we saw a couple of Lesser Bird of Paradise (BOP) playing around in the tree. Twice we watched the male mounting a female and picking at her neck as he mounted her, and with a shaking of his tail feathers, did his business. It was a bit misty.

Set off for another fifteen minutes when we came to a rickety-looking platform that had been built by photographers to see the King Bird of Paradise.

Again, one tree was pointed out and Jamil sat down for yet another cigarette. We sat on a fallen tree and Jamil said the bird would come out to play when a female arrived, and the sun comes out. The sun was trying to come out when we spotted the King BOP about 40ft (12m) high in that tree. A brilliant scarlet head and body, with white underparts. Had some views of the yellow bill, but unfortunately, the bird spent most of the time with his back to us.

A few Blyth’s Hornbills flew low over us, and we heard the whoosh, whoosh, of the wings before we saw them. Their call was very noisy. An unseen Brush Turkey was yet another noisy fellow.

The path back looked very different in the daylight and continued to use the

hanging pandanus fronds to snatch off my hat or tug at my T-shirt. Although no leaches here, there were many, many, mosquitoes.

Got back to the house just after 10 am and had a shower and a cup of tea. My tro legs were covered with mud from the top of boots to the knee, and Lian took some time to wash the dark brown mud that caked the material.

An early lunch was ready for us. The food had been good here.

Nimbokran to Sentani.

When we were ready to go, we are informed that another driver would take us to Sentani in fifteen minutes, as they have other guests coming. Then the guests arrived, and we are then told we must wait further while the driver has his lunch.

Set off at 1 pm, also having to take a guide back with us. The driver and guide were very helpful, giving Lian telephone numbers and recommendations for bird guides on any future visits.

The drive to Sentani took an hour and a half.

We checked into the ‘Rusten Hotel’. A very basic room, twin beds, AC, TV, hot water shower onto floor and toilet. But we had WiFi in the room. Called for towels, toilet paper, and a light bulb; all brought promptly. I won’t try to describe the stains on the walls. We had a good view of trees from the window. Anyway, it was an improvement on the Hotel Ratna.

It was time to enjoy a shower and a rest. We had dinner at the ‘Mandala’, where I had a very tasty noodle dish, and Lian had the rice porridge again with a salted egg.

Sentani to Kuala Lumpur via Makasar and Jakarta.

We woke to rain, and had a breakfast of rice and curry chicken soup.

Took the hotel bus to the airport at 7:30 am, and by then the rain had stopped.

Our Citylink flight to Jakarta was via Makasar. The flight to Makasar took under three hours, and after an hours’ transit, we took the two-hour twenty-minute flight to Jakarta.

We took a shuttle bus from the Domestic to the International terminal. Here we had a five-hour wait until the Air Asia flight took off for the two-hour flight to Kuala Lumpur. We finally reached home by taxi before midnight.

CHAPTER 5

Italy: A trip around northern Italy.

St Peters at Portovenere.

Although I had not visited Italy before, Lian had. So, it was about time for me to make acquaintance with this land of wonderful wines and foods. Lian planned a route around northern Italy finishing up in Rome.

We chose Qatar Airways for a seven-hour forty-minute flight from Malaysia to Doha, where we had a 2.1/2hour wait before taking the six-hour forty-minute flight to Milan.

Milan.

We arrived at mid-day and took the bus into town.

In the beginning, the two-lane dual carriageway was very narrow, and our driver did a lot of finger shaking at a BMW driver who tried to cut in. Then the road widened to three-lane and then four-lane.

It is mid-November, and the leaves are starting to turn colour. In the town, the busses, taxis and trams have their own lanes. It took about an hour to reach the Centrale railway station and a further ten minutes walking to find the guesthouse where we had a reservation.

The room was small but had an en-suite WC and shower, WiFi, and a hot

radiator. Julia, the manager, was helpful with information.

Had a bit of a rest, and re-charged my iPad.

We went for a walk and found a small supermarket. Bought rolls and ‘cops stagionata’ cold cut ham, with grapes, and a bottle of ‘Buonavilla’ Romana Sangiovese red plonk. Took these back to our room and enjoyed this picnic.

Slept well, and had tea and a roll with Creme de Brie cheese for breakfast in the room.

Out before 7 am, and walked to Caiazzo station and bought one-day rail/bus/tram es. Here we changed at Centrale and took the yellow line to Duomo.

Dawn was breaking as we walked up the stairs and across an empty square, with the Duomo di Milano Cathedral facing us. Very beautiful in a pinkish marble, with hundreds of carved figures and lacy spires on it. Sauntered all around this spectacular cathedral. I stopped to inspect the multi-led bronze doors, with each portraying a biblical event in high relief.

As the Duomo only opens at 8 am, we walked through the arcade opposite, full of expensive designer shops.

At 8 am we paid for tickets to go into the church and also the Duomo Museum.

The cathedral is very grand inside with at least three pipe organs. Construction commenced in 1386 on the site of the old church of St Thecla, and had continual improvements until substantial completion in 1858. But now, after so many centuries, maintenance and repairs are a continuing requirement.

Black, white and ochre marble flooring in a floral pattern covers the church floor. The multi-facetted columns finish in a ‘crows-nest’ with carved figures around it, then ing the arched roofing.

The museum only opens at 10 am, so we wandered through the arcade and to the Scala square, where the famous La Scala opera house stands and then northwards to find a local market.

On the way, we went into an old palace now being used as an art school and had a good look round.

Found the market selling fish, fruit and vegetables, and clothing items.

The fish stalls had many fish species I have not seen before. The fruit and vegetables were a very high standard, and again there were many vegetables new to me.

We bought a kebab and a spring chicken at one stall and ate them as we wandered along.

The Duomo museum had many exotic statues and carved stonework from the

cathedral and was well worth the visit.

Took the Metro, using the red and then the green lines, to Porto Genova station, and walked to the Grand Canal. We were surprised to find only a few inches of water in it and walked beside it to the shorter main canal. It was wide, but once again, it only contained a little water.

We returned to the station and took the green line back to our accommodation.

Out at 4 pm, taking a No.1 tram into town. This one was old fashioned, with polished timber slat seating.

Got off after the Scala stop, and asked people for directions to ‘Peck’, a shop selling cut meats and cheeses etc., with a restaurant upstairs and a bistro on the ground floor, where we sat down. Here we had a tasty platter of dried hams, a lasagna, a couple of glasses of wine and some sparkling water. A local theatrical group put on a short show for the customers in Italian, all about Scrooge, played by an actor dressed as a waiter. They were using this as a rehearsal. We could not follow the language but enjoyed it never-the-less.

Walked to the Duomo, but were disappointed to find that the cathedral is not lighted up at night.

Took the Metro to Central Station and checked out the station concourse – with its touch of New York Central.

Milan to Verona.

We had a booking on the 11:25 am train from Milano Centrale, arriving at Verona Porta Nuove at 1:20 pm. We checked out of our room for the ten-minute walk to the station. There we bought some things for lunch on the train. When we boarded, and it was already nearly full, but we found seats. Later, many were standing on this slow train, with its several stops.

It was very misty as we ed through the flat farming land, and during the last half hour, we saw vineyards.

Verona.

We had planned to take a big local bus but were told that the buses do not go into the historic part of the old town. So, we had to buy tour bus tickets from a tobacconist shop in the station. People advised us where to get off, and it was to be shank’s pony from thereon. Walked alongside the river on large marble pavement slabs, and turned inland at the next bridge. A right turn and we were at our destination, the small Piazza Navona square. Once again, the mini iPad and Google maps kept us on track.

Our ‘B&B Casapiu’ was at the top of the four-storey building, and it was a long climb up a marble staircase. A couple of men run the B&B, and our room was beautifully decorated, with many paintings on the wall. The kitchen has a coffee dispenser for hot drinks. The shared bathroom was well maintained, and everything was spotlessly clean.

We had a great view from the bedroom window.

Marco gave us a map and pointed out the places to see and where to eat.

We went out for a wander around some imposing old buildings. ed many small squares, several of which have stalls set out with Christmas stock.

No visitor to Verona can miss a visit to see Juliet’s balcony. The small square was crowded, and girls were queuing for the chance to be photographed standing on Juliet’s balcony. The guys did not appear to be so keen on being Romeo. The square was crowded and noisy, and everyone seemed to be having a great time.

We took Marco’s recommendation and went for dinner at the ‘Hostaria La Vecchia Fontanina’. Their speciality is horse meat, and I chose their No.1 dish, the Pastissala di Cavallo con Polenta, horse meat stewed in red wine. Lian had a horse meat steak and salad. Both were pretty good. Followed with an ‘apple pie’, that was more of an apple cake. All washed down with a half-litre of red wine and some sparkling water.

Later we walked around the Christmas shops and stalls. Certainly an amazing collection of things for sale, many I have never seen before.

That night slept well, as the radiator kept the room toasty warm.

We enjoyed an excellent breakfast: cereals, fresh fruit, boiled egg, tomato, toast and cheese, salami, ham, cakes, coffee. Then we met the friendly B&B’s dog.

It had been raining earlier but stopped as we left and walked northeast and crossed the river at Pont Pietra. Then proceeded up steep steps behind the arena. Although the views were somewhat spoiled by the mist, I hoped the photos would capture the eerie yet serene character of the scenes we were experiencing.

Then walked westwards along the north bank. The river water was surprisingly clean. When we reach the fort, we cross at the pedestrian bridge, Ponte di Castelvecchio.

Had a pee and a coffee in a small bar, where Lian nearly managed to pull off an architrave to the toilet door.

Then we continued further west towards the Basilica S. Zeno.

Stopped at a Paolo & Rosetta pizza shop, that had a selection of about thirty different pizzas. Although thick, they were full of air holes and crispy. You point out which one you fancy, and the guy cuts off as much as you want and puts it in the oven. You pay by weight. Quite delicious.

Later in the afternoon, we walked to see the Duomo, Santa Maria Matricolare.

Went into Redondo Iglesias, a Spanish restaurant specializing in Spanish hams. We had a glass of wine each and their excellent tapas that we found quite filling. Not sure why we went in there when the Italian smoked hams are so good.

Back at the B&B, we chatted with some Italians here to take part in tomorrow’s Verona marathon.

Verona to Venice.

After another excellent breakfast, we set off at 9 am. We had to walk to the station dragging our bags, as no taxis were available. The roads were all closed to traffic due to the marathon. We reached the station well in time for the 10:42 am 2nd class train from Verona Porta Nuova that was due to arrive at Venezia S. Lucia at 12:55 pm.

It was a slow train with many stops, and to start with there were few engers. Although the land is flat, much is covered by vineyards. Many engers got on at Vincenza. After Padua, vineyards not seen. It became very misty as we crossed the causeway and onto the islands.

Venice.

We found no problem finding the Ponti Tri Archi, which took about fifteen minutes to walk there from the station. Our accommodation at ‘My Friend’ was about a hundred yards (100m) further on.

We were shown to our room on the first floor. Shutters open onto a tiny balcony overlooking the canal (and some dustbins) It was a pleasant room with en-suite bathroom, and had recently been renovated.

After a drink, set off to find San Marco.

The iPad did well to get us there, until the last few yards (meters). It was so foggy that we could not see the church from the end of the Plazza a Marco. We took turns going in, as they would not let Lian bring in her small backpack. Also, I was disappointed that taking photographs was not allowed inside the church.

We walked along the waterfront, iring the banana-shaped gondolas bobbing at anchor.

The Plazza was very crowded, and about a third of the tourists looked Chinese.

It was getting dark, and the way back the first time was complicated. It certainly took more than half an hour. Stopped at the Coop Supermarket to buy grapes, two bottles of wine, water, bread, biscuits, cheese, and dried ham.

Glad to reach our room and open the wine and relax.

We woke early and were pleased to find that the mist had lifted.

Out by 7:15 am and walked to the old church of Santa Maria Della Salute. We entered to watch a special annual service to commemorate the saving of the city from the plague in 1630. We enjoyed both singing and the sermon. My thoughts turned to my Dad, as today had been his birthday. Is it blasphemous to say ‘our father that art in heaven’ – and be thinking of my Dad - when I am sure he is there?

I wrongly went back to San Marco, when Lian had wanted the Rialto bridge. Found it, and had a good look around the San Polo old area. By the fish market (empty today), we had some coffees and a pee. Then we walked along Riva del Vin and the lanes behind it.

For the pedestrian the town is truly amazing, with 90 degree turns, blind alleys, no sun to act as a com, and you could be back where you started. But this obviously this never happened to seasoned travellers like us!

ed a banner saying ‘No Mafia, Venice is sacred’ in Italian.

We zigzagged westward toward the main bridge to the station until we reached somewhere we recognized. Then went to find the Co-op Supermarket for a refill. Back to our accommodation to enjoy our spoils for lunch and some white wines.

Out again in the afternoon to explore the area to the north of us, leaving the tourist area. This has many newish four-storey blocks of housing and is where the local people live. There are still many old houses in these working-class areas. In Venice, there are no cars or motorbikes, and you either walk or go by boat. Came back via the Jewish Campo del Ghetto Novo, and it was quite dark by 5:30 pm.

Time to open a San Cipriano Fruili Refosco red wine, which we found a bit ‘plonky’. The Refosco grape is a local variety, and the wine is slightly acidic and tastes of almonds and violets. Never heard of it before, but Google has a lot to say.

We had our dinner in a bar/ restaurant on the other side of the canal, the Ostaria al Canottieri. Shared a fish soup, and a large 15” (40cm) diameter pizza, with a glass of wine each and a bottle of fizzy water.

After breakfast, we made enquiries ing the water buses. Bought tickets at a kiosk, and walked to the railway station. From there took the No 1 water bus all along the Grand Canal as far as Arsenale. Super views and we took many photos, before continuing further east and walking back to San Marco and the Bridge of Sighs.

Then tried again to follow a walk suggested by Lonely Planet, but were soon got lost again.

Walked around a hospital located in an old building, before walking north to look across to the island with the cemetery.

We watched as a gondolier fell backwards in the water after hitting his head on a low bridge. Clambering back on board, he then held up a handphone taken from his back pocket. Poor guy had to continue taking his engers, even though he was wringing wet.

Today we have some watery sunshine, giving some beautiful light for the photos.

We returned to our place for coffee, biscuits and some Prosecco wine.

Later we went for a walk around the nearby University area. (Across the canal,

at the end by the lagoon). Built as single-storey blocks, with lecture theatres each side of the main open corridor. The lecture theatres all seemed full.

To celebrate Lian’s birthday, we went for dinner at ‘Al Timon’. We started with a bottle of decent Prosecco (Simon) and an appetizer. Ordered steak and chips, and a huge platter arrived with a huge 2” thick (5cm) T-bone as a centre-piece and heaped with vegetables. We had difficulty finishing it. It is a popular place with the locals.

Very misty on the way home.

Had breakfast in our room - bread, Brie, cold cuts, and tomatoes.

Walked to Al Timon and eastwards. Met some rowdy school kids – and followed them to their school, and complained to their schoolmaster. Then on to Ca d’Doro, crossing Rialto and visiting the fish market. Unsuccessfully tried to follow the second part of the walk shown in Lonely Planet, that we did not complete yesterday, but finished up in San Polo square. We ed by the huge Basilica di Frari (Friar) church.

Asking directions is not easy for any Englishman. We do try to use the local language, but most of the time it comes out sounding more like Spanish, or French, or Ethiopian. Living on an island has meant that for us there are only two languages in the world - English and ‘another language.’ Luckily, the foreign Johnnies now have more than a smattering of English, so it’s a vicious circle, with us speaking more and more English. We simply turn up the volume if they don’t understand us the first time.

Somewhat surprised to see so many African beggars on the street corners.

In the afternoon, we planned to make two visits. The first was to Squero di San Travasco, as adjacent to this church is a slipway where they make and repair gondolas. But they would not let us in to watch them work.

Then to the east, past San Marco to find the Chiesa di San Zaccaria. This old Nunnery was where wealthy families would send their daughters if the daughter got interested in ing sailors. We went in and took some photos. It was very dark in there at first, and then some lights were turned on to reveal many large wall paintings.

Lian had been anxious about the ‘acqua alta’, the regular flooding that Venice experiences, and had considered bringing Wellington boots with us. We ed stacks of the portable foldable walkways everywhere but were pleased that our flooding worries were unfounded.

Venice to Florence.

Left our accommodation for the fifteen-minute walk to the station. Had to wait for a platform number to be announced, and then wait for the train to be cleaned.

We had bookings on the ‘Italo train’, leaving Venezia Santa Lucia at 1 pm and arriving at Firenze Santa Maria Novella, Florence three hours later.

The train carriage only filled up at Padua.

Although the train was said to have WiFi, it was not powerful enough to get online.

Between Bologna (the world spaghetti centre?) and Florence is a range of hills. We seem to be tunnelling through most of it at 185 mph (300kph).

Florence – Firenze.

The ‘Hotel Ottaviani’ was a big disappointment. We had rejected a room with a bathroom, as we were unable to open the drop-down shutters. We were then given one with a window, but after we paid for four nights, we find that only one powerpoint works and the sliding screen to the shower is missing. So, we have to use the shared bathrooms. Anything broken in this hotel stays broken.

We have four unplanned nights and decided to use them (plan A): one night in Pisa, and then two or three in La Spezia as a base to visit Cinque Terre.

Spent the next morning and early afternoon walking south to the Arno River, and along to the famed Ponte Vecchio bridge with its three levels of shops over the river. Had a look at the Piazza de’ Pitti before re-crossing the Fiume Arno river.

ed through the Galleria Degli Uffizi.

The Piazza Della Signoria is impressive with its statues, some under the Loggia

Dei Lanzi, a covered area. Here you can see works by Michelangelo, Botticelli, Leonardo da Vinci, Caravaggio and others. It is hard to comprehend that one is looking at so many famous statues at the same time.

Thinking about it later, I wondered about what steps the authorities were taking to protect these precious works of art. There did not appear to be any heavy police or army presence. Were they in plain clothes? How much damage could a man/terrorist do with an AK-47, or a bottle of acid, or a diamond-tipped chain-saw?

Perhaps the original statues are elsewhere in safekeeping? However, looking again at my photos, the statues certainly do look like the real thing.

We looked in the Palazzo Vecchio. An amazing palace and I especially liked the hall lined with geographical maps.

On to the Chiesa di Orsanmichele, which has a beautiful and friendly interior, with a low painted arched ceiling. Above the church are two additional stories which were previously warehouses. This was the centre for the many guilds in the city, and statues representing the thirteen various guilds sit in niches on the exterior elevations.

Further north to the Duomo, the Cattedrale di S. Maria del Fiore. The exterior is spectacular, whereas the interior is surprisingly dull. The black, white and pink patterns on the elevations are quite different from any other cathedral I have seen and must have appeared as ultra-modern when first constructed. The patterns remind me of marquetry boxes I have seen in the Middle-east or my backgammon box.

The interior does have some interesting marble designs on the floors. The dome is said to be the largest brick dome in the world, with the inside painted to represent the Last Judgement; with the upper section representing heaven and the lower edge as hell.

We continued northwards to the central market, the Mercato Centrale. A relatively new building, and on the 1st floor there are many eating places, all using shared public seating. Lian ordered pulled pork in a bread roll. I ordered a Pizza Napolitan and a glass of Umbria red wine. The pizzas are made to order in a wood oven - although made thin; they have a thicker burnt crust around the outside. All very good, in a pleasant but busy atmosphere. We walked back to the hotel via Basilica S Maria Novella but did not go in.

After a rest, we set out wandering eastward. As dusk fell, photo opportunities abounded. One square had a merry-go-round, but without playing music.

We entered a building showing an Ai Weiwei exhibition, with a clever multimedia show on his life. (He is a Chinese activist, artist and architect.)

Moved onto the Ponte Vecchio bridge to see the lighting and the reflections in the river, before entering the Uffizi gallery and bookshop. The older part of the town seems much smaller than Venice.

The local police wear an elegant white plastic ‘fireman’s helmet’ together with a dark blue uniform with white piping around a shoulder cape. Quite different from the Carabinieri, who wear a peaked cap, and have the front of the cap bent upwards.

There was no heavy floodlighting on the churches etc., but enough to get photos that show the fairly natural colours.

On the way back, we stopped at a supermarket to buy two types bread, cheese, olives, cold cuts, and red wine (San Nicola Marzocchi). The food was good, but the wine not memorable. Lian made bookings for our accommodation in Pisa and La Spezia.

Next morning, after breakfast in our room, we set off wandering around the town. Started by going towards the Basso fort, but never reached there, returning to the centre of town.

In the Piazza Annunziata, they had covered the square with white plastic sheeting, so that women could write on it their thoughts in regards to domestic violence. But it seemed to be young girls or men who were doing the writing, using paintbrushes and water-based paint. Lian also had a go. One man drew a heart, arrow and two initials. Lian asked him which of the initials was his, and what was the name. He told her, so she asked what the name of his girlfriend was. “Zat’s notta my gorla fren, zat’s a my boy fren!”

Got to the market soon after mid-day, and it was jam-packed, so returned after 2 pm and found seats. Had a fried seafood platter, and then a pizza, and a wine each.

The town was extra busy with over 8,000 runners taking part in the marathon run tomorrow.

We went to the bus station to see if we can do a day-trip tomorrow, but the town

would be virtually closed down, with no buses running until late afternoon. Checked the railway station and the shopping gallery below the station, where Lian bought some Christmas hats.

Had a lazy breakfast in the room, and then walked down to the river and caught the Marathon runners at a corner. They just came on and on, and we could see the stragglers running on the south bank. All good fun and very noisy with cheering crowds.

We went north to the Galleria dell’ Accademia. The white plastic Plazza covering had been taken away. Went to see the Ospedale and the place where mothers would leave their baby for the orphanage. The baby would be placed on a stone slab inside an open window. The first baby girl was abandoned there in 1445 AD. The building is under renovation on the facade, but we went in to see the newly opened Spedali Degli Innocenti exhibition. The white and blue or brown glazed reliefs of the swaddled babies was especially touching. An excellent exhibition, and also many paintings and church sculptures, including a Botticelli.

From here we visited the Basilica di Santa Croce with its square surrounded by small restaurants, before returning north to the Mercato Centrale for a meal. It was after 4 pm when we arrived, and some foods were sold out. We finished up with a Pizza Napolitano and more cold cuts. The order for glasses of red wine and the Prosecco were soon duplicated.

Florence – Pisa.

We checked out of our room and walked to the station and bought tickets at the self-service machine using a credit card. The train was waiting, and we boarded

for the one-hour ride to Pisa.

The sun was shining, and all was well until a Conductor checking our tickets said we had not ‘validated’ our tickets at the machine, and charged us 60.

We ed pleasant hilly countryside and arrived soon after 11 am.

We were told to catch the ‘Rossa’ bus to the tower area and ed the queue. As I was getting on with my bag, I was shoved to the side, and I felt someone touching my rear end.

“Pickpockets!” I screamed loudly, and they shied away. Lian said a woman had thrown a wide scarf over my back and side, but pulled it away when I shouted. This must have been to hide what the young man was about to do. The ‘gang’ comprised an old gipsy woman and a man, and the heavier young one, who had pushed me over. So, I was lucky to keep my wallet. While waiting in the queue, I had seen the older ones being chased away from another bus stop earlier but thought little of it.

Once off the bus, we had quite a long walk to the hostel, the ‘Pisa Tower Hostel’. Our room with an en-suite shower was on the first floor.

Had some bread and cheese and coffee before setting off sightseeing.

Crossed the main road and ed through an archway in the long and high town wall. And there in front of us stood the Leaning Tower of Pisa. Quite

magnificent, and it really does lean.

The main cathedral Duomo is very impressive, as is the separate Battistero (the biggest in Italy), where Galileo was said to have been baptized. And all surrounded by a beautiful green lawn.

One cannot help but rush around, taking lots of photos. Everyone is trying to get a pix where their partner appears to be either pushing the tower over or trying to hold it up.

The lean is said to be 5.5 degrees but looks a lot more. If you dropped something from the top, it would fall about 15 ft (4.5m) from the bottom edge of the tower.

Walked to the local supermarket to buy some Prosecco, half a BBQ chicken, some Gorgonzola cheese, olives, grapes and some bread. One buys bread by the whole loaf or any part of the loaf you want. The guy will then cut it (no slicing) as you request. You then pay by weight. We had an early dinner in the hostel restaurant.

Pisa - La Spezia.

For breakfast, we had bread and gorgonzola cheese in the restaurant.

Left at 10 am, walking past the leaning tower, that was bathed in bright sunshine. The weather is brisk. Took a bus to the Stationale and bought train tickets to La Spezia for the 11 am train.

At the station we did a test run from platforms five to twelve, – it took two minutes, whereas we hope to have six minutes to change trains on the way back.

Once the train is running north along the coastal plain, one has views of the high green hills to the right. The hillsides have picturesque houses and small villages.

Later we saw a marble quarry high up on a mountain top, and marble blocks stored near the railway line.

As we Carrara station, the bare mountain is covered with marble quarries. This is the home of the famous white Carrara marble, so loved by the old sculptors.

La Spezia.

We arrived at La Spezia soon after noon, and bought train tickets for the next day.

Our accommodation at ‘Affittacamere Lunamar’ was close to the station.

The owner was very helpful with maps etc. We have a good room on the second floor, accessed via an elegant marble staircase, and with an excellent bathroom.

Decided to take a bus to Lerici, but had a problem finding a tobacconist where we could buy the bus tickets.

After forty-five minutes, we got off the No. ‘L’ bus at San Torenzo, and walked along the corniche to Lerici. Very scenic and in bright sunlight, but cool in the shade (it is late November) as we reached the old fort high on the cliff.

Returning to La Spezia, we went for a walk down the pedestrian street, and had a meal in ‘Chicken Chicken’. Both ordered biryanis, and I had a Becks beer, while Lian had water. Then found Carrefour for water, grapes and a bottle of red Cavit Marzemino Trentino DOC 2015.

The hotel has arranged for us to have our breakfast at the Cafe Reno. It comprised just a coffee and a pastry, and I bought an additional ham roll.

Cinque Terre.

Today we will explore the National Park of Cinque Terre. (A UNESCO site)

At 10 am, we took a seventeen-minute direct train to Levanto. The train spends most of the time in tunnels, as it winds along the seashore.

Had a quick look outside, and took the next train to Monterosso al Mare. The sun is shining and the sea clear and blue. We walked along the front until we saw a sign pointing up a steep path, saying Capuchin Monastery. A sign outside said ‘Silentium’, so have the monks made a vow of silence? The church is being

looked after by two volunteers from the town. No monks were in residence at the time. The volunteers were very friendly and took us to see where monks live, eat and pray, and to several of their garden areas. A dog and a couple of cats were also lounging around but showed little interest in us.

From there we walked down to the eastern square, then through a tunnel on to the western end of the corniche.

It was time to catch a train to Vernazza. Walked down the central lane, ing a picture showing floods in Oct 2011. Then we took a short diversion through a tunnel in the rocks to the seashore. Back to the main lane and down to the picturesque small harbour. All the local small boats have been taken out of the water, and line the main lane down. I walked onto the jetty to take shots of houses and hills. Lian had taken a side lane, but when I tried to follow her, there were too many alternative ways, so I went back to the harbour to wait for her. When she got back, we had a glass of local dry white local wine. Very pleasant but €6.

Back at the station, we took the train on to Manarola. Here we intended to take a bus to a village, and then walk to Corniglia. But alas, the next bus is after 4 pm, and it will be too late to take the hour-and-a-half walk before dark. So, we drowned our sorrow with a local red at ‘La Cantina Dello Zio Bramante’ - €4.

The train took us back to Corniglia. Outside the station was a minibus, and the driver told Lian we could use it with our existing ticket, so we got on it, not knowing where it would take us. After five minutes uphill, we actually reached the town of Corniglia. Here we visited the pretty little St Peter’s church, and then down a lane to the Centro. Excellent views were enjoyed along the coastline, as we are high up. We stopped at a bar and shared a local red before walking down the road to the station. A shortcut was signposted, but I wanted to walk down past the vineyards and the olives.

Just missed a train, so we had to wait for the next train to Riomaggiore. (Bying Manarola, as we had already been there). From the station, we can see this town with buildings sitting high on the cliff over the calm sea.

Today there has not been a cloud in the sky.

As we arrived at Riomaggiore, the sun was setting over the sea. Had to walk through a long tunnel to reach the town. Already getting dark, and apart from some Christmas lights, the place was already dead. Went into the Bar Centrale and had a couple of red wines, before making for the station.

We left at 5:45 pm on the train for La Spezia.

Had tea and some wine in the room, before going out for dinner. Went to ‘La Pia’ and ordered a couple of ‘farinata’ (one with blue cheese and one with soft cheese) and a pizza with anchovies and capers, and I had a quarter litre of red wine. An excellent meal in a very crowded restaurant. Another section of the restaurant was selling takeaway like hotcakes.

That night we slept like logs. After tea in the room, we crossed to Cafe Reno for breakfast.

We had to wait some time for the bus, so Lian was talking to a teacher and her teenage pupils.

Portovenere.

We took the bus down south to Portovenere on the headland. Once we ed the docks, we had some fantastic views of the harbour and the villages on the way.

Portovenere was spectacular and beat the views yesterday. St Peters Catholic church, completed in 1277, is sited on the headland. It is very basic, but had many memorable details, including the bands of grey and white stone. Today the weather was delightful, but one could imagine that this church would take a battering in a storm.

On one side of the headland is ‘Byron’s grotto’. This was named after the English poet, Lord Byron. It was said that Byron would swim across the bay to Lerici, a distance of approximately 4.1/2miles (7km) to meet fellow poet Percy Bysshe Shelly. Shelly later drowned, sailing in a sudden storm at Lerici.

Then walked to the rather basic San Lorenzo Church, and on into the old town, bying the Doria castle. Had lunch in a small backstreet restaurant, the ‘Osteria Baracco’. We ordered mixed fried seafood, and after quite a wait, a big platter arrived. The Proseccos were huge, and we had three. We had some laughs with the other patrons. The bill was €44, but as he took no credit cards and had no right change for a €50, so he gave me back a ten, “Pay next time”, and hugged me, knowing full well there would unlikely to be a next time. The sky was now cloudy, and we left Portovenere by bus for the half-hour ride back to La Spezia.

At breakfast in the Cafe Reno, Paulo, the owner, showed us photos from his visit to Malaysia as I ordered an extra ham roll.

The people here like dogs, and three customers brought them into the cafe this morning.

Note that Italians use the zebra crossings, and vehicles stop for you, unlike in Malaysia.

Rome.

We took the 10:20 am train from La Spezia Centrale to Pisa Centrale, where we changed train, arriving at Roma Termini before 4 pm. Noticed that many Africans were hanging around by the side of the railway station.

Found the ‘Hotel Max’ easily. We got into an old-fashioned lift to the reception on the third floor. Our room was on the 5th floor. A nice room, and if you like the colour orange, then it’s a very nice room. The balcony had moveable louvres, and glazed doors to keep out the noise, as well as day-glow orange curtains.

We had time for a quick coffee before going out.

There is a supermarket a few doors away, so went in to buy a few items and a bottle of Prosecco.

Then went for a walk around the block to find that there were plenty of kebab shops.

I know that all roads lead to Rome, but this was my first visit to Rome, although Lian had been here many years ago.

That night we slept well. The hotel breakfast on the 3rd floor was quite adequate: cereals, fresh fruit, various breads, and cold cuts with cheese, toast, good coffee, fruit juices and yoghurt.

Left at about 9 am and walked to the Colosseum. The tickets were €12 each but also allowed entrance into the Palatino and old forum area. The weather remained good despite a very light shower. Took plenty of photos, but nothing hit me like some scenes we have experienced over the last fortnight. My knee played up a couple of times.

In the afternoon we walked along to the church of Santa Maria Maggiore. Before entry, all bags have to go through an X-ray machine, similar to the Colosseum. It was very impressive inside, with some magnificent mosaics on the ceiling. There is so much detail there that it is hard to believe this can be done with mosaics. There is a tent-like structure in black and gold.

From here we walked to Plazza deli Republica with its two impressive curved hotel blocks. Then across the road is the Santa Maria Degli Angeli. (“the Most Blessed Virgin and all the Angels and Martyrs”). A brick church, not impressive externally, but huge internally and build on a cross shape.

They have a meridian line set into the floor. This is lit from a small hole in the mouth of a lion high up on a wall. Each solar noon the ray of sunlight would cross the meridian line. The church fathers used this to predict Easter accurately.

The church also has a bronze pendulum, commemorating Galileo’s observations on the time a pendulum takes to swing.

It seems that this church was once the central hall for a vast baths complex for 3,000 people. But this stopped when invaders in AD 536 destroyed an aqua duct. Michaelangelo designed the vaulted ceiling, but others painted it.

For dinner, we fancied something hot, and with chips. Finished up at McDonald’s in the station concourse, even though I had promised myself I would not go there in Italy. The fries were OK, but the Big Mac vindicated that my earlier promise to myself was not far wrong.

After an early breakfast, we took the Metro to Otaviano station and walked to the Vatican. We spent a long time in the magnificent Basilica S Pietro. They held several services, and many priests and cardinals were walking behind swinging incense. The riches on show are indescribable and must be seen to be believed.

I had lost my hat when it fell from my pocket, but I later found it when a policeman pointed it out, sitting waiting for me on the base of a column.

At mid-day, the Pope gave his Sunday message and blessing from a small window high up in a building. Too far to see him properly, but a TV camera played it on a giant screen for the thousands in the square. The speech lasted about sixteen-minutes - but obviously, we had no idea what he was talking about. It was a time to contemplate and savour the atmosphere.

After a picnic in the square, we walked to the Castel Sant’ Angelo but did not go in. Crossing the Ponte Vittorio Emanuele II bridge, we found Piazza Navona,

with it’s Nile theme.

Then on to the Pantheon. An unusual church, as it is quite round and rather plain in decoration.

The Church of Sant’ Ignazio di Loyola (founder of the Jesuits) was in a robust Baroque style. An amazing painted barrel vault ceiling by Andrea Pozzi and an unusual cupola painted on a flat surface.

It was a search, but we found the marble foot in the PIe’ di Marmon. We stopped for some wine at a small restaurant in Piazza Pietra. They fed us with a snack of crisps and cut meats in a hot pastry.

Walked to the Spanish Steps, and caught the Metro at Spagna and back to the station.

Had breakfast in the hotel. Then took the Metro to the Vatican where we ed the long queue to get into the Vatican Museum. All very impressive. Enjoyed the Sistine Chapel even though they were strict on the ‘no photography’ rule. No problem here for the other areas. Pretty tired by the time we stopped for a coffee. Walked to the Tiber by Ponte Principe, and walked down the West Bank as far as Ponte Cestio on the island. It’s 17C (63F) and not a cloud in the sky.

We caught a bus from near here, to the Pyramid. Then a Metro to the Terminus (the main railway station) and back to Hotel Max for tea.

That evening we went out for dinner to celebrate our 35th wedding anniversary at the nearby ‘Tratoria Cecio’ restaurant.

Enjoyed a filling lazy breakfast before taking the bus to the airport.

Our afternoon 6,160 miles (9,910km) flight back to Malaysia was via Doha and took just over twelve hours flight time.

We had been fortunate with the weather on this late November early December trip. It also had the great advantage of missing the high season crowds.

CHAPTER 6

Malaysia: Pangkor and Kedah trip.

A Pied Hornbill on Pangkor Island.

Readers have commented that not much has been included in the Travel Bug books on Peninsular or West Malaysia, compared with Sabah and Sarawak. For such a fascinating country, with so much to see, I have certainly been remiss.

West Malaysia has so much to offer the visitor, but the monsoon periods should be considered.

The beaches on the East Coast, especially on the islands, are world-class with sparkling clear waters. However, during the North-East monsoon period from November to February, heavy rain and high seas can be expected.

The western coast is on the Straits of Malacca, and the sand is inclined to be dirty, and the water can be murky. Sumatra protects us from the full effects of the South-West monsoon.

High hills form a north to south backbone, so one has the opportunity of leaving the hot and humid lowlands for the more cooling hill stations.

Malaysia has been further blessed by not being included in the ‘ring of fire’ with its accompanying earthquakes, nor the deadly typhoons suffered by our neighbours to the east.

The following trip covers an island in the Straits of Malacca, a visit to a National

park to count Hornbills, and an archaeological dig.

We drove our car northwards from Kuala Lumpur to Lumut on the west coast via Bidor, where we stopped for the famed duck soup, and then ed through the town of Teluk Intan.

Pangkor Island.

We just managed to get onto the 2 pm Marina Island ferry for the short hop to Pangkor Island.

In the car park, we hired a beat-up old Proton Wira for two days. This car; has no spare tire - the speedo is not working - the driver’s window does not come down - it has no horn - the seat is very low - and window wipers are slow. Am I insane?

We drove across the island to Teluk Nipa, where we had a booking at ‘Sunset’, located some way up a side lane from the beach. Noordin, the owner, is said to feed some relatively tame Pied Hornbills. Let’s see.

We walked down to the beach, but not many stalls and cafes are open.

Saw a pair White-bellied Sea Eagles sitting in a dead tree.

Every evening at 6:30 pm, Nordin calls the Pied Hornbills with a long whistle, and they come and sit on the power lines. He has cut up bananas, and you can hold a piece above your head, and they will swoop down and take the banana with their beaks. About twenty visitors came to watch, but they left while the birds were still there. We counted a maximum of seventeen Pied Hornbills, and they were so gentle as we fed the birds by hand

Nordin told how he started feeding the Hornbills in 2002 when he first built the place. He put food on a platform at about 6 pm and whistled. Birds soon associated the call for food. After experimenting, he found that they liked banana best of all, then papaya, and lastly bread and rice. After a couple of years, he got the old ‘Awang’ to take from his hand, and soon some others copied this.

Later we saw a pair of Great Hornbills, but they would not come near.

We walked along the beach and had food in a stall.

Next morning, we drove to the airport area and then back along the west coast, looking for accommodation for the night. We ed Teluk Gudong, with its new fancy mosque built over the water.

Also stopped at a big carved rock, commemorating where a tiger that had taken a Dutch baby from a rocky headland in 1743.

Looked in several hotels, and chose ‘Sea View Hotel’. This hotel has a beach and a swimming pool and looks across the water to the island of Pangkor Laut.

Once it cooled down, we drove into town and then north along the eastern beach as far as the incinerator. The road then becomes too steep.

On the way back, we checked out a boatyard that had one substantial sized wooden ship just ready to launch. Also stopped and looked in the ‘Fish House’ built on stilts. We saw the tall fishing boats that have returned from catching ‘ikan bilis’, the tiny fish that when dried become such an essential ingredient in Malaysian cuisine.

Back at the hotel, we walked along the sandy beach to some rocks and swam in the sea, before using the pool. We have the pool to ourselves - apart from a succession of pigeons who use it as their bar.

At the A Guan Seafood restaurant, we enjoyed a large Tiger beer, followed by rice, steamed prawns, fried squid, and bean sprouts. A dog with four puppies wandered around the tables. The staff encouraged them to leave by throwing water over them- but within seconds, they were back.

Pangkor – Ulu Mudah.

We enjoyed a breakfast of omelette or scrambled eggs, chicken sausages, toast and jam on the terrace facing Pangkor Laut.

I ed the old hire car back at the ferry car park, and we took the 10:30 am ferry to Marina Island, for the eleven-minutes crossing.

Had a half-hour rest in Ipoh where we met up with an old bird watching friend.

Drove northwards on the main toll road until the Guru exit on the highway, and then took minor roads to the Muda Resort, arriving by 4:30 pm.

For the first few hours, the place was packed out, as people were attending an annual general meeting for FELDA, the government agency responsible for the resettlement of the rural poor in new plantations. And then we were alone.

We were given a pleasant VIP chalet, and later we had a walk around the extensive grounds. There were plenty of local fruit trees; Mangosteen, Rambutan, Chiku, and Durian, and we were encouraged to take some. Unfortunately, I could not reach many. They also have about fifty ‘timorensis’ deer in a fenced compound.

We went through our bags to decide what we would be taking with us to the rain forest at Ulu Muda. The rest would be left in the car boot. I decided that my dive bag is not very practical if it has to be carried more than 100 yards and that my soft bag with wheels is much better.

We had dinner at a stall just outside the gates – ‘Nasi goreng Pattaya’ (fried rice wrapped in an omelette blanket), and stir-fried flat noodles.

We discovered that there was WiFi at the guardhouse, but you have to be close.

Muda Resort to Ulu Muda.

I was up at 7:30 am for a walk around. Checked email and took screenshots of the route to the Sediment Eco Resort our destination.

Checked out and drove the two or so miles (2km) to the jetty where we were met by A’Kong the boatman.

After lunch, we set out in a small boat for Ulu Muda. There was just room for the boatman, our bags, some stores for the Lodge, and ourselves. The lake had been flooded to make a dam, and in places, the tops of un-logged trees pointed their fingers to the sky. We ed a few small islands where fishermen had set up their tents. It took thirty minutes to cross the lake, and then fifteen minutes going up the shallow muddy river to the ‘Earth Lodge’. We had to walk through shallow water at the end.

Ulu Muda.

We were met by Hymeir, the resort manager and chief guide and installed in a nicely designed wooden cabin.

It had been overcast on the water, and it now started to rain as we sat down for tea.

Hymeir gave us a briefing on the Greater Muda Area.

The Greater Ulu Muda comprises 160,000-hectares of lowland, hill and upper hill dipterocarp forest located in the eastern edge of the State of Kedah, and borders Thailand. It provides the majority of the State’s water supply and irrigates the Kedah rice fields, as well as 80 per cent of Penang’s water supply.

Rich in biodiversity it’s home for elephants, tigers, leopards and tapirs. It is also a primary source of raw water for South Kedah and Penang. Despite its undeniable importance, the Ulu Muda forest remains unprotected.

It was only in 1992 that a Singaporean birder identified a large group of flying hornbills to be Plain-pouched Hornbills, Rhyticeros subruficollis. Until that time it was assumed that they were Wreathed Hornbills. Very similar, but lacking the cheek bar of the latter. The hornbill is black with a white tail. The males have a yellow gular pouch, and the female a blue one.

Despite all efforts to date, no one has yet found the roosting site so that it could be in either Malaysia or Thailand.

In the late afternoon, Hymeir and the boatman took us in his aluminium boat to drift downstream. On the way, we spotted several bird species before stopping at an open area. Here we waited for the Plain-pouch Hornbills as they flew from their feeding grounds back to their roosting area. We counted 415 of them as they flew south-eastwards. They came in waves of between four and twenty. By 7:40 pm rain was threatening us, and we used the engine to return to the Lodge.

In the shower, I found I had a leach bite under a toe.

Dinner was served at 8 pm: fish, rice, omelette and cabbage. Two other birders

were staying at Earth Lodge. Bjorn, a Swede, and Russell, a Texan, were looking for the Giant Pitta but had not been successful. They were due to leave early the next morning.

Then we had two jungle durians - the ‘tastes like heaven, smells like hell’ fruit.

It was nearly 10 pm when we returned to our room. The generator works from dusk to midnight. It was quite cold, and we needed to open the black blanket and cover ourselves. I awoke at about 4 am to find it pitch black, with no moonlight – so that must have been the time of the eclipse of the moon.

In the morning, we found that the clothes we had put out to dry were still very wet.

The 8 am breakfast comprised fried noodles, cold fried egg, and tea or coffee.

At 9 am, we were taken upriver by Hymeir and Yan, the boatman/cook. Parking the boat, we walked to the hot-spring salt-lick. (The ‘Sira’). Here we saw elephant droppings and tapir footprints. The sandy open area was crossed with small streamlets of warm steaming clear water. Some areas had silky white fungus growing in the hot water, and Hymeir told us we could eat some, so we tried a little. Little or no taste, and we did not die.

Then went for a walk to the giant Tualang Tree, with its smooth straight trunk, and branches only on the upper twenty-five per cent of its height. Several beehives hung high up on the underside of the branches. Brave local residents had nailed wood slats as a ladder up the trunk, as access to the hives. This area of secondary forest had been logged, but the Tualang is left alone, as it is of little

value to the loggers. Not only does the crystalline structure of the cells blunt the chainsaws, but the tree is inclined to shatter when it hits the ground.

We ed a Meranti tree that has ‘damar’ crystals growing from it, that can be used as fire-lighters. Hymeir took some and later demonstrated how strongly they could burn.

Continuing our walk up a hill to a ridge, then along it, before we slowly made our way back to the boat. Had to stop a few times to de-leech. Many leaches were in my trekking boots, including some very tiny ones that collected under the boot’s tongue.

Shown a tree that the Honey Bears have shredded to get at a beehive – it was a strong hard-wood tree, there was no soft or easy way to reach the honey.

We were hot and sweaty by the time we reach the Lodge. In the shower, I found I have collected leach bites on my waist, my back, hand, heel and wrist.

Over our lunch of chicken, mixed vegetables, omelette and rice, we were serenaded by the calls of the Agile (Black-handed) Gibbons.

Soon after 4 pm, we started going up the river for a while and then drifted all the way down to the Plain Pouch Hornbill sighting area by 6:25 pm. Here the three of us were kept busy as we saw and counted 1,102 of the Hornbills flying to their roost. On checking, Hymeir confirmed that the count was the highest for the season and the third-highest count ever.

It was overcast, and we felt a few spots of rain as we left at 7:35 pm under full power for the thirteen-minute trip back to the camp. Hymeir started the generator, and by 8:30 pm, we were served a spaghetti and sauce dinner.

Later, in the shower, I counted eleven bleeding bites. Unlike mosquitoes, the leaches do not carry any life-threatening diseases for humans, but they inject an anticoagulant that is a nuisance, as it takes some time before they stop bleeding. And later they can itch like crazy.

After breakfast the next morning Hymeir, took us for a walk across a small bridge to the original Ulu Muda campsite. We could this site, as we had visited it eight years previously on a trip with the Malayan Nature society, and this is when we had first met Hymeir.

After some farewells, we left just before 10 am for the eight and a half-mile ride (14km) to the jetty. Within fifteen minutes we reached the lake, and a further twenty-five minutes and we were at the jetty.

Bujang.

Here is a good time to give you an outline of the history of the Malay Peninsular. The indigenous inhabitants are known as ‘Orang Asli’. The eighteen tribes are split into three main groups: Negrito (in the north), Senoi (central), and Proto Malay (in the south). Then the ‘invaders’ arrived from the Indian sub-continent. These were followed by the Malays from Sumatra, Java and Sulawesi who formed the Sultanates. Some Chinese settled in Malacca, and later the Westerners arrived from Portugal, Holland and Britain. WWII saw Japan in Malaya, and then the British returned until 1957 when Malaysia was granted independence.

Little is known about the first wave of immigrants.

The historical significance of Bujang Valley was first reported in 1840 by Colonel James Low, a British colonial officer after he discovered a Buddhagupta inscription on a slatey rock. It was the British who started archaeological work in the Bujang Valley, in the State of Kedah.

Bujang is located at the northern end of the Straits of Malacca and faces the Bay of Bengal. It soon became a major trading point on the sea journey from India to Cambodia, Vietnam and China.

The Indians brought Hinduism and Buddhism with them, and they left several buildings and temples. To date, 87 heritage sites have been discovered, built between the 2nd and 14th centuries. In the 8th and 9th centuries, the Arab traders called it Kalah or Kala-bar.

The Malays in Malaysia call themselves the ‘sons of the soil’ and have been reluctant to accept that there could have been any significant civilizations in Malaya prior to their own arrival.

Since the early 1980s, Malaysian archaeologists have had Government encouragement to explore the ancient sites.

It was only after a developer destroyed a 1,200-year-old Hindu Temple in 2013, that that the Government considered gazetting the archaeological sites in the Bujang Valley.

Ever fearful of the sites being damaged, the Government have gone to the trouble of relocating many of the significant finds to a grassed area behind the ‘Muzium Arkeologi Lembah Bujang’ building.

We looked at the Candi Pendiat temple built 11th AD, the Candi Bukit Batu Pahat temple, the Candi Pengkalan Bujang, and the Candi Bendang Dalam. Now the ruins appear just as brickwork or rock plinths.

Most of the temples are roofed over to protect them from the elements. Each is well described on notice boards in both Malay and in English.

Leaving the museum, we stopped at a couple of other archaeological where iron smelting was said to been carried out. Excavations were still underway and had exposed many brick walls.

Lian had made a booking for two nights at the Sedim Eco Resort, but for some reason, our GPS took us to what turned out to be the location of a resort with the same name. We arrived at 4:30 pm to find the office closed, and the place looked run down and a bit creepy. Sounds were coming from the largest building. Inside a lot of young boys in white turban headgear were swaying as they recited the Koran. The resort was being used as a Madrassa. We were later told that the boys were Rohingya, from Myanmar.

No one there knew of Jasman, the owner, and he was not answering his phone even though Lian phoned many times.

We left and went to the Tree Top Walk area to try to find Jasman, but he was not there. They would not let me take in the car, so Lian was taken on the back of a motorbike to see if our name were on the reception desk booking list at the Tree Top Walk accommodation. But it was deserted, and a guard told her that the staff had all left at 12:30 pm, so we could not stay. But it was confirmed that this was where we were to have stayed - not at the Madrassa site. While there, Lian saw a Rhinoceros Hornbill.

A light drizzle started, so we gave up and decided to drive south and find alternative accommodation.

So, we drove to Kulim to find a hotel and booked into the ‘Urban Inn’, a modern business style hotel.

From there Lian sent a long SMS to the guy at Tree Top Walk. Is he a conman? The man then phoned back, and agreed to return the deposit money we had paid, and wanted an number to send it to. He also offered a free night’s stay next time we came. We are pleased to report that the money was later transferred.

Next morning, we returned to Kuala Lumpur, having driven a total of 726 miles (1,170km).

CHAPTER 7

The Caucasus: Azerbaijan, Georgia, Armenia, Turkey.

Caucasus – old walls in Baku, Azerbaijan.

Whenever I have had to fill in an official form that asks for one’s race, I insert ‘Caucasian’, as this is what I had been told was the correct answer for me. It is worth spending a few minutes checking out Wikipedia for the included definition. Here one can see that the definition has changed over the years, and various authorities have not only defined it by the colour of the skin, but to the shape of the skull, and the size of the teeth. Anyway, a trip to the Caucasus should be on our bucket list, as surely this must be the cradle from whence my ancestors came, or why go to the length of calling me a Caucasian. Why not call me a Dalmatian, a Balkan, or even a Ural Asian?

There must be something special about the Caucasus, so Lian planned a trip for us to include Azerbaijan, Georgia, and Armenia. We would then make our way across Turkey to Istanbul.

There being no direct flights from our home base in Kuala Lumpur, the most economical route for us was via Istanbul, then after a nearly three-hour layover, flying back over our route to Baku, the capital of Azerbaijan.

I needed visas for Azerbaijan and Turkey, but they were obtained easily and issued electronically

Our bags were booked right through to our destination, and our flights on Turkish Airlines was comfortable, although it took an hour while we waited in a long queue of aircraft waiting to take off for Baku.

AZERBAIJAN. Baku.

Lian was delayed in immigration and had to pay for a visa on arrival, even though their embassy in Malaysia had assured her that Malaysians could enter visa-free.

We had not been able to secure any Caucasian currencies in Malaysia, so we picked up some ‘Manat’ at the airport.

We took the local bus for the half-hour ride into town. On the way, we saw some impressive modern architecture.

Lian had booked ‘Shalimar Boutique Hotel’, that was strategically located near the old city. Unfortunately, I did not follow the instructions we had been given, and this led us on an extended ‘walkabout’ before we reached our destination.

Here we paid for the pre-booked two nights using a credit card.

Went for a walk down to the Caspian Sea promenade, which had well-tended gardens. There is a wide cobbled promenade along the seashore. The sea was smooth as a millpond, and we could ire the modern architecture as the atmosphere was so clear. The sky was blue, but it was quite chilly out of the sun. For a while we watched men playing chess with giant chess pieces.

Visited a nearby supermarket and bought flatbread, salami, cheese, fruits and a bottle of local white wine, ‘Caspea Vermentino’. Enjoyed the picnic lunch, but

after paying by credit card, later realized we had been very much over-charged. Lian went back, and the cashier paid back the overcharged amount, in cash, without a murmur. This was a reminder that we should be vigilant when using these different currencies.

A blood vessel burst in my left eye, and Lian soothed it with eye drops.

We were up early for a walk to the nearby Old City area. The sun was already up, and there were few people about. Meandering along the cobbled lanes, we enjoyed the old stone buildings and our walk beside the Medieval city wall. We the Shirvanshah’s Palace, and the 12th century Maidan Tower. Later in the day, more shops are open, selling antique rubbish and carpets.

Leaving the old town, we moved on to Fountain Square and then to Nizami Street, a pedestrian-only street.

Continuing to Rashed Behbudov Street and Sahil Park. Had a stop to enjoy the air-conditioning in the Park Bulbar Mall, before getting back onto the seaside boulevard.

Once back at the hotel, we booked a further two more nights.

Walked through the Vahid Garden, where we watched the Long-tailed Parakeets as they sat screeching in the trees.

We took the Funicular railway up to the heights, and from there one has superb

views over the town and along the coast. It is very photogenic, with the three blocks of the iconic Flame Tower, designed to mimic cartoon shaped natural gas flames. We decided to walk down to the bottom instead of taking the funicular down.

Our legs are a bit tired, which not surprising, as we find that according to Lian’s ‘Fitbit’, we had walked nearly 11 miles (18km).

The next morning, we set off to the Atashgah Fire Temple using public transport. (‘Atash’ is the Persian word for fire.) We started by using the Baku Metro and found that the escalators are extra-long. It took fifteen minutes to reach Koroglu station, where we then took the No.184 bus. No problem where to get off, as the other engers could see we were foreigners and it was a 99% chance that we wanted to visit the Fire Temple.

It was very noticeable that men would give up their seats for women, and the youngsters would stand for any of their seniors. This is a habit sadly missing these days in the West.

The temple comprises a five-sided courtyard with the monk’s cells all around, and a small building in the middle that contains the altar and an everlasting flame. In the 17th and 18th century the temple was used by Hindu, Sikh and Zoroastrian worshipers. The Zoroastrians were from northwestern India and used the temple as a pilgrimage and philosophical centre.

On our way, we could still see many old oil wells with the ‘nodding donkeys’ making their slow, relentless movements, and each time sucking a few more gallons of crude oil out of the ground.

Baku has a long and fascinating history of oil production. It is believed that Marco Polo was referring to Baku when he said, “This oil is not good to eat; but it is good for burning and as a salve for men and camels affected with itch or scab. Men come from a long distance to fetch this oil, and in all the neighbourhood no other oil is burnt but this”.

The first detailed description of the Baku oil industry was made by Engelbert Kaempfer, Secretary of the Swedish Embassy to Persia (now Iran) in 1683. In his notes he confirms the existence of places where natural gas discharges to the surface He describes “flaming steppe” as follows: it “…constitutes a peculiar and wonderful sight, for some of the fissures were blazing with big, others with quite flame and was allowing everybody to come up: thirds emitted smoke or at any case minimum perceptible evaporation that was sending off heavy and stinking taste of oil.” His description does not all make sense, but one certainly gets the idea.

At one time Baku’s oilfields were producing more crude oil than all the wells in the USA. The town became a place to win or lose a fortune: the new rich built palatial seafront houses, and wide tree-lined avenues. Horse-drawn trams made their way through the new suburbs.

The sickly smell of crude oil was everywhere. It was said that if you threw a match into the sea, it would catch fire and burn for minutes. The wells were shallow, and in places, the oil would seep out from the earth.

In the early 1900s, the Russians the Germans and the Turks all had their eyes on this valuable commodity, especially after WW1 broke out. In 1918 the British landed in Baku to protect the oilfields, and later that year the country declared itself the Azerbaijan Democratic Republic, only to be incorporated by the Soviet Union two years later. It was only in August 1991 that the country became the independent Republic of Azerbaijan. Although the population is about 89% Shia Muslim, the country runs on secular principles. We found it interesting that here

we heard no sound of the usual call to Muslim prayers. Only about 5% of women cover their heads, and it is the fashion for about 60% of young women to wear their hair long and straight.

Took a bus to the railway station to book berths on the overnight train to Georgia for two nights time, and paid by credit card. Then Lian booked two night’s accommodation in Georgia via the internet.

We wandered along the esplanade, southward to the Carpet Museum. The building looks like a half-unrolled carpet. Then back via the ‘Venice’ waterway, and spent some time watching men playing on one of the giant chess boards.

On the way back, we found another supermarket and bought a local Yelenemdorf Chardonnay wine, which we found quite palatable.

Set out the next morning for a walk, but soon returned to put on more layers, as the wind was so strong and fresh, before setting out again. Everywhere, workers were erecting seating and protection for the forthcoming F1 motor race. It was interesting to walk the route of the track, and it certainly made our subsequent viewing of the race on TV more meaningful on our return.

Offices and public buildings have a non-smoking policy, as the pavements outside the buildings always seem to have a gaggle of men and women furtively sucking at their fags. Added to this are the groups of drivers standing around at street corners waiting for their engers, so often one finds it easier to walk on the road rather than the pavement.

So, these are real Caucasians but look more Arab/ Iranian than Western

European.

Most cars on the road seem modern; Mercedes, BMW, VW, Audi, Toyota, Nissan, Hyundai, Jeep, Porsche and Renault, with just a few elderly Lada. Motorbikes or bicycles are not popular. Traffic and parking is a problem here. Illegal parking attendants guard any vacant kerb-side. I am pleased to say that drivers do obey zebra crossings.

Most main roads are one-way, and pedestrians use under-road tunnels, usually with escalators. Barriers have been erected to prevent pedestrians from crossing the streets at intersections.

We went for dinner at the ‘Hard Rock’ cafe. It did not disappoint, and I had several ‘Xirdalan’ local beers, that I found quite palatable. The music and videos screened are all from our generation, and were first performed well before any of the cafe staff were born.

We spent our last morning in Baku in the room, packing and planning our trip. After check-out, we left our bags at the hotel, and hopped on a bus for a halfhour ride to the southern terminus, where we found a vast covered market area for dry goods, shoes etc. Here we had a couple of chicken doner kebabs.

Lian bought a few things for our journey at the Bravo supermarket. Then we used the station waiting room until it was time to board the very long train, with its antiquated carriages.

The woman checking our ports was quite aggressive and wanted to see our visas for Azerbaijan. We have booked two lower berths, and were shown our

compartment by the day attendant. We are told: no smoking, not to put rubbish into the WC but use the bucket, and that there was a toilet at one end of the carriage for men, and at the other end for women.

Off on time at 8:40 pm for the approximate 280-mile (450km) journey.

We are lucky, as we did not have to share the four-bunk cabin. We made up our beds with a sheet, duvet and towel; all supplied in a sealed plastic bag placed on the rolled-up mattress.

I did not sleep well, as the bed was narrow and not quite long enough for my long legs, and it was not a smooth track. No food vendors appeared selling drinks, food or snacks. However, a samovar was available at the end of the carriage so we could make tea and coffee.

We were woken soon after 5 am as we were about to arrive at the crossing into Georgia. We filled in a ‘simplified declaration’ form in English. The train stopped at Boykin Kesik, the last station in Azerbaijan. At 5:55 am, a man in a peaked cap checks our ports and visas and takes away our ports. We were later called individually into another empty compartment to have our photos taken, and given the Azerbaijan exit stamp. Given back our ports by 6 am, then waited half an hour when our Azerbaijan ‘declaration’ form was collected.

GEORGIA.

At 6:50 am, as dawn was breaking, the train started to move again, and we could see a very flat landscape.

At 7:15 am the train stopped for immigration, and ten minutes later a man checked our ports and took them away.

It was an hour and a half before our ports were returned, and after ten minutes the train started moving.

The leaves on some of the trees are starting to sprout, and we see some blossoms. Spring is arriving earlier here than it was in Baku.

Tbilisi.

It was 10:10 am when the train pulled into Tbilisi station. Our priority was to obtain some ‘Lari’, the local currency, as we had been unable to pick any up earlier. As well as using an ATM, we also changed our small balance of Azerbaijani Manats.

Tbilisi sits at 1,430ft (435m) above sea level and has a population of over a million. It is certainly is a city with plenty to offer, but it all seems to be many years behind Baku, in modern architecture and signage. But the Georgians claim they ‘have freedom’.

At the nearby Metro, Lian bought a travel card for use on both the Metro and the busses. We used this to take the three stops to Freedom Square. The very long escalators travel much faster than we are used to, and so needs some care both getting on and off. The station names do not appear to be marked on the station walls.

After crossing Freedom Square using an under, we were met by our host, Tato, in Shalva Dadiani St. and taken up to ‘Tali Home’, a BB&B flatlet by 11:15 am. The entrance door from the street can only be described as ‘well worn’, and from the hallway is a wooden dog-leg staircase up to our floor. The straight flight had a definite lean to the right, and the treads to the return flight slope backwards towards you. The last time I saw such a staircase, I was very well oiled. But this time, not a drop of alcohol has ed my lips.

As we needed to pay by cash for the two nights, this required a trip to an Exchange that accepted our US$s.

After visiting an Information Centre, we took a walk to the old Sion Cathedral. The inside was very dark but had plenty of atmosphere. Several babies were being Christened, all dressed in white and with matching headbands, and doted on by proud parents and relatives.

Wandered on, visiting the old caravanserai before crossing the Metekhi bridge into Rike Park. Everywhere you go, youngsters try to press tour guide brochures into your hand. We re-crossed the river on the Bridge of Peace pedestrian bridge. Then to Liberty Square and back to Tali Home.

After a rest, we went to a Spar supermarket where we bought a flat square bread stuffed with cheese and microwaved hot. It went down well with a dry red Georgian wine, Telluri, from the Kakheti area, and made from Saperavi grapes.

It is claimed that Georgia was one of the cradles of winemaking, and archaeologists have found the conical-shaped amphora type vessels and dated them as approximately 6000 BC. The signature feature of Georgian winemaking

is the use of these baked clay amphorae placed in the ground for fermentation. There are nearly four hundred traditional Georgian grape varieties, but only 38 varieties are grown commercially, and even some of these are little known in the world. Saperavi is the most important grape variety used to make Georgian red wines, and its potential to produce high alcohol levels and is used extensively for blending with other lesser varieties. It is said that wine from this grape can be aged up to fifty years.

The Narikala Fortress is an ancient citadel that overlooks both the town and the Mtrkvari River. The road up was steep, and I was looking forward to resting in the coolness of the church. But we could not go in, as tourists are not allowed to enter when a service is on. We could, however, stand by the entrance and ire the chanting.

We walk down to the sulphur baths area, with its bathhouses and their brick domes. A stream runs down nearby, and we could see some sulphur laden small streams, stained bright yellow.

Crossing the river bridge, we walked up a steep slope to the big St. Trinity Cathedral, and entered through a gated archway to see this impressive Georgian Orthodox church and its honey-coloured stonework. This church dominates the view of the northeastern side of the capital city. The interior architecture is plain but classic, and all the decoration of plaques and pictures would be easily transportable if required. Noticed that it is the same with other churches – the decoration is not built into the structure, and the treasures could be loaded on to carts and moved to safety, whenever danger or persecution appeared.

Walked back across the river and found the 6th-century Anchiskhati Basilica of St Mary, the oldest church, with its smoke covered ceiling (no photos allowed inside), and then to the puppet theatre with its crooked tower.

That evening we enjoyed a bottle of dry white wine. Very pleasant, with plenty of body and a beautiful biting acidity. The label says; Teliani Valley, Tsinandali 2017, blended from Rkatsiteli and Movane grapes.

We returned for the 7 pm show at the clock tower of the puppet theatre. Nothing great, but a small crowd of visitors watch for a couple of minutes, as an angel strikes a bell at the top, and shortly afterwards a window opens lower down, and a few figures move slowly across representing ‘the circle of life’; birth, marriage, and death - or something similar.

We arranged to meet our host to pay for an additional night’s accommodation.

Next morning, we went to the railway station to buy tickets for the following morning’s train to Batumi on the Black Sea coast. Also received information on taking a train to Armenia, but found that this runs only on odd days. Later took the Metro south for one station to Avlabari Square. From here, minibuses go to Armenia several times a day. There we spotted the nearby ‘Tourist Hotel’ and made a booking for when we get back from the Black Sea.

From here, we took a walk to see an impressive church in the distance, only to find it was the St. Trinity Cathedral we had already visited. Down to the river to see Metekhi Church of Assumption, and then to the statue of King Vakhtang Gorgasali sitting on horseback.

Crossed the river and made our way back to our place. On the way, we bought a warm nan type of bread from a small bakery next to a church. Absolutely delicious, and most was gone by the time we got back for tea and a rest.

Lian booked a hotel in Batumi for our first night. We will extend if the hotel proves to be OK.

Went for dinner at ‘Sakhli#11’, a recommended Georgian restaurant, and had a memorable meal. The house bread was served with sunflower oil and dried weak pepper flakes. For wine, we had a bottle of Khodashnurl from the Ebelashvili Family Winery, who supply a limited edition for this restaurant, using a Saparavi grape. This local red wine was extremely dry, and really sucked one’s cheeks in. The main course was fried pork with potato slices and onion. Some potato slices were well done and looked and even tasted like fried bacon. Also had mushrooms in a cheese sauce – equally delicious. Finished with a desert of walnuts covered in what looked like purple candle wax – we had seen many for sale in the market. Finished with a local Cashari Chacha ‘grapa’, served from a glass server looking like something from a chemical laboratory – it was powerful and took your breath away.

Tbilisi to Batumi.

The train for Batumi leaves at 8 am. We had seats on the upper deck, and unlike the others we have taken to date, this was a new and modern train. I had to show my port to get on, as the tickets were in my name. It was good to have WiFi onboard that works.

The start of the journey was though a semi-industrial wasteland, ing several graveyards of rusty old carriages and engines.

Some snow remnants could be seen on the hills outside of town. The train travels at 60mph (100kph) over a flat plain with sandstone hills either side. The plain has a greenish hue, from the new fresh grasses coming through.

We ramshackle houses and buildings, with broken fencing. On the way, we ed by Gori, the birthplace of Stalin.

By 9:30 am, it is becoming much hillier, and we through a long tunnel. For a half-hour or so we through steep valley areas. By 11 am, we are on a broad plain, and we could see snow on the top of the hills on either side. We note that here metal posts, power pylons, and railway freight cars are all rusty and unpainted. We longitudinal fields. Are they growing maize?

After stops at Ureki, and at Kobuleti, we reached Batumi soon after 1 pm. We took advantage of being in the station, to buy return tickets for two days ahead. The station is located on the coast, a couple of miles (3km) out of town.

Batumi.

Although chased by angry taxi drivers, we crossed the road and caught a bus into town. On arrival, we had crystal clear beautiful views from the town across the Black Sea, with snow on hills. Picked up a map from the Information service kiosk.

We found the ‘Hotel Old Town’ with no problem and checked in before 2 pm. We were given a large room, with a bathroom with a screened shower, and a balcony with a table.

Tried to draw the curtains, but they came right off the curtain rail, as there was no end cap to keep them in place. A maintenance man came with a ladder and

put both of them up. Can he have some paper? So, he then screws up some toilet paper and stuffs it along the grooves. No spare end caps are available!

The weather is delightful, so we took advantage to take the 1.1/2-mile (2,500m) long cable car up into the hills. We have a cable car cabin to ourselves, and the views over the town and the Black Sea are impressive. At the café at the top, we sat to enjoy small cups of espresso coffee.

I ponder why the sea is called the ‘Black Sea’, as today the sea is a grey-blue.

Later I checked with Goggle, that says ‘The sea was first named by the ancient Greeks who called it “Inhospitable Sea.” The sea got this reputation because it was challenging to navigate, and hostile tribes inhabited its shores. Later, after the successful development of the coast by Greek colonists, the sea was renamed “Hospitable Sea.”

A more probable reason is that with a depth of over 27,200ft (2,200 meters), the Black Sea has a high concentration of hydrogen sulfide for almost 1.25 miles (two kilometres) depth. Metal objects from ships, dead plants, and animal matter that sunk deeper than 500ft (150 meters) for a long period of time, became covered with a black sludge due to this high concentration.

Sometimes, the severe storms in the winter, low visibility, and inhospitable conditions for sailors has also earned the name ‘Black’ for this sea.

We found plenty to do as we walked along the dockside, taking photos of the ships and beautiful background, ing the Yacht Club, ‘Ali & Nino’ statue, the Light House, and the Alphabetic Tower. The Ali and Nino statue is very

impressive; comprising giant armless figures of a man and a woman, each consist of horizontal steel discs with an equidistance space between the discs. The two figures are mounted on moving circular platforms, and when the figures meet on their circular paths, they move into each other and appear to be solid figures before they continue on their way. The internal system must be cleverly placed and constructed.

The beach here is all pebble, so not very conducive for swimming. Continuing our walk along the boulevard, we enjoy the pleasant sunny weather, before returning along a parallel path with trees either side. It was quite chilly in the shade.

We came across a group of kinder garden kids on an outing. When the children saw Lian using socks as gloves, they all started taking off their shoes to copy her. Some of the teachers were not so impressed, but later they all ed in the fun.

It was here that we decided that we would now only go as far as Istanbul, and then return to Kuala Lumpur, so Lian made a booking to leave Istanbul on SaudiAir.

Time to explore the more central part of town and walk through the Piazza, and into St Nicholas church to hear chanting during a service. Then into Europe Square, with the column depicting Medea and the Golden Fleece, and enjoyed some amazing architecture and a scientific Astro clock.

We noted that each block of flats usually has a tall flagpole located in the car parking area or on the pavement. Each unit then has a clothesline attached to the pole with a pulley so that they can hang out their washing. We thought this a practical solution to an old problem.

Hardly the Vegas of the Black Sea, but Batumi is proud of its Casinos. Must it we are not into gambling, so perhaps we miss much of what they have to offer here. But even without this, it is an enjoyable place, and we were pleased we came.

Back to sit on the balcony and enjoy the dry white wine (Teliani Valley, Manavi Mtsvane, 2017) and be pleased we are not up on the snow-dusted mountains we can see to the north of us.

The sky was very overcast with dark clouds as we took a taxi to the railway station for our return to Tbilisi.

Batumi - Tbilisi.

Today is ‘Nowruz’, the Persian New Year, celebrated by 190 million people in this part of the world, and we hoped the weather would be kind to the celebrants.

The train left on time at 7:55 am. The train Wifi worked only for the first halfhour or so. We were surprised to find that there was a small library on board. This included an old copy of ‘The Mill on The Floss’ by George Elliot. It had been signed by some students and presented to their teacher, dated 1960. The book is far too long to read on the journey.

Tbilisi.

The sun has broken through. Our train arrived by 1 pm, and we took the Metro to Aviabari station. Checked into a comfortable room in the Tourist Hotel and paid for two nights.

We went out for a walk to see what was around us and to buy some water. Found a restaurant for dinner this evening, and the waiter gave us samples of local red wine. At some fruit stalls, the women had fun trying to teach us some local words: “thank you”, “hug”, “kiss”, “I will return”. We all had plenty of laughs. Bought some nan bread hot from the tandoori, and had some with salami.

We continued our short walk around the area. It was sunny, but with a cold wind, and sometimes dusty, and we needed our thin rain jackets to keep out the wind.

Later we went to ‘S Real Leader’ restaurant for dinner. Ordered a pork shashlik, ‘potato with family’, (pork and chip size potatoes), long beef kebab, some excellent bread, and with a warming sauce, and a litre of red wine. It was a good meal, and we should sleep well.

Lian heard from the hotel in Armenia that she has already booked, that they now have no room. But the booking agent has already taken their non-refundable commission. What to do?

Mtskheta.

Next morning, after making a booking for the following day by shared car to Armenia, we took a day trip to Mtskheta and Djvari.

We commenced with a fifteen-minute ride on the Metro to Didube station. The market there was very crowded with buses going in all directions. Chased around by taxi drivers who wanted to take us, but at last, we found the correct bus and paid the fare at the ticket office. We got the last two seats, which was lucky, as the bus headroom was too low for me to stand upright.

Our white shuttle bus took less than half an hour to reach the old capital of Mtskheta. The woman at the information office was very helpful, and it was only a short walk to the sandstone Svetitskhoveli ‘Patriarchal Temple’.

A Jew, Elioz, was at Christ’s crucifixion, and bought Jesus’s ‘robe’ from a Roman soldier and brought it back to Georgia. His sister, Sidonia, was so excited at touching it, that she died and was buried with the robe in a tower-shaped structure inside the cathedral.

The inside of the building is very impressive, and of all churches visited to date, this one has an atmosphere of peace and reverence. We sat and listened to some chanting taking place in a side chapel. Once again, all decoration is easily removable, but there are quite a few wall paintings that look very old.

Time for us to take a walk around the high wall that surrounds and protects the church.

Across the river, we could see the church of Jvari sitting on a hilltop, but we did not go there.

Mtskheta was the capital before Tbilisi, but I was a little disappointed that we could find little ‘old’ about it. Yes, they have cobbled streets, but all the houses are newly built, and well looked after. Walked to the town square and its fountain (not working), and waited for a bus back to the Metro. The first was jammed packed. We waited for the next, and I was the last to squeeze on.

Tbilisi.

The cars brands are here are similar to Azerbaijan, but not so many BMWs or Ladas. We saw plenty of Toyota Prius on the roads. Parking here is also a problem.

Went for dinner at the Cafe S Leader again, and ordered the same items. But this time with a dry white, a bottle of Vismino, Kisi. 2016 13.5%. Described on the rear label of the bottle as (firstly in the curly alphabetical Georgian language/script, and then in English):- ‘Transparent, dark beige, light goldfish is typical of the variety. Ripe white fruit and citrus tones. Its taste reveals joyful structural sourness. The wine is characterised by aromatic and gustatory stability. Suites to pastes prepared with spicy cheese sorts. To mushroom cooked with stewed onions. Also to Chakapuli. To marinated salmon. Enjoy with music. (Antonin Dvorak, Slavonic Dance Op 72 No. 2)’

Tbilisi, Georgia to Yerevan, Armenia.

Our Mercedes minibus was due to leave at 9 am for the five-and-a-half-hour road trip, but left at 8:40 am as all eight engers were on board. Lian and I sat in the front with the driver. We have WiFi on the bus.

By 9 am the road had climbed from 1,100ft (335m) in Tbilisi onto a 1,850ft (565m) plain, with white flowering trees along the side of the roadway. After crossing a valley, we ed a large lake on the left-hand side. Our driver crosses himself as we a church.

We saw what appeared to be ammunition dumps all covered with earth as the road ran beside the railway track.

The weather is dry, with high cloud cover.

We reached the border within an hour, and half an hour later had cleared customs.

ARMENIA.

Leaving the border at 1,300ft (405m) above sea level (asl), we soon started to climb; firstly past bare rolling hills, that soon became more forested and steep at 3,750ft (1,145m). Soon the hillside was full of trees with bright yellow flowers. Small towns have their houses built from 12” x 12” (30cm x 30cm) square-cut stone.

The M4 is only a B road, with light traffic. Out in the countryside, Ladas make up a third of the cars on the road. The road surface is now in poor condition, and as we reached a town at 4,000ft (1,230m), we can see snow-covered mountains behind.

The road then zig-zags up a mountain with snow around us, before entering a long 6,550ft (2,000m) above sea level (asl) tunnel.

We emerge onto a 6,500ft (1,990m) asl plain, and the M4 has just become a dual carriageway. Our driver uses the speed warning radar to warn him of the speed cameras ahead.

This ride has had the prettiest scenery so far on our trip.

Yerevan.

It was 1:30 pm when we arrived at Yerevan bus station, at 3,300ft (1,000m) asl. Had the usual problem with the taxi drivers who tried to overcharge, so picked up a taxi at the roadside. We had a bit of a problem finding ‘The Yard Guesthouse’, where we had a small but comfortable room and bathroom.

Our first task was to get some local currency, and we were somewhat surprised to find that the nearest place to obtain any was inside a SAS Supermarket, where I used my HSBC Visa card to buy some ‘Dram’. Then picked up a local beer, Kilikia, and an Armenian dry white, Armenia, Sasunik Village 2017.

We had read that Yerevan is 2,800 years old - 29 years older than Rome, and has a population of over a million.

However, our first impression of Yerevan is not too great. Seems like a big city centre that lacks character.

Went to Square to find the Information kiosk there, but none of the locals seemed to have heard of it. Anyway, we eventually found it, and the girl at the reception was helpful with a map, but was not sure of the routes to Turkey via Georgia.

You may well ask why not go directly from Armenia into Turkey, as they have a long common border. Well, the answer is that the border has been closed for many years following the attempted genocide of Armenian Christians by the Turks during the WW1 period. So, we would have to return to Georgia before entering Turkey. We had yet to decide on the best route and which crossing to take. Lian has conflicting information as to the best destination to go to in Georgia so that we can best reach Kars in Turkey. Once there, we plan to take a train to Ankara, and then another to Istanbul. Then went into a travel agent’s, and the woman there was more knowledgeable.

Took a bus to the central bus station, to find how to best get to a town near the border. It seems they have a daily bus, leaving at 8 am, but one cannot book ahead. We will try to be there soon after 7 am in a couple of days time.

Continued to explore the town on foot, walking down Tumanyan St, past the Swan Lake (now empty of both water and swans), and turned right into Abovyan St. Saw Aznavour Square with the carved signs of the zodiac around the fountain. (Charles Aznavour, the famous singer, was an Armenian). Continued to Republic Square that was impressive with the State Museum and other surrounding buildings. There was a very fine drizzle in the wind. Took the pedestrian Tashir St., and entered the below street level shopping area – with its interesting shops.

For dinner, the hotel recommended ‘Lavash Restaurant’, down the street. Here we had an excellent meal; a cheese platter with two kinds of cow cheese and two

delicious kinds of sheep cheese, together with various breads. Then we had a multi vegetable type stew, with BBQ pork loin. Chose a big carafe of local dry red, from Areni grape, which was excellent.

We had a wander along to the Yerevan Kaskad (‘Cascades’) complex. This giant limestone edifice stretches for five levels up the hillside. On each level, the walls are carved with stone figures, as well as holding other pieces of separate artwork.

Instead of walking up, we used several internal escalators which serviced each level. Beside the escalator are a number of statues and international works of art, and we were surprised that a number of English and Welsh artists (including Lynn Chadwick and Barry Flanagan) were represented.

From the top, we enjoyed great views over the town, before taking the long steps/pavement to the Saint Gregory the Illuminator Cathedral.

This was only consecrated in 2000AD and is now the centre for the Armenian Church. The Pope donated the relics of St Gregory. The inside is very plain, and a huge chandelier dominates the central area. The altar is a plain wall with a gold coloured cross fixed on. The cross is decorated with two trefoils attached to each end of the cross.

From here we walked to the Vernissage, a long pedestrian area where stalls sell antiques, musical flutes, chess sets, carved wooden noses used to store one’s spectacles, souvenirs etc.

We chat with a young student who was studying English. She tells us her mother

is a painter and her father, a winemaker. I would have liked to meet her father.

Later we walk along Saryan St, before turning left into the long Moscow Park. Here they had a piano, an elephant, and a pair of horses with a small carriage all covered with a fine green AstroTurf material. Also ed a stonemason, who invited us in to see the works in hand.

We have had to handle three currencies to date; Manat, Lari and Dram, and soon we will have Turkish Lira. Not easy to manage, as there are significant differences in their exchange rates. They are all tied back to US$, so we are multiplying these by four to compare with Malaysian Ringgit.

Yerevan - Georgia - Turkey.

The hotel manager’s mother called a taxi for us at 7 am and gave us a bag with some cheese rolls and cupcakes to take away for our breakfast. We soon reached the bus station in a light drizzle, where we had to wait half an hour before the Alkhakalaki ‘bus’ appeared. It was a 7-seater, right-hand drive Toyota taxi, even though vehicles here all drive on the right. There were two parallel cracks across the screen. We set off fifteen minutes early, and are told to expect to take say four to five hours for the 120-mile (194km) drive. Snow could be expected ahead.

A lady enger speaks English, and this is very useful. We stop to pick up a woman and two children, and her baggage has to go on the roof.

Our route starts on the M1, but we leave this after an hour. The taxi turned left at 8:40 am to another road. It is misty, and there are some dustings of fresh snow

by the roadside as we reached at 4,900ft (1,500m) asl. The road has been gritted with stone and salt onto the hard snow, and there is some slush on the road. Then, at 5,800ft (1,750m), we started to have trouble climbing the slope. There seems to be a gearbox problem, and we stopped on a hill after skidding all over the place on the taxi’s summer tires. We were told to all get out and start walking up the snow and ice covered hill. Carlo, our driver, had several goes of driving down, before returning with an over-revving engine as he tried unsuccessfully to reach the hilltop. Luckily a gritter lorry came by, and we all got back in the taxi, keeping our fingers crossed we could reach the 6,500ft (1,980m) summit. We were all relieved when we reached a 4,900ft (1,500m) wide plain, and snow had gone.

It was 10:40 am when we ed Gyumri, the second largest town after Yerevan.

We have another to cross, 6,900ft (2,100m), and this has some snow on the road. The road is in poorer condition here. When we stopped for gas, all engers had to leave the taxi and go into a waiting room for nearly twenty minutes during the filling operation.

It was nearly mid-day when we reach the Armenian border, and half an hour later, we were driving in Georgia.

GEORGIA.

The road is awful here and is being used by many heavy vehicles, with little maintenance. At 7,000ft (2,150m), we saw a fox on the snow. The road condition improved, and by 1:50 pm, we arrived at the Akhalkalaki bus station. We thought we could still make our destination of Ardahan before nightfall. Fifteen minutes later we’re in a taxi for the Georgian / Turkish border, and arrived half an hour later.

TURKEY.

I helped two men buy duty-free drink and cigarettes, and for this, the man changed our Georgian Lari, since the bank there would not exchange them. I also thought they would help with transport, but no such luck.

After putting our watch back an hour to Turkish time, it was 2:20 pm when we arrived on Turkish soil with no hassle, as we seemed to be the only people crossing at this time.

A man helped by phoning for a taxi to Ardahan, as it appears that no buses come here to the border. Do buses come, and is this a scam to help the taxi business?

The taxi arrived twenty minutes later and we paid in US$, as we had insufficient Turkish lira.

It was a better road this time, and much was dual carriageway for the one-hour drive, and there was very little traffic. On the way, we saw some magnificent scenery with the ground and hills covered in snow. The driver smoked and did not bother to ask any permission.

Ardahan.

Arrived at Ardahan at 3:40 pm, and we took a large room in the ‘Kafkas Ari

Otel’ for a night, paid with a HSBC credit card.

After a couple of cups of coffee in the room, we went for a walk. The streets and pavements are very muddy and sloshy. This is not a surprise, as there is still ice and slush in the kerb-sides left over from the winter.

Found an ATM and drew down sufficient Lira for the next few days.

Then we went to find where the ‘dolmus’, minivans leave for Kars, where we will be able take a train.

We had dinner at ‘Ikran Kebab’: excellent lamb on a skewer, shashlik, bread straight from the oven coated with butter and egg, and blown up like a balloon, salad, small grain rice, and some BBQ peppers and tomatoes.

Ardahan to Kars.

We enjoyed breakfast in the hotel, with quite a spread of cold items.

Booked the 9 am bus to Kars, and this picked us up outside our hotel. The 14seater arrived nearly full, and we were given seats at the rear. Later, more engers got on, and three small stools filled the corridor. We were travelling on a dual carriageway in good condition. Still plenty of snow on the ground, even in late March. Time went quickly as we chatted with some students.

Kars.

We arrived in Kars at 10:20 am. Only the middle of the road is dry, as both sides are muddy after the winter snowstorms.

Booked into the ‘Kafkas Ya Hotel’, and given a room on the fifth floor. It was quite a drag up the stairs, as there was no lift. The room was quite small, yet contained three beds. Diagonal 2” x 2” (5cm x 5cm) mild steel angles have been welded across the outer wall and the window, and this makes one wonder about the stability of the building. We looked at other rooms, but this is probably the better one.

Walked along to the railway station that was deserted apart from the two women in the booking office and us. We decided to splash out and book a private sleeper, with just two bunks in the compartment.

The train from Kars to Ankara leaves at 8 am and arrives at 8 am the next morning, so it should give us plenty of daylight hours to enjoy the scenery. Lian asked for and was given, a senior’s discount.

The ongoing express train from Ankara to Istanbul leaves about mid-day and takes only three hours. But we are informed that no seats are available for several days. This is certainly an unexpected situation, and we may have to take a bus for this sector.

We have had to show ports to buy train tickets in all countries of our trip.

The sun is shining, but snow still lays in side streets.

Later we walked southwest along the main street to the river. On the return, we popped into a big supermarket and bought a bottle of local dry white wine and some biscuits to take on the train. There are many shops selling wheels of cheese, as well as honey. We went into one cheese shop and had some samples. Here we chatted with a couple from Ankara. They explained that perhaps the reason all the trains to Istanbul were so full was that people were going back for the elections to be held on Sunday. This also explained the flags over the streets, and the loudspeaker vans were making an ear-shattering noise as they extolled the virtues of the various candidates, whose pictures adorned the sides of the vehicles. They did not look like people you would ever want to buy a secondhand car from.

Train to Ankara.

Next morning, we set off for the fifteen-minute walk to the station for the 8 am train. It was cold, but there was no wind. Stopped at a mini-market to buy two warm round flat loaves and some water. Leaving our luggage on the pavement outside the shop, I had to run out when two dogs started walking around our bags and I chased them away, as I could see one wanted to lift his leg.

We have to put our bags through an X-Ray machine in order to enter the station. The train is very long, and we are in the last carriage before the rear engine.

At 8 am sharp, we pull out of the station on our 815-mile (1,310km) rail trip.

Our compartment is impressive: two armchairs that convert to top and lower

beds at night, a washbasin with soap dispenser, mirror, hand towel, a shaver socket to boil water for tea or coffee, and a set of drawers with a tabletop, and a pull-out table that covers the small fridge. All that was missing was Wi-Fi.

Had it not been for the modern pale moulded design, we could be on the famed Oriental Express.

We are soon enjoying Lian’s coffee and some cream cheese on the fresh bread.

Leaving Kars at 5,750ft (1,755m) asl, we are soon crossing a plain covered in snow. It is hard to tell the horizon with the grey clouds. What a bleak outlook this is. The track continues to climb, and the snow is quite deep. We a rubbish dump full of crows and gulls. We entered a long tunnel at 7,300 ft (2,230m) asl. The local road by the track appears to be traffic-free.

At 5,900 ft (1,800m) asl, snow is still lying on the ground as we cross a broad flat plain, with mountains on either side. The road by the track is now a dual carriageway.

We reached Erzerum at 11:50 am, where we wait for fifteen minutes.

Dropping to about 5,000 ft (1,500m) asl, we see a surprisingly large area has already been ploughed and ready for a crop. But what crop would that be? Probably maize.

By 2:30 pm the countryside is looking slightly greener,

Time to open the dry white wine. A Kocabag - K of KAPADOKYA EMIR, 2017. The back of the label is all in Turkish, but we can still understand that; it is 12.5%, that one should be over 18, not drink in a car, and not drink if pregnant. No warning however of getting pregnant if you drink too much. It is a little bitter; maybe it should not be drunk with peanuts and extremely sweet sultanas.

The countryside has become greener, and snow now lays higher on the hills on either side of the broad valley.

We reached Erzincan station at 4 pm, in a light rain. We have dropped to 3,800 ft (1,160m) asl.

At 5:30 pm, we through some small tunnels. The rocky sandstone cliff and gorges rise steeply from the fast-flowing river.

Half an hour later we a big lake, part of a hydro scheme at 3,000ft (905 m) asl.

There are plenty of beehives dotted about by any roadside.

Time for our picnic dinner of the loaf, cream cheese, and salami. By 6:50 pm, the sun had set behind the steep hills, and darkness descends quickly. We lower the two bunks. There is little headroom on the lower bunk, as the bottom bunk is about 12” (30cm) higher than the seating.

We both slept OK, but I found my bunk a little narrow and the blanket a little constrictive. I woke at 6:15 am, and it is now light. We are travelling over a 2,300 ft (700m) asl plain, with hills either side. It is much greener, with some crops already sprouting.

We were due to arrive in Ankara at 8 am, but we still out in the countryside. Saw a conductor, who says we will now arrive at about 10 am.

Ankara.

It was 10:10 am when we finally arrived at the station. We immediately went to the adjacent new High-Speed train station. No tickets were available on this day for Istanbul, but we bought two seats for the next morning. This a relief, as otherwise we would have had to cross town to find the bus station, and then face a long road trip. It also gives us the chance to get a feel of Ankara.

As I was sitting there, a plainclothes policeman showed me a and asked for my port. I had no idea what the indicated. He then took a picture on his handphone of my port, and then my face. Then he did the same for Lian. He then walked away. What could we have done if he had run away with our ports?

We went into the Info Centre in the old station to enquire about nearby accommodation, and we were directed to an area behind the main mosque, and told that there were plenty of hotels around there.

Walked the length of a long park around an empty pool, crossed the road and walked as instructed.

The hotels stood side by side. We chose the most modern-looking one from at least five, Hotel Mostar. After some haggling, a small lift took us up four floors to a large, well-appointed room with a nice bathroom. Their WiFi proved just OK.

The view is outstanding, being right opposite the mosque. This is finished in white marble, with the domed roof and conical roofs to the four minarets. Yes, the call to prayer was loud, but we can also hear other similar calls coming from several directions.

We went out for a walk through a large market area behind our hotel. As we were ing by, I decided on impulse to enter a barber’s shop to have a haircut for about £1. To finish off, the barber used his cigarette lighter to flick it on and off a few times around and over my ears, and so get rid of those small stray hairs. I have not seen this done before.

This area has quite steep streets. Many of the shops are selling dried fruit and grapes. We were surprised how many wedding shops there are, with both western and local traditional dresses on display. There are also many places with fancy outfits on display for young boys. We wonder whether these are for use at weddings, or circumcision ceremonies?

The mosque is floodlight at night and was very impressive from our room.

Woken at 5:30 am by the call to prayer, so our alarm set for 6 am was superfluous.

We had asked for an early breakfast at 6.30 am instead of 7 am, so were pleasantly surprised that the buffet breakfast was ready.

Train to Istanbul.

The weather was sunny but cold as we left the hotel for a pleasant twenty-minute walk through the park to the station. The train was ready for boarding half an hour before the 8:10 am departure. The 344-mile (553km) journey is due to take four hours fifteen minutes, but does not go into Istanbul, but stops at Pendik Station on the Asian side. Then one has to take the suburban Metro into town.

We flat rolling countryside, with many green fields. At times the train is travelling at up to 150mph (240kph) as we small red-roofed houses in the countryside. Although an express, the train stops at several stations on the way. The on-board Wi-Fi is somewhat intermittent.

We through several tunnels on the way, and at 11 am, we see a large lake on our right-hand side.

As we near Izmit, we can see the Sea of Marmara. The water looks quite choppy, and there are several small ships at anchor. In the distance, we can see a long bridge across the sea.

We reached Pendik soon after 1 pm. A young lady took Lian outside the station to a kiosk where she could buy a travel card. We then took the train into town, crossing under the water to Sirkeci station. (This section only just opened). Chatting on the way with a Turk and his Goth and multi-piercing loving young daughter, who had enrolled in a hairdressing course.

Istanbul.

Sirkeci Station had several working ‘down’ escalators, but the long ‘up’ one was not working. Luckily a man helped Lian by carrying her suitcase. I was struggling by the time I had climbed to the top. As we left the station, the man pointed out what had been the terminal for the old Orient Express.

Then, assisted by another man, who showed us where to top-up the bus . We took a trolley bus for the two stops and got off at Sultanahmet Sq. Then walked south to find our Inn, ing the main iconic sites.

It was early afternoon when we checked into ‘Naz Wooden House Inn’. Our room is like a caravan; the double bed just squeezes into the width of the room by the window. It has a fridge, a safe, TV and WiFi. The en-suite bedroom is only about 12 square meters, and certainly not the 18 as d. However, looking on the bright side, the location is excellent.

Set out for a walk scouting for accommodation for when we leave Naz Wooden House, and even checked out some rooms.

We went for a walk in the gardens of the Topkapi Palace. Sat and chatted with a man who suggested several places for us to visit. The truth soon emerged that he wanted us to visit his carpet showroom. There I found a really beautiful carpet, and I had a job getting out without buying it. Lian was proud of me for my resistance to buy, especially as the price dropped rapidly as I edged towards the door. But later I will probably regret not getting it.

Borat, the hotel receptionist, recommended the ‘Doy Doy Restaurant’ for dinner. The food was delicious; Lian had succulent chicken wings with rice and salad, and I had spring chicken chop with rice and salad, and we shared a green salad.

On the way back, I bought a Turkish Efes Pilsen Beer and found it good, with a subtle bitterness.

Next morning, the hotel breakfast was already set out on a plate, but there were some pastries one could add.

When we were here the last time, we visited the main sites, (Topkapi Palace and Museum, Hagia Sophia Museum, and the Blue Mosque) so this visit we would not repeat the visits, but look at things the quick trip tourists might miss.

We were intrigued by the old railway station where the Orient Express terminated. We went into the waiting room to see the ceiling and the stainedglass windows. A few down-and-outs were sitting in the warmth. The dining section had many old pictures of Agatha Christie and the stars of Murder on the Orient Express. The restaurant is open for lunch and dinner.

The station is next to the Golden Horn. The wind is strong and cold, and the sea very choppy, but an unusual blue-green. Big ferries manage tight turns. Carried on walking to the Galata Bridge, and crossed the road to the Spice Bazaar. They were mostly selling Turkish Delight and nuts. We bought a nut /sultana/fig/dried fruit selection, before continuing southwards. Found that today is Sunday, the day the Grand Bazaar is closed, so returned to our hotel for a coffee.

Lian booked online at the nearby ‘Mevlana Hotel’ for our remaining three nights.

Then walked through the narrow tunnel under the railway line behind us, to check out a recommended fish restaurant.

Bought fresh bread, tomatoes and a dry white wine, Angora, Kavaklidere 2018 for a picnic lunch, and again found a touch of bitterness in this Turkish dry white.

Walked to the Basilica Cistern, a huge underground water storage tank built by Emperor Justinian around 550AD, but was told that there was no water in it at present, so we did not enter.

Took the tram four stops westward, and walked up to see the old double storey Valens Aqueduct. This water carrying bridge is nearly a kilometre long and stands 100ft (30m) high, and is part of the 150mile (240km) long water supply system completed by Valens in 373 AD.

At a pedestrian under on the way, we found that it was full of bicycles, and there were several parents buying bikes of various sizes for their kids, who were obviously very excited.

Went into the nearby Sehzade Mosque, that had been built by Sultan Suleiman the Magnificent, as a memorial to his son and heir.

We walked back following the tram route, and on the way nibbled on some delicious and succulent sugary coconut macaroons. But we still left room for our dinner at a fish restaurant, where Lian had grilled anchovies, and I had fish and

chips, and a salad.

Mosques are everywhere, and architecturally they all tend to look very similar, with a large central dome and a number of smaller interconnecting domes on the sides. This had led us to return to the same mosque several times when we had spotted it in the distance from a different direction.

After breakfast, we checked into the ‘Mevlana Hotel’.

Several Cisterns have been found, spread over the town, and so we set off to find the Theodosius Cistern, but failed. I am having trouble getting a location on my iPad when not online.

Then took the tram westwards, through the old city wall, and got off at Topkapi to see part of the remaining Walls of Constantinople. Walked by the wall, then through a park before boarding a tram at Pazarekke, and returning to the town where we got off at the Grand Bazaar.

A huge place, with a magnificent maze of shops and painted arches. The quality of goods on display was excellent and certainly worth a return trip. Used my onwatch com to find our way south to get out, and even then, we came out at another entrance.

We were ing between the Blue Mosque and Hagia Sophia at about 1:15 pm when there was a call to prayer from the two. The call was very impressive, as it was coordinated between the two, on a call and answer basis.

In the afternoon, we walked under the railway track, past the fish restaurant, and on until we took a small lane that ed through the old wall, and out onto the corniche.

Opposite was a jetty, with a tour about to leave for a Bosphorus cruise. The guy was selling the tour for 20 lira per person, but he could let us on for 30 lira for the two of us. “No thanks, we want to walk”. The price dropped down again to 20 lira, but we kept walking.

It was delightful, with the view across to the Sea of Marmara to the Asian side. The sky was so blue and clear, and the water so black, and the current so strong.

Some men were in wet suits, complete with spear guns and flippers. One showed us a photo of 25lb (12kg) fish he had caught. The men had a small wood-fired stove and were making tea. They wanted us to them, but it really looked difficult to get down from pavement level to the rocks, and even harder to get back up.

ed the lighthouse, and on to a small park opposite the Golden Horn, where men were fishing successfully for sardines. Cats are everywhere and very friendly - obviously looking for food. We walked back the same way.

On the way, a shoeshine man dropped his big brush on the ground as he was walking ed us, and of course, I pointed this out. He then tried to give me a ‘free’ shoe clean (I have non-leather boots). This is just what happened yesterday, so obviously, this is a ploy to get a customer who would have no intention otherwise of getting a shoeshine, and who feels an obligation of ing over some cash.

After a drink in the room, we went to ‘Dol Dol’ again for dinner. Lian had chicken wings, and I had black bass. With salad and a ‘balloon’ bread. Very good, and great value.

Up to the rooftop restaurant before 7 am, to enjoy the view over the Sea of Marmara in one direction, and the Blue Mosque the other.

Breakfast was served at 8 am. Good coffee, a spread of cold cuts, hot scrambled eggs, and little ‘dog’s dick’ sausages (my terminology), apples, and various breads. So much better than our previous hotel. A large immature gull sits on the ledge calling and asking for food. Then a cat appears with the same intention. Tough cookie baby!

This morning it is overcast.

I was frustrated not finding the Theodosius Cistern yesterday. So, we set off again ing the ‘Dol Dol Restaurant’, and entered the square with the three obelisks - needles.

Found the Theodosius Cistern, to find this is now called the Serefiye Cistern. The entrance is an impressive modern glass box structure. The cistern had been built between 428 and 443AD to store water from the Belgrade Forest via the Valens Aqueduct. It is about 148ft x 80ft x 30ft high (45m x 25m x 9m) with a roof ed by 32 marble columns. It has a few inches of water in the bottom. This previously unknown cistern was only found in 2010 and has been well restored and presented for the public.

Walked up to the tram, and took it across the Galata Bridge, to the end of the line

at Kabatas. Walked on past the Beznim Alem Valdez Sultan Mosque and the Dolmabahce Clock Tower, but did not go into the Palace and museum.

Walked back to Kabatas and took the funicular to Taxin Square. (The Turkish freedom square). A new mosque is under construction there.

We walked down Istiklal Avenue to the Galata Tower. This avenue seems to be their equivalent of London’s ‘Regent Street’. An old-fashioned tramcar does a shuttle service back and forth along this pedestrian way.

We entered a Catholic Church to have a look. At the bottom of the very steep lane, Yuksok Kaldinn, we picked up the tram again at Karakoy and took it back to our stop.

After a rest, set out again under the railway arch and onto the Kennedy Corniche. This time we walked westwards, where we could see many ships at anchor. We assume that they were waiting for pilots to take them through the Bosphorus and into the Black Sea.

It is worth checking an Atlas and tracing how a boat can get from the Black Sea to the Atlantic. It truly is a maze and needs good navigation to be able to repeat a trip. First one has to find the Bosphorus, avoid going into the dead-end of the Golden Horn, but find a way across the Sea of Marmara. There is then the narrow straits of the Dardanelles before opening into the Aegean Sea and the main Mediterranean. It may then be easiest from here to follow the North African coast to Gibraltar.

By morning the cloud has gone, and the sun shines brightly on the Sea of

Marmara. Went onto the roof above the restaurant to take photos. We had an enjoyable breakfast again, with gulls and some Hooded Crows begging at the window sill. A staff member puts out a shell-less hard-boiled egg, on the window sill, and this is gone in one gulp by a juvenile Yellow-legged Gull.

We decided to visit the main Basilica Cistern, despite there being no water. It was very dark inside. We saw the two iconic Medusa Heads; one upside down, the other on its side, and the ‘crying column’. If only the lighting were to the standard of yesterday’s Serefiye Cistern.

Walked along to the Grand Bazaar and wandered around. The salesmen in the various shops are gifted salesmen. All ask where one comes from etc. I told one guy I was from London. “What is your name?” “Fred,” said I. “What are you looking for?”. “Carpets”, I replied. “You are not looking for carpets” he deduced, “but I can get you some Viagara!” Truly a laugh a minute.

For our last dinner in Istanbul, we started with hummus, and then Lian had BBQ sea bass, and I had chicken wings, finishing up with apple tea and baklava.

Picked up some coffee, bread, cheese and cold cuts for a quick snack before our 7:10 am transport to the airport arrived. We then did a city tour for half an hour as we picked up other engers. Some lanes in the city are so narrow that I never thought our bus could get through. We reached Atarturk Havaalani Airport at 8 am on the airport’s very last day, as on the morrow, all flights would be transferred to a newly constructed airport.

Our flight to Kuala Lumpur was on Saudia, with a nearly five-hour stopover in Jeddah.

The flight time to Jeddah was 3 hours and 45 minutes. No booze was served, but at least we had a wide choice of films.

We are all bussed from the plane into this old and crowded airport. Unable to log on to the claimed free WiFi, and it was the same earlier in Turkey. This is not an airport one could recommend for an extended wait.

The overnight Jeddah to Kuala Lumpur leg of the journey had a flight time of 8 hours and 40 minutes.

CHAPTER 8

Israel: Holy Land Tour.

The Dome of the Rock.

We play tennis regularly with David Liew, who is a Pastor. He told us in advance that he would be unable to play for a couple of weeks.

“Where are you off to this time?”

“Taking a group to the Holy Land for ten days”.

“Can we come, even though we are not of your congregation?”

“Why not – Yes.”

So, fourteen of us set off for Jerusalem from Kuala Lumpur. There we would meet up with a couple from Hong Kong, and another Malaysian who was already in the country.

At the end of the tour, Lian and I intended to travel to Jordan and visit the ancient city of Petra.

Lian and I took a Malindo Air flight to Bangkok’s Don Muang airport. On arrival, it took a long time before the aircraft door opened. Then Security men came on board to pick up someone, so we realized why it had taken so long

before the doors were opened, as they had to wait for the security to arrive.

Once we picked up our bags, we then had to take the one-hour free shuttle bus to Bangkok’s Suvarnabhumi Airport. Here we met up with David and some of the group and had some dinner.

There was to be a group check-in. Prior to the checking in, we had to go through a security check at a desk staffed by experienced interviewers. We were all interviewed independently, and our answers were crosschecked. They were very thorough and went into some details on how our Church group was formed and how well if at all we knew the others. We only knew David through tennis and told them so. They then questioned David separately to get a similar response.

They wanted to know all the countries we had visited in the last year or so, and if we had any friends in Israel.

Several other engers had their bags opened and checked.

Only when they were satisfied were we allowed to step forward and check-in our bags and pick up boarding es. It was good to know that El Al Airline takes security so seriously, as we also felt safer.

The midnight flight was very cold, and I needed my fleece as well as their blanket.

El Al seems to have somewhat different criteria when choosing their flight staff

over most airlines. Not many smiles were to be seen here.

The dinner served was poor, with pasta overcooked and a vegetable sauce that was too bland. Breakfast, however, was good, omelettes and some good cheese. Landed at 7:30 am local time, and we met more from the group.

Israeli immigration does not stamp ports, but stamp a separate piece of paper, that one has to present to immigration when leaving the country.

So now I would get to see for myself all the places in the Holy Land that we heard about at Sunday School, and in religious classes at school.

Two hours later we boarded our bus for the four-hour drive to Jerusalem, where we were dropped at the large AirB&B house that had been booked.

After a briefing, we walked to the covered Mahane Yehuda Market, where we had lunch. The market was well stocked with vegetables, bread stalls and restaurants.

Later we walked to the old city. We a grand piano that has been bolted down to the paving in a small square. ers-by have the opportunity of playing it, and people were taking advantage of this. Futuristic looking tramcars ply the main drag.

Saw a sign on a wall saying “Trump Make Israel Great”.

Entering the Old City through the Jaffa Gate, we stepped back through many centuries of history as we walked down the well-polished stone paving of Jaffa Street, with its multitude of small souvenir shops, to the steps leading down to the square fronting the Western (Wailing) Wall. Here we witnessed the many Jewish men standing close to the wall, all nodding and dipping their heads in prayer to the wall. All visitors are handed small white skull caps to wear. I then moved forward and left a message, scribbled on a small piece of paper, that I pushed into a fissure between the large stones.

Jewish women say their prayers at the other end of the wall, and this has been fenced off from prying eyes. Lian ed them and also left her message pushed into a crevice in the wall.

The majority of the praying Jews wear what is like a uniform: black widebrimmed fedora style hat, a long black coat over black tros and shoes and a white shirt. Many wear long beards and have ringlets of hair hanging either side of their ears. Some show white strings dangling from around their waist.

The Old City is divided into several quarters: Jewish, Christian, Armenian, and Muslim, as well as the A-Sidiyya and the Bab Hutta Neighbourhoods. Then, towering above these areas is the Temple Mount, the holy of holies, comprising the Dome of the Rock, and the Al-Aksa Mosque.

The next morning, we returned to the Old City for a visit to the Temple Mount. The entrance is via a covered wooden bridge up to the main plaza area. On the way up, one can look down over the worshipers at the base of the Western Wall. Only Muslims can enter into the Al-Aksa Mosque and the Dome of the Rock. We the ablution fountain for worshipers, before walking up a wide stone staircase and under stone arches onto a raised platform. Here stands the octagonal Dome on the Rock capped with a golden metal dome, and the smaller Dome of the Chain. The lower section of the Dome’s wall is constructed of white marble and the upper part, together with the circular-on-plan wall to take

the round dome, is covered with patterned blue, white, and yellow glazed mosaic tiles.

From this level, one has unobstructed views over olive trees to the Mount of Olives.

Before 11 am, when the Mount closes, our group walked along to see the sealed Golden Gate. Here we were spotted by security guards and firmly escorted out through the Lions Gate. This took us along the route taken by Jesus carrying the cross, and the birthplace of the Virgin Mary.

In the afternoon, we have arranged to visit the City of David, the Hezekiah Dry Tunnel and the Underground Water System.

On the way, we ed a couple of groups celebrating Ba Mitzvahs, when thirteen-year-old Jewish boys come of age. They were accompanied by a band, with lots of singing, dancing and clapping. Some of the boys looked a bit overawed. Fathers were getting very excited, as they would no longer be responsible for the sins of their sons. Mothers were beaming with pride.

We viewed the City of David from across a valley. One could see the houses cascading down a steep hill, and what appeared to be some of the rock-cut tombs.

It was time for us to enter one of the water tunnels built by King Hezekiah. Jerusalem was supplied from a subterranean water system known as Gideon’s Spring. Unfortunately, this was outside the city walls, so an underground tunnel system was built to protect and reach this precious resource. A British explorer

in 1867 found one of the tunnels, known as ‘Warrens shaft system’ and this is the one we would now visit. Steep steps down lead to the Canaanite Pool, and we through a very narrow age carved out to the rock before emerging again into the bright sunlight. We continue down the hill to visit the Pool of Siloam, but this was closed for renovation.

Lian and I left the others, as we needed to visit the Central Bus Station. We took a public bus back to Jaffa gate bus. This was a somewhat strange experience, as it was standing room only, and full of orthodox Jews. They refused to acknowledge our presence or answer any questions as to the route the bus was taking. Then we took a tram to the Bus Station and bought bus tickets for Eilat in a week’s time, using our credit card. Returned by tram to the market, and walked from there back to our accommodation.

That night we all dined at ‘Gourmandises’, enjoying an excellent dinner with John Dory fish. The restaurant was full of tables with families celebrating Ba Mitzvahs.

We visited the Holocaust Museum. An impressive exhibition with excellent audio, but I left feeling very depressed, but not for long. The group had arranged for us to have a ‘Shabat meal’ with an Orthodox Jewish home. We drove to a Jewish settlement to learn a little about the life of an Orthodox family.

Our host explained that he did not work, but spends all his time studying the Jewish holy book, the Talmud. For this, he receives a small payment from the state. His wife goes out to work.

The Jewish day of rest lasts from sundown on Friday night to nightfall on Saturday. The food we were then served for lunch was typical of their Friday evening dinner. We were interested to hear how the orthodox Jews could not

even turn on a light switch during the day of rest, and how modern science had come to the rescue by putting the lights on a timer switch, so they come on and off without further assistance from man.

Many Israeli Arabs are Christian, and late afternoon we all took a minibus to a Palestinian area to enjoy a BBQ dinner with such a Christian group. Our host Joseph took us to see a typical house where Jesus might well have lived. As we came out, we were shouted at by a Catholic priest who told us to go away. Very puzzling, until Joseph explained that his Christian Church was opposed to the Catholics. He also may have forgotten to say that the ancient house was in the Catholic compound.

Joseph runs a homestay, and we were shown the accommodation provided, before entering his Church, where our group held a short service before being driven back to Jerusalem.

Next morning, we set off on a day-trip to the Sea of Galilee. We were picked up by Absalom, our driver and guide. Within half an hour, the bus had tire problems. Wasted an hour and a half before fitting four new rear tires. We are on route 6, the old Roman ‘Via Maris’.

At Nazareth, we visited the Basilica of the Annunciation. This is where the angel Gabriel announced to Mary that she would have a child. On the inside of the external wall surrounding the Church, hang many mosaic pictures donated by countries around the world, all celebrating the annunciation.

We Cana, where Jesus changed water into wine at a wedding feast.

After lunch, we had an hour’s boat ride on the Sea of Galilee. We boarded one of the several wooden boats, and just pottered around in the stiff breeze. They put up a Malaysian flag together with an Israeli flag. We saw Cormorants and some small Egrets flying low over the water. One point on the shore was said to be the site where Jesus fed a crowd of thousands with a couple of loaves and a few fish. On the opposite side of the ‘sea’, we could see the Golan Heights.

Later we drove ed Tiberias to the southern end of Sea of Galilee, and on to Yardenit, the outlet of the Jordan River. Here one can get baptized, and Christians from around the world were donning white gowns and walking into Jordan’s water, before immersing themselves. David and several of our group took advantage to be baptized again.

After breakfast the next morning at the ‘Kadosh Restaurant and Patisserie’, we visited the Mount of Olives for great views over the large cemetery towards the Old City. We walked past the Jewish cemetery and noted the many small stones placed on top of slabs, as prayers.

We continue down to the garden of Gethsemane, where Jesus had been arrested before his crucifixion. This walled garden contains ancient olive trees and many flowering plants beside the narrow pathways. A beautiful small basilica has been decorated with pictures depicting Jesus’s ‘agony’ before his arrest, dark blue and gold painted ceilings, and unusual stained-glass windows. Here we saw a group of Ethiopian pilgrims, some walking barefooted.

We walked down the valley and up into the Old City, to the Church of the Holy Sepulcher. This is said to be the site of Jesus Christ’s crucifixion, burial and resurrection. The Church is shared by; Roman Catholics, Greek Orthodox, Coptic, Syrian Orthodox, and Armenians. The Church is full of visitors, and the walls are lined with religious paintings. Glass and silver lamps hang from the ceiling.

The Lutheran Church of Redeemer was closed.

Lian and I walked through the Zion gate to see the upper room said to hold the Last Supper. A large room with a row of central columns and a high arched ceiling. We could see no reason why this room could have been the one used for the last supper.

Arrangements had been made for us to have tea with a modern Israeli Jewish family. So, at 5 pm we met Michelline at the famous King David Hotel, before walking to her house in the German Quarter. Here we met Moshe her husband and some friends and had the opportunity of chatting with them. After tea, Michelline walked us back to the old city via a windmill and paths through the Jerusalem Walls National Park.

Later in the evening, we took a tour through the old western wall tunnels. A tunnel has been built the whole length along the (1,590ft long or 485m) western wall. A guide led us past some old Herodian masonry, and along the narrow tunnel.

On our next day-trip, we had to take our ports with us, as Bethlehem is under control of the Palestine Authority.

On the way, we made a stop at the Shepherds’ Field and the small Franciscan Church at Bayt Sahur. Here they have a cave where the three shepherds are said to have stayed. The Church is decorated with murals depicting the shepherds and their flock.

Further on we were taken to a shop specializing in religious figurines, but we all left with our credit cards intact.

On reaching Bethlehem we are allocated a Palestinian guide, and taken to the Church of the Nativity. Built in 330AD, the Church is under some renovation. We ed a long queue to get to the grotto where Jesus was born and to his ‘manger’. Here we could ire some of the mosaic figures and angels high on the walls. In order to keep the visitors busy while waiting in the queue, the authorities had allowed them to write graffiti on a whitened lower wall. Alternatively, one could read several informative signs explaining how the renovations were being carried out. As we get closer to the grotto area, we found it very poorly organized, as people scramble to go down semi-circular steps into the grotto. Once inside we see the fourteen-pointed silver star marking the spot of the birth.

Leaving Bethlehem, we returned to Jerusalem, ing a few Bedouin campsites, before proceeding to the Qumran Nation Park and the Dead Sea.

Qumran is an archaeological site on the west shore of the Dead Sea.

As well described on a sign at the park; ‘In the summer of 1947, Bedouin shepherds were pasturing their flocks near the northwestern shore of the Dead Sea. While looking for a goat that had wandered off into the cliffs, they came across a curious rock crevice. When they threw a stone into the cave opening they found, they were surprised to hear a strange echo. They crawled inside, and in the dimness, they spied whole large jars standing on the floor. Inside the jars, they found folded pieces of leather, some of which were wrapped in cloth. That is how the secret of the Qumran scrolls began to be revealed.

A total of nearly nine hundred parchment and papyrus scrolls were later found in

other caves.

The site was also the home of an old Jewish sect, and archaeological excavations had revealed cemeteries, living quarters and bathhouses on the site.

We watched a video presentation before taking a walk along the raised timber walkway over the excavations. Here, we see where the writers had lived, and take in the view across the valley to the cave where the first scrolls were discovered.

We ed quite a few date plantations, where they are using saline water for irrigation.

Then had lunch at the same place before proceeding to the sea at Kalia Beach.

As you are aware, the Dead Sea is below sea level. The surface and shores of the Dead Sea are 1,410ft (430m) below sea level, making it the Earth’s lowest elevation on land. The Dead Sea is 1,237ft (377m) deep, making it the deepest hypersaline lake, and it is 9.6 times saltier than the ocean.

I changed into swimming trunks and walked down to the seashore. When I took my shoes off, I was walking on hot black wet earth. It was really burning under my feet, and I could not get into the water any faster, as here it was muddy and slippery. It took a while to get into water deep enough to lay down. Certainly, it is very buoyant, and I could raise both arms out of the water and still float easily. I had a quick shower in the changing room on the way to lunch.

Then we were off on the bus to Jericho. It is hard to read the word, Jericho, without the tune “Joshua fit the battle of Jericho” running one’s mind. Sad to say, but the walls are no longer there. Our first stop was at the Sycamore tree that Zaccheus, the tax collector, climbed to get a view of Jesus as he was coming by. Jesus stopped under the tree and called out to Zaccheus by name, and said he was going to his house. This shocked that crowd, as tax collectors were corrupt and disliked.

We the old city, but not much remains. Just outside Jericho is the Mountain of Temptation. It was here, that following his baptism, Jesus fasted for forty days and nights, and where Satan appeared and tried to tempt him.

The Palestinians rule Jericho, and once again the area appears untidy and lacking a little maintenance. One wonders how much of this is caused by financial constraints.

Southern Israel comprises mainly desert, and we took a day-trip there to see the Negev desert. The main town here is Be’er Sheva. We stopped and walked into the old town and up to the Allenby Gardens. This celebrates the defeat of the Turkish army, by an overnight twenty-eight-miles (45km) march, attacking their flank at Be’er Shiva, by the Australian and New Zealand mounted infantry in 1917. Now the Turks had lost the all-important access to 330,000 gallons (1,500,000 litres) of water a day for both men and their horses.

It was noon by the time we visited Beersheba Avraham’s Well. Here we had a 3D presentation, all about the old testament story of Abraham going to sacrifice his son. Only then do we enter the courtyard to see the well and some old photos of the well. This was on the ancient caravan route between Damascus and lower Egypt. The present well is about 12ft (4m) diameter and covered with a steel grille.

A guide showed us some interesting old photos of the well. One I liked, showed four people drawing water for a few sheep and donkeys.

Back in Jerusalem, we had a visit to the Garden Tomb. This was found in 1867 and is now considered by some Protestant and Evangelical Anglican Christians, to be the site where Jesus was buried and resurrected. If this theory is correct, then the Church of the Holy Sepulcher and the ‘stations of the cross’ are in the wrong location.

The theory goes that the Romans did not crucify people up on a hill, but close by the side of the road where ers-by could see them, and the cost of criminal behaviour. Such a location by Skull Hill lies just adjacent to an old garden and close to the old Damascus Road. In the garden is an ancient tomb cut out of the rock. It would not, therefore, be difficult for Jacob to have taken Jesus from the cross, through his garden (a vineyard in those days), and place him in his family tomb. We sat and listened while guides outlined the story of the crucifixion and the resurrection, before entering the tomb itself.

A Christian non-denominational charitable trust now isters the Garden Tomb.

The next day some of the group took a day trip north to Mount Carmel, and the Golan Heights.

I ed them, but Lian stayed back as she wanted more time in the Old City.

The traffic was heavy in places, but our bus can use the inside bus/taxi lane, marked with yellow diamonds. For some way, the dual carriageway has high

walls either side to separate the Israeli road from the Palestinian held land either side.

After an hour we turned off the Tel Aviv road and on to highway 6, going north.

It took us over three hours to reach Metula, the most northern village in Israel. From the Dado Lookout, we could look down and see the Lebanese border on the other side of houses to the north. One of our group travels with a ram’s horn in a cloth bag. This open hillside area was a perfect place to take it out and skillfully blow it. It certainly entertained other tourists at the Lookout.

Driving down into the valley on Route 99, we fruit farms in this very fertile area.

Stopping at Banias, we saw the clear water that comes from the Mt Hermon springs in Syria, that then feeds the Jordan River into the Sea of Galilee, and finally into the Dead Sea. There are plenty of brown trout-like fish in the shallow stream.

Nearby against a cliff-side, is the Temple of Pan, where human sacrifices are said to have taken place. A short distance away is the Banias Falls, and we go down steps to reach the 30ft (10m) high waterfall. There are a lot of students around, and several of them carry automatic rifles.

The road starts climbing up as we near the Golan Heights.

We stop for some time at Mount Bental. Located at 3,820ft (1,165m) above sea level, we have amazing 300-degree views looking into Syria. The flat Syrian plain below us appears to be very fertile. A signpost shows we are only 37 miles (60km) away from the Syrian capital of Damascus, and 150 miles (240 km) from Jerusalem.

At the top are trenches, and we can see two United Nations peacekeeping staff in their sky-blue caps, and a UN flag.

We set off for the 3.1/2hour-drive back to Jerusalem. Took the route using the Jordan valley, driving along the eastern side of the Sea of Galilee.

Time to say goodbye to our group of new friends, as tomorrow our tour would end, and the group would be travelling home, or to other places.

We took a taxi to the Central Bus Station for the 7 am bus to Eilat in the south of Israel, a distance of about 190 miles (300km).

The old bus had insufficient knee room for my long legs, but as some engers got off at one of the many resorts on the Dead Sea, we managed to claim the front seats.

The bus stopped at Masada to drop engers off at the base of the high cliff. It is here, at the end of the First Jewish – Roman War (66 – 73AD), that 950 people committed mass suicide by throwing themselves off the cliff, rather than becoming slaves to the Romans. Now it is a tourist resort.

We by giant heaps of salt and magnesium chloride produced from the Dead Sea.

It was nearly 11:15 am when the bus dropped us off on the road near the crossing of Yitzhak Rabin- Border Crossing. It was then a twenty-minute walk down to the Israel / Jordan border.

CHAPTER 9

Malaysia: Kuching – Sarawak.

Fort Margherita, Kuching.

Lian usually plays contract bridge three times a week. She signed up to attend a Bridge Congress to be played in Kuching, Sarawak.

No, I do not play, and my excuse is that now I am retired, I think it healthier if we have a few hours to ourselves.

Bridge players seem to have amazing memories, and players can discuss for hours with their partners what happened and who laid what cards, and what they should have played. And when things go wrong, some players attack and blame their partner for everything.

So now you know why I prefer not to play unless it is a very occasional social bridge dinner.

But I have no problem with accompanying Lian and acting as her bag carrier.

A couple of years ago, I accompanied Lian on a similar mission to Kuching. I then spent a night or so at the Bako National Park, on a headland close to Kuching. I can certainly recommend this, as it is an ideal place to see the Proboscis Monkey. The local nickname is ‘Dutchman’, as the monkey has a big flabby nose, and as I am not Dutch, I can nod and say how apt it is. Other wildlife can be watched including wild Borneo Bearded Pigs who enjoy a late afternoon walk on the beach.

So on a Thursday in July, we took a Grab taxi to Sentral station, an hour’s bus ride to KLIA2 airport, and a two and a quarter hours flight to Kuching in Sarawak.

Took a taxi to the ‘Lot10 Boutique Hotel’, where we have three nights booked. It is the hotel hosting the bridge, and although it is slightly out of the town centre, this would save having to get transport morning and evening if one stayed in the town centre. We need another night’s accommodation before we return to Kuala Lumpur, but we can decide on that later. We were given a pleasant room on the second floor.

We explored the area of town for restaurants and walked into town, before returning to the hotel for dinner. We were then surprised to find that we could not sign to our room and as the restaurant did not take credit cards, we had to pay cash. I would have to check with the management whether this was a con going on, as it was hardly tourist-friendly. In the meantime, we would eat elsewhere.

When I was working in the late ‘70s, I used to visit Kuching every month, as the company were involved in construction and logging. I always thought of it as an English village, but with signs in Chinese as well as English.

The next morning we had breakfast at 8 am in the hotel. As Lian was meeting her bridge partner before the early afternoon session, I set out for a walk on my own, with my camera slung around my neck.

The Malay word for cat is Kuching, and so some bright-eyed person had reckoned that the tourism could be expanded if giant cats were planted on every

roundabout. Unfortunately, this was a successful idea, and now the locals have to be reminded that it is a recent phenomenon.

Our hotel is on the east side of town, so I ed the Great White Cat circle, and zigzagged northward, ing a wide stream leading to the main Sarawak river. I was surprised to see so many wooden fishing boats there at several jetties.

A lorry was parked on a dock by an ice-crusher, and large blocks of ice were being pushed into the crusher, before the crushed ice was directed down a chute into the hold of the fishing boat.

A pathway took me westwards on the southern bank to Hotel Margherita. Here I took a sampan across the river. After walking through a small Malay kampong (village), I ed an abandoned school and walked up a slope into a park by Fort Margherita. Built in 1879, the small three-storey tower had an additional storey in one corner to provide access to the flat roof. The external walls were complete with crenulations at the top, and Disney style arrow slits. A high wall and watchtowers surrounded the compound, and cannons at ground level could fire through openable doors and thus guarded the river.

The inside of the fort is dedicated to the fascinating history of the Brooke family and the White Rajahs.

James Brooke was a swashbuckling soldier who assisted the Sultan of Brunei to defeat pirates and some of the indigenous peoples. He is quoted as saying “Could I carry my vessel to places where the keel of a European ship never before ploughed the waters….”

Illegitimate, and never married, he was granted Sarawak and the title of Rajah. He ruled from 1841 to 1859, when he installed John Johnson/Brooke as the Raja, but disinherited him four years later for treason. Sir James died in England in 1868, and Charles Johnson/Brooke became Raja until 1917 when Charles Vyner Brooke took over until 1946. His consort was the Hon. Sylvia Leonora Brett, Ranee of Sarawak.

In 1946 Vyner ceeded his life interest to the British Colonial Office, as he was aware that he did not have the resources to rebuild the country after the Japanese occupation. Simultaneously the British Government ed a Bill of Annexation and Sarawak became a British Crown Colony. This was not to the liking of Anthony Brooke, the Raja in waiting, nor to the majority of the local of the Sarawak council.

Following much negotiation, on 16th September 1963, Sarawak ed peninsular Malaya, Singapore and Sabah to form the Federation of Malaysia. (Singapore later stepped down and became an independent country).

Leaving the fort, I walked back down to the riverside and took the walkway westwards, only to find it blocked by construction work. It would appear that this walkway will give easier access to the fort than via the kampong. So I had to walk a long way back, and then hail a sampan man and cross over.

The southern bank has a wide riverfront promenade, and both residents and tourists enjoy using it. As I ed along it, I notice that there are several brass plaques set into the pavement, explaining points in the history of Kuching.

Beer is relatively expensive to buy in Malaysia because of customs duty. I knew from previous experience that in Sarawak some of the private minimarket shops often sell some brands of beers at considerable discounts. I even came across

large cans of Super Strong Orangeboom beer that was 12 per cent alcohol by volume, instead of the more usual 5 per cent. One assumes that these come off some of the many ships that use the harbour.

I returned to the hotel for a rest, and when it got cooler, I returned to the riverside jetties. The light at the fishing boats was now excellent for photography. One boat was unloading its catch and had a 6 foot (2m) long shark on board, with a flat spade-shaped head. Later, with the help of Google, I identified the species as a Shovelnosed Shark.

I sat for a while on a shaded seat on the promenade, watching the ers-by, and waiting for the sun to set.

I then walked along the promenade to the lazy ‘S’ shaped pedestrian bridge that crosses the river. The Darul Hana suspension bridge is ed by two ‘A’ frame concrete towers that slope away from the deck. The top of each tower has been cast to represent the stylised head of a hornbill.

This bridge was an excellent location to take photos of the mosque as the sun set behind the hills. Later I took shots of the bridge as the multicoloured floodlights came on. The bridge floodlighting made some interesting reflections in the river.

After a beer in a pub, I felt hungry and popped into a small restaurant called Borneo Delights. But as service seemed so slow, I walked out, crossing the road to a building opposite the Hong San Si Temple, that had a stage suitable for Chinese opera. Some people were eating, so I sat and ordered mushroom rice with pork, washed down with a Tsingtao beer. Crossing the road had been a good move.

Lian did not finish the day’s bridge sessions until 10:30 pm, and the morning session was due to start at 8:30 am.

The Sarawak Museum has always been one of my favourites, and I had not visited it for several years. A new museum has been built, and although it looks complete externally with its Arabic style arches, it will still not open until the following year. I was aware of this, but imagine my horror to find the old museum was closed for renovation. The small natural history section is still open but is aged, with the stuffed birds looking somewhat moth-eaten.

I ed the two carved totem poles, one with a capping stone and spaces for burial jars, and the other a twin-trunked pole topped with a carved wooden burial house. Then entered a small but new building dedicated to the history of the Sarawakian people.

The new museum building faces the open grassed Padang Merdeka, surrounded by parasol crowned ‘rain-trees’. There is, however, one majestic tree at the edge of the Padang that has an extensive buttress root system.

In the afternoon, once it got cooler, I decided to explore eastwards and set out with my iPad and Google maps in hand. I stopped at a small Hokkien park. The covered pavilions appeared to have a few scoundrels lounging around, so I moved on to the Jubilee Recreation Ground and its hockey stadium. Here many youngsters were playing on the Astroturf playing field, while other teams waited for their turn to play.

Moving on again, I entered a wooded park that was being used by walkers, but I was disappointed that there none of the expected birds.

Further to the east, I could see a large building, the Crown Square shopping centre. It was so sad to see that 80% appeared to be empty. I sat for a while to finish a 100Plus, before making my way westwards back to the hotel.

Met up with Lian before her 6:30 pm session commenced.

For dinner, I sat at a pavement table of a coffee shop. I ordered a plate of chicken rice and some soup, and I shared it with a little tortoiseshell pussy cat.

Sunday was the last day of the Congress, and before the 8:15 am session, Lian packed her bag as we would be checking out of the hotel and moving to the Waterfront Hotel in town.

Checked out by noon and I took a Grab taxi to the Waterfront Hotel. I found that our Agoda booking is for a ‘compound view’ of a blank rendered wall, and not the ‘river view’ that we expected. If we had not prepaid, I would have walked out. We were far from happy, and after a lot of hassle and time-wasting, we were given a ‘river view’. At night we had a magnificent view, overlooking the old Courthouse, the pedestrian bridge and the Lawcourts – quite a spectacle in the floodlights.

Lian’s bridge partner, Jane, arranged for a sea-food dinner at the ‘Top Spot Foodcourt’ for the other bridge players from Kuala Lumpur.

After the dinner we walked back, stopping at the old courthouse to watch a modern ‘dance’ show, part of Rainforest Fringe Festival. On our flight to Kuching, we had met a young woman, a dancer, who had recommended that we attend. The dance took place in a grassed courtyard, and both the male and

female performers were covered entirely in tight pink catsuits. Yes – I think it was the girl we had met. Anyway, they acted like primaeval primates, crawling around. Then at the end, a crowd of other mature ‘primates’ and children ed them, all in similar costumes.

Then at 10:30 pm went in to watch and listen to ‘In Voices: Haunting Tales from Sarawak’. Six people each told us a story in English about Sarawak. Some were about the supernatural, and a couple had us in fits of laughter. It was an excellent show.

Eventually, after two and a half day and evening sessions of competitive bridge, I asked Lian how her team had done. She nonchalantly replied “We did well, but they did better”. Enough said.

Next morning we walked around the old courthouse complex. We saw the Kuching Museum exhibit, the Ranee of Sarawak exhibition, the drone photographs, and the information centre. Then we set off along the Indian St pedestrian street, and the riverfront. Later we wandered along Carpenter St. and the Teochew Chinese temple.

Had time for another shower before checkout at mid-day, and took a Grab to the airport. The flight back was fine. But then we had to wait over twenty minutes for a sky bridge to be made available, and then a further time at the entrance door as it was locked. It must be very frustrating for the airlines to operate from KLIA2.

CHAPTER 10

Jordan: - Petra.

The Monastery in Petra.

Petra is one of those places one reads about as a child, and many of us watched spellbound as Indiana Jones galloped through a narrow canyon that opened out to a building carved out of the solid red rock. That was Petra.

Then, in 2007 UNESCO World Heritage voted Petra one of the New Seven Wonders of the World.

We entered Jordan through a crossing in the very south of the country. Immigration was straightforward, and there was no charge for our ‘visa on arrival’. It was noon when we took a taxi to Aqaba.

Lian had booked a hotel close to the bus station, as it was said to be opposite the bus station, but this proved not to be true. The hotel looked crumby from the outside, the reception area and hallways, but our room was quite large, airconditioned, and had a fridge.

Lian had read somewhere that there are no buses on a Friday. We enquired at the reception, and a tourist office, but got conflicting answers. We decide to go to the bus station to find out, but when we arrived, we were told this was the wrong bus station. The Tourist Police were helpful, but cannot help with buses. We used Google Earth and some locals to find a few small buses parked at a street corner. One driver there said there would be a bus, but he was not sure of the time. We were advised to get there early and wait.

On the way back to the hotel, we stopped at a bakery. The friendly manager took us down to see the mixers and ovens, and how they made the Arab bread in large quantities. Then, of course, he wanted a tip.

After a shower and a rest, we then went for a walk along to the beach. We looked across the water towards Israel and Egypt. All three have adjacent borders here, at the northern end of the Red Sea.

It was the holy month of Ramadan, and people were preparing to break their fast with a picnic and barbecue on the beach. Children were enjoying swimming in the clear water. Some restaurants are packed out, while some seem to be nearly empty.

We had dinner in a restaurant next to the hotel. Huge portions were served that we could not get through, so they wrapped up some chicken legs for us to take away.

So, on Friday morning, we had an early breakfast, checked out, and walked to the bus stop. Taxi drivers keep stopping us, to say there were no buses. One bus was parked there, but will only be going to the town of Ma’am, not far from Petra. We are told that the bus will only leave when it is full. A woman and four kids get on. Then another woman and child arrive, and then another. Lian has fun chatting with the women and girls, as one girl has Google Translation on her phone. Six young men then get on, and they move the women to the back.

The bus finally left at 8:45 am, an hour and a quarter after we got on, with the corridor full of luggage and kid’s strollers.

Soon we left town and were in a canyon cutting through the mountains.

Our driver wears a flowing white ‘dish dash’, a white skullcap, and sports a long grey beard, and he was not wasting any time on the empty road across the 2,600ft (800m) high plain.

No sign of any agriculture, only rock and stone as far as one could see.

It took 1.3/4 hours to reach the bus terminal at Ma’an. No busses are here today, so we needed a taxi to take us on to Petra. Lian starts bargaining as we sit and wait in the shade, as we have plenty of time, and something will turn up.

The taxi took 45 minutes to reach Petra, and we were dropped off at Candles Hotel.

From the window of our pleasant room, we had a great view towards the entrance to Petra, and enjoyed a pleasant breeze coming in from the open window.

We were told that a couple of weeks ago it was raining here and that Petra was closed to tourists.

Had a rest while it was hot, and then wandered down to the main Petra Visitor Centre.

Here they have an excellent museum, and we had the opportunity to learn a little about the Nabataeans and their empire. They had control of the available water and were great traders, controlling the incense trade and other goods on a major trade route. Their hay-day was said to be between the 1st century BC and the 1st century AD. In the 11th century, the Crusaders used Petra as a base, until Saladdin ejected them. It was 1812 when a Swiss Explorer, Johan Burckhard, became the first Westerner to see Petra since it’s decline many centuries previously. Others soon followed and documented the main ruins with detailed measurements and sketches. David Roberts visited in 1839, and copies of this British painter’s lifelike watercolours were being sold at many of the souvenir shops.

On our walk back, we ran into four of the group from our Holy Land trip. They had flown to Amman and come down by road. They also have bookings in Candles Hotel. We met them later for dinner at the hotel.

We set our alarm for 5 am, as we planned to buy a three-day as soon as the gate opened at 6 am.

The walk down the valley to the entrance of the Siq is 1,400 yards (1.3km) before one enters the Siq, an amazing 1,300yard (1.2km) winding path with vertical sides. One can still see parts of the water channels on each side, when clay pipes carried the freshwater to the city from the nearby springs.

We thought we were pretty fit, and our original plan was to start early, then go back to the hotel during the heat of the day, and then re-enter again in the cool of the afternoon. However, by the time we finished the long up-slope walk through the shaded Siq, and then endured the fierce heat of the mid-day sun on our way up to the Visitors Centre, and on to the hotel; we were knackered.

On each of our three mornings, we were off by 6 am and were usually one of the first to reach The Treasury building. This was in the shade until about 10:30 am, when the red rock started to glow. At first, it is hard to believe that the building is only a façade, as it is 130ft (39.5m) high, and was carved out of the solid rock. The lower section looks very Greek, with a triangular frieze or ‘roof’ ed on six Corinthian-style columns. Above this are smaller columns ing a circular section in the middle, and square sections on either side. The Bedouin legend is that the upper central part contained an urn with the Pharaoh’s hidden treasure. Bullet holes pit the urn area where robbers have made an unsuccessful effort to reach the treasure trove. Archaeologists believe this building was a mausoleum for a King who died in 40AD.

Once one has spent time gazing at The Treasury, it is time to the forty or so tombs known as the Street of the Facades, before opening into the central valley. Many are topped with the ‘crow-step’ architectural feature that is said to be of Assyrian origin.

The Theatre was built in the first century AD. This 6,000-seater main Theatre is semi-circular and based on a Greco–Roman design. It is unusual, as it was hewn from the solid rock.

The Nymphaeum was a public fountain along the Colonnaded Street, but one has to use one’s imagination to see more than just a few stone blocks next to a big green bush.

The Colonnaded Street to the Qasr al-Bintan Temple, leads one through to the central valley. It now comprises a few columns that have been re-erected beside a stone slab paved road.

In the distance I think I see a man in flowing white robes, riding a camel. Is that

Peter O’Toole, aka Lawrence of Arabia on his way to Wadi Rum? The sun was in my eyes, so I could not be sure.

The Church Complex can be found on the hillside opposite the Great Temple. The Complex was the site of three churches: The Petra Church is under renovation and has been covered by a temporary roof structure. The amazing thing here is the mosaic flooring on either side of the nave. Built between 375600AD, the mosaics are generally in excellent condition, with the stone, glass and ceramic tesserae, depicting animals, birds, people and various vegetables. I especially liked the man leading a camel carrying a tree trunk, and a pair of grouse.

The Blue Chapel is now only a floor slab with four freestanding blue granite columns.

At the top of the hill is the smaller Ridge Church, comprising a stone slab and a low wall, with semi-circular stone steps at the entrance.

The Royal Tombs comprise four significant tombs; the Urn Tomb, the Silk Tomb, the Corinthian Tomb, and the Palace Tomb. Impressive, they are carved out of the cliffside on the right-hand side of the central valley.

Near the end of the Colonnaded Street is the Temenos Gate, guarding the entrance to The Great Temple Complex. This Complex is by far the largest building in Petra, and was built on two main levels in the usual way, rather than carved from the solid. The lower level comprised triple colonnades on each side, each comprising sixty columns. A subterranean drainage system has been found, as well as baths.

Close by the Great Temple Complex is the much smaller Qasr al-Bint Temple. The ‘Palace of the Pharaoh’s Daughter’ is the oldest of Petra’s temples. Legend had it that the Pharaoh who hid his money in the urn offered his daughter’s hand in marriage to any engineer who could develop a system to bring water to the palace. One wonders if anyone won her hand, and how it all turned out for the Pharaoh’s daughter.

Saw few birds here, probably all killed by one of the many cats we see. We did, however, spot a White-spectacled Bulbul; with its black head and yellow vent.

I find it a little strange that so much time has been taken on carving such magnificent facades, but with only a few useable rooms. Where did the thousands of the general population live? There must have been over 6,000, or they would have built the Theatre smaller.

On our first day, we walked along the Colonnaded Street and up to the Ad-Deir, known as The Monastery. This is the furthest major structure in Petra, being 167ft (51m) high. It was a stiff climb up the 800-odd rock-cut steps, and we were glad we had brought our walking sticks. Somewhat surprised to be followed for a while by a cat.

At first glance, The Monastery looks very similar to the Treasury, as it is also double-storey. But this has been carved down from the crest of the hill. It is based on three main niches, with a central conic roof, crowned by an urn.

Probably built as a temple, at one time the hall was used as a Christian chapel, and crosses were carved on the back wall. Thus, the building became known as The Monastery. Several dogs were sitting around, waiting for handouts from the tourists.

Opposite the Monastery is a large cave, and this has been made into a charming café and restaurant.

By the time we reach the Treasury Building, the area in front is bustling with tourists who have just arrived on a day-trip from Amman. Camel and donkeys are waiting to take tourists down the Colonnaded Street. Bedouin traders have set up stalls selling rugs and other souvenirs. I suspect that many of the daytrippers will not get much further than the Street of Facades.

Small Bedouin boys offer to be our guides, taking one up steep rocky paths to one of the trails. One boy, in particular, was always smiling and surprisingly had somehow acquired a London cockney accent.

One night we heard a bit of a ruckus in the town, and the next morning we heard there had been a demonstration in the town. This was evidenced when we saw overturned rubbish bins, and rubbish was strewn everywhere. Broken WCs and tiles were spilt across the main road, and big potted plants had been tipped over.

Later we were told this was because of the additional taxes brought in. King Abdullah sorted out the matter following three days of demonstrations, by ordering The Jordanian prime minister to resign.

One morning we decided to climb the steps to look down on the Treasury.

There were reasonable steps, either cut into the natural rock, or human-made, for most of way. A dog followed us up to the top of the cliff, often going ahead and

then waiting for us to catch up. For this, we shared some of our bread and meatloaf.

We stopped to greet two Bedouin who have built a beautiful place overlooking the Theatre, with a carpeted floor and cushions, set out under a rattan sunshade. A blackened kettle is boiling water for tea over a small fire.

Then the track becomes rough, and no signposts. We went the wrong way for some time and had to backtrack. Then we followed a German couple. I slipped and banged my right elbow.

Found the right track, following a handwritten sign saying ‘The most beautiful view in the world’, that led at another Bedouin ‘house’. Complete with carpets and cushions, and a little pregnant cat. We certainly had a good view down to the Treasury.

Got lost again coming back, until the German called us down from a higher track. It was a long walk down the steps and back to the hotel, where we enjoyed a shower and a coffee.

On our last night there, after dinner, we made our way to the Visitors Centre where we bought tickets for the candlelight show at The Treasury.

They have placed candles in paper bags to show the way down the path and through the Siq to the Treasury. Rows of candles were placed in front of the building. A lot of tourists were attending, and we sat on mats laid out between the last three or four rows of candles. Music was provided by a Bedouin flautist and a stringed instrument player.

A guide said a few words, and sweet tea was served. Then at the end of about a half-hour, they played some rather weak coloured lights on the façade. We found it a bit disappointing.

According to Lian’s Fit bit, we had walked an average of over 11miles (18km) each day in Petra.

It was time to start our return to Malaysia. No early morning alarm this morning and we enjoyed a leisurely buffet breakfast in the hotel.

Lian had arranged for a Hilux pickup to take us for the three-hour drive to the International Airport, located to the south of Amman. Traffic was heavy, and major resurfacing was being carried out due to poor road conditions.

Buildings by the highway all very scrappy, and many have steel rod reinforcement bars protruding from the flat roof, ready for an additional storey to be added sometime in the future.

Only when we neared our destination were we told that we would be dropped off a mile (kilometre) or so from the airport, and our driver will pay for a taxi for us to complete the trip. Otherwise, police can fine him, as he does not have a taxi license. He stopped by a roundabout, and he soon flagged down a taxi. We got into the real taxi, and he paid the taxi driver to take us the rest of the way. Now we knew why Lian had negotiated such a competitive rate to the airport.

The first leg was to be a 1.3/4 hours flight to Jeddah on Saudi Air. I sat next to a

young Jordanian, who was going to New York on holiday. He was excited, as this was his first plane trip. Three men, wrapped in white towels, were on their way to Mecca for prayers, and their chanting made a pleasant alternative to the noise of the aircraft engines.

Jeddah airport was surprisingly old; with buses used to load and unload engers, a messy and overcrowded waiting area, and flooded and inadequate toilet facilities.

Luckily the Boeing 787-9 Saudi Air flight to Kuala Lumpur seemed only 20% full, so that we could spread ourselves out for the 8 ½ hours night flight.

CHAPTER 11

Malaysia: - A road trip around Sabah.

Lian at a buttress of a giant tree, Danum Valley.

It was a mid-July when we took the 2 hours 50 minutes AirAsia flight from Kuala Lumpur to Sandakan in northern Sabah.

Sandakan.

We had arranged to hire a car for the trip, but had to wait for Ronny, the owner, who brought along a Perodua Viva automatic. This car had no horn, and its lack of power meant it did not like even a low slope. Paid him for the ten days hire, but will only pay the additional sum for the Tawau drop off, when someone picks up the car from our hotel in Tawau. Ronnie was helpful with a suggested list of places to visit. Got him to fill up the tank, and we will leave a full tank at the end.

Went to Giant supermarket to pick up bottles of water and snacks etc., and picked up some ‘Pisang Goreng’ (fried banana) from a roadside stall.

Sepilok.

Drove to Sepilok where we have a three-night stay at the ‘Sepilok Jungle Resort’. Arrived by 11:30 am, but the room was not ready till 2 pm. The hotel has lush grounds, with many wooden boardwalks. You can see fish in the greenish-brown water of the lake.

For lunch, we had some noodles and a Tiger beer at their lakeside restaurant.

Decided to drive along to the Rainforest Discovery Centre. ed the scenic lake and climbed up on the canopy walk. Here we later met Bernard, a Belgian, who was very knowledgeable on birdcalls and beetles. He works as an environmentalist in Brussels.

Later we saw Flying Squirrels. One had his head showing from a hole in a tree. Another glided from tree to tree an amazing distance - and quite fast.

It was dark by the time we left at 7 pm.

For dinner at the hotel, we had a cheeseburger and chips, and fried rice with salted fish.

Next morning, we drove along to the Sepilok Orang Utan Rehabilitation Centre.

A young female Orangutan (16-year old Rosa) was keeping the waiting visitors enthralled as she moved around the ticket office area.

The word Orangutan comes from the Malay words ‘Orang Hutan’, meaning ‘man of the forest’.

At 9 am, we made use of the many boardwalks to stroll to the open nursery centre. Then to the feeding station at 10 am. A female with an eight-month-old baby was already there. They were fed bananas and long green beans. We all had to leave at mid-day when the place closes.

Went back to the hotel for a rest, returning at 2 pm. Watched about five youngsters playing at the nursery. They play-wrestled and rolled around. We then saw several Orangutans travelling in the direction of the feeding platform, so wandered there. But we only saw the mother and baby, and one other who only showed his back.

By then it was getting dark and by 3:30 pm it started to rain heavily. We took shelter in a small Pondok (covered shelter) with a staff member. He had plenty of stories about the various Orangutans, including one called Ceria, who sat in a tree looking at the numerous female tourists. He slowly got lower and lower and closer and closer, all the time swaying from side to side. He then enticed the chosen one to get even nearer to take her photos. Then he grabbed her with both arms and used his feet to take down her pants. He then proceeded to try to rape her belly button. No real harm, but the tourist was in shock and trauma. So my friend, when a staff member tells you to “Get back”, you better take notice. These Orangutans are not stupid and are very strong and agile.

After 45 minutes, the rain eased off, and we decided to go. Still got slightly wet before we got to the car.

It was an excellent opportunity to wash some clothes and have a nice hot shower.

It was still raining slightly when we went to the restaurant. Had the same order as last night. It is a pity that beer is not served.

We were up at 6:30 am for a walk around the grounds, including the pool. Lian saw a White-breasted Woodpecker, but I missed it. At breakfast, I saw a Hooded Pitta calling from high in a tree, and that is unusual, as they usually keep close to the ground.

Before we left the town, we visited the Sun Bear Centre. Saw about five small Sun Bears, searching the leaf litter for grubs and food. Myna birds follow the bears to find food in the upturned litter. Here we met and chatted with a pair of tourists from southern Chile.

Sukau.

Checked out of the hotel about 11:30 am and set out for Sukau.

The car is not happy with even a small pothole, so I had to watch the road surface carefully. Lian was surprised to find 4G reception on the road, when we had none in Sepilok.

It took two and a quarter hours to reached Sukau, and we checked into ‘Green View’. Our room was at the end of a block, comprising three terrace blocks set around a square. The restaurant is on the other side of the road, by the wide brown Kinabatangan River.

Drove about a kilometre downstream to the Simpang Tiga riverside restaurant for lunch – where we were served big plates of fried rice.

At 4 pm we took a two-hour boat ride. There were about four boats just from our hotel. We had seen many of the tourists earlier at Sepilok.

The river seems very quiet, especially as far as birds are concerned. A little disappointing, and now very touristy compared with previous visits, with many more tourists and boats. There was no sign of elephants.

Saw an Orangutan in its nest of woven branches, high in a tree, and a black snake with yellow stripes curled up in a tree (Mangrove Cat viper).

Breakfast at 8 am comprised fried noodles, baked beans and fried eggs, toast, coffee.

Our hotel did not take credit cards: payment was by cash or bank transfer. We were unable to pay by transfer, as Lian needs a telephone connection to receive a ‘pac’ number, and Maxis has no connection here. Seems funny, as we get 4G here, as well as the hotel WiFi. Anyway, as we drove to the small village of Bilit, Maxis became available, so Lian made the transfer!

Had coffee and biscuit in the room and a rest, as we wanted to visit the Gomantong Cave to see the bats coming out. At 3 pm it started to rain, so we sat drinking tea in the restaurant by the waterside. We watched as the ferry on the other side of the river left carrying two Petron tankers, as well as other lorries and some 4WDs.

We left at about 4 pm and drove slowly to the caves. It stopped raining as we

reached the cave turnoff. Parked the car, and the guards let us in to walk on the boardwalk for the seven minutes to the birds nest collectors huts and the cave entrance. The boardwalk was extremely slippery after the rain. It was 5:15 pm, and we watched as the two million bats started to stream out from an exit high on the forested cliff. They then began to form larger groups, wheeling around like starlings. A couple of Bat Hawks were dive-bombing these groups, and taking away their spoils. It was soon dark, and headlights were needed on the drive back.

It was gone 7 pm when we got back, and too late to eat at Green View. So we drove on to Simpang Tiga and had fried rice and fried noodles there.

Sukau – Lahad Datu - Danum Valley.

It rained heavily in the night, and we wondered how the little car would take the 50 miles (80km) of laterite road to Danum Valley?

It was 11 am when we reached Lahad Datu and found the Danum Valley HQ, where Lian paid for the car gate permit and two nights’ accommodation, with breakfasts and dinners at the Research Centre.

Bought some ‘pisang goreng’ – fried banana to eat on the way.

We left Lahad Datu and took the road towards Tawau. Then at Silam, we turned right towards Danum Valley. The Tarmac soon ended, and we continued until we reached the barrier and showed our permit.

After crossing several log bridges on the laterite roadway, we ed the junction for the Studies Centre / Rainforest Lodge and reached the reception by 2:45 pm. The road in was in excellent condition, metalled (finished with a crushed stone topping) and had minimum corrugations. The surface from the junction to Rainforest Lodge was not quite as good, and a little narrower.

We only saw petrol stations in the main towns - not noticed any on the road out to Sukau, or on the way to Lahad Datu.

Danum Valley.

We were allocated a room in the Rest House close to the restaurant. Coffee/tea was available at any time. As there was no hot water in the showers, we boiled some water to mix with cold water in a bucket.

Lian ed Raymond, a resident bird guide, and arranged to meet him the next morning at 6 am.

Had a walk down to the suspension bridge where we had excellent views of swooping Silver-rumped Swifts (Spinetail) with their incredible ‘butter knife’ wing shape.

The buffet dinner was pleasant: white rice, chicken, some kind of canned meat in a curry sauce, beans, and ‘choy sum’. I enjoyed the vegetables and the unknown meat.

Set our alarm for 5:30 am and left on time with Raymond as a guide. Walked south and soon left the main trail for several smaller ones. Reach a point where Raymond heard the call of a Ground Cuckoo. Then we heard two. Despite playing back the calls, the two Ground Cuckoos got closer together and then stopped calling. They had only been about 100 yards (90m) away but remained invisible to us.

We took a short cut back across a small river, jumping from rock to rock rocks. I slipped at the last section and got wet leach socks and trekking shoes.

We returned for some breakfast, and set off again. Used a trail running behind the new main reception. Brought our tracking poles with us, and they were very helpful on the hills.

Here the leaches are either a very small species that bite painlessly, or rather larger ones with longitudinal stripes. The Tiger leach (haemadipsa picta), known locally as ‘limatang ‘or ‘pacat’ (leaf leech), because it is usually found on leaves of lower vegetation. They can grow to about 1.1/2 inch (4cm) long when stretched out, and sport green, yellow/orange and black stripes. Their bite can be felt, which at least warns you, so you can pull them off before bleeding starts in earnest. The Brown Leech (haemadipsa zeylanica) or ‘limatok’ is dark brown or black, and shorter than its striped cousin and is most often seen on the forest floor. The bite is painless so gets to bleed more as the anticoagulant gets a chance to work.

Suddenly Raymond started his tape again; he had heard the endemic Bristleheads calling from high in the canopy. Not easy to spot, as we are looking up through gaps in the lower and medium level canopies. Then we had a good view of a Bristlehead, sitting in the mid-canopy, and preening himself on a branch. Its wings and back are black, and the head a bright red and yellow, and it has a large black bill. We had now seen one of the two species we have come to Sabah to see. (The other being the Ground Cuckoo). Back by 10:30 am for a

shower and to change clothes. I had one bleeding bite on my shin.

I note that I am not as agile as I used to be in the forest. Several times I stumbled on the tricky off-trail bits, nearly losing my balance.

Enjoyed coffees on the balcony with a Red-crowned Barbet serenading us.

My boots and leach socks have nearly dried, and I will not try wearing a plastic bag under the socks again.

After a rest, we set off for a wander to the camping site. We have frightened a Bearded Pig. Then heard a Helmeted Hornbill calling, and it even answered when I made its call, but we did not see it. A family of Red Leaf Monkeys ed by. From the water tank, we walked down to the staff quarters. We saw two Rusa Deer, quite big with huge ‘Bambi’ ears, a Monitor Lizard, and a couple of Bearded Pigs. A family of the Red monkeys were destroying a big bush and heaping leaves, petals and fruit on a couple of parked cars. A Barking Deer gave a warning call very nearby, and we nearly jumped out of our skins. Saw nothing new, so returned to the verandah for some tea.

Dinner at 7 pm was very welcome, and an hour later we were ready for Raymond to take us on a night walk. Unfortunately, he reckoned that someone else had gone on the trail, and none of the seven or eight sleeping birds was there. So the walk was a bit disappointing as we saw only one Mouse Deer and a running porcupine. At least the Buffy Fish Owl was near the car park to welcome us back 1.1/2 hours later.

The shower was equally welcome.

Early the next morning, we set off again with Raymond. This morning would be strictly Ground Cuckoo only. We were looking for a large ground bird, 24 inches (60cm) from the tip of bill to the end of the tail. Other bird species could dance, sing and do a Command Performance (and they did!) but would be ignored. Started on the trail to the camping site, but we were soon ‘off trail’, following Raymond who obviously knew where he was going. We soon heard the Ground Cuckoo calling, and played back tapes (using Raymond’s phone) to call it out. He sounded so close, just behind a tree or in a small gulley. But invisible, so we gave it up. Could hear another in the distance and went for that. There were two there, but once again the birds remained elusive. At one time we all heard wild pigs, and we’re ready for a fast getaway if proved necessary. Despite giving it plenty of effort, spotting the Ground Cuckoo was not to be.

Got back to the camp at 10:15 am. It was too late for breakfast, but we were given some fruit juice and bread to make toast. Butter and various jams were available.

After a rest, we left for a drive to ‘Borneo Rainforest Lodge’.

Drove back the 7 miles (11km) to the junction, ed over a long wooden bridge crossing the Segama River, and on the 17 miles (27km) to the Borneo Rainforest Lodge. The big reception building looked quite different from what I could from a previous visit. They were not very welcoming and spoke of a daily charge. They were trying to find the manager to get permission for this to be waived, but in the meantime, we could go and buy a drink. Said we did not want to embarrass them, and we left. Back by 5:30 pm after covering 50 miles (80km).

The little car was undoubtedly having problems on some of the steep hills. Even with the drive on 2 or ‘L’, the automatic gearbox found it difficult to exceed

2,500rpm.

We saw some outstanding forest with clear visibility and the sun shining on the steep hillsides. The different shades of green were all clean and sparkling, as the recent rain had washed the leaves.

Lian has had a migraine headache for a couple of days.

The dinner comprised; rice, chicken, wild boar, greens, and a salad of grated carrot and radish.

Danum Valley - Semporna.

We set off after paying for the extra day at the office and reached the main highway after an hour and a half.

Some badly repaired roadworks had the suspension jumping. We reached the turnoff on the Tawau road to Semporna, where it took a further hour to reach Semporna as the traffic was surprisingly heavy for the last 6 miles (10 km). Lian was still feeling poorly and had slept in the car for most of the journey.

We arrived in Semporna four hours after leaving Danum Valley.

Semporna.

We had no bookings in Semporna. Had some lunch in a local coffee shop, as Lian fancied some plain rice porridge. Here we checked accommodation on the WiFi. Most hotels were fully booked, as the town was streaming with tourists. We looked at the ‘Dragon Inn’, the old hotel on stilts over the sea. Pretty, but the room offered was opposite a bar with karaoke, and would probably be very noisy.

Managed to get a room at a modern hotel, the ‘Seafest’. Lian was feeling better but rested in the room.

I went for a walk/drive about, including visiting a fish market and picking up some cash from an all-too-rare ATM. Every other shop is some type of dive shop.

Semporna is doing well, with several new hotels under construction. It has certainly expanded since we came here last.

Bought a large Tiger beer to bring back to the room. Rather pleasant after a few dry days. (Beer could be obtained in Danum, but through an amazing strength of will, I did not partake).

Lian still not fancying any dinner, so I popped next door to the seaside seafood restaurant. Had butter prawns and ‘kangkong’ greens, rice, washed down with a Carlsberg beer.

We slept well in the King size bed. At 7 am, the restaurant was already full, but

we enjoyed an excellent buffet breakfast. All the customers appeared to be from China, and the women were dressed up for the beach.

Took a drive into the main town, but the traffic was heavy, and it was hard to find a parking spot. We walked down to the waterfront through a Saturday market, selling lots of second-hand clothes and small electronic wires etc.

Took a side lane behind the new mosque and entered the shanty village of wooden houses on stilts over the sea. Fascinating shops, selling just about anything. Watched a man cleaning large cuttlefish, and another with a basin of sea cucumbers - one had tiger-like stripes. The ageway was bustling with men pushing wheelbarrows full with petrol cans, bottled water and goods; all to be loaded onto small boats for transporting to the other islands and places across the bay.

Had a mediocre lunch in the Seaview café – a misnomer, as it had no such view.

Then took Lian to the fisherman’s wharf to watch them unloading sardines. Stopped at one of the dive shops to check the current prices for diving. Found that the divemaster knows Mike Chong, who first taught us diving.

On the way back, we saw a long string of about twenty Greater Frigatebirds heading south for a roosting area.

Many locals were standing in a line on the pavement with basins containing various fishes, abalone, etc., for one to buy and take back to get a restaurant to cook for you.

We had dinner at ‘Seafest Seafood’. They grilled two types of clam, two steamed sea crabs, ‘kangkong’ vegetable, and rice, and a Carlsberg. It was a bit disappointing, as clams were over-cooked.

Tawau.

Had an excellent breakfast, and it was a bit overcast as we set off for the twohour drive to Tawau.

Reached the ‘Heritage Hotel’ and checked into our room.

We called Ronny who confirmed he would be coming to Tawau tomorrow about mid-day to pick up the car.

David Lee is an old friend resident in Tawau. David and his wife Nyet Lin arranged to pick us up at 3 pm for a look around Tawau.

They took the road towards the airport, before turning towards the seaside where we visited a fish hatchery that sells small fry to the fish farmers. Here we had coconuts plucked fresh from the tree. Then to David’s house to drop off some shellfish they had bought from a stall.

Made our way back to town and the ‘Goodview Seafood Restaurant’ in Jalan Chan Fook. (The Kum Ling Seafood Restaurant, next door, was closed that day).

David brought some large Tiger Prawns to the restaurant, where we were ed by two of their friends. We also had ‘Mickey Mouse’ grouper fish, ‘siput’ shellfish, clams, crab, two types of vegetables and rice. We finished three bottles of wine. It was truly a memorable meal and confirmed my belief that Tawau serves the best seafood in the world.

We then went to another place to complete the evening with a coffee.

Next morning David and wife picked us up for breakfast at the ‘Yee Lee’ for pork liver, kidney and meat soup on ‘mee hoon’ noodles. Then we moved along the road to ‘Papa Kopitiam’ that specializes in cooking fish skin.

Ronny picked up the hire car at mid-day, and we paid the balance of money owed. We had driven 588 miles (949km) in total. He then dropped us off at the airport, 19 miles (31km) away.

Here we took the direct 2.3/4 hours flight back to Kuala Lumpur.

CHAPTER 12

Portugal & Spain: - ‘Camino de Santiago’ trip.

Lian with Roman escort at Ponte De Lima, Portugal.

A couple of years ago, we were at a dinner party, and one Dutch guest explained to Lian that her husband was away on the Camino de Santiago (the way of St. James) pilgrimage to Santiago de Compostela in Spain. The possibility of us following such a trip fascinated Lian, and she put it on the back-burner. We learnt that there was no set route, but a spiders-web of routes from all over Europe, all converging to finish at the cathedral in Santiago in Galicia, northwestern Spain. It was early in the 9th century that the tomb of the apostle James had been discovered there.

It was not our intention to follow one of the long routes, and a springtime walk from Porto in Portugal, north to Santiago, seemed to tick the right boxes. Especially if someone can take our bags each day, leaving us with just a daypack to carry. So, bookings were made for a package starting in Porto and finishing eleven days later in Santiago de Compostela. Total distance walked would be 140miles (224km). We chose the inland route rather than the coastal one.

It was the third week in April when we took Turkish Airline for the 10-hour 14minute flight from Kuala Lumpur to Istanbul. Here we had a six-hour wait for the onward flight to Porto. Istanbul airport was very crowded, even early in the morning.

We wandered around wasting time. At Turkfusine, we enjoyed a ‘Beyes peynirli’ (Kasari Pidd) – a boat-shaped ‘naan’ bread with melted cheese and a mix of green and red dried herbs. Lian then boiled some water and added 2-in-1 coffee mix we had brought with us. The ‘free WiFi’ did not seem to work at the airport.

The onward Turkish Airline flight to Porto took 4hours 45minutes, landing at 2:30 pm.

PORTUGAL: Porto.

Took the Metro railway into town, changed line at Trinadade, and got off at Sao Bento, close to the main railway station. We enjoyed the sunny spring weather, and it was not too far on the cobbled streets, and by 4:30 pm, we reached the Housetik Flats. No reply when we rang the bell, and a woman helped us from the bar next door, and she telephoned the number we had been given. Five minutes later a girl came to pick us up for a short, hilly walk to another of their places on Rua Conde de Vizela, 38. Indeed excellent accommodation, with a huge room double bed, breakfast bar, kitchenette, and en-suite bathroom. WiFi was available. Three Nepalese girls run the place, and they also work in a restaurant downstairs called Zest.

After we sorted out the room, we went for a walk to get some groceries and a bottle of Vinho Verde.

Then down to the Douro River. We crossed the high-level pedestrian and Metro bridge, before walking down very steep lanes to the riverside. The north bank is full of the warehouses of the internationally known port exporters, and we can see their signs prominently displayed on the roof or walls: Calem, Kopke, Sandeman, Noval, Offley, Taylors, Baros.

Many of the port boats (rabelos) complete with barrels, bobbed at anchorage as a reminder of the importance of port wine to the country. We saw the ‘rabelos’ of Sandemans, Calem, Ferreira, Cockburn, Rozes and Porto Cruz. We have great views of the river and small boats in the afternoon sun. There is a lower-level car

and pedestrian bridge, and we crossed back using this route.

Port has a fascinating history. Wine has been made in Portugal for thousands of years and was well known in Roman times. Britain was often at war with and the French wine supplies dried up, and so Portuguese wines became popular, but they did not always travel well. In 1678 some English wine merchants visited Lamego, on the upper Duoro river. Here, an Abbot was producing fortified wines from the fifty or so varieties of local grape. Fortifying wine with brandy was not a new thing, but the Abbot was fortifying it during the fermentation process, not after it. The result is a stronger but sweeter wine, as the yeast cells were killed off, leaving more residual sugar.

These wines were shipped from Oporto and became known as ‘port’. English and Scottish exporters set up warehouses, and the even now the majority of port is exported in bottles under their labels.

Tawney port has been left in the barrels for much longer and loses the bright red of a Ruby port, and it will be more complex and less sweet. A white port is also produced.

Vintage ports are usually drunk at the end of a meal, together with the cheeses, and tradition has it that the bottle or decanter is always ed to the left around the table, in a clockwise direction. Many military messes have their own and very complicated methods of ‘ing the port’, and this can include serving the person on one’s right before ing the decanter to the left.

For dinner we had brown bread, Presunto Fatiado (Palma like) ham, and Queijo Flamengo cheese, all washed down with the bottle of wine.

After breakfast, we received notification that the travel company would pick us up the following morning at 8 am.

It was hard work pulling our bags up the road, over the cobbled paths, to the 1star Hotel Estoril Porto. We checked in, but as the room was not ready, we left our bags and walked south.

We wandered into the Igreja de Carino and the adjacent Igreja dos Carmelitas. The external sidewall of the former was tiled in beautiful blue and white tiles, depicting a religious ceremony. The latter had incredibly complicated gilt carved pulpits and surrounds.

Outside the two churches, runs a tram system making use of old-fashioned looking trams.

We continue moving south to the Igreja e Torre. ing the station, we stroll up the road to the Catedral, where we had excellent views over the town and the clay roof tiles of the surrounding houses. Inside a service was taking place. The interior has comparatively plain stonework, with a high stone barrel-vaulted ceiling. The altarpiece and end wall are however highly decorated and contrast with the cream stonework walls and the massive columns.

Outside we met a young German woman with a large red backpack, who was starting the pilgrimage with her little dog.

We moved on to the Palacio da Bolsa, but did not go in. The red-painted Mercado Ferreira Borges has been converted to a restaurant and cultural centre, and we watch some dancers having lessons.

Went into a local café for some lunch, where I had fried cod, and Lian had grilled sardines, all washed down with a couple of bottles of Super Bock beer. All the streets here are on steep slopes, and for some unknown reason, we always seem to be climbing.

Our room in the Estoril Hotel is ‘L’ shaped, with a balcony overlooking the quiet rear garden. After a short rest, we wandered down to the river again and crossed the bridge at the high level.

The Sandeman tasting room was fully booked. Luckily the Porto Cruz wine tasting area was open, and we paid for a tasting of three different Ports. We found the white to be very sweet. Then tried the tawny Special Reserve. The Gran Cruz 2001 Late Bottled Vintage is a ruby and needed decanting. Another woman ed us a fresh glass of rose port that she did not like much. Although this tasted very watery after the sweetness of the white, it did have more flavour, and we preferred it to the white port. Got talking to a girl from the Czech Republic, and it turned out that she was also starting her pilgrimage walk tomorrow. Perhaps we will meet on the way?

Back to the hotel, and had dinner at Rinia, the restaurant bar next door. I had a small steak, egg and chips, and Lian had a pork cutlet and chips (French fries).

Starting the Camino de Santiago: Porto to Arcos. 10.5miles (17km)

I set our alarm for 6:30 am, and we had a picnic breakfast in the room.

The travel company representative arrived at 8 am, and we paid the balance of outstanding charges in cash.

We were then supplied with a detailed booklet containing the daily route maps and a description of each day’s walk, the Camino port (Credencial) for stamping en route, and all the hotel vouchers.

Lian had attached scallop shells to the back of our backpacks as a sign that we were ‘peregrinos’ - pilgrims.

We were taken in an Audi and dropped off just outside of the main traffic area. It was 8:45 am when we started our walk on the Portuguese ‘Way of Saint James’ (Camino de Santiago).

“Just follow the yellow arrows, and sometimes the scallop shell logos. You can’t go wrong”, we were told.

The majority of the time, we are walking on the side of cobblestone covered roads and lanes, with some dirt paths. It is a farming area, but we some eucalyptus trees and oak tree woods. Although it was overcast at first, the sun soon came out hot and strong.

The random stone granite walls were very skillfully made, with small stone snecks filling the gaps. There are also many granite stone columns about 8” x 8” (20cm x 20cm), that range up to about 8ft (2.4m) tall.

We chatted for a while with two Polish women as we walked along. Stopped a couple of times to eat bread, cheese, and dried ham.

We ed to have our Credencial stamped at a couple of shops on the way. The Credential proves that one has followed the pilgrim’s trail, and on arrival in Santiago it has to be presented so one can receive the Compostela certificate. In the old days, the Credential was the safe conduct , certifying that one was an honest pilgrim.

After crossing a couple of old stone bridges, we reached the Roman bridge, the Ponte S Miguel de Arcos, and arrived at our destination at 1:45 pm. The Quinta Sao Miguel de Arcos in Arcos is a beautiful rambling old building, and we have an excellent room and bathroom, together with a shared lounge/dining room. Also, we have use of a balcony overlooking a vine-covered courtyard with fields and wooded hillsides in the distance. They have two swimming pools, but the water is too cold for our tropical bodies. I was interested in finding that the old tractor they use is a Lamborghini.

After a few cups of tea, we went for a walk around town. The St Miguel church next door was closed, but when we found a side door open, we went inside to take a quick look and a photo. For such a small town, it was surprisingly well decorated. The exterior front elevation is covered with patterned coloured tiles, and we noted that many of the houses are also finished in various coloured patterned tiles. Had a look at the very well-kept small graveyard, before walking to find the town square and the bars. But there is no square, just a straight road, and only one small cafe/bar. So tonight, we will eat in the hotel, so we had to pre-book dinner for 8 pm.

Also found that our breakfast only started at 8:30 am. Considered leaving earlier and finding somewhere for breakfast on the way, but the mention of bacon and eggs was enough to accept a 9 am start.

We enjoyed the balcony and the tea, as we are serenaded by cooing doves and the cry from a couple of caged Peacocks.

Had a chat with the owner who explained that the farmer’s fields had high stone walls. Vines were suspended around the perimeter of each field using the granite poles I had described earlier. Potatoes were grown beneath the vines, and corn was grown in the middle of the fields. The cattle were kept in barns all year.

Dinner was rather good - a tapas, vegetable soup, beef fillet in a mushroom sauce, ice cream, and coffee. It was washed down with a white Portal du Lavrada wine.

Arcos to Barcelos. 12.5miles (22 km).

Not such a good night’s sleep, as the church clock struck every fifteen minutes.

Packed our bags ready for collection, and were down for the 8:30 am breakfast.

On our way by 9 am. It was quite overcast, and that made walking easier. We ed the junction to the coastal route, and we took the inland one. The countryside is very pretty, with plenty of wildflowers in patches of yellow and red. There are many foxgloves and red poppies. Lian soon has a selection of flowers pushed into the side of her sun-visor. Met a Brazilian girl, and later an Italian man who had started as far away as Lisbon.

We a granite stone with an approximately 9inch (23cm) diameter hole through it, said to be made by the head of a nun. To prove this, a small statue of a nun in red clay stands on the top of the 3ft (90cm) high stone.

Stopped at mid-day to enjoy a coffee and a draft Super Bock, and the sun broke through an hour later.

After crossing a wide river, we arrived at the 3-star Bagoeira Hotel in Barcelos at 2:45 pm. Today is National Day, and they have a funfair set up opposite the hotel, so we asked for a room at the back which may be quieter.

Pretty tired at the end, and I had a bit of a backache, and the top of my left foot is bruised despite loosening my shoelaces. Made a cup of tea and had a rest.

We had agreed a few days ago that the 20.5mile (33km) stretch tomorrow might be too long, so we will take a bus or a taxi halfway. So, we tried to check the bus timetable. One problem is that we get different answers as to where the bus will stop, because of the holiday.

The main square is busy, with a school band playing the ocarinas off-key, and the local pensioners are dancing some kind of two-step - or maybe a three-step.

We did some sightseeing. The archaeological museum was only the shell of a building, but still very interesting. It included the explanation as to why the town’s logo is a cockerel. A handsome pilgrim was wrongly accused of stealing a valuable cup by a beautiful woman who he spurned as he was on a pious journey, and was to be hung. Inspired by divine intervention, he told the judge, who was about to have a chicken for lunch, that he was innocent and the proof is

that “this roasted rooster will sing my innocence”. In the precise instant that the man was to be hung, the rooster stood up and sang. The judge rushed to stop the hanging, but the man had already been hung. However, he was still alive, as St James had held his feet, and the rope was still loose, so he did not die. A stone carved cross depicts the Saint holding him up while a noose is around his neck. I wonder what happened to the beautiful lady?

We sat in a small square and enjoyed large glasses of a delightful Vinho Verde. As we wandered back, we entered a little cafe and ordered far more than we could eat: a medium-size pizza which was huge, pork schnitzel with a ton of chips (French fries), as well as salad and rice. Included were white wine and beer. It is getting quite chilly for our tropic livers at 54F (12C).

I enjoyed a hot shower and an early night.

Barcelos to Ponte de Lima. Overall 20.5miles (33km).

Slept well, but woken by the midnight fireworks.

After our 7:30 am breakfast, we walked to the bus stop to catch the 8:40 am bus. Waited till 9 am, but still no bus arrived. It seems there was confusion as to where the stop was located, as this had changed due to the funfair. Back to the hotel, and waited for a taxi at 9:30 am.

The driver was very fast, with the Mercedes squealing at every turn of the road.

You could tell he was fast by the ‘G’ forces we were experiencing. My head felt heavy, and my teeth were moving in their sockets. We ed the village of Vitorio and drove up the hill. On the other side, we saw a sign on the left and got out of the taxi at 10 am.

It was now so calm and peaceful as the path dropped down through oak and eucalyptus woods, before ing through fields of vines, potatoes, and we ed picture-postcard houses. It’s quite chilly, and I keep on my fleece.

At Serra, we stopped for coffee and pastries and shared a table with a couple of women from the English Westcountry. This pair were having a super time and were reluctant to leave the shade of an apple tree.

We were walking through villages where every garden has a selection of roses. There is a strong headwind. The final approach is alongside the Lima river and a weir. Then follows a long a paved area lined with huge plane trees. It is here I found my little Fuji X10 camera had flopped back into manual mode again (but without being able to focus) Is this the end of its useful life?

We arrived at the Mercearia at 1:30 pm. It is a delightful little hotel, and our balcony overlooks the street. We were told that our hotel had once been a family grocery store, and is now run by the grandson. Plenty of historical artefacts: s books, coffee grinders and advertising posters decorate the reception. The receptionist, Germania, assured us that the church bell stops at 10 pm otherwise, it reminds me of the old film ‘Genevieve’ and the hotel in Brighton.

After cheating with the taxi, we have walked only 7.5miles (12km).

Had a cup of coffee and studied the camera manual, and found a way of manual focusing.

Then went for a wander around, and to see the multi-arched medieval bridge. But the camera is still misbehaving.

As we sat at an outside cafe for white wines and tapas, Lian was stung on the bum by a bee. She must have sat on it.

We went down to the river for a walk. Here they have placed a platoon of cut-out Roman soldiers in two lines facing the river. Also, there are several bronze figures of farmers and their buffaloes. I assume this was the location for the shallowest ford before the Romans built the bridge.

Bought some water and a bottle of Casal Garcia Vinho Verde, that we opened in the 1st-floor lounge. Found it quite effervescent.

On our way out for a light dinner, we returned the opener to Germainia. She asked which wine we had been drinking. She was not impressed, as it was from southern Portugal, so she opened a local bottle for us to sample. She was right and recommended we stick to Loureiro or Alvarinho for a locally produced wine.

Took her recommendation for somewhere for dinner, and went into the Taverna Vaca Das Cordas, named after the annual local bull run. Ordered snacks of squid rings, and Rojoes - like a roast pork stew, and that was outstanding. I had a huge glass of red wine, poured from out of a barrel. Sure to sleep well.

Ponte de Lima - Cossourado. 13.7miles (22km).

Today is said to be the hardest day, as we had a mountain to cross.

Woke as usual at 6:30 am, just as dawn broke at 6:45 am. Had breakfast and we were on our way before 8 am.

Walking through vineyards and fields covered with bright yellow flowers. Saw blackbirds, robins, and wild strawberries. We met a few more snappy barking dogs again today.

The route took us under a motorway and into pine forests alongside a stream and small waterfalls. The path climbing up through the forest was very rough and stony. We ed the cross celebrating where Napoleon had suffered a defeat and continued climbing.

It was mid-day when we reached Alto, the highest point at 1,425ft (435m) above sea level. Several pilgrims were resting at the top and enjoying the view. Then, as pilgrims arrived, they all started clapping. It was good fun. Here we met the two Polish girls again. Left after fifteen minutes, and started the descent, which was not quite so rough.

Stopping at the Roulote Bar, we shared a Super Bock beer and had the pilgrim ports stamped. The two elderly ladies from Dorset were there and appeared

to be having a great time, as they seemed quite content to spend the afternoon there.

This side of the mountain appears different: greener, and lacking the small fields with grapevine pergolas, and with more cattle out in fields. We cross another small medieval bridge before starting a gentle climb. We were worried here that we might have ed our destination, as the lane just went on and on. Then at 3 pm, we reached the hamlet of Pecene - Cossourado, and our accommodation at the Casa da Capela, next to the chapel.

Lian finds she has left behind her pink bag holding all her electrical items. She gets the receptionist to call our hotel, and they confirm they have it – and will try to forward it.

The hamlet is tiny, with only fifteen residents. It does, however, have a new public wash house for washing clothes.

We were advised yesterday that the only place to eat is in our hotel, and so we had to book ahead. Dinner will be served at 6:30 pm, well before the 8:20 pm sunset.

So, we sat in the garden enjoying the warmth of the setting sun.

Dinner was OK, and we had an early night. It was rather cold, dropping to 45F (7C).

I suffered cramp in both thighs – but took dehydration salts, and it was better in about ten minutes.

Cossourago to Valenca. 8miles (13km).

After a 7:30 am breakfast, we left by 8:10 am. We seemed to be walking downhill most of the way. Once on a flatter area, the roads and lanes were cobbled and meandered through a small village full of yellow flowers and gorse bushes.

Before 11:30 am we had arrived in Valenca, quite a big town and found the 3star Lara Hotel.

We have found all the places we have visited to be very clean and tidy. Had a rest and did some washing.

Opposite the hotel is a grassy and wooded slope up to the old fortified town that overlooks the river, with Spain on the other bank. The steel bridge was designed by Eiffel, more famous for his tower in Paris. There are a lot of tourist shops. We sit outside the Cafe Cantinho for a glass of white Vinho Verde and a Super Bock. Then walked around the ancient Fortelaza town and the old fortifications.

Had our dinner early, at the ‘Restaurante Bon Jesus’. A bottle of Alvarino Deu la Deu, Moncao e Melgaco, a Vinho Verde, as recommended to us the other day. We started with a fish soup, then a Portuguese butchers plate. The soup contained rather too much rice, and the meat had too many ‘ofaly’ bits. In the end, we refused any dessert or coffee, as we were too full up. The waiter then brought us a Cadao tawny port. We were well oiled as we walked back to the

hotel.

Jose, from the travel company, arrived with Lian’s missing pink bag containing her ‘wires’. Now we can have hot drinks in the room.

SPAIN: Valenca into Spain to Porrino. 12.5miles(20km), but seemed longer.

After breakfast, we started our walk through the old fort, before crossing the metal bridge over the River Minho into Spain. The upper-level takes the train, and the lower level is for cars and pedestrians. We took a photo of our feet crossing the line between Portugal and Spain. Time to put the watch forward an hour.

Looked into the Cathedral at Tui, where they were preparing for a wedding. As at times the Spanish and the Portuguese were at war, the Cathedral also served as a fortress.

Stopped at the medieval Roman bridge XIX, and look at the nearby modern pilgrim statue. The silhouette of a pilgrim has been cut out through a stone slab.

Saw the small, well-worn stone Pont da Fevres, where the Bishop of Tui died from the plague over 750 years ago. A plaque and a cross commemorate his ing by.

We walk through oak and eucalyptus woods and ed babbling brooks. We see many blackbirds and robins and a few jays.

Then we had a mile and a quarter (2km) walk alongside a long straight road. We were getting near to Porrino on the old route, and unfortunately, this es through many miles (km) of industrial buildings. There’s an alternative prettier route that takes an extra mile (km) or so. We were lucky to find this, as it was poorly signposted. Lian spoke to a German couple who were walking towards us. She asked them, “Are you going to Fatima?”. “No,” they said, “We missed the turning to Porrino, so we’re going back”. We followed them, as it was only about 400yards (350m). The last section was along a path alongside a small stream, but this seemed to go on forever.

Noticed that there was little use of the square cobbles for roads, lanes and paths once we reached Spain. It was either Tarmac or dirt and more comfortable to walk on.

Near Porrino, all the houses and fencing are made from rough granite – and one can see the quarries high on the hillside overlooking the valley. The fencing is from slabs set vertically in the ground.

I have taken lots of photos, but have no idea whether or not they are in focus.

We arrived at Hotel Parque in Porrino at 2:20 pm Portuguese time – 3:20 pm Spanish time.

Then we set off for a walk in the pedestrian area of town. It is a bit chilly now. Bought some hot tuna pastries and a Caesars salad, that we scoffed in the room with a litre of beer.

I have plasters on three toes of my left foot. Bought some ‘micropore’ paper plaster to use tomorrow, and will see if this is any better.

Porrino to Arcade. 13.7miles (22 km)

Today we will have two hills to climb. We left the hotel at 8:20 am in a slight drizzle, and the sun came through at about 10 am.

It was 10:30 am when we reached the top of the main hill. The zip of my old camera bag broke, so I left it in a dustbin.

Pilgrims not only walk, but they can also ride a horse or a bicycle. There is a different minimum distance for each category if they wish to earn their Compostela. We see many cyclists performing the pilgrimage, and sometimes they downhill at high speed. But all pilgrims give the greeting “Bom Camino” as they each other, and villagers will also often call it out.

A very steep section down was reached, and we enjoyed great views.

We met the same large Spanish family several times. They have a couple of escort cars that leapfrogs them along in front of us. They asked us to them for group photos. No, I don’t think they are pilgrims, but are just out to enjoy the countryside for the day.

Had one short shower. The route today has been on paved paths through villages, so is generally easy walking.

Reached Redondela at mid-day, and stopped for a beer or a coffee at the OS Viadtos.

Had a second hill to climb through the oak forest before reaching our destination at Arcade. We checked into the Duarte Hotel at 2:30 pm where we had a pleasant room with a view over the estuary. There was a heavy shower just as we arrived, and the accompanying wind blew Lian’s umbrella inside out, and it broke. Little choice but to throw it away.

Walked into town, as the hotel restaurant was closing at 6 pm. We had some ‘empanadas’ and wine at Arcade. Then on to another seafood restaurant for seafood in vinegar, mussels, chips, and with more wine.

Arcade to Pontevedra. 7.5miles (12 km).

The hotel restaurant was bustling as a crowd of visitors arrived at breakfast time. It is the 1st of May and a public holiday. The reception was trying to deal with many customers.

It was 9:15 am when we got away, and after a rollercoaster route out of town, we reached the summit of the hill an hour later. From then onwards it was a gentle downhill route to Pontevedra. Spent some time walking and chatting with a couple from Colorado in the USA. On the outskirts of town, we stopped at the roadside to have a plate of boiled octopus.

We checked into the Hotel Avenida by 1 pm. It was a good room, but a strange

L-shape, with a separate bed in each leg. The bags were delivered soon after, but we could find no Credencials ‘pilgrim’s ports’ in it, nor the rest our hotel vouchers. Lian called Jose again to see if he can help.

We walked back to the cafe where Lian had tried to get a stamp, but they had nothing turned in.

Back at the hotel, Jose called to say he had spoken to the Duarte manager, and they had searched both reception and our room but found nothing. Told us that they would call if they find it, and there was no point in taking a taxi there. However, it was now unlikely that a ‘Compostela’ would be granted to us at the end.

We were disappointed and went for a walk to check out the old part of town. Here we enjoyed a white wine, then a red one, sitting in one of the many small squares. It turned cooler, 60F (16C), and we felt quite cold once out of the sun. It was cloudy, and we expected some rain, that thankfully it did not come.

Pontevedra to Caldas de Reis. 13.7miles (22km).

Left at 7:30 am and enjoyed a pleasant walk through villages, woodland and by small farms. Some fields were being ploughed, and the soil is rich, black and fertile. Grapevines are everywhere. Many Blackbirds, Redstarts, Jays, and Robins were seen.

Reached Caldas de Reis and the Balneario Acuma Hotel before 1:30 pm. Our bags have yet to arrive. Today the soles of our feet felt slightly tender. Our room has a balcony and overlooks a big pool and thermal baths.

Time for a walk to see the main church, as it is named after Thomas a Becket, an English Archbishop of Canterbury, but it was closed.

Had a late lunch at the riverside restaurant Thermal; mussels, cod, ice cream, and two white wines for me, and Lian had mussels, steak and chips and ice cream.

Then went for a swim in the large open hotel pool, as well as a dip in the smaller hot pool.

Back for tea and a rest, before going out for a wander and finding the church was now open. The Guardian pointed out the figure of Becket, he being the central figure of the three above the altar.

For dinner at 8 pm, we had a carafe of the local white wine and boiled octopus at the Minos, another riverside restaurant.

Caldas de Reis to Padron. 13miles (21 km).

The alarm was set for 7 am as breakfast was at 8 am. Set off at 8:45 am.

We had a delightful walk, ing through small villages and woodlands, and seeing many wildflowers. Met up with the girl from Brazil, and later on the German girl with her little dog, Dante, who is wearing a collar embroidered with scallop shells – a real little pilgrim.

We ed Padron for 1.1/4miles (2km) to reach the Hotel Scala. It’s 82F (28C), so it seemed much further. Both of us were tired, and I wanted a beer. Walked to the restaurant next door and had a couple of cold draft Estrella Galicia. They gave out ‘tapas’ of roast pork in gravy and fresh bread - gratis - quite a sensational combination.

We returned to our room for a coffee and a rest, before going for a walk. The hotel has a big pool, but no heated water.

During the walk, Lian had a call to say that the hotel reservation we paid for in Granada was cancelled, as the hotel was closing down. Lian booked another hostal in the centre of the old town.

We have seen two interesting signs today. One was a STOP sign, and some wag had written ‘Complaining’ underneath. Another was written ‘Galicia is not Espania’.

Padron to Santiago de Compostela. 14.3miles (23km)

Went down for breakfast but had to a long queue for twenty minutes, as a

Polish coach party group had just arrived.

Left at 8:15 am following a pleasant path meandering through small villages between the railway and the main road. The weather was overcast, which was good for walking. The road level continued to rise 820ft (250m), before a 330ft (100m) drop, and a similar rise as we came into Santiago de Compostela, the destination of the ‘peregrinos’ (pilgrims).

Santiago de Compostela.

It was 1:40 pm when we arrived at the Lux Hotel, a very modern and welldesigned hotel. Our package included the hotel with breakfast, and tomorrow we will move to another hotel.

Went for a walk to the main cathedral, and then found the building processing the issue of the ‘Compostela’ certificates. There was a long queue. Told a security guard we had a problem, and we had to explain how we lost our Credential certs etc. The only ‘proof’ we could offer was Lian’s ‘fit-bit’ that shows the distance she walked each day, our photos, and my daily notes. We had to give our reason for our trip, and we ticked ‘spiritual’, as ‘religious’ would not really have been right – Lian being a Buddhist, and I a non-practising Church of England Christian. Somewhat surprisingly, they did not need to see details of any of our ‘proof’, but accepted our explanation, and told us to the queue. An hour’s wait ed quickly, chatting with others in the line. We were then called forward, and presented with our individual ‘Compostela’ certificates, all in Latin, confirming we had completed the pilgrimage. This was quite a relief.

Sat at a roadside café and had a couple of celebratory white wines each, and chatted with a couple from Oregon, Jan and Bob. Then, as we made our way

back to the hotel, we shared hugs and handshakes with many we had met along the way.

Met up later with Eric (Dutch), the elderly American woman and Danielle, her daughter, and Yolanda (Dutch), for dinner at Malak as a celebration.

Slept like logs that night, and after breakfast, we checked out and walked through the old city to ‘Hostal Lebranon’. Situated right next to the Cathedral on Rua de Fonseca, we had a small but well-appointed room.

At 11:30 am we went into the Cathedral. Most of the pews were already full for the mid-day Pilgrim’s Mass. We met up with people from the queue yesterday, including the woman from Alice Springs and the Chileans. The service started with nun singing chants and leading the congregation. She had a beautiful voice. The priest then read out the list of the countries from which pilgrims had arrived the previous day. We recognized ‘Malaysia’, but I missed the UK. All the service was in Spanish, and with a little in French.

We then climbed a few stairs behind the main altar to perform the ritual of ‘embracing’ the statue of the Apostle Saint James, before going down to see the crypt where he had been buried.

It was raining when we went out, and we quickly returned to the hotel for a hot coffee.

Out again, crossing the main square and went to have a look at the expensive Parador, where we had some wine and snacks.

A group of cyclists were enjoying the completion of their journey, and Lian got them to hold their bikes above their heads, ironman style, for photos.

Then went to the 11th-13th-century Cathedral in time for the 7:30 pm Mass. The guide book said that this was the weekly device where they swung the giant incense burner ‘botafumeiro’. But no luck. The morning Mass was much better, with the nun singing. Unable to leave early, as security closed the exits until all the service is complete.

We then had some local food: boiled mussels and chips and the local white wine.

Next morning, we walked to the market that was full of good quality vegetables, meats, huge chickens, cheeses, salted cod, and seedlings for planting. Sampled some local cheeses - the lightly smoked Saint Simon was our preferred cheese. They also have a big selection of fish, crabs of different species, and lobsters.

We had coffee toast and cheese in the slightly upmarket cafe by the market.

After a wander, we returned to our room for coffee and a snack of cheese and cold cuts.

In the afternoon, we visited the Museum of Pilgrimage and Santiago and found it informative and very well done. It seems that in early times, the scallop (Pecten maximus) was only sold to you, under strict ecclesiastical control, when you arrive at the northern entrance to the cathedral. It was sown onto your clothes in a position depending on your status, and it was then worn home.

At one time, the final destination of the pilgrims was the rocky coast of Finisterre. Here, at the end of the known world, they would burn all their clothes and boots, and put on new clothes for their journey home.

From here we went to see the Museo do Pobo Galego, a museum specializing in the culture of Galicia. Certainly interesting, but lacked any English commentary. There were many paintings and statues, including some showing St James on horseback and smiting a Saracen underfoot. The building boasts an amazing triple layer circular stone staircase.

The museum explained the Cross of Saint James, the symbol of the Order of the Knights of Santiago. This cross is a sword, representing the defence of the Christian faith and the weapon required to defend it – the sword. The fleur-de-lis on the handle symbolizes unstained honour.

We returned to Plaza Cervantes, where they had set up a stage. As well as playing some hard rock, they had a girl group playing Galician music. Very rhythmic, with bagpipes, big drum, snare drum, and accordion. Sounded very Irish to me, but excellent. Sat listening with some beer and wines, and met up with some other pilgrims, including the girl who had told us so profoundly, “If you can’t find the arrow, it will find you”. And she was right, and we had never been ‘lost’ for long.

Had dinner at ‘Galeon’, that had been recommended to us at our reception.

There was a concert of some kind, with deafening music that did not stop till 1 am.

Had breakfast in the room, checked out, and walked along to the Universal Hotel, which is ideally situated next to the airport bus stop. Our room was not ready, so we went for a wander past the market area and had coffee outside in the sun at the Tabernacle do Tarela. Today the sun is out, and the sky is blue.

We returned to the hotel and our recently modernized room. Lian did a web check-in for our forthcoming flight, and the hotel printed it out for us.

For walking in my Merrell boots, I have found that using normal cotton socks plus the thin airline socks, better than the Timberland thicker socks. Micropore paper on the individual toes was handy. Lian prefers socks with the individual toes best. Yesterday evening my right knee had begun playing up, so today I wore my elasticated knee guard.

Sorted out the bags, as mine will go in the hold, and Lian’s will be carry-on. My bag should hold Lian’s wash bag with her knife and other sharp items that are not allowed to be hand-carried.

Had a wander around, but most of the shops were closed as it was a Sunday, including the supermarket. Had a late lunch: Lian had mussels, and I had a hamburger with bacon, cheese and an egg.

Then back to the hotel for tea and a rest.

Back to ‘Galeon’ for dinner, where Lian had sausage cut up and on a bubbling oil hot plate. Very healthy? I had four slices of pork, chips and potato and cheese

croquettes. Very filling, but went well with the wines, and so was therefore very healthy.

Santiago to Barcelona.

The alarm was set for 5 am so that we could take the 6 am bus for the fortyminutes-drive to the airport. Had a few stops on the way, including the railway station and bus terminal.

The 8:50 am Ryan Air flight was due to land in Barcelona at 10:40 am. As the plane was full, they announced that engers could choose to put their luggage in the hold free of charge. So Lian did that, as we would have to wait for my bag anyway.

Barcelona.

Took a bus to Pl Espanya, and found that the entrance to the Metro has many stairs up and down. Made the four stops to Liceu, and it was just a short walk to the Hostal River. Our second-floor room was pretty basic; not en-suite, tiled floor, basin, electric kettle, hair drier, WiFi. Double obscured glass glazed doors open onto a balcony, but this was spoilt by scaffolding, as a contractor was carrying out renovation/decoration to the front elevation.

The hotel location, however, was excellent, and we would be enjoying the famous Las Ramblas street in minutes.

Set out for a wander in the old town in the area of the Cathedral.

We stopped by Carrefour to buy cheese, nuts, sausage, bread, sparkling water and a white Mayor de Castilla Verdejo 2016 Rueda. We then had a snack in the room.

Then walked down to the waterfront. ed by Christopher Columbus sitting high on a column, and continued eastwards along the side of the harbour and by the Museum of Catalan. We spot feral Monk Parakeets in the palm trees.

We note that many shops are run by Indians.

Back by 6:30 pm to rest, and drink some wine.

Found that there was only one bathroom for a floor of nine rooms, and the water in the shower extremely difficult to control - it was either freezing cold or boiling hot. Very disappointing.

We have walked 7.5miles (12km) today, according to Lian’s Fitbit.

Today would be a ‘Gaudi day’, visiting various sites to enjoy his architecture. Antoni Gaudi was born in 1852, and became one of the most influential architects in the world, developing a unique style and making full use of ceramics and wrought ironwork. He died at the age of 73 when he was knocked down by a tram.

On our way out, we had a look in the La Boqueria local market as they were opening. Walked to Plaza Catalunya, then we ed several Gaudi buildings on eig de Gracia, before going down Carrer de Mallorca to see what is probably his most famous building, the Sagrada Familia.

Construction continues on this amazing church, with a tower crane fighting for its life surrounded by the seven bell towers. First, we viewed the ultra-modern ion Façade and found it a little disappointing. The Nativity Facade, on the other hand, is typical Gaudi, and more to our taste. (But I think that it still doesn’t compare with the ‘Church of the Saviour on Spilled Blood’ in St Petersburgh, that is an even crazier design.)

Back to the ‘Quadrat d’Or’, as we had missed Casa Mila. Then on to Palau de la Musica Catalana.

Sat for a rest, and Lian had white wine, and I had an excellent A.K.Damm beer. As we ed Carrefour, we picked up some more items including ‘Terra’ Calida Blanco, a local white wine.

After a rest, out again to visit the Palau Guell that was very close by.

Then we walked all the way to the zoological gardens to see Gaudi’s dragon on the steps, only to find that it is in another park.

Had a look at the brick Arc de Triomf, that was built for the 1888 Barcelona World Fair and then walked down Trafalgar Street. We found the latter somewhat bizarre, as this is a battle that the Spanish lost.

We returned via a shopping mall in the Placa Catalunya.

Lian told me that today, we had walked 8.7miles (14km).

After breakfast in the room, we walked to see Gaudi’s Casa Mila ‘La Pedrera’. It had an imposing multi-level roof, and I was especially impressed with the brick arches in the attic. The kitchen had an Aga type cooker, with a ‘Marmite’ pressure cooker. Sliding doors between the kitchen and dining areas was a rather advanced idea for the day.

I have been looking through my photos, and I am in awe at the amount of detail and artwork that is included within all his designs. As a quantity surveyor, it would be extremely taxing to provide an accurate bill of Quantities for any of his buildings (without having to resort to mostly Provisional Sums and Lump Sums). Certainly, it would stretch one’s vocabulary to describe in detail the individual architectural and decorative elements. I have read that Gaudi preferred to provide models rather than architectural drawings. As a contractor, many would be extremely difficult to build, especially if one had submitted a competitive lump sum bid. So, I take off my hat to all those who had to translate Gaudi’s ideas into a finished building.

I think that Gaudi’s clients were also courageous to appoint him, as at that time his concepts were all so different from traditional architects, and the clients would be living within a giant sculpture, rather than a conventional building.

Barcelona to Granada.

We were back before noon for checkout, and then made use of the Hostal’s living room.

Had an excellent seafood and wine lunch in the market before leaving for the airport. Took the metro to Pl Espanya, and then used the No.46 bus, arriving at the airport an hour later.

The Vueling flight to Granada took an hour and a half.

We had a wait until the shuttle bus was full before it got going, and we arrived at the Cathedral 40 minutes later.

Granada.

In 711AD Moors from North Africa attacked Spain, and it was not until 1492AD that they were finally driven out by a Christian army. During that time the Moors built many elegant buildings, especially in southern Spain. Typically, the buildings had cloistered arched arcades and flowing water features in the many gardens. The walls were of fancy brickwork and were often covered with glazed Muslim motifs, and adorned with delicately made wrought ironworks.

We had bookings at the ‘Pension Hostal Antares’ that was very close to the Cathedral, at the end of a lane with several bars in it. We paid for the three nights by credit card.

The room was wedge-shaped and not too bad, with two single beds, an old TV, a

round table with two chairs, a wardrobe and a set of shelves, a washbasin, and airconditioning. The toilet and bathroom were close by.

Walked down the lane to the nearest supermarket, that stays open till about 11:30 pm. A Chinese family runs it. We bought a bottle of local Sauvignon Blanc wine, cheese and sparkling water. At night, the shops in this back lane look more like the Thamel area in Kathmandu, than someplace in Europe.

Lian has been bitten several times on her arm during the trip. Mosquitoes? My name must be Jack, as I seem to be all right.

Disappointed to find that the tours of Alhamra are fully booked for the next few days until Saturday, the day we would be leaving for Seville.

We walked up the hill to find ‘Hostal Nearalhambra’, the hostal that had cancelled our booking. Found that it had closed for renovation, and the decorators let us have a look inside.

Had a coffee on a roadside café, looking at a fountain with a view of the wooded hillside up to the crenellated towers and cloistered walkways of Alhambra. We continued up the hill to the main entrance. It was a very pretty walk up next to the outer walls, on a cobbled path, and then the walk down was under large mature trees, including many Chestnuts.

In the afternoon, we walked up the steep cobbled streets and steps to the Mirador de San Nicolas. Great views across the valley to Alhambra. There is still some snow on the mountains in the distance. We could see the rain coming from the south. As soon as it arrived, we took shelter in the San Nicolas church entrance

and shop. Once the main shower ed, we could see that the drizzle was well set in, so we made our way back to the hotel for a cup of tea.

For dinner, we had a seafood and pork ‘paella’ in the restaurant opposite, that we found both good and filling.

Next morning, we walked up and crossed Plaza St Ana beside Alhambra, and on to the Sacramonte hillside where they have cave houses. Visited the Cultural Centre, where they show the history of the caves. On the way down, we saw that some caves were still occupied, although the residents were doing their best to shield the caves from our prying eyes.

Giant ‘opuntia’ cactus are in flower with their yellow blooms.

Had lunch at an outside café, where I had potato omelette and a beer, while Lian ordered a baked potato with ham and mushroom filling and a glass of white wine. As we ate, we were entertained by the excellent local buskers playing guitars and singing.

Later we went out for a wander around the Cathedral and the surrounding area. Found the ‘Pilar del Tor’ where we had drinks and tapas.

After breakfast, we went for a walk on the cobbled paths and roads up to Pl San Gregorio. In the church, nuns were praying, dressed all in white, with a white veil over their heads.

One church had been built to honour two Catholic Franciscan monks who had been martyred in 1397 for preaching in the doorway of the mosque in the Alhambra. This certainly proved not to be a good career move.

On to a big square, with good views under blue skies of Alhambra, with snow on the mountains behind.

A local man was walking the street carrying a small music centre, so when he arrived, everyone ed in dancing to the local rhythms, including Lian.

Returned to the hostal for a noon checkout and left our bags at the reception.

Enjoyed a pizza and beer sitting at a table on the main terrace behind a low glass partition. There you can become invisible, and can people-watch unseen. It was time to make an encore order. We saw a several ing in crazy costumes – a Viking, man in drag, etc. Where were they going? Yes – to the bar next to our Hostal.

Granada to Seville.

Leaving the Hostal, we have to push our way through a noisy party, to catch the bus to the bus station.

The 3:30 pm bus was due to arrive in Seville three hours later. There was no WiFi onboard, nor a toilet.

We drove through a rolling landscape with hills in the background on both sides, ing extensive large fields of olive trees as far as the eye can see. Later the land was flatter, and after two hours we saw a field of sunflowers. Where have the all the vineyards gone? The bus arrived a couple of minutes early.

Seville.

We set off to find our accommodation, pulling our bags. My wheels were making a lot of noise on the pavements.

The crowd was being entertained by a pretty girl dancing to the flamenco music provided by a guitarist.

Found the address, but were flummoxed as to which bell level we should push. Then a man opened the door – he was another guest and said our Hostal was on the 1st floor. Struggled up very steep steps on well-worn marble. Maria’s mother was there but spoke no English. We were given a tiny room with multi-coloured bedspread, no sink and no hangers. But it did have a shared balcony overlooking the main street. No locks or catches on any bathroom or bedrooms doors. Our main light switch makes flashing sounds.

Found a mini Carrefour to buy wine, cheese, meat slices and bread.

Sat on our balcony quaffing the wine, between munching the bread and meat slices. The flamenco girl was still dancing.

I stepped outside to see a religious procession carrying a white draped box, followed by a full band playing a dirge. The players were all in black with gold braid their uniforms and tricorne (three-cornered) hats. Took a few photos, and back to the Hostal. The WiFi is shaky, and still Maria does not appear.

The Hostal seems to be located in a ‘happening’ place, but we have yet to appreciate it.

It was very noisy at night with people and traffic.

After we had our picnic breakfast in the Hostal lounge, we set off for the Seville Cathedral. What an impressive cathedral it is, with its bell tower that was once a minaret when the building was a mosque. On the way we investigated a small plaza where they have a morning market, selling stamps, coins, old watches etc.

Back to Cathedral to attend the 1:15 pm mass, when the organ was to accompany the service. An inspirational sound, playing music by Couperin, JS Bach, and Guilmant. Although the Mass was all in Spanish, we did pick up a bit about ‘ pilgrims and Santiago de Compostela’ in the sermon.

Then did a walk around the area following the Eyewitness book’s suggestion.

We popped into the Elmercafer Taberna for some lunch. I had Iberian ham, ‘broken egg’ and potatoes, and Lian had fresh sardines.

After a rest, we walked along to the bus station before crossing the river and walking south to the first bridge. At the ‘Taberna el Papelon’, we ordered Carrillada (stewed beef in a thick gravy) with a couple of glasses of dry white wine.

Later, we enjoyed wine and snacks on our balcony.

That night we slept better, with not so much noise.

Walked to Real Alcazar and this is very impressive – horseshoe arches, ceilings, tiles and gardens. By now we are beginning to be ‘tiled’ out – having seen both Moorish geometric style tiles and the later tiles with their Christian symbolism. I took so many photos here.

Then we stopped for lunch in the Alfonso XIII Hotel, completely blowing our budget.

Walked next door to the University building, that used to be a tobacco and cigar factory.

Then down to the riverside by the Torre de Oro where we had a hot walk alongside the river to the next bridge. The Castillo de San Jorge was still closed, and we did not fancy waiting the two hours until it opened. Back for a rest and some tea.

For dinner, we walked across the road to TGB, ‘The Good Burger.’ Okay, but

with a poor bun. Then walked up the road to an unusual structure in steel, like a cardboard or plywood interconnected structure, including a section that crossed the Plaza de la Encarnacion road.

This hostal has been our worst accommodation of the seventeen we have had on the trip so far. Last night they ran out of toilet paper. And we never met our hostess, Maria.

Seville to Córdoba.

We left the Hostal for the twenty-minute walk to the bus station and caught the 12:30 pm bus to Córdoba.

The landscape is flatter than the previous journey, planted with some olives and sunflowers, but nearly all wheat or barley.

What is that tower structure in the distance, with an incredibly bright light coming from it, shining in all directions? Googled it when we got back home, and it appears to be a 300MW solar tower that collects sunlight reflected by 624 huge mirrors. The light is so intense that it is said to light up the dust and the water vapour in the air.

ed a wind farm on the hills in the distance, and also a vast array of photoelectric cells.

The bus made a quick stop at Ecija to pick up more engers.

The countryside has become more rolling, with more olives, but no vineyards.

Arrive at Córdoba bus station before 2:30 pm.

Córdoba.

Started walking to find the Hostel La Corredera, 23 Rodrigues Marin. This took thirty minutes with our cases making a clattering noise on the tiled pavements.

We are not expecting to get in until 5 pm, as the reception is closed for siesta. But we were lucky the guy was there, and our room is charming with windows on opposite sides. It has a basin, a ceiling fan, table lamp, chair. Upstairs is a big terrace area. This charming room is right above the archway into the Plaza.

Hungry by now, so we went to a restaurant in the Plaza for a pizza, wine and a beer.

Lian’s wine was excellent, and luckily we later found the same one, ‘Dos Claveles’, in Carrefour Express when we went to get some essentials.

After a rest, we went out for a wander southwards to the river to see the new bridge and the old Roman bridge. This is adjacent to the Cathedral, that was once a mosque. We made our way back by the small lanes to our plaza. Had dinner, and even the tiny tapas portions were too big. Lian had fried assorted

fish, and I had pork loin in mustard sauce and chips.

After our usual picnic breakfast in the room, we set out for a visit to the Mezquita Cathedral. We had to queue for twenty minutes before the ticket office opened at 10 am. Famous for the red and white brick multi arches, held up on slim circular stone columns. It did not disappoint. Initially Christian, it was taken over by the Moors, and then returned to the Christians. The Mihrab prayer niche is especially beautifully carved and thankfully has not been destroyed over the ages. The central church nave is all in delicate white stonework and is in contrast to the original Moorish section of the Cathedral. Certainly, this is architecturally a fascinating building.

Then we did a wander around the streets following a guide book.

Stopping for lunch in Calle Deane at ‘Rafae Bodega Taberna’, Lian had fried pork cubes, and I had wild boar stew. Both with chips and white wines. Blue skies and hot again.

I am having a problem with my right eye, as it is dry and prickly. Eye drops are a help.

Back to the room for coffee and a rest.

ed the Plaza del Potro again (Cervantes had stayed here) and alongside the Guadalquiver River to the Puerte Romano bridge. Built by the Romans, the stone bridge is 246 yards (225m) long, and has 16 arches. The bridge is now pedestrian-only, and we wandered over to see the Torre (tower) and the watermill on the other side. Walked back, ing the Alkazar, and at the

Sinagoga, found we had been in this area during our morning walk, although at first, I did not recognize it. Made our way back to the Hostal, where we rested until we went out for dinner at the ‘Patricia’, in the Plaza. Had the Romana pizza again with anchovies, with a couple of the white wines, before trying the local red.

After breakfast in the room, we walked to the Palacio Viana. Then on to Jardines la Merced, a park area, ing a ruined Roman wall, and then to Plaza de las Capochinos. Mass was about to commence, so we left.

I bought some wine and other essentials for lunch.

Wandered about, visiting Plz Porto and on to the Museum Belle Artes. Then along to the Cathedral, and meandered back to the Hostel. The sunshine seems so bright here, and the polarized sunglasses are very helpful and do make the sky an incredible blue and accentuate any skimpy high clouds.

Had a few drinks in the room, then to the Plaza for our favourite wines and the excellent Pizza Romana - what a difference the anchovies make.

Córdoba to Madrid. About 250 miles (400km).

It took just over half an hour to walk to the bus station The Socibus Bus to Madrid left at 11:45 am for the five-hour drive.

Cruising at 63mph (100kph), with a speed limit of 75mph (120kph), we a rolling landscape of barley, some olives, and sunflowers. Flowering shrubs act as the division between the dual carriageways. At one point we ed many rows of parabolic solar heaters.

At Pedro Abad, we stopped for the driver to have his lunch and pick up fuel. Half an hour later, we continued, but with a different driver. This is olive tree country.

At Andujar, we stop for more engers, and by 2 pm we are ing a wild National Park area. Drove through a 1.2mile (1,950m) long tunnel, followed by two shorter ones. We have climbed to 2,300ft (700m) above sea level, compared with 230ft (70m) at Córdoba.

More grassland here, and we start to see vineyards on this very flat landscape.

Madrid.

Arrived at 4:30 pm, and from the bus station took the underground from Mendez Alvaro to Torso de Molina metro station, where we walked south to Calle de la Esgrima.

We reached our hostel at 5 pm. Our room is OK but has no basin. The whole flat is big but has only two bathrooms at the ends away from us. We have use of the kitchen with a fridge and the lounge. Given map and some information by Nikko, the receptionist, but did not meet either of our hosts.

We set off for the Museo del Prada, as entry is free from 6-8pm. Got slightly lost, and found a huge long queue waiting to get in. While waiting in the queue, Lian noticed a Blackbird feeding under a tree. When she said, “Look at that blackbird”, the others around us in the line looked horrified, until they saw a bird there. Anyway, we had an hour and a half there and saw most of what we wanted to see, including paintings by Goya, El Greco, Rubens, Velazquez, Albrecht Durer, Raffael and many others.

I bought some water and red wine and fruit on the way back.

We went out for something to eat. There were several Indian restaurants, all run by Bangladeshis. We chose to sit in the plaza and try their three-course set dinner, including wine, for 7€ each. OK, but quite chilly sitting there.

Slept in a bit this morning and had a picnic breakfast.

First, we visited the huge Plaza Mayor, and it’s very impressive with paintings on many walls between the windows. Then on to Mercado de San Miguel, that is full of eating and drinking places.

We ed the Plaza de la Villa. The Cathedral de la Almudena was interesting, as when they finished one service, then another was held that had a female choir. Their voices sounded great in the long, high nave. The ceilings look modern, as they are painted with bright modern patterns that stood out against the tall light grey columns.

Queued for a while at the Palacio Real de Madrid (Royal Palace), but we were unable to enjoy the pensioner’s savings, as we did not have our ports with

us, so we left. Mounted horseman, with plumed helmets and lances, guarded the Royal section.

In the Plaza de Espana is a monument to Cervantes. Twice lifesize statues of a mounted Don Quixote together with Sancho Panza on his donkey were proving to be very popular, with visitors climbing all over the sculptures of their favourite characters. The bronze had a wonderful green patina, apart from where many thousands of visitor’s hands had rubbed it away, to show the shiny brass colour beneath.

We walked eastwards along the Gran Via. Expensive shops, but many homeless beggars, most with a dog. The smaller plazas have many Africans selling goods from small sheets with tapes at each corner. If the police come, then they lift the tape ends, and the sheet forms a bag as they quickly move away with their sunglasses, shoes, fans, Paco Rabanne smell-alikes, etc.

Then south on Paseo de Prado to find where we can catch the yellow Airport Shuttle bus, and found it near the Atocha railway station.

Then made our way back the most direct way to the Hostel, stopping at a supermarket to buy some beer, bread, cheese and tomato for a late lunch.

Rested for an hour before walking to the Museo Arte Reina Sofia, where they have free entry from 7-9pm. ed the queue, and we have a twenty-minute wait.

They have a vast collection of Picasso entitled ‘Pity and Terror’ as well as Picasso’s ‘Path to Guernica’. This including ‘Guernica’, and some works by

Salvador Dali. Also saw an exhibition of Bruce Conner from the USA, who had some really creepy stuff using old nylon stockings.

On the way back stopped for dinner at ‘ER77’. We shared a salad, and then Lian had sardines, and I had fried chicken in garlic and chips. The portions were large and were washed down with the local ‘Blanco’ and ‘Tinto’.

Madrid to Istanbul to Kuala Lumpur.

We had been away for a full month when we took the half-hour bus ride to the airport. At check-in, we managed to change seats so that we could have legroom on both sectors.

The 3hour 45minute Turkish Airlines flight to Istanbul was a good flight, with an excellent entertainment system, having films and TV shows on demand.

After a two-hour stopover, we took the longer 10.1/2 hours Turkish Airlines flight onwards to Kuala Lumpur.

After the long journey, we then had a problem getting a taxi home to our condominium.

CHAPTER 13

China: - Yunnan and Sichuan.

Ploughing the red earth at Dongchuan.

As you may have noted from our previous trips, we have failed to reach the town of Litang a couple of times. Once because of health and once by the authorities closing the area to foreign tourists. We were hoping that the third time would be lucky.

Litang is a small town in southwestern Sichuan, on the high plateau, adjacent to the Tibetan border, and occupied by a majority of people of Tibetan descent. It is famed for its monastery for the Gelugpa sect.

Lian had planned an exciting route that would include Lijiang and Shangri-La.

It was mid-October when we took the Air Asia flight to Kunming in the province of Yunnan. After an initial hour delay, there was a further 1.3/4-hour delay and a change of gate which required us to cross back over the overhead bridge at KLIA2. The whole corridor was chock-a-block with engers, and none of the gates were open. Quite a fiasco so far, and then another change of gate. We were told all the delays were due to weather, but obviously, there was another reason.

The flight time was 3.1/2 hours, and an hour after landing, we were on the local metro. We found this comfortable, with a long carriage open all the way. Proper signage showed the stations before we arrived. Also, announcements were made in English as well as Mandarin.

After alighting at North Coach terminal, we were at the Jinjiang Inn ten minutes

later.

Kunming has a delightful climate, as you would expect from the ‘City of Eternal Spring’ situated at 6,000ft (approx.1,800m) above sea level (asl).

Next morning, I had the buffet breakfast of the usual Chinese fare, as I had not eaten since 1 pm yesterday. Lian did not have any breakfast, so ‘tap au’ (packed to take away) some buns and a hard-boiled egg.

Lian had the receptionist phone to book two nights at our next destination.

Kunming to Dongchuan Red Fields.

At a dinner in Kuala Lumpur, we had met a woman who was about to go trekking in the Dongchuan Red Fields in Yunnan. Although the leading guidebooks may not cover it, she had been told it was certainly worth a visit. Therefore we decided to visit this area, as it was not too far from Kunming.

It was before 8 am when we checked out and walked along to the bus station. There we bought tickets for 8:30 am bus to Huashitou. We needed to show our ports to buy the tickets and get through security. The 28-enger bus left 10 minutes late under an overcast sky and drove slowly through the town picking up engers. We were due to get out at Yuepu Hollow.

To get out of the valley, we ed through a tunnel nearly 2.4miles (3,820m) long.

We had one police checkpoint to see if we were all wearing our seat belts.

Wooded hillsides were on each side as we proceeded northeastwards. Noted a few brickyards on the way.

After about two hours we had a stop for a pee. The squat toilets comprised a slot in a concrete slab. A woman was doing good business selling baked potatoes. These you could cut in half and fill with an assortment of various pickles and peppers. Quite delicious, although my potato could have done with a little longer on the open fire.

The scenery was becoming a little more mountainous as we reached a large town and stopped by the bus depot where many engers alighted. Lian walked along to a shop selling SIM cards for telephones. She wanted a SIM card and a top-up. Only then she was told there would be a day’s delay before the new card could be ed. A young man saved the day, as he offered to let Lian have his SIM card and he took a new one. Although he said he would let his mother and friends know his new number, we continued to receive his phone calls for the rest of our trip.

The driver was very impatient and angry at having to wait for us.

We ed through the narrow streets of several villages, and saw many beehives in the fields.

It was 12:45 pm when we reached the hamlet of Yuepu Hollow.

Dongchuan.

I don’t know the name of the guesthouse, as all the signs were in Chinese, but a Mr & Mrs Lee ran it. We are given a room on the 2nd floor overlooking the scenic spot. It was a pleasant clean room, with a well-tiled bathroom. Unfortunately, all the rooms have a squat toilet, and I am finding that my old legs can no longer squat at the toilet without some knuckle .

We are at 7,650ft (2,335m) asl. Walked across the paved car park to the restaurant, and ordered a delicious lunch of omelette with tomato, and fried vegetables and rice.

We ed another couple for a tour around and told that we would be going out at 3 pm with a pleasant Chinese couple, who were both keen photographers. The owner’s son drove the car.

But we did not go far before we were in thick cloud. It was a muddy road/track most of the way to the famous viewing point at Luoxiagou. But we were unlucky, as the thick cloud continued, and it was quite windy. One local man was smoking a kind of water pipe that looked more like a small rainwater pipe. Then it started to drizzle, so we returned to the guesthouse by about 4 pm. Here the cloud was clearing, and we went up to the roof for great views and took several photos before the clouds came down again.

Later we got dressed to go for a walk but decided to wait until the drizzle stopped. It didn’t, and the wind howled outside the windows.

At 7 pm, we went over for dinner. At lunchtime, I had spotted some bacon in the fridge, so we had this fried with green peppers, and a bowl of cabbage soup, and rice. The vegetables are all locally grown, and the meal was delicious.

Next morning was rather frustrating, as we left at 6:45 am searching for a view through the clouds and mist, but to no avail. We gave up and returned for a breakfast of noodles at 8 am. We once more shared the car with the Chinese couple, who had been here before. The wife was decisive, and she knew precisely where she wanted to go, and so bullied the young driver.

Out again soon after, chasing the non-cloudy areas. Went where we tried yesterday afternoon, and there at Luoxiagou, we had terrific views both there and at other places, including our early morning trip to Damakan. The view across the valley to the mountains behind would be spectacular at any time. The colours and shapes of the cultivated fields are simply the icing on the cake. Villages dot the landscape, and the slightly overcast weather seemed to make the colours even deeper. We move on and cross a dark red field where potatoes had been the last crop. We see a man who was guarding his stacks of beehives. The rolling hills below us are partly shrouded in cloud. There is so much to photograph — time to change a battery. The mud is building up under our boots, and it is soon like walking in high heels. We kick most of it off before getting back in the car.

So, what makes Dongchuan special? The local earth is a deep red due to the abundance of iron oxide in the soil. The farmers appear to use a system of crop rotation in a set order, including leaving the fields fallow for a year. By chance, adjacent fields have different crops, and so are different colours. The crops include both white and yellow rape, as well as potatoes and maize, thus having a range of different colours, as well as the deep red of a newly ploughed field. The shape of fields is also unusual, as they are wrapped around the gentle curves of a hillside, with the low hedges following the contours of the land. This shape makes ploughing simpler, as it maximizes the length of a farrow in regards to the area of a field and there are no uphill/downhill farrows, and they thus conserve

any rainfall. Clever, and thus by accident forms a rather unique and photogenic landscape.

Unfortunately, we are just too early in the year to see all the colours depicted in the advertising photos, but even now they are still quite dramatic and unbelievable.

Got back at 12:30 pm, and spent a while cleaning our trekking shoes as they were caked with mud picked up crossing a potato field, and later down a muddy track.

The guesthouse local guard dog is chained up, and he is pretending to be friendly to me. The tail is wagging, and he wants me to come close enough to pat him or scratch his ears. But for some reason, I lack trust, and he gives up.

We ed the Chinese photographer couple for lunch and said our goodbyes, as they were leaving in the afternoon to drive back to Kunming.

Back in the room, Lian noticed she had lost a diamond earring. (Friday the 13th strikes!) But then by luck, we found it on the tiled floor of the bedroom.

From our room, we can see a man ploughing the red earth using a pair of cows. The field is sloping and curves around the hillside. The cows tread delicately as they reach the end of a furrow, before turning around to make a return journey one furrow-width uphill. We spot a local girl who is collecting grass and weeds as cattle feed.

We went for a walk up and down the village. Most of the farmhouses have now been converted as guesthouses, with only a couple of the old original type houses left. Several small hotels are currently under construction. We an old shepherd with his sleeveless jacket of sheepskin. He then picked up a waterproof bag of similar design, made from an old sugar sack.

We bought a bottle of Dali V6 beer and some biscuits in a small local shop.

For dinner, we had fried bacon and arrowroot, and fried cabbage and a green vegetable, with rice.

Dongchuan to Kunming.

After breakfast, we planned to take the bus due to stop outside the hotel at about 9:40 am so that we will be waiting 15 minutes earlier.

Lian was chatting with Mrs Lee, who then advised that we should take the first bus, and this was just about to arrive. It was misty, so we were not missing anything by leaving a little earlier. So, we had to run down, and we left at 9 am. The bus was only half full.

As we villages, we see that the maize had been harvested and is hung out to dry.

After an hour and a half, we stopped for a for five-minute cigarette and pee stop. Once again, we found pretty disgusting toilets.

The conductor comes and tells us to put on our safety belts, as there would be a police-check ahead, and he then collects our fares.

At 11:15 am, we have a fifteen-minute stop again at the baked potato stall. Here the conductor washes the mud spray from the side of the bus.

As I tuck into my potato, I note that many of the ing vehicles are SUVs. Hyundai is very popular, but I prefer the looks of the Leopard, an attractive car from a Chinese manufacturer. It apears1 that motorbike and scooter riders do not need to wear helmets.

We arrived at Kunming northern bus terminal at just after 1 pm, where we take the Metro the fourteen stops to Kunming railway station.

Night train from Kunming to Lijiang.

It was then a long walk from the Metro to the main station, as one had to walk around the outside of both buildings. Surely there must be a shortcut?

There was heavy security at the station. The Chinese still the ‘Rampage’ here in March 2014, when eight Uighurs used long knives and daggers to kill 29 people and wound 143. Four of the terrorists were killed on the spot, and the other four were arrested.

Got a run around trying to pick up our prepaid tickets, but finally picked them up by 2:45 pm.

We now had time to waste. First, we had a meal in ‘Discos’. At 5:30 pm, we left and went into the station and up to the main waiting room.

An hour later, we enquired again and were redirected to a smaller VIP waiting area. This one had a charging station, and we could charge Lian’s iPhone and our two iPads at the same time using Lian’s triple charger. We could hear and see that it was raining heavily outside.

We have bookings on train K9616 to Lijiang at 21:48hrs. We found our compartment, where we have reserved a lower and an upper bunk. A young Chinese honeymoon couple is sharing the compartment with us. We put the baggage up on a shelf above the entrance door and over the corridor. Although it was a bit tiring having to lift it so high, it gave us much more room.

Lijiang. 7,600ft - (2,320m) asl.

We slept well. The train was slow and kept stopping for fast trains to go through. It was not very smooth and often jolted when slowing down, yet the take-off was very silky.

We arrived at Lijiang station at 7:10 am. Took bus 18, and got off as instructed after the thirteenth stop. Lian had called Rain, who came to meet us at the main road and escorted us up a very rough paved stone lane to the Runtong Inn by 8:10 am.

The Inn had been destroyed in the 2011 earthquake and rebuilt five years ago. Indeed, it was very picturesque. We have an end room on the ground floor, with a small sitting area, shower and sit-down WC.

We had to wait for half an hour for the room to be cleaned, but this was an excellent time to get a cup of coffee and local information from Rain.

Then we enjoyed a wonderful shower and a washing session. We could hang up our clothes at the 3rd level roof.

Rain suggested we have noodles in a shop down on the main road near where he had met us. The ‘Authentic Lincang Yunxian Chicken Noodle’ shop was not where he described it, but quite a way further down the road. But it was worth the search and quite delicious. The surprising thing is that the free-range chicken flesh is black, and not the standard white.

The South Gate was nearby, and we wandered in and soon found the Zhongyi Market. Bought some fried dumplings to try, and also a sample of some fruit wines - mulberry and a flower seed.

We continued westwards to the Three Wells. They have some life-size sculptured figures there now. The first well one is for drinking water, the second for washing vegetables, and the third for washing clothes. Locals were making use of ‘well 3’ at both the triple wells we had seen this morning.

I had forgotten to bring a spare camera battery, so we returned to the hotel to

pick one up, have some coffee, and charge Lian’s iPhone battery for a while.

Out again, we walk northwards towards the main square. Tried to find the hotel we used in 2006, the ‘Sunshine Zone’. The road entrance has changed at the bottom and took some time to locate. The hotel had been extensively rebuilt after the earthquake. It now contains only four suites, and the rate has increased proportionally.

The area around the water wheels is extensively planted with different species and colours of chrysanthemums. My Dad would have loved it.

In the main market square, the old Naxi women were dancing. One group had blue and white costumes, while the others were in pink and white.

It was now hot in the sun, but we were told that the previous day had been wet and cold. Being a Sunday, many families are out for a stroll with their children.

We set off to find the supermarket on the main road. Found a Carrefour, and bought some roast duck and pancakes for dinner, and a couple of Dali V8 beers.

That night we slept very well, despite rather a hard mattress. It was about 8” (20cm) thick, but has never had the plastic and cardboard cover taken off.

Taking our ports with us, we set off for a walk to the central outstation bus station, where Lian bought tickets for a 4-hour express bus to Zhongdian (Shangri-La), leaving the next morning at 8:50 am.

On the way, we came across a lot of locals dancing. Lian ed in a kind of long shuffling line dance. Several groups were practising ‘qigong’ with its ritualistic movements, and another group of ladies were fan-dancing to a portable music player.

The weather remained overcast as we set off wandering again to the eastern side of town, but we were soon lost in the alleyways. I checked out several delightful little inns and took plenty of photos.

Visited a tea warehouse that sold compressed tea, including some Pu Er teas. There were so many different large sizes, some compressed like squashed watermelons. The owner and staff are from Xiaman and speak ‘Min-Nan-Hua’ Hokkien, that is Lian’s dialect.

It was 3 pm before we got to the black chicken noodle shop. This time I ordered a large bowl, but Lian stuck with a small one.

Back at the hotel, Rain gave us a steamed crab to eat, as his friend’s mother had brought several. The family was having a party, and he would not take no for an answer.

Sitting in the garden, Lian ed ‘Lost Horizons’, James Hilton’s tale about the fabled Shangri-La, the place we will be visiting next.

In the evening, we went for a walk along to the main square to check out the activity, and the lights. Even by 7:30 pm, some of the places by the waterway

were already swinging. Everywhere we had loud music, laser lights, teeny boppers wiggling on the dance floor, artificial (I hope!) smoke, and singers. Everyone seemed to be waving coloured balloons.

When we were here before, the nightclubs were simply restaurants with girls in local costume singing at the doorways hoping to entice one to enter.

Anyway, times have changed, and the Chinese tourists were enjoying themselves. We have only seen a handful of white tourists here. According to Lian’s Fitbit, we have walked 8.1/2 miles (14 km) today.

Lijiang to Khongdian (Shangri-La).

We took the No.11 double-decker to the well-organized bus station. Our bus is large, with seating at a high level. We have seats at the front, so we should get excellent views. Hard to get into our seats as the TV is in the way, and we have limited legroom. But they say you can’t have everything. The bus pulled out right on time for the 114-mile (184km) drive.

Half an hour later, we ed through a 2.4mile (3,880) long tunnel. We can see snow on the high peaks. At 10 am we reached the town of Longpanxiang, where at a police checkpoint, they checked our seat belts and IDs. Later we had a pee stop, where we were charged for the use of a filthy channel. All the male engers enjoyed a cigarette during the ten-minute stop. The sun is out and quite warm.

Shortly after we the junction for the Tiger Leaping Gorge, we are in a hydro area, and we have steep mountains either side of us. This spectacular road climbs

to 10,250ft (3,125m) ed pine forests on the mountainsides.

We are now seeing some Tibetan flags. We dropped down to a plateau area at 10,000ft (3,080m), and spot small black pigs grazing in the fields.

We arrive at the bus station after the 3.3/4-hour journey. Picked up by the hotel minibus and checked into the Moon City River Hotel.

The sun is out, and there are very few clouds in the sky, so it is a great time to catch up with any washing. Lian did this, and we hung it up on the rooftop clothesline.

Shangri-La.

The authorities in Khongdian must have attended an advertising/marketing seminar. Who would be drawn to visit a town called Khongdian? The answer is few. However, what about Shangri-La? That’s better, and although there are other claimants to the name, no-one can prove this is not the actual one as described in James Hilton’s ‘Lost Horizons’. So, the town name was changed, and the tourist started to come.

Time to explore, so we started by walking along to the old city gate. Unfortunately, the old town had a disastrous fire on 11th Jan 2014, and the majority was raised to the ground. So now very little is original. I must it the renovations have been done very well.

As we walked across the main square, some girls at a stall called Lian over as I wandered on, camera in hand. Then I heard people shouting “Michael, Michael” several times, very loudly. Turning, I could see Lian and the two women waving and laughing. I walked over and sampled some yak milk, and then we had yak kebab and a pork kebab, both well sprinkled with chilli powder.

We ed lots and lots of tourist shops and small restaurants.

One shop selling thangkas (Tibetan paintings of Buddhist deities) was offering one-week thangka painting lessons. Thangka painters take many years to be proficient, but at least I could be sure of finishing with the world’s worst thangka.

Had a look in several hotels and some were gorgeous inside, but out of our price bracket.

Went into one hiking supermarket and I got a replacement for my trekking stick for only US$3. (I lost the end cap in Papua when birding in the swamp) The same brand was twice the price in another shop.

Had a look into an old temple that had a ‘no photo’ policy. Decorated with circular hanging silk drapes, three monks were reciting mantras.

Returned to the room with a couple of large Dali V8s, but had time for a cup of tea first.

Walk along to the ‘Com’ for dinner. The owner is Singaporean, with an Indian wife. Lian had chicken curry, and I ordered marinated pork and rice. Both were quite good. Also received some excellent information from the Englishspeaking staff on suggestions of things we should do. On the way back, we went to Moon Square where some local people were dancing, and we could see beautiful coloured floodlights on the main temple and hillside.

Found we have underfloor heating in the room, and it is too warm when combined with the warm duvet. Only the next morning, we found the thermostat, which someone had set for 84F (29C), so we reduced it to 68F (20C).

We went down for breakfast, and when you over your voucher, you are given chopsticks. Food was Chinese buffet style, with tables for eight. All the chairs get filled with the local tourist groups, so we had to them.

Taking the little No. 3 bus to the Lamasery, we walked around the interesting Tibetan cultural museum.

ports in hand, we took a taxi to the bus station to check forward routes, and then buy tickets for the next day. Lian was informed that we could get to DeQin, and they thought one could get to Litang from there, but they were not sure if foreigners could travel there.

Tickets were purchased for the 8:20 am bus to DeQin for the 115-mile (184km) four-hour trip. We took the No 1 bus back to the old town. Tried to run about 220 yards (200m) to catch the bus, but could not at this altitude. Luckily the driver saw us and waited for us as we stumbled on.

The ‘100 Chicken Temple’ is 350ft (110m) above the town. Most of the way is on a dirt path, but there are stone steps near the top. Stopped halfway for a picnic and to enjoy the magnificent view over the town. We had been ed by a small black dog who led us upwards. Surprised to see he wore a collar. Nearer the temple, the path was adorned with prayer flags. No, I did not count the chickens walking around the temple. The temple itself is quite small, but with a sparkling ‘gold’ roof and the best view over the town and the valley. The view to the other direction was to the airport. Although 60F 16C, it felt considerably hotter, and we were quite tired when we reached our hotel.

Out for dinner at a local restaurant: noodles, dumplings, cabbage and Tau-Fu soup. Then walked to the square to photograph the floodlighting.

Time to check budgets, and as usual to do the majority of the packing before we sleep, and so save time in the morning.

Shangri-La to DeQinto .

Lian had decided to skip breakfast. It was only due to start at 7 am, but the room was already pretty full with a tour group at this time. I had just started mine when the woman next to me bit into a tomato, and a line of seeds squirted across the table and onto me. To begin with, I did not know what it was. Anyway, I gave up and walked out with a couple of hard-boiled eggs and some steamed pau (bread).

We took a taxi to the bus station. Soon after leaving town, we ed a large lake on our left, and the road starts to climb. We see pine trees, and already the deciduous trees are beginning to change colour. Beautiful mountainous scenery, with steep, pine-covered mountains, and with villages in the valley bottoms.

Once over the first , the road starts to drop as we proceed northwards. The slow drop is from about 11,500ft (3,500m) down to 6,300ft (1,925m), and on the way, we through a few long tunnels including one that is 3.3miles (5,340m) long. The right-hand lane is wet from the water sprayed on the brakes of the heavy vehicles.

In the valley bottom, we a few grapevines and a town. Here we had a pee stop. It is much warmer here, and our driver strips to a singlet. We left the valley, and the road starts to rise amid the bare mountainsides.

After ing one tunnel 2.4miles (3,951m) long, we were held up for over an hour by a landslide that stopped us entering another 3.2 mile (5,180m) long tunnel. Cars and other small vehicles can take a diversion onto an old road over the mountains. Leaving the long tunnel at 12,900ft (3,930m) the road took a switchback descent. Sparkling snow-covered peaks came into view to the southwest.

Then, after ing a nearly mile-long tunnel (1,530m), we could see DeQin town down 500ft below. The mountainsides are so steep, and the town is wedged into the valley below. This little town is just waiting for a disastrous landslide.

The bus arrived at the DeQin bus station five hours after setting out. We are at 10,300ft (3,145m) asl.

Return to Shangri-La.

Went straight to the ticket office, only to be told that foreigners could not get to Litang from here, as the road es through or too close to Tibet at one spot.

The only way to Litang was from Shangri-La by the 8 am bus! The police then confirmed this. One policeman was kind enough to give us each a bottle of yoghurt. As there was a bus leaving in an hour, we purchased tickets back to Shangri-La.

They have allocated us seats right at the back. Then two old Tibetan women wanted our seats, as they liked sitting in the rear. We then swopped to their seats, that were nearer the front, so all was settled.

The bus only left at 3 pm, and we set off back the road we came on! No point in getting upset. So, watched the scenery, checked my notes and watched some Tibetan pop videos on the bus TV.

Had a fifteen-minute pee-stop two hours later, and the bus took on water for the brakes.

The photography opportunities on this trip are immense. But taking shots through dirty windows on a moving vehicle is a problem even after setting the camera speed to a 250th of a second. Being able to stop where you want would have been a useful luxury.

Reached the Shangri-La bus station at 6:30 pm, after dropping engers off in town.

We there bought tickets for next days’ bus to Daocheng, that takes ten hours. We can then either stay there overnight and get a bus the next day or take a threehour shared-taxi on to Litang.

Time to find accommodation, so I stayed in the waiting room with the bags and backpacks, and Lian went to find a hotel near the bus station.

We had our dinner at a small place; a too chilli-hot fried rice, and stir-fried cabbage.

I found it cold in the night and put on a second duvet, but Lian was warm.

Shangri-La to Daocheng.

We bought some fried buns outside the bus station for breakfast and had some of these as the bus pulled out at 8 am on its journey north.

The bus is old and 3/4 full. Surprisingly, many are backpacker tourists. With my long legs, there is no knee room, so I move to the back to take the centre corridor seat. I may need to move back if the bus fills with local travellers. It is a bright and sunny morning, and we see frost on the grass as the road slowly climbed. By 8:30 am, we reached 11,000ft (3,375m) asl, before slowly dropping.

An hour after starting, we stopped at a Police checkpoint, where they checked ports and identity cards, and two hours later started a zigzag climb up the forested mountainside. By 10 am, we reached a summit of over 12,000ft (3,700m) asl. As we slowly drop, there are stark grey vertical mountains across the valley on the left-hand side.

The bus’s front suspension or steering has been making serious-sounding clunks from the start.

The road follows a clear river along a 9,500ft (2,895m) valley, and the driver stopped for a forty-five minutes rest. We enjoyed the remainder of our fried buns.

By mid-day, the road was rising, and we were driving on rough stones with no tarmac. The fir trees have wind plants draped over the branches. We reached the top of the 13,600ft (4,140m) asl by 1 pm, to find amazing views. Thank goodness the road surface is not so rough. Stopped for a pee, and had a chance to take some photos. For 80% of the way, we now have a 1,000ft (300m) drop on one side. ing a car is OK, but a lorry or bus can be daunting,

At 4 pm, we stopped at an 8,850ft (2,700m) high police checkpoint, and all had to get out and have our ports photographed. We chat with the other tourists and receive a lot of conflicting information about getting to Litang.

Setting off again, we a sign showing the altitude, and I have a chance to check this against the altimeter on my watch. It seems I am about 145ft (44m) low, which I think is pretty good, so no need to change any of my noted levels.

At the 5 pm pee stop, we bought some pears as the bus was washed down.

Half an hour later we reached a 14,600ft (4,475m) , and the land is now stark, with no trees, although we could see a few yaks.

At 6 pm the police rechecked our ports, but this time they took photos on the bus using a phone.

We reached the Daocheng bus station in the dark at 7:10 pm.

Daocheng. 12,000ft (3,635m) asl.

As we got out of the bus, a taxi driver offered to take us directly to Litang the next morning, as soon as his taxi was full. We agreed on a rate of US$8.75 (rmb60) each and exchanged telephone numbers.

Walked out to the roadway, and soon saw a ‘7-Day Inn’. Although over budget, Lian has a headache, so we checked in. She showered and went to bed. I had a pot-noodle, a shower, and ed her.

Daocheng to Litang. 127 miles (205km)

We had set the alarm for 6 am, as the driver talked of leaving at 7 am. The driver called at 6:20 am to wake us up and tell us he had a full taxi, and so was on schedule.

Although dark, the town was busy with many tourist buses and cars leaving. It was cold for us at 39F (4C).

In a Chinese Wenga MPV by 7 am, and left at 7:15 am with Buddhist chants on the radio. The other enger speaks some English. Our Tibetan driver wears a face mask.

The road is along a wide valley, and we cruise at 50-55mph (80-90kph). We small towns with unpainted Tibetan houses. At one, we stop to pick up two more customers who climb into the 3rd row.

Soon after entering a wide gorge, the road starts to climb through clouds to 14,500ft (4,400m) asl to a flat rocky plateau by 8 am.

Reaching a plateau wetland, we left the main road and drove over the grassy marsh to pick up some sacks from two women. We were shown the small roots, looking like caterpillars. These are cordyceps sinensis, the caterpillar fungus. Collected from the roots of mountainside plants, they are very expensive, and used to make an all-curing herbal tea. The sacks were strapped onto the car roof, and we waved goodbye to the women who had retreated to their brick hut.

We see more fir trees here before the road descends to a broad plain 11,700ft (3,550m) with hills in the background. Lian is sleeping, as I hear no chit-chat with the engers. The driver lights up a cigarette, but stubbed it out when another enger told him that Lian was not well, and cannot take the smoke in the car.

We drove over a low onto a vast plain 12,500ft (3,785m) and see a lot of small horses around, and many yaks. The town of Litang looks very stark from a distance, with many small square blocks of flats and is rather scruffy when you enter.

Litang. 12,600ft (3,825m) asl.

With the help of the other engers, we found our hotel, the Peace Guest House, and the driver dropped us off. Not impressive. One enger asked if we were sure we wanted to get off there. We told the hotel we wanted a ‘sit down toilet’. They only have one such room, so we took it at 10 am. They have WiFi, but there is a power cut, so we cannot even have a hot drink yet. We did not unpack.

We walked along to the main road and checked the price of a shared taxi to Kangding, before going to the bus station to get their price. Told that the only bus leaves at 6 am.

Went in a restaurant to order fried rice as a ‘brunch’ and this was quite filling.

Many locals are wearing face masks. Several police armoured cars by, so security is substantial.

We had considered two or even three nights here, but the weather forecast is not good as far as sightseeing is concerned, and the town hardly impressed us. So we decided to have only one night here, and drive to Kanding tomorrow.

Lian bought our bus tickets for the morrow at 6 am - the only bus per day. (144 miles or 230km.)

Went back to tell the hotel we were moving elsewhere and left our bags in the

reception. Had quite a search around, but nothing much going. In the end, went into Potala Hotel. Room 302 is better; with windows on two sides, a sit-down toilet, and electric blankets. The manager said power would come later, but if not, then they have a generator.

Went to bring our bags back and checked in. A drizzle started, but at least the power came on twenty-minutes later.

Walking up two stories is hard work at this altitude, and any exertion makes the chest heave.

We had read that both the 7th and 10th Dalai Lama were born in Litang, and so went out for a walk up to the Litang monastery, a couple of kilometres away. To start with, we were walking in a drizzle as we ed the houses in the old town. Even in the rain, the monastery complex looks impressive. You climb steps and enter a courtyard with three main temple buildings. The buildings all appear new and unfinished. Men are laying granite paving stones, and others are trimming rough pine planks. The interiors are practically complete, and one is not supposed to take photos. Walked back using the main road into town.

The people here are quite handsome, especially the men, with their fine features. Saying “Tashi deli” to the Tibetan people always raised a smile and a similar greeting.

Lian found a shop to top up her local SIM card, and later bought a few bananas. I enjoyed these with a cup of tea when we got back.

It was raining when we went for dinner at the local place on the corner of our

street. We had a noodle soup and a wonton soup, both with a beef flavour. Both tasty and filling. Back in the room by 7:30 pm.

Litang to Kangding.

The alarm had been set for 4:45 am, but we both woke several times in the night checking the time.

Left the hotel by 5:30 am but had to wake the manager to unlock the door. It’s 40F (5C) and dry, and as we walk along, we see many people walking in the dark down the road pulling bags. The ticket office only opened at 6 am. A big bus pulls in, but this is going direct to Chengdu.

Then ours arrived. Most of the engers are of Tibetan origin.

The bus left, but only as far as the new proper bus station to pick up more engers. They tell us to put on seatbelts and hand out sick bags to those who want one. That included all our surrounding engers! Off at last just before 7 am, as dawn was breaking. Luckily no one was sick.

We are soon in a long tunnel and climbing.

Our seats are next to the back row, and condensation on windows may make taking meaningful notes difficult, as I am unable to read the road signs, such as the length of a tunnel we were coming to that are usually marked as an exact length in meters.

At a police checkpoint, they collected and checked local identity cards and our ports. We are the only foreigners on board.

A drizzle started to fall on the grass-covered bare rolling hills. For the first two hours, we were driving at between 13,000 to 14,000ft (4,000 to 4,250m). We see some fir tree and shrubs, before dropping a couple of thousand feet (600m) through a steep-sided valley to a wooded valley below. We have a pee stop, and fill up with water for sprinkling on our brakes.

We proceed along a steep valley by a stream, reaching the big town of Hekotown at 10:15 am. Here we a Tibetan wedding celebration in the town.

Before 11 am we start to ascend by switchbacks on several bridges spanning the valley like a corkscrew. We reached one very long dark tunnel at 12,500ft (3,820m) with only flashing lights at kerb level. The length was unknown, but it took seven minutes to drive through, before descending to a valley below. By mid-day, we stopped for a while at a town (11,000ft – 3,370m) asl and bought some yak jerky - chilli hot. We then shared a large and delicious sweet corn.

Many of the Tibetan houses here have Chinese pitched roofs instead of the traditional flat roofs.

Lian notes that people have chesty coughs, with plenty of phlegm.

We can see a dusting of snow ahead on quite low hills, and more on the mountains behind us.

At 12:45 pm we ed a long queue of cars and lorries. There were police around, so we assumed there had been an accident ahead. Three hours later and we had still not moved an inch. Some vehicles have come in the other direction. Then at 3:10 pm, we started moving a little. We ed a lorry loaded with three levels of live sheep, and ten minutes later, we seem to get going. Our driver has been overtaking everything he can but came to a stop for ten minutes at 3:30 pm. We are now climbing on slush, and as we get higher, the snow gets thicker, and there is deep slush on the road. We even have a traffic jam at 13,500ft (4100m) asl. We stopped, and I hope the bus can restart. We see a sign saying 20 miles (35km) to Kanding.

Stopped again at 4 pm, and no one is moving. Our driver puts snow chains on both back wheels. Things are now quite serious, as no traffic is coming the other way. Then, fifteen minutes later, we began moving again, edging forward 50 yards (50m) at a time. A tanker lays on its side in the gutter. Many parked lorries have been there a while, as they have icicles hanging from their canvas covers. Visibility is poor, with low cloud. Police do have a presence. Reached the summit at 13,700ft (4170m) asl by 4:30 pm.

There is a long queue of traffic going all the way down for 1,000ft (300m). At 5 pm, our driver takes off the chains in three minutes, and half an hour later, we reach the valley bottom where it is still snowing until we reach 9,250ft (2,820m) asl. We were undoubtedly fortunate not to have spent the night on the mountain.

It was drizzling as we arrived at the Kangding Bus station at 6:10 pm. (The seven-hour trip being five hours late). We crossed the road to the ‘7-Day Inn’ and checked in ten minutes later. Do we stay one or two nights? The weather forecast for the morrow was not good, so one night only. (We have been here before, and done the tourist stuff).

We booked a bus to Chengdu for 9 am the next morning. Hopefully only a seven-hour trip.

We have a good view from the bedroom of a steep wooded hillside with a fastflowing river.

For dinner, we had pork and vegetables, cabbage soup and rice, in the local restaurant next door.

Kangding to Chengdu. 230 miles (368km)

The roadside is full with a long queue of lorries and buses waiting for the road to clear westwards. It’s 45F (7C) outside. Standing in the road, we could see that the mountains to the west were gleaming white with fresh snow.

Our bus has only seats on an upper deck. We left on time, at 9 am, with an ETA of 4 pm.

From the 7,800ft (2,380m) of Kangding, the road eastwards descends through a gorge, and we several tunnels and hydro schemes.

We see cactus on the hillside and orange trees near the villages.

Police stop us to check that seatbelts being used, and examine our ports.

We a suspension bridge under construction.

By midday, we were down to 3,000ft (890m) asl. Our road runs by the elevated dual carriageway. Saw some bamboo growing on the steep hillsides. We are ing through the real Panda country.

At 12:30 pm we the big town of Ya’an 2,250ft (685m) asl, and later stopped for a lunch break when we had some fruit and corn. The sun is out, and the hillsides are wooded.

We glance at the TV, playing Chinese action films. There is no need to understand Chinese. As they say: actions speak louder than words.

By 1:45 pm, we are on a dual carriageway toll road, driving along a wide valley that is under agriculture. Both sides of the highway are often lined with conifers, and these hide the views into the distance.

About 2 pm we saw tea bushes at 2,400ft (725m), and later at 2,000ft (600m) some vineyards.

It was 3:10 pm when we crossed a wide river, and 3:50 pm as we pulled into Chengdu southern bus station.

Chengdu. 1,500ft (465m) asl.

‘Traffic Hotel’ is just behind the bus station, and we were soon checked in. We were in an old room that had been initially part of the Hostal next door, but has been renovated.

Lian books an extra night here online.

We went next door to the hostal, ‘Mother Panda’. Here people assisted Lian to book Air Asia back to Kuala Lumpur, as Lian’s iPad was being rejected. The bookings were finally made. One slight problem is that my old port number had been used, rather than my new one.

Had dinner and a couple of Tsingtao beer in Mama Panda’s and chatting with a young Danish couple.

I slept like a log, but the coffee Lian had made it hard for her to get to sleep.

Breakfast in the hotel comprised a watery rice porridge, pickled cabbage, peanuts, pau, boiled egg. It was a rather poor selection.

Visited the Air Asia office where they updated the information to include my new port number with no problem. That’s a weight off our mind. While there, Lian phoned another office to get them to send confirmations to her Yahoo address instead of her Gmail address, as China does not accept Gmail.

Then took an 82 bus to visit the Sichuan Museum. Before going in, we went

down an interesting alleyway. Lian entered a small shop where three people were being served tea in a very ritualistic way by a young woman with an exquisite face, framed with a low fringe. The shop had several clothes hanging up, and Lian tried one on. Great design, but a little too large for her. A small cloth bag also interested her. The young lady showed that the cloth bag was to contain a Chinese porcelain cup and saucer. We found that the woman had designed everything in the shop. We also found that we had interrupted an interview. The three were interviewing the woman who was ing gifted children with an art show. She had written a book based on stories people had told her when sitting at a tea-drinking session. She insisted we try her teas, and we were served a white tea, followed by a red tea. Then, as we left, she presented us with a signed copy of her book, naturally all in Chinese. Her name is Ann Ke.

Walking on, we found we were in the Song XianQiau Antique and Art Market. Some antiques, but mostly Tibetan beads, jade bracelets, etc., etc.

We walked along the road to the Museum. ission is free, but we had to show our ports and sign in. The most interesting section was the history of Buddhism in China, with many statues and carvings. Includes maps showing the travels of Faxian, and other traveller’s routes.

Had noodles in a small place before having a quick look again at the Market.

Caught the 82 bus back, but it was rather embarrassing when two women stood up and insisted that I sat down in their seat.

I picked up a beer and some biscuits to take back to the hotel. Soon, it started to drizzle, as it had been very overcast all day.

Went to Mother Panda for dinner, where we had stir-fried mushroom and chicken, and a pizza, with a beer. This time Lian had a Milo instead of a coffee. This time she should sleep OK.

Had a similar non-memorable breakfast to yesterday.

We went for a walk to find the Digital Mall, but it took some time before we could find it. Here I bought a ‘power bank’ so that we could charge our iPads whenever a mains supply was not available.

Lian checked with China Mobile, who confirmed that her Chinese SIM card purchased a year earlier was still valid, and had money left.

This time we took the Metro back the two stops rather than walk.

We had a late checkout until 2 pm. Left our things in the hotel and went out to visit the Chengdu Museum. Took the Metro, that included two stops and a change of line. This is a much larger museum than the Sichuan Museum. We enjoyed the cultural exhibition best.

Walked back to the hotel by 5 pm, and picked up our backpacks and took them into Mother Panda. Chance then to sit down and enjoy a Tsingtao, a pizza and fried rice with bacon.

Left the hotel at 7:30 pm, and took the Metro on lines 3and 10 to Terminal 1. Had a long wait on the taxiway for the flight to take off at 1:15 am, and we

landed at Kuala Lumpur by 4:30 am. Within the hour we were in a taxi for home.

CHAPTER 14

Malaysia: Kuala Gula - Lost in the mangrove forest.

Meeting the boatman thirteen years later.

Prior to retirement, I was working in Malaysia. This country enjoys more Public Holidays than most; eleven days are gazetted, but this increases to eighteen or nineteen depending on the individual state. There are thirteen States in the country, nine of which have Sultans. The Sultans elect the Agong, who acts as King or Head of State for a five-year term.

With so many holidays, it was usual to plan short trips that took us all over Malaysia. I came across a copy of a handwritten letter I had written to family in England, dated February 1992, describing one such trip. The purpose was to see the Milky Stork.

One should note that it was traditional for the construction industry in Malaysia to have a long break over Chinese New Year, as it was uneconomic to stay open when so many of the skilled workers would be returning to their home town for the celebrations.

I propose to submit this to you verbatim, apart from correcting my awful spelling:-

Saturday the 2nd February was Kuala Lumpur Day, a public holiday, and that year Chinese New Year fell on the 4th and 5th. Our office closed on Friday afternoon (after a company lunch at our house) until Monday 10th February.

On Saturday morning Lian and I set off north to a group of thirteen from the

Malayan Nature Society Bird Group for a place called Kuala Gula, a small fishing village about thirty miles south of Penang. The traffic was horrendous even though we set out at 4:30 am, and we were soon caught up in a jam on the main road north. Luckily we knew of some roads not shown on the roaps, and soon reached the coastal road that was much clearer, so we arrived at our destination by 2 pm. Some of our group left at 6 am and didn’t get there until 10 pm!

We stayed at a Government Wildlife Department quarters. Very good, with beds and mattresses, and a kitchen, but power only came on between 7 to 11:30 pm.

The village was quaint and on stilts - all Chinese fishermen. All situated in mangrove forest with miles of mudflats at low tide. The mud is all waist-deep, and you can’t walk on it at all. But wader birds can. And so to can the rare Milky Stork and this was our reason for visiting the Matang Forest Reserve.

The Milky Stork, Mycteria cinerea, is a white stork with black flight feathers and tail, and red facial skin.

Next morning we set out in a small fishing boat to chug up the coast. Luckily we had an Australian chap who really knew the flight pattern of Tern birds, and with his guidance we could all (well – some of us) tell the difference in the end in the different flight patterns between the Common, Little, Whiskered, Greater Crested and Lesser Crested Terns, even though they were not in their breeding plumage. Also saw lots of other waders. By mid-day, it was damn hot, as we had no protection from the sun.

To get to see the Milky Stork, we had to journey south by boat and then catch the high tide into an estuary. We would take a small wooden boat from there up a river and stream. This leaked like a sieve as it had no caulking to the top planks.

This should have been an omen. It took the small boat – three trips to get us all ashore, and then we walked about twenty minutes through the mangrove. Several times one would suddenly sink up to the knee, and have to be tugged out by the others.

Inside the mangrove forest, there was a very saline lake, and this is where the Milky Storks roost. We had trouble trying to find the lake when suddenly our young boatman appeared, and we followed him straight there.

Only five of us saw the Stork, and I had a good view of him (or her?) before it walked into the mangrove forest.

The boatman was getting somewhat nervous about the tide, and as we had seen the Stork, the four of us said we would be the first group to go back and be ferried out to the big boat. The others would follow later.

The boatman set off at a great speed, and we nearly had to run to keep up – he was like a rabbit. But then, when we found our own footprints again, it became evident to us that we were lost!

As well as Lian and I, we had Brett an Australian, and Miss Chong. She had already lost her boots in the mud and was walking in her leach socks.

Brett and I stopped the boatman, and we drew a map in the mud to try to work out where we may be, and in which direction we should go. If we went westwards, we knew we would reach the coast so people could see us. Calling out would be of no help.

So we set off towards the setting sun. Sometimes the areas were quite clear, so walking was easy – but sometimes it seemed to be impenetrable. Miss Chong was “not a strong swimmer”, so crossing creeks with our binoculars and two telescopes /tripods and Miss Chong was a problem. Then she got tired and “Couldn’t go on” another step. It was hot and sweaty, and mosquitoes were the size of bats. Our water was low as we had expected a quick in and out and been asked to travel light. We rationed our water. Then, at last, we saw the sea and sent off our young boatman to find his boat, as at least he now knows where he was. Before he left us, the boatman asked if we had any water he could have. We ed him a bottle and said he could have some. But much to Lian’s annoyance, he then upended the bottle, and all was gone.

Then we saw the bow of the large boat about ¾ mile (1km) along the coast, and the boatman in a small boat came along the coast to rescue us – but no way could he get within 400 yards (360m), and we could not cross the waist-deep mud. So the boatman went back to his village in his leaking little boat.

The big boat was stuck on a mud bank. We still had an hour to sunset and decided to try to go inland, then parallel with the sea and so get close to the big boat. Then we had the chance of rescue at the next high tide (2 am) instead of just waiting until the next afternoon with no water. We managed it, and after making sure the others (who were all safe – no thanks to the boatman) knew where we were, it was a matter of sitting and waiting.

Being Chinese New Year, there was no moon, so it was very black apart from the lightning. We heard the rain coming, so used Chong’s plastic poncho (at least she got that right) and held it to collect rainwater. It tasted so sweet, and we all had our fill and filled our 1.1/4 litre plastic bottle. The rain stopped, and the wind came up. No mosquitoes now, but we got so cold. I had deep shivers and had cramp in both thighs due to lack of salt and being generally unfit. Brett was weak (just got over flu) and dehydrated. We wrung out our clothes and used the poncho to keep the wind off us. All huddled together in the dark; we waited until

the tide came in, so we all had to stand on mangrove roots and cuddle one tree. Standing in the dark one could have hallucinations, and I had been sure I had seen a galleon outlined by some lightning.

Then we saw the lights of the rescue boat. As the tide rose further, he slowly came in and shone his headlight on us. We would have to leave the comfort of our tree and try to get out another 50 feet (15m) along some branches to reach the boat. Then we saw a snake in the water and used the tripod legs to guide it away. Miss Chong flipped. Then we saw other larger ones – we were surrounded. Glad we hadn’t known about them when we were standing in the dark with the water up to our knees. Once onboard the big boat, we opened our cold box to discover that the others had finished all the food as they waited for us.

But we were safe and got back to the village at 3 am and spent a long time repeating our story and listening to the other’s adventures. Later Brett told us he had spotted crocodile tracks but did not tell us, as we may have been alarmed. Too right we would.

We slept well and the next morning Lian and I left the others and motored up the Cameron Highlands for two nights at the Malayan Nature Society’s field station at the BOH tea estate. As the rooms were already booked, we stayed at the dormitory – but had it to ourselves, which was great.

We stayed at the tea estate all the time and did some birding. By chance found two fledgelings that had fallen out of a nest and put them back. When we saw the mother, we found that it was a new bird for us. It was a Streaked WrenBabbler

It was thirteen years later before we returned to Kuala Gula, this time we ed

the Malaysian Nature Society Ipoh bird group. In the evening, we were sitting having dinner in a coffee shop, and related our previous trip experience. It appears that the event had entered into local folklore, as one of the local inhabitants, who had been overhearing our story, got quite excited and asked if we would like to meet the boatman. “Of course we would”. He made a telephone call and not long afterwards our young boatman arrived. Now married, he proudly brought along his young son.

The whole story was repeated, with lots of laughter and merriment.

CHAPTER 15

Indonesian Borneo: - Pontianak.

Children helping out at a stall in Pontianak.

How often have you heard or read a place name, and the bells have started to ring? Krakatoa, Hindu Kush, Mandalay. Sometimes the places may be a disappointment, but their names still vibrate with interest. For example, we were travelling in the USA when we spotted the name of the small town of Needles on a map. Isn’t that where the Peanuts cartoon character Snoopy’s brother Spike lives? So, we made a major diversion to through it. No, we did not see Spike, but I did recognise a couple of large featured cactus plants.

But I digress.

AirAsia started flying to Pontianak in Indonesia, and again the travel bug antennae began to vibrate. Pontianak is a town situated on the southwestern side of Borneo, the world’s third-largest island. The northern side is shared by Sarawak and Sabah, (being two states of Malaysia), together with the small Kingdom of Brunei. The southern side is called Kalimantan and is part of Indonesia.

Many Malay and Indonesian films feature a beautiful female ghoul with long black hair. This ‘Pontianak’ preys on pregnant women and young men, by clawing out their sexual organs. The only way to kill one, is to insert a nail into a small hole in the nape of her neck.

Many people in the region take the existence of a Pontianak very seriously and can find a trip in the dark to be a frightening prospect, especially if a dog is howling or a child is whimpering – or vice versa.

We booked only one-way seats on AirAsia from Kuala Lumpur for the 1-hour 45-minute flight to Pontianak. This was not because of fear of the Pontianak, but because we planned to cross the main east-west range by road into Sarawak, and to fly home from Kuching.

Pontianak.

The taxi took nearly half an hour to reach the G-Hotel, where we had a booking. We did not accept the windowless bedroom at first provided, even though it may have made it safer from the roaming ghosts. The view from our new room was a mix of rusty corrugated roof sheets and 8 feet (2.5m) diameter satellite dishes.

After a cup of coffee in the room, we went for a wander to explore the town.

ing the Santo Josef Cathedral, we soon reached the waterfront and walked along a newly constructed wharf.

Two and three-storey buildings line the riverside. Several high-sided wooden shop boats were moored. These ply the upper reaches of the Kapuas River, supplying villagers with necessities.

Any open area near the river has been filled with ramshackle wooden huts set on ‘bakau’ (mangrove tree) piles and covered with multi-coloured and rusty corrugated sheeting walls and roofing.

We watched a ferry being loaded with cars, vans and motorcycles. I ired the logo in English on the side, ‘we bridge the nation’. It is a weekend, and many local locals are enjoying the small pleasure-boat river cruises.

We could hear a lot of noise and music coming from an adjacent park. It was crowded with families and teenagers, out for a walk. In one area men had brought their pets for the public to see and touch: civet cats, several pythons and other snakes, two different species of owls, and many iguana lizards.

Many of the youngsters wanted to have their photos taken with me - both boys and some quite forward girls.

By now dusk was falling, so we made our way back to the hotel via the Matahari Mall.

After the hotel breakfast, we booked a bus for the next day to go north for 104 miles (166km) to the town of Singkawan. This would pick us up at our hotel, which I thought was very civilised.

We walked down to the jetty, and eastwards along to the market area.

The main Chinese temple was open, and we entered. It was very photogenic, with many burning large red candles. The people in the temple were friendly and gave us water.

We continued our walk eastwards and stopped at the Ng Clan House. When the

Chinese traders first arrived in the country, they set up their clubs or clan houses. Here, those with similar family names could converse in their dialect, play mahjong, discuss business, and births and deaths in their clan book. They could also pray to the same gods and deities they had used in their villages in China. Portraits of ancient Chinese men in traditional robes cover the walls.

Lian had a long chat with the man managing the Ng Clan House, as the Indonesian Bahasa is very similar to the Malaysian Malay language. Today, only the elder Chinese can speak a Chinese dialect, as the younger ones speak only Bahasa Indonesian.

In the meantime, the assistant took me upstairs to see an altar with its three gods or deities. In mime, he asked if I was a Christian, and also if I knew how they prayed using joss sticks. I nodded to indicate the affirmative to both his questions. He then lighted nine joss sticks and handed them to me to check if I was bluffing. I suppose I ed the test when I planted three before each deity. I ed that Lian had told me that one should use an odd number of joss sticks when praying to gods, and an even number when praying to one’s ancestors.

One wharf was full of the traditional Bugi schooners. These wooden ships travel all over the Indonesian archipelago, trading and carrying goods from island to island.

The shops by the waterside were fascinating, especially the chandlers, that supply ships with all their requirements. Shops are crammed with; pipes and ropes and valves and chains and hooks and tools and small generators. Every other shop is a small coffee shop with tables and benches set out on the covered pavements. The men are friendly and curious and want to know where we are from, and why we were there.

We note that no-one else seems to walk here. People either use a car or have one of many, many, motorbikes. We saw no pedestrian crossings and only one traffic light. So, one can never wait for a break in the traffic caused by the traffic lights. One merely has to step out into the street and try to direct the motorbikes one side or the other of you, as you brave the stream of vehicles.

Although it got more overcast, the humidity is high, and we were quite soaked through with sweat by the time we returned to the hotel. It was time for a cold shower, and then a coffee to go with the delightful Pisang Goreng (deep-fried banana in a batter) that Lian had bought.

Later in the afternoon we walked to the jetty and took the big ferry across the river. It was loaded with a few cars and lorries and then crammed with motorbikes. The riders all stay with their machines for the crossing, leaving the seating area upstairs virtually empty.

Then went for a wander eastward along the riverside road. Met one man, Harry Lai, who had spent several years in Sydney as a cook, and he knew Steve, the manager of our hotel.

On one small lane, a man has a small brown-eyed Slow Loris in a cage. We are invited to sit down with a family. Their baby came to me and wanted to touch my beard.

Some young men, with their hair dyed light brown, had their photos taken with us.

We returned on the smaller of the two ferries, and as we crossed over could see

people bathing in the river. They waved at us as we enjoyed the sunset.

We note that the town is quite clean of rubbish, even if the waterways and riverfront are clogged up with plastic bags and other flotsam.

Pontianak to Singkawang.

At 9:30 am the next morning, after the hotel breakfast, we set off in the 7enger Toyota Avanza taxi for our trip to Singkawang. There are only three other engers, and I have a front seat for my long legs.

On the way out of town, we stop at the equator monument for some photos, but the place has been closed and will re-open as a theme park.

As we drive northwards, we meet heavy traffic, so the driver takes a more inland road.

We rice fields by canals and coconut plantations producing copra. The small villages have single-storey houses with corrugated tin roofs.

In some fields, we see square ‘bird-houses’. These two or three-storey buildings have many small holes in them and only one entrance door. Loudspeakers play the call of the little swifts that produce the main ingredient for bird’s nest soup from their saliva. The birds fly in and out through the holes and build their nests, that are regularly harvested. So how does this expensive soup taste? I certainly find it insipid, tasting like sugar water and a plain jelly.

Steven had told us of a hotel behind a famous ‘rojak’ stall, but could not the name. Our driver knows both the stall and the small hotel and says they have Wi-Fi.

The traffic keeps going at 25 to 30mph (40-50kph) and rarely gets up to 45mph (70kph).

Made a half-hour stop for a break at a roadside stall overlooking the sea, and we had a fresh coconut each.

There was less traffic once we ed Mempawah, and we often cruise at 50mph (80kph). Some of the small creeks we cross are full of small fishing boats. But all my photos seem to show only the balcony rails as we by so swiftly.

Singkawang.

As we get near Singkawang, we note some laterite hills on the right-hand side.

On arrival at Singkawang, we dropped the others, and the driver took us to the ‘HiHotel Hongkong’, where we booked in by 1:30 pm.

Feeling hungry, we tried the famous ‘rojak’ stall ‘Thai Phul Ji’, located just behind the hotel. So, we ordered two types of Rojak (fruit and vegetable, and beancurd, all covered with a thick hot chilli peanut sauce), some Mee (noodle)

soup, and two types of ‘Kueh’ (small Malay cakes).

Now the town is economically quiet, but in the early 18th century the Chinese Hakka workers in the local gold mines were producing about 15 per cent of the total world production.

The town has a nice feel about it, even if waterways are full of rubbish. There are many Chinese temples, and street food stalls everywhere.

After a rest, we went out to find the best way to get to Kuching, in Sarawak, Malaysia. Everyone told us that the two routes we wanted to take could no longer be used: as they cannot take their Indonesian vehicles across the border. So instead of a five-hour trip, the route they now use takes ten hours. We spoke to two travel agents, and booked seats at the second one for their 4 am bus in two days - as they only make one trip a day.

Next morning, we had our breakfast on the 3rd floor of the hotel, and had excellent views of the hills around us before setting out for a walk to see some of the temples.

Crossing a small bridge and turning right, we came across a small Buddhist temple - Vihara Tri Dharma Bumi Raya.

Then we ed the central mosque, with its very impressive white and green exterior and the pair of hexagon sided minarets.

We then visited several temples: Vihara Dewi Kwan Im, Vinhara Metta Bhawana, two temples in the same compound Fa Kong Ki temple, and the Kuan Kung temple, and then another temple nearby Cetya Tri Dharma Budi Raya Dewi Samudra. These are all small, but very interesting internally, with each having an individual character.

Then on to the Vihara Dewi Kwan Im, on Jalan GM Sitwa. It may only be four years old but is very large and grand with a highly complicated roof structure. This temple has been built with superb craftsmanship from China, as well as local artisans. The carved and painted figures on the underside of the roof were especially impressive.

Later in the afternoon went for a walk past the front of the mosque and into a housing area. Soon we had a dozen kids following us, both boys and girls. They love having their photos taken. Made a loop, and we wandered back to the hotel.

Had a surprise when we saw a Google Earth ‘Street view’ van driving past.

Motorbike shops are doing a roaring trade here.

For dinner, we had Nasi Goreng - fried rice, at a stall near the hotel.

Singkawang to Kuching.

Set the alarm for 3:30 am. The 12-seater Isuzu bus picked us at 4:25 am, but it was nearly fifteen minutes later before the bus left town with its six engers.

It was not long before a young man stops to be sick. Plastic bags are handed out.

An hour later, we had a brief stop to buy breakfast wrapped in a banana leaf, and to pick up engers.

Our route takes us halfway back to Pontianak. Reached the town of Mempawah by 6:30 am, and turned off to smaller B roads towards the northeast and the border. We ed some pineapple plantations, before reaching a vast plain that had recently been cleared for planting with oil palm. By 7 am we have reached a hillier area with forested hillsides and rice fields in the valley, and some rubber plantations.

Lian was woken when the driver slammed on the brakes to avoid a piglet that had decided to go AWOL.

At 10 am we stopped at Sosok for half an hour for food at ‘Istimewa’. Lian had chicken, and I had rice with curried egg and some vegetables.

It is getting hot, and the driver tells us the aircon is ‘rosak’ - broken, so we open the windows.

Twenty minutes before the border, the driver stops to put on Malaysian number plates over his Indonesian plates — no point in querying the legality of this.

Reached the border by 12:30 pm. The Indonesian immigration was fast, and we walked the 150 yards (140m) ‘no man’s land’ to the Malaysian side. There was

no customs check at Telubu when we entered Sarawak, as the luggage on the bus and was not taken out. Twenty minutes later, we were on our way again for the 55-mile drive (90km) to Kuching.

Sarawak: Kuching.

We had to put our watches forward an hour to Malaysian time.

By 2:30 pm, we are on a dual carriageway. engers were dropped off as we reached Kuching, and we arrived at the ‘Harbour View Hotel’ by 4:45 pm.

Our trip has been over 310 miles (500km).

After a hot shower and a shave, we waited for the rain to stop before enjoying dinner at a Chinese stall/coffee shop at the end of the block. In Sarawak, it is often worth checking the availability and price of the beers in the local restaurants, by inspecting their drinks fridge. I was lucky to spot that this place had some large bottles of excellent Chinese Tsingtao beer for half the price of the equally tasty local brews. How can this be? Well, many of the visiting ships do a little smuggling on the side.

On our last morning in Kuching, we crossed the road to a Chinese temple and then took the back road parallel with the river. This street is full of many interesting old Chinese shops, and a visit is highly recommended. Then we ed the old courthouse into India Street, and onto Jalan Market as far as the mosque, before walking back by riverside shops that are full of souvenir shops.

After a late checkout, we took Malaysian Air’s Firefly flight back to Kuala Lumpur.

CHAPTER 16

Romania & Bulgaria trip.

The Painted Monastery at Voronet, Romania.

The original title for this chapter would have been ‘Romania and Hungary’. So how did Bulgaria take over? Read on, and all will be told.

ROMANIA.

Bucharest

It was 3.35am local time when we landed at Bucharest Airport after a flight on WizzAir from England’s Gatwick Airport. It was our first visit to Romania.

On arrival, we purchased some Romanian Leu, and a local travel card, before taking a bus into town and trying to find the location of our apartment’s block.

Lian had arranged to meet the owner between 6 am and 7 am. We went into the Hotel Capitol, where the receptionist was kind enough to supply us coffee and their WiFi while we waited. It was only then that I noticed that the padlock was missing from my bag. Luckily nothing appeared to have been stolen.

I noted that Bucharest has a 5.30am sunrise and sunset was 9 pm. At 7 am, we were still waiting outside a large block of flats. The owner had not answered any of our calls, and we find this very frustrating.

Then Adrian, the owner, finally called at 9:15 am to say he would not be going to the apartment until 11 am when a man was due to check out. So much for the negotiated early check-in.

We went into KFC for some breakfast.

Left our bags in the flat at 11:15 am while the room was cleaned, and set out for a walk to explore the interesting old city area.

On returning to the rather grotty apartment, the lift stopped between floors, and would not move. We telephoned Adrian and sat down on the lift floor to wait. Ten minutes later, he arrived on his electric scooter and managed to force the doors open to release us. He was only partly forgiven.

The St Nicolas Russian Orthodox Church is an impressive building, built by the Tzar in 1909, and has been a Romanian Orthodox church since 1957.

The Stavropoleos Monastery Church looks quite Turkish, or north Indian, and is said to be in the ‘Brancovenese style’ – a mixture of Byzantine, Ottoman and Baroque architecture. The arches are multi-shaped on carved columns. All the external surfaces are painted with floral designs or with medallions containing various religious figures. The internal walls and arched ceiling are all covered with religious paintings, and they are in good condition. This Eastern Orthodox monastery was founded in 1724, and is now a monastery for nuns, with Archangels Michael and Gabriel as their patron saints. An internal courtyard has covered cloisters to two sides.

We walked back and had dinner in the Caru’ cu Bere, the Beer Wagon. This is probably the most famous restaurant in Bucharest. With a history of more than 130 years, Caru’ cu Bere was relocated in the present gothic revival building, and the interior is an excellent example of art nouveau decoration.

We both ordered the pork rib, and this was washed down with their excellent house beer.

Lian used the WiFi to find accommodation in Brasov. Then we took a trolley bus to the Gara de Nord railway station, and bought tickets to Brasov for the following day.

The CEC Palace building holds the state-owned CEC Bank. It is located opposite the National History Museum of Romania. Neither of the buildings would look out of place in central Paris.

We a synagogue that now houses the Jewish Museum. Architecturally eclectic, it had bands of brickwork and stone.

A small church, the Biserica Voievodala’ Sfantul Gheorghe Nou’ proved to have a treasure trove of frescoes.

The oldest church in Bucharest is said to be Biserica Stanful Anton. Built in 1554 AD, it is decorated externally with horizontal bars and patterns of brickwork, on a plaster background. Although the exterior has probably been recently renovated, the interior is dark and impressive. The gold and brass altar backdrop and the chandeliers glow in the subdued light coming from the dome windows. Frescoes appear on the dark walls. Set into a frame, a saint’s painted

face is surrounded by beaten silver-tooling work, showing his clothing, a halo, and his right hand holding a cross. We saw two such similar works of art.

We walked south, crossing a small river, to view the Palace of Parliament. This 3,550,000 square foot (330,000 square meters) edifice is said to be the secondlargest istration building in the world, beaten only by the Pentagon. Started in 1984 by dictator Nicolae Ceausescu, it contains over 3,000 rooms.

Had dinner in the ‘Hanu Lui Manuc Restaurant’. Took a balcony table; and enjoyed various pork cold cuts, with pike roe, green salad, mixed salad, bread. All washed down with a Prosecco wine, beer, and sparkling water.

We noted that quite a few locals smoke, but with an extremely skinny cigarette.

Bucharest suffers from major traffic jams. Using public transport is however sometimes quicker, as buses, trolley-buses, trams and taxis often use dedicated lanes. The most popular cars here seem to be Dacia Dusters (mostly government cars), Kia, and VW.

Checkout had been arranged for 10:30 am, but as Adrian was caught up in traffic, we left the key in his post box. I wondered where his scooter was – maybe his battery was low?

We took a trolley bus to the station, where we bought pastries for the trip.

The 12:15 pm train for Brasov left on time. Initially, the land is very flat, but by

1:30 pm we are ing hills and woods. After a wooded gorge, we reached Sinala at 2 pm, with mountains to the left, and a few minutes later we see stark granite mountainsides. The train has made many stops on the way. Half an hour before arrival at 3 pm, we had ed through a long tunnel.

Brasov, Transylvania. (2,000ft (630m) above sea level)

Took a bus into town and walked along to our accommodation, ideally centrally located opposite the main square.

Dumping our bags, we ed a lot of tourists and went for a walk around the square. Each of the various buildings, with their steep tiled roofs, are painted a different colour, and this adds a Disney-like touch to the scene. The forested hill behind the main square had a quality of green colour I found quite outstanding.

We entered a small church on the main square where they were holding a service. It appeared to be somewhat like a harvest festival, as the three priests, with white and gold cloaks, blessed food set out on tables. There is no seating, and worshippers were all standing.

Our apartment is excellent, with a great view of the square. Certainly, an improvement over the unattractive room we had in Bucharest.

Lian was busy on the Internet planning the next few days. We are now contemplating going through Bulgaria to Istanbul, rather than going via

Hungary. However, we would still like to visit Moldova.

Brasov is very picturesque but is spoilt by graffiti everywhere. We wonder if the Municipality has given up on it?

Checked the bus to times to Moldova, to find that there is only one a day, and it leaves at 8 am each morning. One has to pay by cash to the conductor.

Bran and Dracula’s Castle.

Took the bus to the coach station only to find we have missed the hourly bus to Bran by five minutes.

The bus had very little knee room and took fifty minutes for the seventeen-mile (28km) drive to reach our destination.

The word ‘Transylvania’ is beautiful, and conjures up a misty, mysterious rocky countryside full of crags, and waterfalls and forest trees dripping from a fine drizzle. A beautiful maiden collects firewood and looks after her aged parents. Only the gravediggers go out after dark, and wolves howl at the moon, as vampires search for new prey. In fact, the word ‘Transylvania’ simply translates as ‘the land across the forest’.

The Irish writer, Bram Stoker, wrote a novel in 1897 about a fictional vampire, Count Dracula, who lived in Transylvania. His turreted castle stood on a rocky precipice, and Bran Castle by chance fits this description to a tee.

We walked up the steep slope before entering Bran Castle. Despite there being no real Count Dracula, the castle had some pretty creepy and scary owners. Probably no more so than a man nicknamed ‘Vlad the Impaler’, as in the mid1450’s he had a nasty habit of impaling his enemies on stakes set in the ground. After 1918, Transylvania became part of greater Romania, and from 1920 to 1947 the castle became the royal residence of Queen Maria of Romania. There are several photos on the walls of the Queen and her beautiful daughter, Princess Ileana.

It was only in 2009 that the castle was opened to the public, and it has proved to be a real moneymaker. Although crowded, it is impressive as one follows along the narrow ages and circular staircases. From the outside windows, there are views over the countryside, while the internal view looks down onto the courtyard, complete with a well, or to the diamond-shaped clay roofing tiles.

Later it started raining as we sat down in the town for a pork chop and chips lunch at the ‘Burg Bran’, before making our way back to Brasov.

Brasov.

The weather had cleared by the time we ed the daily 6 pm free walk that lasted for 2.1/4 hours. The guide was excellent, starting with some history of Romania and Brasov. Our walk started around the Black Church, proceeding through the narrow age of Rope St, before exiting through the old western entrance gate, and going on to St Nicholas Church. The guide certainly earned his tips.

Gipsies are often known as the Romany people. Do they come from Romania? Certainly, the Romanians deny this strongly, and a gipsy is still regarded with suspicion. We saw this several times on public transport, when frowns appeared on people’s foreheads, or they eyed the gipsy family from the corner of their eyes. On further investigation, it seems that they probably originated from the Rajasthan area of north-west India a century and a half or so ago.

Lian was not feeling well, so luckily, as we are staying at least an extra night, it will give her a chance to recover.

We had to change rooms but did not have to wait to check into the small attic room with its sloping ceiling and skylight. Not sure if I can use the toilet without backing in and sitting down. No chance to stand and pee (unless accurate over 4ft!).

Booked a further night in a room for four, as this was the only one available, but Lian needed to recover before a potentially stressful journey to northern Moldova. So, I left Lian to rest and sleep.

Firstly, I visited the Black Church, so-called as the stonework was blacked in a fire in 1689 AD. When completed in 1476, the church was Catholic, but during the Reformation, it changed to Lutheran, when Evangelical divine service was introduced in 1542 by Johannes Honterus.

Near the entrance is the original old baptismal font. The church is famous for its 4,000-pipe organ. Old pews from the various guilds line the walls. Some have religious paintings on s in front of the pews. Ottoman rugs from Anatolia hang on some of the walls.

On a wall above an archway is the famous 15th century ‘Black Mary’ mural. Before the great fire of 1689, the dress was blue, but now it is black. That was an undeniable miracle.

Outside the church, halfway up a column and facing the square is a statue of Mary, holding Jesus. She stands on a crown with Cherubs either side.

The other blackened statues were taken down and put inside the church.

The pulpit sports a carving of Moses, and includes two bible references, Matthew 3-10 and Jeremiah1 9-19. I leave it to the reader to check these out.

Outside the church stands a statue of Johannes Honterus, holding a book in one hand, signifying his setting up a printing press, while he points to a building opposite that was a school he founded.

The old wall remains on three sides of the town, missing now on only the eastern side. I decided to walk along the outside of these remaining city walls. Walked westwards, before taking the path beside the northern wall. One es two towers; the Black Tower, then the White Tower. Both were locked, but from the pathway, one had the opportunity of taking some interesting photos over and into the town.

Once I reached the main road at Lavida Postel, on the eastern side, I took the northern road alongside the base of Tampa Mountain. ed Draper’s bastion and several smaller watchtowers attached to the wall, and protecting this side of the town.

On the western side, I found myself looking down into the local tennis club. Here a number of children were having a group tennis lesson on clay courts. I was most impressed by the power the kids were using when hitting the ball. If this is anything to go by, then Romanian tennis looks to be in good hands.

By then Lian was feeling a little better and fancied some plain steamed rice and soya sauce. We found this at the ‘Old Shanghai’, where I had fried dumplings and fried noodles with pork, and a Urus beer.

We then sat for a while in the main square, watching the people in the warm sunshine.

Lian has found that we may be able to get to Suceava by car; this is still in the Moldavian part of Romania, rather than the independent country of Moldova. This is a more expensive alternative to either using a direct bus or going by train via Bucharest.

Had a walk until our new room was ready. Walked eastwards, ing the tennis club where the kids were really hammering the ball, before taking the path alongside Tampa Mountain, that I took yesterday. We returned to find our room ready and our bags in it. It’s a huge apartment with a lounge area facing the main square, a central bedroom with a frosted glass wall onto the lounge, a kitchenette and dining for four, and a bathroom with corner bath. It is rather noisy in the square, as a children’s concert is going on.

After deciding to take tomorrow’s bus to Suceava, Lian made a booking for accommodation there.

We found it interesting that when we first tried to say “Thank you”, we used the Russian word, “Spaciba”, but this was not very well received. Then we found that the Romanians use “Merci”, as in French, as Romania has had a long tradition of friendship with .

Brasov – Suceava.

We took an early bus to the railway station, located right next to the bus station.

Noticed that people on the bus (the women anyway) cross themselves every time we a church.

It was 7 am when the 21-seater Mercedes bus for Suceava drew up.

As we were the first customers, we chose seats at the front. I have legroom behind the driver.

The 205-mile (330km) route takes us via Onesti, Bacau, Roman, and Motca.

The bus was only a quarter full when we pulled out at 8 am. The road surface is poor, with cracked and patched Tarmac.

The countryside is flat, with neat villages. As we drive along, we saw a large stork’s nest on a telegraph post.

An hour later, we left the plain and started driving through low wooded hills. We enjoy wonderful forest greens as we over the crest of the Carpathian’s. At a narrow wooded gorge, we have a fifteen-minute pee stop at a log cabin rest stop, decorated with chainsaw carvings.

We open flat fields, and by 10:30 am we reached Onesti bus station. On the way, we many traditional Romanian horse and carts. The wagons are long and low, like a canoe with sloping sides, and with axles at the very end.

We are soon on a wide plain, and at 11:15 am we stop at Bacau bus station. The road up to here has been single carriage both ways, but it now widened, with a paved side strip on both sides.

Before mid-day, we stopped at Casa Brasoveana for a twenty-five minutes break. Here we spotted a pair of storks soaring, and a nest on a pole at the roadside.

By the time we left the bus station, the bus was 3/4 full. Back onto a narrower road again, as we reached Motca bus station. Some areas have rolling hills, reminding me of Salisbury Plain, in the UK.

Suceava.

Arrived at Suceava bus station just after 2 pm, but no-one was there to pick us

up. After nearly half an hour, Mikov arrived and took us to the two-bedroom apartment we had booked for two nights at Union Apartment. Centrally located in an apartment block and overlooking the main square, it was well equipped and spotless. However, the owner obviously had red as his favourite colour.

After a coffee, we took the bus to the impressive railway station, where we used our credit card to book overnight sleepers back to Bucharest in three days.

We read on the BBC news that there are problems in the country of Moldova, with some fighting. It’s a pity, but probably a sensible idea not to go there this trip.

Painted Monasteries.

The next morning, we booked to take a ‘Painted Monasteries of Bucovina’ tour. Built between 1487 and 1583, there are eight Romanian Orthodox churches in Moldova. These monasteries are famous for their fresco paintings, covering both external and internal wall and ceilings. In 1993, the monasteries were listed as a World Heritage Site by UNESCO. We would visit a selection of four of them.

Met at 8:20 am in the McDonald’s car park by ‘GG’, our driver and guide, who was also Mikov’s big brother. The other guests were a Singaporean woman and an American woman.

GG explained that this area is known as ‘Buovina’ - the land of the beech tree – and its symbol is a buffalo head.

On the way, ‘GG’ kept us well informed with a brief history of Romania. He introduced to us to the famous local composer and musician, Cipriano Porumbescu, who died in 1883, and played some of his music on the car radio.

We also learnt that there are no mosques in Romania, apart from one in the town of Constanta on the Black Sea. This was a deal made with the Ottomans, in exchange for which all Romanians had to send their second son to be a Turkish soldier.

Humor Monastery was the first one we visited. Although this is the only one without a spire, it does have a watchtower/fort in the grounds. The roof ridges are decorated with four crosses.

The frescoes were painted directly onto wet plaster. We noted that at all the monasteries, the paintings on the south side of the external walls were much better preserved than on the northern side.

All these Orthodox monasteries face east. Each monastery seems to be painted using a slightly different selection of colours, and in this case, it is brown and red. No problems with taking photos externally, but the monasteries frown on taking pictures internally.

The internal colours are all surprisingly bright. Every square inch of the walls and ceilings are painted with biblical subjects. There are three rooms; the first chamber, the tomb room, and the altar room. The central one has a lower arched ceiling, as there is a secret room above - the so-called ‘treasure room’. The altar room has wood painted icons on the iconostasis that shields the altar.

Nuns now look after all the painted monasteries, and monks are no longer in residence.

Our second visit was to Voronet Monastery, and this does have a circular tower.

The western end wall has an amazing ‘last judgement day’ painting. A blood-red river flows from God, widening as it flows diagonally down to hell. Wild animals stand on one bank, while on the other side angels prod horned devils into the river with their long lances. A dove with a halo, representing the ‘Holy Spirit’, stands on a bible, laid on a cushioned throne. So much is going on, that it is somewhat confusing. One angel is in the river and pulling down a human figure, but whether this is to save them, or to speed their age downwards is a question.

The predominant colour here is a lapis-blue background.

Again, the building plan is based on having three internal rooms, all painted. This time the north wall is in poor condition as, over the centuries, it has been subjected to more direct inclement weather.

High walls surround Moldovita Monastery. The monastery has an octagonal spire, and it contains a small secret room above the central internal room. It is known for the red colour externally, and the yellow internally.

An external painting shows the defence of Constantinople in AD626. But history is cheated, as it wrongly shows that the Christians won by raining fire down on the attacking Turks.

Lian was most impressed with the stylized angels with their wings covered with eyes. How frightening for the worshipers, who could no longer hide anything from the angel’s all-seeing eyes.

On the way to lunch, we crossed a 3,600-foot (1,100m) mountain , pausing to take photos of a giant white hand statue, commemorating the construction of the road up over the Carpathians.

Reaching the ‘Popas Restarant’, we enjoyed a lunch of wild mushroom soup, a homemade cake with fresh red berries, and a Silva beer.

Sucevita monastery was the fourth and largest one we visited. The western wall was left blank, as the painter died falling off the scaffolding. His students continued on an archway, but the monks were not satisfied and cancelled their work. I thought their paintings OK, but then, I am not an orthodox monk.

The second internal chamber is filled with 365 paintings depicting every day in the Orthodox calendar.

The most renowned of the external paintings is of a 32-rung ‘virtuous’ ladder to heaven, with unworthy men falling off into hell.

All the monasteries we visited had rounded ends, so the roofs also had the have semicircular ends. As the roofs are also steeper at the ridge, this leads to very pleasing curves. The roof tiles appear to be a timber shingle, but I was unable to get close enough to confirm this.

Outside the monastery, I had an opportunity to inspect one of the local horse wagons.

On the way back to town, we visited a pottery that produces black pottery.

In town, we were dropped off at the old fort and walked back on a path through woods.

Suceava.

For dinner, we walked along to the ‘Centrul Vechi’ restaurant. Here we shared a pizza, beetroot salad and a local draught beer and white wine. Had a chat with the two women we had met on the morning tour when they came in later.

Next afternoon GG picked us up at 1:45 pm and took us to the railway station and arranged for us to leave our bags in a room at the toilet. We were warned that we must be back by 9:30 pm, as the toilet attendant would leave for his home.

GG told us that the American woman was complaining about everything yesterday in an attempt to get a discount, and that she had not paid any of her entrance fees or camera fees.

We attempted to buy tickets for tomorrow from Bucharest to Sofia in Bulgaria

only to find that tomorrow’s train is full, so we made bookings for the following day.

We took a bus to the local mall, where we had a meal, and then hung around on sofas in the food court where we had plenty of time for some people-watching. Lian bought a small replacement padlock for my main bag.

Suceava – Sofia.

The overnight train to Bucharest was in the station, and we were allowed on at 10 pm. We have booked a twin compartment, and at 10:17 pm the train pulled out of the station.

The compartment is fashioned in Oriental Express style; with birds-eye maple lined walls, a basin with running water that converts to a small table. It had a telescopic ladder for the upper bunk, a mirror with lights and a medicine cupboard behind. A sliding partition can make a double room.

There was a WC at each end of the carriage, with a shower in one of them (not operating).

Slept OK, even though the driver was sounding his horn every minute or so.

Dawn was breaking as we woke at 5 am crossing the flat landscape. We were due to arrive 5:31am, but it was 5:45am when we finally arrived at Bucharest.

Lian went to the ticket counter where a woman confirmed that our tickets were valid for today. Let’s hope so, as then we will not have to stay overnight in Bucharest.

Had some breakfast and waited for train IR461 due to leave at 12:40 pm for Sofia in Bulgaria.

We entered our six-seater compartment. Then someone entered holding the same seat numbers, but we sat still, and they went away. We shared the compartment with an American teacher working in China, an Irishman with a strong Irish Wexford accent, an English girl from Northumberland, and an elderly Bulgarian woman who also spoke English. A lively conversation ensued.

The journey was over a flat agricultural landscape. It was hot in the cabins, so we used empty plastic bottles to jam open the windows.

We reached the border town of Giurgiu Nord and stopped for Romanian port control for twenty-five minutes at 2:40 pm.

BULGARIA.

Reached Bulgarian port control by 3:30 pm, and it took nearly an hour before we moved. Once again, we stayed in our carriage and ports were collected and then returned. There was no inspection of our bags.

The countryside is prettier here - reminds me of England, with hedges around the fields.

At about 6 pm, we found ourselves an empty compartment further up the carriage to stretch out. By 9:30 pm it was dark, with an eta in Sofia of 10:42 pm.

Sofia.

It took under ten minutes to walk from the station to the ‘Twain Apartments & Rooms’. We had to phone and call someone to come and check us into a large and newly decorated room.

Next morning, we changed the balance of our Romanian Leu into Bulgarian Lev, so we have some cash in our pockets. Then wandered into town, crossing the small river over the Lions Bridge and along Maria Luisa, the main thoroughfare. In the background, we could see the Vitosha mountain, with the 7,500-foot (2,290m) Black Peak.

Outside the Palace of Justice, we waited until 11 am, and ed the free English tour.

There were several different groups, and we were lucky to be allocated an experienced and informative guide, who also made us aware of some Bulgarian history.

Russia liberated Bulgaria from the Ottomans in 1878.

We ed by St Nedelya Church that had been blown up in 1925 before being rebuilt. It appears that the Bulgarian Communist Party had killed a General as bait for their plan, and when his funeral was taking place, they set off a bomb. This not only destroyed the church roof, but killed over 150 of Bulgaria’s ruling elite, and wounded about 500 other attendees. The King luckily escaped, as he was late arriving.

At one time a statue of Lenin stood on Todor Alexandrov street, but this was pulled down. Then in 2001, a 24-foot high (7m) statue of St Sofia was erected onto a high column. At one time Sofia was considered too erotic and pagan to be referred to as a saint. The statue intimates this by showing a beautiful, wellblessed woman, all in black but with a golden face, arms and feet. She holds a wreath, and an owl is perched on her arm.

Nearby is the tiny old Sveta Samardzhiliska church, built in the early years of the Ottoman rule in the late 14th century.

Sofia is proud of the ancient Roman remains, and have carried out extensive archaeological investigations. They have shared the results with the people by preserving and allowing people to walk amongst them. An excellent example is the Serdica Roman city foundations. Here one can clearly see how they had used the local hot springs to supply the underfloor heating.

The Banya Bashi Mosque was built in 1576 and is the only one in Sofia.

Before the advent of bathrooms in individual houses and apartments, the people would make visits to the public bathhouses that used hot spring water. The main bathhouse in Sofia was at Banya Bashi, in a striking three-domed edifice that

now houses a museum. The building is faced in white stone, with narrow bands of horizontal brickwork. I found the coloured art nouveau tile decorations at the top of the arches most interesting.

Nearby is an area where spigots, set in walls, continually run with the warm water, and the local people collect the water in bottles and containers. The high mineral content is said to give good health when drunk.

We then entered a square with Russian architecture on three sides.

We watch the soldiers on guard at the President’s office. They wear a white jacket decorated with patterned red braid, and they have a single long eagle feather fixed upright from their white hat. We then entered the Presidential courtyard to see the Sveti George Rotunda, the oldest brick church in original condition.

Moving on, we enter into the City Gardens with many fountains playing in front of the impressive ‘Ivan Vazov’ National Theatre building.

The Sveti Nikolai Russian Orthodox church is small but ornate. It has the typical onion-shaped domes surmounted by the cross with two horizontal bars and one diagonal.

It was 1:15 pm when our tour ended outside the Aleksander Nevski Cathedral, and we had the opportunity of tipping our guide.

While there, we visited the Aleksander Nevski Cathedral that is the leading Eastern Orthodox church in Sofia. Constructed of white stone, with many interconnecting copper domes, the copper has taken on a beautiful green patina. The building would not look out of place in Istanbul.

We had lunch in a recommended workers cafe in Tsar Shishman; the tomato, cucumber and white cheese salad was OK.

We set out in the evening for dinner, but after crossing the Lion Bridge, we saw a Billa Supermarket. Here we bought some hot food, including sausages. A bottle of dry red wine was a Mavrud from the Brestovitsa winery in the Thracian Valley. We took our spoils back for a picnic dinner.

Rila Monastery.

We had booked for a day-trip to the Rila Monastery and were told the meeting point for the bus to pick us up at 9 am.

We were pleasantly surprised when a taxi drove up, and we found that we have the taxi to ourselves, with Borisovich as our driver and guide for the 73-mile (117km) drive.

Borisovich was a young man who spent much of his spare time in the gym and proved to be a bit of a health freak, and this was confirmed when he explained his diet to us.

After a drive on a dual carriageway, the last part of the hour and a half journey was along a narrow, wooded valley alongside a stream. There is still some snow on the highest adjacent mountain.

‘The Monastery of Saint Ivan of Rila’ is the largest Eastern Orthodox monastery in Bulgaria. St Ivan was a hermit who lived in a cave, and it was his students who built the church in the 10th century.

The monastery now comprises the old fortified Tower of Hrelja, with the ‘Nativity of the Virgin Mother’ church next to it. Around the paved courtyard are the four-storey residential buildings.

The whole of the external paintings to the church and cloisters are very bright frescos, completed in 1846, apart from the lowest that appears to be older. The paintings are full of saints, angels, winged devils attacking the sinners, various biblical stories, and all overseen by God.

The amazing internal frescoes are equally glorious. Again, all walls and the ceilings are painted. From the central ceiling hangs a ‘crown’ surrounding a golden chandelier. Both are only about 9-foot (3m) above the floor level, and they appear to be floating above the paving.

The iconostasis screen covered the full width and height, and it was the most impressive screen we have seen to date, as indeed is the whole church itself.

The four-storey accommodation block surrounding the paved courtyard has a multi-arched balcony, wooden handrails, white walls, and black, white and maroon arches.

Brown swifts are nesting. They have a noise machine playing every few minutes to dissuade them - but obviously, this is proving quite ineffective.

On the way back, we stopped at Boyana, to see a small chapel set in a wooded garden with some huge trees, but we of the did not enter the 13th-century chapel. In the gardens is Queen Eleonora of Bulgaria’s tombstone (1860 – 1917).

Borisovich dropped us off at Lion Bridge, and we explored a market there. Then into Billa to buy white wine (Quantum Sauvignon Blanc), a 1kg local cheese to take back to Kuala Lumpur, and something for lunch.

A note on Bulgarian wine: There are a total of 260 ed wineries. Production is between 200 to 220 million litres, making them the second-largest exporters of bottled wine in the world after (rather hard to believe). The main varieties are Cabinet Sauvignon, Merlot, Riesling, Chardonnay. There are also some indigenous red varieties; Gamza, Mavrud, Melnik, as well as whites Misket, Dimiat. The best wines are said to be the Merlot and Cabinet Sauvignon varieties.

Out again in the afternoon, and wandered into town to the end of Vitosha pedestrian street, with its numerous restaurants and bars.

We note electric scooters are quite popular. The riders, of all ages, do not use helmets, yet travel quite fast.

On our last day in Sofia, we checked out at mid-day and left our bags in the

office.

Lian was keen to see the remains of a small Roman Amphitheatre in the basement of the Arena Serdica Boutique Hotel. After inspecting this and an art exhibition, we had a leisurely lunch in the hotel.

After picking up our bags, we took a comfortable ride to the airport on the local Metro. Lian’s bag handle now refuses to go down, and we were unable to mend it. Probably time for a replacement anyway.

We flew by Turkish Air from Sofia to Istanbul with a flight time of an hour and fifteen minutes.

The new airport in Istanbul is very pleasant and huge. It seemed such a long walk to our boarding gate in spite of the travellators. After a 2.1/4 hour wait, we took off for Kuala Lumpur for the 10-hour 25-minute flight.

CHAPTER 17

Malaysia: - Sarawak - Ba’Kelalan.

The Owl House, Ba’Kelalan.

It had been ten years since we last visited the village of Ba’Kelalan. This village is tucked away in the Kelabit Highlands of Sarawak, on the island of Borneo. The story of our first visit was covered in Chapter 16 of ‘No Cure for the Travel Bug’.

Andy Paul was one of our group, and later he returned to woo and eventually marry Maureen, the beautiful young cook. Andy is a gifted nature photographer, and his coffee table book ‘Wildlife and Indigenous People of Peninsular Malaysia and Borneo’ is a worthy addition to any bookcase – or coffee table.

Subsequently, Andy and Maureen built their own house in Ba’Kelalan, and ‘The Owl House’ (TOH) was opened as a homestay. So, this was a good excuse for us to return to the beautiful and serene valley.

Not the most accessible place to reach, we took an afternoon flight from Kuala Lumpur to the oil town of Miri on the Sarawak coastline. We overnighted at the Kingsley hotel. After checking-in, we had a walk along to the Bintang Plaza shopping mall. There we found an excellent outdoor shop ‘Outdoor Life’. Here I bought myself a grey cap with anti-sun flaps, and a small but powerful torch with a rechargeable battery for Lian.

Miri town was overflowing with two thousand visitors attending a Christian group conference, so the restaurants and coffee shops were packed.

We checked out of the hotel by 7 am and took a ten-minute taxi ride to the airport.

The 8:30 am MAS Wings Twin Otter took off for Lawas on the first leg of our flight. The aircraft has seating for nineteen engers, but only nine of us boarded for the 40-minute flight north-eastwards over Brunei.

After fifteen minutes on the ground, we were off again inland for the twentyfive-minute flight to our destination of Ba’Kelalan.

We were met at the little airport building by Maureen, and Badau - the in-house guide and also Maureen’s cousin. Andy was on a visit to Kuala Lumpur, so we would not be meeting him on this trip. We followed Maureen to her mother’s shop for her to pick up some things. I had to carry my bag – luckily, I could unzip the base to get at some backpack straps. We were told that it was less than an eight-minute walk from the airport, but it seemed somewhat longer.

The track to ‘The Owl House’ is along bunds surrounding paddy (rice) fields. A bit wet and slippery, and we had to mind the buffalo turds. Our route took us across a wide stream on a bamboo bridge with a bamboo handhold on one side. The Owl House looked very impressive besides a tall flowering mango tree. Five local dogs were there to greet us with wagging tails. This greeting might not have been so friendly if we were not with Maureen. A little later, Badau arrived carrying Lian’s bag.

Maureen had taken two of her guests to the airport, so she had to change the sheets to our pleasant ground floor room. The accommodation is basic with two mattresses on the floor, but we have an en-suite bathroom with a WC and a basin, but no shower, only buckets. Hot water can be supplied in a kettle on request. We are the only guests. WiFi is not available.

There are nine villages stretching northwards along the Ba’Kelalan valley: Nurul Nut (next to the airport), Long Langai, Long Le’mutut, Long Ritan, Long Rush, Buduk Bui, Long Ranga, Buduk Aru, and Long Ubau.

(Long = river, Buduk = summit, high point).

Maureen prepared an early lunch: rice, vegetable omelette, cabbage and chicken in a dark gravy.

After relaxing for a bit, Badau (our in-house guide) took us for an easy and relaxing birding walk to see the next village, called Long Langai.

Ba’Kelalan village has changed a bit since we were there ten years previously. The enormous wooden church had not quite been finished, and it now has windows and a fancy door. On the way we met Badau and Maureen’s mothers, who were winnowing rice from traditional woven baskets.

The rice was harvested at the end of January, with only one crop a year. The buffalo are then allowed to wander all over the rice fields so they can fertilize the soil. When the rice is planted, the buffalo are all corralled.

We walked along a narrow concrete track to Long Langai- only suitable for pedestrians and motorcycles. ed over two small suspension bridges as the path winds between padi fields. It is February, and the crops have been harvested, leaving only the remnants of dried stalks.

As we entered Long Langai, Badau took us into the school. As it was a Saturday, no one was there even though they also have boarders.

The main village is set out around the ‘Padang’, a big grass field. The community centre where we met people ten years ago is now a big new church.

After that, we took a casual walk back to The Owl House. Maureen prepared tea for us of deep-fried ‘long johns’ and fresh succulent pineapple, and I had a beer.

Suddenly it was noticed that three water buffalo had found their way into the compound. We all shouted at them, and only then did the dogs all go ballistic and chase them away.

Then I noticed the weather station that Andy had set up. This consists of a coconut suspended on a chain. The weather instruction notice then tells one that if:

Coconut Dry – Sunny

Coconut Wet – Raining

Coconut Still - Calm

Coconut Swinging - Windy

Coconut Invisible – Misty

Coconut Gone – Hurricane

At 7 pm, it was planned that Badau, the guide, and a driver would take us out specifically to look for the rare Dulit Frogmouth, a night bird endemic to the highlands of northern Borneo. But as there was a light drizzle, and clouds were laying on the surrounding hills, it was agreed that we would make this trip on the following evening.

In the middle of the kitchen floor is a moveable open fireplace. A wood fire sits on a bed of gravel. Instead of using firelighters, Maureen sets light to a small clear crystal made from the sap of the Damar tree (Known locally as Ilu’).

We were told that the generator set is usually shut off by 10 pm, but if needed to charge our phones, camera batteries etc., it can be turned on for a short while during the day.

We enjoyed a pleasant dinner, chats and lots of stories and laughs, then made use of a kettle of hot water for our bath.

We erected a mosquito tent over the two mattresses. As we lay in bed, we could hear the rain and this continued for most of the night.

After the rain, it was quite cool 68 F (20 C) deg. It was quite light by 6:30 am. I can see fourteen buffalo in one padi field, accompanied by a dozen snow-white Cattle Egrets. Mist hangs over the hillside behind the village. I watch as Badau feeds the dogs, and each has a separate bowl.

We have toast and jams, and coffee for breakfast. Also, a South African fruit that tastes like a sweet potato, together with a sweet mango.

Today we were taking a day-trip by road into Indonesia. After breakfast at 8:30 am we walked to the village. On the rather wet track, it took nearly fifteen minutes. Maureen then had a call to say the 4WD would be late, as the driver was caught behind a logging truck that was across the track.

The driver turns out to be Paulus, who we had met on our previous visit. It was he who had piggy-backed the 17-year-old on the trek back from Indonesia.

We left at 9:30 am and reached the border after twenty-five minutes. This was much better than walking. The surfaced road now gave way to a laterite road. Ten minutes later, we were at the Indonesia army post at Long Midah. They held our identity cards, and will return them when we leave.

About fifteen minutes later, we reach a surfaced road, but it was not in good condition and it soon resorted to laterite again. Reached our destination of Long Bawan by 10:45 am. Here we had an early lunch of ‘Bak-so’ - beef soup, before buying some vegetables. Took a slow drive around town, but most shops were closed, as it is a Sunday. Bought some cigarettes as gifts for the Indonesian immigration post where we pick up our identity cards at 1 pm.

On the way back to Ba’Kelalan, we make a stop at a local Mountain Salt processing place, where families process this high mineral and much soughtafter salt in the traditional way. Visited their salt mine, leaving at 1:20 pm, and this was fifteen minutes from the border. We ed the Malaysian army post and Immigration soon after.

In the old apple orchard in Ba’Kelalan, we were shown the ‘ice cream plant’ pod. The long pod hangs from a tall tree. You then twist the pod to open it to reveal a 20 inch (50cm) long white spongy fruit with a big black seed. Sweet, and with a touch of vanilla, making it taste like white ice cream.

Maureen’s step-father has a small shop, and this is the only place where one can buy beer in this Christian valley, so I took full advantage by purchasing a few.

The Lun Bawang is the local tribe in this area. At one time they were renowned head-hunters, but are now staunch Christians.

Maureen served us French toast at tea time.

In the evening we planned to try again to see the Dulit Frogmouth, but as we reached the village at 6:30 pm, it started to rain. We waited undercover at Apple Lodge, and if was still raining at 7.30pm, we would abort the trip.

But then we decided to give it a try. About fifteen minutes down the Lamas road, Badau used a taped call to try to attract the bird, but none came. Then after forty minutes, we heard the call of a Dulit Frogmouth in the distance. The sky then cleared, and we saw an amazing number of stars in the galaxy, with lots of fireflies. But then my super torch stopped working; probably it had run out of

battery?

Paulus lent me a torch, so the walk through the rice field was easier than I had anticipated. Fresh batteries did not work in my torch – so the bulb has probably blown.

Maureen cooked dinner for us.

We were woken in the night by the cat that jumped through our bedroom window. It had finished it’s hunting. Moggie then walked all around the mosquito net trying to get in. He then sat crying, so I opened the door and let him out. He went upstairs to sleep with Badau.

The alarm had been set for 5 am. After a pancake breakfast, we set off soon after 6 am in the 4WD with Paulus for some bird watching. It was dry, but the cloud was low. We took the road towards Bario. Although paved, it was in poor condition, with several landslides.

Reached 5,120 feet (1,560m) where we spotted a Whitehead’s Spiderhunter. The sky was clear, and we continued bird watching as we walked down to 3,950 feet (1,220m) on very steep slopes, before getting back into the 4WD.

At 3,310 feet (1,010m), we stopped at a viewpoint at a small chapel. This was built to celebrate some local miracles.

Down to 2,985 feet (910m) at the airport, we thanked Paulus and walked back to

TOH for lunch.

After a rest, Maureen fried fresh ‘Long Johns’ to have with our tea. Moggie had been bitten, and the wound needed cleaning up.

We set off again to try to find the Dulit Frogmouth.

As we came to the bamboo bridge, we saw two dogs on it. The bitch was one of Maureen’s dogs. The dogs were facing different directions but were stuck together. The black dog had followed us, that when he saw what had happened, got very angry, jumping onto the bridge and bumping the ed pair over the edge to fall into the stream 6ft (2m) below. A short time in the water soon had them un-coupled, but the black dog continued to rant and rave trying to get down the steep bank to attack the other dog. Obviously, he thought he had exclusive rights to the bitch. We left them to it, continuing our way to the village, but with a smile on my face.

We met Paulus and his 4WD at 6:30 pm, and taken back to the spot, where we waited for three hours. Again, we heard the bird, but it remained elusive.

Carried back petrol for the generator, and had a late dinner.

Another early breakfast, and we reached the village as Paulus arrived at 6:20 am and set off. Badau and the driver took us back to the higher elevations, as these are the most active birding areas in Ba’Kelalan. Stopped at the same places, before trying Badau’s family farm area. Although we did see the Bornean Treepie, it was all too quiet, and we did not hear many birds.

Then Paulus came back to say he had seen a Blue Banded Pitta. We followed him and sat on the side of a jungle slope, while he played a call. Had a quick look as one jumped on a log and quickly off the other side - green wings and scarlet head and body. In the shade, although one could see a band around the bird’s neck, we were unable to ire the sapphire necklace.

Back to The Owl House, where Maureen prepared another excellent lunch.

Maureen presented us each with a book-mark made from felt, with an owl motif and our names sown on using cut-out felt letters.

In the early evening, we had yet another attempt to find that damn Frogmouth, but we did see a Buffy Fish Owl. Surprisingly there were no fireflies, but again we saw an incredible display of stars.

We then tried another possible location, but no luck.

It was well past 11 pm when we sat down for a fried-rice dinner.

We slept like logs but were up by 7 am to pack.

Had pancakes for breakfast, and then we walked to the airport with Maureen and Badau. I used the straps on my bag as a backpack and managed not to fall into any stream or paddy field. Badau carried Lian’s bag. Badau’s mother presented us with 4.4 lb (2kg) of rice to go with the 6.6 lb (3kg) we had bought. My bag

was well overweight, but I was not asked for any excess.

After checking in, we walked across to the small cafe. Paulus arrived and gave us yet another 4.4 lb (2kg) bag of his own-grown rice. This one has to go in Lian’s backpack. Then we were charged a total £2 (RM9) for excess baggage. Later, we weighed all the rice we had brought back, and this was 18.7 lb (8.5kg).

Badau has a job several times a week working for MasWings as a luggage loader on the three flights a week.

The flight left at 10 am and took twenty minutes to Lawas, and fifteen-minutes later we took off again for Miri.

A taxi took us to the Kingsley Hotel. After checking about sixty emails on their WiFi, we had a rest and then walked to the mall. At ‘Outdoor Life’ I bought another hat for myself, and a rechargeable flashlight to replace the one that broke down.

We had an excellent dinner at ‘Meng Chai Seafood’; Anchor beer, steamed prawn, fried squid, long ‘la-la’ shellfish in curry powder, ladie’s finger, steamed rice. Excellent.

Back for an enjoyable shave and shower with hot water, and a sleep on a raised bed.

We had a late breakfast of Sarawak ‘laksa’ in the coffee shop next door.

I complained to the hotel management that there was no floor plan showing escape routes fixed on the bedroom door, and that the escape door was padlocked.

Took the 1:30 pm MAS flight from Miri to Kuala Lumpur, and reached home four hours later.

CHAPTER 18

India: - Nagaland & Assam.

Nagaland tribesmen.

So where is Nagaland, and why do you want to go there? If you look at the atlas, you may be surprised to see that there is a large area of India on the eastern side of Bangladesh. Land access is by a narrow strip with Bangladesh on the south and Bhutan on the north. China, Myanmar and Bangladesh surround the seven states comprising Northeast India. Until recently, it has been difficult for foreigners to visit this area. Lian spotted an article on the annual ‘Hornbill Festival’ when the various local tribes meet together. Just our cup of tea. And talking of tea, we would combine the trip with a visit to Assam, of Indian tea fame.

It was early December when we made our way to KLIA2 airport for the 9 pm AirAsia flight to Kolkata. Had to show our online Indian eVisa forms at checkin.

On arrival at Kolkata, we put our watches back 2.1/2 hours. Went to the ‘eVisa On Arrival’ desk and showed ports and the forms we filled in at the airport. Wrote that we were going to Nagaland, and there was no problem. At one time foreign tourists needed a Restricted Area Permit to enter Nagaland, and domestic tourists still have to obtain an ‘Inner Line Permit’ before they are allowed entry.

As we had a ten-hour wait for our next flight, we tried to get the airport accommodation, but only the ladies’ dorm was available.

A hotel tout arranged for us to be picked up and taken to the ‘Shereekrishna Hotel’, a couple of miles (km) away. Hardly three-star, and we took the grubby room with its three beds and marble floors. We asked for two clean sheets to go

under the top blanket and for towels. Only one towel arrived, so had to keep telephoning until another was delivered. Actually, we slept quite well even though the air-conditioning went off as it was on a time switch.

We had to cross the street to a restaurant opposite for an Indian style buffet breakfast — same owner, and also a bigger hotel. We had puri and dhal curry.

The hotel car took us to the airport at 8:30 am. Traffic was a bit frantic with rickshaws, cars, vans, buses, old Ambassador taxis and bicycles, all trying to use the same part of the road. Lots of dust and rubbish on the streets.

Checking-in was easy after the X-Ray of bags. People in Army camouflage uniforms handle all the security. The airport is big and clean.

NAGALAND.

We used the 10:40 am Indigo Airlines flight to Dimapur in Nagaland for the onehour flight. On landing, Lian was busy getting information from local engers on how to reach Kohima, our destination.

It was 12:35 pm when we set off, with Tony as the driver in his beat-up Suzuki Maruti taxi. The road is in deplorable condition. Dusty, with quite heavy traffic. A dual carriageway is under construction and will be ready in three years. The road was mountainous in places, and up to 3,100ft (945m) above sea level (asl). Stopped for half an hour for some local food, but it was disappointing.

We were told that the state is ninety per cent Christian. Most of the churches are built high on a ridge - easily seen and close to God - but it must be an exhausting walk up for the congregation.

Kohima.

Arrived at Kohima to meet a real traffic jam to the ‘Aurora Cafe and Lodging’, where we have a booking. As we drove in, we have amazing views down the valley and to the hills beyond. Then had the usual argument/misunderstanding with the driver about the fare. He has to drive back tonight as he says he is not allowed to pick up engers from here.

It’s 4:40 pm, the sun is setting, and it is already quite cool.

The Aurora is undoubtedly well located in the centre of the town area. Our room is tiny and is parallelogram-shaped. The green-tiled bathroom has a western toilet (not a squat). There is no shower, with just a bucket for the hot water. The problem is that we have to call reception every time we want the hot water put on.

The town is crammed full of people for the festival, and this was the reason we had no other choice of where to stay.

We set off for a walk outside. The cars have all been stopped, and stalls erected on the roadway for their nightly festival, selling food, goods, balloons etc.

As we are about 4,600ft (1,400m) above sea level, it’s quite cool, and we need to wear a fleece.

The locals are enjoying the festive Christmas atmosphere. They are good looking people with more Asiatic features than the standard Indian features.

Lian bought a local SIM card and persuaded the salesman to use his to own identity card details, as Lian had left her port in the room.

The hotel WiFi does not reach my older iPad, so I have to go to the reception to pick up the WiFi. There is also a free town ‘Hornbill Festival’ Wi-Fi, but it is not stable and keeps cutting off.

Tried the room TV – but could not find a channel in English.

Used our own sleeping sheets, and their blanket on the 2” foam mattress laid on a solid plywood base. Very hard, and probably bruising my pelvic bone. It became quite cold in the night. A light continually shines from the corridor through an old air brick above the door.

Woke at 7:30 am and made cups of tea with our own heater element just before a short power cut, then went down for an omelette and toast breakfast.

Set off by taking the local blue bus, getting off at ‘BOC’, then taking a short walk to the taxi terminal. At a kiosk, we state our destination and are directed to a ‘shared taxi’ that takes four engers for the 25-minute, uphill drive to the

festival site. We shared with an Israeli couple, who we met and chatted with later in the afternoon.

It was nearly 10:30 am when we reached the site. Here we paid our entrance fee and an additional sum for a camera.

The cultural shows had already started by 10:15 am, and the various tribes come on one by one to perform.

It seems that the tribesman were headhunters before becoming Christian. The last recorded headhunting was in 1963.

Some of the tribesmen had real Hornbill feathers in their hats, but most were artificial. Nearly all the tail feathers were from the Great Hornbill, and are white with a black band. The few all-black feathers were from an Oriental Pied Hornbill, and any all-white feathers from the Wreathed Hornbill.

The tribesmen and women not performing, sit in the stands with the tourists. So one had an excellent opportunity of studying the various tribal dresses. Wild boar teeth are a popular decoration.

It was sweltering sitting in the sun, so I moved to a shaded stand, even though it was a bit cool. At about mid-day, the shows stopped for a while. We then walked around the exhibits showing the typical houses of the various tribes. Here we could see the men and women in their traditional finery and photograph them, or have your picture taken with them. Many Indian tourists also wanted to have their photos taken with me or the both of us.

The large tree beside the arena had many model hornbills sitting on the branches. Then Lian noticed that they had a loudspeaker playing the sound of the Hornbill wing beats - but not loud enough. This sound can be loud in the forest as they slowly overhead, and is the very opposite of the silent flight of an owl.

To return to town, we picked up a shared taxi with five this time, and we squeezed into the back. Not so frightening when sitting in the back, behind the very young driver, with his multi cracked windscreen, and lack of any side mirrors. At the BOC we took a blue bus. I had to stand much of the way, with my head at 45 degrees due to its low roofline. Got off in a traffic jam, and bought some steamed pork ‘momos’, and a plastic bag of soup.

Back before 4 pm for a coffee, and into the restaurant to get onto their WiFi. Sunset is 4:22 pm.

Had an excellent evening meal in the Aurora: egg curry, vegetable curry, Basmati rice, and roti.

Took a walk outside in the night festival. People seem to be having a great time, with quite a Christmas atmosphere already.

Lian had had her bath before dinner. But now no hot water will be available for me until perhaps 11 pm from the busy kitchen. So Lian boiled two mugs of water for me to have a dryish wash.

Down for breakfast at 7:45 am to find that four staff sleep on the restaurant floor.

The town is overflowing with tourists.

On our first night of arrival, we were talking to a young lady in the night market, who was there to assist tourists. This morning she emailed Lian a copy of the Nagaland Today newspaper. We are mentioned by name in this, together with Lian’s comment regarding the misunderstanding about the taxi fare from Dimapur.

Left the hotel and arrived at the festival site by bus and shared taxi less than an hour later. The local bus was playing Christmas carols.

I liked one roadside sign ‘Drive slow to see our village, drive fast to see our judge.’

As we arrived at the entrance gate, they were giving out small New Testament/ Psalms/ Proverbs from the Gideons International of India.

Once again, we watched the dancing and singing by the various tribes. Saw the local version of fighting only using kicking, and then a tug-of-war.

At one time, we sat in front of a group of trainee nuns. They were having lots of laughs. One girl kept shouting “Oh my God!” during each show, especially when young men were performing.

We followed the day’s VIP as he and his entourage visited the various tribal huts. Here he was greeted with local dancers and serenaded with songs. We could get

very close and enjoy the impressive costumes.

These hill tribesmen do not look ‘typical Indian’, and obviously, have strong Chinese genes. What further surprised us was that many of the tribes could have come from Sabah or Sarawak in Malaysian Borneo. Their features and the tribal decorations were very similar.

Dinner at the hotel comprised; egg and vegetable noodles, and French fries, and poppadum.

Next morning, we made tea in the room before going for fried eggs and toast for breakfast. Lian preferred a plain Roti.

An Indian couple had just arrived, and were complaining that the staff did not speak English, and wanted to know how we got on? We told them we had no problem as everyone seems to speak some English. We don’t think the locals understand the strong Indian accents of the visitors - I certainly had to strain my ears to follow his strong accent, and had to resist shaking my head from side to side when trying to follow the one-sided conversation. It was interesting to note that the locals speak English with English accents, and do not shake their heads as they converse or listen.

Behind the hotel is a big market. Here they specialize in imported second-hand clothing that arrives compressed in huge bales from Korea. It is then broken down and set out on large tarpaulins with similar clothes, i.e. tros, jackets, ladies tops etc. The sheer volume is astounding.

In WWII there was a significant battle with the Japanese in Kohima. It was

1944, and the Japanese planned to invade India in the hope of overthrowing the British Raj. If the Japanese could capture Kohima, not only would it clear the path into India, but would frustrate the American’s supply of arms to Chiang Kai Shek’s army in China from nearby Imphal.

Kohima was being held by British and Indian troops on a small ridge overlooking the main town and was based in the gardens of the District Commissioner.

The Japanese entered India from Burma and set siege to the town from 3rd April to 15th May. Fighting was fierce as the enemy forces were face to face across the Commissioner’s tennis court, and casualties were high on both sides. Photos of the battleground at the end look more like those shown in WW1, with craters and broken tree stumps.

It is said that it was lack of food that forced the Japanese to at last retreat.

The Kohima War Cemetery is istered by the War Graves Commission, who look after the 1,387 Allied graves. It is well set out in terraces on a levelled area on the site of the ridge.

Outside, by the road, is a memorial with the following epitaph, “When you go home, tell them of us and say for your tomorrow we gave our today”.

Inside, we wander along rows of markers, and learn that the motto of the Dorsetshire Regiment is “Who’s Afeard?” Amongst the many markers we see are markers from The King’s Own Scottish Borderers, as well as the Royal Australian Air Force, and the Royal Canadian Air Force, including a Muslim

marker from the Royal Indian Army Service Corps. A Lieutenant with an English name from the Gurkha Rifles had as a motto ‘God Rest Ye Merry Gentleman’.

One tall cross sits upon a circular memorial. I see that the ground adjacent to it is marked out with concrete boxes of various sizes. I assumed that these rectangles were there to denote where various military groups would muster when annual memorial celebrations were taking place. Then Lian pointed out that these markings were outlining the location of the famed tennis court. Wake up Michael!

The air was clear and crisp, and we enjoyed great views of the housing clinging to the sides of the steep surrounding hillsides. But it was very dusty once we got down to the road level again.

Out walking around the town and the side roads, we noted there were no beggars and we saw no one smoking. We understand there is officially no alcohol – as Nagaland is a dry State.

A lot of effort has been made to put up signs wishing all a Merry Christmas and a Happy New Year. No cows are wandering around, so no cow pats all over the place. This really does not feel like India.

The roads and lanes jig-jag around the steep slopes. A man in the market is trying to sell a dead black cobra. Women peer at us through high windows, and girls giggle as I take their pictures.

Back to the hotel in time for two pails of hot water and a wash, before enjoying a

dinner of egg curry, potato curry and Basmati rice.

Kohima to Dimapur.

At 7 am, we awoke to a power cut, so have to pack in the darkish room. Worst still was the fact that with no power, there would be no breakfast.

An hour later, we walked along to the regional taxi station. After a wait, we got a Tata 4WD ‘regional’ taxi. The eleven engers, including three kids, are squeezed into a normal eight-seater. All the bags are tied down on the heavy roof rack.

Lian and I shared the single front seat as we left at 8:20 am. One of Lian’s legs has to straddle the gear lever. Luckily not too many gear changes, as the engine is diesel and progress is very slow due to road conditions. At the start, we see excellent mountain scenery, before ing through a gorge onto the main plain. After a couple of hours, we had a twenty-minute stop to stretch our legs. There was heavy dusty traffic for the last nine miles (15km) as we reached Dimapur, the state capital.

Dimapur.

Soon after mid-day, we arrived at the bus terminal outside the railway station.

As we were at the station, Lian wanted us to get rail tickets to go to Guwahati in

Assam for the next day. But first, we had to find reservations, as that was in another building. Half an hour later we have tickets for the morning train.

We soon note that it is much warmer here, as we are now down to only 440ft (135m) above sea level.

We pull our bags down the main drag for about six minutes to the ‘Cedar Hotel’ where we had a booking. Our room is such a pleasant change from yesterday. A good size room with a marble floor, a proper bathroom with hot water in the shower, so I enjoyed a shave and shower. I won’t mention that I cannot receive a Wi-Fi signal on my old iPad mini.

Went for a walk, following the receptionist’s directions to a supermarket, but unable to find it. We continued via the over over the railway line, looking down on the many locals sitting on the rails. Reached the HongKong market, but no supermarket was nearby. Dusk falls very quickly, so bought snacks and water in a nearby small shop, and returned to the hotel for dinner.

Dimapur to Guwahati in Assam.

Set my alarm for 4:45 am, and slept like a log. But my alarm did not ring. Luckily Lian had set her’s for 5 am. Left hotel by 5:40 am and soon reached the railway station.

Here it was a bit chaotic. An announcement was made that the Nagaland Express would be on platform 2, so we ed a throng and rushed up the stairs and over to the platform. Most people, however, just climbed down and crossed the tracks. Then another announcement came, and the process was reversed. Then we heard

that the train was running an hour and a half late. It arrived in due course, and we found our sleeper carriage. We have seven people sitting in our section, made for six, but at least we have allocated seats. We put our bags on the upper of the three bunks for the five-hour journey.

At last, the train started to move soon after 7:30 am.

Soon we were out in the countryside. The weather to start with was like a fresh spring morning.

A boy comes around sweeping under seats, but of course, misses a pile of peanut shells. Must it I did not see them at the time. Another man is collecting breakfast orders, and an inspector checks our tickets.

The express train stops often, and more and more engers got on. They look at us expectantly, hoping we would squeeze up to let them in - but to no avail.

Wheat, or is it a rice crop being harvested? Once we the Kapur Town area, the landscape becomes very flat. Some rape and some rice were under cultivation.

We arrive at the Guwahati station at 12:35 pm.

ASSAM.

Guwahati.

At 200ft (60m) above sea level, it is a lot warmer.

We walked to the ‘OYO Monsoon Palace’, where we had booked online for three nights.

Later we went out for a wander towards the Brahmaputra River. Here we were let through the gate at the Law Courts by a guard. A couple of wooded islands could be seen, and a crowded ferry boat was crossing the river. Dusk was fast arriving and causing a golden glow over the river and the hills behind. Several Black Kites were soaring around or perched on rocks and trees on the nearest island. We continued westwards to the ferry terminal for some more photos.

The hotel restaurant was dark, and we were not sure if it was even open. So, we went along to the ‘Orange Fast Food’ that we had ed earlier. The restaurant is only about 5ft wide (less than 2m) and long. The walls were decorated with pictures of Bob Marley and some marijuana-based adverts. Lian ordered Singapore egg-fried-rice, and I had egg biryani. Nothing fantastic, but good enough to make this the restaurant of choice during our stay in this town.

Next morning, we took an Uber taxi to the Kamakhya Temple, situated at the top of a hill to the west of town. There was already a long queue of devotees walking up the white, grey and pink marble pavement to get into the main temple. Shops either side are selling garlands of flowers and souvenirs.

This Hindu temple is dedicated to Kamakhya, the mother goddess.

At the temple gate, we all had to take off our shoes. We left ours with a little man, making a show of taking his picture so we would know him again.

The long queue stood behind bars waiting for the main temple to open and the ‘pujas’ (prayers) to begin.

The temple is well known for removing black magic, restoring virility, curing infertility, and restoring health. As we look at some of the devotees, we are left to wonder what they each were praying for.

The temple is closed for three days a year when the Goddess is said to be menstruating. During this period (no pun intended), the devotees are allowed to dip their handkerchiefs into the ‘red’ water of a small stream, as a souvenir.

We went into a couple of the smaller temples, but are not allowed to photograph inside the temples. Several little goats stood around, waiting to be sacrificed. Saw two cattle heads set out on one prayer table.

There was plenty to photograph, and I took some interesting ones of the various worshippers. Behind the main temple on the side of the hill sat an orange cloaked pilgrim, sitting cross-legged and reading from holy scriptures held on his lap. Before him is an old Billy goat, who has been coloured with vermilion dye. We hope this is a ‘temple goat’ and a mascot, and not just lying peacefully awaiting sacrifice.

We are stopped and given a red mark on our foreheads by one of the priests as a

blessing.

We picked up our shoes amid lots of laughter. By now the crowd has grown considerably. A lance corporal with the Assam Police sits quietly and watches the crowd. A short automatic gun lays across his knees.

Started to walk the mile and a half (2.4km) down to the main road. Stopped at a small café to sit and enjoy their ‘dosais’.

At the second viewpoint, we took steep steps all the way down to the road level. There we took a local bus along to town and walked to the hotel.

We set off to find the North-east Railway Reservation Office in Station Road. Lian bought us seats back to Dimapur. This express train is much more expensive than the one we came on (US$24 instead of US$3 for us both). By showing our ports, we received a concession as senior citizens.

We wander through the old bustling market. Motorcycles are parked higgledypiggledy on the roadside. Yellow and black motorized trishaws carry engers homewards ladened with shopping. Shoppers sort through clothing piled high on a stall. Above all is a maze of electrical wiring carrying power and light to the five-storey shops on each side. A side road holds the vegetable and fruit market. This is blocked at present as a goods-train slowly makes its way past, accompanied by a deep hooted warning to those walking on the line, to move out of the way. The train has gone, and now people jostle to be the first to cross the line and get on their way.

We see very few dogs in the town.

There is the ‘Millennium Wine Shop’ liquor shop, close to the hotel. A small shop with steel mesh above the counter. A sign states ‘sales of alcoholic drinks to a person below the age of 21 is prohibited’ and ‘violation entails punishment under Excise Law’. Looking through the grille, most of the bottles seem to be various Indian whiskies, but I could see the imported ‘VAT 69’, and also ‘Black Dog’, that I know from experience is excellent. Wine or beer was not on display.

Had a good night’s sleep, but one does hear the trains hooting through the night.

After breakfast, we walked along to the ferry station.

As Lian pointed out, we have not seen any Europeans here, as this must be off the regular tourist routes.

The houses between the road and the river are large and siting in landscaped and grassed gardens. They are obviously from the colonial period, and one could imagine the garden parties being held there for the judge or the deputy commissioner. On the other side of the road, people are practising cricket and training at the two sports fields as we .

The ferry is supposed to operate from 9 am to 4 pm, but the ticket office only opened fifteen minutes later. The first ferry only left at 9:40 am and took ten minutes to dock at Umanand island, also known by the British as Peacock Island. This temple is dedicated to Kamakhya’s husband. Legend has it that Lord Shiva lived here. Kamdev, the God of Love, interrupted Lord Shiva’s meditation and was burned to a cinder.

Built in 1694AD, an earthquake destroyed it. But then, in 1897AD, a local merchant rebuilt it.

The island is said to be the ‘smallest inhabited riverine island in the world’.

The ferry was crowded, and all were very friendly and chatty, and several wanted their photos taken with us.

We walk up steep marble steps to the temple. There was nothing spectacular to see here.

A power pylon dominates the island. One cable was drooping down and touching the river.

A few Kites are flying low to pick up floating scraps. Saw a cat on the island, the first I have seen here. There was supposed to be some langur monkeys on the island, but we saw none. Hardly surprising, as there does not appear to be enough trees and food available on the island for leaf-eating monkeys.

After an hour and a half, we took the return ferry.

Stopping at a roadside stall, we tried deep fried poppadum’s that blew up like balloons in the hot oil.

Took a thirty-minute walk to the highly recommended ‘Paradise Restaurant’.

Here we ordered two vegetable Thalis. We were served nine dishes and two bowls of steamed rice each. We found it rather bland.

Crossing the road is a bit dicey because the traffic seems to come from nowhere.

Cars here seem to be 80% Suzuki, 10% Hyundai, and a few Tata or Mahindra 4WDs. Plenty of ‘Autos’ - Lambretta driven motor trishaws, as well as the traditional bicycle trishaws.

Next morning, we visited the Assam National Museum that opens at 10 am. The sculpture section is reasonably modern, but the rest is very dark and dingy. It could all do with a spring clean.

Guwahati to Dimapur.

We left the hotel for the fifteen-minute walk to the station. Difficult for Lian, as her bag has four small wheels, and each quickly gets confused by the poor road surface that gets them facing in all directions.

Our train, Number 12085, the ‘Shatabdi Express’ was already at platform No, 1. It was due to leave at 12:10 pm with a journey time of 4hr 38min. We find our names are on a printed list stuck next to the carriage entrance door. The carriage has reclining seats, with the seating configuration of; two seats, a corridor, and three seats. I have a middle seat, and Lian has a window. The train is pretty full, even though the fare is eight times more than the one we came on. The luggage rack is groaning with baggage.

We were each given a 1-litre bottle of water. Then a meal was brought around: rice, roti, dal, chicken curry, dry curry vegetables, and pickle. It was all quite tasty. It was then followed with an ice cream.

It is a single-track railway, and we often had a long wait until a train went the other way, but we arrived right on time.

Dimapur.

Walked along to the ‘Cedar Hotel’, and soon after 5 pm, we had re-checked into our old room for three nights.

We enjoyed dinner in the hotel restaurant; vegetable noodles, a creamy vegetable curry, and roti.

In the morning we visited the 10th-century Kachari Ruins in Dimapur. They are said to have been built by the Dimasa people, but little is known about the history of these ruins. Located on an open grassed area, the ruins are now all surrounded by fencing. The ruins nearly all look like 10ft (3m) high pawn chess pieces. Some have broken and lie on their sides. There are also a few flat stones with carvings on them, said to be 1,000 years old. It is a pity there are no signs or descriptions about the history.

Opposite the ruin is the Circuit House - a government rest house. We entered to have a look at the pleasant central courtyard, with tall cooling trees. The big rooms have separate sitting areas.

Wandered into the Northern Angami Colony settlement at Walford Park, but there was not much to see.

Google maps clearly showed a ‘Supermarket’ in the location of a local market. Locals confirmed that this tarpaulin on bamboo poles area is the supermarket! The market sells: dogs with their heads poking out of sacks, dried eels, small frogs in plastic bags, chickens and cockerels, quail and chicken eggs, white rats, and fried crickets, as well as some good-looking vegetables. We felt so sorry for the dogs, who looked so subdued, and probably were aware of their fate. Everything here is very dusty.

Earlier we had gone up on the hotel roof to take some photos. From there we could see the three domes of a temple. We then set off to find it. I thought it was beyond the railway line, but Lian thought it this side. So, we took an interesting walk through the residential area. Saw one stuffed life-sized Father Christmas, sitting in a chair in the front of a garden, under a bright red paper star. A message in English wished ers-by a merry Christmas and a happy New Year. One man insisted we came into his compound and take his picture.

Found only a two-domed temple under construction, as we finished up by the railway station.

The town is having a festival with lots of small stalls similar to Kohima. One booth had a ‘Potato Weighing Machine Game’ with a notice saying ‘Try your luck and win puppies’. I just hope the lucky winners do not then sell the puppies in the ‘supermarket’.

Nearly all the stalls are selling food, and not much else. We saw the start, as the sun was setting.

Next morning, we set out early and wandered westwards past the railway station, where we came across the temple we had looked for the previous day. We came across a sign outside a white marble Hindu Temple: ‘Before becoming a Muslim, A Hindu or a Christian let’s become a human first’.

ed the many people meeting on the railway track outside the station. Many were sitting in a line on the rails, while others form small groups. Many simply use the railway track as a route to where they wish to go, as it is faster than pushing through the crowds in the streets. No one takes any notice of us.

The town is jammed up with the Auto tri-shaws. We walked around the market area ending up in the HongKong market. Bought a pair of socks with a separate big toe section, and pair of fingerless gloves. Most shops have marble floors. Everything is so dusty.

Took an afternoon walk past Walford Junction going east, to see the bridge under construction over the Dhansari River. Walford Park is an area with small covered kiosks around the outside. One of the indigenous groups, with waistcoats embroidered with tribal markings, were having a meeting and their food.

We ed a notice pasted to the sides of a wooden shack. This d an Ayurvedic Clinic that was open every day, with a Friday free check-up by D.K.Sharma. The clinic was for ‘If you are suffering from Sexual Disease – Night Emission – Spermatorrhoea – Premature Ejaculation – Impotency – Gout – Asthma – Gastric – Mensual Disorder – White Patches – Eczema & Any Skin Disease cured by Ayurvedic Medicines’. (Their spellings, not mine).

Walked back past the Science Centre, which seemed more like a miniature theme

park, but did not go in.

This town seems to be a mess. But what to do? Firstly, pave the roads and pavements. This will certainly reduce the dust, and let the authorities get to the rubbish for cleaning up. Lian pointed out, however, that she had not seen any rats, even with so much rubbish about.

Dimapur to Kolkata.

The road to the airport is in terrible condition. Some roadworks are already underway to one area, so at least something is being done. Any vehicle working here must be very tough. Our auto driver tried to leave us at the airport entrance gate, a long way from the terminal. We refused to get out, as we had told him we wanted the airport.

Security seemed very thorough, with a second body-check ‘frisk’ before entering the bus out to the plane. The hour and a half flight on Air India from Dimapur to Kolkata was a little cramped, but a hot vegetarian meal was served.

There was another white face on the plane, the first we have seen for a week.

On arrival at Kolkata, we collected our bags and checked into an airport retiring room. This comprised of a very comfortable modern en-suite bedroom — plenty of hot water in the shower, and a kettle with a supply of tea and coffee. Checking out at 10:30 pm, we ed the long queues at immigration before taking the AirAsia night flight back to Malaysia.

CHAPTER 19

China & Laos trip.

Ruili – selling jade over the internet.

With just one day’s rest to get over the New Year celebrations, we set off for Kunming in southern China, taking a ‘Grab’ taxi for the one-hour drive to KLIA2 airport.

The AirAsia check-in girl was excited, as she recognized Lian from a trip two and a half months previously. The problem was that in her excitement, she issued both tickets in my name. Luckily it was noticed at the check-in for departures and before we reached immigration, and we had to go back and change one ticket to Lian’s name.

The flight time was 3 hours, 20 minutes, and we touched down just after 5 pm.

Train from Kunming to Dali.

Took the Metro from the airport on Line 6 to the East coach station, then on to Line 3 to Dongfeng Square, before taking Line 2 to Kunming North Railway Station. A young optometrist sat with us to practice his English and helped us with the two changes on the three different lines.

Then we had a 700m walk in a drizzle to get to the station entrance. My feet were wet as we went through tight security, just like at an airport. Then we had to queue to pick up our tickets, but there was no problem. It was 7:20 pm when we sat down in the huge waiting room 4.

We have bookings on the K9602 to Dali, that is due to leave at 10:23 pm. We have 2nd class sleepers, with one upper and one lower berth. Later we moved to the ‘business class’ waiting room, where we could do some re-charging of phone and iPads.

We boarded the train at 10 pm. We found we were sharing the compartment with a French woman, and a Chinese man who had a bad cold and who lives in Dali.

Spent much of the time in sidings waiting for other trains to . The rails seem to have potholes, and we had a squeaky and uneven ride. So, we were dozing rather than sleeping until we arrived in Dali at 5:30 am.

Dali.

Shared a taxi with the other two to Dali old town at 5:50 am, dropped off the woman, then us. We were told our hostel was only about 160 yards (150m) away, but we could not find it. Then another man helped us, and we found it was down another offshoot lane. But all was locked up, and we received no answer to our knocking at 6:45 am. Went to a small cafe and had soy milk and deep-fried ‘long johns’.

So, it was nearly 8 am when we checked into the ‘Butterfly Dream Inn’. We had a big room with a glass wall to the bathroom – but this did have a curtain. After a shower, we rested for a couple of hours to catch up on our sleep.

Only then we went out for a wander. Lian looked into a nearby hostel (The U+)

and liked it, so we will move there tomorrow for a night.

Walked to see the West Gate, then backtracked after sharing a bowl of very chilly-hot potato noodles to the North Gate, before turning south to visit the two Southern Gates. Ate a grilled sausage, but it was not cooked well enough. At the South Gate, we went for a walk on the ramparts of the city wall westwards, then to the north. The perimeter of the old wall is 3.75miles (6km). But we had to return the same way, as the gates to all the steps down were locked. We saw several wedding photographers posing bridal couples for their pre-wedding photo-shoots, as the wall top walk was a quite photogenic location.

By then we were feeling quite peckish, so had a bowl of noodles each, before reaching the Inn.

Out again later, checking buses to town, and nearest bus stop.

We walked down towards Erhai Lake on a concrete road used as access for the vegetable smallholdings. Some new ‘forests’ of full-grown trees that have been imported, planted, and strutted. Some workers were covering strawberry plants, so perhaps they are expecting a frost tonight? We can see some cloud over the Cangshan mountains to the west. The sun was trying to break through, and with the sprinkling of new snow, it made the scene quite dramatic. We saw a Hoopoe and some Shrikes, as well as a smaller raptor chasing away a larger one. We still had some way to go lake when we returned, as the sun was setting and we could feel the temperature dropping.

Walked back into town and had dinner at a Dai (a local minority tribe) restaurant. We found the fried rice with chicken, the plate of green vegetables, and two types of mushroom, to be very filling.

Lian’s Fitbit tells us that we have walked nearly 12 miles (19km) today - but I found that hard to believe even though my hip feels a little sore.

We slept like logs. It is 35F (2C) outside, and the sky is clear.

We checked out at 10 am and walked 150 yards (140m) to the ‘U+’.

Our room was not yet ready, so we sat at the rooftop balcony to enjoy the views of the surrounding mountains.

We took the No.8 bus to Dali new town, over 9 miles (15km) away. Here we tried to find the bus station from where buses leave for Baoshan, but we had been given conflicting and inaccurate information.

Returned to our new hostel to find that the room had still not been made up, and this pissed me off. Had a coffee while we waited for 30 minutes. The manager was apologetic and gave us a plate of strawberries.

Went out mid-afternoon and walked along the main road to traffic lights, where we took a small bus the two miles (3 km) down to the lake. Walked to the pier, and Lian was upset with the security men who would not allow us on it. Then we took a walk along the lakeside in a park with many ponds in it. The water is very clear, and we spotted many Common Coots with their white shield, and some Ruddy Shelducks with their rufous body and pale head. A crowd were watching many gulls (Little Gulls), and occasionally feeding some with bread. We returned the way we came and were back by 4 pm. Just in time for afternoon tea

on the roof level and to enjoy the warmth in the sun 79F (26C).

We ordered dinner at the hostel for 7 pm. It was a buffet and a bit of a bun fight, and when we arrived, they had already run out of rice, although more was brought out later. However, the food was excellent, with about fourteen dishes in all.

Dali to Baoshan to Tengchong.

After the hostel breakfast of rice porridge and a steamed red bean pau (a steamed bun filled with red-bean paste), we checked out. Took a couple of buses into town, which was jammed with traffic, and upon reaching the depot, we ed a long queue at the ticket office. Managed to get tickets on the 10:30 am bus for the three-hour, 110mile (179km) drive to Baoshan.

We crossed a mountain using a steep gorge, driving westwards on the G56, a dual-lane carriageway.

It was about 11:30 am when the bus stopped at a petrol station near Yuejin. It seems that the bus has been overheating and can go no further. We waited, and when the next bus arrived, it cannot take all the engers, as it was a smaller bus. So the eleven of us had to wait.

While waiting, we were chatting with a young doctor and his girlfriend. They are going direct to Tengchong, once we arrive at Baoshan. As we have no hotel bookings, we may well follow them, depending on what time the next bus arrives there.

A new Dali Royale Express bus came to pick us up. It was more modern and had better legroom, and we left at 12:40 pm.

The bus starts climbing through spectacular scenery. We through several long tunnels, each between a mile to a mile and a half long (1,500m to 2350m), as well as many smaller ones.

After ing a long narrow lake on our right-hand side, we reached the large town of Baoshan, on a flat plain surrounded by hills. We arrived at the bus station at 2:30 pm.

We bought tickets for the 3 pm bus to Tengchong, together with some small stuffed hot pau (buns) and other snacks for the journey.

The windows seem ‘frosted’, so not much chance of photos on the way.

Our 105-mile route (170km) continued on the G56, then turned westwards on the S31.

I soon lost count of the number of tunnels.

We crossed a 1.5 mile-long (2471m) suspension bridge that crossed very high over a valley.

Tengchong.

It was 5:15 pm when we reached the Tengchong bus station, and we followed our two friends a long way up the main road before taking a right turn. Here we booked into the two-month-old ‘Shengtiyana Hotel’.

Our room turned out to be really good, with two large beds with sparkling white sheets. The bathroom is the best so far, as it has a separate shower cubicle. The view is also good, overlooking a tree-lined street, town roofs and hills in the background.

For dinner, we enjoyed a noodle soup at a pavement side café, together with a variety of different pickles and small pickled onions.

Saw several Bar-Be-Que restaurants - one was selling fresh pig brains, oysters, and scallops, but we were too chicken to try them. Bought a large Tuborg beer to take back and savour.

Tengchong is located on the border of the Europe-Asia continental plate and is a highly volcanic area with 97 volcanoes. Over the last 500 years, seventy earthquakes occurred in the area, each measuring five or more on the Richter scale.

Went out for breakfast of noodles and long johns (rather like a long thin deepfried doughnut), sitting at low tables on the pavement.

Met our friends in reception as they checked out. They were going to visit the Rehai (Hot Sea) hot springs before they leave, so we followed them, and took a bus there.

As senior citizens, we got in for half price and took a golf cart to the main visitor’s area. There are walkways between many hot springs. Near boiling water was spouting out of the rock. The 97C (206F) pool can boil eggs, and the locals offer visitors eggs cooked in the Dagunguo (Big Boiling Bowl) spring’s heat.

The weather was fine, and it is not too crowded, so it is easy to follow the path round. We spotted a Red-vented Bulbul, and a Leafbird in a cherry blossom tree. After a pleasant morning, we returned the 5 miles (8km) by bus to town.

The hotel car took us to China Mobile, to try to sort out Lian’s telephone problem. She wants a new SIM card, but cannot have one, as she is a foreigner. They did, however, check her old SIM card, purchased three months previously in Dongguan, and found this is OK, so she only had to top this up.

The hotel bus then dropped us off at the Heshun Cultural Village. As I am over 70, I had a free entrance, but Lian only had a 50% discount.

The Qing Dynasty village is picturesque with its Hui-style architecture, and we took some time wandering around. Neighbouring Myanmar is famous for its jade, and Heshan has been a trade centre for this precious stone since ancient times. Long caravans would come from Sichuan and other parts of Yunnan and through Heshun.

We visited the Lui ancestral temple, then the Li temple. These overlook the Wild

Duckpond, which is under renovation, so no ducks were to be seen. Moved on to see the Yuanlong Pavilion, located on an island in the middle of a lake, and overlooked by the Yuan Longge Temple. They have a double water wheel here. We walked up to the Ai Siqi’ Residence, the home of a writer and revolutionary. On the way back, we popped into the famed library building.

We used local transport back to the hotel. Bus No 6 to town was full, mainly with workers carrying their hoes. Then onto a No 2, that dropped us near the hotel by 5:30 pm.

I bought a Dali V8 beer that tastes similar to the homemade beer I made in the UK. But this is not a recommendation, and I soon went back to the usual pub beer.

In the evening we returned for dinner to the same noodle shop as last night, and especially enjoyed the pickled onions.

Noted that there are still plenty of scooters driving around, but not many traditional motorbikes. Very few drivers wear a safety hat. In winter, it is cold, and we see many scooter drivers using a duvet-like cover to protect their legs and chest, with one part wrapping around the handlebars to keep their hands warm.

In the night it went down to 32F (0C). It was early morning when we walked along to the covered market in Rehai Lu. This sells vegetables and chickens on the ground floor, with meats on the first-floor balcony. Bought some ‘pau’ (steamed bun) to eat as we walked along to have breakfast at the noodle shop that we have been frequenting.

Tengchong to Ruili.

Checked out at noon, and the hotel car took us to another bus station, where the buses leave for the five-hour journey to Ruili.

The bus pulled out just before 12:30 pm. It is a 30-seater, not new but has sufficient knee room, and it had onboard Wi-Fi. About an hour later, we were stopped at a police checkpoint, and our ports are taken away for about ten minutes for checking.

We see plenty of agriculture in the broad valley, and potatoes seem to be a major crop, with some tea plantations as the road climbs. After three hours, we stopped for a pee stop, and some engers asked to stand by me for some photos. We noted that the golden stupas of the local temples look very Thai / Burmese. Once again, we were stopped yet again at a check-point, and our ports were taken away for checking.

The road continued to climb to about 5,000ft (1,500m), where we entered a tunnel about a kilometre long, before dropping 2,500ft (760m) to the valley floor, where we see that the sugar cane growing is ready for harvesting.

Leaving the valley floor, we drove through a 3.25mile (5,270m) long tunnel before reaching our destination soon after 5 pm.

Ruili.

Before leaving the terminal, Lian checked on the timetable for buses leaving for Jinghong.

The taxi mafia at the bus depot wanted 20rmb (US$2.90), so we started walking and soon got a taxi for half this amount to take us to the Tenglong Hotel.

Ruili is located at 2,500ft (770m) above sea level, and the current temperatures were between a pleasant 40 to 70F (6 to 22C).

Went out for a walk for dinner, and had fried kuey teow (flat noodles) at a stall in the market. Once again, I had to squat on a very low stool with my knees up close to my ears. Delicious, but with a touch of the local ‘numbing’ chilli. Then went for a walk in the Fuxin mall area and a huge supermarket.

The town is located on a thumb poking into Myanmar (Burma). From what little we have seen, Ruli is now far from its reputation of being a ‘cowboy’ backwater.

The area is rich in minerals and was the birthplace of the Dai ethnic group. As China’s largest land port, it is said to be the main conduit for Burmese heroin entering China. It is undoubtedly the main town for the import of Burmese jade, which is much sought after not only in China but also in Pakistan and Bangladesh.

Although we set the alarm for 7 am to go down for the hotel breakfast, we slept so solidly that we did not get up until 7:30 am to enjoy the buffet-style Chinese breakfast.

Whereas one expects the border between China and Burma to be mid-river, in this case, the border is on a finger pointing into Burma known as Yueliang Island. Here one finds the area known as Jiegaothat is the immigration exit into Burma’s town of Muse.

We wanted to visit the Burmese border but found that no buses are going there. A lady helped and showed us the red cars that act as shared taxis. The main road crosses the river, and we were dropped off at the main Jiegao immigration section. Took a few photographs, together with Chinese tourists who had come to gawk at the crossing point. Many of the local people were obviously Burmese, with the girls having the ground white powder on their faces, and many men wear the Burmese sarong like ‘longi’.

We walked around the back of the building to see the fencing, which was quite lightweight and had barbed wire on the top. A couple of police officers were sitting around a fire trying to keep warm.

Then walked to find the jade market off Yule Alley. We stopped at several shops selling jade boulders. Some had been cut through and polished on the top, and others looked just like brown rocks. Buyers were carefully examining the stones using bright flashlights. Men were happy to show Lian how they used these torches to check for cracks and flaws in the rock.

We walked further on to the main jade market. This is a vast covered market divided into many small stalls. One section had no overhead lighting and is where the uncut or half-cut stones/boulders are inspected under torchlight. The other section was well lighted and is for the sale of finished polished jade bracelets, pendants etc. Many of the bracelets had prices, ranging from 10 to 5,000 rmb (US$1.50 to 720). OK, the expensive ones were more translucent, but we could not see the value in general. No prices are on most items, so one could easily get cheated. Lian bought some woven cotton necklaces to hold her jade pendant. I took pictures of an exotic looking girl in a bumblebee coat, who has a

stall selling jade.

We walked outside to an alley selling food from stalls. Here we saw rows of people sitting in the shade and taking many photos, using their handphones, of the many bracelets they had before them. These guys were selling the bracelets over the Internet.

A stall was selling barbecued meat that was covered in chilli before being smashed and flattened with a wooden mallet. We bought a piece of steak, that although a bit fibrous, was delicious.

Took a red shared taxi back to the hotel and made a booking at the ‘Hello Guest House’ in Jinghong for the following night.

Then took a bus to the bus terminal, and bought tickets for the 10-hour trip to Jinghong. It seems the 9:30 am bus is a ‘sleeper’ - not my favourite choice of transport, but there is only one bus a day.

After a coffee, we were out again to find the Huafeng Market, which is quite close. The main covered eating area was quiet as the main trade must be in the evenings. Walked around looking into the carved wood shops as well as some jade carving workshops.

All in all, we are somewhat disappointed to find that the cowboy-like Wild West Ruili has gone, and replaced with a typical modern Chinese city. At least we have seen the commercial hub of a vast worldwide jade network. I am sure that if any opium trade is still here, then it is carried out a lot more discreetly.

We have not seen any other white faces here.

Out for dinner, we enjoyed a barbecue/steamboat combination at a stall. A domed aluminium middle sat over a charcoal fire, with the soup in a channel around the edge. We were supplied with a good selection of vegetables for the soup, and a mix of chicken and pork for grilling.

Ruili to Jinghong.

After breakfast, we checked out by 8:30 am and took a taxi to the bus station.

The sleeper bus had three rows of bunks on two levels, to take 31 engers. It was less than half full at the start. We were allocated two lower bunks, with Lian on the outside. I took the middle one that had slightly more headroom. We each have a thin duvet and a tiny pillow. My feet thread below the head of the enger in front of me.

It was 9:40 am when the bus pulled out.

We travel north-east for a couple of hours to the town of Dehong, where we had our first stop, and the bus fills up with engers here. Just outside the next toll booth, we stop for nearly fifteen minutes while goods from a covered van were loaded into the luggage hold. We speculate as to whether this is an illegal deal going down.

The road leaves the agricultural area for broken hills and a number of tunnels on the way to Longling, and then onwards to Baoshan, where our route then turns southwards.

An old man in front of Lian keeps spitting out the window. The man above me drops a big sheath knife that sticks into the floor of the bus.

Many of the valleys are covered with plastic cloches and at first glance, look like lakes with the sun glinting off the waves.

A girl moves to the bed behind us to be sick. The ‘spitter’ continues, and if he does not get his head out far enough, then spittle runs back across the window next to Lian.

Many of the fields are bright yellow due to the rape crop, and we tea plantations.

Note that the 2005 guidebook says this bus journey would take 36 hours but is now scheduled for only 10½ hours. Later we had to revise that to 20 hours.

It was past 6 pm when we reached Yunxian, and it was here that we find out that the bus will not be arriving at 8 pm this evening, but 8 am tomorrow! The bus will stop somewhere between 2 am and 5 am.

At 7 pm, we stop for a half-hour, and we share a tub of chips. It was dark by the time we left.

At 10 pm, we reached a police checkpoint. No problems for the locals, but they kept our port for over half an hour, as they had to get an OK from their headquarters in Linchang. Goodness knows what would have happened if the permission had not been granted.

Our route bye-es the famed tea plantations around Pu’er. It is too dark to make notes of the countryside, and I find the bus rather uncomfortable as the bed is not long enough for me to stretch out.

I went up to the front and sat on the step next to the driver, who gave me a cushion to sit on. Both he and his conductor were smoking. We are going downhill, and the road on our side is wet from the water used to cool the brakes of the heavy lorries in front of us.

At 1:45 pm, we pulled into an empty car park where we will stay until 5 am, even though we are only about 68 miles (110km) from Jinghong, our destination. The sky was clear, and we had a fantastic show of stars.

On our way again at 5:00 am, and 2.1/2 hours later, we reached the bus terminal.

A sleeper-bus experience is one that one needs not repeat.

Jinghong.

Jinghong is the capital of the Xishuangbanna Dai Autonomous Prefecture, located in the southernmost tip of Yunnan Province, the People’s Republic of China.

After a ten-minute taxi ride, we were dropped off outside a large block of flats.

The ‘Hello Guest House’ is on the third floor and is a real youth hostel type. We found that we had not booked an en-suite and that everyone shares a single bathroom. There is a moveable plastic pedestal to convert the Asian squat to a sit-down type. It worked OK for me, but the flush is not too efficient. The room has plenty of charging points, but all are dead. The fridge lights were not on, so we assumed that one of the electricity phases is out. A cup of hot tea goes down well.

A couple of hours later, the dropped phase came on, so we had WiFi and power at plug points.

We decide to take the larger ‘family’ room for two nights, which is the only one en-suite.

Time for a shower and a shave, before taking a sleep. It is noted that the water here is very soft compared with the water in previous towns.

Lian was sick a couple of times.

Met Yvonne the owner, who was very knowledgeable, after having the ‘Hello

Guest House’ for five years.

We now need to plan our onward journey to Luang Prabang.

We were told that a ferryboat no longer goes down the Mekong to Chiang Saen in Thailand, due to the Thai military incident on the Mekong in October 2011, where the discovery of murdered Chinese nationals on a boat, together with amphetamine tablets, irritated the Chinese government. Slower three to four-day trips on cargo boats may be available but are currently limited to just two engers per boat.

(We had previously taken that trip – refer to Catch the Travel Bug, chapter 15.)

So now our choice was either to go by bus or to fly. The flight from here to Luang Prabang is rmb870 (US$125) each, whereas the bus costs about rmb260 (US$38) each and takes about nine hours. Yvonne suggests stopping overnight at LarNantha, across the border in Laos, and then going on the next day as they have several buses.

We went along the road for some noodles. Came back to do a budget update, and to consider our options. Decided that we have had enough of long-distance buses for a while, so asked Yvonne to book flights for us for two days time.

Lian then made AirAsia bookings for our onward flight from Luang Prabang to our base in Kuala Lumpur.

We had a rest before going out for dinner. Lian fancied simple ‘choke’ (rice porridge), and Yvonne recommended a restaurant nearby, and they provided a good one. I had a large plate of a steamed stalk and leaf vegetable, and a large plate of ‘char siew’ - roasted pork.

It has been overcast since we arrived, with a slight drizzle in the wind.

Next morning Lian was feeling much better.

Under an overcast sky, we walked north along the bund as far as Binjiang Park and the suspension bridge. We returned along the main road as far as Square Ave, and into supermarket mall. Bought some duck, glutinous rice, and mandarin oranges to take back to HGH for lunch.

Security getting into Hello GH is high, as one uses a covered keypad at the entrance door that requires thirteen separate presses before the door can open.

The ‘Meimei Cafe’ is on Menglong Lu. In Oct 2006 this was the only place to get information. It has changed and has been renovated, but there were several white faces there, so ‘Meimei’s’ reputation has stayed. (First whites since the two mentioned earlier.)

We then walked over the suspension bridge and back before taking the ‘health’ walk along the riverside and back to ‘Hello Guest House’ by 4 pm. There we had tea and a chat with Yvonne and another girl guest.

Later we had a walk along the bund, which is turned into a market at night. We see a lot of jewellery, jade, carved wood etc., as well as stalls selling food. Most are selling the same food items. We ordered fried kowtow Taiwan (flat noodles), together with two types of mushroom, lotus root, pork barbecued on a charcoal fire. Then back to ‘Hello Guest House’ for a Tuborg beer.

The design of modern Chinese cars now looks quite good. The Land Wind is a pretty good copy of a Land Rover Evoque.

Lian had a lot of laughs with Yvonne and three of the young girls staying here.

According to Lian’s FitBit, we have walked 10.6miles(17km) today.

We went to buy ‘Long johns’ (long doughnut-like sticks) for breakfast, but they would not reheat them even though the hot fat was available. The ones they had were quite cold, so we went elsewhere, and had small steamed buns stuffed with meat and vegetables before returning to Hello GH for coffee. A little boy cries as we wait for the lift, as he is frightened of me.

Yvonne invited us to the group for lunch in a typical Dai restaurant: Yvonne Wang Yi Ying, her mother, Dong Zhang Qian the married girl (a lawyer), two unmarried girls Liang Qian, and Ling Xue Ting (lawyer), as well as a man called Cha Shan (a nickname translates as ‘Tea Deity’) who is a Pu’er tea expert / dealer). We took a taxi to the other side of the river. Sixteen different dishes were brought out. Dai food relies on many mixed vegetables, many of which are stirfried with meats, as well as taken with glutinous rice. The tau fu is often fermented, and lemongrass is often an ingredient. The flavours are often chilli hot and somewhat sour. The meal was delicious, and we shared the cost.

Then, Cha Shan, Dong and Ling ed us to walk back. The about 4 miles (6 km) went quickly, as there was a lot of joking. Back about 4 pm for a rest.

Cha Shan has invited us all for dinner. We took a taxi to the Dai Ethnic Minority Village, south of the town. Again, a considerable spread with twenty-five dishes and sauces. We walked partway back, before catching a taxi.

Lian booked accommodation in Luang Prabang via the Internet.

We note that no buses are running around this town, and find this unusual for China.

It has been overcast all day, but no rain.

Yvonne has booked us a taxi tomorrow for the airport at 11 am. Must say that we have rarely met such a hospitable and helpful host.

Jinghong in China to Luang Prabang in Laos.

Had some of our Xmas cake for breakfast before finishing our packing. The two lady lawyers left at 10 am. Our taxi arrived at 11 am to take us to the airport, but then, unfortunately, dropped off at the new terminal, which is for domestic only. We had quite a long walk to the adjacent old terminal, but arrived just in time for the check-in to open. So, obviously, only a few international flights operate from Xishuangbanna Airport. Immigration took some time carefully examining my port and Lian was asked to list where we have been. The body search was

quite thorough.

Boarded the Lao Airlines ATR 72 aircraft for the one-hour flight, that took off at 1:25 pm.

Put our watches back an hour for Lao time, and I paid US$36 for my Visa-onArrival. Lian needed no visa. Took a taxi to ‘Lao Lu Lodge’, where we were told that they would be full the next night unless we upgraded to a three-bedded room.

We do not like to be blackmailed like this, so went for a walk and booked two nights at ‘Tha Heua Me Guesthouse’.

One cannot receive ‘Gmail’ in China, so now I had to skip through 130 unread emails and picked out those needing an urgent reply.

Then we went for a wander. Halfway up the hill is a grassed area, and we had a good view of the setting sun. Earlier I had complimented a bearded man who was playing the banjo at a guesthouse opposite. He was an American from New York and was here with his Mexican girlfriend. They ed us, and we swapped tales of our travels.

Left them and walked through the market that had been set out on the ground all along the roadside, mostly selling handicrafts.

For dinner, Lian had noodles, and I had a pork burger. Lian had made the right

choice. These were washed down with a Beer Lao, which I found very palatable, with a pleasantly bitter edge.

Laos had been a French colony, and the influence is still there. Hence a breakfast was served comprising; baguette, butter, jam, omelette and coffee.

It is pleasantly cool at 57F (14C), and the temperature will rise to 75F (24C) later.

We started with a walk along to the morning market. Unlike the night market, this is for the locals. Saw stalls selling; live beetles, small bamboo rats (that looked like hamsters), and cooked bats, rats, and little birds. Big river fish and all types of vegetables and fruit were also for sale.

Looked into Wat Phonxay Sanasonkham, before trying to find the ‘Phusi Hotel’, where we had previously stayed. This hotel has been demolished, and an expensive zen style hotel called the ‘Azaria’ had been built on the site. Many Europeans are staying here.

At mid-day, we checked out and walked to the ‘Tha Heua Me Guesthouse’, our new accommodation for two nights. The room was OK with polished hardwood floors.

We went for a walk around the peninsular, in a clockwise direction. There are plenty of guesthouses, as every other house is now one. Also, we see many massage bars, where the girls are not afraid to call out to me across the road, even when I am with Lian. There are now also many riverside restaurants.

Went down the road to the jetty - where we had arrived in ‘99. Watched a couple of cross-river ferries load and unload lorries, cars, motorcyclists and pedestrians, as well as bicyclists.

Stopped for lunch at a riverside place. Lian had fried rice with pineapple and pork, and I had ham and cheese in a baguette, together with a large Beerlao (5%). Very relaxing.

Kept walking around the riverside road as it does a U-turn. ed by a couple of bamboo bridges crossing the secondary river. Visited an ‘indigo fabric shop’ selling some beautiful pieces of cotton and silks using the base indigo plant dye.

Back to the guesthouse for a cup or two of tea before setting out again. It is now quite warm in the sun. We finished up again at the ‘Khumar Restaurant’ at the other end of the night market.

Lian’s Fitbit claimed we had walked nearly seven miles (11km) around the town.

Next morning, we had the alarm set for 5:15 am as we intended to attend ‘Tat Bhat’, the giving of alms to the monks. We were informed that monks in front of our Guest House. A dog wanders over to sit close to us as we wait. The first group came by at about 5:50 am, and another came ten minutes later. Then, the largest group came from the other direction. They walk barefooted with purpose, in single file in their orange robes with a yellow waistband. They are each given rice and other alms by women sitting on the pathway. It is still quite dark.

We then had our early morning tea on the balcony overlooking the street and the Mekong. It got light by about 6:40 am.

We walk to the market via a path through the Wat.

I followed Lian into a new hotel next to the market where they were performing two days of prayers and offerings. Met and chatted with the Laotian owner, and his daughter, who was visiting from the USA.

We had noodles at a market stall. They sell small birds such as Munias in small cages for you to release. One stall had a little Scops Owl for release for 80,000 kips (US$9.50).

Back to the Guest House for coffee and more of our Xmas fruitcake.

Walked eastwards along Sakaline Road. On the way we seemed to pick up a black dog with a collar. He followed us into many shops and temples on the way, although he was kicked out twice from the Meditation Centre. When the staff asked us if it was our dog, we denied it and said: “This is a Lao dog”. We were eating some pistachio nuts as we wandered along. The black dog was given one, and he actually got quite excited about it. He certainly knew Lian was carrying them. At the end of the peninsular, we came back along Kaunxiauo Road. There are many temples on this route, and a couple of them want a 20,000kip (US$2.40) for entrance.

At one crossroad was a big brown female dog. No fighting, and each dog did a slow circular sniff around each other. As we walked on, I looked back, and the black dog was watching me. I had a choice: either slap my thigh and he would

run to us, or let him stay and have some ‘rumpy-pumpy’. Luckily for the black dog, I’m no spoilsport.

Lian is very interested in the shops selling local fabrics in hemp and cotton.

Back to the Guest House about 3 pm to enjoy a Laobeer, as the sun is out and it is pretty warm – 82F (28C).

We enjoyed dinner at another Mekong-side restaurant. I ordered stir-fried vegetables in a green curry sauce with sticky rice. Lian had similar, but with pork. We put away a couple of large LaoBeer.

We found that today, we had walked only 4.1/2 miles (7km).

Our bedroom backs onto a Wat, and at just past 4 am, we could hear the tinkling of a bell as it gave a message to the monks. Then, twenty minutes later, the soft call from a conch shell as a call to prayer prior to their going out to collect alms.

Out for breakfast. Lian fancied small coconut pastries, but they were not hot. We bought black rice and coconut milk and took this to the Mekong Coffee Lounge, where I had the ‘fried egg croissant’ and latte special. Very tasty. Lian had a latte.

Luang Prabang to Kuala Lumpur.

It was mid-day when we checked-out and took an open-sided three-wheeled ‘tuk-tuk’ (a small local taxi) to the airport. Although we had hired the whole ‘tuk-tuk’, the driver stopped to let his ‘wife’ and child climb onboard. Then later, he even tried to stop to pick up two more engers. The driver did a lot of muttering but took us to the airport without further incident.

We then had to wait for a half-hour for the AirAsia desk to open. The three-hour flight back was uneventful.

CHAPTER 20

Malaysia: Pahang – Sungai Lembing Trip.

Houses by the Sungei Lembing river.

It was early on a Sunday morning when we took the main east/west highway to Pahang, a state on the east coast of Peninsular Malaysia. After crossing the main range, we left at the Langchang toll. We were driving towards the Deer Park when we saw several cars parked just opposite a track into the rain forest. We did not have to go far before we came upon fifteen photographers squatting behind a long black hide.

They were placing mealy worms on logs and playing bird-call tracks from their portable players. Lian and I were there three hours and left about 10.30 am, having seen an impressive number of rare lowland forest birds including a female Barred Pitta, the Malaysian Rail Babbler, Black-throated Babbler, Yellow-bellied Bulbul and a White-rumpled Sharma. We also heard Hornbills and a White-bellied Woodpecker.

We then drove to the Deer Park and the Elephants car parks for a quick look, as they can offer some excellent views of the local birds.

Continuing eastwards on the highway, we took the exit to the small town of Sungai Lembing, where we had lunch. Time to find some accommodation, and after checking out a few, we checked into the ‘Pollock View’.

Sungai Lembing may now be a sleepy backwater, but at one time had one of the biggest tin mines in the world.

We started our visit at the museum where we learnt that until the 1860s, Sungai Lembing was a major producer of underground tin. The total tunnel length was 200 miles (322km),- further than our drive from Kuala Lumpur to the mine, and that it had a depth of between 2,000 to 2,300ft (610 to700m). The mine was owned and run by the British and in the 1940s tin mining ed 1,400 workers. But in 1986 it went into liquidation following the collapse of world tin prices.

It was time for a walk around town that comprises Main Street, and the parallel South Canton Street, with about three connecting roads. Many buildings looked run-down, with rusty corrugated iron walls and roof sheets. There are several huge trees on the main road. I took a photograph of the ‘100-year-old’ red pillar box, but there was no way of confirming the age.

We then proceeded south along the riverbank to a small suspension bridge. As we crossed this swaying bridge, we saw a large Monitor Lizard swimming. This side of the river is known as ‘longevity village’. Finding a shop making noodles, we stopped for a while to watch how the noodles are made.

By 5:30 pm, we were back in Pollock View and enjoying a bottle of red wine. I was sitting in an old barber’s chair, while Lian is in a Trishaw.

The manageress told us that there is only one restaurant open, and it closes at 7 pm.

We found the Hoover restaurant, but they speak only in the Hainanese Chinese dialect, so do not understand Lian. So, I walked around pointing at other people’s food, and then a large Carlsberg on a poster. The beer arrived OK, so we now awaited noodles Hokkien style, sweet and sour pork, and an omelette.

At 7 am the next morning, it was misty outside. I saw a stream of tiny ants on the wall and traced them to our plastic box of mealy worms. These are used to feed birds at the hides. The ants were attacking the larvae, so we had to empty them all out, and then sort and replace them. Rather a messy little job. Carefully washed our hands before driving into town for breakfast at the Chinese stalls. They were doing a roaring business. We ordered tau foo soup - both plain and with curry.

Crossing the Bailey Bridge, we drove along the riverside road, ing several small resorts before reaching the big hillside Chinese graveyard. Further on, there were even more small resort/guesthouses. We then drove for several miles on a rough track to ‘sunset hill’.

No trip to Lembing would be complete without a visit to the mine tunnels.

There was a total of fourteen mines, of which Myah was the largest and the deepest at 2,300ft (700m).

We were taken into the mine on the small train and then walked until we reached 635 yards (580m) into the hillside of the 1,575ft (480m) deep Tabeto mine.

On the mine walls are a series of informative and interesting signage. We learned that the mine had a substantial duty-free shop that included the latest brands from Europe. The locals called it the ‘Gudang’ or Warehouse, and around 1,500 low-income mineworkers were allowed to buy daily essentials on credit. The mining company provided roads, free electricity, water, dwellings, schools, and healthcare for their workers.

During the Japanese occupation, the mines were flooded, and the Japanese destroyed all the mining records.

We returned to the hotel for a shower and a coffee, before checking out for our return to Kuala Lumpur.

Sg. Lembing is in a bit of a time warp, and we had enjoyed the opportunity of being able to step back in time.

We took a side road to see a beautiful 1,160ft (355m) limestone outcrop, rising vertically from a palm oil plantation. Gua Charas has a cave temple, treated as holy by both Hindu and Buddhists.

Drove to Lanchang, and returned to the bird hide, but there was no one else there, and few birds were around. We had only been there for half an hour when a storm hit the area.

We drove through torrential rain for a while and had to take care, as there were many fallen branches on the road.

CHAPTER 21

Central Asia: – Kazakhstan and Kyrgyzstan.

Lian with walnut harvester, Arslanbob.

Kazakhstan is a vast country and at 1,052,100 square miles (2,724,900 square kilometres), sits in 9th place size-wise, between Argentina and Algeria. Another claim to fame is that it is the largest landlocked country in the world, despite having a long shoreline with the Caspian Sea.

We planned to take a direct flight into Almaty on Astana Air, with return seats three weeks later. We intended to spend some time in Kyrgyzstan, and had also arranged for visas into Tajikistan, should our travels take us in that direction.

Kazakhstan has Russia as neighbours to the north and west, China to the east, and Kyrgyzstan, Uzbekistan and Turkmenistan to the south.

Our eight-hour flight was pleasant, despite being delayed an hour due to late arrival of the aircraft.

Kazakhstan - Almaty.

We had booked accommodation in Almaty for four nights at D’Rami on Abylai Khan Avenue, and the hotel sent a car to pick us up from the airport.

The hotel is on the top floor of a three-storey block, with its entry hidden away around the rear of the block. Our room was very comfortable, and we also had

use of the shared lounge area.

The town is set out in a grid pattern, with wide avenues, many of which are oneway. Pedestrians are well catered for with wide pavements, and Zebra crossings have traffic lights with count-down times. Almaty is littered with small parks and gardens, and oak trees provide much of the shade. The species differs from the British ones in that the trunks are much straighter.

My first task in the morning was to locate a money changer, as we had no local currency. No problem, and after ing over a US$100 note, I was given 38,830 Kazak Tenge.

We were pleasantly surprised to find an excellent supermarket a few doors away. Quite upmarket, with several shelves of different teas and coffees. Many of the meat pies looked similar, as we could not read the Russian and Kazak scripts. Our use of farmyard sounds caused some amusement from behind the counter, but we soon knew which pies contained a “baa”, a “moo”, or a “cock a doodle do”.

We took a long walk to find a tourist office, only to find it was closed. To the south of town, we can see the nearby-by mountains with the snow on the tops. We proceeded northwards to the Green Bazaar. The main market area is split into selling fresh meat, fruits and vegetables, nuts and dried fruit. The meat counters here are extensive; with different adjacent stalls selling lamb, beef, horsemeat and, somewhat surprisingly, pork in this Muslim country.

Uzbeks run the nut and dried fruit sections, and being good salesmen, they were generous with their samples.

We were intrigued by the cheese section, that was selling small white shapes comprising dried cheeses. Different cheeses were formed into various shapes, e.g. round, cylindrical etc. I liked the small round salty ones best.

At balcony level, there are a few small shops selling tea and noodles. It was interesting looking down onto the market area as we sipped tea.

In an adjacent building, Lian bought a SIM card for Kazakhstan. Now we no longer have to rely on the hotel Wi-Fi to make hotel bookings, order taxis, or use Google maps.

Not far from the bazaar is the Panfilov Park, containing the Ascension Russian Orthodox (Zenkov’s) Cathedral and a War Memorial.

In front of the Cathedral is a large paved area which seems to contain more pigeons than Trafalgar Square.

The Cathedral is painted yellow with white trimmings, and the domed roofs finished in red, green, blue, and yellow.

Construction began in 1904 on this second tallest wooden building in the world. It survived the 1911 earthquake when most nearby buildings were flattened. Zenkov, the engineer, had proved his point.

Can the building only be built from Tien-Shan spruce? I tapped at a column with my knuckles, and it indeed it sounded hollow rather than the dull sound of

concrete or brickwork.

Under the Soviet regime, the cathedral was closed in 1927, and it only opened for services again in 1995.

The internals are as impressive as the externals, with gold and maroon carved screens, and beautiful icons. Yellow, blue, and red glazing casts sunlight across the inlaid marble floors.

A short wander away takes you to the war memorial commemorating the 19411945 war. Strong Soviet-style carvings dominate the landscape, with strongjawed men and fierce-looking horses. Centre stage in the plaza is an eternal flame.

Almaty now has a pedestrian street, so on the way back we investigated the Arbat Shopping Street. Shopping malls and western fast food outlets lure the local youth. We would probably be more impressed had we come back in the evening.

A visit to the mountain is a must when in Almaty. We took a number 12 bus for the 35-minute ride to Medeu in the mountain. Here they have a giant open-air ice-skating rink, but unfortunately, it was dry and empty when we were there.

It was time to take a small bus for the 20-minute drive further up to the 7,415ft (2,260m) ski resort. Here we met a Kazak soldier, and we accompanied him in the ski-lift cabin up the two levels. Here we were welcomed with several inches of fairly fresh snow at 10,500ft (3,200m). The soldier intended to climb the adjacent mountain before walking down. The last I saw him, he was running

across a ridge. We took a short walk, but the ground was steep and half-frozen, making it very slippery. The weather conditions were perfect with a deep blue sky, no clouds and no wind. Lian threw a few snowballs before we sat down for a coffee.

The view of the surrounding mountainsides and the plain below us was captivating.

Going down we had the NGeo shuttle bus to ourselves, and the people on the number 12 bus were very friendly, and we had a few laughs with some school children.

As we ed the Opera House, we bought tickets for 6:30 pm performance of the opera, Verdi’s ‘Masked Ball’. Before attending, we Googled the opera, so that during the performance we could follow the story. It was undoubtedly an excellent production, with scenery, clothes, lighting, orchestra and standard of singing. The only disappointment for me was the music itself, as I found little that was tuneful.

One morning we took a walk to the central State Museum. Certainly interesting, but little information in the English language.

We also took local buses to visit the Barakholka wholesale market on the edge of town. The market comprises many warehouses, each specializing in a different item; shoes, children’s clothes, ladies fashion etc. The visit was not a memorable experience, but it did give a glimpse into the day to day lives of the people here. The main thing I about this little excursion was the donor kebabs we bought at a stall. As well as lamb, it was filled with small French fries and an assortment of vegetables and pickles, and was extremely filling.

Almaty in Kazakhstan to Bishkek in Kyrgyzstan.

Almaty is located in the south of Kazakhstan and close to the border, and Bishkek, the capital of Kyrgyzstan, is on its northern border. The best way to travel the 146 miles (235km) is by road.

Our taxi reached the Sayran Bus Station soon after 7 am. The Mercedes minibuses leave as soon as they full, and it was nearly 8 am before our bus started this journey. The dual carriageway took us westwards over fairly flat land with hills to our left. Are we really cruising at 87 mph (140 km/h)? No, the speedometer is stuck on this figure, even when parked. We rolling dry grassland with little apparent agriculture. Thorney looking trees and bushes line the roadside. After two hours we are on a single carriageway. We ed several Muslim cemeteries that have small buildings on them in the shape of mosques, or castles.

There are plenty of diversions for new roadworks, and it was noted that they are laying concrete as the new road surface.

After two and half hours the road turns southwards into the hills, and we see a big wind farm and many grazing horses. We reached a large town and by 11:30 am, the Kazakhstan immigration. There is a big queue of people at the immigration and a lot of pushing and shoving as some try to cut the queue. We then drag out bags over a bridge of a small river. Surprisingly, the Kyrgyzstan immigration was very fast, as there was no queue or forms to fill or checks on our bags, and we were out by mid-day. Lian got a local Kyrgyzstan SIM card, and I changed 100US$ for 6,900 Som.

We had been told to wait for the mini-bus to get through, and unfortunately, a few of us were waiting in the wrong place, so we only left at 12:25 pm. Everything seems dustier this side of the border, with unpaved pavements and road edges.

It was just past 2 pm when we reached Bishkek Bus station.

Bishkek.

A taxi took us to the ‘Hotel T3’, where we had a very pleasant junior suite. Well positioned, with a nearby supermarket and the ‘Pit Stop’ cafeteria. Cafeteriastyle restaurants are popular in this area. You pick your meal from a selection of exposed dishes, and your plate is heated up in a microwave. In every case we ate in such a restaurant, we had to return the plate to reheat our food.

After checking out the Bishkek Park mall, we took a minibus to the Sunday morning ‘Flea Market’ at Ortosay Bazaar. The minibus was very crowded, but I was given a seat as I am so tall and could not stand upright. Lian was also lucky. A woman helped by telling us where to get off.

The flea market was set out on each side of the pavement, and most items set out on a cloth laid on the ground. Yes - quite a few medals and Soviet memorabilia, old clothes, shoes, rusty tools, old books. One man was selling medical operating instruments.

Took the same bus number back, and continued ed our start point until we reached the Osh Bazaar. This is a big market with many different sections. We started in the army section selling camouflage clothes, boots and rucksacks. One

stall was selling horse saddles and bridles.

The main Bazaar area sells dried fruits, nuts and raisins, pastries, spices, small shapes of dried cheeses - salty and tangy. Stalls sell various types of rice, honey, wrapped sweets, various types of kimchi, fresh oyster mushrooms. Another stall had aquarium fish and some cage birds.

One section had men filling old Coca Cola bottles and small plastic tubes with small round pellets of dark green tobacco for placing under the tongue.

I watched a woman who was sorting red roses - taking off an outer layer, using scissors to trim petals, and then gently spitting into the bloom to give it that dewy look.

Ala-Too Square is the main square in Bishkek and is dominated by a statue of Manas sitting on horseback atop a tall red marble plinth. At the Battle of Talas in 751AD, ‘Manas the Magnanimous’ beat the Chinese Tang Dynasty and stopped their movement west for 1,000 years. Beside the statue is a giant flagpole flying the red and yellow Kyrgyzstan flag, and is guarded by two sentries. The State History Museum forms the backdrop to the square.

A group of teenagers are enjoying themselves with their trick bikes - jumping over a baton sitting on a couple of posts. A little boy on a scooter amuses us by ducking under the crossbar while holding a plastic machine gun in one hand and managing to steer his scooter with the other.

We continued our wander past the State History Museum into Panfilov Park. Here is an amusement park, and the local children and youths were taking full

advantage of this facility. As well as the regular dodgem cars and rides for young children, there are quite a few scary rides, where the ride is designed to make the joyriders throw up in the shortest possible time. Once again, we enjoy good weather with blue skies.

Bishkek to Arslanbob.

During our previous visit to Kyrgyzstan, we had crossed by road from Osh directly into China and did not have the opportunity of attending the walnut harvest in Arslanbob.

Luckily breakfast was ready by 6:45 am, so we packed a picnic before our shared VW at taxi arrived to pick us up at 7:15 am. The other enger was still sleeping when Hikmat, our driver, stopped to pick her up, so it was 8 am before we got going westwards on our 477mile (767km) journey.

By 8:30 am we were out of town on a dual carriageway, ing flat, agricultural countryside at approximately 2,430ft (740m), and we can see mountains with a dusting of snow to our left.

At our stop for petrol, we were surprised that they sell beer and vodka in the shop.

A lot of road works are in hand on the tarmac road.

An hour later, we stopped for 15 minutes for the driver to have a break as we

headed for the mountains. Despite the toilet comprising only a slot in the concrete floor, they still collect a charge. A stall sells vodka by the shot - is this for the driver or the engers?

Leaving the plain at 2,500ft (760m), the road slowly climbed to 10,100ft (3,075m) over the next hour or so. Often it felt as if we were going downhill, but the nearby river told a different story, as one could see the water rushing over the rocks. We entered a nearly 2 miles (3km) long tunnel, before emerging and overlooking a plain with hills in the distance. We continued westwards until we reached yet another statue to Manas, where the road turned southwards. By midday we reached 9,940ft (3,030m) and have snow by the roadside, Then the road drops through a valley, and we see some fir trees on the mountainside. Soon we see many beehives by the roadside, and vendors are selling the honey.

We stopped for an hour and ate our picnic. Further on, the road opened onto a plain, and ahead we could see a blue lake, the 2,860ft (870m) high Toktogul Reservoir. A fertile area, with plenty of poplar trees. There is a fantastic landscape across the blue water to the pale sandstone and peach coloured bare mountainsides.

The road winds its way eastwards along the northern shore before turning westwards along the southern shoreline. On reaching a narrow gorge the road turns southwards, zigzagging along the steep hillside until we reach the primary dam site. A second dam site was a few miles (km) further down the road. We cross the Karakul River soon after 3 pm. It is said that this is the area where the Karakul, or ‘fat tail’ sheep originates from.

The land then opens onto a 1,640ft (500m) high fertile plain, growing onions, watermelon, and cabbage. It was nearly 5:30 pm when we dropped off the woman enger in the small town of Kochkor-Ata. Our driver spent five minutes in the mosque, and we were off-again turning north-eastwards into a valley running alongside a stream, and only 9 miles (15km) from our destination.

We were now on a ‘B’ road, and the trees lining the road were painted with white trunks. At 6:15 pm we turn left away from the river, and proceeded northwards in a valley leading us to the village of Arslanbob, where we arrived at 6:45 pm.

Arslanbob.

We had bookings at the Zinaida Homestay, and luckily our driver knew the family and the location so on reaching the main square, had no problem driving down a rough track to find the blue gate.

We found that none of their rooms are en-suite, and with the toilets a 30yards (30m) walk away in one direction, and the hot shower a 25yards (25m) stroll in the other. Our bedroom was off a lounge area where another guest was sleeping, so we had to him whenever we went in or out. I was not impressed.

We had our meal in the guesthouse; pickle salad, then a huge plate of boiled potatoes and mixed vegetables. The beef was too tough to eat without getting a sheath knife sized steak knife to cut it across the grain. We met the other guests at dinner; an Alaskan man (ex deep-sea fisherman, and brown bear guide), and a German brother and sister.

We had hot showers that made us feel much better, but a couple of long pee trips in the night were not so welcome. During the night we could hear an occasional noise as a walnut fell and bounced on the metal roofing.

We woke to clear blue skies, and had breakfast of porridge and hard-boiled eggs together with bread with local jams and tea.

From the town square, we could clearly see the Chatkal Mountain Range to our north, with the peak of Gora Babash-Ata at 14,524ft (4,427m).

We went to the tourist shop and met Hayat who runs it. I took an iPad pix of the local map on the wall showing some of the trails.

Arslanbob has the biggest walnut grove in the world and produces 1,500 tonnes per year. However, we were told that the walnut harvest was poor this year as blossom was blown down by the rain. Also, two boys fell from some trees, one breaking a limb, while the other damaged his spine.

According to legend, Arslanbob was a disciple of the Prophet Muhammad. When he told him that the area lacked useful plants to make a local paradise, the Prophet sent him seeds to grow, including walnuts. An alternative legend claims that Alexander the great planted the walnut trees in the valley.

In the main square, we see workers weighing sacks of walnuts and loading them onto lorries. The walnuts look slightly smaller and rounder than the species we usually see in Europe.

We set out to walk to one of the waterfalls, crossing the main square through the Bazaar onto a concrete road going uphill. Then turning right onto an unmade road and continuing uphill. We soon found the smaller waterfall. The nearby path was lined with many stalls, but no people were there. We walked down to the base of the fall.

On the way back, we took a path to the left down to the small river and across a small bridge. Here we met an old woman riding a donkey, with a young donkey following. She took us up a path ing walnut trees she indicated she owned. Many of the trees were very large. She dismounted, and as we walked along, and she picked up fallen walnuts from the path amongst the leaf litter and ed them to us. She had very sharp eyes, as she was seeing them and picking them up, where our eyes were simply not tuned in.

After thanking her, we continued up the path onto a small grassy headland marked on the map as the ‘Panorama’. From here we had incredible panoramic views of the dog-leg road into the town, the walnut trees, and the surrounding mountains. Later we were ed by a Belgian couple for a chat. It was quite hot in the sun.

Arriving back in town, we stopped for tea and bread at a ‘chai-khana’. Customers sat cross-legged on raised platforms covered with carpets, with shortlegged tables before them. Somehow this is very uncomfortable for me, as my long legs found it difficult to thread under the low table. Here we had lunch of beef soup, donor kebab, bread and tea.

It was about time we explored the wild ‘English’ flower garden and the rest of the guesthouse compound. In the garden, we see beehives, flowers, and eat pears fresh from the tree.

In one area, four washing machines are under repair, and a nearby workshop is full of tools and electrical paraphernalia.

Another section seemed to be the gymnasium and had a punch-bag hung up, as well as some contraption that included a couple of Roman Rings. Long washing lines are full of hanging sheets and shirts.

A hutch near the toilets house rabbits and keep the ducks safe at night. The latter like the Western sit-down toilet and seem to know what the room is for, as they use it freely in preference to the squat toilet room. Lian spends a while cleaning up and devising a way of keeping them out.

Later we watched a woman baking round flatbread in a clay-covered tandoori oven, heated with charcoal.

Lian spends a while with the woman and comes back telling me a whole lot of family hot gossip. Quite how she extracted all this information without speaking a word of the local language or Russian, I really don’t know.

Somehow, however, my initial impression of our guesthouse has changed, and I now find the place quite delightful.

Later in the afternoon, we went for a walk, going south on our lane to look at the local houses. They are usually two-storey, constructed with a wooden frame and with mud infill walls.

We had decided to have our dinner in town, but even by 5 pm, many restaurants had closed. The one under the giant Chinar tree did not have much food left, so we went back to the one opposite the mosque, where we had lunch. We were the last and only customers and had meatball soup with potatoes and bread. Then we did a circuit from the main square. No power in town, as a power pole was being replaced. We were back at the home-stay by 6.30 pm, just as it was getting dark. The power came on soon after so we could enjoy a hot shower.

Arslanbob to Toktogul, via Jalal-Abad.

I had to carry my bag up the rough track to the main square, and a woman carried Lian’s for her.

The local bus (‘marshrutkas’) was a 12-seat Mercedes and set off soon after 8 am for Bazar Korgon, a small town on the open plain. We arrived at 9:15 am, and within 5 minutes we were on another bus on the way to Jalal-Abad. I was standing for the 45-minutes journey, with my head in the skylight section. I could see little.

We had intended to overnight in Jalal-Abad, but then on arrival, we heard that a local 19-seater bus was about to leave on a 5-hour drive to Toktogul. We just had time for a quick pee, and we were off again on the route we had travelled on a few days earlier.

Several times we herds of horses. These are the ancestors of the famed Ferghana horses, known as the ‘heavenly horse’ and depicted in Chinese art over 2,000 years ago.

Toktogul.

We followed the gorge ing the two dams until we reached the small town of Toktogul on the north side of the reservoir. On the way, Lian had made a booking at Rahman Guest House that was only a short walk from the bus station and Sultana, the manager, was waiting outside for us. We had a small room and a shared toilet. We heard that the town has no water until 6 pm.

It was time to check our budget for the next couple of days as it was unlikely that we could use credit cards in some small out of the way towns. We walked to a local bank and changed some foreign currency.

The main road was pleasant with big chinar trees on each side. We walked to the Bazaar area on the wide pavement. Lian checked taxi prices before we went into a local restaurant for dinner of ravioli soup, steamed pastries with onion and lamb inside, and tea.

Back to the guesthouse by 6:15 pm but hot water for a shower was only available by 7 pm. Our guesthouse was spotlessly clean. We noted that the toilet paper here is of a crepe paper with no central hole.

Sultana arranged a shared taxi for the next afternoon.

Slept well and enjoyed a breakfast of porridge, omelette, bread, jams, and fruit while chatting with Thomas and Micaela Davidson, a well-travelled Swedish / Argentina couple.

Sultana showed us the beautiful yurt they have in the back garden. Amazing details internally, complete with her grandmother’s and mother’s dowry boxes. One can only imagine the local women producing these wonderful handy crafts as they sat through the long winter evenings.

The garden has walnut (yongkok) trees and multi-coloured roses.

We went for a walk to the bazaar. It is more extensive than I expected, selling a lot of clothes and waterproof shoes, 50kg sacks of flour, etc. There are roses everywhere.

We checked out of our room at midday and sat on a raised platform beside the yurt in the garden, shaded from the sun by a roof. It is fresh, like an English spring morning. We have coffee and biscuits.

Toktogul to Talas.

Our taxi to Talas left at 2 pm on the 57-mile (92km) journey. There are no other engers as the whole of the Honda CRV back is filled with packets of Almond snacks as well as half the back seat and footwell. Lian does not have too much room. I am OK in the front, even though this is a right-hand drive vehicle.

We notice that drivers here follow the international convention of flashing their headlights at other drivers to warn of police checks ahead.

Many times, our taxi was forced to halt as we came across herds of cattle or sheep or horses. The road continues to climb to 9,850ft (over 3,000m) and by 3:15 pm we had snow on both sides of us. We soon reached the turn off where the road goes westwards to Talas, instead of continuing eastwards to Bishkek. By 3:45 pm we had crossed the 10,912ft (3,326m) Otmok .

Talas.

It was nearly 5 pm when we arrived at Talas, and our driver found the address.

We were met by Kuttubek, the owner/manager, on the unmade road. The RaiZein guesthouse has no sign anywhere, just a ‘3a’ on a chain-link gate. We would never have found it had not Kuttubek had been there and waiting. We walked down a long side-lane to a locked metal gate. In the compound was a two-storey house. We seem to be the only guests. Toilet and shower are shared, and there is a separate sitting room, a dining room, and a balcony. Wi-Fi was good.

We could only advise him that there should be a sign advertising the RaiZein guesthouse, but Kuttubek seems very reluctant “For security reasons”. Should this worry us?

Kuttubek then took us through the park and to the shopping area. He proudly told us that the main street here was named after his grandfather.

We bought some nuts and raisins, and on the way back had a good meal in a canteen-style restaurant.

Talas’s claim to fame is the Battle of Talas in 751AD when Manas the Magnanimous thrashed the Chinese Tang Dynasty soldiers.

A local or Russian couple arrived, but they managed to get locked out of their bedroom after borrowing my charger. Only got it back at 8:30 pm when Kuttubek came with a bunch of keys.

For breakfast the next morning, Kuttubek’s mother had cooked delicious fresh small thick pancakes. Had them with cheese and sour cream, and his father’s honey, and jam.

Talas in Kyrgyzstan, to Taras and Shymkent in Kazakhstan.

Our taxi was an elderly VW estate, with a multi-crazed windscreen. The weather was overcast when we set off just after 8 am.

My notes record herds of cattle and sheep on the road, bus stops in the shape of a yurt, and ing a dam with Lenin’s face carved into the rock.

We reached the Kyrgyzstan Immigration at 9:30 am. There were no queues, and we were soon through.

Not so easy at the Kazakhstan immigration. We spent nearly half an hour standing in the jumbled queue as we stood and filled in our immigration forms. There was a lot of pushing in and queue cutting, and it was only after Lian lectured a few people in English what a queue was, that the authorities re-acted and tried to push people back into line.

Our bags were not searched and stayed in the car. My backpack was put through an X-ray machine, but not opened. Had a welcome pee, and changed all our remaining Kyrgyzstan Som into Kazak Tenge.

Back in our taxi by 10:10 am, and a half-hour later we arrived at the Taras bus station. From here we were directed to a taxi to take us to the long-distance taxi stand.

Here the drivers tried to fleece us until a man helped us in English. This man also helped by booking the Seoul Hotel.

We left Taras at 11:20 am in a new Lada ‘Largus’. We saw quite a few new Lada cars in town. Had a stop to fill with liquid gas.

He was a fast driver in town, and when we reached the dual carriageway over flat land, he was cruising at 93mph (150kph). In Kazakhstan, the town signs are also in Romanized script as well as Cyrillic. (Unlike in Kyrgyzstan)

Shymkent.

The driver dropped us off at the Seoul Hotel at 1:30 pm. Here they speak only Korean or Russian. Lian made use of Google translate, but they did not understand the 10% discount supposedly given for mobile bookings, rather than using Booking.com. But when Lian spoke to the owner on the phone, he gave us a reasonable rate together with breakfast. Our room was huge, and had a good bathroom with a bidet. It is certainly nice to have four-star accommodation.

We planned to visit the Aral Sea, the site of one of the world’s greatest manmade ecological disasters. In 40 years, the water level has dropped 79ft (24m), and 90 per cent of the sea area has dried up. The shoreline has receded 37 miles (60km), leaving a port and the fishing boats many miles from the sea. This was due to the Russians diverting the rivers feeding the sea to irrigate the vast cotton

fields. What water is left, is extra saline and poisoned by the pesticides used on the cotton.

Lian had a long discussion with English speaking receptionist who telephoned the train station to try to get us tickets to Aralsk. The information we received was confusing, so we took a taxi to the station. No sleeper seats were available on the day we wanted to travel, and we only managed to get upper bunks in different compartments for the following day. It seems we have no other choice, so we bought the tickets, and had to pay cash.

We took a number 24 bus from the station to the ‘Mega’ shopping centre, an upmarket mall. The bus was packed, and we missed the stop, so we had to walk back. I changed some money here, as the train ticket purchase had nearly cleaned me out.

Unable to find the bus route to get back to the hotel, so we had a long walk. Quite dark in places, and only got back at 8:20 pm. We went upstairs to have dinner at the Korean Restaurant, but we seemed to be the only customers

Breakfast the next morning comprised cold cuts and two fried eggs.

After careful consideration, we had decided against going to Aralsk. If getting there was so difficult with the trains so full, how could we get back to suit our timeline? We had planned to make a day trip to Turkistan but will do that tomorrow.

The problem for us with the Seoul Hotel was its location, so we checked out and took a taxi to the Sary Arka Hotel, located opposite the Bazar Akbar, and was

closer to the station, and had shops and restaurants nearby.

At the railway station, we were able to change our tickets to Aralsk, to go to Astana (Nur-Sultan) the capital, for a relatively little additional cost.

This time we have purchased lower bunks with the train leaving at 19:55 hrs and arriving at 21:37 hrs the next day. I could not quite reconcile the ticket prices and the cost but was relieved that we could change the tickets so easily, and we would now be in the same compartment.

Back at the hotel, we did some re-planning.

We took a number 32 bus for a 40-minute ride to Sayran, a small village on the old silk road trade routes. The bus was quite crowded for most of the way. Taking a wander around the bazaar area, we were a little disappointed not being able to find anything ‘ancient’ about the place. We consoled ourselves in a restaurant with tea, a very nice tomato and cucumber salad, and a shared kebab, and a potato pie. One of the women customers wanted her photo taken with us.

The next morning, we made a day trip to Turkistan. This may sound like a country and yet another of the many ‘stans’, but is a small town that has now become the most important pilgrimage site in Kazakhstan.

After breakfast, we took a bus to the local bus station where we climbed into a Mercedes minibus. Lian was soon ‘chatting’ with the local women as we waited over an hour until the bus was full. Only then did it leave on the dual carriageway for the 165km (100-mile) trip to the ancient town of Turkistan.

Here lies the mausoleum of Khoja Ahmed Yasawi, a famous Muslim poet and Sufi mystic who died in 1166 AD. It was built by Timur in the early 1400s in a similar style to Samarkand, but halted on his death in 1405 AD.

The countryside is flat as we ride along the concrete road. We ed a lorry with two camels on board, and see several trucks full of cotton and covered with tarpaulins.

Nearly two hours later, the driver dropped us off near the UNESCO World Heritage site.

They are carrying on a lot of landscaping nearby with water features, and I am sure it will look great when completed.

A high brick wall surrounds the whole mausoleum site. Outside are statues of camels and their handlers.

The mausoleum appears externally as three sections. The enormous arched brick entrance to the mausoleum is very high, and behind this is a huge dome, now under repair. Lastly, there is a beautiful fluted glazed dome, similar to those seen in Samarkand. The side walls are decorated with partly glazed diagonal brickwork.

One enters a large, very high room, with a giant cauldron in the middle that was presented by Timur to contain holy water. At the low level are blue glazed tiled s. There are several side rooms for prayers, kitchen, and the wellhead.

We walked down into the underground Mosque and had to respectfully wait while prayers were said.

Two groups of local pilgrims wanted to have their photos taken with Lian and I.

It is only 73F (23C), but feels much more in the sun.

The bus station is some way away, so we took a taxi there. We got front seats in a small ‘marshrutka’ bus back to Shymkent. Although the cost was slightly more, we left early and did not have to wait for a full bus. This driver, like all the others, can’t put down his handphone. This guy can even juggle using two at the same time at 75mph (120kph)!

We Bactrian camels on scrubland, and later a herd of horses grazing next to the road, as well as several herds of sheep.

Dropped off at the Shymkent bus station after 1.3/4 hours, and jumped straight onto a number 12 bus for a 30-minute ride to our hotel. Outside the bazaar, we bought bread fresh from the oven.

After a rest, we went for a walk to the Magnum ATAK supermarket, but were unable to find it – and we were in an area full of shops selling tiles and bathroom fittings. Google Maps certainly has the wrong location.

It was overcast and fresher the next morning when we went for a walk. The

leaves are turning colour and dropping. We ed the mosque, the Independence statue, then up the stairs to Independence park. There we saw the marble map of Kazakhstan, set in a pleasant garden with flowers. A tall structure is said to represent the symbolic opening in the top of a yurt - but we found this challenging to visualize Then walked to the Mega shopping centre, to buy items for our journey in the supermarket. Lian topped up her local SIM card in a machine.

Our hotel check-out time was 10 am, and no late checkouts were allowed. So, to stay until late afternoon, we agreed to pay extra for a half day.

At about 3 pm, we thought we would cross the road to look around the Bazaar, only to find that it was just closing. The wind was strong, and as they were closing the main gates, one side came off the top hinge and fell. About four men tried to hold it, but one guy took a hard knock on the head.

Night train - Shymkent to Astana (Nur-Sultan).

We took a taxi to the station that was already full of engers. The train arrived, and we found our carriage. The platform is at track level, so it was hard to lift our bags chest height into the train. We put our bags in the box under the bunks, with the mattress as the lid.

Luckily, we had booked lower bunks. We shared the compartment with a woman and her daughter, who was in her 2nd year studying medicine.

The 7:55 pm evening train to Astana pulled out on time for the 25.5-hour ride. The distance was approximately 900mile (1,450km).

The train suspension noise was louder than that made by the track.

Our compartment door does not close, so we had light flooding in from the corridor. So, we made use of our eyeshades. A baby is crying next door.

Plenty of hot water was available, so we could make our own tea, coffee or Milo whenever we wanted to. We have noted that people in this area take a lot of sugar in their drinks, and they are surprised that we do without any.

We awoke to grey skies and drizzle. We a blue lake, Lake Balkhash, on our right-hand side, with long golden grasses swirling in the wind. All around is rather barren with grassy tufts. Often, we see light fencing by the track to stop snow drifting.

Lian has a message from the Talas hotel to say I left my reading glasses in a taxi, and what should they do. She thanked them and told them to use them, as luckily, I had a spare pair.

The sun was breaking through as we cross the flat plain, with some low hills in the distance. We see no sheep or cattle, and it was early afternoon when we first spotted cattle in the distance. The train stopped at one depressing looking town, and most of the men got off for a smoke on the platform. Some ‘babushkas’ were selling food and drinks from their small prams.

Around 4 pm, we see some trees growing alongside the track. They have already lost their leaves. An impressive rainbow appears over the plain. Then we reach

some rolling hills, and we some small villages and see cattle. Then we come across the first road alongside the track, complete with cars and lorries. Civilisation has to be nearby.

We reached Qarughandy town at 5 pm, and a lot of engers got off, including a boy’s ice hockey team carrying their hockey sticks. The stop was over half an hour, and the train was very slow getting out of town. Backing onto the track, we see many garages that have heating pipes coming through their roof.

Lian checked out the next carriage to find it is much more modern, with better toilets.

It was after 10 pm, when our train arrived, over half-an-hour late, at the new Nur-Sultan (Astana) Railway Station.

Astana (Nur-Sultan).

The taxi drivers waited like sharks to rip off the tired engers, and the sight of us two foreigners drove them into a feeding frenzy. Luckily our hotel had told Lian the indicative price we should pay, so we left the sharks and Lian used her phone to order a taxi for 20% of the shark’s price.

That night we slept well in our room at the King Hotel.

Lian used the Wi-Fi to check trains going south to Almaty, as this was the last piece of the missing piece in our travel jigsaw, but she was unable to buy online.

So, we took a taxi the 7mile (11km) to the huge new modern Nurly Zhol railway station. Lian managed to book a compartment for two, that had not been available when she checked online. We took a number 45 bus back to King hotel. An interesting ride, as it ed through several ‘micro-districts’ where the general population live.

Kazakhstan became independent from Russia in Dec 1991, and President Nursultan Nazarbayev moved the capital from Almaty to Astana in 1997. Astana was renamed Nur-Sultan in March 2019, following the resignation of the President.

Nur-Sultan already looks like an exhibition of modern architecture. We took the number 4 bus to the Palace of Peace & Reconciliation area. Lots to photograph, with the sun shining low from the west; the Hazrat Sultan Mosque (built in 2012, with the largest dome in the country), we can see the Shabyt Arts Palace – the art university (a blue glass cone with top sliced at angle), the 300ft (91m) high Khazak Eli monument, the Independence Palace (blue, with tapered walls and white diagonal external features). We saw the National Museum of Kazakhstan from across the road as rain threatened, and took the number 4 bus back.

Next morning, we were back to the same area to look at Norman Foster’s Pyramid. It was overcast, and we seemed to be the only people around. We walked through the gardens down to the Ishim River, with the Presidential Palace on the opposite bank. We went to the south but were unable to get onto the bridge, as there were hoardings in the way. One possibility to save a long walk back was to cross on a construction bund, and Lian scrambled onto it. Halfway across, we found a channel had been cut through it, and we had to jump across the water.

We a number of impressive new buildings with futuristic architecture. We

ed the Astana Opera - Greek style.

Then took a lift up the Bayterek Monument. A bit disappointing as the views were all through wavy gold-coloured plastic, so the views were not as clear as they could be. At the information centre, we were informed that Kazakhstan just had its first snowfall of the season.

We continued walking through gardens with sculptures until we reached the Khan Shatyr shopping centre, another Norman Foster building. A giant tent covers this. The 1st and 2nd floors have general shopping. The 3rd floor has food stalls, and we sat and enjoyed coffees. The 4th floor contains all the children’s fair rides.

Took a number 53 bus outside, and followed the route by watching the moving blue spot on Goggle Maps. Got off near Artyom Shopping Centre and walked south to our hotel. This had saved a very long walk back to the bus we had come on. The rain had threatened all day, and the wind was very cold in the morning. We had been out for six hours, and it was good to get back for tea.

Nur-Sultan to Almaty by train.

The taxi took us to the station, where we took the escalators up to the fourth floor, to the main concourse area. Then at 4 pm, we took the escalator down to the 3rd-floor track and train 004UA, and found coach 13, and our compartment. We have bottom and top bunks, a sink with a table over it, a plug point, and a mirror. All very comfortable, and the bar coach is next door.

We were due to leave at 16:32 hours, arriving next morning in Almaty at 07:24

hours. The distance of approximately 755 miles (1,215km) in 14 hours gives an average of roughly 53mph (85kph).

The guard at the entry to the carriage who had checked our names and ports against his manifest, came in to look at the photos we had taken of him. When I brought back a beer from the Bar, he signalled that I could not bring a drink into the compartment. He then closed and locked the door behind him, and kept touching his left shoulder and said: “Money, money”. We said “No”, and I reached behind him to unlock the door.

Had less than two hours to look out of the window before it was dark. A flat landscape, with an occasional village, often with some kind of industrial installation. But all stark and bleak.

Lian took the upper bunk. The coach partitions are all creaking. Toilets are excellent, with a press button flush. At about 5:30 am it was sweltering on the top bunk level, and despite turning the heater to off, the air coming into the compartment is hot, so we opened the compartment door.

Almaty.

The train arrived at Almaty on time, at a chilly 37F (3C) with clear skies.

As the hotel we stayed at previously in Almaty was fully booked, Lian had booked the Mildom City Hotel on line. We arrived there at about 8 am but were told that we could not check in until 2 pm. So, we dumped our bags and went for a walk.

We walked as far as the Green Bazaar, where we had tea at a tea house on a balcony overlooking the main meat and fruit stalls.

Back to the Milton City Hotel at 12:30 pm, but they would not let us the room till 1:30 pm. This seemed very unreasonable, as the room was available and the hotel has no sitting area in the reception, just a wooden window sill. We complained, and two stackable armchairs were provided.

Lian had booked for the ballet at 6 pm, to see Swan Lake at the Opera House. But then, when we checked, we notice that the ballet was in Astana and not in Almaty!

We went for a walk to the Russian Orthodox St Nicholas Cathedral. We entered to find a service in hand. The congregation were all standing, apart from a few elderly worshipers sitting on some seats around the sides of the cathedral. A choir could be heard. A priest in golden robes and a golden-domed headdress addressed the congregation. We returned the next day to take some photos and to wander around to see the paintings and icons.

Realizing that we had yet to see the Central Mosque, we set off, stopping on the way at the Mega Park shopping centre for a snack and coffees. The mosque was rather disappointing architecturally, and we decided to take a taxi back.

On our last day, we paid 50% of the room rate for a 7 pm check out. A taxi took us to the airport at 7:40 pm. Check-in and immigration at the airport was no problem, and our night flight to Kuala Lumpur on Air Astana KC935 at 11:30 pm proved to be comfortable.

We have seen very few tourists in Kazakhstan.

CHAPTER 22

Japan - Kumano Kodo pilgrimage.

Lian on the Kumano Kodo trail.

I told Lian she was crazy when she suggested a trek in Japan in December. I had visions of deep snow and monkeys huddled together in a hot bath. But as usual, Lian did not take no for an answer, and soon convinced me that it would not be too cold in the south of Honshu Island.

A couple of years previously, we had completed a walk from Porto in Portugal to Santiago de Compostela in Spain, and received our Camino certificates.

Lian pointed out that there was a short 24.5-mile (38-km) trek through the mountains of the Kii Peninsula, south of Osaka, and when completed, we could apply for a Dual Pilgrimage certificate. This trek would be our 38th wedding anniversary present to ourselves.

There is a spiders web of routes making up the Kumano Kodo, all culminating at the Kumano Hongu Taishi shrine in Hongu.

The Kumano Kodo translates into Chinese script as the ‘middle mountain path’. It is over a 1,000 years old and had initially been for followers of the Shinto religion. Later, when Buddhism came over from China, the pilgrimage was undertaken by both faiths.

The route we chose was the Nakahechi Imperial Route, so named as it was often used by the Imperial family when making their pilgrimages from Kyoto. Our much shorter route would be from Takijiri-oji and finish in Hongu. We would then use local buses to visit the other two major shrines at Shingu and Katsuura.

Accommodation on the route is limited, and we reserved ours on-line through Kumano Travel. As our booking was rather late, we were not able to pick hostels giving a preferred equal length walk on each of the three days, so our first day’s walk was very short, and our third day’s hike would be very long.

Temperatures proved not to be a problem, but daylight hours were somewhat reduced, with sunrise at 6:40 am, and sunset at 4:50 pm.

We flew into Osaka in early December and stayed there overnight. At the railway station at the airport, we redeemed our prepaid 5-day Japan Railcards, and that proved to be excellent value when used at the end of the trek.

We paid for train tickets to Tanabe on the west side of the Kii Peninsula, and followed the coastline and arrived a couple of hours later.

The railway Tourist Office in Tanabe was very helpful. We were given a map detailing our route, together with ‘ports’ where we each had to collect stamps at the various locations on-route. These would prove that we had completed the trek.

After lunch, we visited the nearby Kumano Kodo office, whose staff again were helpful, and confirmed our accommodation on the trek. They also confirmed we could send our main luggage to be picked up at the Yunomine Onsen accommodation, leaving us to carry only items absolutely necessary for two nights in our daypacks.

We then went to find our pre-booked room at Kirin Apartments. Here we sorted our backpacks in an attempt to reduce the weight we would be carrying on the

trek. It was hard work culling items for Lian and the daypacks still weighed about 15 lbs (7kg).

On a walk around town, we noted that small, square, town cars are very popular here, and all the major Japanese manufacturers have a similar model.

Takijiri-oji to Takahara.

Next morning, we dropped off our bags at the Kumano Kodo office, and paid to have our bags delivered to our accommodation in three days.

Then we caught the 10:15 am bus outside the railway station for the 35-minute journey.

The route left town and followed a river along a narrow wooded valley. A large group of about twenty elderly local hikers were also on the bus, taking our route. They appeared to get going, and so we decided to let them go on, while we looked around the Takijiri-oji visitor’s centre. After half an hour or so we crossed the road to start our trek, to find the big group only just ready to leave. No problem, as our destination was said to be only about 2.5 miles (4km) with an estimated time of 2 to 3 hours.

Our map showed the significant items of interest on the way to Takahara, together with the location of the places we would obtain the required stamps in our ‘ports’. The approximately 2-inch (5cm) diameter rubber stamps are located in a small wooden ‘birdhouse’ together with a red ink pad. Each stamp is different, and at times the ink pads were somewhat dry, so the impressions were not so good.

Our first ‘stamp’ was at a restaurant at the start of the trek. We did not go into the small restaurant, but the lady owner came out, and she spoke good English. It appears that she had been on the Camino herself, so we spent some time chatting.

In attendance was a small film crew, and they busily filmed us as we talked.

Takijiri-oji is considered the gateway leading to Kumano’s sacred spiritual realm.

So it was 11:20 am when we set off on a stiff climb to reach a view-point. We then crossed a road and started climbing yet again.

The route is quite clearly marked with wooden signs in Japanese and English saying KUMANO KODO, and any probable wrong ways were marked with another sign saying NOT KUMANO KODO. There were also kilometre markers. So it was all very straightforward in daylight. Walking in the dark however would be another matter, and one could easily miss the signs, as even in daylight, one had to look down to carefully place your feet on the rough terrain.

The trail was partly on uneven rocky stones, and partly on tree buttress roots.

We had expected to witness amazing sights in the forest as the autumn colours arrived. But the only trees that are changing are the Japanese maples, to a yellow or red as the majority of the forest trees are evergreen firs. These grow tall and incredibly straight. The combination of deep greens with sunlight dappling the

bright yellow and deep rusty reds was however stunning.

Many place names on the route ends in the word ‘oji’. An oji is a small shrine housing a ‘child deity’ who looks after travellers. In many cases, travellers have left a knitted cap on the deity. For good luck, previous pilgrims have left small stones balanced on other rocks.

The first point of interest is the Tainai Kuguri cave, formed by large boulders. It is a test of faith to squeeze through a narrow crack. We gave that a miss. The exit is protected by a small oji, with a faded apron around its neck and a few coins left before it.

Soon after we reached the Chichi-iwa Rock (Milk Rock). Legend had it that when the military commander’s wife gave birth unexpectantly, the God of Kumano instructed Fujiwara-no-Hidehira to leave the child under a rock. To their surprise, the child was alive when they returned. The baby had survived on white milk flowing from the rock, and the protection of a wolf.

The Nezu-oji shrine is said to be relatively new, having been first mentioned in a guidebook in the early 1700s.

We ed the site of the Tsurugi Sutra Mound, but there was nothing to see. Sutras had been buried in a mound, but all apart from one was raided in the early 19th century.

Another lookout point at Mt Mesimoriyama overlooked a small village below.

We a notice saying ‘Gun-hunting prohibited area Wakayama Prefecture’, so at least we are unlikely to be accidentally shot here.

We a small shrine containing two oji wrapped in red cloth and with vases of fresh flowers before them. We wonder who had supplied them.

The path upwards seemed to go on forever, always climbing.

We reach yet another twin oji, this time with multi-coloured flowered aprons, and cups of tea before them.

We were surprised that it took us close to three hours to reach our accommodation at Hoshizora-no-Yado, just outside of Takahara.

On the first day, we had climbed up a total of 1,400ft (430m) and dropped 660ft (200m) and had met no-one on the trail.

Two Australian girls were sitting on the ground outside the gate, on which was a notice stating ‘Check-in 15:00’. They had been told that they had to sit and wait until then.

After waiting a few minutes, Lian went in, and the owner came out and invited us all in.

The inside was very impressive with massive lacquered tree trunks as the

columns, and heavy timber beams. We were allocated the bedroom on the main level, and the Aussies had the bedroom below. Ours was small and had ‘futon’ mattresses laid on tatami mats and with fluffy duvets. The internal walls were about 6’6” (2m) high, and we looked up into the main roof space. There was a balcony with pleasant views out over the forested mountainsides.

We sat chatting with the Australians and were supplied with tea by Ichiro, our host, and his wife, Yoko. The girls had nearly finished their trek, as they were walking in the other direction,

Time for an ‘onsen’ style bath and our host filled the deep wooden tub. However, the water was at 118deg F (48deg C), and much too hot for me. I could not even keep my foot in it, so we made do with a hot shower. I suffered bad cramp in both my thighs, but this was soon eased after taking some rehydration salts.

It was already dark when dinner was served at 6 pm. Ours was set out in a private room, on a low table, and we sat on cushions in the middle of a tatami mat. It was an amazing meal, with Sashimi (raw fish), Tempura (battered prawns and vegetables) Shabu-shabu (hotpot of sliced beef and vegetables), pickled cabbage, cabbage-roll (ground meat wrapped in a cabbage leaf). Our host would not let us start until he was satisfied that the dishes were all laid out to his liking.

It was 8 pm before our hosts had completed the washing up and anything else that needed doing, so it was rather noisy and bright, as our bedroom was next to the kitchen.

Takahara to Chikatsuyu.

Woken at 5 am as the kitchen was brought back to life. We had breakfast at 7 am on the main lounge table and were given a lunch box for our 5.1/2-mile (9km) walk. Ten minutes later we were on our way. The weather forecast was for rain to start at 3 pm, and the further on we could get, the better.

As we walked into the Takahara Village, we could see an excellent view on our left that included a small waterwheel. Then after a few photos, we continued in the wrong direction. Luckily a man realised we were on the wrong track and stopped us. We had also missed the Takahara Kumano-jinja ‘port’ stamp, so had to make a small back-track to find it. This building is said to be the oldest on the trek.

The path out of town was on crazy-paving and pretty steep, and we were warm and breathing heavily by the time we got to the top of the rise and a shelter with twin ‘ojis’.

We the Takahara-ike Pond with its impressive reflections of the surrounding forest.

A stop for ‘port’ stamps was made at Daimon-oji. Daimon means ‘large gate’, but there are no longer any remains. A notice tells us the names of pilgrims who stayed nearby in 1109 and 1201, but I will not bore the reader any more than necessary.

I stopped to photograph two fallen logs that have been lined with balancing rocks, and a little further on some wag had used stones and fir leaves to form a face on the top of a sawn tree stump.

A small carved stone figure, Koban Jizo, sits by the side of the trail. Its base is wrapped in red cloth, and many coins are scattered before it. On July 18, 1854, a Buddhist monk died of hunger and fatigue. He had an oval gold coin (a koban) in his mouth. The local community built the statue, called Jizo.

We continued, and an area being protected from a possible landslide, and the site said to have had a house belonging to a man called Akushiro. In the olden days, there were several Tea Houses on the trail, where pilgrims could rest and stay overnight. One such stop was at the Uwadawa-jaya Teahouse, but this had been abandoned in 1926.

There is an interesting legend called the Three-fold Moon. A mountain ascetic spoke with the local people and told them of a wondrous thing he had witnessed on the top of Mount Takao on the 23rd day of the 11th month. He told them that when the moon rose from behind the eastern mountains, suddenly two lunar forms appeared on each side of the moon, forming the divine three-fold moon. The younger , together with the local chieftain, climbed the mountain on the said day and witnessed the same three-fold moon.

Several times we saw the upturned earth caused by wild boar in their search for food. Villagers had put electric fences around their vegetable gardens, and we could only assume this was anti-wild boar.

However, at one junction on our walk, we came across some quite long, smooth black poop. What animal could have left this? Certainly not deer, as they leave small round droppings, like giant rabbits. Later, checking on Google, wild boar droppings seem to be somewhat kidney-shaped, so that also seems to be out. The pictures of bear droppings came closest when compared with my photos. The turds seemed too big for Winnie the Pooh, so I think we were in Japanese Black Bear country. I wonder how many pilgrims they each eat a year?

Crossing a forestry road, we dropped down into a valley and followed a stream. We ed the remains of Osakamoto-oji. Round here in October 1109 a pilgrim wrote in his diary ‘On this , there is a tall tree on which a snake-shaped object is hung. It is said that in the past, a woman was transformed into the object.’ We did not spend any time searching for this spooky apparition.

We crossed the stream several times on timber bridges. At one point, we came across bamboos that were nearly as high as the surrounding fir trees and trying to get their share of the sunlight.

At Michi-no-Eki, there was a rest area by the main road, and we took the opportunity of stopping for a while for a coffee. Up to then, we had seen no other trekkers. A couple from Barcelona stopped briefly. They had only started from Takijiri-oji that morning and were attempting to do the 24.5 miles (38km) all in one day. They both looked super fit and were carrying full backpacks - but wow! Another couple also ed by before we got going again.

The name Chikatsuya came about during one of the first imperial pilgrimages of retired Emperor Kazan (968-1008) the 65th Emperor of Japan. He picked up two kaya reeds to use as chopsticks when he noticed dew on the red stalk. Is it ‘blood or dew?’ – ‘chikatsuyu’- in Japanese, and this is the name of the village we would be staying overnight.

Here on a mound is a statue known as ‘Gyuba-doji’ which depicts a young Kazan riding on a horse and a cow. Why he would do that I do not know.

Next to it is a statute of Ennogyoja the founder of Shugendo, a religion based on mountain ascetic practises

Fifteen minutes later we were looking down on the village of Chikatsuyu. It took us some time to find our accommodation as we only knew that it was on the western side of the river, and some people we asked did not know it.

Must it that by the time we arrived, my legs felt a little shaky. We finally found the Guesthouse Sora by 1:30 pm and were greeted by our hosts Naomi and Yasuyuki Amano, and there was no problem with an immediate check-in.

Noami spoke good English and never stopped giggling, but Yasuyuki was quiet. He had worked for Canon before retiring and had a small collection of old Canon cameras. He probably was not too impressed with my Fujifilm camera.

We had a big room with futon beds on tatami mats, with a good view out onto their Japanese style front garden.

Today we had climbed up a total of 2,700ft (830m) and dropped 2,100ft (650m).

We went for a walk into town, ing some magnificent large maple trees covered with autumn yellows and striking red leaves.

We crossed the wide river bed and had our ‘ports’ stamped at ChikatsuyuOji. From there, we walked south, ing a field where straw-stuffed life size figures had been dressed and were clambering up and over the rice-straw ricks. Who said the Japanese have no sense of humour?

We crossed over the river again and ired the side railings that had

decorations depicting the three-fold moon and of maple leaves. We reached the market and Lian managed to find the small pottery figure of an Oji-san, or travellers deity, that she wanted. It was the only one left, and he had a chipped cauliflower ear, but we know it will look after us on our travels, and we will embrace his imperfections

After a soothing hot and deep bath. dinner was served sharp at 6 pm, We ate in the dining/kitchen area. Another excellent meal, but not as many courses. Sashimi, steamed rice, and individual Shabu-shabu. Our hosts ate with us at the table and had a large cauldron of Shabu-shabu.

Chikatsuyu to Hongu.

Lian and I had previously agreed that we might take a bus at the beginning of the third day’s trek, or at the end, or even at both ends, as this was by far the longest day’s walk at about 25km (16 miles). We had the winter bus timetables, and the last afternoon bus was at 2:48 pm, which was very limiting. If we missed that connection, there could be a problem.

We were therefore delighted when our hosts suggested that they would take us and drop us off at the Doyukawa-bashi bus stop and the ‘log bridge’. On the way, we would stop at the ‘cherry tree and the cedars’.

We slept well and woke to a 23F (-2C) temperature. There was frost on the ground, and interesting ice shapes formed over the Honda’s windows. Yasuyuki solved the icing problem with a kettle full of hot water poured over the windscreen.

After an excellent breakfast of chicken soup and scrambled eggs and rolls and salad, we set off soon after 7 am.

After a few kilometres, we parked the car and walked up a path to reach a section of the Kumano Kodo. The legend says that Hidehira Fujiwara – the same man who left his son under the ‘milk rock’ – planted a cherry branch he used as a walking stick to pray for their child’s wellbeing. This was mentioned in a diary dated 1109, when a pilgrim wrote “On the left side of the road there was a cherry tree grafted onto a Japanese cypress. It was a very rare thing.”

The Tsugizakura-oji Shrine is close by and reached by steep steps lined by giant Cedar trees. One side of the small temple has a painting of cherry blossom. Here we stamped our ‘ports’ before returning to the car.

We were dropped off and thanked our kind hosts. The first section of the trail was steep, and we soon felt warm.

In 2011, a major typhoon caused considerable damage to the area around Iwagami-oji and so, to avoid the unstable slopes, a semi-permanent detour was made over a to the south. So for about 2.1/2 miles (4km), we followed the ‘Detour’ up and down through the pine forest.

We took a short detour by a long wooden bridge to visit Jaga Jizo. Under a roof sits a statue of Jizo, a Buddhist deity who is said to be the saviour and protector of children and travellers. This is the same Oji-san that Lian had acquired earlier.

A sign warns us that travellers in the area are sometimes overcome by ‘daru spirits’, serpent-like witch creatures capable of assuming invisible form,

penetrating the human body, and inflicting a variety of painful torments. Because serpents are fond of eggs, oval-shaped rocks are offered to appease these evil spirits.

Another local legend recommends never to eat all your lunch, as it is best to have some extra nourishment to fight off the fatigue-inducing ‘daru’. The squat stone Jizo, complete with a knitted hat and red apron, sits quietly surveying the scene. Behind him is a rock with strange serpent-like markings.

We by the deserted Doyukawa Hamlet, located beside a stream, that had in ancient times had many houses and tea-houses, thus making it an important place to stop for the night. There are fascinating records of a consort of a retired emperor resting here in 1210, and a shogun’s concubine in 1427. The last resident left the hamlet in 1956.

We continued to follow the stream to the Yukawa-oji, that was also a temporary residence for the Imperial family. Records show that in 1081 one pilgrim bathed in the ‘Uchiyu River’.The present shrine had been rebuilt in 1983.

The trail then climbed the Mikoshi . It was only here that we met the first people we had met while trekking. A man and three young women ed us, and we then met two people going in the other direction.

We then ed the abandoned settlement of Michinogawa, where the government relocated the eight last households in 1972.

Soon after, we reached the site of what had been a significant landslide. It has since been repaired, and obviously, some major works had been undertaken to

reduce the chance of another mishap.

It had a major advantage as far as I was concerned, as a construction road had been built to get access for the works. This meant much easier walking for us, yet we could still enjoy the surrounding forest.

Then we found ourselves on a detour along a paved road and reached the Hosshinmon-oji where we picked up a stamp in our ‘ports’ and the UNESCO World Heritage stone carving. We walked under the arch or ‘torii’. A sign states that the word ‘Hosshin’ means ‘spiritual awakening’ or ‘aspiration to enlightenment’ and ‘mon’ means ‘gate’. age through this gate was ‘a transformational rite marking initiatory death and rebirth in the Pure Land paradise’. I will have to work out what all the foregoing means.

We continued down the road leading to Hongu until we reached the bus stop at Hosshinmon-guchi. As we arrived, we were surprised to meet the Japanese group we had met on the first day, coming towards us. They were very friendly and wanted group photos taken. This time I counted 22 in their group. After they left, we had over an hour and a half to wait for the only bus due that afternoon. Lian had mugs and coffee in her backpack, and so knocked on a door to get some hot water to make us coffee while we waited.

The woman insisted that she take us in her car to Hongu. We climbed into her little Daihatsu, and she raced down the road the 8km (5 miles) to the Kumano Hongun Taisha temple. Being a Sunday, with bright winter sunshine, it was very crowded.

Hongu and Yunomine Onsen.

We thanked our driver and descended the steep steps to find the Kumano Kodo office. Here we showed our ‘ports’, together with copies of our certificates for the Camino de Santiago. Lian was questioned about a missing stamp. “That one was 875 yards (800m) off the main trail, and there and back up and down steep hills was too much”. Anyway, we were each presented with a dual pilgrimage certificate, printed on rice paper, together with a button-hole badge with the twin logos, and also told that when our certificate is presented at the temple, that would allow us to beat a ceremonial drum. Our photos were then taken holding our certificates, and we later saw this on their Facebook page.

Then as we left the office, we saw our driver friend who had been sitting outside waiting for us to finish. She then handed us two small, but hot, cans of coffee before waving goodbye and leaving - what amazing kindness in ing that Lian had mentioned coffee when we first met.

So we enjoyed these while we waited for the No 80 bus to Yunomine Onsen where we had a booking at J-Hoppers for two nights. Imagine our surprise to find the Japanese group already on the bus. They were going to Tanabe and onward to their homes, as their hike had ended.

On a bus, one takes a numbered ticket from the entrance at the rear. At your destination, you pay the driver the exact fare and exit at the front. There is a machine to change 1,000Y into 10 x 100Y coins.

It was good to meet up with our main bags that were awaiting our arrival at the J-Hopper. Our bedroom was Japanese style, with rolled futons on the floor and tatami mats. The sliding screens were painted with a lake and hill scene.

We went for a private ‘onsen’ bath in the hotel. Before entering the bath, we had to shower and scrub ourselves with soap, shampoo and a rough towel. It was beautiful to let the hot water soak into the bones. However, I stayed in too long and felt quite woozy. Had to lie down before having our lunch box for dinner in the J-Hopper communal kitchen.

Footwear use in a Japanese hotel can be somewhat confusing, and one seems to spend all the time changing slippers. One has to leave street shoes by the front entrance, and hotel slippers are provided. These can be used anywhere apart from the bedroom, as they are not allowed on the tatami mat, where barefoot is the norm. But when one goes to the toilet or bathroom, the slippers are left outside, and a different slipper is waiting to be used in the toilet or bathroom.

It was here that we met up with the couple from Barcelona. “No”, she said, “they did not make it”. They had been running on a road when it got dark, so they waved down a car and begged a lift. She had been an Olympic kayaker and still kept fit in the gym.

Kumano Hongu Taisha shrine.

After breakfast, we took the bus to Hongu to visit the Kumano Hongu Taisha shrine. This shrine is the principle of the three Grand Shrines.

We walked up the steep steps, lined either side with fluttering white flags printed with prayers in black Japanese script.

In 1889 a great flooding occurred in the Kumano-gawa river, damaging the shrine complex. In 1891 three of the pavilions were relocated at the top of a hill

in its present location.

We ed the washing area where devotees would wash out their mouth and hands.

We showed the dual certificates given to us and were led by a priest in his white and sky blue uniform to beat the ceremonial drum. He took the drum stick and beat a rhythm on the drum as it sat on its horizontal stand. We were then each given the opportunity of copying him - an excellent chance to get our cameras out.

The main entrance is impressive with white cloth screens with a black lotus seed design on it. Thick woven ‘ropes’ are twisted together and hang below a painted picture of wild boar – this being the year of the pig.

As we were early, there were still very few visitors in the gravel-covered main courtyard fronting the three main pavilions, so that we could take pictures without people in the way.

The logo of the Kumano Kodo is a three-legged crow, and we see this carved on large black marble balls, painted on signs and flags, and even a bright green one on a post box. The ‘Yatagarasu’, or three-legged crow is believed to be a divine messenger and a supernatural guide. One is said to have helped the first Emperor Jimmu Tenno when he crossed the impenetrable Kumano mountains. The three legs represent ‘heaven, earth and mankind’, or alternatively, ‘wisdom, benevolence and valour’. The Yatagarasu is now the logo on the shirts of the Japanese football team.

A signboard advises people the order of the pavilions they should stop at to pray, and also how to pray - wash hands and rinse mouth at the entrance – make the bell ring by shaking it – make any coin offering – bow deeply twice – clap your hands twice – then bow once deeply.

One shop at the shrine was doing very well selling charms for just about anything; a safe school commute, for your school backpack, ing examinations, power to win personal battles, an all-powerful charm, a combined Kumano Kodo and Camino de Santiago ‘harmony’ charm, and the ‘Goohoin’ to ward off evil and bring good fortune. The list went on and on.

On the way down, we took an old rough path, the remnant of the ancient steps.

It was time to visit the riverside, and the nearby 112 ft (34m) high Torii arch, the tallest in Japan. This was the site of the old shrine that had been flooded. One is advised to bow once when entering through the torii, and again when exiting. We went to the waterside and found the water is quite tepid.

Stopped for a coffee and had a chat with Miki And Laura, a Japanese American and his wife.

Took the bus back to J-Hoppers before having a walk around town. The highpoint in the village is the stream running down the side of the main road. One can look down onto an ancient wooden building known as ‘Tsuboyu’, containing an ‘onsen’ or hot bath that is still in use. Large enough for only one or two people at a time. One can buy tickets for a 30-minute bathe, but note that no swimming costume, soap or shampoo is allowed. In times gone by, pilgrims would soak themselves here before presenting themselves for prayers at the sacred shrine in Hongu.

A little downstream is a fenced off hot well, and there is a roaring business in selling eggs in a net bag to cook in the natural hot water. Hard-boiled eggs take 15 minutes, and soft-boiled eggs about 12 minutes. This area is often clouded in steam, especially in the fresh morning air.

We stopped for an early hot meal of soba noodles with two uncooked eggs. A bit sickly. The owner has his face, cartoon style, attached to the menus hung on the wall.

After a rest, we took an onsen in the hotel. But this time I did not take more than about ten minutes before I got out. No problem feeling flushed this time, but probably spoilt it a bit for Lian.

Kawayu Onsen.

Next morning, we packed and checked out, taking the bus down the road to Kawayu Onsen. We booked into the Ashoka-No-Mori. This hotel is right opposite the huge 1,000-person public ‘Senin buro’ outdoor onsen. This onsen is the main reason why people come here.

Our hosts run a family business, and we met the owner, his daughter-in-law, and the grandchildren. The manageress is Megumi, her husband is Kouhei, and the grandfather is Hiromasa-san. Daughter Emma spends much of her time tied up in a ‘nap nap’ backpack on her mother’s back.

We were given tea and a wafer biscuit before going for a walk until our room

was ready.

After check-in, we were given clothes and towels and we crossed the road and a small bridge to the public onsen. We had about an hour in it. One end was hotter, with tiny bubbles of hot water coming from the gravel, while the other end had some cold water seeping in. The onsen is approximately The onsen is approximately 27yds (25m) x 13yds (12m) and was about 18 inches (50cm) deep. People are requested to wear swimming clothes, but at least one elderly Japanese man defied this request. An Australian family and several Japanese shared the bath with us, and we had some lively conversation.

A Brown Kite kept returning to a favourite perch high in a tree behind the onsen. The Japanese have a word ‘shrinyokuhi’, meaning ‘soaking in nature’, and we certainly did this literally as we lay in the hot water surveying the views around us.

For lunch I had a curry with pork cutlet and rice, and Lian had the set Sashimi .

We then went for a wander up and down Main Street. Visited a small ‘oji’ and crossed the river on the suspension bridge. The river water is so clear, and we could see small fish.

After a rest, we walked down-stream and crossed a metal bow-bridge to the camping ground.

One side of the river has the roadway and buildings, and no buildings are on the other side. A signboard explains that the buildings sit on an aqueous rock, while the opposite side of the river is a volcanic rock, still hot at the base, and heating

underground water. Hot water seeps through a slit between the two rock types making hot springs.

For dinner at the hotel, Lian chose spaghetti vongole, and I had spaghetti with beef sauce.

Next morning, after a 7:30 am breakfast comprising a number of beautifully presented small dishes, we took the bus for Shingu.

Shingu and the Kumano Hayatama Taisha shrine.

It is now the dry winter period, and the river level is too low to take a boat down to Shingu on the coast, like the pilgrims used to do. Lian was disappointed at this, so we had little alternative but to take the bus for the one hour ride, as we preferred not to walk.

The road follows the river and es through several tunnels and small villages, and is always overlooked by steep pine-covered hillsides. The various bus stops on the way are announced in Japanese and also in English.

On arrival at Shingu, we left or bags at the nearby station locker and set off for the temple. Took a bus there, and walked back as it was not too far.

Kumano Hayatama Taisha, situated in the town, is one of the three Grand Shrines. We entered the compound through a vermillion coloured ‘torii’ archway and walked to the main shrine entrance. On one side was a stack of ceremonial

sake barrels, each bound with canvas and ropes and painted with their maker’s logos.

Across the large main courtyard are three pavilions painted white and vermillion.

A plaque explains a little history behind this shrine:- ‘In ancient times the three gods came down from the heavens to the sacred rock named Gotobiki at Mt. Kamikura. The rock is the object of worship of Kumano faith. Later, our ancestors built a new shrine at Shingu in the beauteous land named Kumano. They moved the three gods from Kamikura to enshrine them here at Kumano Hayatama Grand Shrine. Now visitors can greet the gods here. The name of our city “Shingu” means “new shrine”, which includes the profound meaning whose primitive belief changed into Shintoism.’

The shrine was preparing for the New Year, and large signs had been hung on the pavilion fencing, each depicting one of the animals of the Chinese zodiac. Each was a work of art in itself. Unfortunately, they had all been covered with plastic sheeting to protect them from the elements.

The shrine shop was selling various items, and a plaque with a picture of the three-legged crow under a ‘torii’ was very popular, as on the other side people could write a request or a prayer. We were surprised to see several written in English.

On the way back, I tripped on an uneven pavement and tumbled over, scraping my right knee. After all the rough tracks on our trek, there was no problem. But now back in the modern world, I take a fall.

Shingu was a town known at one time for whaling.

Katsuura, and the Kumano Nachi Taisha Shrines.

After picking up our bags from the lockers, we hopped on a bus for Katsuura for the 45-minute ride. This town has a deep water port and brings in the tuna for all of Japan.

We had a booking for a night at the ‘O Yado Hano’ guesthouse, as it was close to the station.

We crossed the railway line, but at first, we could not find it, as it was set back from the road and we had ed it by. The entrance was open, but there was noone around, and a notice said that check-in was at 16:00, and we were invited to use their coin lockers or a place inside to lock up our bags, which we did.

With fingers crossed, we set off back to the bus station and bought round tickets to Nachi-san. Got on the 1:10 pm bus and were dropped off at the Nachisan stop (the last stop) 30 minutes later, as we did not fancy the long climb up the Daimonzaka-Zara Slope - blame it in my scraped knee.

We still had long climb up several sets of steps to reach the Kumano Nachi Grand Shrine, the third of the Grand Sanzan Shrines. This Shinto shrine has its religious origins in the ancient nature worship of a large waterfall, Nachi-noOtaki, and is the head shrine of over 4,000 Kumano shrines in Japan.

One small building, like a giant glazed bookshelf, contains sixty sake barrels. My favourites designs had Japanese Cranes, or Three-legged Crows painted on them.

The Kumano Nachi shrine building is impressive in the vibrant red vermillion colour.

A giant tree trunk has a huge hole in it, and some people climbed into this using steps, but unfortunately, there was no English translation to inform us of its significance.

Then we moved on to the much older Nachisan Seiganto-ji Temple, built-in 1590. This temple is unpainted, just a dark grey weathered timber – a cedar? The temple stands on timber piers and wooden steps lead up to the main floor level. This building was undoubtedly our favourite at this shrine. A tall statue of the Goddess of Mercy stands outside.

The Three Storey Pagoda is also painted in a vermillion, but we found it rather Disney-like. In the background, we can see the tall Nachi Waterfall. Certainly tall, and it must look even better when it sheds the summer rains.

All around us are steep green forested hills, with blotches of red, orange and yellow, where the few deciduous trees were getting ready to shed their leaves. The temples had a wide selection of colours to their maple trees.

We took the return bus, arriving at 3:15 pm and had to wait until exactly 4 pm before Mr & Mrs Oyama, the couple running the show, came to check us in.

Given ‘Sakura’, a large pleasant room on the 1st floor with windows on three sides, but hidden behind Japanese screens and with opaque glass behind. Rolled futons were set out on the tatami floor awaiting our arrival.

Katsuura and the Tuna Auction.

We went for a walk to the dockside to find the tuna fish auction site. The deepwater bay is surrounded and protected by islands. Sunset was at 5 pm, with some very interesting lighting.

Next morning, we woke at 6 am and were out within half an hour. We walked to the dockside to watch the sunrise and the Tuna auction. About 600 tuna were laid out in lines on the wet floor. The majority were about 48 inches (1.2m) long and auctioned in groups of 3 or 4. Each had a paper number stuck on. The group of auctioneers and buyers, all wearing rubber boots, slowly moved along, but we were not able to ascertain which was which. But then someone would plaster the fish with the buyer’s logo. The buyer would cut off the tail and put it aside. Then he would make a small cut near the tail, turning it back to check the flesh. The tuna were moved around using hooks and slid over the wet floor, before being loaded into insulated boxes and covered with ice. They were taken away on small vans or large refrigerated lorries.

There were a few much larger tuna, but they had had their heads cut off. There was certainly plenty to photograph.

Later that morning, we started using our 5-day Japan Rail es by taking the train to Osaka, following a pretty coastal route alongside the sea. But that is

another story.