Bliss

Sleepy baby. Happy baby. Yeah yeah yeah!

So Palm Cove was really just what the doctor ordered. We had a fabulous time, lolling by the pool, going on little walks, reading books, having lunch at nice beachside joints and generally spending time together as ...a family...

And The Berry, little minx, suddenly started being much easier to settle for her naps. Why? Who knows! Maybe Dadda taking turns? Maybe more food in her little belly? Maybe she could just sense the lack of tension. Or it was plain simple coincidence. I'll take it any which way.

Oh, and a note to travellers: babies on planes? I used to cringe when I saw them board. "Not next to me, pleeease!" Now I know, the smaller, the better. When you can still whack 'em on the boob, they're OK. Toddlers, not so much.

Udaipur

Udaipur's claim to fame is shaken, not stirred - James's wriggling with Octopussy was filmed in the city during the early 80's, and a few proud shopkeepers still display yellowed Roger Moore snaps. And of course, each budget guesthouse and cheap restaurant feels an obligation to screen the movie night after night. Great until you've seen it. Then not so great. Still, these guys don't have it quite as bad as the waiters in Phenom Penh who had to endure Killing Fields docos every evening.

Anyway, after yet another an unsatisfactory search of "let's-spoil-ourselves" mid-range hotels, we checked into a completely empty guesthouse at 200 rupees. Which brings me to a Note to Travellers: If your boyfriend is constantly embarrassing you by testing out tiny beds with his pack still on, then refusing calf length mattresses and bed feet of any kind, ask for a triple... After sprawling briefly across the 3 single beds we pushed together to create a very luxurious sleeping arrangement, we retired to the rooftop to sprawl on a daybed instead. View from roof is above. It was tough.

We made our obligatory tour of the palace museum, which was quite beautiful, well restored, and full of photo opps of stained glass windows, and mosaics of the most incredible detail. A very special experience fell in our laps during a visit to one of the hotels which now takes up a section of the palace. After a bottle of extremely overpriced but very delicious Aussie Sav Blanc by the pool of Shiv Niwas, a man in his late 50s/ early 60s, dressed in the full regalia of most of the hotel staff, invited us to view the interior of the bar. Inside was a space just as the Maharaja enjoyed it, complete with photos of his family, souvenirs and keepsakes, and some priceless chandeliers, venetian mirrors, more detailed, OTT glass mosaic work, including some kangaroos, and a stunning private viewing area for the Maharani or other female members of the palace - all completely deserted. Our tour guide had been working in the hotel since he was a young man, and gleefully escorted us through the opulent chamber as if it were his own - and in a sense he did own the history of the place... Unfortunately he was working long hours at the hotel while Roger Moore was in town, so although he served drinks to James Bond, he didn't get a photo. Not much of a loss, if you ask me.

Colour Coded Cities - Jodhpur

Jodhpur, the blue city: far preferable to that burnt orange Jaipur insists is pink... And what a relief as well. Set around a large, walled lake, with the Mehrangarh Fort sitting stately above, Jodhpur's lanes and markets were perfect for aimless wandering, snacking, sneaking, snooping and generally soaking things up. A quick warning to travellers to keep distance from celebrating cricket fans post India/Pakistan games, especially if they don't have a good hold on their Kingfisher bottles, but that aside, we had a great couple of days here - mostly due to the surprisingly good audio tour of the Fort, which lived up to its LP reputation, as well as the verbose introduction of the guide working the gate...

Urchins

The poverty in India is simply a different concept to anything I've experienced. These kids live by the train tracks, collecting bottles and rubbish that can be recycled. They sort amongst the shit and piss that accumulates from the trains (it seems everyone wants to go when the train is stationary), deal with rats and dogs, and carry bundles much bigger than themselves up and down, day and night. The railway staff treat them with disdain, but their roll is well accepted - they keep the station clean and tidy. And they still play and giggle as they work.

Although the rules say don't give to kids, this girl got an apple from me (don't tell Blake!), which she demolished in a matter of seconds. The tiny core which went over the side of the platform like everything else, was then her evidence to the other urchins wandering the station, with much extravagant relating of size of apple, and disbelieving responses, and cheeky grins back at me, watching the show from my bench.

And a Note to Travellers - When you get to the station at 5am and the nice lady announces the train is an hour late, don't think, oh well, I'll wait an hour and sleep on the train, because you'll be a very cranky person 4 and a half hours later when you're STILL WAITING!

Shangri-la

According to local bus drivers and the tourism ad we saw being filmed in the new "old" town, Zhongdian is same Tibetan paradise that gave refuge to the characters from Lost Horizon - the mythical, much fantasised over Shangri-la. A bit rich, really, and another slight to Tibet, but still a pretty town, with a small area of authentic old cobblestone alleys, old Tibetan style lodges and a lovely square.

The area around Zhongdian is home to a number of ethnic Chinese minorities, including the Naxi and Mosu. And it's women who run the show in these cultures, from "walking" marriages where women welcome men into their beds then kick them back home in the morning, to even the language, where male is the diminutive (male + stone = pebble, female + stone = boulder). These matriarchies seem to be thriving, with the men left holding the baby, while woman run shops, labour on building sites, and generally get things done. We even caught a fist fight between female store holders while devouring BBQ skewers and beer in the square.


But a note to travellers: if you arrive at a nice old guesthouse, don't attempt to string up your hammock among the beams of the open corridor before checking with the owner, especially if there are lots of tourists taking photos of the building. You might realise too late you're staying at a 300 yr old caravan stop and one of the few original buildings in town...

Tiger Leaping Gorge

Dear friends will know my opinions on excessive amounts of exercise (unless you're running for the bus...), but after a few days on the Chinese Tourist treadmill, 3 days in the wild was sounding pretty appealing. True to form, LP's 11 buses leaving from Lijiang turned out to be 1, and we'd well and truly missed it. So out to negotiate a mini van to take us to Qiaotou... We eventually scored a ride with a Chinese couple, paying 60Y per couple. Of course, 5 minutes out of town we're joined by two more Chinese, and asked to pay 20 more. Nope. Nope. Umm, how else can I say "Mayo"? Eventually, and thanks to Vincent, a Shanghi resident who's missing Newtown, the price goes up to 70, but now includes a transfer across the bridge to enter Qiaotou town proper.(apparently mini vans from Lijiang can't cross). Once all that was sorted, it was a lovely ride up to Qiaotou, including a pass through a cow and pony market - how much for my very own pony? 5000Y, or $AUD900. Bargain.

Qiaotou itself is a pretty shitty town - full of tourist buses and not much else. Still, we said a reluctant goodbye to more friendly Chinese and headed to Margo's cafe, the Gorged Tiger, to dump some luggage and grab some info. Margo seemed a bit frazzled, and on hearing that Aussie accent, I expected to be served Saos and Vegemite for lunch. While running around in super short shorts, she very sensibly told us just to take it easy. No issues there. The length of the trek is dotted with Guesthouses, Inns and little stalls, making it appealing to even the least fit traveller (me). So our route through the Gorge:

Day 1: 2 hours afternoon walk up to Naxi Family Guesthouse (Vincent and his girlfriend just beat us to the best 30Y room).

Day 2: a late start, a migraine and a bit of drizzle sees Ros cop out and take a pony up the "28 bends" - helping local family make ends meet by paying 100Y for this lovely young gentleman to hop skip and jump lead his mum's pony up the steep, slippery track.

We got to Tea Horse Guesthouse for lunch and decide to stay the night (40Y). Again, a tops place, although like everywhere in China they're doing a lot of work on the place (we could have had a shiny new room for 120Y).

Day 3: dawned bright and sunny, a great walk to Tina's for a late lunch of Naxi sandwich (yummy scrambled egg and tomato inside fresh baked flat bread). Then onto Shaun's (50Y for the least nice room we had on the trek), where we drank Gin and Tonics with an Intrepid tour group, lead by Margo herself, and played with possibly the cutest kittens ever cuddled by Ros.

Day 4 was supposed to be a very easy very sneaky lift with Intrepid back to Qiaotou and on to Zhongdian, but some small, pesky landslides and 2 high maintenance tour member meant all bets were off. Eventually we found a couple of other Aussies, Marcus and Dee, to share a convoy of minivans along the new "low" road back to town. A little scary, as we cruised past cleared avalanches, subsiding road and precarious rocks above the road.

Note to travellers (care of Margo): When one is crossing a landslide, one should have a friend to spot for more falling rocks, take it slow and steady up the slope, then employ a "hot coals" treading technique over the top, watching for slipping, unsteady pieces of slipper slate. And don't look down.

These landslides are commonplace, and we regularly heard the sound of dynamite used to clear them. One van had been caught between two slides, ferrying passengers between each crossing. We made the crossing in good weather and had no problems, but I wouldn't want the job of a bus driver round these parts. I make no comment about the wisdom of creating a road into a pristine gorge so tour buses can drive back and forth along a road than can be covered with tonnes of rubble at any point!

Bloody Ferry...

I'm busting to get out of Vietnam - but loving the thought of a couple of days in an international style resort, and J'n'J had very generously offered to gift us with some accommodation. So we head vaguely towards the island of Phu Quoc, and the border, catching to local bus to a town where they grow flowers... nice... but here's a note to travellers: the bus takes a lot longer than your own motorbike. We've kind of forgotten how long stuff takes by local public transport, and we have to stop to check whether JnJ have made the internet booking. Yes, they have. For the next night. There's only one ferry per day, so we have to get to the port town today. Fine

Including walking between terminals etc we changed mode of transport 12 times in one day... Walk, local bus, regional bus, walk, mini bus, moto, walk, ferry, walk etc etc....

The highlight was waving down a private mini bus, that just happened to have a 10 year old Canadian/Vietnamese girl on board who was back home with her mum and could translate for us. We paid a dude on the bus 60 000 dong, and it was explained by the very polite young lady that we'd have to change buses, but that this dude would come with us. Fine, except when we got off the bus, our new friend merely waved down two other dodgy looking dudes, paying them 10 000 each to give us a lift to the next town on their motos (then more walking, another 2 motos etc etc).

So anyway, we crash into the port town, Rach Gia, about 8pm, find a bed, find some food, and book the ferry.

Oh,

The ferry's not running.

Oh.

There's a storm out at sea and the ferry hasn't run for the past 3 days.

Oh.

The hotel reservation is one of those no change, no cancellation, lastminute.com deals.

Right.

Well, we saw an airport on the way into town, maybe we'll fly (gulp).

So we wander over to Vietnam Airlines... Sorry, booked out til the 18th.

After some typical speaking-a-second-language-culture-clash stuff, we find there's a standby list. Eventually we find out we can actually get tickets for the 13th. Blake calls the hotel to see if we can change the non-changable reservation. Yes! We can, we just have to go online and change on the internet as well. But of course that doesn't work (computer says no).

So back to the Vietnam Airlines office for us. We call the hotel again, and are told to try the Saigon head office. I'm assuming at this stage that we're going to write-off the $200 gift. But the man at the Saigon office is actually going to Phu Quoc this weekend. He understands that sometimes the weather plays havoc with arrivals at this hotel. Although our internet booking is strictly non-transferable and non-refundable, he's going to make an exception for us.

So in the end, we have to hang out in the border town for 2 days, we're paying 340 000 dong to fly across to the island, but we get our tropical holiday-inside-the-holiday.

Bloody Ferry.

Note to Travellers...

The trouble with motorbikes is that the thing you use to hold on, is also the thing you use the make it go fast. So if, perhaps, your boyfriend decides to gun you bike over a railway line, and if he's holding on to the handlebars (read: throttle), really tight, there's only one way to stop, and it's not going to be pretty....

Special Massage

I saw more blind people on the street during our time in Chiang Mai then I've ever seen before. Mostly in troupes of two or three, busking for change with varying degrees of skill. I feel a little weird about giving money to people on the street, and we'd heard good things about massage by the blind. It can be a viable career for someone who' visually impaired for obvious reason, and in Thailand they are renowned for giving extra-sensitive, skillful massage - in a country where competition's pretty damn stiff in that regard. So off we went to the Chiang Mai "Massage by the Blind" Centre, hoping to inject a little tourist cash where it seemed sorely needed.

Note to Travellers: Just because the person giving you a massage is blind, doesn't mean they are, actually, trained in massage. Despite the fact that they may be in attendance at the Chiang Mai Massage By the Blind Centre. Despite the fact that they are a mature and seemingly experienced woman.

And just because the massage is done in a grotty old faux-leather armchair, with a bit of ancient, dried up Nivea cream to smooth things over, doesn't mean that the elderly lady wont fleece you out of 100 Baht. Despite the fact that she cackles and gossips in Thai throughout the experience. Despite the fact she yanks on you toes repeatedly, and with obviously glee, but no discernible therapeutic motivation.

It was a bizarre experience as it dawned on me that this was certainly not a massage, but a hilarious joke for this crazy old lady, having a lot of fun at my expense. Hope she spent the money on some new massage oil.

Orang Malas..!

The jungle railway swept us away from KL, right up the spine of Malaysia, to the north eastern corner of the country... We were heading for a set of islands called Perenthien. But first, a note to travellers!

Note to Travellers: If you arrive at a small town after nightfall, it might not be such a good idea to proudly turn away the taxi drivers, on a valiant search for the bus station, which may or may not actually exist. When you find that the buses have stopped running, it may be that the taxi drivers have all disappeared as well. You may be forced to take up the offer of a young guy with no english except a handwritten phrasebook with handy coversation starters such as "Malaysia has many beautiful beaches and there is a very interesting museum nearby, I can take you to a local craft market...".

Look! Wave to the tourists! These kids proceeded to do a little rain dance for our entertainment...

Anyway, a night in Kota Baru, a yummy breakfast on the street with the locals (yes! locals! they put condensed milk in their coffee - soul mates!), and we made our connection to Coral Bay.

The quiet side of the quiet island, Coral Bay sports three cafes, a couple of dive shops and some of the most crystal clear, turquoise water I've ever had the pleasure of wallowing in...

We ate Barramundi BBQ, wandered through private tickertape parades of dusty cream butterflies, and inspected the shallows - but mostly we did Orang Malas...

Well was certainly meant to be a civilised way to begin...

First post, sipping "real" coffee on the 31st floor of Sydney's Hotel Intercontinental. Very nice man at reception took stock of throw away clothes (literally, I'm tossing the outfit in the bin when we leave, it's very liberating), backpacks (yes, 50 litres, that's all we're taking, no, I don't think it's going to be a problem, gulp), and gift voucher for one (1) night's accommodation (thank you Worling Saunders), and gave us an upgrade, a room on the second highest floor of the building, and a late check out time. Yayyy!

View from our room...

Unfortunately, a combination of extreme over planning (Blake), and mild absent-mindedness on my part, meant that we didn't get to utilise the lazy morning.

Note to travellers: Important documents, such as non-refundable plane tickets, should be kept safe... but to hand. I do not recommend zipping the tickets in the invisible pocket of your girlfriend's handbag, which she then puts into storage. Especially when you put all the keys to the storage in equally "safe" places, like posting them to your parents, leaving them with friends who are uncontactable, or at work. It makes for quite a hectic trip to the airport (Hotel-Work-Storage Space-Airport: 40 minutes)

So, we made our flight, off to what the Lonley Planet calls the "kiddie's wading pool" of Asia - KL. And it's pretty spot on. Customs was such a non-event we wondered if had even happened, new train took us right into the city, then one connection to reach chinatown, the backpacker ghetto of the city. Our Planet-picked hostel was full, so the guy at the desk walked us across to another - mainly to get beer, I suspect, but a kind gesture all the same!

So we've wandered, we've eaten, we've seen some sites, but mostly we've just been acclimatising ourselves to the heat and hustle bustle of the shallows before we plunge any deeper!