Turn on, tune in, drop out

Train Spotting

Choose life, choose a career, choose a job, choose a flat screen TV...... Life is what you make it. For the last year my life has been a kaleidoscope of changing cultures, different people, amazing cities and landscapes . I chose to carry on my adventure around the world.

The prospect of returning to Scotland and resuming my previous life was not a path I was willing to take. Continuing my life 'off the grid' was way more exciting. Careers and job offers were of less importance, reality yeah that's a scary prospect, or has my escape from reality in fact become reality? Regardless, I'm going to carry on for now until my luck or money runs out. After a brief visit back home to Aberdeen my journey was to take me back to New Zealand for the winter and then onto South America.

The decision had been made in early March to return to New Zealand, with my season pass and air ticket bought. It felt like returning to a second home. Revisiting familiar haunts like Methven and Mount Hutt. Later Queenstown.

The Winter Season

Snowboarding, women and drinking. Not always in that order but dependent on mood, circumstance and the ever unpredictable New Zealand weather. It's a fine balance and hopefully not too much of a compromise. The wind blows, the mountain closes, snow falls heavily and the access roads are closed. Frustration and boredom, never far away, just as well snowboarding is not my only passion in life. On a good day, a car full of friends, good music, full of excitement and anticipation, racing up the ski field road. On the mountain, powder snow and bluebird sky's, seeking out the best lines and untracked snow. The weather closes in or the light goes flat, it's time to sit around and drink coffee. When the mountain is shut it's time to relax or party, play pool in the pub or get drunk and chase the snow bunnies. With hard work and some luck it all works out well.

I spent most of the season in Methven, staying at the Mt Hutt Bunkhouse again. I knew I would be amongst familiar faces there, with many friends returning from previous years. Trips were made south to Queenstown and Wanaka, but for me it was Mt Hutt, Porters and the club fields where the action was at.

Old Timer, yeah right....

I walked into the common room of the hostel in Queenstown, blimey they're getting younger, or am I just getting old? Yeah, you can keep your comments to yourselves please. My behavior disguises my age, I'm told. Plenty of time to grow up, just don't grow old.

I met my fellow old timer and long time friend JD at Queenstown airport. I had a week to take him to some of the ski fields and show him how wonderful New Zealand is. The Remarkables, Coronet Peak, Treble Cone, Ohau and later Mount Hutt. After a shaky start with the weather we find powder snow and blue sky at Treble Cone and Ohau, but not without the inevitable hiking to get there. Awesome runs and the comment 'this is the stuff of snowboard DVD's' reminds me why I love snowboarding here so much. It had been over 2 years since we had last met and it was great to catch up and find out the gossip and drink whisky. It was inevitable we'd end up doing a bungy jump and this was done at the Kawarau Bridge, the original bungy. Alas JD's (snowboarding) fun was cut short by the arrival of his girlfriend Sam.

It was a winter of reunions with Ianzie, another old timer and biker friend from Aberdeen, visiting Wanaka with his girlfriend for a week of skiing.

Mt Hutt

Towering high above the patchwork quilt fields of the Canterbury Plains, Mount Hutt gives incredible views across to the Pacific Ocean and behind of the Southern Alps. We grumble about the closed days here, but when it's a powder day it rocks.

There is some challenging terrain at Mt Hutt but to escape the crowds a trip out the back towards North Peak is required, not forgetting to leave our intentions with ski patrol. Out there we were on our own, we hoped. Thankfully my good friend Hamish was leading the way, a veteran of at least 8 seasons at Mt Hutt. We ride down from the ski field boundary, then hike for 30 minutes. Out of nowhere a group of telemark skiers appeared and stole our fresh tracks. We needed to get our breath back first but there was a massive snow field in front of us with plenty of room for everybody, on the perfect spring snow. We set off in complete silence on the mountain, no wind and blue bird skies it was an amazing place to be.

The season's not complete without the Mt Hutt Peak to Pub race. A 2km snowboard, a 17km mountain bike ride down the skifiled access road and a 10km run to the Blue Pub in Methven. Junko, Giles and I entered the mixed teams race and came 10th out of 20 teams which was pretty good considering we did almost no training. I did the mountain bike section which was very exhilarating if not a little dangerous. The access road has some fearsome drop offs. A friend ended the race in a ditch with cuts and bruises and one of the main sponsors, Big Al, had to be air lifted to Christchurch hospital with a broken neck! Even so, there was still a great atmosphere after the race at the Blue pub.

Give me a job now, please!

My third season of snowboarding in New Zealand without working. I think I qualify with an outstanding A++ as a certified ski bum. It was time for this to change. I enrolled in a course to become a snow board instructor. Four days of assessment, instruction, late nights studying and a teaching assessment on the final day. This was bloody hard work but really good fun and very rewarding. I even passed! So my riding has improved, I learned lots and now I'm an unemployed snow board instructor, where will it all end?

The Clubbies

It has taken me the best part of 3 winter seasons but I have now discovered the true nature of winter sports in New Zealand. The club fields are like nothing I've ever been to before. Difficult to get to, hard work when you're there, but very few people, a great atmosphere and definitely the best terrain. A spirit of adventure and a fair amount of determination are required to enjoy them to the full. We all agreed the days at the clubbies were amongst the best of the winter. Damn it, I need another season here.....

Trip to Mount Olympus Ski field

The Playground of the Gods..... their words not mine. This was surely going to be something very special. A 65km drive from Methven, more than half of this on dirt roads, the adventure started way before we reached the ski field. Turning off from Ryton Road onto the single track access road, we were surrounded by towering snow capped mountains and rugged tussock moorland. This was wilderness to rival anywhere else I'd seen in NZ. The road wound its way along the gorge high above on the mountain side. Passing an oncoming car, with only inches to spare on one side and a several hundred feet drop on the other my concentration was dialed in. On this type of road I've usually been at the mercy of some local lunatic bus driver. Today my passengers Toby and Lewis were at the mercy of my driving.

Approaching the ski field we reached the 'bottom hut', where we radioed our intentions to the ski field of our arrival. This was to ensure there was no downward traffic on the very steep and narrow final section to the car park. Snow chains fitted the car ground it's way up the bumpy and rutted road which was hardly suitable for the 2 wheel drive car we were in.

Apart from the flash 4x4's in the car park the scene that greeted us could have been from the 1950's. An old fashioned rope tow up the mountain. Yeah these are scary!!! Wearing a harness with a nut cracker device attached, first grab the rope and once traveling at the same speed as the rope attach nut cracker to rope and hold on. It may be old but it's rapid transit up the mountain. Sounds easy? I'd take a chairlift any time. When riding the tow the nut cracker passes over the pulley wheels with a resounding metallic clunk. With my fingers only inches away I disliked it every time.

This mountain is not for the faint hearted, there is no grooming and no pistes. The whole area is there to be shredded. To give some idea of the terrain one area is called 'Little Alaska'. Another run is called 'International Wife Swappers'. The club members must have some good parties in the club house. Shame I'm not married.

Unlike the commercial ski fields I've been to, the lifts here didn't shut at 4pm. When we asked the closing time, the answer was when the last person has had enough. This and the relaxed and friendly nature of the handful of people that were there made it a super enjoyable day. Amazing terrain, great snow and wonderful views, it had been all I'd expected and more. Snow boarding at it's best.

Trip to Temple Basin Ski field

Transworld Snow Boarding magazine were quoted as saying 'If I had to stay in one area, on one mountain to snowboard for the rest of my life, it would be Temple Basin. It's that good!' FHM magazine voted Temple Basin as the greatest adventure escape worldwide and said it's arguably has the hottest snowboarding terrain in the Southern Hemisphere

This was one ski field I had to get to, so when some of my Japanese friends, Toby, Kazu Shiba and Teru, said they were planning a trip I jumped at the opportunity to go. It was my no means easy to get there. After a 2 hour drive to Arthur's Pass we were faced with a 50 minute hike up the mountain to get to the ski area. Fortunately there was a goods lift to carry all our gear up.

The skies were clear, the snow was good and the rope tows and nut crackers were were becoming easier to use. Along the walking track to the second tow and then more hiking to the ridge above. This was pretty scary, walking along the narrow ridge to get some fresh lines in the snow. The terrain was steep and really hard work, long traverses to reach challenging chutes. Again no grooming, this was all 'off piste' and with fewer than 10 people on the mountain it had a real wilderness feel.

At the end of a great day Toby and Kazu were showing off with their tricks on the kicker in front of the lodge to every one's great amusement when they got it wrong.

After a comfortable night in the mountain lodge we were greeted by cloud and rain the next morning. It was snowing higher up but after a few runs we were all shattered from the difficult conditions so retired to the lodge for lunch before the hike back down the mountain.

So the magazines were right and if I needed only one reason to move to New Zealand it would be so I could snow board at Temple Basin....

Trip to Craigieburn Valley Ski Area

I was nervous about going to this ski field. The area is for adventurous and advanced snow boarders and skiers. To ride the rope tows 'goofy foot' it is recommended you are of advanced level snow boarding. There are even triple black diamond runs here marked as suicidal! Even the access road was hair raising. A single track road cut into the mountain side with a shear drop of several hundred metres to the side.

It was going to be a hard day for me, trying to keep up with my two ski instructor friends Giles and Shiba. The icy and sloping up track of the rope tows didn't make things easy but I was soon up to the summit and we were soon heading down the less suicidal chutes, across a beautiful snow field, passed the closed signs and down to the access road. Ski Patrol are never amused when closed signs are ignored and I should know the snow responsibility code by now, but here they said 'cool you made it down, just be careful on the snow covered creek, it's beginning to break up'.

A big hike up to Hamilton Peak in the bright spring sun and then the run down Hamilton Face. The top was in the shadow of the sun and was sheet ice and steep, this fortunately turned to perfect spring snow very quickly and we all had grins from ear to ear at the bottom.

Craigieburn and Broken River Ski field together form the largest off piste area in New Zealand. Another great day was spent exploring Broken River.

End of another Season

The snow boarding was awesome, the drinking and partying were in moderation, sometimes, and the women, well that's another story altogether.

So where will it all end? I don't know, I plan my life around snowboarding, when can I do another season... I think passion has become obsession!

The winter crew (not all in the photo and in no particular order): Hame Dawg & Junko, Tim & Kazuha, Giles (Mr Bunkhouse), Shiba, Toby, Kazu, Mitsu, Kalvin, Andy, Mel, Iyo, Iyumi, Yukiko, Lisa, Kaulu, Yoshimi, Aiko, Antje, Sarah & Ellie in QT and probably a few others.... See you all next year!

Around the World

Flying in from Mexico City to Vancouver I was re-entering the so called 'developed world'. After a grilling by the most unpleasant and abrasive immigration official of the trip so far, I was let in. I'm told the United States are putting pressure on Canada to tighten up their border security, I think there was their something missed out about being polite?



Vancouver has the title of being the most desirable city to live in, in the world. We'll see.
For me, as a budget traveller, it was desirable as there were many pizza shops offering slices for $1. These I am told are for the large population of homeless people that occupy the streets next to the down town area. They are drug addicts, the mentally ill and people down on their luck. It's quite an unexpected and sometimes shocking sight. Vancouver is the only city in Canada where it is possible to sleep on the streets all year round with out freezing to death. These poor people come from all over Canada for this reason. A few blocks east of downtown there are queues of people out side the pharmacies where they get their methadone prescriptions. Groups of ghost like people gather outside supervised injection sights. Walking through the area in daylight I felt in no danger, at night I was not so sure.

There is an interesting recycling system in Vancouver. No recycling bins are to be found on the streets. The homeless people are seen pushing shopping trolleys full of cans and bottles collected from bins, they take them to recycling centres and are given a small amount of money in return. A good idea maybe but hardly an ideal situation in this modern city. Will all this change before the 2010 Winter Olympic games?



If I'm painting a grim picture of the city the rest of Vancouver is most certainly not. It's just the contrast of rich and poor is very obvious. With the pretty harbour front, the huge trees in Stanley Park and the snow covered mountains beyond North Vancouver it is a very attractive city. The people of Vancouver that I spoke to claimed it's way superior to Toronto, I'd keep an open mind on that.


The road from Vancouver to the ski resort town of Whistler is called the Sea to Sky Highway. It does just that. I checked into my lodge accommodation in Whistler. Being right at the end of the winter season it had a kind of eerie quiet feeling about it, reminding me of the movie 'The Shining'. It wasn't Johnie I had to look out for though, it was the black bears that had just come out of hibernation and were wandering around looking for things to eat. Walking up the road to the lodge, armed with two shopping bags full of food, car drivers stopped to warn me of a bear on the road just ahead of me.



The two days of snowboarding I managed on Blackcomb Mountain were good fun. It was the end of May and warm and sunny making the snow quite soft and avalanches very likely. The best terrain was off limits for this reason. The downhill mountain bike season was well on it's way, it was a strange sight seeing skiers and snowboarders next to the bikers at the apres ski bars at the bottom of the mountain. Think I'd be happy living here with all this going on!

The silver train snaked it's way out of the suburbs of Vancouver on it's long journey across the continent. This was the last long overland journey of my trip round the world and would take me across Canada through the Rockies, the Prairies, the Canadian Shield of Ontario and on to Toronto. A distance of nearly 4500Km and 3 days on the train.

The train is made up of the original 1950's carriages with domed observation cars allowing amazing panoramic views. It was a little bit of luxury at the end of my travels. The train had 24 carriages making it more than a 1/2 mile long. Good for taking a stroll after the generous portions of food served in the restaurant car.

Past the towering Mount Robson (3900m), through endless pine forest, the occasional bear or moose at he side of the track. A day through the Rockies, a day of the flat expanse of the prairies, a day of the trees and lakes of Ontario. Passing through Kamloops, Jasper, Edmonton, Winnipeg, Sioux Lookout, Parry Sound. Eventually the Toronto skyline came into view dominated by the brightly lit CN tower. A very enjoyable and relaxing journey with top quality food and good company.

I've been to Toronto a few times now and there's always good reason to go back, my Aunt Sheena, Peter and my cousins Fiona, Gayle, Kerry and Lynn and now recent new arrival to the family, Rosalyn.

It has been said that Toronto is like New York but run by the Swiss. I think it has a bit more New York in it now and it's none the worse for it. It's a vibrant, cosmopolitan and very ethnically diverse. I liked it lots but there are no mountains nearby so the jury's out on whether it beats Vancouver. Wait a minute of course it beats Vancouver, I have family to stay with in Toronto and cousins to hang out with and to drink too many 'martinis' with.



Staying with my cousin Gayle at her house at Georgian bay on Lake Huron, trips to the museums and galleries of Toronto. Eating out at many good restaurants and maybe a drink or three at night.

Toronto Island is situated in Lake Ontario, a short ferry trip away from down town. It's the best place to view the city skyline particularly the CN Tower and the Sky Dome, now called the Rogers Centre, very imaginatively renamed after it's latest owner. It's a great place to come to on a sunny day with beaches and swimming, if the lake is not too polluted, and even a nudist beach. My cousins took me there for the day and trusted me to steer the quadracycle we hired to see the island. Wooded tracks and old wooden cottages and yachts and boats of the rich and wealthy.


After two weeks of being looked after exceptionally well, I was sad to leave Toronto, not just saying goodbye to everyone there but it was the end of this trip. The last journey to make my trip around the world complete. So no Daft Punk had got in my way, my trip had been a success beyond my imagination and left me with a good feeling about the world and all the people I had met. It is quite incredible that I have traveled through 14 countries in just over a year and not even had my bag searched once. Oh yeah, I forgot it did get searched once, when I first left Aberdeen!

My confidence grew as the trip progressed. Feeling more and more comfortable with my travels until it felt like second nature. The fear I'd experienced before I left and before I'd entered some of the countries I'd been to had been unfounded. Maybe the world is not as dangerous a place as it's made out to be (or maybe I've just been lucky). I have found that humanity persists where ever I have gone. People going about their daily lives as we do at home, in peace. There are not thieves ready to rob you at every street corner. Being aware of your surroundings is always a good idea though. Even as a backpacker I'm seen a a rich western tourist by the people of the poorer countries I have visited and this would make me an obvious target for scams and overcharging, but this is all part of the travel experience. I'm glad I didn't pay too much attention to the British Foreign Office warnings on travel to certain areas I've been to, I don't think I'd have left home if I had.

There is a lot of bad news and negativity generated by the press and our governments about the world. The British press sensationalizes the threat of terrorism and recent terrorist acts.
The British government, I believe, is responsible for creating a state of paranoia within the country to pass more and more draconian laws to control the population.

Get out there and see the world, if you can, and make your own mind up.... Watch this space for more adventures from around the world.

A Fistful of Travellers' Cheques

This was no comic strip, this was real life, this was Mexico City. The plane swooped out of the sky as dawn broke over the metropolis below. What was I doing here? The city with the reputation for robberies, kidnap and murder. Worse still, pollution, dirt and noise.

Everybody told me to spend 2 days maximum here and get the hell out of the place.... In their rush had they forgotten to look at the surroundings? This is a city of amazing cultural and architectural wonders.

The Spanish destroyed the ancient Aztec city of Tenochtitlan and created in it's place a colonial gem in North America. A city to rival any in Europe. Yes some may disagree with this, the city is a sprawling mass, but the historic centre I found was really special. There was a large police presence on the streets. On the way from the airport I saw a unit of police men, with machine guns, wearing balaclavas and dark glasses to protect their identities. It was not unusual to see convoys of heavily arm police racing through the streets.

I pinched myself, where was I? Was I dreaming? No I wasn't in Egypt, I really was in Mexico and I was looking at the fantastic pyramids of Teotihuacan.

Journey to Oaxaca

1st class bus travel is very comfortable in Mexico, the bus stations like airport terminals. Looking out the window I watched the desert like scenery go by, many cacti and mighty snow capped mountains in the distance. I wanted to be on the road on a Harley Davidson chopper, I was dreaming of Easy Rider.

In 2006 the square in Oaxaca was held siege by rebels. Now restored to all it's glory it's where all the locals gather and it's a great place to people watch. I hang out with rough guide photographer, Tim, for the day. We discuss world affairs whilst walking around the town, chilling out and drinking coffee. I hoped some of his talent might rub off on me.

On a bus journey from Oaxaca, a busker sings and plays his guitar. Later bumping along a dusty dirt road in a beat up pick-up with Mexican music playing on the stereo, looking out the window seeing dry arid land with agave plantations, mescal distilleries and men with oxes ploughing fields. This was my definitive Mexican experience.

Next stop, San Cristobel de la Casas, another Spanish colonial town, many indigenous villages nearby. The city was held by the rebel Zapatistas in 1994 for just 30 hours, no tourists were harmed. The government has improved the situation but there was also the presence of large military base is nearby.

I was less impressed with the Mayan temples at Palenque. It's not that the Mayan people weren't incredibly talented (they were), it's just there's not much evidence of their work left there. A lot has been removed to museums and what is left is big of piles of stones. Don't go to the Temples of Angkor in Cambodia first and Palenque would no doubt be amazing.

Journey to Guatemala

Okay, to put it mildly I was quite nervous about the Mexican/Guatemalan border crossing. I'd heard too many stories about customs searching bags and taking bribes. The nice air conditioned bus took me to the border at Cuidad Cuauhtemoc. I was the only tourist on the bus, I like it that way. I give my exit card to the passport official, he throws it back at me and stamps my passport. It costs $45 if you loose this card, he didn't even want it. I jumped in the share taxi for the 4km ride to the Guatemalan side, feeling decidedly nervous. I've done a lot of border crossing now but they are never relaxing places. So there I was at La Mesilla, Guatemala, get out of the taxi. Where was passport control? A little office where the woman said 'Guatemala', 'si' I said, my passport was stamped and that was it. No bribes, no hassle, I walked outside soldiers milling around nobody was paying me any attention so I ducked under the barrier free to go on my way.

A tourist shuttle bus driver offers me a ride to Panajachel for $20. That's 4 nights accommodation I thought, I politely decline. I walk through the town to the bus terminal to get the chicken bus. These are old brightly painted United States school buses, they are so cool, so colourful, cheap and lots of fun to ride in. Luckily no chickens in the ones I traveled in. They cost about US$2-3 per hour of travel depending if you get local or tourist (gringo) rates. Loud Latin American music playing, stunning scenery, I'm filled with enthusiasm for my travels. First impressions were good, I wanted to see more of Central America.

I stayed in San Pedro de la Laguna, on the shores of Lake Atitlan, a boat ride from Panajachel. A stunning setting surrounded by coffee plantations and towering volcanoes. The Spanish Cooperative School provided my Spanish lessons and Miguel & Maria were my hosts at my home stay. Both highly recommended. An amazing experience to live with local people in the town. Most of the town's people are indigenous of Mayan descent and wear brightly coloured traditional dress. Walking through the town at night, steep cobbled streets, dim lighting, people sitting outside their houses, it took on a timeless feel.

Due to a broken tooth I had to go to Antigua to find a dentist. It was no hardship to be in Antigua. It is an incredible old Spanish colonial city. It was the capital of Guatemala until a series of earthquakes destroyed the city. A few churches and the Cathedral have been restored, many others are in ruins, huge chunks of masonry still lay where they fell. Although very touristy it's possibly one of the nicest cities I've visited. The roof top garden at the hostel was a good place to relax with my fellow travellers that included an original 1960's hippy, an artist from Italy, some english speaking Guatemalans and lots of hot chicas.

Trip to Volcan Pakaya

This has to be the scariest and most dangerous thing I have done on my travels so far. Pakaya is a 1 1/2 hours drive from Antigua. It is an active volcano. I stood less than two meters from where lava was erupting from the ground. The heat was incredible, imagine standing beside an open furnace or at the gates of hell. What if the lava flow changed course, what if it suddenly erupted beneath me?

Walking on newly solidified lava, unstable and cracking, sharp and jagged. Red hot lava inches below my feet, smell of melting rubber from peoples shoes.

Every 20 minutes a huge rumble came from the volcano sending smoke and steam billowing upwards. Was I to be a human sacrifice to the volcano?

History

I had found myself in yet another country that the US has meddled with in the name of anti-communism. In 1954 the country had a democratically elected president and was almost getting on it's feet. The socialist government wanted to buy unused land from US company United Fruit. This caused alarm to the US Government. The US government also suspected that Guatemala had communist ties and so the CIA staged a military coup to oust the Socialist President Arbenz. The coup was widely condemned by the international press and the United Nations. The coup was followed by four decades of civil war with maybe as many as 250,000 people killed and 1 million made homeless. During this time the USA supported the Guatemalan military financially and with training, and a huge amount of human rights violations took place. After the coup, the CIA was assigned to gather evidence to back up their claim. Nothing was found to suggest Guatemala had ties to the Soviet Union.

If Mexico was dangerous(?), how do I describe Guatemala. Security guards with shotguns at shops, banks and ATM's. Delivery drivers would have a security guard with shot gun pointing out of the window. A newspaper reported 1217 murders in Guatemala City during the previous 100 days (the human cost of drugs). I heard many second hand stories of people being robbed. Please note: I never felt in any danger during my stay there.

All appears good on the surface, scratch it and a different story comes out. My friend Leon (not his real name but it fits perfectly) is ex-military he tells me that after the peace accords were signed in 1996, the army was reduced to 1/3 of it's original size. That left a large amount of guns on the streets and soldiers, who weren't really suited to the life of a security guard, to join gangs and the drug cartels in Mexico. He's a good guy though and works as a tour guide now. He carried a gun though and is really not the sort of person to mess with. Further stories were offered about shootings in the streets. I had no reason to disbelieve.

The beach was calling, so with some friends from the hostel, I went to Montericco. A little beach resort on the Pacific coast made up of black volcanic sand. It's a really sleepy place with a lazy tropical feel. Many palm trees and the houses and hotels all had thatched roofs. It was fun to play in the surf but the waves were too big and the currents too stong to swim safely.

Teeth fixed up, thanks to the Clinica de la Cruz dental surgery, I headed to the airport for my flight to Mexico city. I left with a yearning to return there and also to see the rest of Central America.....

And for the children

I fly into Mexico city for a night before my flight to Vancouver. Saturday night, surely something was going on in the city. I arrived to find a huge stage set up in the Zocolo (the main square). There was to be a free concert to promote a new initiative to aid Latin America's millions of poor, malnourished and undereducated children. Ricky Martin and many other Latin American acts performed. Shakira headed a twin concert in Buenos Aires. This is new for Latin America where previously if pop stars spoke out on poverty and social issues they put their lives at risk. 120,000 people crowded into the square, it was a nice ending to my brief visit to Latin America.

Adventures in Indochina Part 2

I thought I'd made a huge mistake coming to Vietnam after peaceful chilled out Laos. Hanoi was crazy busy noisy madness. The city is over run with scooters (motos), worse still at rush hour times, causing gridlock. Very few cars on the road. I stood at the side of the road for ages trying to pick my moment to cross. Forget the green cross code. Look for scooters going the right way along the road and then the rest which are going the wrong way and just as fast. I'm amazed I never got run over. Traffic lights seemed advisory only with scooters going full pelt though red lights horns blaring.





The quickest and easiest way to get around was by moto. The riders line the pavements and even have a helmet for you. I learned quickly to not just agree the price before but write it on a piece of paper so there was no confusion later. It was a total buzz being in the thick of it cutting through oncoming traffic. I was lucky not to be in an accident, some people I spoke to were less fortunate.



Except for the scooters, the city is caught in a time warp. Imagine 1950's street markets and shop houses selling just about anything you wanted. It has a hard edged feel which only a communist regime could give. The people are not so friendly, verging on aggressive when they want your money, nobody smiles. Never the less an amazing place to visit, after a couple of days I'd acclimatised. Yeah it was cold too. The History Museum and the Revolutionary Museum gave a good if biased story of the countries turbulent past, especially about the French colonialists, American imperialists and puppet governments and troops. Through out the past the Vietnamese have fiercely defended their country. Expelling Genghis Khan and the Mongols, the Chinese the French. Did the USA seriously think they could win a war here. When you see pictures of the Vietnamese woman working in the paddy fields planting rice while cradling her baby and with an AK 47 over her shoulder you kind of realize this is one tough nation of people.

Their toughness has certainly not diminished when it comes to rip offs, overcharging and scams. Wow, worse than when I was in China, got to be on your guard all the time and when dealing with anyone involved in tourism trust no one. It was hard work at times, it seems they want as much money they can get with scant regard of anything else. However, the people I met who weren't involved in tourism seemed nice and friendly.



Uncle Ho's (Prisidant Ho Chi Minh) body is preserved in the huge Mausoleum in the city. It's a major tourist attraction if slightly gruesome sight. The remains of a B-52 bomber shot down during the war are in a small lake nearby.

The overnight train journey to Hue (pronounced whey) I share the compartment wit ha group of railway engineers. We share our food and beers and have a good time. I meet a tour group on this train that I seem to follow south for a while.

I liked Hue, not many of my fellow travellers did. Much quieter than Hanoi I even pluck up the courage to hire a bicycle for an afternoon. The rules of the road are don't look behind or to the side and give way only to vehicles in front of you. It's pretty scary but seemed to work.




The people seemed friendlier with even the odd smile here and there. The surrounding area was nice with temples and amazing mausoleums for the old emperors. The citadel in the old town had been heavily bombed in the war, many local people had lost their lives. Only some old American military equipment their now as a reminder and the heavily damaged citadel of course.

The train journey from Hue to Da Nang is one of the best. Along the coast, tracks clifftop, high above the crashing ocean. Here you can see the evidence of bombing, small areas of trees and vast areas of scrub land only just recovering now.



Hung over and tired I arrived in Da Nang. It was the nearest stop to Hoi An where I really wanted to go to. In the train station I meet Chienn. He offers me a moto ride to Hoi An for $4. I'm immediately suspicious and yes this was a sweetener for a bike trip into the central highlands he wanted to sell me. The Easy Riders they call them selves. Ride pillion for a few days and see the real Vietnam. He seemed okay (big mistake Neil, remember trust no one!!!!!) and agree to a 3 day tour starting in a couple of days. Got to get yourself out there to get the experiences.

Zipping along the road to Hoi An watching the waves crashing onto China Beach. Wartime US troops came here for their r+r. There was a big airbase here, some of the hangers have survived although not for much longer, the developers have arrived to build hotels in their place. I thought I heard the thud thud thud of helicopters overhead, it certainly wasn't from the exhaust of the little Honda Dream, Whoops Apocalypse (now).

Hoi An was good. It seemed the further south I went the friendlier the people became. The town is old and slightly decaying, many old french style shop houses. About 200 taylor's in town. I should have got a suit made, but for what reason..... The Cham temples at nearby My Son were amazing. A UNESCO heritage site. Not in so good condition though as the Viet Cong holed up here during the war and one or two bombs were dropped to flush them out. A memorable sight in the rain, the jungle surrounded temples and mist covered mountains behind.

So any way may bike tour. From Hoi An into the Central Highlands and along Ho Chi Minh trail to Kahm Duc and Kom Tun. The Ho Chi Minh trail was used as a supply line by the North during the war and was the scene of much fighting and bombing. For most of the way I wished I'd just hired a scooter myself but it was still good to see the places I did.

Even my guide was trying to rip me off along the way. He was a lying toe rag as well. He'd claimed the train I'd wanted was full because people were returning home after Tet (Vietnamese New Year). Now I'm not stupid, some may disagree, but that was a month before I say. He just wanted to get back early and get me on an earlier train. Let just say we didn't part on good terms. And yes what a train..... cockroach infested and even saw a rat run across the floor of the compartment. He'd also lied about when the train arrived, but I was aware of this before I got on the train. It would arrive at 2am and not 6am like he said. Arriving in a small town at 2am was pushing it a bit I thought. Now who to trust.... A woman in my compartment with small child tells me: yes no problem sleep in the station, it's really safe (?), or there's a station car that will take you to the next town for 3 dollars and not to worry. I wasn't worrying but jumped the train at 12.30am at Nha Trang hedging my bets on a bigger city. As luck would have it there there was a moto rider waiting at the station to take me to a guest house that was still open.

Nha Trang was cool, and everything is relative. This was the first modern feeling city I'd been in for a long time. A very long palm tree lined beach, attractive fishing village at the river mouth with brightly painted blue fishing boats and old Cham temples on the hill behind. Seedy too, hookers and thieves, I survived but my friend got pick pocketed by two 'taxi' girls.

I go to Dalat, big mistake. What can I say, the North and South agreed not to bomb the town during the war. I really don't know why not, they could have destroyed what was there and started again. Dreary concrete jungle masquerading as an attractive hill station. I leave the next day bumping into my Scots journalist friends Paul and Maureen on the bus to Ho Chi Minh City, I'll call it Saigon if you don't mind.

Saigon almost manages the developed city feel but not just quite. It's really how I thought Bangkok would be. Fast, hectic, seedy and a feeling that danger was just round the corner. The back packer area was on the go 24/7. Bar tables on the pavements, street bars with little plastic seats so you can watch the world go buy. Yeah this was hooker central. The scooter park seemed to be controlled by the pimps, phones to ears, with a steady flow of girls coming and going.

The Museum of War Relics provided an unbiased (for Vietnam) view on the war. Amongst the many photos were one of a family desperately trying to cross a river fear in their eyes another of a GI holding the remains of another with only the head and shoulders remaining. Many photos of the results of spraying chemical defoliants including Agent Orange on the land and people. Horribly scarred people and children being born with terrible deformities. 2 jars contain aborted hideously deformed foetuses. 77 million litres of chemical defoliants were used during the war. Whoever thought this kind of warfare was acceptable had surely lost their senses. The museum brings awareness of land mines not just in Vietnam but in Cambodia and Laos as well. The clearing work continues as do the casualties and deaths. The museum is a sobering place and what was achieved by this war? 3 million dead and the Communists still rule the country.

Continuing on the war note we go on a trip to the Cu Chi tunnels. A network of tunnels used by the Viet Cong to live in and fight from. One has been opened up to twice the size and it is possible to crawl along it for 100m going through several levels. It was still really small and I was dripping with sweat when I came out the other end. There were some horrible looking man traps, huge bomb craters and an old bombed out US tank. I get to fire a Kalashnikov AK-47 assault rifle. This was very cool indeed, really had to take this chance in a life time. Don't get to do that sort of thing in the nanny state of the UK. The gun must have been really old because it kept jamming, but it was an quite an experience, even for a pacifist like myself.

Across the border to Cambodia. I remember scenes on the television, when I was a child, of emaciated figures walking across the dry planes. I was here now and it was easy to visualise this. The country has only really been safe to travel in for the last few years, the Khmer Rouge bandits having completely surrendered. I was amazed at how developed Phnom Penh was, although poverty was all too evident, with many beggars, amputees and some horrifically deformed people. When Pol Pot and the Khmer Rouge marched into town on 17th April 1975 the population was about 2 million. When the Vietnamese came to rescue the country, in 1979, it was less than 25,000. There are now around 1 million people living there again.

I visited the The Tuol Sleng Genocide Museum which was once a school. The Khmer Rouge turned it into the Security Prison 21 (S-21). Out of the maybe 17,000 people that passed through the prison only 12 survived. A place of torture, interrogation and extermination, it's a truly harrowing place to visit, with many photos of the victims, blood still on some of the walls and the torture equipment. The Vietnamese soldiers found the prison by the smell of the rotting corpses.

In the afternoon a short tuk tuk ride out of the city to visit the Killing Fields. A pleasant journey now compared with being taken from S-21 for execution. A memorial there is filled with the skulls of 8,000 of the 17,000 people who were executed there. Some of the mass graves have been excavated, there is a vast area where bodies still lay. It's a strangely peaceful area now however when I look at my photos of the mass graves it makes me feel sick. Communism gone horribly wrong, maybe as many as 3 million killed.

It's not all horror though the Royal Palace is quite amazing, the history museum reminded me of something out of an Indiana Jones movie, filled with incredible Pre-Angkor and Angkor period stone carvings. My guest house was beside the lake in the city with a deck to watch the sun go down while having a beer.







There's many Irish bars around the world but Scottish bars are almost non-existent. We're way to cool to need a Scottish theme bar. The Mosquito Bar in Phnom Pehn run by a Scots man was cool. There must have been 7 of us Scots there, the biggest group of Scots I'd been in since I'd left home. Paul, Maureen & Sean all from Glasgow who I'd met at various times though SE Asia were there. The night turned to whisky, I missed the boat in the morning. Oops.

So it was the bus for me to Seim Reap and the Temples of Angkor. I spent three days looking around the many temples in scorching temperatures of 40 deg C. They are incredible and leave a lasting impression. Two weeks later, I'm still dreaming of them at night. I could go on and on but I'll just show some photos instead. The stone carvings of the women were my favourite though.

Alas I had just 8 days in Cambodia, hardly time to do the country justice but I had to get back to Bangkok. I could have taken the tourist bus from Seim Reap to Bangkok. I take the bus to the Thai border. It was only 145 Km but took almost 6 hours. It's the worst road in the world. Due to be completed (again) in 2009 (maybe). Allegedly something about the airlines not wanting the road completed so they can encourage people to fly.

A night in the border town of Aranyaprathet and I take the early train to Bangkok. This has to be the worst journey of my trip so far. 3rd class, cramped, hard seat, so busy people standing in the aisle, hot, windows open farmers burning off last years crops in the fields, soot in the carriage. It was fun for an hour, after 3 unbearable, after 6 I was so happy being in the air conditioned taxi to my guesthouse. It was my choice of transport and I got to travel how the locals do. I didn't see any other travellers doing this route....

So my journey round SE Asia was finished, I'd managed to do everything I'd set out to do and more. It was an incredible experience, I've seen so much, learnt so much and met many friendly people both local and travelers. I didn't want to leave.