TravelStream™ news feed for member catmoj on TravelPod's free travel blogs service http://www.travelpod.com/syndication/rss/catmoj en-us Copyright ©2009 TravelPod.com Mon, 14 Jul 2008 16:51:51 -0400 http://www.travelpod.com http://www.travelpod.com/travel-blog-entries/catmoj/rtw-2003~04/1068765240/tpod.html http://www.travelpod.com/travel-blog-entries/catmoj/rtw-2003~04/1068765240/tpod.html#comments Travel Blogs http://www.travelpod.com/travel-blog-entries/catmoj/rtw-2003~04/1068765240/tpod.html Mon, 14 Jul 2008 16:51:51 -0400 Tropical Tripping RTW: One girl venturing through South-East Asia, Australia and Central America.

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Ko PhiPhi, Thailand

It was with a mixture of emotions that I bid farewell to Cambodia, Taura, Naomi and the Landmine Museum. It has been up and down, and I was ready to move on, but the heart strings were tugged when Da said, "Cat... Australia? I wait for you." So we await more reading of 'The Golden Fish' stories for another year...

The shock of Thailand, consumerism and the haven of 7-11. It was off to Ko Lanta to see my buddies Darren and Helena. Darren just secured himself a Divemasters job, so whilst he worked, I lazed by the pool and waited for him to come home so that we could whizz about on the moped - still not taking to the driving bit again! So this is the Ko Lanta secret: Blue Andaman Resort has bungalows for 150 baht, with swimming pool and a beach. Nice.

Unfortunately, Ko Lanta is far removed from the Samet or Ko PhanNgang scene, instead lots of older European couples. Luckily Helene arrived for some serious swimming, sunbathing and cups of tea to alleviate the resort boredom, sorry, serenity.

Then it was off to Ko PhiPhi for two days of pampering and sunshine thanks to a great friend from Oz, Alex. There were the last-minute nerves as I waited at the jetty, "Will I recognise him? What if his flights are messed up again!" But there he was.
We stayed at an amazing place on the hill above Long Beach, just a little removed from the noisy backpacker bustle of the main town. The deck had a sweeping view of the bay - how could anyone get tired of such a beautiful place? Perfect for vodka & sodas of an evening, awaiting the pink sunsets.

Seafood, sunshine and sunbathing were just what the doctor ordered. The highlight was my first intorduction to snorkelling. With great trepidation and clinging to Al's hand like a limpet, we went off the beach out towards the rocks. I was enchanted.

So many varieties of fish, so many colours, so many things to see! A huge shoal of fish were feeding off the rocks and then around the other side we found ourselves swimming alongside reef sharks. I think my heart nearly stopped when I saw that distinctive, lazy movement of a shark swimming. But they were nowhere near as interested in us as we were in them. One crazy European guy was trying to chase them, but he had no hope.

It was a wonderful end to my South East Asia time - a million thank you's, Al! Now it's off home to Australia, to get girt by sea and all that.
]]> http://www.travelpod.com/travel-blog-entries/catmoj/tl2006/1184847540/tpod.html http://www.travelpod.com/travel-blog-entries/catmoj/tl2006/1184847540/tpod.html#comments Travel Blogs http://www.travelpod.com/travel-blog-entries/catmoj/tl2006/1184847540/tpod.html Thu, 19 Jul 2007 08:27:09 -0400 Living The Dream - being paid to travel the world and introduce others to the wonders

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Datong, China

Datong and temple
]]> http://www.travelpod.com/travel-blog-entries/catmoj/tl2006/1198533900/tpod.html http://www.travelpod.com/travel-blog-entries/catmoj/tl2006/1198533900/tpod.html#comments Travel Blogs http://www.travelpod.com/travel-blog-entries/catmoj/tl2006/1198533900/tpod.html Tue, 12 Jun 2007 08:57:48 -0400 Living The Dream - being paid to travel the world and introduce others to the wonders

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Jerash, Jordan

The Roman ruins of Jerash are nearly deserted. None of the high season tourists are here. It allows my imagination to run wild, and me to have a moment to take photographs, something that is less of a priority when the group arrive.

A don;t conult a gudebook, preferring to wander. Next visit will be with a local guide and I can listen between times of counting heads to ensure all are accounted for.

The sound of bagpipes floats across the ruins. In an ampitheatre stands a lone piper, making music for the few visitors at this late in the day. It;s a lonely, haunting sound, and quite fitting for the location.
]]> http://www.travelpod.com/travel-blog-entries/catmoj/tl2006/1166648280/tpod.html http://www.travelpod.com/travel-blog-entries/catmoj/tl2006/1166648280/tpod.html#comments Travel Blogs http://www.travelpod.com/travel-blog-entries/catmoj/tl2006/1166648280/tpod.html Tue, 12 Jun 2007 08:57:16 -0400 Living The Dream - being paid to travel the world and introduce others to the wonders

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Petra, Jordan

Arriving in Petra town, I meet another tour leader, Coco in the cave restaurant of our hotel. It's great to ahve someone else to recce with, to share the thinking and the questions.

We make our way into Petra, pausing at every third turn to take an "almost in Petra" photograph between the high valley walls. When we finally arrive, it's worth the wait. Camels strategically positioned in front of the Treasury - how much more photogenic can you get?

We are accosted by two Berber kids, one with a huge grin and mischievous twinkle in his eyes. He tries to entice us to ride his donkey: "Go on! FOr once in your life!" Then tells Coco, "My donkey's name is Coco!" She dryly notes that the donkey is a boy and he simply grins and shurgs his shoudlers.

The donkeys wid their way carefully along teh stone paths, sure footed and sturdy. The bigger boy comes riding hard to catch up wtih us and cheeky boy calls out, "Hey! Fat man!" They are a comical pair.

That night we return for Petra By Night. In front of the treasury is a sea of tiny tea lights and a gentleman in red headscarf and white dishdash. His voice resonates in the enclosed space, and with a glass of warm thyme tea we almost doze off.

We walk back along the path, voices hushed in awe. This is so much better than watching Indiana Jones!
]]> http://www.travelpod.com/travel-blog-entries/catmoj/tl2006/1198422840/tpod.html http://www.travelpod.com/travel-blog-entries/catmoj/tl2006/1198422840/tpod.html#comments Travel Blogs http://www.travelpod.com/travel-blog-entries/catmoj/tl2006/1198422840/tpod.html Tue, 12 Jun 2007 08:53:09 -0400 Living The Dream - being paid to travel the world and introduce others to the wonders

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Amman, Jordan

YOU are wonderful!

This is the catch cry of the porter at my hotel. His ethusiasm brings warmth to the chilly marble of the hotel. Amman in winter is certainly wintery, even with the gorgeous blue skies and sunshine.

I meet Ibrahim, my local agent and we spend an evening more focused on food and smoking chicha, than talking business. We drive to see the bright lights of Amman and he confesses that being Berber he has trouble living in the city, preferring the space of southern Jordan and his horses.

Amman is nice enough, but too sprawling for my liking.

I have a few days before the group arrive, but the mini vans that ply the highways will surely get me everywhere in time... I hope. It wouldn't be worth my job to be late to the airport to meet them!
]]> http://www.travelpod.com/travel-blog-entries/catmoj/tl2006/1167086640/tpod.html http://www.travelpod.com/travel-blog-entries/catmoj/tl2006/1167086640/tpod.html#comments Travel Blogs http://www.travelpod.com/travel-blog-entries/catmoj/tl2006/1167086640/tpod.html Tue, 12 Jun 2007 08:48:48 -0400 Living The Dream - being paid to travel the world and introduce others to the wonders

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Petra, Jordan

petra petra Petra


The weather has turned colder. So much so that on our second morning in Petra we wake to snow! I rush to make a notice suggesting activities and warn against hiking in the high paths in teh snow. Later that day the snow turns to rushing water and Petra is evacuated.

I stay in the hotel, working with Coco and Mike, colleagues who are leading tours here also. Similar tours but different directions from here. No vehicles coming in or out, travel agents frustrated, tour leaders frustrated but resigned to the weather, and group wanting to get on the road but contenting with Petra pizzas and the pub for the time being...

We have change plans to drive to Little Petra for a late afternoon gambol in the snow and in many ways it is more atmospheric than Petra itself. But atmosphere or not, the mission is to somehow get out of Petra and down to the desert of Wadi Rum.
]]> http://www.travelpod.com/travel-blog-entries/catmoj/tl2006/1165756740/tpod.html http://www.travelpod.com/travel-blog-entries/catmoj/tl2006/1165756740/tpod.html#comments Travel Blogs http://www.travelpod.com/travel-blog-entries/catmoj/tl2006/1165756740/tpod.html Tue, 12 Jun 2007 08:28:46 -0400 Living The Dream - being paid to travel the world and introduce others to the wonders

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Fajara, Gambia

Paradise found!



We arrived at Fajara beach at 10 o'clock at night, ten hours after we arrived at the other side of the Gambia River. Ten hours of African waiting time, made all the more galling by other tourists bribing and getting ahead of us, all the more galling with the realisation that our money to Mr Kebbe had not been passed onto him, thanks to dodgy Mr Umar of the impeccably clean teeth who had made the arrangements.

To add to the gall of our sweat-drenched situation, Mr Umar called us whilst we were waiting and instructed us to give Mr Kebbe money for petrol. When we discussed the matter of money again with Mr Kebbe, it became clear that none of the money we'd given Mr Umar had been given to Mr Kebbe.

Relieved to say goodbye to the hapless Mr Kebbe and knowing that a showdown with Mr Umar is on the Horizon, we can't believe our luck when we find Fajara Beach 'resort'.

Resort is a termed used loosley, but it's a lovely guesthouse is set back from the road, down a dirt track, in a garden setting that overlooks the beach. Add to this the best steak sandwiches in the world and again, the Barra Ferry debarcle is forgotten.



At 3 am we are woken by something large and gambolling about in the roof. In our slightly dehydrated, sleep-deprived state we envision it between the size of a rat and a monkey and hope it doesn't come plunging through the flimsy ceiling as we have yet to receive our much promised mosquito net.

When we leave the hotel to wander up the beach we pass fruit sellers, ladies who entice people to the stand where they've painted their name to designate their 'spot'.  Less enticing are the touts who stop us regularly to announce "my restaurant is just over there, when you come back..."

Leaving the beach to head into town, we meet the same taxi drivers and amusingly honest sand painting sellers.
"When you come back, maybe you want to look at my shop? I sell drug and sand painting."
Less amusing is the being stopped in teh street or on the beach by total strangers who demand
You give me dalasi. You give me book. You give me pen.
Adam observes, Why doesn't anybody ever ask for a punch in the nose...?
Black humour is the only way we can cope. These constant demands are confronting and wearing. We never know who is going to be the next to ask for something: random person walking past or someone with a job, a taxi driver for example. We can't help everyone and if Adam is tired of this after nearly 2 weeks, my patience at 7 weeks has worn decidely thin...

We befriend the Laundry Lady who is in tears nearly everyday because a feud she has with the dodgy internet cafe bloke. (His internet always breaks down, so I don't see what his status really is...) Adding to her misery is status as second wife and her need to work to support her son.

When she accidentally bleaches our clothes, we are relieved to find someone who is less sartorially concerned than us. Sanna Wally makes our acquaintance on the beach.


He approaches us with a big smile and a "Hello!" Sanna's right leg is a mere stick that bends backwards. Rickets I suspect. He asks us to make a donation and shows us a tattered piece of paper that other foreigners have signed and made token gestures of 100 dalasis (£1). To our chagrin we haven't bought any money with us to the beach and hear ourselves sound false when we say "We'll be here tomorrow"

Sanna tells us that tomorrow he is going home to Basse Santa Su, about 10 hours drive from here, along the Gmabia River. But for us, he will wait an extra day.

The next day we are a little late and I'm fretting. Sanna finds us and his joy at the shirt and shorts is hard to take, he immediately dons the clothes and tells us how he can't wait to show his Mum, even though she is blind.

We ask him about the rest of his family. He has one sister who has a child, and a brother who "Is not right in his head". Sanna himself is very child like so how ill his brother must be, I can't imagine. Adam and I share a look that say, how much bad luck can one family have?! Dad disappeared, Mum blind, both sons disabled.

Sanna grins and laughs, insisting on a photo with Adam. When we make our goodbyes, waving as Sanna grins his way down the beach, I can't help but start to cry. My attepts to be tough, distance myself through objectivity and cynicism have been completely floored by the grins and gleeful laughs of this smiling lad.

It's time to bid goodbye to Africa, and onto the next tour.




]]> http://www.travelpod.com/travel-blog-entries/catmoj/tl2006/1165324680/tpod.html http://www.travelpod.com/travel-blog-entries/catmoj/tl2006/1165324680/tpod.html#comments Travel Blogs http://www.travelpod.com/travel-blog-entries/catmoj/tl2006/1165324680/tpod.html Tue, 12 Jun 2007 08:04:20 -0400 Living The Dream - being paid to travel the world and introduce others to the wonders

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Goree, Senegal

From Toubacouta we make the long drive towards Dakar.

Somewhere alongside the salt plains at the edge of the delta we are stopped by yet another police checkpoint. The officer wants a lift. Mister Kebbe is not able to politely decline, so Adam simply gestures to teh backseat where I sit, and I say "Non!" The three men laugh and the officer makes some comment about Boss Lady, but happily, waves us on. Phew! Everyone managed to keep face.

We stop in the town of Kaolack, which is high on my list of "Never Ever To Be Returned To". On my trip with Dembo a few weeks ago, lunch had been a bad bad case of mafe. Mafe is a sauce that is a combination of oil and peanuts, but is a poorer version of Senegambian dishes. Proof was in Dembo's disgust and refusal to finish his meal, and my own churning stomache as a result.

This time, there is little to be had as we've miussed lunch hour. Shame, no mafe today.

So we continue to Dakar, which immediately rates on Adam's List of "Never Return". Crawling through the smoke spewing traffic, the red dust infiltrates the car and coats everything. I direct Mr Kebbe to the port and we negotiate for a car parking overnight.

The Goree ferry is not a repeat of the Barra ferry and we have 15 minutes of sea air to recover from stinky Dakar.

Arriving at LouLou';s guesthouse, we reaquaint ourselves with the backs of our eyelids. Now it really feels like we are on holiday! We spend our days wandering, sleeping and running into Mister Kebbe, who is having an equally fantastic time on holiday!

We agree that if his boss asks, he was working very hard for us, arranging "things". Instead he passes time watching football and making acquaintances around the island.

Our Barra Ferry day is now long forgotten.
]]> http://www.travelpod.com/travel-blog-entries/catmoj/tl2006/1165151640/tpod.html http://www.travelpod.com/travel-blog-entries/catmoj/tl2006/1165151640/tpod.html#comments Travel Blogs http://www.travelpod.com/travel-blog-entries/catmoj/tl2006/1165151640/tpod.html Tue, 12 Jun 2007 07:52:12 -0400 Living The Dream - being paid to travel the world and introduce others to the wonders

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Toubacouta, Senegal

Our joyful reunion was in try Banjul airport style: Him standing for two hours waiting for luggage in the steaming heat, me climbing up onto a post to try to see him, frantically waving through the crowd, pushing through the throng and me jumping like a monkey into his arms.... ignoring the backpack, day pack and cardboard tube for my precious artwork that I've collected. Any other man would have collapsed under the weight.

Arriving in the horror of Kololi and its bar street amassed with young Gmabian men and their middle-aged, sunburnt European girlfriends, Adam was as impressed as one can be. GTS Restaurant and my friends there made Kololi seem less like the sex tourism-crappy bar area, at least until we walked back to our dodgy hotel.

But the Barra Ferry was Adam's first real taste of Africa, and mine also because now we don;t have the all powerful travel agency arrangements to smooth our way. Instead we have the sweet, but rather downtrodden, Mister Kebbe as our driver.

In the short time we have here, local taxis are not really an option. And given the propensity of these vehicles to break down, they aren't particularly enticing.

We started bright and early, lining up at the ferry crossing at dawn.The infamous Barra Ferry crossing from Banjul on the south coast of Gambia River to the north bank, has improved in recent times... according to rumour.

Usually the routine is that those who can pay a bribe can get across fairly quickly in under two or three hours after lining up. We arrived bright and early, lined up and then Mr Kebbe paid a bribe, but not enough to get us through straight away.

No problem, we can wait for the second one. We can get into this African groove.

Seven and a half hours later our vehicle is on the ferry. I'm am not grooving with anyone, least of all Mr Kebbe.

Even more galling, today is a Sunday and the lebanese felefel shop is closed. Other than a baguette of mystery meat there is little choice. It's proving to be a challenging day, not least of all because we are hungry, hot and fed up.

We change our plans to avoid driving through the night, and stop at Toubacouta, a village of souvenir shacks, a butchers shop, a telephone and not much else.

Le Pelican resort is a step into Europe and it's sports fishing scene here in teh Sine Saloum Delta. Beautiful bungalows with thatched roofs and upmarket decor, Le Pelican couldn't be further from our Barra Ferry misery.

A swim, delta-side meal and a few ice cold beers, and we are back in the groove.
]]> http://www.travelpod.com/travel-blog-entries/catmoj/tl2006/1162824960/tpod.html http://www.travelpod.com/travel-blog-entries/catmoj/tl2006/1162824960/tpod.html#comments Travel Blogs http://www.travelpod.com/travel-blog-entries/catmoj/tl2006/1162824960/tpod.html Tue, 12 Jun 2007 07:33:46 -0400 Living The Dream - being paid to travel the world and introduce others to the wonders

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Diama, Mauritania

St Louis is the most northern highlight of Senegal. From this colonial town of faded grandeur and plastic palm trees, it's a mere hour and formality to cross into Mauritania.

After my rush to book the groups tour with Sahel Decouverte in St Louis I was relieved to see the vehicle show up, as agreed, at 9am.

The most nerve wracking part about tour leading is the first trip, and the never knowing if everything will run smoothly as promised to the group!

Mauritania conjuers visions of immense dunes and fleshy dark skinned ladies swathed in fabrics. This southern area of Mauritania is scrubland, but closer to the coast there are the beach dunes of the Atlantic coast.

Our guide is a smiling faced Berber man, deeply tanned, turbaned and proud owner of a mobile phone. Places in the shaded cabin of the ute are few, so five of us sit in the back of the ute, shading eyes against the glare of morning sun in an effort to spot warthogs.

These hairy tusked creatures are my favourite but I suspect that after a month of spotting them, enthusiasm might wear a bit thin!

We stop at a tent for tea, a welcome and shady break, in a small camp. Children converge on us, at first hanging back and giggling. Their faces are testament to the different ethnicities of West Africa: african faces, berber and arabic.

While tea brews and neckalces are displayed, games of Hokey Pokey and Ring O Roses entertain the knee high masses. The children demand to hold hands, shrieking as we Oh Hokey pokey pokeeeey! and when we All fall down!

Bumping over white sand dunes to the beach brings us to another tent and instead of tea and beads, a fantastic lunch of fish after which we lounge on mattresses in the shade.

The sand dunes are scattered with enormous shells, mostly broken. Walking through the sand dunes takes stamina as we sink with each step, and it;s a relief to finally get to the sea.

While one of the group swims, I try to overcome my Australian need to 'swim between the flags'. No flags here, so I paddle barely deeper than my knees, still managing to get soaked by unexpected waves.

One of the downsides of being a tour leader, no matter how much fun an activity appears, if there's the slightest doubt about safety I can't partake or encourage. However, it's actually a bonus when you're scared of heights or not comfortable swimming without flags!

So I try to ignore thoughts of being swept out to the Atlantic coast and stay happily knee deep as a compromise.
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