el_condor's TravelStream™ — Recent TravelPod.com entries TravelStream™ news feed for member el_condor on TravelPod's free travel blogs service http://www.travelpod.com/syndication/rss/el_condor en-us Copyright ©2009 TravelPod.com Tue, 16 Dec 2008 06:39:53 -0500 http://www.travelpod.com Walk like an Egyptian — Cairo, Egypt http://www.travelpod.com/travel-blog-entries/el_condor/asia_2005/1143747660/tpod.html http://www.travelpod.com/travel-blog-entries/el_condor/asia_2005/1143747660/tpod.html#comments Travel Blogs http://www.travelpod.com/travel-blog-entries/el_condor/asia_2005/1143747660/tpod.html Tue, 16 Dec 2008 06:39:53 -0500 The Flight of El Condor - to Asia and beyond!
Cairo, Egypt

I don't know if it was unconscious design, or just coincidence, but it was amusingly appropriate that "Walk Like an Egyptian" by The Bangles started playing on my iPod as the train from Alexandria approached the outskirts of Cairo. I had retreated to the personal sanctum of iPodland an hour or so earlier, having been unable to endure the sniffs and mutterings emanating from the fleshy walrus of a man slumbering in the seat beside me any longer.
The prospect of Cairo had been exciting me for days now, ever since I caught a brief glimpse of its sprawl as I flew over on my way to Alex. I've always attached images of such exoticness and legend to Cairo, home to the Pyramids - one of the Wonders of any world, ancient or modern - and the bustling centre of the Islamic World. However, having once pinned such expectations on Mumbai, only to be disappointed, I was a little wary.

I needn't have been. I liked Cairo from the first, as I trudged out of Ramses Station, enturtled once more by my pack, and strode off with the vaguest of directions to find my hostel. Eventually, after several arduous navigational conversations with locals in my fledging pidgin Arabic ("alatool?" La, shimaal, 'then' alatool. "Cool, thanks mate!), I stumbled across it, dumped the backpack, and set off into the city. I had a goal, and would not be swayed from it. This was one of the most important things I was to do on this whole journey, and I wanted to see it done. Yep, that's right - I was off to acquire an ISIC card (International Student Card, for the acronym-phobic). Okay, I admit my student days are now long behind me, and though my recent gainfully employed stint at Auckland University was not really going to hold water, I knew that in Cairo, it didn't matter and that a valid and authentic student card only required 75 Egyptian Pounds. Easy! That little gem was going to pay itself off before I left Cairo, notwithstanding the enormous savings (we're talking $100's here folks) that I knew I'd accrue throughout Jordan, Syria, Turkey, and probably Europe.

With that accomplished, the next step was to hit the tourist trail for a couple of days and follow the well-trodden path to the Egyptian Museum, repository of treasures and a vast wealth of history, and of course, the Pyramids.
The Egyptian Museum stands imposingly at the edge of the motorised chaos that is Tahrir Square in Central Cairo. It is a grand building, its front lawn dotted with statues, and swarming with the chittering hordes continuously disgorged by an endless array of tour buses. The collection inside contains an astounding 40,000 items, running the gamut of classical Egyptian history from the Old Kingdom to the Roman occupation. It would take weeks to even see the entire collection, let along describe it to you, and I am unable to do either. Concisely though, it is a staggering array of treasures, and I spent several absorbing hours wandering the halls aimlessly taking in as much as I could. As I'm prone to do in such institutions, I tried to decide which piece, which treasure, I would choose to take home with me in the unlikely event of the City of Cairo, on account of my worthiness as a person and honoured guest, offering me such a boon. By the time I had circled the museum entirely once however, I was mentally so laden down with booty that my knees were buckling. In the end, I choose a gorgeous and simplistic gold and silver bowl, in the shape of a flower, from the Tanis collection, from 950 B.C. It would've looked just right on the mantelpiece back home!
The showpiece, of course, of the Museum, is the Tutankhamun collection, and rightly so. Following so excellent advice from Mum's cousin, Alison, I had arrived at the gates uncommonly early in the morning, and so was first through the doors at 9 am, ahead of the ravening schools of package tourists. I headed straight upstairs, and to the back, towards the Tutankhamun gallery, determined to enjoy the splendour of his famous golden funerary mask and sarcophagus in silent contemplation. And it worked. Myself, and 3 likewise clued-in folk, were able to enjoy 20 minutes of mute reverence and awe, before the jostling crowds made their way into the gallery. Much has been made of the beauty of Tutankhamun's treasures, but to behold him in person is something else. The mask, and sarcophagus, both of solid gold and bedecked with ornate carvings and endless precious stones, was works of art to rival any I've seen. They're are simply beautiful. Seeing them in the dark, air conditioned sterility of the Museum is impressive enough, but I can only imagine what Howard Carter must've felt (or indeed, said) when he saw that first glimpse of beaten gold amid the dust and sand of Tut's tomb. The rest of the collection is almost as stunning. Jewellery, clothes, boats, weapons, gods and statues, plus several of the layers of burial vaults that surrounded the sarcophagus are all on display. Indeed, it's a little overwhelming!
When, finally, I had slaked my thirst for beauty, and explored much of the rest of the Museum, I blinked my way back into the sunlight. I can't even begin to describe the other excellent works within, I wouldn't know where to start, but I will say to you all to come, and see it all for yourself. Indeed, I went back for more, on my last day, to saw it all again (plus many pieces I swear I didn't see the first time)...and to check on my wee golden bowl.

The following day I figured I'd devote to the Pyramids, sole surviving member of Philon the Athenian's Seven Wonders of the World and current finalist for the new list. I had a look through the contestants, those 21 marvels, for the New Wonders project, and after much consideration, cast my votes as I thought best. Of the 21 monuments, from all annals of history and locations dotted around the globe, I have already seen, or will in the next few months, half of them, enough to know that the final Seven selected will be at best a global compromise on Greatness. Choosing one's favourite monuments is such a subjective exercise! One man's trash, is of course, another man's treasure, and that old aphorism holds true of mighty structures, ruined or not. Take the Pyramids, for example. An incredible, and unparalleled, feat of human endeavour, perfection set in eternal stone. 5000 years old, they are the greatest monuments to the glory of death ever constructed. Or, at least, that's how I see them. Some other bugger may very well make the trip to Giza, wander thoughtfully past the Pyramid of Cheops, and say, "Well, it's just a big pointy pile o' rocks, innit?"

I imagine, of course, that folk like that are probably in the minority, that it would like a fairly dour soul not to be stirred by the sight of the Pyramids soaring out of the rough sands of Giza. One of the most famous, instantly recognisable images on earth, the Pyramids are truly a humbling and awesome sight. And even better when you've managed to sneak in for free, via the local hawkers' entrance! I'm not going to divulge how I discovered this secret route, and thus deprived the Egyptian Tourism Board of my student-discounted ticket price of 20 Egyptian pounds, but rest assured that I'll be most definitely try and find that route again on my next visit to Cairo!

I really enjoyed this city. Of a size and population with Mumbai, it has a cosmopolitan charm and amiable personality that I found lacking from the Indian city. Cairo appealed to me from the first, despite the intensity and the bustle. It's a place I could easily imagine living in, the first such city I've encountered on my travels. Indeed, I'm considering spending three months here at some stage in the next few years to learn Arabic.
As Ali Mohammed Adbel-Hameed, an Aswan poet I met one night in Cairo walking alongside the Nile, told me, "Once you have drunk from the Nile, forever will you return to Him."

I'll be back.
]]> An ambush of charm — Phomn Penh, Cambodia http://www.travelpod.com/travel-blog-entries/el_condor/asia_2005/1132757520/tpod.html http://www.travelpod.com/travel-blog-entries/el_condor/asia_2005/1132757520/tpod.html#comments Travel Blogs http://www.travelpod.com/travel-blog-entries/el_condor/asia_2005/1132757520/tpod.html Tue, 16 Dec 2008 06:28:59 -0500 The Flight of El Condor - to Asia and beyond!
Phomn Penh, Cambodia

I wasn't expecting it, and after the previous couple of days I wasn't quite prepared to accept it. The charm of Phnom Penh, and indeed of Cambodia in general, was unmistakable and utterly irrepressible. We just dragged ourselves into town after two arduous and torturous days up the Mekong, with much much more bus time than we had been sold, and as final insult to injury, on the final two hour stretch with 11 people and packs jammed into a minivan, we were subjected to the inane ramblings of the world's worst DJ, DJ Banana. It was a tired and irritable group who rolled into Phnom Penh fully prepared to expect the worst.
However, by the time we'd showered and refreshed, and wandered the lakeside backpacker ghetto for a bite to eat, it had already started. The charm of this place is surprisingly, but now after two days in Phnom Penh, I love it. The people are incredibly friendly, and the only touting is the constant flow of drugs offered in your direction wherever you go. Pot is technically illegal here, but is as prevalent as cigarettes and almost cheaper. Throw a stone round here, and you'll hit a restaurant that will "happy" up your pizza, or even your fried rice, for a nominal charge.
I can't say that that is part of the charm, but the openness and honesty of the people, even as they try to sell you drugs, is refreshing after the shallow smiles of many of the Vietnamese. Smile at a Cambodian, and often as not he'll grin back at you until the smile threatens to cut his head in half. It's magic.

It's also a wonderful city for reflection. I've hooked up with some fellow Kiwis, and we wandered round the Killing Fields and Tuol Sleng (S-21) yesterday, punctuated by a surreptitious excursion to one of the infamous shooting ranges, where I fired my first (and probably last) AK-47, nailing my target between the eyes incidentally.
The reality of the gruesome recent history (and it is recent, most of which occurred in my lifetime) of Cambodia is sobering and saddening, and follows the unfortunate theme for the region set by the Vietnam War atrocities. The horror of it here though, is that all the abominable acts were performed by Cambodians on their fellow people, under the guise of a cultural revolution. The voices of the 9000 men, women, and children butchered at S-21 and Cheoung Ek are silent, but that silence says all that is necessary. The barbarity that we unleash on our fellow man, all too regularly, shames me, and saddens me. There really is no need, not then, not now, not ever. Life should not ever be that callously be taken away in someone else's name, or for someone else's cause.
Today, I spent a lissome few hours on a rooftop beside the lake, my mind strolling through Zen and the Art of Motorcycle Maintenance, accompanied by a soundtrack of Barenaked Ladies, and thinking about things. The travel-imposed mind broadening of the popular expression is in no small way due the incredibly array of new experiences that you encounter, be it sights, sounds, tastes, relationships of all kinds, but it is also a product of the downtime you have while travelling - when you read all those books you've never had time for, or ponder those left-field thoughts that strike you from time to time. Empty days in foreign places need to be filled, and a broad mind is often the best thing to use.

Alright, enough bloody philosophising for now... I'm heading north to Siem Reap, and the temples of Angkor Wat tomorrow, so I shall save my lyrical waxings for those monuments. To sum up though, Cambodia is magical, and the fact that it can still smile with such genuineness after the ravages of the Khmer Rouge makes it all the more endearing. Plus the food is farking delicious!

Love to y'all

Connor xo
]]> The End of India — Trivandrum, India http://www.travelpod.com/travel-blog-entries/el_condor/asia_2005/1142609700/tpod.html http://www.travelpod.com/travel-blog-entries/el_condor/asia_2005/1142609700/tpod.html#comments Travel Blogs http://www.travelpod.com/travel-blog-entries/el_condor/asia_2005/1142609700/tpod.html Mon, 15 Dec 2008 20:04:18 -0500 The Flight of El Condor - to Asia and beyond!
Trivandrum, India

It's now 3 months and 2 weeks since I arrived in India, a little poorly & more than a little wet behind the ears. Yep, I'll admit it - I was slightly fazed by the challenge ahead of travelling on my own, through this great but daunting country.
From the first, though, India has amazed and delighted me. It has also challenged, educated, shocked, and enlightened me, and inexorably, has found a permanent place in my heart. It hasn't always been easy - and that is more true of North India than of the languid South - but I think I've enjoyed the experience all the more for that.

Above anything else, the people - both locals and fellow travellers - are what have made India unforgettable. I have been gifted countless smiles & endless handshakes, have talked voluminously on the fortunes of both the Indian and New Zealand cricket teams (thus providing prima facie proof that the universal language here is in fact a ready smile and detailed knowledge of Rahul Dravid's off-drive), and have met travellers who I know will be friends for as many years as the memories of India will last.

It's my final day here, and I've taken myself down to the beach town of Kovalam. Trivandrum has been a little overwhelming for the last two days, and it's a relief to get out of the city. So, yet again, I find myself looking out across the ocean, inevitably my gaze begins to track north-west, towards the Arabian coast lying hidden behind the horizon. Tomorrow I fly out to Sri Lanka, and a few days later I'll be disembarking in Egypt, for the final stanza of this trip.
In the meantime, I'm comfortably ensconced at The German Bakery cafe here, drinking a refreshing tea fizz (cold tea, lime, soda, and fresh mint leaves) and reveling in a menu that, with wonderful droll humour, offers a French Breakfast" of "croissant, cafe au lait, and cigarette". Jean Genet would approve.

A lot of people, and I've met some of them, come here to India hoping to find spiritual enlightenment or some karmic simulacrum of themselves, and thus imagine themselves to be on some sort of new-age pilgrimage. They try to force spirituality upon themselves, or themselves upon spirituality, indulging in holy hash, living in Pushkar or Varanasi, not showering/shaving/changing clothes for 6 months, in the belief that, in India at least, cleanliness is NOT next to godliness. They are mistaken...and smelly.
Arriving in India to look for something is missing the point. What's important, and how you will find what you are looking for, is just coming here, and indulging in the day-to-day interactions between you and the living, breathing entity that is India. It can take a while, but one day it just hits you, and you realise that all of sudden you feel totally at peace and at ease here, you've found the groove, the back-beat, that silent harmony of India. You've found, without even trying, the spiritual centering or sense of balance that others are so desperately seeking. India is the journey, and just being here will change you. And it's been a pleasure...

Anyway, it's time to go...so goodbye from India, and good bye for now.

Oh, and Happy St Patrick's Day to you all! (Somebody please send me a cold Guinness!)

Lots of love
Connor.
]]> Penultimate — Varkala, India http://www.travelpod.com/travel-blog-entries/el_condor/asia_2005/1142157600/tpod.html http://www.travelpod.com/travel-blog-entries/el_condor/asia_2005/1142157600/tpod.html#comments Travel Blogs http://www.travelpod.com/travel-blog-entries/el_condor/asia_2005/1142157600/tpod.html Mon, 15 Dec 2008 20:02:36 -0500 The Flight of El Condor - to Asia and beyond!
Varkala, India

As I was watching King Kong king-hit a T-Rex and tear apart the Civic Theatre last night, and this morning, watching Shane Bond do something similar to the West Indian middle order, I had a few wistful thoughts of home, and so, before I go any further, I just want to say hi to all of you in NZ - hope everyone is well, and know I that miss you guys.

Well, right now, I'm in Varkala, in Kerala, and yep, I'm back on the beach (my tan is fantastic now!). This is my penultimate stop before I leave India, which sad day is to come on Saturday 18th, as I fly out of Trivandrum at the bottom of India, and finally after 3 and a half months here, move on to a new country - Sri Lanka. But enough of that for now - till then, I've got another few lazy days on the beach, sunning myself, and putting the local acupuncturist's kids through college as I attempt to needle my rambunctious back into submission.
My erstwhile travelling companion, Laura, has now abandoned me to return to the more pleasant climes of a wintry London, and so I'm once again a party of one for dinner. It's not too bad actually, as I find myself slowly beginning to withdraw from India and all its pleasures, in preparation for leaving in 6 days. In some ways, it's easier for friends to leave me here, instead on my leaving them and this country at the same time.

In the meantime, it's all about the beach. Varkala is definitely a pleasant place to spend a few days, even if it may be lacking the real serenity and friendliness of Palolem. It's a picturesque place, to be certain. The tourist town is speckled along top of enormous red cliffs that loom over the beach and ocean. The weather has been almost perfect (barring a few diluvial downpours), and it's been quiet and relaxing. Well, most of it...
What is not quiet and relaxing here is the sea. The waves here at Varkala are the most obstreperous I have ever encountered, a far cry from the somnolent waters of Palolem.
Contrary and persuasive currents, nascent rips that appear & disappear without warning, and waves that have a ferocity belied by their relatively small size & shallow break. You'll be out on the surf and waves will break on from three sides simultaneously, and then, as you're worriedly looking out to sea bracing for the next onslaught, breakers will be coming at you from BEHIND, having reformed as the water drains away the beach!

It's been damn good fun, actually... :-)
]]> El Condor and the Last Crusade — Petra, Jordan http://www.travelpod.com/travel-blog-entries/el_condor/asia_2005/1145733120/tpod.html http://www.travelpod.com/travel-blog-entries/el_condor/asia_2005/1145733120/tpod.html#comments Travel Blogs http://www.travelpod.com/travel-blog-entries/el_condor/asia_2005/1145733120/tpod.html Mon, 15 Dec 2008 20:00:38 -0500 The Flight of El Condor - to Asia and beyond!
Petra, Jordan

Petra, the Rose City, hidden capital of the Nabatean Empire, and one of the undoubted wonders of the world (I do seem to be collecting them, don't I?). Known to most of the world, and many of you reading this no doubt, as the ancient city discovered by Indiana Jones to be the secret hiding place of the Holy Grail. Well, the pre-Dan Brown Holy Grail, that is.
You know that scene, as Indy flees the collapsing temple, having defeated those pesky Nazis and saved his father, he and his friends run outside into the sunshine, and you see this enormous stunning building carved into the very rock of the canyon? Well, that's Petra, or at least, it's most famous showpiece - the Treasury.

As you walk along the narrow winding canyon, the Siq, that provides the entrance to Petra, just as you begin to feel like the canyon is never going to end, all of a sudden you glimpse a sight of the red sandstone of the Treasury's facade through the bright glare at the canyon mouth. The massive facade lies slightly off-centre to the exit from the canyon, so it's not until you step fully out into the light that the entire, awesome, structure is revealed to you. That, and the endless hordes of gawking tourists and mercenary hawkers that such magnificence inevitably draws to itself.

Petra demands more attention than a more half-way whirlwind tour, as much for the chance to experience its shifting moods as to do justice to the enormous wealth of sights here. As the light shifts throughout the day, the rock of the city changes colours, reflecting different moods of this city. It's a fantastic place to get lost in - certainly, it's big enough!
The first day, the Canadians, Dave the Aussie, and I decided to go a little off the tourist path, and headed off down a wee slot canyon called Wadi Muthulin. A narrow fissure, and a known flood-path (indeed, a massive flood a ripped through there about a month earlier), it was strewn with Mini-sized boulders, deep pools, and tree trunks. Not surprisingly, it's was tourist-free! The sign at the entrance said "Danger!", but undaunted we wandered on. It took a good two hours to get through, involving much clambering down boulders, stemming across pools, and climbing up rock ridges - right proper Indiana Jones stuff!! We ended up coming out at a tomb-riddled valley way to the back of the main Petra site, quiet except for a herd of goats, and gradually wandering along through the hills, we made it back to the Siq and the packaged touristicles. We knew that tomorrow would see us firmly within their midst, as we strolled along the Petra gringo trail to gawp and admire the various gems of Petra, but for one day at least, it was satisfying to feel like the first adventurers on the scene, stumbling upon this lost city of wonder like the explorers of old.

I'd like to say that as the sun set, I leapt upon my horse and galloped heroically out of the canyon, with a cry of "Follow me! I know the way" echoing behind me. Alas, I did nothing of the sort, but a few hours later I eased myself onto the couch of the Valentine Hotel, tired but happy, with a cold beer in hand, and watched Indy & his mates ride out of the canyon and into the sunset. It seemed appropriate.
]]> Beijing Parte Deux — Beijing, China http://www.travelpod.com/travel-blog-entries/el_condor/china-2004/1191761460/tpod.html http://www.travelpod.com/travel-blog-entries/el_condor/china-2004/1191761460/tpod.html#comments Travel Blogs http://www.travelpod.com/travel-blog-entries/el_condor/china-2004/1191761460/tpod.html Mon, 15 Dec 2008 19:03:04 -0500 The China Incident
Beijing, China

The last couple of days we've kinda just relaxed into Beijing, and taken things pretty easy. On Thursday, after our marathon day to the Wall at Simatai and back, we decided basically to just chill out and have an easy rest day. Which meant finally a sleep-in! Ah, what luxury to lie in bed till 10 o'clock for a change. Spent most of the morning lounging around the hostel and talking with the other backpackers. We met a bunch of guys who had biked from Scotland to Beijing, through Scandanvia, Russia & Kahzakstan, for 182 days. These guys are just grizzled to hell, all hair and sinew. Honestly, maximum respect.. that is some serious travelling!

I realised after the last post that I had forgotten to mention our bus odyssey to and from Simatai. This was the bus ride from hell, and a fairly startling introduction to the insanity that is Chinese driving. The scheduled time of the trip was 1 & 1/2 hours each way...so of course, it was 4 hours in and 3 & 1/2 back, in a bus that I swear was not so much as a people mover, more an imaginative torture chamber. Coming back, we must have done about 3 laps of Beijing before we got home, a feat of circumnavigation that would have done Magellan proud! The Chinese drivers all drive like they are on speed, with a extra (& very large) dose of crazy thrown in for luck. They pass on blind corners, play chicken with on-coming trucks just to swerve back into the lane inches in front of the next car, and pass cars while they are passing other cars - and this was just our bus driver! How there are not more accidents (hell, how we didn't get killed!) is beyond me.

Beijing continues to come across as a fantastic place to be, but there some real issues here. The pollution is probably the worst of the problems. This week, things have been really bad, with the smog settling in thick all day, and so heavy that you can hardly see anything three blocks away. I am starting to crave some blue skies, instead of the anaemic shrouded sun that we seem to be stuck with at the moment. The hutong is a fantastic place still, despite the ever-present miasma that lingers outside the treacherous public loos. It is quite amazing how a culture as old and as advanced as the Chinese have been, can have such a lack of understanding of basic sanitation, and public hygiene. But it truly is a very homely and enjoyable place, and I know I will be very sorry to have to leave when the time comes.

Friday we had a very ginger start (well, at least Jordan and I did - a few beers here, a few beers there, hanging out with the great crew of people who are here, and somehow it's 4 am!) So we rolled out of bed at 6, after 2 hours of strangely inadequate sleep, and headed off with Ma & Pa to check out the Forbidden City. The former palace (and indeed hidden realm) of the Emperors, it is the most austere and imposing place. The grandeur and scale of the City is awesome, encompassing vast courtyards, winged palaces, opulent colours and beautiful sculptures and carvings. It does have a slighty hollow feeling to it though, and unfortunately you leave feeling a little bereft, regretting that this wonderful icon was not better cared for. The gardens are dry and empty, and the grounds and moat are dirty. When we arrived, the front entrance was congested with temporary seating and the remains of a concert the night before, and in the largest and most impressive courtyards, there was an exhibition of an American photographers pictures. Fabulous images to be sure, but not really the right place for them. And I won't even mention the bloody Starbucks...
That said, the Forbidden City is an incredible sight, and I would've have been very sorry to miss it.

After the City, we decided to check out the Bell Tower, a massive structure a few blocks from the Forbidden City, that in conjuction with the adjacent Drum Tower, was used in ancient times to announce the time for the city. The bell itself is enormous, weighing 63 tonnes, and is the largest bell of its type in China. The view from the top of the tower is normally extensive, but alas, that day the smog was the worst we'd hit, and as it were, we could barely see the Forbidden City (and it's pretty damn big - hard to miss, you'd think!). A quick wander round the hutong surrounding the Tower revealed that in fact, our own hutong was much more pleasant (and even the loos smelt better - the odour of ones there would've corroded metal!) so we beat a hast retreat to the comfortable surrounds of our local hutong. On the way back we made a quick detour to the huge man-made Beihai Lake in middle of the city. It was carved out by an old emperor and filled by diverting a river, to produce a cool retreat in summer for the local population. In reality, you'd need to be seriously unbalanced to dip a toe (or anything organic) in that water, which has the colour and look of toxic waster. There are rumours this may be the site of the synchronised swimming events for 2008...one can only hope!

Saturday dawned on our last day in Beijing, before we jumped another overnight train and headed south to Xi'an in Shaanxi Province. And so we headed off to check out the Beijing PenJiaYuan antiques market, an event we'd been waiting all week for. And it was well worth it. Stalls everywhere, selling the old and the...well, not so old (despite what the "innocent" vendor might profess). Shoppers and vendors screaming at each other, haggling over 1 yuan (about 20 cents), before all of a sudden the sale is made and everyone is smiling. You could buy almost anything there, from the ubiquitous Mao watches and pillowboxes, to giant stone statues and ancient Chinese spears. Haggling is the real key, with your rule of thumb being to buy at a maximum of 10-20% of what they say, and know that even then you are still being ripped off. But hey, 10 yuan is 2 bucks, so it's not too bad really, and haggling is a huge amount of fun. Jordan, with his Mandarin, is a a natural, and watching him haggle with this old guy he had met there last year over a bracelet for 20 minutes (even getting down onto his knees at one point) was hilarious. The old dude was brilliant, and kept feigning horror and disgust at Jordan's counter-offers, crying that we were cutting his throat - a comment that instantly earned him the name Dibbler from Jordan & I (fans of Terry Pratchett will appreciate this). So it was a great morning, and we had a fun time shopping, adding to our ever-growing mound of Chinese acquisitions. Didn't manage to pick up one of those chinese spears though...

The rest of the day was spent getting ourselves organised to leave and saying goodbye to the hutong. We all had a name-chop carved at a wee store just round the corner, by an old guy who has been carving chops for 50 years. His work was exquisite, and was worth very cent we paid for it. Jordan and I ended sitting outside his store having a chat with his wife and grand-daughter for about 40 minutes, just watching the locals walk by. It must've been a funny sight, seeing us there, but it was wonderful to watch the people, walking their kids home from school, reading the paper, meeting and chatting. After a while it dawned on me why all of this felt so familiar - it was Coronation Hutong! Magic.

We had lunch and dinner at our favourite little eatery (which is open all night, and makes the best sweet & sour pork I have ever eaten), said goodbye to the girls in the local silk store (where I swear we spent about a months' wages!), bought some more art from the local gallery, and chilled out with the gang at the hostel.

While it was definitely time to move on from Beijing, I will miss the hutong and it's feeling of community. We've met some wonderful people on the streets here, and it's managed to feel like a kind of home for a little while. The hostel we were staying in, the Far East International, was excellent (would stay there again in a flash, and recommend it to anyone) and had a great vibe about it. We've spent the last 5 days with a lovely bunch of travellers from all over the world, and is is hard to leave friends behind, however temporary they were.
Unfortunately, the last day was a bit unsavoury and a sorry way to leave Beijing. 3 of the girls at the hostel were either actually robbed or almost robbed, and we alas finally found someone to pull a fast one on us. And it happened at the worst possible time. With 45 minutes to get to our train, we picked up our bags and jumped in a cab for the 10 minute ride to the station. 40 minutes later, after 3 loops of the motorway and driving past the turnoff twice our asshole scheister driver finally stops cheating us and pulls in to the station. By this time we are furious, panicking about missing our train, and about to kill the guy. We had to wrestle our bags out of the boot, paying his ransom, and then run at full tilt through the station (Jordan yelling juicy Mandarin insults at the guy as we took off). By sheer luck, we got on our train with 2 minutes to spare, absolutely buggered! But we made it, and that was Beijing.

Now, down the road we go, for the next part of our adventure, to the ancient seat of Chinese power, the start of the Old Silk Road, and the home of the incredible Terracotta Warriors, Xi'an....
]]> Jon & Louisa's Wedding — Vaujany, France http://www.travelpod.com/travel-blog-entries/el_condor/european_jaunts/1184408340/tpod.html http://www.travelpod.com/travel-blog-entries/el_condor/european_jaunts/1184408340/tpod.html#comments Travel Blogs http://www.travelpod.com/travel-blog-entries/el_condor/european_jaunts/1184408340/tpod.html Sat, 19 Jan 2008 06:21:24 -0500 Adventures in Europe - a Kiwi's eye view.
Vaujany, France

It's funny the people you meet on the road, and where that road ends up...
]]> Sex, drugs, and chips with mayonnaise — Amsterdam, Netherlands http://www.travelpod.com/travel-blog-entries/el_condor/european_jaunts/1199013300/tpod.html http://www.travelpod.com/travel-blog-entries/el_condor/european_jaunts/1199013300/tpod.html#comments Travel Blogs http://www.travelpod.com/travel-blog-entries/el_condor/european_jaunts/1199013300/tpod.html Sat, 19 Jan 2008 06:19:42 -0500 Adventures in Europe - a Kiwi's eye view.
Amsterdam, Netherlands

Take 4 Kiwis, 1 Aussie and 1 Canadian, let them loose in an Amsterdam swarming with hordes of Eurotourists already celebrating like every day is New Year's Eve, and it bound to be fun...just no-one mention the live show. Ever.
]]> Cold and wet? Must be Stockholm in December — Stockholm, Sweden http://www.travelpod.com/travel-blog-entries/el_condor/european_jaunts/1196507580/tpod.html http://www.travelpod.com/travel-blog-entries/el_condor/european_jaunts/1196507580/tpod.html#comments Travel Blogs http://www.travelpod.com/travel-blog-entries/el_condor/european_jaunts/1196507580/tpod.html Sat, 19 Jan 2008 06:15:01 -0500 Adventures in Europe - a Kiwi's eye view.
Stockholm, Sweden

I can really see now why the Swedes a) all drink so much, and b) can be found in such numbers in India and South-East Asia...
]]> The Emerald Isle — Dublin, Ireland http://www.travelpod.com/travel-blog-entries/el_condor/european_jaunts/1195297680/tpod.html http://www.travelpod.com/travel-blog-entries/el_condor/european_jaunts/1195297680/tpod.html#comments Travel Blogs http://www.travelpod.com/travel-blog-entries/el_condor/european_jaunts/1195297680/tpod.html Sat, 19 Jan 2008 06:12:28 -0500 Adventures in Europe - a Kiwi's eye view.
Dublin, Ireland

A Guinness eye-view, literary ghosts, lashings of rain on the Hill of Tara, and awe-inspring Neolithic architecture
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