TravelStream™ news feed for member gerry_goosehart on TravelPod's free travel blogs service http://www.travelpod.com/syndication/rss/gerry_goosehart en-us Copyright ©2009 TravelPod.com Thu, 09 Jul 2009 23:44:37 -0400 http://www.travelpod.com http://www.travelpod.com/travel-blog-entries/gerry_goosehart/4/1108448280/tpod.html http://www.travelpod.com/travel-blog-entries/gerry_goosehart/4/1108448280/tpod.html#comments Travel Blogs http://www.travelpod.com/travel-blog-entries/gerry_goosehart/4/1108448280/tpod.html Thu, 09 Jul 2009 23:44:37 -0400 Australia - Road Trip

Jump to the full
entry & travel map

Sydney, New South Wales, Australia

Continued from ; Arriving in Sydney The booth which is adjacent to the car park entrance up at street level serves as the engine room. I pay them a little visit and ' register ' my car with them. I have to say that I had visions of a big patch of open land where sellers and buyers would conduct their own affairs - free market trading in second hand cars. Nothing unusual about that. But what we have here seems to be a very tightly controlled system instead. The Aussies seem to love ' over-managing ' things. They'll proceduralise and then regulate everything. A society of standardised documentation, rules and inspections. I must pay a fixed weekly rent to present my car here, alongside many others, to the trickle of daily buyers that will emerge from the one elevator. The car must first be issued with a standard ' pink slip ' - a certificate of having passed a mechanical inspection, meeting the especially stringent New South Wales regulations. I have an invoice for a recent service done in Perth but I'm told that out-of-state papers are not valid. My ownership papers will be sent for re-registration in the new owner's name once a sale is complete. The government fee for this is a percentage of the car's value. It doesn't take a genius to see that by under-stating the actual sale price of the car on the transfer papers, a saving can be made here. And the most interesting thing about it all is the 'rego' - the car's registration number. Percy has an NT rego - Northern Territories. Meaning that my buyer will either have to visit the Northern Territories to re-register the vehicle in their name, or in certain cases it can be done by post. So, unless my buyer is going up to Alice Springs NT ( or less likely, all the way back to Darwin ) this may be a hassle. The value of my car may have to be adjusted downwards to accommodate it. If however, I had NSW plates, an ideal scenario - the transfer can be done right away and so the car is worth more. Can I buy them, NSW plates I mean ? Yes - for about 1,000 dollars. Half the value of the car. South Australia plates are a real headache since only a visit to SA ' in person ' will facilitate ownership transfer - and few people have Adelaide in mind as their destination when arriving in Sydney. The majority will be heading up the East coast to Queensland. You wouldn't want to be stuck here with a car on SA plates. You'll be having to woo customers with a generous discount. West Australia plates are much better - the processing can all be done reasonably painlessly online, using the WA government's website. You start to get the picture. And why bother with all this re-registering nonsense anyway ? Because without it, the car won't have any third-party insurance and the purchaser will be driving illegally. They may lose their vehicle because of it. The staff here that operate the backpacker's car market will not do business on those terms. I leave, thinking to myself what a pain-in-the-arse system, and go to meet Steve for a welcome drink. Next ; First impressions of Sydney
]]> http://www.travelpod.com/travel-blog-entries/gerry_goosehart/4/1108534920/tpod.html http://www.travelpod.com/travel-blog-entries/gerry_goosehart/4/1108534920/tpod.html#comments Travel Blogs http://www.travelpod.com/travel-blog-entries/gerry_goosehart/4/1108534920/tpod.html Thu, 09 Jul 2009 23:42:37 -0400 Australia - Road Trip

Jump to the full
entry & travel map

Sydney, New South Wales, Australia

Continued from ; The Backpackers car market Martin is a lot wider than the last time I saw him at work in London's Canary Wharf. And his reaction is of similar amusement - I am a lot hairier. We knock back a few beers at the Empire Hotel, at the top of Sydney's Kings Cross - that infamous strip of go-go bars, sex shops and massage parlours. Cheap hostels, hookers and bums. It's often said that Sydney is the arsehole of the earth and this must be the very centre of it. Where better to enjoy it all than from our current perspective ? Sitting on bar stools behind a large curved section of wall, windows wide open to the pantomime of illicit activity that unfolds before us. Martin's rented apartment is a small one bedroom jobbie close-by. In a modern fully serviced building, the Rex, which looks more like a hotel. Because until recently, it was one. After a very congenial evening with him and his girlfriend, I crash out on the sofa - my new bed for a while. But I wake in the night, restless, wanting a cigarette. Returning from the 24 hour convenience store next door, I enter the lobby of the Rex using the computerised key pad - I notice that there is no member of staff on duty, which is strange for an apartment building. I step into the elevator and take the apartment's smartcard from my pocket. And let out a big sigh when I see it doesn't have the apartment's door number written on it. I can't remember which room is Martin's. I can't even remember which floor it's on. I'm lost inside what is still basically a hotel building, where every turn of a corner presents the same long corridor of numbered doors. I try a few doors in hope and wake somebody's dog, causing me to scarper. I go outside the building again and round to the back. To look up and at least try to identify the right balcony by it's barbeque and chairs. If I can do this, perhaps I can map the floorplan in my head to get to the right door. But this is Sydney - every single balcony has what looks to me like the same barbeque and chairs. There's no fire escape. There's definitely no night porter and no number to call. Martin's phone is switched off, he's asleep like most people. I am locked out and have to crash in a very uncomfortable steel mesh chair in the lobby. Early risers pass me on their way out of the building as they head to the gym before starting work. They glance at me and clutch their belongings, like I am some vagrant who has slipped into their lobby to commit a crime. Finally, at about 8am, the elevator doors open again to reveal Martin, on his own way to work. He shakes his head in disbelief as he utters three magic numbers. I suppose it's amusing in a way, that I have become so unaccustomed to big city life. It's all Lego land to me. I'd considered sleeping in my car - because that's my home these days. Next ; Kings X
]]> http://www.travelpod.com/travel-blog-entries/gerry_goosehart/4/1108708500/tpod.html http://www.travelpod.com/travel-blog-entries/gerry_goosehart/4/1108708500/tpod.html#comments Travel Blogs http://www.travelpod.com/travel-blog-entries/gerry_goosehart/4/1108708500/tpod.html Thu, 09 Jul 2009 23:41:13 -0400 Australia - Road Trip

Jump to the full
entry & travel map

Sydney, New South Wales, Australia

Continued from ; In-car-cerated Another of the daily descents into the concrete bunker that sits far below the warm streets of Sydney in glorious summertime. People's faces are becoming etched with despair. It's sad to watch these former happy-go-lucky travellers rocking in their chairs and muttering like imbeciles. Losing their minds as their cars stand idle like a huge ball and chain. Three Israelis have a gutless Japanese estate car in a patchwork of primrose yellow. It bears hateful SA plates. Dear oh dear. They've been here so long holding out for the price they want, that they've grown long beards. I pity their chances. Ben is next to me with a much newer shape '95 Falcon, in glossy red. The former AA man from Bournemouth confidently sells his car quickly. Across the way, along the avenue of gloom we have another 80's Falcon just like mine, but this one's red. It's got some heritage too - ' Beauty ' has been on BBC TV in a documentary about backpackers who drive around Australia in their old cars. The owners achieve a sale, as do some lads with a blue XF almost identical to mine. But in their case, not before having it switched to NSW plates. As a result, their net sale is only about a thousand bucks. I reduce my price to 1,800 but the NT rego' stays. With the other two XF's gone, I should be getting a sale very soon. On day six, I am out at Bondi junction buying wiper blades as ordinary people sip beer at the beach. My phone rings and it's Alan - the English lad who has been to see my car. He now wants a test drive. I drive him and his pals around Sydney CBD and the car throws up no nasty surprises. We agree on 1,700 dollars. He and his two young friends are fresh off the plane and I get the impression that they have done little preparation for their trip. Why do I know this ? Alan says it's good the car has NT plates because they are driving up to Cairns anyway - and can do the paperwork while they are there. Cairns of course is in Queensland, not in the Northern Territories. They won't be re-registering their car there that's for sure. The chappie on the front desk doesn't mention it either as the transaction is completed. But I detect a smirk. I walk out into the sun a free man at last with a pocket stuffed full of yellow fifty dollar bills. A weight lifted, my sentence complete. I feel a deep sadness and regret, however. Watching my car exit the car park and inching its way down through King's X. The most loyal and trustworthy friend a man could ever have. Alan and his friends have bought a good car which should serve them well. I've told them to watch the temperature gauge and top up the oil. I myself have one last job to do - and without delay, a case of cold VB from the nearest bottle-o is walked back underground and icy tins distributed to all. Next ; Balmain Backpackers. A return to travelling without the convenience of wheels. Plus, the search for a job.
]]> http://www.travelpod.com/travel-blog-entries/gerry_goosehart/4/1108621500/tpod.html http://www.travelpod.com/travel-blog-entries/gerry_goosehart/4/1108621500/tpod.html#comments Travel Blogs http://www.travelpod.com/travel-blog-entries/gerry_goosehart/4/1108621500/tpod.html Thu, 09 Jul 2009 23:40:11 -0400 Australia - Road Trip

Jump to the full
entry & travel map

Sydney, New South Wales, Australia

Continued from ; First impressions of Sydney The car park hangs its mouth open like an abyss. Ready to swallow up more groups of cash-strapped backpackers and their cars. My car's got to have its pink slip according to the jobsworth that steers me through the formalities over at Sydney's deepest hole. So I drive to the place he tells me to and wait as a mechanic gets his clipboard. I get no pink slip. I get a white slip. Which means there are now things to be fixed. This doesn't prevent a sale, but offers me the chance to attend to matters ( and then get a pink slip ), or else it enables the buyer to negotiate a discount. The windscreen wiper blades are worn out and there's a small oil leak. Oh really ? This car is twenty years old yet has just got me all the way here, from Darwin ! And these twats have the nerve to stand here with their NSW rulebook and complain that slightly dog-eared wiper blades mean it's not fit to be on the road. You must be kidding me. Percy gets his place in the dungeon with a big sticker in the window - starting price 2,000 bucks. I've had a good look around and want to stay competitive. I don't mind dropping 500 bucks on what I paid for the car in Darwin. Think what the journey would have cost by train or bus. I don't sit there all day waiting for customers as some do either. I make up some ads and plaster them up on the noticeboards of every hostel I can find. I may be able to sell the car at a better price without all this fuss and bother with the NSW rulebook. At 2pm, I meet with Don as arranged. My old friend from Koh Pha Ngan in Thailand. There is a session during which I learn of his sordid exploits with visiting escorts in Bangkok. I conclude that I am far too nice. Next we go and visit one of the King's X strip clubs. Predictably, we are ripped off. We pay an entrance fee and order our expensive beers. Once we are seated, the stripper wants paying too, or else her clothes stay on. We hurl vulgarities and leave, giving the doorman a verbal ear bashing at the same time. Don's got a room in a hostel over in a suburb called Balmain - I tell him he can sleep in my car instead to save a journey. We descend the murky depths of the car park and smoke a joint. And hatch a plan to steal a yacht and make our escape across the Pacific. I leave him looking comfortable in the reclining front passenger seat.. Don didn't sleep very well in the car. The night watchman kept asking him to leave. When I return to the car myself, I receive a bollocking from one of the car market's day managers. Those that walk around answering questions and assisting with paperwork. He makes his point very clear. Nobody is permitted to use their car or camper van as a cheap place to sleep - it's against the fire regulations. You are thus paying rent for the car to remain in the car park, not yourself. Next ; in-car-cerated
]]> http://www.travelpod.com/travel-blog-entries/gerry_goosehart/4/1108621860/tpod.html http://www.travelpod.com/travel-blog-entries/gerry_goosehart/4/1108621860/tpod.html#comments Travel Blogs http://www.travelpod.com/travel-blog-entries/gerry_goosehart/4/1108621860/tpod.html Thu, 09 Jul 2009 23:34:09 -0400 Australia - Road Trip

Jump to the full
entry & travel map

Sydney, New South Wales, Australia

Continued from ; Kings X I spend the day with the car and get to know some of my new neighbours. Many have been down here for several days now and their ears prick up automatically at the bell when the elevator doors opens. More potential customers saunter in. Being close to the elevator door is the best pitch but the day managers have the last say on who moves where. A continuous shuffling of cars and vans to try to accommodate everybody. Those who have been here the longest, those who complain the loudest. Those with cheaper cars and those panicking about flights home tomorrow. There also exists some sectioning of vehicles by type - so that cars, vans and 4x4s are grouped together and the owners display all manner of expedition equipment that's included in the price. There's about one sale per day and the lucky individual(s) who are finally free to leave this filthy dungeon are sworn into a gentleman's agreement. To spend the first fifty bucks on a crate of beer for everybody else who stays behind, waiting hopefully. At least we can be grateful those rulebook waving day managers have not banned drinking beer or smoking. The next day is much the same and I bring one of Martin's chairs and my cooking stove with some Cole's sausages. I must wait until the screw has made his rounds, suspecting that propane gas cookers might be considered a fire hazard. Cans of spray paint definitely are. As I find out when masking over some small patches of rust near my car's door hinges and sills. Another finger-wagging comes my way placing me back in the dog house. And away from the elevator, one level further down. In an even darker cave. Like a rat, my eyes take time to adjust to daylight now when leaving this place. Evenings at Martin's place are spent in comfort watching TV and eating the food I buy at the supermarket down the road. He's away on holiday. Compared to life on the road it's a period of reasonably indulgent luxury. The apartment is nicely appointed with a black tile bathroom and lots of glass and stainless steel. It gives me space to stretch out and slowly readjust to a more normal life - but I'm not sure what's normal any more. I wish I could swap these four walls for the open road. Among life's rebels in their caravans and wacky trucks. Next ; Released
]]> http://www.travelpod.com/travel-blog-entries/gerry_goosehart/3/1094277420/tpod.html http://www.travelpod.com/travel-blog-entries/gerry_goosehart/3/1094277420/tpod.html#comments Travel Blogs http://www.travelpod.com/travel-blog-entries/gerry_goosehart/3/1094277420/tpod.html Thu, 09 Jul 2009 00:24:51 -0400 South East Asia 2004 - Living it up in Nepal , Thailand , Malaysia , Indonesia and Singapore.

Jump to the full
entry & travel map

Ko Phangan, Thailand

Continued from ; Exploring an island, part 2 I take a dip in the sea to cool off a bit, throw away the map and double back. Then glug down huge mouthfuls of iced water at the first shop I find which sells the stuff. Heeding more accurate directions to Tien Sadet, the dirt path is dry, steep and punishing as it undulates upwards aiming at the dense interior of the island. I must be insane. A brutish 4x4 appears, tearing its way through the earth behind me. It stops and a friendly Thai family invite me to hop inside with them. What a result ! They are going to visit their land behind Tien Sadet and offer to take me there. I am very grateful to them because now I can see that the walk would have been a killer. There at last,&nbsp;fresh orange juice in hand,&nbsp;I can enjoy the view from a high terrace which looks down at a small crescent of sand. Across&nbsp;the beach on the opposite bank, is my&nbsp;bungalow which has a second level that's reached by ladder - a deck area,&nbsp;which I call the treehouse. And&nbsp;it's got an open air bathroom. To get back to the beach and its small cluster of rustic eateries and bars, the occupant must navigate&nbsp;a woodplank walkway over piles of angular black rocks. There are small fairy lights to guide the way. The beach is almost my own. There's a natural lagoon made by a sort of sand bar. And a small river with a waterfall behind the tree line. After enjoying a light meal of griddled squid and shrimps,&nbsp;I go for a wander and find&nbsp;a&nbsp;small waterfall where one can&nbsp;sit watching the burble of seeping mountain water under the glow of moonlight. It is here that I reach a painful decision about my beloved <i>Nike Airmax trainers which have carried me all the way here. Along the Trans-Siberian railway from Moscow to Mongolia, and up and down the Great Wall of China. Through all of Asia, on numerous boats and trains and in and out of countless hostels and bars. They have all but perished and the odour is becoming harder to tolerate. I decide to commit them to a sea burial and let the waters of the world's oceans carry them on without me, to find a distant resting place. They are placed among the rocks to be floated away on the morning's tide. I rescue my shoes at sunrise which is lucky since I have no others to continue walking in. What was I thinking ? There's an 08.30 boat from Sadet beach round to Haad Rin. This completes my journey around the entire island of Koh Pha Ngan. The bungalows at Leela beach have filled right up in preparation for the impending Full Moon Party. Mine is&nbsp;on the hill which could presently be described as little Dublin of the Orient. The breeze whipping through the surrounding trees takes the place of an electric fan. I brew up some green tea on the stove and tune in to alien frequencies on my short-wave radio. It makes more sense than my Irish neighbours.
]]> http://www.travelpod.com/travel-blog-entries/gerry_goosehart/3/1091168100/tpod.html http://www.travelpod.com/travel-blog-entries/gerry_goosehart/3/1091168100/tpod.html#comments Travel Blogs http://www.travelpod.com/travel-blog-entries/gerry_goosehart/3/1091168100/tpod.html Thu, 09 Jul 2009 00:09:18 -0400 South East Asia 2004 - Living it up in Nepal , Thailand , Malaysia , Indonesia and Singapore.

Jump to the full
entry & travel map

Kanchanaburi, Thailand

Bangkok side trips ; Kanchanaburi Continued from Bangkok side trips ; Ayutthaya Thonburi railway station is on the other side of the Chao Praya river and easily reached by river bus from Khao San Road. The trains to Kanchanaburi&nbsp;offer one standard carriage option with rows of polished hard wooden seats. The route crawls through the tin sheds of outer Bangkok and then gathers pace. As it scythes through jungle on an easterly heading. The last door in the formation of carriages is always left open, creating an interesting &nbsp;perspective. The parallel rails meeting in the distance behind. The journey takes about 4 hours each way. Strolling up the long dusty road that leads from my raft hut to the bridge ( over the River Kwai ) I pass side roads named after all the countries of the world. Venezuela Avenue and Solomon Street. Australia Lane and Uncle Bulgaria Boulevard. The bridge itself offers a satisfying walk where there are old steam engines and elephants on the far bank of the river. There is small museum of Japanese horrors which, oddly, is named the Jeath Museum not the Death museum.&nbsp;Inside are a series of disturbing reconstructions of the brutal punishment meted out to POWs in WW2. Using life size models which are crafted from paper-mache. As museums go, I must conclude it is indeed a strange one. The main reason I have come to Kanchanaburi is to see the Erawan National Park and its staircase of waterfalls. Local bus 8170 takes me there and I wander expectantly into the wilderness that stands before me. Making haste along a single trail with useful marker posts detailing the flora and fauna. It follows the course of a river which links all the falls together. There are seven in total, all found at increasing heights. Soon my shirt and trousers&nbsp;are in a neat little pile behind a rock, as I slip into the water at a shaded rock-pool. I bask submerged up to my neck as a glint of the sun keeps my face warm. There are many small fish that like to nibble. Water pours in over a lip of rock at the end of series of rapids and looking up-river, I begin the climb to the top. The last sections of the climb contain ladders and bridges, mostly broken in some way for an added challenge. Once in the pool at section seven, it is possible to&nbsp;swim into a cave to remain concealed behind a curtain of run-off from the face of limestone above it. This natural spa is cool and clear and the experience is hugely gratifying. Worth the 400 baht entrance fee ? Most certainly. Next ; The visa run
]]> http://www.travelpod.com/travel-blog-entries/gerry_goosehart/3/1087789380/tpod.html http://www.travelpod.com/travel-blog-entries/gerry_goosehart/3/1087789380/tpod.html#comments Travel Blogs http://www.travelpod.com/travel-blog-entries/gerry_goosehart/3/1087789380/tpod.html Tue, 07 Jul 2009 03:39:00 -0400 South East Asia 2004 - Living it up in Nepal , Thailand , Malaysia , Indonesia and Singapore.

Jump to the full
entry & travel map

Krabi, Thailand

Continued from ; Krung Thep, Bangkok 20th June 2004 Yikes ! I have overslept. My bedside clock is still on Kathmandu time, so I've lost an hour as the taxi hurries along the elevated toll way to Don Muang airport. Thai airways fly me down to Krabi from where there is a combination of taxi and long tail boat to the Railay beaches. &nbsp;A beautiful trio of luxuriant sands which cannot be reached by land. A group of us stand on the beach contemplating exactly how we &nbsp;shall attempt to reach Ton Sai beach - the next bay around. It involves a bit of a hike and some rock climbing. Alternatively we can charter a boat, but it ain't cheap. And rather depends on the prevailing conditions at sea. We swim in clear warm water and bask on sugar white sand. The sky is a perfect unbroken azure. On the horizon, there are vast limestone pillars rising out of the water like the Moai gods of the South Pacific. There are uninhabited islands and swathes of corals. Colourful orchids and the chirping of birds. Thailand is exquisite, there can be no better place to unwind and soak up the good thing we call life.&nbsp;Next ; Football's coming home
]]> http://www.travelpod.com/travel-blog-entries/gerry_goosehart/1/1079777160/tpod.html http://www.travelpod.com/travel-blog-entries/gerry_goosehart/1/1079777160/tpod.html#comments Travel Blogs http://www.travelpod.com/travel-blog-entries/gerry_goosehart/1/1079777160/tpod.html Wed, 24 Jun 2009 02:01:10 -0400 From Scandinavia to South East China.

Jump to the full
entry & travel map

Chongqing, Chongqing, China

Continued from ; Chengdu days 20th March 2004 Leonard has his folder of tours and organised trips from Chengdu. But I want something a little different. So he has put together a custom itinerary for me. Bus down to Chongqing. Followed by a 3 night boat cruise down the Yangtze river sleeping onboard. Finishing off with a train from Wuhan to Guilin. This was a route I had dreamed up using various reference material . It means that I will see the hydro electric dam project on the Yangtze river. And finish up with a cycling holiday among the fabulous landscapes of Guangxi province. An efficient use of time requiring no doubling back. The express bus to Chongqing is pleasant enough. I find that the ever mischievous Leonard has included me in a city tour by bus. Conducted in the Chinese language. Soon I am accosted once more by goofy schoolchildren who surround me in a car park and ask me lots of questions in Chinglish. I am resigned to entertain them . I believe I do resemble a vagrant - with beard, long hair and well-worn clothing. And being an Englishman, the kids make the usual references to our great ambassador David Beckham and his shitty football. Surely I must know him ? I board the boat and find my shared cabin. Selecting a lower bunk with a girl in the bunk above. Her mother is also in the cabin. And a businessman makes up the foursome. There is a restaurant onboard which seems to offer a set dinner. I am never really sure what to do. So I spend the trip eating food gathered from stops on dry land and instant noodles which I purchase from the vessel's supermarket. All occupants of the cabin are sharing their food together which is pretty standard practice in Asia. The young girl is called Xiang Yu and she is here on holiday with her mother. XY likes to practice her English and we roam the boat together. She could be fifteen or twenty one, it's very hard to tell. But I see she is quickly under the watchful eye of her mother. As the boat chugs along between the high sides of the Yangtze's banks I am visited by a tour rep to make my choices of side-trips but I decline all of them. I have done some reading up on the subject and can see 'rip-off' written all over it. I sit happily enjoying the ride and comfort of my bed and companions instead . For example, there is the 'city of ghosts tour' which requires you to get up in the middle of the night. My diary simply reads "no". I do get off to visit an elevated temple of Lord Buddha. Reached by cable cars. Worth forking out a couple of Yuan for the fun of that . There are nice gardens and a fine view of the first of the three big gorges . Below us, there are prominent marker posts ( sponsored by China Telecom ) which indicate the level to which the water will rise when the dam project is finished in 2009. More about the dam later. We watch the sunset as freighters and passenger ferries glide past our mooring. Our journey well underway there is a problem during the second period of sleep. Not so much a bump in the night as a sharp cracking sound which wakes me at the same moment as I fall through my bed into a pool of water. My pants are dripping wet with cold water.&nbsp;Sodding bed's collapsed under the weight of the big hairy foreigner occupying it. Hoots of laughter. The surplus water is a leak from the tiny shower cubicle. The ship's engineer calls later that day and performs a skilful repair of the built-in cabin furniture. With a handful of thick nails, he slays into the task of repairing the bed with a hammer. An absolute butcher. China has produced some very fine art and furniture in its heyday. I don't think this fellow had much to do with it. Next ; The three little gorges
]]> http://www.travelpod.com/travel-blog-entries/gerry_goosehart/1/1075285440/tpod.html http://www.travelpod.com/travel-blog-entries/gerry_goosehart/1/1075285440/tpod.html#comments Travel Blogs http://www.travelpod.com/travel-blog-entries/gerry_goosehart/1/1075285440/tpod.html Wed, 24 Jun 2009 01:26:51 -0400 From Scandinavia to South East China.

Jump to the full
entry & travel map

Tallinn, Estonia

continued from , Locked Up. 28th January 2004 The pub downstairs serves great food and draft Guinness - which is surprisingly cheap. Surely then, by my logic, a reason to enjoy it all the more. I take a tram ride to organise an onward bus ticket to St Petersburg, but I find I am on an erroneous tram being whisked through an unfamiliar city in the wrong direction. Returning to my room, I am soon persuaded to venture out again, this time for a sauna and a massage. Relishing the opportunity to be nicely defrosted. It's like being in somebody's house. I am locked inside for about thirty minutes &nbsp;and then presented with a trio of girls wearing fur and prompted to choose which one I want. Sultry dark haired girl accompanies me to the sauna, then to the lounge where fiery drinks are poured over ice as she gives me her telephone number and plenty more. I chuckle to myself as I make my way to the pub, tromping through the heavy snow. I meet a Norwegian guy in the Brewhouse, a vast open plan brewery with a large menu of beers. Situated in one of the many cobbled lanes that radiate out from the main square. This part of the city is real time-warp material. Ancient buildings with huge sides and tiny windows. Street entertainers playing Lutes. Am I on a movie set for a Henry VIII period piece ? The crisp snow and piercing blue sky add an extra touch of drama. Popular with tourists, the only blot on such a beautiful landscape is a MacDonald's. Funny how I like MacDonald's when it's the cheapest option, but it doesn't belong here . The Norwegian and I enjoy many flavoursome beers . We move on&nbsp;to the Guitar Safari bar and listen to some live music together. We are thoroughly pie-eyed by the time we leave. Upstairs from my hostel accommodation is a strip club - coincidence ? I go in and meet Natasha. She dances for me, and looks like Cameron Diaz might after ditching the gym and hitting the pub circuit instead. Slightly chunkier.The following day after another of my characteristic random walkabouts, I meet up with Natasha again, this time by appointment. We go for dinner at a Chinese restaurant. Her English is excellent. An endearing Russian accent. Many like her are ethnic Russian and thus do not qualify for an Estonian passport. Neither does she qualify for a Russian passport, since the divorce between Estonia and the USSR. So she says, and explains how she only has some sort of identity card instead. Not much use for travelling to other countries. She is a dancer by trade, and goes on to explain the distinction between this and a prostitute. I go back to see her later at the club. I have now gravitated from simple club floor to VIP room, where I am&nbsp;treated to&nbsp;private dances by Natasha and company. Next ; the bus to Saint Petersburg
]]>