TravelStream™ news feed for member martyt on TravelPod's free travel blogs service http://www.travelpod.com/syndication/rss/martyt en-us Copyright ©2009 TravelPod.com Mon, 25 Aug 2008 12:35:26 -0400 http://www.travelpod.com http://www.travelpod.com/travel-blog-entries/martyt/london2sydney/1181711760/tpod.html http://www.travelpod.com/travel-blog-entries/martyt/london2sydney/1181711760/tpod.html#comments Travel Blogs http://www.travelpod.com/travel-blog-entries/martyt/london2sydney/1181711760/tpod.html Mon, 25 Aug 2008 12:35:26 -0400 The novice traveller steps in at the deep end: London to Sydney by truck.

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Lahore, Pakistan

Islamabad was an annoyingly spaced out city where it took an age to walk anywhere. Good that taxis were dirt-cheap then. Me and Will headed to Islamabad's twin city Rawalpindi where we wandered around the mechanics bazaar and then across a filthy river to the truck decorations bazaar. Here we saw all the tat that is on every single truck in Pakistan being made - basically metal with stickers and card attached to them. The boy had to spend some time making just a small bit so compare that to a whole truck and it's a ridiculous amount of time. It really shows though.We got what you could call a taxi back to Islamabad. The car was barely road worthy, with no electronics and doors that jumped open throughout. In search of a pool we went to a Marriott and a Serena hotel but it was guests only. We sat in the foyer with our drinks in the poshest hotel I've ever been in (this was the Serena). Me and Will observed all the well to do Pakistanis and Westerners discussing business. The huge extent of the squalor in Rawalpindi compared to the three streets of excessive wealth found in Islamabad was striking. Something like 80-90% of the two cities wealth concentrated in such a small area. Horrible. The level of acceptance you get being a westerner in these hotels was something else I wasn't too keen on. Any Pakistani wearing what I was would be searched on entry and probably denied entry if looking for a swim but being white I automatically belonged with the wealthy - I'd rather be back in Rawalpindi.A short drive to Lahore the following day and we arrived to the hottest heat wave in 20 years - 49 degrees!!!! Didn't stop me exploring though and I attacked Lahore more so than any other city this trip. Lahore was fantastic! So so busy. I couldn't have done this city straight from Britain; it would have been too overwhelming. The rickshaw rides were immense, so much fun through streets where sticking to one side of the road wasn't always obeyed.After a walk through the red light district (Fully clothed women in pale make-up sat awkwardly in open rooms, touting men outside.) the next day I went to, amongst other things, a...religious concert I guess you could call it. Men singing at the top of their lungs with accordion type instruments and drums sat on stage whilst rose water was sprayed over the seated crowd. Three different men from the crowd placed themselves in the 'dance floor' and 'danced'. Eventually they all had to be led away as their violent trance induced dancing was clearly not good for their bodies. That night me, Lorna, Polly, Will and Ave went to a Sufism music night. A small courtyard of cross-legged men (mainly in their 20s) greeted us as we squeezed with difficulty in the 'foreigners section'. Spliffs were constantly being passed around as two drummers played skillful and repetitive drumbeats until 4am, apparently (we left 3 hours after it started at 1am). Sporadically the crowd would shout and chant. The atmosphere was intense. Men sat on the roof and in the courtyard bodies were everywhere. Dancing then began. The men span and shook their heads constantly for the 2 hours we were there, changing direction and rhythm with the music. Their eyes were rolled back and they, understandably, were soaking with sweat. What once must have been a shorter and religious induced night was now a long and drug induced one. The equivalent of a night out back home I guess. Needless to say not a singly female was present other than the tourists.As the night went on two out-of-their-face men wanted to join the main dancers, and had to be forcefully restrained. We were quite worried and so decided to leave but not before waiting for a slower rhythm to kick in and things to calm down for us to pass. Just outside they had catered for the munchies because cakes were in abundance. We stupidly agreed to have tea and cake with the man who took us to the 'rave'. Men had crowded round within a minute and I was kind of worried as the three girls we were with were the only females around. Drugged up Pakistani men and white western girls are not a good mix. You could feel the sexual tension and it accumulated in mob like scenes as we went for our rickshaw. Men were grabbing the girls all over as me, Will and our guide attempted a barricade. Eventually they got in the rickshaw and after scenes out of a movie, with hands coming in from all angles, the girls got away. Such a relief to see them go. Do the Pakistani men just have a horribly misconceived image of western women to think such behavior is acceptable? After another while of stressing for the girls safety we met them en-route back to the hotel. A night to take a lot from.Onto Amritsar...
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Harbin, Heilongjiang, China

After a week in Singapore waiting on my China visa I was excited to get onwards. A night on the very clean Singapore airport floor and off I flew. Across southeast Asia and Hong Kong (regrettably) to land in Xiamen, China's closest city to Taiwan. This was to be the start of a massive overland journey to Tampere, Finland, some 17000km ahead. It had always been my plan, to come home overland, but travelling Indonesia and consequentially falling in love with it meant a later start and here it was to be.The previous year I had spent an incredible three weeks traversing the immense landscapes of China's bordering country Tibet and its very own Yunnan province. The east coast of China beckoned for a fuller understanding of the most peopled country on earth. Xiamen hit me pretty hard. On the 15p bus into the city I tried to remember if the Pakistanis had stared this much. I clutched my guide book as the language completely deluded me. I got off the bus miles from the harbour, surrounded by tall buildings and a mess of road works. After a sweaty walk eastwards I then unknowingly jumped the toll on the boat to Gulang Yu, Xiamen's saving grace for tourism. Gulang Yu is a small island hosting Mediterranean architecture from concession days and looks back across to the non-descript towering skyscrapers of the city. Peaceful and pleasant lanes criss-cross the motor-less island. Beyond that all you do is feed the Chinese tourist industry with mundane visits to, for example, an organ museum. For this reason I delved into the city proper and loved being back in the fascinatingly introspective and unique world of China. Loud streets, crass consumerism, baffling mannerisms, deafening conversations, stares, dirt, woks, electric bicycles! Many simple needs are a challenge to obtain, western pronunciation leaving everyone mystified. Food markets shock with their animal cruelty, chicks skinned and placed atop the cage of their live brothers. The swell of traffic and people is a constant during daylight hours. This all goes to create such an intense travel experience.A sleeper bus took me 600km up the coast to another massive modern Chinese city. Whereas Xiamen had an island of European architecture to draw the crowds in, Hangzhou had a lake. West Lake is pretty unimpressive! Smog limited views of rather tame hills on its far side, although good views could be seen of the skyscraper backdrop from a lakeside hill. Perhaps some context would help explain my dissatisfaction: a close friend, Marie Claire, from Glasgow was coming across to see me within the next few days. This would be the first person I have met that I know since leaving Scotland 14 months previous. I was very excited!And so for the next three weeks we travelled some 3500km, first westwards and then north-eastwards having an absolute blast! It was such good fun doing it with someone with a similar mentality and energy that I knew so well. One of the three weeks we were also joined by Paul, an Irishman with equally easy going ways.Shanghai did not carry the wow factor we both expected. Perhaps it had lost it with modernity. What must have been the old red light district was now dotted with seafood restaurants and camcorder wielding tourists strolling past its massage parlours. The waterfront was great though, grand French architecture one side and on the other towering modern skyscrapers. Oddly after 10pm all unnecessary lights in the city were shut off, French concession included. Coming back from a night out Marie and I were driven through fields of dark, leering skyscrapers, Shanghai quite an eerie city by night. We began westwards with two 'off the beaten track' cities. Hefei and Bozhou each had larger populations than Scotland. One china man dismissed his city as small, this starting to depict the true scale of China. It is an absolute monster. These two cities came with relentless staring, stressful noise levels, dirt and stifling difficulty. Not as enjoyable as the rest of the trip but vital for a better understanding than we would have had of the Chinese and their country. We perhaps took more from these four days than the rest of the trip but the onus was on sights and good times!It was great taking a back seat for the next few weeks and just having fun, as opposed to my style of full on independent travelling. The terracotta warriors, Xi' an, Pingyao, The Great Wall, Forbidden City, Summer Palace, Siberian tiger park were all on the itinerary. Pingyao was the real highlight though, a 1000 year old walled town teaming with Chinese tradition. Beijing is a city with so much to see that even a week is n't long enough. Beijing was an island of Chinese manners. Flamboyant and loud spitting ceased (or at least didn't hit the ground as we saw when one man mid-grogging clocked us), there were queues for buses and people did not push or stare as much. It is incredible the control the government has over the people, changing cultural norms in a city of 14 million in just a few years in preparation for the Olympics.Harbin, our last Chinese city, was quieter and easier going. Russia was clearly not far off, an orthodox church graced a main square and Russian architecture lined some streets. Maz and I shared our last steamed dumplings and Tsingtao beer and parted ways.I left China extremely grateful to have seen it, if not worried what I learnt. I thought how, if it were up to me, I'd have America rule over us any day over China. What a monster China is, a sheer power house, relentlessly charging forward with regards of only those in charge. Why shouldn't they? With our gleaming economies in the west they have a lot to aspire to and a lot of ground to cover. Human rights just get in the way, don't they? How untroubled the government was by any other country over this matter recently, and how untroubled they would be even if another economy did stand up solidly against it. Ironically the only conversation I had with a China man that got past the smiling and laughing of saving face was one shouted over a crowd blocked from attending the Olympic torch run in Pingyao. "China has no humanitarian rights!" True, we thought, but please be quiet otherwise you will get us deported and yourself thrown in jail.
]]> http://www.travelpod.com/travel-blog-entries/martyt/2/1217049600/tpod.html http://www.travelpod.com/travel-blog-entries/martyt/2/1217049600/tpod.html#comments Travel Blogs http://www.travelpod.com/travel-blog-entries/martyt/2/1217049600/tpod.html Mon, 25 Aug 2008 11:06:32 -0400 On my todd - Marty's first travels Part III

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Helsinki, Southern Finland, Finland

I was excited to be back in Europe after fifteen months self exile. I had spent a total of a year in Asia travelling, the majority by land, and in the middle of that, five months living and working in Australia. With just a few days between Helsinki and home my thoughts sat heavy and awkward. Arriving on a Saturday morning I was surprised to find Helsinki's centre in quite a mess. It resembled a pavement outside a chippy after all the pubs had closed, the paving was littered with beer bottles and McDonalds amongst others. Two dodgy African fellas came up asking for cigarettes. I expected a spick and span northern European capital. That was to show its face later in the day when the dregs of a Friday night had been seen to by street cleaners.Helsinki is the quietest capital I have been to. Good public transport meant little traffic in the centre. The people were quiet, public squares and other spaces lacked good atmosphere and laughter wasn't as common. Plentiful decent modern architecture sat respectfully beside the older stone buildings. The sun continued to shine as it had throughout Russia and I enjoyed these relaxing days in the company of a lovely Slovenian called Lina and an Austrian called Philipp. Helsinki is nice. Its not amazing, there is nothing bad about it, it's just very nice, tame and pleasant. It was an ideal place to precede catching that flight back home.I was taking a 110 Euro Ryanair flight to London from Tampere, a few hours north of Helsinki. It was my first flight since Xiamen, China. I was proud to have achieved such a long journey without flying. On the coach north to Tampere I sat on my own, musing and mulling over returning home. A life of constant daily change; of new places, new conversations, new ways, new tests and new people was over. I tried to focus on something but focused on nothing at all. I helped a lady with her bag on the plane. She was ungrateful and I became irritated. Stanstead airport floor saw little sleep from me before I boarded the 6:10am, 45 minute flight to Glasgow.
]]> http://www.travelpod.com/travel-blog-entries/martyt/2/1216790280/tpod.html http://www.travelpod.com/travel-blog-entries/martyt/2/1216790280/tpod.html#comments Travel Blogs http://www.travelpod.com/travel-blog-entries/martyt/2/1216790280/tpod.html Mon, 25 Aug 2008 09:11:15 -0400 On my todd - Marty's first travels Part III

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St. Petersburg, North-West Russia, Russian Federation

With another four days on a train lying ahead I was keen not to induce any sweat beforehand. I managed this, good, but what can you do when a drunk munches down on a fish so close to you that you feel the fish oil lubricate the back of your neck? Wouldn't be the first or the last time a drunk in Russia had made me laugh, even if it was a few hours later. The carriage for this leg of the Trans-Siberian was second class, as opposed to third on the first leg. This was because a tour operator had told me falsely of the horrors of third class so to be safe, I split it up.I shared a cabin with Sasha and Olga. Classic names, not so classic company. I was enthusiastic when meeting them, hoping to encourage them to come out a bit as I had found Russians to be kind and generous but not so friendly or approachable. It worked to great affect and I was soon thrust a massive pack of photos of Sasha and Olga's life thus far. Dull family get togethers, where in every photo at least one person sat clasping a bottle of beer. Another was of Sasha at Olga's parents where her father was, from what I could tell, initiating him into the family with vodka and a sauna, thick Siberian pines the backdrop. There was a delightful one of Olga, who was rather large, wearing a bikini and covered in mud. Sasha looked on and I gave a slightly awkward laugh. Olga did not smile. I wonder why.A shout from two Aussies in the next cabin who I had met on the platform rescued me from the fifty photos still to go through. A four day bender, from this point onwards, had begun! Ex-pats from Guangzhou in China and previously Jakarta in Indonesia they had a lot of things to say that I was interested in. We had a great few days, never quite sober, taking in the better half of the Trans-Siberian's landscape; towering pine forests that dwarfed the train; isolated wooden villages sitting in bright green grassland dotted with purple wild flowers; and the most beautiful sight of a Siberian mist lifting from the woodland in the red glow of a 4am sunrise. There were also decrepit, past-it, industrial towns en-route, adding some realism to where Russia is and what it's recovering from. It is not this idyllic country you see for the vast majority of these train journeys. Perhaps this is why many of the older Russians look at the Trans-Siberian so romantically.Moscow highlighted the problem Russia has with its distribution of wealth. Sports cars raced down Moscow's wide roads, past grand facades and old rich men walked with beautiful young wives. It was a world away from the wooden shacks and acute social and alcohol problems of rural Russia. St Basil's Cathedral blew me away with its onion shaped domes covered in primary colours. The loudest building I've seen, I was humbled. I was also humbled in Lenin's mausoleum. One, if not the, most influential man of the 20th century, who went on to shape much with his ideology after his death as he had alive. Tragedy struck our little group of four as Amber's passport was stolen just before we were to board a night train north to St Petersburg. Jax and I went north, Amber and Lloyd stayed in Moscow to sort things out. The implications were not immediately apparent but Amber ended up flying back to Australia, not China, on an emergency Russian visa to get re-issued a Chinese work visa losing a lot of money and time. St Petersburg is the grandest city I have been to. I was pretty amazed at every corner. Take Glasgow's most impressive Victorian façade and that is St Petersburg's grandeur throughout almost its entire centre. Nevsky Prospekt, the main drag, is the epitome of rich 18th and 19th century Europe. Wander down the roads branching off and it's an architectural historians dream. The landmarks raise the game further; St Isaacs gleaming gold dome; endless self indulgence of the Hermitage palace; the extravagance of the Church of the Resurrection of Christ features out does Moscow's extroverted church; and the semi-circular colonnades of Kazan Cathedral are mighty and Romanesque. Canals and rivers slice up the city and awe inspiring communist train and metro stations full of murals and general grandiose dot the city. The sunset lasts roughly three hours this time of year, pink light thick in the sky. St Petersburg is special.Russia was a surprise. It was not that I expected less than what it had to offer, it was that I was coming down from 16 months away. The end of a very special time in my life was nigh and the thought of this, along with thoughts of home, sat heavily given a minute. But Russia grabbed many of these minutes. Expansive rolling landscapes, people so genuine they would make a Brit blush, a love of alcohol highly appreciated by myself in the long sunny summer days, the most eye catching women (if not the most attractive) I've seen, a culture not too far from home (considering that I've just spent three months in Asia) but rough enough to remind you that you certainly were not. Baikal, St Petersburg and to a lesser extent Vladivostok were my highlights, as was the company of fellow travellers Amber, Jackie and also Lucas. So my come down was put off until Helsinki, which I hoped, and expected, would allow it. A £28 nine hour night bus - to save on hostel fees - took me to Helsinki. Twilight clung to a spot on the horizon until 3am, reflecting dully off Finnish waters, waters penned in either side by silhouettes of evergreen forests. A special ambience to accompany special thoughts - I would be home in four days.
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Bolshe Koty, Russian Federation

At 22:45 the train pulled smoothly and quietly out of Harbin to head east, away from the chaos of the last Chinese train station and the chaos of my last Asian city for a while. Border crossings rarely cease to amaze in how defining they are. This one in particular may be the most pronounced, clearly saying "This is Russia and that is China." and vice-versa. The smog of eastern China ceased and I leant my head out to breathe the cleanest air since Singapore, a month previous. All but one in my carriage were white European, this ratio similar to Vladivostok's, my destination. I had expected a large ethnic population but there simply wasn't. I had travelled 1000km further east than Beijing (further east than Seoul) but the people were ethnically eastern European, some 9000km in the opposite direction. It just went to show how old these borders were, drawn up by Cossacks 400-500 years previous, and how powerful Russia was to have such influence in the extremities of a country 17,075,400 square kilometres. The border into Russia was no simple crossing. The following morning every item of my clothing was unrolled and my photo CDs were taken away for scrutiny. I said goodbye to the other cabin passengers - two barely clothed Russian private dancers and their Chinese boss who worked it in Harbin - and mingled with the hundred or so Russians on the platform. None of these Russians were tourists, they all had chequered plastic carry-alls bigger than themselves full of cheap Chinese clothing to sell in Vladivostok. For this reason the crossing took three hours on top of four hours already lost crossing the border due to China's stupid mono time. Boarding our border straddling carriage I realised that it was just myself and four other British tourists onboard - all the hundreds of Russians had got buses to Vladivostok and would arrive there within the next three hours. After some shunting our carriage had been completely detached and sat alone in the darkening train yard for the next eight hours! Beer was therefore a given but not that the train attendant would lock the toilet and exit. A long night. We reached Vladivostok the next day at 07:30. The 750km journey had taken 36 hours!Vladivostok I liked a lot. Other than being just 100km from North Korea it was an immediate return to east Europe. Dilapidated concrete block buildings, old trams, powerful charcoal black statues and a rough edge rarely found in Asia. Cheese, milk and bread returned for the first time since Australia three months previous. Sensible driving prevailed after the bewildering Chinese ways (in Xi' an I had seen a mother with baby in one hand, pram in the other left stranded in the middle of a busy road after my taxi driver decided simply not to let her pass). The sun shone the three days I spent there, and indeed my whole three weeks in Russia. There was plenty of European style beach culture on the go - strange to think that this place is minus 35 during the winter and the harbour freezes over. I was also being mistaken for Russian, odd after being an outright foreigner for three months. Down at the busy waterfront I enjoyed a beverage at a beer tent with the four other Brits I had met. A policeman sporting an oversized cap came over for a chat, finishing on the note that 'bad boys' come here around this time of the night. It was late but light, as the Russian summer goes. We moved on after a while but nothing actually happened. A curious stranger came over to us and another who spoke English helped translate. Asking him the expected questions, his answer to 'What job?' was a tug on his jacket to expose a large, black 8mm. "Personal bodyguard." These two happenings, the thugs and the Mafia, were unrelated but both were exciting. At this point I decided I liked Russia.From a travellers point of view it was not all good though. Prices had rocketed from those in China. Hotels were £25 - £35, eating out was £3-5. The street had retreated into buildings as it invariably does in developed countries, becoming largely a circulation space and not one of life and noise as it beautifully is in Asia. With this all those Asian sounds evaporated, replaced by the very familiar sounds of quiet conversation, heels on tarmac, and car motors passing without an accompanying horn. No time for reminiscing, I had a whole new country to cross and a whole new culture to absorb.On the evening of July 9th I boarded my train to Irkutsk, some 4104km (3 days and 4 nights) westwards. Staying in third class meant I shared an open cabin with five other berths; one above, same opposite and another bunk along the wall facing our bunks side on. Hot water was found in an urn at the end of the carriage where the train attendant was based. Provisions were topped up cheaply from track side babushkas at stations. I caught up with sleep, reading and writing. The thing I took most from this train journey was the sheer generosity of the Russian people. I had sat for most of the first day getting on with my own thing, none of the three surrounding Russians had said a thing to me. I took the initiative therefore and from that point onwards, when I asked Georgiy where he was headed, I had some of the best travelling companions of my trip. For hours we talked in toddler Russian with frantic page turning and pointing galore. I was offered so many provisions, offending if I said "Its okay, really it's okay". They were just so kind. I had a whole fish bought for me at a lake Baikal train station, the best fish I have ever tasted. They also helped seek out accommodation for me in Irkutsk even when the train was stopped for just thirty minutes. Georgiy even offered me money so I needn't sleep in a twin room with a stranger. I of course declined (see photo). They had catered for me so much that once they left I was asking myself "Who will look after me now?"The geography this side of Irkutsk hadn't much on the west side. The first 2000km showed Siberia's sheer size with repetitive, slightly rolling landscape hosting deciduous woods. On day two I looked out to similar surroundings to that of the first. Day three, however, saw the hills beef up, displaying defined ridges as lake Baikal approached. The pale evening light bounced from this giant mass of water, broken only slightly by a gentle breeze across its flat surface. The tracks rose to follow a contour around the steep slopes that slide into the water at 45 degrees, leaving us looking out over the lake as the sun finally retreated.Lake BaikalI left the historic streets of Irkutsk immediately the next morning as I was dying to see Baikal. Baikal is the biggest body of fresh water in the world, 1.6km at its deepest point. It is bigger than all five of north America's great lakes combined and contains 20% of the fresh water in the whole world! Phwoar! Another interesting fact is that in desperation to get troops to Vladivostok during the Russo - Jap war (1903 ish) they placed tracks across its frozen winter waters (the Trans-Siberian had yet to be completed) only to see the first train plummet to icy depths, killing all. I, however, had a great time! Wood fuelled scorching sauna followed by a jump into the freezing 14 degree waters, beer and vodka on the side. The angry Lithuanian hostel manager perplexed and amused me with his nonsensical behaviour. I had great fun on a six hour trek full of nerve racking paths perched above the water, where leaping from one crumbling ledge to another was often called upon. The destination of the walk, Bolshe Koty village, was very Siberian, with wooden houses beneath steep roofs and a rickety jetty tugged gently by a moored fishing boat. Smoke rose from chimneys, drifting through pines and out the valley. Hitch hiking back to Irkutsk we were picked up by an ex-joyrider! He let us stay at his home with mother and babushka (this was before his history came to light). Such kindness, a kindness probably brought about by the isolation of middle Siberia.The following evening I was to begin the second leg of the Trans-Siberian. 5108km of train tracks to Moscow, a thousand more than the first trip. More time to read, write and to muse over the past 16 months. You would think this but train journeys have many guises.
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Singapore, Singapore

A train had always been a very reassuring mode of transport. Yogyakarta to Jakarta changed this. Arriving at the train with 15mins to departure I was surprised to find every seat taken...and every bit of floor space. With all staring and myself being the only whitey on the train I found myself sitting in the junction of two carriages, sleeping on my knees with coffee and bread sellers hitting into me every 20 minutes, "Sorry Mister!". With cigerette smoke in eyes and piss aroma up nose (from nearby open squat toilet) I dozed a little and communciated with, oddly, two Africans 'on holiday'. I was in the international carriage!A summary of Java did not lye ahead. Jakarta took me by surpirse. Capital of an overwhelmingly Islamic island/country the mosques eluded me, a number of gays introduced themselves and I was harrassed by crotch grabbing prostitutes. The city itself is not good. Unnotable skyscrapers were separated by mile upon mile of traffic jams in sweltering heat. Even on a motorbike it took 30 mintues to cross the centre. It was still Indonesia though, for all the nice people throughout Jakarta. Even in a city of 9 million a hello would be thrown in your direction for the sake of a hello (I say this as I am now in east China where a hello is almost always for moneys sake).I got stuck in Jakarta. Meeting the same Jakartarians and travelers each day I felt a little at home. A night would start with a few drinks on Jalan Jaksa with other travelers, being pestered by the same girls and politely declining whatever they were after - work or a western boyfriend. Enrico and I would rally a few travelers together for a night out at Stadium Discotheque. Even after two days I'd walk down Jalan Jaksa and stop two or three times to talk to people met previously.Also towards the end of my stay realisation kicked in. To be with the locals is an excellent experience especially as this was as modern and as close to my own life Indonesia could offer. But it is not my Western life. Sad stories included a husband lost in the tsunami in Sumatra, a son who died in a disorganised Jakarta hospital and a young man struggling to re-enter Europe where every day was an anxious wait of news from haloed lands. The Stadium club, of course, is also different from a British one. Owned by the police, drugs were the real money here. That coupled with prostitution. Alcohol and entrance fees were just little extras. To reach the dance floor you had to go via a bar loaded with gorgeous Indonesian girls. The older woman outside the 'pen' would grab your wrist, touting with bulging eyes - workers as well as patrons high - gesturing towards the girls who would take you downstairs to rooms. Four different companies worked in the club, the girls making a huge slice of the income for Stadium and next to nothing for themselves. Ecstacy touts did everything out in the open - no need to hide, they are the police. Top class dance and techno pumped out by international DJ's (eg Sasha) as the richer Jakarta people party. Heads shaked upstairs as arms were tugged downstairs, outside by homeless children begging for money.Although brought down to earth by the disparities of Jakarta I enjoyed my time there more than most cities. The kind nature of the Indonesians was a constant of these two amazing months spent in this immense country and Jakarta was no exception. Refreshing to find in a big city.I could never settle on a favourite country, they're too complex, cant be compared and put in a list. However, if forced at knife point Indonesia would probably escape my lips. Only spending longer in Australia, Scotland and England (as a kid, does that count?) Indonesia got 'under my skin'. You would need a year and a half to proper see it. It is huge and diverse. The diversity is its real pull though. So many traditional cultures lived out everyday on thousands of disconnected islands. Indonesia defies the word country. All the islands may fall within 'Indonesia' but individual cultures live on. There is definately one constant throughout - immense kindness and friendliness. The minute you look lost someone would be by your side whether they spoke english or not. Its a question of when do, not if, I go back.Two and a half hours later and the world seems so unfair. Cleanest city in the world bursting with money. Having spent a few days in Singapore last year I was left with very little to do for the week I waited for my Chinese visa. I filled up on curry and tiger beer in little India, caught up on sleep and generally kept a low profile - Singapore is expensive. I found myself laughing at the perfectionist nature of Singapore. Video demonstrations of how to deal with terrorism played on loop on the subway. Singaporeans were advised that, if they're hands were full of shopping bags, they should take the lift instead of the life threatening escalators. The newest mobile flashed on screens along the train tunnel wall. "Singapore is ridiculous" I thought when leaving the city. These people are controlled more than we are, urged to consume every waking hour, keeping the economy strong and the governement in favour. Shopping malls which are literally on every corner stay open until 9pm. If I thought the Singaporeans were controlled, I was in for a shock in China.
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Vladivostok, Far East Russia, Russian Federation

A little taster of Russia so far...
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Hefei, China

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Hangzhou, Zhejiang, China

Y
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Yogyakarta, Java, Indonesia

The long road to Bali and beyondBefore shooting off from Jayapura on a plane to Bali, I had a mission. I knew where Fiki and Wing's (the two petty thieves) friend stayed, vaguely, and so went to hunt it down and see if I could salvage anything. This may sound a dangerous undertaking but having spent a long evening with them, I knew very well there was no danger. I managed to get my phone back! Wing had since crashed the Toyota (which was Fiki's) and gone awol. This left me to explain to his brother the phone was infact mine and he had paid for a stolen one. He reluctantly let it go. So now Wing had just 100,000Rp, no phone (money would have to be returned to his brother) and an MP3 player with a broken screen that only I knew how to use. Revenge, if only a little.I was offered a flight from Jayapura via Jakarta to Bali, as it would be cheaper, so happily accepted. The flight was 2 hours late departing. Jakarta airport was a replica of Makassar airport and I shook my head in disbelief that a government would build two identicle airports in the same country. Even offices were within the same place, the souverniers were Sulawesi origin...wait a minute! I WAS in Makassar. Had I got on the wrong flight?? Nope - I was just in unknown transit. Another two flights and I finally reached Denpasar, Bali. It was now 8pm and to no surprise my bag, which I had not seen since 6am that morning, had not tailed me to Bali. A few hours waiting and it arrived on the next plane. Woohoo! Shattered after a 14 hour day traveling between two cities in the same country I made my way to Poppies.Situated at the tail of some heavy going individual travel my time in Bali was non-descript. I spent a lot of time just hanging around poppies enjoying the 50p music and movie shops, cheap eateries and bars. I met up with Luiz, my bar buddy from Sydney. We rode around the south of the island on two scooters for a few days and partied it up. Was great to have some familiar company in good surroundings. I made it away from the party tourist centre of Kuta up to the cultural tourist centre Ubud, for a few days. Saw a number of Hindu temples, Balinese dance performances and many an art gallery. The rice paddies were nice but I've had them up to my ears to be honest. Then I returned to Kuta, watched Rangers lose the UEFA cup with two guys from Helensburgh (my home) believe or not and had a few days more partying before departing. Perhaps the only entertaining story from Bali was a 5ft taxi driver chasing me down the street at 4am with a metal crank in his hand claiming I had given him 20 and not 50,000Rp. A tad worrying at the time but I was laughing once I'd escaped down a lane.Bali was cool, with lots of cheap stuff at the travelers disposal and a party or two. But many Balinese would try and cheat you at every corner, getting the art down to a tee with the endless stream of naive travelers at their disposal. They treated it like their right (to rob you). Maybe they are right, why is so much money on one side of the world? I gave more rupiah on many occasions than asked for (in Sulawesi and Papua, not Bali) and get angry at travelers who complain so much when asked/made to pay a little bit more.A night bus to Solo on the 21st May began my eleven day Java stint. I was interested in the two cultural cities of Solo and bigger Yogyakarta, the temples of Borobudur and Prambanan close by, the active Merapi volcano and, without doubt, the massive capital of Indonesia, JAKARTA.Solo's night food stalls that lined the streets were the towns highlight. Chicken head, intestines of a few animals, chicken heart, bird eggs were sold, along with more normal things like deep fried banana and lobster. I had a meal of all the aforementioned for just 65p. A night trek (1am - 10am) up active Gunung Merapi consisted of 60 degree climbs up a rock strewn smoking crater and standing at bright yellow sulphur vents to warm up in the cool morning air. A sunrise against the fluffy cloud was quickly obscured by constantly changing mists, the volcanic landscape drifting in and out of view. The day turned out to be a long one, as my guide wanted to squeeze rupiah out of me and I wanted to squeeze sights out of him. Borobudur, perhaps Indonesia's most famous temple, was the lunchtime slot. Locals pay a dollar, foreigners nine dollars - fair's fair. A temple of caged buddha's and intricate hindu reliefs, all quite spectacular but, as most tourists were Indonesian, many an eye were on me. I got stuck a number of times with pictures taken with school girls, one just couldn't believe I had no mobile number refusing to let it go for a few minutes. Prambanan lay next, a temple to rival some at Angkor Wat. Seems I'd over spent my time here as Daniel (my guide) raced back. His helmet flew off into some person's drive but once back on we were tearing down the highway again. Curling around trucks and jumping reds. He was driving so fast and urgently I had to say to him at one set of lights that he did stop at "Why the hell are you driving so fast?". I never asked him to slow down though - this was the best motorbike ride I'd had, hell if I was going to end it. Turned out he was a racer a few years back, racing in Yogyakarta. It showed. Great fun.After one more day in Solo I took a one hour train to Yogyakarta and did a few touristy things. I really like Yogyakarta. Fantastic galleries of battic art, nice lanes particularly at dusk with the call to prayer drifting all around and one astonishing 'bird' market with the most eclectic livestock I've ever seen - puppies, bats, snakes, monkeys, cockroaches, cocks, orange eyes lizards and pigeons.With the five days previous being relentless travel I wanted to slow things down in Jakarta and get a feel for the capital. Onwards to JK...
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