Vientiane, Laos

VIENTIANE
There were two things I wanted to see in Vientiane - the Patuxai and the Great Sacred Stupa. From a distance the Patuxai looks like the Arc de Triomphe but up-close the temple-like ornamentation gives it a distinctly Lao flavour. Unlike the Parisian arch the Patuxai has four, rather than two, archways. It was built in the 1960s with US-purchased cement intended for the construction of a new airport - which has led some people to call it the 'vertical runway'. The fee for climbing to the top of the structure is only 1000 Kip (around 9c) and the views are well worth it. Most of the interior is barren except for the gift shop on the top two floors selling Beer Lao t-shirts and key chains. On the very top I found an old man selling old notes and coins so I stopped and completed my collection of Lao money.

The Patuxai, Vientiane

The view from the top of the Patuxai

Sadly, on the Thanon leading to the arch I watched as a motorbike turned in front of an approaching truck and was dragged under the front tyres for 50 meters. I kept my distance for a little while but as I slowly approached the wreckage the motorcycle driver and her female passenger were quickly taken away in the back of a rickshaw. Two unmatched sandals remained wedged under the motorbike but surprisingly there was little blood.

About 2km further north-east is the Great Sacred Stupa, a symbol of the Buddhist religion and Lao sovereignty, and the most important national monument. The current stupa was constructed in the 16th century on the site of a former Khymer monastery dating from the 11th century. It looks a little like a missile cluster from a distance but even under grey skies the golden spire shone brightly. The stupa is designed to be mounted by visitors who can walk around each level and up to the next. Each level contains Buddhist inscriptions which are to be contemplated as one takes the journey around and up the monument. The skies above me turned progressively darker so after half an hour I turned my back on the Great Sacred Stupa and began walking back across the courtyard to the main street.

The Great Sacred Stupa

TURNING AND WALKING AWAY
Slowly, images of the last 14 months flashed in my head. From Russia to China to Guatemala, Nepal and Sri Lanka I began reflecting on just where I had been and what I had achieved. After all this time, the Great Sacred Stupa in Laos would be the last thing I would see on this trip. My eyes welled up as I walked away, partly because I was saddened that the trip was coming to an end and partly because I had seen some of the most amazing sights that this planet has to offer - and it moved me. The world truly is an amazing place and it will never cease to amaze me.

HOMEWARD BOUND
My last night in Asia was a restless one. I was up late packing and by the time I lay down to sleep it was after midnight. I was up at 4am to shower before catching the 5am shuttle to the airport with a couple of other bleary eyed travellers. My first flight to Doha, Qatar was virtually empty. Most of us stretched out in the middle seats and slept but for most of the time I was tracking our progress over the Bay of Bengal, across India to the peninsular of Qatar. Landing in the brown dusty expanse of the desert kingdom could not have been more different from the lush green of monsoon Asia I had just left. I was barely at the airport an hour before boarding my next flight to Heathrow. The flight was much fuller but somehow I managed to secure a window and an aisle seat to myself.

My good friends Scooter (Scott) and his wife Jennifer had promised to collect me from Heathrow's Terminal 3 so I was particularly anxious to get off the plane. By the time I walked through the arrivals door I had been on the go for about 17 hours but I felt fresh and excited. I spotted Scooter and Jen and collapsed into their arms - relieved that I had done it. Around the world in 14 months without being robbed, mugged or losing anything that I couldn't replace. This was the end, but there was one more surprise.

On the walk to the car I saw a girl who at first I thought I met in Thailand a few weeks ago, but when I asked her she said that she had been teaching English in Sri Lanka for the past few months. As it turned out she was at the cricket test match in Kandy when I was there with Phil at the start of May. One last case of 'small world syndrome'.

Luang Prabang, Laos

LUANG PRABANG
I spent the rest of my time in Laos with some of the people from the minivan - there were some characters among them; the McKinstry sisters, Gail and Lyn, from Belfast, Lee and Laura from Scotland and Nicola from Chichester in England. Together we took a trip out to the Tat Kuang Si waterfall, about 30km south of the town, in the back of a pick-up truck. The promised rope swing beside the falls was missing but the setting was very nice even if the water was much colder than expected. I got goose bumps for the first time this year.

Over the next few days we created our own 'breakfast club', meeting at 9am at the same restaurant to join up for some sightseeing together. We ventured up river to the beautiful Pak Ou caves, crammed with Buddha images of all shapes and sizes, and around town to the Royal Palace and the Xieng Thong temple, probably the best example of Lao style temple architecture.

Pak Ou caves near Luang Prabang

View from inside the caves

There are some fabulous French style buildings along the side streets, scores of historic temples at every turn and a wonderful relaxed atmosphere around town. The street next to the Mekong River was being repaved while I was there so there were a few disruptions and some unsightly piles of rubble around the place but once finished the waterfront will be the place to be. Although there were many differences I honestly felt like I could be in New Orleans.

Temple in Luang Prabang

One cool cat

On the day that the All Blacks beat Wales in the rugby I celebrated 400 DAYS ON THE ROAD with a couple of coffee milkshakes and a few helpings of my signature dish - lemon sugar pancakes.
After four days in Luang Prabang, Lee and Laura left for northern Laos and Nicola flew to Thailand so I joined the McKinstry sisters on the bus back to Vang Vieng. One more night and a few movies later I was heading back to Vientiane - a city I had yet to explore properly.

Tuk-tuk with the McKinstry sisters

Bangkok to Vang Vieng, Laos

LAOS
It was drizzling when the bus pulled into Vientiane. The overnight bus journey from Bangkok was superb. We had a double-decker bus with only six people on board so there was plenty of room to spread out. After a quick SARS check at the border we were in Laos - the last country for me in South East Asia left undiscovered.

Like India and Bangladesh before, Laos left some very strong first impressions. I teamed up with a young Israeli bloke called Ido and together we walked to the bus depot, via the bank where we both become millionaires. At 10,540 Kip to the dollar it wasn't difficult. At the bus station a tuk-tuk driver convinced us to take a pick-up truck to Vang Vieng instead of the bus because it would only take two and a half hours instead of five. It was only a few cents more so we got him to drive us to the pick-up station and before long we left with only a handful of people on board, plus the compulsory bag of chickens on the roof. Just past the half way point at a town called Phone Hong (sounds like phone home) the pick-up broke down so we had to wait for the next one. The next one was full but we were both squeezed on board. In Laos, no pick-up truck is ever full. I tried to keep from standing on someone’s turkey as I nestled in beside a man in army fatigues for the remainder of the journey. The man’s face was badly burnt, he only had one eye remaining, his left arm was withered and the hand was missing. Every so often he would turn his smooth expressionless face in my direction and stare at me from behind his lidless eye. Occasionally he would belch uncontrollably and then offer an apologetic smile from his permanently open mouth.

Vang Vieng didn't come quick enough - but when it did it was worth the wait. A sleepy town beside a river, surrounded by massive limestone pinnacles, plenty of cheap guesthouses and restaurants showing movies all day long. A perfect place to wind down after a year of travelling.

INNER TUBES
I stayed at a brand new nameless guesthouse in Vang Vieng for 30,000 Kip per night. It sounds like a lot but a three night stay cost just a little over US$8 for a large single room with hot water and a balcony overlooking the main street.

My guesthouse in Vang Vieng

Typical sleepy street in Vang Vieng

Apart from eating and watching movies at restaurants the main attraction of Vang Vieng is the river and the nearby caves. I spent a full day on the Nam Song river in an inner tube, slowly drifting with the current and stopping occasionally to grab a bottle of Beer Lao or explore one of the many caves beside the river. The average trip is supposed to take 2 hours but after hooking up with a New Zealand couple and a Canadian guy the Beer became a priority and the trip extended beyond 7 hours. A few industrious locals had set up make-shift Beer Lao stops along the riverside, usually consisting of a small bamboo platform and a bucket full of ice and Beer Lao.

The inner tube group by the end of our trip

As it does when staying in sleepy towns the time passed too quickly and before I knew it, it was time to move on. For the five-hour trip up to Luang Prabang I bought a seat on the air-conditioned minivan to avoid catching the local bus - which would have taken close to 8 hours.

Chennai, India

WAS MADRAS, NOW CHENNAI
Chennai is another of India's big cities. Only Delhi, Mumbai and Kolkata are bigger. The heatwave in Andhra Pradesh hasn't spread as far south as Chennai but the mercury was still pushing well into the 30s when I was there.

I gave myself two full days in Chennai - the first to book my passage back to Kolkata and the second to explore the city. At the Central Railway Station I booked myself on the 30 hour Coromandel Express to Howrah Station in Kolkata and then at the Indian Airlines office secured a flight from Kolkata to Bangkok. Happy with my progress after day one I spent the evening in front of the television watching just about anything in English. Hindi language TV is perfectly awful. The volume levels of the channels are all different so as you surf through you have to turn the volume up to hear the sound on some channels while others almost blow the speakers, especially if it's some tragic Hindi music number. The programming contains about 30 channels of mindless Hindi movies with song and dance routines in ALL of them. The dancing almost always features 100 people doing the same dance but all of them perfectly out of time with each other. The locals love this stuff, and the louder the better.

The next day I took a walk beside the Kuvam River along Langs Garden Road, a beautifully named thoroughfare lined on one side with some of the most spectacularly ugly buildings on earth, made of concrete and tinted glass, overlooking the river. The other side of the street next to river was lined with slums and populated with what the Indian newspapers would euphemistically call 'economically backward people'. I was mobbed by naked children asking for all sorts of things ranging from a school pen or my sunglasses. Women hung washing over the handrail of the bridge as I stepped over piles of human excrement and puddles of fresh urine. I took some photographs so I could remember the scene but what the photos won't capture is the putrid smell of the river beside the slums. For the first time I can remember I came close to vomiting because of the smell.

I carried on towards Marina Beach but it was so hot that I had to stop every 15 minutes but when I did I was mobbed once more - not by children this time but by flies. The kind that want to land on your eyelids and lips and fly up your nose and into your ears. Before I reached the beach I found Chidambaram Stadium (Chennai's cricket ground) found an open gate leading into the ground and made my way onto the turf where NZ lost to India in 1995. The groundsman was preparing the pitch for a game the following day so I chatted with him for a while and he told of all the great games played here in the past.

The beach was an eye-opener; filthy of course but massive. From the start of the sand it took ten minutes to walk to the surf. Grown men in singlets, some in trousers and some in their underwear, were frolicking in the water acting like small children. The grown men were trampling small children while the women sat fully clothed on the beach admiring the men and fearing for the children. No Baywatch here. There were about 200 people in the water, all males save for a few pre-teen girls. Carts filled with dried fish lined the shore and men selling ice cream relentlessly rang their little bells while everyone ignored them. There were also a few ancient looking carnival rides that looked like death traps.

The beach in Chennai

Bored with the beach I walked back up the main street beside the Bay of Bengal past the Fort towards Parry's but it was much farther than I thought. I ended up jumping on a city bus and got off near the High Court, from there I knew the way back to where I was staying on Kennet Lane, near Egmore Station.

Pondicherry, India

PONDICHERRY
From Madurai I caught a Chennai bound bus but got off after six hours in the town of Villupuram, about 40km west of Pondicherry. The bus ride up to that point was slow but comfortable - the bus ride the rest of the way to Pondicherry was another white-knuckle ride in an overcrowded bus at full speed. At least I managed to secure a seat but I was right behind the driver and his suicidal overtaking manoeuvres where absolutely shocking. Thoughts turned quickly to my life insurance policies - were they paid up? What about my will?

Arriving in Pondicherry was a relief. It was after dark but I decided to walk since the guesthouse I wanted to stay at wasn't very far away. It was full, so was the next one but I found a cheap room at a prison like hotel for the night and settled in. I fell asleep straight away and then woke around midnight to have a shower. No shower in the bathroom - only a tap. I had a quick wash and decided to move hotels the next morning.
I moved to the Amala lodge after breakfast and decided to spend a day looking around town. I don't know if it was because I expected to see lots of beautiful young French women wearing berets and smoking gauloises cigarettes but I was disappointed with Pondicherry, a former French colony. Apart from a few tricolour flags and the occasional 'Rue de la this' or 'Avenue de la that' it was just another Indian town with dirty streets full of ugly concrete half finished buildings.

The Amala Lodge - my room at the top left

Bored with walking, I rented a bicycle in the afternoon and rode north to the progressive international community town of Auroville - 'an experiment in international living where people could live in peace and harmony above all creeds, politics and nationalities'. About 1500 people from over 60 countries live in the area and although it's not a tourist attraction, people come by to look and point much like they do with the Amish. The centre of the community is the Matrimandir, which acts as the spiritual and physical centre of Auroville. It looks like a really big golden golf ball. With a heat wave in southern India I couldn't stand to be outside much longer. On the hour-long ride back to Pondicherry I stopped for water three times, choking on exhaust fumes much of the way.

The Matrimandir at Auroville

Madurai, India

TEMPLE TOWN
Another long day began at 5am when the family in the neighbouring room woke me up with their early morning rituals of spitting, chanting and yelling. When I checked into the guesthouse yesterday afternoon I was the only one there. After I went to bed at 9pm a group of 38 Indian pilgrims joined the guest list. It was impossible to sleep with them around so I watched the ceiling fan and listened to some music.

Later at the bus depot I saw another unique deformity. An older man had a pair of legs with knees that bent the other way, like a flamingo, and he hobbled around using a pole to balance himself. It was disturbing to watch and I guess that was the point but before long the Chennai bound bus turned up and I grabbed the front seat. I had to move my bag around a few times before the ticket collector was happy with it but apart from that the journey was smooth and the bus only half full most of the time. I got off after six hours when we pulled into Madurai - Tamil Nadu's self proclaimed temple town.

Madurai is one of those annoying towns with the bus depot six kilometres from the town centre. At the depot instead of taking a rickshaw I jumped on what looked like a city bound bus and hoped for the best. It's times like this that I wonder why I don't just pay the extra and get taken straight to a guesthouse. The bus was crowded, I was sweating still wearing my 20kg backpack and everyone was amused by the fact that I was obviously lost. After taking a gamble and jumping off I discovered that I was right where I needed to be - on one of the Veli streets. In the 1840s the British East India Company destroyed the city fort and filled in the moat. Four broad streets - the Veli streets north, south, east and west - were constructed on top of the fill and today define the limits of the old city. I passed a few interesting looking guesthouses including one called Hotel Excellent, which reminded me of my sister-in-law Julie. I could hear her saying 'excellent' over in my head followed by a little chuckle. I settled for the New College House, room 540, a massive hotel which I think should be renamed Hotel Ordinary. The counter staff promised me a television in my room but the excitement wore off when the floor attendant told me that it didn't work. No matter - nothing to watch anyway.

The Sri Meenakshi Temple in Madurai

Madurai is a popular pilgrimage place for Hindu's. Really you could say that about every second town in India given the volume of Indian tourists that do the circuit, but the Sri Meenakshi Temple is a classic Hindu temple decorated with images of gods, goddesses, animals and mythical figures and seething with pilgrims, tourists and the mandatory touts. I spent an hour or so wandering around the grounds, trying to avoid the crowds before the sun went down, then retreated to the main street for a cup of chai.

Blessed

Tomorrow I'll try and get as far as Pondicherry but the connections from here aren't very good. It would be much easier to go all the way to Chennai. Sometimes a challenge is good though.

Colombo to Kanyakumari

TAMIL NADU
I'm lying face down on my bed under the ceiling fan at four in the afternoon. The fan slows and finally stops. The lights don't turn on when I flick the switch. The power has just gone out. It's 33c outside and about the same in my room. I put my shirt on and walk outside, turning right at the end of the street onto Main Road. 200 metres later Main Road ends and I'm standing in the bathing ghats of Cape Comorin - the southern most point in India. In front of me the Arabian Sea meets the Bay of Bengal. A few hundred metres off-shore to my left is a massive statue of Swami Vivekananda, a religious crusader, looking towards the mainland. The sea breeze helps to cool a little but it's still hot and muggy with no clouds in sight. Standing here I can't help but think of the overland trip from Calcutta, up into Nepal and then all the way here via bus and train, except for a brief foray into Sri Lanka from Trivandrum. I don't want to congratulate myself too much just yet as I still have to negotiate my way back up the east coast to Calcutta again, but it's a good feeling standing where I am. It’s easy to find on the map too.

Statue of Swami Vivekananda, Kanyakumari

It's been a long day, starting from Negombo at 4am with a bus to near the airport. I say near the airport because although the destination on the front of the bus said 'airport' I still had to walk for about 30 minutes to get inside the complex. After a long check-in and a brief flight I had to wait two hours at the Trivandrum bus depot for the next bus heading south so I didn't make Kanyakumari until late in the afternoon. Although I had planned on catching another bus north to Madurai to finish the day I felt exhausted and thought it would be best to call it a day. I've only been back in India for half a day but it's taking its toll already. Tomorrow night I'll be in Madurai, the following night in Pondicherry then Chennai.

Galle & Unawatuna

SIGHTSEEING IN COLOMBO
Back in Colombo a few hours later I explored a few of the sites using the public buses - the Government residences, Galle Face Green, the SSC Cricket Ground and the shopping centre at Majestic City. When I got to the Fort railway station I ran into another familiar face - not a traveler but a local. Last time I saw him he startled me a little with his huge shock of thick black hair, wispy mustache and teeth stained red from chewing betel. He is a mute, which I figured out after much grunting and pointing, mainly on my part. He works for the tourist information centre at the station and his job is to point (literally) tourists in the right direction, namely to the tourist information centre or counter number 4, where people who have no idea how to queue Sri Lankan style should go to get their ticket. My friend saw me as I walked away from the counter with ticket in hand and gave me the thumbs up when he saw that I had managed to figure it out on my own. I made a point of going to the tourist information centre to let them know what a great job he was doing. He was truly a genuine chap and wouldn't accept any kind of tip - not even a swig of water from my bottle.

Chased by an elephant

THE DRAGON OF GALLE FORT
Off the train in Galle I found a quiet guesthouse near the Neptune Bastion inside the Fort and watched the sunset. As the afternoon drifted into the evening the sky turned pink, then a brilliant red as the sun sank into the Indian Ocean and the waves continued their relentless assault on the unforgiving rocks.

In the morning I ate breakfast beside the sea at the Rampart Hotel then walked anti-clockwise around the top of the Fort walls past Flag Rock and the lighthouse. All around the perimeter were couples hiding under umbrellas - out of the hot sun and away from prying eyes. At the main gate I found a nice grassy area sloping down towards the cricket ground and the city so I lay down, using my bag as a pillow, and gazed at the view. I was thinking about how open the cricket ground was when a man approached me with a box of old coins he was looking to offload. He had some old Dutch coins from the 18th century so I bought a few of them and we chatted for a few minutes. He took much pride in telling me that Sri Lanka once beat New Zealand in a test here inside three days. I wasn't surprised. He left so I closed my eyes and hitched my shorts up to get some sun on my legs.

Shortly afterwards someone else walked up behind me as I lay still. With my eyes closed I blurted out a quick 'hullow' and waited for a reply - but none came. Knowing that someone was standing behind me I opened my eyes and slowly turned my head away from the sun to see a 3-foot monitor lizard sitting not 6 feet from me with his head propped up looking over his domain, which included me. At this stage I weighed up my options; two strategies entered my head simultaneously. The first comes from my old friend Pillow and is generally used for getting in to and out of scuffles late at night in Wellington - curl into a ball and squeal like a pig. The second comes from a South Park episode and is especially useful for natural disasters such as avalanches and lava flows - duck and cover. What I ended up doing was a typical Ian reaction when faced with imminent danger. I screamed like a girl. But before a sound came from my mouth the lizard quickly shuffled away. There was a chance that he was more startled than I was, but it was only a slim chance. Not wanting any further surprises I decided to stay on my feet for a while. I carried on walking around the Fort and saw another three lizards after that but none as big as the one that disturbed my slumber. Thoughts turned to the six-foot lizard I saw with the Beige Brigade last week near the Elephant Orphanage.

Sunset over the Indian Ocean

The Galle Cricket Ground

UNAWATUNA BEACH
The moon shaped beach at Unawatuna is a charming place packed with friendly restaurants and guesthouses with names like Pink Elephant, Happy Coconut, Banana Garden and Heaven on Earth. Unlike Hikkaduwa the street behind the beach is quiet and the surf is relatively calm. The beach itself is lined with massive King Coconut palms weighed down with large orange-coloured drinking coconuts called 'Thambili'.

Unawatuna beach

When I arrived at the beach one of the hawkers was trying to sell some wooden masks to a German couple. The man was trying to walk away, obviously disinterested, but after being continuously hounded finally turned and yelled "Do you know what it is means no?" in a thick German accent, to which the hawker replied "No" and continued with the mask routine. I managed to take a wide berth around them and chuckled at what is a more than familiar reaction from a weary traveler. I have been guilty of being that abrupt in the past, although I have always done so with perfect English.

I spent two days unwinding at the Sunset Inn, an intriguing name given that you can't see the sunset from there or anywhere else in Unawatuna for that matter. For much of the time I either sat on the beach or outside my room writing postcards and looking for monitor lizards in the back garden. The choice of seafood at the beachfront restaurants was varied and over the course of a few meals I tried Seer, Cuttlefish (Calamari) twice and lobster. Breakfast was supplied as part of my stay at Sunset and included fresh pineapple, papaya, coffee and partially toasted toast, also known as bread. The Sunset Inn owns the weakest toaster on the planet. It was a pleasant place to while away a couple of days but I wanted to return to Colombo for some last minutes shopping before flying back to India.

POST OFFICE COMEDY
A few weeks ago in Rajasthan I bought a large Rajasthani wall rug weighing about 3kg. Today I decided to send it home to free up some space in my backpack to make room for some new clothes that Sara had sent me in Sri Lanka. After breakfast I wandered down to the local Post Office with the rug in a plastic bag and walked up to the parcel post window where a woman was there to greet me. She inspected the rug and then told me I needed a box. I pointed to an empty one behind the counter and asked if that one would do. She said it was okay but I needed some wrapping paper and some twine. "Do you have any here?" I asked, but she told me to go across the road to the shopping centre and buy some there. Across the street I found all manner of birthday wrapping paper and eventually some plain brown paper and a roll of wonder tape. Outside the shopping was an old man sitting on the ground with one hand missing, begging for money. I stopped, opened my bag and gave him my trusty green t-shirt - the one I had worn religiously for the past year. It was clean but a little worn. That didn't seem to bother the old man as his face lit up with a big beaming smile. Back at the Post Office the clerk switched the rug to a smaller box and I started wrapping it in brown paper. After about 11 seconds another clerk took the box from me and insisted on doing it himself. Five others joined the clerk and together they worked feverishly for half an hour. The end result was a shabby looking thing with wonder tape and flaps of paper hanging off at the corners. I nervously wrote Sara's address in Chicago on one side and my name and guesthouse address on the bottom. I also wrote 'Sea Mail' in big letters on the top. After filling out the customs forms and having the box weighed (3kg even) I went to the stamp counter and purchased 1,670 rupees (US$16) worth of stamps - no fewer than 23 stamps. Where was I supposed to put them? I looked at the pile of stamps and the box and wondered how I was going to get them all on properly. Again the box was whisked away from me before I could start and the same packaging team covered the box with stamps on the front back and all the sides. It looked so ridiculous that I had them pose with the box when they had finished while I took a photograph. It was covered in stamps, wonder tape, glue, some kind of Sri Lankan export stamp and finished off with complimentary twine. I looked at the box as they took it away wondering if I would ever see it again.
"Will it get there in time for Christmas?" I asked.
"Christmas this year? Maybe." came the reply.

Dambulla for the cricket

VESAK
It passed by without incident, apart from a two-hour bus journey during which I was forced to stand the entire way. The Sri Lankans celebrated Vesak (the festival of lights and lanterns) while I treated myself to Kentucky Fried Chicken (KFC). The elephants were out in full force, covered in elaborate costumes and decorated somewhat haphazardly. Yesterday was one year since Sara and I packed up our apartment and drove out of Dallas. So much has happened in that time and there is still much to be done before it's over. We have agreed that June 30th is the end date - I'll be back in Chicago by then, and we'll both be in London about a month after that.

Decorated elephant 

BACK TO THE CRICKET
After a brief stop in Colombo to refresh my CD collection and have a hot shower I went back to tiny Dambulla to watch the last of the cricket games. New Zealand beat Sri Lanka in a thrilling match and I met five other London-based Kiwi's, all from my hometown in New Zealand - Tim, Shane, Carey, Grant & Tane. As it turns out I knew two of them from University but hadn't been good at keeping in touch. They had come to Sri Lanka to watch some cricket and in doing so had been to a local tailor to have replica kits of the 1980's New Zealand cricket team made.

In New Zealand fans who wear the 1980's kit are known as the 'Beige Brigade' after the colour of the strip. The following day we lost to Pakistan but the New Zealand team had already booked themselves a place in the final against Pakistan two days later. I returned with the Beige Brigade to their hotel in Negombo (north of Colombo) and spent a few days with them before making the return trip to Dambulla for the final - this time I had my own beige outfit and we were six. The final was a memorable game with New Zealand looking strong throughout and winning quite easily. By far the highlight of the Sri Lankan section of the trip was getting to pose in photographs with the team and the trophy they had just captured. For a keen fan like myself there is nothing to compare with getting that close to the action. Many of the team members thanked us for our support and the coach, Dennis Aberhart, made a point of coming over to talk to us after the players had left the field.

With the New Zealand cricket team after winning the final

Posing with the sponsors, including the motorbike Brendon McCullum won

ONE MORE WEEK
I have another seven nights in Sri Lanka so I will use this time to visit one of the fine coastal cities, Galle, before returning to Colombo to do some shopping. With just over a month to go it's now time to start stocking up on goodies for family, friends and myself. I'll be back in India for a short time and then back to Thailand before flying home.

BRING BACK BEIGE
The Beige Boys headed back to London early (4am) on Monday 26th May so I graciously stayed on in one of their hotel rooms until a more reasonable hour before taking the back exit on to the beach and down to Negombo town. As far as Browns Beach holiday resort knows, Ian Warner never stayed there for 5 nights on the floor in Tane and Carey's room. I was a ghost. Thanks guys.

Dambulla & Hikkaduwa, Sri Lanka

DAMBULLA

We had a great time in Dambulla at the cricket. New Zealand outplayed Pakistan in their first match then lost a close one to Sri Lanka a few days later. In the rest day we went to see the impressive Cave Temples in town and then climbed the ancient fortress atop a massive rock in Sigiriya, 22km from Dambulla. After climbing Adams Peak a few days earlier, Sigiriya didn't seem that much of a challenge but with tight calves in the midday heat it was still very difficult. The ascent takes you past some well preserved erotic frescoes of Sigiriya damsels, a shiny wall with 1500 year old graffiti and through a giant set of lions paws carved from rock. The summit was blustery but being a strong Wellington lad I was able to cope with the wind better than my Hawkes Bay and Auckland companions. The views were fantastic despite the low lying cloud.

Dambulla is nestled in an area known as the 'Golden Triangle' because of the abundance of natural wonders and ancient ruins. After the loss to Sri Lanka we created our own golden triangle of 15 bottles of Carlsberg's at the local 'Arrack and Parrott' pub.

NZ & Pakistan flags at the cricket in Sri Lanka

Plantains

CINNAMON GARDENS

Now I find myself in Sri Lanka's bustling capital city, Colombo. With attractive suburb names like Hulftsdorp, Slave Island and Cinnamon Gardens it always sounded somewhat romantic. And it is in a way. I'm staying at a house next door to the French Embassy in Cinnamon Gardens - a quiet leafy part of town with some lovely stately homes. The house is a wonderful example of modern architecture with large open spaces, long horizontal lines and sweeping staircases. One entire wall of my room is windowed with views over the garden and courtyard below. The opposite wall is only three quarters of the height of the ceiling but high enough to allow complete privacy. It's like something Frank Lloyd Wright could of dreamed up. I'm not long there though as this afternoon I catch the train to Hikkaduwa to have a few days on the beach before returning to Dambulla for the last of the cricket matches.

Gorakpur to Agra, India

ALONE AGAIN, NATURALLY
In Gorakpur I bought a ticket on a train for Lucknow, and another ticket for a sleeper from Lucknow through to Agra. That was the plan, but it didn't quite happen exactly like that. I had no seat number for the Lucknow bound train so I stumbled around a few carriages before finding some space to put my bags and myself and settled in with my newspaper. The man next to me was extremely friendly, asking a few questions and telling me a little of himself. Today was his four-year wedding anniversary so he was heading home to see his wife after working out of town for a few weeks. As we talked he bought me chai and masala flavoured potato chips and I noticed that many other people were listening to our conversations and smiling a lot when I looked over at them. Although I really wanted to either read the newspaper or lie down and take a rest the hospitality shown to me was heard to refuse so I sat and passed the time before the man got off about 3 hours outside of Gorakpur. No sooner had he vacated the seat next to me than it was filled again with one of the smiling faces from the carriage. Ravi was some kind of government worker with a slew of friends in tow, each crowding around to hear what I had to say. Ravi was very curious fellow but his questions didn't follow much of a pattern. "What is your country? Who is your favourite Indian actor? Should Ganguly be dropped from the Indian cricket team? What is your e-mail address? What was your mothers name before she married your father?"

For the next three hours Ravi bombarded me with question after question. I had no peace with him around except for the brief periods when he would go to the bathroom or do something elsewhere in the carriage. He got off a little before Lucknow but again was quickly replaced with one of his friends.
"You are very handsome and very strong. Where will you take dinner tonight?" the new man said sliding his hand on to my leg and inching closer.
"I don't know where I will take dinner tonight." I said nervously.
"You will take dinner with me. Take your bags, we will get off at the next station."
"Oh, I'm not very hungry, thanks though."
I had a tough time getting rid of this one. I didn't catch his name and didn't really care too much. By this time I had been travelling for 24 hours with no sleep and I didn't feel like chatting about nothing again. All I really wanted to do was sit on my own and relax in peace. Finally I got off at Lucknow and fumbled around the station looking for my next train. Of all people to ask I approached the chai seller from the train and asked him where to catch the train to Agra. He said that the train I was already on goes through Agra so just stay put and he will bring me more tea. So I did. I stayed on the train knowing full well that the ticket in my hand was for the Marudhar Express leaving at 11.55pm - it was only 9pm now. Luckily the train had emptied so I found a free upper berth sleeper and chained by bags to the railing and drifted off to sleep. At about 3am the ticket officer came through to check the tickets and he didn't seem to care that I was on the wrong train. I must of looked pretty pathetic sleeping on my bag with my alarm clock set to wake me at 5am in time for the arrival into Agra Fort station. I was prepared to bribe him should he make a fuss but it never came to that. I was confused as to why the ticket attendant in Gorakpur didn't sell me a ticket on the direct train - there was plenty of room, by Indian standards. But then again, this is India and often things are not meant to make sense.

At Agra Fort Station I bought a newspaper that I pretended to read in order to distract the attention of the relentless wave of rickshaw wallahs before finally catching a ride to one of the recommended guesthouses between the Taj Mahal and the Fort. I planned to walk but I relented because I was so tired. The first thing I did when I got inside my room was close the door, lean on the back of it and look around wide-eyed. Alone again. It was 6.20am. It took me 36 hours to get here from Kathmandu and I needed to sleep.

Kathmandu, Nepal to Gorakpur, India

LEAVING THE ROCK BEHIND
For the past month or more I've been travelling with Ross Sendall from Australia. Nicknamed 'Rock' for his reliability, he has been a joy to travel with. Since January I've been lucky to have spent some quality time with D'Arcy in Burma, Beppe briefly in India and now Rock. It's great to be able to travel around this planet and see what it has to offer but it's hard when you build such good friendships and leave prematurely. Hopefully one day I will see each of them again but whatever happens they are a part of this trip and part of the memories I will take with me forever.

VOLLEYBALL AND BUS SEATS
My seat on the overnight bus from Kathmandu to the Indian border wasn't connected to the floor properly so every time the driver braked or changed gears I was thrown into the back of the seat in front of me. During the course of the night this happened about six and a half thousand times so I arrived in Sanauli at 6am feeling like I'd just done a couple of rounds with Mike Tyson. I got used to the seat thing after a while but I never got used to the guy next to me with the rubberneck who tried to use my shoulder a pillow all night. We didn't get along very well because every time he snuggled in for the night I used his head like a volleyball and sent it back over the imaginary net running between our seats with the pointy part of my shoulder. I'm not sure which of us looked worse when we stepped off the bus but I won the volleyball match. As bad as I felt though I knew that this was only the start of a very long journey back into the heart of India. I was determined to make Agra by tomorrow morning, no matter what it took. During the journey my thoughts often drifted to my brother and sister-in-law, Jeff and Julie, travelling in Japan. While I was enduring the seat that wouldn't keep still they were probably hurtling across the countryside in the bullet train, fully reclined sipping tea and eating sushi. I wasn't bitter at all.

I threw down some breakfast and retraced my steps of a month earlier back past the Nepal exit/entry booth, over the imaginary line into India and up to the immigration desk. "New Zealand. We beat you in the Cricket World Cup." The officer said thumbing through my passport, stopping when he found the Indian visa. "Yes I know. How did you go against Australia in the final?" I asked, knowing that India had been well beaten by a better team. I shouldn't of asked because we spent the next 20 minutes talking about the Indian team, who I liked and didn't like, the coach, the captain - it went on and on. I was too tired for this but eventually I got my passport back and stumbled onto a bus headed for Gorakpur, about 100km south of the border, and argued briefly with the luggage man about an imaginary charge for my backpack.

Kathmandu, Nepal

KATHMANDU
After the relative serenity of Pokhara I found Kathmandu a little overwhelming at first. The main tourist area of Thamel is teeming with tourists, cars, cycle rickshaws, tourist shops and locals all jostling for position on the narrow streets. Hawkers try to palm off pots of Tiger Balm, hashish, bracelets and all manner of things while artfully dodging the traffic and the potholes. Many people had said that Kathmandu was a welcome relief after a few months in India but my first impressions were that it was just as manic. A few days later though I changed my mind as I became comfortable with the streets and began to find good places to eat, shop and waste the hours away. Our digs was a place called Elite for Rs100 a night.

For a few days Ross and I walked around some of the tourist attractions in the city - Durbar Square just south of Thamel, Patan the so called 'City of Beauty' just south of the filthy Bagmati river, the Buddhist temple on top of the hill at Swayambhunath known as the 'monkey temple', the sacred Hindu area of Pashupatinath where bodies are publicly cremated in the same way as Varanasi, and the huge peaceful stupa at Boudha.

Four days was not nearly long enough in Kathmandu but it was time I got back into India and continued my way south towards Sri Lanka. Tonight I'm catching the overnight bus back to the India/Nepali border at Sanauli and then continuing to Gorakhpur where I should be able to catch a train further west towards Agra and the Taj Mahal.

Pokhara, Nepal

SECOND BREAKFAST
Made famous by the Hobbits in Lord of the Rings, second breakfast became a way of life for us on the Annapurna Trek. On many occasions we started the day with porridge which got us through the first few hours but by mid-morning we were usually looking for something more - a second breakfast. Second breakfast was usually taken at a more leisurely pace than first breakfast mainly because we were a little weary from the early morning walk. The food choices were a little thin but it was usually the time to try some soup or fried macaroni - anything to provide the energy for the next few hours.

PORTERS
The porters who carry supplies up and down the Annapurna circuit work tirelessly. Many of them carry enormous loads in their large woven baskets that they call Doko. The shoulder straps are usually made from twine and dig into the shoulders but the majority of the weight is taken on the head. Leather or cloth strips are placed on top of the head and another length of twine called a Tumpline is used to support the load on the back. Strong neck muscles are needed to do this for any length of time. Two to three minutes was my limit. These guys do it for hours a day, day after day.

PRAYER WHEELS
During the trek Travis got addicted to prayer wheels. Higher in the Annapurna circuit the villages show more Tibetan influence, not least by the scores of prayer wheels at the entrance points and the many Tibetan Monasteries (Gompas). Passing each cluster of prayer wheels Travis made sure to turn each one ensuring that the mantra inscribed on each one was 'said' as the wheel spins. I enjoyed spinning the wheels as well but a few of the rows contained close to a hundred wheels and I didn't always bother to do them all. Trav took it very seriously ensuring he recited his own mantra as well - Happiness, Good Fortune, Love and Peace. He must of missed one because war broke out in Iraq while we were away.

DAL BHAT
Dal Bhat is the national dish of Nepal and consists of rice, lentil soup and curried vegetables, usually potatoes. Occasionally you can get a non-vegetarian Dal Bhat with some chewy Yak meat but the vegetarian option is the most popular. The best thing about ordering Dal for dinner is that it just keeps on coming until you say stop - more rice, more soup, more vegetables. Another good option are the Buff Momos. Momos are parcels meat or vegetable wrapped in dough and steamed, similar to Chinese dim sum or American pot stickers. Buff is short for water buffalo, the obvious alternative for beef since the cow is sacred and cannot (in theory) be eaten.

LITTLE ISRAEL
I didn't pay much attention to it at the time but I noticed that there were a lot of Koreans in Calcutta, especially around Sudder Street where I was staying. One night at the guesthouse I shared half a bottle of Bagpiper Whiskey with a young Korean man celebrating his 20th birthday. It was possibly the worst whiskey I have ever tasted but it didn't help that he used Pepsi Blue as the mixer. I should have taken it straight.

There were many Koreans in Calcutta but it's nothing compared to the masses of Israelis in Pokhara. They are everywhere, complaining about this and that with their big hair and angry faces. Many of the shops have signs in Hebrew to cater just to them, but many other shops and guesthouses prefer not to deal with them. One shopkeeper explained to me that he deliberately charges outrageous prices for Israelis in the hope that they will stay away. "My life is very simple." He said, "I don't need Israeli people making it difficult for me." When I asked him why he told me that many of them are abusive and argumentative to the point where he refuses to do business with them.

THE LAUGHING BUDDHA
D'Arcy had been in Pokhara last October and, knowing that I was there, he sent me an e-mail telling me to go and see Tej and Isore, the owners of the laughing Buddha Restaurant at the north end of town. I went along and said that I was a friend of someone they might remember and described John in the usual way but without using his name - tall man, red hair, he's from Wales, very funny. They didn't recognise who I was describing so I produced my digital camera and showed them a photo of John and I together in Burma last month. They both looked for a while at the photo and then at each other, "John?" they said in unison pointing at the camera, and then collapsed into the nearest chair in laughter. "Oh, we remember John", said Isore. Over the next few days I ate every meal at the Laughing Buddha. One day I spent four hours there for breakfast, reading the newspapers and talking with Tej and Ross, then took Tej's boat out on the lake for a few hours, returning in time to spend another three hours at dinner.

POKHARA
After a week in Pokhara enjoying the simple pleasures of life and recovering from the trek and the associated illnesses that came along with it, Ross and myself made a move towards Kathmandu. It was sad leaving Pokhara behind and bidding farewell to the people who had kept me company during my stay. There was the 'something' women next to the guesthouse, who tirelessly suggested I buy 'something' from their stalls every time I passed. Something, anything - they didn't care. "Business is slow, I need lucky money", they would say. There was Mann at the guesthouse who timidly suggested that I get my haircut at his friends' salon each time I came to the reception. The Tibetan women who paraded up and down the main street selling bracelets and necklaces - "Just look okay?" they would say. I would look but I rarely bought. Mostly I just wanted to talk to them to pass the time of day. There was Garrick the Dutch explorer with badly cracked feet who we met on the Annapurna circuit and Mike from Calgary who carried ten bottles of Apple Brandy from Marpha for six days because he was convinced you couldn't buy any in Pokhara. He was wrong but his wonderful eccentricity and naivety was a welcome relief. He would sometimes come up with the most absurd facts like "Did you know you can starve to death by eating just celery?" It's because the body uses more energy breaking it down than it receives in nutritional value. One night at dinner Ross and I were talking over the draw for the upcoming Rugby World Cup and looking at the teams in each group. For the first time Georgia has qualified for the finals and seeing this Mike said "How did Georgia get into the World Cup? It's not a country"
"Oh it is now. Georgia ceded from the Union when war broke out." I lied.
"Really?"
"Yeah. Georgia and Texas. But Georgia was the only one with a good rugby team."
"Boy. I've been in the mountains for too long."
"You sure have." I said with a wry smile.
At 6.30am Ross and I bundled our way out of the guesthouse and into a taxi headed for the tourist bus park. Before we left I looked over at the stall next to the guesthouse. "Something?" said a bright voice. "No, nothing, thank you. See you next time." And with that we were gone.

The Annapurna Circuit

FIVE AND A HALF KILOMETERS IN THE SKY - THE ANNAPURNA CIRCUIT
The Annapurna circuit is one of the most popular treks in Nepal, more popular even than the Everest Base Camp trek. I have put my experiences down in words but most of them don't do it justice. The scenery and the range of emotions is very hard to put into words for me. It reads like a diary but I didn't know any better way to explain the feeling of trekking in the Nepali mountains.

THE CAST

Ebbe, Travis, Thea, Ross & Myself

DAY ONE - Pokhara (820m) to Ngadi (930m)
Ross and I got up before 6am and took our excess baggage to the storage room at the hotel. The tourist bus station was deserted when we arrived but it slowly filled up with people headed in various directions. The bus to Besisahar left with only three people on board - Me, Ross and Travis, a thritysomething ex-Star Bucks manager from Oregon. The bus ride was very long, over 5 hours, and included a stop to change a flat tire. By the end of the trip the bus was overcrowded with many people holding on to the railing while hanging out the door. Instead of starting the walk from Besisahar we walked to the bus station at the far end of town, after signing in at the local ACAP office, and caught a bus to Khudi. We could of walked to Khudi quicker than it took the bus to drive us there. We got stuck in sand after about 3 minutes and it too us an hour to get out and then refill the divot left behind. The weather was nice though and we got to ride on top of the bus and take in the fantastic views. At Khudi we asked the way to Bhulbhule, the next village, and headed off up the valley across the river. At 3.30pm after walking for about 90 minutes we came across some guesthouses on the outskirts of Ngadi and managed to negotiate Rs50 for the three of us to stay for the night - about 20c each. Apart from staying in my nephew's room in Harbour View, this is the cheapest accommodation of the entire trip so far.

Ross & I at the very first bridge

 Difficult to ride a bike up these steps

 
DAY TWO - Ngadi (930m) to Shree Chour (1,100m)
We had breakfast at 7am and I was a little sick afterwards, nothing to do with the altitude as we were still below 1000m maybe caused by the food instead. At 8am we set out on a nice flat plain at first but then the trail climbed steeply to Bahundanda at 1100m. When we finally made it to the town we saw a sign that read '60 steps you won't regret' and an arrow pointing straight up further. Although we were jaded from the climb we went the extra distance and weren't disappointed. The gorge was littered with rice terraces and we could see the river snaking away from us towards Ghermu. The sun was hot as we set off after lunch but by the time we reached Ghermu the clouds closed in and it began to rain. We were close to Syange, which is where we wanted to stop for the night, so we pushed on through the rain and past Syange which didn't look like a good option to stay at. Another 30 minutes up the trail we found a guesthouse all on its own at a place called Shree Chour and decided to stay there. Just as we settled in for the evening the rain became much heavier and continued through much of the night. The guesthouse was great though and the proprietor let us watch India beat Sri Lanka in the world cup on television.

Rice terraces of Bahundanda

Taking a break near Bahundanda

DAY THREE - Shree Chour (1,100m) to Karte (1,850m)
Breakfast of porridge again and out on the trail by 7.30am. We had a long day planned because we wanted to get past the recommended destination and push on further towards Chame, which we hoped to make by tomorrow night. It started with a short steep climb to Jagat and then a gradual climb up to Chamje, where we stopped for lunch and watched as a group of runners finished the first leg of the Around Annapurna race. The next portion of the trail went up steeply to Tal and took us close to 2 hours to complete. At Tal we checked in with the ACAP office and by that stage I think each of us wanted to stay there the night but as a group we decided to push on further in the hope of reaching Dharapani. Along the way we saw signs proudly advertising 'Rooms with attached roof' or menus with 'Hot and Shower Soup'. It was starting to become obvious that the further we walked up the valley the more simple the accommodation and the smaller the menu. At times we all cursed our packs and questioned why we bought what we did but every time we thought we had it bad we looked at some of the porters who tirelessly carry heavy loads everyday. One man we saw had a cane basket filled with various thing and two mountain bikes strapped to his back. Another was carrying a massive metal stove complete with flu and possibly firewood as well. Close to 5pm we crossed the river and arrived in Karte and all decided that we had done enough. Two Danes, Thea Carlsberg and Ebbe Tuborg, had arrived a few minutes before us so all five of us bargained for beds at the same guesthouse. Again it was only Rs20 each for the night.

DAY FOUR - Karte (1,850m) to Chame (2,670m)
The Danes set out before us since we were messing around brushing our teeth and packing and repacking our gear. It was a quick easy walk to Dharapani and then through Bagarchhap to Danagyu where we stopped for an unmemorable lunch. By noon we moved on to Timang Besi but it started to rain, lightly at first but then very heavy. Before long we found ourselves in a small restaurant with the Danes again and one of the many groups of Israeli's attempting to make it over the pass by sheer weight of numbers. This was the group that Ross and I had met in Pokhara a week earlier but as is the norm with Israeli's they ignored us completely until they needed a light for a cigarette. The rain didn't last long and we pressed on towards Lata Marang and through pine forests to Thanchok and finally Koto Qupar where myself, Ross, Travis and the Danes signed the ACAP checkpoint book. Late in the afternoon we walked into Chame, spinning prayer wheels along the way. We had just completed three days of the circuit route in two days so we were all feeling tired but very satisfied with what we had done. It would make the next few days a lot easier and allow us an extra day to acclimatise when oxygen levels would become a factor. Unfortunately soon after reaching Chame I received the dreadful news that Australia had just beaten New Zealand in the cricket would cup which bought me down from any kind of high that I was experiencing.

Chame is a busy little place with many stores selling chocolate and warm clothes. You would of thought by the look in my face that I had just returned from two years in the wilderness. It had only been four days but in that time I had come to regret not bringing many things that I could buy here and bringing things that I really shouldn't of. I stocked up on Tang drink mix, Snickers and a pair of boots that could take me over the pass.

The hotel in Chame was the first to advertise hot showers so Travis, Ebbe, myself and Ross (in that order) all had a turn under what turned out to be an ever cooling stream of tepid water - but at least it wasn't cold, not when I had my turn anyway. A warmish shower is never good but the real test came after the shower was over. The air was freezing so it was all that we could do to dry and dress ourselves as quickly as possible before getting too cold. Ebbe got so cold that he began doing laps around the town to get his blood circulating again. Most of us just stood there wide-eyed and shivering, wearing just about everything we had. If the shower was disappointing then dinner made up for it. Thea and I stuck to the mainstream but Ebbe decided to have the Yak steak - which is cured and dried much like jerky - while Ross and Travis had the never ending Dal Bhat which we all tried at one stage during the meal. We had electricity and music which made for a fun evening. Tomorrow we planned for a light day to Pisang but like many plans they don't always go the way they should.

The Annapurnas from Chame

DAY FIVE - Chame (2,670m) to Upper Pisang (3,300m)
Today is the first day above 3,000m. Before leaving Chame we all stocked up with warm weather gear - waterproof pants, gators, gloves etc - and looked forward to a quick easy day. After a long morning walk we stopped in Bhratang for lunch and then climbed steeply up to Dhukure Pokhari stopping many times along the way. We took the time we had to take photographs and mess around as much as we could but the climb was hard work and we all felt hard done by since the map claimed it was pretty flat. After Dhukure a massive valley opened out in front of us and for the first time in many days we saw vast tracts of flat land. We joked with a few porters about the way to Pisang - left or right side of the river - they all said take the right side, although none of them did. We didn't plan on going to Upper Pisang but that's where we ended up late in the afternoon after a rapid fire 300m vertical rise in less than an hour from the bridge over the river. Lower Pisang was 100m below us so rather than give back some of that altitude back we thought it best to stay in Upper. The only option in the ghost-like Upper Pisang was the Bimala Lodge, a rustic mud brick contraption with a couple of dimly lit rooms connected by ladders to two very bright bedrooms both only slightly larger than the beds that occupied them. It was a very simple set up but if we wanted to stay up this high then we didn't have any other options.

One of the scree slopes we had to navigate

 Upper Pisang

Travis convinced everyone to stay after some early doubts and it ended up being a good choice. We had the hotel to ourselves and the five of us played word games all night as the old ladies cooked dinner for us around the indoor fireplace. As we sat around the fireplace I joked that for a short day it was a pretty long day.
I thought it strange that I should be the only one out of the five of us to have a headache. At the time I was worried that I would be the first to succumb to AMS and at a very low altitude but I would find out in the following days exactly what that headache was leading to.

DAY SIX - Upper Pisang (3,300m) to Lower Pisang (3,200m)
We all slept in but my headache persisted into the next day. Just to be safe Ross and I decided to stay in Lower Pisang the next night and meet back with everyone the following morning. Travis had planned to take an acclimatisation day around this height anyway so we had a day to mess around if we all wanted to stick together. We had loosely agreed a few days earlier that the five of us should all attempt the pass together but to do that we had to take care of ourselves going up to the launching point so that we could do it without any problems. Ross and I had an uneventful night with the grumpy hotel owner who claimed he had BBC on TV but never let us watch.

DAY SEVEN - Lower Pisang (3,200m) to Braga (3,360m)
I woke up unaware that it was my birthday. Oh how sad. Ross and I walked up 100m to Upper Pisang to join the others. Today we were going to take the high road to Braga - a route that would take us up to over 3,800m but leave us at Braga only 60m higher than the starting point. The reason for this is - great views, walking in the sunshine and a natural acclimatisation hike. The book says to walk high and sleep low so that's what we were doing today. Above 3,500m altitude begins to play a big part so we had to be careful to temper any lofty goals with that in mind.
By lunch we had reached Ghyaru with the most fantastic views of the Annapurna range. On the walk up we saw no fewer than three avalanches as the hot sun melted the snow on the other side of the river. It was about then that I realised it was my birthday so at one of the drink stops along the next stretch I told the others that today I turned 31. It was nice and low key and very much in contrast to the surprise party that Sara threw for my 30th birthday a year ago. Thoughts turned towards my friends and family more than they had before, and they kept me company over the next few hours as we headed for Braga.

The view from lunch at Ghyaru

We had a long traverse across to Ngawal, a small town clinging to the side of the hill, and then a long boring walk slowly down to Mungji. Travis drove the group from the front and just kept on going through barren charmless hillside for about two hours - it felt like four though. We didn't talk at all during that time and I don't think we stopped once.

Reaching Braga was another great milestone and a relief. The Dutch doctor we met on the way up recommended the New Yak Hotel and that was the first place we saw as we entered town. There was never any doubt that we would stay there but we bargained hard for the room rate and managed to get a bed for Rs20 each again. The rooms were very nice with a hot shower downstairs and a nice restaurant with a wood burning stove at one end to sit and congregate around. The stove was a nice place to dry wet clothes but before we would leave this place Travis would lose a pair of socks to the stove.

Prayer wheels

Travis and Ross surprised me with a birthday chocolate cake after dinner and we played a new game that I invented during the day called 'Danish, No Danish' in which the Danes gave us a word in Danish and we had to pick the meaning from three alternatives. Simple but quite hilarious. We scored a point if we guessed correctly, they scored a point if we didn't. The Danes won the five round match 3-2.

DAY EIGHT - ACCLIMATISATION DAY Braga (3,360m)
We planned on two nights in Braga so that we could spend a full day acclimatising to the altitude. In the morning we decided to walk up towards the Ice Lake which is directly up the mountain from Braga at around 4,600m. It would do our bodies good to walk up to that altitude and then sleep back down in Braga below. Thea and Travis walked about half way to the lake but Ross and I almost made it. By our rough estimates we stopped about 200m under the lake because we were both getting tired very easily and the snow was making it very tough to make quick progress. We sat at 4,400m for a little while and I made a few videos for friends and family. Before this trip I had never been above 3,000m and now I was sitting over four kilometres above sea level with still another kilometer to go before the trek would be over. It was heady stuff and I was on a high.

Hanging out at 4,400m

Near the Ice Lake

There was no electricity in Braga that night so we sat around the stove again to keep warm. Ebbe left his laundry outside during the night and in the morning he peeled it, frozen, from the washing line.

DAY NINE - Braga (3,360m) to Yak Kharka (4,018m)
Today was the start of a bad few days for me physically and emotionally. I can only thank Travis's optimism, Ross's common sense and the good humour of the Danes that kept me going through what seemed like a torturous few days of climbing.
During the night I woke with chronic diarrhoea and lost just about all the fluids in my body. By the morning I felt like a shell of a person with nothing inside. No energy, no expression on my face and everything around me was happening in slow motion. We had to get moving that day and I felt good enough to walk, albeit slowly, so I took what medication I had and replaced as much fluid as possible and set out towards the pass.
Just up the valley in Manang everyone took the chance to stock up on supplies for the next few days. By now they were pretty standard items- chewing gum, chocolate, powdered drinks. I tried wasting as much time as possible attempting to get some energy back inside me but by the time we left Manang I was even worse than when we first set out. For much of the morning I walked with a dull hum in my ears, my stomach churning and my jelly legs trying to pull my lead feet along the path. There was no way I could slow the pace of the group down from the front so I stayed way at the back and slowly followed from an ever increasing distance.

Looking down on Braga

This was the day I first saw my nemesis, the one who would taunt me over the next few days and severely threaten a successful passage over the pass. Enter the German woman with two sticks. Now it must be said that I never actually met this woman face to face but our paths crossed many times over the next few days in varying circumstances. She had an unmistakable upright walking stance and an economy of movement that couldn't be matched. Her two massive sticks protruded in front of her and she used them more as feelers than for balance. Her posture resembled that of a praying mantis. Her face was always caked in sunscreen, her mouth usually covered by a scarf or the top of her jacket as she slowly negotiated her way around the circuit seemingly oblivious to everyone else around. I never once heard her speak to anyone even through she was travelling with three others.
Lunch was at the top of a long climb with nice views back down the valley but all I could manage to eat was a couple of boiled eggs and some re-hydration salts. The afternoon walk is a blur to me. I only remember walking in some trance like state watching the ground immediately in front of me, all the time searching for a nice rock to sit on or shit behind. For much of the time I followed the German woman with two sticks but even she was putting distance on me easily. By mid afternoon we walked into Yak Town (Yak Kharka) but it was all I could manage to get out of my walking clothes and crawl into bed where I stayed (off and on) until 6.30am. I didn't have any dinner that night or breakfast the next morning and I began to doubt whether or not I could make over the pass in the state I was in. If the group wanted to cross the pass tomorrow I would probably have to sit out but luckily the pass was still two days away so I had time to recover.

DAY TEN - Yak Kharka (4,018m) to Thorong Phedi (4,450m)
It's recommended that once you get over 3,500m you shouldn't go up more than about 500m in one day so that your body can acclimatise to the lack of oxygen in the air. From Yak Kharka the only town that we could safely stay in was Thorong Phedi - no more than four hours away. Not far but in my condition it felt like the toughest day yet.
I walked at a snails pace, following the other four from a massive distance at times. I had a few small head spins as we rose above 4,100m and then 4,200m but nothing that would make me turn back. Because I knew I was struggling my strategy changed dramatically - I tried to walk for 15 minutes and then rest for 5 minutes. Walking so slowly it was hard to see the landscape changing but it was changing, just very subtly and without much of a sense of awe from me. The approach to Thorong Phedi is a slow treacherous climb over loose rock and shingle with some scary drops off to the right. I took many rests during that period counting my steps and hanging my head as more trekkers flew past me. Even the German woman with the two sticks glided slowly by without a word feeling her way as she did so.
Thorong Phedi is small but it didn't matter. For the past ten days the thought of going over the pass has been on my mind and now we had finally made it to the launching point. Now it was the only thing on my mind. I wasn't feeling great but I was healthy enough to eat again, pasta and porridge, and I wasn't about to hold up the group on account of me. None of us were feeling the effects of the altitude but Thea was concerned about her knee. Because of that, we decided to share a porter to Muktinath in the hope that it would speed both of us up. We packed almost all of our gear into my backpack to give to the porter and the rest we left in Thea's pack that I carried.
The night was perfectly still and clear with a massive bright moon gently lighting the mountains around us. It was a surreal evening with all of us nervous to some extent but the setting had a way of quietly calming us all.

DAY ELEVEN - Thorong Phedi (4,450m) to Muktinath (3,800m) OVER THE PASS
Ebbe's alarm clock woke everyone at exactly 4.50am. It was set for 5am but he bought it in Bangkok and you get what you pay for I guess. We wanted to leave as soon as possible but it was too dark to set out straight away. We threw down some porridge and then threw on warm and wet weather gear - anything that might help against the chill in the air. We waited around in the dining room for the right time to go and then right on 6am, just as the first rays of sun hit the Annapurna peaks to the south, we set out on the climb up to the Thorong La Pass. I knew I could make. I knew it, but I couldn't feel it yet.
We didn't know exactly what lay ahead but there was a High Camp about an hours climb away at around 4,800m - so that was the first goal. Even without the full weight of my pack I found it really hard to muster enough energy to keep up a steady pace. The German woman with two sticks passed me silently and easily. I fell behind the others quickly and felt a lot of frustration building inside. I was afraid this was going to take me all day. The last part of the climb was very steep and slippery but at least you could see the lodge up ahead. The early part of the climb was punctuated with many stops for water or a small piece of Snickers. The others made it comfortably within the hour and I was maybe 10 minutes behind them but noticeably exhausted by the effort it took. I perched myself on a chair in the lodge and collapsed face first in a heap on the table. I had assumed this pose many times in the past, but never at 4,800m.
Something happened during that first break that changed the day for me. When we set out after a quick cup of tea I felt so much better. For the first time in three days I was able to keep pace with the rest of the group without falling behind. I don't know what it was but all of a sudden I had my energy back and my body let me proceed at my normal pace.
The second section of the climb took us to a tea shop about an hour further up from High Camp. I wasn't sure of the altitude of the tea shop but it must have been over 5,000m. Thea and Travis lead the way with me in the middle. Ebbe and Ross bought up the rear but Ebbe was having issues with snow blindness but he may have just glanced at the sun. Unlike the first section where we were shielded from the sun by the shape of the mountains, now we were walking in bright sunshine on glistening snow. It was still bitterly cold but at least we had the sun on our backs and the reflection in our faces.
The third section led from the tea shop to the pass at 5,400m. It was the longest of the three sections but not as steep as either of the first two. The five of us stuck together for the first few minutes but then, anticipating a return to my former lethargy, I went out ahead to set the pace. Before long I was on my own and walking in a nice rhythm with the others a little way behind. I passed the German woman with two sticks without a word as she stopped for a break and continued towards the pass. I didn't have my Discman on me by I could hear Sting playing inside my head. He was singing 'Let Your Soul Be Your Pilot' - and I did.
My mind was racing with thoughts about what I would do when I reached the Pass. Would I sink to my knees and kiss the snow? Would there be a tape I could break like a marathon runner? Would I get a medal? A trophy? My name on a plaque in a tea house? Maybe I would hug everyone and give out candy. I could dance or sing. Maybe small children would want my autograph. I'd better blow my nose just in case. Before I knew it the terrain flattened but for the peaks off to each side and I could see the hut at the top of the pass. I walked up in silence to just before the hut and then looked over to my left at another group who had been there a while. 'Do you think you could give me a cheer?' I said. And they all did so that was nice, but there was no tape, no dancing and no small children looking for autographs. I sat and waited for my friends.

The rest of the group arrived together not long after me and I felt terrible that I had bolted up in front of them. In retrospect it would have been fitting to have reached the pass together since I couldn't of done it without them. This morning I wouldn't have thought it possible for us all to reach the top at the same time because I always imagined that I would be far behind the others. Now I felt silly for racing ahead and staying there.

Me at the Tharong La pass (5,400m)

After about an hour at the Pass and almost right on midday we started down the other side towards Muktinath. The map claimed the walk would take about three hours but it took all of us much longer. It's a long way down from the Pass to Muktinath at 3,800m and at times it seemed never ending. Ross and I stopped only a couple of times briefly and we made it to town by 3.30pm just before it started snowing, passing, being overtaken and re-passing the German woman with two sticks a few times, without a word. Travis, Ebbe and Thea arrived an hour later after Ross and I had showered.
That night at dinner we met an Israeli couple that had been travelling for the past year. At first I thought they were a decent pair but before long the woman went to great lengths to tell us how much they despised each of the countries they had been to. Every country had a fundamental problem that was too irritating to cope with; Americans are stupid, Vietnamese are too pushy, Nepali's are stupid, Australia is boring, the roads are too hilly in New Zealand and the people don't speak English. She really got my gander up because I have been to her hometown in northern Israel, Haifa, and found it to be the least interesting place I could imagine. I found myself arguing with her in my head as I went to bed that night, a far cry from the euphoria of crossing the path earlier that day. I closed my eyes and tried to let Sting play inside my head again. I had just walked over a Pass five and a half kilometres in the sky and I needed some sleep.

DAY TWELVE - Muktinath (3,800m) to Eklobhatti (2,740m)
The Israeli's were back at breakfast as we tried to get to know an Australian, Dutch, Irish group who crossed the Pass with us yesterday. The Australian girl was telling everyone that she was from Adelaide in South Australia. I was trying to listen when the Israeli girl next to me leaned in and whispered 'Adelaide is so boring.' and then screwed her face into a look of absolute disgust. 'Would you like me to tell her that?' I said motioning to the Australian. She just rolled her eyes and shot me a look that I'm still trying to recover from.
We took it slow in the morning a visited the local monastery where they have an everlasting flame. It looked more like a little pilot light but the setting was serine, sort of like a Japanese garden, and it was nice not to be walking with a purpose.

In the afternoon we struck a small crisis. We had planned to walk to Kagbeni and spend the night there. Travis and Thea took the lead and before long were well ahead of Ebbe, Ross and myself. They were sharp enough to spot the sign which took them the right way directly to Kagbeni but we missed it and ended up at Eklobhatti - a junction town on the riverbank 45 minutes past Kagbeni. It was an easy mistake to make as the landscape was desolated with little to hold the attention. We assumed the other two must of made the same mistake as us so we tried to guess what they would of done since they obviously didn't wait in Eklobhatti. We walked further south to the next town across the river in the gathering gloom but they weren't there. There wasn't much of anything there apart from some middle-aged men playing with bows and arrows. We quickly turned around and went back to the junction and decided to stay the night there at the Hilton Guesthouse, with Ebbe assuming that Travis and Thea would pass by early the next morning from Kagbeni.
The Hilton, like many other imitations around the world, ended up being a fine place to stay. We had the guesthouse to ourselves, the food was fantastic and we enjoyed a Tuborg beer with our very own Danish Viking. We also had electricity for the first time in many days so I took the chance to charge my camera and write some notes on the computer and the other two stayed up past 11pm with me. It was a nice relaxing evening.

 Mustang Valley - very close to Tibet

  Looking down on Kagbeni

DAY THIRTEEN - Eklobhatti (2,740m) to Marpha (2,670m)
As Ebbe predicted Thea and Travis walked by early in the morning. We spent some time explaining exactly what happened but basically it boiled down to the fact that we missed the sign and kept walking. Travis gave us the news that the US had began a campaign in Iraq but beyond that he didn't have many details.

The Annapurnas near Jomosom

We carried on walking down the valley using the dried up riverbed as a path for most of the way. The footing was uneven and awkward but slowly we moved as a group towards Jomosom, stopping there for lunch. The German woman with two sticks passed us again, in silence. All of us were disappointed by the town and couldn't wait to leave and we ended up staying a further 90 minutes down the valley in Marpha, a friendly town with plenty of options to stay and great food. On the way though we were faced with our first real river crossing which we all managed to negotiate without getting too wet. The views of the mountains are certainly not as spectacular from this side but still very good nonetheless.

Marpha

DAY FOURTEEN - REST DAY Marpha (2,670m)
Had breakfast, lunch and dinner. Went to bed well rested after playing Gin and eating apple crumble with hot custard.

 Eat dessert first, life is uncertain

DAY FIFTEEN - Marpha (2,670m) to Ghasa (2,010m)
After the apple crumble we had for dessert last night we had to have the same again for breakfast to get us started. It was going to be a long day so we needed the extra sugar. The walk to Tukuche was uneventful, staying on the path most of the way but then we headed back into the flood plain to walk on the smooth stones once more past the next two towns - Khobang and Larjung. We crossed the river a few times before meeting back with the trail again just before we reached Kokhethanti, where we stopped for lunch after nearly four hours walking.
After lunch Ross and I peeled off from the others in Kalopani, hoping to find the cricket world cup final on television but we didn't have any luck. We met many helpful people, including one young man on a bicycle who was so intent on giving us a 'Namaste' with his hands in the prayer position that he almost fell off his bike. We carried on a little behind the others but it didn't take long for us to meet up again near the next town, Lete.
The path narrowed considerably as it hugged the slope high above the river below and we walked by pine trees and ferns all the way through Kaiku and finally to Ghasa where we pulled in for the night. We had walked for almost eight hours today, possibly because we all felt so rested after the rest day, but mainly because we were getting sick of the trail and we wanted out as soon as possible. We chose to stay at the National Guesthouse where the rooms were great but the food was very disappointing.

DAY SIXTEEN - Ghasa (2,010m) to Tatopani (1,190m)
Early in the morning I had one of those rare moments of severe déjà vu. A few minutes after setting off in the morning I saw a familiar face walking towards our group. It was Kim, a Canadian woman I had met in the Strawberry Milkshake bar in Maymyo, Burma about two months ago. We did the 'What a small world it is' routine and chatted for a little while but we had to press on.
Later that morning we met more familiar faces but these ones were from days earlier, not months. We joined up with the Australian girl again and her friends from Ireland and Germany. They had read that the best chocolate cake on the trail could be found at Dana near a waterfall, a few hours away so together we walked with a purpose and the promise of good food. We found Dana, the waterfall and the cake and all of us left with chocolate icing in the corner of our mouths. It was delicious.
Getting to Tatopani was slow going because we ran across many mule trains coming the other way. Some of them lasted 15 minutes and during that time we were pinned to the side of the trail as they ambled by with their massive cargo strapped to their sides. It's difficult to make much forward progress through a mule train, especially when the path is narrow and one side drops off steeply towards the river.
It was late in the afternoon by the time we reached Tatopani and it didn't take long for all of us to migrate down to the Hot Pools beside the river where we spent the best part of the next four hours drinking and eating popcorn. It was nice to soak away the aches and pains and with tonight being Ross's last night with us there was a celebratory atmosphere about the evening. He was heading to the Annapurna Base Camp (ABC) with the Australian, Irish, German group while the rest of us were taking the quickest route back to Pokhara.

One of the many mule trains

 Some greenery after many days of barren landscape

DAY SEVENTEEN - Tatopani (1,190m) to Beni (830m)
Ross left early and turned off towards ABC while Travis, Thea, Ebbe and I made our way slowly down the valley towards Beni. It was a long slow walk and it times it seemed that Beni never got any closer. We walked for over eight hours before Ebbe and I stumbled into the Yeti Guesthouse in Beni at 5:56pm. Within minutes Ebbe had the Tuborg flowing while we waiting for Travis and Thea who arrived a half hour later.
The walking was over. From here the only way back to Pokhara was a bus so tonight we tried to celebrate but it had been a very tough day and we were all tired - mainly from the days walk but also from a big night in Tatopani. We wound down with another bland meal, some more Tuborg and a game of cards.

Ebbe & I at Yeti Guesthouse

DAY EIGHTEEN - Beni (830m) to Pokhara (820m)
Ebbe woke up with food poisoning from the dodgy chicken dish he ate at dinner last night. He couldn't get out of bed and for the rest of us it meant we had to wait. Wait to see if he would get any better as we passed the time playing cards and walking around the grim town of Beni. Eventually we forced Ebbe out of bed and down to the bus station by the afternoon despite the fact that he really should have stayed in bed all day. The bus ride was bumpy and not particularly comfortable but he toughed it out and by 6pm we were back in Pokhara, back in my hotel, back to a hot shower, and clean underwear.
It was a fabulous walk. Over 250km in 18 days, up to and over a pass 5,400m above sea level staying in some charming little villages with breathtaking views of the Annapurna Mountains. I'm glad I did it.