Making Tracks

We had heard rumours that the sleeper train to Chiang Mai wouldn't actually involve much sleeping. The route had a reputation for being a party train, so as we pulled out of Hualamphong Station we readied ourselves for a fun night. 

As it turned out, our train wasn't very lively at all. This became most apparent when a stern faced woman ssshhhed me as I tried to whisper to Nick across the carriage. Not exactly party central! Which was probably not a bad thing as it would take us about 16 hours to rattle our way some 400 hundred miles north to the ancient city of Chiang Mai.

We all had top bunks and slept surprisingly well considering the constant fear of falling on unsuspecting passers by. Ironically, I was woken by the woman who had ssshhhed me the night before. I resisted ssssshhhhing her and clambered ungainly down the ridiculously narrow ladder to find a window seat.

It was a while before the other two awoke, so I sat reading a book and watched the Thai landscape go by. The concrete jungle of busy Bangkok had been left behind and replaced by a real jungle.

We eventually pulled in to Chiang Mai just after lunchtime on Sunday. Our next task was to locate our hotel. In hindsight, Nick or I should've taken the lead and instructed our taxi where to go, but instead we sat and had a fit of giggles as Steve, who was suffering the affects of a chest infection and little sleep, did battle with a very shouty local lady. Steve persisted, even after the lady had asked where our hotel was for the forth or fifth time, but it soon became apparent that the lady, nor the henpecked driver had a clue where our homestay was. Rather than add a headache to Steve's list of ailments, we hopped off and let the over enthusiastic Thai lady shout at some bewildered French backpackers instead.

After a bit of food we were reinvigorated and found our lodgings: a small homestay run by a lovely Korean couple who informed us that we were their first booking.

That evening we joined the crowds at the Sunday market which filled the streets inside the old city walls with hundreds of stalls selling beautiful handicrafts and dodgy sunglasses. I'm not sure that if you asked Steve, he would have any recollection of the night - he was there in body, but not in spirit. In fact, as Nick and I drooled over local street food, Steve managed to slump on a table and fall to sleep.

We'd only caught a glimpse of Chiang Mai that day, but from what we had seen we knew we'd enjoy our time here.

Reinforcements Arrive

I was excited about getting to Thailand. Not just because it meant exploring a new country, but because for this leg of the journey we would be joined by a good friend of mine, Nick.

Nick had arrived an hour or so before us and came baring gifts of mosquito nets, hay fever medication and a hug from my mum.

Our plan was to get out of Bangkok as soon as possible, that way we would score some brownie points with our respective mothers for avoiding trouble. We even rented accommodation on the outskirts of the city so we weren't likely to be caught up in the political demonstrations. The downside to that, we discovered, was that although we were unlikely to get involved in any violent clashes, we also weren't likely to see anything of real interest. Unless, that is, concrete motorway flyovers are your thing. So, a few hot showers later and despite not sleeping for nearly 40 hours, we decided to catch the train into the city centre. 

As Bangkok's 'Sky Train' cut a line through the suburbs and headed towards the various skyscrapers that loomed out of the haze, we caught a first glimpse of the city. The towering glass fronted hotels and wide highways were in stark contrast to Kathmandu.

We spent the next two days exploring the madness of Bangkok, a city full of brightly coloured taxis, noisy tuk-tuks and venues offering trailored suits, etc.

We sampled the steet food, watched Rafa Nadal beat Roger Federer in the Australian open and got lost trying to find the river. At one point we even inadvertently stumbled into one of the protest sites. Except it didn't seem very protesty at the time. Thailand's answer to Britney Spears was wailing in front of some national flags to a smattering of locals enduring her best efforts. Perhaps an attempt to torture the government into submission.

I don't know if it was the exhaustion from travelling or the malaria tablets I was taking, but Bangkok passed by in a bit of a blur. We relaxed in our hotel's rooftop pool and I have vague recollections that we dressed up as Sherlock Holmes and solved a murder, but I was quite pleased when we boarded the sleeper train bound for Chiang Mai. And a slightly more authentic version of Thailand.

Flight Delays and Air Displays

Don't get me wrong, I like air displays as much as the next person. I remember, as a child, gazing up in awe as the Red Arrows passed within inches of each other and still smile at the memory of Conchorde flying low overhead. But as we arrived in New Delhi on Wednesday afternoon I wasn't so thrilled about them.

That morning, in Kathmandu, we had been informed that our flight would be leaving half-an-hour later than scheduled due to low cloud cover. No problem, we thought, as we had two hours to kill in Delhi before our flight to Thailand. However, we did notice on our arrival to the airport that conditions weren't exactly cloudy. 

Hmm. 

We settled in and enjoyed the delights of Kathmandu departure lounge (not up there in my top ten) and kept a hopeful eye on the flight board.

Two hours later, after the shortest bus journey I've ever been on (it must've driven us all of twenty metres to our waiting Air India jet!) and we were finally sat on the plane. Already resigned to missing our connecting flight we sat back and enjoyed more views of the top of the world. And watched Home Alone 2. 

It was only when we reached the transfer desk that we understood the real reason for our delay. Sitting watching some Indian passengers berate a downtrodden Air India official, we were told by a dejected Scotsman that lots of people were in the same position as us, not because of 'low cloud' but due to the Indian government practising an air display for their Republic day. This, understandably, had upset more than a few stranded passengers who were missing weddings and honeymoons.

To cut a long, and very boring story short - we found ourselves on a flight to Mumbai (I watched Home Alone 2 again as it was the only film in English) where we waited for a flight in Air India's first class lounge.

It was a minor blip in what has been a great few weeks. We'd still be getting to Thailand the next morning and at least once we were in Bangkok there wouldn't be any other complications.

That's when I picked up the latest edition of 'Wall Street Journal' and read the headline...

D'oh.

A message from Alan... (#2)

Hello Everyone at St. Helen's!

How are you? Have any of you made Resolutions for the New Year? How are they going? I'm pretty sure Mr Kent has broken all his already!

I thought I'd write a quick note to say how INCREDIBLE Nepal was. I have spent two and a bit weeks trekking, going on safaris and exploring ancient temples.

Nepal is a country that is squeezed in between two very different areas: the giant Himalayan mountains to the north and the rain forests of India to the south. 30 million people live in this country, most of them are Hindus or Buddhists.

Mount Everest, the highest mountain in the world, is in Nepal. It is 8,848 metres above sea level! Wow! Apparently it isn't the tallest mountain on earth though! Do you know what is?

Below is a selection of things we did and places we visited in Nepal: the lake in Pokhara - me at the giant Boudha Stupa - the ancient temples in Patan's Durbar square - a very cold Mr Kent, wrapped up in lots of layers on top of a mountain - me in Chitwan National Park - dal baht, the yummy food we ate lots of! - the top of Poon Hill - Mr Kent have a bath with an elephant - Mr Kent's blisters - me staring at Annapurna - Steve freezing after burning his sock by accident!

There have been so many things to remember from this trip, it would be hard to pick one, but reaching the top of Poon Hill and riding on an elephant were things Mr Kent and Steve won't forget in a hurry!

It was sad to see so much rubbish all over the country - even the mountains and temples had lots of plastic bottles and cans strewn all of them, but that was only a small thing compared to the beauty we saw everywhere else.

Maybe you might want to climb a mountain one day? Maybe you might even get to Nepal and see some of things we did?

I'll write again soon!

Love from,

Alan

X

PS Mr Kent is a silly billy and has lost his list of challenges! So, if you have any for him (that aren't too ridiculous!) - write them on here!

Sherpa Hospitality

Our last day in Nepal was spent with the man who organised our trek to Poon Hill, Phuri, a Sherpa who grew up in the shadow of Mount Everest. As we walked along the undulating ridge that made up the Nagarkot region, we learned more about this incredibly likeable man. 

After spending his childhood accompanying his dad on long mountain treks and then leading his own expeditions, Phuri eventually set up his own tour company, 'Himalayan Friends'. We had been put in contact with him through an old friend of Steve's and he had already made our time in Nepal a great deal more organised and stress free. 

Spending the day walking with Phuri was a great way to wind down from the chaos of Kathmandu. As I listened to his stories about other individuals who he'd taken trekking, I was struck by how important relationship was to him. He appeared to remember each of the people whom he had led on expeditions. We weren't paying him to come walking with us that day - he wanted to come and spend time with us.

One of my favourite moments of that day came when we had reached the end of our walk and were sat admiring the view. Steve spotted a little lad who grinned at us and waved postcards in our direction. As we ushered him over we soon realised that we were in the presence of Nepal's answer to Richard Branson. He was so charming that he made Steve part with 150 rupees - fifteen times as much as we'd paid for a card in Pokhara (but still only just over a pound!). Watch out for this face on a future episode of 'The Apprentice'...

Later that evening, Phuri invited us back to his place where Dendi (our guide from the trek) had prepared a local speciality, dal baht. The rice dish was accompanied by a dubious looking drink that was served in what can best be described a bucket with a straw. Tongba, which turned out to be a millet based wine, was actually quite nice! We sat chatting to Phuri and Dendi whilst our food and drinks were topped up every few minutes by other family members who treated us like royalty.

We left Phuri's a few hours later, and probably a few stone heavier. As we were on our way out Dendi presented us with scarves to wish us well on our onward travels. We tried to say goodbye to Phuri but he insisted he would pick us up and take us to the airport the next morning. Probably just to make sure we left the country.

So, if you ever consider trekking in Nepal - which you should - make sure you look up Phuri. You won't regret it.

www.hftreks.com

Kathmandu Part 2

On Sunday, we woke to a beautiful crisp morning. The rain the previous day had removed the low cloud and we were surprised to see that the jagged Annapurna range we had left behind in Pokhara, was clearly visible on the horizon. It was time to bid Chitwan farewell and head back to the bedlam of Kathmandu.

By now we were already getting used to the long bus journeys, but it is still alarming when you are in an old coach whose driver insists on trying to overtake other old coaches on a narrow road, half way up a mountain. So as Steve listened to a few podcasts, I distracted myself by reading the book I'd picked up in Pokhara: 'The Paradise Trail' a novel about travellers in India at the time of the India/Pakistan war.

I'd just finished the last page of my book as our bus reached its final destination. A short taxi ride in a rusty Suzuki later and we were at the friendly Tenki Hotel. Our lodgings for the next three nights lay in the heart of the Thamel district: a busy collection of narrow streets crammed with shops and tourist guides.

Steve and I spent the next couple of days exploring more of the temples and connected neighbourhoods of Kathmandu and the surrounding area. We wandered through the labyrinth of streets and alleyways that made up the ancient kingdom of Patan...

...and then climbed the steep steps to the top of another World Heritage site, Swayambhunath. From Swayambhunath, or the monkey temple as it's often referred to as, we had a great view over the city.

After a meal in an Israeli restaurant and trying to stay awake to watch Machester United v Chelsea, we finally succumbed to a deep sleep.

I woke the next morning to the sound of my alarm banging. As I instinctively reached out to press the 'snooze' button it occurred to me that my alarm doesn't make banging drum noises. Bleary-eyed, I checked the time. 4.30am. I rolled over and tried to sleep again, but now the banging was joined by the unmistakable sound of a brass band. At 4.30am. 

Now, on the plus side the band (at what we later learned to be an early morning wedding!) only knew one song. Unfortunately, they played this one song repeatedly for three hours. Three. Long. Sleepless. Hours.

The next day would be our last full day in Nepal and, as I lay dreaming of creative ways to throttle trumpet players, I was slightly worried that we might be a tad grumpy for it.

In search of Tigers

Spurred on by our encounter with Maduhkilly, the elephant, Steve and I decided to see if we could spot some more Nepalese wildlife and signed up for a safari.

Last Autumn I was lucky enough to go to Uganda and visit some of the incredible work done by Edukid. As part of our time their we had the privilege of visiting Murchison Falls and its surrounding safari park. That day we were saw giraffe, buffalo, elephants, Nile crocodile, hippos, leopards, hyenas and even a lion. So I was excited about another opportunity to go wildlife spotting, albeit in a very different environment.

Our Lonely Planet guidebook told us that a good approach to wildlife spotting in Chitwan was to treat it as you would fishing: "Sometimes you'll get lots of bites, others not a nibble. Irrespective, it's all about the thrill of the chase and being out and about in tiger and rhino country!" This was going to be fun.

An hour into the safari and I had remembered why I didn't really like fishing. Not a single bite.

The closest we had come to any wildlife was the tiger footprint our guide had pointed out to us as we got onto our jeep. This was quite a thrill until I realised there were no others to be seen. I had visions of an eager guide carefully drawing the footprint in the sand to fool naive tourists - either that or a one-legged tiger hopping around the National Park. But perhaps I should be less synical and it at least gave me hope we might lay eyes on the incredible creature.

In fact, I was sure on numerous occasions on our four hour journey that I had seen a stripy feline amongst the trees or 8m tall elephant grass. Each time those sightings turned out to be ferns or pieces of wood! It was like doing a 'Where's Wally?' book - except, instead of wearing the easy to spot red and white stripes, the animals were often brown or green. And everything else I could see was brown or green.

After a few hours they took pity on us and dropped us off at a gharial crocodile breeding centre.

Gharial are amongst the strangest looking animals I've seen: huge three or four metre long bodies with a long, slender mouth crammed full of ill fitting teeth. Perfectly evolved for catching fish.

To be fair, the second half of our safari was more successful - we saw more gharial and marsh mugger crocodiles alongside the lakes, an assortment of deer and a big python. Unfortunately, it was not our day to see tigers and rhino though.

That evening, we drowned our sorrows in a lovely restaurant in Sauraha. Steve had a delicious, perfectly cooked steak whilst I opted for the local Thali (a mix if curries and rice). We sat outside next to a fire pit and watched the sun go down over the beautiful gardens.

The next day, Saturday, was a bit of a wash out. We had planned a canoe trip down the crocodile infested river, followed by a jungle walk, but steady rain meant that both were cancelled.

We admitted defeat - we weren't going to set eyes upon the majestic Royal Bengal Tiger. This time, at least.

As I sat watching downfall creating patterns on our hotel window, I'm sure I saw a cat saunter past dodging the raindrops. That almost counts, doesn't it?!