Road trip to Broome (pt III)

We arrived to unwelcoming weather in Coral bay, said goodbye to Jess and Hannah (and the French Toy Boy they had conspired to accompany them for the drive back to Perth), and said hello to Adam, Ange, Jack and Jade who were travelling up the coast and with whom we were to spend or last week.

We had spent time snorkelling inside the spectacular ningaloo reef with Jess & Hannah + now with Adam and Co: the coral was beautiful, as were the tropical fish, sharks and turtles (which Adam forced me to use for personal transport ... philistine), more importantly there were fish that looked like they should be on my plate - surely we could catch some here. Unfortunately spears were not allowed, and we weren’t going to lose our tackle to the reef like suckers, so we had to adapt our technique: snorkelling with handlines ... unbelievably we only managed to catch fish suitable for an aquarium - they were small & for all I knew, poisonous beneath their beautiful facade.

After two failed attempts at the new sport of snorkel fishing I succumbed to the desire to catch one of the elusive bastards and we all jumped on a charter boat ... it all suddenly seemed ludicrously simple as we reeled in big freaks from the deep ... unfortunately Ange was too busy coughing up burley to join in the fun and was not about to smile when we suggested that it was psychological.

Ange + entourage had to keep heading north and Jen & I had an esky full of fish to get to the freezer so we headed to Perth a few days early. Along the way we detoured to visit the pinnacles - these could be adequately described as a heap of pointy rocks stuck in the dessert, but were strikingly beautiful when in the correct lighting and mindset.

We arrived home almost 1 month and six and a half thousand ks later - at least half of which seemed to be a result of having to dodge carcasses (or soon to become carcasses) of the large mammals littering the road. The highlight.... Driving with the Girls along a dead straight road under the baking sun while listening to BRMC and passing the turnoff to DIDJABANGA, we didn’t even have to stop to enjoy ... surely the essence of a road trip.

Well now I'm back in Perth and supposedly job seeking ... or procrastinating ... why do u think I’m writing this blog???? ... the weather doesn’t help; I have been learning to ride on waves that are dwarfed by the board ...I think it still counts as surfing. I haven’t bothered fishing.

Road Trip to Broome II

Our plans for a long drive to Broome was compromised by reduced service hours at Sandfire leaving us 300kms short and with nothing but the burnt out shell of the old roadhouse to crash in. The next morning we continued to Broome where we were fortunate enough to have free accommodation. The girls were dead keen to get to Cable beach and swim in their "party suits", however, sticking to the busy family part of the beach reduced them to sunset Yoga (a practice they would tragically continue throughout the trip) ... I joined in to promote group bonding until Hannah introduced a move unfortunately (though aptly) described as "the downward dog" ... that was my cue to run and hide, though some of the locals were remarkably interested.

Broome had the feel of an tourist town - and the extent of a seasonal tourism and its effect on the locals was emphasised by the fact that the local guys have seasonal girlfriends - the local girls are referred to as wetsuits as they keep the guys warm in the wet season - due to this mindset, and the influx of miners, our lovely hostess (Ellyn) assured the girls that she could “get you a root” - surprisingly none took up the offer. We enjoyed, kicking back on the beaches, swimming, playing Frisbee, fishing, loosing money at the races and two up, and even managed to find a great Chinese restaurant (where Jen struggled to keep the food contained in her mouth). Due to the extended stay in Broome we had to compress our time by driving a 1500km day to Exmouth.

Unfortunately we missed the opportunity to swim with whale sharks at Exmouth by a couple of days, however, the sun sand and snorkelling were fantastic ... and more importantly it offered another chance to catch some dinner. I had almost decided that concept of recreational fishing was an industry ploy to sell a whole lot of lures ... kind of like Hallmark’s valentines day, I had spent far too many evenings trying to catch dinner and then explaining to the unduly smug and disbelieving girls the many reasons why I was unsuccessful & somehow restore a fading sense of male provider masculinity. Fortunately, just when I was about to finish the deal and throw the rest of the gear into the sea, I latched on to a monster ... well, it was something between a sperm, a tadpole and the small goldfish I caught in china ... I was loathe to keep it and thus end its obviously short life but I had to show the girls. It tipped the scales at.... errr... it didnt even tip the scales ... i quickly cut off the morsels of flesh and sheepishly hid the remains inside the head of someone elses fish in the bin. After a couple of days in Exmouth it was time to head to Coral Bay.

Road Trip To Broome I

In keeping with the one month delay on my blog posts, I can now write about my road trip up the WA coast - fortunately such a period affords me an excuse for literary embellishments.

Jen, Jess, Hannah and I had a few weeks to drive from Perth to Broome and back, trying to catch all the points of interest and dodge the kangaroos and cows along the way. We were to take two cars half the way and travel the rest in one, so room was critical (particularly after Hannah's 8 layers of sleeping gear and Jess' circus marquee were fitted in) - I managed to persuade the girls that it was worth sharing our head space with fishing rods for the trip as they would pay for the trouble with all the free meals which I would catch.
Skipping a lot of the mid south we headed to Kalbarri and then on to Monkey Mia to feed the dolphins (as Jen & I had done with our family ~ 20 years ago) ... It was beautiful but bordered on kitsh in contrast to the rugged simplicity of our next stop - Red Bluff. The facilities and coastline at Red Bluff were perfectly primal compared to Monkey Mia, and consequently we extended our stay - much time was spent reading, sunbaking, rock hopping and watching consistently perfect waves ... I decided then and there that if I was to spend much more time in this state I'd have to learn to surf. It would have been paradise if the fish were biting - unfortunately they weren't so we headed inland to Karijini. On the way to Karijini we stopped to restock in Canarvon, where, much to Jen's surprise our car security remained uncompromised by the locals, and included a quick unplanned sleepover at the Tom Price primary school (unfortunately we hadn't factored in an early morning working bee as a wakeup call).
Karijini is a perfect piece of Australiana - deep vertical gorges juxtaposed with the horizontal landscape and layers of red rock through which they gouge, emphasised by the deep reds, muted greens and bright blues from which the landscape is composed. It is the kind of place that frustrates me in my inability to capture it in photos or expression, resulting in the prior awkward description or giving up and reducing it to: a ridiculously beautiful and affecting place. The best option is to just explore and enjoy - which we did for a few days before heading to Broome.

(map:http://www.eastravel.co.uk/australia/map008.htm)

China and Tas

err... back to the blog:

From Vietnam I flew to Hong Kong & caught up with Joel, Adam, Andy, Abco, Keith, Aaron & Brenton - a distinctlyy different travel arrangement to the loner approach of the previous 6 weeks. We spent 10 days soaking up the Chinese culture: bartering, taxis drivers with unique interpretation of lanes and speed limits, KFC, electric scooters, bribing officials, McDonalds, big old walls, goldfish fishing, nagging vendors, smoking in public places (how can you refuse ... Joel earned my infinite admiration by taking up smoking just to exploit the unique opportunity). When you visit a country with such rich heritage and in such a dynamic economic growth phase there is so much you can take away from the experience ... we took away a ridiculous amount of (crappy) RC Helicopters & Jackets + toys, fishing and ski gear, watches,DVD's, CD's, bb guns & most importantly giant suitcases in which to transport it all home

After spending the last couple of days in china with Joel trialling the different accommodation/transport combos on offer (scrap the bus - take the train ... & some cigarettes) and visiting the stunning Guilin, I headed back to Tas.

Everyone knows the joys of catching up with old family and friend so ill do no more than provide a photo of Tom & Amanda's wedding + another one of Browns river - the photo taken a couple of days before my arrival clearly details why I'm glad to be heading north for the winter.

Well this blog entry is unduly disproportionate to both the quality and quantity of time spent in both places ... it is, however, proportionate to how much I can be sodded typing an entry at the moment.

I am currently heading up the WA coast for a month with Jen, Jess & Hannah ... the joys of a road trip, I wouldn't hold your breath for the next blog entry, but why would you?

Operation Hanoi

Sorry about the long delay - i am back in Tas so should catch up on my Blog for those wondering what the hell I have been doing....

I scrapped the motorcycle diaries and limped off the train into Hanoi hoping to find Tuan - a family friend and local tourist agent. I caught a motorbike to the address scrawled on scrap paper hoping that Tuan would provide some salvation as my leg was getting more infected and I was feeling feverish - unfortunately all I found was a closed shopfront in a street that didn't quite seem on the tourist trail - from the shreds of English provided by the locals I could not tell whether Tuan had closed shop, moved or died ... I sat against the roll a door in the Hanoi heat unsuccessfully trying to get antiseptic and a phone from the locals (half of whom were variously trying to sell me boat tours, motorbike rides accommodation and, most likely, marijuana and opium) ... fortunately no one was close enough to hear me pleading for my mum under my breath. Tuan and his troupe returned - apparently from an extended/late lunch break and the shopfront was reopen - this was soon followed by accommodation at a doctors home (albeit a doctor who had trouble understanding "hello" - ask Tim - but a doctor none the less) - he cleaned up my leg and had me feeling like I may be able to walk one day.

The local antibiotic cream didnt work the wonders I had hoped so after spending most for the following day in bed I headed to the International hospital to be told that my dream of having an operation in a foreign country was to come to fruition the following day - fortunately i was under general anesthetic so i didn't notice the removal of my other kidney and although depth perception is a bit of an issue, having only one eye does have its benefits (reduced dust ingress for one). Actually the operation seemed to go well and I hobbled out with an Asian length crutch, a big blue splint and one more scar for chicks to dig. Reduced mobility and requisite checkups limited the rest of my trip to Hanoi and stunning Halong bay - affording me the time to observe the maelstrom of tourism and local activity that define these two unique and beautiful places.

It was the best of times, It was the worst of times

I had been warned by a number of travelers that the intensity of the Vietnamese tourism industry would make me wish I stayed in Laos - these sentiments were confirmed only a few long hours after crossing the border in which time myself and four fellow travellers had been extorted and repeatedly nagged and yelled at - I eventually found my way to Ninh Binh surrounded by friendlier locals.

The countryside surrounding Ninh Binh is marketed as "Halong Bay on land" so I rented a motorbike and set off exploring ... what i found was more stunning than tag had suggested - more apt a description would be "Halong bay on rice paddies" (fortunately for me: at harvest time) - I spent hours riding the tracks surrounding the paddies and through the narrow hay strewn streets of the tiny inset villages, watching the harvest and climbing the looming limestone formations, taking a rowboat ride through the paddies and caves, enjoying lunch and ridiculously strong rice wine at the home of a friendly local family (who nevertheless, in true Vietnamese style asked for a financial contribution) - somewhere in the mix I managed to lose my wallet out of my back pocket as i bounced along, however, that was not going to dampen the day. The sky darkened, the track around the rice paddy narrowed and I found myself pulling battered bike and body out of the paddy mud - unfortunately it was not a job for one so I hobbled with a deeply cut knee a few hundred meters to the small glow from a ridiculously quaint bungalow. With the help of the locals I extricated the bike and washed both it + myself of with water from their well. After dinner, home made whiskey and a smoke we were revived enough to take another look at the bike - a couple of hours draining and drying critical components and the bike sputtered to life. Deeply ingratiated to the newfound friends I decided to forgo the offer of a bed for the night and head home (in the course of the repair one of the guys slipped his hand where I didn't want it - I still are not sure why, but didn't really want to find out). I rode home still covered with mud and smiling after the most memorable and enjoyable day of the trip so far.

The next day after taking the bike to get fixed (500 000 Dong! that's ridiculous, oh, its only 40bucks) I had to chose between the "RICE" and "Get back on your Bike" schools of thought - I choose the latter after the hotel owners hesitatingly agreed to rent me another bike (not before unsuccessfully recommending that I have a driver) - fortunately this day was less eventful and almost as enjoyable. I went to bed planning a two day motorbike trek further afield.

Laos III

From Luang Prabang I headed north to Nong Kiaw and after a 1 hr boat ride ended up in Mang Ngoy - a small, slow paced riverside village where the owners of my bungalow referred to themselves as Mama and Papa ... Mama cooked mean Banana Pancakes for breakfast and would also provide weed if required. Tourism isn't so advanced here so I wasn't surprised when the 16yo guide we'd chose to take us up the overshadowing mountain stopped 3/4 of the way up saying it was as far as he had been ... much to his consternation we pushed on (he seemed overly concerned about losing some of his first customers) - and with his machete and our rope we managed to find, climb and mark the track up and get back safely to mama.

The route to the Sam Neua was only about 300km but would take about 12 hrs and the bus would pick me up sometime between 6pm and 12pm. Local bus rides in Laos are an interesting prospect and an essential experience - crammed with people and goods, everyone sleeps on everyone, the horn is employed almost constantly along the otherwise quiet roads to warn children, water buffalo , oncoming traffic etc., refueling and repairs are a communal experience as the jerrycan is removed from the buses underbelly, and no-one seems at all fussed by the appalling music that they play all through the night .... nothing could be more at odds with the beautiful countryside (or the concept of sleep) - a mix of everything that is bad about elevator music, synthesisers, mike oldfield and top 40 pop with a slight Asian inflection - well i suppose there has to be something not to like about Laos.

I crossed the border to Vietnam after spending a night in Vieng Xai - checking out the caves that became the homes for the Pathet Lao leaders military and thousands of civilians as protection from the CIA bombs.

Unfortunately my phone is now broken - so I cant even provide a crappy Nokia photo!

Laos II

From Vang Vieng I bussed to Luang Prabang, an old French provincial town and former Royal Capital marketing itself as the jewel of the Mekong - and it is hard to disagree (having extensively travelled the grand river ... well I have been to Vientiane). Laung Prabang is set at the intersection of the Mekong and its Khan tributary with the beautiful Laotian countryside as a backdrop, The town is full of old French colonial architecture, bookshops, cafe's + bakeries, outdoor boules courts, classic Mercs, pristine retro scooters, outdoor billiards and locals who don't know whether they would prefer to sell you something or sleep - a seemingly effortless integration of European and Buddhist Asian charm. UNESCO world heritage listing ensures that the only development in the town centre is in a strict restorative vein and the only place allowed to be open after 12 is the bowling alley located out of town. I could spend a long time in this place.

Unfortunately scooter rentals are banned in Laung Prabang so I had to use my legs like a sucker - While cycling out of town in a village I chanced upon a group of local lads who were keen to test this pharang (Foreigner) out. Their English was only very slightly better than my Lao so the evening was reduced to them loading me up with home made Lao Lao and smiling as i winced ... eventually i noticed the bottle was almost empty and the food was coming out, I thought salvation had come in two forms - unfortunately i was wrong on both counts - the food was whole pickled garlic and chicken foetuses (I had seen these along with rats, bats, frogs all kinds of innards and plenty of flies at the local markets, so i guessed it was edible and crunched my way through) ... then they refilled the Lao Lao bottle. The only graceful exit i could think of was to offer to buy some local beer, thankfully they thought it was a good idea and the night progressed at a more reasonable pace. Somewhere along the line a Laotian who could speak a bit more English turned up allowing conversation to be squeezed out and eventually offered to tow me home on the motorbike ... I wisely accepted, after all, how much damage can you do in a bike crash?

I ended up spending much of my time in Laung Prabang with these locals, playing soccer, watching the champions league final and heading to the local waterfall. If only the Laotians could fix their roads I would be convinced that the waterfall was a joint construct of the Laung Prabang council and the Disney fairytale division - a stunning multi step waterfall forming alluring azure pools every few meters - with warm weather and few tourists (at least in the morning) the caged tiger and bears were a mere distraction.

Laos

Any country in which it is economically rational to staff a toll booth and separate check point to collect a $0.30 fee from visitors on entry must have some severe financial problems. I paid my 30cents, exchanged $100 thereby becoming a millionaire and jumped back on the bus holding my now bulging wallet tightly (2 girls had had their wallets emptied on the overnight bus trip) wondering how much worse the Laos poverty would be than what i saw in Bangkok ... call me culturally blinkered, but all i knew about Laos was that it is the most bombed country per capita on earth (CIA ... who would have thought!), is a renowned opium den and that foreigners reputedly get fined $500 if caught sleeping with a local girl (Anna was Laotian - that's why she was in Bangkok).

The last two facts were confirmed as soon as I jumped off the bus into Vientiane (the capital) - for the first time in a while I was not offered to be taken to a ping pong show or massage parlour ... rather, I was immediately offered opium. Vientiane was unremarkable for such a remarkable country - perhaps redeemed only by the fact that it had a shooting club where for a couple of bucks I could try my favourite pistol so I tried my hand and headed to Vang Vieng.

I had began to love Laos by the time I got to Vang Vieng, I kept my face pressed to the window in order to take in the beautiful scenery and thatched villages lining the road offering glimpses of the Laos way of life - slow and relaxed ... I am not sure if it is not just the difference between rural and urban poverty, however, the Laotian lifestyle seemed enviable (at least from the bus).

Vang Vieng is a visually stunning place where the thing to do is to grab a tube and float down the river stopping off every couple of hundred meters at one of the many riverside bars offering blaring music, 10m high swings or flying foxes into the river, free Lao Lao (local whiskey) and cheap drinks/marijuana/mushrooms ... by the bottom of the river everyone is loaded and well acquainted and, if lucky, no one has drowned (unwisely I took the Kayaking option - that, although advertised, did not include the tubing). There are a stack of bars offering Friends or Simpsons reruns and "Happy" pizza's/shakes in which to recover from tubing ... the whole place is somehow not quite as offensive as it sounds ... this and Daphna, an Israeli girl I met on the river, made for a pleasant couple of days.

Bangkok II

I am slightly surprised at how much I enjoyed Bangkok and surrounds ... the opening line to "El Scorcho" setting the soundtrack for the city (OK, it's not Japan, but the sentiment holds - Hi Costo). Every 5m there is a Tuk Tuk driver offering discounted fares if only he can take you to a local Buddha/Jewelry Shop/Suit Shop/Ping Pong Show on the way. Aside form the Tuk Tuk drivers and Thai gurls tho - the thing that most impressed me was the cool scooters (that's not shallow) .... I imagine you could drop over and buy a container load of classic Hondas and Vespas to ship back to Aus thereby funding your own classic bike and Thai scooter holiday (anyone???)

The bus to Cambodia failed to pick me up .... as i had already decided to visit Laos + was in danger of becoming a turbo tourist I decided to give Cambodia a miss and satisfy myself with the scale model of Ankor Wat at the Grand Palace of Thailand :( ... the quality Nokia picture says it all, actually, the following 19th century notes by the French explorer Henri Mouhot probably says it a whole lot better:
"One of these temples—a rival to that of Solomon, and erected by some ancient Michelangelo—might take an honourable place beside our most beautiful buildings. It is grander than anything left to us by Greece or Rome, and presents a sad contrast to the state of barbarism in which the nation is now plunged."

.... next time

Bangkok

Bangkok smells like a city. I booked a room at 'your place' and was amazed at its homeliness, cleanliness & location all for $10 including breakfast .... i was still reflecting on the great deal when Anna, the tall Buxom 40yo staying in the room next door, introduced herself, and in the course of the conversation offered to give me a massage - since she looked like a local I assumed that it was a business proposition & queried the price .... "500Baht, 1000 for the works" she offered while sticking her finger into her cheek through her mouth and then continuing to explain. That was the best 30 bucks I've ever spent ... only joking, it was a terrible waste of money ..... hmmm, actually, i had fortunately organised to check out Thai boxing with another tourist so ran out the door.

The Thai boxing was the first time I realised i got ripped off in Asia (& it's the realisation that hurts) - $50 for ringside seats seemed steep enough & that was before we realised it was a split bill, our tickets were only valid for the runts, locals paid about 10%, and the crowd was thin (the majority tourist suckers like ourselves) .... one guy was carried off in a wheelchair and another on a stretcher - so at least the fights were intense. As we left we encountered the crowd for the real fights, including the Thai championship, and walked away with a slightly bitter taste in my mouth and the din of the real crowd ringing in my ears ... headed home to my place where Anna was lying in wait.

Anna invited herself into my room and proceeded to play with my cards on the floor ... after a couple of games of Blackjack i realised she had been beating me using the oldest trick in the book - clothing minimisation ... I made the excuse that I better go maintain my Blog & that's where this whole thing originated.

RATM

The trip from the Perhentians to Bangkok was comparatively simple and trouble free - a couple of military guys with machine guns sitting behind me on the train being the only sign of the Muslim insurgence that prompted the travel warning for the SE Thai region - i thought that wasn't too bad considering the conductors uniform looked like it came form North Korea.

The Train to Bangkok revealed the Asia Id imagined I would see earlier - set in the swamps lining the tracks along the way are slums constructed of sticks, stones, old bike tyres and rusted scraps of corrugated iron - Thailand's per capita GDP is about 75% of Malaysia's, however, it looks as though the distribution is far worse.

The masses of advertising scraps integrated into the slums provided some food for thought along the way .... a poor indictment on society that the scraps of advertising - not the product itself or even material used to distribute the product - is the unintentional and inefficient support provided to the worlds poor from some of the worlds richest companies - an interesting juxtaposition. Perhaps someone should produce coffee table book comparing corporate headquarters and the slums integrating the advertising from the same companies. Just read No Logo.

At the end of the train trip the slumvertising had had its effect so i re energised with some KFC.

Perhentian Islands

It somehow took almost 24 hrs to get from Taman Negara to the Perhentian Islands - 2 trains, 4 buses and a boat to get somewhere maybe one hundred kms away (at least partially my fault) ... the effort, however, was worth it so I decided to extend my stay and learn to Scuba dive.

The Islands are currently all that tropical islands should be ... including being laid back and low on development (the only way to turn off the light in my bungalow was to remove the 20W globe). Although the local government is doing something to maintain control (apparently taking to a couple of illegal stores with chainsaws), it looks as though the Islands will suffer the same fate as many others - the laid back appeal will strangle itself (there is currently a project that will double the accommodation on the quiet each on which i stayed).

One of the strange things i found here (and in other places since) is the inability to grasp niche markets or diversify - it seems each restaurant has exactly the same menu, like wise all the snorkeling trips run the same 5 reef deal ... kinda sucks... almost have to buy Malay food on the black market!

(My camera broke while at the Perhentians, kinda liberating, so future photos will be of the Nokia variety)

Taman Negara II

Heavy rain the night before the trek ensured the leeches were out in force - eventually worrying about the leeches was causing more pain that actually getting bitten by the suckers (kind of like Roosevelt's "The only thing we have to fear is fear itself" but not quite as profound)so I donated my blood to the jungle through at least 10 bloated leaches (Note: Wet tobacco is said to be the best deterrent ... some tried with marginal success)

The Walk was great, and after it all I had seen Snakes, Wild Boar, Monkeys, Bats, Komodo Dragons, Water Buffalo, Bear footprints & Elephant Crap + swung into a river on a vine & slept in a large bat cave frequented by tigers and elephants .... all sounds a bit Indiana Jones really, however, there was a pasty white French girl who did the walk in brand new gumboots.

(Bugger, it just started bucketing down & I’m riding a scooter)

Taman Negara

Fortunately Transport and accom was easy to find in Jerantut (even @ 2am) affording a couple of hrs rest before the 2hr long boat trip into Taman Negara - a virgin jungle (reputedly the oldest in the world) in the heart of the Malay peninsula. Cruising up the jungle lined river was possibly the highlight of my time in the region - particularly the following day when the boat powered up seemingly unnavigable rapids.

A quick afternoon canopy/lookout walk with Faye (an English girl I met on the boat) seemed to have gone awry when we stumbled across a nomadic tribe on the path we were ... umm .... sure ... was the way back, though giggling at our hopeless tourist requests for "village" and "river", some children nevertheless were cautiously keen to be photographed.

We continued on as the sky darkened, regretting that we didn't take nearly enough water, a torch or a map (or even note the name of the village at whgich we were staying) and had just turned back and to try another track when the sound of the long boat motors signalled that we were not so far from the river/village after all. I was tempted to excuse my poor bushmanship by claiming Dad was a computer geek that would not allow me outside our property fence ... however, this would not not account for breaking 6/9 of the recommendations on the large sign i noticed later at the start/end of the walk.

Singapore 28/4-6/5

Well, i have officially started Blogging, i am still not sure why ... cybergeekchic?... more likely because I am in Bangkok and the hooker staying in the room next door was sitting on my floor playing cards ... more about that later, ill start with Singapore and see if i can catch up to myself (don't hold your breath).

Singapore is a nice and soft landing into Asia (especially when your staying with family+ having a maid on hand made it feel surprisingly like 44), a capitalist friendly government with few natural resources & the large and influential expat community seem to have ensured westerners can stay in Singapore without experiencing too much culture shock (though a fair bit of cultural ambiguity).

I enjoyed spending time with Adam, Ange, Jack & Isla (Jack's gurl) - visiting Ange's School, wandering Singapore city, wakeboarding in the diesel between Singapore and Malaysia, watching live comedy (the gay Indian comic was particularly taken with Jack ... much to his delight;), attending a service of the 14,000 member New Creation Mega Church and generally hanging around the house.

Adam seemed intent on proving to me that a Golf R32 is not redundant in the island/city/country by screeching throughout the streets, swerving around anything slower than his +50% interpretation of the local speed limits, and Ange was intent on making sure I actually organised some of my trip (fortunately).

Unfortunately even Ange's handwritten notes, ph numbers, guides, maps and net shortcuts couldn't save me from reading blink and looking into Implicit Association Tests - check them out, interesting stuff on association with race, colour, weight ... the George Bush one is just funny(https://implicit.harvard.edu/implicit/australia/) ... er, whoops there i go again .... consequently i jumped on a train to Jerantut (Malaysia) hoping I'd find a taxi and a place to stay when I got there at 2am (sorry Ange - didn't want u to worry)