After countless planes, trains, ferries, minibuses, jeeps, longtail boats and tuk-tuk rides i'm back, all body parts attached, though i may have lost a few brain cells. Our five-week whirlwind trek around Thailand and Malaysia turned into just hopping around Thailand; the country's deceptively long and the pockmarked, battleworn roads rival those of the Greater Metro Detroit Area.
The inception of this trip involved many drunken at-the-pub conversations, facebook, opodo.com flight sales and a hasty conversation in the english department office. And thus, my coworker, Jon, my old (and in America) study abroad friend, Sara and I embarked on a mission to meet in Bangkok. Somewhere in the middle we dropped off Sara and picked up former co-worker Nick. And then he dropped us off at the airport and hiked into the nowheres of the Himalayan foothills.
We booked in January. We left on the 25th of July. And we sorted the itinerary three days into our trip.
For the sake of my memory, our whirlwind tour started and ended like this:
25 July--LHR to BKK via MCT (Muscat, Oman)
26 July--arrive Bangkok rock city @19:45pm
27-29 July--Bangkok
30 July-1 Aug--Chiang Mai
2-4 Aug--Railay Beach
5 Aug--Phi Phi Island
6-8 Aug--Kata Beach, Phuket
9 Aug--travel day from hell
10-12 Aug--Koh Samui
13-16 Aug--Koh Pha Ngan
17-23 Aug--Koh Tao
24-25 Aug--Bangkok
A few quick facts: the best spring rolls exist in Bangkok; the best lady boys, in Koh Samui; worst excuse for a room, Koh Tao and paradise on earth, Railay Beach.
20 September 2011
18 September 2011
My Five-Year Anniversary
cheers to five years in England!
Here's to teaching, travelling, tubing and the many more adventures to come (including pending work visa extension paperwork...).
Here's to teaching, travelling, tubing and the many more adventures to come (including pending work visa extension paperwork...).
6 September 2011
Polis
Back some time last year (I think May half term), Rosa and I headed to Cyprus. Though we had a series of misadventures with buses and cars and met a series of people who tried to marry us off to their various sons, nephews and cousins, I'll leave most of the stories and post a few pictures.
When I one day come back to working on a computer with full capacity and I have loads of time, then the stories will come.
I should mention that we met a man named Nakis Kypriandies who owned the Souvlaki hut on Yialos Beach and happened to have lived in Sterling Heights for 30 years of his life. That was cool. I should also mention that we travelled from Paphos to Polis to the baths of Aphrodite (overrated) and over to Limmasol to visit one of my Warwick Uni friends before resting on the beach and wandering to find a vineyard that didn't exist.
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| near Paphos |
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| 'Central' Polis, population 500 |
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| :0) |
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| the baths of aphrodite |
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| ruins near Paphos |
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| Nakis's Souvlaki Hut on the beach |
I shall leave the rest...
5 September 2011
Cambridge
Back during a bank holiday weekend in May, I made the exquisite plan to do no planning for a random weekend away. This is how we stumbled upon Cambridge. For the extortionate price of £37.50 return, you can head one hour out of London and be transported into the quaint, collegiate, weird (people in cloaks and hats riding bicyles whilst simultaneously carrying large stacks of books and smoking their rolled up cigarettes) world of England's second oldest university.
Besides lots of pretty buildings, high street shops and oldy worldy type cobbles, Cambridge is also home to the River Cam and the great 'sporting' tradition that is punting.
I may have this wrong, but punting is something of a time honoured tradition of the well-heeled students and tourist types in the greater Oxford and Cambridge Universities. It involves a flat bottom boat that can seat up to 8 (?) and has a platform on the back for the punter, as such, to stand on and use a gigantic stick (probably a technical word for this) to steer/move/not move the boat foward depending on the level of skill. Think of a really fat gondola and you've got the general gist.
This seems simple enough. But on this river you're vying with drunk students tippling Pimm's on a rare blue sky day, tour guides who know what they're doing and the general public who think it doesn't look that difficult. Every now and then, you hear a splash followed by a cheer followed by intense laughter and wild gesticulations. No one said punting was easy.
Now I won't claim to have been the best punter, but I definitely wasn't the worst. The accolades for worst punter go to Paul who, within the five minutes he was standing on the back of the boat, managed to catch the pole on the bottom of the river, slip and do a spectacular jump/fall/nose plug leap into the five-foot depths of the river.
Derryn took over and Paul bought a new pair of jean shorts. Job done.
We didn't get much of the university history, folklore, etc, but if I pull my strings right, I might be able to give the insider's tour in the near future. I've just been awarded a TDA scholarship for a two-year MSt in Education at Cambridge. Next step--the application and thesis proposal. Move over Ivy League!
Besides lots of pretty buildings, high street shops and oldy worldy type cobbles, Cambridge is also home to the River Cam and the great 'sporting' tradition that is punting. I may have this wrong, but punting is something of a time honoured tradition of the well-heeled students and tourist types in the greater Oxford and Cambridge Universities. It involves a flat bottom boat that can seat up to 8 (?) and has a platform on the back for the punter, as such, to stand on and use a gigantic stick (probably a technical word for this) to steer/move/not move the boat foward depending on the level of skill. Think of a really fat gondola and you've got the general gist.
This seems simple enough. But on this river you're vying with drunk students tippling Pimm's on a rare blue sky day, tour guides who know what they're doing and the general public who think it doesn't look that difficult. Every now and then, you hear a splash followed by a cheer followed by intense laughter and wild gesticulations. No one said punting was easy.
Now I won't claim to have been the best punter, but I definitely wasn't the worst. The accolades for worst punter go to Paul who, within the five minutes he was standing on the back of the boat, managed to catch the pole on the bottom of the river, slip and do a spectacular jump/fall/nose plug leap into the five-foot depths of the river. 
Derryn took over and Paul bought a new pair of jean shorts. Job done.We didn't get much of the university history, folklore, etc, but if I pull my strings right, I might be able to give the insider's tour in the near future. I've just been awarded a TDA scholarship for a two-year MSt in Education at Cambridge. Next step--the application and thesis proposal. Move over Ivy League!
2 September 2011
Bullfighting y Tapas
Due to the rain, we had a whole lot of time to discover the best of Sevilla's tapas, wine and cava. On one of our last days we spent the morning dodging the rain in the Plaza de Toros, Seville's bullfighting ring and the afternoon, late afternoon, evening, night eating our way around the city. Spain is having its own moral debate with history and tradition versus animal ethics. I don't feel inclined to weigh in, but I can say that the ring and museum were formidable in size, artifacts and idea.
From there, it may have got a little out of hand and a tad bit messy.
In the Jewish Quarter
our favourite tapas bar, La Gitana
The wine flowed, my Spanish got better and before we knew it we were three bottles in making friends with all the wait staff.
The end of the night is a blur of making friends with an American travelling solo, stumbling down the solemn Holy Thursday streets, getting lost in the same alleys over and over again and eventually making it back to Camas. The headache the next morning coupled with the photographic evidence told us we'd gone out on a high note.
But it was a struggle to enjoy much else for the few hours between checking out of the hotel and our flight.
From there, it may have got a little out of hand and a tad bit messy.
In the Jewish Quarter 
our favourite tapas bar, La Gitana 
The wine flowed, my Spanish got better and before we knew it we were three bottles in making friends with all the wait staff. 
The end of the night is a blur of making friends with an American travelling solo, stumbling down the solemn Holy Thursday streets, getting lost in the same alleys over and over again and eventually making it back to Camas. The headache the next morning coupled with the photographic evidence told us we'd gone out on a high note. 
But it was a struggle to enjoy much else for the few hours between checking out of the hotel and our flight.
1 September 2011
Flamenco
La Carboneria is my kind of place. It came highly recommended by my friend and sorority sister Alli as 'the place to watch flamenco'. Plus, it was free. Alli also mentioned it was 'next to impossible to find'. She told us to ask on the street for directions because it was a turn left and a turn right here and then it's just a door, a non-descript door that leads into a cavern of free Flamenco. Sounded enigmatic enough for me.
And sure enough, it was next to impossible to find. After one particular Riojafest at our favourite tapas bar, La Gitana (in the Jewish quarter), Rosa and I attempted and failed to find it. We made friends with some waiters who gave us directions and then promptly ditched them. But seriously, this place was a big wooden door in a big stone wall in the middle of a series of other big wooden doors and stone walls.
Inside, there was a maze of tables, artwork and high, high arched ceilings that led into two rooms--one big and one small.
In the front of the big room was a stage, low to the ground and small. We blocked out a seat and made for the sangria until the show started.
Then a large sideburned woman came on stage with her musicians who began clapping in a series of crescendos and decrescendos. I was skeptical until the woman stood up and began to stomp, clap and shake her way across the floor.
And from there I was mesmerised. She was angry, she was sad. And the man began singing his mournful song. He was angry, he was sad. And I fell in love with them all.
After their half hour set, they moved to a stage in the small room where we followed. We took a makeshift seat essentially on the stage, where we got a much closer view of things:
Later in the week, we were persuaded to pay to see a 'Real Flamenco Show' in one of the city's cultural centres. What a shame that was. Compared to our night in the Carboneria, the costumes seemed fake and the dancing seemed lackluster.
And sure enough, it was next to impossible to find. After one particular Riojafest at our favourite tapas bar, La Gitana (in the Jewish quarter), Rosa and I attempted and failed to find it. We made friends with some waiters who gave us directions and then promptly ditched them. But seriously, this place was a big wooden door in a big stone wall in the middle of a series of other big wooden doors and stone walls.
Inside, there was a maze of tables, artwork and high, high arched ceilings that led into two rooms--one big and one small. 
In the front of the big room was a stage, low to the ground and small. We blocked out a seat and made for the sangria until the show started. 
Then a large sideburned woman came on stage with her musicians who began clapping in a series of crescendos and decrescendos. I was skeptical until the woman stood up and began to stomp, clap and shake her way across the floor. 
And from there I was mesmerised. She was angry, she was sad. And the man began singing his mournful song. He was angry, he was sad. And I fell in love with them all. 
After their half hour set, they moved to a stage in the small room where we followed. We took a makeshift seat essentially on the stage, where we got a much closer view of things: 
Later in the week, we were persuaded to pay to see a 'Real Flamenco Show' in one of the city's cultural centres. What a shame that was. Compared to our night in the Carboneria, the costumes seemed fake and the dancing seemed lackluster.
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