Days 16-19
The next few days were spent relaxing in Darjeeling and were uneventful on the whole. I have grown quite fond of Darjeeling away from the honking and polluting jeeps that invade the lower streets. I enjoy reading a book and drinking chai in the square and, like the locals, just doing nothing except enjoying life. I have found myself to be a little envious of the man I buy chai from. He spends his day chatting to friends and customers, doing little other than having a huge pot of chai on the brew all day, thus making a living. I no longer see having money as being rich, far better to be rich in time, I wonder how I can find a balance between the two? It was planned that Kerry and I would take a jeep to Sikkim on Thursday morning, but Kerry was very ill during the night with sickness and shits, so I left her in bed and visited a little monastery. I was befriended by a local Indian man and he gave a history lesson on Bhuddism. His English vocabulary was incredible but his thick Indian accent meant I understood little, which was a real shame. However, he did have a key for the monastery and so I was able to spend some time inside meditating, whilst he continued to walk clockwise around the building, to 'clear his mind' and 'gain merit'. Later that same day, from my hotel balcony, I could hear chanting from the streets below. I grabbed my camera and went in search of the story... Marching from the streets below to the main square, were children in protest or in support of the demand for Ghorkaland, an independent state for the Ghorka people of the Darjeeling area, which is currently governed by the state of Bengal. Next came the women and then the men, I can tell you the women made the most noise! They gathered peacefully in the square and sat to listen to some speakers. The reason for the gathering were talks being held in Delhi between Ghorka leaders, Bengali representatives and the central government. In the square, I was again befriended by an Indian and I learned a little more. So in the space of a few hours I was briefed in the history of Bhuddism and regional politics by Indians in English, I just needed a chat about cricket to cover all things dear to Indians.
With Kerry feeling better, we made the journey to the Sikkimese capital Gangtok, which appeared cleaner and wealthier than Darjeeling but lacked character. Rather than joining an expensive tour to north Sikkim, we decided to head to Pelling and trek to the surrounding villages, going as far north as our permit would allow. This was an inspired decision and lead us to meeting a great group of people including Michael, an Aussie biker, fellow Liverpool fan and a top bloke. One night by candle light and eating yak cheese mono's ( a Tibetan mini pasty ) we hit the honeybee brandy, joined by a couple of other Brits and Canadian lass. We got locked inside the little hut as there is a 8pm curfew here, and drank a beer called 'Hit', it felt more like a 'smack', I checked the label and found it was an 8% beer, there'll be trouble in the morning I thought. Trouble arrived around midnight but only for Kerry, she spent a half hour vomiting into our squat toilet bless her.
Trekking between villages one day, a young man passed us by and said, "Hello Uncle, hello sister", I can tell you Kerry was delighted to be his sister, whilst I wanted to give my nephew a clip round the ear...
Sikkim is a beautiful place,its the perfect tonic to crowded India, the only problem was I hadn't experienced enough of India to want to escape it. So I spent most of my time thinking this is great but its not India, so having used only 7 days of my 15 day permit, I found myself winding, bumping and honking my way back to Darjeeling, then to Siliguri and New Jaipalguri train station and onto a train bound for Varanasi.
After 16 hours on the train, I was surrounded by no less than 30 men wanting to take me to my hotel. I bargained hard and ended up in Satin's tuk-tuk. At full throttle he weaved through the heavy traffic breathing fire all the way, I thought about offering him double the original fare but I was too scared to approach the beast.
Varanasi is one of the worlds oldest cities and sitting on the bank of the Ganges River makes it the equivalent of Mecca to Hindus. Millions come here to bath in the sacred river which is one of the most polluted in the world. Words cannot begin to describe this place, 'a sensory overload' is exactly what this is. Its shocking, disgusting, exciting, intriguing and very overwhelming. Kerry was in tears within an hour and I thought we'd be leaving in the morning. There is a biblical feel to the place, poverty and religion are everywhere, a temple, a whailing mosque, a man with no limbs, a woman having a shit, a dead body, men touching each other, the stench of shit and piss, the sweet smell of chai, men with guns, people drinking the dirtiest water in the world, cows blocking alley ways, people collecting cow dung, endless touts offering boat trips or opium, scary looking sadhus with their face painted white meditating or smoking pot, the place is nuts. I sat down in alleyway with the obligatory glass of chai, in the 5mins it took me to drink it, 3 dead bodies were carried past me. In Varanasi, death is as much a part of daily life as drinking chai. To die here, offers the soul an escape to the cycle of reincarnation, 'go straight to heaven and do not pass go...' Wandering along the ghats, I found myself at the main burning ghat, I was curious to have a look without offending. Several fires were burning and more bodies were being prepared. I was standing just a few feet away from a fire and noticed the legs and feet of a body poking out untouched by the flames. It was a tough thing to see for me and I guess westerners. There appeared to be no mourners only men busy selling and preparing the timber for the next 'lucky soul' taking the shortcut to heaven. I was beginning to feel like my two year journey so far was an apprenticeship for India. I'm not sure if I could handle this place if I'd just stepped off a plane from England.

Singalila Ridge Trek

Day 11-15
It was about time I hit the hills and so an early start and a couple of jeep rides later, I found myself in Maneybajang, where local guide Binod would guide myslef and Kerry through the Songilila NP. The highlight of the trek was of course the Himalayas and the various viewpoints along the way. The route taken weaves its way in and out of India and Nepal and infact our first nights stay was in the Nepalese village of Tumling. The guesthouse in Tumling was a real gem and for just under 500Rs ($10) Kerry and I had a nice double bed and a 3 course meal infront of a roaring fire. Next day, I found out that an eldery villager had passed away the previous day, and that meant the people of nearby villages would come to pay their respect. All that day, people passed by on foot, making their way to Tumling. It was incredible to see and when I arrived in Sandakphu, some 7hours walk from Tumling, our host informed Binod that her husband and son had infact made the journey and would not return until the following day. Life is hard in the mountains but simple, I look at our own society and sadly reflect how little time we have for each other. In New York, when a troubled soul had to pay to go and see a 'shrink', I remember Crocodile Dundee's response, "Hasn't he got any mates?" How true Mick was, so listen, if you need to talk, skype me!

In Sandakphu, the accomodation was very basic, the tight budget meant a dorm bed in a government run trekking hut, but good food and plenty of blankets made for a good stay. The third day of the trek was the most scenic. The route stayed high and followed a ridge leading to the mighty Khangchendzonga, the forests disappeared below and there was a real feel of iscolation that one finds in the mountains. The tea houses that dotted the route the previous days were gone, it was just us, the mountains, the yaks and the wind. The destination was Phalut, the name of a mountain not a village at 3600m. An unwelcoming trekkers hut would be home for the night, it was cold, dirty and there was a dog turd under my bed, reminding me I was still in India. Despite this, the young caretaker managed to knock up a real feast for tea on the open fire and clay oven so typical in these parts. During the night the wind blew and howled, whistling through cracks and seaped into my bed. It banged doors and rattled the rafters but come 5.30am I realised it had also blown the clouds away. Binod and I made the short 15min walk to the summit, marked by Tibetan prayer flags, which contrasting against a pure blue sky are a sight to behold. From here Khangchendzonga was the closest it had been and the horizon was a continuous stretch of white jagged peaks leading to, in the haze of the west, Mount Everest. I wish I could write that I saw Everest, but the truth is, I could only see the base of the mountain, her summit was lost in the haze, another day perhaps. I was standing at a junction of borders, to the east India, west Nepal, and north Sikkim. More importantly I was in the Himalayas, where the people are all the same and have lived the same for centuries, only having borders imposed on them by the likes of us, the imperial British. From Phalut, it was mostly down to the beautiful village in a valley, Ghorkey. Where flowers bloomed and the only sound was the river. I'd have liked to have spent more time here but my final night would be in Ramman, a small village clinging to the mountainside with stunning views of the valley and Sikkim. The Sherpas Lodge was a step up from the two trekkers huts and a nice way finish. Kerry and I even sampled some original Chang or Tsongba, a warm alcoholic beverage made from millet, it was quite unlike anything I've had but is well liked here in the mountains. The final day was a short 3 hours to Rimbick, where our jeep awaited. The 80km five hour journey backto Darjeeling was an experience in itself. At one point, we had 16 in the jeep and 3 on the roof. When the hail came and carpeted the road, we had 2 near collisions and once nearly took a short cut down the mountain.In Darjeeling, it was straight to Hasty Tasty where I ate a south Indian Thali, a kind of tapas of curries. The only thing missing was a cold beer, replaced by a pot of tea, what else.

Days 7 - 10 in India

With the exception of early on day7, Darjeeling has been engulfed in cloud, so no mountains. The last few days have been uneventful, I have just been hanging out drinking chai and eating lots of curry and street food. I very nearly joined a 7 day trek to the base of Khangchendzonga, but it was too soon and too expensive and as it happens Kerry has been ill, so it was a good call. Today, Thursday, Kerry and I should have left to go trekking, but as Kerry is not 100%, we'll go tomorrow. Darjeeling has really grown on me and you really shouldn't judge a book by its cover. The town is mainly on the west facing slopes but it creeps up and over a ridge and this is where I've been hanging out, listening to the distant sound of the traffic. Looking east the mountain falls away into a deep valley and at night it is like seeing a stary sky below which merges with the sky above, its a surreal sight.
Connection or coincidence?
I was sitting in bar here in Darjeeling, drinking coffee by the way and I saw something strange. A local poured himself a beer, took a pinch of the frothy head and put it in his pocket, strange hey? I was quite shocked to see this as its not the first time I've seen it. A similar thing takes place in Bolivia, when the person with the biggest head on their beer, takes a pinch and pockets it thus preventing bad luck. I questioned the local but he was too drunk to explain and simply stated it was his style.
Another thing happened too, you'll often hear the local women singing around Darjeeling and I did infact hear them singing a song to the tune of 'Blowing in the wind' by Bob Dylan. Once again this isn't the first time I've heard this sung with a religious connection. The other time was at mass in the highlands of Guatemala, strange but true.

Day 6

At 5am I was sure the room was getting lighter, I got up and creeped outside, I was wrong, it was still pitch black and fog was all around, gutted. At 6am without much hope I checked again, and there they were. The Himalayas and Khangchendzonga the third highest mountain in the world standing at 8598m, it was a sight to behold and I stood mesmorised by it.

I have just realised that my love for the mountains started almost exactly 10years ago. It was March 2000 and I was trekking along the Overland route in Tasmania. A recommended side trip was to climb Mt Ossa, which was the highest point in Tasmania. It was tough and relatively dangerous for a complete novice to the hills like myself. Upon reaching the top I remember being slightly overwhelmed. The 360 views were unforgettable and the feeling of being out there in the wild, days from civilisation must have stirred something inside me. I shared the moment with Jay, a welsh lad I was travelling with and an older Ozzy bloke. He informed us that in all his years as a keen hiker, he'd never been to such a ruggedly beautiful place. We shared a hip flask of whiskey and headed back down. Summer 2003, on top of Mount Snowdon in Wales, a break in the clouds revealed the world below and suddenly I felt the need to climb a big mountain. I was with my mate Ste on Snowdon, and whether or he was feeling the same as me, he came along for the ride. Jan 2004, in wintry conditions, myself, Ste and our guide stood on top of Ben Nevis, kitted out in crampons, ice axes, harness, rope etc this was real mountaineering, I loved it. July 2004, I attempted to climb Mount Blanc(4808m), the biggest in western Europe, with Ste. Altitude sickness and poor weather conditions denied us, but I'd had a taste of mountaineering in the Alps and knew I would return. July 2005, unguided and against the odds, along with Ste and new team memeber Gary, I stood on top of Europe. Jagged peaks all around reached for the sky but none higher than me, I was so exhausted the moment almost passed me by, but reliving that moment again now, I realise it didn't pass me by at all. June 2008, Peruvian Andes. Sunrise, in an area desribed as the greatest mountain range outside of the Himalaya, I reached high and smashed my ice axe into the face. I hauled myself onto the summit plateau and rolled away from the edge. All alone I stood on top of Nevado Pisco (5752m). There was no feeling quite like it and getting there and more importantly getting back down alive is the greatest achievement of my life. So, a decade later I find myself starring at the Himalayas and wonder if fate has lead me here. I know for sure its not my time to climb a big mountain, but there is a chance I could climb a 6000m plus peak. For now, I'm happy to admire from afar but for how long?

Day 5

The overnight journey to New Jaipalguri was an easy one. My sleeper class bunk cost 260Rs(4quid) and was really quite comfy. I shared my compartment with Kerry, a Slovakian girl called Katarina and an Indian family of eight sharing five bunks. From the train station it was a further 3hours by jeep (120Rs) to Darjeeling with our new friend Katarina. On first sight, Darjeeling is a little on the ugly side and not the mountain retreat I had imagined.After a bit of a hike and viewing a couple of shitholes, Kerry and I, both short of breath, found 'The Grace Inn' and dumped our bags. By this time it was early afteroon and Darjeeling was well and truly in the clouds. It was frustrating not being able to see the mountains but it gave me chance to see the town. After the heat of Kolkata, Darjeeling felt freezing, and so drinking chai is what people do here. Up above the ugliness of the main through road is a pedestrianised square, where locals sit on benches, chat and drink chai, it's just perfect.

A short walk from here, past market stalls selling all the essential woolens, an enticing cafe called Hasty Tasty was having a magnetic effect on me. With large glass windows offering sweeping views of the valley and a menu full of the tempting unknown, I had a feeling i would be spending alot of time here. After a great meal and some more chai in the square,it seemed Darjeeling was heading to bed, so I followed suit. If the early bird catches the worm then the early Neil sees the mountains. I set my alarm for 6am, had a final look outside for the mountains, no show, and hit the hay.

Day 4

Having missed out on the flower market yesterday, I made an early start and along the way found a streetside tea and toast man. I was delighted for two reasons, the tea and toast was absolutely delicious and the price was 15p, at this early stage on my Indian adventure I'm quite sure this will turn out to be the cheapest place I've travelled around.
It seems the closer you get to the river in Kolkata, the poorer it is, and the flower market proved to be no exception, but I felt neither threatened or hassled. If India is colourful, then a flower market in India is like like looking inside Austin Powers' wardrobe on acid. The flower market exists purely because of the Hindu faith and the peoples desire to make an offering of flowers when visiting a temple. I think for this reason alone many thousands of Indians are able to eat each day. The flower market itself gets a bit overwhelming and it was a welcome sight to see an escape up onto the H Bridge, said to be the busiest in the world. As far as vehicle traffic goes I'm sure its no busier than any other city bridge, but pedestrians, well thats a different matter. I crossed the bridge going against the flow and from start to finish there were crowds of people crossing and all eyes were on me. On both sides of the river there are ghats, which are steps leading down to the river, where locals bath in the filthy brown water. Like the advert says, India really is incredible and Kolkata is at the heart of what India is about, both good and bad. It has an energy that just picks you up and carries you to somewhere new, a new stage where you can buy a cup of hot fresh chai and watch the show. During the interval follow your nose and discover the tastes of India and beyond. It doesn't matter if you cannot find your way back to your old seat because a new drama is unfolding before your very eyes and sometimes, you are the main character.
The day before I arrived in Kolkata, Monday, was Holi, a Hindu festival involving throwing powder bombs of colour around. Well now on the Saturday after this event, its funny to still see people and dogs still stained by the red dye. Its not just the odd person either, it seems like one in fifty. Another thing I have noticed is the amount of men here in comparison to women. I'd guess for every woman I have seen, I have seen a hundred men. Some of these men walk holding hands or arm in arm, a strange sight to see where homosexuality is both illegal and generally not accepted by society, so why? This I'm not sure of yet but endeavour to find out. Sadly, Kolkata is home to many homeless, an alarming amount. Even sadder to see is the amount of street children and babies that sleep on the streets. In a place where it costs so little to eat it is truely heart breaking to see. On my travels I have seen a huge amount of money being given to the church, wats, mosques, temples etc and cannot help but wonder if this money was given to those in need, then maybe it would go along way to solving this problem. Afterall, surely God would rather help the poor.
I caught a taxi to Sealdah train station, boarded the Darjeeling Mail and said farewell to this amazing city. I felt like a little boy on Xmas eve, tomorrow I would see the Himalayas, the greatest mountain range on the planet.

Day 3

After a fruit, muesli and yoghurt brekkie, I was heading on foot to the BBD neighbourhood, where colonial builings dominate the skyline, including the columns and domed roof of the immaculate white washed GPO and the spire of St Johns Church. I did have a purpose for being here, I was headed to the Houghly River and the flower market below the 'busiest bridge in the world', but first I had to buy a train ticket to Darjeeling. This was my first taste of Indian beaurocracy and the first time in 20 years I saw a BBc computer. I collected my number and sat waiting. Two of the three counters were open but that soon became one even though three operatives were there. Anyway an hour later and I had purchased two of the last three sleeper beds on the Darjeeling Mail leaving tomorrow night. I couldn't walk past the man selling dosa masala, a veg and potatoe mash served in a giant wrap/roti (15Rs) with three dips, I was happy again and washed it down with a sweet yoghurt drink called a 'lassi'. There was no time for the flower market as I had my ticket for take two of the presentation at the planetarium. My guidebook said 'thickly accented english', but for me it was just occasional english which really was a shame because the visual effect was amazing. It was back to Sudder street after that just to relax in familiar surroundings. It had been a very hot day, high 30's and I was really fancying a beer with my curry, but when in Rome etc...

Day 2

My first full day in India has been superb, Kolkata is an immense city and so full of life. If it differs from my perception of the place, then maybe it's a little easier to just be an obvious foreigner. Kolkata is a great place to just leave your guide book and get lost in its narrow streets which I did. I also visited the Victoria Memorial building, a stunning reminder of the British Raj. Set in beautiful gardens the 4Rs entrance fee means its a great place to escape the chaos that lies beyond. On the steps leading to the main entrance, Kerry and I were in high demand. It was time for any Indian and his wife, kids and mate to have a photo with the white couple, we had to make a sharp exit as a queue was forming. The Victoria Memorial itself is a stunner and reminded me alot of the Cunnard Building (with bells on) at Liverpools Pier Head.

After a power cut ruled out the English presentation at the planetarium the rest of the day was dedicated to eating. Its not hard to find food in this city, every street corner and sometimes whole streets are swamped with mobile kitchens cooking tonnes and tonnes of various curries to feed the millions. For tea, I chose a more upmarket venue, meaning it had tables and chairs and the owner was delighted to have and recommended a few dishes, including a paneer(cheese) butter masala and a lentil curry called Chola Bhotura

India

On the 1st March 2010, after almost 2years 2months travelling I went to bed in Bangkok but could not sleep with excitement.
The following day at 15.30pm the plane I was on touched down in Kolkata, India. An hour later I was sharing a taxi heading into the centre of this city of 15million people. It seemed like all 15million were on the streets at once as our battered yellow taxi weaved its way through tiny gaps in the traffic, beeping his horn relentlessly. I was mesmorised by the chaos that is daily life here in India. I was heading to Sudder Street, the so called backpacker area of town. In the 45mins it took to get here I did not see one westerner, which is a good thing. Sudder street, to my relief is a miilion miles away from the Khao San Road of Bangkok, there are just a handful of travellers here and Indian life still dominates proceedings. I checked into the Galaxy hotel on Stuart St, a side street off Sudder st (300 Rs) and went for a wonder.

Without a plan or a map, I followed my senses. I wondered down busy side streets, the scent of Begali cuisine enticing me and listened for the sounds of Bollywood, the latter being nearly impossible over the constant horn blowing. I was drawn to a hole in the wall where people queued. Being Britsh I love a good queue, so I joined it and ended up with a chicken tikka wrap(16Rs) for my troubles, delicious.
Everywhere you go,it seems people are drinking tea, a legacy of the Britsh, so I stopped for a spot of tea or chai served in a clay pot(5Rs) which are used once and then destroyed, the chai was delicious by the way with a hint of ginger.

The Kiwi job interview!

On Friday afternoon, I called into one of the largest apple growers in the area to ask about a job. I met Steve and he asked me to come back on Monday morning and in the mean time I should get on the 'piss'. Monday morning came and I was in Steve's office 8am prompt. Question one of the interview, "So, did you get pissed at the weekend?" He was taken aback when I said no. "An Irishman not pissed on the weekend, thats a first!" I could sense the job running away from me...'Well maybe not, I'm English, from Liverpool', "Same fucking thing isn't it?" I got the impression Steve only employs pissheads and decided against telling him about my 3month abscence from the drinking scene. Instead I told him how cheap beer and wine are in South America and that I heard in Vietnam US$10 can buy you 100 beers. I was back on track, he offered me a job pruning apple trees, I should have started yesterday but rain has stopped play. I had time for a coffee in the staff room, equiped with pool table and a bar with beer on tap, I will soon be falling off the wagon I thought.

I remembered my job interview with Halifax bank, I realise a job in mortgages is totally different from working in an orchard, but I find it ridiculous that companies employ people to employ people! During my Halifax interview, in a group of 10 or so other candidates, I was given a task of being a handbag and 60seconds to talk about being a handbag. I wonder how long it took the 'HR' personel to come up with this interviewing process and how much money is spent by such companies. Furthermore, in light of the recent financial crisis and the bailout of such banks by governments, you have to wonder about the way things have been done or run in the past. I'd like these companies to fold, but that would only hurt the working class, the people who have no control on decision making and the future. So, instead I can only hope for a reduction in the big wigs and there expense accounts and the people who come up with the bulllshit idea of making Neil Gavin talk about his life as a fucking handbag ( excuse my Kiwi). I must ask my new boss Steve for his views on this. Like I said before, I know different jobs require different interviewing techniques but I prefer the honesty of the Kiwi approach, where a spade is a spade and not a handbag.

My photo gallery.

I have set up a photo gallery on photobox.
Here is a link to the gallery

http://www.photoboxgallery.com/neilgavin

Gis a job?

After 15months on the road, it was time to get a job, well lets be honest it was a good run, even by my standards. We bought Kiwi Kenny, our campervan in Christchurch and headed north to the wine growing region of Marlborough where I had lined up a job grape picking with Jeeti, an Indian guy. After meeting up with him,I was far from convinced he was a genuine employer and so the job ended before it began, but good news arrived next day in email form. I'd written to several of the regions wineries and Cloudy Bay replied offering me a job as bird scarer! I didn't know what to make of this at first and checked it wasn't 1st April, no, still March. Excitement grew as I pictured myself as Worzel Gummidge chasing birds(the feathery kind) between vines. That afternoon I made my way to the vineyard and met up with Erika, I was offered and accepted the job which involved chasing birds on a quad bike but scarecrow attire was not neccessary.

It's 7am the following morning and there is an icy chill in the air as I climb from my toastie warm bed and step outside of Kenny. The warm glow of the sun is near but the surrounding hills block out the horizon to the east. To the west the stars melt away into the blue sky and what stars they were, I'm not sure I have seen such an impressive sky. I quickly heat some water for my weetabix and then drive the short distance to Cloudy Bay's Mustang vineyard, one of about eight of theirs in the area. I meet 'Kithy'(Kathy), read about health and safety and by 8am I'm sat on my quad bike ready to bird scare. I'm so overwhelmed by the natural beauty of the area that I have to pinch myself, this isn't work at all, this is pleasure. I set off on patrol up and down the long rows of vines, scaring a few birds but not many, the cold hits me again as between vines the sun's warmth is absent. Lunch time arrives in no time, I wonder if time will pass so quickly after a week of this.

Mid afternoon, and I sense trouble, I'm right the magpies have invaded, upto forty of them and I'm not talking about the polite, well mannered magpies we know and love, only interested in shiny stuff. No, white backed magpies are notorous grape killers and I break out into a sweat. Foot to the floor I give chase but, I get to within 20metres and startle them, one of them stays low between the same vines as me, its like a scene from Star Wars, honestly it is, I can almost touch him. Sensing my breath on his feathers and at high speed, he pulls off a Luke Skywalker style manoevre weaving between vines and is gone. Behind me, the gang have re-gathered and are laughing at me and making murderous swoops on the helpless grapes below. At the end of my first day, I have mastered driving at full speed whilst standing up, waving, clapping, whistling and barking like a dog, I believe if Alan Sugar witnessed this type of multi-tasking, he'd be saying 'you're hired!'. As I type this on my laptop, sitting in Kenny, a magpie has just landed on a wooden post, looked at me, took a shit and left. It's as though they know what my day job is...
Well, 4 weeks have passed and the bird scaring is over, for the past week I have been walking up and down the rows of vines looking for and removing broken posts. I finish the job tomorrow, I think. My boss Jeff, has less personality than a than a turd and I have had longer conversations with the grapes. Infact one day I was chatting to a grape and he couldnt contain himself, he thought today was the day he'd be picked, crushed, fermented, bottled and shipped somewhere far and wide and when drunk he lives life through the eyes of the drinker for a few days before he is no more. This particular grape believed in reincarnation and told me about his previous lives. He fondly remembered the good old days when he regularly found himself himself on a country estate in Europe and spent his final days viewing fine art, dining out and galloping around the paddocks. Then he sighed and reflected on more recent years, bright lights, loud music and often the inside of the toilet, followed by more drinking. He sighed and regretted the increasing trendiness of wine with the younger generation maybe this year would be different he told me, I wished him luck.

So, I have now bird scared on the dancefloors of the UK and the vineyards of New Zealand, regrettably I feel I was more successful on the dancefloors, much more.

Now, and then!

May 7th 1999, I stumbled off the Korean Air jumbo jet full of beer, whiskey and seaweed(the Korean idea of a snack) and jumped on a bus headed for the Captain Cook Hostel. A few months earlier I had decided that university wasn't for me and that a year in Australia was. Bodies were sprawled all over the place in the hostel, it had been a good night I could tell, I hoped tonight would be the same. I dumped my gear and headed down to the bar below, it was 9.30am, I had a schooner of lager and went in search of the opera house and harbour bridge. I walked down Oxford St the gayest place on earth, I thought I'd stepped onto the set of YMCA, Elton John couldn't have dreamed it any better, or should I say worse. I was shocked at the poodle walking poofs and Freddie Mercury look-a-likes, I pushed on looking for Mick Dundee's side of town.
After a days sightseeing and several schooners, I arrived back at Captain Cooks and the place had livened up. I had a friend staying there and he introduced me to most of the cool kids. I hadn't slept for about 40hours and now wasn't the time to try, 'another schooner please sport'. The booze flowed, I had drunk myself sober and was getting drunk again, I won a pool competition beating an Irishman called Glen. He wore a Celtic top which stretched over his ale gut and had short bleeched blond hair, quite a sight. He nicknamed me 'scouser' which was hilarious because he had a lisp and couldn't pronounce his 's', so he called me 'thcouther'. We drank bourbon and coke at the bar and he continually requested 'sweet child of mine' to be played. He suggested we headed to a bar in town where we might be able to make some money playing pool. I told him later and then burst into song, 'Poor Scouser Tommy', the whole bar of 50plus were silenced by my performance, I was surprised by this, at home such an event had become so regular that I was generally ignored, now I had a captivated audience. There were a few southern United fans in the bar and they shouted a few things back, I calmly suggested we should take this outside, they declined but had the last laugh a few weeks later when they won the European Cup. We moved on from our bar and hit Kings Cross and it wasn't long before I had my first encounter with an Ozzy bouncer. I did at least have time to pull my pants up before I was thrown from the premises. I managed to behave myself in a seedy lap dancing bar and was offered extras upstairs, on telling them I was skint, they informed me I could pay on credit card, "I'm not sure my parents would appreciate 1 x blow job on my Barclaycard statement, but thanks anyway love". I realised why the place was free to get in when I got my bar bill, I ran like the wind and ended up in a 70's club chatting to people who couldn't understand a word I was saying and so I chanted football songs at them instead, I didn't last long in that place either. It was around this time I realised I was alone, for how long I did not know, I didn't care, I was enjoying myself. I only have flashbacks from here on, I won some money on a pokie machine, smoked a joint with a Russian and found a mobile phone and called England on it. At some point I realised I didn't have a clue where I was and instead of jumping a cab, I wandered the streets. When I did find my way home, rather than entering through the door, I climbed the front of the hostel and through the window of my dorm room, it had been a good night. The next day before breakfast, I had a beer...


March 7th 2009, almost ten years later and feeling a bit tired but very sober, I step off the plane and enter Auckland airport. It's not Australia but it's close and I feel happy to be back in this part of the world again. Like ten years ago I have the intention of spending a year here and working my way around the country, but I have changed and arriving at the backpackers in Auckland city I realise how much. After checking in, I immediately inspected the toilets and the kitchen and was not totally satisfied that the cleaner was doing his/her job properly. I looked disgusted at the scattered empties left from the night before and frowned at the two 20 year olds having a beer, it wasn't even lunch time. It was when I was reporting back to Kerry that it dawned on me, aaaaaahhhhh!!!! I'm getting old. Only days before, Kerry told me I have alot of grey hair, and has started to call me the 'silver fox', now I'm inspecting hostels for cleanliness, I hve been spending alot of time in libraries too, I like people watching, I enjoy going for walks, I'm eating loads of vegetables and going to farmers markets, I just got really excited because I found an apple tree so I picked five apples from it, for free, I complain alot about the price of things, I have started writing, I wrap up warm when I go outside, I constantly tell Kerry to be careful when she's crossing the road, my back hurts, I go to bed just after dark, I haven't been drunk for ages, my bum feels soft and I enjoy talking to middle aged people, I find them interesting...So, what do you make of all that. I have changed havent I? But so have you. You're greyer than me, you actually have a library card, your back and knees hurt, you've been eating veggies for ages and you won't even stay in a hostel, haha.


Anyway, I realise I have changed but I think for the better, afterall where did my antics actually get me?

Since writing this I have taken up knitting!

Hillsborough 20th anniversary

20 years ago today(15/04/09), 96 Liverpool fans needlessly lost their lives in Sheffield at an FA cup semi final.
Gone but never forgotten, RIP. Justice for the 96.
You'll Never Walk Alone.


http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Hillsborough_disaster

San Francisco

We arrived in San Francisco on Monday night after a long but scenic drive from L.A. and spent the night with a couchsurfer called Brenda. The recent weather here has been rain and more rain, so when we woke up yesterday morning to blue skies we had only thing in mind, the bridge. After dropping off our hire car, we caught the BART (Bay area transport) an excellent tube system to downtown San Francisco. We wandered aimlessly for a while and then were drawn up the steepest street which had old school trams running up and down, a great photo opportuntiy I thought, it was. By accident we stumbled upon China town and the smells were of course delightful, it was great to see the hustle and bustle created by ethnic communities in our western world. At this point I was already falling in love with San Francisco and its steep streets filled with characters and life. We passed over 'Nob Hill' and dropped down towards the piers and Fishermans Wharf, a mecca for tourists. Its funny, I don't actually consider myself a tourist even though thats what I am and so I get frustrated when I see hoards of tourists. I guess I can't always be off climbing isolated peaks. Fishermans Wharf was full of bars, reataurants and tourist shops and was really quite nice and immaculately kept, it was great to be near the ocean, I love the smell of fish and chips, the clattering of masts and the bird shit...

At this point the bridge seemed miles away and thought about catching a bus. We continued on foot passing alot of homeless and just bums with signs reading, 'why lie, I need a beer any spare change?', this is a common sign here in California and it seems to work, 'Kerry pass me that marker pen!!!'

We finally made it to the Golden Gate Bridge and walked across it taking in the great views of the bay. Along the way we stopped and chatted to some workmen, they told us that there is about a suicide a week on the bridge and that very morning someone had jumped which was really sad. The Bridge itself is a man made beauty and we loved it so much we walked back, well there was no choice really.

Road Trip!!!

After waiting nearly 2 hours to get my hire car, a standard economy car, I was given the keys to a black sports Mustang. As I cruised down the Las Vegas strip the smile on my face could have bridged the Mersey. This 4 litre engined beast was the fastest thing I'd ever driven and I was enjoying myself. I picked Kerry up in my new ride and we headed east on our road trip, passing the Hoover Dam.

Our main objective was to see the Grand Canyon, but after spending the night in snowy Flagstaff, Arizona, we headed a little further south to Sedona, land of red rocks, the scenic drive from the high mountains down to the red desert was breathtaking, but the temperature remained chilly. We camped in the valley on our second night and guess what, the rain came and made big puddles. At 2am we abandoned ship and jumped into the Mustang where we actually had a decent sleep. The rain in the valley was snow on the hills and lots of it. We gained elevation as we headed towards the Grand Canyon and were greeted with a blanket of snow.

Luckily, the roads were well ploughed and we did eventually make it to the Grand Canyon where we were able to see...nothing. It was the most miserable day imagineable but we remained patient and of course were rewarded. Occassionally the cloud broke and rays of light hit the red rock of the canyon below and then just before sunset the whole canyon revealed itself and I was blown away.

With great relief we headed out of the park and back on ourselves to find a place to stay. Meaning a place to park and sleep in the car. It wasn't hard, we parked around the back of a Holiday Inn and I braved the cold outside to boil some water for a pot noodle dinner, I'm sure Michael Palin didn't do this.

We woke early for sunrise at the canyon but the weather had other ideas, altough we did get a glimpse of the sun in between blizzards. On our last stop out of the park at a viewing tower, the weather was again kind to us and the canyon was again on full show. I loved the moodiness of the canyon in this light, a perfect blue sky day would have been to easy, and I left feeling that we'd been given special permision to see a great natural wonder.

We left the Grand Canyon very happy and as we headed east the weather improved instantly as we continued our road trip but the forecast was bad with more snow predicted.

Change of plan!

So, after 13months on the road, we're both really tired and the money is now getting short. So, we have decided to head... no not home, but to New Zealand, possibly in the next week or two. This means no Canada and certainly no Alaska. It also means not much more of the States. We had planned to head up the west coast to Seattle and then onto Vancouver but we have honestly just run out of steam. The states have been brilliant and we have managed to stay with friends and couchsurfed but it's still a difficult place to travel around and personally, I cannot be arsed anymore. So a much needed period of work will do two things, boost the bank balance and renew our energy and passion for travelling. I'm sorry this isn't a very funny or inspiring post but it reflects the current mood. We will now head to San Fransisco and cross the Pacific ocean downunder to New Zealand.

A few of my favourite pictures.

Here is just a few of my photos I have taken both on my travels and before I left. I hope you like them.

Camping under the stars.

Old car Havana, Cuba.

Red car, Havana

Heavy snow in the Rocky Mountains

The Mall, Central Park, New York.

A Peruvian child shyly watches us strangers pass by...

Amazing mountains surround us on the Santa Cruz trek, Peru.

Lightening in Nicaragua.

The Thames, London.

The Pier Head, Liverpool.

Park and ride, Havana.

Times Square, New York.

The Tower Bridge, London.

Rio by night, view from Sugar Loaf Mountain.

A tree trunk in the Rocky Mountains, Colorado.

The erupting Volcan Santiagito, Guatemala.

'Another Place', Liverpool's Crosby beach, home sweet home.

Sailing on the Beagle Channel in Tierra del Fuego.

Iconic London red bus and the city skyline

La Paz, Bolivia, the highest capital city in the world. A truly mind blowing landscape.

A Cuban grannie puffing on a huge cigar, what a character.

Above the clouds on a trek up a volcano in Guatemala

The three towers hide behind the lingering clouds in Torres del Paine, Chile.

Iguazu waterfalls seen from Brazil looking across into Argentina.


Hope you liked them, Neil.

Viva Las Vegas!

I guess I can keep this pretty brief, Las Vegas is basically the Blackpool of the States. It's all about gambling, beers, sex and big swanky hotels. It's not my cup of tea but I'm here so of course I'm going to enjoy myself. The main reason we are here, is to see Barry Manilow, no seriously, it's true. Kerry has been a fan all her life thanks to her mum, thanks Bena!

Right now, we are couchsurfing about 15miles outside of Vegas, which has been great. We are staying with Mike and his two kids, Jordan and Julian. It's been really relaxing after a week on the road and gives us some internet time as we have a ton of stuff to sort out. Tomorrow we'll head back into Vegas where we'll be staying in the Excaliber hotel for three nights and then its off to L.A.

On Thursday it was Kerry's 32nd birthday and we had loads of fun on the fruit machines, drinking and then saw a tribute show at night. The tributes were The Temptations, Justin Timberlake, Whitney Houston and of course Elvis, it was a great show. I'll leave it here for now and if anything happens in our last three days I'll update this.

Colorado

Next stop, Boulder, Colorado and more friends to stay with, Drew and Erin who we met on a trek in Patagonia. We took the Amtrak, infact I started writing this on that journey. It took about 22hours but the train was fantastic, loads of leg room and a lounge carriage mostly made of glass with great views. We arrived in Denver and by chance saw the start of the 'stock festival', which is mostly just country folk either on horseback or walking cattle and shouting 'yeeeeehaaaaaa' but the locals seem to like it.

We headed to Boulder, a uni town, and spent a few days chilling with Drew and Erin, went cycling on the towns excellent bike trails and then last Saturday went snowboarding. We both took to it really well and Drew said I was a natural just before I fell over and hurt my back. Boulder is right on the edge of the Rockie Mountains, and there are some amazing places to stay up there but your talking 50quid a night minimum, so I decided to email a couple of places and ask 'do you need a hand with anything in exchange for food and a bed'. And so we ended up here http://www.allensparklodge.com/ which is where Im finishing this email, its a beautiful log cabin with hot tub and right now its snowing heavily outside. The owners Bill and Juanita are brilliant, we do very little here and we get alot in return. On Wednesday we went snow shoeing in the national park, in places there were 4ft of snow, in others there were 400ft drops and Kerry cried as she started to slide towards such a drop.
This weekend we have a group 'scrap bookers' staying with us, these ladies collect lots of photos and then during this weekend they will creatively cut these photos and put them into an album, one of these ladies is now sat infront of me snoring away infront of the fire, I think all the excitement has finally taken its toll.

We had a great time with Bill and Juanita in the lodge and they were very generous. We went saw plenty of Elk roaming the streets of Estes Park and tried a beer by the same name. We also had a great day out snow shoeing in Rocky Mountain National Park.

Our time came to return to Boulder and back to Drew and Erin's place. It was great to back with them and that following weekend we spent in the mountains at their friends place. I really loved my time in Boulder its my kind of place. In the town itself there are miles of bike paths separate from roads and it makes getting around, excercising and walking a real pleasure. This definately helps keep the weight off the locals in this already active town and the traffic off the roads too.

On our last night out in Boulder we hit the town and finished in what the locals called a 'dive bar', needless to say it was exactly my kind of bar. We had an amazing time in Colorado thanks mainly to Drew and Erin, cheers guys, hope to repay you some day.