Friday, 26 June 2009

The final fling


After the eight-hour flight from Melbourne, arriving in the city-state of Singapore was actually not quite the culture shock I had expected. With its glistening skyline and modern transportation, the CBD of Singapore is largely undistinguished among the ranks of the world's increasingly homogeneous wealthy cities. The most notable disparity between Singapore and her global counterparts is her conspicuous efficiency and cleanliness, which are strictly enforced by the benevolent dictatorship that has run the country for the last 50 years. So westernised is Singapore that perhaps we shouldn't have been surprised when we came across auditions for “Singapore Idol” just around the corner from our hotel.








We took the obligatory pilgrimage to the Raffles Hotel, named for Sir Stamford Raffles who founded Singapore in 1819 as a British trading post. We had intended to take in a Singapore Sling cocktail in the bar there, as is apparently the done thing. However a peek at the menu revealed we'd have to sell an organ to afford it, so we snuck off and refreshed ourselves elsewhere!









Singapore provided us with a gentle transitional gateway to Asia. Outside the CBD, we eased into the the Asian melting-pot by visiting this beautifully animated Hindu temple, just around the corner from an equally impressive Chinese temple, which in turn was situated next to a sizeable mosque.








After a day of sight-seeing we met up with our tour-group, which comprised just six people including ourselves and the tour-leader Alex. The others were a couple from Glasgow and a young woman from Switzerland, all in their early twenties (this photo was actually taken later on in Bangkok). It would turn out to be a fun group with whom we would have some great experiences.






Included in the price of the tour were accommodation, transport and a tour leader. So the general procedure was that we would travel to a hotel and then be given a day or more's free time to look around the vicinity on our own. On day two of the tour we jumped on a public bus and headed out of Singapore, bound for the town of Malacca in Malaysia. Situated on the Straits of Malacca, the town was a key trading post for the Portuguese, Dutch and later the British during their respective periods of colonial rule. Now the town's historic quarter is cheerfully tarted up for the tourists. The picture shows one of the delightfully tacky trickshaws daubed in fake flowers ferrying tourists past our hotel. This particular one blasted out trance music, but it was possible to find a trickshaw with music to suit any taste.









We spent an enjoyable day walking around the historic quarter. This ruined entrance gate is all that remains of Fort A Famosa built by the Portuguese in the early 1500s to defend the port against the Dutch.











The Malaysian population is predominantly composed of three ethic groups: Malays, Chinese and Indians. While in Malacca we visited a Chinese tea-house where a young lady performed a traditional tea ceremony for us. There was a lot of symbolism and ritual sloshing of water, but all I recall is that it was the best cup of tea we'd had since we left Blighty!








Another public bus took us to the Malaysian capital, Kuala Lumpur. Here at last we found the culture shock we had expected. KL fulfilled all my stereotypes of a hectic, grubby and chaotic Asian city. Mopeds zoomed around ignoring every conceivable rule of the road (not to mention the rules of common sense!), while a single careless step could see you fall through one of the many gaping holes in the pavement to the deep storm drains below. This photo illustrates one of the paradoxes of the city – the fabulously opulent Petronas towers, once the tallest buildings in the world. We joined the queue of tourists to receive our free tickets to the the sky-bridge, a walkway between the buildings at the 41st floor.








From the sky-bridge we had great views over the sprawling metropolis.








On the outskirts of KL we climbed the 272 steps to the Batu Caves, which have been made into a Hindu shrine. The statue of Lord Murugan really was that tall (43 metres) – it's not just a trick of perspective!









Cheeky monkeys skitted around us as we climbed, doubtless hoping to get a morsel of something tasty.









After two nights in KL we took a crazy bus-ride up into the Cameron Highlands. When the steam pouring into the cab from the overheating engine finally became intolerable to the driver we stopped for a few minutes to top the system up with more water. The photo shows the view of the dashboard-geyser from my seat, I don't know why we bothered going to Yellowstone!








After the bus finally screamed into the village where we were staying, we went out on a hike into the jungle. We stopped at an aboriginal village, where we were shown how to shoot a hunting blowpipe. I fluked a bulls-eye on my first shot!








From the village we started climbing in earnest. After two hours of scrambling up muddy tracks, following a local guide through the steamy jungle, we came upon the object of our mission – a Rafflesia flower. This plant has evolved flowers that attract beetle and fly pollinators by mimicking the appearance and scent of rotting animal flesh. An obligate parasite on the climbing vines you can see in the picture, the flower is the only part of Rafflesia that is ever visible on the surface. This specimen was actually a few days old (they open for about a week), so disappointingly it didn't really have a strong stench going on. However, our guide knew of a newly-opened flower a little further up the path, so we marched on excitedly. A few of our party had reached the flower, and I had just come upon it, with Andy further back in the group, when our guide suddenly became agitated. It became apparent that he had heard something sinister in the jungle. He indicated urgently that we must turn around and leave. Alarmed, we all turned on our heels and slipped and slid our way back down the steep slope as quickly as we could. When we had made a good distance we finally managed to elucidate from the guide that he had heard the low rumbling growl of a prowling tiger!





Our next stop was a tea plantation, where a stiff cuppa was most welcome after the exertion of dashing down a mountain to evade a tiger.





Only slightly less menacing than a tiger were some of the local bugs like this stag beetle, which we viewed in a little bug zoo.





Our last stop in Malaysia was Georgetown on the island of Penang, another historic colonial trading post. We largely spent our time in Penang just chilling after our adventures in the hills. We did however manage a visit to a chocolate shop (with free tastings of course) and a stroll around a Chinese temple or two.





A full day's drive took us across the border to Thailand and up to Surat Thani. After overnighting in Surat, we boarded a ferry for the island of Ko Pha Ngan. On arrival we took a hair-raising ride across the island on dirt roads, in the back of a pick-up truck.





Our accommodation for the following 4 nights was a free-standing bungalow set back a little way from a beautiful beach.





We took things real easy on Ko Pha Ngan. In one of our more strenuous bursts of activity, we headed into the village to tour-leader Alex's favourite restaurant hangout. Andy got a lesson in how to make Son Tam, a salad made with unripe papaya and chilli, while I test-drove a hammock.





A heavy night at the karaoke was followed by a day of serious chilling on the beach. One evening we went for a night-swim. As we waded into the water, we were engulfed by swirling clouds of blue luminescence, an utterly enchanting experience. With a bit of internet research, I think the luminescence comes from microscopic algae called dinoflagellates, other species of which are responsible for shellfish poisoning and red tides.





When the time came we were sorry to be leaving the traquility of Ko Pha Ngan. Back at Surat Thani we boarded an overnight train bound for Bangkok. At 10pm the guards come around to convert the seats into a lower bunk and pull down the upper bunk from a compartment in the ceiling. I slept well on the top bunk, though Andy fared less well on bottom.





We disembarked at 6am at Bangkok. Immediately, we were whisked away in a minibus to visit a floating market some distance out of town. Here you can float up and down the canal in a boat making purchases from merchant boats as well as from stalls that line the bank.





Next, our minibus took us to the infamous Bridge over the River Kwai. The bridge was part of the Thailand-to-Burma “railway of death” built largely by allied soldiers who had been captured by the Japanese during World War II. An excellent museum next to a depressing large allied cemetery presented a thought-provoking and poignant portrait of the terrible human toll of the railway. One aspect of the story of which I was previously unaware was that while English, Australian and Dutch losses on the railway were great (6318, 2815 and 2490 respectively), deaths among Asians under forced labour on the railway were astronomical (numbering around 90,000). Furthermore, as was pointed out by our local guide, there are no cemeteries for the Asians – they remain where they fell in their multitudes.





Back in Bangkok we had one final day to do some sightseeing. The Grand Palace, the official resident of the kings of Thailand from the 18th century onwards, most certainly lived up to its name.





The extensive complex of temples, shrines and residences can most accurately be described as "bling central". Every surface, cornice and roof is daubed with fabulously gaudy gilding, mirror tiles, mosaics and murals.



After 17 hectic days our tour came to an end, and with it the Wonder Year drew to a close. We said goodbye to our tour-buddies and boarded the plane to Singapore where we connected with a flight to London Heathrow.



And what a year it has been. So many sights, so many memories, every one of them to be cherished. The next chapter of our lives begins here and now. All that remains is for us to extend our heart-felt thanks to you for sharing in our journey of a lifetime. Go well.






















Thursday, 4 June 2009

Full circle



South of Sydney the main highway sweeps inland, making a beeline for Canberra and Melbourne, taking the traffic and hubbub away from the coast. As ever, we chose instead to take the scenic route, following the coast toward the New South Wales - Victoria border. South from Batemans Bay seaside resort towns and rolling farmland gave way to eucalyptus forests and remote rugged beaches. At Ben Boyd National Park Banksia forest sat atop strikingly stratified cliffs eroded into mini-badlands.









On crossing the border we came upon Mallacoota, a peaceful fishing village on the banks of a large inlet. Here we camped by the water and though we were unable to hire a boat due to the wind, we explored the inlet on foot, bush-walking through gum forest and temperate rainforest.














Shortly after turning west for the final leg of our journey we came across the wide outlet of the Snowy River into the sea at tiny Marlo, awakening memories of our early days in Australia, at the source of the Snowy near the ski lodge in Guthega.
















We stayed a couple of nights on a spit of land between the Gippsland Lakes and Ninety-Mile Beach, which really is 90 miles and utterly deserted at this time of year.
















While we were there we spent a day giving Edna's paintwork a bit of attention (i.e. hiding the rust!), in preparation for sale in Melbourne. As we sanded and primed a kookaburra kept a close watch on our activities from a nearby branch. When we took a break for lunch in the back of the van the kookaburra continued to watch us through the open door from a few metres away. Amazingly, when Andy did an impression of a kookaburra laugh we had to dive for cover as the bird came swooping into the van! After a few confused moments of feathers and flailing, kookaburra retreated back to his branch, and we leapt to close the door behind him!






Later that day we had another animal encounter, finding this little beauty (about 10cm across) snuggled inside the front passenger side door. If any arachnophiles out there can identify him, let us know.












Further west along the coast we came to Wilson's Promontory National Park, better known locally as “The Prom”. This was the first place we had seen that was burnt in the devastating bush fires that wrought tragedy across Victoria in February. Three quarters of the peninsula encompassed by the National Park burned, though being uninhabited, there was little damage to property and no loss of life here.








The burnt browns and blacks leant a certain severity to the magnificent scenery of the Prom.















At the massive (though empty) camp-ground at Tidal River on the Prom, the wildlife seemed to have become pretty accustomed to humans. Hopeful rosella parrots hung around the picnic tables.













And at dusk the wombats were totally unfazed in their grass-munching by our camera flashes.















Jutting out into the Bass Strait, the Prom is famously subject to wet weather. Sure enough, a few hours after we arrived the clouds rolled in and we saw the sun no more. Despite the rain we climbed optimistically to the top of Mount Oberon, famed for it's 360-degree vista of the Prom, only to be rewarded (perhaps unsurprisingly) with intimate views of clouds.










After a couple of soggy days at the Prom, we headed for Philip Island, home of the Australian motorcycle Grand Prix circuit.















The weather on the island was also decidedly damp, with the addition of a ripping wind, which lent a certain fury to the waves crashing against The Nobbies headland in the island's southwest corner.











We just had to see some racing at the legendary Philip Island circuit so we bought weekend tickets for a round of the Shannons Nationals car racing championships, which includes Formula 3, GT3 and sports sedan races. The races were surprisingly competitive, given that the drivers are all amateur, and the stop-start rain showers certainly made things interesting. The fabulous thing about small race meetings at Phillip Island is that they let you drive right up to the track side. So while the racers were sliding around the track in pouring rain and gusting winds, we watched from the comfort and warmth of our own front seat, with the car radio tuned in to receive race commentary. Marvellous.






A visit to the Phillip Island Historical Museum between races proved worthwhile. Sepia photographs lining the walls captured the days when the Philip Island circuit consisted of a quadrangle of unsealed roads in the island's centre. Nestled among other motorabilia gems was this pair of ultra-rare, handmade, late 1980s Honda VFR750 RC30s. Amazingly both had fewer than 10km on the clock!








From Philip Island it was a 90 minute drive on the motorway to Melbourne, thus we completed our 22,000km lap of Terra Australis. We were warmly greeted back at Gill and Rob's place in Ivanhoe. Just 20 minutes after we listed Edna on the Trading Post website we had a phone call from an interested gentleman, and later that afternoon he viewed and bought it! This time we sold the van for $100 more than we paid, a result with which we were very pleased.








So that left us with more than 2 clear weeks in Melbourne! Here we are amusing ourselves by feeding the possums in Carlton Gardens (of course you're not supposed to... but they're so cute).












Another day we took a trip down to the historic port of Williamstown, the site of Melbourne's first anchorage.
















It's now the site of some charming shops and restaurants where we picked up fish and chips.
















Our farewell dinner was at the fabulous Panama dining room in Collingwood. We were very sad to be saying goodbye to the Bowers clan. Hopefully it won't be too long until we return.











Tomorrow we fly to Singapore for a 17- day overland tour to Bangkok- it's going to be a little different from Ivanhoe!

Saturday, 9 May 2009

The finest harbour in the world

After a few days in the Blue Mountains, we made the steep descent to Sydney, just in time for Andy's birthday. We stayed in a hostel in Newtown, a lively suburb just west of the city centre, where we splashed out on a celebratory Thai meal that was utterly divine.











The weather turned out beautifully too and we did all the standard sight-seeing in crisp autumn sunshine. This of course is the famous Sydney harbour bridge.












We took a ferry ride across the harbour to the zoo, which gave us some great views of the opera house, which juts out into the harbour on Bennelong Point. Bennelong was an aboriginal man who befriended the first governor of New South Wales, Arthur Phillip, after he landed in Port Jackson (now Sydney Harbour) in 1788 to found a penal colony. Bennelong lived in the governor's house for some time, but also resided at the spot where the opera house now stands.





The zoo sits opposite the fabulous city skyline (the opera house is on the far right).













At the zoo we got to see some of the Aussie critters that we've missed on our travels (echidnas, skinks, tasmanian devils) and some more exotic beasties too. Andy found himself most at home with the gorillas – spot the difference!










From Sydney we headed south to Botany Bay, where Captain Cook first landed on the Australian continent in 1770, as commemerated by this monument. It was here that the ship's scientist, Joseph Banks, recommended Arthur Phillip found the penal colony eight years later. When Phillip landed at Botany Bay however, he found the soil sandy and therefore unsuitable for cultivation, so moved his fleet 20km north to Port Jackson and settled there.













We cycled around the bay, keeping an eye out for whales, as this is their migration season, but without any sightings.













At this unassuming camp spot in Kangaroo Valley, some 160km south of Sydney, we unwittingly stumbled across a pod of militant wombats. We were just drifting off to sleep in the back of Edna, when the van began to shake quite violently. In our sleepy confusion, we thought that someone might be stealing the bikes from the rack on the back or that we were the subject of some prank. When the shaking stopped after half a minute and we were unable to see or hear anyone, we ventured out of the van to take a look around. We could see no signs of human life, but our attention was drawn to a sinister munching sound nearby. The beam of the torch picked out a big wombat about 5 metres away. He stared at us coldly as he chewed his grass. Twice more that night we were shaken awake, each time with increased vigour. In the morning we were able to see what we had failed to notice when we parked up: that we were camped in wombat city – dozens of wombat holes surrounded us. We had clearly impinged on wombat turf and perhaps were lucky to escape so lightly!


Now we are heading down the south coast of NSW towards Victoria. It's still just about warm enough to be surfing (without wetsuits), so we're putting in some time on yet more fabulous beaches.