Monday, May 7, 2012
Monumental D.C.
After a very early flight from Prague (with an ugly stop-over in Heathrow), we arrive in Washington D.C. in mid-afternoon. We check into our hotel and have the rest of the day off. Joanne and I roam around the DuPont Circle area a little, check out a couple of restaurants for later. We will be meeting at 8:30 a.m to receive our final set of scavvenge From Bill. Pamela has joined us here in Washington, and the change In Bill is astounding. His 3 week-long scowl is gone, and he agrees to answer questions civily instead of sarcastically or defensively .We joind for dinner with "Team Commonwealth" the whole group opt for an early night. Next morning we wake up way too early due to jet lag so we go out to find some breakfast and enjoy the peace and quiet of the morning. We reconvene at 8:30 and the winners of the European leg are revealed. Today's scavenges will not make any difference to the final standings (unless the current leader comes in dead last) but we all go off and give it a go. We take the Metro to "the Mall". We visit the WW II memorial (and find Kilroy), F.D.R. memorial (and find Fala), the Vietnam war memorial and the new Martin Luther King Jr. memorial (stunning). We visit the Lincoln monument and meander along the Potomac. We locate a kayak rental place and go for a paddle around Roosevelt Island and check out the Kennedy Centre. We take the subway to Woodley Park in Alexandria and ride the free cable car down King Street to Gadsby's Tavern. Apparently George Washington used to eat here on occasion. We meander to the river to catch a ferry back to D.C.but discover that the next one doesn't go until 3:30, which would make us late for our final check in, so, back to the subway. We also do a quick run via Bethesda on the way back to our hotel. Our scores are quickly tallied and awards are handed out. Katrina and Fiona finally win a leg (beating us by a mere 5 points, and we are happy for them). But it's not quite enough for the big win. Saskia and Andrew are crowned "The World's Greatest Travelers" and they certainly earned it. They all played fair and worked extremely hard, as did Katrina and Fiona, the second place (by a hair) team. As well as being great competitors, these teams were just plain fun to travel with. They never stopped smiling even when conditions were tough. They should all be very proud of what they accomplished. We had a great bunch of fellow travellers this time around - the best ever! Thank you all, you made the trip fun
Go Team Commonwealth!
Roman holiday and Prague crackdown
After a 3:30 a.m. wakeup call we're off to the airport for our 5 a.m. flight to Athens for a brief stopover and then on to Rome. We arrive and get settled into our hotel by noon. the group has a quick pizza lunch and the final leg begins. We have until 9 p.m.Thursday to get to Prague for the final check in. Rome is, of course, on holiday and most tourist sites and businesses are not open on May 1. We have only a couple of hours to get into the Colliseum and the Forum before they close for 2 days. A few other sites, such as the Trevi Fountain and Spanish Steps remain accessible, of course. We also need to figure out how we will get ourselves to Prague. This year we have fewer route options as there are mandatory scavenges in Rome, Vienna, Ljubljana (Slovenia) and Prague, with optional ones in Bologna, Venice, Trieste, Salzburg and Linz. Having been in all the Austrian destinations only 2 years previously with GSH, we really don't want to repeat those same scavenges. We had hoped to see Venice on the way north but discover that no trains seats are available until late in the evening or the next day. After much waiting in queues and running back and forth between various ticket agents (who universally did their best to be as unhelpful as possible in finding alternate routings) we finally decide to just head to Prague and see as much of it as we can. We are sorely tempted to just fly there, since that will cost about 1/3 of the train fare. Instead, we board a train that will take us to Vienna and arrive there in the middle of the night having shared a small compartment sitting kneecap to kneecap with 4 large Austrians. Two of them disembark in Bologna, but the remaining couple seem to take up the same amount of space. In Vienna, we catch another train to Brno in the Czech Republic. We arrive very early in the morning and check into our hotel for a shower and a nap. Brno is a very pleasant surprise. It has a beautiful square (actually more of a triangle) in the middle of the "old town". We climb to the top of St. Peter & Paul Cathedral and have a visit with the mummies in the crypt. The old town hall that we're supposed to visit is closed for renovations. We knock off a mandatory and have Nutella and banana crepes for lunch, teeth achingly sweet but good. Early afternoon we board another train, this time to Olomouc, and this one is an even slower train than the previous two. We arrive a little after 5 p.m. and catch a tram to the old square. We find the tourist information office and discover that one of the scavenge locations is about to close. We hop into a taxi and rush off to the immense Gothic St. Wenceslas Cathedral just before its massive door closes at 6 p.m. Back to the square to locate the Trinity Column which is a baroque 35 m column with a tiny chapel in it, built in 1754. We also locate the Astronomical Clock (an ugly Stalinist revision of the original machine) and discover that the legendary founder of the city was Caesar. The next Prague train will get us in at midnight, so we decide to get a hotel here and head for Prague first thing in the morning. We find a great hotel right off the main square and get ourselves settled for our first real sleep in 36 hours. We find an outdoor cafe and have a leisurely dinner (first one in days). We order a mandatory `smazeny syr`` for a starter only to discover that it`s a large slab of fried cheese: tastes great, but the coronary arteries are not impressed. As with the majority of our GSH food challenges, we have the requisite bite and leave the rest. An early night is needed and we`re in bed by 9 p.m. The next morning we`re up early (too early for the included hotel breakfast) and catch the 6 a.m. train to Prague. We arrive at 9:30, dump our luggage at our hotel and are off and running again in 15 minutes. As with all European cities, all things evolve from the main square and so we start there. Beautifully preserved classic buildings surround us. We find another astronomical clock, circa 1410, find where Franz Kafka used to hang out and visit the Havelska Market. From there we make our way to the Charles Bridge and find it jam packed with tourists. We slowly make our way across the bridge while counting the 29 statures that line its sides, and fight our way to St. Vitus Cathedral. The church sits high atop a hill and the view of Prague from here is amazing. We visit the cottages of the "Golden Lane" at the Prague castle, the Stiassney Jubilee Synagogue, the Venice of Prague and find a sculpture known as "Proudy". We finish our day in the U Fleku Beer Hall with a very large beer and some very bad (mandatory) food. "Dobro chut" as they say here. At 9 p.m. we hurry through heavy rain to check in with the gang at our Prague Hotel. We have missed a couple of "mandatory" challenges because of not stopping in Ljubljana, but hope that we will receive only a relatively minor penalty as incurred by other teams' infractions on previous legs. No such luck this time - our scavenges are not even going to be reviewed. Now we really regret not flying after all, and are VERY glad that we had not paid large entrance fees for fleeting visits to sites like the Jewish Ghetto Cemetery in Prague. A depressing end to the leg as we get our bags packed and ready to head to Washington D.C. on an early flight the next morning.
After a 3:30 a.m. wakeup call we're off to the airport for our 5 a.m. flight to Athens for a brief stopover and then on to Rome. We arrive and get settled into our hotel by noon. the group has a quick pizza lunch and the final leg begins. We have until 9 p.m.Thursday to get to Prague for the final check in. Rome is, of course, on holiday and most tourist sites and businesses are not open on May 1. We have only a couple of hours to get into the Colliseum and the Forum before they close for 2 days. A few other sites, such as the Trevi Fountain and Spanish Steps remain accessible, of course. We also need to figure out how we will get ourselves to Prague. This year we have fewer route options as there are mandatory scavenges in Rome, Vienna, Ljubljana (Slovenia) and Prague, with optional ones in Bologna, Venice, Trieste, Salzburg and Linz. Having been in all the Austrian destinations only 2 years previously with GSH, we really don't want to repeat those same scavenges. We had hoped to see Venice on the way north but discover that no trains seats are available until late in the evening or the next day. After much waiting in queues and running back and forth between various ticket agents (who universally did their best to be as unhelpful as possible in finding alternate routings) we finally decide to just head to Prague and see as much of it as we can. We are sorely tempted to just fly there, since that will cost about 1/3 of the train fare. Instead, we board a train that will take us to Vienna and arrive there in the middle of the night having shared a small compartment sitting kneecap to kneecap with 4 large Austrians. Two of them disembark in Bologna, but the remaining couple seem to take up the same amount of space. In Vienna, we catch another train to Brno in the Czech Republic. We arrive very early in the morning and check into our hotel for a shower and a nap. Brno is a very pleasant surprise. It has a beautiful square (actually more of a triangle) in the middle of the "old town". We climb to the top of St. Peter & Paul Cathedral and have a visit with the mummies in the crypt. The old town hall that we're supposed to visit is closed for renovations. We knock off a mandatory and have Nutella and banana crepes for lunch, teeth achingly sweet but good. Early afternoon we board another train, this time to Olomouc, and this one is an even slower train than the previous two. We arrive a little after 5 p.m. and catch a tram to the old square. We find the tourist information office and discover that one of the scavenge locations is about to close. We hop into a taxi and rush off to the immense Gothic St. Wenceslas Cathedral just before its massive door closes at 6 p.m. Back to the square to locate the Trinity Column which is a baroque 35 m column with a tiny chapel in it, built in 1754. We also locate the Astronomical Clock (an ugly Stalinist revision of the original machine) and discover that the legendary founder of the city was Caesar. The next Prague train will get us in at midnight, so we decide to get a hotel here and head for Prague first thing in the morning. We find a great hotel right off the main square and get ourselves settled for our first real sleep in 36 hours. We find an outdoor cafe and have a leisurely dinner (first one in days). We order a mandatory `smazeny syr`` for a starter only to discover that it`s a large slab of fried cheese: tastes great, but the coronary arteries are not impressed. As with the majority of our GSH food challenges, we have the requisite bite and leave the rest. An early night is needed and we`re in bed by 9 p.m. The next morning we`re up early (too early for the included hotel breakfast) and catch the 6 a.m. train to Prague. We arrive at 9:30, dump our luggage at our hotel and are off and running again in 15 minutes. As with all European cities, all things evolve from the main square and so we start there. Beautifully preserved classic buildings surround us. We find another astronomical clock, circa 1410, find where Franz Kafka used to hang out and visit the Havelska Market. From there we make our way to the Charles Bridge and find it jam packed with tourists. We slowly make our way across the bridge while counting the 29 statures that line its sides, and fight our way to St. Vitus Cathedral. The church sits high atop a hill and the view of Prague from here is amazing. We visit the cottages of the "Golden Lane" at the Prague castle, the Stiassney Jubilee Synagogue, the Venice of Prague and find a sculpture known as "Proudy". We finish our day in the U Fleku Beer Hall with a very large beer and some very bad (mandatory) food. "Dobro chut" as they say here. At 9 p.m. we hurry through heavy rain to check in with the gang at our Prague Hotel. We have missed a couple of "mandatory" challenges because of not stopping in Ljubljana, but hope that we will receive only a relatively minor penalty as incurred by other teams' infractions on previous legs. No such luck this time - our scavenges are not even going to be reviewed. Now we really regret not flying after all, and are VERY glad that we had not paid large entrance fees for fleeting visits to sites like the Jewish Ghetto Cemetery in Prague. A depressing end to the leg as we get our bags packed and ready to head to Washington D.C. on an early flight the next morning.
Wednesday, May 2, 2012
Cypriot castle climbs and crossings
Five am from 30,000 ft over the Mediteranean.
We've just had a fun, if sleep deprived 1 1/2 days in Cyprus. Hazy 4 decade old recollections of blue helmeted Canadian troops and Archbishop Makarios have transformed to real appreciation of a magical island with a rich history (both ancient and new), friendly people (both Turks and Greeks - though not necessarily to each other) and great food. This is a location that we would like to return to and explore more fully. The original plan was to have 2+ days here, but that was reduced, limiting our ability to travel much outside the walled city of Nicosia. The east-west "green line" that divides the Turkish occupied north from the Greek south adds to the complexity of getting around. Crossing is straightforward for us, but must be done at a handful of checkpoints in the country. Entertainingly (unless you are trying to find scavenges) each partition's maps leave the other sector's blank, and the locals claim ignorance of thinks like bus depots on "the other side". A not so friendly rivalry exists. Cyprus Delight is sold on the Greek side, "far superior" to the Turkish Delight of the north (although not noticible different to us). We are to drink some KEO beer. When we ask for it in the north at a taverna, the owner says Turkish beer is far better that Greek KEO and offers to par for ours if we don't agree. And he is correct (KEO is like US beer), so honesty prevents us taking him up on his offer.
Nicosia (aka Lefkosia) old town lies within a wall built by the Venetians in the 1500. Two of the border crossings are here, with a no-man's land (UN controlled)separating the 2 sides. We will go through several times in the time we are here, although the locals only recently regained the right to do the same. Our hunting begins after our 3 pm meeting at the Hilton: we have until 6:30 pm the next day. It is the weekend here (Saturday afternoon + Sunday) so MANY potential scavenges (most museums etc) are closed for the weekend, or for renovation, or were recently destroyed by fire! So we roam the city centres (South and North), determine potential bus travel (limited), visit a gothic mosque and a caravanserei. We try for a hammam (closed) so settle for bouzouki music instead before heading home to bed. Tomorrow we will bus to Kyrenia (aka Girne) on the north coast.
Most teams opt for a leisurely start complete with sit down breakfast (likely our last for the next 4-5 days). We Greek taxi to the border crossing, change taxis to Turkish, and arrive at an unrecognizably minimalist "bus depot" - tiny offices/kiosks surrounding a parking lot full of mini buses. A 35 minute ride through the coastal mountains takes us to Kyrenia, a pretty port town with an excellent harbour guarded by a castle. We tour there, search for icons, then taxi to the first of 2 crusader castle ruins high in the mountains overlooking Kyrenia. We can drive part way there, but at Buffavento (literally "wind-buffeted") Castle, a 30 minute climb awaits as we snake up the cliff face to the remnants of an ancient fortress. The view is splendid. Down we go, looking out for snakes and moufflon, but seeing neither, although lots of "sheep poo" on the path suggests that they are around. On to St. Hilarion Castle, a somewhat better preserved ruin with less of a climb required. We bus back to Nicosia, and spend the last 2 hours of the hunt tracking down dactyla, Cyprus coffee and cocktails, Arabian chewing gum (like retsina, it's an aquired taste). Will finish this later, on the plane on our way to Rome.
Five am from 30,000 ft over the Mediteranean.
We've just had a fun, if sleep deprived 1 1/2 days in Cyprus. Hazy 4 decade old recollections of blue helmeted Canadian troops and Archbishop Makarios have transformed to real appreciation of a magical island with a rich history (both ancient and new), friendly people (both Turks and Greeks - though not necessarily to each other) and great food. This is a location that we would like to return to and explore more fully. The original plan was to have 2+ days here, but that was reduced, limiting our ability to travel much outside the walled city of Nicosia. The east-west "green line" that divides the Turkish occupied north from the Greek south adds to the complexity of getting around. Crossing is straightforward for us, but must be done at a handful of checkpoints in the country. Entertainingly (unless you are trying to find scavenges) each partition's maps leave the other sector's blank, and the locals claim ignorance of thinks like bus depots on "the other side". A not so friendly rivalry exists. Cyprus Delight is sold on the Greek side, "far superior" to the Turkish Delight of the north (although not noticible different to us). We are to drink some KEO beer. When we ask for it in the north at a taverna, the owner says Turkish beer is far better that Greek KEO and offers to par for ours if we don't agree. And he is correct (KEO is like US beer), so honesty prevents us taking him up on his offer.
Nicosia (aka Lefkosia) old town lies within a wall built by the Venetians in the 1500. Two of the border crossings are here, with a no-man's land (UN controlled)separating the 2 sides. We will go through several times in the time we are here, although the locals only recently regained the right to do the same. Our hunting begins after our 3 pm meeting at the Hilton: we have until 6:30 pm the next day. It is the weekend here (Saturday afternoon + Sunday) so MANY potential scavenges (most museums etc) are closed for the weekend, or for renovation, or were recently destroyed by fire! So we roam the city centres (South and North), determine potential bus travel (limited), visit a gothic mosque and a caravanserei. We try for a hammam (closed) so settle for bouzouki music instead before heading home to bed. Tomorrow we will bus to Kyrenia (aka Girne) on the north coast.
Most teams opt for a leisurely start complete with sit down breakfast (likely our last for the next 4-5 days). We Greek taxi to the border crossing, change taxis to Turkish, and arrive at an unrecognizably minimalist "bus depot" - tiny offices/kiosks surrounding a parking lot full of mini buses. A 35 minute ride through the coastal mountains takes us to Kyrenia, a pretty port town with an excellent harbour guarded by a castle. We tour there, search for icons, then taxi to the first of 2 crusader castle ruins high in the mountains overlooking Kyrenia. We can drive part way there, but at Buffavento (literally "wind-buffeted") Castle, a 30 minute climb awaits as we snake up the cliff face to the remnants of an ancient fortress. The view is splendid. Down we go, looking out for snakes and moufflon, but seeing neither, although lots of "sheep poo" on the path suggests that they are around. On to St. Hilarion Castle, a somewhat better preserved ruin with less of a climb required. We bus back to Nicosia, and spend the last 2 hours of the hunt tracking down dactyla, Cyprus coffee and cocktails, Arabian chewing gum (like retsina, it's an aquired taste). Will finish this later, on the plane on our way to Rome.
Surviving driving in Oman
Surviving driving Oman (but it's a dry heat)
We step off the plane in Oman into warm evening air - and no humidity! And not raining!
Our bus takes us to the hotel in the dark. It's near midnight, and we can make out rugged hills all around us as we come down a long and winding but wide paved road to the opulent resort that will be our home for 3 nights (or about 15 hours, as it turns out). It is actually a complex of 3 hotels on the coast outside Muscat. We are to meet at 9:00 a.m. to find out what we will be hunting for, so we try to sleep fast. An interesting rule change for this leg is the unusual, although not unprecedented, option of renting a car while in Oman. We soon discover that without a car, one can see nothing here, so we happily join up with fellow dirt-trackers Shane and Scott to do our scavenges. First stop is the old port of Muscat with its 2 forts guarding the harbour, and the Sultan's palace in between them, Sadly, the forts are not accessible to the public (the first of MANY forts we will visit in Oman that can only be viewed from the exterior). Still, they are highly photogenic. We pick up the requisite stamps for sending postcards to the Dictator`s Director's children (they will arrive by the truckload at this rate), then head south to the town of Sur, stopping at another closed fort in Quryat on the way. The motorway is an engineering marvel, although the Humvees (bristling with machine guns ) under camoflage nets at the toll booths give us pause. I guess they take toll-dodging seriously? But after a quick passport check we are on our way again. Seems that traffic accidents pose a greater risk to us here than the army. We're told that the highway death toll here is astronomical, and in fact later read that a family of 7 was killed on the same highway that day. The highway passes through rugged mountain passes, then along the ocean to Sur, a sleepy fishing village. Quaint, but not worth the points for a 2 hour (each way) drive.To help pass the time, our chauffeurs purchase CD`s at a gas station and we listen to disco music in heavy rotation until our ears bleed (just joking, Shane ; ) We get back to Muscat (crossing the Tropic of Cancer en route) and head to the Mutrah corniche for a sunset stroll. We explore the Mutrah souk, pricing frankincense, ouds, khanjars, arsaas,and kumas. We eat some halwa and lokhemat and buy a do-it-yourself henna tattoo kit.
The plan for the next day is to drive inland for 2 hours to catch the live animal market in Nizwa, so "wheels up" at 6 am. Sadly, the breakfast buffet opens at 6:30 a.m. We reach Nizwa just in time for the goat auction. There's an arena filled with men (mostly) and their goats, all milling around while the "black moving objects" (the wives in full burkah) sit in the shade around the walls. The scene looks like it hasn't changed in hundreds of years, except for ubiquitous cell phones. Much easier for checking the going price (about 200 R) per goat. Several pickup trucks have small herds of goats in the back -we aren't sure if they are recently purchased or yet to be sold and the goats seem similarly unsure, but unperturbed. We roam the souk, visit the date market and sample 4 varieties to find the best, then head to the fort to admire the slots used for pouring boiling date syrup on attacking infidels. Good to know that you're being scalded by only the finest variety of date juice.
Onward to Al Hamra, the oldest Omani village, just one of several ancient towns that we will visit in this area. Mud brick construction (unlike the modern ornate concrete buildings of the newer towns here). These towns seem to survive now on tourism. A new resort is being built nearby to accommodate trekkers and 4x4-wheelers who come to explore giant caves and climb in the rugged terrain. We head up into exactly that wild country as we drive up Wadi Ghul. Before long the pavement ends and we continue for 2 hours on gravel, climbing steadily to over 2000 m in a wide expanse of barren lava-like rock. Tall angular peaks surround us on all sides, with a massive gorge (deeper than Grand Canyon??) waiting for us to fall into. Our gutless Suzuki baby 4x4 makes steady, if hard, progress up one S curve after another until we reach Jabel Shans (aka The Mountains of the Sun) and Oman's highest peak. Ther route down is significantly quicker. One team allegedly made the drive in a 2 wheel drive car: Bravo!
On to the village of Balad Sayt, although through a miscommunication (?) with the locals (everybody lies), we miss the actual site that we are supposed to find. More specific clues would have helped here (and elsewhere in Oman): we later learn that other teams also failed to find this remarkable location which we hear requires a lengthy hike to reach. Really disappointing after all that driving. At least gas is cheap, about $.30/litre. Guess we'll have to come back some day? We're not sure that this giant hilly gravel pit of a country is one we will rush back to, although it does have a certain stark beauty. The people are immensely friendly and hospitable, but women are CLEARLY second class. Certain locations are off limits to Kit and me, and the locals direct all questions/answers to our male "protectors". Even when we order food, it comes to the guys first, and the ladies room is often an outside shed, rather than the indoor gents. They all stink, though.
We visit another fort, this one at Bahla, and on the Unesco World Heritage list. Again, not open to the public, as it's being refurbished, but the adjacent 10 km long city wall is public. And then, the 2 hour drive back to the coast, with Kit behind the wheel. Astoundingly it is only about 2 pm as we get back to our hotel after what feels like a long day. We could revisit Muscat, but as it is Friday, many sites are closed to us, including the Grand Mosque (recently built, it can accommodate 15,000 and boasts the world's largest carpet and chandelier). So we do the unthinkable, and goof off for a few hours. We complete our henna tattoos, dip our toes in the Sea of Oman, stroll the grounds, write up our score sheets and catch up on laundry. We find a hotel happy-hour and even have a (mediocre) sit-down dinner of tapas. It all seems so wrong, but as the hotel is an isolated self-contained resort far from town, dining in Muscat seems pointless. We know that the serious contenders are still out there battling for every point since this year the outcome is not (yet) a given. At 9 we all reconvene. Some happy teams have driven the sand dunes, some have ridden camels and others have gone dolphin watching. Some have completed their scavenges successfully, others....? Let's just say it will be an interesting finale if let to take its course. A lot will depend on the next 2 or 3 legs. We will depart at 4:45 am tomorrow - no breakfast, again : ( - and are off to Bahrain (stop-over only)and then to......
Cyprus
We step off the plane in Oman into warm evening air - and no humidity! And not raining!
Our bus takes us to the hotel in the dark. It's near midnight, and we can make out rugged hills all around us as we come down a long and winding but wide paved road to the opulent resort that will be our home for 3 nights (or about 15 hours, as it turns out). It is actually a complex of 3 hotels on the coast outside Muscat. We are to meet at 9:00 a.m. to find out what we will be hunting for, so we try to sleep fast. An interesting rule change for this leg is the unusual, although not unprecedented, option of renting a car while in Oman. We soon discover that without a car, one can see nothing here, so we happily join up with fellow dirt-trackers Shane and Scott to do our scavenges. First stop is the old port of Muscat with its 2 forts guarding the harbour, and the Sultan's palace in between them, Sadly, the forts are not accessible to the public (the first of MANY forts we will visit in Oman that can only be viewed from the exterior). Still, they are highly photogenic. We pick up the requisite stamps for sending postcards to the Dictator`s Director's children (they will arrive by the truckload at this rate), then head south to the town of Sur, stopping at another closed fort in Quryat on the way. The motorway is an engineering marvel, although the Humvees (bristling with machine guns ) under camoflage nets at the toll booths give us pause. I guess they take toll-dodging seriously? But after a quick passport check we are on our way again. Seems that traffic accidents pose a greater risk to us here than the army. We're told that the highway death toll here is astronomical, and in fact later read that a family of 7 was killed on the same highway that day. The highway passes through rugged mountain passes, then along the ocean to Sur, a sleepy fishing village. Quaint, but not worth the points for a 2 hour (each way) drive.To help pass the time, our chauffeurs purchase CD`s at a gas station and we listen to disco music in heavy rotation until our ears bleed (just joking, Shane ; ) We get back to Muscat (crossing the Tropic of Cancer en route) and head to the Mutrah corniche for a sunset stroll. We explore the Mutrah souk, pricing frankincense, ouds, khanjars, arsaas,and kumas. We eat some halwa and lokhemat and buy a do-it-yourself henna tattoo kit.
The plan for the next day is to drive inland for 2 hours to catch the live animal market in Nizwa, so "wheels up" at 6 am. Sadly, the breakfast buffet opens at 6:30 a.m. We reach Nizwa just in time for the goat auction. There's an arena filled with men (mostly) and their goats, all milling around while the "black moving objects" (the wives in full burkah) sit in the shade around the walls. The scene looks like it hasn't changed in hundreds of years, except for ubiquitous cell phones. Much easier for checking the going price (about 200 R) per goat. Several pickup trucks have small herds of goats in the back -we aren't sure if they are recently purchased or yet to be sold and the goats seem similarly unsure, but unperturbed. We roam the souk, visit the date market and sample 4 varieties to find the best, then head to the fort to admire the slots used for pouring boiling date syrup on attacking infidels. Good to know that you're being scalded by only the finest variety of date juice.
Onward to Al Hamra, the oldest Omani village, just one of several ancient towns that we will visit in this area. Mud brick construction (unlike the modern ornate concrete buildings of the newer towns here). These towns seem to survive now on tourism. A new resort is being built nearby to accommodate trekkers and 4x4-wheelers who come to explore giant caves and climb in the rugged terrain. We head up into exactly that wild country as we drive up Wadi Ghul. Before long the pavement ends and we continue for 2 hours on gravel, climbing steadily to over 2000 m in a wide expanse of barren lava-like rock. Tall angular peaks surround us on all sides, with a massive gorge (deeper than Grand Canyon??) waiting for us to fall into. Our gutless Suzuki baby 4x4 makes steady, if hard, progress up one S curve after another until we reach Jabel Shans (aka The Mountains of the Sun) and Oman's highest peak. Ther route down is significantly quicker. One team allegedly made the drive in a 2 wheel drive car: Bravo!
On to the village of Balad Sayt, although through a miscommunication (?) with the locals (everybody lies), we miss the actual site that we are supposed to find. More specific clues would have helped here (and elsewhere in Oman): we later learn that other teams also failed to find this remarkable location which we hear requires a lengthy hike to reach. Really disappointing after all that driving. At least gas is cheap, about $.30/litre. Guess we'll have to come back some day? We're not sure that this giant hilly gravel pit of a country is one we will rush back to, although it does have a certain stark beauty. The people are immensely friendly and hospitable, but women are CLEARLY second class. Certain locations are off limits to Kit and me, and the locals direct all questions/answers to our male "protectors". Even when we order food, it comes to the guys first, and the ladies room is often an outside shed, rather than the indoor gents. They all stink, though.
We visit another fort, this one at Bahla, and on the Unesco World Heritage list. Again, not open to the public, as it's being refurbished, but the adjacent 10 km long city wall is public. And then, the 2 hour drive back to the coast, with Kit behind the wheel. Astoundingly it is only about 2 pm as we get back to our hotel after what feels like a long day. We could revisit Muscat, but as it is Friday, many sites are closed to us, including the Grand Mosque (recently built, it can accommodate 15,000 and boasts the world's largest carpet and chandelier). So we do the unthinkable, and goof off for a few hours. We complete our henna tattoos, dip our toes in the Sea of Oman, stroll the grounds, write up our score sheets and catch up on laundry. We find a hotel happy-hour and even have a (mediocre) sit-down dinner of tapas. It all seems so wrong, but as the hotel is an isolated self-contained resort far from town, dining in Muscat seems pointless. We know that the serious contenders are still out there battling for every point since this year the outcome is not (yet) a given. At 9 we all reconvene. Some happy teams have driven the sand dunes, some have ridden camels and others have gone dolphin watching. Some have completed their scavenges successfully, others....? Let's just say it will be an interesting finale if let to take its course. A lot will depend on the next 2 or 3 legs. We will depart at 4:45 am tomorrow - no breakfast, again : ( - and are off to Bahrain (stop-over only)and then to......
Cyprus
Friday, April 27, 2012
Sri Lanka Revisited
Sri Lanka Revisited
We are more than a little surprised to find the Hunt returning to Sri Lanka so soon, having been here in 2010. Not immensely disappointed (though we were secretly hoping for Bhutan), since we enjoyed our first visit here and had though it would be good to see more of the country, at a relaxed pace. Well, I guess we get one of our wishes....
Late evening arrival in Colombo, and we're staying at the same Hilton as before. It has not improved, and is now an even shabbier Motel 6 equivalent. Still, we won't be spending that much time here. After breakfast we convene and hear that we will have 2 1/2 days (3 nights) here. As before, the scavenges take teams out of the city, and are designed to make them choose between heading north or south. Last time we went north, and while the northern route looks more promising points-wise, for us it is a no-brainer to check out new sights. Strategically, our previous experience would likely be of some benefit, since most of the scavenges are repeats from before, but we really don't feel like rehashing. Sadly, the opportunity to take an overnight hike to the top of Adam's Peak is not an option. So within an hour we find ourselves on a southbound train en route to Galle. It lies at the southern tip of the island and was one of the areas hard hit by the Christmas tsunami in 2004. We are supposed to find some evidence of the disaster, and see lots of new buildings that replace those that simply disappeared. There are commemorative stone markers where houses (and families) once were. Almost everyone we talk with lost some family member that day, and many report that only by chance were they spared by being out of the city.
We explore the old fort (first Portuguese, then Dutch, then British), enjoy a drink at Mama's rooftop restaurant and plot our next move. Two scavenges involve visiting parks (one a nature reserve, another a wildlife sanctuary). The elephants at the latter are appealing, but we decide that the time committment ( a 5 hour drive each way) is excessive. So we taxi to the Singaraja Nature Reserve, a mere 2 1/2 hour drive away. Our driver claims that he can get us to the park before it closes (that would be good), and drives like a maniac to fulfill his promise. It's a very windy 80 km drive up into the hill country, passing through multiple tiny towns and sharing the narrow road with a steady stream of tuk-tuks, mopeds, and trucks. We're in tea country, and the fabled green colour of Sri Lanka here comes from tea plantations (and rice paddies). Trucks loaded with burlap sacks of tea leaves become more frequent as we drive north, and up. A family can make a modest living here with only 2-3 acres of tea shrubs, though it's very labour-intensive farming.
We arrive at the reserve at about 5:30 to find that while the park is still open, ticket sales cease at 4:30. Fortunately our driver knows "someone" who is busy at a wedding, but who in turn knows "someone" and they have pre-purchased our tickets. Our driver had phoned ahead to set it up! Like much of the far east, Sri Lanka has embraced the cell phone (Nokia signs everywhere). We get a short tour of one of the hiking trails from the "someone" who is actually a park guide and very well informed. We decide that it would be a great place to return to some day (though that idea will change). Back in the taxi and back (a little more sedately) to Galle. En route, Kit notices a cut on her arm that won't stop bleeding. Our driver suggests that it's probably a leech bite (common in the park). They are tiny caterpillar-like leeches (note to self - when we get home, check out tropical diseases transmitted by leeches). Back in Galle we consider returning to our paid-for Colombo hotel but are dissuaded by the 5 hour bus ride to get there (with the Hunt ban on overnight travel). So we check into a hotel in the Fort. Spartan for our $20 per night, but it has Wi-Fi - Sri Lanka has modernized immensely in only 2 years! Undressing, I find my own leech bite, to go with Kit's three.
Early departure from Galle on the bus - the quickest way to get back to Colombo. Our next target is a visit to a Boy's School, which turns out to be a home for "developmentally delayed" kids, although one "boy" we meet is in his 70's. Turns out, it is holiday time, and only 4 of the 30-odd students are there - those without homes to go to. We tour the grounds, play a rousing game of cricket with 2 of the boys, and chat with the Director who keeps asking if we have Canada pens for him (we assume he got pens from the other teams that have visited). After 2 hours, he offers to call us a tuktuk and we gladly accept as the rain has begun. 45 minutes later, he informs us that the tuktuk is only 15 minutes away. We decide to walk to the main road and find our own just as the skies open. In 5 minutes we are drenched and no tuktuks/taxis/buses in sight. Eventually we flag a tuktuk willing to take us the 45 minute trek back to the hotel. We literally pour water out of our shoes as we enter the lobby, and spend an hour drying our passports with a hair dryer.
We had planned to visit another school that day, but our experience with the empty boy's school and its rather creepy director leaves us extremely discouraged. Other out-of town choices are now too distant. So our only option is to complete the Colombo area scavenges. Since they are mostly unchanged from the previous visit here, we had not planned to repeat them, but now they are our only option. So the afternoon becomes a soggy round of: tuktuk to a location, complete 1-2 tasks, find a new tuktuk and repeat. Fortunately, our modest familiarity with the city (or at least the scavenges) stands us in good stead, and we are even able to correct our drivers when they arrive at the wrong spots. Three hours later we are about a dozen scavenges to the good. We have explored the Pettah Market, found spices and gold merchants, Hindu temples, churches and mosques. We've found out how St. Lucia lost her sight and what St. Anthony is patron saint of. We've shopped at Cargill's, found batiks, and walked on the Galle Face Green. We reward ourselves with a drink or 3 (a beer tast test) at the Galle Face Hotel, a famous Raffles-style hotel that has been the haunt of politicians, writers and celebrities for decades. A couple more temples, including one with a resident elephant and a collection of antique cars, and we've earned dinner at "the Mango Tree". Home to bed with a half day to go.
Another sit-down breakfast as we try to create a plan. Slim pickings left in Colombo so we decide ^%*&^ the points, let's do something fun. We tuktuk to Nogombo, a fishing village north of Colombo. Way too few points for the hour trip (each way) but it's the most enjoyable thing we do on this leg. Our driver does an amazing job of creating tuktuk space from nowhere as he weasels his way (at top speed) through the jam-packed streets. We have a quick explore of the fish market: tables covered with silvery sardines, bigger fish of surprising girth, and lots of cats helping themselves to a meal. We would love to linger, but we must fit in a ride on an outrigger canoe on the lagoon. That done, we tuktuk back with another driver with similar aspirations to drive Formula 1. Half an hour to spare before check-in at noon, so we sample a wood apple beverage and then we're done.
Lunch today is included (to mark the half-way mark?) then it's off to the airport for our flight to.....
Oman!
We are more than a little surprised to find the Hunt returning to Sri Lanka so soon, having been here in 2010. Not immensely disappointed (though we were secretly hoping for Bhutan), since we enjoyed our first visit here and had though it would be good to see more of the country, at a relaxed pace. Well, I guess we get one of our wishes....
Late evening arrival in Colombo, and we're staying at the same Hilton as before. It has not improved, and is now an even shabbier Motel 6 equivalent. Still, we won't be spending that much time here. After breakfast we convene and hear that we will have 2 1/2 days (3 nights) here. As before, the scavenges take teams out of the city, and are designed to make them choose between heading north or south. Last time we went north, and while the northern route looks more promising points-wise, for us it is a no-brainer to check out new sights. Strategically, our previous experience would likely be of some benefit, since most of the scavenges are repeats from before, but we really don't feel like rehashing. Sadly, the opportunity to take an overnight hike to the top of Adam's Peak is not an option. So within an hour we find ourselves on a southbound train en route to Galle. It lies at the southern tip of the island and was one of the areas hard hit by the Christmas tsunami in 2004. We are supposed to find some evidence of the disaster, and see lots of new buildings that replace those that simply disappeared. There are commemorative stone markers where houses (and families) once were. Almost everyone we talk with lost some family member that day, and many report that only by chance were they spared by being out of the city.
We explore the old fort (first Portuguese, then Dutch, then British), enjoy a drink at Mama's rooftop restaurant and plot our next move. Two scavenges involve visiting parks (one a nature reserve, another a wildlife sanctuary). The elephants at the latter are appealing, but we decide that the time committment ( a 5 hour drive each way) is excessive. So we taxi to the Singaraja Nature Reserve, a mere 2 1/2 hour drive away. Our driver claims that he can get us to the park before it closes (that would be good), and drives like a maniac to fulfill his promise. It's a very windy 80 km drive up into the hill country, passing through multiple tiny towns and sharing the narrow road with a steady stream of tuk-tuks, mopeds, and trucks. We're in tea country, and the fabled green colour of Sri Lanka here comes from tea plantations (and rice paddies). Trucks loaded with burlap sacks of tea leaves become more frequent as we drive north, and up. A family can make a modest living here with only 2-3 acres of tea shrubs, though it's very labour-intensive farming.
We arrive at the reserve at about 5:30 to find that while the park is still open, ticket sales cease at 4:30. Fortunately our driver knows "someone" who is busy at a wedding, but who in turn knows "someone" and they have pre-purchased our tickets. Our driver had phoned ahead to set it up! Like much of the far east, Sri Lanka has embraced the cell phone (Nokia signs everywhere). We get a short tour of one of the hiking trails from the "someone" who is actually a park guide and very well informed. We decide that it would be a great place to return to some day (though that idea will change). Back in the taxi and back (a little more sedately) to Galle. En route, Kit notices a cut on her arm that won't stop bleeding. Our driver suggests that it's probably a leech bite (common in the park). They are tiny caterpillar-like leeches (note to self - when we get home, check out tropical diseases transmitted by leeches). Back in Galle we consider returning to our paid-for Colombo hotel but are dissuaded by the 5 hour bus ride to get there (with the Hunt ban on overnight travel). So we check into a hotel in the Fort. Spartan for our $20 per night, but it has Wi-Fi - Sri Lanka has modernized immensely in only 2 years! Undressing, I find my own leech bite, to go with Kit's three.
Early departure from Galle on the bus - the quickest way to get back to Colombo. Our next target is a visit to a Boy's School, which turns out to be a home for "developmentally delayed" kids, although one "boy" we meet is in his 70's. Turns out, it is holiday time, and only 4 of the 30-odd students are there - those without homes to go to. We tour the grounds, play a rousing game of cricket with 2 of the boys, and chat with the Director who keeps asking if we have Canada pens for him (we assume he got pens from the other teams that have visited). After 2 hours, he offers to call us a tuktuk and we gladly accept as the rain has begun. 45 minutes later, he informs us that the tuktuk is only 15 minutes away. We decide to walk to the main road and find our own just as the skies open. In 5 minutes we are drenched and no tuktuks/taxis/buses in sight. Eventually we flag a tuktuk willing to take us the 45 minute trek back to the hotel. We literally pour water out of our shoes as we enter the lobby, and spend an hour drying our passports with a hair dryer.
We had planned to visit another school that day, but our experience with the empty boy's school and its rather creepy director leaves us extremely discouraged. Other out-of town choices are now too distant. So our only option is to complete the Colombo area scavenges. Since they are mostly unchanged from the previous visit here, we had not planned to repeat them, but now they are our only option. So the afternoon becomes a soggy round of: tuktuk to a location, complete 1-2 tasks, find a new tuktuk and repeat. Fortunately, our modest familiarity with the city (or at least the scavenges) stands us in good stead, and we are even able to correct our drivers when they arrive at the wrong spots. Three hours later we are about a dozen scavenges to the good. We have explored the Pettah Market, found spices and gold merchants, Hindu temples, churches and mosques. We've found out how St. Lucia lost her sight and what St. Anthony is patron saint of. We've shopped at Cargill's, found batiks, and walked on the Galle Face Green. We reward ourselves with a drink or 3 (a beer tast test) at the Galle Face Hotel, a famous Raffles-style hotel that has been the haunt of politicians, writers and celebrities for decades. A couple more temples, including one with a resident elephant and a collection of antique cars, and we've earned dinner at "the Mango Tree". Home to bed with a half day to go.
Another sit-down breakfast as we try to create a plan. Slim pickings left in Colombo so we decide ^%*&^ the points, let's do something fun. We tuktuk to Nogombo, a fishing village north of Colombo. Way too few points for the hour trip (each way) but it's the most enjoyable thing we do on this leg. Our driver does an amazing job of creating tuktuk space from nowhere as he weasels his way (at top speed) through the jam-packed streets. We have a quick explore of the fish market: tables covered with silvery sardines, bigger fish of surprising girth, and lots of cats helping themselves to a meal. We would love to linger, but we must fit in a ride on an outrigger canoe on the lagoon. That done, we tuktuk back with another driver with similar aspirations to drive Formula 1. Half an hour to spare before check-in at noon, so we sample a wood apple beverage and then we're done.
Lunch today is included (to mark the half-way mark?) then it's off to the airport for our flight to.....
Oman!
Sunday, April 22, 2012
6 hours in Bangkok
One day in Bangkok and the world's your.......?
From 30,000 feet over the Bay of Bengal:
After a short and atypically eastbound flight out of Yangon, we regrouped in Bangkok and our leader informed us that we would not, in fact be staying there, but only had a 9 hour lay-over. How to pass the time? How about dashing into the city for lunch and a massage? Maybe take in a Wat and a market. Take at least 3 forms of transit and elicit the nicknames of 3 complete strangers? Do all that and get back in time for our 7:30 flight and we will win a trip to....
Colombo.
6 hours and a train, subway, tuk-tuk, longboat, and ferry ride later, full of Pad Thai and wonderfully supple we all reconvene at the airport, ready to head to Sri Lanka.
From 30,000 feet over the Bay of Bengal:
After a short and atypically eastbound flight out of Yangon, we regrouped in Bangkok and our leader informed us that we would not, in fact be staying there, but only had a 9 hour lay-over. How to pass the time? How about dashing into the city for lunch and a massage? Maybe take in a Wat and a market. Take at least 3 forms of transit and elicit the nicknames of 3 complete strangers? Do all that and get back in time for our 7:30 flight and we will win a trip to....
Colombo.
6 hours and a train, subway, tuk-tuk, longboat, and ferry ride later, full of Pad Thai and wonderfully supple we all reconvene at the airport, ready to head to Sri Lanka.
Myanmar Madness
Myanmar Madness
We land in hot and steamy Yangon (Rangoon) after a 4 hour flight from Taiwan. We are feeling a little tired after the 4 am wake-up at our Taipei hotel, so the splendid Governor's Residence Hotel with its shaded grounds and immense pool is a soothing delight. Sadly, our scavenges will immediately send us off in all directions. We start with a taxi ride into the local market to arrange in-country travel. So many choices: Mandalay, and/or Bagan/and/or Inle Lake, but no flying allowed between them. Ground or river transport is possible, but glacially slow (e.g., 18 hours by train) so quite the challenge. An equal challenge is that while US dollars are widely used, the bills must be absolutely pristine. Microscopically torn or dog-eared bills are firmly refused, as are any bills that have simply been folded! We soon discover that our fund of US money is about half the size we thought. Oh, credit cards not usable, and ATM's don't exist here. We later hear that almost all teams ran out of money on this leg. One additional challenge: we arrive during the New Year's holiday, so many many places are closed for the week that we are here. Imagine trying to get a last minute flight across Canada on Boxing Day, or use a bank, store or post office on New Year's Day. But the massive Shwedagon Pagoda is open, so we walk around it at sunset, watching its jewel encrusted spire sparkle red and green. We return to our hotel to discover a happy group of teams in the bar. Joining them we get far better aquainted over beer and dinner. This looks to be one of the most convivial groups we have had on these scavenges: I suspect that we will sample many more local beers with this bunch.
So, having learned all that, we head off at 4 am to Mandalay vis KGZ air ("flying you beyond expectations"). We worry this means that we will land somewhere other than Mandalay, but 90 minutes later we arrive in the new but austere Mandalay airport. We find a taxi to take us to to the iconic U Bein bridge in Amarapura and walk across it. Then, a stop via ferry at Inwe, a former capital of Burma, but now a rural village where transport is by horse cart (at least for the tourists - a few motorcycles and satellite dishes are visible around the grass mat huts. We are dogged by a few small children peddling trinkets, and figure that subsequent tourists will encounter larger crowds of hawkers as tourism increases here. One more pagoda stop in Sagaing, then on to Mandalay and our hotel. A quick check-in, then we are off to find Mandalay Hill, a pointing Buddha, the world's largest book, and a monastery covered in fabulously carved wood panels. It's now sunset, and our energy is flagging despite the boost we got from chewing betel nut. Fortunately, the red stains on our teeth have faded so our hotel doorman doesn't laugh at us as he escorts us directly to the bar. The waiter brings Tiger beer, and keeps refilling our glasses the instant they empty, so we soon feel much better. Shower and dinner and bed beckon, after only 8 hours of sleep all told in the previous 2 days.
At 4 am, after 5 hours sleep, we are wide awake. Our bodies are clearly still in another time zone. Breakfast sitting down! Taxi through the bustling streets of Mandalay crowded with vehicles of every type: trishaws, mopeds, motorcycles, carts, hoodless trucks spewing exhaust fumes, and all blaring their horns as they go. The sidewalks are lined with food vendors and tiny shops selling everything one can imagine. We go in search of pancakes, then reach the ferry "terminal" on the bank of the Irrawaddy River. There is no pier, just boats rafted together or pulled up against the bank, with access via gangplank (usually a rail-less 2x6 plank balanced unsteadily on the gunwale. We head upriver to Mingun to climb a giant pile of bricks - the remains of a massive stupa built by a megalomaniac king. Rephrase that: hot bricks in the hot sun, barefoot. Nearby, a massive bell (world's largest uncracked bell) is our second scavenge, then we repeat our river cruise, downstream this time, to Mandalay. Our flight to Yangon is in 2 hours, so after only a brief stop to find some "to-moh", we "taxi" in the back of an open pickup truck to the terminal. It's dark as we arrive in Yangon, and apart from the odd pagoda, most sites are closed, so we find a hotel. Kit cleverly found and booked it online, so that it could be prepaid with a credit card, thus preserving our precious and rapidly dwindling cash supply.
Our final day here, and we decide to deal with numerous Yangon-area scavenges. We've arranged to visit a boy's school (orphanage) so swing by the local market first to buy footballs, pricing out some rubies, sapphires and jade at a nearby jewelers (for us, of course, or not). We arrive at the school to hear the loud sounds of an unmistakable Kiwi accent leading about 40 small boys in a rendition of Mary Had a Little Lamb. It's Shane, carrying on like Robin Williams on speed, and the boys are loving every minute of it, and him. We and a couple of other teams help Shane out with more songs and play Statues (the boys are very, very good at this) and then go out into the blazing sun and humidity for a rousing hour of football. Everyone has a great time, but we're all relieved (and soaked with perspiration) when the teachers say it's time the boys went back to class.
A few hours left before this Myanmar leg is shut down, so we cruise around town, find a couple more pagodas, check out the Buddha's hair, ride the circular train as it crawls through the city, sample samosas and biryani, and check out the fresh meat market. A very much-needed pause at the Sakura Tower for both the air conditioning and the view, but mainly the beer. Heading towards our hotel (the colonial Strand) we finish by taking the Dallah Ferry across the river. It is rush hour, and the ferry is packed with passengers headed home to dinner. One fellow cradles a live chicken in his arms like a beloved pet, but we suspect that its hours are numbered. Merchants from the market carry vast bundles of unsold goods, small boys try to peddle food and drink, and all manner of boats, from punts to longboats to freighters negotiate the river. We perch on child-sized plastic chairs on the deck and watch the commotion as twilight descends. This is a fascinating country, on the very brink of massive change, though the locals we encountered have been on the brink of change before, and have seen it change for the worse. But still, they smile at strangers, perhaps unable to anticipate what may come if the doors to the outside world open fully.
Back to the hotel for shower, laundry & beer (not in that order) before the check-in time for this leg. Our bus will leave at 7am for the airport and a flight to ..........
Bangkok
We land in hot and steamy Yangon (Rangoon) after a 4 hour flight from Taiwan. We are feeling a little tired after the 4 am wake-up at our Taipei hotel, so the splendid Governor's Residence Hotel with its shaded grounds and immense pool is a soothing delight. Sadly, our scavenges will immediately send us off in all directions. We start with a taxi ride into the local market to arrange in-country travel. So many choices: Mandalay, and/or Bagan/and/or Inle Lake, but no flying allowed between them. Ground or river transport is possible, but glacially slow (e.g., 18 hours by train) so quite the challenge. An equal challenge is that while US dollars are widely used, the bills must be absolutely pristine. Microscopically torn or dog-eared bills are firmly refused, as are any bills that have simply been folded! We soon discover that our fund of US money is about half the size we thought. Oh, credit cards not usable, and ATM's don't exist here. We later hear that almost all teams ran out of money on this leg. One additional challenge: we arrive during the New Year's holiday, so many many places are closed for the week that we are here. Imagine trying to get a last minute flight across Canada on Boxing Day, or use a bank, store or post office on New Year's Day. But the massive Shwedagon Pagoda is open, so we walk around it at sunset, watching its jewel encrusted spire sparkle red and green. We return to our hotel to discover a happy group of teams in the bar. Joining them we get far better aquainted over beer and dinner. This looks to be one of the most convivial groups we have had on these scavenges: I suspect that we will sample many more local beers with this bunch.
So, having learned all that, we head off at 4 am to Mandalay vis KGZ air ("flying you beyond expectations"). We worry this means that we will land somewhere other than Mandalay, but 90 minutes later we arrive in the new but austere Mandalay airport. We find a taxi to take us to to the iconic U Bein bridge in Amarapura and walk across it. Then, a stop via ferry at Inwe, a former capital of Burma, but now a rural village where transport is by horse cart (at least for the tourists - a few motorcycles and satellite dishes are visible around the grass mat huts. We are dogged by a few small children peddling trinkets, and figure that subsequent tourists will encounter larger crowds of hawkers as tourism increases here. One more pagoda stop in Sagaing, then on to Mandalay and our hotel. A quick check-in, then we are off to find Mandalay Hill, a pointing Buddha, the world's largest book, and a monastery covered in fabulously carved wood panels. It's now sunset, and our energy is flagging despite the boost we got from chewing betel nut. Fortunately, the red stains on our teeth have faded so our hotel doorman doesn't laugh at us as he escorts us directly to the bar. The waiter brings Tiger beer, and keeps refilling our glasses the instant they empty, so we soon feel much better. Shower and dinner and bed beckon, after only 8 hours of sleep all told in the previous 2 days.
At 4 am, after 5 hours sleep, we are wide awake. Our bodies are clearly still in another time zone. Breakfast sitting down! Taxi through the bustling streets of Mandalay crowded with vehicles of every type: trishaws, mopeds, motorcycles, carts, hoodless trucks spewing exhaust fumes, and all blaring their horns as they go. The sidewalks are lined with food vendors and tiny shops selling everything one can imagine. We go in search of pancakes, then reach the ferry "terminal" on the bank of the Irrawaddy River. There is no pier, just boats rafted together or pulled up against the bank, with access via gangplank (usually a rail-less 2x6 plank balanced unsteadily on the gunwale. We head upriver to Mingun to climb a giant pile of bricks - the remains of a massive stupa built by a megalomaniac king. Rephrase that: hot bricks in the hot sun, barefoot. Nearby, a massive bell (world's largest uncracked bell) is our second scavenge, then we repeat our river cruise, downstream this time, to Mandalay. Our flight to Yangon is in 2 hours, so after only a brief stop to find some "to-moh", we "taxi" in the back of an open pickup truck to the terminal. It's dark as we arrive in Yangon, and apart from the odd pagoda, most sites are closed, so we find a hotel. Kit cleverly found and booked it online, so that it could be prepaid with a credit card, thus preserving our precious and rapidly dwindling cash supply.
Our final day here, and we decide to deal with numerous Yangon-area scavenges. We've arranged to visit a boy's school (orphanage) so swing by the local market first to buy footballs, pricing out some rubies, sapphires and jade at a nearby jewelers (for us, of course, or not). We arrive at the school to hear the loud sounds of an unmistakable Kiwi accent leading about 40 small boys in a rendition of Mary Had a Little Lamb. It's Shane, carrying on like Robin Williams on speed, and the boys are loving every minute of it, and him. We and a couple of other teams help Shane out with more songs and play Statues (the boys are very, very good at this) and then go out into the blazing sun and humidity for a rousing hour of football. Everyone has a great time, but we're all relieved (and soaked with perspiration) when the teachers say it's time the boys went back to class.
A few hours left before this Myanmar leg is shut down, so we cruise around town, find a couple more pagodas, check out the Buddha's hair, ride the circular train as it crawls through the city, sample samosas and biryani, and check out the fresh meat market. A very much-needed pause at the Sakura Tower for both the air conditioning and the view, but mainly the beer. Heading towards our hotel (the colonial Strand) we finish by taking the Dallah Ferry across the river. It is rush hour, and the ferry is packed with passengers headed home to dinner. One fellow cradles a live chicken in his arms like a beloved pet, but we suspect that its hours are numbered. Merchants from the market carry vast bundles of unsold goods, small boys try to peddle food and drink, and all manner of boats, from punts to longboats to freighters negotiate the river. We perch on child-sized plastic chairs on the deck and watch the commotion as twilight descends. This is a fascinating country, on the very brink of massive change, though the locals we encountered have been on the brink of change before, and have seen it change for the worse. But still, they smile at strangers, perhaps unable to anticipate what may come if the doors to the outside world open fully.
Back to the hotel for shower, laundry & beer (not in that order) before the check-in time for this leg. Our bus will leave at 7am for the airport and a flight to ..........
Bangkok
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