Hong Kong and the Himalayas

It feels like ages since we were sitting down with chop sticks with a bowl of rice or noodles infront of us and thats maybe because it has been a month now since we last spilled the beans on our adventures. Infact we only have a month left so high time for another delve into our journeys thus far.



China has left a lasting impression on us and will be a destination that we will not forget. From Beijing we had zig-zagged our way down to Guilin province and were living it up in a tourist hotspot called Yangshuo. It was an great town, even though it was here that Ryan realised he was missing one his credit cards. Still maybe it was the serene setting, the good company, the great menu or just a growing maturity but it bothered him little and interferred minimally with their exploits. The day started with an early morning Tai-Chi class for those who could be bothered to scrape themselves out of bed. After stretching and moving our bodies as slowly as humanly possible, which was actualy quite hard and most of us just looked like uncoordinated fools, we were left to explore the town in whatever way we chose. Some lazed in the calming park, others climbed to the top of a rocky spire where a small temple balanced precariously on top, while others took a kayak down the gently flowing river.



The next day we began a little more energetically, scaling the vertical cliffs of one of the massive rocky outcrops. Rory blasted up the face like spiderman, until that was his wee arms could haul no more, and his wee legs could stretch no further leaving him dangling like a dingleberry. Ryan was no better by the way and is more aware than ever that serious time in a gym is necessary on his return home. Still we are on holidays and trying not to even think of returning to the usual grind of work and staying in one place for more than a few weeks. As soon as we had fallen down the cliff it was yet more sweatiness as we began our cycling ordeal. It was forty minutes out of town to our guest house, The Outside Inn..... where Ryan was rushed off again with his other culinary buddies to learn how to throw together some of the local cuisine. Between cooking amazing food, drinking cold beers in the sun filled garden and then eating amazing food it was a great afternoon and now with a few recipes up his sleeves, how will the ladies resist.... Well maybe if they saw him shaking a dead dog hung by a hook through it's jaw in the local market earlier that day, that may be sufficient to put them off, but to him and the locals, it was no different than picking up a burger. Apart from the hot dogs on sale, the market was bursting with colour as fresh produce covered the floors and tables and included everything from, firey red chillis, sqwuaking hens and ducks, massive watermelon, nets full of frogs, mounds of potatoes, baths writhing with eels and vegetables that baffled all but the most knowledgable of green fingered friends. If only shopping in Tesco or Sainsburys was such an excursion!



Next morning our hardship really began as our bottoms took a battering from the full day onboard our bicycles! To be honest, it was the best way to see the countryside and although Rory had to push his bike through muddy lanes, and Ryan got landed with bicycles that didn't work and tyres that didn't stay inflated, it was a fantastic day. After a few of us climbed to the top of Moonhill to appreciate the most awesome panoramas, we were more than ready to stuff our faces on the local food. The fresh fish baked in local beer was a highlight along with the Eggplant in oyster sauce, why don't we have food like this at home?! After a long day of bum bruising exercise, a dip in a nearby river was much appreciated....even when we got bullied by the local 8 year olds.



From Yangshuo, we enjoyed another ridiculously long train ride down to Hong Kong were we got checked into the YMCA. Trying to be a posh hotel and brush off it's hostel reputation, they didn't appreciate Rory's rendition of The Village People's hit sngle in the middle of th hotel lobby and quickly told him to shut up. Hong Kong turned out to be a great city though. Filled with bars and restaurants, it was a great place to have a farewell party as this was the end of our China tour. Tears were minimal however and maybe this is because for the past 6 months we have done nothing but meet people and then say goodbye to them. We had become cold and heartless, that was until Mr. Jonny Baillie, and his medical friend Catherine Russell, arrived in town inducing tears of joy to flow like rivers. It was so good to see friends from home and we only hope they enjoy their time watching bodies be cut open, all in the name of medicine, sickos. The usual tourist hits of; taking the tram to the top of Victoria Peak to look over the HK skyline, watching the Light Show 3 nights in a row all mingled in with a bit of world renowned shopping and museum wandering kept us busy for a week until it was time to part company. It was time for our travels to return to how they started as Matthew abandonned us early in the morning leaving Rory locked outside for nearly an hour. While Matthew flew home, the two of us along with Mr. and Mrs. Jonny Baillie, took a hydrofoil over to Macao, the Far East's version of Las Vegas. Apparantly raking in more money than it's American casino cousin, the former Portugese colony entertained us for the day before we too had to bail and once again, melt the polar ice-caps as we increased our carbon foot-print aboard yet another plane.

It wasn't long before we were once again sucking in the bizarre Bangkok air as we dandered down the infamous Kaosan road. We had forgotten how much we had enjoyed this city and evidently the thousands of other tourists agreed with us. This time we got to share it all with a few of our friends from the China trip that were beginning their adventure through South East Asia. Much busier than our last visit, we lost ourselves in the surrounding madness and did what all good travellers do, Tattoos and dreadlocks.

Too early next morning it was time for another farewell as Rory and I rode another winged polluting villain all the way to Kolkata, India. Landing in what was more of another world than just another country, India greeted us with what would become the typical struggle of hoardes of hagglers and vehicle horns constantly blasting. After fighting our way into the heart of the city we checked into our hostel and just hid in our beds. After a few hours , we had gathered the bravery to venture into the mass of rickshaws, beggars, crazy drivers and dancing monkeys and tried to visit a few of the sights. Before we knew it, everything was closed and we hadn't seen a bit of it because of poor directions and traffic jams the size of Ireland. The next few days was just more of the same really. The few sights in Kolkata really weren't anything special and the constant hastle got tiring very quickly. Maybe it was because the previous 4 months had been easy travel through NZ, OZ and tour guide China, making us soft, or maybe SE Asia is just easy in comparison, (probably a mix of the two), but we decided not to hang around in Kolkata as we were struggling to enjoy it, and were soon on our way north towards Nepal. Don't be mislead, there were bits that were great, such as "The Mother House" which is where Mother Teresa based most of her amazing work to the poor and destitute. Not only was it a calming place to spend a few hours, but reading through her life's history was humbling and hugely inspiring. The amount of people that follow her zealously, and the amount that believe she has worked miracles in their lives throws up questions, but she was still an unbelievable woman and servant. However, the constant struggle with hagglers, with con artists, with beggars, taxis and rickshaws, with train tickets, lousy internet, pestering kids , dirt and rubbish everywhere, along with the foot deep flood waters, filled with the cities trash, made it hard to enjoy the city as a whole and started the yearning to just go home. We decided to spend the day in Boghdgaya on the way north west to the River Ganges and Varanasi. Bohdgaya was where the Buddha is said to have received his enlightenment, and is one of four extremely holy places according to the Buddhist faith. As much as it was interesting visiting a place like this, it became one of the worst days of our travels to date.

Arriving at 5am, into a dirty fly infested busy train station after only a few poor hours sleep was not the way to start off the day. Outside we were once again hounded by rickshaws all offering hugely bumped up western prices before fighting amongst themselves after we finally haggled them down to a slightly more reasonable price. A long horridly bumpy, horribly squished rickshaw took us to the outskirts of town, from where we had to carry our massive heavy bags to the otherside of town and find somewhere to desposit them for safe keeping. Along the way, 2 boys attached themselves to us claiming to help us around town and show us the sights for no money. Wise to this after 6 months on the road we did our best to get rid of them but in the end had to pay them to just leave us alone! We also soon found out that the bus we were told would take us onwards to Varanasi later that day was no longer running, meaning we would have to make our way back up to the train station, fingers crossed that there would be a train at the end of it, going our direction. Doing our best to enjoy the day we took a look round the most impressive of the temples that stood on the sight and included the tree where Buddha is believed to have sat under for 40 days waiting for enlightenment. Not really that impressed and brushing off yet more hagglers we decided to not bother visiting the other smaller temples and just get back on the road up to Varanasi. On our way up to the train station, Ryan managed to lose our copy of the lonely planet, leaving us mapless and without almost essential advice. We admire the pioneer travellers who did it all without guide book assistance, they're hard core! At the train station, Ryan then committed the cardinal sin of flashing his flashy camera to all those waiting for the train. Included in the medley scrambling for and brawling to get onto the train was a little old woman and a would-be-thief. While Ryan was helping the little old lady onto the train, someone else (guess who) was helping themselves to Ryan's flashy flashing machine carelessly left in his pocket...not cool. It was a minute or 2 before the little old lady was comfortably seated and Ryan had also got seated before he noticed his loss. Realising exactly what had happened, he nearly tore chunks of hair out and frantically searched the platform and train for anyone with a guilty look or bulging pocket. In desperation he even checked under the train hoping that it had somehow just fallen out or something else as innocent. Our bad luck didn't end their either. While fuming about the loss and joking about the misery of our day, the ticket man appeared demanding more money off us, effectively tripling the price of our tickets as we had apparantly sat in the wrong seats!

Arriving in Varanasi, Rory had thankfully already consulted our tour guide in book form before we lost it, and picked out the "Shaanti Guest House" for us to hide in over the next couple of days and wallow in our misery. Name aside, and despite the fact it was a building site, it turned out wonderful and we were able to drink to the worst day of our journey, and feast our way out of misery. It was also here that we made some friends from all over the world, one of which would end up spending the next week or so with us as we travelled through Nepal. Varanasi was another amzingly interesting city. Built on the "holy" River Ganges, Hindus mass here to cremate their loved ones and surrender their ashes to the "holy" water. A few facts on the water, that our good friend, the late lonely planet fascinated us with. Said to be purifying and holy, Hindus and locals wash clothes, bathe, swim and cremate loved ones here, as well as transport goods along the length of it's world famous ghats. Well far from being purifying, it's not even as clean as your bath water, infact not even close. Due to the numerous sewage pipes that drain into the river, amongst where people swim and wash, the water has become sceptic and actualy has 0% dissolved oxygen in the water. Nothing lives there. While suitable bathwater is meant to have 500 particles of poo per 100g water, the "life giving" River Ganges is able to hide 1.5 million of the little blighters in the same amount!!! Infact after merely touching the water with his lips, not drinking any of it, a friend of a friend was bed ridden for a week with serious vomitting and diarohea, although in his state of high fever he was completely oblivious, depending on his good friends to wash, care, feed him and change his frequently soiled bed sheets! Needless to say we didn't join the kids diving into the water and racing the length of the ghats. We did though watch the cremation services and tip-toe past the numerous bodies lining the narrow alleys waiting their turn to finish this life and begin a new one. Apart from being hastled and somewhat cornered for our money we learnt that it would help pay for the exuberant cost of the funerals for those who couldn't afford it. Depending on one's caste, (like heirarchy) and social standing, different woods would be used to burn the bodies. The most expensive of timbers was the sweet smelling sandal wood that was piled up just a few meters from our guest house overlooking the river. The money badgered off rich white people was used to pay for this wood or cheaper options for those elderly people that were lying next door to our guest house simply waiting to die. Like I said, an immensely interesting if shocking place but it could also be horrificly annoying. Trying to get tickets sorted for a train to the Nepalese border and get a police report for his stolen camera, Ryan ventured out on a mission he told Rory would only take him a few hours, giving himself plenty of time for the expected hastles and inevitable set-backs. However he was not prepared for Indian set-backs and after waiting in queues, hundreds of people long, only for the computers to crash when he was at the front, not once, but twice, and then negotiate for a poorly worded, probably useless police report, it had long since turned dark. Keen to get back knowing Rory was waiting, and worrying himself about making his way through the maze of tangled, unlit alleys that makes up Varanasi's old town he jumped into the nearest rickshaw and wet himself in fear on the bumpy roads back. After being dropped off a million miles away from where he was expecting, thankfully what must have been the only kind person in India showed him the way home, not even expecting a tip. On returning Rory breathed a heavy sigh of relief and was able to forget his feelings of guilt for letting Ryan disappear off alone down the dangerous streets and both of us agreed not to try it again. Still it all ended well, lessons were learnt and we were soon on the road again, destination Nepal.

Vallory, our heavily tattooed Californian friend, joined us and after maybe 30 hours of trains, rickshaws and ridiculously dangerous, overcrowded night-time Nepali buses, we arrived safely, if somewhat shattered in the tourist haven, Pokhara. It also happened to be the 19th July, and for those of you in the know, that means Rory's 20th birthday. As well as celebrating that, we also celebrated and give thanks that we had escaped the mad world of India and somehow once again landed in a world a million miles away, completely different, totally relaxed and somewhere we knew we would enjoy much more. I feel I have painted an awfully harsh picture of India, but that's what it is, HARSH. Still though, it's a place that we have a strong love hate relationship with, loving the culture, food, sights but hating the hastles and the feeling that we are constantly being measured up to see how much money we can be separated from. Nepal on the otherhand, even just after one day had totally relaxed us and we were already thinking of extending our visas.

The next few days were spent dandering and organising our trek into the worlds largest and most famous range of dominating spires and twisted rocks, thrust up by colliding continental plates and more commonly known as, the Himalayas. For 4 days Bhimsen our guide (that we highly recommend!!) lead us through the Annapurna Range, just North of Pokhara. We climbed to 3210m to the top of Poon Hill at 5.30am one morning to view the colossal mountains surrounding us that had remained to this point hidden, under a blanket of monsoon season cloud. It was on day 4, that Rory was crippled with a nasty fever causing us to cut the day short and spend the night hoping he would recover enough so that we could get him off the mountains. While Rory was tucked up shivering in bed with a nice fever, Ryan plied him with pills and took good care of him, (you can thank him later Mrs. Eves) before sitting down with the local farmers over a bowl full of Yak guts and Rokshi, local rice wine, both of which were surprisingly good. The following morning Rory was still semi-comatosed and unable to carry himself off the mountains. Desperate for a steed but unable to afford the local donkeys, it was left up to Bhimsen, 51, with a bad knee and walking barefoot (on his own accord) and Ryan, a lanky streak of ****, terribly unfit after doing no exercise in the 2 last years, and famous for his lack of muscles, to carry Rory, 70kgs of sweaty sickly laziness, 2-3 hours up a steep mountainon their backs, before he miraculously found the strength to walk himself back down a gentle valley. Sound fishy to anyone else??? He did well to be fair to the wee lad and for the next few days he was forced, although it didn't take much enforcement, to do nothing but lie in bed, read more absurd novels by John Grisham and watch hours of pirated DVDs. His form of paradise really so he was more than happy.

It was from Pokhara that we made our most recent leg of travel, 7 hours on a safer, still not safe, tourist bus all the way to Kathmandu. Here, Joe and Janet Campbell, friends from 1st Holywood Presby, have kindly and selflessly given us beds, shelter and food as well as shown us around UMN, the agency for which they work and advised us on all the good bits to see in Kathmandu, the capital of Nepal, and the only real city in the country of 25 million people. Different to sleepy, tourist happy Pokhara, but still miles apart from the madness that lies ahead of us in India, Kathmandu is full of history, noisy motorbikes and of course the temples with erotic carvings. Apparantly there to encourage the public to reproduce in order to increase the population, years ago during the reign of the Malla Kings, the temples are today surrounded by, shocked, intrigued giggling tourists. We have just been ripped off getting our visas extended, giving us another 2 weeks to explore this amazing city and country. Whether we remain here with the friendly locals, enjoying Joe and Janets company and superb hospitality, we do not know. For that answer you will have to wait and see for our next, probably penultimate blog.

Until then, massive love, hugs and kisses

PS. less than 4 weeks until we're back. Get them BBQ's ready!