HOLY COW!

Holy cow is exactly what I thought today when it actually occurred to me that I am walking round the most mental, busiest streets in Deli, completely on my own and on the other side of the world, without a soul I know within a good couple of thousand miles from me. What the hell am I doing! You see I scare myself sometimes, not just my family! I have calmed myself now. I Think I had a bit of cabin fever from the bloody 27 hour train journey I did from Goa. It was not too bad I did have a sleeper seat and it had food and air con. I also had a family opposite me with a matriarchal father who was conducting business on his phone the whole journey. It would have not been to bad if ring tone was not Brian Adams and the "Summer of 69", going off every 2 seconds. He also snored like a pig! I did start to get a dodgy stomach half way through the journey, which was not too bad until someone threw up in the western toilet and so had to use the crouching one instead which are never good for me with my giraffe legs.
When it came to getting off the train I was completely petrified! I was not quite sure where I was and being the only westerner around I got mobbed by everyone. The fear was short lived though as it only takes a taxi driver trying to rip me off, to get the girl going again and Kevin unleashed. Yes I'm back in business. In fact I feel more at home roaming around the streets of Deli than I ever did in Arambol. Stuart said before I left that he did not think it was my scene and he was right. I never feel comfortable on my own in these ideal western Hippie communities, there is always a feeling of wanting to belong but for me always feeling on the outside. I am happy to get lost among the crowds, lay no roots and be a nomad. That's just the way I am.
I am off to Agra tomorrow to see the Taj Mahal, something I have wanted to do for so long and it is also my first cross off on my, "places to see before you die" list (I know I'm sad!) Can't wait.

OBSERVATIONS

* most travelers dress so bad. I too am one. I would never wear what I am wearing now at home ie. those Ali Baba style pants that look like you have shat yourself (well not in public).

* The cows in Deli have the most ugly arse holes

* Most Indian men snore really loud. Before you start I am not sleeping around I was in the train sleeper carriage, remember?

* I am very brave as the whole time I have been writing this blog there has been a mouse running around my feet!

* Nobody ever play Brian Adams the "Summer of 69" around me again as I can be held responsible for my actions.

GOAN STAY!

First things first, a quick catch up with lady Warrington, over the last 6 months:
Got back from traveling, did not write blog as promised, worked loads, got very tired, got drunk a few times, brought some clothes, watched crap telly, finished job, went to Goa for a week with my sister, decided not to get on flight back, and wham bam, we are up to date which is me sat on a guest house balcony in Arombol north Goa writing you this blog. The reasons for staying are quite simple really: the sun, the sea, the sand, the food, the cheapness and because life is too bloody short! Anyway didn't fancy coming back to rain, no job and the thought of having to watch Loose Women up till Xmas is enough to put anyone off. Everyone who knows me well knows what a history geek I am and it has been my dream for some time now to go and see the north of India with its many palaces, the Taj Mahal, and Varanasi, (Also some are on the list of my BBC book “100 places to see before you die” and as I'm 30 next year I really need to get a move on!) As no one wanted to do it with me I thought I would do it on my own, which is good as I have always thought I was bloody good company!
As said I am now in Arambol, hanging out with Paula's friend Stuart, who is staying out here. Arambol is a cool place with a chilled atmosphere and an strange mix with ropey old hippies, happy clappers and the gap year students, mixed in with the locals. Not quite sure what category I fit into, for I have always liked the idea for of being a hippy, but I'm far to cynical and I'm definitely no gap year student anymore. I guess I'm in my own category which is, a Lady that travels (I like the sound of that!)
Off to Deli on the the sleeper train (For 25 hours!) on Wednesday, which is when I will become a single traveler. A bit nervous, but its good to be and I have now become use to the stares which follow you everywhere, besides it will be an adventure and every time I have bad moment I will just think of day time TV and I will be glad I am here.

Apology

I would like to apologize for any offense I caused in my last entry on my comments about air cabin crew. My sister is air cabin herself and I know how hard they work. Still think you all have false smiles though!

Observations

I think I have become the “Haggling Queen” taking my title from my former mentor Miss Rebbecca Brown!

I have never seen a fat nippy.

Now that I'm not hanging around with my sister and the air cabin anymore, my consumption of Alcohol is almost zero and my liver is functioning again.

I have to stop thinking I'm a good singer when I am drunk. Did Karaoke again! Did “Big Spender” again! Sang it with the pilot Captain Bob aka Mr T.

COME FLY WITH ME!

I hate flying. I have always said it was the landing and the take off that caused me the pains, but I have come to realise that its actually the whole experience. I use to like airports as a kid. They were the highlight of my holiday (I was a strange child!) I was fascinated by people from all different walks of life jetting off to all these glamorous places in the world, while I was left with the destination of Alicante (Not so glamorous!) I use to imagine what they did and where they were going. I still do. Even my mother gave us the sense of a flight being an special occasion by buying us all special travelling outfits, which would have to meet the criteria of being comfortable, have a hint of the exotic but with the practicality of keeping us warm in the unforgiving British weather. The hunt for these outfits would often take weeks and usually end up with me looking like Don Johnson's Miami Vice love child (It was the 80's).
Luckily now I have now reached an age where I can pick my own clothes, but that is the only thing that has improved when it comes to flying. The whole thing is just horrible and I my homeward flight from Hong Kong just highlighted why I hate it so much. So let me begin. First of all I always seem to have a flight at a shit time which means I have to get up at some god dam unearthly hour, to arrive at an airport still half asleep with no breakfast only to find every shop shut apart from bloody McDonald's, ( No wonder we have an obesity problem). Foreign airports also seem to think that just because it is hot outside that they have some justification to freeze you to death with overpowering air-con. Then you have to board the actual flight and the first thing you are faced with are the air hostesses or flight attendants as they like to be called these days. Now I have to be careful what I say here as my sister is a trolley dolly, but as a whole I don't like the creatures. For a start they greet you with those kind of Stepford wives smiles, which are so false, as underneath they are thinking how they can make this flight as miserable as possible for you, for the next 10 hours or so. This is done through a number of methods, with the temperature being their main weapon of choice. The bastards usually crank it down till you think your in Siberia and are sat there shivering to death. You then ask for a blanket, of which there are none left, so you ask if they could could turn the temp up and they give you that smile again and say "I'll see what I can do" (Which means NO!) I must admit though I do like seeing the Chav's freezing in their hot pants and strappy tops ( Serves you right for dressing like slags!) They then feed you something that looks like a dried turd in tin foil and you can only get a drink if you are quick enough to actually grab them as they speed by saying, "Tea! Coffee!" without any bloody intention of stopping.
Then there are the other passengers. I would not want to be left in a space the size of a shoe box, with my own family for 12 hours, never mind a group of annoying strangers. I always get the person in front of me who puts their chair right back, without asking, ( this time, a very loud, irritating American, who I thought I might kill). Then there is the person next to you who wants to go to toilet every two seconds, just as your finally falling to sleep. Then when you decide to go the toilet yourself, everyone else seems to go at the same time and you queue for ages being pushed out of the way the whole wait by the Dollies with some crap serving trolley. When you get to the toilet the person before you has had the smelliest shit in history which you have to endure until you have done your business. Then there is the freaky flusher which scares the hell out of me as I do believe every time that its going to suck me down with it. You get back to your seat in time for the baby behind you to start screaming for the next couple of hours. The air then starts to get stale with sweating feet and farts, which then gives you a headache. Then you get so dehydrated as there has been no drinks served for the last couple of hours. Then the Dollies come round wanting to sell you some crap Duty Free, ( I don't want a flying Biggles bear, I want a sodding glass of water!) You then come into land which buggers my ears (burst my ear drum when I was eight). Then fight your way out to exit, as everyone can't wait to leave this hell hole, with "Hope you enjoyed your flight!" ringing in your ears. One day when I'm not so out of it from the whole experience, I'm going to turn round and say, "Do you want to know where I'm going to stick my Duty Free Toblerone!" and see if there still smiling then!

OBSERVATIONS

* Only one this time. I don't think my sister will be talking to me after reading this!

P.S Just because I'm home, does not mean that my blog is stopping, so keep logging in. x

DON’T STEREOTYPE ME!

When your traveling you tend to stereotype lots, especially with nationalities. It makes things easy to put everyone in their own little cater gory box. It seems to alleviate some fear, if we have some knowledge of what is really unknown to us, no matter how wrong these assumptions maybe. So stereotypes are formed. For example Germans have no sense of humor, wear thongs and always are first with their beach towels. Americans are all fat, loud and think they know more than God himself. The Japanese take photos and do the peace sign all the time. The French eat frog legs all the time smell of Cheese and always refuse to speak English, and so I don’t seem like a racist, the British are alcoholic, sun burnt, fighting sluts. Stereotypes are not just towards nationalities, but on countries themselves and so this brings me to my now destination of Australia. If I am honest, Australia has never been on the top of my list for places to visit. I listened to the stereotypes you see: It full of drunken backpackers, its not that beautiful, the people are uncultured, it’s really expensive, and there is nothing really that much there! Well I have one thing to stay. They are wrong! Ok, granted its not the cheapest place, (especially with alcohol and bread?), there are drunken backpackers (there young, what can I say!), but overall I have fallen in love with Australia. It is a beautiful country, with some of the most amazing scenery, the people are so friendly and the cities are some of the most sophisticated and cultured I have seen.
We arrived in Sydney and with it not being Asian prices anymore had to stay in the dreaded mixed dorms at one of the backpacker hostels. I never liked hostels when I was traveling 3 years ago. They are kind of like the backpackers version of 18 to 30. Our roomy, a fat Kiwi called Andy who worked at the hostel, seemed only to be satisfied if he had downed 26 Jaeger bombs and passed out on the floor, which he did most nights, snoring like a trooper. Ruined nights of sleep did not mar our experience of Sydney though. Everyone raves about Melbourne but I do believe that Sydney is probably the most beautiful city I have ever seen, with its beautiful harbor and beaches. We then flew to Melbourne, one to get away from the hostel and two to stay with our friends Jess and Rach. In fact Melbourne was one big social gathering, meeting up with people who we knew everyday. It’s funny but we maybe the other side of the world but with all the drinking, and eating out with friends I felt like I was back in London (except the sun is shining and the food is a lot better.) We then went to Rach’s mum’s ranch (or as I like to call it animal farm) for the weekend in Wilson’s prom. Had a great time but must say I have never experienced a barbeque where dogs, miniature ponies and a goat attended.
Its all-very well staying in the cities and living it up, but the cities are such a tiny part of Australia. So Jan and me have hired a camper van for our last 2 weeks here (Jan has named it Adolph.) So far we have not done to bad apart from my bad map reading and travel sickness and Jan driving a camper van like it’s a Porsche and leaving the lights on so the battery when flat (We had to get a load of locals to help us push it, so embarrassing!). I’m sure we will be fine but if you don’t see us again just tell the police to look for 2 skeletons and camper van called Adolph in the Bush somewhere!

OBSERVATIONS

• Australians have chavs too, but they call them borgins.

• Its seems to be the fashion among some Australians to have spiky mullets. Interesting!

• I think Jan might be a little bit strange as he has a fascination of taking pictures of road kill.

• I think I might trade Jan in for an up grade, as some of the specimens of male Aussies are very fine indeed, especially on the beach.

• Australia as the coolest cafes and shops going.

BLOODY MARVELLOUS!

A couple of days ago I went to a funeral. I have never been so glad that someone had died in my life, well apart from Stalin, Hitler, Pol Pot, Chairman Mao and Barbara Cartland (It was wrong to let her go on looking like that!) I know it seems like a horrible thing to say, but I have my reasons. You see I was In Tana Toraja on the Island of Sulawesi which is famous for its traditional funerals. Its the whole reason people go there, so I guest I'm not the only person who has been there and was glad that someone died. In fact it was 2 peoples funeral, two brothers and actually they hadn't just died, they have been dead for two years. In Tana Toraja it is tradition to mummify the bodies and keep them in the family house until all the members of the family can be gathered together for the funeral. This means that bodies can lay in the house for a couple of years. I heard that one body was kept in the house for over 20 years until it could be buried ( I guest its a good way to get the kids to leave home early as no self respecting teenager is going to want to sleep next to their mummified Grandad!) So off we went, first to local market where you can pick up a live pig on a stick or a full grown buffalo to go and then to the local village where the houses are shaped like boats to see the funeral procession. It was unlike any other funeral I have ever been to. Yes people wear black but that's where thesimilarities end. Everyone is happy, singing and drinking palm wine. No one is sad. It is one big party, with free food like pork, spinach and chilli's instead of tea and crap sandwiches. To top it all off you get buffalo fighting as entertainment. I wish funerals were like this in Britain. Actually I might put it in my will to have my funeral, Tana Torja style, but without the mummified stuff and waiting around for years to be buried, as that's just creepy. The funerals usually last for 5 days with gifts being brought on day 2 and 3 and the actual burial on the 5Th day. We returned on the 4th day again as that was the day Jan most wanted to photograph. It was slaughter day! One of the most common gifts are buffalo's and pigs which are then slaughtered and given to the local villagers for a banquet. Yousef told us that 20 buffalo's were to be slaughtered that day. It was something that i was not really looking forward to seeing, but then I thought, I bloody eat meat and don't really think how it gets on to my plate, its not like the sodding fairies bring it. It was time to see reality, and not some prepackaged crap on a Tesco shelf. I will tell you now it was not for the faint hearted or vegetarians. There was more blood than a Tarantino movie, but instead of feeling repulsed or sick I was totally absorbed. Ever buffalo that came up and then had it's throat slit I watched with the interest until a strange disappointment came over me that there was no more, when it ended. I guest I must be quiet a bloodthirsty person inside.
Oh lord I have sinned, well I haven't, it was Jan but he also made me party to it. It all started when we were back in Makkasar and he received an email from a small company who needed promotion photo's of makkasar for holiday tours. Jan when off straight away taking photo's. He returned a few hours later with a big smile on his face. He proceeded to tell me that he had ended up at five star hotel and asked to photograph the pool for a magazine. The next thing he knew the manager was called down to speak to him. He asked him what magazine Jan was working for and the first thing that came into his head was "Travel Asia." (only the biggest bloody travel mag in Asia) The manager was delighted and showed him round the hotel himself and asked if he wanted to come back in the evening to photograph some more. He dragged me along this time and I cringed as Jan was giving out all this crap about his assignment. Then to make things worse the Manager invited us to a free, 3 course meal. I could of died! Jan of course maxed it and ordered fish and king prawns and drink after drink. I just felt like a fraud, but I ate the free meal all the same and drank the drinks. well it would be stupid not to. Whats that saying, "Never look a gift horse in the mouth."
We are now back in Bali, in Kuta or as I like to call it "shit hole." Its full of drunken teenagers and chav's, with locals who hound you all the time to buy some crap or another. We leave tomorrow for Oz and I can't wait, which is a shit way to end Indonesia as I have bloody loved it here, its just that Kuta is not the real Indonesia. I will be back, still got so much to see of the country, but that is for another adventure.

OBSERVATIONS

* Jan nearly got stoned to death by a local after he refused to buy what she was selling, so she threw a rock at him. He said she was just plain crazy but knowing him he probably said something offensive to her.

* Jan is better at lying than I thought. Should I be worried!

* All the locals say "Hello Mr" to you all the time. I have given up trying to tell them its "Miss!" as its just to dam tiring!

* The tan is fading as it has rained non stop for the last three days.

* I have found a cheap bottle of gin and got some tonic. It should take my mind off the weather.

ONE BIG HAPPY FAMILY

Estee Lauder once said that "There are no ugly women in this world, just lazy ones!" Well Miss Lauder forgot to put into this equation a woman without amenities. For example a woman who has slept on a deck of a boat for 4 days, which has no shower, a hole into the ocean for a toilet, which makes all her clothes damp, then she takes a 12 hour journey on a crap local bus, on which she throws up a total of 4 times, to arrive at her destination in the rain, stays in a damp room, with no hot water, to takes another crap bus the next day, to a village that has no running water (All she wants is a sodding shower!), stays in a flea bit of a guest house, climbs another bloody volcano, gets back, still no water, catches another bus, arrives in a crap port town, gets a boat, its covered in cockroaches, sleeps on deck again (less cockroaches!), lots of locals spit on deck (Not nice), clothes now smell like someone died in them! This is a very ugly woman indeed, this is a woman without amenities, this woman was me! Luckily I haven't seen to many mirrors in the last 2 weeks and then you just get past the point of actually caring. You will be glad to know that we have arrived in the city of Makkasar in Sulawesi and have managed to have all our clothes cleaned and had a shower, so now feel human again, but the last 2 weeks have been quite tough. I'm not complaining though as I think I have seen this world at it most beautiful recently and the roughness is part of the enjoyment as well. As said went on a boat for a couple of days from Lombok to Flores. The leaflet that advertised the trip was very interesting with its spelling and description of our journey ahead, with such sentences as:
"Ficture of boat"
"Meet the daragoons" (means see the Komodo dragons)
And my favourite "Have meal together like one big happy family"
There were nine passengers in total, me, Jan, the two Swiss guys, Jurge and Daniel, who we met on Rinjani, a Danish girl called Tania (Scared of spiders), an American, Chris (Looked like Jesus), a Canadian, Jason (Rob Mayors twin), and a Dutch couple, Ninca and Staso (completely mad). Over the next 4 days through snorkeling to komodo Dragons (The dragons did not seem to do much!) we all seem to bond. When we arr ivied at our destination Tania and Chris left us and the rest of continued around Flores taking on bad Beamo drivers (Taxi's), rip off merchants and terrible guesthouses together. We travelled nearly 2 weeks together and in the end we became that "one big happy family", if not an unlikely one. When we went our separate ways it was a sad loss. We are still travelling with the Swiss guys and have hooked with a French girl called Alice who is cool. Tonight getting a night bus (Not again!) to Tana Toraja, 8 hours north, where they slaughter a lot of Buffalo's, have open graves and some other mad traditions. Can't wait!

OBSERVATIONS

* Jan has started telling the locals he is from South Africa and that it is a very poor country, because he thinks they will rip him off less. No comment!

*All Indonesia men seem to do, is spit and chain smoke.

* Indonesians live in very poor shack houses but still manage to afford a satellite Ariel for their TVs.

* Don't go to weight watches come to Asia. Me and Jan have both lost weight, which is good for Jan as I was worried that we could not afford the 2 seats for him on the plane.

SHIT HAPPENS!

I often ask myself, why do I go travelling? What is it, that I am looking for? What do I want to get out of it? I like to tell myself and others, that it is a sense of adventure, that I seek. So to prove this point I decided it would be good to climb the second highest volcano in Indonesia, Mount Rinjani in Lombok. Those of you who know me well, will remember that me and mountains don't really go together too well. I have enough trouble staying on my feet when I am on a flat surface, so anything other than horizontal becomes quite dangerous for me (I blame my balance on having small feet for my height!) This time though I was determined that it would not get the better of me. We started the 2 day hike at 7.00am after being picked up at 4.00am for a 2 hour drive there. Along for the ride were a Canadian couple Dave and Jenni who we had met on the ferry on the way over to Lombok and so this was a merry little troop. I was not best equipped in my crap converse trainers and linen trousers but I figured if the guide could climb in a pair of flip flops I had no excuse, and climb we did, 2,600ft of bloody climb! After marching through mud and rain and what seemed to be an ongoing asthma attack for me, we finally reached the base camp just before dark. I was cold and wet and had the luxury of sleeping on top of a mountain in a tent that smelt like those old people that piss themselves. We then proceeded to be attacked by monkeys while having dinner, who were after our food. Well a least we have a camp fire to warm and dry ourselves off, I thought. I took off my Converse and put them next to the fire to dry out. A couple of minutes later I felt smelt a strange smell and looked down. "Shit!" I had set my shoe on fire. I quickly picked it up and rubbed it in the mud only to find a huge hole in the side! I counted to ten and decided it was best to go to bed before anything else happened. After a sleepless night listening to people snore and a local who had been apparently taken over by a demon and was chanting all night, we were woken by our guide a 4.00am again to continue the track to the top in the dark to see sunrise. Oh my god I thought I was going to die it was so hard. After being the last one to the top and missing sunrise as I was so slow I was still proud that I had made it to the summit and that the worst must be over with. How wrong I was! What goes up must come down, but I wish coming down was not so painful. The crap converse which now had a hole in the side the size of the Titantic's were staring to fall apart and so was I. Every 2 seconds I kept falling down getting more bruised and cut each time. Jan and the guide had to hold each of my hands and guide me down only for me to fall still, into a ditch with only my legs sticking up in the air. I eventually made it down and could see base camp in sight and thought I was home free until I lost my balance again and put my hand down into a bush to steady myself. It just so happens that was also the place where somone had decided to relieve themselves in the night! Yes thats right! I put my hand down right into a human shit! I laughed, then Jan was laughing, then I told him to piss right off and stormed off. I sat crying for a minute and told myself that wasn't this what I had come looking for, adventure? I laughed. Then I thought about it again and cried!
After the horror of the volcano we find ourselves in the Gilli islands, which are paradise. White sand, turquoise sea and great chill out bars. There are no police here so people just seem to be on magic mushrooms and stoned all the time. Its very funny. Now that I can walk again and the cuts are healing we are off tomorrow on a boat for 4 days(Which we are sleeping on the deck of to save money!), to Komodo Island to see the famous dragons. Lets just hope they don't shit near me!

OBSERVATIONS

* I think I am cursed as well as the cuts, shit and setting shoes on fire I have also been stung my jelly fish and broke my sunglasses in the last couple of days.

* My hair seems to be going afro.

* Jan has become obsessed with monkeys after to we went to Monkey Forest in Ubud, Bali. He has now lots of dirty Monkey pictures after they just kept humping in front of us.

* All my clothes, smell really bad!