Days 189 to 197 - THE END. Bangkok to Britain.

It seemed a strangely familiar being back in Bangkok and with no real exploring left to do, we returned to the familiar Rambutri and Khao San Road area of Bangkok. Our only task to buy presents for loved ones back home. Baggage weight being an ongoing issue we decided to buy things in Bangkok instead of carting them around for our journey. We had an idea of going to a ping pong club but with the journey coming to an end it seemed less relevant. In any case we had to be up early the following day as we had a 10am flight back to Heathrow.

The flight on Emirates was perfect as always and I think if you can pay a little more, this is the way to start and finish travel to Asia from the UK. Also the 10th October is our anniversary. We completed 3 years of a very interesting, rewarding and exciting marriage. If our marriage has a title, it is 'travel'. We met in New York 5 years ago and for the first 18 months we were hopping the Atlantic and generally on holiday. As soon as Sarah was legal in the UK and could leave the country and be guaranteed to get back in we were straight across the English Channel to Greece, France, Holland, Belgium. Our life has been on holiday or planning them. Soon this will change drastically.

We arrived in Heathrow at 7pm on 10th, but the journey wasn't quite over. We organised a mini break in South west England, to cover the time up until Sarahs flight to the USA on the 17th October. We didn't have to go far on the first night, as we booked a hostel in Hounslow, near Heathrow airport. Hounslow is a very Indian place. It seems when the Indian immigration peaked in the 1970s from Kenya and Uganda, the new immigrants arrival coincided with the growth of Europes biggest airport (I won't fact-check that). They looked for work at the airport and the surrounding boroughs of Hounslow and Southall, and they stayed.

Hounslow is famous for the film Bend it Like Beckham. The story of a Sikh girl who battles an insular family to play football. Once we arrived in the pub which doubled as a hostel we grabbed some food downstairs. The pub was traditional British in decor but the big screens were playing Banghra music (which I love) and the food on the menu was Indian with a few chips thrown in. So there was our anniversary; a sheesh kebab listening to Banghra in a pub in Hounslow. That night in seperate bunks we had a night free from fear of bed bugs in the case of Sarah and in my case no concern for the setting on the AC (there wasn't an AC). The strangest feeling was brushing my teeth that evening and realising, I don't have to look for a bottle of mineral water, the tap water is safe.

The 11th October and day 191 we had booked a tiny hire car from Heathrow airport, and we took the drive towards Dorset which would provide our bed for the night, but also Sarah's quest of searching for her ancestors in Dorchester where they sailed in 1635 for the America's to flee religious oppression. I had to pull over for a phone interview on the way. The job search added early stress to our journey for me, but I won't waste anymore words on that as this blog is about travel not work stress which I fled from in the beginning.

On the drive down we turned off to see what Southampton had to offer but ended up not parking but continuing to Lyndhurst near the New Forest. The day was rainy but that didn't stop us getting out and walking around this little town, and finding a church and completely happening across the grave of the girl who provided the influence for Alice in Alice in Wonderland for Lewis Carol. Then (and this sounds dull) we stopped for a pot of tea in a tea shop and everything charming about the UK came back to me as I stared out at the rain soaked streets.

In fact compared to the rest of the travels this entire blog may look dull to the reader but not for me. It was a reconcilliation of how great my little island really is, at least the charming southern part where I grew up. We found a Tesco and do you know how good the inside of a Tesco looks like when you've eaten nothing that cannot be flashed in a wok for 5 months? A good second to the supermarches of France. The cheese and fresh bread and the red wine, oh fuck me - the red wine! Don't hate us for enjoying crashing in our moderately priced hotel that evening, watching English TV and eating crusty bread and red wine.

Day 192 we made our way to Dorchester and had a mission as soon as parking. Museums and libraries was this mission. To find out some story behind the reason Sarah was born in Illinois and not England. The first museum had an entrance fee, and we wondered how much it would tell us about those who left England for the New World. The kind helpful lady advised us to go to the history centre a quick walk up the road. Another thing I missed; help being offered without a concern for an exchange of money. Being able to ask for directions without being ushered into a taxi is something you take for granted. The only repayment expected is an overly long "thank you" and "sorry to bother you".

We found the history centre, an archive library, signed in and started looking for the name of Lane around the 1600s. It looked like a needle in a haystack, but I found a record of a family called Lane who sailed with their family in April 1635. It looked promising. That said, Sarah looked at her family tree and she was looking for an Andrew. We found nothing concrete but in searching got a quick idea of the Great Migration to the Americas. It was an interesting stop.

We then drove onto to a town called Beer on the south coast of Devon. I remember this place from 1997 when a student. For adventure I decided to cycle from Bristol where I was studying to Liskeard in Cornwall where I grew up. A journey taking 3 days. My first stop was Beer and I remember the fish and chip shop where I bought chips and sat by the sea after covering 70 miles on the saddle in one day. We found it, and the chips were amazing. Again amazing after so long at least.

We continued to Plymouth where we stayed the night. Passing through the spendid Devon countryside. The county with reputedly the best standard of living in the UK (not fact-checked). We tried to relive one of our cross channel visits, and drank in the same Barbican pub we did in April 2008. It meant something to us.

The next day we continued to Cornwall where we would spend the night in Newquay. However, on the way we stopped off for pasty in Marrizion and to see St Michaels Mount. Sarah wanted to compare to Mont St Michel in France. It is the same in the sense the tide seperates it from the mainland. Very picturesque, and pasties taste better when staring out at the sea in Cornwall on a bright day. Then on to Lands End at the tip of Cornwall. Every place in Lands End entitled 'First and Last'. Then St Ives for another pasty then to Newquay where we stayed the night.

My brother lives in Cornwall and its been a long time since I've seen him, almost 4 years in fact. I couldn't travel down there, without catching up. We met for drinks in the Halfway House between Bodmin and Liskeard. Family are amazing. Once you fill in the blanks of the time spent apart, you quickly settle back into familiarity. In our case the humour was there and we were bouncing jokes off eachother with ease. It was an easy visit. It lasted a couple of hours before I rejoined Sarah back in Newquay. She was too tired to take the 1.5 hour round trip.

On arrival back at the hotel we 'hit' the Newquay town. It was a Saturday night and about 8pm when we made our way out, and the place was dead. Was this really the Cornish hotspot I'd worshipped in the early 1990's. The place where you would take a hip flask as getting served at the packed bars would be long process? Yes it was. What happened. We had no time finding a quiet place to sit and chat like people of our age do. Sitting and chatting is what we had to do for 6 months now, and you'd think the conversation would be hard. That said, with Sarah returning to the States and my plans in the UK until I join her, there was much to talk about. There are still so many unresolved plans which cover the next year at least.

We left early the next morning, but made a stop off in Minions. With all Sarah's interest in ancient history, I'm surprised I never took her to see The Hurlers and The Cheesewring which was on my doorstep for so much of my life. We had really lucked out with the Cornish weather over the two days, so Minions was a perfect walk. I reconciled my thoughts of England further and more pleasant memories crowded out the bad ones.

We drove all the way to Salisbury that night choosing a comfy Premier Inn to bed down. The next day was a 6am start to get the car returned for 9am at Heathrow. We got there with 15 minutes to spare. The Piccadilly line took us to Green Park. We surfaced at Green Park tube by the Ritz Hotel, then took the tourist trail through the park, past Buckingham Palace. A sandwich at the Pret A Manger in Victoria, which served as my lunch spot from 2007 to early 2009, provided a mini nostalgia. Then the Megabus to Manchester.

We arrived at my sisters back in Tameside Manchester. Gave the nephews and nieces their presents which had a novelty value of less than 2 hours. Sarah visited friends the following day, while I had an unsuccessful interview in central Manchester.

The 17th October and day 197 was Sarah's last day in the UK. We got the train from Guide Bridge to Manchester Airport, then set about the process of seeing her off. This was a strange feeling. We were both accepting of the fact that once she passed security, we would not meet again until US Immigration says we can. A period no less than 3 months, and a fair possibility of 2 years. (The latter being the worse case scenario, and if that was the case she can visit me in the UK or Canada. So I won't be over dramatic about that.) We were both aware this is something you can't get around, the immigration process to America runs on their speed. There is no way to speed it up, we were accepting of the harshness of seperation. Still as we walked towards the security gates, Sarah cracked and had tears, and me almost too. Being a man you feel it's better to be reassuring to your partner when she is in tears. We both quickly looked back on what we had done, how far we had come rather than how far we have yet to go.

Its like walking up that hill near Chiang Mai. You can look up and see the distance you have yet to go, and the seemingly impossible hill to overcome, but still you have no option but to climb it. Then you look behind and see how far you have climbed and look back at the view and this is the reward.

From meeting Sarah in New York five years ago, to negotiating the simpler but still expensive and tricky UK immigration process for Sarah. To getting married. To negotiating our life together with a wealth of cultural and emotional differences. To reaching agreement on our goals in life. This is before we take into account of last 6 months spent covering 19 countries. 6 months killing time, searching for hotels, working out currencies, visas, various foods. Understanding different customs. Arguing, making up, eating - lots of eating.

Do I feel a better person and a better couple after this? I think I do and I think this should be an acid test of most couples if they are able to undertake it. Being virtually in eachothers faces for 6 months, in mostly cramped spaces, you get to know someone. You get to know what to say which is necessary and unnecessary. You learn this by trial and error. So the learning process for me was intended to be the world. Yet it ended learning how to be a better husband. I know the theory, yet I have to battle the stupid inclinations of myself, to achieve the ideal.

I'm sat writing this 3 days after Sarah left and the novelty of space has worn off a little, and I miss her over in America dreadfully. She has a huge job of setting up, I only have one of surviving, saving some money and keeping my life temporary but functional. I have some adventure too.

This was always a travel blog, so the journey to America from here is a story for another day. Thank you for following me. That is all!

Days 185 to 188. From Chiang Mai to Bangkok

The trek left us both quite sore and therefore a free day ensued, which were getting quite more frequent as we approach the end of our travels. Along with approaching the end of travels comes approaching the end of the allocated travel money. This is quite a sobering thought. Looking at the bank balance back in April and seeing a healthy 5 figure sum, now reduced to 3 figures. You look back on the amount spent and quantify with yourself, was it spent wisely? Did we get all we could out of it? What did we intend to get out of it? I'm probably going to ask that again in my summary and many times after that. Especially in times in the future when we are hard-up.

Day 186 and 6th October we were booked on the night train to Bangkok at 5:30pm, leaving us a day in Chiang Mai. We filled most of this day with what may be the most interesting and memorable experience of the journey. We went to the Tiger Kingdom.

You will be right in assuming that tigers are involved in The Tiger Kingdom, and you may rightly assume it is touristy. That's not to take away from it. Tiger Kingdom is about 10km outside of Chiang Mai, and once inside you can play and cuddle tigers. The tiger sizes come in Smallest, Small, Medium and Big. There are various packages on offer combining sizes of tiger to interact with. We chose Smallest + Small + Big for B1250 each (£25 or $40).

There is no set order you need to do this, but we chose the Smallest first. There are some rules and guidance to follow. The main one is to not touch the tigers head, and always approach them from behind. The opposite to approaching a horse then. In any case on purchase of a ticket, you signed away all liability of Tiger Kingdom, should these beasts chew off your arm in a rage. Therefore, it is best to follow the rules.

The Smallest are about 3 months old, and very playful they are. Mostly with each other, although they can be playful with you. But being playful is a bit of nipping with each other, and you can see from a young age what razor teeth they have. You are not allowed to pick them up, but stroking and rubbing their tummy is loved, and they become very docile. The youngest are probably the most fun, as they are awake during the day. The latter ages they start becoming more tiger and like their 18 hours sleep a day, like George Bush did.

The Small category are aged about 6 months and are showing traces of cub cuteness, but evolving into the proud creatures they will be, the Big ones aged 18 months are a more amazing experience. The same rules apply for all the tigers remember, don't touch the head. You may even tickle their balls, and all you will get is a flick of the tail, but not the head. Incidentally the guard encouraged us to tickle a Small tigers balls. I was sceptical, but I did.

I can honestly say, and you won't believe  me unless you visit Tiger Kingdom yourself, I felt no fear with the big tigers. I could see their teeth and they were huge things, and the animal could rip the flesh off me like a well cooked barbecued rib, but still they are so calming. We both approached from behind and put our arms around a resting tiger. I smelt him and they smelt like a friendly dog (a smell I miss and love) and my arm raised up and down with the tigers breathing. Only occasionally did I think; wow I'm cuddling a huge killing machine.

They are drugged Chris, you cry. All I can say is again and again we were told they were not drugged. They are petted by humans from 3 months old, so they only know the nice side of humans. After 18 months they are sold to zoos, as after that point they become unpredictable, and maybe nature takes over and tells them, they are there to hunt and kill not have back-packers tickling their balls. They are so docile, because tigers need so much sleep, so their sleep pattern is the calmer also.

It is a zoo of sorts, and the animals will never be free, so make your own moral decisions based on that. However, I don't think there are many other ways to fully appreciate a tiger than to get this close. It has made me care more about the existence of the species in the wild, and I will look into how I can help personally. There are also tigers near Bangkok which are run by monks. However, I have read that despite this being run by monks, those beasts are more likely drugged, even though the setting looks more wild.

So after a lunch of burritos we caught the night train to Bangkok. You are expecting some expression of feelings as we complete the overland journey of 5,252 miles from Singapore, to Penang to Bangkok, through Cambodia, south to north Vietnam, to Vientiane in Laos to Lunang Prubang to Chiang Mai and back to Bangkok. I don't think I have any right now.

Last night we went out for dinner and here in Bangkok and Sarah wanted to go back in at about 7pm. She has been feeling run down as we reach the end. I stayed out a bit. Just two solo beers, watching the travellers and people go by. I think I wanted to be alone with Bangkok for a bit. I also enjoyed people watching and I felt so used to seeing travellers and back-packers, I could spot immediately which ones were at the beginning of their Asian journey and those at the end or a long way into. Maybe something about the look, less wide-eyed than the new arrivals. New arrivals over-do the "I know what I doing and where I'm going" look. And if I can spot this after 5 months in Asia, you can be sure the hawkers can.

Days 180 to 184. Last adventures in Northern Thailand

Chiang Mai is instantly an easy place to like. You like it when you first see the map. A city built around a square historic section and what looks like a moat. I've never been much more north than Bangkok in Thailand before, but many I know had. From their descriptions I drew up an idea that it is a bit of a back-water. Of course I knew it was Thailands second city, but then again Battambang is Cambodia's second city, Wyella is South Australias second city. Just because Chicago is the US' second city (or is it LA), doesn't mean that another country can't have a bloody great drop-off from the big one to the next biggest. What I did notice straight away from arrival at the guesthouse, to the obligatory first confused wander up the street for food, is that if Chiang Mai has a comparison (and I'm always looking for them) it is Queenstown in New Zealand. Every two steps you pass a travel agency and each travel agency has something for you to do. Chiang Mai is somewhere you go to 'do something'. We had in our mind before arrival, a mental cruise along in the last week and a half. In reality we booked ourselves on a 2 day trek.

But first we had our teeth to sort out. Sarah came out with antibiotics and some good advice. Chris living up to the stereotype of British having bad teeth, left minus a tooth and some painkillers and antibiotics, oh and half a day of intense pain as my gum got used to being an open wound. Now it is free of pain and life is easier. This is something that should have been sorted in Saigon, but I was scared of what that teenager would do to me. The Thai dentist did an amazing job. I also think I've learnt something about myself, I look over my dental history from the nurse at school to recently, and I trust lady dentists only. Men don't put me at ease.

Anyway dentists aren't interesting so onto the trek. It was a small group, just one other couple in fact. Italians called Guilio and Ariana who were great company throughout. I read in the guidebook a trek can be good or bad based on the group not the guide or itinerary, so in that case we were set.

The action took a while to get going. Past the orchid and butterfly farm (I've wasted too many words on that already). Then a snake zoo, with a snake show. Scary cobra's and pythons etc and men goading these snakes to bite them, with a few facts how poisonous the legless reptiles are. The only entertaining aspect was the MC who had such a creepy seductive voice. "heh let big snake kiss little snake (a penis) and 30 seconds you sleep for long time.... mmm oh yeah".

A visit to the Kayan tribe, the people with long-necks was a disappointment. I thought it would be part of the trek, but in actuality it was just a turn off on the main road, and there was the most artificial of villages with the tribe making scarfs and other crafts. Everyone taking pictures and thinking they are of National Geographic calibre, but really it was like taking photos of animals in the zoo. I was quite uncomfortable with it, but left questioning what I really expected. The ladies put an extra ring around their neck, for beauty I'd imagine. The weight of rings pushes the shoulders down, rather than stretches the neck. Nowadays, it's probably done more for tourism than feminine beauty, which made me wince a bit seeing little girls started on this process. Little girls bred for tourism. I can't reconcile my view of ethical tourism with this, but it sets my moral compass in a bit of a confused spin.

After a 15 minute stop at a market (*shrugs shoulders*) we eventually arrived at the start of the trek. Lunch of rice and watermelon was a good slow release energy meal for what was to come. We met our guide, who introduced himself as 'Wit'. An adequate guide as guides go, although having got pissed the night before was often lagging behind with a hangover. We would later find out Wit is hungover all the time. It didn't matter too much as the trail was easy to see. It was also very hard work, for us anyway. The Italians suffered less it seemed.

It was uphill almost totally for about 4 hours (including frequent stops). The humidity was fierce, and sweat poured through me, and left me not caring whether it rained torrents or not. In fact rain was what I would have wanted. To see a flat bit was a relief, but often all to short before another steep climb would show itself. My coping mechanism was to go 'into myself' and meditate for a bit. One swing of the stick and count four steps, one swing of the stick, count four steps, again and again, my own pace. Of course I would often come out of this trance noticing it slowed me down and the rest of the group, including Sarah and the hungover guide were miles ahead. An energy sapping sprint would redress my moments of contemplation.

With all long uphill walks you are repaid by looking round and seeing how far you've climbed and majestic scenery. This was no exception to that rule. A stop about 10 minutes from our bed for the night, was a vendor selling drinks. I was bracing myself for exploitation. Thirsty white people, miles from a 7 Eleven, they will pay in gold for a cold drink? Wrong, a cold beer was only B 50 (£1). I opted for a coke, cold and drenched in ice, it went down in 4 or 5 gulps, no exaggeration. Then invigorated with sugar and a quenched thirst, I belched my way up the final push.


The village was basic and perfect. Of course as soon as I arrived I sat myself on the floor of the bamboo veranda and gulped down water and just... well sat and sweat. The others were checking out the sleeping quarters, and showering. I just sat. My moment of nothingness was broken by two girls and a baby playing around me. They saw my camera and asked me to take pictures. Such cute kids, more joined us later. Including a young chap who's pet was a stag beetle on a lead. I'm not lying.

After a shower, which was a tap a meter off the ground surrounded by bamboo walls, I saw our sleeping area which we would share with Guilio and Ariana. It was a big room with mosquito nets, and mattresses. It looked so cosy, but maybe after that walk it wouldn't be hard to make anything cosy.

pet beetle on a lead

None of the house had any electricity as I suspect none of the village did. A fire in the kitchen was where Wit cooked us a green curry and another stir fry dish with steamed rice. Sat on the floor with dusk enveloping the surrounding mountains, it was the perfect meal. With the smell of the fire, Guilio on the guitar and a few  Beer night caps, this was truly perfect. Add to this the kids playing around us and playing games on our friends iPhone. Really wonderful. Having this in the final weeks of our travels made it all the better. I won't say I slept brilliantly, but I enjoyed my night in the hills and possibly found a spot I will come back to one day.

The following morning after another wood smoked fire cooking our breakfast we walked back down to hill to the waterfall. Walking downhill uses another set of muscles and isn't necessarily easier than uphill. Still we made it there, accompanied by the village dog. A black mini-wolf shaped thing, whom Sarah named 'Bandit'. He went with us up to the waterfall and then went back home.

The waterfall was as scenic as you'd expect a waterfall would be, but with the heat and humidity, jumping under it was obviously the aim. It was very cold, and after 5 months in Asia, really cold water is rare. The heat bakes any water which stands still for a second. Climbing over the rocks isn't easy, neither is standing under the waterfall itself. The water dropping a great height can be almost painful as it bashes on your head. Still the refreshment from the falls, tided me over until we reached the end of our trek and the next stop. Incidentally with the waterfall reached, so was the bottom of the hill. Therefore, we had a nice level stroll back.

Our next stop was lunch of noodles followed by an elephant ride. It was ok, and we bounced along on top of these slow moving beasts for an hour. Quite exciting, but you get the feeling the elephants have done this journey a million times, and their boredom rubbed off on me.

The final bit was the white water rafting. We saw some others doing it, and wondered if we had a guide, as it looked a bit hairy at times. We did, and he made it all so easy for us. "GO" meant paddle forward. "STOP" meant stop paddling and hang onto the side rope "BACK" meant paddle backwards and "GET DOWN" meant get down off the edge and inside the boat. Four different orders to work out, easy enough. The rapids were exhilarating, and refreshing in the heat to have a huge wave hit you in the face. At one easy point the guide said we could get in and swim. I was the only one to. Just floating with life jacket down river was probably as good as the tubing in Laos. Then Sarah told me about snakes and I headed as fast as I could back to the boat. Unfortunately swimming up river is impossible so I positioned myself for the boat to come to me. Getting back into the raft was impossible without help as it is too high out of the water. The guide sorted it out by telling me to turn round, then he pulled my by my life jacket out. Once in the raft, my life jacket was around my waist and my shorts showing a considerable arse-crack, this was a beautiful moment. Also it turned out the snakes weren't a threat at all in the water, there was no need for me to head for the raft so fast.

We ended the adventure with a bamboo raft floating down to our final stop, where a truck was waiting to take us back to Chiang Mai. En route I noticed how bad I smelt. Some girl was holding a cloth over her nose the entire time, and being French Canadians (I think) they switched to French and I know I heard the word 'peu' after a struggled giggle. Oh grow a tolerant bone you Quebequi Cow!

We got back to Chiang Mai, showered off the stains of our trek, had a meal and lights out by 8:30pm, satisfied that despite our fatigue, we'd done something really memorable.

This morning we were awake for 8am to watch the US Presidential debate. Romney was impressive and passionate. Obama, seemed like he just turned up out of the goodness of his heart, and that his record will be enough. Maybe his lack of passion here, in the debate about health, taxation and the economy could cost him dearly. It's the domestic issues which will concern American voters. Maybe turning up the passion on the next debate, being foreign policy could be too little too late. Who cares? Whoever gets in, I will still be sat in front of a computer for 40 hours a week.

Tomorrow we are off to see some tigers, if I get round to booking it. Then the day after it's the night train to Bangkok.