New Year message

As the new year beckons I look back fondly on the last few months since I arrived in Singapore and some of the great experiences I’ve had, some of the great people I’ve met and most of all some of the wonderful things I’ve learnt since I arrived with a couple suitcases full of stuff that I thought you could not buy here. Turns out the snowboards, sweaters and puffa jacket have not seen the light of day since I unpacked them and I’m already on my third pair of flip flops so it gives you an idea of the weather I'm used to. Going back to the snowdrifts of the UK does not seem like a good prospect. Even more interesting, I've had one day of being ill since I arrived and that I suspect was down to some rather dubious satay that I'd polished off one evening.

So as I look back, what have I garnered about this new land?

I’ve learnt that everything and anything can be bought in Singapore, apart from Muesli.
I’ve discovered that you can buy over 100 different types of Chilli Sauce at the most basic supermarket. The wall of chilli I’ve coined it.

I’ve figured out that you can reserve a table place from the massing hordes in a public place with nothing more than an elaborately folded business card.
I’ve worked out that the most valuable and often rarest item amongst friends is a serviette in a hawker centre.
I’ve come to the conclusion that Singaporean deserts whilst looking like they’ve come from Mars are actually quite nice once you brave them and give them a go.

I’ve just noticed that these all seem to be food related... Maybe I’m just a bit hungry.

It’s not just been all about food though. I’ve been enriched culturally and potentially emotionally since I’ve arrived and that was always the goal above any positive of warm weather, low taxes and a clean city which are the things you hear most of the people comment on when they describe why they like it here.


Some of the things I’d like to achieve this coming year include....

The damn four tones of Mandarin. Erggg – Arghh – Urghh – ZzzUgg is all it sounds like to me. Mandarin does actually make a little bit of sense when you deconstruct it but the tones – they’ve got me stumped.

Convert ten people to give up eating Shark Fin. For every one I convert the ripple effect will continue. I’ve managed it with 2 people so far with not so much effort, so it can be done. Granted, they’ve now switched to Tiger penis so I might need to perfect my cross over technique but it’s the thought that counts.

Learn some Asian cooking – I do miss cooking and cooking for 1 is nowhere near as much fun as for a bunch of folks. So, I’d like to go and learn to make a few dishes and make use of some of the great local produce out here . Starting off with figuring out the local wet market.... I need to find some unwitting test subjects to try out experiments on and now I’ve finally got a dining table it’s something I’d like to try out.

More travel. It’s hard to know where to start with the travel options ahead this year. China, Japan and some road trips on my new steed around Malaysia and Indonesia are top of the list and a couple more diving trips that I’ve got my eye on in Sipadan, Sulawesi and a a few of the more eastern Indonesian islands. Who knows what opportunity will arise with work as well. My trip to India this year was very interesting and somewhat humbling and was a place I’d love to go back and be able to explore some more.

So as the year closes to an end I’m quite excited about the year ahead and what may, or may not be. Even better is that I can say this all again in February as it’s Chinese New Year then!

Happy new year to everyone and hopefully I’ll see some of you this way in the coming year.

I’ll keep you posted on the continual search for muesli and the progress of my Ergggs and Arghhs.

In the meantime as I stock the fridge full of Tiger for the friends and festivities that tomorrow brings I bid you Xīn Nián Kuài Lè!

Christmas in the Philippines

Christmas day this year was a little bit different than any I’ve spent before. Not being able to go back to the UK for the seasonal break as had most people I decided that a few days diving somewhere exotic would be a good idea. So after a little bit of planning myself and three other dive buddies set course to Puerto Galera in the Philippines to spend a few days either side of Christmas day doing a bit of lounging around with the occasional diving thrown in.
PG is a quaint little place in the province of Oriental Mindoro (which is a very cool sounding name) which is about 100ks drive south of Manila. Having never been to the Philippines before and facing the prospect of having my turkey on the beach I was quite looking forward to this mini excursion.
Once you reach the coastal town of Batangas, a jump on a little bum boat across the Manila Channel for an hour’s sail and you’re plonked down on the sandy beach of Sabang which is the main heart of the bay where most of the cafes and bistros (spelt Bistrot oddly) are perched.
It’s a sleepy enough little place and I’d expected it to be rammed at peak season but mostly down to the credit crunch, snowfalls in Europe and other unknown factors the place was oddly quiet. I’ve no problem with this at all and it made the place feel all the more quaint without hoards of European tourists clogging the place up. The Philippines is a great location to spend the festive period as the majority of Filipinos are Christian so Christmas (or Cleese-maaass!! – as I now find myself pronouncing it ) and the shenanigans that go with it are celebrated in gusto.
The minute we arrived in Batangas, a flurry of bargaining, payment of taxes, bribes and backhanders commenced at a rate that I’ve never seen before in all of my travels. From unloading of my dive gear from the taxi in the ferry terminal car park to setting sail on the bum boat we must have paid 5 different taxes and paid off 3 or more people looking for a quick peso or two. It’s a bit daunting at first to have such a full on frontal of people looking to make a quick buck off you, but once you’ve figured out that it’s done in a friendly and non menacing way, you quickly get into the spirit of it all and go with the flow. Ian, my half Chinese mate had a field day bargaining and negotiating everything from his bags being carried to the environmental tax and even the price of a cup of coffee. I just sat back and watched and took it all in. My top tip for anyone doing this is to carry a wad of low denomination peso notes around and give them out like they are going out of print.
The amount that Filipinos earn and the poverty level is strikingly low so I wasn’t going to begrudge giving a few of my dollars away to people who needed them a lot more than I did. It’s hard not to give a few pesos to a wide toothy grin smiling back at you in people that just want a few pesos for helping you out in any way that they can. There is not a lot of paid work to be had so anything that can lend itself to a bit of income is fair game.

After a plane, car and ferry ride we arrived in Sabang and decamped our stuff, wacked on the dive gear and promptly set about exploring some of the local reefs and dive sites that were on offer. The diving in PG is scattered around the many coves and pocket beaches which make up the coastline. It’s mostly accessible by small boat as the rugged coastline is fragmented with big rocky outcrops which are simply stunning to look at.
Behind and right up to the white beaches the thick jungle encroaches all the way back up to the mountainous ranges of Mindoro. It would have been great to do some exploring of this and do some trekking of the interior, but that would have to wait for another time. PG being one of the top diving destinations in the Philippines which is what we were here to do.
The first couple of dives where a little uneventful, but by day two we were in the thick of some good diving on the some of the more advanced sites. PG really does have a great variety and health of corals which is easily on par to that of Komodo which I was at a few months before. The visibility is not as great but it’s pretty acceptable and coupled with some great drift dives in a some quite strong current made for a great couple of dives on Canyons and Fish Bowl.
I had to laugh at the Fish Bowl name. I must have dived in over 20 places with dive sites of the same name. I’m going to start a campaign for more creative dive site naming. Surely there has to be a better and more interesting method than taking a fish or animal name and appending it with a topographical noun. Shark Reef, Coral Garden and Crystal Point are getting a bit repetitive to see on dive maps. I’ve decided that I’m only going to dive sites that have more interesting names next year, that or just rename them myself as something more descriptively accurate. Sounds good in principle but I’m sure not many people will want to go diving with me to “Swampy quagmire” or “Nowt at all to see bleached mound”
If you do like drift diving though, some of the sites here are pretty good for that and I can see myself going back at some point to do some more of the more technical 60-70mtr channels and canyons that are within easy reach of the main beach.
As a place to go out PG is quite a lot of fun as well. The beaches in Sabang are not much to write about as the influx of cafes and dive shops has spoilt the idyllic feel of the main bay coupled with quite a large selection of girly bars to frequent in the evening which gives it a more of a Patong feel than Mediterranean infused hideaway. What it lacks for in being rough around the edges it more than makes up for in exuberance. You can easily spot the folks that have arrived more for the pleasure of the bar girls than the diving but hey, this is Asia after all and I’m no prude. The beaches further along the coast which are pleasant boat ride away are simply stunning. If ever you wanted to see a place that has been hardly touched by man and to have your own beach for the afternoon with a glass of Chablis or two, then this is the place. Get dropped off, crack open the vino, swim around on your own beach and get picked up later by your own little boat.

But this still being Christmas eve we were duly required to have our Christmas lunch or something as close to it as we could find. In the end, it was not difficult to find a decent lunch as most of the hotels had laid on buffet style dinners with salmon, turkey, lamb and all the trimmings of cranberry jam and accoutrements that one could wish for. It really was pretty good although sadly no Christmas pudding and a tawny port to wash it down afterwards.
As far as Christmas dinner was concerned, it was my first in Asia, my first by the beach and my first away from friends, family and loved ones. It was really enjoyable though and as I looked out over sea watching the colourful hanging lanterns swinging in the sea breeze I gave a little toast to those far away in distance, but not very far away in thoughts.

In the evening I made my way into the locals end of the bay and got talking to a bunch of young local guys and some girls who were back from overseas visiting their families for the celebratory period. In the Philippines, it’s a big thing to come back and see your family and spend time together at this time of year as they are very family orientated.
After a few drinks of some of the local fire-water which consisted of pure gin and lime juice fused together in some magical swirling concoction followed by copious amounts of Red Horse, the local 7% beer, we were all hugging and singing Filipino party songs like I was one of the family, albeit a slightly taller and more pale version.
Speaking of beer, it took me a few days to work out this little peculiarity of napkins being wrapped around the heads of the beers. At first, I’d thought it was some polite hygiene thing or to keep the condensation at bay like in humid Singapore, were your beer will be sat in a pool of water within seconds of leaving the fridge. After watching a few locals wipe the rim upon opening the bottle my curiosity got the better of me and I gave in and asked. It was explained to me that the bottle tops of San Miguel rust for some reason and occasionally make the neck go a rusty colour, which is to be wiped off. So, every single bottle of San Miguel comes with a little hat napkin to wipe it, rusty or not. My inquisitive mind was satisfied at last.

As we all sat out by the family house by the bay the local band in the bar next door were belting out local renditions of Let it Snow when clearly it could be seen that it was anything but snowing and no amount of letting would be likely to change that meteorological forecast. As we all danced around I was made to feel at home in a way that you’d never see anywhere else in the world. Allowing a complete stranger into your home, into your lives and at the most important family time of the year and making them feel like part of the furniture was something that I’ll remember for a long time. The world really does have some good people in it.

After being invited into their home in the early hours for yet more traditional local food (the goat curry looked a bit odd but was amazing) we had some more drinks and I got to ask lots of questions about the Filipino way of life and I was probed, climbed on and giggled at by the small children about what it was like in England at Christmas time.
No TV or Playstation to be seen, no family bickering, no expensive gifts being exchanged but a simple and enjoyable get together with anyone who was sober enough to be able to still speak coherently. Man, I can tell you Filipino know how to drink!
In the early hours as I walked back to the hotel along the beach I sat down on the harbour steps and looked out to the mainland wondering what was going to be in store for the year ahead. Certainly some new adventures, certainly some new friends to be made. As the firecrackers and fireworks subsided I picked myself up and started the short walk home just to be greeted by a grin of one of the young kids I’d been chatting to. “You are coming for New Years Andy?” was the question. “You should really see us party then!!” he smirked.
I smiled to him and replied maybe. For sure, it’ll be a place I do end up going back to one day. I just need to let my liver relax a little before then.

I do in Bali

This weekend, I was back to Bali for a friend’s wedding that I’d kindly been invited to. It was quite exciting as not only was this the first wedding I’d been to this year but it was also my first Singaporean wedding too, albeit it being in Bali of course.
The wedding was in the north of Bali in Tulamben which is a pretty little village in the northeast of Bali, about two and a bit hour’s drive in a rickety little minibus. Previously I’ve been a bit hard on Bali but that’s more to do with the south as the north and anywhere other than Kuta is actually quite pretty. I can’t quite put my finger on exactly why I like Indonesia so much but it’s a place I find myself enjoying whenever I end up there. I’m certainly not enjoying the annoying $25US visa that you need to buy every time you decide to enter and then the $10US tax you have to pay to leave so it’s time to investigate getting a longer term visa. That and another passport as I’m down to the last few pages and it’s starting to get funny looks from the immigration folks as I pass over my 10 year old battered and frayed paperwork over the counter.

I was in Bali for a few days and being a bit of a diving connection to the group, it was customary to get a couple of dives in whilst there. Tulamben has three or so shore based dives which are actually really nice. The water was a tepid 30 degrees and with pretty good visibility and no current at all. I even managed to see a few new things that I’ve never seen before which was cool (Ribbon Eel for one and a Leaf fish!).

The main highlight for the diving is the Liberty wreck. This is a huge WWII ship which was torpedoed by the Japanese, although apparently it was only sunk off Bali by an erupting volcano in 1963. Diving it is pretty easy for all levels and I was lucky enough to dive it pretty much alone one morning when I got up before the others and had it to myself.
It’s about 120mtrs in length and has some good swim throughs and for a shore based wreck the flora and fauna is very impressive. A dream to teach on I’m sure.

After a day’s diving and a fun evening of drinking far too much of the local firewater (Arak – a fermented coconut number) with some Instructor mates, it was time for the wedding the next day. Luckily, the weather held out after the torrential downpours which we had the day before and a lovely ceremony was had. It was a simple enough ceremony with about 40 guests right on the beachfront.
Being a bunch of divers, we had changed the “Arch of Sabres” to an “Arch of Fins” as the happy couple passed through a plethora of brightly coloured raised ScubaPro and Mares fins.

It was quite funny to watch and will probably the only time I ever see that again. The ceremony was on a little bit of beach next to the dive school and had been decked out in pretty ribbons, balloons and traditional Indonesian ceremonial bits and bobs (not a very technical description I know)


After the ceremony the drink flowed and everyone ended up getting thrown into the pool, which was quite refreshing as it was getting pretty sticky in the afternoon.

The traditional tossing of the bouquet was performed but with a slight twist in throwing it to a bunch of burly 6ft blokes splashing around in the pool who were still wearing the somewhat de rigueur wedding uniform of khaki beach shorts and white linen shirts.
Annoyingly, I was out jumped by a rather large ex second row rugby player who caught the bouquet, much to the delight of his hysterically giggling Malay girlfriend. It was quite funny to watch (the catch not the Malay girlfriend) and once the frothing waters had subsided the victoriously caught bunch of slightly soggy and battered flowers were held aloft for all to applaud. Well done Neil!

In the evening we were treated to some traditional Indonesian dancing which was really fun to watch. Not being the most appreciative of the communicative medium of dance I could not really understand the full sequence of what was being conveyed, but it was very interesting nonetheless.
I do now understand where the robot dance gets its origins from though.

What was great over the few days that I was there was that I met a load more great people especially a few more instructors which was fun in so much as to swap travel stories and tales with. All in all, a very relaxing and fun weekend. I forgot how much fun weddings can be, which is handy as I’ve two coming up back in England next year.
Which reminds me – time to start writing the Best Man speeches.

Reflections...

It’s been nearly six months since I started out on this journey and although it only seems like two minutes since I was packing up my London life and coming out here to make a new start, I guess I’ve discovered a lot but in some ways I’ve only just scratched the surface. Some things are easy, some things are hard and there is nothing more satisfying than writing a list about what is floating my boat and what is not.

Floating the boat

Travel – Singapore is one massive bus stop to the world, either by air or by boat. Nearly everything coming from West to East or vice versa comes in close proximity if not actually even stopping here. Taking a cursory look out of the window down to the beach (ok – I exaggerate about the quality of my view) it’s one long cavalcade of container ships, freight and tankers ploughing up and down the Straights on to destinations further and more unpronounceable than I know. The same goes for me. It’s possible to be in a different country every weekend for a year in less than 4 hours on a plane for a few hundred dollars and not even hit the same place twice. I’m whittling them down a bit but even I know it’ll be a list of places that would take a lifetime to see and I’ll be lucky if I even do half of them.

Food – Trying desperately not to put on the famous Singapore Stone is a tricky job. One of the two national sports here is eating and it’s possible to eat out on hardly any money at all and satisfy one’s palate on everything and anything from any corner of the globe and some odder places in between.
As long as you like it with chilli sauce you’re sorted. Screwed if you don’t. Even McDonald's have a special chilli sauce pot that I’ve only ever seen served here.

Cheap beer – Singapore is actually an expensive city to go drinking in if you don’t watch what you are doing. It’s quite easy to be racking up S$16 beers if you don’t pay attention, but in the same sentence, if you shop around when plying the local barmen for his trade, you can easily be knocking back S$5 beers a few feet in the opposite direction. Happy hours are the rule here and hawker stalls peddle the amber nectar at prices that can hardly be beat as long as you don’t mind the beer of choice here, Tiger.

The beautiful people – Ok, Asian women are very hot I’ll make no bones about it. Even still, Singapore does seem to attract a rather above average set of people, both male and female I note. I’m not counting myself in any of this statement but the journey to work is all the more easy on the eye than anywhere else in the world I’ve been lucky to work. Maybe it’s something in the water.

Exploring – Maybe it’s living in a new city after living in the old one for so long, but the weekends and holidays seem all the more exciting when there are new places to explore, new people to meet and new experiences to try out.
Getting up early on the weekend is all the more easy knowing that there is a whole new exotic world outside the door waiting for you.

Cycling to work by the beach – I’ve been a keen cyclist for quite a few years now and NOTHING beats cycling to work along the beach with the morning sun shining on the sand and the waves coming rippling in. Fair enough, I’m painting a picture of absolute paradise but whilst the sand is imported from Indonesia and the waves are laced with marine diesel, it’s still quite exhilarating to be able to wrap the start and end of the work day with a pootle down the promenade.
Changi may not be the most rip roaring of places to have an office on the island, but for the days that I am there it’s actually a pleasure to go to work that way.

Bonkers food names – Kang Kong, Kai Lan – the list goes on of foods that look familiar but of which I’ve no idea of what they actually are. It’s an education just trying to do the local shopping and lots of fun deciphering that some exotic word that you can’t pronounce just means garden peas.
Buying fish from the wet market is even more of a fun activity. All manner of fish types are on offer of varieties that I’ve never been able to buy before. I think I might sign up for a local cooking course to try and not only understand what I’m actually buying, but also to find out what on earth I'm to do with it as well.


Not floating the boat.

The lack of seasons – Singapore has two seasons. A hot one and and a really hot one. You never even know which one it’s going to be on any given day as well I’ve found. I’m not complaining at all and more than anything I’m not going to be a moaning Brit who bangs on about the weather all the time. What I do miss is the seasons and especially the changing of seasons. No more crisp crunchy frost on the way to work. No more kicking brown leaves down the pavement. No more seeing a cool mist on the Surrey downs whilst walking the dog before breakfast. Ok, I never lived in Surrey, and I don’t even have a dog, but it’s the thought that counts.
It's now Christmas here and seeing Orchard Road lit up in all it's glory, which is quite impressive actually is rather nice but it's not the same without roasted chestnuts, a cold crisp breeze and the excuse to warm yourself up with lashings of warm mulled wine as you traipse along.

Ants in my condo – I have very mild OCD. I like things to be in order. Ants do not have OCD. Ants like chaos, apart from that thing they do when they go in a nice neat line (which is quite nice to watch).

I don’t like ants. I have lots of ants in my condo. Therefore, it’s very annoying.

I don’t know if it’s just me but the general fumigation exercises I see every few weeks around the place does make me think that it’s more of a common thing than my taste in home furnishings being particularly desirable to the local ant population and making them want to move in with me.

Building noise - Singapore in places is one massive building site. Everywhere you look there are condos, malls, MRT stations and office buildings being built. Either nothing has been built in the last ten years and someone has been given the mandate of “Hey – We need to build a load of shit!” or there is a boom going on that I don’t know about. It’s a rush job though as building starts from 8am in the morning till 8pm in the evening and even over the weekends now outside my condo on the East Coast. The sound of the jack hammer and pile driving was not the dulcet tones I’d set myself to hearing on a Sunday morning over my breakfast noodles.

Having to change the bed sheets every week – Just to set this straight before the giggling at the back starts – this is nothing to do with my prowess but more that I sleep without the AC on when I can which can make it bloody hot and sweaty at night. This means that the sheets only last a week before they’re whisked off to be changed for another set. My two cats will think it’s an amusement park for them alone as they go mental whenever I change the sheets and they are around. Obviously the answer is just to sleep with the AC on, but maybe I’m just getting a bit green in my old age, or maybe I’m just a bit tight when it comes to paying bills.

Never being able to get a cab after 10pm on a Sunday, anywhere – For some reason all the cabs in Singapore enter the twilight zone at 10pm on Sunday. Now, there is obviously something going on at this time which likens the chance of hailing a cab to the same odds as the winning the lottery, twice. Where do they all go? Where tell me? If it starts to rain at this time, give up as all the taxis are made out of something that makes them dissolve in rain water and you’ve no chance at all of seeing one.

Being able to share it with someone – this is pretty self explanatory but half the fun of doing the kind of stuff I’m getting up to is precisely what it says. Half the fun. I’m a double the fun twice the laugh kind of person so it’d be all the more nicer to have a partner in crime to do some of the things I’m doing with. Besides it’d make the hotel bills half the price.

Singapore organisation – sometimes it’s good when things don’t work. Don’t pay your Electricity bill on time – they cut you off exactly at 9am the day after. Want to park your car overnight in the visitors spot and don’t have the green sticker but have the red one, forget it. Rules are rules I agree, but there is absolutely no chance of flexibility, bending, letting go or even trying to argue about anything as it simply won’t wash. “Cannot” is the answer if you try, which is a pretty infuriating word I can tell you. I’ll get on to the joys of Singlish another time when I’ve managed to get to 10 or more words that I can make out.

It’s not much of a list and the negatives are hardly very important. All in all, it’s hard not to love Singapore and coming here has been a real highlight of my life so far. Let's hope they let me stay a bit longer!
If the worst I can complain about is the amount of ants I have wandering around the place, whilst shirking away from the wider topical points such as discussions on oppression of freedom from a single party government for the people, then things aren't too bad I suppose.

Driving

As a newbie here in Singapore, I’m entitled to drive on my international license for the first 12 months without having to worry about anything. Once I get past 12 months though, I need to take the Singapore Basic Driving Theory test. Why, I don’t really know. They drive on the same side as the UK, all the signs are in English, even the road signs look the same.
The only reason I can make out is that I probably drive quite sensibly and I have to take a test in how to drive like a twat.

Here is some evidence to go with this,

Example 1.
Whilst approaching an open junction with no clear right of way, what is the best course of action when two cars from opposite sides arrive at the same time?

Answer in England - Slow down to a safe speed, flash ones headlights whilst raising eyebrows northerly in a manner to suggest, after you dear Sir, thus allowing the opposing vehicle to navigate the crossing in a safe and thoroughly jolly encounter.

In Singapore – Drop your head down, make no eye contact at all with the opposing enemy and accelerate wildly until you either make it first or crash and explode in a fireball of death.

Example 2.
In a three lane highway, which is the correct procedure for overtaking slow moving traffic?

Answer in England – Using ones mirrors (all three of them), indicate well in advance and manoeuvre in a controlled and somewhat graceful manner into the lane to the right hand side of said slow moving vehicle. Politely wave in a nonchalant manner to the passing vehicle with a slight waft of the relaxed and loose wrist whilst smiling in appreciation throughout the exercise.

In Singapore – Never show weakness or anticipation by giving the game away by signalling, just jam your foot down on the gas and use any means necessary to undertake or overtake the infidel in front of you. Once past, rapidly jam on the brakes before slamming into the back of the vehicle you could not see as you were on your mobile phone therefore crashing and exploding in a fireball of death.

Now I’m not saying everyone drives like a complete cock in Singapore but there are some seriously bad examples out there. Maybe I’ll turn into one if I actually pass my test, who knows. It’s been over fifteen years since I learned to drive a car and over ten years since I learned to ride a superbike. To get me through the mish-mash of different signs here I’ve bought the theory book, which has the majority of signs and sample questions that you’d expect plus a couple of ones that you’d not expect on the mean streets of London. It’s got nothing like the “Give way to Elephants” or “Caution! – Monkeys” signs I saw in Africa, but there are a couple of odd ones for sure.

My test is on the 21st Jan so I’ll swot up a little on stopping distances, aggressive taxi evasion techniques and other salient pieces of information that might be in the book beforehand.

As they say, if you can’t beat them, join them

Musings from Indonesia

After a few busy weeks at work I was all ready for a vacation and some trip I had lined up! I’d been planning a bit of a dive/bum around type trip for a few weeks and finally putting a trip together to Indonesia to visit Bali, the Gili Islands and finally some of the lower parts of Indonesia, Flores to be exact which is where Komodo and the famous Komodo dragons are to be found.
My good mate Steph happened to be in town at the same time with work by chance so I had my dive buddy to drag along and get reckless with underwater.
First point of call was Bali for no other reason than it’s the main small island hub in Indonesia, at least from a flight perspective. I’d no real affinity or desire to visit Bali and to be honest it’s not really my kind of place, at least the parts I visited anyway. I know there are probably some amazing parts to Bali, and I know I travelled to the bits that are advertised as bawdy, brash and over commercialised. At least the guide book was accurate.

Kuta is like the Indonesian version of Blackpool/Brighton/Margate for the visiting Aussies. Sadly, it was not my cup of tea, but I knew what I was in for prior to arriving so it was not too disappointing. I’ve already promised myself that next time I’m passing through that I’ll visit the more remote areas to get a better balance of it and not think that the entire place is covered in pasty looking half cut fat Aussies. I think being in a predominantly Eastern culture the last few months may have made me more susceptible to being slightly irked by the beer chanting rugby loving whose got the most tattoos brigade. God help me if I ever go back to London!

After an evening in Bali it was a super early flight over to the Gili Islands. Gili Trawangan to be exact. The Gili islands are just off Lombok and consists of three small islands with no cars or motorised transport other than the occasional horse and cart that lug you from the ferry terminal, which is more like a few planks of wood on a bit of sand up to the hotel/guest house/boardings of choice you have booked. The little horse and carts are quite cute and the small ponies seem to have an enjoyable time of trotting up and down the seafront with the occasional sugar cube treat from passing tourists to keep them happy.

Gili T is quite small as an island and you could ride around it on bikes in about an hour or so. On arrival, the place seemed quite similar to a few other dive location places I’ve got to over the last few years, such as Phi Phi (pre Tsunami in 2000) and most obviously Dahab in Egypt.
The main difference in this trip was that I was 10 years older than other previous trips like this so lodging with the hippy, dreadlocked crusties in their twenties was not going to be that appealing as it once was.
So doing the only thing I could think of when presented with a beach full of crusties, I swiftly checked myself into the nearest fully equipped private infinity pool luxury chalet for 5 that I could find.

I was not disappointed.

I’ve stayed in some plush places in my time, but this was certainly in the top 5.
Private plunge pool that can take a 6ft 4 guy dive bombing into it – check
Fully equipped fridge full of beer, spirits and all you can drink booze – check
Fully appointed living rooms with lounging sofas and open walled rooms onto the pool – check
Horse and cart to take you wherever you wish whenever the need calls – check

All in all, it was one of the best holiday accommodation finds I’ve ever had, and for a price at far far less than I imagined. Good start then.
Even better was that the chalet was a little off the beaten track and quite close to a secluded beach on the opposite side of the island that I imagine a lot of the other inhabitants would never venture too. This made sunsets all the more spectacular whilst supping upon a nice cold Bintang on your own private beach. As Mastercard put it, the price for no crusties, priceless.

Gili was to be home for the next 3 days or so whilst I hatched a plan to venture further East through the Nusa Tenagarra . The Nusa region itself is absolutely massive and is made up of various isles forming a rather large labyrinth of islands, inlets, idyllic locations and places to lose yourself in.
As ever, some diving had to be done in Gili before the real stuff later on. Diving in Gili is pretty good but nothing to get too crazy about. The highlight for me though was a 45mtr Japanese wreck between the main islands. Whilst nothing on the scale of the Thistlegorm or other big wrecks that there are, it was very impressive if not for the fact that the coral build up and aquatic life surrounding it was quite spectacular. Sunk in WW2, it’s a small sized patrol boat sitting perfectly upright in a reasonably strong current. Being one of the harder dives to do in the area (although its pretty easy to be fair) it was only me and two other Instructors doing it which made it all the more better as we could relax and do our own thing.

As now seems customary on holiday nowadays or maybe it’s just that I’m holidaying in Asia, I found myself leaning towards going for a massage whilst here. Actually, it was Steph dragging me along to the hotel spa as she was after a bit of a scrub and wash.
When we arrived at the spa, the lovely girl behind the desk answered that they had space for two people having a Balinese massage but one of them would be by a man and would we mind. Steph being the honourable female instantaneously laid claim to the 4ft something delicate waif like Balinese girl whilst I was saddled with the male masseuse.
I have never had a male massage before and after a minute or so of deliberation I decided that in the interests of equality and balance that I was quite ok with the matter. The more I thought about it, the more the idea of having someone with a bit more butch about them to kneed my weary limbs became appealing.
So in I walk and was presented by a slightly more miniature but equally alarming version of Johnah Lomu. To say that this guy had hands that looked like they had shaped planets would be something of an understatement. His fingers were each about the size of a Walls sausage and his thumbs had been flattened and softened into what I can only describe as gigantic ladle shaped implements.
Balinese aromatherapy massage is supposed to be quite deep on the muscles and is described as invigorating, stress relieving and therapeutic. I can safely say that I was none of those things upon the sight of “Edward-going-to-wring-you-dry-bitch-Hands”.

As we started off with some gentle stokes all was good, although as we progressed on to the more stronger parts I did end up thinking that if he squeezed me any harder that I’d burst like a tube of toothpaste and all my innards would shoot out of one end or the other. To say that I could feel the vital bits inside of my body bobbling along on the underside of my ribs like a human xylophone would be a good example of just how tough this guy was. Being a typical guy, when he asked me in the most effeminate Mike Tyson of lilts of “Are you ok?” I could only just suck in enough enough air into my squished lungs and squeeze out a whimpering “Yes, thaaaaaatts..... fiiiiiiine” that seemed to fluctuate wildly between the higher octaves. Julie Andrews would have been proud.

After about an hour of this my time was up and my body was done. During the last few minutes I think I was having some kind of outer body experience as I was thinking some very odd thoughts. Granted, my very essence of man and inner soul had probably been squeezed out of my now limp body and was swishing around somewhere on the floor amongst the flower petals, but after a bit of reflection the last time I’d felt like this was probably as a small boy being towel dried by my Dad after my Sunday evening bath just after the end of Songs of Praise. It’s odd how the senses can bring back the most distant of long and forgotten memories.

Having slowly come out of my regressed state I finally scooped up my innards and lolled my way down to the beach in a jelly like state for a few well earned cocktails.
The great thing about Bali is that you can allow yourself to drink all manner of naff cocktails served in glasses made out of opened up coconuts and not feel like a complete tit. I can’t remember the last time I drank a cocktail out of a cup shaped like a monkeys head, but after a few I was past caring and coupled with my softy skinned and supple exterior my brain was reaching a suitably addled level as well.

The next day I felt like I’d been hit full on by a train but was able to stretch to places that a Russian gymnast would be proud of.
I’d have no qualms about having a guy massage me again having done it. In fact I can highly recommend it, especially if you’ve got a few clicks or knots that really need shifting. Just don’t be afraid to say when it’s just a little bit too hard and you’ll be right as rain or just a little bit taller than when you first went in.

After a few days of beach bliss it was time to get back on the speed boat and whisk back to Bali to get the puddle jumper of a plane to Flores. Flores is one of the more westerly parts of the southern Indonesian Islands and has been recommended to me many times as one of the best dive locations around, especially for seeing Mantas, something which have eluded me for most of my diving career. The flight is a quick forty minutes and landing in Labuan Bajo is quite a neat experience. Bajo is a little ramshackle fishing port with nothing much at all to it other than a few dilapidated fishing boats and a scattering of little shops selling all manner of tat to the visiting tourists who use it as a base for visiting Komodo and the surrounding islands. I’d actually done a bit of homework for once and had plumped for the idea of going on a three day liveaboard at sea with one of the local dive dudes. The beauty and advantages about doing liveaboards rather than shore based diving are many and as I wanted to do as much of this away from the crowds this looked like the best option available.
I chanced upon local dive dude Condo (pronounced Jondo in these parts) who was an ex Komodo National Park Ranger and a bit of a dive god in these parts. Having done over 10,000 dives and pretty much discovered the entire region over the last 20 years and named most of the dive sites (still a dream of mine to do) I decided that this was the fella to show me around. Condos boat he explained was not much, but it was cheap, friendly and we’d be the only two on the dive sites so would have pretty much the entire National Park to ourselves. I signed up quickly, agreed a price and we were off down to the jetty the next day as quick as a flash.
Having my own boat, my own dive sites and my own personal dive god was not something I was going to dally over.
His boat I can only describe as rustic. No radio, no O2, no radar - which are all pretty much common place on most dive boats. It did have a resident ants nest though which is a first for me and I’ve been on a lot of boats! As far as a dive boats go it had all the required prerequisites of being able to chug around the Flores seas and plonk us down right on to the pristine reefs and channels that I’d come so far to see. The best way to describe the boat is that it looked not to dissimilar to the wooden boat in Jaws just after the shark had taken the back half of it off in one giant bite. It was certainly as flimsy as that one and had more bits of sea beaten and frayed rope holding it together than any boat I’ve seen or sailed on before.

My personal favourite though was a rolled up sock stuffed into the side of the boat which I can only presume was shoring up some sort of leak just above the waterline. It took all of my personal might not to pull it out and see what would happen. Now, don’t get me wrong, the boat was more than worthy for sailing in and for a couple of people on a three day trip around the islands it fit the bill perfectly. I instantly took a likening to Condo, which was not so hard in that his easygoing nature and absolute and totally overwhelming knowledge of the local area was second to none. He was as curious about me as I was about him so we had many a good story to tell in-between dives gassing about our lives while we ourselves off–gassed in the sun lounging on the jib of the boat.
It’s pretty rare that you meet someone who is an absolute master in his field but Condo really did bowl me over from the minute we got on the boat. I knew I was in secret awe of the guy and in great company and I was going to try and soak up as much of it as possible. Fishing together off the back of the boat to catch our supper was something that I’ll remember for a long time, although if I eat anymore perfectly cooked fresh fish in the next month I’ll end up looking like one.

The big hope for me on this trip was to dive quite closely with the large Manta rays which were apparently in abundance in these parts. When I asked if it would be possible to see them on the trip, Condo coolly turned back to me and with a slight smile asked me “What time I’d like to see them?”. At this point I got a little bit overexcited and did a bit of a schoolboy giggle which I’m not entirely sure I got away with made me look cool as you like.

The diving in Komodo I can safely attest to is some of the finest in the world. I’ve dived in a lot of locations all over the world and have never really been able to answer the age old question that Instructors get asked a lot which is “Where is the best place you’ve dived?”. I’ve never been able to answer that properly before because nearly everywhere in the world has something unique to that place which will make that one and every other one like it special in some kind of way. I do of course count out Wraysbury lake which will always be a complete cesspool and should be filled in with concrete at the nearest opportunity, but that’s a different story altogether.

After just a couple of dives with Condo and before we’d actually even seen a Manta I already made my mind up that this place was one of the best if not the best location I’d ever been to. The diving is truly out of this world. The abundance, magnitude and diversity of aquatic life on a single dive is something that I had never experienced before in many many hundreds of dives. The reefs and corals themselves look like they’ve been down to the gym, got on the Arnie bulk fast programme and pumped themselves full of steroids as if to be in some body building contest just for fauna. They are in such fantastical shape and are in pristine show condition.
After my second dive here whilst climbing precariously back up the wooden ladder on the back of the boat in case it might come away at any given moment and launch me spectacularly back into the sea I found myself being a little bit awestruck.
I can't actually remember the last time this happened to me and we had not even seen the big stuff yet.

That my friend was going to be in the afternoon.

The Komodo diving is not for everyone to be honest although Condo, like any good Instructor, would never take you anywhere that was not possible for you to go. Being quite experienced, we decided to go and do a dive that tourists don’t normally get to go on and to say the least, I’d call it slightly hairy.

It was truly epic. We dived a 45mtr dive on a two point current meet. That’s where two strong currents meet together at the edge of a reef system and bring in all manner of activity. Current diving can be quite taxing, especially if you just want to stay in one place and watch the world pass you by without having to fight against the oncoming current. Not that you can fight it, as the sea is all big and powerful, and simply put, we are not.
I’ve dived some great drift dives over the years but nothing prepared me for this. As we dropped down to about 40mtrs we roped ourselves on to some reef hooks and latched ourselves on to the corner of the reef and held on for dear mercy. Two currents were meeting together about 20mtrs in front of the point and being aimed straight back at us over a coral pinnacle maybe 6ft tall in front of us which I was now attached firmly to. This allowed us to pop our heads up over the coral head and look down the edge of the reef without being swept away in the current. I’ve never experienced anything like it and to be hit full face on with a 4 knot head current was something that I won’t forget in a hurry. The effect of this was mesmerising. As we hung there cowering behind the pinnacle holding on for dear life, ten or so reef sharks hung about three feet away from me circling the pinnacle picking off lunchtime fish as they pleased. Just as I gawped at this a pair of dolphins clicked past giving us the eye as they stopped, taking a cursory glance towards us and deciding that we must be a bit mental to be sat hanging around there and sped off into the open sea.

We lasted about 40 minutes there which any seasoned diver will know puts you way into decompression so it was time to leave. My tank was precariously low by now and ideas like drop tanks and decompression stages gasses had been thrown out with the ships radio, radar and other useless diving paraphernalia back on the shore.
After we unhooked ourselves from the coral we had to throw ourselves into the maelstrom of the two currents and wait to get spat out the far end so that we could be picked up by the tender. This bit was a little bit scary but Condo had told me what to expect so I was pretty comfortable with it.
Condo’s dive briefing was something like this.

“OK - Andeee ....This is the sea....We jump in..... We see sharks...We get thrown around a little.... We get out.”

Personally, I see nothing more that needs adding to a dive briefing like that, but even I was feeling that the descriptive parts of “You’ll get thrown around a little” to be somewhat lacking in creative narrative.
The actual effect was like being put on a fast spin cycle and was one of the few times where I was totally out of control and at the mercy of the sea. We were thrown from 10mtrs to 5mtrs back to 10mtr about three or four times and then finally spat out on to a flat coral ledge at 5mtrs which is where it all calmed down and I could try and figure out what had just happened. It was a bit hairy like I said, but Condo was smirking away at me from behind a battered regulator so I tried to not look too mangled up and gained a little bit of composure whilst attempting to settle into my 20 minute decompression stop that I’d managed to accumulate whilst doing the impression of a solitary old sock in a extended rinse cycle.
It’s rare that I bleed a tank totally dry before finishing a dive, but after this one I was taking no chances and left the water only when a turtle sat next to me decided that I’d been sitting still there for so long that I was either worth some turtle based rumpy pumpy with or having a little nibble upon my rather edible looking fins.
After a long 1hr 10 mins which is pretty good for a 45mtr dive on a single tank it was time to dry off and reflect on the surface.

Reef hooks are pretty much an essential piece of kit here as you will get swished around quite a lot in the rapidly changing currents. If you want the chance to see something without being thrown past it you need to know how to use one properly or you’re either going to get lacerated on the protruding coral or see absolutely nothing as you are tossed around like a piece of lettuce in a colander.
Condo had this amazing reef hook which he waved around like some magic wand which was quite a good effect as he’d wave it in a general direction and low and behold, as if some Harry Potter scene was happening in front of me – something large and impressive would magically appear in the direction it was pointing. This I found very entertaining and wished for one of my own. This proved to be a very invaluable piece of magical attire when we went on the Manta dive of the day.

As I’ve said and I make no bones about it, I’ve only seen a Manta once in my entire dive career and it was one of those “Did I really see it??” type sightings where it was a bit blurry, several metres away and with about 40 other buffoons splashing around somewhere. So, I’d hardly say it was the kind of sighting that Attenborough would be silkily regaling about. I’d high hopes here and I can safely say afterwards that I had my fair share of Manta action over the few days I had here.

On our final dive of the day and with one flick of the magic manta divining rod, Condo laid out 8 or so gigantic Mantas on what was the best dive of my entire life. Luckily, I even got a bit of video of it and you can just make out me in the background. Yes, that’s me, the one who has swallowed the regulator from smiling too much.

Mantas to me and quite a lot of other people are the true majesties of the sea. They are massive beyond belief, they are graceful to an extent that they are entrancing to watch and to top it off they are quite inquisitive creatures who will take a bit of interest in the odd passing diver if you are lucky enough.
That I was when thankfully, the biggest one of the day which was about 20ft across came swooping by just centimetres over my head as I led down flat on the coral bed barely daring to breathe. Its tennis ball sized eye giving me a cursory glance over as it stopped, flapping it’s huge wingspan a little whilst just glancing gently against my head and moving onwards will be something that I’ll remember for a long long time.

I really need to get myself one of the magic reef wands though.

On the final day it was time to set course back to Bajo and stop off at Komodo and The Rinca Islands, which are the natural habitat for the Komodo Dragon. Ore as they are commonly referred to are the largest living reptile still in existence and are commonly thought as the nearest thing we have around to the dinosaurs. Rinca, the island that I went to is the smaller of the two and offers a few hikes around with the local rangers to go and spot these magnificent beasts in the wild. In Rinca, they feed mainly on water buffalo which have been introduced by man as to keep the numbers of Ore at a high enough level as to not endanger the population level. Until about 10 years ago a live goat used to be sacrificed each day to them as to put on a bit of a show but this has now been ceased and they generally loll about until they get hungry enough to go kill more naturally. Again, Condo being an ex Ranger had lots of good stories to tell which made the day all the more interesting. The Dragons themselves are quite impressive and it’s pretty disconcerting to be 5ft away from these beasts when they are eyeing you up as their next meal. It’s all pretty safe though and quite good fun and something I’m really pleased to have done.
The landscape on Rinca is out of this world. You really do feel that you are back in the beginning of time looking out over the terrain from Jurassic Park without a human blemish on the landscape. It made me think a lot about how much me do cock the place (i.e. the world) up by us being here. When you look out at a landscape untouched by us you can see what a different place it would be if we weren't around building coffee shops everywhere.

As we chugged back into port I thought to myself why I’d never considered this before? When I worked out that from London it would take 3 days travelling just to get here and the same to return the answer was a bit more obvious. The gateway to these parts has been opened and I absolutely wholeheartedly cannot wait to explore some more of it over the coming year. I guess that’s what the purpose is here.

Moreover, I looked back out to the sea and smiled to myself and for the first time in a very long time I finally felt content inside. It’s taken a while but it’s getting there.

Lost it...... Found it!

Singapore is known as quite a safe city and on the whole crime is something that you rarely see or hear about.
In fact, the local rag which is the Straights Times http://www.straitstimes.com/Home.html is probably the single most boring read for exciting news that I’ve ever seen. If you used it to lay the bottom of the canary cage the bird would take one quick cursory glance at the dull and dreary headlines and promptly launch itself into the nearest cats jaws rather than the alternative of being subjected to having the world’s most boring locally penned headlines staring right back at you between ones supercilium.
Now, the online version might be a little more juicy in the gossip stakes than the printed version, but if my favourite sub story which I once read, on what I must only guess was some horribly mediocre news free day was the absolute ripping catch of “Boy arrested for dangerous wheelie”.

Now call me fuddy but it really must have been some wheelie.

After reading this and digesting the full 2 inch piece I ended up picturing young kids up and down the halls of the HDBs reading this and muttering lines such as “respect dude...” or whatever young wheelie respecting kids mutter these days.

How is it that such pointlessly banal news stories reach the front pages here? That’s not to diss (see, I know the street language) the great skill and obvious newsworthiness of performing two wheeled stunt trickery but it’s simply the truth that not that much actually happens here of noteworthy substance which would be splattered all over the papers back home.

Having been brought up in England and having spent most of that living in London I spent many an evening home on the tube reading the local horrors of the day and assessing the probable likeliness of me being blown up/stabbed/becoming a scientologist before the imminent arrival of the Tooting Bec stop.
Not only did I grow up with said stories of death, destruction and deplorable deeds of dastardliness but I even had the ultimate torture of having to read the Daily Mail. It’s a wonder I didn’t turn out some deranged middle class conservative f*ckwit having to read that drivel through my most impressionable years. Talk about telling your kids not to do drugs. I’d personally have focussed more on the lines of don’t read this sad sack of shit excuse of a newspaper and becoming a complete twat.

Most UK headlines are made up of either the shock and awe type or focus primarily on a large pair of tits of either the silicon enhanced type or a pair of the political type. This is where things take a turn here. Large prominent breasts are generally not that much on show here and given that there is only one tit in the political hierarchy here, it does cut the number of likely stories down a tad.

The other major contributor is crime stories. Back in Blighty there are folks up and down the land too scared to come out of their front doors because of the delinquent mobs of alchopop fuelled hoards roaming the streets and bashing people over the head with their rolled up extra thick free CD, garden supplement included versions of the Daily Mail.
It’s a dangerous place I can tell you.

Not in Singapore though. As crime is relatively low, at least serious crime anyway, there is a bit of a gap in the market of things to pen. I’m not saying that violent or serious crime does not happen here at all, but you do feel like it’s something that has been removed from your daily consciousness. Having grown up in what some people refer to as up and coming areas of London I can safely say that the street wise edge that you develop as you go about your day is slightly subdued here.
A great example of this and probably the main reason to this story is something that we’ve all done many times before and was something I’d done for the first time since I got here.
Whilst on an evening out pre intoxication and wearing what were politely described as “Rupert Bear Shorts” I egressed a local taxi on my way to the next watering hole. All good so far but my fan dangled short pockets were a little bigger than customary and I deposited my mobile phone apparatus on to the back seat of the taxi.
I noticed this about the exact same nanosecond after I closed the door and the taxi sped off at what I can only imagine was the requisite 88 miles an hour as the taxi seemed to break the space time continuum and simply vanished. It was only missing that special effect in Star Wars where all the stars go blurry when Han Solo presses the button to go into hyperspace and they all disappear in a whoosh.

I’d have shouted some expletives and jumped up and down in the comical fashion that is associated with such conundrums of stupity but a six foot odd guy swearing out loud and jumping up and down in “Rupert Bear Shorts” outside Satay Heaven might just have edged the wheelie story to page two if the passing paparazzi had seen me.

Lucky enough I was with someone who had a spare phone so I dialled my number, but to no avail. Thinking bugger, there rides of to 1955 my perfectly good iphone, I wonder what they'll make of that. I tried calling it a few more times over the course of the evening with some of the finest courses of Satay that I’ve ever had. More on the joys of Singapore Satay another time...
By about the 10th time, a guy answered the phone to which I babbled without pause that I was the owner and that I was a dick for losing it and that if he could return it to the drop off point I’d be most grateful. At this point you see I was a little tipsy

At this point, he explained that he was not the taxi driver.

He did however explain that he’d found it in the back of the taxi and was giving it to the driver to return. After about another 10 calls trying in my best Singlish to describe myself and where I would meet the driver it did in fact finally turn up about an hour later. Where in the world would you get a random guy give a random taxi driver a $500 phone and expect it to arrive safely? As I walked back to my Satay I could not help but smile at this and think that although the day to day news in the papers might be a little on the dull side it would be something I could easily cope with.

Low crime is not no crime they say, but it does make you think that the world is not such a bad place. There are some good folk about. We just need to spread them around a bit more finely.
If that means that I live in a place where bad things don’t happen very much and that the worst outburst I’ve seen yet was somebody realising that they had 11 items rather than 10 in the 10 items or less queue then I can probably stop worrying about half the things that I’ve spent half a lifetime learning to worry about.
I guess that some deeper thought is deserved on to why the social make-up is actually this way. Why is crime is so low? Why is it that people respect the laws more than I’ve seen in many Asian countries? What makes this small place so unique whilst neighbours and foreigners alike seem to make such a cock of it in their own back yards? The deeper questions are the one that I’m looking forward to figuring out.

This week though, I shall mostly be trying to perfect my wheelie technique.

Jakarta for a day

This weekend I found myself on a plane to Jakarta, which was a bit of a last minute jump on an airplane and see what it’s like at the other end type trip. Now, Jakarta is not a place you really think of as an exotic city break type destination I agree. The Lonely Planet guide book is even more cruel in that it says that Jakarta “...is a hard city to fall in love with” I can kind of see what they mean, but if I only spent the next year or so travelling to exotic places with wonderful beaches, great monuments and museums with rich tapestries of colourful history then I’m pretty sure I’d be seeing a one sided view of this great continent.

Jakarta is the capital of Indonesia and is in Java. Now, I never knew this until I looked it up, but it’s the 12th biggest city in the world, which is no small feat.
The other big fact about Jakarta is it rains all the time. I don’t think it ever stopped the entire time I was there. So much so that to cross the road during a seriously hard downpour, I had to take my shoes and socks off, roll my jeans up and wade across four lanes of kamikaze traffic Indiana Jones style ,although being minus the whip and the hat. Probably minus the debonair good looks too but that’s a private joke between me and a couple of friends at home.

Jakarta is also not the prettiest city in the world either. In fact, you could say it’s one of the ugliest. Although, it is sorting itself out and becoming much more generic in the number of shiny glass malls that are springing up all over the place. Normally when I do a trip like this, I’d gem up on tit bits of factual information about the place, or at least have some inclination about the social make up of the place, but on this occasion I failed to do any of this. Even so, there are not really many things to gem up on over Jakarta that you can’t absorb anywhere else in Indonesia, which is a place I’m going to be spending a lot of my time over the coming year. In fact, I’m back in a few weeks already to knock off two of my top ten dives that I want to do. More on that another time though.

Jakarta is touted as being a pretty unsafe place these days. After having spent 5 years of my life living in Brixton in South London it take a bit more than a bit of rumour to faze me, so I was not too concerned about this. Although seeing metal detectors at the front of hotel foyers is something I’ve seen many times before, it did make me realise that this is still a place that has had its fair share of trouble in the last few years. Besides the obvious threats of people wanting to blow up the All You Can Eat continental buffet counters of mid range business hotels, the rest of the city is comparatively safe. Indo people are some of the friendliest I’ve ever met and simply love to chat to you and have a natter. This is even more so when you go shopping at some of the local malls. There is none of the incessant “You wanna buy DVD???” or “Lalf Loren Sir?” to which I was already mentally preparing to compartmentalise into my white noise part of my brain.
In fact it was quite the opposite and actually a very pleasant experience all in all to go shopping in the local district of Glodok, which I highly recommend.

Glodok is the main Chinese influenced market area in Jakarta. It’s a bit of a visual onslaught and not really for the faint hearted. It’s a very traditional old street market with local fruit, seafood and every other manner of delicacy from skinned frogs, live bugs to small birds in cages being sold for god knows what. It’s all opposite an open sewer with houses backing on to it in a scene not a million miles removed from the Dickensian scene of Oliver Twist with the slums of East London in the background. I spent half the time expecting the Artful Dodger to jump out from behind a stack of half filled ships barrels and cordon me with some rhyming slang patter about it being a decidedly tricky but right old larf on his manor or something.
It was actually quite a laugh wandering the roads around here and as rough looking and strangely smelling as it was it was a good experience. I’ve not learnt much Indo yet, but hearing Ole (Hello) every few feet, often accompanied with a very toothy grin was a pleasant enough way to spend an afternoon.


After this little escapade and after getting completely drenched yet again in another horizontal flowing rainstorm I chanced upon a local mall named ITC. This was a quite an old fashioned street mall, mostly for locals and pretty much void of any toursist. In fact, I was the only Caucasian there at all - and being slightly taller than the average Indonesian, I did cause a few stares and sniggers from the predominantly female crowd. The joke for me here being that a size 36 pair of shorts can be found (albeit slightly dodgier than the strict quality control that Mr Ralph Lauren would typically allow out his front doors) but can not be found for love nor money in Singapore.
I should really have taken some more pictures here. I think I need to get over my typically British anxiety of photographing random people doing things.
Another odd thing about Jakarta is just how screwed the traffic is there. The city sprawls over 30 miles in every direction but still has no MRT, no subway, train network and a woeful bus network. All the small tuk-tuks you’d see in Thailand and India have been been banned from the roads, so nearly everyone drives cars on roads untouched in the last 10 years. It takes forever to get anywhere and I came within a whisker of missing the return flight home after an epic 90 minute journey to travel 10 miles through town to the airport. How people get around daily I’ve no idea. You’d need the patience of a saint.

So in summary, Jakarta was a great place to visit for a day or two. There is absolutely no real reason to go there apart from to transit to somewhere else. It’s grey and it’s scruffy. The locals stare at you in a friendly and welcoming way and speak the most odd language to you like you have been speaking it all your life.

It’s the Birmingham of Asia.

Holiday time!

Well, after a bit of a break it’s about time I wrote up some words about what on earth I’ve been up to over the last 6 or 7 weeks.
After a much longer and quite pleasant trip back to London for work in July and August I finally returned back to sunny Singapore about a stone heavier from a daily diet of client dinners, smoozing, summer BBQs and enough pints and of London Pride to shift the share price of Young’s in a positive direction.
Work has been a little bit hectic, which has meant a bit of knuckling down and getting stuck in rather than sitting about in the sunshine by the pool drinking frozen margaritas.
So after this busy period I decided that it was time for a bit of adventure and some long overdue holiday. There is no shortage of amazing places to throw oneself at in this part of the world and Singapore has some great and very cheap flight connections to lots of places that I can neither pronounce nor have any inclination of their geographic whereabouts.

It’s odd looking up and taking a precarious glance at the departures board and seeing a long list of places that I’ve never heard of but all sounding quite exotic nonetheless. Having two full weeks of which to play with I decided on a bit of beach pampering for the first half and some sort of mini adventure for the second half.
Luckily, I had a friend visiting from overseas for some of this too, so it made it even more fun to have someone to go with.

So, Bintan (an island a few hours south of Singapore in Indonesia) was chosen for the former and a full week in Saigon in Vietnam for the latter.

Bintan was great and is only an hour by high speed ferry from the south of Singapore. I stayed at the Banyan tree resort which is a top notch resort spa where you are pruned, preened and plucked to within an inch of your life by some expertly trained staff. I’d never really had a proper spa massage before so I was not really sure if I’d like it or not. I can safely say, it’s a great experience and very very relaxing.
So deeply relaxed was I after said massage that as I looked out yonder from the private balcony to which my newly massaged and scrubbed derrière was perched, I perused the calm seas only to see two people come screaming past on jet bikes whooping with glee. You’ve never seen me run down to the beach hire shop so fast clutching a wad of sweaty dollars in my hot but perfectly manicured hand.
After all these years and having ridden, driven, sailed and most often crashed most things I’d never before had a go on one of these so was quite excited. It’s brilliant so if you get the chance, have a go.
Whilst shooting across the waves at a fair rate of knots (and that’s the first time I’ve ever been able to use that phrase in it’s true context) and being bounced around and sprayed with the salty waters of the South China sea, I came to the conclusion that I was undoing all the good work that I’d just forked out good money on, so after 30 minutes I sailed it back up the beach and promptly went back to lounging around with a couple of frozen margarita from the passing waiter. After all – holidays are supposed to be relaxing are they not?


Bintan is also home to a great golf course designed by the Great White himself. It really does look like an epic course, but me not being such an epic player I just looked fondly at the crashing waves lapping against the steep wall of the 8th and sighed. Maybe next time....

So after a few days, it was time to head back to Singapore to repack, regroup and drop off all the Indonesian tourist tat and head off to Saigon for the adventure part. I’ve always had a penchant to go to Vietnam and that’s nothing to do with watching Platoon as a teenager too many times either. I can’t really say why, but when it’s only a two hours north of Singapore it was a great choice for a 5 day break. So armed with my Lonely Planet guide and a few recommendations from the Vietnam contingent at work I set off to go and explore a new land. I only had 5 days so I decided to concentrate my time on the southern areas of Saigon and the Mekong Delta. Hanoi and the Central Highlands and the beaches would have to wait another time.

Saigon (or Ho Chi Minh City) as it’s often now referred to is quite literally bonkers.

I don’t know if it’s just because I’ve been living in the sanitised bubble of perfectness that is Singapore but the moment you step out of the departure hall into the Vietnam open air everything feels like it’s been put in a blender, put on to max without the lid being attached correctly and then exploded down the kitchen wall.
Singapore is relatively quiet – Vietnam is noisy. Sing is spotless, Vietnam is slightly grubby, People in Singapore can’t drive for toffee – Vietnamese people also can’t drive for toffee..... Ah we’ve found the common ground then.

In a nutshell, I loved it from the moment I nearly got run over in the first 10 seconds of arriving to the moment I left. I’ll try and explain why.

Vietnam is rough around the edges and I guess that might have been it. For a country that was at war until a few weeks week after I was born it’s come along leaps and bounds.
Considering that more than twice the number of bombs than in the entire second world war were dropped on it, it’s a wonder that the place has anything left of it at all. Granted, it’s not the cleanest place in the world, nor is it the most coherently run, but what it lacks for in these areas it more than make up for in its underlying character, the friendliness of the people and the general sense of energy that makes places like this so much fun to visit.

Take the traffic for instance. More motorbikes live here than anywhere else on the planet. Over 3 million of them are on the roads, tracks and pavements, up trees and in the gutters.

I’ve never seen anything like it. Crossing the road is something that would send The Green Cross Man to drink.






I can just imagine a gigantic Peter Prouse staring down on these little scooters zipping around the place like mosquito’s with the sea of black haired Vietnamese paying absolutely no notice to his informative but educational Stop, Look and Listen campaign and shouting out an enormous “NOOOOooooo Luke!!”
Basically there are two rules to crossing the road in Saigon. The first rule is that traffic lights do not count for shit for scooters. When the lights are red, simply bunny hop up on to the nearest curb (which has already had a helpful little ramp fitted to it) and scoot around the pesky red tinged light. Once on the other side of the light, let rip with all your 50cc might and off to the next set of lights. Repeat as necessary until the final destination has been reached. It’s like a training ground for wannabe Evil Knevil daredevils.

The second rule is that when crossing the road and in particular at junctions with more than 4 exits, nobody stops. 4 or more lanes of traffic just all collide at once and mingle amongst each other like ants. It’s a wonder to watch, so when you cross the road you just close your eyes and walk out. I liken the not being hit by a passing scooter with the same measure of biblical miraculousness of the parting of the Red Sea. It’s truly a wonder that a scooter can be ridden with 5 people on it and not end up under it. I shit you not, I even saw one with an entire double mattress (sideways) on the back being rode down the high street.

Another great thing I noticed was the street cabling. I’ve seen some shitty wiring in my time, but how on earth anyone can make sense of the telecommunication network that services the Vietnamese people is an amazement to science itself. Seeing some cables that could be carrying any medium know to man dangling from the trees and being wrapped around the nearest nail sticking out of a wall does not inspire you with confidence that any email, volt or phone call is ever going to get to where it needs to go to. The analogy of the concrete jungle was no more fitting than here as the cables looked like vines growing any which way then could around the myriad of protruding manmade structures.


After a few days of Saigon it was time to move on




No trip to Vietnam would be complete without a trip to the famous Cu Chi tunnels. These are the famous tunnels that the Viet Cong used to hide in and use as a secret underground network during the Vietnam war against the Americans. This truly was a fascinating experience to go and see along with the War memorial museum in Saigon. This really was a thought provoking place and you really do see the true horror of man when you walk around it.

I’ll be honest and upfront that I never really knew much about the Vietnam war. Its history, purpose and general conduct was always a bit of a mystery to me. The museum is a great place to learn about it and visually see tanks, machine guns and a pictorial history of the entire background of the conflict and the some of the history during the lead up to it. The entire place is a little one sided in opinion that the Americans were a megalomaniac all encompassing evil, that the war on Vietnam was illegal and that left to their own devices the world would have turned out a much better place. Granted, Americans generally are a little bit evil and it was illegal, (it’s nice to know we’ve progressed a long way on that front then I guess) but being left to their own devices would have led to a further imbalance within the pro communist sympathetic countries in the region, potentially leading to a deeper conflict or destabilisation of the entire region. I made that bit up myself so you won’t get to read that bit there just in case you start to look for that poster ;)

The tunnels are a good day out from Saigon and are quite odd to see. The Viet Cong were quite small people, so that could fit down these tiny tunnels, where obviously the fat evil Burger King eating M16 wielding American GI could not fit. I managed to get my inner thigh in before I got stuck. They have made a few more tunnels that are a little bit bigger than some of the real ones but even they are tiny to get through. It was super hot, and very cramped and to be honest, a little bit scary. How it must have felt with half the American army bombing and shooting the crap out of the place is a thought I’d not like to dwell on too much.

I left the place a little sombre as it really did make me think what a shitty bunch Man can be. What drives us to do the things we do over something as trivial as the next man having a bit more tin or a little bit more rubber is boggling concept to get a hold on and one I don’t think I’ll ever really grasp.

It has kicked off a bit of history switch inside me though and I’m developing a bit of a likening for books on the region, particular late second world war stuff in and around Singapore and the region. In particular King Rat by James Clavell and The Naked Island by Russell Braddon which are based around the infamous Changi prison around the second world war. Both are fantastic accounts and have really made me want to go and see Changi prison in the future, which I’ll hopefully blog about.

So from the concrete jungle to the real jungle, to another jungle – it was time to float off down to the Mekong Delta. The Mekong Delta is an area of southern Vietnam which is mostly a network of silt rivers and estuaries. Over half the rice in Vietnam is grown here and the nearly all the locals are involved in some sort of farming, either on a subsistence basis or larger trade. Nearly everything that happens revolves around life on the river in this part of the world, so I got booked on to an overnight river cruise on a boat not to dissimilar to a traditional river junk.
Technically I think it’s a rice barge but I’m not sure.

The boat was amazing not only because of the food and the amazing scenery but for the fact we had the entire thing to ourselves. Watching the scenery pass by as we sailed deeper up the river made me a little bit like Martin Sheen sailing up the river in Apocalypse Now. After the busyness of Saigon the peace and tranquillity of the jungle was a stark contrast.
Along the way, we stopped off at various village houses to see the locals and how they lived, which was fascinating and ranged from local brick factories, to fruit plantations to a small set of houses making handicrafts and coconut sweets, which were very tasty. Nothing amazed me more than the friendliness of the local people and them wanting to share their houses, their food and welcoming a couple of strangers us into their lives, if only for an hour or two. Just makes you think if you’d do the same.

The main memory that will stick with me of the Mekong River would be the floating market, which is a large market where all the local traders come to exchange and sell goods. It’s a bit chaotic, but lots of fun and had some of the most tasty fruit I’ve ever had the delectable pleasure to taste. All in all, it was a great trip that I would recommend. Beats getting your bananas at Waitrose for sure.

So this week it’s back to work and back to Singapore and normality, if of course you can call it that.