Home again

Well, I've made it back home safe and sound. As always, after a really great trip, one is left with a mix of emotions - it's great being back here and seeing Nadia and my family again but there's also a whimsical feeling when I think back to the many fantastic experiences I've had over the past 7 weeks. Clambering around temples in the Cambodian jungle, wandering around Rome with Nadia, walking the Nantlle Ridge with Steve, on the trail of King Alfred in Somerset with Sue, gazing out across from the Antrim coast with John, Cathy and Chad to the Mull of Kintyre, that magical evening on the beach in Bamburgh with Lindisfarne on the horizon, that other magical evening as the weather cleared after a hard day's kayaking along the Sognefjord in the rain and the incredible next day in the Nærøyfjorden, a fun afternoon in Sweden with Dale, Janne and Noah and finally, flying with Adrian and walking with Eveline in the beautiful region around Walenstadt. Once again, thanks to everyone - I hope all of my overseas readers will be considering coming to visit this lovely part of the world so I can return the favour!

Schwiizertüütsch

Greetings from Switzerland! In a couple of hours, I'll be catching a train out to the airport and heading home to Melbourne. It's been a fascinating few days for me here in and around Zürich and I've experienced the full range of emotions from feelings of dislocation all the way through to homesickness for this place! It's been great staying with Marion and Adrian (they visited me on Phillip Island while I was living there) and also catching up with a handful of old friends and my relatives too. Adrian very spontaneously took most of Tuesday off and took me gliding out near Walensee, about 60km or so east of Zürich. Needless to say, it was totally amazing! Unfortunately my digital camera has finally given up the ghost so I was only able to take pictures with my mobile phone - quality isn't as good. On Wednesday I met up with my friend Eveline (some of you will remember her from my 40th Birthday last year) and we did a fantastic walk together, starting in Walenstadt (far eastern end of Walensee) and continuing eastward along the side of the valley for about 5 hours or so. It was a 32° day in nearby Chur and the views all around of the lake, the mountains (particularly my favourites the Churfirsten) and the fertile valley where just lovely. We passed through vineyards and farmland and traversed up and down through shaded woods and over rocky streams. A highlight was climbing up to the St. Georgen chapel, which is on the site of an old Roman fortification and even older Bronze Age remains. Steps from Roman times could still be seen, well and truly worn into the rocks. On returning to Zürich, we went for a swim at the Letten, a bathing area along the Limmat River, which flows out of the Lake of Zürich. Just what was needed after sweating all day! And in the evening, I met up with a handful of old workmates from my days at the Zürcher Kantonalbank, in the grounds of the Landesmuseum in the middle of town - during summer they set up a bar and restaurant there and have DJs working some appropriate grooves while the Zürich crowd does what it does best - enjoys itself whilst looking rather chic!

Speaking for the most part wall-to-wall Schwiizertüütsch (Swiss-German) again after 2 years of hardly a word of it has been just great, with only one notable mistake to mention! After flying on Tuesday, Adrian and I sat down in the restaurant at the airfield and whilst he was on the phone, I ordered a drink for myself. I saw Radler on the drinks list, which is the German word for a shandy (it's acceptable for men to drink them in this part of the world!) but I knew the Swiss word was from the French. I heard someone behind me ordering a Schale which isn't French but for a moment it sounded about right so that's what I ordered! A couple of minutes later, the waitress brought out a coffee with milk in it and I realised my mistake! 'S Panache would've got me want I really wanted so that's what I ordered 5 minutes later after gulping down the coffee!

It's been just brilliant being back here and I've been reminded just how much I love this city, this region, this country and her people. A part of me stayed here 2 years ago when I left and in a couple of hours, reluctantly, I'll have to say goodbye to it again. But at the same time, I'm just sooooo looking forward to being back in Melbourne, seeing my lovely Nadia again and also my dear family. Right now I'm feeling so blessed to have so many wonderful people in my life, whether they're in Australia, Switzerland, Denmark, England or Ireland! Thanks to all the people I've visited for helping to make this whole trip just so great! 

Back in civilisation

Finally another blog entry! It's been an amazing 9 days since I last wrote and not much of it has been spent anywhere near internet access! I'm currently staying with my friends Dale and Janne (and almost-3-year-old son Noah) in Copenhagen and enjoying the luxuries of a real bed and a solid roof over my head after quite a few days in the wilds.

After I last wrote, I completed the compulsory kayaking safety course which was really good - practised capsizing the kayak and getting back into it out in the middle of the fjord - courtesy of an inflatable band which is placed around one end of the paddle - the paddle then acts as a stabilising device placed at right angles to the kayak (once turned upright again), enabling one to clamber back in. A hand pump is then used to clear out all the water - all very effective. With that under my belt, I set off confident that I could handle an emergency. It was still a little daunting, I have to say - the mountains and fjords are so huge and my little floaty plastic yellow thing and I were so small and alone! The weather was also starting to look a little menacing which added to the feeling of trepidation. I paddled for about 3 1/2 hours that Friday evening and finally stopped about halfway up the Fjærlandsfjorden near a couple of huts optimistically named Lidal (could get the impression they comprised a village!). My campsite had wonderful views up towards some massive glaciers at the head of the fjord. Along the way, I was joined a number of times by small groups of porpoises, breaking the surface of the water in gracefully arches with their backs and fins. The Norwegian word for porpoise is nise which is thought to derive from the word nyse which means "sneeze" - the porpoises make a snuffling sound everytime they break the surface to catch a breath. There were also some seals along the way and as I glided along the shoreline, I saw small roe deer on two separate occasions, coming for a drink to one of the many streams tumbling down the side of the fjord. I also saw a fox, about 10m away on shore, just staring at me as I paddled by, not sure what to make of such a strange beast! Eventually, I found a suitable campsite and set up for the night. The views up the fjord were simply awesome and it was so lovely being all by myself with only a few frolicking seals later in the evening to keep me company.

Saturday I awoke to the sound of constant and heavy rain on my tent and it didn't let up until around 7 that evening. I spent a long and dreary day paddling all the way around to the small town of Leikanger, which took a good 6 hours or so. I set up camp at an official campsite which turned out to be completely slug-infested and during the night I failed to shut one of my flyscreen flaps correctly so two of the slimy creatures actually made it inside! Yukko! The rain ceased overnight but then most inconveniently started again at 8am as I was packing up to head off. It rained all day Sunday which was another longish day spent battling shifting currents and winds along the main Sognefjord and then turning south into Åurlandsfjorden. By the time I made it to Buele, where I camped, the rain had finally ceased and it ended up being a serenely beautiful evening as the sun slowly set on the opposite side of the fjord, its light breaking intermittently through the passing clouds and lighting up the world of woods and water below. It was so nice drying out a bit after 2 days of constant rain and I thoroughly enjoyed myself cooking dinner whilst gazing out over the water. I listened to some music on my phone/mp3-player, in particular Into the West by Annie Lennox, which was supremely fitting for the surroundings:

Lay down, 
your sweet and weary head.
Night is falling. 
You have come to journey’s end.Sleep now,and dream 
of the ones who came before.
They are calling, 
from across a distant shore.

It was a really profoundly spiritual moment for me there by myself on the 5th of August, which would have been my dear father's 85th birthday.

What can you see,
on the horizon?
Why do the white gulls call?
Across the sea,
a pale moon rises.
The ships have come,
to carry you home.And all will turn, 
to silver glass.
A light on the water.
All souls pass.

For a few moments, he didn't seem so far away at all. And the veil between this world and the next was for an hour or two pulled to one side.

There was no more rain for the rest of my time kayaking! I awoke on Monday morning to the thickest fog I've seen in a long time and after packing up camp, I set out into it at around 7.45am, hugging the shoreline to avoid becoming disoriented. After about 45 minutes or so, I knew that I had to make the east-to-west crossing to the other side of the fjord so I took a bearing with my compass on my map and set off at 230° into the void, knowing I would reach the other side within about 30 minutes. This was an amazingly eerie half hour - everything was incredibly still, and visibility really was very poor. I kept my ears open for any hint of the sound of a ferry approaching - the one thing for kayakers to be scared of in the fjords, fog or not! After about 20 minutes, I could no longer see the shore I'd left behind me and couldn't yet see the shore I was heading for. The only sound was the roaring of water, getting louder as I approached the opposite shoreline. My assumption was that this was a large waterfall but out in the middle there it could just as easily have been the roar of the waters as they tumbled off the edge of a flat earth! Or like crossing the river Styx except that I was my own Charon! I wonder if he takes Norwegian Kroners? A group of porpoises surfaced quite close to me whilst I was out in that otherworldly fog which was actually rather comforting - as if they were accompanying me across. The shoreline didn't materialise into view until I was within about 50m of it and by this time, the roaring was deafening. The waterfall appeared shortly afterwards and disappeared off up into the fog and mist above me. I continued following this shoreline and began noticing that there was the hint of blue sky directly above me, trying to break its way through. After another 40 minutes of so, I turned southwest into the Nærøyfjorden, which is one of Norway's most spectacular and yes it means "narrow" fjord! I'd seen photos of it but when the mist finally cleared for a moment and I spied towering granite cliffs far, far above me, I let out an involuntary "wow"! Things just got more and more spectacular and the fact that it was all shrouded in mist made it all the more amazing. I had to be careful not to crane my head back too far to see to the tops of the cliffs, because this tended to make the kayak rather unstable! I arrived at the tiny settlement of Kyrdal, half-way into the Nærøyfjorden at about 10.30am. By now, things had begun to clear off properly and I was treated to views of enormous peaks, flanked by dense forests and wreathed by the remaining wisps of cloud. At this point, the fjord became very narrow indeed, feeling like an impossibly high gorge. It was reminiscent of the Argonath scene in Lord of the Rings, increased by an order of magnitude or so! I paddled through the rest of the fjord to Gudvangen at its head and it really was completely spectacular, but with the mist gone, not as mystical as the parts I'd already paddled through.

I arrived in the tourist town of Gudvangen and emerged from the fjord in front of the surprised and startled visitors, looking like The Thing That Came From The Swamp. People stared, open-mouthed, others took photos. I hauled my kayak out of the water and carried it (not an easy task) about 50m or so to the pier to put it onto the ferry, which arrived about 45 minutes later. This was to save me paddling back all the way I'd came and meant I'd be able to make it to Solvorn, the drop off point, in time on Wednesday. Plunging back into the tourist world after an evening and a day of supreme beauty and wonder alone on the fjord came as something of a shock. Crowds of people pushing and shoving and talking loudly and taking pictures of anything and everything was an unwelcome contrast to the serenity I'd been immersed in. The captain made a mistake loading my kayak which prevented me from disemarking in Ytre Frønningen, so I had to continue on to Kaupanger and ended up spending the night at a very pleasant camping ground at nearby Amla. But it just wasn't the same being back in "civilisation" for the night, instead of out in the wilds. From where I sat in front of my tent, I had a view down the main Sognefjord, and couldn't help thinking "I want to be out there". I want to be out there, in the wild places, with the seals, the deer, the porpoises and the foxes and with an eagle wheeling overhead.  The late sunlight is catching the wooded hills, calling me ... I watched as the sunlight faded on the wooded hills, leaving them in shadow.

My night's sleep was severely interrupted by one very persistent little hedgehog! I'd foolishly left my rubbish bag outside the tent, along with my bags containing my food and this proved too delicious to resist. After a number of onslaughts, he eventually mustered up enough courage and made an all-out attack on the rubbish bag: I turned on my torch (during the brief hour or two of semi-darkness at 61°N) to find him sitting contentedly inside it. I prodded and pushed but he wasn't going anywhere - perhaps it was the hedgehog idea of paradise. I had to pick up the bag and tip him out to finally get rid of him. I then moved food and rubbish inside the tent and had a blissful 30 minutes sleep before a further sudden and unprovoked attack by Mr. H. Hog which involved him ramming the tent in an attempt to get at his beloved rubbish bag. At this stage he ceased being cute and started being rather annoying! After a few more firm pats through the tent on his rounded behind, he got the hint and went off in search of greener pastures.

Tuesday I had an easy day and only paddled for about 3 hours, around to Kvalen in Lusterfjorden, which was another wonderfully tranquil place to camp. I spent the afternoon swimming in the fjord and just taking it easy. The sun was shining and all was right with the world. Wednesday, I headed further up Lusterfjord and stopped at Urnes to view the famous Stave Church there - entirely constructed of wood and built in the 12th century, the oldest surviving in Norway. On one outside wall, some of the original carvings had survived - magnificent interlaced-style patterns quite similar to the Celto-Saxon style seen in manuscripts such as the Book of Kells and the Lindisfarne Gospels. On the walk up the hill to the church, some enterprising locals had put punnets of locally grown raspberries on a picnic table with an honesty tray next to them for payment. I can honestly say these raspberries were the best I've ever tasted in my life, perhaps heightened by the fact that I hadn't had much in the way of fruit during my 5 days kayaking. After Urnes, I paddled the last 40 minutes across to Solvorn and very sadly and reluctantly handed my kayak back to the people from Moreld, the company I'd hired it from. The first two days, when it'd rained incessantly, had been just awful, but somehow, along with the change in the weather, that made the whole experience feel more worthwhile. It was like being in another world for a few days and I will always look back on this time very fondly.

I stayed the night in the very charming Eplet hostel and caught the bus the next day for the 8 hour trip down to Oslo. I was fortunate enough to have a dorm room all to myself at the Anker hostel there, before getting up at 5am to get out to the airport and catch the flight down to Copenhagen. I spent Friday wandering around Denmark's capital and thoroughly enjoyed visits to the National Museum and the Nordatlantenbrygge, a gallery of art of cultural exhibitions from Iceland, Greenland and Færøe. One included recordings in Icelandic of recitations of poetry by Iceland's national poet Jónas Hallgrímsson. It was intriguing listening to it: Icelandic is the closest of the modern Scandanavian languages to Old Norse, which in turn was mutually intelligible with Old English. It really sounded like it could've been someone reciting something from Beowulf or the Exeter Book! Dale, Janne and Noah are well and truly looking after me and I'm even learning a little bit of Danish! What an interesting language: the same shift that happened in Old English, where g followed by i or e became a softened y sound, has happened in Danish.

Yesterday, we went for an afternoon trip across the Øresundsforbindelsen bridge to Sweden and visited the historic town of Lund, then went on the trail of some runestones, visiting nearby Dalby and Torna Hällestad before heading back over the bridge to Denmark.

Solo kayaking, Sognefjord, Norway

Another quick update before I embark on a compulsory kayaking safety course ahead of setting off by myself for 5 days on Sognefjord. It has rained almost non-stop since I arrived in Norway but has just started clearing up in the last few minutes! I caught an express boat up from Bergen yesterday morning to here in Balestrand, a journey of about 4 hours. The scenery here is quite breathtaking, in spite of the nasty weather. And I've even spied my first family of porpoises! Norwegian is an intriguing language which I feel I should be understanding every time I hear it but then the person gets to the end of the sentence and I can't work out what they've said!

Another Anglo-Saxon pilgrimage

Well, after a whirlwind few days, I find myself in Bergen, Norway. Spent last Friday night on Carlingford over the border in the Republic of Ireland - it's claim to fame historically is Cooley Mountain, in whose shadow it sits. The "Cattle Raid of Cooley" or Tain Bo Cuailnge is the best known of the ancient epics of Ireland. Not a great deal left from those days, however (first century BCE). An adventure triathlon was starting on Saturday morning in Carlingford and it was interesting to see how the local community got behind it, including a full pipe band-led procession of the athletes through the village streets before the start!

Speaking of extreme sports, John has turned hospitality into something similar and looked after me in true Irish style for the few days I was there. I look forward to returning the favour should he make it down under in the next year or two. The final leg of the Hospitality Triathlon was a high speed run to the airport just in time for me to make my flight to Edinburgh!

I only caught a glimpse of the Scottish capital before heading SE on a bus bound for Berwick-upon-Tweed, just over the border in England. Spent most of the evening trudging around in the rain trying to find somewhere to stay and finally got the last bed in town in the backpackers hostel dorm. I'm not a big fan of dorms because there always seems to be someone snoring loudly enough to keep me awake! But I think I got my revenge this time around - I awoke a number of times during the night because someone had shaken the bed and the guy in the bed underneath mine sighed in a rather annoyed way whilst turning over!

Sunday dawned clear and rainless for a change so I decided to try to make it to Lindisfarne, the sacred tidal island just off the coast about 20km south of Berwick. Easier said than done. It was a Sunday so no buses and the bike hire place was shut. So I ended up plodding out of town towards the A1 road south in the direction I was heading and after about an hour's walk finally managed to get a lift with a nice young couple heading back down to London after a week's holiday in Scotland. They dropped me at the causeway to the island with about an hour to spare before the tide would've made it impassable. So, the last part of this pilgrimage was made on foot with 20kg on my back, which was probably quite fitting. Lindisfarne has been a place of pligrimage for at least the last 13 centuries, when St. Aidan came from Iona in Scotland to set up a monastery, at the request of Anglo-Saxon King Edwin of Northumbria. Aidan and his successors, under royal patronage, made Lindisfarne the centre of a cultural golden age during the 7th and 8th centuries in the northeast of England - it became the centre of learning and manuscript production for the whole of Europe and scholars from Lindisfarne and other centres in Northumbria spread throughout Europe, establishing other monastic institutions. I was unable to find accommodation on the island but spent a very tranquil day there all the same - a beautiful, serene, timeless place. I caught a shared taxi back to the mainland with an exasperated couple from Bath and headed on to Bamburgh, thinking it would be about the size of Berwick and have plenty of accommodation options. Bamburgh is actually a very small village with a VERY big castle. Probably the most spectacular castle in England. I got lucky though and got a good deal as "Mr Walkin Offstreet" at a small hotel just up the road from the castle. Dinner included, which was another of those superb lamb shanks. Dessert was cardamom-infused creme brulee, just going further to prove that the tales of awful food in England really are a thing of the past. After dinner, I spent the gloaming hours walking the beach, with the silhouette of Lindisfarne castle on the horizon and Bamburgh castle filling the foreground. It wasn't hard to imagine being back 1214 years in the last days of the Northumbrian Golden Age, a kingdom basking in the glow of its many achievements and enjoying a century and a half of peace and prosperity. But on the horizon, a glimpse of the prows of the first Viking ships, about to take unprotected Lindisfarne unawares and bring unimaginable horror to it and the whole of Northumbria, eventually spelling a sad end to that mighty kingdom.

I ended up in Alnwick, a bit further south, the next morning, after the hotel owner gave me a lift. Alnwick's castle , I discovered, is Hogwarts of Harry Potter fame but there has been some very serious digital enhancement going on! I hired a bike for the day and rode along a scenic section of the coastal path, which reminded me at times of the Mornington Peninsula near Melbourne. Except for the spectacular views towards the ruined castle in the distance that is. Walked the last bike-free section to Dunstanburgh castle before returning to my campsite at the Alnwick Rugby Club and, if I'm not mistaken, the end of the first completely rain-free day since I've been in Britain and Ireland!

Next morning I took the bus down to Newcastle for the next stop in my Anglo-Saxon tour of Northumbria. The Venerabe Bede, Europe's foremost historian and scholar during the 7th and 8th centuries, was based in Jarrow, near Newcastle and the remains of the monastery in which he lived are still visible today. St. Paul's church next to the monastery contains a completely Anglo-Saxon chancel, which is the most extensive building I've ever seen from that era. The Angles and Saxons were very much a wood-based culture, like all of their contemporaries in northern Europe. Standing outside St. Paul's, I felt something akin to culture shock when hearing the busy road behind me and glimpsing the substantial industrial areas making up much of modern-day Jarrow. I've spent so much time and energy over the past 18 months coming to an understanding of the early English culture and literature of places such as this and Alfred's Athelney in Somerset, that part of me is still back there in early medieval centuries! I wonder what Alfred or Bede would've thought of the way we've changed our world. The Museum of Early Medieval Northumbria has been built next to the church and has been jauntily named Bede's World, probably in an attempt to make it sound like a themepark! It was actually quite good, with an outdoor section with farm animals and plants as would have been common 12 centuries ago. Some buildings have also been constructed in the Anglo-Saxon style.

I spent the evening on the coast in South Shields, just out of Newcastle and had a picnic dinner on the beach! And yes, I went in for a swim! And yes, it was absolutely freezing!

This morning I made the short hop across the North Sea, completing it in an airbus in 1 hour 15 minutes, so a bit quicker than the time those nasty horn-helmeted chaps took to do the reverse trip back in 793. Bergen has lived up to its reputation: it's been raining and cold all day! But I've still managed to see a few sights and eat a few prawns! Tomorrow I'm catching the boat up into Sognefjord to Balestrand, where I'll be starting my kayaking adventure on Friday.

From the Isle of Athelney to the Fields of Athenry

This is coming to you from the Emerald Isle! After a few enjoyable days spent in and around Bath, I flew over here to Belfast on Wednesday. Monday, Sam and I popped out to have lunch with Nathalie where she works: Hartham Park, which is an old country manor which, along with all its associated buildings, has been converted into office space. It would have to be one of the most idyllic work environments I've ever seen - much of the old stately home is still intact: library, ball-room, sweeping staircase, grounds and gardens. Sam then very kindly dropped me off in Chippenham where I popped in to see Andy and Tracey, their almost 3-year-old son Joseph and their wee newborn Matthew.

Tuesday was a magnificent sunny day which Sue and I spent exploring some lesser known parts of Somerset. After lunch in Glastonbury (very well known!), we continued on in search of the Isle of Athelney, which was a place of great significance in King Alfred's life. With my studies over the past 18 months in Anglo-Saxon/Old English, I've crossed paths with Alfie many times - he personally translated many Latin works into Old English during the 9th century (CE). Athelney is where he was holed up with a small band of retainers when the Vikings/Danes had overrun the whole of the rest of England and the Danish King Guthrum had camped his army in nearby Wiltshire for the winter. From Athelney, Alfred relaunched a guerrilla war on the Danes and eventually defeated them and regained England for the English. Unfortunately, my camera's memory card died during this trip and I don't have any photos. The Somerset Levels are magnificent countryside - mostly flat with occasional tors rising out of what used to be impenetrable marshland. It's now lush green fields, punctuated by drainage systems and dotted with charming old villages.

I managed to get another memory card in Belfast and spent an hour or two wandering the city while John was at work. The highlight of the day was the Church of St. Patrick and especially it's triptych painting by John Lavery, Madonna of the Lakes in classic pre-Raphaelite style. The Madonna looks very much like an image of the Irish Mother Goddess and has saints Patrick and Brigit kneeling on either side of her. Wandering around Belfast and popping into shops in search of a memory card, I was reminded just how amazingly friendly and warm the Irish are - regardless of which side of the border they've ended up on. Truly hospitable people.

Yesterday we drove up around the Antrim coast which is magnificent in all weather, all possible kinds of which we experienced! Beautiful sunshine and tranquillity was periodically replaced by lashing rain, hail, thunder and lightening. We passed along the mouths of the nine Glens of Antrim and ventured up into Glenariff to admire its waterfalls (raging torrents at the moment). Further along, there were fine views across North Channel to the Mull of Kintyre which, at the closest point, is a mere 12 miles away. I'm tempted to return and kayak it sometime!

In a few minutes we're off down into the Republic to Carlingford for the rest of the day and tomorrow before I fly out tomorrow afternoon for Edinburgh.

Nantlle Ridge, then Bath

Greetings from kind-of-sunny Bath! We made it back down to southern England yesterday, travelling through some seriously flooded areas on the way and being delayed on the M6 and M5 motorways on frequent occasions. Steve dropped me off here at my friend Sue’s place and headed home to Great Bedwyn on the other side of Wiltshire, about an hour’s drive further on.

After that easy day on Wednesday visiting Caernarfon then Beaumaris, we camped back near Beddgelert and over dinner decided to attempt the Nantlle ridge the following day, which is the walk we'd originally planned for the Wednesday but which I vetoed due to the heaviness of my pack and the unwillingness of my legs! As a day-walk, though, without a heavy pack including tent, camping equipment etc., it'd seemed a much more attractive prospect. So we set off early and drove to the hamlet of Rhyd-Ddu to start the walk.

The Nantlle ridge consists of six peaks: Y Garn (the Cairn), Mynydd Drws-y-Coed (Door to the Wood Mountain), Trum y Ddysgl (Ridge of the Dish), Mynydd Tal-y-Mignedd (Mountain at the End of the Bog), Craig Cwm Silyn (Silyn Valley Crag) and Garnedd-Goch (Red Cairn). What evocative names! I've heard that Tolkien, as a boy living in the West Midlands, used to watch in fascination as the coal trains from Wales would pass by, with their long and seemingly impronouncable names written on the sides of the cars: inspiration for the world he created. The three peaks we climbed on Tuesday, Moel Hebog, Moel-yr Ogaf and Moel Lefn mean, respectively, Bare Hill of the Falcon, Bare Hill of the Cave and Smooth Bare Hill. The first peak, from Monday, Yr Aran, takes the prize for least inventive name: it simply means The Mountain!

Anyway, Thursday was an excellent day in the hills - plenty of sunshine, interspersed with white clouds, blown about by a light wind. The views from the ridge were simply spectacular - on one side back into the valley with the village of Beddgelert, surrounded by forests, and on the other, a wide vista sweeping down to the sea, and across to Ynys Menai, the isle of Anglesey, former sacred centre of druidic culture and learning until Seutonius Paulinus, under orders from Emporer Claudius, led a military expedition there in 61 CE and wiped them all out. Those Romans! Caernarfon and its castle were also clearly visible on the mainland shore across from Anglesey. It ended up being a mammoth walk - almost 12 hours in total by the time we made it back to the car. After completing the sixth peak, we descended into the picturesque Pennant valley at around 6pm. The evening bathed the gnarled trees, green fields and clear streams in gentle gold, warming the old stone walls and ruined cottages. Unfortunately, at this stage, Steve and I realised that we'd omitted to read the walk description in its entirety and that we had some more ascending to do at the end of the valley in order to cross over the pass into the valley in which we had started. Groan! We plodded on, both rather weary and with only rather unappetising oat cakes and flapjacks to keep us going. Speaking of which, eating baked beans and porridge for breakfast, then oat cakes, flapjacks and Mars bars for most of the day had a rather predictable effect on both of us and I think we may have significantly increased the total global output of greenhouse gases this past week – we’ll need to do some serious tree-planting as penance sometime in the future :)

The pass into the Beddgelert valley turned out to be fascinating – straddled by the remains of an old mining settlement, the Prince of Wales Quarry, which had once been home to 200 men working the adjacent slate mines. It was abandoned in 1882 after a rock fall caused a number of deaths. These stone remains gave the whole landscape an early medieval feel (for me anyway!), reminiscent of the Old English phrase eald enta geweorc, the ancient work of giants, which is the way the Anglo-Saxons described the imposing remains of the Roman civilisation which had preceded them. The pass is called Bwlch-y-Ddwy-elor,“Pass of the Two Biers”, because coffins from the Pennant valley would be carried to the top of the pass on one bier then handed to another, with another group of men carrying it, for the journey down into the Beddgelert valley for burial. The final push over the pass and through the forest back to the car turned out to be much more difficult than anticipated – due to planting of new trees and the making of new tracks, woods really do move! Steve did a sterling job with Ordnance Survey map, compass, altimeter and GPS to finally get us onto a trail that led out the other side and into open country within site of the car. We camped the night on the shores of a lake near where we’d started the walk.

Friday was abysmal and it rained incessantly – we visited the town of Conwy with its well-preserved medieval town walls and castle (built by that charmer, Edward I Longshanks, in his attempts to subdue the revolting Welsh). We stayed the night in Llandudno on the coast and in a delightful guesthouse which felt like absolute luxury after six nights in the tent. The rain ended up being so incessant that it caused severe flooding around Worcester and Gloucester, further south, and necessitated a large evacuation of many residents of that area by RAF helicopters.

Today has so far been spent enjoying a very leisurely brunch with Sue, her son Sam and his girlfriend Nathalie, all of whose company I’ve enjoyed on previous visits back to this part of the world.

Beddgelert

We're currently in Caernarfon on the coast in North Wales and still very much in the Welsh-speaking area - have just been chatting to the owner of this internet cafe, who is a native speaker, and he was saying there are fully Welsh versions of Windows, Linux and many associated applications. Luckily I have an English version to use!

We spent last night in the wild Welsh Highlands - set off around midday yesterday once the truly torrential rain subsided and spent an initial frustrating hour or so "bush-bashing" through dense woods, bogs and brambles before making it out onto more open territory. We ascended Moel Hebog, Moel-yr Ogaf and Moel Lefn none of which had any real trails to the top so there was plenty of rock-hopping, scrambling up scree slopes and making our way gingerly down steep and slippery descents. On making the top of Moel Hebog, I exclaimed "we knocked the b***ard off", in a tribute to my countryman Sir Edmund but then he'd just climbed something more than 10 times as high when he said that so was probably more justified in saying so! We camped a bit below the last peak with some very springy heather under the tent and a gurgling stream nearby for water. Dinner, after a hard day's hiking, was simply delicious, topped off by Steve's contribution of rhubarb and custard for dessert.

This morning we walked back down through the forest to the main road into the town of Beddgelert, where we've been staying. Beddgelert means the grave of Gelert, who was the favourite hound of a 13th century prince of North Wales, Llewellyn. One day, when Llew went out hunting, Gelert was mysteriously missing. Upon returning from the hunt, Llewellyn was greeted joyously by his favourite dog who was covered in blood and gore. Llewellyn in his horror found his son's cot empty and a trail of blood nearby. In despair, he ran Gelert through with his sword. At that moment, he heard his son's cry from the courtyard outside and upon running out, discovered his son sitting next to the bloodied corpse of a giant wolf, slain just minutes before by his most faithful hound. A Welsh story! The sense of loss, regret, poignancy is something that is central to the culture and history of this people: there will always be a feeling of "what if", of something irretrievably lost for this little country that has always been too close to her powerful neighbour to be left alone. It's a remarkable story of resilience that her language and identity have survived to this day and seem to be stronger than for many years. Britain's Aborigines!

Hwyl fawr to you all until next time!

Cymru am byth!

Cymru am byth! Yes, Wales forever. I've managed to find a local library in the town of Porthmadog that has (free) internet access so thought I'd blog a bit more. As far as I can tell, I'm the only English-speaker in here - this is very much a Welsh-speaking area. Since I was here in North Wales the last time about 5 years ago, the Welsh language seems to have made some advances - not only government signs but almost all private businesses display everything in Welsh first, with English beneath. Police cars are no longer labelled "Police" but rather "Heddlu" and some real estate agents don't bother telling you that a house is "For Sale", instead it's just "Ar Werth". In the last census, the number of Welsh speakers actually increased from the previous count, so it looks like the language has turned the corner and really does have a future. The world is a better place for it.

My last day or two in Rome were just idyllic - a very relaxing and immensely enjoyable time spent with Nadia, Ennio and Mereille. On Friday, Nadia, Ennio and I went for a walk to La Villa di Plinio, Pliny's Villa, not far at all from home. For any student of Classical Studies, this was where Pliny the Younger spent many of his days (first century CE), undoubtedly some of them spent writing the very influential works that have survived to this day. The foundations of the building were clearly visible and an exquisite mosaic of Neptune and his watery minions, still in excellent condition, was there out in the open for anyone to look out. Anywhere else, there would have been a museum built on top of it but the Romans have an embarrassment of riches when it comes to ancient ruins.

I flew on Saturday from Rome to Bristol in England, very sad to say goodbye, especially to my dearest Nadia, who I wont be seeing for the next month :( My good friend Steve Smith picked me up from the airport and we drove straight over the Severn Bridge into the land of the comrades, Cymru and spent the night on the beautiful Gower Peninsula near Swansea (Abertawe). Walked in the persistent Welsh rain the next morning along the coastline with fine views in spite of the wetness! We are now at the other end of the country in Snowdonia National Park and completed a walk up Yr Aran today and managed to avoid getting rained on! Just magnficent countryside and I'll upload some photos as soon as I get a chance. The culinary delights continue, in spite of Britain's reputation to the contrary - Lamb Shank in Redcurrant sauce last night at the local pub was superb!

La città eterna

I ended up enjoying Changi Airport a little too much - found a mini movie theatre and made myself comfortable watching the highly intellectually stimulating Terminator 3. As the final credits rolled by, I casually glanced at my watch and realised my flight was leaving in 15 minutes! So I got a bit of exercise sprinting through Terminal 1 to my depature gate, to the sound of the announcement urging me to report there immediately!

La città eterna, the eternal city. Rome at this time of the year seems to be blessed with a near perfect climate: high 20s/low 30s every day and loads of sunshine. Nadia's father Ennio lives in Casalpalocco, a satellite suburb of Rome close to the beach and near the ancient port of Rome, Ostia. It's a lovely area here - low density housing with lots of green space and quiet, tree-lined boulevards. It's a bit of a hike to the nearest Metro station but once there only a short journey into the city. My language-learning efforts in the few weeks before leaving Melbourne have only helped a little - perhaps I'm understanding one word in ten instead of one in a hundred! Although I do seem to surprise people with what I do understand - the most unexpected things and probably due to the Latin over the last 6 months, plus rather bizarrely, "foreign words" from German, e.g. costruiere "to build", which isn't too different to "konstruieren", a Latin word "borrowed" into German.

We went to the beach this morning and got there extremely quickly thanks to Ennio's rather typically Roman style of driving! Mireille spends a lot of the time shouting "attento! attento!". The beach here is great - even had a few waves to dive through. Nadia and I have also made a couple of trips into town - one just to wander around and soak up some Vita Romana, then yesterday we went over to see her Aunty, who lives not far from St. Peter's. Nadia and Anna spent the afternoon chatting away, while I did my best to get the gist of what was being discussed! Anna has lived in the same apartment since 1962 and now shares it with her late husband's brother, Rolando. They are both very friendly, welcoming people with big laughs and warm hearts. Anna has a strong Roman accent, even noticeable to a novice such as myself - instead of the standard Italian pronunciation of "ci" like "chee" in "cheese", she pronounced it more like "shee" as in "sheep", e.g. dieci sounded like dee-eshee. Nadia and her father speak much more softly and without the strong Roman accent - it's been lovely just sitting listening to them, even if I haven't understood everything! Ennio's wife Mireille comes from Provence and is a keen history and literature buff, so we've had some interesting but rather amusing and laborious conversations across the linguistic divide! The other family member I had the privilege of meeting was Anna's little terrier Cleopatra, who took to me as soon as I walked in the door. Interestingly, she seemed to understand Swiss-German, her tail wagging vigorously when I said "Schaetzeli" to her :)

Neither Nadia nor I are particularly commited tourists so we wilted in front of the swarming crowds around the Forum on Tuesday and eventually gave up and retreated to the Giardini della Villa Borghese - large gardens just behind the Spanish Steps. We were sitting in the shade near a large fountain, getting out of the heat, and watching the children cooling off in the water. A couple of bikini-clad women nearby were catching some rays. All of a sudden, two policemen on motorbikes burst onto the scene and ordered the children out of the fountain and told the women to get dressed! Rather unexpected and imagine how they'd react in the Englischer Garten in Munich!

Back at Changi

I ended up yesterday going for a ride out of town in search of a (modern day) Buddhist temple but due to some rather conflicting directions from locals, didn't end up finding it! Didn't matter - was nice meandering alongside the river, past bamboo huts, marketplaces, schools. I've spent today in Singapore, also getting away from it all on the small island Pulau Ubin. It's a remarkable contrast to ultra-modern Singapore city: completely undeveloped. As per usual, I got caught out in the afternoon downpour but was given a throw-away raincoat by a local fisherman so didn't suffer too badly. Right now I'm in the city-within-a-city known as Changi Airport transit area - wow, have they re-vamped things since I was here last. Very nice relaxation areas with gardens, lounges and I'm making the most of the free internet access to upload thousands of photos - have a look, there should be loads more of the things there any moment soon! Update: spoke too soon! have only been able to upload a handful.

A mere 12-13 hours of flying and I'll be landing in Rome and seeing my beloved Nadia again!

Landmines

No touring today - I've just hired a rickety old bicycle and am planning to spend the day around town, with perhaps one foray out into the countryside just to get away from the traffic! I tried sitting in the park but the traffic noise and fumes started getting to me and the bats above started trying to use me for target practice! So, I've found a different internet cafe in a quieter part of town and am quite enjoying this little oasis away from the noise, heat and smells of outside. The ceiling fan is turning slowly, the owners are murmuring quietly to each other, and I am the only customer. Ahhh .....

Tomorrow morning, I'm flying back to Singapore, where I'll spend the day before boarding the onward flight to Rome. It's been an amazing few days here and has given me a brief introduction to this remarkable country. Yesterday really was brilliant - clambering around Beng Mealea temple, most of the time completely alone with only the noises of the surrounding jungle for company. Once again, the ride out there and back was enjoyable just for the chance to zip along through the every-changing countryside. And the visit to Kompong Phhluk was just as interesting as Beng Mealea, in a very different way. Its inhabitants have adapted to live in tune with the changing seasons - no one seems to worry a jot about getting wet, whether from the torrential rain or from having to jump into the river to re-position a fishing net or do some maintenance on a boat. Speaking of which, the boat broke down twice on the way back from Kompong Phhluk - water intake kept getting blocked which would eventually cause the motor to overheat. My driver stopped the boat, tied it to a bush in the fast-flowing stream, jumped overboard and disappeared underwater behind the boat only to emerge a little while later having unblocked the intake. Kept his flip-flops on for the entire exercise. The people of the village keep countless crocodiles in cages, which I assume they use for meat and skins. Judging from the locals' lack of hesitancy in entering the water, I'm assuming none of the crocodiles ever escape!

I forgot to mention that on Thursday, on the way back to Siem Reap, I stopped at the Cambodian Landmine Museum. It was set up by Aki Ra, a former Khmer Rouge child soldier. He estimates that he's disarmed around 50 000 mines since fleeing the Khmer Rouge and taking up this work with the UN. There are a huge number of amputees here - you see them everywhere. At many of the temples, war victims have formed traditional music groups and play to the tourists as they pass. It is a sobering and visible reminder of this country's horrific recent past. Another sobering sight, both on Thursday and yesterday, was road accidents: in both cases they had occurred just minutes before we arrived. No police, lights, sirens, medics - just a throng of people crowding around to help or just to look. I'm glad Vanna (yes, that's how Wonäääh spells his name in Latin characters!) is such a sensible driver/rider. Needless to say, driving/riding styles here are quite colourful! My favourite is the left-hand turn at a busy intersection (Cambodia drives on the right), which involves crossing to the left gutter before getting to the intersection (i.e. ahead of/through the oncoming traffic), then zipping around the corner and crossing again to the right-hand side. It seems to work!

On a healthier note, the food here has been fantastic - Thursday for lunch I had a sort of omelette wrapped around a mix of minced pork, coconut and sprouted mung beans - a Khmer speciality. Yesterday for a snack on the long ride to Beng Mealea, we had some Kra Lan (I think that's right!), which is glutinous rice with some black beans and coconut stuffed inside a 30cm long bamboo tube and cooked over charcoal. For lunch, we stopped at a marketplace in one of the towns we passed through and ate with the locals. Vanna was very enthusiatic about introducing me to "real Cambodian food". Highlight was pork in sweet bamboo soup. And last night I went back to the Green House Restaurant (of frogs' legs fame) and enjoyed, amongst other things, a superb mukac and smoked fish salad for entrée.

Temples and waterways

Well, another huge day! Spent the morning looking around what is definitely the most atmospheric temple ruin in these parts then the afternoon travelling a swollen river on a rickety longboat to visit a village on precipitous stilts. In fact, the day has been so huge that I'm going to keep this brief!

The temple is called Beng Mealea and as far as the "just discovered in the jungle" feeling goes, it blows away anything else I've seen over the last few days. An incredible jumble of huge sandstone blocks, with enough of the original architecture intact to give one a sense of just how imposing it must once have been. Hopefully a couple of photos have uploaded successfully!

The village I visited is known as Kompong Phhluk - set up on enormously high stilts to keep out of the way during the wet season (well on the way right now). During the height of the wet, it looks like Venice and during the dry, well - just really quite strange. The trip there and back was rather hair-raising - my driver turned out to be the local lad on the waterways, getting the boat sideways around the corners and narrowly missing a head-on collision due to having spent a little too long leering at one of the local beauties. Came across a monk giving English lessons to some children in the village and stopped for a while with them - when he heard I was an IT person, he scurried off inside and came back with a laptop. He wanted to use it to write Microsoft Word documents to use in his English lessons so I attempted to give him a crash course on the basics! We parted after exchanging email addresses and with me promising to try and find him a tutorial book or program that might help.

Have been sampling some more local specialities - more details to follow!

Thinking in threes

Judging from the upload speeds available in any of the 25000 or so internet cafes in Siem Reap, they may well be sharing the same dial-up line to the outside world. So, I've given up on the idea of uploading too many photos for now! 

Well, it didn't stop raining until well into the night last night which sort of puts paid to the "just an hour or two" theory! Headed off at 7am with Wonaaah on the second day of temple visiting. My first thought was thank Brahma/Vishnu/Shiva for clouds because with an overcast sky things were a lot cooler. Dropped in on some more temples in the Angkor area before heading further out to Banteay Srei and Kbal Spean, the second of these being over 50 kms from Siem Reap. This was probably the highlight of the day for me - speeding along on the moto (almost reached 50 km/h today) through the Cambodian countryside with wooden houses and huts on stilts, buffalo, rice fields, excited children waving.

Kbal Spean is a collection of scenes carved out of stone riverbanks and riverbed - really quite amazing. Apparently hermit monks lived along the river and carved as an expression of their religious devotion. It really is the sense one is left with from this place: devotion. The people involved in all of this incredible work must have been filled with it.

Interestingly, Brahma/Vishnu/Shiva are the Hindu trimurti and are really just differing manifestations of the same Divine Being. Sound familiar? Seems to be an Indo-European trait, this obsession with the number 3. Ask the Celts, including St. Patrick and his 3-leafed shamrock! The Angkor temples are an interesting mix of Hindu and Buddhist religious expression - often it's difficult to pinpoint where one ends and the other begins. Buddhism is, strictly speaking, a non-theistic philosophy but it seems the common human urge to reach out to the Divine, the Numinous, the "Other" has found theistic expression for Buddhists just about everywhere too - Cambodia being no exception. There is also a Buddhist trinity - three different manifestations of the Buddha - which is used as inspiration for some of the intricate stone carvings here. The Hindu stories from the Mahabharata and Ramayana seem to be the most common source of material though.

I was wrong about Wonaaah being a tonal name - Khmer isn't a tonal language, unlike many of the languages of its neighbouring countries. It's also not inflected but to make up for these simplicities, has 33 consonants and 24 vowels and diphthongs. Not included are the sounds "sh", "f" and "v" as I found out today when I had a shooting range pointed out to me. The language has been heavily influenced by Sanskrit and so has plenty of Indo-European traits, for example the word for God-King (there have been lots of them around here) Deveraja. Think Devine-Regent to see the link. Fascinating stuff! So far, I've learnt aahkuhn (thank you) and te aahkuhn (no thank you) - no prizes for guessing which one of these I've been using more often!

Anyway, after Kbal Spean, we headed back towards Siem Reap via another 5 temples - the best of which was Preah Khan, similar to Ta Phrom yesterday in that it is quite a tumble of stones but with fewer trees fighting back against human-made encroachment. Whilst I was there, the rains arrived, including some rather awe-inspiring thunder. Was an amazing experience, huddling inside the stone doorways of this vast temple with the heavens crashing in fury above. From here, we rode back into Siem Reap and it was at this point that I discovered that my very nice cycling jacket hadn't been tested in a Cambodian monsoon. Was thoroughly soaked by the time we got back but it was completely enjoyable after being scorched earlier. I also discovered that I am the only tourist riding around on the back of a moto - everyone else is wisely taking the tuktuk option, complete with rainproof enclosure when necessary! But the locals appreciate the effort - one tuktuk driver, squinting into the rain, grinned and cheered as we passed him.

I had a nice experience yesterday after looking around the main Angkor Wat temple. Upon returning to Wonaaah, I was approached by two teenage girls and a teenage lad selling drinks. They were very persistent when I said no and eventually suggested I should buy a drink for my driver. When this didn't work, one of the girls said I should buy a drink for the other girl because she was sooo thirsty, at which point she started acting like she was suffering from heat-stroke. The whole thing was just so funny and we all burst out laughing and I ended up buying 3 drinks, mostly to reward them all for their sterling performance. The lad said "you are very friendly man"! Another girl, selling scarves and tablecloths, had learnt "Oh my God!" from some previous tourist and was working it into her sales pitch. When I said no thanks for the tenth time, she retorted with "Oh my God! He no buy nothing! Oh my God!".

Angkor Wat

Wow what a day! Slept like a Cambodian log all night and finally headed out with Wonäääh (spelling is mine) at 9 for the Angkor temples. We zipped out there on his moto, at times nudging speeds in excess of 40 km/h. As for the temples: superlative, superlative, superlative, etc. etc. etc. Not really any way of describing it all adequately. The main temple, Angkor Wat, is surrounded by an enormous moat and is pretty enormous itself. Time and the local conditions have taken their toll – these ruins aren’t preserved the same as considerably older ones I’ve seen in Lebanon, Syria, Eygpt, but that probably just adds to the just-been-discovered atmosphere of it all. Many of the bas-relief have deteriorated significantly, but, with hundreds and hundreds of metres of the things, there are plenty that are still spectacularly intact. My favourite experience for the day (other than the cold shower when I got back here), was the Ta Phrom temple, which has been largely left the way it was re-discovered in the 19^th century. Although some of the bas-reliefs from the Bayon temple and its huge faces staring out into the jungle were pretty special too.

It was brutally hot and humid today and this little lilly-white Euro-boy wilted! Realised half way through the day that it wasn’t being helped by some achiness from the tetanus jab I had on Monday. Managed to survive 5 hours of templing before admitting defeat and heading back to that cold shower, which had an immediately effect. About half an hour after I got back to my guesthouse, the rains finally kicked in and it’s still really bucketing down an hour later.

 

What an incredible heritage the people of Cambodia have and thankfully it’s also providing some of them with a certain amount of income. Not in the actual temple areas themselves, but round about, there were many men, women and children, attempting to sell anything and everything relating to Angkor to the heat-exhausted tourists. When one considers the recent history of this country, it’s hard to feel anything other than goodwill towards these people, even if they were at times very persistent! I bought some guidebooks and one or two odds and ends and I’m sure I paid a good rate for them which is only fair enough – no NHS, Medicare, Social Security, AHV etc. here. And considering what the older people have been through over the past 40 years, and the utterly destroyed country that the youth have inherited, one must simply marvel at how generous and good natured everyone seems to be. Hopefully things will keep getting better.

 

Angkor’s heyday was around the 12^th-13^th centuries but there is some building from as early as the 9^th. Intriguing to think that, as the Anglo-Saxon poems I’ve pored over for the last 12 months were being written in Exeter, the Khmer were constructing some of what I saw today. Apparently even Roman coins have been found in other parts of greater Cambodia, showing how far their trading routes extended (both sides!).

Siem Reap, Cambodia

Have had a lethargic day – flight an hour longer than I thought due to time difference. Jasmine Guesthouse here in Siem Reap is pleasant enough – not too many guests as far as I can tell: seen 3 so far! Good!  Bit noisy here in upstairs open lounge area but room is very quiet and cool. Have decided to stay an extra 2 nights here and forfeit flight from Saigon back to Singapore. After taking into account the extra visa fee, transport, more expensive accommodation in Saigon, there’s not much difference. Already booked new flight from here for morning of 8^th July.

Mad dogs, Englishmen and lone skwozzies (Swiss-Kiwi-Aussies!) go out in the midday sun so I headed off at 11-ish after sorting the new flight. Wandered along the main road to the town gardens (trees full of bats), past a number of Buddhist shrines, then down to the Old Market. Siem Reap is not at all picturesque – rather gritty and grubby and sprawling. River through the town is stagnant and brown. Walked around for 2 hours before having lunch at a nice-looking restaurant (only patron). Main of Amoc fish in banana cup – Amoc being something of a national dish. Very good coconut, lemongrass, chilli, peanuts. All came wrapped in a banana leaf shaped into a largish bowl/mug. And in honour of the French influence hanging on so doggedly here in indochine française, I had frogs’ legs for entrée (sorry Kermie). Still many official signs etc. in French but no one’s approached me with a bonjour just yet!

It’s supposed to be the monsoon but it didn’t rain a drop today.

When I arrived at the airport here this morning after an endless night spent wandering around the frozen confines of Changi Airport, I rang the guesthouse and they sent out a tuktuk driver to pick me up. So I rode into town in regal style waving and smiling wherever possible. Later, during my walk, a cute and tiny schoolgirl said “hello mister” and insisted on walking with me, beaming up at me the whole time, until I eventually turned off, at which point she smiled and waved goodbye.

My tuktuk driver is called something tonal like Wonäääh but I’ll have to ask him again to get it right! He’s taking me out to the Angkor temples tomorrow at 9, so that’s when the really interesting stuff will begin.

The restaurateur at lunchtime asked me why I was so sad and could he help me?! I told him I hadn’t slept for 36 hours and would be fine once I had! A very kind man.

Rice for breakfast, lunch and dinner today which is likely to continue!