Yesterday I stayed up till 4:00am to watch England be crap, then rose at 8:30am as I can’t sleep for more then 4 hours at present. I collared James, a chap from the US, and we went to see The A-Team at Vincom Towers, which was more enjoyable than it should have been.

The afternoon was spent catching up with you lot, followed by an early night.

Up at 7am today to ensure I could make it to the footie at Long Bien where the Blue Dragon kids have their weekly kickabout. A small turnout of 40 or so didn’t mar proceedings (almost everyone here stays up to watch the World Cup) and the under 14s were presented with a trophy from a local competition.

I took another backpacker, Sean, who was hugely impressed with the turnout and the work being done by BDCF. He chatted to Michael and Tho while I embarrassed myself on the pitch. Hey, I was barefoot. And I suck.

After a drink with the guys, Sean and I headed down to Vincom to catch The Karate Kid which was – like The A Team – far better than it had any right to be. We got back to the hostel in time for free beer then happy hour, followed by me typing this up before I head for bed.

Off to Halong Bay again in the morning and back on Wednesday!

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Footie and films

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Coats of arms

I joined the hordes today and watched the new Watchmen film on IMAX. It was OK, but would have been fine on a “normal” cinema screen and at the corresponding lower price. Mind you, the IMAX here in Melbourne‘s not that much more expensive than a regular cinema ticket. In the queue I got talking to a random local called Andy who was good company until the film started. This is pretty typical of the open attitude that people around here have – they always seem ready to chat and share a beer. Or a popcorn.

My touristy day actually started when I met Ben for lunch. He took me to a restaurant at one end of the Chinatown precinct where we had dumplings (dim sum). They were pretty tasty, and not bad at around $7 for a dozen of the beef or pork ones. He picked up the tab for lunch as his work colleagues dropped in so I’ve promised to meet him again tomorrow so I can pay for his in return.

From there I cycled round the corner to the Town Hall where I’d booked a tour. They do two each weekday, 11am and 1pm, at no cost but it’s worth pre-booking. The 11am one today was booked out, but I got onto the afternoon one with a small group. If you’re interested then give them a call on 96589658.

Seat of power

A spritely guy called Ray took us around for well over the quoted one hour and was full of nice touristy trivia. We got a potted history of Melbourne itself as well as a bit of information on how the mayoral system works. One interesting thing us that Melbourne could have been named Batmania (!), but that the decision was made to name it after the then-Prime Minister of the UK. Or actually after the place he lived and was Viscount of – Melbourne in Derbyshire. However, he never even set foot in Australia let alone the city named for him. Do check out the Wikipedia link above. As with all fairly modern cities, its history is both interesting and well-documented.

We saw some interesting rooms including the council chambers which are available to functions for a “very nominal fee”. They’ve been used for society meetings, weddings and film sets. Of course, all the wood is Australian. The majority seems to have been carted over from Tasmania.

The function room where the mayor hosts important guests is quite posh ut does look a little out of touch with the times. With my limited furniture vocabulary, I’d class it as Tudor. Still, being able to picture Paul McCartney playing Chopin on the piano, while Ringo walked around in the mayoral robes and John and George threw boomerangs to a screaming crowd outside does give it a different edge!

What a wopper

Ray’s enthusiasm, however, really came out when he showed us the enormous organ housed in one wing. It’s the largest organ in the southern hemisphere (fnar-fnar) with 8700 pipes. Once they have the repeater (I think that was the term) installed, this will rise to 10,000. It really is a magnificent piece of engineering, a lot of it American work. Some years ago flooding caused the roof of the building to collapse, severely damaging the organ along with a lot of the offices. The pipework was dismantled and shipped to a company in the US who’d won the contract to repair it.

Currently, it’s insured for $AU20million, but this – apparently – would barely cover the cost of replacing it. We managed to get a walk around the scenes behind the (and in fact, inside) the organ and listened to a pre-recorded piece of Bach. There are free recitals now and again, so if you’re into organ music then do check it out if you’re in town. You could get lucky.

After thanking Ray, I went up to the IMAX cinema to see Watchmen and as soon as that finished (2 hour 40 minutes later) I pedalled down to Richmond to meet Jacqueline of six impossible things fame. She’d contacted me over the weekend when she spotted I was in Melbourne – I didn’t even realise this was where she lived!

Pipes galore

As it always is, it was great to meet up with someone I’ve nattered to online for ages. She’s actually a Kiwi, but don’t hold that against her! A shame we only had about an hour or so to chat before she had to dash off – maybe longer next time! Oh, and don’t call her Jackie…

Then back home with a quick stop at the Kiwi Fish & Chips on Victoria Parade. Which wasn’t very good. The chips were crispy, not soggy, and the sausage I had was kind of… ick. And they didn’t have vinegar. Still, it was a filling meal for a shade under $9 and I needed something by then.

And that was about it. Tomorrow is my lazy day before the Big Hitch to Wollongong.

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Watching Watchmen

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A few buses are available, but the 10:30 and 16:30 services were cheapest at MR17.30. There were a few tickets left and, after grabbing breakfast from the Kang Hotel, we boarded. It turned out to be the exact same bus which had brought me to Tanah Rata in the first place. I recognised the broken seat (which some poor Chinese woman had to endure for the whole journey).

It’s a long, windy trip down the mountain so don’t expect to sleep much. And then we had to deal with an Indian guy in the back row being sick into a clear plastic bag for all the world to see. His hurls were quite quiet, but the HHHAAAAAWWWWWWKKKK as he cleared his throat afterwards was stomach-churning.

Neverthless we survived into the town at the bottom of the hill where we mystifyingly pulled into some yard full of broken buses. Reversing out, we next arrived at a bus station where we had thirty minutes to grab food. I, erm, opted for a KFC. Partly as I knew they’d have clean loos.

Back on the bus, we drove for five minutes and into a second scrapyard where we were ordered off. The two front tyres both had nails stuck in them and needed replaced, so we were delayed around half an hour as this was done. When we re-boarded, Maria ended up sat next to me as the sick Indian guy had decided to occupy both the seats she’d been using to sleep on. I hope I didn’t drool down her shoulder as I slept on the now-flatter part of the journey.

For reasons best known to himself, the driver decided to shut off the aircon as we were around half an hour from the city. Maybe he wanted us to acclimatise. Maybe it broke. Either way, we were stifling by the time we were dropped off. Oliver had another bus to catch to Melaka and Maria and I walked to the Golden Triangle area in search of accommodation.

Steff’s recommendation of the Red Palm looked nice, but was full until next week. We tried their sister hostel which was also full. As was the Trekker’s Lodge I’d used the week before. We ended up in Green Hut, where I stayed back in December 2006. It’s much as I remember, including the lack of wi-fi. At least I have a long network cable so I can still use my laptop.

Food was needed and after a little trek, we found a street café opposite the IT Mall. As we were looking through the menu, staff from the other restaurants nearby were screaming “Sir! Miss! Sir! Look first! See here!” and waving menus like demonstrating students. Seriously, it was like a culinary version of the current Thai protests, and reminded me of the seagulls from Finding Nemo (“Mine! Mine! Mine!”).

After Maria failed to find somewhere that would sell her an iPod loaded with music – something that hadn’t been a problem in Bangkok – we walked round to the cinema and picked up tickets for Deception. Not a bad film, and they didn’t censor so much of it to spoil it as with Death Race.

And that was really it for the day. A fruitless search for a spare wi-fi signal saw me using the cable (I need a new one with unbroken clips) and I think I have plans for tomorrow. Still not sure of my next destination, but it’s looking like being Bangkok or Sihanoukville.

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Back to KL

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Then off to the clinic for an eye check, my reason for coming back to Bangkok. My eyes are fine. 20/20 vision, perfect pressure and no visible problems. Good-oh.

We went back to the cinema to get tickets for Journey To The Centre of the Earth (with that man Fraser again), but the cinema was packed with only two or three spare seats. So we looked at the next performance. The same. Argh. Final performance… empty. We got two good seats near the middle then rescheduled things.

Back to the hostel to get freshened up then through Pat Pong for Leah to do some gift shopping. Now, depending on how you play it, early evening is either a good or a bad time to go shopping in a market here. If you haggle well, then it’s a good thing as the traders want that first sale to get their luck going for the rest of the shift. Thing is, they also start at stupid prices to try and fill the coffers in case they don’t get many sales.

As an example, Leah spotted some flip-flops. Her’s were worn through, so a new pair were in order. She saw some that looked like the ones she had, picked them out, tried than and asked how much. The starting price was an astronomical 850 Baht. That’s around £14. Leah laughed and started to turn away at which point they dropped to 700. Then 600 after more cries of derision. “OK, how much?” was the cry as the calculator used as a bargaining tool was thrust at her. The ones she was wearing cost 60 Baht when we got to Bangkok last time. The new ones were slightly better. But not that much better. Finally, after walking off and being called back, Leah got them for 100 Baht – a little over £1.50. Quite a bit down from the original asking price, I’m sure you’ll agree.

You can tell when a trader’s made their first sale as they take the money they’ve been paid and tap all the merchandise with it to pass on the good fortune. This happened to a couple of the places we went, and you’ll sometimes even see some stall holders quite literally begging people to buy from them in the early hours. As I said, play it right and I think you can get some good bargains at this time of night. Likewise at the end of the evening from a trader who’s had a good run and who has made a fair bit in that shift.

Loaded with… well… crap, we deposited it at the hostel and went back to the Paragon for some munchies. After walking for a while trying to decide what I wanted (Leah had made a beeline for a posh cake stall), I settled on a small place selling tacos and picked a trio of chicken ones. For a savoury course, Leah thought she’d try a “build your own” which is when I realised I could ask for mine with a sauce other than the “mild salsa” included.

On the “build your own” list I saw “John’s Hot Sauce” and was about to order that when I saw “John’s Super Hot Sauce” on the menu. So I asked for that. The slight raise of the eyebrows from our waitress should have been a clue. Oh dear. I was armed with a can of Tiger when my meal arrived. Leah had a bottle of water with a glass of ice. This, as it turned out, was fortunate.

I wolfed the first taco. Delicious. But… something’s burning my mouth. I finished my lager. Still burny. Leah dipped her fork into the hot sauce and tried it. The tiniest amount, about the size of an ant. Then gulped a mouthful of water and complained an hour later that her tongue was still tingling. I had two tacos to go.

After the second I was using a spoon to shovel ice into my mouth. Sweat was dripping down my forehead in rivulets despite the chilly aircon. The third taco was almost painful but I wasn’t to be defeated. I did it. But there’s a lesson: when someone in Thailand calls something “hot” it’s on a different scale to the one we use in the UK. If you imagine the scale as running from 1-10, the UK tastebuds peak at around five, with something “hot” by Thai standards hitting ten. I was fine breathing in, but every breathe out made my eyes water and my lips seer.

Next stop was an ice cream parlour where I got two dollops of sorbet which I’m sure would have tasted sublime had I not destroyed the inside of my mouth.

I was OK by the time the film started and it was pretty enjoyable. Oh, did I mention we saw it in 3D? It’s the first live action feature film to be made using the new Dolby3D technology and it works pretty well. A silly film, but fun and the 3D really did help.

We managed to catch the last BTS of the night as we rushed from the cinema, being harried on our way by security staff eager to lock the gates. Last minute packing and swapping of luggage ensued as I made sure Leah had to carry all the useless crap I didn’t need any more back to the UK. She’s useful for some things!

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One (more) night in Bangkok

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The usual fun at the airport – trying to find food that didn’t come in a packet, didn’t taste like plastic and didn’t cost a fortune. Not much luck… Flight to BKK uneventful.

Used the AE1 bus to get into Silom rather than a taxi. Due to the busy traffic, we hopped out just past Lumpini Park. As we were getting off, I saw an American guy trying to talk to the driver about where he was and where he should get off. I had a look at his map and gave him a rough idea. Thing is, once I got off I realised that he was on the wrong bus as he wanted to go to Hualamphong which is the AE4 bus, not the AE1. Had I not been in such a rush I’d have got him to get off with us and put him in the direction of the MRT – it’s only a couple of stations from where we were. So, sorry and I hope you got where you wanted to go!

We walked down Silom to the hostel, stopping at A&W for a burger. At the hostel, we had enough time to check in and turn around as we’d arranged to meet Hannah at the Paragon to see Batman on the IMAX. Unfortunately, due to our slow bus and Hannah’s problems getting a tuk-tuk to drop her at the right place, we all arrived around 20:10 and by the time we got to the cinema, the film had just kicked off.

We bought tickets for the 23:00 performance instead, and wandered down to the basement food court to while away the time. And stare at food. And drink fresh fruit smoothies. And eat McD’s (Hannah!). And ice cream (*cough* not Hannah).

The time came for the film and we got there in good time to be shown in and take our seats. You all know what IMAX is and I’ve already documented watching Spiderman 3 and Superman Returns on the BIG big screen. But Batman: The Dark Knight blows them all away. Absolutely amazing. A great film, excellent use of the technology and Heath Ledger genuinely puts in a star turn as the Joker. Every bit as great, if not better in his own right, as Jack Nicholson‘s version. Certainly far scarier. I do think the film was cut, though, perhaps for violence. This could be a Thai thing, an IMAX thing or just bad editing. Either way I’d love to see a director’s cut but I’d just have to see it on IMAX again.

We got out of the cinema around 1:30 which was a bit of a shame for Hannah as she’d booked a trip the next day which she had to be ready for by 5:30. As I write this, I’ve not heard from her and I sincerely hope she made it onto the bus!

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Leaving Hanoi… AGAIN!

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Again, there may be repetition in this post compared to the earlier ones, but I will try to highlight the differences. First of all, a few points to note about anyone visiting – get there early. Virtually every trip from Kanchanaburi runs from 2pm to 4pm. If you do this, you will miss out on a lot. Get up there for 11am if you can. This may mean hiring your own transport or getting the public bus up, but it is worth it.

The public bus runs frequently from the main bus station and costs pennies, but drops you on the main road – a couple of kilometres walk away. Making your own way by moped is certainly an option if you have access to one. Cycling is a long way so bear in mind the distance and the heat.

The most common way is to get a converted flatbed with seats in the back and fill it. Drivers usually charge for the trip, not per passenger so the more you get (maybe a capacity of 10) the cheaper it is. These are the vehicles used for the organised tours.

After breakfast, we met Sam himself – the owner of the Rafthouse and two other places in the area. He’s Thai, fluent in English, and an incredibly nice and helpful chap. And a qualified pilot. With his own airfield out near the Tiger Temple. Cool. He called the taxi driver we’d used yesterday  and he gave us a good price for a return trip to the Temple. A few minutes later he was sat outside waiting for us and we hopped in with all our luggage.

The trip up was fun, watching the usual sights. The first thing I noticed that was different was the road running from the main “highway” to the Temple itself. Two years ago it was unpaved dusty gravel. Now it’s tarmac, with walls in some spots as well. Money is definitely being spent. At the Temple itself, parking is more organised, a couple more buildings are in place and the price had risen to 300 Baht for entry. You still have to sign a “these are tigers and might rip my throat out and I realise I can’t sue monks” declaration before entering.

Entering the Temple itself, the pathway up to the cages has changed a little. What used to be the female accommodation for volunteer staff now seems to be administration offices. To the left is the start of (I guess) the “wild” area where future tigers will play without human interaction. This wasn’t there last time I was here. Neither were the larger cages for the cubs with play areas. Or the waterfall. Or half of the tigers, come to it – they’ve had quite a few births since I was here in 2006.

One of the things you’ll miss if you go up late is being introduced to the smallest of the cubs. Leah got to cuddle one of these little beasts while I took photos. The largertigers were introduced and the tourists taken down in small groups to the Tiger Canyon area. The opportunity was given to “walk with the tigers” and have photos taken with your hand on the tiger’s back as it is led down by one of the monks.

More changes were visible at the Tiger Canyon. Guests are spoken to more frequently, there’s more organisation and more rules. Basically it seems more “touristy”, but this also means more organised. The tiger “teeth” on sale for 30 Baht last time are now 100 Baht and you can buy belts as well. Also, to have a photo with a tiger’s head in your lap is now 1000 Baht. Previously, this was done on spec – you got one if you wated long enough and were lucky. Still, there was a huge queue for these photos – the only ones where you can get more than one person in a picture. The other photos are still free, so don’t worry if you can’t afford to fork out £15. Water is still ice cold and free!

Fancy doing what I did for a morning? Mucking out, feeding the cubs and having breakfast with the monks? 4000 Thai Baht to you, guv’nor.

So, yes, it’s more regimented. It’s more of a “tourist attraction” than it was. But costs rise and there is definitely money being spent on the place. I can only assume that someone upstairs has started to look seriously at the money situation and these decisions have been based on getting the work done that has been the aim of the project since the start.

Oh, and no – they’re not drugged. As ever, I heard this… crap being whispered by various tourists. Here’s hoping this makes it onto Google: The tigers at the Tiger Temple in Kanchanaburi, Thailand, are not – and I repeat in big letters with italics NOT drugged, doped up, tripping or otherwise maltreated in any way. The only drugs they get are for medicinal purposes (vitamin supplements, antibiotics) aas and when required.

Yes, they look dozy when you visit. They’re used to people. They’ve just been fed. It’s the hottest time of the day when tigers, by their very nature, will sleep. Watch one of them being walked down to the canyon when it’s not in a good mood. Or how fast the staff move when one of them rolls over and could – just could – be about to “play” with a tourist.

They. Are. Not. Drugged.

Soapbox now goes away.

Our driver dropped us off at the bus station in good time to jump on one of the aircon buses for Bangkok. We had one transfer partway along the route where I panicked when I didn’t see my luggage being shifted between buses – all was fine, though, and we got to Bangkok South bus terminal in good time. There’s a new shopping mall at the terminal that we walked through (and had doughnuts in). The information staff were very helpful indeed, giving us various options for getting into the city.

We chickened out and opted for the taxi. Bus is cheap but would have taken ages.

In the evening we popped back to the cinema (so cheap!) and watched the surprisingly good Hancock. Will Smith does it again. I had my fears with the stories of reshoots weeks before it was released, but this is a great bit of cinema. No classic, but good fun.

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Third time tigers

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Within half an hour or so and less than 400 Baht lighter we arrived at the Indra Regent. We’d picked somewhere nice for the first couple of nights because it’s Leah’s holiday. And I liked the excuse to have somewhere posh for once. The room was nice, the staff polite, everything sparkly but (as expected) with no free internet. What is it with posh hotels that they can’t give you something like that for free, whereas the cheapest hostels seem to?

It was early evening by the time we settled in and unpacked. Outside the hotel we hopped in a tuk-tuk to a place around the corner (it was chucking it down, so walking wasn’t an option). It wasn’t cheap, but the setting was nice and the food was pretty good. After a beer and some chow, we dodged the drizzle and got a BTS to the Paragon centre where we picked up tickets for Wanted. Not a bad little film. If you switch your brain off and just watch the pretty colours.

We had a fairly early night as I had quite an important appointment the next morning.

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Arrival in Bangkok. Again!

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The late landing meant that Talia was left hanging around at Temple Meads station for a little longer than planned. Of course, due to those ludicrous rules on mobile phone use I couldn’t contact her until I did land. Bristol airport‘s website stated that there was a train to the city centre. This is a lie. I actually emailed the airport and asked about it as I couldn’t find any information on the fare. They told me to check with Great First Western who manage the route. Only they don’t as it doesn’t exist. A quick glimpse at Google Maps shows that it would be a hard route to maintain what with the complete lack of train tracks anywhere near the airport and all.

Instead there is an overpriced bus service. According to the web site, the airport is 7 miles from Temple Meads. To me, that’s 10-15 minutes and a couple of quid. The buses have “£5″ written on the side. The timetables claim £6 and the actual cost, I believe, is £7.

So I walked out the main entrance onto the A38, stuck my thumb out and inside of 5 minutes had a lift from a nice gentleman heading home after returning from Aberdeen. Conversation was polite and he asked if I’d been working a season in France, and which company for. It turns out his son started at one of our hotels in December, but quit after two months as he didn’t get on with the manager. Small world.

I beat the “express” airport bus into Temple Meads (saving £7 into the bargain), and met up with Talia who had waited patiently. We walked to The Crown, the local metal pub, where I enjoyed a rather welcome bottle of Brown Ale and a proper pub-grub gammon steak with chips. Well cheap and very tasty, though I did have to explain to the barmaid what a bottle of “Dog” was. I so need to get that tattoo done.

We partook of a few more beers before heading down the road to Bristol Bierkeller, or “The Keller”. This is a place I’ve heard of as it’s normally on the tour list of mid-size metal bands who play the UK. Three quid in before 10pm and “free” shots with every pint. OK, so they charge more than the pubs for a beer, but they make up for it with the shots. The music was pretty good and I think I wrenched my neck from head banging without warming up. I am so unfit. Talia settled for getting mindbogglingly drunk and wenching at all and sundry. She’s good at it.

I think we finally crashed around 4:30am. A good night, but a big mistake as we had to be up before 8am to get to Newport and the passport office. Somehow we surfaced, though not in the finest of fettle. The transport was typically expensive, over £2 into the town from Talia’s, then £4 each (booked online in advance) into Newport. Aside from the passport office, there’s nothing in Newport. At all. As far as we could find, and we had over four hours to not find it.

Sure, it was a giggle watching the 12 year olds pretend to be tough, and trying to not stare at a fully grown man wearing a blue shell suit (I thought even Scousers had banned them now) but overall it was a pretty dire experience. I usually take photos of places for the blog, but there was nothing at all worth taking a photo of. At all. Nothing.

Thankfully, Anni joined us for a couple of hours to help maintain the sanity as we slowly slipped into the world of the non-hungover. She regaled us with tales of the kitties and we had a (soft) drink in a pub up the road from KFC. Oh, yeah. I may have had KFC for breakfast. Ahem.

Sadly, I couldn’t get in touch with Joe. For some reason we couldn’t get through to her mobile even though I definitely had the right number. I checked with her when I next caught her online and we can’t figure out what caused the problem as her phone had been working all weekend. Neither of my texts got through, and calling her on Talia’s phone gave us a “Number not in use” error. Weird. I tried emailing her from the free email terminal in the library, but to no avail.

Finally, after one interim trip to provide replacement photographs, my new passport was ready. £123 well spent, I hope. And I have my old one stuffed with visas and stamps as a souvenir to be proud of.

The trip back cost us twice the price of the trip there (obviously…?) and we headed right back to Talia’s where a comfy couch and snoozage awaited. In the evening, we opted to go an see Iron Man. A decision we’re both glad to made as the film pretty much rocked. A little formulaic, but well made and with a nice line in dry humour. Excess popcorn and Pepsi killed my appetite for sausage and chips on the walk home and I was curled up in my sleeping bag by 11:00. I watched one more episode of Dexter before nodding off, though.

Sunday was a complete chill-out. The household was up and about pretty early on with various family members dotting about doing various things. To pay my rent, I crushed the contents of the bins. Talia’s mum picked me because I had my whacking big 1000-mile boots with me. Such things as bin-crushage are requires as they live in one of the areas where the council will only collect every 2 weeks. Not very helpful when you have six permanent residents in the house, one of whom is pregnant and due in the next couple of months. I can see that bin overflowing all too soon…

By mid-afternoon I’d managed to get hold of Lisa, Indy’s wife. They were in Wales having a break from life down under, and it would have been mad not to go and see them. I thanked my hosts for the comfy couch and made my way out towards the M4. On foot.

You can walk a long way in a residential area without anyone stopping to give you a lift. I walked from Talia’s place, all the way to the edge of the city centre, under the Clifton Suspension Bridge and another mile or two up the road before finding a layby and deciding to stay stationary. Give or take 6 miles with not more than the occasional *beep* and a wave. I waited another 45 minutes before a nice girl (with a hangover, I think!) called Imogen drove me up to the M49 turnoff. She picked me up as one of her friends had hitched for years until he had a child and suddenly realised that he had responsibilities. These included being somewhere when he said he would be. Sadly, she was heading north up the M6 so I had to wait for another lift.

And wait.

And wait.

Until after another 45 minutes or so, a red van pulled up. I can’t recall the driver’s name, but his little Jack Russell was called Max and he was adorable. My driver built eco-friendly housing for a living, and got Max from his mother, a social worker. One of the old ladies she looked after passed away and Max went from home to home until the shelter basically put him in “last chance saloon”. I hope he enjoys the next few years with the Red Van Man. Nice chap!

I got dropped off at the M4/A449 junction and began walking into Newport (again), giving Indy a call to let him know where to find me. At last, I had a lift and we stopped at Porky’s in Pontypool on the way to his in-laws for a pizza. Definitely a good pizza place. It doesn’t have a web page (I checked) , but just chuck “Porky’s Pizza Pontypool” into Google. You’ll find it.

And finally to Lisa’s parents’ place. Sadly, it was gone 21:00 so both little girls were in bed, but I had a chin-wag with the grown-ups before a fairly early bed. And sleep after the mandatory episode of Dexter.

In the morning I got to see Megan again for the first time in over a year. And her new baby sister, Carys. Carys is about the same size Megan was last time I saw her. Both are just lovely, and spoiled rotten. By all accounts, Megan’s a great kid. Indy could only tell me of one occasion when she’d thrown a strop. Good parenting and lots of luck! Cerys is just lovely and I did the usual thing of getting all broody again.

Time passed too swiftly, but the long trek over there was more than worth it to see them all. Indy very kindly drove me to Bristol Airport for my return flight. Checking in here was far more intimidating and annoying than at Geneva. Longer queues, more oppressive staff, scarier warning signs. I swear we’re looking more and more like the 51st State (and more and more paranoid) every time I go home.

Not too impressed with the airport, either. You don’t even know what gate you need to be at until it actually opens, which is a little unhelpful. Internet is a pound for ten minutes, which is just insane given than it’s free in so many other countries. The loos are tiny, the waiting area far too small, and the shop queues spill out into the queues for the gates. Whoever designed it didn’t seem to realise that planes seat more people than minibuses.

Regardless, the flight was on time and I was into Geneva and outside into the parking area in less than ten minutes from the doors of the plane opening. The benefits of travelling with hand luggage only.

And so, back to work for my last few days. I’ve got enough food to last me till Friday (more than enough, actually – I’ll have to give some away), just enough work to do to keep me busy and plans to make for when I’m back in the UK next week. Know me, and want to remind me to visit? Use the Contact Me page or the comments!

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Quick trip home

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The main tourist sight in Bucharest is the Palace of Parliament, an enormous building built at huge human cost by Ceausecsu. Homes were flattened to create the huge open space required for its foundations and the planned promanade in front of it. It’s still around 10% unfinished, but amongst the largest buildings in the world. There’s no denying it’s impressive, but in the heat I wasn’t about to circle it to find out excactly how big it was. I’d also been told that the tour was a little dull (for every room, the guide just tells you the dimensions, material the carpet is made from and what the room is used for) so skipped that and just took some exterior photos.

I walked around for an hour or so until I found a shop selling postcards, then sorted some stamps from a Post Office (there’s a novelty – every other country in Europe seems to sell them from gift shops or tobacconists). Off they went into the wild postal yonder and I headed for a (very) nearby cinema to finally catch Transformers in the big(ish) screen. Pretty enjoyable in a “my brain has turned to cheese” kind of way. Bizarrely, despite the film being brand new, the print used seemed to be scratched to hell and even jumped a couple of times. I suppose it’s just that whole “Bucharest” experience.

Like Cluj, the cinemas in Bucharest all seem to have one screen but each show a different film. I noted that another was showing The Shooter and walked round to that one after scarfing down a McD’s. OK, so it’s hardly touristy but it was so cheap and I did miss it in Oz (the film, not the McD’s). Great film, by the way. Probably full of factual holes that would make any any military person weep into his dress uniform, but I don’t care.

I located a pizza place with the help of the kind staff at the hostel and ate as much of that as I could before collecting my things and catching the last bus up to the airport. My flight checkin was at 5:00 and the only other option was to pay for a room for about 4 hours, and a taxi. Cheapskate that I am, I’ve developed an ability to sleep on concrete and tile floors.

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Bucharest inside and out

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The cinema was mobbed, including two groups of students dressed as pirates saying “arr” a lot. Good grief.

The film was OK, but a bit too complicated in the middle with all the double-crossing and so on. That’s not a spoiler – if you’ve seen the first two it’s more of the same. Just more of it. If you’ve not caught it yet, the I recommend watching the second one immediately before so you remember what’s going on.

I’ve also uploaded a ton of pics (up to date) to FotoPic so go peruse!

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Pirates. Yar. And pics.

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