The temples are famous for their erotic carvings, found among numerous other carvings on all the temples. With or without this Kama Sutra in stone, the carvings on these temples are fantastic. The detail, and the softness of especially the female figures is stunning. Their breasts are enormous, looking like silicone breasts, but their hips, shoulders and stomachs are rounded, giving the figures a look of softness that makes them look like they are not made of stone at all. We spent most of a day exploring these temples, studying the variety of figures. Parades of soldiers, elephants and camels, mythical beasts, gods and goddesses.

And women busy with a variety of things, some putting on makeup, some playing with children or animals, some washing, their wet saris clinging to their bodies, others simply posing in suggestive poses, looking over their shoulders, their spines curved and their hips thrust to one side. All of them beautiful.

And of course, there is the erotica - couples, threesomes and foursomes in all imaginable and some unimaginable poses and positions. In places, large orgies are portrayed, one even involving a man and a horse (in the background, a woman looks shocked, peeking out from behind her hands).

All in all, the temples were a fantastic experience, and the stonework here is uniquely detailed and skilled. The town itself though, has little appeal, and so once we had enjoyed the temples, we headed on for other things.

Once we left Khajuraho, we went to Jhansi, only a few hours away. This is the town where Alan’s dad grew up, as the family moved here from Goa, so we thought we would visit and have a look. The town is centred around an ancient fort, which we visited, and also has several churches. Jhansi’s main importance today, however, is as a railhead. Several of the main railway lines of India converge here. We spent the night here, and then caught a train onwards to Jalgaon.

Jalgaon is the nearest town to the famous Ajanta caves, which is what we came here to see. We spent the night, and the next morning headed out to these ancient Buddhist monuments. The caves date from around 200 BC to AD 650, and are all carved out of a steep cliff side along a horseshoe-shaped gorge overlooking a bend in the Waghore river. They were built by Buddhist monks, and later abandoned as Buddhism in India waned. They lay forgotten until 1819, when a British hunting party stumbled upon them in a long forgotten river gorge.

There are 30 caves altogether. Some are small, simple monasteries, with cells for the monks to sleep in and a plain central hall, while others are large temples, with carved pillars and sculptures, all carved out of the same rock as the temples themselves.

In many of the temples, original paintings have survived the ages, and show how colourfully the temples were decorated when they were in use.
We walked around the gorge, entering each cave, and marvelling and the work that would have been involved in creating these temples - the amount of rock that would have been removed and transported away, and with the tools available at the time that they were constructed - its truly mind-boggling! A group of Vietnamese Buddhist monks and nuns were touring the caves as well, and their presence added to a sense of spirituality and worship. We watched kneel and pray at the many, huge Buddha statues carved inside the caves - in a way bringing the temples back to life if only for a moment.

After the caves at Ajanta, we thought we should also see the nearby caves at Ellora, another World Heritage site. We moved from Jalgaon to the town of Aurangabad, which is nearer to Ellora. The caves here are later than the ones at Ajanta - as Buddhism waned and Hinduism had a renaissance as the main religion of India, Ajanta was forgotten and Ellora came into being, although not all the caves here are Hindu - out of 34 caves, 12 are Buddhist, 17 Hindu and five Jain. The caves here have fewer preserved paintings, but the carvings are more elaborate, especially in the Hindu caves. Also, unlike the steep gorge at Ajanta, the caves here are hewn from a gentle slope. This means that many of the caves have elaborate courtyards in front of their entrances. The interiors are damp and dark, and full of bats, adding to a mysterious atmosphere. The Buddhist caves are serene and calm, like in Ajanta, with large Buddha sculptures, while the Hindu and Jain are far more dramatic and busy. Either style has its own charm, and all the caves are amazing.

The main event at Ellora is the Hindu Kailasa temple, located approximately in the centre of the slope. This temple is more a rock-cut sculpture on a huge scale, than a simple cave. It was constructed by cutting three huge trenches into the slope, and then cutting out the outside of the temple from the top to the bottom, and then hollowing out the inside to create the inner chambers and prayer rooms. It is must have been a massive undertaking - if Ajanta was mind-boggling, then this defies description. This temple is said to be the largest monolithic sculpture in the world, and its construction would have meant removing 200,000 tonnes of rock! It was cut from the rock by 7000 labourers over 150 years. It is not only the scale of this temple that amazes, but also its detailed decoration. Every surface is carved with decorative figures and patterns, and there are sculptures everywhere. Alongside the temple there is a path, and we climbed up to the top of the slope and looked down on the temple, getting an overview of its proportion. A truly amazing sight!

Ancient sites of central India remains copyright of the author monkyhands, a member of the travel community Travellerspoint.

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In the evening, we went to the India-Pakistan border at Attari, 30 km west of Amritsar. This border post is the only operating border crossing between the two countries, but we did not come here to cross into Pakistan - simply to witness the enigmatic and bizarre afternoon border-closing ceremony. Just before sunset, the Indian and Pakistani border guards perform a theatrical ceremony, involving a lot of posturing and running about. On either side, there are viewing platforms as if in a sports stadium, for spectators to view the ceremony probably. In preparation for the ceremony, some of the Indian spectators would pretend to charge the border, carrying Indian flags. A guy then turned up with a microphone, stirring the crowd into a frenzy by leading them in cries of ‘Hindustan Zindabad’ (Hindustan forever). From the other side came similar yelling about Pakistan. The soldiers then march up and down in front of the crowd, looking fiersome. The stomp their feet, twirl their moustaches and scowl left and right. Then they march up to the border gate, kicking their legs as high in the air as they can, nearly kicking themselves in the head. When the gates open, the commanding officers salute and shake hands, and the flags are lowered by soldiers on either side, standing shoulder to shoulder, so close they nearly touch. The flags are folded and carried to the guardrooms, and the border is officially closed.

The whole thing is a bizarre display of fevered nationalism, with the crowd yelling and all the stomping and clenched fists. Yet at the same time, there are some several diplomatic elements, like the handshaking, and the fact the flags are lowered at exactly the same rate, so that one is never lower than the other. And the activities on either side are practically identical, each side in fact careful not to out stage the other - at least that’s how it seemed to me. Once the border was closed, we returned to Amritsar and booked a train ticket out of there.

We took a 24 hour or so train to Varanasi. This is another city which we missed out on last time we were in India, so we thought we would catch it now. Varanasi is one of the holiest places in India, where Hindu pilgrims come to wash away their sins in the waters of the Ganges which snakes through the city, or to cremate their loved ones on its shores. Varanasi is considered a most auspicious place to die, since expiring here offers ‘moksha’ - liberation from the cycle of reincarnation. All sorts of rituals of life and death take place in plain view of the ghats, or bathing steps, of the city. To me, the city was fascinating and revolting at the same time, an extreme and concentrated version of the paradox that defines all of India in my mind. The old city made up of tiny alleys, too narrow for traffic, which snake and turn into a disorienting maze. We got lost several times, but always eventually found our way back out. The alleys are full of colourful stalls, appealing little restaurants, and amazing hand silk weaving cooperatives. At the same time, they are covered in shit and piss, and packed with mangy dogs and naked street children, crippled beggars and drunken men sleeping on top of all the filth. The heat increases the smells to a nauseating level, and sometimes you feel like screaming and running away. As fascinating and intriguing the city is, it is matched by is disgusting and revolting sides.

We stayed for three days, and walked to the various ghats, including the fascinating burning ghats, where bodies are continually cremated, and so on. But in the end, we’d had enough and escaped from here on another train, this time to Khajuraho.

Holy Cities, Dirty Cities remains copyright of the author monkyhands, a member of the travel community Travellerspoint.

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Following a horrible bus ride of around 10 hours, we reached Manali. Once a quiet unassuming village in the Himalayas, Manali has become a popular traveller hangout, and is the starting point for the popular road into Leh in the region of Ladakh (part of the state of Jammu and Kashmir). Manali sits at 2050 meters, and like Shimla it was nice and cool here, although the sunny clays did get nice and warm. Manali sits in the beautiful Kullu valley, surrounded by green, pine forested slopes. We did some nice walks in the area and enjoyed the natural beauty.

On one of the walks we came across a wedding party, taking place in the middle of a small village. It was very interesting to witness this colourful display.

We also visited the vibrant markets and did some people watching here, and just walked around town.

Manali is divided down the middle by a river, and we found a hotel room overlooking the river and the green banks. The river banks, as well as roadsides and any open piece of land here, are covered in cannabis plants - the plant truly lives up to its name ‘weed’ here! Huge bushes of it are found everywhere, and Manali is rightly famous for its charas as they call it here, although picking it and smoking it are still illegal, and harshly punished. Quite ironic, and a clear example of what a bigheaded illusion it is for any state to think it can outlaw a plant.

As the situation in the Kashmir was only getting worse and worse, we decided to head to the isolated Spiti valley instead, to see if things would clear up a bit, and to have a look at Spiti’s unique mountain landscapes and Tibetan-related culture. We took a public bus there, and despite getting stuck behind a mudslide waiting for a bulldozer for seven hours, we got there in one piece. The drive to and from Kaza town in the Spiti valley was one of the most beautiful journeys we have done anywhere in the world. The first part of the trip, from Manali through the Kullu valley and up the Rohtang La pass (3978 m) and on to the tiny hamlet of Gramphu, the road winds up and along mountain sides, among green meadows and pineforest, allowing brief glimpses of snow capped peaks. The slopes here were covered in an amazing array of wild flowers, adding to the beauty. Delicate yet hardy little flowers in clean whites, bright yellows, vivid purples, shy reds and pale pinks are sprinkled across the mountain sides here. Once you cross the Kunzum La pass (4551 m), marked by a white stupa covered in prayer flags, and enter the Spiti valley itself, the landscape changes.

From here, the road follows the river closely, often balancing precariously high above the river. The landscape here was almost devoid of life, only a few goat herders seem to eek out a living here. It resembles in some way a moonscape - empty and lifeless. The river runs through an empty gorge strewn with large and small rocks, ringed by barren, bare mountain peaks and dust coloured scree or sand slopes - maybe the most desolate landscape I have ever seen, and yet highly dramatic and somehow beautiful in its own way, especially when it opened up and showed amazing views of snowcapped Himalayan peeks.

In this dramatic setting lies the town of Kaza, sitting and a breathless 3640 m. Being above 3000 meters really does not agree with me, and I was quite sick while we were here. I had headaches and nausea, and felt completely lethargic all the time. Quite horrible.

Nonetheless, we stayed in Kaza for a week, and did see some very nice areas, visiting by jeep the nearby villages and monasteries of Komic, Langsa, Kee and Kibber. These glimpses into the life in the valley were fascinating - tiny villages and Buddhist ghompas inhabited by monks and nuns, are scattered around this desolate landscape, like a tiny piece of Tibet in India.

Eventually I could not handle the altitude anymore though, and since it had not cleared up after a week I gave up. We were planning to head up to Leh, but I voted that we headed back down to Manali instead, and we decided to go on from there straight to McLeod Ganj, and steer clear of any more high altitude stuff.

After a horrible night bus ride of 11 hours (or first and only night bus in India!), we reached McLeod Ganj. This rainy little town just north of Dharamsala in Himachal Pradesh, happens to be home to the Dalai Lama and his Tibetan government in exile, which gives the town a very Tibetan feel rather than Indian. The town in popular with travellers, many of whom volunteer for shorter or longer periods of time with the Tibetan community here. We only stayed a few days however, as the rain was just too much. We did do a great Tibetan cooking class, over the course of three days, learning how to make, in turn, Tibetan soup, momo’s (steamed, stuffed Tibetan dumpling) and some fascinating steamed Tibetan bread called Tingmo. Learned a few great tricks there, that we should be able to use when we get back.

McLeod Ganj is s tiny place, and with the constant rain there was not much to do. We walked around a bit, shopping for a few Tibetan souvenirs, and enjoyed the beautifully green valley whenever the sun made an appearance. After a few days, we decided that it was time to head south, braving the monsoon heat of the plains again, as there were still things we wanted to see around India.

The Indian North West remains copyright of the author monkyhands, a member of the travel community Travellerspoint.

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We were in Bangalore for one night, before leaving for Goa on another flight. We only came through here due to the connection to Singapore on budget airline Tiger. Bangalore, now officially Bengaluru, is known as the IT capital of India. With such a booming industry here, and so much money going around, we were expecting something rather modern. The airport lived up to this, as it is brand new, and looked much sleeker and more modern than any other we have seen in India. Once our of the airport however, the traffic was the main thing we noticed - we got caught in a traffic jam and took several hours to drive the 40 km from the airport into town - and this was around midnight to 2 am! Apart from this traffic issue, which is typicall Indian, there were signs, however, that Bengaluru is different - we saw huge luxury shops side by side here, that I don’t think you find elsewhere in India - Jaguar dealership, a Louis Vuitton flagship store and even a Tiffany’s. Crazy. We only stayed the night, and returned to the airport next morning to head back to Goa.

In Goa, we stayed a few days with Philo in Maina. It was hot, humid and raining, so the place was green and beautiful, and Goa seemed empty of tourists. We had shipped our guidebook from Chennai back to here when we left India, so happily we could now use the same book to plan our new trip here. We decided to head up north, far north, in order to escape the monsoon, and so booked a train to Delhi to get us started. The express train does not run during the monsoon unfortunately, so the journey took around 40 hours.

In Delhi, it was even more hot than in Goa - unbearably so. We shopped in the glitzy stores in New Delhi, who all had a monsoon sale on. The next day, we walked around the crooked streets of Old Delhi, taking it all in, but it was so hot and sweaty we could hardly stand to move around. The mixture of people here was fascinating though, and so many language were spoken. On our brief encounter with it, Delhi seemed to be a multidimensional and interesting city.

We heard news while we were here, that there had been a large number of bombs set off in two Indian cities - 15 in Ahmedabad in Gujarat, and seven or so in Bangalore, where we had come from only recently. Scary and confusing, as there seemed to be no clear reason behind this. Due to this, the police presence in Delhi was very high. We therefore stayed only a few days, having a quick look around India’s capital, before fleeing the heat and the oppressed mood.

We came to Chandigarh, the capital of Punjab and Haryana, to escape the heat of Delhi, but that turned out to be impossible as the air here seemed even more hot and still. Only when the rain broke did it cool off a little bit. Chandigarh is an Indian anomaly - an entirely ‘modern’ city, with a clear ordered city plan and organised housing and shops etc. It was built as the new capital of the mainly Sikh state of Punjab, after the partition. Designed by Swiss architect Le Corbusier, it was envisaged as a modern utopia, and a democratic and open city of the people. It is full of open plazas, straight tree-lined streets and public gardens - all very different to other Indian cities. It is still Indian though, and there are traffic jams and cows walking the streets etc. We went to see the massive concrete High Court building, also designed by Le Corbusier. It was an interesting building, but it was in a state of disrepair, which took away from its modern clean lines.

Also in Chandigarh, we visited a so-called Fantasy Rock Garden. Essentially a huge area of sculptures, pillars, doorways and mosaics, it was constructed by a man named Nek Chand. He began working on this during the construction of Chandigarh city. Working as a road inspector for the city, he collected large amounts of the waste generated by the constructions, and used it to build his sculptures and other fancies. He eventually created tens of thousands of sculptures and other forms. His work was undiscovered for 15 years, until a government survey crew stumbled upon it in 1973. He had built it all on government land, and so they could have torn it all down. Instead, the local council saw his work as an asset, and gave him labourers as well as a wage, to continue his work. Today, he is in his eighties, but still working on the garden, and it receives and average of 5000 visitors per day. We spent a few hours walking around this rambling garden, creeping through the little doorways, stumbling upon hidden waterfalls and surprise open spaces, all of which are inhabited by figures made of china shards or broken bangles, and decorated with mosaics of other shards or electrical sockets. All in all a very strange place.

Back to India remains copyright of the author monkyhands, a member of the travel community Travellerspoint.

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We visited villages that produce different handicrafts - silver, woodcarving, stone carving, even wind chimes. We also saw a plethora of Hindu temples. Even though no specific temple stood out as fantastic in itself - there is nothing as grandiose as Borobodur here - seeing each added a part to the puzzle that is Balinese Hinduism. Certainly a very different religion to the Indian Hinduism, with spirits everywhere - in fact, there seems to be more temples on this island that there are houses (not kidding). We saw caves inhabited by bats, huge shrines carved into the mountain side, a forest inhabited by monkeys, and freshwater springs bubbling up from the volcanic underground - each of which had been turned into a temple and a place of worship. The colourful nature of the worship here also added to the beauty - you have to wear a temple sarong and sash to enter - and the locals seem to really dress up for the occasion, with beautiful fabrics and hats. They also bring offerings to the temple, in the form of incense, fruit, rice and cakes, carried in woven baskets - or on special occasions stacked up in elaborate towers, which the women carry on their heads. These towers are even often topped with a whole fried chicken - fantastic.

This colourful interpretation of Hinduism (which is already colourful in itself) added another nuance to my feeling of Indonesia. I came to Indonesia expecting a Muslim country - I mean, isn’t it often given the title of being the most populous Muslim country in the world? (I may be mistaken, but I believe I have heard that said). And indeed, there were many Muslims in Java where we started out, and we have certainly been woken at 4.30 am by the call to prayer more that once so far - but it does not seem particularly strict - I have not seen many headscarves at all, and not a single woman in burka so far. Perhaps the western part is more strict, I don’t know. What is becoming clear (and I guess it should have been obvious) is that Indonesia is so much more that its title implies. We have now travelled through (predominantly) Protestant Timor, Catholic Flores, Muslim Lombok and Hindu Bali - and each has its very own flavour and feel - there are certain common denominators, but also many, many differences - and I am really enjoying experiencing these differences.

Staying in Ubud, and doing our little daytrips, we really came to enjoy Bali. I will admit, we were highly sceptical. We expected some horrific tourist trap, full of partying Australians on two week holidays and airhead surfers (no offense J). But again, we had to correct our misconceptions. Bali is amazing, with lots of personality and culture that has not been destroyed by the high level of tourism. It combines the conveniences of a high degree of tourism (infrastructure, lots of hotels and restaurants, western toilets etc) with lots of charm and character.

The food in Bali was also great and interesting. We gorged ourselves on crispy duck and on the lunch special babi guling (whole roast suckling pig stuffed with spices). Babi guling in particular was fantastic!

And then, being in convenient Ubud full of choice, we detoxed from all the pork by having veggie days, drinking health juices and smoothies (even wheat grass juice is available), eating veggie soups, salads and sandwiches, and enjoying the beautiful green surroundings of Ubud.

We went on an overnight driving trip on the rented motorbike, leaving our stuff on the room in Ubud and bringing along only a small pack. We drove from Ubud up to the central mountains of Bali, to the area around … It was an exceptionally beautiful region, with lakes and forests covering the mountainsides, and with lots of coffee plantations. We stopped in a coffee house, expecting to be able to sample the different beans, but were disappointed to discover they served only two types of coffee: Bali coffee or Nescafe. What the Hell? The good stuff must get exported I guess - or drunk by tourists down in Kuta - clearly not here. We spent the night in Lovina, on the north coast of Bali, and then drove down the whole east coast the next day, through the Tulamben area, and then back into the hills at Ubud. This eastern coast was very different to the rest of Bali - it is dominated by the huge volcano Gunung Agung, which last had a large eruption in 1963. Because all the rain is squeezed out of the clouds as they pass this volcano, this narrow strip of land between the volcano and the ocean get very little precipitation. It is therefore dry and rugged - with sharp black rocks jutting out into the crashing waves. We stopped at a hotel and diveshop called Liberty, in Tulamben, and found out that most of the diving there is done from the shore. As a result we could simply rent cylinders - which they do for $10 dollars for the first of the day and $5 for any subsequent ones. We thus decided to move up here to do some diving, and booked a room for the following day.

On the 7th of July, we moved to Tulamben and started diving straight away. The entry from the shore was made difficult by the fact that the beach here is made of (slippery!) black pebbles, and the waves can sometimes come crashing in with some force. The first dive went OK, I only slipped and bruised myself slightly. On the second try however, I fell over and could not get up, and I was thrown around on the pebbles and rocks by the waves for five minutes like an idiot. When Alan tried to save me, he even fell over. Not a great success, and like a fool I managed to loose one of my fins to the waves. Shit - and I only just bought those after the mishap in Tubbataha. After that, I realised that entering the water with the fins on was a terrible idea - and once we tried walking in and putting the fins on afterwards, it became a bit easier.
The wreck here, Liberty Wreck, is the most famous dive site in Bali. And it shows. We could manage to dive it in the early morning, before 8 am, but after that hordes of divers would descend from other parts of Bali, and it became too crowded for our taste. It is not much of a wreck anyway, although there is a decent amount of fish life around. We were here for the macro stuff though, as we had picked up the missing part for Alan’s housing, and he was eager to give his little-used macro lens some exercise. The best site for that, we discovered, was a place called Scuba Seraya. Located straight in front on the resort of the same name, it was basically black sand and rocks, with patchy coral, and even a small artificial reef set out by the resort. At first glance, it all looked pretty boring - there did not seem to be much there. But when we looked closer, over several dives, we found lots of great little critters there, and Alan took some great shots.

Alan wants to add some comments of his own to the Tulamben story:

Tilde managed to spot the smallest critters, she even earned a new name: “eagle-eye Nielsson” as most of the critters were smaller than 1cm - the lens and I were put to the test!

After seven days of diving we decided to call it a day. I got what I wanted; a shot of a pygmy sea horse This one was male and his name was George. George was thinking of having a sex change operation in the next few months, but he has very happy when I explained to him that if he waits a few years, he will naturally change sex. With this, Georgina, aka George, thanked us and asked us round to his place for dinner and drinks. He was very happy with the fact that we saved him some money on the sex change operation, and I was still in shock to learn that an unscrupulous sex change sea horse doctor works in the Tulamben community ……PYGMY SEA HORSES BE WARNED!

OK, back to the blog. After Tulamben, we returned to Ubud to witness a royal cremation set to take place on July the 15th. Supposedly, it is some sort of record breaking number of people being cremated at once. The people from Ubud, as well as surrounding villages, spent weeks building and decorating the figures and towers which would take part in the procession on the day of the cremation - mostly out of bamboo, paper and paper Mache. Apparently, they only cremate people in Ubud every 3-5 years, and because a member of the royal family, who pasted away in March this year, was due to be cremated, lots of other families took this opportunity to also have their deceased family members cremated - some of which had died 3 or 4 years ago, and were exhumed for the ceremony.

On the day, the city was packed with people, both locals and tourists, all lining the route of the procession. The floats and towers were all transferred onto huge bamboo frames, and then carried by a vary large number of “pall bearers” - by hand - to the cremation site. There were some enormous bulls towering over the men carrying them, and the main tower, which carried the body of the royal guy from the palace to the cremation site, was maybe over 25 meters tall - it was taller than all the buildings in Ubud. It must have weighed at least a tonne. The men would lift it, and then carry it along running in short bursts of speed, before they had to put it back down. Along the route, there were groups of other pall bearers lined up to take over, like a huge relay race. All in all, an amazing feat of organization. At the same time, everything was delicately decorated with coloured paper and fabric, as well as gold leaf. Everyone, including us, were dressed up in temple sarongs and sashes, and the women had their hair up in elaborate hair styles. Eventually, the tower with the royal uncle’s remains made it to the cremation site, here he was transferred via a huge bamboo ramp, to the inside of one of the massive black bulls. Then a ceremony was performed, burning incence and spraying holy water. All the offerings - coins, fabrics, foods, flowers etc, were loaded into and around the bull. All the relatives climbed the ramp to pay their respects. When this was done, the bulls were set on fire. Due to the materials they were constructed with - bamboo, paper, papier mache, string and polystyrene, the fire was huge and swift. The flames lit up the surroundings, as the sun had set in the meantime, and everything turned golden as if lit from within. Altogether a very interesting experience, and we were told by a local we were very lucky to have been here, for what he termed “the best cremation ever”.

After this lovely time in Bali and in Indonesia, we will be heading back to Singapore tomorrow night (the 17th). After a brief stop there, its back to India - watch this space for news from there soon!

Bali remains copyright of the author monkyhands, a member of the travel community Travellerspoint.

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In Flores, we headed from Ende airport straight to the village of Moni, about two hours away. Here you can see the supposedly amazing crater lakes of Kelimutu. There are three lakes, each a different colour, and they all change colours more or less regularly, probably due to minerals leaking into the lakes from the volcanic soil. Used to be one blue lake, one red and one white, which is what you see in most postcards – now the lakes are brown, black and bright green. We slept one night in Moni, and then got up at 4.30 am to ride up the mountain on the back of motorbikes to see these lakes. On the ride up the curvy mountain roads, it was dark and ominous – the mountains looming like even darker shadows against the dark night sky. We arrived at the end of the road and then walked about 20 minutes in the pale dawn light to the edge of the crater. Unfortunately for us, it was a very cloudy day, and even though we waited several hours, we never caught much more than a fleeting glimpse of the green lake – which was indeed very very luminous. The brown and black lakes remained more or less hidden in clouds.

Quite a disappointment, but that is how it goes sometimes. On the drive back down, we did see some lovely scenery though. We quickly came out of the cloud and the lower parts of the mountains here were amazingly fertile areas, covered in lush green vegetation that we had not been able to see on the way up. We drove through beautiful cloud forests, and crossed several bubbling streams. The mountains sides were covered in a strange combination of pine trees and palm trees, ferns and fruit trees, side by side. The forest was interspersed with agriculture of various kinds, growing cabbage and carrots alongside dates and oranges. What a beautiful area!
Back in Moni, we caught a bus onwards to Bajawa, in the mountains further east in Flores. Here we spent the night, and due to the terrible state of the roads, and the extreme discomfort of the public buses, we then rented a private bemo (minivan) to drive us the further 10 hours or so to get to Labuanbajo. Even with this private transport, the trip was still a nightmare. The road was in terrible condition, with huge potholes everywhere and lots of roadwork’s slowing us down. Many places had seen recent rock slides, creating blockages of the road. The tight hairpin turns made my stomach instantly queasy. Despite us renting the car, the guy was still insistent on playing very loud music the whole way, which they seem to view as a necessity here. Mostly they play bad Indonesian pop music, or, for some reason, country western sung by Indonesians. This guys tape deck was not functioning properly though, so only two tapes worked: one with Indonesian pop, and one with Shania Twain – and he alternated the two at full volume for nearly 10 hours. (We did convince him to turn it off regularly, but he would soon have it back on). By the time we arrived in Labuan, we felt like shell shocked survivors from some disaster or other, and just wanted to sleep.

The next day, we hunted for a dive shop, and looked at the possibilities of a liveaboard. It looked like most of the sites were reachable on day trips from here though, and so we dropped the liveaboard. We booked 10 days of diving with the shop Bajo Dive Club. We did sites such as Crystal and Castle Rock, Batu Bolong, Manta Point, Lonely Tree, Tetawa Kecil and Besar. Out of these sites, Crystal and Castle Rock were probably the best, with the largest concentration of fish life.
The diving was good, although maybe not excellent – but maybe we are becoming too critical. We saw lots of fish life, and some very large trevally and jacks, many white tip reef sharks, some nice large eagle rays, turtles, sea snakes, a juvenile bat fish that we had never seen before. And mixed in, there is even some quite good macro life – nudis, crabs, the first ribbon eel I had ever seen etc. The visibility was great - most dives we had 20-25 m plus. I think we were just a bit disappointed because we never had the luck to find the manta rays which they see at manta point regularly. If we had had the added bonus of the mantas, I think I would have called the diving here fantastic.

On our last day of diving we jumped on a boat trip to Rinca island after the diving. Rinca is supposed to be better than Komodo itself for seeing Komodo dragons. I was quite disappointed with them though – I think I had an idea in my head of some huge dinosaurs, but the largest Komodos grow to about 3.1 meters – and this is only the large males. We never found any males, only saw the large females that hang around the kitchen in the camp there – on the walk we did we saw nothing larger than a wild pig with piglets. Anyway, we had to do it, it would have been strange to leave the Komodo area without seeing them.

After leaving Labuanbajo, we flew to Mataram in Lombok (via Bali, as there are no direct flights). From there, we went to Senggigi – a beach town north of Mataram (capital of Lombok). Senggigi is labelled as the ‘premier beach resort’ in Lombok, and it does have a series of lovely bays with stretches of decent sand beaches. We did not find it particularly charming though, as it was all centred around the busy main road, rather that focused on the beach.

The reason we came to Senggigi, and to Lombok at all, was that Alan wanted to do a dive site at the south side of Lombok, where you can sometimes see hammerheads – and it seems that there are no operators down there, but some shops do it from here. Alan booked a day trip to Blongas Bay, as the place is called, to do this magnet point dive site. I still had a funny ear from Komodo, and so sat it out. Alan went on the trip, and did magnet point in the morning, and then some other site afterwards. Unfortunately, the dive master missed the site at the magnet, and they never did get to see the hammers. Sounded like two OK dives though. After this little interlude in Lombok, we headed off to Bali. We were able to catch a boat from the beach right in front of our hotel, and so a trip that could have been quite a hassle, became quite enjoyable - were sat on the deck catching some sun, and even saw a huge pod of dolphins at one point, surfing the bow wave of the boat.

Stay tuned for updates on our adventures in Bali - coming soon! (I may also add some videos later, from Komodo and Lombok, when I find some faster net, so stay tuned for that as well.)

Timor, Flores and Lombok remains copyright of the author monkyhands, a member of the travel community Travellerspoint.

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In Yogya, as the locals kept calling it, we went to see two amazing temples – one Hindu and one Buddhist. The Hindu temples of Prambanan are the best remaining example of Java’s period of Hinduism. The temples were contructed between the 8th and 10th centuries AD, when Java was ruled by a Buddhist dynasty in the north and a Hindu ruler in the south. Supposedly, these two dynasties were united by the marriage of a Hindu prince and a Buddhist princess – which explains the Buddhist elements in the architecture here. Unfortunately, these temples were damaged badly in an earthquake in 2006. As a result, they were cordoned off with a fence, and several of the main stupas were covered in scaffolding. This did take a lot away from the experience, as you could not really get a feel for the temples – but they were still very impressive.

The Buddhist temple is called Borobodur, and is one of the most famous tourist attractions in Indonesia (although to be honest, I had never heard of it before – but maybe I am just uncultured). The temples were built between AD 750 and AD 850, so around the same time as Prambanan nearby. The site was abandoned not long after its completion, and lay forgotten for centuries, buried under volcanic ash. It was first cleared in 1815, and in the early 20th century, the Dutch began a restoration project. However, the hill on which the temple was constructed had become waterlogged, and the massive stone temple started to slide downwards. Between 1973 and 1983, a US$25 million restoration project, led by UNESCO, was undertaken, to bring the temples back to former glory.

Despite the impressive site, and lots of details to take photos of, a lot of Indonesian visitors seemed more interested in having their picture taken with me than in front of the temple - strange, but funny.

Borobodur is built from two million blocks of stone in the form of a massive symmetrical stupa, wrapped around a small hill. Six square terraces, bordered by relief carvings, are topped by three circular ones, featuring numerous stupas, surrounding the main central stupa. These smaller stupas are latticed, and inside each sits a Buddha statue.

The combination of the impressive scale of the whole site, and the intricate detail of the reliefs, made this place a really worthwhile experience. After paying for a guided tour with a very enthusiastic little guy, we spent a couple of hours just wandering the site on our own, climbing up and down several times, to get a good overview of the place.

All in all, we spent two nights in Yogya, and then headed back to Jakarta. We did not see much of the capital city, as we were anxious to get out of the cities now. So we simply stayed over one night, and then headed further east, on a flight to Timor in eastern Nusa Tenggara.

Finally in Indonesia remains copyright of the author monkyhands, a member of the travel community Travellerspoint.

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In Singapore, we arrived late at night – so in order to ensure we had a place to sleep, we had booked a room through Hostelworld. This did us no good in the end, as we turned up at the hotel only to have to search the whole place to find the owners – they had not left a key or a note out, even though we had specifically pointed out in the booking that we would arrive at 2 am. When we finally found them, they were rude and angry because we woke them up, and it turned out they did not have the room we had booked, only a dorm was available. When we would not take that, they eventually said we should leave, and we ended up on the street at 2.30. Luckily , Singapore is mostly quite safe, and we caught a taxi to another hotel. They charged by the hour, and were full of prostitutes, but at least it was clean and we got some sleep.

The next day we handed in the camera at the camera shop, to be repaired. They seemed to think it would be covered by the warranty, as it should, since we had not done anything to it beyond normal usage. We then booked a bus ticket to Kuala Lumpur for the next morning, as waiting in Singapore would turn out too expensive.

We arrived back in Kuala Lumpur, and foolishly decided to return to the same hotel, Pondok Lodge, where I got completely eaten by bed bugs last time. We naively thought that they might have dealt with the problem, and when we asked them they indeed said that they had sprayed everything and there were no more bed bugs. Lies. That evening, I was in the bed for half an hour, when the bugs started biting again. We could see them crawling down the walls. Disgusting. So once again, we were on the street at 2 am, after they gave us back the money for the room. We moved to a place next door, Summer’s Guesthouse. The rooms are really small and windowless, but it’s very clean.

While in KL, we went to the Indonesian Embassy to sort out our visas for Indo. We were worried it might be problematic, after the fiasco in Manila. Online, we had only found information about Singapore, where it seems to take several working days. Here, it was a holiday, and so we had to wait a day to hand in the passports. When we did get there, they told us we needed an onward ticket, but that is standard for Indonesia. Once we had that, a copy of the passports and Malaysian visas, and two passport photographs, we could pick up the visa the next day, with no hassle. Apparently, they normally do same day service, but on account of the holiday they were a bit backed up. Next day, we happily returned and collected our passports, now with a 60 day Indonesian visa sticker inside. Excellent. We then went to sort out the Indian visas as well, as we have to get one to go through there on our way to Africa later in the year. Here, there is a five working day approval process first, in which they have to verify your identity with the Indian embassy in your own country. They don’t keep the passports for that, so we set that in motion and headed off for some beach time at Tioman island.

We caught at bus and then a boat, and made it to Tioman. Pulau Tioman is a small island located 32 km off the east coast of Peninsular Malaysia in the state of Pahang, and is some 39 km long and 12 km wide. It has eight main villages, the largest and most populous being Kampung Tekek in the north. Yet, the densely forested island is still sparsely inhabited, and mostly covered by jungle. Its the nearest beach escape to KL and Singapore.

We checked into a very simple hut right at the pier on ABC beach – although we later moved a bit down the beach when another hut opened up. It was the school holidays in Malaysia now, so the island was fairly busy. This was not too apparent though, and the place felt relaxed and not at all overrun. We were looking to do some dives, but all the shops wanted $20 US or more per dive, and since there is not much to see we decided to scrap it. So we just relaxed, suntanned a bit on the beach, drank fruit shakes and watched the sun sets.

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This being Malaysia, the island was full of monitor lizards, they were all over. Rummaging through garbage cans, swimming in the small streams, walking down the beach. Some were small, but some were quite large. Always a cool sight.

On a walk into Tekek village, we also saw trees full of bats – large ones, and right out in the sunlight, just hanging there. Also a very cool sight.

In many of the trees, there were also somehuge, scary-lloking spiders hanging out.

Not bad, and we did enjoy it. However, we were both restless from waiting for the camera, and from the fact that we were not supposed to be here at all, but in Indonesia by now. So in the end, we headed back to KL.

Back in KL, we waited for our visa clearance. We just hung out in KL in the meantime, and ate the great food on offer here. Chinese, Indian or Malay (one of the favourite cuisines for both of us), it’s all right there, and then there is so much fresh fruit and juices to choose from for dessert – what more could you ask for?. The real restaurants can easily come up to Western prices, but the street food is unbeatable, and we had mini feasts every day. Alan was especially happy eating the Malay dish beef rendang – and the Chinese duck also went down very well.

KL is great to me, exactly because of its mixture of different cultures – Indian, Malay and Chinese. Unfortunately, not all its inhabitants seem to fully appreciate this fine mixture – at least, we met one who clearly does not. We were in Chinatown, buying some pirate DVD’s to make the waiting time seem shorter. While we were waiting, a little old Chinese man (Malay Chinese I guess – lived in Malaysia all his life), came up to us to chat, and at first I thought he seemed really nice – asking some standard questions about us etc. He then went on to brag about his grandson, who lives in England, and quoted us exactly how much this grandson earns per year. Great, I thought it was a bit over the top, but a lot of old people can be like that. Then he went on to talk about how KL is great, but there can be many snatch thieves. He then looked at me and said that I did not need to worry about them though. Only if you are dressed nicely will they try to steal from you. Not so subtle insult and I was starting to get slightly annoyed, but none of us said anything, and he just kept on talking. He then said, and I quote: “You can never trust a dark skinned man, they are dangerous people.” I was stunned. I mean, who does he think he is talking to??? Alan then said to him – well, my father is a dark skinned man, and he is very trust worthy in fact. The guy was undeterred – he just said: “Oh, your father is Indian, I am sorry”. Then he went on to talk about how all the Indians came to London in 1947, and how since then, East London has been a horrible place. How when he went to school, you could not throw a piece of paper in the street in London without being fined, and now in East London there is human faeces in the middle of the street. This guy was uncanny – so what, was he indicating that Indian people in East London shit in the streets??? At his point, we had to walk away, and found a different place to wait out the rain. What a depressing encounter – although I decided not to let it take away from my experience of KL in general.

Once the clearance was ready, we went back to finalize the Indian visas. That sorted, and with the news that Alan’s camera was finally ready, we were good to leave Kuala Lumpur and finally head for Indonesia.

On the third of June, after a quick breakfast in KL, we headed off on an early morning bus to Singapore. The bus left at 7 am, took us smoothly through immigration into Singapore. By one in the afternoon, we had some lunch in Singapore, and Alan picked up his camera from the store. Then, we caught a taxi to the ferry port, and bought tickets on a three thirty ferry to Pulau Batam in Indonesia. By 5 pm, we were in Batam, and checked into a hotel. At six we were having dinner in Indonesia. And that is how we did three countries in one day (in 10 hours in fact). Not bad, nice to finally be moving again. The next day, we then caught a flight to Jakarta in Java.

Back to Singapore and Malaysia remains copyright of the author monkyhands, a member of the travel community Travellerspoint.

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We did the trip there with a company called Queen Anne divers. The name of the boat is Jinn Sulu. The guy who runs it was a Swiss guy named Urs. He picked us up from the hotel, and took us down to the boat. We loaded all the gear, and met the seven other divers who would be our boat mates for the next seven days, eight nights on board. There were a German couple, two German guys, and three Dutch guys – all great people. We already knew that the boat would be small, as we had seen the pictures on the website – so no surprise there. The living and sleeping conditions were very simple but fine, as this was to be expected. However, I was a bit disappointed with the space set aside for the dive gear and for setting up – there was simply not enough space for the number of divers onboard, and the setting up and taking apart of gear was a cramped and awkward affair. Anyway, we were there for the dive sites, not the boat, so we were ready to make the best of it.

We then set off for what we were told should be a 16 hour sail, which ended up taking more like 21 hours. Conditions were fairly quiet at set off, but became increasingly rough overnight. I was, of course, sea sick the whole way, as I always am. By lunch time on the 9th, we had made it to the site called Black Rock, which given the conditions, Urs judged to be the most protected mooring. Urs did a briefing, but it was basically just him saying: “Right, it’s a wall dive, you can swim either North or South.” That was it – no description of site, what we could expect to find, and no indication of anyone diving with us to guide the dive. I was quite pissed with that – I mean, sure we were all fairly experienced divers, and we don’t need a babysitter – but none of us have ever dived Tubbataha before, and I rather expected a dive guide to be included in the quite steep price we had paid for the trip. Apparently, this was not the case. Again, we tried to put a positive spin on things and stay optimistic, as we really wanted the trip to work out. We did two dives there on the 9th, and were planning to move again on the 10th to another site. However, as conditions had gotten even worse, and the wind was picking up, we had to stay at Black Rock another day, and so did another three dives here. The diving at Tubbataha is wall diving, with steep coral walls plummeting to dark blue depths. The coral at Black Rock was absolutely beautiful – stunning formations of hard and soft coral. There was also lots of fish life, and we saw some large tuna, schools of jacks, trevally and barracuda, as well as napoleon wrasse, trigger fish and many other kinds. We also spotted lots of turtles, and some white tip reef sharks and nurse sharks. Some of the group also saw black tips, and on one dive we spotted a pair of large marble sting rays.

As the dive skiff was rather small, and flat bottomed, we had to dive in two groups – the four Germans in one group, and I, Alan and the three Dutch guys in one group. On the third dive on the 10th, we did a lovely drift diving, which yielded some schools of large fish, and even a napoleon wrasse eating a lobster.

Towards the end we hung out in the current with a small white tip shark. By the time we surfaced, we had drifted to another mooring quite a distance from the boat. We held on to the anchor line of another dive boat moored there, and waited to be picked up. Four of us were at the back, but one Dutch guy was at the front. The waves were not huge, but large enough to bang us around a bit. We all got in the boat, which was rapidly taking in water. When we got round to the front line, it turned out the Dutch guy was caught on the rope with the line from his safety buoy, which had been wrapped thoroughly around his legs by the current. Another Dutch guy and Alan jumped back in, and eventually cut him loose. All back in the boat, with our equipment. But by this time, it was too much for the little skiff, which was taking in wave after wave. It all happened very quickly, and after about two minutes of getting into the boat, it flipped over and we were all thrown out in the water. Luckily I was holding on to my camera at the time, so that was safe. I then had to dive into the water a tiny bit to get at my bcd and cylinder. Alan, with his usual wherewithal, had yelled; “everyone get their gear” just before we went over – but I had reacted too slowly, and my gear was on the other end of the boat. Luckily, it was inflated, and I managed to pull it out from under the boat to use as a flotation device. We treaded water there for a bit, and the nearest dive boat quickly sent their boat out for us. We all got in, but it was the same type of boat, and soon we all had to jump back out. The boat man brought our gear to the dive boat and then two boats picked us up. I, and some of the other guys, lost our fins, because they sink, but other than that, we were all fine, and all the important stuff was saved. By the time they turned the boat over, they even found the weight belts still inside, as they had been tucked in the front.

This was obviously not a great thing, but it could have been a lot worse, and everything turned out alright. However, I was very miffed with Urs, as it sounded like he was trying to blame us for what happened, which I found quite insulting. If anything he should obviously know better than to load that many divers into the boat in these fairly rough conditions – I believe that’s his job, not ours, to know. Anyway, accidents happen, no point in playing a blame game. After this, I got a bad case of swimmer’s ear on top of it all – and I had to sit out the dives for a day and a half. However, I was not too upset about it, as we were still stuck at Black Rock, and the wind was picking up, causing the visibility to be very low. One of the Dutch guys on the boat was getting quite concerned with the weather, as he was seeing signs that it was getting worse. He asked Urs about the weather forecast – something he did not volunteer any information about during the whole trip. In fact, all information had to be dragged out of him. His response this time was that there were no weather forecasts about Tubbataha, and besides, no one knows what the weather will do. What? We were stunned...

On the 13th, we decided to try for a change of site, and we headed to the north part of the north reef section, the only other part of the reef with some shelter – shelter being an exaggeration at Tubbataha, as it simpy means the reef is breaking the waves a bit, there is no wind protection of any kind. We did one dive there, but Urs was once again irresponsible, and just told us there was no current – which turned out to be false.

Alan and I managed to make our way back to the boat against the current, but one group got dragged off a bit, and as it was getting dark, it took a while before anyone spotted them – as it was, a fellow diver was the one to see them – Urs did not have any procedure for keeping a look out for divers.

The next day, the 14th, Urs told us in the morning that he had received word that the weather was going to get worse, and so we had to go back. This was received with mixed feelings by us –mostly I think we were all relieved to go back and finish this very unsuccessful trip – but we were also worried, as the boat was quite small – the smallest boat diving Tubbataha I think, and we were unsure exactly how seaworthy it would be in really rough conditions. Urs assured us that it was safe, although it would be an uncomfortable ride – but clearly, our faith in him was rather dim. We then headed off for what would become a 30 hour marathon nightmare of a sail. The boat being slow at best, took absolutely ages to sail in these conditions. The waves got bigger and bigger – 12-15 meters at the worst times. It started raining violently, I mean, really coming down.

And then, the thunder joined in, with lightning striking near the boat several times. At around 2am the moon set and the night was completely black – this was the worst part of the whole trip, as now we could not even see the waves as they were coming at us. All night and most of the next day, we rode up and down in these huge swells – everyone was scared, including us. Some of the guys decided to wear wetsuits and bcd’s as a safety measure, but to be honest, if the boat had gone down I don’t think we would have had much chance. With the waves as huge as they were, and the distance to any land, we would have been in serious trouble. As it were, the boat was tough, and Urs stayed at the wheel the whole 30 hours, steering us safely up and down the waves. We stayed in our tiny cabin the whole way, and had to wedge ourselves in with arms and legs against the walls and ceiling to avoid being thrown around too much. Still, we ended up with bruises on all parts of our bodies from being knocked about. In the end, a on the afternoon of the 15th, we did see land, and we all breathed a sigh of relief.

We later heard from other people who had been out at Tubbataha that one boat had lost an engine and that the passengers there had been evacuated to another, larger boat and taken back. One of the Dutch guys had been asking Urs for three days for him to ask another boat to take him on board, and on the very last day, we were all asking to be transferred for safety. Urs just stated that the boat was fully booked – but we learned back in town that he had never radioed them and asked, or they would have taken us onboard. This made us even angrier, as it was as if he was risking our safety just to save face or something. But, we all met up for dinner in Puerto Princesa, and had some beers, and the consensus was to focus on being lucky to be back in one piece and to be safe. We heard that the Superferry, the large ferries that travel between most Philippine islands, had been stopped and evacuated by helicopter, and that a typhoon had passed to the north of Palawan, which was what caused the bad weather. All in all a very humbling experience, and it has certainly taught us to be more critical of any live aboard boat, and especially when going to somewhere as remote and exposed as Tubbataha.

After this ordeal, we headed for Singapore again, via Manila.

Tubbataha nightmare remains copyright of the author monkyhands, a member of the travel community Travellerspoint.

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Puerto Princesa is the capital of the province of Palawan, which is one of the more remote areas of the Philippines. The island lies off in the westernmost part of the country, sort of floating off by itself – heading for Borneo you could say. Perhaps due to this geographical position, the island is still remote, covered in jungle, and hard to traverse. It is off many travellers radar – although a growing number of tourists come here for the nature, the diving and the superb beaches. Puerto Princesa itself, as a city, is more relaxed than Manila, and feels more like a small town (well, it is a lot smaller I suppose – it has arpund 160.000 inhabitants, against Manila’s over 14 million). Most of the streets have no sidewalks, and are tree lined. Tricycles ply the streets up and down, all day long. The city has more small shops, rather than the large malls of Manila. Little barbers, roast chicken and lechon stalls line the streets. Not exactly pretty, but a lot more charming in my opinion.

We stayed at a hotel called Moanas, because they had a dive shop on the premises. Needed to do a couple of refresher dives, and test out my new BCD, before heading off for Tubbataha. We did two dives right here in Puerto Princesa bay, and unfortunately they were far from impressive. The first dive had a bit of a current – and the whole group got separated. The divemaster was unable to keep track of anyone, and on top of it all, there was hardly anything to see! Second dive was nicer, in a shallower spot, called Silica I think, with no current at all. The sea floor was covered in soft and hard coral in pretty good condition. However, it was covered in brown silt, and the visibility was very low, which took away from the experience.

Also, the reef would have to be lucky to last much longer, as the boat we were diving from dropped their anchor right into the reef, crushing coral as the boat pulled on the line. Not great style I must say!

On the 8th of May, we were picked up at Moana Hotel for a trip on a liveaboard to Tubbataha Reef.

Manila to Puerto Princesa remains copyright of the author monkyhands, a member of the travel community Travellerspoint.

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• Capacity building through networks... development and distribution of materials for education and advocacy, workshops and staff trainings

• Prevention and treatment of child sexual abuse... workshops and trainings for teachers and caregivers, counselling and therapy for survivors

• Service oriented program... recovery and rehabilitation centre offering therapy and education for street children and children with serious health problems, such as tuberculosis

• Children's rights advocacy... international distribution of newsletters, presentations, performances and visits by student groups from the Philippines and abroad

I stayed with them at the centre in Aninuan, Oriental Mindoro. A great place, full of creative spirit and openmindedness.

One particular area of focus at the moment is the production of their third animated film on child abuse. Stairway Foundation has previously produced two very powerful animations that deal with the issue of child sexual abuse and exploitation. The award winning Daughter, A Story of Incest and, A Good Boy, A Story of Paedophilia, have both helped to raise consciousness and to break the silence surrounding the issue of child sexual abuse and exploitation.

The idea for the animations came from Stairways work with street children. Over a decade of working with marginalized children, they heard some of the most horrendous stories of child abuse, but amongst those stories none were about sexual abuse or sexual exploitation. They looked for a way to get children to talk openly about this sensitive issue without the shame, blame or guilt feelings imposed upon them by a society full of taboos and negative attitudes towards any sex related issue. Using animation, Stairway has found that this form of storytelling relates to children, and can be a powerful tool to address sensitive issues like child sexual abuse and exploitation. Non-threatening and non-intimidating, animation transcends the limits of language and cultural specificity to generate dialogue with young people. They can see their own lives reflected in the story, and they are encouraged to talk and to think about their unique challenges head-on.

Based on the success of the previous two animations, Stairway is currently in the middle of producing a third animation, this time concerning sex trafficking of children and child pornography. It stresses the fact that without the demand for children as sex objects, no child would be ensnared in this most cruel and dehumanizing form of slavery.

My role for the time I spent at Stairway, was to come up with a distribution strategy for this latest animation. Lars and Monica are hoping that this third film will be able to reach even more people than the previous two. I tried to do as much leg work as possible, so that when the film is ready, there will already be a strategy and contact databases ready for its distribution to run as smoothly as possible.

Apart from the animations, Stairway have also produced a theatre piece called Cracked Mirrors, on child sexual abuse. One evening we saw the performance on Stairway’s stage under the stars – and it was so powerful, truly amazing. The actors made you feel like you could see right into their hearts.

Stairway’s compound is located on a tree covered hill, with the various structures spread out. I stayed in my own little hut on a hill.

Just across the road from Stairway is Tamaraw Beach – a lovely stretch of sand. It is much quieter here than the busy Sabang Beach (which actually has no beach) as well as White Beach which is just around the bend from Tamaraw. I was able to relax on the beach after work, and to do some snorkelling just off the beach.

After dropping me off at Stairway, Alan went to a place called North Pandang Island to dive Apo reef, with Jay and Milena. On the way back from there, heading to Cebu, he stopped by Stairway to visit me. He told them he is a plumber, and ended up staying the rest of the time I was here, fixing lots of things for them. So in the end, he actually volunteered as well – really great.

The place that Lars and Monica have built here is really impressive, and not just the actual site here, which is great, but the organisation in general. As I learned more about what they do, I became more and more impressed with their work. Monica has written the scripts for the play Broken Mirrors, as well as for the animations – she is like the creative powerhouse here. And Lars runs most of the practical stuff – a true octopus, keeping all the different areas organised and structured. I learnt that they do outreach work in the prisons here, they have hired a psychologist who visits prisons and has counselling sessions with the kids who are in prison – which quite a lot of children are in the Philippines. In fact, the latest group of boys to come and stay here at the Stairway centre were all from prisons in Manila.

Visit Stairway or Stairway Danmark’s websites to learn more – they are always looking for help, donations, members and volunteers – and I can vouch for the fact that it is definitely a worthy cause for your help.

www.stairwayfoundation.org or www.stairwaydanmark.dk

We met lots of nice people while we were here – one guy, Randi, runs a restaurant on the beach. His dad has been diving here for over 20 years! He lent us some cylinders and we did a shore dive off Aninuan beach. It was not world class or anything, but there were quite a lot of cool little critters.

In the end, April ran out, and we got ready to leave Stairway. We are off to Manila for a few days, and then for a liveaboard in Tubbataha reef – stay tuned for that.

Stairway Foundation remains copyright of the author monkyhands, a member of the travel community Travellerspoint.

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Sabang Beach is not really a beach anymore - the hotels, dive shops, restaurants and girlie bars have built all the way to the water line and more.

The place is brash and busy, with divers, alcoholics or a combination of the two. The many girlie bars and massage parlours add a bit of a seedy feel to it all… All these old, nasty men with their little filipina 'girlfriends' - its just not pretty to watch! Yet, the diving here is easy, and while it is far from the best in the Philippines, it is decent enough to be worth a few days.
We found a cheap hotel on a hill side, and a dive shop willing to do the dives for 18 dollars. And then we spent some relaxing days here, just diving and hanging out. The dives we did at Verde Island were particularly good, with amazing visibility and more fish life. Even the sites closer to Sabang itself had lots of critters to satisfy the cameras, and we enjoyed these few days here.

By the 31st, we were drying out the gear and ready to move on.

Sabang Beach remains copyright of the author monkyhands, a member of the travel community Travellerspoint.

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From Manila, we caught a hellish bus ride down to Donsol. 12 hours on a bus where the seats were so narrow you could barely sit in them, and there was no leg room at all. Donsol is nothing much in itself - a small Filipino village, that used to survive mainly on fishing. But it has one unique feature - from around November to May give or take a month or two, there is a huge gathering of whale sharks off the coast here. You can go out on a boat for the day, and spot them, and then jump in a snorkel with them. We did this last time we were in the Philippines, and we had to come back again. I have never heard of anything like this anywhere else in the world.

Our first day of snorkelling here did not quite live up to our expectations - it had rained for two days straight, and the visibility was so low that the spotters could not see through the water. Besides, it was still raining when we went out, which meant there was no sun to penetrate the surface and show the shadows of the massive creatures. In the end, after spending three hours just sitting on the boat, they did manage to find one, and we had a decent look at him before he decided to take off - but still, with the viz so low, it was hard to see him until you were literally right next to him. Milena was so disappointed she was grumbling the whole evening, and I have to say that I too was a bit down.
After the snorkelling, we went diving one day, in the manta bowl as they call it here. They say there’s a decent chance of seeing manta rays here, and even hammerheads and thresher sharks. We did not see an of these things - except for the threshers, of which we saw lots of heads, all in the fish market in Donsol - so they are obviously here, but for how much longer? Also, in the whale shark season, it is apparently common to spot one of these giant fish on your safety stop. However, we were not so lucky with the diving, we spent three dives merely sitting on the bottom, holding on in the current and seeing little at all. Only on the third dive of the day, and the last, did we get a quick look at a whale shark as we were descending. Not too bad for three dives I guess - whale sharks are quite a treat, no doubt about it - but still, we were not ecstatic with the rest of the dives, and decided to try our luck with the snorkelling rather than dive again the next day. In the meantime, it had cleared up a bit, and we were hoping that a couple of days without rain would mean a better chance of finding the whale sharks.

And we were right, as it turned out. The next two days, we went out on boats snorkelling with the whale sharks. And even though Easter meant that the Donsol whale shark office had cut the trips from the usual six hours to three hours (at the same price), we managed to get some amazing encounters with the beautiful whale sharks. We saw altogether maybe 12 sharks in two days (not a record by far, some people get that in one day), but the encounters were so great, we were blown away! It was better than when we were here three years ago - we got to swim with several of the sharks for many minutes at a time, they were swimming slowly right below the surface, feeding I guess. We could overtake them, swim next to their huge heads, look them in the eye, and even get a good look at their wide, almost smiling mouths. Aaah, amazing nature. The feeling of being next to one of these enormous fishes is so humbling and exhilarating at once. One of them even decided to stick his nose all the way out of the water, and then almost suck on the camera in Alan’s hands, making for a great movie! (Sadly, our guide on the swim decided to mess around, and push the mouth of the shark closed - you see his hand in the movie - not very nice of him!). All in all, Donsol was a great success, what an amazing place!

Unfortunately for this blog, we were way too close to the whale sharks, and the viz was way too shit, to take any pictures - they simply do not come out. Instead, we shot some videos, I have entered a little compilation of the best clips below - check it out!

Manila to Donsol remains copyright of the author monkyhands, a member of the travel community Travellerspoint.

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We mostly ate from street vendors, who sell cheap, delicious meals here. Another note on hotels - we stayed at first in the Coliseum, which is dilapidated but with huge rooms. We then moved to Pondok Lodge - a hostel in the Golden Triangle area. Here, Milena and I started getting covered in itchy welts all over - at first I thought it was bed bugs again, but it started to spread into large red areas like an eczema, and Milena thought that it was some sort of skin parasite. Really horrible, and so itchy I could not sleep at all. So again - if you are heading to KL, I would stay away from Pondok Lodge!

Kuala Lumpur remains copyright of the author monkyhands, a member of the travel community Travellerspoint.

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In each mall, there was a food-court with cheap, decently edible food - mostly Chinese inspired, but also Indian and other styles. It was fairly easy to stay fed without breaking the budget - but it started to feel like you were eating in the same restaurant all the time. Even outside the malls, most of the restaurants seemed to have more or less the same menu. All in all, Singapore was certainly a relief after India and its mad cities, and it was a convenient and easy city to be in - but it began to feel almost soulless. There was not much character there, not much personality. Don’t get me wrong, I enjoyed Singapore, but I did get a nagging sensation that something was missing. Maybe it was an after effect of India - maybe I had come to expect or even secretly enjoy chaos, I don’t know. I mean, Singapore did have some little details, like the small colonial buildings in Little India where we stayed, that made it more real, but overall, it seemed too organised for its own good.

We stayed in the Prince of Wales pub and hostel - it seemed like a good idea at first, but it turned out to be infested with bed bugs, which left me looking like I had been attacked by a swarm of angry bees. So don’t go there if you ever head to Singapore.

Singapore remains copyright of the author monkyhands, a member of the travel community Travellerspoint.

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Kolkata, when we got there, was different to the other large Indian cities we had seen. Sure, it's dirty, loud and teeming with beggars, but there are some redeeming features. It has a more present colonial heritage than Mumbai, with lots of crumbling colonial buildings lining the streets. And though it has less glitter and glamor than Mumbai, it has instead a more intellectual feel. Bookshops everywhere, universities, students.

We did a few days of volunteering for the Missionaries of Charity; Mother Teresa's organization. We helped out in a home they run for mentally disabled children. It was very simple and plain, without any luxuries, but the children seemed fairly well cared for. It was a brief experience, but rewarding and humbling all the same.

From Kolkata, we went to Darjeeling - former hill station and summer retreat for the British Raj. It sits on a mountain ridge at 2134 m. elevation (child's play after Bolivia). Darjeeling, of course, is famous for tea, and we certainly sampled lots of the local brew in the icy weather.
We went to see the sunrise at Tiger Hill, a famous view point, to see a majestic Himalayan sky line. Unfortunately, it was cloudy (very cloudy), and the sun rose as a pale disc in the grey, misty sky. We did get some clear, yet brief, stunning vistas of India's highest mountain (and third in the world I think) Kangchendzonga, as the clouds were blown away. So even without the famous panorama views, and the glimpse of Everest which you can get on a clear day, it was still worth it for the chance to see at least a tiny part of the Himalayas.

In Darjeeling, we also visited a nice little Buddhist monastery. The colorful decorations, hand painted on the walls, were amazing. This area of India is strongly influenced by Buddhism, due partly to the large influx of Tibetan refugees. It was very interesting to see an example of another of India's great religions, and get a glimpse of a version of Buddhism which differs greatly from what we have seen in Thailand and Cambodia.

All in all, Darjeeling was a charming, but freezing cold, little town, with a colonial history, its cute toy train from that era, and with a clear Himalayan history, in the form of its Mountaineering Institute founded by Tenzing Norgay (I think that's his name), who accompanied the English climber (don't remember his name) who was the first to climb Everest.

After Darjeeling, we went to Assam to visit the Kaziranga National Park. This park is home to the majority of the remaining population of one-horned Indian Rhinos. Around 1800 of them live in this park - two-thirds of the world's total.
We went first on a morning safari, which involved riding trough the park on elephants. This was truly amazing. To feel that enormous animal moving, as you float on its back through the tall grass in the misty dawn. Truly lovely. There were several other groups of visitors, and so we made up a veritable herd of elephants stalking around the plains.

We saw a huge male rhino close up straight away, and several others, including a mother and calf. The baby had yet to grow its horn, and looked quite comical.

In the afternoon of the same day, we went on another safari, this time by jeep, in a different area of the park. Here we once again saw lots of rhinos - in fact, they were everywhere. It almost seems that the park is overpopulated with them - perhaps they should consider transferring some of them to other parks? Apart from the rhinos, we also saw some birds, and a weird giant squirrel. Lots of deer in the park, and we came across a ranger station where they had a new born elephant baby, which we got out of the car to say hello to. It was so cute! All in all, Kaziranga park made for a great experience.

After the safaris, we stayed in the village of Kohora for a few days, and then went on to Guwahati, from where we caught a plane to Kolkata. We ended up staying in Guwahati a few days, even though it was a shit hole. We had planned to visit some other places in Assam, but there was a strike on, and no busses were running. So in order not to risk missing our flight, we stayed in town.

Back in Kolkata briefly, we went with a guy from the hotel to a poetry reading. Set on a breezy rooftop, it turned out to be a very interesting evening. It was held by a Bengali poetry group, and numerous poets got up to read a poem or two of their work. Some were in English, others in Hindi, Bengali, Urdu and other languages - a good example of how multi-lingual India really is, and another illustration of Kolkata's intellectual flavour.
We also went to see the Victoria Memorial. A huge marble building, shining white in the sunshine, it was built to commemorate Queen Victoria. It was impressive, and vaguely reminiscent of Taj Mahal, although not as airy or elegant.

From Kolkata, I flew to Chennai, while Alan flew back to Goa to pick up the dive gear that we had left there. My few days alone in Chennai gave me a taste of what traveling in India as a single woman is like, and there was definitely a marked difference. I got stared at and followed down the street, and one guy nearly drove his bicycle into the ditch because he was craning his neck to stare at me. And I did get annoyed and tired of it, but I never felt unsafe or really threatened - just annoyed. There were always lots of other people in the streets, and I felt certain that if anything serious was to happen, someone would intervene. You can say a lot about India and Indians, and it is definitely a frustrating country, but for every annoying or rude person, there is one (or even two) who are kind and friendly, and who go out of their way to help you.
After a few days, Alan got here with the bags, and in two days we fly out to Singapore. So its now goodbye to India, and I must say that I have really enjoyed it. Amazing country, incredible India.

The North-East, Kolkata and then Chennai remains copyright of the author monkyhands, a member of the travel community Travellerspoint.

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Next day, we did a morning ride. It was freezing cold, and the jungle was eerily quiet. We didn't see neraly as many animals as the day before. At a quick tea stop, we were told that some of the other jeeps had spotted a tiger. We rushed to that area and waited, hoping he would reappear. No such luck, but we did hear hom roaring in the nearby bushes - what a sound! So deep, like a rumbling thunder. On the way back, we spotted a jungle cat - looked like a mini cougar ( or a vary large house cat)

Spurred on by our increasing success, we went on another trip that afternoon. We returned to the same area, and again we heard the tiger roaring. Amazing. And eventually, he did emerge from the trees. He came sauntering onto the road, with absolute confidence - sent a thrill down all our spines. One of the most beautiful creatures I have ever seen! There were loads of other cars there, and all were jostling for position nearest the tiger (which explains the extremely poor quality of the pics ) But the tiger appeared unmolested by this racket, and just walked slowly along, crossed the road and disappeared in the trees. We drove around a bend in the road, and he emerged again. Amazing encounter! Apparantly, he was the alfa male of the area, and he was truly huge and imposing...

(I know, I know - they're shit, but hey, it's a tiger!).

Encouraged, and perhaps gone slightly mad, from our tiger encounter, we decided to do a completely illogical, insane backtracking train ride across half of India, to visit Sasan Gir Lion Park in Gujarat. Before we got to Bandhavgarh, we had not been aware of this last sanctuary of the Asian lion, and after the tiger we were possesed by a desire to see this other large cat of India! The fact that we had not thought about it earlier cost us about three days of riding trains, as we could have done the park on the way to Rajasthan. Even the best laid plans and all that...
We caught a train from Katni to Jalgaon, then Jalgaon to Ahmedabad, then to Veraval, and from there a bus to the village of Sasan. 36 hectic hours later we were there...

Sasan is a small, remote village, much like Tala, completely focused around the nearby national park. And just like the tigers, the lions of Sasan Gir proved more elusive than we had thought. Given the hype about this lion park in guidebooks and the like (to quote Lonely Planet: ÿou'd be unlucky not to see a lion on a safari here"), we were expecting the lions to be easier to spot than the tigers. In fact, they proved to be just the opposite. In Bandhavgarh, we saw a tiger on our third trip - here we ended up doing five trips before we found the lions. Of course, wildlife spotting is always a matter of luck, so we were not complaining.
On our first runs, we saw lots of other wildlife in the park. Lots of deer, like in Bandhavgarh, but also other species. Blue bull, the largest antilope in India (very large animals indeed). A jackal, wild boars, lots of birds.

All very exciting, but in the end we were itching to find the lions. We could hear them roaring at night, but no sign of them. Finally, we "bribed"a park official, and our luck turned The ranger took us off the paths, and we walked on foot (!) into the bush to a spot where they knew of a fresh kill. A huge lioness was there, with two grown cubs. They had feasted on a sambar deer, and their bellies were enormous, hanging down to the ground. Lucky for us, as we were literally standing a few meters away, with only a park ranger with a measley axe for protection. Who knows what would have happened had they been hungry? Talk about an adrenaline rush! When we got to close to the kill, the lioness got up and glared at us, and bared her teeth. Time to leave! The lions were not as beautiful as the tiger, but they were certainly majestic, their sheer strength was impressive. Worth the detour we both agreed!!

Bandhavgarh and Sasan Gir remains copyright of the author monkyhands, a member of the travel community Travellerspoint.

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By way of contrast, of course, Agra is home to the world famed monument to love that is the Taj Mahal. And it does live up to the hype: pure, white and ehtereal, like a shining vision. Ordered, symmetrical and clean, it defies the horror of Agra city. It really is a masterful design, set in beatific ornamental gardens. A refuge of peace in a city of filth.

Moreover, Agra also posseses a suprisingly beautiful Mughal fort, begun in 1565, by the grandfather of Shah Jahan, who was later to construct the Taj.

And so it is that Agra, at least to me, represents a kind of condensed micro cosmos of the constant paradox that is India. Within it it contains the mundanely ordinary, right alongside the revoltingly, disgustingly ugly, contrasted again by the serenely, sublimely beautiful. What can you really do about such a place, such a country, except love it and, simoultaneously, hate it a little bit - and in any case, simply surrender to it and let it take you over? And that is what we do...

Agra remains copyright of the author monkyhands, a member of the travel community Travellerspoint.

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On Janury 14th, Alan's 32nd birthday, we arrived in Jodhpur, after a 30 hr train ride from Margao. It was after dark, and it was exceedingly cold - no tropical heat here, just chilly desert nights! The narrow streets were chaotic, packed with throngs of people. rickshaws, bicycles, cows, camels. It was an unmistakably Indian chaos, and I was exited by the feeling of entering the "real" India, after our undeniably soft start in Goa.

In the dark, you mostly notice the narrow streets and the masses of people and traffic.

But in the daylight, Jodhpur is dominated by its fort - Meherangarh. It looms high above the city, perched on the edge of a 125 m high cliff.

The fort, as well as the city itself, was founded by Jodha, a Rajput clan chief, in 1459. Exploring the fort, you come across many interesting details and sights. The walls and gates are impressive for their sheer size, but the living quarters inside are notable for their beauty and delicate decorations. The fort is divided into several courtyards, connected by staircases and walkways. The windows are covered by latticed stone screens, which allowed the women of the court to look out, without being seen. One of the fort's gates still has scars from canonball fire, a remnant of one of numerous battles waged at the fort. It is a tribute to its construction that the fort never once fell into enemy hands.

Another amazing feature of the fort are the fantastic views over the city from the ramparts. You can see the whole of the old city, centered around the clock tower and the busy market areas. Noticeable from here are the many blue-coloured houses - it becomes apparant how Jodhpur got its nickname of The Blue City. The colour blue was traditionally associated with the Brahmin caste, but today anyone can paint their house blue. It's believed to keep the house cooled in the desert sun, and to help keep moscitoes out. Whatever the reason, it makes for a beautiful view.

Having thouroughly enjoyed Jodhpur, we made our way to Jaisalmer, in the far west of Rajasthan. Sitting isolated in the Thar desert, Jaisalmer is a city built of golden sandstone. Is is centered around a huge, crumbling sandcastle of a fort, constructed entirely from this glowing, amber-coloured material. Inside the fort there is a warren of narrow, rambling alleys, thronged with goats, cows, rickshaws, motorbikes, souvenir shops, restaurants and people. Despite the busy-ness of the place, and the grandeur of the fort and its central palace, Jaisalmer feels more like a village than a city. The people seem to know one another well, and in the evening men light fires in the alleys and convene around them to talk. And the pace is laid back and relaxed. It's surprisingly cold here though. In the daytime, the sun is hot, but at night it becomes very cold indeed, and you need a woollen scarf or sweater (which, having just come from Goa, we had to buy here).
Walking around the fort feels like being inside some sort of Lawrence of Arabia fantasy. Because the houses inside the fort are still inhabited, the whole fort is still alive, and you feel like you are inside a living museum. The sandstone from which the whole place is built, practically glows from within, earning Jaisalmer its name of The Golden City, yet another of Rajasthan's colourful gems.

From Jaisalmer we went on a so called camel 'safari' - a camel ride trough the shrubby Thar desert. We opted to do three days-two nights. We rode camels through the desert, ate simple meals by campfire and slept on sanddunes under the stars (well wrapped up for the cold cold desert nights). Given Alan's open dislike of horses, I was surprised to discover that he was more or less a natural camel jockey He seemed totally at ease with this awkward, gangly animal. Of course, camels are much more calm than horses, having none of the jumpy nervousness that makes horses so volatile and wonderful. Camels do have their own quiet charm though, and as you become used to their bumpy walking rythm, you relax and just watch the scenery glide by slowly (you could walk faster yourself, but then where would the fun be in that?). We rode across golden cand dunes the same colour as Jaisalmer itself, and visited little villages of mudhuts. All in all a good few days of fun.

By early morning January 20th, we arrived in Jaipur, capital city of Rajasthan. We were cold and tired, and at first glance the city seemed dirty and unwelcoming. Later on, we found that while Jaipur lacks the immediate charm of Jodhur and Jaisalmer, it does have some redeeming features. The entire old section of the city, including the impressive city wall, is painted a dusty salmon-colour, giving rise to the city's denomination as The Pink City. This adds some coherence and charm to the otherwise unattractive bazaars of the old city centre.

Then, there is the Hawa Mahal - Palace of the Winds. This is probably the most famous landmark of Jaipur. A whimsical construction, barely more than a facade, built to allow the maharanis, and other women of the court, to observe the life of the city without being seen. It is splendid in its simplicity, like a delicate ornament, and painted in that same salmon tone that gave the city its nickname.

Next, there is the city palace, which is certainly impressive as such things go, with marble arches, ornamental gates and sunny courtyards. In one such courtyards sits two enormous silver jars - repartedly the largest silver objects in the world. They are supposed to have been used by a maharajah to transport water from the holy Ganges to England (or so the story goes).

Most impressive in Jaipur though, is Amber fort, located some way outside the city. Like Meherangarh in Jodhpur, it is a huge fortified castle, high up on a hilltop. It too contains a maze of rooms, hallways and courtyards. Most of it appears to have once been painted in colourful designs, although the majority of these have long since faded away. In a central courtyard, there sits a roofed marble pavillon, built from white marble. It is caved with designs of flowers and insects, and inlaid with gemstones and mirrors. It is easy to imagine maharajahs and maharanis reclining here on soft silk cushions, shaded by light, waving silk curtains.

Rajasthan - the desert state of India remains copyright of the author monkyhands, a member of the travel community Travellerspoint.

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After dark, the beachfront restaurants move their tables out on the sand, and light candles and lamps. Music floats out across the water, mixing with the scent of delicious Indian cooking.

On the 13th, Jay and Milena arrived. it was great to see them again. We went to the busy flea market at Anjuna, which is obviosly a bit of a tourist trap, but was still fun. Ear cleaners come up and try to convince you that you have soap in your ear, and then proceed to try to clean it with a long metal rod - not very safe I'm sure. Elephant rides are on offer, as are a myriad of souvenirs. Very colourful, and a good way to spend an afternoon - but few real bargains to be had.

We took walks round the rocky headland. You walk around a bend, between stalls selling the usual offerings of bags, shawls and clothes. Then you have to climb across some black, volcanic rocks. Beyond these, there is a smaller, sandy beach, which is unique due to the freshwater lagoon right there on the beach. Only a narrow stretch of white sand separates the lagoon from the sea. It is a lovely setting - the lagoon backed by tree covered hills, dense jungle-like forest. At either end of the bay, the hills and rocks jut out into the water, sheltering the beach. With only a few huts, the beach feels more isolated than the main beach, and swimming in the lagoon comes close to being the star of a bounty commercial

On the 20th, Lisbeth arrived from Denmark for a 10 day stay. We met her at the airport. We spent some days realxing on the beach and catching up. We also went to the local market at Mapusa, the major town in the North part of Goa, and to the Saturday night bazaar at Baga. While the night bazaar is touristy like the Anjuna flea market, it is also a fun way to spend a Saturday night, and it differs from Anjuna due to its many food stalls and the shows and live music going on.

Mapusa market on the other hands is a more or less entirely local affair, and gives a more 'authentic' look at Goan market life, with stalls of fruits, fish, meats as well as clothing and blankets.

In Goa, around the central town of Ponda, there are several spice farms, which run tours for tourists. Here it is possible to see how various spices are grown, and later to sample some food made with the local produce. We went with Lisbeth to one called the Savoi Spice Plantation. It was fascinating to walk in the shade of the many trees, and see how spices we are only accostumed to seeing in their dired form, look when they are fresh, adn to see how they grow. We saw pepper, cloves, vanilla, cinnamon, cardamon, chillies, nutmeg and turmeric as well as fruits and nuts such as pineapple, coconut, betelnut and the very pretty roseapple, which I had never tasted before. It was mild and fresh and quite delicious.

After the tour, they served us a lovely vegetarian meal of veg curry, kingfish, bananaflowers, brown rice and cauliflower pakora, among other things. All in all a great day out.

On Christmas Eve, we had a dinner buffet in Benaulim, in a restaurant called Pedro's. Unfortunately, I got a stomach ache in the night, and Lisbeth was quite ill all the next day. Food poisening. I guess we should have known better than to eat a buffet in India! So, Christmas day was spent in bed, and we had to cancel our lunch with Philo and Preema. Luckily, it was only a 24 hour thing, and we were better the next day.

We managed a quick visit to Old Goa - the original capital of Portuguese Goa. The chruches there, a remnant of the golden era of the Portuguese empire, are certainly impressive. They are surely unique in their grandour in Asia - but having just arrived from the Catholic stronghold that is Latin America, churches no longer impress us as easily... Still, is was fun to see it.

We also stopped in at the fish market in Margao. They have great fish there - huge prawns, big pomfrets, tuna and kingfish. To my dismay, they also had baskets full of tiny hammerhead sharks - a most depressing sight!

Before Lisbeth went home, we went to visit Philo and Preema in Maina. Preema took us round in Margao, and found the best places for Lisbeth to buy some spices and cashew nuts to bring home. The combination is this and all her previous market purchases, filled a whole new suitcase with stuff - good thing she had come out with only hand luggage.

Back in Arambol, we celebrated New Years Eve.

A month in Arambol remains copyright of the author monkyhands, a member of the travel community Travellerspoint.

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We arrived in Margao, the largest town in South Goa, on the 23rd of November. The train ride down from Mumbai was scenic, among palm trees, over rivers, past fields of freshly planted, emerald green rice shoots.

From the train station in Margao, we caught a rickshaw to the house that belonged to Alan's grqandmother's family (the Rodrigues family), in the village of Maina outside of Margao. His auntie Philo is living there, and we went to stay with her for a while.
The house is simple but lovely, in the old Portuguese-Goan style. It is set back from the road in a small hill, surrounded by coconut palms and teak trees - and is shaded nicely by a huge, old mango tree. Apparantly, this tree gives the most delicious mangoes, but alas, this is not the mango season.

Philo took good care of us, and her fantastic food threatened to fatten us up well and good. We also got to know Margao quite well in the time we spent there, and toured down to the Southern beaches at Colva, Benaulim and Palolem on the old scooter that Alan bought. It is an old Bajaj Chetak, made in India, but it looks almost exactly like an old Vespa. A scooter or bike is definetely the best way to see Goa, as you get to see the back roads and small towns and villages. We drove through rice paddies and palm groves, and along the coast, seeign some lovely scenery on the way.

Arriving in Goa remains copyright of the author monkyhands, a member of the travel community Travellerspoint.

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So, we made it to Lima, and then sat down for a 13 hour wait. We got quite nervous we were never getting out of there, as we were hearing that there was also a strike in Peru, and the ground staff of certain airlines was apparently striking. In the end though, we made it onto our LAN Chile flight and headed for New York over night.

Landed in New York early in the morning of the 15th, half a day late, and then we waited for our luggage to turn up on the luggage carrier. And waited... And waited... It never did. Then we ran around the airport, spoke to the LAN rep, went to the baggage services office, spoke to the TACA rep. The two airlines were both blaming the other, and no one had a clue were our luggage was. Shit. In the end, we filed a claim with LAN, gave them a forwarding adress in Mumbai, and several contact numbers, and then went on our way.

We checked into Hotel 31, which turned out to be in a really great location for the price. Then we went out walking around New York. Seems like a really great city - has a nice buzz to it, and all sorts of different people. We had to lauch when we saw what to us is such an American thing - a hotdog and pretzel seller, and he was yelling out "Pretzels - hotdogs, pretzels - hotdogs!" in a distinct Indian accent. Great.

Being that we had such a short time in New York, we decided not to try and cram too much stuff into the day and a half. Instead, we took it easy and just walked around the central area, and got a feel for the place. We saw some of the central sights, like Macy's, Empire State Building etc.

Also, we managed to do a bit of shopping - a necessity since we literally had no clothes, toiletries or anything. Macy’s was great for this - they had a sale on in most departments, and for visitors there was an additional 11% discount off these sale prices. It was a huge store - Alan actually got blisters on his feet from the amount of walking we did in Macy’s alone.

Also in New York, we had some great pizza slices, and we had bagels for breakfast in a diner. So all in all we had a great New York experience, although very brief.

The next day, we went to the airport about five hours before our flight, to try and retrieve our bags, as we had had no word from the LAN Chile rep. We were told by a helpful girl in baggage services that American Airlines had our bags on hand in the airport. We were ecstatic, and ran over there. They did indeed have the bags listed as on hand - but only two of them were in the storage room. They seemed quite perplexed as to where the other two might be - which made us quite worried. In the end, we had to literally sprint to the other terminal, and we very nearly missed our flight. American Airlines promised to deal with the issue from here on forward, and to ship the missing bags to us in Mumbai - the girl promised to send an email to us with a reference number for the case, which she never did.

With a rather long stop in Kuwait, we eventually made it to Mumbai (Kuwait Airways was not the greatest airline - they must be undefended, because the planes were run down, the seats dirty, and the entertainment system did not work). In Mumbai, we went to the house of a friend of Alan’s dad - which was the address we had given to the airlines. They did not have space to put us up, but they send us to the house of his sister in law, who said she had space to put us up for a few days. This was a great help, as it meant we could stay much closer to the airport, and as they had internet, we could also call around on skype, rather than using phones. We stayed with Lena and her son Glenn for about five days, all the while calling all the airlines we had flown with, trying to track down our bags. Disturbingly, we were informed that the case had been closed and the bags were listed as delivered. In the end, we found a helpful guy at Mumbai airport, who works for Indian Airlines, and he managed to track down one bag.

In the meantime, we did have a good time in Mumbai - a very busy, slightly overwhelming city. It is a city that really shows the current Indian development, and there was a lot of affluence, but also still a lot of poverty, all next to each other.

After retrieving one bag, we decided to head off to Goa, and just continue to call the airlines from there, hoping to track down the last, and most important bag, containing the underwater housing for Alan’s camera.

We caught an early morning train to Goa, which took around 8 hours.

The train was a bit delayed, but by the afternoon we made it to Margao, and then caught a taxi to the village of Maina, where Alan’s auntie Philo lives.

Flight troubles remains copyright of the author monkyhands, a member of the travel community Travellerspoint.

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So, look for more info from our Aisian trip - coming soon!

Here's our route so far, and untill India:

Central and South America have been great, although South America, and especially Argentina, was a lot more expensive than I expected. So, it will also be good to be back to Asian prices. But, it has definetely been an unforgettable experience, although I doubt we will ever come back here.

Goodbye South America remains copyright of the author monkyhands, a member of the travel community Travellerspoint.

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From October 25th to October 27th, we chilled out in Salta. We tried to find Alan a dentist, but none spoke any English, which made it hard to understand what they wanted to do to him, and most were fully booked. We gave up on that, and decided to wait till India. We had the camera cleaned - cost a fortune, but it was necessary as there was lots of dust on the sensor.

On October 27th, we caught an early morning bus to La Quiaca, then crossed the border into Bolivia, Villazon. The landscape along this trip was dominated by coloured mountains - very cool to see, and we snapped some pictures from the bus.

After waiting for a few hours in Villazon, we managed to catch a bus on to Tupiza.

On the 28th, we hung out in Tupiza and tried to get a tour together for the salt flats. The tour is normally done from Uyuni, but the reverse circuit from Tupiza finishes with the salt flats and ends in Uyuni, from where we will be closer to La Paz, so it suits us perfect.
Amazingly, when we returned to the hotel, we ran into Curtis and Caroline, whom we had first met in Bariloche. They were looking to do the tour the next day as well, so it could not have worked out any more perfect. Four people in a Landcruiser, plus driver and chef, is enough for four days. Some people do it with five or six people, but we preferred to pay a bit more and be more comfortable.

So on the 29th, the four of us, along with driver Javier and chef (and supposed English guide, who spoke no English) Victor, set off on the four day circuit of the Bolivia South-West region. On this first day, we travelled through the red mountain scenery that surrounds Tupiza, which is also the area in which Butch Cassidy and the Sundance Kid once robbed a payroll - they are supposedly buried in the mining village of San Vicente, outside Tupiza, though noone has ever found the right grave. The rock formations in this area where amazing - eroded by wind and rain into crazy formations.

We spent the first night in an adobe hut in a small village called San Antonio de Lipez. The beds were comfy, and we had plenty of blankets, so the night was fine. I woke up with a banging headache though, because of the altitude - we were sleeping at around 4200 meters.

On October 30th, we embarked on the second day of our journey. We drove for hours and hours through empty country and ever-changing landscapes of mountains, rivers, shrubbery, plains, and eventually dry, dry desert. The one thing that never changed, was that the landscape was completely harsh and unforgiving. The sun at these altitudes is so strong it burns you before you realise, and at night the temperatures drop below freezing - in the winter as low as -20. And the wind blows incessantly. How anything can live here is a mystery.

We stopped at several places of interest today. In the morning we visited a ruin town known as Pueblo Fantasma, sitting at 4690 meters. (Ruins which were built simply by "the people", according to our articulate guide Victor luckily he makes up for the lack of info with some decent cooking). Javier the driver stepped in and explained that the site was originally settled by the Spaniards as a mining town, because the surrounding mountains are rich in various minerals. However, they nevr succeeded in extracting these, and later abandoned the city again. Now it is simply inhabited by little vizcachas (cross between rabbit and chinchilla by the looks of them).

Later, we also visited Laguna Verde - a brightly coloured turqouise lake, coloured by high concentrations of lead, sulphur, arsenic and calcium carbonates. Behind the lake towers Volcan Licancabur, which straddles the border to Chile.

On the route away from here, we passed through a desert area, which looked like it had been neatly raked. Across the surface are dotted collections of volcanic rocks, spewed there by an eruption from Licancabur. They look surreal in their ordered placement, and they are aptly named the Rocas de Dali.

Later we passed a small salt plain, sulphuric lakes full of flamingoes, some hotsprings, and the interesting Sol de Manana geyser basin. The basin sits at 4850 meters, and is full of steaming, bubbling, stinking mud pots.

After a long day, we reached our overnight stop near Laguna Colorada (4278 meters), at a spot called Huallajara.

On October 31st, we took a closer look at the brightly red Laguna Colorada, on the banks of which we had spent the night.

After that, we e once again spent the whole day driving. Most of the day we drove through desert landscape, completely dry and empty, with vicious winds whipping across it. This desert is called the desierto Siloli. In the middle of this desert we once again came across volcanic rocks, thrown there by one of the many volcanoes in the area. The rocks have been eroded by the wind into odd shapes - one of them into the form of a tree, the famous stone tree. It was a lot bigger than I expected - very impressive.

After this, we once again drove past numerous coloured lagoons, with flamingoes dotted around their shores. We saw a still active volcanoe, Ollague, and admired the desolete landscape.

We spent the last night at a hotel built out of salt, on the shore of the Uyuni salt flats, where we had the first shower of the trip - soooo gooood.

Last day of the tour, November 1st, was all about the salt flats. The Salar de Uyuni is the largest salt flat in the world (12.106 sq km), and its sits at 3653 meters. We set out before sunrise, watched the sun come up over the salt flat. As we were here in dry season, the place was just a huge expanse of blinding white, with a tall blue sky above and fringed by looming volcanoes.

After sunrise, we headed to an island in the middle of the salt for breakfast, called Isla de los Pescadores. The island is inhabited by vizcachas and huge cacti, one of which is supposedly over 1200 years old (cactus, not vizcacha).

Later we did the obligatory silly shots on the salt flats, although most of them didn't really work.

At closer look, the salt flats are divided into hexagonal tiles, apparantly caused by the "respiration" of water and air through the salt - beneath the entire salt flat is a layer of water, which evaporates, and then gets refreshed by the rain in the rainy season. Strange as hell.

Finally, we stopped at a salt hotel turned museum, and at the village of Colchani where salt is extracted for consumption.

In the end, we headed for the town of Uyuni, and by the evening we were on a bus to La Paz, exhausted by exhilirated.

Salta to Bolivia, and the South-West circuit remains copyright of the author monkyhands, a member of the travel community Travellerspoint.

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At one point, we were walking back from town, and the road was being resurfaced near our place. They had simply poured liquid tar on the road. Alan foolishly decided he could cross it in flip-flops, which was a total failure. The flip-flops got stuck in the tar, broke, and left him walking barefoot across tar. His feet were completely black afterwards, resurfaced like the road - it was starting to look like he would never need shoes again, as he had built in rubber soles...

Luckily, the hotel owner had some cleaning spirits which got rid of the tar - relief.

For a few days it rained really hard. We stayed in doors mostly, watched the rugby final (SHIT). Luckily, the weather did clear up a bit so we could go to the falls - we did the Brazilian side. And they were truly amazing. Huge falls, in the shape of a half moon - apparantly around 2-3 km across. The falls are made up of at least 275 seperate cascades, som up to 82 meters in height. They are much larger than for example Niagara in North America. At first entry, we got a great look at one side of the falls.

Next, we walked along a path through the jungle, here we saw some coatis - nose bears I call them. Really cute.

Also, there were a ton of cool bugs, in all shapes and colours.

At the end of the path, we arrived at the Devil's throat - the largest single fall here. It was huge, we got soaked by the spray and the sound was deafening. Very humbling experience.

After this great trip, on the 23rd we caught a bus on to Salta.

Iguazu remains copyright of the author monkyhands, a member of the travel community Travellerspoint.

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