CHRISMISS 2018

6th - 22nd Dec 2018

Glad tidings of Great Joy. Happy Christmas.

Another year, another 'Festive Season' which, as is my habit, I intend to avoid as far as possible at virtually any cost, especially in the UK. I am calling it 'Chrismiss' this year. I am always depressed by the dank British weather, commercial greed, charity blackmail and enforced 'jollity' that accompanies this annual rigmarole which as far as I can see starts sometime towards the end of October, if not before. Apart from a few self-righteous church services to salve the guilty conscience it amounts to nothing other than an excuse, or compulsion, to spend, drink, eat and behave, including family rows, appallingly plus much hassle. Bah Humbug indeed! But have you ever tried, and succeeded, to get away from it? It is a truly liberating experience!

I'm off back to the Far East this year; Thailand and then Vietnam and not reappearing in the UK until normal chaos has been resumed sometime mid-January. At least it is warm here! Yes, they put up loads of Christmas trees, lots of polystyrene snow with blasted Red Nosed Reindeer pulling Santa Clauses, tinsel, bar girls and hotel staff compulsorily wearing reindeer horns plus "Jinger Bears" and "We Wiss Yoo a Melly Keesmah" played in the shops, even "I'm Dreaming of a White Keesmah". 'White Christmas' indeed! This lot haven't seen snow since the last ice-age, if then, wouldn't know a reindeer if it stuck its red nose in their Pad Thai curry and , as I asked a girl where it was playing, wouldn't know a 'One Horse Open Sleigh' from a Tuk-Tuk with a flat tyre. Still, despite being entirely ignorant of the significance of Christmas, they are very jolly about it; it's an excuse for a party and it brings in business from the tourists.

I don't intend to write a 'journal' from these places as I have already done several from this part of the world in previous years. I may just keep adding to this edition any significant, weird or amusing things I come across, such as this rather 'Oirish' looking snowman on Silom Road in Bangkok (left).

Right: More my idea of a suitable 'Santa' offering her services, for a price, outside a bar in Hua Hin (east coast south of Bangkok).

Click on to enlarge and read what she has to offer.

Left: Also from Hua Hin, a gentleman on the beach displaying the true Chrismiss spirit.
I think they managed to re-float him eventually.

Ding Dong Merrily. More to come when I can be bothered.

I travelled to Hua Hin from Bangkok by 'express' train. It must be the slowest express train in the world as it took over 5 hours to cover 120kms. Plenty of stops at stations and even stops in the middle of nowhere for no apparent reason. It was, however, comparatively comfortable with air-con and a constant stream of 'vendors' wandering up and down the carriage loudly (the Thai language always sounds like cats having a fight) trying to flog undefinable foodstuffs and (non-alcoholic) drinks. No alcohol is ever served at Thai railway stations or on the trains. I always come prepared with my own rations.

The outlying stations we stopped at are all rather charming in a quaint rustic fashion; lots of flowers and well maintained. Station staff are immaculately turned out in some sort of khaki para-military style uniform with much waving of red or green flags as appropriate, blowing of whistles and ringing of bells. 

Right: Hua Hin station. This place was the original beach resort of choice for the Thai/Siamese Royal Family. Now a beach resort popular with both foreigners and Thais.

One of the many things I admire about this part of the world is the lack of obsessive 'elf and safety regulations. People are allowed, indeed encouraged, to take their own responsibility for their safety.  As an example, to cross the rail tracks here, ( and there is a smart golf course on the other side) you can simply walk across boards placed between the rails. There was merely a yellow notice (left, if you can read it) stating 'Beware of Trains'. Somewhat stating the bleedin' obvious I suggest!

Right: These girls were happily taking photos of themselves standing on the main line. Can you imagine the hissy fit that would ensue if ever someone tried to do that in the UK!

Also, and maybe despite, a rule which says motor-cyclists must wear helmets, this is rarely enforced. Many don't bother, and that is their decision and nobody interferes. I used 'moto-taxis' in Bangkok, and here, which are (authorised) motor-bikes; you just jump on the pillion and they are a cheap and quick way to weave your way through the congested traffic; most skilfully driven in my experience. Nobody expects you to put on a sodding helmet if you don't want to! The drivers sometimes do, but that is up to them.

It all chimes with my support of the philosophy of the 19th century British politician/philosopher John Stuart Mill who stated (I paraphrase); "Laws should not be made to save people from the actions of their own stupidity. They should only be made to protect other people", or words to that effect. I totally agree with that. I know that there are some incredibly stupid people around. Maybe you have  heard of the 'Darwin awards' for those who die due their impressively idiotic actions, and they make most amusing reading. But Darwin, survival of the fittest etc., had a point. 

We softies in the West have come to rely on the nanny state to protect us with rules, laws and services from just about everything. In other parts of the world you are expected to rely on yourself which I consider a healthier, and no less safe, option. To give two conflating personal examples:

1. I was serving with the UN in Cambodia in the build up to their elections in 1991/92. I lived in very basic hut accommodation (limited running water from a collector tank on the roof and erratic electricity from a dodgy generator) for 9 months in an outpost with a small multi-national (unarmed) UN team in ex-Khmer Rouge territory in the bush in the middle of nowhere. The place was infested by mines, both on and off the tracks (no roads as such), the water supply if not bottled was dodgy (we were resupplied by Russian helicopter), as were the local food standards (which we used), lots of poisonous snakes and insects, and the locals still wandered around carrying weapons, including rocket launchers which they propped up, armed, against the wall if they came to visit. The various factions were still, despite an official ceasefire, at each others throats. There were no medical facilities within easy reach. It had all the makings of a dangerous situation. There was absolutely no 'elf and safety'; the very opposite. We travelled around our local area on foot and in vehicles and we all survived quite happily and healthily. Why? Because we took great care to watch where we were going, what we were doing and paid attention to sound advice from our trusty local interpreters.

2. Germans are sticklers for rules. Several years ago I was based in a large town in Germany. It was late at night, midnightish, and I was returning home on foot through the outskirts. There was very little traffic around and I got to a main road pedestrian crossing. Standing rigidly to attention at the crossing was a smartly dressed middle-aged German couple. They were watching the little red lit man on the opposite side of the road. There was a lorry approaching the crossing, but they would not have known because they were looking straight ahead. The little lit man changed to green and, looking neither left nor right, they marched across the road. I would like to tell you that the lorry didn't stop and they were squashed, but it did stop. If it hadn't, and they would not have known what had hit them, and with their dying breath they would have croaked "But ve ver in ze right!". These people would follow rules blindly to their death. 

My point is that if you condition people blindly to follow 'rules and regulations' they lose the ability to think and look after themselves. Conversely, a dangerous situation can become relatively safe if you are aware and take care.

Left: Lots of horses on the beach. Considerably more than there were riders; but then not many of the roasting sun-bathers could 'do the weight'.
Some of these nags looked decidedly worried as 25 stone monsters waddled past.











Right: ......and also many kite-surfers. Never tried it myself. There seem to be too many strings involved.

Now been back in Bangkok after re-visiting Chiang Mai for a couple of days. Previous blog from this time last year covers that place. Again I travelled by train on the overnight sleeper so speed was irrelevant.

Left and below: A couple of friends I met in Bangkok (Mrs Tussauds of course)

I then flew on to Ho Chi Minh City (Saigon) to celebrate Chrismiss and New Year.

Left: In the Departure Hall of modern, spacious and, once through the normal tedious palaver at check-in, security and passport control, user-friendly Bangkok Suvarnabhumi International airport.

I had arrived very early and managed to 'negotiate' a very cut-price entry into the VIP lounge. Amazing what you can get away with if you meet a 'helpful' official. I proceeded to fill myself with as much freeby food and wine that was on offer as I could manage. I got much more than my money's worth!

BOGOTA - POST SCRIPT

28th - 30th Nov 2018

My New Best Friend in Bogota

The bus journey back from Santa Marta to Bogota, courtesy of Expreso Brazilia, was to be a mere 19 hours and would take us over some spectacular countryside. We left Santa Marta terminal in the dark at 6.30pm and I hoped that some of the most mountainous bits would be crossed when it got light again.

Left: Putting bags into the hold before departure I was standing behind these two delightful señoritas. OMG! These buses have fairly spacious seats but there are limits, and I suspect either of this pair would exceed them. I had visions of being seated next to one of them and pinioned in my seat, if not suffocated, by the overflowing mass. It brought back memories of a flight in a small aircraft from Livingstone to Ndola a few years ago when I nearly expired under the sweaty blubber of a VERY large African lady. Fortunately I was spared on this occasion. 

I think, by the way the bus leaned, that they were sitting to the rear starboard side.

At about 6.00am, and I had watched a couple of dreadful films and managed a few hours kip, we pulled into a large vehicle park. Again, no communication as to where we were or what was going on. We remained static for about 30 minutes and there were noises and shaking of the bus which indicated that they were changing a wheel (probably one on the rear starboard side). Then, shortly after setting off again, a U turn and into a café area for the single pit-stop. Time for a cup of coffee and a quick bite to eat while keeping an eagle eye on the bus and fellow passengers. I would not have liked to be stranded there!

Then through some spectacular mountainous countryside. Vistas, vast, to die for and so green. I would like to have taken photos but, as always on a moving vehicle, my photographic skills and wee camera were not up to it. Just when you see a fantastic view and get your camera out and focused, it has passed or a line of trees gets in the way. I rather gave up trying. You have to take my word for it.

On into the outskirts of Bogota which were particularly uninspiring with dirty industrial areas, lines of cheap housing, grotty shops (mainly car repair workshops) and large blocks of graffiti strewn apartments (right).

We got to the terminal at Salitre at 2.00pm. 

It may seem strange, but I rather enjoy these bus journeys.

While in Santa Marta I had sussed out that there was another 'Masaya' hostel in La Candelaria district. So I got an efficient Uber taxi there and was not disappointed. 

Left: The atrium in this Masaya. Christmas tree already up. Very comfortable room and a great bar and dining area all at a very reasonable price (£30 equivalent). Plus being in a good location.

I spent my last 24 hrs in Colombia revisiting a few sites around town. Mainly around and about Carrera #7 (right) and a couple of decent restaurants mentioned previously.

The main street featured lots of stalls selling weird and wonderful gizmos.....

.......plus an over-abundance of people selling 'selfie-sticks' (I think that is what they are called). I have never had the slightest desire to buy one, but they are obviously popular amongst tourists wanting to take a 'selfie'. There were at least five of them at it in the Plaza Bolivar......

.......together with the usual infestation of pigeons. Vendors sell little bags of corn to those wishing to feed the pesky creatures, who seemingly get pleasure out of the filthy birds perching, and probably crapping, on them. Am I missing out on something here? They are vermin!

Left and below: Lots of 'human statues' which can be irritating but one must give them credit for imagination and the endurance to stand still for long periods. They briefly come to life when someone puts money in their tins and frighten the children. This one (left), the Grim Reaper, was hovering.

Right: Mr Spaceman or Star Wars warrior, or whatever, made weird electical noises and lit up when 'paid'.

















Left: Another rather patriotic one.

Right: These two were 'off duty' and having a discussion on the merits, or otherwise, of their chosen career.

Left: As at the top, there were some, often rather mature, gentlefolk dancing to recorded music and hoping a generous soul (ie. me) would fling a few pesos at them. Which I did.

I wonder if this is something I could try in my home town. I suspect it would result in something other than money being flung at me.

Right: A row of enthusiastic and very serious chess players. 

Their concentration was palpable.


















Left: A last look up at Cerro de Monserrate'

So, evening of the 29th, I took a final Uber to El Dorado International airport. Thankfully I had given myself lots of time as the rush hour roads were jammed. I began to wonder if we would ever get there. The 3 mile journey took nearly an hour. Long Qs at check in, even longer Qs at security, where my trusty bottle-opener with a ½ inch blade was confiscated (I ask you!) and further Qs at passport control. Then discovered that the flight was delayed by an hour. Slightly worrying because I had a fairly tight connection in Madrid. Uneventful if tedious flight (Air Europa; Spanish equivalent of Ryanair) but by good fortune I had a row of 3 seats to myself. The rest of the aircraft was full! My snoring reputation must have preceded me. As the ongoing flight to London Gatwick was also Air Europa it generously waited for us late arriving passengers who had sprinted madly down miles of corridors to get to it. From Gatwick at 7.00pm (with few Qs, amazingly) by train to Reading. Things were going too well. It couldn't last. And it didn't. Friday night and a packed Reading station. The onward train was delayed (indefinitely) with the most frequently heard announcement on British railway stations "we are sorry to announce". Crowds of us on platform 7 and not happy. Another announcement, "the train will now be leaving from platform 13". Like lemmings we all scampered off up escalators and down stairs to platform 13. I think they do this as a sort of 'in house' joke and have a bit of a giggle watching passengers rush about the place. I made it home, eventually.

Anyway, I much enjoyed Colombia and, apart from the pickpocket incident, had a safe and hassle-free trip (until getting back to UK of course). I strongly recommend the place. The country's 'dangerous' reputation is well out of date. I'm sure there are dangerous areas and nasty people there but no more so than in any other country and easily avoided. Its reputation for having the 'prettiest' girls in the world is somewhat over-blown. I still rate Ukraine and Vietnam much higher in this regard but that is, of course, a matter of opinion.

SANTA MARTA

24th - 27th Nov 2018

A rather dodgy looking statue near the port. Make of it what you will.

Another bus (Unitransco this time) ride from Cartegena to Santa Marta; supposedly a 3½ hour trip east along the north coast, but turned out to be nearer 5 hours. The hold-up occurred at about half-way during the lunchtime rush hour around the large port city of Barranquilla. Big traffic jams. I maybe mentioned before that Colombia has three rush hours; morning, evening and lunchtime when everyone seems to drive home for lunch. Anyway, arrived safely at the bus terminal which is again some distance from the town centre. I then discovered that there are no Uber cabs operating here. I had to use one of the  little yellow perils. Give the cabby his due, it was cheap and efficient.

Santa Marta is another port town and, frankly, does not have an awful lot to offer except for a few amusing places in the centre and on the sea front. Boiling hot again. However it does have very attractive wooded, hilly and mountainous countryside just to the east and south; the foothills of the Sierra Nevada range. Popular with hikers and bird-watchers.

I found a fantastic hostel (mentioned in Lonely Planet) called Masaya. It is central on Calle 14.

Very comfortable en-suite room. It is in what was a very grand town-house. Left: The atrium with swimming pool. My room was at top right.

Right:....with a very decent rooftop bar/restaurant, but it got a bit windy up there.

Left: The rules of the house!

One of the joys of this place, and other hostels, is the staff tend to speak good English and are remarkably helpful in giving good advice.

Right: Sorry to bore you with  more statues, but in the centre of the very pretty central park called, inevitably, 'Parque Bolivar', was another of his many large erections. Again pigeonless. Someone in this country  could make a fortune by exporting their 'anti-pigeon' stuff.

It is, or was, a convention that a statue of a horse with both front legs off the ground meant that its rider was killed in battle. One leg off the ground indicated he (or she!) had been wounded, and all legs on the ground meant that the rider had died of something else. Simon Bolivar died of tuberculosis, so his horse is not correct. Not sure what all four legs off the ground would indicate, but that would entail a more difficult challenge for the sculptor.

There is one, and only one, place in town that provides a popular venue for bars, restaurants, music and other entertainment. It is along Carrera 3. Quiet and almost deserted by day it becomes heaving at night (left). Quite amusing.

I happened to be walking through the Parque when what looked like a running race was coming to the finish line (right). The cheering crowd were waving blow-up sticks with some product name on them. Film crew all around. It was being filmed for an advert and I can't remember what for. 'Runners' hidden and they must have done several 're-takes'.

There is another 'Museo del Oro' here. It is a pale imitation of the one in Bogota. There were several 'staff' wandering around in traditional tribal costumes (left).

Right: Also on display in the museum. There is a festival and parade each year which features crocodiles, or are they caimans, and people wear or stand in outfits like this and parade through the streets. Might go down well in my home town, but it is not famous for its crocs (or caimans).

Left: There is a long beach with a rather dirty port at the northern end (behind me). Very hot weather and I was tempted to take a dip, but due to the 'hide your kit' problem explained in earlier blog, I settled for sitting in one of the bars and having a cool beer instead.

Right: Dotted along the sea-front are several of these rather odd statues. Not sure who this one represents but has strange physical features including an enormous left hand and right foot. Female I suppose but I've never met one shaped quite like this, and not sure I want to. 

The police around town use these Segway type scooters. They are common for this purpose from Mexico down through all South America. I think they are a very practical idea. Can't be used in UK simply because nobody knows how to classify them, and therefore simpler to ban them. Typical British lack of initiative and fear of 'Elf 'n Safety' problems.

On Sunday I walked through the Plaza de la Catedral. Right: The impressive Catedral.

Left: I went inside. It was packed; standing room only. These Catholic churches don't half have a big following (and a big collection no doubt). Amongst the clergy present I noticed several women officiating in clerical style garb, even doing speaking parts from the front. I didn't think the Catholic Church had women priests, or maybe these ladies were designated as something else. 

As the service progressed there was another priest taking confessions from his box on the side. There was quite a long queue. Right: This lady had just stood up after doing her confession. I don't know what she was telling him but whatever it was the priest was having (silent) fits of laughter. I think it must be rather fun taking confessions. 

Left: A shady street during the quiet mid-day period; the best time to go for a peaceful meal in one of the few eateries that was open. Maybe this was on Sunday when many of the shops were shut.

On Monday I decided to go on a 'tour' east outside the town around the village of Minka. I started out from the Hostel in a yellow cab (all included in the tour) and shared the ride with a German/Italian lady called Laura. She and her wife and family were on holiday here but the others had gone snorkelling. She was a very amusing lady. Right: The High Street in Minka which is about 20 miles out of town in the foothills of the Sierra Nevada mountain range.

We were due to meet our guide, Joe, and his daughter, Andrea, there plus other people on the tour.

On arrival at Minka we met Andrea, our guide for the day, and four rather swarthy gentlemen who looked a bit middle-eastern. We (Laura and I) couldn't work out where they were from and couldn't even work out what language they were speaking. We had guesses as to where they came from.

Left: Laura (top left), Andrea and the four 'unknowns'; our little tour group.

Minka is a very popular village as a base for tourists, especially the back-packing, hiking, naturalist and bird-watching types. It has some rustic but very charming looking hostels and the area is in very scenic wooded hilly countryside about 1000ft above the sea. Coffee, cacao and bamboo (above 1200ft) are grown in the area. There are good views over Santa Marta (right).

We first walked to a place were there was an 'original' native village (in pristine condition) and given a demonstration of the coffee making process. Colombian coffee is hand-picked (here anyway) so they always get the correctly ripened beans. It is therefore better, and more expensive, as a result.

Left: A demo of how the beans are selected, washed, dried, roasted and finally hand ground.

We were then invited to sit down and try cups of freshly ground and brewed Colombian coffee. It was very good (rather strong). It was at this sociable stage that we got to know a bit more about the four blokes who were with us. They were Swedish! Well, not exactly; One was Palestinian, one Albanian, One Azerbaijani and can't remember the other. I suspect second generation living in Stockholm. They all spoke perfect English and turned out to be very amusing. Four mates who had travelled together widely and this time had decided on Colombia. Its amazing the sort of people you meet on these trips. Anyway, they were very good news and seemed constantly to take the piss out of each other.

Wandering back through Minka we passed the village church (right).

It was then on uphill. I asked Andrea how high the mountain was around here. She said up to "5775 metres". Bloody hell, I thought, thats nearly 19,000ft! Thats well above oxygen requirement level. I wasn't banking on that for a relaxing day out! Fortunately we were only going a little way up. This is the Sierra Nevada range which has the second highest peak in the world directly above sea level. 

We tramped on up paths to a rather delighful waterfall. The idea was to go for a swim and play about on the rocks. Laura stripped off and took full advantage of the shower  facilities (left).

Right: The four 'Musquetiers' ( they said they were Muslim. "No pork please" when asked if they had any dietary requirements for lunch, "but lots of anything else") celebrating their climb to the top of the very slippery waterfall. 

Left: Being English I kept my clothes on and paddled.

The others were all then taken off to a fall nearby where they could slide down another smooth waterfall. I could hear their screams as I sat on a rock where my feet got bitten by, I think, some vicious sandflies. Bloody itchy for a couple of days afterwards.

Back along another track we passed several bamboo plantations. Bamboo, a grass, is an extraordinary plant. It grows here in areas above 1200ft altitude. From shoot to full grown at a height of about 30ft takes only 6 months. The mature plant is dried and used to make an extraordinary range of things from furniture to buildings. The strength and resilience of bamboo is greater than steel. I was told.

To a 'villa' in the middle of nowhere for lunch. This was situated on a promentary overlooking Santa Marta with amazing panoramic views. and belonged to Joe the tour boss. The building, and its furniture, was made almost entirely out of bamboo. He will be opening it as a guest house next year. Perfect place for a truly 'get away from it all' holiday, and very comfortable.

After a delicious and amusing lunch we were given a talk on bamboo (yes, it was interesting) and then a demo of how chocolate was made (left). 

The seeds are cut out of the cacao fruit (grey and slimey things which you can suck, if you want to), washed, dried, roasted and then ground in a mincer (rather like the coffee process). This produces a dark, strong and bitter basic chocolate.

Right: Pick up a ball of this and squidge in a pinch of moist sugar cane and bingo! You have a sweet tasting chocolate. No milk or starch involved; that's left for Messrs Cadbury & Co to produce a less healthy variety. The basic chocolate we ate here is supposed to have amazing aphrodisiac qualities. The great Aztec  leader, Montezuma, apparently ate vast amounts of the stuff every day and this did the trick for him. Our four Swedish companions therefore got well and truly stuck in. One of them is getting married next year, and the other three have promised that they will all be there on his honeymoon!

Left: Serenaded by, can't remember his name, who gave us the chocolate demo. He was quite a talented guitarist and singer.

It was a good day out with lots of laughs so thanks to Joe and Andrea, and the others. Goodness knows where the Swedish gang will end up next. Maybe I'll hear from them!

Right: A bevy of Santa Marta beauties lined up at dusk on the seafront. Not sure what that was in aid of; not for me thats sure.

Left: El Rata at the bar in Masaya hostel.

I think thats about all from Santa Marta. Next off on a fairly epic bus trip back to Bogota.

One more report to come from there.