The Australian Outback: Darwin down to Alice Springs

I began my Australian travels on May 13, flying from Bangkok into Darwin in the Northern Territory. A couple days later, I began a nine-day organized bus tour of the Outback, which would take me from Darwin, located on the "top end", as they call it here, to Alice Springs, which is located 1500 kilometres to the south - pretty much in the centre of the country/continent.

I usually try and avoid organized tours, but with limited time, it was the best option to see many of the major sites, not to mention avoid being stranded, alone, dying of thirst on the side of the road, with dingos lurking and vultures circling (not sure if there are vultures in Australia - but you get the point). It ended up being an excellent decision - the guides were excellent, the tour well organized, and the group I was with were great people and a lot of fun. I hope to meet up with many of them again some day.

Day one consisted of a trip to Litchfield National Park. Our activities included going for a swim in what would be the first of many, many waterfalls on the trip, as well as having Aboriginals explain the arts of didgeridoo-making and grass-weaving. But the definite highlight of the day was the guided boat trip on Corroboree billabong and seeing a 4.5 metre saltwater crocodile. We were, happily, safe (?) on our boat. And besides, there were a few other passengers between me and the croc. So I was fine. Here he is:

A 4.5 metre long "salty"

The following two day, we visited Kakadu National Park. Here, we hiked in the bush, saw ancient aboriginal rock art and took in one of the many awesome sunsets that I would see in the Northern Territory. At night, we stayed in pre-set-up camps. As I said, we had excellent guides for our trip: very knowledgeable, and funny.

After visiting Litchfield and Kakadu parks, we embarked on the second part of our tour the next day - beginning the long 1500 km trip south down the Stuart Highway to Alice Springs. We stopped in Katherine Gorge on day four, taking a boat trip through two of the gorges. All three days on our trip down to Alice, we made stops in cool (maybe "quaint" is a more accurate term) little NT towns, such as Adelaide River, Katherine, and Daly Waters (population: 8), to name but a few. Despite their small size, they all seemed to have pubs.

A highlight of this leg of our journey was seeing sunrise at the Devil's Marbles -  huge boulders spread across the land which, when caught buy the rising sun, create a stunning visual effect.

Floating down Katherine Gorge

Sunrise at the Devil's Marbles

"Can't...hold...rocks...apart...much...longer..."

The one unfortunate aspect of this tour - which couldn't be helped - is that the desert had received quite a bit of rain earlier in the year. The result was a green, grassy, bush-filled outback - NOT the red sand Outback we all expect. I suppose I shouldn't lament the end of a years-long drought, but couldn't Mother Nature have waited until NEXT year? :)

In addition to tents, we also spent a couple of nights sleeping in swags under the stars. And I caught my first-ever sight of the Southern Cross constellation, which can only be seen from the Southern Hemisphere. For those who did not know, this is the constellation which adorns the Aussie flag.

Did I mention I crossed the Tropic of Capricorn? Well, I did. Look.

We arrived in Alice Springs at the end of our sixth day. Our guide, Jack, referred to it as the "Big Smoke" - despite a population of only 27,000 it IS the second-largest city in the Northern Territory (after Darwin). The next day we started the final leg of our tour, with the major attraction being Uluru (formerly known as Ayer's Rock). I have wanted to visit Uluru since it first entered my consciousness as a teenager. It did not disappoint. We caught stunning views of Uluru at both sunrise and sunset. The fading (or rising) light causes the rock to change colour. Spectacular. We also spent one morning hiking the 10km perimeter of the rock.

There is more I could (and wanted) to write about Uluru (not to mention the neighbouring Kata Tjuta), but I fear if I get started, I'll never finish this blog post. If I don't finish it up now, it'll never happen.
 

Uluru

As I write this, I am in the middle of a whirlwind journey down the east coast. It's a bit of a rush job. I flew from Alice Springs (which definitely wins the award for smallest airport I've been to on this trip) to Cairns, and am making my way at breakneck speed to Sydney. I have a number of things to see, and people to visit, before I catch a certain trans-Pacific flight out of Sydney in a couple of weeks time. Ironic - I've been traveling for a year, and yet what I lack for now is time. The end is near! This could be the last post...

Three and a half months in SE Asia

I know, I know. No blog postings in over three months. What have I done in the that time? Well, I can't go into too many details (this would end up being the War and Peace of blog postings if I did), so here is a summary of sorts:

I flew into Bangkok from Mumbai on January 31. The relative modernity of Thailand compared to India was striking, but not unwelcome. I spent time in Bangkok basically chilling out and decompressing from India - with a minimum of sightseeing mixed in - before heading north to the city of Chiang Mai.

While I was in Chiang Mai, I did a three-day, two-night jungle trek, which included staying a night in a hilltribe village, another night in the jungle, and a turn at riding elephants. There were eleven of us on our trek: an outstanding group of people, from several countries (hello to Marco, Ben, Wil, Clair, Xanthe, Evan, Rachel, Nicola). We ended up hanging out together when we got back to the city, renting scooters for a day and visiting Doi Suthep, a temple (and mountain) located 15 km outsdie the city.

 

 

Trekking in the jungle

The trekking crew...

...a few days later, on scooters to Doi Suthep

After Chiang Mai, made my way to the Thailand-Laos border with my German travel buddy Marco. We crossed into Laos and took the two-day slow boat down the Mekong River to the city of Luang Prabang, the beautiful, former royal capital of Laos. It was here Marco and I connected with a new group of excellent people. One of the highlights was the visit to the Kuang Si waterfall. 

At one of the many waterfalls at Kuang Si waterfall. I'm happy to be there.

I traveled with the group to Vang Vieng for a night, and we parted ways as I made my way to Ventiane, the capital of Laos, to catch a flight to Phnom Penh, Cambodia. This was at the beginning of March, and it was here that I met up with my new travel partner, Kerry, who came over from Canada to travel with me through Cambodia and Vietnam for three weeks.

Our visit to Phnom Penh consisted mainly of visiting the notorious Killing Fields and the former S21 prison, a legacy of the murderous Khmer Rouge regime. Not surprisingly, visiting those two places evoked similar feelings as my visit to Auschwitz in Poland last fall. The difference is how recent the Khmer Rouge's massacre of 3 million of their fellow Cambodians really was: only thirty-odd years ago, within my lifetime. The most sobering and eerie aspect of walking through the Killing Fields is that you would still see bits of human bone and clothing that would be pushed up by the soil with each rainy season.

After Phnom Penh we spent a few days on an island off the coast of Cambodia: Koh Rong. We stayed in a treehouse bungalow, right on the beach. Our three night stay there was, in so many ways, a definite highlight of my entire trip: Secluded beaches, excellent seafood, crystal clear water. As close to paradise as I've ever been. And by secluded, I mean NO ONE else to be seen on the beach for half a kilometre or so in either direction. Koh Rong isn't very developed...yet. But I indications are that this little bit of paradise will be open to the developers very soon. It's a shame, but I'm glad I got to visit it while I could. If we didn't have onward travel plans, I think we would've stayed longer...

Sunrise from Koh Rong treehouse bungalow

Our next stop in Cambodia was Siem Reap to visit Ankor Wat. The temples were fairly impressive, but to be honest, I was not as blown away by them as I thought I would be. You can blame this on my visit to Petra (in Jordan): I think it has spoiled temples (and all ancient structures) for me - it has set the bar high. A surprise highlight was our visit to the ACODO orphanage to see the children put on an amazing and charming performance of traditional Cambodian dance. 

The orphanage impressed me so much, I returned in April to volunteer for a week, teaching English. More on this later.

From Siem Reap, we flew to Hanoi, Vietnam. Hanoi's traffic was insane. Crossing the street was a challenge, but one quickly got used to it (note: when crossing the street with someone, it is crucial that one of you takes the lead. Any indecision and unpredictability on your part will NOT end well for you! We did fine.).

While we did spend a couple of nights in Hanoi, it was mainly an access point for our Halong Bay boat excursion. We did a three-day, styling (and I mean STYLING) boat ride through the less-traveled eastern part of the bay. The limestone islands which jut out of the ocean are truly impressive, whether the weather was overcast and foggy (which gave things a mystical feeling) or bright and sunny. We were fortunate to experience both types of weather. The trip included kayaking around some of the islands and absolutely fantastic meals, both on the boat and, on one occasion, on an island beach.

Halong Bay

After Halong Bay, it was a hellish-but-could-have-been-worse overnight bus ride to the charming central Vietnam city of Hoi An. A few days there - which included taking a Vietnamese cooking class -  and then on to the zero-western-tourists (or tourists of any stripe, actually) beach town of Quy Nhon, for a last blast of beach action.

This was followed by an India-esque overnight train to Ho Chi Minh City (aka Saigon). Visited the Cu Chi tunnels, where the Viet Cong created havoc for the Americans and South Vietnamese throughout the Vietnam War. If you saw the effort put into these tunnels, and the hardships endured in doing so, you'd agree that the Americans and the South never had a chance at winning the war. It is at the Cu Chi tunnels where they have a weapons range: we took a turn at firing an AK-47. It was kinda cool. But man, are those guns loud. You have no idea until you experience it.

Kerry's trip ended in Saigon – she flew back home. I stuck around Saigon for another day or two, visiting the War Remnants museum, to see the Vietnamese perspective on the Vietnam War (or the American War, as they call it). I then headed west to the coast, again, to Mui Ne. It was here that I experienced one of the beautiful moments of my trip: on the way back from visiting the sand dunes Mui Ne is famous for, flying down the highway on scooters with my American friends, Vince and Kristine, with the ocean on one side, the setting sun on the other. It was this same afternoon that I took my now-famous (among my Facebook friends, anyway) ostrich ride. (Be my Facebook friend, and see the photo!)

Wow, this is one long post. Well, I AM trying summarize (?) three and a half months. Feel free to take a break, grab a snack, go the toilet, whatever...I'll wait here for you...(cue Muzak)....

Okay, welcome back. So, from Mui Ne, I high-tailed it to Dalat, in the central highlands, where I re-connected with English friends Tonia and Daniel (whom I originally met in Laos), joining them on a four-day Easy Rider motorcycle tour through through the highlands, ending up back in Saigon. Along the way, we visited hill tribes, rice wine makers, silk factory (as in, from silk worms), visited bombed-out bridges from the war, and more - much too much to mention. My driver and guide, Mr. Bin, was funny, knowledgeable and a had a knack for taking killer photographs. We visited the Cu Chi tunnels at the end of our tour – Tonia and Daniel hadn't been yet. My second time around, I returned to the firing range and fired an AK-47 AND an M16. My aim had not improved any since my first visit.

From Saigon, I took a bus back to Cambodia, back to Siem Reap to – as I mentioned above – volunteer at the ACODO orphanage. Tonia and Daniel joined me. It was a rewarding and unforgettable experience. I'll never forget the children, and I plan to go back some day. I think my experience at the orphanage deserves more than just a mention in a blog post, but that's all I can put for now. Click here for the ACODO website.

From Siem Reap, back to Thailand, back to Bangkok...right smack dab in the middle of Songcran (New Year), where the custom is to purify yourself - and everyone else - with water. Therefore, there were water fights all over Bangkok. This was a hell of an experience, which turned into - briefly – a hellish experience when I left my moneybelt, with my passport and my bank cards, in a taxi. After two or three hours of panic and stress, they were thankfully recovered. It did put a bit of the damper on my Songcran spirit. 

We were back in Bangkok in order to make our way down south to Ko Jum, a small, less-touristy island near Ko Phi Phi. Tonia and Daniel had been there earlier in their trip and had made many friends. We stayed at bungalows run by their ever-smiling and hospitable friend Eak for a bit less than a week. A highlight for me was the boat excursion to Ko Phi Phi: blue-green waters and the best snorkeling I have ever done.

I sadly parted ways with my lovely friends, Tonia and Daniel – we had been traveling together for the previous four weeks - who were moving on to Malaysia, while I was returning to the north of Thailand. I wanted to visit Pai - a town I had missed my first time around. It's a cool little artsy-hippy town north-west of Chiang Mai. I spent a week in Pai, doing a whole lot of nothing. Well, actually I did some yoga, rented a scooter for three days and toured around the countryside.

I went from Pai to Wat Tam Wua, a Buddhist forest monastery roughly 60 km from Pai, where I did vispassana meditation for seven days. There were other foreigners, along with Thais and, of course, the monastery's Buddhist monks. Accommodation was provided free of charge (though donations accepted) as were the two daily meals (breakfast and lunch only – no evening meal for Buddhist monks). You slept on a thin mat on a wooden floor - but it actually wasn't too bad. We had meditation sessions in the morning and the afternoon, and a shorter meditation in the evening. The setting of the monastery was beyond picturesque. 

Tam Wua forest monastery

I am now back in Pai, preparing to head to Chiang Mai, to catch an overnight train to Bangkok. From Bangkok, I catch my next flight. Destination: Australia, for the final (!) month of my trip.

There - you're caught up, sort of. Until the next post...

Andrew

Varkala

Touristy. Overpriced. Only foreigners. Not the real India.

Yes, all of the above statements could be used to describe the beach town of Varkala.  But I do not care. It’s January. I’m Canadian. And my body, normally accustomed to trying to stay warm in this climatically accursed month, is wondering what the hell is going on with the +30 degree weather and blazing sunshine EVERY DAY FOR NEARLY TWO WEEKS. Oh…and don’t forget about the beach and the bath-water warm ocean water and awesome waves - maybe not quite surfable (not that I surf - yet), but good enough for body surfing and boogie-boarding.

Overpriced? Well, yes, but only by standards elsewhere in India. The room of my guesthouse - cold-water shower (in this weather, not an issue), mosquito net (yes, it’s needed) and no frills - is 600 rupees/night, the equivalent of about $13. I’ve gotten accommodation for well less than half that amount elsewhere in my India travels. The food at the numerous restaurants and cafes overlooking the ocean - killer sunsets every night, by the way - is pricey (again, relative to elsewhere in India) and often unremarkable. But still, I do not care.

My days have consisted of waking late and going for breakfast. Then heading to the beach. Reading, either at the beach or at a café. (Normally one who reads at a glacial pace, I’ve blown through two books since I’ve been here). Surfing the internet at wifi cafes overlooking the ocean. Playing cards with fellow travelers. Basically, a whole lot of sweet nothing.

Varkala has a laid back feel. It’s not the big party spot that Goa is reputed to be. There are a few cool places here to go for drinks. (Sadly, like all of India so far, the only beer available is the putrid Kingfisher. But any old port in a storm.) I don’t think I would enjoy Goa any more than I’ve enjoyed my time here, so I’ve decided to give it a pass, extend my stay here and then head straight to Mumbai.

Do I have any bad things to say about Varkala? Well, there are these guys who walk around selling these goddamn bongo drums. Playing them while trying to sell them. Let’s just say that many a serene moment, drinking coffee or having a beer while staring at the sea, has been marred by these drum-playing annoyances. For the last time, no, I do not want to buy a drum. And no, that it is "best quality" doesn't matter. No, it doesn't matter how low a price you give me. Now please stop playing it while standing right in front of me…

Other than that, I’ve enjoyed this place. Back to the “real” India tomorrow. Sad to leave Varkala, but looking forward to Mumbai.

Vistas like this...

...and beaches like this...

...equals this. One happy, relaxed traveler.

Kerala

Since my last blog entry, I spent a further two and a half weeks in Northern India: Agra, Varanasi, Bodh Gaya and Calcutta. I then caught a flight to Kochi, in the southern Indian state of Kerala located on the country’s western coast. Perhaps I will add a blog entry at a later date regarding those final two weeks in the north - but knowing my lack of consistency in blogging…well, no guarantees. :)

The south has been a welcome change from the north. Don’t get me wrong, I loved (most of) my experiences up north. I will go back some day. I was told that the south is more laid-back, perhaps due to its warm climate. It has certainly not disappointed.

I flew into Kochi from Calcutta. I instantly noticed the warmer temperatures when I got off the plane. I spent about five days in Fort Cochin, which is an old colonial area right on the water (I guess, technically, much - if not all - of India is an “old colonial area”, but what I meant is that the style of architecture gives it a colonial feel). Colonial architecture, tree-lined streets, no random cows, nor the accompanying not-so-random cow poo, and only a minimal number of burning piles of garbage: Kerala truly was different from the other parts of India I had visited.

After Kochi, myself and my Scottish friend Kevin caught a bus to Alleppey, where we spent a couple of nights and where we did a backwater canoe daytrip. The Kerala Backwaters are a popular attraction for visitors. Many people do overnight houseboat tours, but the price was a little steep for us. The canoe trip we opted for, while only for the day, took us to some of the backwater channels that the houseboats could not access.

We had a guide who paddled our canoe for us while, at first anyway, the two of us just sat back and enjoyed the ride. But just as Kevin and I both shared our guilt at having an old man do the paddling for two younger guys, our man motioned for Kevin to grab a spare paddle at the front. So, Kevin and I took turns paddling throughout the day, happy (believe it or not) for some exercise.  Every so often, locals would come by in a boat, or nearby on shore and they would share a laugh with our guy in their language. I’m convinced they were laughing at how he got the white guys to do some of the work. Also included in the backwater trip was breakfast and lunch at the guide’s house in one of the backwater villages. The meals were cooked and served by his ever-smiling wife. No utensils for this meal: hands only. Our guide and his wife would both stand over us and watch us as we ate, which was a little bizarre at first, but it seems they just wanted to make sure we had enough food. They were intent on stuffing us, I’m sure. One of our other stops included a riverside bar of sorts where we drank some coconut beer. One of the more surreal moments: canoeing by a riverside church which had a Backstreet Boys song blaring out of its loudspeakers. (Note: I did not identify the song. It was Kevin who was able to name the tune, to his everlasting shame. Sorry Kev.)

After Alleppey, we caught a train down the coast to Varkala, which is a touristy beach town. Yeah, I know it’s not the “real” India, but I’m loving it here. I’ve been here for about ten days and am enjoying beach life, the sunshine and +30 degree temperatures and doing a whole lot of nothing. I’m off to Mumbai in a few days, which will be my last stop in India before I fly off to Thailand.

 

 

Our guide

The Backwaters

Enjoying coconut beer

Our backwaters ride

First weeks in India

I began my India experience on December 1st, flying into Delhi from Amman, Jordan. Out of all the places I have traveled to so far, I experienced the most pre-arrival anticipation/trepidation for India. I knew it would be a challenging place, in many ways. I can’t say that anything has really surprised me so far. But not being surprised doesn’t mean you’re not blown away by what you see. I must admit I didn’t get off to a great start: I found Delhi difficult, but that wasn’t helped by the fact that I got sick my third day there. Apparently, it is very common for the majority of travelers to get sick within a week or two or arrival. And I think almost half of the travelers I spoke to in Delhi were also suffering from “Delhi Belly”. I made use of my antibiotics that I got from the travel clinic back home before I left, which helped immensely. I was only sick for a couple of days. I was thankful to have a television in my hotel room which had BBC World News and a few other English shows to help pass the time between sprints to the toilet. I didn’t see a whole lot in Delhi - save for the Red Fort, which I visited mere hours before the “troubles” (with my digestion, that is) began. But walking around the Paharganj area, where I was staying, is an experience in and of itself. The things you hear or think about India are true: the traffic, the throngs of people, the noise, the garbage, the air pollution, the cows walking down the middle of the street - it’s all here. It was a bit jarring at first, but I’m now getting used to it. Speaking of jarring, the one thing I have a hard time getting used to is the horn honking. It’s an essential part of driving here, evidently, and the horns (on all vehicles: cars, trucks, motorcycles, auto-rickshaws) are about five times as loud - no joke - as what we have in North America. I still jump out of my skin about once a day.

After my four and half days in Delhi, I caught a daytime train north to Haridwar and from there a forty minute bus trip to Rishikesh. Rishikesh was the ideal balm to soothe my Delhi-hardened soul. It is the self-styled “Yoga Capital of the World” after all. It came to prominence in the late 1960s when a band known as The Beatles visited here and spent time at the Mararishi Mahesh Yogi’s ashram (I visited the remains of that now-abandoned ashram). I spent my two weeks (!) in Rishikesh in the Lakshman Jhula area, which is right by the Ganges River. I didn’t stay in an ashram, but did yoga here and there. I spent a lot of time at the Ganga Beach Café reading and hanging out with some very cool people. That’s one thing about India so far:  while I have met some wonderful fellow travelers previously on my trip, I’m encountering an even larger proportion of them here. I made some very good friends in Rishikesh, and hope our paths will cross again. You know who you are.

Some other Rishikesh highlights: Swimming in the frigid Ganga (Ganges) on my last day - the upstream, seemingly cleaner part. And the bullfight on the walking bridge over the river. Two bulls (many street cows in Rishikesh) charged each other on the walking bridge one day, and literally locked horns. While stuck together - and blocking a usually steady flow of people - locals were whacking them on the butt with sticks and rods to get them moving (I was viewing this in a safe location off the bridge). When they finally got free, one of the bulls turned and charged towards the crowd on that side of the bridge. I have never seen people move so fast in my life. No one was hurt. It was hilarious.

Rishikesh is in northern India, and it IS December, so the weather at night can get quite frigid. Now, not Canada frigid, but with no insulation and no heating, your room can get pretty cold when it drops to 6 degrees (Celsius) at night. Several layers of blankets helps this, as well as the trusty toque I bought earlier in my trip. The days, however, were great - low 20s. Sorry, people back in Canada.

After Rishikesh, I headed northwest to Amritsar, in the Punjab. The main attraction is the Golden Temple - the holiest site for Sikhs. I spent three nights in the Sri Guru Ram Das Niwas, which is the free - and very clean and comfortable - accommodation (they take donations) just adjacent to the Golden Temple. The people in India have been very nice, but the people I met in Amritsar were extra-special in that regard. Maybe it has something do with (as I learned) the welcoming nature of the Sikh religion, in which no matter your faith, creed or race, they welcome all to their holiest site, provide shelter and food (there is also a free kitchen in the Temple, feeding tens of thousands of people daily). You stick out as a foreigner here, and people will come up to you and say hello, shake your hand and start asking you questions, genuinely interested in you. Some even take your photo. You feel like a rock star.

The Golden Temple is just that - gilded, according to my Lonely Planet guide, with 750kg of pure gold. The reflection of the rising sun off of it in the morning is stunning. When entering the compound of the Golden Temple, you must be barefoot and have your head covered. Again, as a light-skinned foreigner, it was amusing all the double-takes I would get. Amritsar was a special place. Definitely include it in your India itinerary.

Amritsar is very close (about one hour by taxi) to the India-Pakistan border. But in a seeming gesture of goodwill - as well as rivalry and nationalism - they hold a border-closing ceremony each night. This is essentially a Changing of the Guard on steroids: Indian and Pakistani border guards - facing each other across the soon-to-be-shut border gate - try and outdo each other with energetic and flamboyant Monty Pythonesque high steps. All this with stands of screaming, flag-waving Indians chanting “Hindustan! Hindustan!” (which is Hindi for “India”). Similar scene on the Pakistani side. This nationalistic pep rally was one of the most entertaining, if bizarre, things I have seen on my trip. I think Canada and the US should adopt this for the Windsor-Detroit border crossing.

After three nights in Amritsar, I took a 14 hour train ride to Agra, home of the Taj Mahal. Which is where I am now on December 24th, and where I will be spending Christmas. Merry Christmas from India!

Istanbul

I'm a terrible blogger - I admit it. I'm so behind, it's not even funny. I'm in Israel at the moment, and have been for over a week, and I haven't even blogged about my two weeks in Turkey, let alone my two nights in Tiranna, Albania - all amazing experiences worth blogging about. There is some sort of  blogging equation or law emerging here - the more bloggable travel experiences one has, the less time (or inclination?) one has to actually write the blog. Andrew's Law of Travel Blogging - you read it here first.

Or maybe I'm just lazy.

Let's talk Turkey (I know, I know...): My two weeks in Turkey were split between sensory-overloading Istanbul, and the peaceful and stunning Cappodocia in the central part of the country. Istanbul did not start out smoothly as I arrived in the middle of a torrential downpour. It was during this downpour that I realized I had left the rain cover for my backpack back in Montenegro (two countries previous). I don't care if I get wet, but it would be crappy if my pack and it's contents got soaked. And I got lost on the way to the hostel (getting lost was easy to do, for me, in Istanbul). But this was when I first encountered the kindness of Turkish people. Despite not speaking English, several people helped me find my hostel - the last person walking me right up to the door. I encountered this friendliness over and over during my time in Turkey.

Plenty of amazing things to see in Istanbul: The Blue Mosque, the Aya Sofya, Topkapi Palace, to name but a few, with the Aya Sofya being my favourite. The Grand Bazaar was interesting and, not surprisingly, jammed with people - mostly tourists it seemed. It was here that I realized I had many more friends in Istanbul than I knew, as I kept hearing vendors call out to me, "My friend, my friend" and then try and get me to "just take a look" at some of their wares. I preferred the Spice Bazaar with it's awesome array of colours and smells. I couldn't resist buying dried strawberries and Turkish Delight.

It's not too often one can say that they took a day trip to another continent, but I did just that. Istanbul straddles both Europe and Asia, divided by the Bosphorus River. It was pretty easy to hop a ferry over to the Asia side - on the ride across, looking south, I saw countless number of oil tankers in the distance. It's a pretty major tanker route between the Black Sea and the Mediterranean.

There's way more I could add, but in the interest of getting this entry posted before 2011, I'm gonna end things there. I've only got a few photos to share with you at the moment - I'll hopefully add more later. I have some issues with dust on the inside of my camera lens, so I'd like to photoshop the dust spots out before adding those photos. And hopefully I'll get my camera fixed at some point...

Near the Grand Bazaar

The Galata Tower - near where I stayed

The Aya Sofya

Aya Sofya

Kotor, Montenegro

And now, to recount my brief but enjoyable visit to a country many of you have never heard of before: Montenegro. Montenegro is a former Yugoslav republic and the last to gain independence - only as recently as 2006. So, I guess it's the youngest country I've ever visited. Or that anyone could visit, for that matter. I spent two nights in the picturesque (to grossly understate it) town of Kotor. It is located on a fjord-like inlet of the Adriatic Sea. Kotor's Old Town - where my hostel was located - has awesome medieval walls that surround the city and go up the mountainside. The highlight of my stay here was my hike up the wall/mountain, and the amazing views that went along with it. I was fortunate have excellent weather for this. Enough talk - check out my photos:

The old town and harbour, from part-way up the wall.

No, I'm not describing a fish I caught.