“I Couldn’t Be So Near and Do Nothing”

That was what Martin, an All Hands volunteer said about why he was here. Somehow it perfectly and succinctly summed up why the 45 other faces were here too; and not, like so many other travellers, making plans for full moon parties, drinking buckets of cocktails on a Thai beach.

All volunteers were here because they felt compelled to. There were no voyuers, martyrs or egos and besides the devastation wreaked by Yolonda was far bigger than the combined personalities of the 46 volunteers on Project Leyte.

But what does it mean to volunteer?

It’s Beginning to Look a Lot Like Christmas

Except in Thailand it isn’t one bit with the exception of the occasional tired looking plastic Christmas tree outside a western hotel and a questionable rendition of we wish you a merry Christmas wafting from inside its walls.

Not being the biggest fan of Christmas part of the appeal about being away was not being subjected to the tedious build up, frantic shopping and never ending cycle of Christmas dos. However strangely as Christmas Day was rapidly approaching I felt I should probably do something to mark it, perhaps it’s not the same as any other day after all.

Having been told about being able to get to Thailand’s highest peak from Chaing Mai, we signed up for a trip to Doi Inthanon National Park for Christmas Day.

Expecting some strenuous trekking in order to be rewarding with stunning views at the top we were somewhat disappointed that the trek to the summit consisted of a 5 minute stroll from the car park and the view was non-existent (although the car park offered some nice views of the cloud covered hills below us).

Ironic that much like Christmas itself our Christmas Day in foreign shores was pretty anti-climatic. However as the sun set and the temperature dropped a delicious (the best I’ve had in Thailand) meal, cocktail and a bucket of mojito later it was beginning to feel a bit more like Christmas.

There was no Santa Claus but we did have a nice chat to a lady from the Karen hill tribe who persuaded us to by a friendship bracelet and toy elephant… Certainly Christmas Day was a memorable one even without the cast of usual festive suspects.

Hell Hath No Fury Like A Woman Scorned

There’s a story in the Philippines that Yolanda (the local name for Typhoon Haiyan) had found out her husband was cheating on her. So great was her rage at the ultimate betrayal that she ravaged cities and countryside alike lifting the roofs of houses until she found him inside.

Scientists obviously will have a different version of events, and the Filipino story doesn’t say whether Yolanda found her wayward spouse. But whichever version of events you believe, the damage is the same; widespread and indiscriminate. Yolanda’s rage lasted for 5 terrifying hours on Leyte; stories of survival are incredible as whole families fled to the rice fields to crawl through irrigation ditches on their stomachs to avoid falling debris and ultimately death.

The statistics tell their own story of Yolanda’s rage; classified a super typhoon with unconfirmed winds of up to 196mph, the fourth most severe typhoon recorded and possibly the most severe typhoon ever recorded to make landfall. The reported death toll is over 5,000. The Philippine Visiyan Islands of Leyte and Samar beared the brunt of Yolanda’s anger. 90 percent of buildings in the main cities of Tacloban and Ormoc (where All Hands Project Leyte is based) lay damaged or destroyed. Over 1 million homes in the region were completely destroyed with an estimated 4.4 million people now homeless or displaced. Most areas have no running water or electricity.

My first day out in the field on Project Leyte and the scene was overwhelming. Roads were lined with flatten houses mile after mile, hillsides that would have been covered with lush green forests are now bare and lined with stumps or trunks stripped bare of all foliage. Schools, Chapels, businesses and homes are all affected. Pylons and power lines lie fallen, twisted and destroyed. There’s hope power will be restored before Christmas.

Yolanda’s temper had calmed by the time she left Leyte, perhaps exhausted by the sheer power she unleashed, or perhaps she’d finally exacted revenge on her cheating spouse. But one thing is for sure Yolanda is a woman no one wants to mess with again.

Warning: Travel has a Detrimental Effect on your Music Taste

Music often revokes memories and emotions. One thing I’ve objectively noticed is how bad my recent additions to my music additions both in terms or cheesiness and abuse of the ear drums – I still embrace them anyway. In start contrast to the music that I quoted in this post.

1. Gangham style by PSY
Camodians LOVE Gangham style. U.K. Readers will remember this was a minor hit a few years ago.

The positives of Gangham style is it’s ubitiquitous lyric ‘hey sexy lady’ universally understood across all 5 continents.

Like all good pop songs Gangham style also has a dance attached it. Fortunately this is a mix of the haka and one potato, two potato combined with a boy band style arm wave at 90 degrees to your audience. At attempt at any of the aforementioned move will almost certainly earn you the the respect (and a free beer) of the Cambodian people and unconditional love of all Cambodian children.

The downside of Gangham style is two fold. Enter any local par and they will bang it on repeat it’s frequently on repeat on buses and other forms of transport. Entering the 5th hour of Gangham repeat and I defy any westerner not to question their sanity.

2. Asaf Avidan & The Mojos – One day/Reckoning song
This song seems to be the travel anthem of 2013. You hear it everywhere on the traveller circuit in SE Asia. It’s actually a fairly good song and the only lyrics ‘one day baby we’ll be old, think of all the stories that we could have told’ reflects my worry I would be lying on my death bed wishing I had travelled plus ‘I don’t think about you all the time and when I do I wonder why’ refers to lost loves back in the UK.

3. Icona pop – I Love It
I arrived in Ireland for Halloween and a rendezvous with my sister and 3 year old nephew. He’d heard Icona Pop on the radio and was dancing and singing the only two memorable lyric from the song ‘I don’t care, I love it’ while dressed as a pumpkin. As a result it’s become a favourite on my iPod, despite being fairly trashy pop.

4. Flo Rida – Wild Ones
Not long before I decided to sell everything and travel the world with just the contents of a 55 litre backpack, I’d been a led on a (not so) merry dance of mixed signals by a woman who was (with hindsight) far too dull for me.

During one of our encounters she labelled me ‘Wild and Dangerous’ due to my choosing to camp after a wedding instead of paying for an expensive hotel. (A statement which ultimately said more about her than me).

Anyway this song is an affirmation of my ‘wild side’, I like to listening to it while jumping waves on deserted Asian beaches and celebrate my narrow escape from the grey and mundane.

5. Imagine Dragons – Radioactive
This is the theme tune on Air Asia flights (think Asia’s answer to Easyjet) it’s played on boarding, taxing and disembarking. The song itself is pretty ok but wouldn’t be my choice for take-off as its fuelled with inappropriate lyrics such as:

I’m waking up to ash and dust
I wipe my brow and I sweat my rust
I’m breathing in the chemicals

This is it, the apocalypse whoa.

Certainly this is exactly the imagery I associate with plane crashes.

Briefly following in my Grandfather’s Footsteps

In December 1944 HMS King George V docked in Tricomalee as part of the British fleet during World War Two. My Grandfather was aboard that ship. It was therefore poignant that i was able to make a pilgrimage with my own Dad (his son) to the harbour he’d described as ‘the most beautiful in the world’ (Many other world ports did not get nearly such a glowing review). On viewing the harbour area it was easy to see why as blue sea fringed by lush greenery brilliantly reflected the clouds above creating a fantastic view.

Our visit to tricomalee coincided with an annual phenomenon, where for reasons unknown (although suspected to relate the breeding cycle of jellyfish in the bay), thousands upon thousands of dead fish wash up on the shores leaving the whole area smelling of, well dead rotting fish, and it ain’t so nice! A few locals were making valiant efforts to move the fish in a pick up truck (destination unknown!)

Away from the deserted harbour front the rest of Tricomalee was a crowded, chaotic yet functional Sri Lankan affair with little semblance of order. Traffic stalled through the main roads as tuk tuks, minivans and buses fought for space. The main beach was crowded and housing any number of stray dogs, temples, boats and varieties of shacks.

On the harbour front a cute oasis from bustle and heat served lunch in an building that used to be an old Dutch bank. There was no beer on the menu due to no licence but we were told it could be served covertly and appeared served in large coffee mugs.

My grandfathers (illegally kept diary) had frequent mentions of purchases of tea for my grandmother back home. Mine consistents of dead fish and illicit liquor. My grandfather left tricomalee destined for Jakarta, I left in a different direction destined for Bangkok but the view of the harbour was the same for both of us.

First Class Observations

I unintentionally booked a business class flight to the Philippines and was fairly go smacked when I was handed a boarding card with business embossed across it and given directions to the business lounge. I’ve never travelled business class before and doubt I will again (bizarrely this was a cheaper option than an economy seat with another airline) but here are my observations:

1. When the seat in front of you reclines, it doesn’t crush (or even touch) your legs.

2. Meals consistent of 3 courses, complete with tablecloth and Hagen das ice creams for desert no less followed by an after dinner mint and hot towel!

3. Air hostesses act like hostesses rather than trying to manage you and 100s of other people. When the man in front of me had fallen asleep the air hostess attentively closed the window blinds and tucked his blanket in.

4. Priority – you get on the plane first, you leave first, your baggage is priority so one of the first off the plane. All this minimises the hassle of airports (and other passangers).

5. You get your own toilet. In economy the toilets are shared between 100s, in my business class cabin we had 2 between 36 of us. Complete with fancy hand lotions and cologne.

There’s no doubt it’s the more comfortable way to travel and certainly with it being worth the equivalent of an economy ticket with another airline I have no qualms about what I paid. But generally the difference price is generally the equivalent to a minimum of 3 weeks travel in Asia and I know what I’d rather spent my hard earned £’s on.

Coming Back to What You Know

I’ve not updated my blog for a while. It’s been a mixture of catching up with friends and family, thoroughly enjoyable for me, but hardly blog worthy unless you are interested in my victories and losses in a variety of games from Pinochle to Carcassonne.

But for me it was perfect just over four weeks in the company of loved ones which restored and rejuvenated my enthusiasm for travel and helped me learn a few new games. I whiled away a week hiding in one of my best friends basements in Calvert County, Maryland followed by a wonderful ten days in Ireland where I was joined by my sister, her husband and three year old nephew (who remarkably hadn’t forgotten who I was!). Before heading to Achill island with another of my best friends and enjoying British comforts such as pints in local pubs, drizzly rain (!!), driving on the left handside, fish and chips, roast dinners and pies!

After that it was off to Sri Lanka to meet up with my Dad, to explore a new country and engage in general piss taking behaviour of each other. It was great to see my family after 8 months on the road and got me geared up for the next chapter.

The Great American Railroad

My perception of rail travel is romantic. Away from the security screening, mass hoarding at airports and ultimately more refined than the coach. Cruising through scenery in the comfort of a bygone era, drifting away into the scenery and being charmed by the attentive staff. With this ideal its a wonder more people in the US don’t travel by rail. i slowly realised some point during my 92 hours in Amtrak’s coachclass the reality is far removed from the fantasy.

The America railroad was largely completed in 1890 and enjoyed its best years prior to post World War Two boom which would see many railroads run out of business due in part to the increase of air travel and the development of the inter state highway system proving infinitely more popular than the sluggish railroad trains. However during the industrial revolution and beyond America’s railroads proved to be the lifeblood of many towns along the route. Sadly, now many of these towns are a shell of their former selves; many businesses and buildings falling into disrepair can be seen all too prevalently as the train pulls through these towns. Local stores have given way to chains that litter main intersections as the centre of town.

Train travel also seems to attract a certain type of America. On two of my three journeys I’ve sat behind someone incessantly talking to themselves. One of these characters spent an extraordinary amount of time telling me the benefits of drinking saltwater three times a day.

The most interesting encounter was with a seemingly presentable young man who’s eye I made the mistake of catching.

“Hey! Do you believe in Jesus?” he bellowed at me from three rows in front.
“Not really” I replied.
“Hey man if you don’t believe in Jesus, you know you’re going to hell?”
“Yes, I had heard that” I replied with a wry smile
“Seriously dude all the non believers are going to hell, do you want that?”
The train fell strangely silent at this point.
“Well according to you most of my friends will be in hell, so I reckon it’s probably the best place for me”
“Your soul needs to be saved dude you can only do that if you believe in Jesus”
I turned back to my book and continued to mutter before falling silent. When his stop arrived he stopped at my seat
“You’re going to hell man, only jesus can save you”.

Not the first time I’ve been told I am going to hell, and probably not the last either.

So my tactic for train travel is trying to look as anonymous and unappealing as possible and certainly the least attractive option for someone to spend the night sleeping next too. It’s been pretty successful so far.

Train travel isn’t quick the speeds average around 50 mph with a top speed of 79 mph (woo hoo!) My trip from Montana to Chicago was delayed by 11 hours meaning my eventual journey time was 44 hours instead of 33. It was like Groundhog Day and I was surprised to leave with my sanity intact, but then again a high percentage of passangers boarded without it. As compensation 38 hours into the trip they announced all passangers would receive a complimentary meal, starting of course with the sleeping car passangers. By the time they got around to the coach class there was only a spoonful of beef stew available each.

With the exception of one coach attendant. Staff appear not to want to be here, no more is this on display than in the food cart where the attendant begrudgingly serves you coffee or other requested item. Often stating she’s not there or long overdue a break. In America this makes them a ‘colourful character’, whereas everywhere else it would just be rude.

However I’ve strangely enjoyed my journeys, watched with interest as the landscape changes from east to west as the great expanses of plains in North Dakota changed into tree lined fields in Minnesota. Leaving the urban sprawl of industrial Chicago and seeing the changing autumn leaves in New York State, getting lost in my thoughts and music and appreciating just how big this place really is.

Banff Blew My Mind

Truly it did. I was on an absolute high every single moment I was there.

With the US in shutdown I revised my plans and decided to head across the border to Banff. I’d just finished the awesome scenic loop in Montana, I was all about getting out among the big wide world. The road to the border was stunning, those enticing mountains in the distance in the scenic loop grew closer as the roads grew windier. Eventually I arrived the sole traveller at the border crossing. The very charming Canadian immigration official asked me a few questions, mostly concerned about whether I had any alcohol on me (surprisingly for me I’ve hardly had any during my trip to North America).

The scenery after the border was disappointing. It was almost as if way back when they were deciding on boundaries someone said ‘Nope, too boring let someone else have it’. Golden plains seemed to go on forever, like the Bob Dylan numbers my iPod had thrown up on the stereo. either side of the perfectly straight road there were frequent signs warning of distracted driving ‘what on earth could you be distracted by?’ I thought to myself. But in the distance after a few hundred kilometres as I approached the Calgary city limits those enticing mountains would show themselves again chinks of bright white suggested snow and clear blue sky restored my spirit.

A night stop in Calgary, a brief trip to Walmart to stock up on gloves, a hat and more socks (curiously they still go missing on the road…) I was back on the road, the mountains still there, still beaming white streaks and the sky still blue, Banff was my calling.

And Oh. My. Buddha. It was just stunning. Driving through the Canadian Rockies you think wow this is awesome then you turn a corner and its better, then you take a side road signed for a lake and you are greeted with the bluest clearest lake. You step outside walk to a view point, the air feels like the cleanest crispest air you’ve ever breathed. It’s cold your body shivers underneath the multiple layers of clothing and you pull up your gloves and put in your hat and head up the trail. Your eyes are astounded by everything you see, you turn around to see a more stunning view behind you. Then you take out your camera and however good the pictures are they never quite capture how white the snow is, how blue the lake is, how grand the Rockies are standing tall and proud before you.

I’ve seen some amazing scenery on my travels but Banff lifted the bar way above anything I’ve seen before. I spent 3 wonderful days in the park, much like Montana a trip down a side road to a lesser known lake, creek or viewpoint left you totally alone among this awesome scenery. There are bears too, but I didn’t see any although several trails were closed to solo hikers (despite my adventurous spirit I didn’t want to take the risk!) I stayed at a wonderful hostel at Lake Louise in the middle of the Park and within an easy drive of the southern reaches of Jasper National Park (as equally enticing and stunning). As a geeky aside probably the Northern most point I’ll reach on my trip.

I had no expectations of Banff, I’d heard good things about it but no hype. It wasn’t on my ‘must see’ list for this leg of my travels. But it was the most stunning thing I’ve seen so far. Standing alone looking at the Rockies as they huddle the bluest lake you’ve ever seen. I’ve never felt so alive, so free and so much in awe of the world’s natural treasures.

Vancouver: Urban Chic meets the Great Outdoors

Getting to Vancouver on the ferry from Victoria was a breathtaking journey as huge ferries wound their way through channels between pristine pine covered islands. On arrival Vancouver was everything and more I hoped it would be. Slick, clean, stunningly beautiful as urban chic nestled among snow covered mountains. You didn’t have to go far in Vancouver to see a view that made you think ‘wow’.

For me there wasn’t anything better to do than just wander an absorb the neighbourhoods. Gastown, Davie Street, Yaletown all with their own distinct feel and all great. Pedestrian and cyclist friendly Vancouver was a great place to explore without a car stumbling across quaint areas, pieces of street art.

(My favourite pedestrian crossing on Davie St.)

But my favourite day by far was hiring a bike and cycling round Stanley park and around the docks, past beaches, harbours, stunning scenery and ever present mountains providing the backdrop to where the city meets the great outdoors.

And it fulfilled every expectation of what canada would be, lush green trees, blue waters and air that somehow felt cleaner and fresher. There’s not many places I think I could live but Vancouver is definitely one of them.