Anxiety and depression – a few years later

As I’ve approached the anniversary of me leaving London again (the day I write these posts), I’ve thought about the year that was and reflected on my mental health over that time.

When I wrote my last post I was in a really good place. I’d had some troubles to work through in the 12 months leading up to it but I felt like I’d “gotten over” anxiety and depression, and knew how to deal with them. I was so confident, I thought there might not even be anything to write about any more. On many fronts, I was wrong.

A month or so after writing the post I’d been feeling a bit weird. It was hard to put my finger on it, I just felt a bit nervous, a bit apprehensive, unsure of myself. Something felt like it was bubbling up and as familiar as it felt, I tried to ignore it and pretend it wasn’t there. A few days later it tipped over into the worst anxiety attack I’d had over 2 years.

It started in the morning when I just didn’t want to leave the house. I was scared all day at work, convinced I didn’t belong there. I tried thinking about the positive comments I’d received from peers and colleagues about the work I’d done but I couldn’t shake it. I treated myself to a nice lunch (a burrito, yum) to make myself feel better but still nothing. I had a meeting at the end of the day where I thought I acted like a complete dick, then later messaged the others in the meeting to apologise for my behaviour. They promptly replied asking what I was even talking about. I was supposed to meet a friend for drinks but the thought of staying out in public terrified me, I just wanted to get home and punish a bottle of whisky alone.

These feelings were all too familiar, even the feeling of embarrassment when colleagues asked why I was apologising. Fortunately, I made the decision to meet my friend as usual, and tell her exactly how I was feeling. To be honest, I couldn’t hide it as I was really jittery and on edge from the moment I turned up, and it showed.

The advice I got that day is maybe the best advice I’ve ever received (or at least, ever actually listened to). She suggested I speak to a therapist to see if they can help.

I knew that I needed to talk but I didn’t know who to turn to, even turning to my friend that night was more out of desperation and circumstance rather than a conscious decision. My mate didn’t know what to say to me, she didn’t have tips on how to deal with anxiety, and didn’t really say anything to comfort me. But by talking me into the decision to seek help she made me feel infinitely better immediately.

So for the past 11 months I’ve been seeing a therapist.

Quite a few of my friends know this now, and by talking to people I’ve found out just how common it is that people see a therapist. You’d be surprised how many people who look “happy” or “have their shit together” actually get professional help.

So what’s therapy like?

Honestly? I’m a sample size of one, I don’t think I can say what therapy will be like for different people but I’m happy to tell you what it’s like for me.

I think I always thought of it like you see in the movies. Lie down on a brown leather couch, with your back to the therapist who sits there with a clipboard and says “hmmmmm interesting”. Literally none of those things are true.

My therapist has a small office with a desk in the corner and two comfy chairs facing each other, with a bottle of water and two glasses sitting on a side table between us. There’s a few books lining the shelf behind her, and a few ornaments on the shelf – it’s just an office. She doesn’t have a clipboard, we just sit facing each other and have a discussion for an hour.

My first few sessions were mostly me talking about how I’d been feeling, both recently and back when I had problems a few years ago. She took the time to understand what I’m like and what I’ve been through, and why I think the way I do.

The sessions since (I go every 3-4 weeks) usually start with “so, how have you been?”. I then recount any difficulties I’ve been having with my mental health since we last spoke. I talk about what I’d been feeling or thinking, what’s been troubling me, and (more often than not, I’m pleased to say) what I’ve been feeling good about.

What have you got out of it?

Shit loads!

It’s been great knowing that there’s someone I’ll be able to talk about even the most trivial stuff if I want to. My therapist has helped me make sense of my thoughts, question when they’re unnecessarily destructive, push me to ask myself the right questions, listen to my problems and sometimes just hear me vent.

She’s helped me to learn some techniques that help with my anxiety and depression. That ranges from mindfulness exercises, to ways to beat insomnia, and bunch more. She’s even helped me think about situations where I might feel anxious and put together a plan to prevent/deal with it.

Most useful in my opinion though, she’s really helped me to understand who I am. I know that sounds like a load of wank but it was understanding myself and what goes on in my mind that helped me get better last time, and it’s helped me get a grasp on my mental health recently.

So, your anxiety and depression is back?

I guess it never actually went away. It really bummed me out when I had the anxiety attack that I mentioned earlier, I was fucking terrified that I was going to go through it all again. I remember being upset and thinking “but I beat this, how can it come back?”.

Earlier this year the lead singer of Linkin Park, Chester Bennington took his own life. I used to love the band during my angsty teenage years so when I first heard about it, I was nostalgically sad but it didn’t change a lot for me. A few days later I read that he had suffered with mental health issues for a long time, and had not only been open about it, but had been an advocate of people seeking help when they’re having issues.

It’s at that point that I realised “this is never gonna go away completely”. Despite what I’ve been saying in the last few years, I think I always thought of anxiety and depression as something curable, something you get past and never have to worry about again.  Now I realise this is something I’ll probably always need to work on, and it could rear it’s ugly head tomorrow, or next year, or 10 years from now, or even 30 more years from now. I could be a depressed granddad one day. Fuck.

Mental health is health. Sometimes, things happen outside of your control and your health deteriorates but generally, if you don’t take care of your health, it gets worse. When you do take care of your health, it improves. It’s not fucking rocket science, we all know this. But for some reason, when you put the word “mental” in front of the word “health”, everyone seems to think you’re talking about something completely different.

How do you take care of yourself?

A bunch of different ways. Some of them I’ve already talked about previously.

Being outdoors makes a huge difference for me, it changes my perspective on everything. I’ve also realised that exercise has huge benefits for me. Food makes me better. Meeting new people is awesome. And sometimes, getting shit faced and partying with my mates actually does me the world of good. The key for me is balancing all of those things, along with work and everything else in my life.

The one thing that helps me the most though, is the thing I’m shittest at doing. Talking to someone about how I’m feeling. My therapist has been great but sometimes you just want a mate to talk to, someone who you connect with on a personal level. Why am I shit at it? I don’t know, I just can’t bring myself to ask for help with this.

Let me make one thing clear – I am not short of people to talk to. So many people have made it very clear that they want to help and be there for me whenever I want to talk. I feel so fortunate to know so many fantastic and caring people, but talking about when you’re going through it, and talking about it after the fact are two completely different things. It’s really fucking hard, and no matter how much someone tells you it’s ok to talk to them, sometimes you just don’t want to be a burden, or you don’t want them to worry, or you don’t want to make a fuss. You find an excuse why you shouldn’t tell them. Or at least I do.

There was one night where it was obvious something was wrong with me. While out one night I left a room full of some really good friends to sit alone and drink in silence. I kept thinking that I didn’t want to drink to escape it, but I didn’t know what else to do. I wanted to go into the room with my friends and just tell one of them, just fucking get it off my chest and start to feel better. But I couldn’t and I didn’t. I arranged to see other mates instead, and then cancelled. I went home to drown my sorrows alone but was lucky that my flatmates were around and (without knowing) they made me feel better just by being there.

A comment made to me later was that “at least it’s pretty clear when you’re going through it” – Well it’s fucking not. It manifested itself that day in a way that I just couldn’t physically hide, it’s the worst I’ve felt for years, but it’s not always obvious. I normally look as happy as I usually do. I get as much work done as I usually do, I speak the same way that I usually do. You seriously wouldn’t know when I’m in a peak and when I’m feeling low.

Despite all that…

Despite all the rough moments, the therapy sessions, the anxiety attacks, the brief periods of helplessness – I’m good!

Sounds weird but I honestly am feeling good overall. I can honestly say that the last few months I’ve been about as happy as I can remember, I’m talking cloud 9. I’ve literally been so happy that I’ve skipped down the street. Literally.

I’m getting a lot better at recognising when I’m heading towards a turbulent period and avoiding it. When I don’t avoid it, I’ve become a lot better at stepping back and evaluating the situation objectively, figuring out where these thoughts and feelings come from and tackling them head on. I still see my therapist, less frequently now than when I started, but I still feel a weight lifting from my shoulders when I leave her office.

I’ve come to terms with the fact that I just need to keep working at it, and that sometimes I’ll have to work harder than others. For as long as I keep learning something about mental health, I’ll keep sharing. And I really mean it when I say that I’m here to help if you have any questions or if you want to talk. I know how hard it is but believe me when I say it’s worth reaching out.

A year away – an explanation

I left London a year ago today. Considering I had a flight back booked when I left it is a bit of a surprise but for a lot of reasons it also isn’t. I haven’t quite got round to finishing the blog with everything I’ve been up to since I got to Australia  (and most of my time in Vietnam) but I wanted to write this cos it’s important to me. I’ve already done enough recapping and story telling of my adventures so I thought I’d write you a bit of a prologue.

I decided to go travelling and left at pretty short notice, about 3 weeks notice to be exact. There are a lot of reasons why I did it and most of them are as you would expect; I wanted to see the world, I wanted a new experience, I wanted  4 months off work, etc. The biggest reason why I decided I needed a change is much bigger than that though, I suffer from anxiety and depression and I was in a really bad place mentally and emotionally.

I suspect that will come as a bit of a surprise to some of you, especially those who only met me in the last 12 months but I’m not always the vibrant, happy-go-lucky ball of energy you know. The truth is that before I left things were really really tough and so most moments I’ve had since I’ve been away have felt like the best moments I’ve ever had. I thought I would try to explain by answering what I expect your questions to be (if you have any)

Why were you depressed?

I guess this is the first question but I think it also explains the biggest misconception of mental illness, it’s not necessarily brought on by anything. I mean, yes, certain aspects of my life were really shit. I’d self sabotaged a relationship, the company I worked for was really struggling and then I’d lost a family member but they just added fuel to the fire. When I think back I can see quite a few times in my life where it flared up and I put it down to just being sad or something but I realise that it’s a lot bigger than that. That also means that I’m expecting this is something I will have for the rest of my life and I’ll just have to find ways of coping.

What was it like?

An ongoing series of short-lived, slight highs and prolonged crippling lows. I might get an hour or half a day of feeling on top of the world, totally past my problems and on course to become a legend but then it would come crashing down and fast. I could go days of being jittery and agitated, struggling to fall asleep (and then either having an awful night sleep or having nightmares), and feeling worthless and pointless. I’d get up and go to work faking my mood and being convinced I wasn’t good enough to do my job. I think I got away with it for the most part but I’m pretty sure some of my colleagues noticed. I’d get an anxiety attack in a meeting and hope nobody could tell that I was sweating as I suddenly decided I wanted to be anywhere but in that room. Or that I could barely comprehend the question that they ask as I blabber my way through an answer that I think they want to hear.

My heart would feel as though it was beating out of my chest. I was convinced it was going beating way too fast and I would soon collapse but that obviously never happened. I downloaded an app that measured your heart beat by putting your finger over the flash on your camera. It always came back with a very normal reading so I just didn’t trust it.

I was convinced that the way through it was to keep myself occupied and most of the time that meant going to the pub with mates and drinking my way through it. If my mates weren’t available (or I’d already spent too much of my pay cheque) it meant going home with a couple of bottles of wine and drinking them alone, maybe with a smoke to try and take the edge off. Never worked though, I’d fall apart more often than not and not know what to do with myself. I’d often have it come on strong while I was out with people which meant I would either step up the drinking or run home early (and maybe sneak a drink or smoke before trying to sleep).

I tried (and succeeded) at cutting down the booze and “partying” as I got myself fit by training for a triathlon. I drank far less, and lost 12kg in 3 months by focussing on getting fit but that didn’t work either. I never got the great feeling that everyone says comes with being fit and healthy even when I finished a triathlon an hour faster than I expected. So I just got back on it.

I used to try to use music to get myself out of it. I made a playlist of mellow tracks which normally did alright and placating me and bringing me back to myself but it didn’t always work. Funny thing is, listening to that playlist now just puts me on edge. I think a lot of the songs I listened to at the time actually just made it worse but I listened to them to put myself into a worse position because I thought that’s how I deserved to feel. I took up meditation/mindfulness and even that didn’t seem to help.

Some of my friendships suffered, I fell out with 2 of my best mates over something that I had no right to be annoyed about. I became paranoid that everyone was laughing at me behind my back and thought I was a complete idiot. I pushed people away and avoided making plans a lot of the time. When I did make plans, it wasn’t unheard of for me to just cancel or not turn up because I couldn’t face it. I didn’t even have a 3rdsday for over a year. Sometimes I’d feel great and set up a 3rdsday, only to cancel it the day before because I was worried I’d get awkward in the middle of it again. I’m lucky to say I haven’t lost any friends over it – thank you guys for still being here.

How do you know it’s anxiety/depression?

For ages I kept thinking that I just needed to get over it, that everyone goes through some bad times and I was just awful at dealing with it. I kept telling myself that I “just need one small thing to go my way” but I wouldn’t have known a good thing if it jumped up and slapped me in the face. 2 of my best mates kept suggesting I seek medical help about it but I kept brushing it off and telling them that I didn’t need it. I got to the point of arguing pretty bad with one of them one day and ended up reading up about it just so I can prove her wrong. I read that it’s a normal thing to happen to someone, that there’s nobody to blame and that it’s ok to ask for help. So I slowly did. One of my incredible friends went to the effort of researching therapists in my area but I couldn’t afford to go private. I called Mind, the mental health charity who told me that the first step was to go to a doctor, and so I did. She prescribed me beta-blockers to try to counteract the physical aspects of my anxiety attacks and gave me the forms necessary to start seeing a professional through the NHS. By the time my first appointment with them came round, I had decided I was going to travel and I actually cancelled it so that I could go to the travel clinic and get some jabs (which I think is quite a nice contrast).

How are you now?

I’m great, easily the happiest I’ve ever been. I am really loving life and spent most days feeling incredibly lucky. I feel lucky to have got out of the rut I was in and lucky that I have awesome people around me. I feel lucky that I learned how to be comfortable on my own and with my own thoughts. I still drink bucket loads but it’s not in anger, frustration or boredom (well, sometimes but not really). I haven’t sat on my own and knocked back two bottles of cab sav just for the sake of it.

That’s the majority of the time anyway, I do still get the odd bleak moment. Writing this post has actually brought a lot of it back and I almost stopped to start drinking instead but managed to hold off and keep writing instead. I definitely still struggle every now and again though, normally over nothing or because I’ve imagined a situation a lot worse in my head than it is in real life. The other day I was convinced I was getting the sack at work, a the end of the meeting I raised it with my boss and was told: “You’re definitely not getting fired”.

But on the whole, I’m enjoying life again. I told a good mate that I’m a new version of me and she pointed out that I’m actually the same person she’s always known and that this is what I used to be like. It was a great reminder and helped to put things in perspective. I do like to think that I’m a little different for knowing it though, I think I know how to deal with it better.

When I left there was definitely an element of running away from it all but that’s no longer the case. I’m in Sydney cos Sydney is where I want to be right now, not cos I don’t want to be in London. I’ll most likely go home one day, just not yet.

Why are you writing this?

A whole bunch of reasons. Partly because it’s a cathartic experience for me to admit it all and tell you. Partly to explain my behaviour to some people, to apologise for that behaviour, some of my actions and for being a shit mate

But mostly because things changed for me the moment that I admitted to myself that I had an actual problem, a serious health issue. Some people think things got better for me when I started travelling but in all honesty, my life changed for the better from the moment I admitted my problems and things then fell into place that led to me leaving and putting myself back on track. It was because I’d read about others who are going through this every day and was able to relate by recognising it in myself that I could start to deal with it. So I guess I’m hoping that this has the same impact for someone else one day, especially if you know me. Some of you have written to me to say that the blog inspired you to travel, I hope this can inspire you too.

I gave some thought to what you would think of me for writing this. I thought of myself as weak for the longest time so why wouldn’t you do the same? You know me, you know what I’m like and now you know what I go through so I hope you realise that this isn’t something that a person can just “man up” to and get over. No matter how trivial a problem may seem to you, it could feel like life and death to another if they find themselves in the same kind of pit I was in.

I don’t want your sympathy, or pity or apologies (none of you owe me any). I want your understanding. I hope that your connection to me (however tenuous or brief) helps you to understand that this happens to “normal” people and that it removes at least a little bit of the stigma around mental illness. If any of you fuckers dare change your behaviour towards me then you’ll fucking hear about it. I’m still me, I’m still the guy you know that did whatever it is you know me for, I haven’t changed, it’s just a part of me you may not have known about but hopefully you know it better now.

Thank you for reading.

What I’m listening to: Jamie XX – I know there’s gonna be (good times)

Update: One year on

The response to my posting this article was more than I could have ever imagined. I received messages, calls, emails and texts from friends and acquaintances all over the world. Some wrote to apologise that they didn’t know. Some said they could tell something was up. Some wrote to tell me they had experienced the same thing at some point in their life and others wrote to tell me they were experiencing it right now. Every single person wrote to tell me how happy they were that I shared this, and how happy they were that I’m in a better place. Friends brought it up with me in person over drinks or dinner, to talk about how it affected me, understand more and share their experiences with me too. I’m still overwhelmed with the level of empathy I was shown and I love you all for it.

A few discussions stuck out more than others. One friend messaged me immediately to tell me that he recognises in himself everything that I had described, and had booked himself in for an appointment with a mental health professional that week. This was the reason I wrote the post to begin with so to know it worked for a good friend means the world to me.

Another mate told me how he was able to relate to what I was saying, and that his girlfriend (also a friend of mine) never quite understood his change in moods. Having read this, and then chatted about it with me over burgers and coffee, her understanding grew and his comfort with it also improved.

I’ve come to think about mental illness like this: Imagine sneezing for the first time, having never seen anyone sneeze before in your life. It would be pretty fucking weird right? What would you do? I’m not the type to go to the doctor easily so I’d do nothing. I probably wouldn’t tell anyone either, what if they thought you were some kind of freak? It’s just a one off anyway, it probably won’t affect you, right? But then you sneeze again, and again, and again. It becomes a full on cold. Your sinuses are blocked, your head hurts, you feel lethargic, your nose is running, your throat is sore, and so on and so on. But you’ve never seen this happen to anyone before. You would freak the fuck out.

An anxiety attack, or a change in mood, or a difficult time is just a sneeze that you don’t see/hear. It’s just as much a health issue though, and it needs to be treated. Sometimes that treatment can just be a bit of rest and extra vitamins but sometimes you need medication. You should never be afraid to ask for the medical advice.

Medication/treatment

Since publishing the post a year ago, I’ve had friends experience varying levels of mental illness. Each situation is unique, and the method to get better is different for each one. I’ve read (and been told) a lot about how easy it is to get past mental health problems through healthy eating, being outdoors, exercise and what not. While that’s true for some situations, it’s also complete bullshit for others.

A friend of mine of mine had a problem with his neck and was prescribed some medication. I never quite understood the full gist of it, but the medication had an impact on his nerves and ultimately, his brain. However, it kept the neck pain away. After a while, he started acting up. He was a lot livelier than usual, going out a lot more, drinking a lot more. He started hatching weird ideas for inventions and businesses and in the end convinced himself to quit his job. In the lead up to quitting he started acting up at work, including showing up drunk. He admitted to himself (and to me) at that point that something was wrong. We talked a lot over the next few days but he also went to see a doctor, therapist and psychiatrist (I’m not sure what the difference is either). He cut out alcohol for a while, worked on getting fit (and dragged me along with him for a bit), read up on mental health, and tried to recover. He and I hung out daily over the next few weeks and his improvement was a massive inspiration for me. He’s currently working on starting up a business aimed at improving mental health (one of his whacky ideas that actually made sense), and I can’t wait to see how it pans out.

One very good friend back home called me up after reading the initial post. Thought we’re close, we don’t necessarily have the kind of friendship where we share feelings like this with each other and he acknowledged that, but was upset to know I’d kept so much pain from him. He cared deeply and wanted to help. Months later he called me up asking for my advice. His father had been admitted into a mental health institution with delusional schizophrenia following years of work-induced stress. My friend called me asking for my advice and the best I could manage was to tell him that he won’t be able to understand it or really relate, so it was best to trust the doctors. His dad is improving but still under medical supervision, as that is what he currently requires.

Lastly, I had a friend message me days before a party he was hosting to tell me it was cancelled and that he’d checked himself into hospital for mental health issues. I knew he had issues with it in the past and it pains me to say that I took longer than I should have to go and see him. When I arrived at the hospital I was told he had been moved and there was a serious look in the receptionist’s eye. I went to the building she directed me to and it felt like a prison. Security cameras everywhere, several locks on doors and a secure feeling to it. I even had to empty my belongings into a locker before entering. A nurse walked me to his room, unlocked his door and told him he had a visitor. His first words to me after hugging me hello were “Sorry mate, I’m a little out of it as they’ve given me a lot of medication because I tried to kill myself two days ago. It’s good to see a friendly face”.

The reality of it didn’t hit me until after I got the full story from him and left the building. He had a serious cocaine addiction that had taken his mental state to a whole new low. HIs life had unravelled as he struggled to pay for it and he was in a really bad way. I’m loathe to say he wasn’t himself but the happy guy I know wasn’t there, he only talked about gloom and misery. I sat with him for a few hours and came back to see him regularly. He wanted to go to rehab and with some help had found a place that he hoped would take him and sounded happier each time. I called him on the day he found out he wasn’t going to be allowed in and it was clear from his voice that he had slumped right back down. Though I tried to keep him positive, when I called a couple of days later I found out he had tried to take his own life again.

The medical staff and his friends doubled our efforts and slowly he was improving. He was moved to a less secure area and I could see his spirits improving. On one visit he was literally jumping up and down with excitement when he saw I was there to visit. They found a new program for him and discharged him to go away for a few months. The program didn’t work out in the end and he came back to the city but he had things a little more under control. He was still out of it at times, I took him out for dinner and he was visibly shaking. But with the right personal care, and medication he got back into it. He’s now clean off the cocaine, has a great new job and is really back on his feet. He’s still taking the medication but you’d never know it. He did a lot of it himself and I’m incredibly proud of him.

What I’m getting at is that it took a different solution each time. I’m so happy that everyone is improving after hitting a bottom, they each took a different direction but each one started out with admitting a problem and seeking trained, medical help to rectify it.

My year since posting

Last year I wrote that I think I’m a different person now that I know this about myself, and that I can deal with it better. I proved that to be true this year.

Life through a couple of curveballs at me earlier this year. I found myself out of a job and facing having to leave Australia for lack of a visa. To say it was a stressful situation was putting it mildly! Not working is fun, being unemployed and wanting to work is not. You’re left with a lot of time to think about and dwell on your situation. You send application after application often without hearing anything back. You start to question your experience, your performance, your skills and your entire career. But I was able to handle it far better than I thought I could.

In part, it was down to the incredible friends I have. I can not tell you enough how amazing they are, especially when the chips are down and I was in the shits. Big gestures like putting a roof over my head, taking me out/cooking me dinner, coming round with a case of beers or insisting we go away for a weekend were a big help in keeping my mind busy. But the smaller gestures often did disproportionately more.  A text midway through the day just asking “how are you today?” “Did you hear back from…?” “Want to go for lunch?” would pick my spirits up no end. When I took up smoking for a couple of weeks to try and ease the stress, their harsh words made me stop and focus on getting better. Insisting I take a break from searching and go for a run or a bit of exercise with them broke up my day and made me feel immensely better. I owe you all a great deal of gratitude.

I struggled with the thought of going “back home”. I was terrified that I would relapse into my former state and fall back into a rut. Regardless of how much people told me that won’t happen it was a constant worry. I came to terms with going back and I had ideas on how to make sure I didn’t fall back into it, that made me feel a lot more comfortable and confident about going back so I was actually looking forward to it to some degree. Fortunately, that point never came as my visa situation was sorted. They joy I felt from them when it was sorted was like nothing I’d ever seen before. It wasn’t that they were happy to see me stay (though I’m sure they were), it was that they were happy to see me happy and getting what I wanted.

The other part of getting through it was that I knew what was going on in my head when the dark moments did come. I wasn’t afraid to talk to my friends about it, to be honest about when I was feeling bleak and to listen to them when they responded. I did try to “self medicate” through alcohol and smoking sometimes, but I also took time out to go for a walk, enjoy the outdoors, listen to music, check out an exhibition and go to sports matches. These are the things that I know bring me joy, and I chose them over self medication a lot of the time.

When things weren’t going so obviously badly (i.e when I knew I could stay in the country, and I had a job that was going well, and everything on the surface was good), things were/are a little bit different.

I noticed that when your friends know you’re in a difficult place, they are able to check in and see how you’re getting on but I’ve had a lot of more difficult moments when everything does look like it’s alright. I have some thoughts that I struggle to process and despite being a very vocal advocate of talking about problems, I’ve found myself keeping them to myself. I’m getting better at thinking them through in a way that isn’t defeatist or damaging but should really still vocalise them. Fortunately, they haven’t affected me to anywhere near the level that they used to, and I think it might actually be good to have some self reflection that isn’t shared.

Anyway, I’m good, seriously good. If anything I’m too happy and it’s winding people up (not going to stop me though). I didn’t think I could top how I was feeling this time last year but despite the stuff that’s happened (or is it because of those things?). I’m almost concerned that my mood has switched entirely to prolonged euphoric highs occasionally mixed with very brief jabs of relative lows.

If I’ve learned anything this year though, it’s the reinforcement that the only way to stop the issue and start getting better it’s to admit the problem and talk about. The more that people know about your issues, the more they will be able to help. That help will stay with you for years afterward too, particularly if it comes from a professional. But your mates and the people around you could make all the difference. 

I don’t know if I’ll keep updating this. If I think I’ve learned anything useful then maybe I will but I want to keep helping, however I can. On that note, I am really happy to see that the men’s health charity Movember now specifically has the option of mental health as a cause to raise money for. I’ll be partaking this year and hope it makes a difference. If you feel like donating then you can check out my page here.

If you happen to find yourself relating to anything I’ve said, or you know someone else who might be then please make sure you talk to someone. I’m here if you feel comfortable talking to me, give me a shout any time and I’ll do my best.

Thanks again.

What I’m listening to: Flume – Take a Chance

Oi Oi Hanoi

So this post is about 9 months late. What can I say? I’ve settled a bit in Sydney and things (read work) have got in the way. I do want to catch up though so watch this space for more updates soon 🙂

My flight to Vietnam stopped off overnight in Singapore – one of the more comfortable airports you can have a long layover in. It’s probably been written about in countless travel blogs and websites but it seriously deserves a mention. In my opinion, a half decent airport has a few options for food and some comfy seats. Singapore airport has showers, beds, gardens and even a bloody cinema. I spent a lot of time on one of the hundreds of PC terminals chatting to people online and trying to find jobs in Sydney (first hit of the real world in months). Despite my 17 hour nap the previous day, I managed to get a few hours sleep in a comfy part of the airport.

I arrived in Hanoi around midday and wondered why the air con in the airport was on so high, I was a little chilly in my shorts and flip flops. After the chap at border control spent a good 10 minutes looking at my passport picture (aged 20, clean shaven and with long straight hair) and comparing it with the fuzzy bearded mess of a man I’d become, I finally got through to pick up my bag. It was when I stepped out of the airport that I realise the air con wasn’t on, Hanoi was bloody cold! Other than the few days I spent in the mountains in Nepal, I haven’t spent much time in an area where the mercury dips below 25 degrees celcius – it was 12 degrees in Hanoi that day!

I’d done my research and knew that it should only cost me 3 US dollars to get the shuttle bus into town and then a dollar cab from there. With the shuttle bus 3/4 full, the driver tried to tell me to pay $5 so that we leave write away. I got a little pissed of and became a bit of a stubborn belligerent prick, but I wasn’t willing to pay over the odds within minutes of arriving so I was insisting we wait till the bus is full and I pay $3 and stay cold. We eventually headed off, though not before the driver tried to kick me out of the van, and then when we eventually arrived he tried to short change me.

The hostel had been recommended to me by several people I’d met in the past few months so I was looking forward to staying at the Hanoi Backpackers Hostel. I was really looking forward to Vietnam in general, partly because I’d heard of so much great stuff to do but also because I was meeting up with my old mate Joe. Joe lived two doors away from me  when I was 6 and we grew up together for years. We played football and computer games together, rode our bikes together and I think Joe was even there when I had my first alcoholic drink. If that’s not friendship, I don’t know what is. I had a few hours until he was due to arrive though, so I figured I’d get my phone fixed first. My rationale was that my battery said made in Vietnam so getting the screen fixed should be easy and cheap. I went for a walk around Hanoi and found a place that would sort it for $200, and would not budge on price at all. While trying to decide whether I should take the offer, I thought I’d stop for some lunch and had my first pho – which quickly became one of my favourite dishes. Pho is a phenomenal dish, it’s essentially a brothy, beefy, noodle soup with lots of fresh veg and herbs. I had a chat with a local who showed me how to eat it and we talked about football via the restaurant owner translating for us. He was a nice guy, for a Chelsea fan.

Joe finally arrived and it was great to see him again. He was just starting out on a 6 month adventure as I was in the last month of mine and had lots of questions. He was equally excited about our time in Vietnam and we knew we’d have a great time. After he got himself freshened up, we went for a walk around town and picked up my repaired phone. It seems that in order to test it, the people in the phone shop took some weird pictures.

We walked around the old part of Hanoi that night, just wandering aimlessly really. We weren’t particularly hungry so had a (very low) seat at a beer hai. It’s basically a bar/restaurant with really low stools for seats and equally low tables. The tables and chairs all dpill out into the street and with people walking by a lot, it’s pretty busy. They have a large barrel of beer in the corner and every drink costs about 50p so it’s easy to get stuck in and have a good time. The best thing about it is that they’re all filled with locals. In all the other countries i’d been to, drinking felt like something tourists do and most locals put up with, but there is definitely a drinking culture among locals in Vietnam! We asked for a menu and picked out a few local dishes to share, all meat based. Some older locals sat on a table beside us had a plate of particularly tasty looking red sausage (steady on now) so we ordered a plate of that too. All the food that came out was delicious but none of it looked like what they had so we ordered it again We must have be staring cos they offered us some but we declined as we had some on the way. It was only after we’d ordered it for a 3rd time and something different came out again that we realised they had brought it themselves!

We walked around a little more to try and avoid getting stuck in one place all night. When he arrived, I had to warn Joe that he’d have to keep an eye on me as i can easily get distracted by the street food and he was on duty as i ran off to get a spring roll as soon as I’d finished my sentence! One of the weirder things I tried was grilled chicken feet. As we walked past i couldn’t help but notice it so took a seat with joe and ordered some. They barbecue them over a little coal filled, metal bucket with a grill. There wasn’t much meat on them but the sauce was very tasty, unfortunately most of it ended up in my beard (which was pretty sizeable by this point).

We ended up in a bar called Le Pub, i think we just went in for the novelty factor of the name. It was pretty empty save for a couple of locals and an English guy and girl. It turns out they were brother and sister and had been working in Hanoi for a few months, teaching English. To be honest, they were a bit weird but thendrinks dtarted flowingand we ended up in control of the sound system for the night. The siblings had fucking awful music tastes and i t wqs weird to be in Hanoi watching a girl act out the dance to Reach by S Club 7. We went to leave and realised we were actualy in a lock in! We had to lift up the shutters and roll under, Indiana Jones style!

We were up early the next day, not cos we chose to but cos an inconsiderate fucker in our dorm room decided it was a good time to re-pack his fucking bag! It’s basic hostel etiquette, you pack your shit the night before, not yhe morning of. We took advantage of the free breakfast which was a little underwhelming but you could pay a little extra for real food aka bacon/sausages/eggs. Hardly a traditional vietnamese brekkie but it does the trick.

Being up early does have it’s advantages though, we were up in time to join the free walking tour, which was really useful. We started off in a couple of nearby temples including the temple of the white horse. If i recall correctly, the chief of a village or country kept getting terrorised by the Chinese so followed the vision of a white horse to a new area where he moved the village to. On second thoughts, that just sounds like he ran away and isn’t likely to be something they’d celebrate but there was definitely something about a white horse. We then walked through the indoor markets, a two storey warehouse filled with all sorts of crap for wholesale. You couldbuy rolls of cloth bythe metre or dozens of trainers, caps and t-shirts. It was pretty busy, i guess it’s where all the other stalls buy their crap from.

The next part of our tour went through the food market. Talk about an experience. As well as the standard vegetables, fish and poultry for sale, we saw a few more…. exoctic food items for sale. For a little while i watched a man pull frogs from a cage one by one and chop their heads off! He ended up with two piles, one of heads and one of bodies. We were in the market on the wrong day to buy cat and dog meat though, apparently those are traditionally eaten at the start and end of the month. Something about good spirits or whatever.

The walk ended at the big lake that separates the old and the new town. The guide told us the legend of a king that came to the lake one day wondering how to rid the country of the invading Chinese when lo and behold, a golden turtle appeared and gifted him a magical sword (I shit you not). He had to use the sword to fight off the Chinese and then return it to the lake. In true Disney fashion, he used the sword to open up a can of whoop ass and then staid true to his word, returned the sword by throwing it into the lake. The turtle (or a turtle) still lives in the lake but is very elusive and is seldom seen. No sooner had the guide said this than someone exclaimed “is that ot over there!?” Joe and I had lost interest (we were hungry) and turned away for a cigarette but a few people in the group swore blind that they saw it. Hmmm….

The tour ended round the corner at a cafe that sells the not so famous egg coffee. Yep i said that right-
Egg. Coffee. Beaten egg, with condensed milk and a shot of espresso. It was rich as fuck and drinking a
whole one was a bit difficult but an interesting experience.

It felt like we’d already had an eventful day but it was only lunch time. We got a meal and walked into the newer part of town to check out some museums. We walked through the posh part of town (embassies and shops like cartier) to get to the museum if Vietnam. It was an interesting place that outlined the history of vietnan from early inhabitants through to the endless fights with the chinese and ending with ridding themselves of the French. I feel like that’s all a part of a history of Vietnam that doesn’t get covered cos of the war against The US but it was pretty interesting. Would tell you more about it but the only thing i really remember is that they had a serious number of drums. War drums, ceremonial drums, musical drums, all the way from the early civilisations. Didn’t really have them down as drummers but there you go.

We took a long walk across the city to get to another museum. Can’t remember what it was called but it was housed in a building that used to be a prison and had been turned into a museum. As you can imagine, it was a pretty harrowing place to walk around. Before that day i never really realised quite how violent and bloody the history of Vietnam was but these guys are definitely fighters (or were at least, theyre so fucking nice now).

It had been a long day so we stopped for a coffee (sans egg) on the way back to the hostel. The coffee culture here is just as big as the beer culture so it tasty pretty damn good. We mulled over what to do with our next few days, we knew we wanted to go to Ha Long Bay but it was a question of whether we do it with a regular tour company, or join our hostel’s infamous Castaway tour. Both are overnight boat tripa through the bay but the latter also consists of a stay on a deserted island and involves copious drinking throughout. Now, I know what you’re thinking, it’s an easy decision for me right? Just smash it on the boat and island! But ha long bay is supposedly really magestic and one of the natural wonders of the world (depending on which list you follow) so I wanted to experience it properly. In the end, being the legend that he is, Joe suggested we flip a coin and let fate decide so we did… castaway won! Stay tuned to find out how that was in my next post.

We went back to the hostel, booked it and walked down the road to get a massive hot pot for dinner. They gave usa giant pot filled with broth and some meat and veg to put in it. It was alright I guess but we didn’t have a clue what we were doing and i think we neededa local to show us how to eat it properly.

We got back to the hostel just in time to start the Pub quiz with a group of Americans we’d made friends with a group of Americans in the hostel. We didn’t win. Joe fancied a few more bevvies but with castaway ahead of us, I thought I’d take it easy and get an early night. Joe ended up out, lord knows what happened to him.

What I’m listening to: Mopeds. So many fucking mopeds

Ubud & Around – Exploring Bali

A few of us packed into a small van and sped away from the South Coast of Kuta, heading to the eastern shore and the port town of Senggigi. We’d taken the fast boat from Bali to Lombok but we were taking the ferry back, it was significantly cheaper but instead of taking an hour would take “4-6 hours”. Anyway. We changed vans in Mataram and eventually made it to the port and boarded the multi storey boat, with no indication of what time it was going to leave. We made our way up a couple of flights to a relatively comfortable looking lounge room with a couple of TVs and plastic covered pews. Unfortunately, they were all too short and too narrow for me to lay on and get some kip so I just sat instead. There were a few other travellers on the boat but everyone kinda kept to themselves with the occasional bit of chat. I bought a couple of bottles of water and 2 paper covered packages of nasi goreng, intending on eating one halfway through the journey but wolfed them both down immediately with fervour.

As the boat left the harbour, they began playing a movie on the TV. The film they were showing was White House Down, which looked absurd, so I walked outside onto the deck to look out across the sea rather than watch telly. It was a beautiful clear day and it was blue skies all the way to Bali, which I could see way in the distance and didn’t look as if it was 4-6 hours away. I counted the number of weird flavoured cigarettes I had left and told myself I would ration them so that they would last the journey, I think I only had about 5 left so one every hour or so seemed reasonable. I lit one up and used a sun lounger in it’s intended purpose – to lounge in the sun. Looking out across the water as we slowly made our way towards the volcanic island was incredibly relaxing. I’ve probably talked a lot about how much I love looking out over water but it really does do something to me, it’s brilliant. For a good while I lost myself in my thoughts alone, looking across the water to see schools of flying fish jumping out and gliding a foot above the water. Or seeing a large collection of rubbish floating in big clump in the middle of the water and taking the time to pick my cigarette butts (yes, plural. You know self control isn’t my thing, I’d just told you I ate 2 nasi goreng back to bloody back) off the deck and into a bin.

After an hour or so I headed back in and watched the last half of White House Down. The basic premise – Denzel Washington is the president and the White House is taken over by terrorists making ridiculous demands. As the last secret service agent left standing, it’s up to Channing Tatum to save the democracy of America by killing all the bad guys, saving his daughter, who just so happened to be doing a tour of the White House that day, in the process. Yes – That really is a movie. It was hilariously action packed and not an awful way to pass the time, especially as it kicked off a bit of conversation among the travellers. I got talking to a couple of American fellas who worked in the marijuana industry, interesting discussions. They were heading to Sanur, a town in the south of Bali which sounded really touristy and a bit shit apart from the MIDGET WRESTLING on a saturday night. I was gutted we weren’t heading there but oh well, I’ll be back for midget wrestling another time. After a few more hours switching between outside and inside, we could eventually see the port we’d be heading into. Unfortunately, at that point the ferry stopped and waited. I don;t know what the hell is was waiting for but it was another 2 hours before we were finally able to disembark. But this point I’d eaten all my (our) snacks and was pretty hungry. Turns out every traveller on the boat had booked with the same company, and even though we were going to different towns, we all (about 10 of us) squeezed into a minivan with our backpacks.

When we finally got to Ubud, Fi and I got out of the van along with 2 other people. None of us had a hostel booked and had no idea where to stay so we stuck together. So our group of 2 became a group of 4 with Rianne (Dutch) and Carlos (Brazillian) joining us. We were all bloody starving, tired and sweaty from the journey and so decided to stop at the first restaurant with wifi to refuel on food, and use the wifi to find a spot. We stopped at a little Italian joint and I failed once again at only eating local food but I was so hungry I really could not give a shit. The pizza i had was great (still only 7/10 – You know what I mean) and the others were massively disappointed with their measly portion of lasagne. Rianne had some mates staying in a nearby guest house so we trudged the 15 or 20 minutes to get there. I, for one, was glad that the sun had gone down and it was a bit cooler. The owner had 2 rooms available, one a little nicer and more expensive than the other. The cheaper room temporarily had no hot water so Carlos and I took that and the girls took the other.

After freshening up, Carlos and I fancied a beer and so met up with the girls and one of Rianne’s mates, I can’t remember his name but I remember it being distinctly Spanish/South American so I’m going to refer to him as Jose. The 5 of us walked down to a bar with some live music and grabbed a seat. Carlos seemed astounded by my wanting to have a large beer all to myself, apparently the Brazillian custom is to get a large bottle between friends and pour small glasses, that way the beer doesn’t go warm. I told him the English custom is to drink your bloody beer faster and he got his own beer too. The band were playing some classic rock tracks from the 70s and 80s, dancing on his own Fi and I spotted the bloke we’d met in Padang Bai who was dancing to a live band. Small world. We ordered a shisha and I tried teaching Rianne how to blow rings (not a euphemism) but the overhead fan made it difficult.

I should probably tell you a bit about Ubud and why we were there. It’s different to most other tourist spots in Bali in that it’s inland rather than coastal (it’s still very touristy though). It’s quite a cultural place with lots of temples, old buildings and other kinds of crap to see. There’s a lot of shopping to be done and you can buy anything from massive wall paintings, to marble sculptures, to ornamental wooden phalluses. There are lots of activities and sights that surround the town too so the next morning we booked to go on an all day tour that would stop off in a lot of these sights. After some faffing about with changing hotels and hotel rooms, we finally jumped in a van with some of Jose’s mates and headed off on an organised sight seeing tour. Our first stop was a monkey temple – yes, another fucking monkey temple. It was in the middle of a forest so we walked around and watched the monkey climb all over unsuspecting tourists, nicking their sunglasses/wallets/phones from their hands and running up trees. We’d been told the monkeys can get aggressive and I believe it, walking past a couple of them they hissed pretty angrily! Apparently they don’t like you looking them in the eye. One of them quite took a liking to Fi though…

Walking to the exit involved running a gauntlet past dozens of tacky souvenir shops but then it was onto the next stop. Indonesia has some pretty damn good coffee, each area has it’s only different kinda bean and style. If they add milk, it’s the condensed, sickly, sweet stuff and it’s all quite nice. One of the stops on the tour was at a coffee plantation, including a taster, if you want, of the famous Kopi Luwak (Luwak Coffee). A luwak is a rainforest dwelling little cat-like mammal that feeds on fruit, berries and coffee beans. Some weird fucker discovered that they don’t properly digest said beans and so they are excreted out whole. They then discovered that it if you wash the turd off the beans, roast them and grind them like normal coffee beans, they make a damn good cuppa. I really have no idea how or why this idea came up, but it’s quite the delicacy, and not cheap! We saw one of these luwaks in a sad little cage and saw the beans before and after washing, I think I even ate one raw (the washed ones). The smell of them being roasted was delicious. There was a woman working away grinding them down with a huge mortar and pestle. We had to pay a fair bit to try it out but I wasn’t going to come all this way and not do it so Fi and I shared a little pot. They gave us a cup of regular coffee too just to taste the difference and the result is…. It tasted the bloody same. I really couldn’t taste much difference between them. They had a whole range of different flavoured coffees and teas though and they were free to sample. I remember particularly liking the vanilla and chocolate flavour coffees a lot more than “shit” stuff. The fruit flavour teas were all pretty interesting too.

After exiting through the gift shop, we had a few more stops. We walked around a couple of gardens and palaces. There wasn’t a lot too them to be honest, just a tranquil little walk amongst the flowers but it was a pretty hot day and we didn’t have any water on us. One of the shaded areas was a model re-enactment of a cock fighting (stop sniggering at the back) arena and the architecture of the other surrounding buildings was very distinctive.

We stopped for a little bit at restaurant that overlooked some beautiful rice fields. I thought lunch was included but it was extra, and it was pretty damn pricey. Nobody in the group wanted to fork out 3x the normal rate just for a view so we just stopped for a few pictures and moved on and back to the main town. They didn’t really compare to the endless rice fields I saw in the Himalayas so it wasn’t that satisfying but it was nice. Overall, I didn’t love the trip (though you can probably tell from my tone). It felt really forced, being bussed about from place to place and being asked to fork out for something at the end of every aspect. I can imagine how older tourists would love it but I think we all felt a little unfulfilled. We got back to Ubud in the early afternoon and pretty much just lazed around. I did a little reading on what else there is to do in the area and found a dawn trek up an active volcano called Mt. Batur. Having missed out on the one in Lomobok because it was closed due to it being rainy season, Fi and I were well up for it. We roped Carlos in and set about trying to find a good deal. There’s also a really large complex of temples nearby called the “Mother temple” and I wanted to try and get out to that too.

I walked down the strip, having a chat with the endless “tourist centres” that offer these excursions. They don’t normally do both on one trip and so it would have to be a custom job, which would mean they are more expensive but I was in the mood to haggle. I have either really honed down my haggling skills over the last few months or become a Jedi overnight as I had this one seller in the palm of my hand – and Fi will vouch for this. He wanted 300k each, just for the volcano hike, a trip to the Mother Temple would be an additional 200k or something. I somehow managed to get him down to 250k each for both and left feeling pretty bloody amazed at myself! I think having a large group of us really helped bring the price down. Unfortunately, we couldn’t find the others to confirm that they wanted to come with us and so I ended up having to settle for 300k each for 3 of us, which is still a bloody steal! We didn’t do much that night, just hung out and had a chat and some dinner but somehow still managed to stay up till 12 which was problematic as we had to be up at 2am to get picked up by the jeep!

We got up feeling pretty groggy but really excited. I hadn’t seen a sunrise in ages and a trek up a volcano would make it even better. I planned on sleeping in the jeep on the way there but that plan quickly fell apart when one of the tyres blew! Luckily we didn’t crash or anything, we just stopped by the side of the road and got out while changed the tyre, it was a good thing we left with plenty of time to spare. We stopped at a little roadside place and our driver made us pancakes with a cup of coffee to give us the energy to make the climb. We started our ascent at around 4am, with the moon and the stars still really bright in the night sky.

There were lots of people doing the trek, I guessed at a few hundred. Each guide could only have something like 4 or 5 people each but in the dark it was easy to lose your guide which isn’t really a problem cos there’s only one route and it’s pretty easy going. After a while though, it starts getting steeper and more difficult. The sky was slowly getting lighter and a few of us became agitated at the number of stops we were making along the way, nobody wanted to miss the sun coming up properly. The last few months had put me into decent shape and I powered up the mountain, poor Fi struggled a bit and fuck knows what happened to Carlos. I became determined to get up to the top of the mother fucker before the sun reared it’s big beautiful self so I powered on when the group stopped at a look out point that was about 80% of the way there. From that point on it got very difficult to climb, it was steep and the ground became less firm. It was covered in ash, and it felt like climbing up sand at times but I just kept going, along with a couple of American girls (who talked hippy shit all the bloody way up) and with the help of a small female Indonesian guide. I got up to the top just in time to see the sun rising behind another volcano (the one on Lombok that we didn’t get a chance to climb) way in the distance. At the foot of the volcano we’d just climbed was a massive volcanic lake that glistened in the dawn twilight, to the side was another incredible volcano and behind was the crate of the volcano we were on. It was fucking unreal. It was busy at the top too. Among the hundred or so tourists, there were kids selling bottles of beer, chocolates and soft drinks if you want them. The kids are incredible, they get up, climb a volcano to sell stuff to tourists, climb back down, have breakfast and then go to school! Despite the crisp morning air, I was sweating buckets and stopping at the windy top was a chilly experience but oh, so rewarding. Fi and Carlos came up about 15 minutes later and we took some well earned pics. Warning: These pics will give you serious Wanderlust but do not do the view or the experience any justice.

 

Our guide cooked us another breakfast up at the top, we were given a boiled egg and a fried banana sandwich (weird by delicious!) with a cup of coffee (not the cat shit one). Bugger knows how they cooked it up there. The eventual climb down took longer and was more difficult than expected. We stopped at a couple of things along the way, including a massive cave and some view points. We also stopped lower down the crater and shouted into it to hear it echo around, it was pretty amazing. I couldn’t think of anything to shout that would echo so I shouted BINTANG (an Indonesian beer). I mentioned that it was an active volcano, and I wasn’t kidding. A display on the way down showed the areas that had been affected by eruptions in the last 50 years, and there were quite a few of them. One of the viewpoints looked out over an area of scorched earth that must have been at least 10 football pitches big but there was a lot of history of evacuations in the area. It took ages to get to the bottom and Fi was absolutely bursting for a piss. Despite being surrounded by forest land and without a soul in sight, she refused to go in the bushes. I kept joking about how far we still had to go and I don’t think she appreciated the jibes. I’d never seen anyone look as relieved as she did when she saw the public toilets at the bottom. If you go to Bali then I really cannot recommend this hike enough, it was totally worth getting up at silly o’clock for, I absolutely loved it. Make it happen.

Carlos had befriended a Brazillian couple who joined us for the trip to Mother temple. I was fucking knackered and fell asleep in the car on the way there. I was grumpy by the time we go there, which was exasperated immediately as we were approached by people insisting we had to buy something from them. First we had to buy (or hire) a sarong to keep our legs covered as it was a holy place, understandable. Then we HAD to pay for a guide to take us around. The log book shows the names and nationalities of other people who had done so, as well as the value of the forced donation they made. We’d read that these values had been falsified and more often than not they add a 0 to the end of it. So we made the equivalent of about $1 each and went off with a really elderly guide who could hardly string a sentence together in English. I wouldn’t have minded at all except we were happy to just walk around but were forced into paying for a mediocre service. It was really hot and as beautiful as the grounds were, I was just not in the mood. I’d decided to take on the personality of 2 of the 7 dwarves, grumpy and sleepy.

The “mother temple” is actually a complex of dozens of hindu temples, all dedicated to different Hindu gods and goddesses (I managed to ascertain at least that much from our guide). It’s nestled into the side of a volcano and so looks out over the island with incredible scenery. There were loads of stone carvings and incredible pagoda type structures. As grumpy as I was, I reminded Fi that sometimes you’ve just got to stop and smell the flowers…

 

We finally got back to town at around 3 in the afternoon. The gang were all hungry but I’d grabbed some streetfood from just outside the Mother temple so as they all went off for lunch, i went for a nap to snap me out of the mood I was in. I figured a few hours, then get up and have a massive night as it was my last in Indonesia and, more importantly, Fi’s last night. The gang all agreed. I awoke from my slumber to find the room completely dark and Fi and Carlos asleep too. Fuck knows what time it was but I decided it wasn’t time to party yet as they’d set an alarm so I went back to sleep… and woke up the next morning. What was meant to be a little afternoon nap ended up being a 17 hour snooze! 17 fucking hours! I don’t sleep that long after a week at Glastonbury! Unfortunately we’d missed our big night out and we were all gutted (though very well rested).

We had a bit of time to kill before our flight left so we walked around Ubud itself. We went to a water garden which was actually quite hard to find. Wikitravel said it was behind the starbucks so we were sadly walking around asking where starbucks was, as nobody understood the words “water garden”. It was a peaceful little place among the busy streets of Ubud so it was night to hang out there for a little while.

We’d booked a shuttle bus to take us to the airport but it was running late, really late. It was going to be cutting it fine and Fi was starting to stress out and saying we should book a cab. I told her to relax, this is what travelling’s like. So what if we miss the plane. Which was easy for me to say as I was going to Vietnam, she was going back home to work and couldn’t really just miss it. We got into a bit of an argument with her insisting on stopping a cab and me insisting we wait. In the end Fi won out as even I started getting worried, she was right though and if you’re reading this Fi then I’m sorry I was a dick!

We said goodbye to Carlos at the airport, he was getting another cab from there to another town. Fi and I sat in the airpot, having a beer and relieving the last couple of weeks. It was so awesome to be hanging out with her in Indonesia and I was so grateful that she’d come out. Given I was moving to Aus and wasn’t sure when I’d next see her, it was a bit of an emotional goodbye. Our flights left at similar times and we said goodbye at my gate and I headed off to Vietnam.

What I’m Listening to: Sticky Fingers – Gold Snafu (Fi recommendation)

Kuta Lombok

Kuta in Bali is known as a big destination for young aussies. From what i understand, it’s the aussie equivalent of Magaluf or Malia for Brits, but with great surfing. It’s namesake on the island of Lombok also apparently has great surf but that’s where the similarities end. It’s a lot more chilled and a lot less developed.

Our journey started wih an early morning boat trip, followed by a short ride in a horse drawn carriage to the cafe where out bus was leaving from and then a long journey in a small, poorly ventilated minivan. Halfway through we had to stop and change minivans, fortunately the second one was more comfortable. We arrived in the afternoon and checked into a guest house we’d read about on Wikitravel. Luckily they had a little bungalow available for us so we dumped our gear and set off to find lunch by the beach. There didn’t seem to be much to the town, just a road that ran down to the beach, lined with shops and another road that runs parallel to the beach toad, again lined with shops and restaurants. Every other shop seemed to be surf related, doing everything from repairs to lessons to swimwear. Needless to say, it was clear what the main activity here was. We asked a bit about surf lessons for the following day and then got a moped to drive around the area.

We headed out along he main road until the town finished and kept going. The road led uphill, giving us awesome views of beaches below us. We carried on along the road for a good while, eventually coming to a beach that we’d read about and pulled in, driving along a short path before finally getting the best beach I’ve ever laid eyes on (Marwan Beach). The parking area led onto a part of the beach that was shaded by a really large tree. We laid out towels down and admired it for a bit. The beach sloped down in a crescent that stretched for about a mile. At the tips of he beach were cliffs that led straight down into the clear turquoise waters. In the distance to he sides were hills and fields and there were maybe about 20 people on the whole beach, it was bliss. We were approached by a pregnant woman trying to sell us beer and coconuts, we told her maybe later and went for a dip in the sea. The water was warm and we swam around for a bit before I just floated on my back in the sun. We ended up spending most of the day there, it was really difficult to leave but we wanted to make the most of the bike while we had it. Before we left I got one of my urges to cartwheel on the sand so we had a few attempts at that before heading off.

We headed back along the road we came down, twisting and turning back up and down the hills through lush green forests. Along the way we passed a sign for a bat gave and went looking for Bruce Wayne. The road became a track which became a narrow bit of mud which the bike was only just able to navigate. We wound round and towards the cave, which smelled absolutely rank. All that was there was an old Indonesian fellow with a notepad with something scribbled on it. It said something along the lines of “The guy who speaks English and shows people round isn’t here. This dude can take you town with torches for ‘x’ amount but won’t be able to tell you much about it”. Given it smelled like guano and I was only wearing flip flops, I convinced Fi to come back for it another day. We were a bit hungry but I felt we hadn’t done much exploring since we met up so I drove the bike on past the town of Kuta (stopping briefly to ask about surf lessons) and carried on down the road, taking a random right turn when I felt we’d gone far enough. The paved road turned into a dirt road and then back into a paved road. At a roundabout we took a random exit and then followed a small round out into some sand plains which look like they get flooded when the tide comes in. To the side was a track that was small enough for a hatchback to go down and we followed that into the bush. A local chap came flying out on his bike, smiling at us, we asked if there was something worth seeing further ahead and he just smiled and nodded and as he drove past us. I’m fairly certain he has no idea what we said. We drove past a couple of houses hidden deep behind some palms and reeds, beeping the horn to get the dogs out of our way and finally came out onto another beautiful beach. The sun was setting and the colours were phenomenal. The beach and it’s car park were totally deserted save for a young lad selling t-shirts!

To the side, there was a large hill which looked as if it looked out over a peninsula so we climbed up. My phone had well and truly given up at this point and I resigned myself to living off Fi’s camera for the next few days. We walked up and up as the sun went down. At the top we were rewarded with the view of the sun setting and at least 3 beaches surrounding us. It was up there with the best sunsets I’d seen. Below us on one beach we could see surfers riding the waves in the twilight with a bunch of their mates hanging on the beach and having a drink.  As it got late, they switched on their car/bike lights and lit up the scene just before driving off. Fi and I made our way down and drove back past a pile of burning rubbish.

We were the only ones on the road for a while as we drove back and had a pretty strange situation. A dude on a bike appeared out of nowhere behind us and announced that he was escorting us back to town. When I asked why he said that gangs and other miscreants roamed these roads, preying on unsuspecting tourists (not his exact words, I’m paraphrasing). I had no idea how to distinguish him from said miscreants so I thought it best to hit the throttle and stay ahead of him. Given there were two of us on a bike (regardless of how small and light Fi is), he didn’t have much trouble keeping up. Luckily he peeled off after a while, either content that he’d seen us safe or scared by my obviously threatening figure.

The next morning we were up early to grab some breakfast and head off for a surf lesson! There were a few people gathered at the surf school and a little confusion about who was going where. Turns out there was a big night at the local bar the previous night and every surf instructor was either hungover or still drunk. Sounds about right until you realise that all the instructors are teenage Indonesian kids. It was hilarious to watch them struggle. We eventually negotiated to go out to a reef break, rather than a beach break. Though a reef break isn’t really for beginners (which we were, to put it mildly), I’d heard the conditions weren’t going to be great for the beach and I wanted to make sure we had a great experience. So we rode our mopeds, with the surfboard roped onto the side, down the road for about 15 minutes to a small town where we then got aboard a boat that took us out to the waves. Before getting on the boat, we were given a quick demonstration on how to stand up on a surf board. I totally nailed it, obviously, but couldn’t help but think of the film “Forgetting Sarah Marshall”

Anyway, the boat went out and we were with a Canadian couple, a pair of German fellas, and a handful on teenage Indonesian surf instructors with blonde highlights in their. The waves looked awesome, really clean and going for a while before they break. I was told that they were about a metre and a half high. So we paddled out (without really knowing how) and eventually got out to where the waves were picking up, where our instructors were waiting for us. They floated on their surfboards behind us, waiting for the right wave and then shouting “paddle paddle paddle paddle” as they pushed our boards so that we catch the wave. On the odd occasion we got it right, they’d shout “GET UP” and we would try to stand. Getting back to where we were catching the waves was difficult. The waves don’t stop just cos you’ve fallen, so we were getting pounded by them for a while. The only way to get back was to paddle out to the side and all the way back up.

After a couple of missed waves, and a couple of attempts trying and failing to get up, I found myself catching a wave absolutely perfectly. I felt it pick up the board and force it forward with awesome speed. I was on the verge of surfing, it was the moment I’d been waiting for! I went to push myself up but arms were knackered from having to repeatedly paddle back for another dose of failure. I pushed down to get my body up and my arms just gave way, my body slamming back onto the board, chin first, and then lying there as I body boarded for bloody ages. As much of a fail as it was, it felt pretty fucking cool and I was determined to catch a wave properly…. just as soon as my arms had recovered. I wasn’t wearing a t-shirt either and my chest was raw from where my manly chest hair was rubbing against the wax on the board so I slowly paddled back to the boat and picked up my t-shirt (maybe stopping to have a rest and a quick smoke before paddling out again)

Fi was having similar problems to me, I could see she was knackered as she just lay on the board to the side, where the waves couldn’t smash into her over and over. We both got back out there though, determined to catch at least one wave. I’m glad to say that after trying a few more times I did feel I was getting the hang of it. I managed to catch one while still being bent down, too scared to stand up tall and lose my balance, but eventually did manage to catch one and then stand there confused about what to do next. I rode it out, threw my hands into the air in celebration and then falling backwards (on purpose) in exhaustion. I got tired and cold after that so headed back to the boat and watched the others give it a go, this is definitely something I want to get good at, I decided.

We were starving when we got back to shore, and despite trying to avoid western foods while I’m away, I felt a burger was the obvious next step. Given we’d spent the morning/afternoon doing a very western activity, I was able to justify it to myself as I tucked into a juicy bacon and cheese bad boy. I did feel a bit guilty but fried rice/noodles just wasn’t going to satisfy the hunger I had. To be honest, the burger didn’t really either and I considered having another one but held of and decided on an early dinner instead. After our lunch, Fiona went off to have a massage. She tried to convince me to get one but I was (and still am) scarred from the bizarre experience I had in Kerala so decided to skip it and chilled back our bungalow. I got talking to the German chap next door. I forget his name, but like most people we met in the town, he was there just to surf. He’d taken a couple of months off work and was spending some time travelling around Indonesia (for the umpteenth time) hitting up all the surf spots. He invited us out with his mates for dinner and we were happy to oblige. His mates were also surfers and one of them ran a surf camp in the area, and had done for more than 15 years. It was awesome to talk to them about how the town had changed over time. He said there was basically a couple of guest houses and that was it. You couldn’t rent a moped for love nor money and had to get a beemo (a cab that is just a pickup truck with a roof and seats on the back) to the beaches with your surf board (couldn’t rent one) and just hit the waves. Obviously he felt it hadn’t been ruined as he keeps coming back, and even owns his own beemo, but he felt it might go the way of Kuta Bali in the not too distant future. My thoughts immediately went to the beautiful Marwan Beach that we’d been to the previous day and I really hoped that doesn’t get ruined.

We went for a few beers at a bar down by the beach. Once again there was a live band and I fancied getting on it. There were quite a few people there which surprised me as the town hadn’t seemed that busy. We got on the beers but it felt like it was getting quieter, the German fellow (I want to say his name was Ralf, so that’s what I’m gonna call him) said there was another bar on the beach which would kick on late into the night. A couple of Indonesian guys tried to sell us some weed, given the death penalty for drugs in the country we weren’t exactly keen on buying a big bag but they convinced Ralf to buy one joint on the condition that they smoke it with us on the beach. They agreed and sped off to get the stuff but then legged it when we bought it! This obviously put us all on edge a bit but headed down to the beach bar for a few drinks anyway. Unfortunately it was pretty dead and we’d lost the urge to party so headed back to the bungalow and lit up the smoke. I was pretty tired already but wasn’t sure there was actually anything in what we smoked other than tobacco. Oh well.

We’d decided to stay one more day, mainly cos I really wanted to try and surf again. I headed down to the school again and there was nobody else there apart from one of the instructors. Fi and I followed him on a bike way down, past my favourite beach in the world and onwards for a little while longer. We got there before high tide and the conditions weren’t looking great. The waves were significantly smaller than the previous day and it was fairly calm but this was on purpose so I could practice my balance. Fi had decided not to try to surf again and just hung out on the beach. The weather wasn’t awesome, there was a bit of drizzle around but it wasn’t gonna make much difference to me as I was getting in the water anyway. For hours I practised paddling out and standing up while Eddie (my teacher) pushed my board and shouted at me to stand up. The sun came out a bit and Fi thought it would be a perfect time to take pictures and videos. (Can’t put the vid up now but will try to at a later date. Trust me though, I was pretty much Johnny Utah)

Fi ended up getting roped into a lesson and trying out again. We both managed to get up and ride a few waves, it was totally gnarly dude. We hung out at the beach afterwards, getting some fried rice and noodles at a shack. I ended up getting invited to play a game of chess against a local and before I knew it, I’d bet a bottle of beer on winning. Now, I used to play a lot of chess as a kid but haven’t really played for years. Luckily, the chap I was playing against had only just taken it up recently, apparently. I started well but it wasn’t long till I found myself without key pieces. I’d been hustled, at chess!

It was our last day in Kuta and so I wanted to stop by my favourite beach once again. Fi and i headed down and just chilled out by the water for ages. We went for a swim and then had a laugh just sitting by where the waves crash and letting the water drag us in and push us back out again. Childish, stupid, but hilarious. Sometimes it really is the simple things in life that make us happy. I’d love to come back to this beach some day.

We fancied a big night out but after having dinner we were both feeling pretty tired. We headed down to a supermarket to pick up some supplies for our bus and boat journey the next day as well as a couple of drinks for that night. I love foreign supermarkets, there’s so much weird shit in there. They had to go into the back to find beers but I did find one weird drink that I just had to try. Non-alcoholic guiness. Scott Fletcher and Paul Carr – I can feel you both die a little bit after reading that (just kidding, I know Paul isn’t reading this). The taste was difficult to describe, there was a hint of vanilla and it was really sweet but in all honesty, it was fucking horrible. Not as bad as the birds nest drink but still not very nice!

We got picked up early the next morning and headed off back to Bali. We never made it to the bat cave unfortunately.

What I’m listening to: Beach Boys – Surfin’ USA

Gilli T

The Gilli islands are 3 islands off the coast of lombok. They’re supposedly heavenly and have become a bit of a hot spot on the backpacker trail in indonesia. We chose to start off in Gilli Trawangan, the busiest of the 3 islands and the one with the best nightlife. We climbed off the boat with our bags and set about trying to find a room for a couple of nights. One dude walked us to his place and showed us a nice room but suddenly changed the price to more than he initially told us. It pissed me right off and I had a go at him and walked out leaving him confused. We then found a place down the road for a more reasonable price.

Fi hadn’t seen a beach for ages so we headed out and grabbed a meal on the sand. The prices were more expensive than I’d got used to in Sumatra but the meal was tasty. We went for a walk around the island after that. Again, it was a lot bigger than i expected and we couldn’t walk all the way around. Once we walked the length of the main strip, it all turned into plush resorts along the sea front, it had a really different vibe. More coupley than backpacker but it was quiet so we put our bags down and went for a bit of a swim. It was a coral beach so not the most comfortable but enough to satisfy Fi’s need for the sea. As we walked back, we stopped at a bar with bean bags on the beach and slowly got a little pissed as the sun set. We composed a drinking game for the night where if we met people with specific names, we had to perform a certain action. I’m sure they all made sense at the time but looking at them the next day, we had no idea what we were on about!

We showered and walked down s main strip to the night market, basically a collection of stalls selling Indonesian meals and fresh seafood, cooked on a barbecue. The Indonesian food was an array of different curries and salads served with rice so we got a large mixed plate of that and a fish to share between us. I added lots of chilli sauce but made the mistake of not trying it first and so although it was delicious , it burned like a mother fucker. My face was bright red and dripping with sweat by the end of it. Lesson learned!

We walked down and went to bar that had a live band, what is it with indonesia and live music? The band were rocking it and there was a group of middle aged people who were loving it and dancing like teenagers right in front of us. The music was great, a mix of rock, reggae, ska. The drinks were flowing, they had an interesting cocktail list of drinks i’d never heard of before. I was on the beers but fi ordered something called horny horny. We chatted to a few people but nobody with any of the names on our list. We left the bar and headed down the strip in search of a bigger party but couldn’t find one for some reason. We werne feeling pretty tired anyway after a day of drinking in the sun so we headed back.

We must have been more drunk than I thought as i had a bit of a hangover the next day when I eventually got up in the afternoon. Fi wasn’t feeling well and had actually been sick in the night but not from the alcohol. She decided to have a quiet day at the hotel while i ventured out. To be honest, i didn’t do much. I grabbed some food and spent a bit of time in an internet cafe, applying for a reference letter to get me into vietnam and, more excitingly, a working holiday visa for Australia! It was a straightforward but lengthy process and i headed off feeling really weird that I’d just applied to live somewhere other than London, one big step closer!

I walked around the island for a bit, just taking it in. It was pretty cool in that there are no motors, no cars or scooters. It is quite a big island though so there are quite a few cyclists and more interestingly, horse drawn carts. The streets are pretty narrow so 2 can only just pass by eachother. Even though we didn’t take one, i found it really quaint.

I went back to see how fi was doing and fortunately she was feeling better. We went and chilled in the bean bag bar again and just shot the breeze, looking out to see and contemplating this weird big step i’d just taken. I hadn’t planned on doing it that day, i just decided it was as good a day as any. I hadn’t really thought it through, it just seemed like an extension of what I’ve been doing for the last few months. I went to skype my parents for a bit and found an email in my inbox saying my application for the visa had been accepted. It usually takes 3 days but i somehow got it in hours, I walked back to the bar in a daze.

I was in the mood to celebrate  (any excuse, right?) but Fi was nowhere near 100%. The guys at our hotel offered me mushrooms on the cheap but i said I’d think about it rather than take them on my own. We went out for dinner and i splurged, going for a fresh piece of bbq fish with an unlimited salad buffet (which for me, consisted mainly of coleslaw and potato salad). Fi’s iffy stomach meant she only went for chips. We had been told the party that night was at this bar on the beach and we walked past it on the way back, fi went home and I stayed to knock a few back. I sat at the bar and met a Frenchman who’s name i forget. The barman was laying out riddles usong paperclips. It’s hard to explain but he basically sets them up in a cwrtain pattern or equation and you move a set number to make it something different. If you’ve ever seen it before then you know what I’m on about, otherwise i just sound like a nutter.

Anyway, the bar got busier as the night went on and people came and went around us. We talked to a few girls and sank a few beers. He then told me about this stuff callwd joss. It’s kinda like powdered red bull or berroca. You empty the sachet into your mouth then do a shot of vodka and swirl it around in your mouth before swallowing, it supposedly gets you absolutely hammered but i didn’t feel much after one. Strangely for me, that didn’t mean that I instantly bought more. The guys from my hotel showed up and tried to sell me mushrooms again but despite hearing they were great on the island, i turned them down, i didn’t wanna over do it. After a couple more drinks i headed back, buying weird Indonesian cigarettes along the way. They’re weird in that they are spiced with cloves and sweetened a bit. I don’t usually smoke but these are weird and i always do weird shit. It started raining on my walk home, I’m talking clear skies to downpour in about 3 seconds. I figured it was just temporary so sought refuge in a closed restaurant for a little while before realising it wasn’t going to let up and legged it back to the hotel.

The guys who ran it were up when ingot there so i stayed up and chatted with them for a bit, smoking ciggies all the while. i just talked to the guy about his life and he asked me about mine. He was surprised to hear that fi and i were just mates and weren’t having sex (or as he put it “making babies”). He told me about how we worked on dubai for a couple of years and earned 8 times as much as he does in Indonesia and how he wished indonesia had been colonised by the English rather than the Dutch. The funniest thing he said was “no woman, no cry. No smoke, no fly. No condom, we die”. Apparently indonesia has an aids issue. We got on pretty well in the couple of hours we chatted for and agreed that after I’ve made enough money in Australia, I’d buy/build a hotel on the island and he would run it for me. He took my name for facebook but never added me, the fucker! Fi and i headed off the next morning, on a boat bound for Lombok.

What I’m listening to: UB40 – Red, red wine

The End. Of a chapter…

I’m so far behind it’s unreal and I promise to catch up in the next few weeks but I just wanted to write a quick little post as I come to the end of my time in Asia and head to something that kinda resembles the real world. I’ve not shied away from a bit of emotion in this blog and I’m not about to start now.

This trip/journey/holiday/gap yah has been one hell of a fucking experience. I didn’t know what to expect and yet have somehow had my expectations far exceeded. While out here, I’ve felt like a better, happier version than my former self and that’s why I’m trying to keep it going in some way, shape or form. I’m sat here and able to recount everyday as if it were yesterday, each memory brings with it a massive grin. I’ve met people from all 4 corners of the world (Alaska, Chile, Taiwan and New Zealand count as corners right?), experienced all sorts of new and exciting things (massages will never be the same again), eaten an incredible array of different things and seen things I’d never be able to fathom before. I’ve seen the sun set (and rise) on mountains, hills and volcanoes. Over lakes, rivers, reservoirs, streams and waterfalls. In the desert, over deserts and on sand dunes. I’ve a new found love for being outdoors and I’m going to try to take that with me. I’m going to keep the blog going as I travel around Australia but it might be even more sporadic than it has been so it’s not the end of the tour, I’m just changing transportation 😉  I just wanted to let you all know that and give you all a big shout out.

To those who are reading this and have no connection to me:  Hello! I have no idea how you found this blog or why you continue to follow it but I’m sure glad you did and do. Your likes and follows put a smile on my face every time and I’m genuinely shocked to see you interested in my stories (especially when so many of them start “I can’t really remember what happened next but…”) I’m ashamed to say I’ve not found the time to read and follow your blogs but I hope you’ll forgive me. Thanks, and please feel free to get in touch and say hi

To my friends and family back home and abroad: Your support and love has been incredible and, at times, overwhelming. I’m not one to measure popularity based on facebook likes but I’ve been blown away by how many each post and update gets. Those of you who message me to say how much you enjoy the blog make my fucking day (which is already pretty sweet). I’m sorry you won’t be seeing me again just yet but I need to keep this adventure going for my own sanity. Who knows how long I’ll be away. Could be a year or two or I could be back within a month, looking like a fool. The Aussies might turn me away at immigration for not having a criminal record, who knows? Either way, I’ve got crazy mad love for you all and having some kind of connection to you through this blog has helped me feel at home wherever I’ve been, thank you.

To the crazy fuckers I’ve met along the way: You’re fucking awesome, all of you. Even the cunts I didn’t like have helped make this an unforgettable journey (even though I can’t remember at least 20% through alcohol-induced-memory-loss). I was scared I’d spend 4 months roaming Asia on my own but it’s testament to you that I’ve somehow managed to only have one day (yes, ONE DAY in 130!) where I’ve eaten breakfast, lunch and dinner on my own. And that was only cos I was too knackered to go out and meet one of you (sorry again Chris). I’ve said I hope to cross paths with you again and I honestly mean that. Get in touch whenever you feel like it, I’ll find time for you. Thanks for all the drinks, the laughs, the stories, memories, meals, beers, shots, buckets, cigarettes, joints, bags, dabs, tabs, pictures, romance, bromance, journeys, beard compliments (and insults), encouragement, conversations, messages, loans, tips, tricks, thoughts, ideas, advice, philosophies, lifts, bunks, boosts and love. Keep travelling, live the dream, and let’s do it again sometime.

To Australia and it’s inhabitants: Welcome to Tam on tour! I’m on my way, I’m excited and I plan on seeing as much of you as possible. Things may not turn out the way I planned but one way or another, I’m gonna have a fucking good time. Good luck at keeping up.

I’ve updated a couple of the Tam Comanfments with recent ideas but as a final (for now) thought, I wanna leave you with the lyrics to a song I’ve been listening to throughout the trip. Wild Beasts – Mecca (N.B. The name of the song and my liking of it has no link with my current facial hair situation). I particularly want to focus on the first verse (final two lines especially) which has resonated with me from the first couple of days when I was in the Himalayas – “We didn’t reach a high it was always inside, we just coaxed it from the place it resides”

Peace, love and thanks to you all x

Padang Bai

I left Sumatra feeling sad that I’d not spent more time there but i was also really excited about meeting up with my friend Fiona and travelling around with her for a couple of weeks. We met in university and are still good mates now, nearly 10 years later. She’s the first proper friend from home that I’ve seen for 3 months! She was flying in from London and we met at Denpasar airport in Bali.

I’d not heard a lot of great things about Bali so our plan was to get out to Lombok, an island to the east, as soon as possible. I’d done a bit of reading and found that there are several options but you could get a fast boat (an hour but expensive) or a slow ferry (4-6 hours but significantly cheaper) from a town called Padang Bai, on the east coast of Bali so we got a cab to there and caught up in the 90 minite journey there, i was so happy to see a familiar face again!

When we got to Padang Bai,we were told that fast boats stop running at half 1, it was around 5. We still hadn’t decided where to go in Lombok. We were pestered by several guys trying to sell us accommodation and tickets for the next day but we found a restaurant with wifi, and made our decision with a full stomach – a much better way to do things. Fi had her first experience of Indonesian food and loved the gado gado. Anyway, our research went well and we came to a conclusion. It transpired that padang bai was more than just a town to pass through, and arriving in lombok late at night with nowhere to go wasn’t appealing so we found a hostel and checked in there.

We found out that the town actually had a ceremony every two weeks and just so happened to be that day so we freshened up and headed out to see it at a temple. There were quite a few people gathered and sat on the floor so we joined them and waited.

Unfortunately, nothing really happened. A priest said some things over a speaker system and everyone prayed a bit but nothing else. We were promised a pretty spectacular ceremony including a witch and all sorts so assumed we missed it. We walked along the road to a street with a few bars on it and sat at one that had a live band playing and chatted to some other travellers. It turns out we had missed most of it and it sounded epic! Apparently a group of people get put into a trance and wild out! They flail, they scream, they even bite the head off a live baby chick! Then they get restrained by others and a witch exorcises them. This is a big tourist spot and the guy at our hostel assured us that this is something they have been doing forever so it’s not a show for us, it’s legit.

Anyway, they said the second part of the ceremony was happening later so we headed off with them to check it out. As we walked uo we noticed a little commotion to one side, we looked over the shoulders of people in the crowd to see people gambling. One guy would roll 3 large dice and in front of him wqs a mat with 6 symbols on them, each one matching up with a side of the die. You place money on a symbol and if it appears once, you get ypur money back. Twice and you double it, thrice and you triple it. Simple enough so i gave it a go. I started off with some awesome luck and within no time had made a tenner from an initial £1 stake. Then i did my usual thing, got greedy and lost most of it. Still walked away with £3 though, that’s 3 beers here!

It’s hard to describe wtf was going on when the ceremony started but it was weird as fuck. Several groups came out and danced and then the lights were dimmed. These girls came out and danced a bit then an old crone came and they all went to their knees. She stamped her cane about and shouted stuff but i sill had no clue what was happening. Then what looked like a clown and a jester came out for what i can only imagine was comic relief given everyone kept laughing. They then got chased off by a demon. After a bit of an intermission, the demon came back, as did the girls who danced for him then got chased by him a bit, Benny Hill style. Fuck knows what it was all about but there was sadly no trance or chick head biting, we were gutted to miss it.

It was almost 1am by the time this all finished so we headed back to sleep. We enjoyed the free breakfast at the hostel before getting on the back of some mopeds to the dock where the fast boat left to the gilli islands. Fi and i sat upstairs on the sun deck of the speedboat where they were playing god awful pop dance “music” (e.g. pitbull. How the fuck does that man have a career?). The view from the boat was awesome as we cruised past the coast of Bali. It promised to be a fun few days ahead.

What I’m listening to (reluctantly): pitbull

Lake Toba

Having had quite an active past week or so, i was looking forward to doing some chilling out in Lake Toba. It’s a massive volcanic lake, the largest in the world in fact, and it’s 900m above sea level. There are a couple of activities to do but it’s really just about chilling the fuck out and taking in the scenery.

My journey there started like most journeys in asia do – late. I was told it was a 4 hour trip and started at 8:30 and we set off around 9. There were 6 of us in a minivan, going to 3 different destinations and the van dropped people off along the way. At 1pm we stopped for lunch, given that was the time i expected to arrive, i was a little surprised that we bothered. Turns out we were meant to arrive at 4, not that the journey would take 4 hours (we didn’t arrive at 4 anyway). Most of the journey was uneventful except for when the driver suddenly pulled over very excitedly. We’d seen a shop and i assumed he stopped to buy cigarettes, I got out to stretch my legs and to see what he was so happy about. I walked over to where he was standing and there was a cage beside him and a couple of other guys. As I walked over i could see there were several things hanging from the top of the cage and strpng bad smell. Turns out they were bats! The driver was buying live bats,apparently they use the blood as medicine. He chucked them in the van with us and we drove away. Bizzare little experience but there you go.

The drive approaching the lake was beautiful, we were a good few hundred metres above it and looking over it from above the clouds/fog. There was a bit of drizzle every now and again but it just added to the serenity. We arrived at the little town of Parrapat at 5, enough time to have a coffee and a snack before catching the boat across to the island in the middle of the lake, our actual destination. On the boat across i met a couple of other backpackers and we talked about where to stay. Someone on the jungle trek recommended that i stay at a place called Bagus Bay so that’s where i headed. The boat works its way around the island, stopping several times to let people off when they reached their desired hotel. I checked in, had a shower and chilled in the hotel restaurant for dinner, where i bumped into Andrea, a girl from Alaska who i met on the boat, she had also decided to stay there. The long journey and last few days had knackered me out so i had an early one and agreed to meet up with her the next day.

After breakfast we decided to hire a scooter and drive around the island, there was supposedly a lot of little things to see as it had been inhabited for hundereds of years. We were given a map and instructions to not drive all the way around the island as the roads on the otherside were in terrible condition, so the best thing to do is drive round as far as the hot springs, or maybe a little further, and then come back on yourself to tuk tuk,the name of the town we were staying in.

So we headed in the direction we were pointed in and stopped off fairly early on at a stone chair. It was basically where the head of the local tribe held court and would pass judgement on criminals, with the help of a witch. If the man’s crime was bad enough, they would tear out his heart and it eat. Gruesome. This was all explained to us by a Malaysian guy who was part of a tour group that was having it explained to them by a local tour guide. He also dresses them up and showed rhem a weird local dance. Unfortunately my camera was acting up at the time so I’ve got no snaps.

Outside, there was a little sign that said there was a beach cafe so we stopped there for a coffee. The advertising standards agency should have a word with the place though as there was certainly no beach, there was a little boat terminal though. And the coffee wasn’t bad. There was also a sign describing the 7 charns of Lake Toba. What would you consider your 7 charms to be? Or mine for that matter?

We carried on along the rode and it took a surprisingly long time to get across to the hot springs, the island was a lot bigger than i expected. It took us probably an hour or so to get round there. We turned off the road towards the hot springs and it tooks us on a tiny bridge off the island and onto the main land. We followed the road and caught the now familiar scent of sulphur which i took to mean that the springs were close. I didn’t see anything though so kept driving up the hill and eventually the smell disappeared. Pnce we’d followed the road for another 10 mins or so, i knew we must have gone past it. Luckily though, we were now pretty high up the hill with stunning views of the lake and island a sunny day.

We drove back down the hill, taking time for a detour down a dirt track which unfortunately led nowhere so we headed back. We stopped for lunch at a little roadside cafe and tucked into some cheap noodles. We also bumped into Patrick, an English fella who i met on the boat over and he joined us for the day. We biked further around the island, stopping a couple of times to take pictures and admire the view. The scenery on the other side of the lake was stunning with large hills and valleys heading straight into the lake. We went looking for a town woth a mausoleum but couldn’t find it and eventually turned back in search of something else, but the drive was awesome.

We had a look at the jand drawn map we had and decided to get off the coast and head inwards and cut across the island. In the middle was a little lake and we had to check it out. Just imagine, a lake, on an island thats on a giant lake! And the little lake has an island too! Mind blowing stuff. So we drove inland and took a winding road up and up. The roads weren’t in great shape at this point but they were driveable. We realised after about half an hour that the map had not been drawn to scale when we still hadn’t come across a lake, but we persevered with my navigational intuition telling me we were near. We had almost given up when we turned the corner and finally came to it! Truth be told, it was a little underwhelming but glad we made it.

The drive across the rest of the island turned out to be hellish. A couple of minutes after we set off, my bike just cut out while going uphill. Literally just stopped and turned off. I tried to get it going again by rolling it down hill and then trying to start it but that didn’t work, it had enough petrol so that wasn’t an issue. We waited for a while and tried again, it finally worked! Only to cut out again 10 minutes later. I think it was the fact that the bike was at altitude  (probably 1500m above sea level at this point) and it was old so couldn’t get enough oxygen into the engine. When we did finally get moving again, the roads were terrible. If we weren’t driving through ankle deep mud, it was pot hole littered gravel tracks. And it was starting to get dark. And we were starting to run low on petrol. What looked like a simple drive across the island on the map ended up being 2 hours of the most intense driving i’d ever done. I was so happy when we finally got onto tarmac that i did a little dance!

We were meant to have the bikes back by 6 as they belonged to the hotel staff but we only got back at 7. The bike decided to cut out again on the way, only 10 mins from the hotel (and at lower altitude so maybe our theory was way off?). We washed up and went for dinner. We each ordered bbq fish, caught fresh from the lake and i can comfortably say it was the most delicious fish i’d ever eaten. They wouldn’t/couldn’t tell us what was in the marinade but man it was good. We went to a couple of bars and then say by the lake by our hotel with a beer, popping in for a quick swim before going to bed.

The next day we woke up and decided we’d take mushrooms by the lake. Someone had recommended them to me and they seemed to be everywhere so we thought why not? The initial plan was to take kayaks into the middle of the lake and do them there but then patick didn’t want to kayak so we took them in a little garden by his hotel, looking out onto the lake. They didn’t really do anything to us so we went out and back to our hotel restaurant. They had a traditional batak (local tribe) dance show on that night. 4 young girls in colourful dresses moved slowly from side to side to the beat of a drum and guitar. They made small movements with their hands and weren’t really smiling though i don’t know if that’s part of the dance. An old man with the most monotonous voice i’d ever heard introduced each dance and called on members of the audience to join for the party dance. Obviously, i volunteered and stood in a line with other confused westeners with a long, colourful cloth draped over one of my shoulders, bowing each time a dance partner appeared in front of me. It was probably a good thing the mushrooms didn’t work!

We went for a bit of dinner before going to Roy’s, the local irish bar (there’s always an irish bar) that had live music on that night. To my surprise, the crowd was probably 50/50 local to westeners. The band were playing all the hard rock classics, mixed in with Indonesian songs and they were rocking it! They were genuinely pretty damn good. I got talking to a group of Finns sat next to us who were ridiculously stoned. They had bought 100 grams of weed for about 20 dollars! After a while i looked around and noticed that it was only me, Andrea and 2 other westeners in the bar. Everyone else was local and the music was just local music. It was a pretty wild party. People kept chantimg for one more song and the band kept giving it to them! We could hear them still going long after we went back.

We went for another dip in the lake but Andrea jumped in, not noticing the giant steps leading down into the water. When we got out she realised her foot had bruised pretty bad and i had to help her hobble back to her room. The next day I was heading back to medan, to catch a flight to Bali. My flight left early the following day so i planned to get the latest bus possible and sleep at the airport. But with her busted ankle, Andrea decided to seek medical help at the hospital in medan so we split the cost of a room instead and i got a cab early in the morning with the driver playing love ballads on cd. And so ended my time on Sumatra, it is a beautiful and untouched place. I’d love to see more of it someday as i didn’t even make it to the south!

What I’m listening to: The righteous brothers – unchained melody

Bukit Lawang – trekking in the jungle to see orangatans

Bukit Lawang is a small town in inland Sumatra. There isn’t much to the place but its really picturesque with a river running through the middle of it. It used to house an orangatans rehabilitation centre (from injuries, not drug abuse) and the main reason people go there these days is that it backs onto a national park where you can trek and see the orangatans. I’m not exactly big on animals but I couldn’t miss the opportunity while I’m here, plus i think I’ve started to realise that i actually quite like being outdoors so a trek would be nice.

The journey there was a bit of a pain. There’s no direct bus from banda aceh so we had to get off at a little town called Binjai, get a beccak to the actual bus station and then get a minivan to Bukit Lawang. The road into the town is probably the worst I’ve ever been on as it’s absolutely littered with pot holes, ranging from the size of a football to the size of a dining room table. To say it was a bumpy ride is putting it mildly. Anyway, Rosalie was pretty tired and had booked herself a room but i didn’t have quite as much time left in Sumatra and was feeling surprisingly fresh so wanted to get started right away. I said I’d go look to see if i could join a trek and, if not, come back and stay at the same hotel.

David had recommended a trek with a hotel that he did, called on the rocks, so i headed there to see if they had any heading out that morning. Unfortunately, that hotel happened to be up a flight of a million steps (give or take a few) so i lugged my backpack up in the morning heat. When i finally got to the top, the owner was very accommodating and let me have a seat and a glass of freshly squeezed passionfruit juice. I had a look around and the view was worth the walk up,it looked out over the river and backed sraight into the jungle. It had a volleyball court and beautiful little huts and would have been am awesome place to stay though it was a little more expensive than i was hoping for at  a whopping £7.50 a night. The owner also sadly informed me that he had no treks leaving that day but did the next day. As i thanked him and starting walking back down someone else nearby asked what was going on, made a phone call, and was able to find a trek leaving in the next 30 mins so i had time for a quick shower and to wolf down an omlette before my group turned up. I left my main backpack in the hotel and went off into the jungle.

It wasn’t long into the trek before we stumbled into our first sighting of some animals, a large group of short tailed macaques (monkeys). They ranged from large to small and were cute as fuck. They had no problems being close to humans and got close enough for our group to feed one, though we were told later not to as they have been known to rip your fingers off. The cutest was a little baby one clinging onto the bottom of it’s mother. They junoed from tree to tree and climbed down to pick up fruit from the floor.

We actually saw these, and other types of monkeys, several timea throughout the next couple of days but the novelty wore off fairly quickly and didn’t pay them much attention, it’s weird how something so extraordinary becomes so normal after you’ve seen something “better”. Speaking of which, it wasn’t long before we came across the first of our many orangatan sightings for thw day. It was one called Mina which had been bred in captivity and released into the wild. You’d think that would make her friendly towards humans but she’s actually a bit of a bitch. She’ll stop and have her photo taken but earlier that morning she bit a tour guide on the arse! One of the many reasons i don’t go for ginger chicks. Anyway, she was there with her fairly newborn baby and was pretty high up in the trees. There were a few other groups looking at her so we carried on the trek and found another orangatan within minutes.

I didn’t really have many expectations but I guess they are bigger creatures than I expected, they also move remarkably fast for animals their size. It was cool how they held on with all 4 limbs, their legs were basically arms and they would use them just as well. Most of the ones we saw were “semi-wild” meaning they had either been bred in captivity and released or rescued and re-released. The guides could recognise the faces of the semi wild ones, which I thought was pretty impressive. We stopped and stared at one for quite a while in silence, admiring the way it moves. It just kinda hung in the tree, watching us and chewing on leaves and branches.

We saw quite a few orangatans that morning and it was pretty much the same thing every time, we’d stop and say wow then take about 100 photos before moving on and finding another one. The scenery was pretty cool though, it was a fairly well maintained path for the most of it but it did get pretty messy at times. We regularly had to use our hands and knees to get to keep going. At one point we had to hold onto a vine while abseiling /relaying down a slippery steep slope, it was awesome. As you can imagine, i was really pleased with the decision i’d made a few weeks before to throw away the hiking boots I had been carrying around for 2 months. I’d call myself an idiot but it goes to show that you really don’t know whats around the corner. We stopped for lunch at the top of a hill and the guides brought out fried rice in a banana leaf for everyone. There waa also various fruits, my fav being the passion fruit, i devoured a lot of those bad boys.

Just as we were finishing lunch, one of the guides gor very excited. Turns out there was another orangatan but he didn’t recognise the face, meaning it was a totally wild one. It was significantly bigger than the others, a massive dominant male. The wild ones aren’t so safe so we had to keep our distance, they don’t usually get close to humans but this one seemed pretty interested in us. We were taking pictures but had to keep moving back to make sure we stayed alive. The guide told me that it would take more than 15 men to fight an adult male. I wasn’t quite sure but someone pointed out that their muscles must be crazy strong to spend all day swinging from tree to tree, and they do seem to snap branches and bamboo as if they were pencils. Anyway, it was definitely the most interesting orangatan sighting of the day.

One last sighting we had was a mother and baby orangatan juat chilling in the trees. They got pretty close and were right little posers, even turning to face some people’s cameras. The highlight though was when the baby started sucking on the mothers teats for a bit of milk, cute little bugger. I remember looking at them and saying to the group “i wonder what they’re thinking as they look at us?” And right at that moment the little one started to take a shit, at least we know what they think of us.

After trekking for an hour or so more, we finally made it to camp. We were shaded by the trees all day but it waa seriously humid and the trek was hard work so we were glad to come to an end. Our camp consisted of a few bamboo structures with a tarp over the top and camp mats laid out which was our tent for the night. There was another similar structure with food and water which was the kitchen and that was basically it. The toilet wqs the great outdoors and the shower was a beautiful waterfall. I went for a dip to cool off and wash the sweat away before chilling with the others in the open area.

We sat around and had the usual backpacker conversation of where you from, where you been, where you going etc. Everyone was nice enough but it wasn’t an amazing group. It started chucking it down with rain so we all retreated to the tents until dinner was served. We ran to the eating tent and paid over odds for a beer with our dinner which was fair enough given someone had to lug it all the way here on their back. Dinner was pretty awesome given it was cooked in a jungle, we had rice and chicken, beef, veg and tofu curries. After dinner, Tobi, a german fella, cracked open some cognac and cigars that he had for some reason. Not a lot of cognac though so none of us got pissed or anything. Though the guides did show us a couple of games which woukd have definitely been drinking games if we had more booze, it was a weird experience but it was fun. We also played a few card games before it rained again and we all went to bed.

The next morning we had some breakfast and were on our merry way. It was a pretty arduous trek again, climbing up hill at first and using roots and vines to get up. We didn’t actually see any animals that morning but it was a really fun walk. Once again i cursed myself at throwing away my trekking boots as i slipped on multiple occasions. After a few hours we arrived at a river which was our final stop. Some of the guides said we’d be tubing down the river to get back and some said rafting. After taking one look at the river i was pretty sure it would be rafting as there were a fair few rapids! Turns out what they do is strap a number of tubes together to make a raft and head off down the river. We put our bags,  shoes and valuables into a waterproof bag and set off on a fun and bumpy ride. After one particularly large rapid, one of the straps on my raft snapped and i spent the rest of the journey literally holding it together, all good fun though!

When we got back to town we said our goodbyes and I climbed up to the hostel where I’d left my bag to collect it and check into a cheaper place by the river. I found a book exchange shop and finally traded in my copy of Shantaram for a copy of To Kill A Mockingbird. I chilled in the hostel reading for the next few hours and occasionally chatting with Jessie and Tobi, people from the trek. Tobi again got out some cognac, cigars and some german sausage as a little after dinner snack which was cool. We had it by candlelight as a power cut hit the town and plunged us into darkness. With the rain absolutely bucketing down though, it was a pretty sweet setting.

The next morning i headed off to catch a bus to my next spot, Lake Toba. It was a nice couple of days and a cool trek but the wildlife side of it wasn’t amazing. I mean,the orangatans were cool but once you’ve seen them, you’ve seen them. Apparently, if you do a long trek, say 10 days, then you have a chance of also seeing Sumatran tigers and elephants but that seemed like a lot to me. I preferred the trek i did in the himalayas as that was a lot more varied. Sill fun though!

What I’m listening to: a rushing river