Riding in the wild west

High jinks on Australia's east coast were followed by some high-octane dramas in the wild west, north of Perth, before I arrived in Christchurch, New Zealand last week. Melbourne was my pick of the cities, with the Great Ocean Road another highlight. (Only 6 weeks left now).

I fled Perth in a haze of burning rubber on the Easyrider bus bound north for a place called Exmouth some 1,200km away. Met some smashers on the bus - a hop on/off affair. Hooked up with 3 Irish, 1 Aussie and 1 English for two weeks of mirthmaking: Noodles from Waterford ("Would anyone care for a moist towelette?"), Tippy from Tipperary ("Bart baby, will i make you another cheese butty with mayo?"), Fat-lip Fiona from Sydney ("Oh, that's feral"), Conor from Cork ("Will I put my head in this?") and Icouldeatahorse Lucy from London ("Mind [dribble], if I polish off that steak for you [dribble]...") were the japesters among the quiet ones or "dry balls", as Conor branded them who joined the 'Mates Bus' en route north.

With "Sleeping is for wimps" as our motto, we had plenty of craic, myself and Conor as the self-styled Backseat Pikey Boys, togged in trademark turned-up sunhats. The long and not-winding roads passed through arid and desolate bush - the west of Oz is very sparsely populated. Of the 2 million people who live in the state of Western Australia, which is almost the size of India, around 1.8m live in Perth.We stopped off at some one-horse towns with sunny bays and long stretches of beach and chalked up plenty of activities - canoe safari, abseiling, manta ray snorkelling, swimming with turtles, dolphin-ogling, goat-rustling (Conor), scooter safari... dodging kangaroos and racing each other as we went.

Among many highlights of the Easyrider tour was the canoe safari. It was a laugh riot. Unfortunately, I got the Irish oarswoman who couldn't paddle for toffee!! It wasn't my fault i rammed the boat into a bush and made Noodles shriek like a big baby. It wasn't my fault the boat hit a friggin tree root and capsized. Was it? My paddling playmate for the day and I were cruising down the slow-moving river with Conor and Fiona and another boat when tragedy struck. The man at the back in a two-man canoe - that's me - is meant to execute the turns. Problem was that i was a tad late making them on the two occasions resulting in the bush conference and dunking - truth be told I abandoned my duties and just cackled wickedly when i saw that she would shortly be confronting the prickly riverside shrubbery. Oddly, she also accused me of cackhanded oarsmanship when we capsized and she lost her size 3 kiddies flip-flop. Thankfully, she saved my $1.50 thongs, despite guzzling some feral river water. We were busting our asses laughing. I held my hands up, as i did instead of steering the ruddy boat, for I was entirely to blame. I served my sentence as chief sandwich-maker for Noodles for 2 weeks. (I've since reduced my cheese-and-ham butties habit by 62 per cent!).

Other highlights of the trip included star-gazing in the outback, bus surfing, mooning for stubby holders (Noodles apparently having the best curves to take the comp!! My arse), pool volleyball antics, and, erm, dry-humping and being spanked and nailed (I still have the scars Lucy!) by Easyrider girls on a beery night in Exmouth. Why, of course I loved every moment.

Big shout goes out to the Easyrider hardcore who made the road trip such as blast. It re-energised me and boosted my enthusiasm for this travelling malarkey after getting a mite bored with it all in Perth.

New Zealand promises much in its natural landscapes and activities on offer everywhere. Hiking, white water rafting, skydiving and wine-tasting are on the agenda... although not at the same time. I've hired a car with a couple of others and we'll be bombing around the south and north islands for 23 days from tomorrow morning. Three weeks in Fiji follows before a flight back to Ole Blighty. Got to make the most of my remaining 6 weeks of freedom - it's fifth gear all the way home.

I was a cave dweller

Six months and a bit into my trip, I'm back in the saddle... so to speak. You join me in Malaysia, two weeks after fleeing Thailand where i spent almost 6 weeks, variously teaching English to some cheeky scamps (which included plenty of singing), being DJ Volunteer Sidekick at the local radio station and recovering from a bout of tonsolitis. More on these later.

I've just returned from a three-day jungle trek in Kenong Rimba State Park, "one of the world's oldest rainforests" in the heart of the Malaysia. The intrepid forest explorers numbered four - I was accompanied by a German guy, also Mark, and an Australian lass called Rena. Our machete-wielding Indian guide, Appu, a legend in the local town two hours away, looked every inch the veteran jungle trekker of 20 years - sporting a bandana, ripped t-shirt, red Puma football socks pulled over his khaki trousers, he carried a tatty backpack laiden with food supplies. He knew his trails inside out but still had to hack a few paths through the dense forest as monsoon rains had brought down trees halting our progress. Base camp was a limestone cave. The three of us slept on a rock face under a cliff overhang, a fire burning into the wee hours on both nights while Appu snored his head off nearby.

Not wanting to get our hopes up, he hadn't promised we'd see any particular bush mammals - the closest we got to the family of five elephants living there was sniffing their scent and stumbling over their one-day-old heaps of shit. The tigers, tapirs, wild pigs and monitor lizards also failed to join us for our evening feasts - veggie curries cooked on a massive wok and washed down with whisky tea. (Appu was a great jungle chef). I did, however, spot two monkeys larking about in the tree-tops, heard a Gibbon and we all got aquainted with the hideously ugly bats hanging around in the stinky caves we explored. Only one of us got friendly with a leech - and it wasn't me!

Save for the wild animals in hiding, though, we had the jungle to ourselves - didn't see another westerner in the forest and barely a soul for three days. Best thing about the trip. Not that it was quiet though. Two thunderstorms, a nightly chorus of insects/birds and other eerie forest murmurs kept us on our guard. Happy days and some fond memories... not least the rumble in the jungle - an epic fight in a rainforest pool one evening, when the three of us lost it completely, daubing ourselves in clay warrior make-up before wrestling in the water and pelting each other into submission with giant mud bombs. Tremendous.

Previous to the jungle expedition, I'd been beach bumming on the Pehrentian Islands, just off the east coast of Malaysia. Highlight was a day's snorkelling in the warm, turquoise sea, spotting exotic fish and reef sharks off the coral reef and swimming alongside a 3ft green turtle. Met some Irish girls on that day trip and got pissed with them at a beach barbie. Good times.

I had scarpered ChiangMai, Thailand's second city, after an entertaining introduction to teaching (only 29hrs in all) and my voluntary work at the local English language radio station. Enjoyed the teaching experience, apart from when i got tonsolitis and couldn't raise my voice to control the noisy kids. Also taught university students who were attentive and no trouble. More fun, however, were the 7/8 year olds. I brushed up on my English grammar and did some lessons to the book, playing a few games. But the kids loved singing. So it wasn't long before I found myself leading the organised chaos with screeching renditions of "Heads, shoulders knees and toes" and "Old Macdonald had a farm". And every Sunday morning there was a sing-along for 30mins, involving 40 kids and teachers wailing "Doe a deer" and "If you're happy and you know it". I happen to have a great voice... sadly, they weren't a patch on me!!

My swansong from teaching saw my class of 7/8 year olds take part in a performance morning. I'd drilled them in 'When the saints go marching in', putting actions to the words and getting them marching to and fro around the classroom singing at the tops of their voices and acting it all out. I thought of Jack Black in School of Rock and even had the kids practicing rock-style scissor kicks and throwing their tinsel halos in the air to finish the song (my rather fetching tinsel headdress had a Davy Crockett rat's tail). The performance rocked and the kids and teachers were rewarded with a rice dish and ice-cream sandwiches. I'd always wondered what a coconut ice-cream butty tasted like - now I know. Not bad at all.

Also in ChiangMai, I'd had a wheeze aiding and abetting DJ Zero Selon, an American, on his Afternoon Stirfry show at the city's only English language radio station. It's the Thai Information and Travel Service radio station - better known by the naughty acronym TITS Radio 106.5Fm! My moniker at TITS evolved from DJ Volunteer Sidekick to DJ Marky B. All very laidback - plenty of jovial banter on anything and everything filled the airwaves (I was meant to be the straight man... didn't much playing the Ernie Wise role though) and there was no playlist so we got to inflict our own favourite tracks on listeners - an eclectic mix of classics, indie rock, hip hop, reggae and R&B. I contributed with music and community news bulletins and news of the weird. Also got the chance to helm the show in his absence on a couple of occasions.

DJ Marky B hung up his 'oversized' earphones to head to Bangkok. Bit of a madhouse. Met up again with my scouse mate Dangerous Dancing Disco Dave - we had previous in Vietnam - and went on a couple of beery nights out. Good craic. I lasted four days in the big smoke and then i had to get the hell out of there and make for Malaysia.

So you find me in Melaka, a town on the south-west coast once colonised by the British, Dutch and Portuguese. Next stop is the eastern Malaysian state of Sarawak on the island of Borneo, 600km across the South China Sea, an area populated by many of the country's indigenous people, the Orang Asli. Will be interesting to get an insight into their culture. Lots of national parks over there, so I may find myself doing my best Captain Caaaaaveman impression again!

Taking a timeout in Thailand

Stop the world i want to get off. Having crossed into Thailand earlier this week, and after 131 days on the road in five countries, i've decided to get my sweaty feet off the backpacking treadmill and put them up somewhere nice and comfy. Chiang Mai, Thailand's second city, will do.

Some other stats: i've crashed in about 50 beds and chowed down on approximately 130lbs of rice, some of it steamed, some sticky (in Laos)...no Condoleeza. I'm still crunching the numbers on distances travelled by buses, trains in all countries (piecharts are in the post!).

Spent the last 4 weeks in Laos, a country of 5.5 million people sandwiched between Thailand, Cambodia, Vietnam and Burma. For the best part of Laos, i was travelling with an Israeli guy called Shauli. The tail-end of the visit was frantic - we went on a 3-day trek in remote hill tribe villages and burnt some rubber on a 3-day, 260km motorbike loop... mainly on unpaved roads. Good times. Ten of the last 11 days there were spent moving on and crashing in different guesthouses. Then we made for the Thai border. Right now i'm burnt out.

Laos was pretty special (unspoilt villages and towns, smiley, friendly people). It was here I learnt to play kataw, a version of volleyball using a bamboo ball, feet and head. Every village or town had a court or dusty space for the game, complete with basic net/piece of string. When the lads come back from a hard day's slog out in the paddy fields or elsewhere, they like nothing better than to perfetct their kataw skills. I thought I'd fair ok...said I played 5-a-side football for the mighty Preston Templars in Brighton. They looked at me blankly. Their keepyuppie skils and cushion headers put mine and Shauli's to shame. Needless to say, some 10-year-olds also beat us at outdoor badminton in the same village. Oh how they laughed.

Laos is a quiet country, few people per square km and has a very laidback capital, Vientiane. Everything is "Ca, ca" (slowly, slowly). None of the helter skelter city chaos of Beijing or Saigon. It's the most impoverished country in the region thanks to the fallout of the IndoChina Wars (the most bombed country in SE Asia with a legacy of landmines thanks to the "US imperialist aggressors"). But still the people are full of smiles and warmth for the "falang" (foreigner).

It was on my first day in Laos that I met Mina, a 32-year-old real-life commando who was on holiday for a few weeks. (Hobbies: collecting guns - she has 57 types - and, erm, flowers!) Mina works for the Laos government's special police force (their version of the FBI) and is involved in fighting the war against the drug barons in northern LAos and Thailand. One of her roles is to infiltrate gangs operating in the mountains and cities. She told me a couple of stories about being shot in drug busts - she has the scars to prove it - and of going undercover/dressing to impress drug barons in Thai bars. I feebly joked that I was a secret agent working for Her Majesty's Secret Service going by the name James Bond. She took to calling me Mr James! Which, as you can imagine, i liked very much!!

Commando Mina and i travelled together for a few days. There were some nagging questions that needed to be asked about where she gets her money from to be so well travelled throughout SE Asia for a Laos girl (she's been everywhere)... and the $7,000 that sits in her bank. She claimed only to get $50 a month. There was a whiff of corruption in the air. When I gently grilled her over this, she revealed matter-of-factly that the police force actually allows her to sell some of the marijuana seized in drugs busts! Astonishing. Also, Mina told me that she is sometimes given money by gang members! To keep her quiet? She is known to some of them as Madame Mina. Anyway, the upshot of all this was that i got a little paranoid...scared off by her associations. So i sacked her and scarpered north to the capital Vientiane. And that was the last I saw of the commando girl.

Thailand is a very different affair, this much was apparent on crossing the border the other day - there are paved roads, concrete or brick houses rather than shacks on stilts and guesthouses with en suite facilities. Not planning to travel extensively throughout Thailand...it's so modern and commercial compared to its Asian neighbours. Instead, I'm trying something different - hunting a job teaching English and laying down my backpack for a few weeks. Then i'll head down to Bangkok and the beaches of southern Thailand before moving on to Malaysia and Indonesia.

Disturbing sights in Cambodia

My 10-day stay in Cambodia took in the capital Phnom Penh (sad and disturbing Killing Fields, the place where Pol Pot was allowed to slaughter thousands of innocent people from 1975-79), and Siem Reap, home to the Khmer era's famous Angkor Wat ruins.

Phnom Penh is a big city with an edge but not as visually captivating as Saigon or Hanoi. It seems to be a much poorer place than any of the cities in Vietnam. There's greater poverty here - more people living rough, in some cases whole families, and more beggars. Some are evidently victims of the Khmer Rouge era (1975-1979) which saw the evil Pol Pot inflict horrific atrocities on his own people. A visit to the Killing Fields is a sobering affair. There's a collection of skulls of some of many thousands of people tortured and murdered, some buried alive, under his murderous regime. Explanations of the "odious executioners" deeds, together with seeing some of the 86 burial pits, give some idea of the scale of the man's brutality. One of the buildings is described in literature as "the waiting room for death". Disturbing and sad.

After this visit, i headed to the S21 Museum, a former school, where 20,000 innocent people were imprisoned and tortured before being sent to the Killing Fields, a small area of land in the countryside about 15km from Phnom Penh. What stands out is the hundreds of black and white photos on the walls of innocent people facing almost certain death - sad and haunting images of men, women and children wearing tags, fear in their eyes. They were no more than numbers or pieces of meat to the Khmer Rouge. And to think that all this took place only 30 years ago. How he was allowed to do this without the US and other countries intervening is not clearly explained, although it seems that they stood their distance because they had nothing to gain from stopping Pol Pot's barbaric acts of unspeakable depravity. He followed some kind of warped communist ideology, which also saw him torture/wipe out intellectuals, artists and some of the country's brightest minds. Obviously, he took a leaf out of Mao Tse Tung's book - China's Chairman Mao was responsible for the slaughter of several millions of people during the Cultural Revolution in the 1960s, with intellectuals among the targets.

The day i visited the Killing Fields became even more disturbing when I heard about the terrorist attacks in London, more deaths, horror, pain...yet more human suffering. Just 24hrs earlier i was watching the euphoric scenes in Trafalgar Square following the IOC's awarding of the 2012 Olympics to London. Within the space of a day, people's tears of joy at London's triumph had been replaced with tears of horror, shock and sadness. Hard to take all this in.

Next stop was Siem Reap. Its Angkor ruins were all they were cracked up to be. Although Angkor Wat was overrun with tourists, some of the other temple ruins were less crowded. The best was a temple left to rack and ruin with no attempt made to maintain it for visitors. It was covered in huge tree roots which were growing between its massive stone structures. An ideal film setting. I learnt later that it was in fact the place where Angelina Jolie had filmed Tomb Raider. There was a photo of her in one of the local restaurants, looking lovely as ever. Of course i took a photo of her photo... for the records.

Throughout Vietnam and Cambodia i had been travelling with an amiable, hard-drinking scouser, Dangerous Dancing Disco Dave. But it was in Siem Reap where we parted ways. A top-draw travelling companion - many happy and drunken shenanigans that will live long in the memory. He fled for the bars of Bangkok, i went into detox in Laos!

Bis leaves China

After Beijing and seeing some of the big cities on the east of China, I was pining for some rural exploration and hiking.

I've much preferred scooting down the west of China. Beijing, city of 15 million, tired me out (crowded, polluted). Nanjing, the old capital, also proved overwhelming. But the history of both places is fascinating - China's history dates back 4,000 years and involves six dynasties. In the city of Chengdu, somewhere in the West Midlands of China, I met up with some giant panda friends of mine. They were black, white and furry all over... just like I'd heard! The pandas didn't make eye contact, preferring instead to lounge around while noisily eating bamboo and shitting freely.

Highlights in China were the Great Wall in Beijing and the rugged mountainous countryside of Sichuan and Yunnan provinces in SW China. Less commerce and more traditions to observe. I really took to China, which is why i stayed for 9 weeks in all. The Chinese people are incredibly friendly once you get across the initial language barrier - a smile goes a long way as does the ability to use your hands to sign... lots of things. I have become adept at this - comical gestures with arms, fingers everywhere.

I wanted to get close to Tibet to get a taste of the Tibetan way of living. Would have been great to go across the border, but it's a dicy ride by bus - more than 2 days travelling on a bumpy and dangerous road to reach the capital, Lhasa. Also, Lhasa is at 3,700m so poss altitude problems. And my visa was running out. I stayed in an isolated town called Kangding at 2,600m - maybe 6hrs from the border. Most of the townsfolk in Kangding have ruddy cheeks and the Khambas (cowboys) look hard as nails, wearing leather and sporting ponytails and earrings. They come down from the villages to sell their wares. There was Tibetan dancing in the main square every day. Around 200 people, young and old, were shaking their booties in 2 circles when I was there.

Slight financial crisis though - I ran out of money (well i had about 10 yuan left, that's 32p). Most cities/towns have Bank of China's but not in this tinpot town. Tried to change traveller's cheques and use my card in the three local banks but with no luck. Fortunately, I hooked up with this Dutch guy and he lent me money to return to the city of Chengdu, 15hrs east. Otherwise I would have been shoe-shining or something to raise the necessary readies to continue travelling.

By this time, i was shorn of my rather itchy beard. Favourite spot in China was the so named Tiger Leaping Gorge 100km from the touristy town Lijiang, a fantastic two-day hike in the mountains. However, slight problem at the finish line of the walk when the Godfather of the local village mafia conspired to pull a scam by charging over the odds for the 3hr return bus trip back to Lijiang. Myself and 8 other westerners who had hiked the gorge were forced to wait about 5hrs while haggling negotiations were held with the village Boss. We were hostage to whatever they wanted to charge as there was only one bus back. All of ended up piling in a mini bus and paying 250 yuan (GBP17) in all. Small price to pay for each of us, but the Boss got a nice slice.
Meanwhile... on the Bisson Tour, I have indulged in a few fairly chaotic (read drunken, tuneless singing) karaoke sessions in the KTV joints-cum-massage parlours that seem to be everywhere in the Chinese towns and cities.

In Kangding, myself and this Schcwazy Dutch guy were out for a cheap beer and thought we'd get one at this karaoke bar-cum brothel. I ended up dancing some kind of waltz with a lady of the night at this joint, sashaying around in the KTV bar on the second level, the next floor being where you get down and dirty. (Bizarrely, there was a filmic backdrop showing Fatboy Slim's mega dance fest on Brighton beach).

Not wishing to go "upstairs", we made to leave. But the diminutive pimp with bad teeth and beige trousers had added a few expensive extras to the bill. There was a stand-off as we stood our ground and he and his 2 brothers suggested we should pay for our beers, mineral waters for the girls...and for dancing with them. He got a little agitated, becoming quite vocal. We couldn't understand a word of his cussing and held firm, eventually paying only 20 kwai (GBP1.30) and left. The Chinese don't like to lose face in any situation - it's a big thing over here. But I think he must have felt even shorter than his 5ft frame when we departed.

Had a couple of good nights out in another place called Lijiang at karaoke bars with some Americans and an English girl. Did lots of gambaying/down-in-ones after dinner. We did a rousing rendition of Hotel California by The Eagles and some other soft rock ballads, possibly even a Celine Dion number! I was in a mischievous mood, seizing the mic once the song was over and proceeding to compere some catwalk-like promenading involving the 5 of us who were out to the bafflement of the 20+ Chinese looking on. As I recall it went something like this: I introduced the participants in my best throaty commentator's voice and described what they were wearing/lack of dress sense as they walked to and fro. The beer had an effect - i was quite loud and very drunk! For my part, I minced down the imaginary catwalk and courtsied twice to the Chinese group assembled at one of the tables. I didn't give up the mic until i'd shouted a couple of loud "shie-shie's" (thankyous) and waved goodbye. Just like a true professional!
Cassandra, an American lass, put my reputation through the blender on the second night, forcing me and her chap to wear our t-shirts behind our heads, exposing our chests. This is how Chinese blokes dance in the clubs. Except they don't dance...they mince. And so we minced merrily!. Good times.

Next stop is Vietnam. Stop.