Autopsy One night in Bangkok (Travel tales - true and/or exagerated - to far flung places)

[The acurate one]

Well as you asked...

I travelled from London to Spain a 50 pound one trip, the very best ever short holiday I've ever been on. Didn't get out of the airport due to my then partner not having a valid visa. I was traveling on an Irish passport. Yep adopted Egyptian/Germans qualify for Irish citizenship.

Anywho they put us in an office for a quick chat, the big bird on the tarmac was delayed cause there'd be two new travellers aboard. They bought out the mobile stairs and put us in an army jeep with two dudes carrying machine guns. Closest I've felt to being a rockstar/ Pablo Escobar. Everyone was looking out the window of the plane- thinking what have they got themselves here.

On a flight from Auckland to LA I sat nest to Philthy Taylor and the rest of the Motorhead crew, such awesome dudes. Got a job in *Goreme Turkey selling carpets. But they would never pay me so on enlisted some Kurds as my debt collectors. I'd get the equivalent of 110 u.s. per carpet. I had to give the Kurds 30 bucks though.

At the time it was about 20 cents for a beer, 2 bucks for a nights accommodation and the best ever kebab outside the Blue Mosque was around 50 cents.
Goreme


Plenty more stories to come lol

 

[SonofSamsquanch]

Haha, yes. 2 of my mates actually and another on video duties.

They didn't realise till it was over.

Did they go back for more?

 

[andana]

Was on an over night inter island ferry going down the east coast of Mindanao. My cabin was on the east side so got up early to watch the land on the other side. On top deck noticed a lot of smoke coming out of funnel. After about 10 minutes smoke was coming out everywhere. Went back to cabin, got bag , back to top deck. Now fire coming from that area followed by explosion. Life boats looked inadequate. Not many life jackets but crew were putting them on.
Ship was slowing down. No sirens or other alarms. Another explosion then ship started to sink. A few passengers started to come on deck and all tried getting in one life boat. Noone had done the onsite induction. I grabbed a lifebuoy just as my feet were getting wet and floated away.
Made it to a small bangka boat of a local fisherman who was nearby. He was over excited so I paddled for the shore one handed. Arrived on beach next to a standpipe where I joined some locals for an early am wash.

 

[KiwiRoo]

A friend of mine from many years back is a travel writer. This is a snapshot from his book, No Shitting In The Toilet...

View attachment 1330646

Anyone wanting a humorous travel book, his name is Peter Moore (not the Brownlow medalist).

That is so much the truth !

I remember travelling with a pommie guy in the early 90's and we'd decided to head to Egypt from Israel and to do that you had to go to some Egyptian place in Israel and get a stamp in your passport.
Anyway, I went in first to this rather nice office and got the 3rd degree from this pretty officious dude with a uniform and medals everywhere. Just really took his time, looking at you and just trying very hard to be a very important person before he put the all important stamp in..
Then my mate went in after me, and by this stage he wasn't feeling too good.He was in there quite a while and then the door burst open, followed by a bad smell and my mate came flying out . Turns out the officious guy took a bit longer than my mates dodgy guts could take and he redecorated the office. The guy couldn't stamp his passport fast enough after that !

 

[SonofSamsquanch]

That is so much the truth !

Yep. In polite society we would rarely discuss bowel functions with friends or strangers, yet on holiday in far flung and exotic places, it is the common thread that connects us to our fellow traveller.

We travelled across Flores with a few people we'd caught up with along the way and in one of the towns we decided to head up into the mountains to see the coloured lakes of Kelimutu. There were very sporadic bus services so between us we hired a truck to get to the village of Moni. Initially, we had negotiated with a proper tip-truck driver but we managed to find a tray truck with a canopy that we felt would be more comfortable - as opposed to a dozen of us sitting in an open steel gravel tray. Our driver borrowed some wooden seats which we tied down but you couldn't sit on them - these just gave us foot holds to avoid sliding off when the truck went around corners.

When we got to Moni we found there were limited places to stay or eat but luckily, there were enough rooms available in a place across for the market square to accommodate all of us. After checking in and meeting back up in the restaurant, the conversation was a little slow... Turns out that at least half of our crew were on their last legs of being able to hold out for the last part of the truck ride and the toilets had gotten a pretty decent work-out when everybody got to their rooms.

These were your typical developing nation squat toilets - some of our fellow passengers were encountering these porcelain relics for the first time ever so there was a lot of discussion about technique, right down to how to neatly fold the toilet paper and place it discretely into the little plastic bin beside the squatter. That is, if the person had chosen to use toilet paper - which honestly, is not preferred. So there was also a lot of talk about how to use the little saucepan thing to wash your what's-it and so forth. It can be a little off-putting over dinner to hear the very intimate details of ass wiping after an explosive s**t coming from the mouth of a dainty young lady.

Anyway, Moni is a wonderful place.

Due to an influx of tourists (us), a lot of the village girls whitened their faces using rice flour. I tried to find out more about this when we were there but the girls were shy and the men didn't want to talk about it either.

There is a traditional village adjacent to Moni but it had signs indicating it was off limits unless specifically invited in. I bought a few packets of marlbro and sat near to the village gates - soon after somebody emerged, and in exchange for the smokes, about six of us got invited in. Turns out there was a wedding due in the next few days so they had some chickens, goats and buffalo ready to slaughter. Because our group were polite and friendly, the village chief offered to slaughter a goat for us. When we declined he suggested to slaughter a couple of chickens for good luck. He wasn't going to accept our refusal, but he did confirm that the slaughtered chickens would be eaten that day so we figured whether we were there or not, the chooks were about to become cooked anyway.

There were no cars to hire for sightseeing so while we were in the village a couple of the tourist crew paid $40 and hired the village ambulance for a day trip!

Towards the evening I noticed a few young blokes riding around on motorbikes selling stuff in coke bottles with a palm leaf sticking out. I should have recognised it but I had to ask - it was palm wine. These guys pour out the sticky dew from palm tree flowers lower down on the mountain and it naturally ferments so that by late in the day it has become a pretty potent alcoholic beverage. Naturally, all of the tourist crew bought a bottle and some of us ended the evening pretty messed up. It tasted something like petrol and lighter fluid.

3AM next morning we had to be up for a jeep ride to the coloured lakes for sunrise. If you ever visit Flores then you have to go to see these lakes. They are awe inspiring. No s**t!

Indonesia Must See: The Colored Lakes of Mount Kelimutu, Flores | Indonesia'd

The Kelimutu National Park, where the famous Mount Kelimutu volcano resides with its striking tri-colored lakes resting in its caldera.

indonesiad.com

This guy has written up some info about Moni...

Visiting Moni in Flores, Indonesia

Moni is one of the more remote places we visited. We hadn't even heard of the place until we bumped into an adventurous backpacker in Lombok. It is a tiny little village in Flores, Indonesia,

thetravelhack.com

For the trip back down the mountain to Ende we managed to catch a bus, but the service is really for local people - with a dozen tourists it was over filled (that was including the chooks, bags of produce and so-forth as well). A few of us had no choice but to ride on the roof of the bus on the luggage racks. As the bus was traversing down the steep mountain road, young kids were climbing out of the windows and up onto the roof to talk to us. These were kids 10 or 12. OMG!!!

It was obvious that they'd done it before though - as we got to the lower jungle roads there were tree branches that were marginally higher than the bus. When we saw the kids dive it took us a few seconds to react and do likewise - too late and somebody would have been swept off the roof!!! The kids thought it was ******* hilarious that we were having such close calls!!!!!!!!!!!!

 

[hsquid]

An email I wrote to friends from Bolivia in 2000
--

Here I am, sitting in La Paz.


I had a plan.
 I'll go walking. Andes. Snow. Mountains. Nature. 5000m passes. 4 days from 1 teeny unknown town to another. Hire a tent and sleeping bag, buy some noodles, and to make it really cool I'll do it all by myself. Just gotta find a map.


There is no map. I went everywhere, but no-one had a map. I went to the Bolivian military and they said there is no map. When the military says no map, well, that place is lucky even to exist.


The transport from teeny town2 was a bus that goes once a week. The plane home left 2 days after the bus from tt2. Hope I don't get lost. But what could go wrong? I had a rough map from my guidebook. I had a cool NZ sleeping bag. I had a route description: (turn left at the rock, cross the stream, go up the valley with the cow etc.), the tent hire guy said it's easy to find the way, and if I had any problems the friendly indigenous people would be jumping out of their skins to help me.


Pumped full of enthusiasm, I tracked down the bus to my starting point Curva, and enjoyed every adrenaline filled moment of the 7 hours winding around the mountainsides, the odd pulverised bus beside (and way below) the road just adding to the excitement. I met Curva's mayor and solitary policeman and lay out my sleeping bag in the community hall.


At 6 the next morning, with spirits soaring, I launched out at the world. Route description: "Go up the hill to the north of the town, veering round the right side. After about an hour, you'll come to a stream."
I had no problems with the hill part. But I came to two streams joining in a Y. Consulting the ever trusty guide-book map, I could see which one must be "the" stream.


Unfortunately, following the directions meant climbing up a rather uninviting mountainside. "Oh well".

Halfway up I had a chance to ask a friendly indigenous if I was going the right way. After standing out of the way to let her llamas pass, I asked in the politest possible way if she knew where Jatunpampa was.
"Don't know anything" she said bustling past without making eye contact.


Nevertheless, onward. At the top of the climb, was a young Bolivian on his way somewhere. He seemed to have more time, maybe because he didn't have any llamas. Jatunpampa? He pointed to another valley.
“You have to go down and start again”,

“Can't I just kind of sneak along the ridge?”

Head shake.

I needed a second opinion, because what he said didn't match the map. Two teenagers and a few more llamas later, I headed down to the other valley.



Climbing up this valley, I found a place that may have been Jatunpampa, or then again, it may not. The woman there spoke no Spanish, only the native language, Quechua, and she would've spoken that a lot better with a few more teeth.
"Jatunpampa?"
<nod head> "gjkodrgjseiorjhtijjookjwrg!!!"

She was very pleased when I gave her some coca leaves to thank her, and she even said the same thing a few more times to help out.



There was nothing to do but keep going up the valley. There was supposed to be "a col with a cairn" up there. What is a col anyway? Isn't that a little hill or something? All I could see was a massive big pass.
A combination of the 4500+m altitude and the 3000+kg pack on my back was making ascents of more than 20 steps impossible. The most depressing part was turning around every 20 steps and seeing how that miniature piece of torture didn't actually move me anywhere.



Displaying enormous endurance, I got to the top, and on the way I definitely saw a cairn. The col remained a little mysterious, but there were some lumpy mountain bits.

At the top, I had some luck. There was supposed to be a path to the southeast, and there was. The map said I ended up going east, and I did. Rebubbled with optimism, I bounded down the valley on the other side looking for the campsite, where there was a waterfall and a bridge. But the fog came in, so instead of risking missing my sign, I set up camp halfway down, going to sleep reassuring myself that "it must be right, it must be right".



In the clear dawn, I packed up my tent, now 15kg heavy from the undislodgable ice layering it, and went off looking for my bridge and waterfall. Down the valley. Down down down. "Just keep going until you find it", I thought, trying not to think about the horror of having to climb back up. "It must be right, maybe just around that corner".


Fortunately I found a little settlement: 2 mud houses with some picturesque sheep and llamas, 2 dopey looking dogs, and a woman who hid inside her house and refused to even look at me. Her kids were all smiles, until they were told to go inside too. But the llamas were very photogenic, so reaching for my camera I took a few steps towards the scene. Yowch! A dopey dog bit me in the calf. Not even a warning bark. Turning around, I'm faced with snarling beasts, circling me. Ok ok, I'm going.



On and on down the valley, looking for the waterfall and the stupid bridge. No waterfall and no bridge. Finally, I turn a corner and there can be no more kidding myself. I can see miles down the valley and there ain't nothing. There's not even the scree gully that's supposed to look a bit daunting.



So I turned around. The other dopey dog bit me on the way back. Up up up and back to Curva. On the way, I met a Frenchman who was doing the same walk. I asked him if he knew the way. He said he'd ask the locals, how hard could it be? 
I wished him good luck.



So here I am in La Paz. Rabies injections have to be spaced 2 days apart. 
I can leave on Friday.

 

[SonofSamsquanch]

We arrived by bus in the northern Thailand town of Pai after hitchhiking several hundred kilometres around the Thai / Burma border, having been bombarded by every form of water squirter and bucket wherever we encountered local people. It was Songkran, Thai new year and dousing unsuspecting tourists with copious amounts of water is the national obsession. Especially if there's a possibility of drenching their guide book, money and passport.

From Pai we intended to move on to Than Lod, a cave area apparently famous for spelunking, although that is not my cup of tea.

To get to Than Lod we could only find one guy with a small motor bike willing to take us. That is, me, my wife and our backpacks.

He asked for some money up front for petrol. When he returned he had probably put in some fuel but he also had half a bottle of Mekong whiskey which was shared around then he finished it off. Lucky the ride was only about 10k and his 125 was overloaded so it could not go fast.

At Than Lod the place we wanted to stay at had tree house accommodation. Even after 10 minutes it made my wife seasick although the motor bike ride in may have been a partial cause. We had to move so we went to the other place with accommodation a few hundred metres away, but on the ground.

The accessible caves were quite interesting and very spectacular. The bats stunk a bit though.

There was a park nearby and we saw a gibbon being fed by local visitors. It was hanging around when anyone was nearby with food.

We went to the park when nobody else was around and sure enough, the gibbon was there. It was very playful and it jumped onto my back then started swinging on my arm. I couldn't believe how light it was for it's size. Anyway, while swinging from my arms the bloody thing suddenly and unexpectedly bit my forearm. I probably over reacted but I flung the gibbon away and tried to work out what to do in a panic.

There was a garden hose so I used that to wash my arm. Then I saw the gardener who was on the ground pissing himself with laughter. I accidentally broke the tap but even in my current state I thought that was what the gardener deserved.

In the small shop I bought a bottle of coke which I then used to more thoroughly wash the wounds on my arm. Soon after it had swollen so that I looked like Popeye the sailor.

The people where we were staying were pretty sure the gibbon was not rabid as nobody seemed to be scared of it so I waited to see what happened next. The swelling went down and I didn't die so all good.

I was bitten by a dog a few days later and once again, coca cola to the rescue. No lasting impacts (as far as I know).

 

[SonofSamsquanch]

Sydney (Australia). Date - some time in the early 1990's.

Working in Sydney. Western suburbs. Staying in Burwood as it was walking distance to the office, in a dingy motel owned by a doctor of daytime TV show fame (the name he used on TV isn't his real name either).

Was working with another bloke and we were there for about 3 or 4 months out of six so it was pretty good for the motel as we were as regular as clockwork and the company was paying.

One night, out of nowhere, a loud BANG!

I knocked on the workmate's door - we thought it sounded like a gun, but there weren't any other strange happenings so back to the room and sleep.

When we went to to reception the next afternoon we found out that a bloke in room 5 had ended his own life the night before. The police and coroner had done their stuff so the motel owner was authorised to clean up the room. But cleaners were going to cost $500 apparently, so the good doctor decided to DIY and save the cash.

Anyway, the job got done and that was that.

I returned a couple or weeks later and the receptionist at the motel offered me a really good option. As I was a regular, she said she'd put me in the freshly refurbished room - room 5.

No ******* way was my thought. Nah, I told her I'd have one of the upstairs rooms up the back away from the noisy Paramatta Hwy.



One time, as we were checking out the good TV doctor was very excited. He'd just done a book publishing deal for a diet book. It was called something like "Shed 20 kilos and live longer".... Anyway, in his excitement, he offered each of my work mate and me a copy. My mate said he'd have one - I declined on account of it being my own death warrant if I took it home.

Anyway, when he looked at his motel statement, my mate noticed that the cost of the book had been added - at full retail price.

 

[SonofSamsquanch]

I should have posted this on ANZAC day but maybe it will give some folks an idea for a trip to Thailand next April for an ANZAC pilgramige.

I'll start with a link...

Hellfire Pass Interpretive Centre and Memorial Walking Trail, Tha Sao

Book your tickets online for Hellfire Pass Interpretive Centre and Memorial Walking Trail, Tha Sao: See 2,392 reviews, articles, and 2,045 photos of Hellfire Pass Interpretive Centre and Memorial Walking Trail on Tripadvisor.

www.tripadvisor.com.au

This will take you to a Trip Advisor page for the Hellfire Pass Interpretive Centre and Memorial Walking Trail.

The Interpretive Centre is also a museum and it was opened in 1998 on ANZAC day. My wife and I were fortunate enough to be in Thailand at the time and were amongst the first group of visitors to the place on the day it opened. We got to sign the visitor's book for the official openening on the page immediately after John Howard and Tom Uren who was there representing Australian POW vetrans - Tom himself was a POW who was forced into labour with a large number of poor unfortunate allied military personnel as well as many Thai and Burmese people.

Anther article for some informative details...

Tom Uren prepares to make his final trek to Hellfire Pass

GIVEN he turns 90 next month, Tom Uren reckons this visit to Hellfire Pass will be his last.

www.smh.com.au

To get to Hellfire pass back in 1998 was a little tricky - it might still be a bit of a chore today. We didn't hire motorbikes. Instead we took the train and a couple of local busses from the nearby cty of Kanchanaburi.

Kanchanaburi is an interesting destination in its own right. This is the place where the infamous "Bridge on the River Kwai" is located. The bridge still exists and the railway line still uses the repaired WWII bridge to cross the river itself.

Trains and busses from Bangkok make it relatively easy to get to Kanchanaburi. My advice - if you are staying for more than a few days in Bangkok and want to escape to some place that isn't a beach, this is a great option. It isn't exactly off the tourist trail but it certainly isn't Pataya!!!

Twenty five years ago there was plenty of accommodation - I assume that is still the case. We were unable to get into the Jolly Frog as it was booked our for the ANZAC day ceremony so we stayed in a stilt hut that was on the river, accessed by a narrow gang-plank without handrails. More on that later.

The place we stayed was nice, clean and cheap. It was also virtually deserted so we spent most nights at the Jolly Frog where the food was good and the crowd was there with a purpose - to attend the dawn service in the ANZAC cemetary on April 25th. It was a special event in 1998 as the Australian PM and a number of other dignitarys were to attend.

There was a lot of drinking (of course) and we were entertained by a number of other Australian and New Zealanders who were there to honour lost relatives - most of them first time travelers in Asia, and most of them completely out of their depth in what is really a low-rent backpacker hostel!!!

Anyway, the food was spicy and the Mekong Whisky plentiful. I had to crawl on my knees to avoid talking a midnight dip in the River Kwai each night as we returned to our "on the water" cabin.

<<< To be continued >>>

 

[SonofSamsquanch]

Kanchanaburi is a reasonable sized city, reachable within a couple of hours from Bangkok by bus, or train (preferred). It's worth staying there overnight if planning to go on to visit Hellfire pass - which is almost mandatory if you've come this far.

The ANZAC cemetary is located near the centre of town and it's beautifully maintained by a fund that employs maintenance staff - it's an official war cemetary. A walk through this place sets the tone of your visit - it evokes a mixture of sadness and pride even for somebody who doesn't know of any relations or ancestors resting there.

Our trip on to Hellfire pass was made by train, which crosses the River Kwai on the famous bridge - restored using sections of steel that were imported from Indonesia to replace the blown up Japanese arched sections.

How This Epic World War II Railway Bridge Became Known As The Death Railway

Just as famous for its disturbing history as it is for its film fame, Kwai River Bridge, located in Kanchanaburi, Thailand, is the setting for a much deeper story of despair and survival.

www.historyhit.com

The trip continues along the Death Railway, rounding hillsides on viaducts constructed by forced POW labour until the end of the line, which is a few kilometers from the famous pass and museum. The journey is around 80KM.



We were able to get a local bus from the station at the end of the line and the driver knew exactly where to drop us, even though he spoke no English and we spoke no Thai. Several motorbike taxis were at the station for a direct ride if preferred.

A short walk along a gravel driveway brought us to the (then) newly built museum.



The security people at the place told us to go back as it was only open to officials from the Thai, Australian and New Zealand governments until the next week (although we were told we could visit Hellfire pass itself). In a stroke of luck, we met an American and an Aussie guy who were having a drink in a small hut - we joined them to get out of the hot sun and when we started talking we found out that the Aussie guy had been campaigning for several years for a respectful memorial and museum to be constructed at the site. He was extremely knowledgable about the death Railway (Thai-Burma Railway) and spent some time telling us about it. The American was the head of the construction company that built the museum. He mentioned that he's been a POW himself in the Korean war and had spent most of his post war life working for oil companies in South East Asia. That was pretty significant to me as some years earlier I'd had a Texan manager who'd had a similar experience and I'd hoped to look him up when I travelled further north in Thailand on that trip - a fact I mentioned to the American. In a bizarre coincidence, he reeled off my old bosses name, told me they were POWs together, then told me that Bob had died and his funeral was only a week earlier. Damn!

The Aussie guy was extremely anxious as he'd done the work to get the museum funded, he'd written much of the documents that accompanied the artefacts it housed, but was not confident he'd be appointed as the manager - which he felt was going to be a political decision.

In any case, as we'd connected with the two, they arranged for us to be given permission to enter the museum as VIPs (dressed in backpacker clothing). We got to sign the guest book - it may have even been on the same page as the Prime Minister.

warinasia.com is expired

Thailand | Department of Veterans' Affairs

View Australian war memorials in Thailand

www.dva.gov.au

The World Today with Sally Sara - ABC listen

The World Today is a comprehensive current affairs program.

www.abc.net.au

The place was amazing to visit - I have not been to Galipoli or any other war memorial site up until then and the impact on us was profound - deep sorrow.



The pass itself is a cutting, created by POWs, working day and night in slave conditions - more than 2,500 Australians died working on the railway. Most have been taken to the war cemetery in Kanchanaburi.



The plaque on the cutting honours Weary Dunlop and the people who toiled and those who died in this beautiful but awful place.

Nobody who we saw there could hold back tears.

 

[SonofSamsquanch]

Finally, back in Kanchanaburi...

When we were there, apart from the cemetary, we visited two museums. The JEATH museum is the more famous (Japan England Australia THai). It has many WWII artefacts and diaramas depicting living and working conditions on the railway. The other museum is located near to the bridge and is also interesting.

It may not happen any more, but each night until the early hours of the morning there were "Disco Boats" plying the river. These had PA systems that would embarrass Deep Purple and they would blare out Thai Pop songs cranked up to 11 - we didn't go on any (they might have been a cover for lonley businessmen looking for lurve for all I know - at least that was my suspicion).

Food was cheap and the Mekong Whisky even cheaper. I'm still amazed how I managed to get back into our hut as I had enough trouble trying to walk along the planks when I was sober in the daytime!!!

A Dawn Service on ANZAC day is held at the Kanchanaburi War Cemetary in the centre of town. On the day we were there in 1998 I'd mentioned that Howard and a group of Australian ex-POWs were there. After the ceremony itself, the official party brought out some eskys and handed out cans of VB to all in Sunbry (the Thai gardeners were keen to get some and as I don't like beers I handed over all the cans I could get).

A chopper with an Aussie news crew landed to get some footage - the guy who was doing the report ran towards us, ducking to avoid decapitation. When he looked up he spotted us - turns out that a year earlier when we had been in Indonesia for a couple of months he'd looked after our house for us in another amazing coincidence.

 

[SonofSamsquanch]

 

[andana]

Was relaxing at Monkey Bay, Malawi, swimming, eating mangoes until visa ran out so had to leave. There was a currency control, no local money to leave the country. I only had about US$10 left so wasn't going to worry about it but was told without an exchange form it would be a hassle to leave.
Turned out to be good coz as well as getting a US$ 10 note I met a guy who offered me a ride all the way to Lusaka.

Earlier I had got to know a woman in Reunion. I told her I was headed to southern Africa and she gave me the name of a hotel in Lusaka where she often stayed while she was in Zambia and we could meet up. When I arrived in Lusaka noone knew anything about the hotel so I thought, ask a police officer. Saw two cops, almost as tall as me, but they didn't know the hotel. We went around the corner to their cop car where there were two more cops, one of them a white woman. They didn't know either so we all squeezed into the car and went looking but still working, pulling over speeding cars mainly. Was pretty full on. It was getting very late . When their shift was over we went back to the station and they gave me a bed in the lockup.

After police eggs for breakfast I realized I had no local money. It was too early for banks so I asked a storeowner to change US$ 10. He gave me so much local money in exchange I almost had to buy a wheelbarrow to carry it all.. Found the local blackmarket without trying. This guy told me he knew a hotel with that name but it was in a town outside Lusaka. Went up there and it was the place. The owner said my friend was coming back in two days. Was a wonderful location and a few animals wandering past. We ended up staying at the hotel for three weeks, full board. Fancy room. I still had money left when I left after the one month visa was up.

Not sure currency controls are always helpful to the local economy.

 

[hilly]

Haha, yes. 2 of my mates actually and another on video duties.

They didn't realise till it was over.

Guessing the one on video duties wasn't a professional : stern look

 

[SonofSamsquanch]

Bogor, Indonesia.

A few days in Jakarta were enough for us - the diesel fumes were causing sore throats and our clothes were getting filthy just from walking around. So we decided it was time to leave - on the next train out of the city.

At the railway station, a grand Dutch Colonial era building that was showing its age, I found what I believed to be the right ticket window and in my best Bahasa Indonesia, I requested "Dimana loket ke Bogor, dua orang?". The cashier at the ticket counter looked bewildered, so I assumed that I'd mispronounced Bogor (I can't roll my R's like Indonesians). I tried to say it a few more times (louder, and slower - as you do). Still getting confused looks.



That part of the station was surprisingly empty. There were plenty of people at other ticket windows, so I assumed that despite "Bogor" being written above my window, it was the wrong place to get a ticket.

I searched around a lot but even when I asked others, "Dimana loket ke Bogor?", I was directed to the very same ticket window.

In frustration, I found my phrase book and began searching it. At the same time, the station cleaner, who had been watching us circle around from window to window came over to greet us. He spoke very good English, so I asked him the same question - "Dimana loket ke Bogor?". He pointed to the same window, but then told us that we could not buy a ticket this morning as the train from Jakarta had crashed an hour ago. There were station announcements advising of the crash (but I could not understand the voices blasting and echoing over the loudspeakers). He told us several people had been killed and he advised we take a bus!

I assumed that was the reason why the lady at the Bogor window was unable to sell us a ticket (wrong as it happened).

<<< My poor use of Bahasa Indonesia was the real cause . By asking, "Dimana loket ke Bogor?", I was actually asking, "Where is the ticket counter for Bogor?" which was the reason the lady was confused - I was already at the counter!!!!!! >>>

The cleaner was friendly and he discarded his broom to take us to a bus stop. We had a coffee with him while we waited and he got us onto a bus with our packs and even made sure the driver only charged us local price as this was not a tourist bus.

Our bus ride through the Puncak Pass was a bit of a white knuckle ride. The pass is extremely scenic, but it's a steep, winding road and bus drivers do not give a s**t where they choose to overtake slower vehicles like trucks and motorbikes, hair-pin bends included.



We were dropped off at Bogor, right outside the presidential palace. We didn't realise that this wasn't in the centre of the town, and even though Bogor isn't a massive city, we were now stuck to find a place to stay. We turned around and luckily, we were standing at a gate that had a sign advertising accommodation.

The accommodation was actually quite good and very cheap - maybe $8 per night at the time (I think it was 1996 or 97). We were more than happy and that price included a decent breakfast.

We had packed nice clothing for our trip so we dressed up and crossed the road to visit the palace. We were unaware that Keating had been there on an official visit just days prior and the place was decked with bunting and Australian flags. The people at the palace thought we were involved with the official party so we got a guided tour with the lot and we were introduced to everybody as "Australian Officials with Paul Keating" which was cool. We were served tea and coffee in one of the reception pavilions. Even the Gamalan Orchestra members assembled and played their music for us while we drank and ate - and we clapped accordingly for the free cultural show!!



Bogor is a very nice city - my recollection is that it encircles the botanical gardens and it's an educational centre. We spent a full couple of days in the gardens - often being guided around by students who wanted to practice speaking English with us. In fact, we probably sat under trees speaking with students and helping them to pronounce words in English for more time than we spent looking around.



I did run into a guy who offered to take us on a tour into the mountains for a cheap price. There were places in town offering day tours for USD$20 per person but he insisted he would do it for less. I agreed, then he told me he was going to look for a van to hire. I went with him and he haggled and negotiated for a van at rock bottom rates for the day from some unofficial hire company.

Meantime, my wife was talking with a Dutch couple who really wanted to do the tour as well so our driver charged them the same as he charged us (and he was stoked at doubling his take).

We were prepared as he told us we'd be going to hot springs, waterfalls, rock pools and so on in the mountains. The Dutch couple were not prepared so they didn't have any bathers with them. Not to worry though - they just skinny dipped and dried off in the sun. Our driver was even more stoked about that.

We had lunch at the driver's house - his Mum cooked a delicious meal with rice, chiken and vegies from their garden in the hills.

We ended up spending about four nights in Bogor. I am sure it has changed a lot since we were there but if anybody ever finds themselves in Jakarta and needs a break - well, a trip south to Bogor would be worthwhile in my opinion!

 

[SonofSamsquanch]

 

[gokangas]

I was travelling through the USA in the late 1990s after being awarded a scholarship to look at media management related to major incidents and emergencies. I was hosted by a senior manager at FEMA in Washington. I had asked before I arrived if there was any chance of a tour of the White House. I was told unlikely. So the last day I was taken to lunch and as I was leaving my host came over and slipped an envelope into my suit pocket with the words - don't be late and don't feed the squirrels.

Back at my hotel I opened the envelope and it was an invitation to the White House with directions re entry point and time. I arrived the next morning on time and there was a small queue at the side entrance. There were squirrels everywhere around the queue with people feeding them. As I got to the gate the lady looked at my invitation, looked at me and said - where did you get this? I explained I was working with the emergency services in Australia and was on a study tour hosted by FEMA (FEMA was the magic word). Please stand back, she said, and someone will be with you shortly. I was getting a bit nervous by now.

All of a sudden out of nowhere a bloke appears looking like something out of Men In Black, talking to his cuff links. He introduced himself as Agent Smith - and I explain again how I got this invitation. He explains they are quite rare and the lady on the tour gate did not recognise what it was. I offered to walk away if there was a problem as I didn't want to create an issue. No sir - everything is fine and I will be your tour guide today, he said.

We then went on an hour and a half tour of the White House. I had entry to most of the famous rooms, all the coloured ones, and some of the private areas. The Rose Garden was closed as Charles and Di were arriving there the next day but he moved the barriers and walked me through there too amongst all the chaos of the team setting up for their major welcome.

Later we stood at a large walk way looking at a roundish dome at the end that he explained was the Oval Office. Can we walk down there I asked? I am sorry sir, but the President is in (Bill Clinton at the time, so he may have been busy). You can't ask him if it is ok I joked? The only time I saw him smile.

It remains one of the amazing experiences of my life. Access to areas never open to the public and I still recognise areas when you see on TV events happening at the White House.

One special memory from the tour? Two of the main rooms I walked through had paint peeling on windowsills. I remember thinking if I was the President of the USA I would insist on better maintenance.

 

[Massive Unit]

A friend of mine from many years back is a travel writer. This is a snapshot from his book, No Shitting In The Toilet...

View attachment 1330646

Anyone wanting a humorous travel book, his name is Peter Moore (not the Brownlow medalist).

I've got a few of his books. Your mate is a funny bastard!

 

[SonofSamsquanch]

I've got a few of his books. Your mate is a funny bastard!

I haven't seen him for bloody years but I do like his books. Some good stories! We used to share stories and travel info on Usenet years and years back. I was mainly interested in Indonesia and visiting various islands. Peter had been to over 60 countries at the time - who knows how many since then!!

 

[Hojuman]

Bogor, Indonesia.

A few days in Jakarta were enough for us - the diesel fumes were causing sore throats and our clothes were getting filthy just from walking around. So we decided it was time to leave - on the next train out of the city.

At the railway station, a grand Dutch Colonial era building that was showing its age, I found what I believed to be the right ticket window and in my best Bahasa Indonesia, I requested "Dimana loket ke Bogor, dua orang?". The cashier at the ticket counter looked bewildered, so I assumed that I'd mispronounced Bogor (I can't roll my R's like Indonesians). I tried to say it a few more times (louder, and slower - as you do). Still getting confused looks.

View attachment 1418930

That part of the station was surprisingly empty. There were plenty of people at other ticket windows, so I assumed that despite "Bogor" being written above my window, it was the wrong place to get a ticket.

I searched around a lot but even when I asked others, "Dimana loket ke Bogor?", I was directed to the very same ticket window.

In frustration, I found my phrase book and began searching it. At the same time, the station cleaner, who had been watching us circle around from window to window came over to greet us. He spoke very good English, so I asked him the same question - "Dimana loket ke Bogor?". He pointed to the same window, but then told us that we could not buy a ticket this morning as the train from Jakarta had crashed an hour ago. There were station announcements advising of the crash (but I could not understand the voices blasting and echoing over the loudspeakers). He told us several people had been killed and he advised we take a bus!

I assumed that was the reason why the lady at the Bogor window was unable to sell us a ticket (wrong as it happened).

<<< My poor use of Bahasa Indonesia was the real cause . By asking, "Dimana loket ke Bogor?", I was actually asking, "Where is the ticket counter for Bogor?" which was the reason the lady was confused - I was already at the counter!!!!!! >>>

The cleaner was friendly and he discarded his broom to take us to a bus stop. We had a coffee with him while we waited and he got us onto a bus with our packs and even made sure the driver only charged us local price as this was not a tourist bus.

Our bus ride through the Puncak Pass was a bit of a white knuckle ride. The pass is extremely scenic, but it's a steep, winding road and bus drivers do not give a s**t where they choose to overtake slower vehicles like trucks and motorbikes, hair-pin bends included.

View attachment 1418920

We were dropped off at Bogor, right outside the presidential palace. We didn't realise that this wasn't in the centre of the town, and even though Bogor isn't a massive city, we were now stuck to find a place to stay. We turned around and luckily, we were standing at a gate that had a sign advertising accommodation.

The accommodation was actually quite good and very cheap - maybe $8 per night at the time (I think it was 1996 or 97). We were more than happy and that price included a decent breakfast.

We had packed nice clothing for our trip so we dressed up and crossed the road to visit the palace. We were unaware that Keating had been there on an official visit just days prior and the place was decked with bunting and Australian flags. The people at the palace thought we were involved with the official party so we got a guided tour with the lot and we were introduced to everybody as "Australian Officials with Paul Keating" which was cool. We were served tea and coffee in one of the reception pavilions. Even the Gamalan Orchestra members assembled and played their music for us while we drank and ate - and we clapped accordingly for the free cultural show!!

View attachment 1418942

Bogor is a very nice city - my recollection is that it encircles the botanical gardens and it's an educational centre. We spent a full couple of days in the gardens - often being guided around by students who wanted to practice speaking English with us. In fact, we probably sat under trees speaking with students and helping them to pronounce words in English for more time than we spent looking around.

View attachment 1418943

I did run into a guy who offered to take us on a tour into the mountains for a cheap price. There were places in town offering day tours for USD$20 per person but he insisted he would do it for less. I agreed, then he told me he was going to look for a van to hire. I went with him and he haggled and negotiated for a van at rock bottom rates for the day from some unofficial hire company.

Meantime, my wife was talking with a Dutch couple who really wanted to do the tour as well so our driver charged them the same as he charged us (and he was stoked at doubling his take).

We were prepared as he told us we'd be going to hot springs, waterfalls, rock pools and so on in the mountains. The Dutch couple were not prepared so they didn't have any bathers with them. Not to worry though - they just skinny dipped and dried off in the sun. Our driver was even more stoked about that.

We had lunch at the driver's house - his Mum cooked a delicious meal with rice, chiken and vegies from their garden in the hills.

We ended up spending about four nights in Bogor. I am sure it has changed a lot since we were there but if anybody ever finds themselves in Jakarta and needs a break - well, a trip south to Bogor would be worthwhile in my opinion!

Great S.O.S. I did many trips between Jak / Puncak / Bogor with isteri nomor satu, but gee, it changed so much between '86 and 2010.
Bandung was the worst. What was a lovely Dutch colonial town became a thriving metropolis ☹

 

[SonofSamsquanch]

Bandung was the worst

You want Levi's Mister?

 

[Hojuman]

You want Levi's Mister?

$hit ! Forgotten that ! Driving all the way there just for jeans !

 

[SonofSamsquanch]

Bandung, Indonesia.

We did manage to get a train while on Java eventually, from the city of Bandung.

From Bogor, we made our way via various busses and mini-busses until we reached Bandung. This, as mentioned by Hojuman was once a lovely Dutch colonial town but it had become heavily industrialised - mostly rag trade as far as I could tell, and the product of preference was blue jeans. Every conceivable brand of jeans was available, and there were literally hundreds of shops, almost all decked out like wild-west saloons flogging blue jeans and cowboy boots.

We lobbed in the middle of town and were dropped off by our driver outside the town's biggest hotel. We checked in straight away and the place was rather quiet. The bathroom was down the hall - shared with other guests and there was only a couple of toilets servicing the entire hotel of about 20 rooms - one was directly opposite our room's door which was handy.

Later in the afternoon, a train pulled into town and a load of tourists piled into the hotel. They were mostly Euros and a couple of Americans. We had been there about two or 3 hours and had walked around the town a bit. I had bought about 4 pairs of jeans already. One pair of shonky Levi's and some others that were really difficult to tell from the real thing (of course, the seller told me they were genuine). I had some of those jeans for over 10 years actually.

The train people were asking us all kinds of questions about where to buy jeans seeing I was an old timer in the town by now. Anyway, I took a few for a stroll down past the shops again and my wife stayed in the hotel with a few others drinking lemonade.

While outside, I staked out a nice looking place to have dinner and bought some more jeans (Jeans for AUD $6 to $8 cannot be ignored).

Anyway, back at the hotel my wife decided the entire train load of people were dickheads and as I had found a place to eat, we were planning to slip away from the crowd when it was close to dinner time. The hotel owner had other ideas and they began setting the table with a place setting for everybody, including us. We told them we were eating elsewhere which pissed them off big time. It also annoyed some of the other guests who told us we were rude Aussies and we should stay to help the people who ran the hotel to make a living!!

Regardless, we vanished and ate outside. I don't recall the meal but it was obviously OK. We returned to the hotel early though as the rain began to fall - it came down in buckets - a tropical downpour of magnificent proportions.

So we were the rude ones - nobody wanted to talk to us!!

Back in our room and very late, perhaps after midnight the rain eased off a bit and we could hear a lot of noise from the corridor. My wife wanted me to go out and tell the people talking to STFU which I did.... Well, tried to......

The corridor was filled with all of the guests who'd eaten dinner at the hotel.

They were queued for the toilet (which reeked by the way). People were banging on the door demanding to be let in, while others came out from the toilet, embarrased, looking ill and immediately re-joining the queue.

In the queue, people were negotiating their position based on the urgency of their situation. Some were panicking that they could not hold on and they were asking me if I could spare any toilet paper. Honestly, I would have but my wife was having none of it - the rolls we had were precious commodities in Indonesia in those days and she was not going to hand over a single sheet.

We left the next morning - my bag now bulging with my load of blue denims and we were very glad to see the end of the corridor of death that had developed after I'd gone back to bed. We hit the Bandung train station, and I must say, the toilets there were a welcome site as we could not even get near the ones at our hotel.

My tip... Avoid dinner in the big hotel near the centre of Bandung.

Buy blue jeans only if you need them - don't be lugging six extra pairs when you have at least another month backpacking across Indo.

 

[goalieboy82]

After a bit of chat with koshari in the Gasometer is grumpy thread, to avoid further ire, I've decided to create a thread for North Melbourne supporters to re-tell their travel tales of the trips they've made in and around Southeast Asia. It may be worth expanding to incorporate other places, but this is the place for dodgy stories, suitably embalished to take us away to the days of our youth when a surfboard, a couple of hundred dollars and a back-pack were our travel collateral.

To start off...

After a month in Viet Nam, my wife and I flew into Bangkok to continue our saved up holidays. It wasn't our first time there, but previously we'd booked accommodation and had airport transfers arranged. This time it was a public bus and work it out as we went along.

What we didn't count on was the flooding rain that was pouring down in BKK when we arrived. So much so that we stepped out of the bus and into a bar in the sleazy backpacker area and parked ourselves there, along with everybody else who got out of the bus as the rain was too heavy to go looking for digs.

The bar had some stairs leading to an area that was clearly used for extra services. The "girls" would come down and try to entice the bar patrons to go upstairs - think of Tender Touch.

At one stage I did venture outside to try to find a place to stay but with the water flowing over the footpath and visibility almost zero as night was falling it was not looking good.

Back at the bar, the other bus people had begun negotiating for rooms in the upstairs part of the establishment. Due to the rain, patronage was low so the bar people agreed. We took a room as well.

Fortunately it was hot and also, we had sleeping sheets and self inflating matresses so at least we felt only a bit queezy sleeping there.

The worst thing was that the rain stopped at about 10PM and there was a sudden bump in business being done in the place as the regulars came out from their haunts to take up the services on offer.

Those places have very thin walls.

That night we slept with one eye open and at about 5AM (when things were still going bump in the night) we rolled up our kits and made our way to the railway station for the first ticket out of town.

One night in Bangkok was enough for me at that point in time.





We have been back a couple of times since and we chose slightly nicer accommodation. Gee, on one trip we actually worked out how to catch a bus and actually get to our chosen destination.

You were in Nam?
How old are you!

 

[SonofSamsquanch]

You were in Nam?
How old are you!

Not fighting!

Just visiting.