Tony Gs Blog on RealTravel

Kathmandu journal: KATHMANDU - Rats the Size of Cats

Thu, 22 May 2008 01:27:07 GMT

We spent a restless night due to the sound of rats scampering around in the ceiling and Janette being struck down with a severe bout of diarrhoea. There being no improvement by the following day she popped a couple of tetracycline, which only caused her to throw up. So she remained groaning in bed while I smoked a pre-breakfast spliff, (despite having awoken with a sore throat) and then went out for a stroll. It was a chilly morning as I wandered slowly around the Darbar Square area marvelling at the architecture and the faces of the people, all so different from India. ...

B ...

Kathmandu journal: NEPAL - Over the Hills & Far Away

Fri, 09 May 2008 01:41:16 GMT

Taking into consideration that the 3rd Class bunks were simply wooden shelves, I got a pretty good night’s sleep and made a special point of really enjoying the first cigarette of the day. Unfortunately, Janette had a bad stomach and spent the early part of the morning throwing up in the carriage toilet. We arrived in Muzaffarpur at ten o’clock, panicking because we were over an hour late. But we needn't have worried as our connecting train was still standing on platform four, though by now it was overflowing with people. Forcing our way in, a French guy made room for Janette to sit ...

Varanasi journal: VARANASI - Holy Madness

Fri, 09 May 2008 01:26:03 GMT

The conductor rudely awoke me at 5.00am. I think I was blocking the aisle. He also woke up Janette to make room for an unhappy-looking, fat Australian girl to sit in my seat. I stayed where I was until we reached Allahabad and then appeared from my heap to breakfast on chai and toast delivered to the train. How civilised! The Australian girl left the train, struggling with a three-storey backpack, and I reclaimed my seat as we chug-chugged our way through the countryside on a warm, sunny morning, the breeze (along with granules of coke from the steam engine) blowing into our faces ...

Simla journal: TO SIMLA

Fri, 09 May 2008 01:20:35 GMT

At 5.30 in the morning we were woken up by someone going around the hotel hammering on all the doors, just in case anyone was taking the early train. We stayed in bed, still tired from the previous day and unaware that there was only one train departure per day out of Raxaul, at 7.15am. This we were duly informed while we had breakfast in the restaurant a few hours later. Over the road at the railway station we found that the ticket office didn’t open until four or five o’clock, so we wandered the filthy streets of the bazaar until we came across a bank that changed traveller's cheques. ...

Amsterdam journal: WE GOTTA GET OUTTA THIS PLACE...

Thu, 27 Mar 2008 02:36:52 GMT

Let's get one thing straight, this trip most definitely took place in 1973. Take no notice of the above date of 1976. The fact is that the date box on this website doesn't go back that far.

So, on the tenth of October, with heads full of Kerouac and carrying little more than a change of clothes and a cheap, rolled-up sleeping bag each, we boarded the 7:30am ferry from Ryde Pier Head to Portsmouth Harbour. Under the pale-gold morning sun and accompanied by seagulls, dipping and gliding, we watched the shrinking shoreline with that leaving-home, don't know when we're coming back, ...

Teheran journal: HASSLES IN IRAN

Thu, 28 Feb 2008 05:01:25 GMT

We woke up early, drank chai in the restaurant, paid the bill and walked out of town, having decided to try hitching to Teheran. Unlike many of the small towns we had passed through in Eastern Turkey where there were always plenty of men standing around, apparently doing nothing, and hardly any women to be seen, everyone in Maku seemed to be busy. The bakers were forming dough into flat rounds, a peak-capped policeman was strolling down the street, women wearing chadors over western style blouses and trousers were carrying water or washing clothes in a stream. A group of small children ...

Istanbul journal: ACROSS TURKEY - By Bus

Thu, 28 Feb 2008 04:30:48 GMT

So there we were, in ancient Sultanahmet, with its unfamiliar smells and sounds, and that exotic skyline of domes and minarets silhouetted against the evening sky. Immediately in front of us was the Blue Mosque and Aya Sofia and, right across the road from where the bus had stopped, the famed travellers meeting place, the Pudding Shop on Divan Yolu. At last we felt like we were really in the East. But, after three days and nights on the (not so Magic) bus from Amsterdam I was exhausted and seriously cranky. Even so, it felt exciting to be in Turkey.

We avoided the rush to the ...

Munich journal: THE 'MAGIC BUS' - 36hrs to Istanbul

Thu, 28 Feb 2008 04:08:08 GMT

We drove south through torrential rain to the border crossing where the uniformed,officious German customs decided to do a thorough search. After all, we were a busload of freaks coming from Amsterdam, we were sure to be carrying drugs. All the bags were offloaded and turned out. Medicines and multivitamins were taken away and analysed. Pipes and chillums were confiscated. Passports were collected and studied and a number of unfortunates were marched away by armed guards and forced to submit to a full body search. One tiny piece of hash was discovered which precipitated a heated ...

New Delhi journal: DELHI - An Assault on the Senses

Mon, 25 Feb 2008 04:03:34 GMT

As had become usual on our arrival in a major city one of our first tasks was to check to see if there was any mail from home. The Poste Restante address we had hoped to use was the American Express Office in Connaught Place in New Delhi, which the hotel manager informed us was only a fifteen minute walk away. We set off through the streets crowded with people, bicycle and scooter rickshaws and wandering cows. There was the aroma of incense and urine mixed up with the smell of Indian fast-food cooking on stalls at the side of the road, samosas, puris, alu tikkis and sweetmeats. The ...

Amritsar journal: INDIA AT LAST!

Mon, 25 Feb 2008 04:03:09 GMT

Getting up early, we teamed up with the other three guys in our dormitory and shared a taxi to the border. It was only 6Rupees each and was quicker and less hassle than the overcrowded bus. We had almost reached the border post when the taxi was stopped by the Military Police and we were informed that, due to 850 Pakistani POWs arriving back from India, we would have to stay where we were for another two hours. One of the Swiss guys had a word with a nearby officer and, with a motorcycle escort, we were allowed to carry on as far as the Pakistan Customs. Here, even though we ...

Lahore journal: LAHORE - Welcome to the Nightmare

Mon, 25 Feb 2008 04:02:35 GMT

It was just after five in the morning when I woke up Janette to tell her that we were coming into Lahore. It was then that she realised that her jacket was gone, along with all of her money, which had been in one of the pockets. She had lost £80 and $110 in traveller’s cheques and $160 in cash, but at least she still had her passport, which was in a little bag around her neck. We pieced together what had happened; at around four-thirty a guy came into the carriage and sat down a couple of seats away, then moved to an empty seat near me. I thought I felt him trying to get his hand to my ...

Paghman journal: KABUL - Paghman and the King's 'Meat Farm'.

Mon, 25 Feb 2008 04:02:07 GMT

After an early morning hot shower and a pot of chai we went out and found a new place to stay, the Shabistan Hotel on Kocha-e-Morgha, better known as Chicken Street. It was the same price as we had been paying but would hopefully have less wildlife. We returned to the Khyber Pass, packed our bags and paid the bill. For some reason we were undercharged by about 100Afghanis which almost made up for having to share with the roaches. We moved into room no.108 at the Shabistan, (why it was room 108 I had no idea, there couldn’t have been more than a dozen rooms in the whole ...

Kabul journal: KABUL - Black Hash & Dysentery

Mon, 25 Feb 2008 04:01:39 GMT

I was awakened from a deep sleep by a knocking on the door, it was our little man and it was 5:50am. We had ten minutes to get up, pack our few bits and pieces and get outside for the bus to Kabul. We made it but there was no bus. This wasn’t a great surprise to us and it gave us time to drink chai and wake up. It was a very cold morning so we waited in the bus office, (a tiny, dirty room containing two chairs) until the bus arrived at around seven o’clock. Our bags were thrown up on to the roof and we were off again. This vehicle was not much different to the one we had travelled ...

Kandahar journal: KANDAHAR

Mon, 25 Feb 2008 04:01:15 GMT

We made it to the bus depot early and drank chai in a filthy, fly-ridden café with pictures of Russian lorries, roughly torn from old magazines, stuck to the walls. We purchased apples and fruit cake for the trip and loaded our bags on top of a vehicle that didn’t look like it would make it to the end of the street never mind Kandahar. The bus was constructed from pieces of tin nailed to a wooden frame that sat on top of a lorry chassis with huge tyres and the seats inside were simply wooden benches. We departed an hour late and headed south on the Russian constructed road that cuts ...

Herat journal: HERAT, AFGHANISTAN - A Leap Back In Time.

Mon, 25 Feb 2008 04:00:46 GMT

The Afghan border post at Islam Qu’ala was as different from its modern built equivalent on the Iranian side as one could possibly imagine. A mile from the actual buildings an unkempt young soldier in an itchy-looking, ill-fitting, serge uniform placed his battered old rifle on the ground in order to raise a barrier, which consisted of a long tree branch. He waved us through with no checks or questions and we proceeded along the road to a mud-walled compound containing various low mud-brick structures, some with domed roofs. It felt as if we were slowly slipping out of the ...

Rawalpindi journal: PAKISTAN - Culture Shock

Tue, 19 Feb 2008 06:00:21 GMT

It was the 12th of November and somehow we managed to wake up early. We hurriedly washed in icy cold water, paid the hotel bill and made it to the bus in plenty of time. Ever since we had arrived in Kabul, which is at 7000 feet above sea level, the days had gradually been getting colder and this particular morning the temperature was well below zero. There was a thin crust of ice on the puddles in the streets and our breath came out in white clouds. At the bus stand men rearranged their turbans so that they wrapped around the face and clapped their hands together against the cold. ...