Brittany or bust, literally

Getting used to the new owners, 2003

At the age of eight, our car Nellie* was taken from her Fulham mews, jacked up an inch for extra clearance, weighted down with bull bar, snorkel and big tyres, and sent to Africa. It must have been a shock.

A few years later we bought her - and sent her around Africa again.

Her 24th birthday is next week, there are 206,000 miles on the clock, she's just travelled to Armenia, which is nearer to Delhi than it is to Paris... so it's no surprise she's suddenly gone down with a sort of automobile bronchitis: two weeks ago in Turkey as we turned a bend, she shrieked and her front axle started to emit a sorrowful howling noise, as it continues to do.

Splashing around in Georgia

Having been a companion in our year's adventure she has now become its main focus.

A little drama will ensue: in 10 days we need to reach our Breton campsite to attend the InterCeltic Festival and to rendezvous with friends.

But with every kilometre we travel, the teeth of something in the axle grind the teeth of another part into smaller stumps, until one day only a gummy grin will remain, and the wheels will stop turning.

Armenia: Lada Niva country

The ex-Soviet countries around here don't know what Land Rovers are, and the few garages which might be able to help are booked two weeks ahead.

So our strategy is this: drive her like Miss Daisy with a light foot, at a maximum 55mph to soften the grinding. And make a beeline for Brittany to reduce the kilometres she has to cover.

We're in Brittany for a week and hopefully we'll find a mechanic who can make the repair. We will of course subsist on gruel for the next six months to pay for it.

Very sadly this means missing visits to friends in Austria, Germany and France, as well as bypassing several planned countries.

Making friends in Bulgaria

If we don't make it we will assemble a Plan B, but so we won't tempt fate, not before. This is a first-world problem we know but still... wish us luck!

*Full name: Lady Nelson II. There is a story....

Why we went east again

Mondays off, comrades of Sofia!

Travelling doesn't exactly make you lazy but it does slow you down. Its pace has led me to realise that the 9-5 working day, especially the 9 bit, is quite inhumane. But that's for another time. I'm just making an excuse for the two-month delay in updating the blog.

As we may have mentioned before, we cut short our trip through India in March to return to the UK, via two special weeks in Jordan. A holiday from our holiday if you like, and it was a great month.

Supping at the tourist trough of London

Restored by hugs, cheese and Old Brewery, we then flew down to Athens and a happy reunion with Nellie in her tangerine packing factory. Her only deterioration was the big hole in the bonnet's insulation via indeterminate creatures which I hope died slowly of fibreglass poisoning.

So where to next? We were drawn to the fossilized republic of Transnistria in Moldova, on the Ukrainian border, the only country still sporting the hammer and sickle.

Macedonia. Not just a pretty flag

But as usual good food and wine, nice weather and lovely people got in the way: after zigzagging through gentle northern Greece we popped out in Macedonia - a beautiful, cheap, pocket-sized country with a great flag (which stopped it joining the EU - long story).

Then east to Bulgaria, which is the same, minus flag (like Greece they detest the Macedonia flag - another story) but plus a great Land Rover mechanic and the best beaches on the Black Sea.

Also the driving in Bulgaria was unusually good. I thought this might be because of EU membership but then remembered the Belgians, so it remains a mystery.

Blinking Balkan loveliness

These weeks reinforced our opinion that all the Balkan countries are magnificent, and everyone should visit, now.

The man at our Bulgarian beach campsite was a lorry driver in winter and it's his fault that we forgot all about Transnistria and continued east, via friends in Turkey, to Georgia and Armenia. We thought the borders and military situation would be too tricky but this gentleman drove there every other week. And we had an itch to go: we had noticed that the oldest church in almost every country we had visited, including Burma, was Armenian, and we wondered why.

So that's why we kept going east instead of circling up and round to head home.

But at last we are westward ho. As for Georgia and Armenia, and the Black Sea ship I'm writing this on, they deserve their own blog posts. Ditto photo albums on Flickr. All coming soon. Ish.

And 40th Happy Birthday to our biggest fan!

Jordan versus the United Kingdom

The Dead Sea vs Rutland Water, the Desert Highway vs the M25 - it's a classic battle.

So, some random criteria to compare these two delightful countries, starting with the bottom line:

(If you think this is a lazy, rehashed  way of covering two months' travel, cf Egypt vs Sri Lanka, you'd be right)

Tourist costs

The Jordanian Dinar is worth more than the British pound - a recurring surprise to Dave - and Jordan cost us more than most other countries we visited. In Petra we paid £7 for a beer. But then car hire was £18 a day, and a day snorkelling in the Red Sea was a fiver.

Blighty meanwhile seems to have tripled costs since we left. The bus from Inverness to Skye for two suddenly cost more than a week's car hire. Coffee was £3.50, an average pint £4.50. Daren't look at hotel costs. What just happened, or are we stuck in a Dixon of Dock Green netherworld?

Winner: Jordan

Rock

Wadi Musa makes everyone look good

To be clear, we're talking sedimentary, metamorphic etc, not Monsters Of, and both countries have great examples.

The UK wins for range, from the jagged Cuillins to Dorset's Jurassic cliffs, with much else inbetween.

Jordan is less varied but it has the top bit of the Great Rift Valley and Martian mountains exploding from the desert. Cool.

Winner: a tie

Old stuff

Getting bored at Jerash

Jordan has the bit of the river where Jesus was baptised. It has Petra's huge temples cut from cliffs. And an ancient Islamic hotel sitting weirdly on its own in the desert. And Roman cities and Crusader castles and other things that tested Jo's patience to the limit. But not a lot between those eras and now.

While the UK obviously doesn't have anything Biblical or Greek, it has Stonehenge and a million tumuli, castles, churches and stately homes up to the modern day. Something for every century, though don't expect to see Jo hanging around.

Winner: another tie

Food

Average Jordanian food seems to be Middle-Eastern Lite. Nothing stood out, even the allegedly finest falafel in Amman.

But it was a welcome change from Indian, especially as Dave would go green just hearing the word, "Paratha", which Jo for some reason would often sprinkle into conversation.

Average British food. Enough said.

Winner: Jordan

Berneray Beach  ©Coralbox 

Beaches

Britain has 11,000 miles of coastline while Jordan has sixteen.

Jordan's coast has a view onto Egypt, Israel and Saudi Arabia, which is original. It's a nice temperature there in winter but stupidly hot (Dave yes, Jo no) in summer. The stretches of sand are just that.

The beaches in the Hebrides have white sand, blue sea, green islands and no people. Put your toe in the water and it also goes blue (see below) but nothing beats the view. And the UK has 1000 other beaches to suit every mood.

Winner: UK

Water

Dave. Dead Sea. Slightly sad

We can confirm that the Red Sea is warmer than the North Atlantic. Jordan also has the best snorkelling in the Red Sea 20 yards offshore. Certainly better than our experience in Egypt's Hurghada in December, which involved a long uncomfortable boat trip.

You can drink the tap water in both countries.

And then there's the Dead Sea, so buoyant you can't swim because your legs and arms are jacked in the air like a flailing beetle. Love it.

Winner: Jordan

   

Being sensible

We spent two weeks in Jordan, the right amount of time. In April, the best month. And we hired a car, the best way to get around.

After India, it was like a huge champagne bath and we just loved everything. But with hindsight we can still say that Jordan is safe and fascinating and one of the top five countries of our trip.

Our Jordan photos and videos

Are we really celebrities?

Growing our adopted global family, Lucknow.  

Yesterday we were sitting on a bench when an Indian woman with a gaggle of friends and children strode up to us, demanded where we were from and asked if she could take a group picture with us.

This happens a lot: once a day at least when we are at tourist spots. And even though we have learned to pick up the pace as the next group of admirers approach, we mostly don't mind. In terms of attention, don't they say it's better to be talked about than not talked about at all?

We had the same on our Africa trip, except no-one had smartphones then so a photo wasn't an option. We thought they just wanted a dab of our Western stardust. In those days this translated into your phone number or email address, not information you're inclined to give. Sadly when this wasn't forthcoming, or after to our shame we had given a false email, it transformed into a request for money. At least nowadays the photo seems enough.

"Left a bit, that's it, give us a pout, love. Beautiful!"

Without exception this trip's selfie requests have been friendly and well-meaning, if sometimes abrupt because the person making the request is nervous. When it's a group of boys, I sense it's almost always the result of a bet!

So why are they doing it? I used to think it was just a minor form of celebrity worship. In the same way that if you saw [celebrity of your choice] on a nearby bench you might jokily request a selfie. That is if you were less a timorous Brit and more a robust Indian.

Normal Western behaviour,  Burma 

But this theory breaks down a little if you look at Jo and me, well me mostly. For sure we have the trappings of the rich West - the white skin, the camera, the ineptitude at waggling the head - but in every other department we fall down. We have street urchin hair, our clothes are gently disintegrating,  shoes are uniformly dust-coloured, and it's not as if we bear any resemblance to Posh and Becks or demonstrate any talent for sport or stage.

I'm developing a better theory. In Sri Lanka I got down with the locals and bought myself a traditional wraparound longji (as photo) . When I arrived in Burma I continued to wear it. They wear longjis there too, so it seemed OK. But it transpired over time that mine was seen as ridiculously garish compared to the local version and moreover I was tying it at the side, as women do, instead of at the front, as men do. So imagine a man walking down the high street wearing a purple polka-dot dress. That was me.

I only found this out because the locals couldn't stifle their laughter. Thankfully two nice people explained the situation after they had caught breath.

But it's made me reconsider the whole celebrity thing. What other cultural faux pas are we committing? Do my sideburns mean I'm up for something unmentionable? Is Jo's hairclip the icon of the Allahabad Monster Raving Loony Party? Should we never sit together on a bench? Individually these things might be small but as an aggregate... we probably look like complete clowns.

We got our own back on these friendly rogues in Kolkata 

So I propose this: we aren't Brangelina. We're Laurel and Hardy. We are touring India and giving everyone a good laugh. And the bolder locals can put the evidence on their mantelpiece.

Reasons to visit Burma in 2019

From a tourist's perspective Burma has a vibe like Sri Lanka's: genuinely friendly, simultaneously laid-back and energetic, and on the road to recovery from horrific recent events. The memories here are raw, and it ain’t all over yet, but you know that some locals are loving seeing tourists for the first time since the start of World War II.

Where it all Bagan

Unless you are of a more adventurous disposition, we suggest you hold fire on a visit. Why? Because getting anywhere takes an age as the roads are still being sealed (the commonest roadside sight is villagers breaking rocks). Hotel demand sometimes exceeds supply, which sends prices up. Several parts of the countries are off-limits to tourists. And standards generally need to come up a notch or two.

Here are some reasons why we think you should eventually come. If it's not obvious, we loved the place.

The people

No bribery was involved in this pose

While generalising about nationalities is something we normally discourage... we found everyone in Burma cheerful, guileless, hospitable and polite, seasoned with a dash of mischief. The little children in particular are imprinted on our memory: their exuberance on seeing a couple of sweaty white foreigners was a wonderful thing.

We were met with two-handed high fives and enthusiastic greetings of  "Bye!!"  wherever we went. Never a request for money, sweets or even pens.... just the unadulterated joy of an exchange with Whiteys. In less tourist-visited areas this resulted in us assuming a Santa Claus persona whereby kids would rush from their homes just to wave and catch a glimpse of our talismanic forms lolloping by.

Sights

Extraordinary

We have travelled a fair bit and have never seen a sunset like a Burmese sunset.

The clouds seem to catch fire.

There's work here for someone

Imagine London's Oxford Street 20 years after a neutron bomb attack and that's pretty much what downtown Yangon looks like, except there are also lots of very-alive people, dogs, cats, pigeons and occasional rats.

Yangon has the most complete set of colonial buildings in southeast Asia, and the streetscapes are a delight if fading grandeur is your thing.

The country's flagship tourist site is Bagan - a dusty plain punctuated by over 4000 stupas and temples.

The view to the horizon from one of the higher temples is unforgettable if you can see past everyone else's mobile phones.

The beaches in the south are a simple extension of Thailand's beaches. Only they have never seen a reclining chair or Singha beer. We found the most beautiful, clean and empty beach of our lives and stayed there three days. In two years I reckon it will still be the same way, unless they have upgraded the road. Contact us for details!

The food

The Myanmar people are masters of combining flavours and textures in a single dish: soft but crunchy; spicy, salty with a hint of sour - so perfectly encapsulated in the tastebud-awakening breakfast staple, Mohinga (spicy fish broth with soft noodles and crispy chickpea fritters; it may sound disgusting but tastes sublime).

Tea Leaf Salad - it'll give you wings

And then there is the iconic fermented Tea Leaf Salad with its assault-on-the-senses overdrive so perfectly summarised by Emma, one hotel host's eight-year old daughter as having "Too much taste!".

This is the only salad we've ever eaten that needs a plain rice accompaniment. I could go on but Dave rations the words in this bl

Curiosities

Where to start? Just five minutes' walk down a Yangon street is guaranteed to throw up a bizarre object/behaviour you cannot fathom. Among the top head-scratchers are:

The capital's motorways. I think the man on the bike needn't worry.

The new (2006) Myanmar capital, Nay Pyi Taw. Have you ever wondered what a city designed by someone with no qualifications in town planning might look like? Here it is. Nay Pyi Taw allegedly covers 2700 square miles, has empty eight-lane highways, perfectly manicured verges, world-class hotels, conference centres and ministry buildings and no people to speak of. The place is devoid of character, charm and personality and it is fitting that it is the beating heart of the Military-majority government. Only one embassy (Bangladesh) has succumbed to the pressure to relocate from Yangon.

Popular now in Burma

Buddhas. There can never be enough, and the bigger the better. We witnessed not only the world`s biggest reclining one but also the outline of its half-built replacement on the opposite hill. It brought to mind Star Wars' Death Star in scaffolding phase. Weird enough, one might conclude, but the presence of a monstrous Frank Sidebottom looming out of the nearby canopy (left) sealed the deal.(Video and photos on Flickr)

George Orwell was a policeman here in the 1920s. No doubt his witnessing of colonial racism and brutality fed straight into 1984 and Animal Farm. A curious thing is that he wrote his angry, semi-autobiographical Burmese Days while an impoverished bottle-washer in Paris. And then went to live in sleepy old Southwold. Great writer. Odd bloke.

We actually don't want to see this again

An important rule of Burmese kickboxing is you can kick your opponent anywhere. Anywhere. No surprise then that several boxers we saw collapsed in a heap after a knee-ing in their soft parts. The monks in the audience seemed to take particular delight.


Burmese festival music. Sorry but this sounds like someone has taken a screeching parrot, a set of drums and several xylophones and pushed them off a steep slope, with bumps on the way down. There's no rhythm, melody or accuracy that we could tell. It is cacophony. But judging by the delight in the onlooker's faces, the loss must be ours.

Click for copious illustration of the above

Egypt versus Sri Lanka

No, Egypt haven't taken up cricket as far as we know, and we're not sure they've played Sri Lanka in anything, ever. This is just a contrivance so we can cover both countries in one blog post*. Be aware that the following comparisons are based on brief observation and pretty much no knowledge.

Essex girls pass on some tips

Driving
Steering and accelerating like someone who wants to die,  and who wants to take everyone with him, is standard in both countries.

But Egypt gets special status for driving at night with the lights off, unless drivers think oncoming traffic should see them, in which case they give them a blinding flash of headlamps on full. 

Winner: Sri Lanka.

Breakfasts

Great Sri Lankan locations can't make up for bland Hoppers

A classic Full Egyptian comprises floppy flatbread, crisp and moist falafel, delicious fried vegetables, savoury mashed beans ("Foul Mesdames", unfortunately), fresh juice and eggs. At least. Each dish is gorgeous. 

A Full Sri Lankan meanwhile is String Hoppers, which are soft packet noodles wrapped around sweet coconut and Hoppers, which are sweet crêpes, then dahl and fruit. Whatever.

Winner: Egypt.     

Tourist costs

No backpackers in the crazy queue up Sigirya

Our hot air balloon ride over the Valley of the Kings cost £50 for the two of us. Hotels were £15/night. Entry into the Necropolis, Abu Simbel etc - Egypt's big ticket items - was so cheap as to be unmemorable.  Public transport and food were pennies. The country is a bargain.

Sri Lanka hotels and public transport were the same but, boy, the big ticket items were so much we sometimes didn't go. $30 each to climb a big rock (Sigirya)? No. The same for an afternoon at an ancient city (Pollonaruwa)? Just, yes. £175 for another hot air balloon ride? Sri Lanka is a seller's market right now and sometimes you feel you're being fleeced.

Winner: Egypt.
     

Old stuff

Tranquillity in granite. Pollonaruwa, Sri Lanka

Egypt has the antiquity - there's stuff over 4000 years old, some of it mint. But there's a familiarity to the sights and not so many surprises.

Sri Lanka has rain (unlike Egypt), so things haven't weathered so well, but few of us could put a name to any of the island's fabulous Hindu statues. And those Buddhas carved from stone are more mesmerising than the Donald Trump of ancient Egypt (Ramesses II at Abu Simbel). And then there are Dambulla's painted caves that hold more atmosphere and mystery than the brightly-lit tombs of the Kings.

Winner: A tie.

Tourist hospitality

Jo braving an expert

Several times in Sri Lanka we had to go up to parked tuktuk drivers to ask for a ride. Shop owners smiled politely from behind distant counters. My gentle haggling intimidated the car hire guy.

In Egypt meanwhile the horse-and-trap drivers, stall owners, and the alleged cook from our hotel (our hotel clearly had an infinite number of cooks) spotted us from three miles and were advertising their or their brother's services in seconds. Relentlessly. Agonisingly. Almost viciously. Just Please Go Away.

Winner: Sri Lanka.

Natural scenery

Lakes, hills, monasteries, monkeys, Jo, Sri Lanka

The Nile is nice and its banks are classic. The desert is beautiful if you like that kind of thing (Dave yes, Jo no). The Red Sea coast is stark but of course, lovely underwater.

Sri Lanka meanwhile has jungle, savannah, high mountains, Scottish highlands (if you squint), strange rocks, pretty tropical beaches, and its own coral reefs. No competition.

Winner: Sri Lanka

Daylight fills the room...

Internal doors
The things we take for granted. Egypt has internal doors like ours, you know, two bits of plywood half an inch apart.

Someone has sold in a different concept to the Sri Lankans. Their doors and door frames are made of just-strong-enough plastic.  They let light through.  But, perhaps significantly, they fit snugly enough to keep mosquitos out. Maybe they are onto something.

Winner: Sri Lanka. Why not?

Overall winner
A silly concept I suppose. Both countries are amazing, as most countries are. Go to Egypt. It is suffering and it needs the income even more than Sri Lanka at the moment; its tourist industry is on its knees while Sir Lanka's is up and running. The sights are timeless and amazing and the place is currently a bargain. And this is how to deal with the hassle.

• Our Egyptian photos and videos
• Our Sri Lankan photos and videos

* Laptop broke in December and we couldn't bring ourselves to blog by smartphone. The replacement is a £200 Lenovo MIIX 310, with which we are very happy despite its Thai bamboozling. Still looking for the hash key, and always forgetting where @ is.

We ditch the car

Africa in 2003. We wouldn't put Nellie through that again.

In case it's not obvious from previous posts, I'm slightly obsessed with our car, Nellie*. She's 25 years old, has seen us safely through the wilds of Scotland, jousted with endless London buses, blanked tail-gaters all over Europe, and best of all carried us safely the length of Africa.

She has the heart of an ox. Despite losing her Ardennes Green gloss a long time ago, and random bits dropping off, she has not broken down once. As such, and as more discerning people understand, she has stately charm akin to a favourite, solid aunt.

So with a trembling lower lip we consigned her last week to a big hangar two hours out of Athens, surrounded by speedboats that are picked up by their German owners every August. Maybe between gritted grilles they swap stories about their absent owners.

Jo keeping it all in

I think she'll be OK. The owner promised to put her on blocks (saving the tyres), the tank is full (saving on condensation), we changed all the fluids (saving the engine and transmission) and I'm hoping the solar trickle charger will preserve the instant start when we return in X months.

This wasn't the plan. We were going to drive to Iran and then ship her to India. However an examination of rainfall, sunshine and temperatures (embarrassingly our main spurs to action) convinced us that we had to move pronto to India for a relaxed winter. Maybe we'll visit Iran on the way back.

Athena eat your heart out

And so we have morphed from Overlanders to Backpackers. Jo bought a new Chinese backpack for 30 euros in Athens that may or may not last three months of Indian public transport. We bounce along the road carrying a weight of only 25kg between us, which is a liberating difference from Nellie's 2015kg, and we quite like the change.

6 December: we are in Egypt, enjoying a cheap and warm side-trip, with our plane booked to Sri Lanka for Saturday.

Inevitable photos of Indiana Jones tombs and dodgy hot air balloons to follow. In the meantime here are some new snaps from great places in Greece like Olympia and scary Athens back streets.

* Full name Lady Nelson II. Happy to bore with full explanation over a pint one day.

> CLICK FOR OUR PHOTOS - updated much more frequently than this blog

The tiny guide to Albania

An absolute one-off, Albania combines glorious scenery and a savage history with a big, crazy heart. Pretty much everywhere is...

A Londoner staring down the locals

Safe
You won't get caught in gangland crossfire and you won't be robbed. Bournemouth is scarier. You're more likely to be suffocated by kindness.

Just be careful crossing the road (Flickr video).

Albania = lovely x lovely squared

Friendly
Albania is the only occupied country that ended World War Two with more Jews than it started with. It also helped Einstein get to America some years earlier.

This is explained by a deep cultural obligation to help strangers, and we saw that first-hand in the hospitality of our Airbnb hosts and the friendliness of every soul we met. Aww.



Beautiful

Where are the hotels?

Most of the country is mountainous and some peaks in the north and south are gorgeously immense, if you like that kind of thing.

Then there are the sweeping white beaches with no hotels (yet). And then the rivers, lakes (Flickr timelapse) and islands.

It's the original pocket-sized Eden.

Another government-demolished hotel. Aha.

Bonkers
In 1950-90 the place was, basically, North Korea. Every third person was detained, there were only 600 cars, 170,000 bunkers dotted the countryside and still do (Flickr photo) and then the place went bust*.

The effects are clear to see in attitudes, infrastructure and sights - and 1990s prices.



More snaps and videos from our 15-day visit (Flickr)

*Thankfully it is getting back on its feet now.

Sarajevo: before and after photos

1997 disaster zone to 2016 suburb without blast holes, landmines and booby traps. 

I went to Sarajevo just after the war in 1997 with my mate Angus who had been invited to stay in the city's first Internet cafe, The Avatar.

Angus was there to interview the cafe's owner, Morgan Sowden, for Internet Magazine. I was just there for the ride.

Panorama of the Avatar Internet Cafe, Sarajevo 1997

It was a memorable week in an effortlessly cool city (which it still is). I was in a manic phase experimenting with QuickTime Virtual Reality and so I spent my time taking panoramas of, mostly, bomb damage.

19 years on and as Jo and I drove into the city this week it suddenly occurred to me to recreate those panoramas.

In 1997 I had a glorious photographic team: a Nikon FE, a Nikkor architectural 18mm lens, a QTVR parallax rig, Manfrotto tripod, and my friend Glen masterfully stitching all the pictures together. The panorama-creation process, including sending the 35mm Kodachrome off for processing, took three weeks.

Photographer selfie

This time around the quality can't compare but at least each panorama only took a couple of hours to create.

So there are odd artefacts in the new panoramas if you look, but it was worth the effort. I tried to find the exact tripod spot each time (not always successfully as you will see).

It was an entertaining and sometimes emotional job, especially the City Hall interior - what an incredible restoration, which was finished only two years ago.

The panoramas are thumbnailed below. They link through to the full sizes and captions on the Flickr album.

Shelled bus

The Avatar Cafe

Burnt-out National Library

Shelled skyscrapers

City centre

Outside the burnt-out library

> CLICK FOR OUR PHOTOS - updated much more frequently than this blog