Recent Travels and Reunions

Just a few lines to go with some pics I took of our recent trip east, and meetings with old friends and family.

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As much as I love surface travel, flying is an unfortunate necessity which has to be considered when time is short, and destinations too distant for any other 'style' of travel. Please, one day soon, let there be convenient rail travel across the barriers of currently war-torn nations, so that catching a train in London bound for Kuala Lumpur won't just be a dream. Imagine watching all that geography and culture slowly change before you, taking in the sights, sounds, smells and tastes as they morph from uptight, self-conscious but historic Northern European, across the ancient sights / flavours of Asia Minor and eventually get drenched in the torrent of sensual input that South East Asia showers on you.

When in KL, our adopted neighbourhood is pretty unique and special - just far enough out of 'big town' to have the beginnings of 'small town' street life, and right on the edge of what was once a densely forested hill. Across Bukit Gasing (Spinning Top Hill), the patchy remnants of forest are an oasis-home to tribes of monkeys, wild-dogs, iguanas, squirrels, and an amazing array of birds and butterflies. From their shrinking refuge on the hill, they look out, through the hazy pollution, over 360 degrees of housing development gone crazy - hemmed in by flyovers, multi-story condominiums, terraces of low cost 2 story building estates, Light Rapid Transit rail systems and slowly moving ribbons of traffic jams for as far as the eye can see. They are happy prisoners in one of the few shrinking paradises skirting a 21st century city which is growing at a tremendous pace. The old virgin forests and surviving rural landscapes surrounding the city are now only 30 miles away, but to escape the urban hillside they can only rely on long drainage channels which run across the city, or ribbons of vegetation running down roadsides and between back gardens. Which way to go, and how to break free - what sad victims, living in a 'doomed by tomorrow' green heaven.

Local eating is just wonderful with good informal neighbourhood eateries of all types - you can enjoy eating from breakfast to supper without travelling more than half a mile. For a more intricate spectrum of tastes, there's no need to trundle more than a couple of miles, and with the best of the best within half an hour's drive, it is really a cross-cultural gourmet's dream come true. The cost of eating good food in KL is very, very reasonable........even incredible, if compared to eating out in the west, and that's after factoring in the exchange rate!!

Street markets next to huge glitzy shopping precincts for those with a yearning for holiday retail therapy, and no shortage of drinking holes and plush ultra modern bars, from cheapo to the classy end for the thirsty, make KL a holiday destination which is hard to beat. So, that's covered food, drink and shopping.

After a week in KL we headed for the islands - usually we go to the gin-clear turquoise sea off the north east coast, but this time we went to the deep green muddier waters in the north west, at the northern gateway to the Straits of Malacca - Pulau Langkawi is just south of the Thai border, and the 4th largest island in the archipelago - larger than Penang (the 5th largest) and is surrounded by 99 smaller islands - I'm sure its the site of an old volcano, but nothing I've seen in the blurb seems to cover that possibility.

Visiting Langkawi is a bit like stepping back in time, but not to the extent that visiting its nearby neighbour Pulau Pangkor would be. There are a number of high end resorts and hotels on the island, and a few 'themed' developments to lure in the local and foreign tourists. Generally though, its a quiet island and offers a laid back lifestyle to those looking for a hideaway from the demands which hectic life imposes on much of humanity. We had a wonderful experience on the 1st evening there - Rex Hu, an old childhood friend turned up unannounced having travelled halfway across Thailand by train, bus, motorcycle taxi and ferry, walked onto the beach, shed his clothes at the water's edge and jumped into the sea where we were swimming - an amazing surprise, instant lump in the throat and the rekindling of a uniquely deep friendship which covers 50 years, mostly from halfway across the world. Old friends are one of the most valuable gifts that life has on offer. More so as the years fly by, and with my 3rd quarter well in progress, I find that maybe only a handful of old friendships continue sparkling - defying barriers of time, distance, culture and social status.

Our stay in Langkawi was a richer experience due to meeting with old friends, and another mini reunion happened a day later when, by chance, Bob, another dear friend we have known since childhood turned up on his beautiful boat, and invited us all to share time on board. We temporarily turned our backs on 'normal' holidaying, and sailed away in the utterly tasteful, plush efficiency of a well run, floating heaven which would put any boutique hotel, anywhere, to shame. Gliding silently through the maze of islands and rocky outcrops surrounding Langkawi is so beautiful. I've done this before on a little motor boat, but this was a special experience. We were lucky coz the sundown was like something out of a painting, and the next day we had heavy clouds and a storm at sunrise. The low level beams of sunlight shining through the clouds like a cracked up teastrainer. Drama on the little dense green island outcrops as the mist coming off the forest got caught in the strong breeze and whisked away through the rainstorm..........then the storm cleared, brilliant sunshine, like another stage set. Later we ate freshly landed fish and crabs. An anchored heaven in the midst of a magical maze of islands.........we swam off the boat and the water was just below body temperature - not even a slight shock when you jump in. Just a very salty and cosseting mega jacuzzi.

After the boat, getting back to the luxury hotel felt a bit like slumming it, but we managed. The hotel was surrounded by jagged mountains covered in jungle and the beach was nearly empty - I guess the South Pacific atolls must be a similar setting but with blue, clear water. I know many who will not even consider a visit into the heat and humidity of South East Asia. Among those are even folk who were born and spent their early lives in the Far East. For some, the climate is an invisible barrier to the East, and it's such a great pity. Swimming in the ocean here was the closest thing to paradise - empty sea, empty islands, wonderful food, and no rush at all.

Headed back to KL and prepared for Su Yin's flight back to London - saw more old friends in KL and some drove up from Singapore. Reunion season - I love having a beer and catching up with old buddies, especially when its friendship that goes back to early school days. Its rare that friends stay friends for 50 years, and those that do, despite the differences between them in terms of wealth, position and pursuits can count themselves amongst the luckiest, for what else can transcend true and deep friendships? Perhaps only deep love, and the spiritual and religious peace that comes from that other form of true devotion.

Living in an air-conditioned environment is taken for granted by many (who can afford it) in South East Asia. Unfortunately, this has turned from a luxury into an imprisonment, especially visitors from the West, and one meets people who will not do anything if it needs venturing out into the sunshine and humidity. Its easy to fall into this trap, and a trap it is, as it turns a large percentage of the visitors and local population into 'shopping mall hikers'. The huge malls in Asian cities are built to keep shoppers cool, and many just visit to keep cool and not to shop - that's fair enough, and the same applies to restaurants - no air conditioning means its off the list of possibles, regardless of the quality of cuisine. Westerners visiting Asian cities miss much of the streetlife and smaller regional towns and activities for the same air conditioned reason - returning with a partial view of the East, censored by air conditioned luxury.

Bangkok is the world's 22nd largest city by population with approximately 8 million residents............... and it feels like it!! The energy and activity everywhere one looks is intense, and while I found it to be rather off putting at first, it requires a mindset-shift to settle into it and appreciate it from a local standpoint. Reconstructed in 1782 on an existing village, it was given the ceremonial name " "The city of angels, the great city, the eternal jewel city, the impregnable city of God Indra, the grand capital of the world endowed with nine precious gems, the happy city, abounding in an enormous Royal Palace that resembles the heavenly abode where reigns the reincarnated god, a city given by Indra and built by Vishnukarm" take a moment to listen to the name in Thai here: http://upload.wikimedia.org/wikipedia/commons/4/49/Th-Bangkok_ceremonial_name.ogg

We are very lucky to have such good friends in Bangkok who know the'REAL city' and not the 'sex, drugs and rock&roll' side which is so publicised in the west. When you do get into REAL Bangkok, it starts to be overwhelmingly addictive, and I couldn't wait to see what was round the next corner. Coming in from KL, a city where life is lead at a 'quieter pace', although the colour smell and noise is similar, there is a distinct ratcheting up of adrenalin when stepping onto the streets of Bangkok. It's tempting to compare it with Hanoi in terms of the sheer buzz on the streets, but its a rather dubious comparison because Bangkok is a modern, international city, and Hanoi feels distinctly 3rd world, and like a 'Heath Robinson' device, its ancient pedigree is there to see in the buildings, sidewalks and colonial atmosphere of the charming French Quarter. Bangkok also has an extremely charming face - take a long ride on a river taxi up and down the wonderful Chao Pharya river (240 miles from source to sea, but you don't have to do it all) which winds north/south through the heart of Bangkok. The river is well used as a major transport artery, as are the network of Klongs (canals) which run through Bangkok's 50 districts, and the banks of both river and canals have evolved for trade as the symbiosis has developed for centuries. As you cruise along its easy to see the historical track of development through the ages - Pagodas, old wooden river settlements, Portuguese and other colonial style buildings and then the modern international skyscrapers all mixing and sharing frontage on the banks of the Chao Phrya. There is no better way to get a potted view of this city - also prices for the river taxi trips are extremely reasonable.

Bangkok is literally teeming with life on every level, wherever you go at whatever time of day or night there is unceasing commercial activity from the neon lit skyscrapers to the back streets of restaurants and family shops and businesses. Of course the infamous traffic jams are a constant source of 'Essence d'Exhaust', and one has to be wary when crossing the road - most motorists only show care for monks, the elderly and the blind. That is being rather harsh, as in most respects the people are extremely polite and always welcoming. If the street was this crowded and intense in London, there would be angry and short tempered people waiting to lash out at all and sundry for no good reason. In Bangkok, the opposite extreme - smiles, softness and accommodation. I'm sure that the soft surface is due to a culture which is based in a long history of Buddhist awareness, and due to this, people can live at this pace without the 'jagged edges' showing, and a high degree of awareness of each others needs and plight.

There is no social safety net, and yet you don't see or hear whinging, and most folk just get on with living by selling whatever they can, and that includes their bodies - the world's oldest profession is well represented here and it flaunts itself without hiding behind window shutters or curtains like in Amsterdam, or tiny labels on doorbells which lead up to dingy staircases in London's seedy Soho back streets. Here, visitors and locals who go to the right areas will find the full range of possibilities from female to male and everything in-between..........so to speak!! I was startled by the way certain areas in Bangkok celebrate sex when we visited Patpong to get an impression of what the western (especially) tourists flock to. Like ants on a colourful and noisy pile of sugar, western tourists flood the main street down which many of the bars and strip clubs are situated. I guess there are all the arguments about exploitation, and what the industry supports in terms of illegal activity, child abuse, spread of STD's and such like, but in this part of Bangkok its there, part of all the other trading that happens on the street - one doesn't HAVE to look in that direction if it hurts, but coming from London, its hard not to compare the upfront-ness of Patpong with the dodgy, dimly lit streets of Soho. I'm not in any way endorsing this side of commerce, but in Patpong, you can't miss its presence.

Unlike the sex industry which is confined to certain districts, the food industry is universally represented in every street and area of this city - you can eat all day and night, and get high quality meals for not much expense at all. The food is colourful, the tastes fresh and varied, and the lure of fresh cooking fills the air to such an extent that the tummy juices are tempted and tantalised at every corner. We often ate on the side of the street at night, under hurricane lamps and had an extended 3 hour dinner, with lots of excellent local Chang lager to wash it down for the unbelievable sum of £3-$4 a head. We also ate at restaurants and on the river - sea food is a Thai favourite, and crab, prawn, squid and fish is fresh and delicious. Siri, an old schoolfriend took us to the most amazing restaurant in a little village on the delta, close to the mouth of the Chao Pharya. It was primarily a wonderful reunion as none of us had met Siri since 1968, but also a great lunch!! The fish are even fresher here as they are landed just round the corner. We ate a mouthwatering meal and were so full that we could hardly walk out. Local knowledge counts for everything - no one would know of this superb eatery unless you had expert guidance. In many eastern cities where everyone cooks the best dishes, there are food gurus who will nosey out the best of the best, and if you are lucky enough to know someone with food savvy, you will never forget the 'taste heaven' that Bangkok is.

As I walked down the pavements, I eyed the food stalls, the Thai sweets and cakes and the fresh fruit - all the colours, and the faces of the vendors and the shopkeepers. 95% of them smiling and the body language was inclusive and positive. The people living on and beside the sidewalk were like a little roadside community. Without gardens, play areas, any visible heavy police presence, community support, and all the things that we have grown used to seeing in the west. Still there was no yobbery, no drunken youths, no friction or any sign of malice. Many races live cheek by jowl with the Thais. There is a large Muslim community living in a run down area by a Klong in a very harmonious way. They have their mosques, and have settled in Bangkok for hundreds of years. There are other communities of Indians, Japanese, European travellers /expats and most of the South East Asian races who have made Bangkok their home. Recently there has been much press coverage of the 'riots' between the supporters of opposing political views, and we have heard about the violence in the southern provinces bordering Malaysia. None of these events seems to have altered the mood on the streets here - I found calm, welcoming folk in Bangkok. The thuggish, threatening negative vibe surrounding the youth of London seemed a million miles away, very thankfully. Considering the hardships and hurdles the average Thai teenager has to overcome, one would expect them to be the aggressive ones, but not so. The politically correct social scientists and administrators in the west who make much of the slogan "poverty causes crime" should come here (and to other poorer Asian cities) to revisit their superficial theories instead of sitting in their blinkered local government throne rooms, throwing (OUR) good money after bad on supporting lost causes.

We loved Bangkok more than we ever have before, mainly due to our friends who showed us the side of the city that doesn't revolve around shopping malls, traffic jams and air conditioned restaurants - a BIG thank you to Eric, Siri, Rex, Aroontip and to Jeff and Jumm.

For those of you who are visiting this wonderful city, before you do, have a close look at Eric's great website: http://www.tour-bangkok-legacies.com/

We headed back to KL for our final week in the East, spending the time meeting relatives and old friends. I was amazed at how much we'd seen and how many nostalgic meetings we'd had. Having done this Far East trip every year for the past decade, and many times previously, the expectation is that we will soon get bored and run out of things to do. In fact, each time we return there's a whole list of new stuff to see - next time maybe Laos, Luang Prabang and a slowboat down the Mekong. Even the food keeps surprising us,and we cook South East Asian dishes in London at least 2 - 3 times a week. This part of the world is a traveller's dream come true - for me, it all 'came alive' when I took to the less travelled paths and places. There are always the air-conditioned malls and shopping cities, but you may as well stay at home, as most of the shops, chain hotels and restaurants will be clones of the ones in your hometown.

So, avoid the crowds and take to the back streets my friends, never mind the sweat and smell, for here lies the heart and soul of the country that you're searching for.

Wandering Along The Jurassic Coast - May 2007

Hi folks,

Hope you enjoy a few words and snaps of recent wanderings in a largely forgotten part of the South Western English coast - a quick roll down to the mouth of the river Otter in Devonshire to revisit a place which we 1st went to about 20 years ago when SuYin was pre-teen, and very keen on the 'Pooh Bear' books of A A Milne.

The campsite we went to is unchanged, still called Pooh Cottage - a quiet traditional site, no supermarkets, disco, bar, etc - just 2 showers and 6 electrical hook-ups in a big field with lotsa nearly tame rabbits grazing on the edges. Just a perfect setting for Milne's characters to have their adventures.

We walked a lot, 10 miles on one day and 8 the next - I developed a blister on my right little toe - time to get some new walking boots or maybe a new toe! Its a quiet part of the world with lots of retired folk staying in the little seaside town of Budleigh Salterton - about half and hour's walk from the campsite. Sir Walter Raleigh, the famous English seaman, 'legal pirate' and explorer was born just across the hills in East Budleigh. ( http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Sir_Walter_Raleigh)

We ate dinners at the local pub - just 10 minutes walk from our campsite, great regional beer and very strong (8%) cider. Good home cooking and lots of local yokels to chat with about important local goings-on.........."the fox took three of Martin's chickens last night, etc".

Before setting off on our coastal walks, we first stopped by at what looked like the best traditional butcher in Budleigh and bought pies and pasties baked on the premises to eat along the way. Another important 'pause' was at a neighbouring bookshop to get an Ordinance Survey 4 cm:1km map (which didn't stop us losing our way in a few places!) and then headed Westward down the South West Coastal Path, stopping along the way when Chris painted and sketched.

The weather changed as it often does on this coastline - sea mist, a splatter of rain, brilliant sunshine, clouds........all in the space an hour or so. We got lost trying to find our way across a golf course where the old pathways had got mingled with golfer's tracks. Pushing through the shrubbery along the edge of the course we were amazed at the number of wild Pheasants strolling around in and out of the bushes - I couldn't believe my eyes and wondered why they didn't feature on local menus more often - probably not Pheasant shooting season or maybe the golfers got them before the hunters.

After a late breakfast the next morning we walked down the beach and picked stones in the hazy sunshine - so many zillions of beautiful smooth stones and every one unique in shape and colour, diversity beyond belief!! This stretch of coastline has been made a World Heritage Site - the 'Jurassic Coast' ( http://www.jurassiccoast.com/ ), a heaven for fossil hunters. We pocketed a few choice stones and headed for the estuary of the River Otter towards Otter's Point which took us up the river bank and swampy delta which is a heaven for wild fowl, ducks and migratory birds. After a few miles the scenery changed - farms, rolling hills, little tracts of woodland with old oaks, maybe 300 years old clinging on the side of banks, some with huge roots exposed - only still there by virtue of their twisted trunks which made them unsuitable for the shipbuilders centuries ago.

The weather report warned that it was going to bucket down on Saturday evening, and for the next few days, so packed up on Saturday lunchtime and headed back to London - a nice break, and great change of scene. Nice getting home too - Bill's chicken curry on Saturday evening, down to our local, local for a few pints of Staropramen (http://www.staropramen.com/english/index.html) ............yummy!!!

hugs to all

Our Big Rollabout - September 2007

Its good to be back home in Crouch End, and great to have a tiled roof over our heads again. Nice to get hot water from shiny taps and have our own poo-pot and shower and not wonder whose bodily fluids recently graced the loo-seat or shower floor!! Great to be able to roll over in bed and not run out of space too.................of course there are lots of campervans in which all this is possible, and more. But not in our humble Volksy. It's value wasn't in the luxury of accommodation, but was certainly in the very hard work it did for us, and for finally bringing us home - sedately, but safely. We really appreciated its mechanical goodwill, small comforts, and unfailing reliability - and after living together for nearly 5 weeks, it certainly feels more like a horse (one that you can live in) which has taken you through a campaign, than a VW van. A good friend of ours who we visited in Vigo who met the van called it Elvis (because of its big green quiff above the cab), and Elvis really was the star of our trip........... "Thank you so much, thank you so much!!".

This isn't just sentimentality, Elvis carried us 6574kms (3944mls) across some fantastic country. That's the same distance as driving from Miami to Anchorage (Alaska) in a straight line, or a Far Eastern comparison, from Singapore, through Thailand, Vietnam, and up the coast of China to Harbin, just north of Beijing! Just to be boring, an Aussie-ish version would be from Perth, across the coast of South Australia, via Adelaide to Sydney, up the Queensland Coast to Lizard Island and across to Port Moresby in New Guinea!! Up and down mountains, across endless plains of wheat rolling away to infinity, down quiet winding river valleys through cold passes in the High Pyrenees and baking hot temperatures in Central Portugal where it was nearly always over 40 degrees in the day, and got up to 46 degrees (abt 110 Fahrenheit in old money!) in the upper Duro valley. Sitting here writing this, I can hardly believe we crossed so much landscape and saw so many villages and towns - some nestling on mountaintops, and others creeping up the side of steep river valleys. Europe has much to offer the landscape junkie - an amazing variation in geography, vegetation and architecture. And this adventure only took us through a narrowish band of land, perhaps no larger than 400 x 900 miles, running down across 3 countries, and fairly close to the Atlantic Coast.

Time and again I wondered how on earth the Romans, Moors and all the other invading armies throughout medieval times could have made such journeys. Trudging across the vast plains, rocky highlands and parched, baking hot semi-desert, wearing helmets, armour, and horses pulling all their needs on carts (their vans?)............water too, where did they refill, how much did they carry, was water more important than arrows and steel and tools? This is tough country, nothing but Cork trees and Dwarf Oaks dotting the landscape, cattle looking very thirsty, some very 'out of the cowboy movies' farmhouses - a European version of Arizona or New Mexico.........it's really there, and we rolled over it all day after day. Breathtakingly beautiful and totally awe inspiring. All this sounds like academic musing, but driving across some of these places made us wonder how we would survive without a friendly Elvis under our seat! I wondered if the Legionnaires sitting, shivering in winter watchtowers on Hadrian's Wall in Northumberland would have wished to be back in the dry dusty heat of Extramadura, or were they happy to be out of it? Both places have their own beauty which is worlds apart in topography, climate and colour.

We saw old cities and towns, castles and cathedrals, to the point that we just got tired of buildings and history - just the landscape was absorbing enough. We didn't walk as much as we wanted to. The temperatures were just killingly hot and I realise how fit the cyclists and pilgrims must be. They were there so often - the cyclists in their brightly coloured cycle fetish gear, they must be mad! Sometimes singles but other times in huge groups, all hammering up hills in the midday sun like they only started 5 minutes ago..........(no Englishmen or mad dogs in sight), just these guys sweating as they pumped the pedals.

The pilgrims on the Camino de Santiago ( http://www.caminodesantiago.me.uk/ ) also amazed me. I had expected most of the pilgrims to be oldies, but age spread was surprising - men and women, some on foot and some cycling the hundreds of miles to Santiago
(check: http://www.caminodesantiago.me.uk/santiago.html ) to see the legendary tomb of St James (Santiago to the Spanish, St Jacques to the French). It is the 3rd most 'popular' pilgrimage in the Christian world - after Jerusalem and Rome! The pilgrimage is a serious undertaking, a long and often not too winding road crossing country that changes drastically - hot dry plains and cool wet mountain ranges. Stopping to refuel Elvis along the road close to 'The Camino' I noticed that the stations all sell shoes and blister plasters!! This is a popular line for pilgrims who must wear out a few pairs along the way - I bet there is an abundance of cobbler shops in the little towns along the way which also do a roaring trade.

Santiago was wet and cloudy, and we were told that it's normal. We even bought an umbrella there! The cathedral looked very different to all the others we saw. Dark, brooding and looking like it just emerged from a swamp - all the intricacies in the facades alive with flowering weeds and moss. Not the shining beauty that is Burgos or Albi cathedral, this one looks very serious indeed! The interior full of activity, chanting and the sound of masses taking place in all the side chapels as the priests try to accommodate the overwhelming demand for prayer and devotion which must be uppermost in the minds and souls of the pilgrims after their long, exhausting journey. Confessionals lining all the corridors, mostly full, sometimes just with one sleeping priest..........overworked perhaps? All this under the gaze of the statue of Santiago high above the main alter. A tiny gilt staircase weaving its way up through 'screaming out at you' sacred gold and bejewelled altarpieces and holy decorations leads to a little chamber where a priest urges you to hug the Santiago statue, strangely from behind, pop a donation in the offertory box and then he hands you a little sacred printed prayer with a picture of Santiago printed on the other side (a 'Compostella' - hence the name 'Santiago de Compostella'). This is the literal proof of each pilgrim's passage and their humble treasure to take with them as they turn back to prepare for the homeward journey.

Travelling in a campervan can be an experience more akin to exploration than vacationing. Most folk go to A PLACE for a vacation, and if they travel around within the area its usually for a day trip, and then back to the accommodation for the evening. With a campervan you aren't restricted in the same way. We were always wondering what fascination could be round the next corner, or over the next mountain range. Reading the many guide books that we took, we had a huge range of choices based on mood, inclination or plain curiosity. There were areas which we loved and wanted to stay in for a while, so we did. Took in the local flavours, walked around the area, sat in the village square or enjoyed the local produce if it was market day. Chris painted a lot, I often read and wrote in my journal. Both of us have brought home our own memories of the trip in different ways - each place with a different perspective, and memories of events which spark off each other's thoughts on a place or situation. We both took lots of pictures and many of them are attached - you may notice that Chris's camera has far higher resolution than mine - I'm very jealous!

As we crossed these breathtaking landscapes, time and again we were forced (by our amazement at the scenes) to stop, get out of the van and snap away. Often, other motorists would stare, shake their heads and even sound their horn at us (even though we always tried to find a safe parking point). Locals didn't know what drove these mad Oriental tourists in their beat up Volksie to stand out in the middle of nowhere snapping away like demented Japanese tourists in Trafalgar Square! Living with such beauty flooding into your room every morning when you open the window must visually desensitize you. I'm sure if I lived on a hilltop village, watching a crimson sun rise and set daily over a dim horizon beyond the plains nearly a hundred miles away it would eventually get boring. The spectrum of colour always limited to creams, parchments, yellows, khakis and ochres with the odd trickling line of green poplar groves trying to follow the path of an almost dried-up river valley, and always, that cobalt blue sky. Thankful for the dazzling white walls and terracotta tiles of the occasional tiny village - phew, a couple of new colours to contrast against the endless arid sprawl - just like something out of Don Quixote and Clint Eastwood all rolled into one. The names of little villages that we passed through added to the 'cowboy comics' theme - Santa Cruz del Monte, Santas Martas, Carrion de Los Conde, Melgar de Fernamental, and so it went on every few kilometres! If you ever pass through northern part of Castilla Y Leon, the stretch between Burgos and Leon is unmissable. The same for the western side of Extramadura, and also when approaching Zarragosa from the south - which are just as barren and possibly more dramatic!

Fortified villages in Portugal, many built by the Roman engineers, later conquered by the Moors, held against all odds until finally besieged and reconquered by the Christian / Knights Templar armies in the 10th/11th centuries should be the archetypal tourist honeypot, but some of them have managed to avoid being overrun by coach parties. Perhaps the coaches can't get up the unbelievable gradients, or around the tight hairpinned approach roads, and poor Elvis had a tough time too! We dismounted when we could get no further and wandered upwards through the steep, narrow cobbled alleyways which lead up to the ancient castle walls and watchtowers. The views looking across flat plateaus from 1500m high mountaintops + castle battlements breathtaking and must have given many resident warlords a great strategic advantage, and the borders between central Portugal and Spain are dotted with scores of such beautiful citadels. The populations in the ones we visited were mainly of older folk, the young possibly moved to cities and larger towns on the plains and the coast where jobs are available and modernity has seduced the later generations away from their village life. In Marvao, there were only 170 citizens left, half of those working in the local administration or a handful of boarding houses and restaurants. In Castelo de Vede, there is just one engineer left to fix the village bicycles, motorcycles, the odd car, generators, meat mincers, lawnmowers and anything else which runs on fuel, electricity or grisly old muscle power. More important maybe is the one bar and cafe which is also the village sports club's headquarters. Ahem,.... even in the mountains of Portelegre, beer and sport have close and very symbiotic relationship! There was a signpost to the fountain surrounded by a drinking trough in one of the back streets - famed for its curative waters which sprung from some mountain spring once blessed by a famous saint. Anywhere else in the 'tourist world' there would be admission charges, tacky shops selling empty bottles, and at least 5 surrounding pizza restaurants and trendy shops selling upmarket Crusader gear and postcards, ........not here, just a little boy playing with a stick and a cat lazing in the only bit of shade for hundreds of yards. The curative waters were for any thirsty passer-by. At the end of each day in this region we were exhausted by the heat and constant climbing, but the scene that met you at each turn of the alleyway became addictive, and we couldn't get enough of it. We had to force ourselves back to the campsite to raid Elvis's freezer - cold beer and supermarket Roti Poulet or Frango.

Campsites were generally very good got cheaper the further south we went. In France they were in the mid-20 Euros range and in Central Portugal in the very low teens per night including electric hook-up. There were a some funny and a few strange campsite managers. In France a pissed English campsite owner, a serious spinster charging the highest site rates in Sarlat, thuggish manager in Vigo, bearded tycoon in Gorliz, the 'used to be a campsite last year' campsite on the mountaintop in Lamegono, the 'no-one in the office, help yourself' campsite at Viseu, The multi-tasking Dutch family in Ferrera do Zezere, the 2 gay English queens near Marvao - they all helped to shape the character of our adventure, and make punctuation marks in our long, long rollabout. Most campsite owners were sane and straightforward, keeping clean, efficient and tidy sites. We had few complaints other than the extreme heat in Portugal, and the flies and mozzies when camping near farmland.

There is no time to even briefly cover the list of places we visited and I'll leave that to the attached pictures which, I hope, are worth at least a few thousand words. I've reduced the picture sizes for fast downloading (esp. for those without a broadband connection), and if anyone wants full size originals please just say the word - they are all in the region of 750Kbs to just over 1Mb each, and there are almost a thousand to choose from!!!.

I hope you enjoy the read, and looking at the pictures just a fraction as much as we enjoyed our long adventure. We certainly felt like ancient mariners returning to the home port when we finally got homesick and turned north, headed for Central France and the Channel crossing. After all the drama and mind boggling scenes in Spain and Portugal, we still enjoyed parts of Southern France the most. They may have a tamer country, and maybe its just our preferences coz we've always been rather tame ourselves, with the very occasional yearning for a big adventure. So, its back to our Hobbit-like village of Crouch End for the time being, until Elvis gets an oil change and the increasingly noisy clattering in it's engine seen to, we'll be back to daily chores and the odd spot of chicken curry.........oh god, there's the garden too!!

Well no time to loose ay!

Hugs to all