Bamboo Odyssey » cycle touring | Bamboo Odyssey

Kinpun, Kyaiktiyo Pagoda, The Golden Rock.

Jules — Thu, 06 Mar 2014 11:44:45 +0000

Theme park with a difference, cycling into Kinpun the gateway to the Kyaiktiyo Pagoda…. this was not the Myanmar we intimately sensed and experienced over the previous 5 days.
We were soon to join many tourists, mostly from SE Asia and Myanmar, and many, many more pilgrims that were making their way to the top of Mt Kyaikiyo. We were to witness a pagoda built upon a Golden Rock which is precariously held from tumbling into the precipice by a single strand of Buddha’s hair.
If not for the odd snake, yes snake, rats, mosquitoes and holes in the squat loos no bigger than a bath tub drain hole upon a concrete slab….Kinpun would be similar to a low key fairground. (As for the squat loo…. Fortunately there was a western loo in our guest house as I doubt anyone could aim a number 2 achieving a hole in 1).
The cacophony was overpowering, loudspeakers, music from a Burmese wedding and calls for the next truck up the mountain, intertwined and competing to outdo each other. Soon we were to learn that the sounds commence at 4am, repetitive and fast, frantic beats, spoken word, shouting, calling…insistent…. And so annoying.
No one sleeps in, in Kinpun.
As we were now a group of 5 cyclists, having enjoyed our beer, more sampling of Myanmar whisky and celebration of our new friendship and our arrival, we had decided to avoid the sun rise and sleep in! We would visit the mountain the following sun set, but it was impossible to sleep in. Do not got to Kinpun for relaxation.
Greg was mad enough to suggest cycling up the mountain, I was tempted to walk…. We were both tempted by the others suggestions of beer and an early evening trip to the top in a dump truck. Riding would have been impossible, the gradients averaging about 20% and more on the cambers, one lane, one direction and the trucks converted into an overstuffed people carrier were irresponsibly fast and hair raising.
Life insurance was included in the cost of a truck ticket….although the ticket never did materialise as we handed over our Kyat. The trucks are not dissimilar to tip trucks with rows of hard benches where they squeeze in as many people that it appears is possible…. Then they squeeze in a few more…ours held about 60!
Off the truck… more tourist tat, hawkers, food, people carting, carrying people as they cart luggage for the infirm and, more often, the downright lazy.
Large slabs of tiles and marble for the pilgrims to lay out their mats and sleep, signage prohibiting women to approach the pagoda,….while western men get close the women pilgrims hold their distance offering prayers and thanks. At first I am annoyed, my feminist self protests…. But quieter than a Western woman next to me who is vocally outraged…. I am here to look, listen and learn, hopefully understand…. I may not agree but this is not my place and I feel privileged to observe.
Slowly my feelings and emotions are transformed. This place begins to mesmerise me, men applying gold leaf to the Golden Rock, people quietly praying, monks taking photos with their latest smart phones. It does feel special here, as spiritual as any place of worship I have visited. The Kyaiktiyo Pagoda is nothing like what I had expected, yet sometimes this does not matter and I believe it was worth the experience.
And then we missed the last truck down the mountain, resulting in yet another adventure.

Kawkareik to Kinpun

Jules — Thu, 06 Mar 2014 09:56:03 +0000

We were bemused and lost as we rolled into Kawkareik. Foreigners are not allowed to camp in Myanmar and instead must stay at foreigner licensed hotels or guest houses. As a cycle tourist this means ensuring there actually is legal accommodation within a day’s cycling distance. Unlike our previous months on the road, if we become tired or sore we can not choose to stop, relax and…..drink beer. Beer is plentiful in Myanmar, and well deserved at the end of each hot day, but we have to make our next guesthouse. We are aware of cyclists forced to take transport by the police when accommodation is not within reach. We also had to alter our route, due to restricted areas, lack of permits and red tape. We became resigned to the fact we would need to hop on buses to ensure we visit as much as possible in a country where the distances between sights can be very large.
So back to Kawkareik….It does not take us long to be rescued by a man on a motorbike who we are invited to follow to our destination, the “Honey Guest House”. A cold bucket shower (heaven) and no electricity for the entire town until 6pm….then our new friend Ko Htwe collects us, this time, in a car to give us a tour of the town, invites us into his house to meet his family followed by a meal at his favourite restaurant. In the morning we return for breakfast and advice on the road ahead before a fond farewell with even more food gifted for the journey. It is also Chinese New Year so we weave out of town amidst the small colourful procession of dragons, lions and drummers…..and exhausted nearing our destination, more drummers, beats spurring us on the final few kilometres. We fell lucky and filled with prosperity.
119km to Mawlamyine. No choice of shorter routes or to quietly amble. We have done days this long in Europe on good roads, but generally prefer sub 100km days to really enjoy the experience. The next licensed accommodation is here….or take the slightly, ever so slightly shorter road, at 70km a Y junction to Hpa-an. The road was fine….we wondered what all the fuss was about, having been warned of the poor condition of Myanmar roads…..until the final 40 kilometres, 42 degrees, sweaty bum….sore bum, the road again deteriorated and we bumped along painfully and exhausted. This was by far the worst “bitumen” stretch of road in 11 months of cycling…. in reference to comfort. Yet not many large vehicles were stupid enough to transverse this road and we felt quite safe avoiding collisions. We rode in the centre of the road as it was marginally smoother. We arrived in the dark, having crossed several long bridges where the boards were laid parallel to our direction of travel and just a wide enough gap to snag a tyre and come acropper. Li was extremely unimpressed but the sunset views over the Thalween river made up for it. We check into the first hotel we come across, hoping to move into cheaper digs in the daylight.
I am thankful for the offer of a motorcycle ride the next day when I go back to collect Li during a change of guest houses. The “Breeze Guest house” was far more basic and sparse than “Than Lwin Hotel” but we made the move due to cost and sincere hospitality including a wealth of freely given information.
Another day, another road side stall and I am enthralled by the simplicity of a handcrafted bottle opener made from a rusty bolt and scrap of timber. I ask to swap it for my fancy metal one. I am given the bottle opener as a gift while mine is only accepted after much pleading from myself.
The days begin to bleed into each other. One day feels like a week, there is so much to see, experience….and this just from the bicycle, small villages, farms and many days riding between the major tourist destinations.
We meet Ellen and Yann, 2 Belgian cycle tourists, find we have more in common than beer….lots of beer….ok…after beer….yes we all like the local whisky too….and of course cycling in common. Staying at the same guesthouse in Thaton, Greg another Belgian turned up.
Despite hangovers and a desire to stay in this vibrant town we agreed to cycle together the next morning. It was an enjoyable change to have company. So we loaded our 5 bikes, had breakfast together, watch the monks, the women road workers, the children…..too young to work, a child of 5 moving the bamboo road block barrier, to allow entry for a motorcycle. We watch, we contemplate our lives, the world at large, then pedal off into the unfamiliar…..and the roads remain remarkably good considering the laborious task undertaken by a predominately female work force. Stones are crushed by hand and carted on trays on top of their heads. Even the bitumen is mixed manually and potholes filled and smoothed, without the used of tools or machines.
From Thaton we ride 82km to Kinpun basecamp to visit the Golden Rock Pagoda. The 5 of us are shocked…..after relative solitude….we have hit one of Myanmar’s tourist hotspots..

Myawaddy to Kawkareik

Jules — Wed, 05 Mar 2014 08:00:55 +0000

Myanmar….Burma?……we coast our bikes into Myawaddy, the poverty was immediately evident, and the notorious human and drug trafficking border town has a seedy, dangerous feel as the sun goes down and the majority of tourists….on a visa run….cross friendship bridge back into Thailand. Until August 2013 tourists were unable to travel further into the country from any land border and Myawaddy was a place to enter for 1 day only, before re entering Thailand to be granted another x amount of days Thai visa. During our visit the majority of people entering Burma were still doing “the visa run”. Yes it feels dangerous in that people are living on the edge, sandbag bunkers and soldiers, machine guns, crowds of people and very little street lighting as the rubbish piled up upon market streets and people prepared their meagre stalls for sleeping.
But the soldiers smiled, the men were curious, children stared, laughed and women beamed, all the more alluring decorated in their beautiful tanaka. (Paste that dries white to golden which is ground from branches of a tree and applied to the skin for both sun protection and make up.)
The Thai people rarely stare but entering Myanmar where people are less reserved, we are back to being the travelling circus. But it is a comfortable curiosity, friendly…and very quickly we feel safe and welcome. 11 kilometres out of town we come to our first police check point, a chaotic place full of trucks and food stalls. We are guided to the guard who needs to check our passports. We discover quickly that the people are more than willing to help and even in the smallest villages there is always someone that can speak at the least a few words of English. There are many knowledgable people, knowledgable about the world at large despite years of oppression and subjugation. People also instruct on how to avoid the fees at tourist traps, fees that will go to the Government and unlikely to go to the people.
The next police check we are given cans of red bull as we wait for the police to complete the necessary paperwork. As the road begins its upward journey, people at a road side stall beckon us over, give us coffee and refuse payment…..steeper….I am stopped by a truck and given another can of energy drink and cool water. The generosity of not just spirit, but peoples hard earned produce is challenging to one so fortunate.
Around 20 kilometres from Myawaddy the road begins to deteriorate and we understand why vehicles are only allowed to travel in one direction, the direction alternating each day. We see a truck overturned…..later a bus…. moments before having overtaken us….. on its side….and the walking wounded.
But the road is not too bad…. We have done worse in Georgia and Kazakhstan and I enjoy the ride…or at times the pushing over rocks and deep channels of sand.. We push past a traffic jam, cars, buses, trucks, vehicles for which I can not name….2 kilometres before we pass the broken down truck that is blocking the way….then a road all to ourselves for over an hour before the truck is repaired and the traffic slowly catches up. Pushing 3 kilometres upwards, then down because of the poor loose surface. The inclines are generally gentle and not too challenging as the temperature rises to a much more challenging 36 degrees. At around 40 kilometers we coast down slowly, avoiding creeping to close to the edge, avoiding the ruts and holes, stones, before the road flattens out. 66 kilometers to Kawkareik and we were almost as fast as the cars…taking broken down and overturned vehicles into consideration. We recognise vehicles passing us that we left behind at the beginning of the climb.
We pass 3 police check points between Myawaddy and Kawkareik. We are told to take it “slow and steady”. For me this ride proved to be my favourite cycle route within Myanmar, a relatively challenging ride with time to rest and enjoy what was incredibly picturesque, accompanied by beautiful hospitality and an area still relatively untouched by tourists.

Myanmar food?

Jules — Fri, 21 Feb 2014 10:27:41 +0000

Myanmar food? Exciting ….yes….. unique…… yes…. frightening… Absolutely, yes. Our first meal at a road side stall after we sidestepped rubbish and the odd sickly rat, mangy dogs….the food looked delicious, smelt scrumptious and spicy….and was served into our take away plastic bags…by hand. We survived half expected food poisoning in Uzbekistan, but here…..each morning we were to wake slightly nervous and then relived to find we are still very much….. well. After a week in the country my one and only bout of nausea, followed by the runs and vomiting hit me quickly after lunch and only lasted a few unpleasant hours. At first I had thought it was the sun…the beer….which I also thought was so very odd!
We have watched cats climb on plates and bowls to sneak away dried fish, watched flies buzz, drown in the oily slick, dogs, yet more commonly, people, sleeping on the food preparation surfaces……none of which stop the hungry cyclist from eating…..or the tired bus traveler……..food is always part of the adventure.
We drink tea from cups in the centre of tables, cups placed upside down in bowls of water to assume there cleanliness. Much of the time the water has evaporated or if not it is brown. We have also not said no to offers of drinks from communal cups, water in ceramic pots that adorn temples, the roadside, tea shops. We have no idea of the origination of this water. When not in company we sterilise water from taps with the UV light of our steripen.
Everyday, everywhere, cities, villages, farms….people cart water from wells and even the wealthy can not avoid the black outs, the frequent absence of electricity. Thus, much of the food, in this climate, makes sense.
Burmese food food has proved generally salty and oily, prepared and left to sit throughout the day, more often than not it has sat and it has sat and it is served cold. My eyes take in the sights, my nose the pleasant smells and my mind…. notes the hours allowed for bacteria to set in. Fortunately the oil does seam to preserve the food so that we avoided multiple bouts of food poisoning.
We learnt quickly that the food can be delicious, small amounts of curry and sauces mixed with lots of rice to take in the otherwise overpowering flavours. We had thought it rude not to finish the never ending bowls of food that appear each time one bowl is almost finished. It is not rude and not wise to consume an otherwise never ending banquet. Fortunately all sit down meals even in the most basic of tea shops in the smallest of villages comes with a brothy palette cleansing and thirst quenching soup….this can also be never ending….topped up in a blink of the eye. The locals also spoon this into the curry, rice concoctions which makes the heaviness of dishes somewhat more appealing.
What would have been rude was not accepting my gift of soup when we stopped for soft drink in the middle of the furnace, somewhere in the middle of Myanmar. Oh dear….I saw it coming…it was so hot that day and I was not at all hungry. OH DEAR! As I looked down at my offering….striped fowls feet, intestines, whole liver and ….All eyes upon me….I tasted the broth….not bad…. I gave Li the liver before I “enjoyed” the other bits and pieces….half gone…..all smiles…..the bowl again topped up! Well it did go down well with my first ever experience of palm wine. I was excited by what I expected was coconut or sugarcane juice in an old plastic bottle…..so the surprise at first taste was horrifying….and then refreshing and very quaffable…..and I never did finish my second bowl of guts soup!
Burmese food can be refreshing and more to our liking. Tomato salad with shallots, crushed peanuts and sesame seeds. Ginger salads with the glorious crunch of a dried and toasted assortments of beans. Fermented and tangy tea leaf salads. There can be a lot of tantalising texture.
We started seeking bastardised Chinese,Thai and Indian food which is readily available when in larger places, because it usually wasn’t swimming in oil and cooked fresh. For this reason I was looking forward to visiting Inle Lake in Shan State. Yet rather than avoid the food of Myanmar it was here that we discovered Shan Food. We had been searching for wine in the local stores when a tourist overheard us and said the wine we were looking for was available in a restaurant where he had just eaten. We asked about the food? …his eyes lit up and he literally sparkled. We headed straight to Sin Yaw for our first taste of Shan cuisine…..and we adored it.!Sun cured pork and spring onion tempura with tamarind sauce. Golden yellow crispy tofu with punchy coriander and lime sauce. White, local, seaweed salad. We returned to try more delicacies, always light, cooked fresh and immediate, and bursting with flavour.
Incidentally, near Inle we just had to cycle to both of the only wine producing vineyards in Myanmar, tasting 11 wines in total. The vintners are aiming at the local market and unfortunately getting your hands on a bottle outside of Myanmar would be difficult. Quality wine, of all shades including frizzante for the price at around $10 per bottle.
Oh…how could I forget the “donuts”. Guilt free because of our mode of travel. Many street vendors provide fried delights, samosas with hints of star anise, corn filled spring rolls, caramelised crunchy battered bananas, rings of batter with crisp palm sugared hard caramel….and our favourite, golden, soft centred donuts filled with fresh coconut and sugar. These were also a perfect gift…. along with tamarind and sticky rice flavoured cheroots, when we were granted the floor of a temple to spend the night…..our legs, nor the donuts were enough to propel us to the next town with a designated foreigner guest house where we could legitimately, legally, spend the night.
The best food comes with drama….a performance….and in this aspect the food of Myanmar is not lacking. The first time I placed my order, a young boy screamed this translated into Myanmar to a colleague….or perhaps his mum? As the order was being screamed down the line, starting a yelling match of banter back and forth….Li placed her order…..followed by the orders of our new found friends….no note pads or memory required….just a very loud cacophony of sound running through and over, and back and forth. This form of taking orders when sitting down at restaurants never ceased to delight and amuse me.
During meals and refreshment we also managed to provide entertainment. On several treasured occasions women merrily applied tanaka to our faces. Tanaka is worn by all genders but primarily the women and it is used as both make up and for sun protection. On a large stone the tree stump, (tanaka) is ground with water to make a smooth paste….and applied to the face ……”beautiful”!

Therm-a-rest fiasco

Jules — Mon, 27 Jan 2014 07:55:34 +0000

It could have been grounds for divorce. Sleeping next to someone on a defunct camping mat…..the “f”ing and “b”ing…. The thrashing…. In bed, out of bed….tossing. More “f”ing….. tantrums…are you sure you are ok…’YES!’….thrashing…blowing air in….letting air out. No matter how comfortable your own bed….sleeping next to this……so we took it in turns sleeping upon a deteriorating mat in deteriorating camping conditions.
What I am writing about is our faulty Therm-a-rest NeoAir Trekker mattress. Li’s faulty “f”ing mattress.
For most campers or maybe festival goers, the delamination of a sleeping mat is no big deal. A couple of baffles may come apart, a wee hernia of sorts. In the average situation it will be a day or two sleeping upon a bubble, most likely comfortable summer evenings, maybe spring,…..maybe you are even too drunk to notice. After a few days you return home to your real….really comfy, bed…and at your leisure, arrange a replacement mattress under warranty.
I have had 2 mattresses delaminate in the past. Maybe I should have noticed the warning bells…..as one of the mattresses was a Therm-a-rest NeoAir Trekker which delaminated after a handful of uses. I sent it to the company and had a replacement sent out to me within a 2 week turn around. Therm-a-rest make quality products and do have a good limited lifetime warranty……but when you are on the road?
The Neo Air is incredibly lightweight in relation to the comfort. For a similar weight to mass ratio I have had self inflatable mattresses in the past but the comfort is incomparable. Self inflating mattresses are around 2-3 cm thick….the Neo Air…6.3 cm thick. Li and I both found this mattress more comfortable than many beds we have slept upon and decided it would suit us for 12 plus months on the road at only 480 grams and very compact.
Blowing up the mattress by mouth is not so much fun, and cycling for months has not appeared to make filling the mattresses with air any easier on our lungs. We opted out on several pump options due to weight and one more minute of huffing and puffing really doesn’t add much more to what we are doing from one hour to the next hour, cycling day to day.
Others reviewers of the NeoAir Trekker complain about noise when moving or turning over upon the mattress but I don’t find the noise significant. No louder than the rustling of the sleeping bags and a lot quieter than snorting wild pigs and cackling jackals. The mattress provides a blissful sleep.
The mattress fabric appears thin and we expected to have to patch some holes during our adventure. Again this was nothing to worry about with holes being no more difficult to repair than a bike tyre puncture. 10 months on the road and the fabric has proved robust and no patching has been necessary. It is also very easy to clean….and for the different seasons…carrying a space blanket for a ground sheet we were warm enough in well below zero degrees temperatures…..while the baffles were intact!
The NeoAir Trekker is a dreamy acquisition…..until the baffles “f”ing rupture. Aktau….the seam between two baffles burst….like a gun shot, loud explosion. We are surprised as the mattress had just been blown up with no weight upon it. Surprised by the “bang” and surprised about the malfunction. We were always careful not to overinflated it and in hot weather always let out some air, to avoid expansion.
Li emailed cascade designs (Therm-a- rest) enquiring about the lifetime warranty, explained our remote situation and asked if a photo would suffice? Even posting a letter from Kazakhstan, FedEx…..to endure a trouble free delivery…. would cost US$70.
As well as the cost we could not wait a months plus, turn around for Therm-a-rest to inspect the faulty mattress and forward on another. Also…..while the mattress was uncomfortable……and soon to become increasingly uncomfortable…..it was all we had…..We could not post it on and do without. The temperatures overnight were dropping drastically. Our water froze, our breath froze….our fruit…..we froze. There were no alternatives we could purchase and indeed carry in this part of the world and as the ground became like stone holding onto the mattress was our only option. Would Thermarest accept our photos and forward a replacement to await us in Almaty about a month’s ride from the time of the malfunction? No.
Would the mattress get worse….. Could it get worse….a great big….lots of “f”ing …YES. Every few nights in between the swearing, the cursing, cursing Therm-a-rest, the cold, cursing the frozen ground…..there was another explosion, and a following night, and another and another. This was meant to be stealth camping….instead drawing attention to some otherwise well hidden loonies appearing to be taking pot shots into the dark.
We both had alternative methods to try and find a peaceful nights sleep. Tying the ever increasing giant bubble in several places with rope to try and restrict its bulbous growth. Blowing it up firm so that the undamaged section did not deflate leaving hips, legs, feet upon the stone cold ground, the concrete of culverts, snow, mud…..each night some new experience of discomfort awaited. Another explosion. I tried tying the mattress together, folded in the middle….the baffles delaminating half the length of the mattress, in half….my upper body weighted the free flowing air like a water bed….and tossed me off continually. Li preferred to sleep with the mattress the other way around…..legs high in the air like a patient in traction…..and equally as bad tempered!
Would I purchase this mattress again….actually, Yes….but only if I can’t find a company with similar….even slightly less comfortable product, a company that will do everything they can to assist when you are on the road.
Is it reasonable for a company to send out a replacement….or try….maybe to the next reliable postal destination….without viewing the damaged item? Sea to Summit another great brand with great products will not.
Some companies do! We are very thank full to Topeak, Tout Terrain, and Portland Design Works. Even the best gear will break or malfunction when like us….they are tested to the limits.
In Hong Kong we bought a mediocre self inflating mattress just to tide us over….the faulty mattress has been returned to the manufacturer. A new replacement NeoAir Trekker awaits Li at her Mum’s home…..in London.

We are in Thailand

Jules — Tue, 21 Jan 2014 11:26:44 +0000

So we are in Thailand. On a cycling adventure there are no rules….we have almost come to accept there are no rules…setting off from London it was so very easy to say there are no rules. We would ride while we are happy……and when we don’t ride? Our rules are in our head, our achievements, our dreams.
So we are in Thailand after a giant flying leap from sub zero Almaty, extended hop into Hong Kong, and then landing on the runway in Chiang Mai in very warm northern Thailand.
It was strange not using our legs to traverse such a large distance and with us not being in the saddle for 24 days. In that time we continued to eat like touring cyclists, put on weight, nursed our bruised ego, missed our bicycles, enjoyed not being on the bicycles, applied for visas, I went into China overnight…..by myself, and Li researched our future options…..and of course….we ate some more and drank like everyone should over Christmas holidays…..Or one should on extended bike tours. Oh….and we disassembled our bikes, put them in bike boxes, assembled them….did not ride them….disposed of the boxes….went in search of new boxes…..disassembled and boxed the bikes…..and assembled them again.
So what are our rules? Our goals, our dreams….our next destination, transportation? ….we have a very loose plan….we will attempt to travel in the saddle, we are riding to Sydney, SE Australia. From Chiang Mai we rode North.
We acclimatised in Chiang Mai for 4 nights…..the rise in temperature far easier than expected. I guess high 40’s in Turkey was not that long ago when constantly on the move and my body craved this climate above the minus 16 of Kazakhstan. Hong Kong tempered our bodies us at 14-25 degrees and thus 18-35 in Thailand is perfect.
Acclimatising to the Western tourists was somewhat more difficult……They are everywhere. We have not been around Western people in large numbers in many months and unaccustomed to the tourist trail. The excitement, vibe, buzz and party atmosphere is not overly unwelcome in small doses…..but the sleaze, searching for sex, hunters and hunted?…..but no rules and if I chose….western food which on previous travels would leave me personally appalled…..but coming up to 10 months on the road. (Taz, thanks for the vegimite!)
Finally in the saddle the initial 20km were a diddle. Both of us having fattened up over Christmas (thank you Helen and Lawrence in HK), this was promising. Then the climbs began. How much condition have we actually lost? But the landscape…… Tropical, vines, thick jungle, mosaic of hill upon hill, small unvisited villages and hopeful road stalls, this riding was a pleasure. The tourists whizzed by, day trips that would take us 3 days. They do not stop….we stop….frequently.
3 days to Chiangrai, new friends, fellow cycle tourists, with no rules, reminding us there are no rules ….but to live day to day…..Happy! Now we go south…..south west, Myanmar……North…..Northern Myanmar….at some stage…..Sydney…..Australia.

Adoption and Chinese Visas

Jules — Tue, 07 Jan 2014 04:41:23 +0000

04/01/14
The process of applying for a Chinese visa from our location in Central Asia was going to be difficult. Extreme conditions and the likelihood of closed mountain passes……we took a flight from Almaty…..4000 kilometres more or less south. We are in now in Hong Kong…..the perfect place to secure our Chinese visas….apparently….there is no simpler place to organise the next leg of our planned adventure.
It was incredibly simple to make arrangements for a visa….for me!
4 working days later, returning to the visa agency, a new year of adventure…..we are in shock. In ignorance we expected if there were any difficulties in the visa process, the difficulties would apply to me….yet……I am off to China alone. Li has been denied a Chinese visa, many phone calls and emails later, Li’s mum, Jude forward copies of Li’s adoption documents…..which then proved too difficult for the visa agency ….Forever Bright….to process. Li is British, of Chinese descent having been adopted in Hong Kong…..and the Chinese do not appear to understand this.
My passport holds a nice new piece of paper allowing me 30 days.
We did not anticipate Li not being granted a visa into China. Next option…..plan B…..beer…..lots of it…..and I need to use my visa or risk difficulties in entry on my…..our….next visit…….So I am off to China……Alone! And we are very thankful to Lawrence and Helen our hosts…..putting up with the guests that never leave.

Snow in Kazakhstan

Jules — Sat, 07 Dec 2013 05:59:43 +0000

Snow capped mountains have continued to fill our vision since re entering Kazakhstan. The sun does not poke it’s head out until 8am and it is dark by 6pm. The roads are pot holed and dangerous. Wild camping would be easy anytime but winter. The trees are void of leaves and provide little cover. Yet the landscape is absolutely beautiful. The sky is moody, alternating between black storm clouds and sun bursts that highlight the snow and turn the dry grass even more golden. Rivers again……sparkling silver reflections cutting through the land like a mystical serpent.
Just before Taraz the mountains are so close we see the wind whip at the snow upon the peaks in a light show as dramatic as the wind…….a tail wind!
Li has a cold and between limited daylight and the need to rest, our progress has been slow. One day we complete only 30km and were about to call it a day….the wind materialised and jubilant, we complete another 50km in just over an hour, trying to overtake the myriad of tumble weeds racing beside us.
The wind cleared as we pitched camp before gaining momentum again, battering the tent to a degree we have not experienced since camping on a precipice in Langres in France. But we were warm…..too warm, stripping off layers in the night…..I fell asleep to the sounds of rain.
Actually, not rain….snow. I had chilled again in the early hours and unwillingly stuck my head out of the tent ready for another day. I love snow…..forgot to put on more clothes in my excitement. Soon after doing a stupid dance….and star jumps, to regenerate heat and exhibit my happiness. Li was not so impressed…..maybe at my request to pop Lil Ted outside to also have a look. But she did humour me….Lil Ted was silent.
The snow and wind picked up, another tail wind, high vis clothes, snow goggles, all of our layers…..we cycled into Taraz in what proved a beautiful but challenging ride, hot……except for when we stopped.

Uzbekistan into Kazakhstan

Jules — Fri, 06 Dec 2013 13:39:14 +0000

Uzbekistan to Kazakstan. We entered at the pedestrian only crossing 25km past Tashkent. Maybe we would never have crossed the border had it not been for the guards clearing a passage for us through the surging crowds. The guards were not so gentle, at one point grabbing a man by the scruff of his shirt, yanking him as he moved in front of me. 2 women actually climbed over Li and her bike before I angled my bike and extended both arms as a barrier. The crowds were insistent in their forward motion, one woman fighting with a soldier toting a machine gun. She continued to yell, arm holding a stringed box as she strained towards Kazakstan. The man with the machine gun held strong to the string so they were at a stand still, her box in between. The soldier was young, the woman old and determined, both unpredictable, but I would not have wanted to go up against that woman, even with a gun.
With aid of the guards we were squeezed through, not a second thought of queue jumping as there was no queue.
Border control did not request to see our multiple slips of paper, registration slips and the reason we had decided not to ride large sections of Uzbekistan. Only hotels catering to foreigners will register you and there could be 400….500 kilometres between hotels. However riding to the border, we came to another of the hundreds of police check points across Uzbekistan. We were stopped…..passports……registration papers……they scrutinised every slip, counting and re counting the dates to make sure they added up. Our passports returned…..mine requested again, the police wanted to look at the Kangaroo on the coat of arms before we were sent our way.
Apart from travel blogs, there was very little up to date information about travel trough Uzbekistan. Even the Lonely Planet guides are 3 years old and out of date….but what information we could find warned of the dangers of the police, corruption, bribes, stealing passports, money, equipment not correctly declared on forms difficult to discipher. Were we carrying legal medication? We were somewhat scared,…..fears strengthened as we witnessed locals paying bribes to police on many occasions.
Fortunately we had no problems, passports checked only once during a bus journey despite constant stopping at road blocks.
Our equipment was x-rayed upon exit and with a friendly wave from the soldiers were moved on.

Uzbekistan

Jules — Fri, 22 Nov 2013 05:44:22 +0000

Our mood has continued to flow like the bleak landscape, rays of sunshine and warmth followed by ice cold gusts and grey drabness. But this is not Uzbekistan.
It is cold here…..not so, so cold, and the desert has continued for a thousand kilometres. Not much between our journey, train, bus and flour truck to places of hotel registration.
But out of the desert evolve the Uzbeks. A kind, warm, smiling, gentle and accepting people…..also a fighting, strong people. Paying the police at every road block, stopped by unmarked police cars, constant reminders of the continued battles do not diminish the outward appearances of these people’s strength. For a thousand kilometres there is nothing, and everything……more than just the police. Ancient cities of the Silk Road surrounded by sand, rubble and people going about their daily lives. Harder lives than our struggle to negotiate without language, transport, transport for our bikes, ourselves, no maps, no signs, no fresh food, arrivals in darkness, no street lights…..intermittent electricity, water, hot water.
We are reliant on these kind people and their help to find everything. Even food shops, bus stations are void of signage…..one must open a door, go in and explore or enquire and hope for a person’s patience.
One moment this is exciting, the next……tiring, frustrating and acceptance of our dependence upon strangers.
The bikes were our independence.
And out of the desert are the cities of history…..poetic, beautiful, emotional…..cities that have inspired the imagination for centuries…..Khiva, Bukhara, Samarkand. Restored to varying degrees, it is all breathtaking and we are lucky sharing these magical colourful tiled cities rising out of the dust, sharing with no one but the local inhabitants and a very few Uzbek tourists.
We are given bread, food…..food we are warned not to eat…..everyone gets sick in Uzbekistan. So far we are not sick. The food is simple….lacking vegetables, but satisfying and often shared with us full of kindness.
We have stayed in a “hotel”…..a room with a table that is our bed and packages of old shoes…..unfortunately no registration. The squat loos can be filthy, but the people always meticulously trying to be clean. Never in the western world have I seen a bus load of men after peeing, share around a bottle of water in which to wash their hands.
In Bukhara we are gestured to please visit a woman, residing above our hotel room. After many attempts to keep the conversation of few words going I am instructed to take off my clothes. It is not often I am so pliant. Dressed and wrapped like a parcel. Wearing an Asian dress, headscarf and makeup…..complete with over the top painted eyebrows ridiculous for my hair colouring. I seldom wear dresses. We have fun, laugh and this is all the language required.
We eat sunflower seeds…..everyone eats sunflower seeds….I am slowly improving in the technique…..but sometimes impatient, I eat them husks and all. They are quite addictive.
I have also learnt to lie. Finally my husband and child have given me additional freedom. No more tutting, or disappointment, no more feeling sorry for my childless predicament. Hopefully, no more male advances, “Julia……Julia….Julia…….no boyfriend…..Julia…..I love you”……I have a husband and a daughter….she is 16….and am proud of my new ability to lie in advancement of my survival, or at least my sanity.
I will not remember Uzbekistan for my new skill to alter the truth but the countries and experiences leading up to my need to lie. I will remember Uzbekistan is difficult…..but also a country of colour, people, dreaming, history and a future. Next stop, Tashkent, the capital.