271007: Cardiff

Today is VinE trip to Cardiff, capital of Wales. Kinda look forward to it, my standards set by how characteristic Scotland is compared to the English. The coach journey was kinda long, not by Liverpool’s standards but still some 3 hours worth of butt burning.

Reaching Cardiff kinda remind me of Inverness, less the mist. A quieter, smaller scale city compared to London or even Edinburgh, the 1st majestic structure that met us were the Millennium stadium. Yes, it’s a piece of architecture that all English football fans will be acquainted with somehow. FA Cup finals, and other cup finals etc are held here, not to mention it’s the home ground of the Welsh national team. We didn’t get in, heard it was closed. Still, the amazing part of this building is that a full soccer match can be played within under shelter. Yes, the Brits built it to play indoor soccer on live pitches.

We alighted the coach at the castle. Not too much of an impressive fortress if you ask me, for I’ve seen the grandness of Windsor, the genius of Edinburgh and the celebrity of Warwick or even the ordinary feel of Carlisle. Cardiff castle, well, is just another castle. I think the nice part about this castle is probably the part about being a roman fortress 2 millennia back. The remains of the roman walls are still around, which reminds me terribly of Hadrian’s Wall at the English-Scottish borders. The keep is in ruins, but still an interesting feature smack in the middle of the castle grounds on a little hill. We had a guided tour around the main building of the castle, showing us the Scottish links to this place as well as an impressive nursery that dates back to the 19th century. In fact, the chief artist that painted the walls and ceiling stays true to the theme that guards each part of the castle, for example ‘the passing of time’ at the clock tower illustrated by differing zodiacs, days of the week or even a cabinet meant to store cigars, liquor and the likes. However, the most amusing part of this tour must have been the story teller and of course, Singaporeans. He, for the part of his job, tried to make each and every story interesting to us. On our part, we had those unanimous ‘wow’s and ‘wooo’s that makes this ang mohs laugh and smile at us. Haha, being suah gu has its fun after all.

Lunch in UK has its uniqueness, we have them in pubs. In Wales, they have this paste which they make locally called rarebit (yes, pronounced like the little white furry animal with pointed longs ears – rabbit). In actual fact, this stuff has none of the little creature in it; it’s entirely vegetarian made with Worcestershire sauce and cheese I suppose. And it tastes great, whether you add vinegar or not (I truly suspect that black sauce is back vinegar but I can’t confirm). Then there are stuff called faggots (No it’s not an insult, it’s just black beef meat balls with some kind of sauce) which I absolutely did not try for reasons that people around me knows best. Last but not the least, Welsh bitter is not that impressive which makes it less well known than other UK liquor like Scotch whisky I think. The non-effervescent beer is pretty mild, and the nice (and only) thing about it is that it does not leave behind a bitter and lingering aftertaste.

The famous central market reminds me of Borough market in London, fresh farm food and the likes. However, in addition to fresh food, they sell hardware stuff as well as books, stationary and even barber services! To be honest, I’m quite amused by the fact that the barber is in shirt and tie happily serving his customers while I’m used to the T-shirt donning ah pehs in Singapore. It is here that we had Welsh cakes. Quite cheap, some 21p per piece if you buy half a dozen. Perhaps it’s because I had Italian gelato before the cake, but the cake doesn’t seem to taste as impressive as it should. Well, all I can say is that Welsh cakes are quite a mouthful and dry if you start chewing.

Cardiff bay is quite a touristy place. The most touristy thing about this should be the Millennium centre (somehow, Welsh people are so dull that they name every impressive piece of architecture after the new millennium). This centre had a Welsh phrase on this entrance, so big that it becomes a signature here. Outside the building, there’s this towering waterfall (or maybe fountain is a better word) that provides a serene feel with its ripples (less enjoyable in the rain). Perhaps the most noticeable feature of this place is the Roald Dahl Plass, a oval kind of open space characterized by a dozen of pillars situated within. A place to commemorate the famous author born of Cardiff, I simply don’t get where the links to the authors are. Maybe someone can enlightened me somehow.

Cardiff, no matter what, is still just a city. I suppose I may just enjoy it better if the trip branches out to the suburban and rural terrains, particularly the famed highlands and shorelines of the uncharacteristic Wales.

The biggest regret...

As I fly back to London on the SIA B747, I heard 郑秀文's 值得 and I suddenly realise that amongst all my travels, I wonder if I've ever said a good and proper goodbye to anyone at all, if I'm worthy of love to warrant a goodbye.

It hurts my heart to remember that for the 2nd time I'm flying to London, I've not said a good and proper goodbye to my parents for a 2nd time. That warrants a death sentence, and not the tears that I shed beneath the SIA-provided shawl on the flight back to London.

Someone wake me up.

GhianPng Nomad's Alpha Adventures

Hmmm, just feel like logging down some very interesting stuff I've experienced since returning home and starting work. In fact, all the incidents here relate to what I've gone through at work. For those who know my job, enjoy!

Case 1:

Wednesday night/Thursday morning, 2am, Zouk. Sounds familiar? Yes, it's Mambo Night. Case of fighting/rioting. 2 couples, M1 & F1, M2 & F2. F1 & F2 are very good friends, and it's their usual drinking outing at Zouk. F1 brought along her cousin, M1. Trouble starts when F2's boyfriend, M2, saw F2 and M1 hugging together. Women and jealousy catalysed by alcohol gives disaster. M2 confronts M1, and a fight break out. When I arrived at the scene, the pair are separated by Zouk security. M2 was berating F2 for the act in a very childish manner. F1 was trying to calm M1 down, all the while trying to tell the police she'd bring M1 back though she's as drunk. Meanwhile, police were recording statements and trying to persuade all parties involved to go home. The breaking point is when M1 verbally assaulted a mediating policeman. Now the police moved in to suppress and handcuff him. F1 became very agitated and aggressive which warranted another arrest. Both ladies started crying. In the end, M1 & F1 were brought back to the station.

You know what? The funny thing is the rapid changes in the moods and expressions of drunkards. In particular, F1. She kept saying the police had no right to arrest her or her cousin, asking to see her lawyer, father, LKY etc etc. Crying, laughing, screaming, scolding and all the funny things a drunk person can say. And meanwhile, all the bored passers-by were having fun looking at the entire incident, and I can only say that most of them aged around 20 or so. Act garang yet can't drink. What a mess.

Case 2

Thursday, 9pm, authorised spa. The entire group of us, some 20 people chiong into the spa and started raiding. We opened up all the rooms, and finally caught 1 massause fully nude. Are massauses supposed to be nude? Subsequent checks: the massauses have names like Spring, Ice, Summer, Crystal... sounds like bar hostesses rather than massage professionals. They are skimpily dressed, all with either clothing so tight you will find difficulty breathing, or clothing so loose that you may just see everything if they were to bend down to pick something from the floor. What's worse is that they all hold authorised and legal work permits from Ministry of Manpower, and they have also signed the non-prostitution clause in their contracts with their employer. End of the day, only the lady in nude was brought back fully clothed, for her client has given prosecutional evidence that she offered sexual services.

I think what amazes me more is the plight of these massage ladies. They are all Malaysians, and in the lingo of those who patronises escort or sexual services, they are of higher class than roadside ones. Despite the rate of 40+ SGD charged to clients, the ladies are only paid $6 per customer for doing legalised work! According to the logical deduction of a colleague, if there are 5 customers in a day, they can only earn $30 for the entire day, which is very low for such 'professionals'. Indirectly, they are coerced into such illegal activities. The owner of the premise is spared from prosecution, but the ladies are the ones who suffered. Seems like pimping has taken on a new light with the current legislation in our country. Subsequent grilling reveals their rates: 80 SGD for oral and masturbating services, 100 for intercourse. This finding itself is insignificant, but it provides the basis of comparison for the next case.

Case 3

Friday, 12am, KTV. This is one of those that you think old uncles like to frequent. And I can say you're damn right. This time round, it's more exciting than the spa raid. We went in, sealed up the exits and held all the ladies and the lechers in their KTV rooms. Then the ladies are rounded up 1 by 1 and brought to a room where all of them are interrogated. The clients are then interviewed 1 by 1 as well. Subsequent findings: 1 of the ladies was grilled for admittance to self prostitution, her client has provided prosecutional evidence as well. Guess what's her rate? 150 SGD! The ladies are all then rounded up with handcuffs, and brought back in vanloads. Exception: there was a couple of ladies with friend alibis to say they are not doing dirty business.

I think what raise my eyebrows is the difference in market supply and demand. Sorry but I can't help thinking about this economically.

For the previous case, the Malaysian ladies are much much younger, prettier, and their clients are younger people as well, typically middle classes. Some are as young as 24 or 25, and these people tend to be more well dressed. Executives no doubt, but the ladies are earning at around $100 per client.

On the other hand, the PRC ladies rounded up in this case are much older, late 30s or even 40s with old fashionede tattooed eyebrows and would have appealed more to the older people, typically those in their late 40s and 50s. Despite not being as attractive as the Malaysians, these PRCs actually commanded higher rates, not to mention tips they received for escorting drinks and such.

A more straight forward argument will be that those Malaysians target younger executives who are typically more educated, and hence prices tend to be a little lower for the clients know 'market' prices and can bargain. Also, as long as they are not caught in an immoral state, ie nude or even in the act, it is legitimate for them to continue staying in Singapore on their work permits. Job security is there, and hence they tend not to insist persistently on high rates.

For the PRCs, however, they are mostly illegal immigrants or overstayers, here on expired social visit passes and or even accompanying their kids for Singaporean studies. It is not legitimate for them to even work, and thus tend to be more susceptible to raids. Their clients also tend to those people who, through years of hard work, had stashed away a substantial sum of retirement nest. Money and lecherous inclination worked wonders for these PRCs. These uncles are able to afford higher rates, and coupled with the high risks under which these PRCs are working, culminated into rates as high as $150.

Isn't the invisible hand a cool force to meddle with?

29/30 June 2007: the return journey home to Singapore

I don't know since when did I ever consider the journey back home is considered as a travel in itself.

For once, I was again annoyed at how inefficient British airports are after being put through heightened security measures in the aftermath of a car bomb made safe in Piccadilly Circus. Made me go without dinner, and had to endure hunger till the air stewards and stewardesses serves us 'supper', which is our dinner actually. That's not the point. The thing is, the journey back home, back to a place where I'm born is actually magical. Maybe because it's my first trip home. Maybe bacause I'm excited about seeing my family after 9 months. But what I can be sure is that as my tears fall uncontrollably on the early 6.23am morning of 1st July on my bed, I wonder if this is a journey home or a journey to my heart.

Too many things happened at home. All too many.

When I finally touched down at Singapore Changi and after meeting my sis while she abuse her security pass in the airport, the purchase of Cordon Bleu for my dad and finally the collection of my luggages actually jerked me out of my senses. My mum couldn't recognise me. Yes, even though I walked past her with only a glass panel between us, my sis had to point me out to her explicitly. And she cried. I regret not giving her a hug right there and then. When I saw her red eyes and her will trying hard to force back her tears, all I could do was to hold my hand up to her face and brush away her tears. My heart melted for her right there and then. I had never known I loved my mum so much, this one is for her.

Then all information about my family started to be synchronised between them and me.

My beloved grandma broke her arm a few months back.

My cousin had leukaemia. She's fine now, after receiving blood marrow from her brother.

My godma had a minor stroke again. My goddad is in poor health, and their son just did very badly in mid-year by failing English.

And many many other things that they never wanted to tell me when I'm in London, just so I do not worry. But do I not worry? Sis, if you're reading this let me tell you that I'm even MORE worried now. What else do I not know? What else is happening? I do not want a life where no news is bad news, for my family is keeping a lot from me.

When my mum came in just now to switch off the air-conditioner for us right before she starts her daily routine of work and work, I wasn't asleep. I didn't wake up exactly to tell her I'm wide awake, but I called her and she presumed I went back to bed. All the familiarity of my old lifestyle before I left for London came back again as old, but yet so many things have changed.

Right now, I do not know what to do. Sleeping for 5 hours and suffering insomnia after a 30 hour bid not to sleep before, during and after the 13 hour flight is not normal. Waking up after that 5 hour sleep feeling all emotions rushed in isn't shiok either. Neither is crying in my bed an awesome thing to do.

Coming back after the 1st 9 months away in foreign lands is simply not easy. Physically, mentally, emotionally.

110607 – 130607: Inverness

Inverness, capital of the Scottish highlands. And it’s actually a small city. The activity in Inverness largely centres around the train station area, where the main shopping district is just next to it, so is the bus station. The only castle in the city lies at the end of the shopping street, which isn’t far either. Everything seems small and cosy, except for one thing: there’s no pub kitchen open for business after 9pm. Unbelievable? Yes, I can’t believe it either. Reaching Inverness at 8pm on Monday, me and Yan Neng did not realise this fact either. We went to check into our hostel, and the reception did not tell us about this when we ask about eating places. While we were walking around at 9.30pm, asking every pub that we came across whether they still serve food, all their kitchens are closed. WTF. We had fish and chips and steak pie off a fast food joint, stuff ourselves all too full with a jumbo smoked sausage, some fried shrimp thingy whose name I can hardly remember and hot lentil soup. But still, that’s our 1st fast food in all the days we’re in Scotland.

We haven’t really got time to explore Inverness actually, for most of the days we spent here are to use it as a launch pad to explore Loch Ness and the highlands. Yes, Loch Ness lie 25km from Inverness, they both feed off the River Ness that runs from the north. Our first tour was by Puffins Express. As the name suggest, we’re here to watch some puffins!

John O’Groats

I booked this tour on the net, for 27 quid per pax for a day trip. And guess what, I didn’t know exactly where old Johnny Groaty was till the last day. I booked it after reading that it has some good wildlife and the likes. Actually, John O’Groats lie in the north of Scotland, almost the northernmost tip. Yes, we went all the way up without knowing. Along the way, we are fed with terrific coastal scenery, wildlife like the red deer and seals, farm life like the highland cows (Yan Neng is so thrilled by them everytime she sees them) and most importantly, puffins! We did see a couple, and it’s not easy to see them. I guess we were just lucky, ha. All the way up at John O’Groats, where the stacks and cliffs form so beautiful a picturesque scenery that it seems the rest are not that important. No city buzz to distract me from being one with nature, ha. We were also brought into the forest to see some gorge where the valley is less than 1 metre in some places! And the waterfall here is pretty cute too, all very Robin Hood like. Typical British forest I guess, I can’t really tell the difference between English and Scottish treetop landscape, haha, at least not here. I must say, highland coasts are mostly cliffs, like the highlands broke off into the sea. The rock formations are gorgeous, it puzzles me how we travellers always look towards Europe for travel destinations but miss out on UK beauties. At least for me, I’m not willing to miss out on what the British landscape has to offer me. No wonder travel magazines always rate Britain as one of the top choices when it comes to natural landscape. It’s as varied as I can imagine, except for some gigantic magnificent waterfall and a good mountain to climb like Kilimanjaro.

Loch Ness

I think this place is not just a ‘been here, done that’ kind of tourist location. In fact, taking on the tour to bring us to Loch Ness and cross the lake on a cruise to one of the more prominent castles in Scottish and English history costs us only 16.50 quid. And guess what, we are the only ones who took up the tour that day. Hence the entire bus only has me, Yan Neng and the cute old man for a driver as well as tour guide. He has his sleeves full of stories for us everywhere he drove us. So, we got pretty much a personalised service, haha. Going on the tour means we got no time for Loch Ness Monster exhibitions. You must be screaming, what did you go Loch Ness for? Actually, the beauty of the trip does not like in some stupid myth or legend. To be frank, Loch Ness offers so beautiful a landscape you can’t forget even weeks after visiting it. The long-ish lake, flanked on its banks by highlands and their forests, gives a tranquil feeling. Couple that with the lake mist that accompanied us on our cruise makes it all magical. Well, it was actually a foreboding of a storm which kinda caught us a bit, but by then we had reached Urquhart Castle and entered the exhibition centre for some weather shield. By the time we finished the exhibition, the weather cleared and it’s all sunny and bright again on the ruins! I must say, the castle is a very good place for taking beautiful pictures. Why so? Picture this: a medieval castle built on the banks of a loch famous for its monster, and all its surroundings are filled with high grounds and forests. As the Chinese saying goes, got mountains got water and got antiquity, what’s more to complain about? Haha, don’t know what I’m talking about anyway. But I seriously took a whole lot of pictures here. Wouldn’t ever mind coming back again, though I’d do a trek from Fort William to Inverness through Loch Ness. That should be interesting, ha.

090607 – 110607: Edinburgh

I think I wanna try something different again. Instead of the usual day logs, I gonna do a city log instead. This is because I’ve been to Edinburgh before, and I only wanna update on new stuff for this trip.

1st thing, thank you Yan Neng for making this trip a fun one. I’m sure we had lots to talk about, particularly you-know-who. Hey, seems like I haven’t been thanking people who travelled with me. Ok, all my travel buddies, a big thank you! (I’m just lazy to list one by one, there’re too many!

I’ve done on Edinburgh Castle, Calton Hill and the necropolis before. In a very detail manner I think. Now this will be on the rest.

Holyroodhouse Palace

This is the official residence of British monarchs in Scotland. Nope, they do not stay in the castle. Surprised? Actually, they alternate between the castle and the palace back in the olden days before the union of the kingdoms. There’s a royal palace in the castle as well, but it’s pretty much a hassle to move up and down the castle, isn’t it? What’s better, the Holyroodhouse palace has a beautiful garden in summer, but I’ll come to that later.

In essence, what’s special about this palace has always been replicated in all other castles and palaces: the State Apartments. Come to think of it, it’s the usual ‘when you’ve seen one, you’ve seen all’ and ‘been there, done that’ thingy. But the garden is a unique and beautiful piece of botanic art in itself. I’m just lucky that I did not visit this place during winter, I would have missed the nicest part of the palace. The gardens are not opened in winter, for goodness sake. Don’t say I’ve never warned you. Before you start on the gardens, it’s always nice to visit the ruins of Holyroodhouse Abbey, the reason why the palace was built. This abbey is essentially catholic (duh), but it used to house the Scottish monarchs, after which the palace was built to provide a more reasonable accommodation and respectable office building for the use of the monarchs in everyday state affairs. Still, ruins are nice.

Now, the gardens are split into 2 parts, the 1st had flowers and trees blossoming in summer. I don’t really know what their names are, which kinda spoilt the mood for garden visiting. The 2nd part contains some ruins, and stretches of flat lawns for archery. Yes, archery. That’s where the palace guards used to practise their skills. Confused? The Scottish monarchs didn’t used to have guards, it’s an archery society who volunteered themselves into the services of the crown and hence, they became palace guards. The entire scenery is bounded by the palace building and Arthur’s Seat. It’s essentially a volcanic structure, a beautiful manifestation of nature itself.

The Whisky Experience

Ah-ha! It is not any ordinary whisky, it’s scotch whisky. I highly recommend liquor drinkers to go on this, for 7 pounds at student price, you get a free whisky glass, a free whisky shot (what kind of whisky you get depends on your luck, I got Johnny Walker’s red label!) and some interesting information about whisky no doubt. Not to mention you get good discounts on 70cl bottles in the whisky shop at the end of the exhibition. Ha. Anyway, I think I wanna boast about my purchases more, which are 35cl and 20cl bottles of some sweet and citrus whisky which I’m quite quite sure it’s not easy to get in London itself, or so I assume. Got a good size of a 10 year old for Eng Kiat. Brother, don’t say I never buy anything for your 21st birthday ok. Oh, I did round up the entire purchase spree with a 35cl of Famous Grouse, which I know I can get anywhere in London =X

Museum of Childhood

This is one big, creepy museum. It’s interesting the moment you enter, because you get to see olden day items that are very much associated with kids and childhood, from babies to young kids and even games played by young adults. Why big? It spans 5 stories, discounting the ground level. Why creepy? It has a pretty massive collection of dolls, all types all sizes. Kinda remind me of Queen Anne’s dollhouse in Windsor. Yuck, Chucky freaks me out, so does Chucky’s bride and all of their associates and the likes. But some of the fun comes from machines operating on coins, displaying haunted houses. For 5p or 10p, you get some half a minute of entertainment where they try to scare you with ghosts popping out of everywhere in the dollhouse. Ha, that’s more for us to ridicule I think.

Arthur’s Seat

This volcanic hill is enticing enough to last you at least half a day’s visit. But despite being called a hill, its slopes are so steep you would think you can train yourselves by running up and down the hill regularly. What’s worse, the height of the hill commands you to adjust ear pressures because you’ve been climbing steep slopes. But the view at the top is rewarding, absolutely. While you climb the altitude, the sights change from a top-down view of Holyroodhouse Palace to a grand paranomic landscape spanning the entire Royal Mile and beyond. Whatever can challenge your view is the castle rock on which loams the majestic Edinburgh castle! And just to admit, I slacked for a few hours just sitting on the hill, enjoying the sun and the breeze that seems to exist only at the altitude.

That’s all for Edinburgh I think. Oh before I forget, I did by chance travelled on 1st Class to Edinburgh from London. 40 quid per pax, it’s unforgettable given it’s my virgin experience. Oops, haha.

050607: Moroccan waterfalls

The last day before we fly off on the 6th. And today is waterfall day. Supposedly.

We packed clothes to change in, preparing to dip in. When we arrived at the falls, it’s just pure amazement. I would have jumped in if I had suicidal thoughts. Dying in such beautiful scenery is worth every drop of life, ok maybe not. That’s too pessimistic, and would make the waterfall look uglier than it is.

The gushing of water beneath my very feet is an unspeakable feeling. It’s like, the world is anxious to sweep you off your feet with its ravenous hunger within the ever-flowing energies of the waters. And there I was, standing at the very top of the falls, looking downwards into the plunge pool. As I lift my head upwards to look at the horizon, mountain cliffs and hill tops clutter my view, parted by the very valley that the waterfall plunge into. Wow, how romantic can it get, except that the place is piled with tourists. Sianz.

Tracking downwards to the bottom isn’t that hard, except that I got myself stepped into a mud pool, then tried to wash the mud off in a small stream and realise my slippers do slip big time when wet. The result was barefoot tracking down the slope for ¾ of the journey down. Quite an adventure though, never tried tracking barefooted before. Kinda feels so close to nature. Nice comfortable feeling in the woods, till I came out into the open. OUCH! The ground is just burning hot. Can’t wait to jump into the pool =X

And I can only say, I’ve never regretted pool swimming. The freezing cold water, gushing by the gallons from the waterfall, accompanied by the burning sun when you splash out of the water. A statement to swear by, THIS IS LIFE! Partial sun tanning with some peanuts that Su Kuen bought. What else can you ask for? Picturesque scenery, cool waters, nice hot sun, and fragrant peanuts. Haiz, why did I discover this so late?

040607: Marrakesh

It’s a rest day from all the coach travelling of the past 2 days. Largely a walk through Marrakesh, and we took horse carriages to this pretty garden which I do not know it’s name. Kinda disadvantaged that I don’t know French, I realise. Can’t even remember the name of places I’ve been to.

But I got so irritated with the way the coach drivers whipped the horses. I could even see whipping scars on their asses! Pissed, and I guess I’m starting to realise what animal rights are all about. A beast is like a human, they do not deserve to be slaves to others. Either you kill them, or live harmoniously together. But not whipping them just so it can earn you your next meal! As an afterthought, I realise that my passion for animals extend to mammals and birds only. No reptiles, no fishes and most importantly, no invertebrates and snakes!!! Ok, I concede snakes are a kind of reptiles. Still a no-no.

The garden greets us with a entire pitch of cacti. Not just any cactus, but all sorts and sizes. I guess most of the species are here, particularly local ones. Not to mention a Moroccan version of bamboo forest, kinda make me feel that I’ve come to China instead of Marrakesh. A very big contrast with the cacti no doubt. However, the garden is not very big, and we couldn’t spend more than an hour lingering in there.

The next destination was a castle in the city. An emptied castle, with some ruins. Emptied castles are no fun. Ever. Just a hollow nutshell. But me and Janice found a underground cellar which was kinda cool, literally. And some of the natural lighting here provides for nice pictures. I think that’s like the only highlight of the day. Haiz.

The rest of the day was largely shopping. And shopping aren’t something to log about.

020607 - 030607: Sahara desert

Wake up early for Sahara desert. Actually, the girls woke us up. Apparently, they forget that their mobile phone time is an hour behind Marrakesh. Hence, they woke up and got all excited an hour earlier than expected. Wow.

Badir came to fetch us. Set off for the mountains, and passed through Mount Atlas and the ridges. Seriously, the view is just unspeakable. Check out my Facebook album if you want a look. And the most embarrassing thing was when I went to pee in the dry terrain. Weihan was sick enough in the brain to take a picture of me pissing. WTF

Terrain was initially full of trees and greenery, but it slowly changed into dry, and inhabitable landscape. Everywhere was the unmistakable yellow, and greenery are just bits and patches, here and there. It’s hard to believe there’s people surviving in this sort of environment, and for thousands of years no less. Gorges are simply gorgeous, if you don’t mind the pun. It’s amazing to see how the river cuts up the different layers of rock, only to dry up and leave its scars in the earth. Kinda make me grateful for taking geography for GCE ‘O’ levels.

We arrived at a town, where Badir dropped us for lunch at a restaurant, and we had a couple of minutes to spare for a visit to a castle in the town. In fact, I do not even classify it as a castle, it’s just a big big empty house. Empty and nothing much to see. The most significant benefit that we’ve gotten out of it is probably getting out of the sun into the cool shade.

Reached Zagora at approximately 6 pm. And we stopped right outside a herd of camels. Ha. Kinda cute. They gave us sashes to use as Arabian turbans. And we were split up into 2 groups. This kick-starts the camel riding for 2 hours to reach campsite. Along the way, kids simply ran up to us asking for money. There was a kid who passed a straw camel to one of us, then ask for something in return. They are even willing to negotiate for a return gift the next day. It’s saddening to see how kids are begging for money. I think it boils down more to greed, when foreigners come into the country to tour and act like they are super rich, throwing coins and such to these kids and hence giving them the wrong impression that outsiders = money. Haiz, is this poverty?

Arrival at the campsite includes a walk through the sand dunes. I must say, they are so soft they gave me a scare. The nomads began our stay with a little chat and mint tea of course. Taught us some Arabic dialect, which was kinda fun. At least for me. Dinner was a super big pot of chicken tagine, and bread too. The most significant event should be the darkening of the sky, when we could finally see the stars. There are so many, we didn’t bother counting them. Cool to look at, dreamy to marvel in. But the night was largely spoilt by moon-rising, where it’s brightness dimmed the surrounding starshine. It’s kinda late though, I’ve never experience such a late moon-rise before. And the most surprising thing was how yellow it is initially, then slowly turned whitish as it rises.

After dinner, the nomads gathered around for some sing-along entertainment, and invited us. Eventually, none of us were really interested, with exception of some Australian ang mohs also staying at the campsite.

The tents are essentially canvas built, but warm enough for us, me at least even though I was in a t-shirt and Bermudas. And they had beds for us, which was kinda surprising. Well, perhaps we had expected less in the desert. And we were told that sunrise is at 5.20, which most of us woke up for. And I must say, this sunrise is different from the others. I mean, it’s different from the sunrise I saw along Straits of Malacca while on a cruise some time ago. Again, it’s a sensation that lasts in your memories, not in words.

Breakfast started in the midst of a sandstorm. And it’s a mild one, supposedly. We had lamb’s milk, tea, crepes and bread for breakfast. But the most memorable was the camel ride through the sandstorm. Everyone made full use of the turban given, and it sure was quite useful, except for the fact that our back was facing the storm. Hence, it wasn’t too unbearable for us.

The camel rides ended with some ushering into a carpet shop, and everyone was wondering what to do. Everyone was discussing strategies in Mandarin, and it all sounded pretty cute. Ha. In the end, Tristan’s brilliant idea of hot and damp climate in Singapore and Malaysia, a weather not suitable for carpets, saved us all. The coach ride back in Badir’s vehicle was essentially a insomnia cure, everyone slept. Hee.

010607: Marrakesh

Left with Su Kuen from Bankside to Victoria. Arranged time to meet the rest there, for a coach to Luton airport, Tristan, Weihan, Janice, Yen, Beverly and Guan Sin. We were there early, and it happened that National Express coach to Luton is the same as Greenline. No wonder coach prices are the same. The flight to Marrakesh is largely plagued by sleep. Everyone is sleeping, no doubt due to the lack of it while trying to reach airport on time.

Marrakesh Menera Airport is small, simple, and not much different from Luton. But the ridiculous thing about this airport is its customs. Maybe because it’s a kingdom, but customs are particularly careful, slow and painful to wait. More importantly, with loads of ang mohs in queue with us, our queues just got slowed. Moroccans are stricter with European entry I guess. Beyond the exit, we got our guide to wait for us. And the walk to the coach was starting to bare the teeth of the African climate: hot and dry. Our coach is an 8-seater Ford, with comfortably tinted glass windows to shield us from the sun. Cool. 30 mins to Riad Ghallia.

The city of Marrakesh is backward. Buildings are largely mud built, and our hostel is more like a homestay. It’s a riad, with only 2 stories and a terrace. The 1st thing that struck us is the low door, quite literally. Even the girls have to bend down their heads to enter the building, not to mention guys. The living area of the house is open, with a nice fountain and comfortable sofa. As all Arabic families do, we were served mint tea. It’s actually Chinese green tea with mint leaves, very sweet due to the immerse amount of sugar. We had a little chat with the owner of the riad, Thierry. As the name suggested, he is French. But then again, Morocco used to be a French colony, so people here largely speaks French and Arabic. A fun guy, Thierry literally drew a map for us to navigate around with. Taught us bargaining techniques too. And not to mention things to look out for, what to do in certain situations and the such. Precious information, and useful guidance. He brought us around too, particularly the market square, and certain stalls and restaurants recommended.

As locals in most other countries will do, they immediately treat us as Japanese, especially with all the Jap greetings. But we ignored them largely, and proceed straight to the bank. Morocco uses dirham, and it has a closed currency. Hence we can’t change for the currency elsewhere. But the rates are not too bad in here, a pound sterling for approximately 16 dirhams. Or rather, 1 euro for 10 dirham is the estimate we use for most of our transactions.

A bright distinction between Moroccan market squares and others are the orange juice carts. The entire square had tons of them, all selling orange juice for 3 dirhams. This is dirt cheap, considering if they do not dilute the juice and uses good oranges. Appetizer, dessert, refreshment, they are all of them.

At restaurants, they by and large serves Arabian food. Sometimes, French food is included as well. Tagines and couscous are their mains. Tagine is this stewed meat, be it chicken, beef or mutton, with potatoes and olives, cooked in a claypot like container and has a clay cone for a lid. Its cooked over charcoal fire, and tastes pretty good. Couscous, on the other hand, is meat served with potatoes and carrots and rice too. Come to think of it, I’ve only eaten tagines. Damn, I missed couscous.

In the hot weather of Morocco, it’s hard to miss ice cream. Ice cream here isn’t made locally, but all imported. Well, not too expensive. 6, 9 and 12 dirhams for 1, 2 and 3 scoops respectively seems pretty much cheaper than what’s selling in Singapore. Brandless though, but it doesn’t matter when temperature’s hitting 38 degree centigrade. Another wonderful thing to happen in Morocco are the pastries. Dessert pastries more precisely. Hard to missed, especially the famed pastry shop in Marrakesh. More important to note is that there’s air condition in the shop! A good break, after-meal dessert or even a chilling out is perfect after walking sweatless dry in the hot sun.

The market square itself is a chaos. Random stalls manned by cobra charmers, monkey trainers and hanna tattoo ladies litter the entire place, all of them too eager to rip a couple of tens of dirhams off you. Traffic in Marrakesh is another havoc masterpiece, where donkey and horse carriages roam on almost non-existent roads and infested with motorised bicycles. It’s interesting that while Singapore government kinda restricted the use of motorised bicycles, it’s so rampantly used here in Morocco. I guess fixing up a motor on your bicycle is so much cheaper than getting a motorbike, not to mention the added advantage of paddling should the motor break down. Woot.

Towards evening time, the square starts to be filled with vehicles. These vehicles carry benches and tables, ready to set up stalls and business. By 7pm, the entire square was over-run by food stalls. Our choice for dinner: the stall with the most locals, haha. And guess what, we patronised the shop without exactly knowing what is it gonna serve us. Ha, Moroccan deep fried fish with aubergine, tomato paste for appetizer and loads of chips!

Now Su Kuen is the one who’s adventurous enough to try out the tons of stalls that litter the place. From spicy chocolate cake coupled with tea to stewed snails, there seems to be no end to what you can eat. Eating aside, an interesting stall worth noting is a ‘fishing’ stall. You try looping a circlet over a coke bottle. 5 dirhams for a game and successful tries stand to win 10 dirhams. Boxing stalls, story telling, singing and entertainment stalls. You say it, there’s likely to be one. Traditional medicine stalls are the interesting ones. Full of dried animals, from iguanas to crocodile skin and the sorts. Not to mention live reptiles in cages. Ouch.

220507 – 280507: Newcastle, Hadrian's Wall, Carlisle

This time round, I’m not doing a day by day log. Trying to do something slightly different instead. A tip log. Tips on what goes on during this entire trip.

Before I proceed, let me just be a bit lor soh and briefly go through what’s Hadrian’s Wall all about.

• Britain was under Roman rule. The British province of the Roman empire covers almost the entire England.
• The Romans couldn’t really conquer the Scots in the north, and called them barbarians.
• To define a boundary of their empire, the Romans built a wall under orders from Emperor Hadrian in northern England from Newcastle-upon-Tyne in the east to Carlisle in the west.
• Along the wall, the Romans built forts, milecastles and turrets to guard the border. They almost innovated the passports of today.
• Almost 2 millenia later, some of the walls and forts survived the test of time.
• The wall is now known widely as Hadrian’s Wall, made a British National Trail, destinated a World Heritage Site, and is almost considered a wonder in itself.
• The Trail runs across England from east coast to west coast across different terrain, an enjoyable walk for those who think nothing of trekking 80 Roman miles (147.2km).

Enough of the bullshit, let’s get down to the main work.

1. If you’ve never stepped on shit, you’ve never walked the Hadrian.
This is serious matter. No kidding. The trek across English countryside is filled with minefields: biologically degradable waste of sheep, cattle, horses and ponies litters the nice and beautifully green pastures. In a way, they help to fertilise the fields and ensures the grass continues growing. But the beasts have an interesting way of looking at the trail: it is their toilet. Whether is it due to training by their farmers, or is it by cheek, they seem only to shit along the trail, particularly the path you are treading on.

2. To enjoy the most torturous yet beautiful part of the trail fully, you need Hadrians Haul
Now some of you may think ‘what in the world is Hadrians Haul’. Here, I have to declare, truthfully and faithfully, that Hadrian’s Haul as good as saved us all the trouble we were worrying about: transporting of 10+ kg worth per pax of barang barang that includes tents, sleeping bags etc. You may not believe this, but shedding the excess weight and walking without the physical burden seriously help to make footsteps lighter. And you feel you’re more lively, you’ve more energy, you can push it further, you can even have the time to appreciate all the scenery. It’s only 5 GBP per bag, and it’s so reliable. Here I enclose its number: 07967564823. During the midst of my planning days, despite searching through all Hadrian related websites, there’s no shit written about such service. But no fear, it is here that I promote their service FOC. And their modus operandi is interesting: you are provided with a white envelope to write your name, contact details, date of transport, origin of transport and its destination. Next you insert a 5 GBP note into the envelope and attach the envelope to your bag with a rubber band. Leave your barang barang with your host and Hadrians Haul will settle the rest. By the time you’ve completed your walk for the day, you’ll find your barang barang safe and sound at the new destination. It’ll be the service that saves your day and make it more enjoyable, I promise.

3. Recommended farms and accommodation: Greencarts and Sandysike.
Greencarts lie between Chesters Fort and the main part of your trek. It is manned by this angelic lady known as Sandra, and it is due to her that we got to enjoy our trip so much more. She was helpful in our last-minute changes with her advice, especially we couldn’t think of a way to proceed with our plans due to amateurism in our trekking plans. Her angelic ways do not limit to her knowledge: she gaily provided us with some dinner when we had nothing to eat, and gave us some food for the following day. How kind is that?!?
Sandysike is another place which I would recommend animal lovers to go. The farmer himself is a kind fella who would think nothing of helping poor trekking students hungry and tired without a scrap of food. And they actually served us in their dining hall, the table fully laid out with fully English cuisine utensils! After dinner, they gave us a tour around the farm, meeting their young bull and pretty horse and such, not to mention 4 hyper and enthusiastic dogs!

4. Do not attempt to trek in the midst of bank holidays.
Hadrian’s wall lies in the countryside. For goodness’ sake, do not assume that their towns contain supermarkets! What is considered as a food shop, is simply a snack shop with almost nothing in stock but everything in price tags. The prices can be described as extortion, literally. Farmers do not buy their food in town, they have cars to drive to nearest city for food supply! Now, what do bank holidays have to do with that? If, in the cities, shops do not open on bank holidays, do you suppose there’ll be more people in towns and hence town shops will be open? The answer is no. Bank holidays are like vacuum cleaners: they suck the life of a town. Settlements are as good as dead towns and villages on bank holidays, and be assured you’ll be trapped in the midst of nowhere with houses but no one to offer you even a glass of warm milk. No matter what, avoid travelling on bank holidays.

5. Stock up on food supplies if you do not wish to splurge on pub food.
For backpackers who prefer to cook their own or have a picnic out there in the green fields, I suggest that you stock up on food in the big cities ie Newcastle and Carlisle. Food shops along in the countryside, as stated in point 4, look like disaster stricken retail outlets. They stock up on almost absolutely nothing. Anyway, locals do not shop there. They drive to nearby cities to stock up. In case you are worrying about the weight of all the food, see point 2.

170407: Istanbul

Yesterday’s limo and dinner was a blast. And I hope today is as well, but kinda constraint by the amount of cash I have. The day starts with a breakfast at top storey, but it isn’t as good as what we had in Selcuk or Bodrum. Well, free breakfast is nothing much to complain about anyway. Izmir offered us much less.

Hagia Sophia is our target today. Pretty much loser if we are in Istanbul but we do not visit one of the reputed wonders of the world. 10 YTL for entry, again. Seems like attractions in Turkey actually coordinated their entry fee at 10 YTL, and the most amazing thing is that they do not have student prices! Again! Wow, what can I say? Getting in was troublesome again, with all the security checks. Who would wanna bomb the famed Ayasofia? Beats me. Before we enter the building, the courtyard was laid with numerous excavations from the previous Ayasofia before the present one was built. And of course, the excavations are not complete. Because buildings are always built on past ruins, it is impossible to carry out extensive excavations without harming the architecture of the main building itself.

Hagia Sophia itself is a linear combination of Islam and Christianity. While some walls are Christian mosaic, the rest are typically flanked by Islamic scriptures from the Quran. It is nonetheless more interesting than Blue Mosque. There’s a spoiler though. Right smack in the middle of the building are the restoration works. Aluminium bars erected to reach the top most dome is indeed an ugly sight. I think the highlight of Ayasofia was that Kiat managed to find a special angle where I face Quran scriptures, on-looked by Madonna and Child. Looks like a face-off, and other religions watch on enthusiastically. Cool one there, but my camera isn’t exactly the best one to use for such art.

Beyond Hagia Sophia, we are left with almost zero cash. And guess what, the Underground Cistern which I had been so enthusiastic about requires another 10 YTL bribery. Extortion at the expense of widening horizons, someone gotta do something about it. We decided to walk the streets of Istanbul instead. And guess where did we go eventually? The biggest market in the world. No kidding. The number of streets in this market is incredible. Not to mention the number of shops in there. The most amazing thing here is how vendors can double prices without even a blink in the eye. Kiat enquired the price of a cushion cover, and they name a price of 40 YTL. When we were about to leave, they immediately drop the price to 20 YTL. This is not to mention there’s yet a bargain going on. I was quoted 5 YTL for a set of tea glass and dish. After I lowered the price to 2 YTL, we transacted at 3! And all the while, I could have paid close to double the price. It’s easy to believe that Istanbul’s retailing economy runs on such unscrupulous means of doing business. Well, it’s thriving and people are happy, except tourists. In fact, Kiat and me then seek to bargain prices with the retailers for the fun of it, despite the fact that we’ve got no cash on us. And somehow, we managed to bargain so low that the retailers gave up on us. Heex.

We went back for a little nap, after which we’ve decided to take a little walk while deciding what’s for dinner. Jo was stoning since she woke up, she was only energised by Walls’ pistachio ice cream. Ha. And that started our random snacking. We had a pistachio ice cream each. But the nice part was how Kiat suggested each of us come up with a snack. And guess what I thought of? Kiat’s nemesis, cucumbers! In fact, Turks have a interesting way of eating cucumbers. They shed its skins, then slice down its core before prying it slightly open and sprinkling salt all over it. The end product is fresh cucumber with some salty sweetness. Wow. And Kiat posed with the entire cucumber in his mouth, goodness! What kind of kinky picture is that? Makes him look like a horny b**t**d. Haha. Another nice thing that we ate came from somewhere surprising. Turkey’s McDonalds’. Their deep fried cauliflower and broccoli is heavenly. And why do they not sell that in Singapore? It tastes so good!

The day ends with a little kindness. We were confronted by this little girl selling tissue paper earlier in the day for 1 YTL each. And 6 hours later in the freezing night, she was stilling selling! And no doubt Kiat was reminded of the story of the Matchstich Girl. He gave her quite some lira for a pack of tissue. Seems like a little kindness goes a long way. Hope the little girl went home early for a good rest.

Oh, not to forget, do not ever dance in public in Turkey. Why? Because people will mistake you for a gay!

160407: Izmir, Istanbul

I can’t help but feel for the day like Garfield always does. Monday sucks. And waking up in Guzel Izmir Hotel doesn’t help, because the hotel sucks too. We got a flight to catch, and the cab is waiting downstairs for us.

Now that we’ve settled the payment, we left for the airport. All too eager to leave. But the worst is yet to come. It happened that the cabby that the hotel hired for us is too eager to pick us up as well, and he fixed the meter to cater for midnight charge, at 7 am in the morning! In the end, we hadn’t noticed the charge till it reaches close to 60 YTL for a 15km journey, all too dubious for our liking. On our 1st cab in Istanbul, a 30km ride costs us only 30 YTL. Hell. But the worst and most stupid thing to happen was, he stopped halfway along the road to pick up his lady friend! And we were made to share to cab! Maybe we should have exercised passenger rights, but we were not about to jeopardise our journey and compromise on a scheduled flight. It was after we reached the airport that we realise he was moonlighting. What the hell. Moonlighting in front of us at our expense. Even Allah will be angry. This is absolutely injustice.

The check-in and flight has been pretty smooth sailing. And reaching Istanbul was very much a relief. At least there’s room to negotiate something in English here. And guess what, our transport into Sultanahmet, the city centre, was through its Metro! The Metro line is the Turkish equivalent of London Underground and Singaporean MRT, but there’s a particular interesting thing about it. While the journey from Ataturk airport to a certain interchange is train like, the rest of the journey into Sultanahmet is by tram! To be serious, I’ve never taken a tram in my whole life before. My life existed around MRT tracks and buses but tram rides are a first. I mean, I’ve seen tram lines in Manchester and the such, and I know trams are available in Hong Kong as well, though I’ve never had the chance to go there. Well, travels always provide me with firsts, and I don’t know how many times of different ‘virginities’ I’ve given to Turkey. Ha, a little corny but true.

The entire Metro journey into Sultanahmet costs only 3.20YTL, which is a fraction of the 10 YTL per pax that we paid to go by cab. Still, an interesting experience. At least, it gives a nice twist for the day to the morning chopper. I never like to be a carrot, not to mention be seen as one.

We checked in after taking some time to find our hotel, Bahaus Guesthouse. It’s situated along a very prime location, where you’ll find lots of hotels and hostels. Not to mention lots of bars and pubs. Staff are very friendly, largely manned by 2 brothers who are both Turk and Italian. Our room is great as well, not to mention a kinky bed for Jo with a nice woven cover and matching cushion and mini bolster. Me and Kiat got a twin layered bed to ourselves, and I childishly took the lower storey and leaving Kiat to climb. Hope you don’t blame me, Kiat, I think you had fun up there. Ha.

Reception offered us a place for lunch, and Karadeniz as recommended is really a good place. Prices are pretty decent, and food is good. And restaurant staff are very friendly and cute. The manager of the place was ‘stroking’ Kiat’s head every time, and that sounds really kinky, at least to Kiat. The good thing about this place is the feel of it. I mean, the locals eat here and it’s really got the local feel of it rather than those restaurants that cater largely to tourists and feels fake. That feeling was what I set out to look for whenever I plan my travels, and no doubt it always makes me happy. The feeling of assimilation into local culture. Woot.

After lunch, we wanted to go to the Blue Mosque but it was prayer time. And Ayasofia (Hagia Sophia) does not open on Mondays (cursed Mondays). Luckily, we realised that the Topkapi palace does not open on Tuesdays and this is the time to go before we forgo the palace entirely. Jo and Kiat are both highly enthused about the harem, and thus this is a must go. The funny thing is, relying on our instincts, we walked the entire stretch of the 1st courtyard without ever reaching the palace. 2km of it. But the entire stretch is so filled with pretty tulips that I think we wouldn’t have minded.

The palace itself is still under restoration. And entrance is 10 YTL, with no student prices. Hell, the attractions are forgoing student privileges for profit and they are giving no damn to helping the future generations know about humanity’s past. Well, given our fascination with the harem, we can’t help it.

Within the palace itself, there isn’t really anything much to see. We toured a weapons museum and had fun trying to think of how the weapons are being used to kill. Ha. Jo was somewhat disgusted by the bloody descriptions, especially when we were talking about the samurai’s way of dying by his own sword than lose his dignity. Ha, lucky we already had lunch. Looking for the entrance to the harem was a little hassle. And entry prices are as exorbitant as entry into the palace. 10 YTL for it. Kaoz. Can’t they have a little sympathy for poor students like us?

It’s time for us to get in, and simply speaking, the harem is not as good as I had expected it to be. 4 walls and such. That’s about it. Rooms after rooms of tiles and ceramics but the Turks hadn’t ensured it’s interesting enough for people to want to get in again. At least, 10 YTL for Ephesus was pretty much worth it, but 20 YTL to get into harem sounds very much like a chopping board with a big cleaver. I had to end up taking photos of drains and stuff like that to keep myself occupied, and Kiat had fun taking ‘candid’ photos of me taking photos of the drain. Wow. How interesting. In the end, an evaluation of the palace merely adds up to the word ‘boring’.

The Blue Mosque itself is merely a vase. Nice and grand on the outside, but it’s just like any mosque on the inside. The majestic structure lends credit to the architect who designed the place, but other than that it’s only refreshing for Caucasians who do not understand Islam. Well, the highlight of the visit is largely Jo, I must admit. Pretty funny to see her in headscarf, or tudung as we call it. But I did meet something very strange in the mosque. Despite my hunger, it is usual for me to stay hungry till it is dinner time. But the strange thing is, I began salivating non-stop for the entire time I was in the mosque, and suffering from hunger pangs. I do not know why, but there’s something spiritual about the place. And the symptom that tells me this is not normal is when I walked out of the mosque to put on my shoes. The salivating stops, while the hunger pangs leave a tingling sensation in my tummy. Strange but true. Maybe Allah is trying to tell me something, but I never got the message.

We went back to the hotel to put down our stuff, and ask the reception for recommendations to eat. They recommended us a fish restaurant, that is supposed to be decently priced. The restaurant would even provide chauffeuring if required. For our part, we decided to walk there and look around at the prices. Walking along the southern coast of Istanbul is refreshing, for it’s facing the seas and not just a river. For the sake of living the life of royalty, we decided to take up the restaurant, and order wine as well. There’s a live Turkish band that adds to the touristy atmosphere, and the manager who’s probably the only one who knows English served us constantly. Nice fish, nice wine. The atmosphere is the best I’ve ever had since Bodrum’s seaside dinners and I must say 145 YTL for it is pretty decent. I mean, I pay $80 in Singapore for prom which does not really give value to the money paid, but $50 per pax for a good dinner and wine is cheap in my opinion. Not to mention their after-service is good. The chauffeur drives a limousine and never in my life have I set foot in limousine before. Couple that with the wine and the feeling is almost perfect, with 2 good friends beside. Maybe I’m lacking in a lover, but I do not crave that desire actually. Wow, living like a king makes better sense to me now.

150407: Ephesus, Izmir

Today’s Efes day. Ok, Efes is Turkish for Ephesus. And the beer tastes like Tiger, but much cheaper. Waking up in Urkmez Hotel is like all other days; Jo’s alarm goes off, Kiat’s alarm goes off, my alarm goes off and I wake up while the other 2 laze in bed. Wow. They didn’t have long to laze, we have got a breakfast to go to. Heex.

Urkmez breakfast up in the terrace is something supposed worth looking forward to. And it is. The terrace itself, on the rooftop, holds only a few tables for some 10 people to have breakfast. And we got seats in the wonderful sun. The view spans from hilltops where House of Virgin Mary is located to the Selcuk castle and St John basilica on the other side. A good start to the morning, compared to 4 white walls. Breakfast is Turkish traditional. However, the manager made an omelette for us instead of hard boiled duck eggs. And he complemented it with a lovely fruit plate to give breakfast a nice, sweet end. It is undoubtedly the best breakfast we had, even better than Kalendar’s breakfast. Woot.

We told the manager where we were up to next, and he offered a free service into Ephesus. Wow. We were led to a carpet shop, where the owner actually collaborates with Urkmez like brother hotels to provide collective services for their customers. Ok, it sounds like we were duped into the shop, for me and Jo bought cushion covers for 5 YTL each. Being hand made, the needle work and patching are more coarse than usual. But that’s evident of handcraft itself. 5 YTL is pretty decent I guess.

The ride into Ephesus is a breeze. 10 minutes of on-road sightseeing overseeing plains and agricultural fields. But alighting from the vehicle is a nightmare. Stalls and shops lined the road, with locals all too eager to show you their wares and looking forward to digging to the bottom of your pocket. Ouch.

At the ticket office, we sought to use our trump card again, the ISICs. But this time round, it didn’t work. Despite the notice that says foreign students get free entry into Ephesus, the officials deny it all. So those of you who is going to Ephesus, maybe let me just remind you that top attractions like Ephesus give students no chances. Only less known ones like Bodrum castle and Mausoleum of Halicarnassus can close one eye on us. Haiz. What the hell. And the worst thing is, this attraction is expensive. 10 YTL. A hole in the pocket no doubt. But on account that we saved 15 YTL on the free entries, let it be.

Entering Ephesus like the troops of Korean and Japanese tourists holding big umbrellas, we can’t help feeling sorry for the sun being treated like a nemesis. It’s beautiful sun, and we appreciate it after getting grey gloomy skies in London for months. Ouch. And this is the start of our loathing for such tourists. To tell it simply, they and their umbrellas spoil pictures. In the end, me and Jo were challenging to take pictures without people in them. Or at the very least, without umbrellas. Ha.

I must say, Ephesus is a well preserved city. It reminds me of the ancient city in Rome. But here, there’s no one to rip it of its white marble. That’s the bare minimum respect people have of their history I guess. The contrast with the brown barebones of Roman ancient city as well as its glorified Monument of Vittorio Emmanualle is huge. Here, I feel less of the sadness. I could only feel how majestic it would have been had the city been still existing now, less the urbanisation of vehicles and communications. At peace and at ease. That’s it.

To make full use of the 10 YTL that we painfully paid for, me and Kiat had decided to do the unforgettable. We started climbing towards the top of every higher ground, taking photos where no others would have similar ones of like those in postcards. And I assure you, taking these photos are much more memorable that normal ones. For all the buzz about making us pay for our entry, there were actually no guards or working personnel within the compound. It seems like Ephesus is nothing but a money raking fluke for the Turks. Well, there are lots of no entry places with chains up and the red no-entry signs. But unwilling to concede to these stupid signs, and to make our 10 YTL worth its value, we started trespassing. Believe me, the excitement is worth it.

Entering forbidden areas where it’s relatively more dangerous to walk and climb has its value. In our cameras, we embed spectacular views and perspectives that we doubt any other umbrella holding tourist out there possess. But what’s more spectacular is that Jo followed us through the vegetation and rocks on her slippers. You hear that? Slippers that she only wear in her room back there in LSE Bankside Residence is now equipping her with the ability to trespass into forbidden lands. No doubt she’ll get a burn mark from the sun on her feet, but Jo, you don’t mind the memory right? Do treasure your slippers! Sometimes I just feel ashamed that while this sister of mine is in slippers, I was climbing in Clarks Gore-Tex boots. Maybe I should have gone barefooted. But nah, too late.

The most unforgettable climb would be in towards the end. After visiting the Grand Theatre which was very much a disappointment with all the fencing and a gigantic crane, we followed the path to the former harbour. It says so in my map anyway. And no prizes for guessing what’s in our way: another no-entry sign. And to hell with it, we were in the forbidden zone in no time. Walking along the gravel path with folk songs to accompany us, it feels like a holiday all over again without the disgusting tourists. Ok, you may argue that we are tourists too. But at least we don’t brandish ugly looking umbrellas, we’re out to get a good tan in the good old sun.

The funny thing about this former harbour is that there seems to be no sign of water anywhere we turn. This former harbour may well be a former seaside city as well. Now lands abound east and west. But actually, Ephesus is indeed a marine city. But I guess the sea retreated over the few thousand years. Here, we found city buildings where the stones in the wall looks like its about to topple off and end its misery. And this is where me and Kiat decide we would wanna have a final go. In the end, it was easier to see him out at the peak on the pillar than to see a red me beside a taller pillar. And putting on the red Bodrum T-shirt that says Hotel Kalendar does not make it any better. Ha. I’m like a walking advertisement. Well, maybe they did deserve to be recommended. As I like it.

Beyond Ephesus is the famed 3km walk back to Selcuk. Basically, out of Ephesus, you’ll come to the touristy market selling souveniors and ‘genuine fake watches’. I don’t know whether to laugh or to cry, for Kiat saw the same thing and was trying to decipher if he should believe the word ‘genuine’ or ‘fake’. In the end, he had a picture of that for keepsake. Ha. I think the most characteristic feature to look out for is the bus bay cum carpark. It doesn’t only park cars, but also horse carriages with handsome breeds munching at tasty tall grasses. We had to follow the path of approximately 1km out of this place, then follow by the 3km walking route along the main road. It’s a Sunday, and the Turks can be seen taking children out for picnics and such. Heart warming and nice, it reminds me of how my mum used to take me out for walks when I was much younger. But somehow, I’m glad I grew out of my childish stubbornness that was much characteristic of my behaviour then.

Ephesus was our pre-determined last stop in Selcuk, and we decided to proceed with Izmir next. We gathered our backpacks from the hotel reception, which very kindly kept for us. On reaching the bus station, we went back to the Metro uncle who offered his help yesterday. And the coach ride to Izmir is surprisingly cheap. we expected some 10+ YTL, but the final price was 6 YTL each. Woooo.

The ride wasn’t too long either. But on reaching the bus station, our worst nightmare started. You see, the Izmir bus station wasn’t exactly the most strategic place in Izmir. It’s a good 1.5km off the main activity area, which is the Basmane (pronounced as Bas-ma-ni) train station. And that’s where our next hotel is as well. We took 1 hour to find out where to take the free shuttle service to the area, but guess what? We missed the stop! Being 1st timers in Izmir, we know shit about the place and the driver didn’t even had the helpfulness to take note of our destination. For one thing, people in Izmir doesn’t even care to speak English. That shows how isolated this place was from tourism. And to think that this place has the International Expo is an absurd idea. How do you promote trade without even educating the public in basic words of one of the world’s most commonly spoken language? Luckily, there’s a young man who came to know of our trouble with the wrong stops, and managed to negotiate a free ride to Basmane for us instead.

That isn’t the end of the nightmare, for goodness sake. The hotel which we went to, Guzel Izmir, deserves our worst rating despite being the most expensive up to now. 14 euros a night compared to 7 euros in Selcuk and Bodrum is daylight robbing. The receptionist, whom I presume is also the manager, doesn’t understand a single word of English at all. And for the 1st time in Turkey, I had to resort to sign language. Finally, I used the guide book to read to them the name of the airport, and then try to convey that we need a cab to the airport at a particular time. After all the shit that we had to go through, he seems to finally understand.

I do not wish to write down what further shit we had to go through in Izmir. It’s a terrible experience, and all I can say is fellow travellers out there who wanna pay Izmir a visit, it’s a bad idea. It’s the worst city I’ve ever experienced in my travels up till now.

140407: Bodrum, Selcuk

Woke up to giddiness. Thanks to Kiat. And despite being to worst off in terms of drunkenness, I’m the 1st to wake and wash up. Haiz, they are professional lazers in bed. Ha. Anyway, we woke up late for the earliest bus to Selcuk is at 12.30pm. No point waking up early. And hence last night’s frenzy. Ha.

Breakfast is the Turkish standard, but I’ve got no appetite for bread. Merely finished my share of nice and tender tomatoes, cucumbers and hard-boiled duck egg. Can’t help but think that the Turks really know what’s healthy and good.

Took pictures with Murti. And he is really lecherous. All the time wanting the photo he took with Jo on the 1st night. Not to mention his love for Geylang in Singapore. Haiz. And come to think of it, I’ve yet to send him the group photos. I think I should, but out of respect for Jo, maybe I should leave out the one he desired. Hehe. Jo, you gotta thank me big time.

The coach company sent someone to fetch us from the hotel to the otogar. Coach ticket prices are within expectation, I guess any transport into and out of Bodrum costs that much. We set off on time, down the road winding out of the hills surrounding Bodrum. Bye Bodrum, we’ll miss you. And I’ll be back.

The ride to Selcuk was pretty much uneventful, except for a couple of things that happened. My tummy, a little too lousy for my liking, actually felt bloated since breakfast. And the winding road help to release that bloat. Through my mouth. Haiz. But without a history of motion sickness, I can only attribute to last night’s drinks. Kiat, thanks again. The other thing was I had my MP3 player with me. And coincidentally, the song was 沉默的羔羊。Woot. I was listening to one earphone, and Jo the other. And through the final part of the journey, me and Kiat were singing that song with Jo giggling and learning from us. Of course, all other people in front, behind and beside us can help but stare at us. Ha. A heart-tugging song always helps to lift spirits.

Selcuk is a town where the locals LOVE foreigners. Not much difference from Bodrum. They rever us Asians as much as Caucasians. As long as we have cash on us. Ha. Once off the coach, there’s this man from a company called Metro that offers a lot of help. He helped us call our hotel, which had the manager drive down to the otogar to pick us up. He also offered to give us a timetable of coach rides for our next journey to Izmir. Woot. Now we can plan better, without having last minute delays in our plans. I mean, the ride to Selcuk was quite out of the way for we had to leave Bodrum earlier. Well, not that it make much difference now.

At the hotel, we managed to put down all our stuff, and decided to ask the manager for a place to have lunch. We wanted to go to a guide-recommended place, but a staff of his said that’s not really good. And to our shock, he started speaking Mandarin! It’s really both a pleasant shock but also a ‘oh no’ shock. I mean, it’s always heart warming to know someone in foreign lands could speak our mother tongue. But then, it also means we cannot really speak in ‘code’, ie in Mandarin and hoping Turks do not understand. Well, he recommended a restaurant right beside his hotel. It serves Turkish pizzas. Thinking about it, we had yet to have Turkish pizzas despite ordering in Bodrum. They always reply that they don’t have it yet due to the tourist season yet to arrive. Now we get to eat it.

Actually, the prices there are really reasonable. An all-mixed pizza for 4 YTL is really cheap. Not to mention the servings are pretty huge. And flavours are pretty varied as well. But the most interesting thing is their waiter, a young boy probably at the age of 14 years. He’s well-dressed in shirt and pants and tried to take our orders. And after our meal, he even offered complimentary drinks. All the more reason to tip him. Given his age, the chef making the pizzas in front of us is probably his dad, and everyone helps in the family business. Wow. Actually that’s not very rare. Come to think of it, I start helping my dad man his renovation outlet at the age of 13. Though I really know shit at the time. Haha.

After lunch, it was about 4 I think. And St John’s basilica is nearby. Our next stop. As we walked up the hill, there was a man who suddenly said hi and started to talk to us. He even offered to walk us to the castle behind the basilica, saying it’s along the way to his home. Going home at 4. Tells a lot about how much they are working. Haha. But people here are really friendly, Singaporeans are comparatively more snobbish. Haiz. When will we learn to have such service?

Entry into the basilica isn’t free. And not even our ISICs helps. Well, it’s just 2 YTL. Not that much anyway. The 1st thing that impressed us was the existence of this particular stone set in the west end on the basilica. At first, we were wondering what it really was, coming to the conclusion that it probably is part of the ruin. However, on closer examination, Kiat realised it actually represents a 3D map of the surrounding hills, and even the Temple of Artemis. WOW. That’s an interesting revelation. And I think the tourism board is pretty creative in doing such a thing.

After getting is, we realised that everywhere is full of ruins. From broken marble to half-erect pillars and the restored altar, everything is pretty much where they were supposed to be, with exception from some missing pillars and overhead cover. Vegetation was growing in the wild in all places, there were even an entire patch of tall wheat swaying in the wind. Can’t help resist but ask Jo to help me take a photo of me in the swaying wheat. And undoubtedly, she wanted one too. And all this while Kiat was missing. While we were wondering, we suddenly heard a shout. He actually managed to climbed up one of the gigantic pillars! And we don’t even know how he did it. Ha. He could really get down very much by himself, and I had to guide his footing down the pillar. Haha. And one thing is for sure, St John’s basilica is a very good place to take emo pictures. Haha. And shamelessly, me and Kiat took quite a lot. We almost woke St John up from his sleep, with 沉默的羔羊. Haha. Cant help but sing that emo song with emo posing in the middle of a emo place in the emo afternoon. Woot. Before I forget, this was where we shot a ‘See no evil, hear no evil, speak no evil’ shot. Haha.

But the highlight for me was actually the Temple of Artemis. To marvel at this wonder is like another pilgrimage for me. Haha. And it is BIG. Very BIG. Comprising 127 pillars, and with each pillar spanning approximately 2 metres across the diameter, I don’t have to elaborate too much on its size. I already did. And these pillars surround a few healing pools then said to be blessed by Artemis, goddess of healing. And the biggest of these pools, located right outside the temple, spans a few basketball courts. Now it’s infested by water snakes and tortoises. As said, there’s only 1 surviving pillar left and it’s constructed from bits and pieces found in the site. Not to mention the existence of a bird nest situated right on top of the pillar. Nice touch, but not quite appropriate.

I supposed the unforgettable thing for me at the Temple were the salespeople, which were also locals. According to the person, they and their fathers were excavators at the Temple of Artemis and nearby Ephesus. They need cash urgently but local museums do not pay them for coins which they excavated at these archaeological sites. Hence they resorted to selling these coins in the Temple grounds to tourists instead, hoping that we would buy. I think the best thing I could do is to replicate our conversation as below:

Local 1: 1 coin for 20 YTL. There’s Mausolos, Artemis, Roman, Greek, anything you want.
We just walked away.

10 minutes later, local 2 came to me. He showed me 5 coins.

Local 2: Friend, all 5 for 10 YTL.
Me: What?!
Local 2: All 5 for only 10 YTL. Take it.
Me: All 5? Ok, 5 YTL.
Local 2: Give me 7 YTL for it.
Me: Ok.

I handed them a 10 YTL note, and asked for change. Then local 1 came back to me.

Local 1: 1 coin for 2 YTL. You don’t have this coin. Artemis. Only 2 YTL.
Me: No, no. I only want my money. I guess they wanna to dig more money out of me.
Local 2: How about bookmarks? We don’t have 3 YTL change. Only 1 YTL. Bookmarks for 2 YTL. How?
Me: No, I only want my money. No change, then I want my money back. pointing to my 10 YTL note.
Local 2: You see you made everyone look for change for you. And all the locals are indeed frantically looking for change to give me.
Local 1: Friend, 2 YTL for a coin only. Only 2 YTL.
Me: 1 YTL.
Local 1: No, 2 YTL.
Local 2 hands me my 3 YTL change, I hand 1 YTL to Local 1.
Local 1: No, 2 YTL.
I hand over another 0.50 YTL coin, and Local 1 shakes his head.
Local 1: No, 2 YTL.
Me: Alright, I make you as a friend, I give you 2 YTL.
And I walked away laughing, with Kiat can’t stop laughing as well. Jo seems resigned to my battering and bargaining. After that, Kiat commented that he knows I gonna start playing with the locals about the deal when I said ‘what’. Haha. He really knows me best. And he knows that if I don’t play the trick on the locals, I’ll regret it. Well, old ancient coins for 9 YTL. Even if they are fake, it still makes good souveniors. But I’ve a feeling they’re not. Woot. British Museum, I need your help. Heex.

*Update: So far I've identified 2 of the coins as dated back to Alexander the Great and a Greek people known as Syracuse. For the Alexanderian coin, only the shape differs. As for the Greek coin, only it's un-cleaned state differs. Awaiting British Museum's autentication.*

Dinner was settled to be at a local restaurant. And there seems to be quite a number of Caucasians. Well, can’t go wrong I guess. The waiter directed us to sit under Kiat’s favourite, an orange tree. Food here is pretty good, but the most interesting thing is the manager himself. In serving us, we actually enquired what aubergine is. And it seems that Turks don’t have another English name for it. In desperation, the manager went into the kitchen and came out a minute later, holding a eggplant to our surprise and laugh. Ha. Today, despite me not feeling too well, gave me a lobang and a worthy dinner. Woot.

130407: Bodrum, Kos Island (Greece)

It’s Kos day. A day for the Greek island. Actually, we were very lucky. Kos ferries leave for Kos on Mondays, Wednesdays and Fridays and we happened to arrive in Bodrum on Wednesday evenings, planning for a Kos trip on Friday. And today’s weather is terrific. Murti sent us to the harbour for our ferry, with a few other people. Sunny clear sky with a mind full of fun. It’s time to set off.

The sea on the way to Kos was so calm. So calm you wouldn’t believe it’s a sea. Hardly any waves, hardly turbulence. Like the trip was made for us to enjoy. Woot.

But the queue to clear customs is mad. Long queue, long time to wait. But the highlight of the queue is a joke. A lady, standing beside the queue, actually noticed that Jo tried to sidestep a mat fully filled with water. She went up to Jo, and told her that she is required to step on the mat for security purposes. The water from the mat would then be used to imprint her footsteps for ‘further identification’. Ha. And Jo fell for it. Stunned and puzzled, Jo looked at her and then stepped on it. Only to see the smile of the lady’s face and still puzzle over why the lady is smiling. Unable to bottle it up any longer, I told Jo about the woman’s trick. And she finally realized her foolishness. Haha. What a joke.

Out of the port, we walked alongside the castle walls. After Bodrum castle, which was such a fluke, Kos castle no longer seem attractive. Anyway, we were hungry. It’s lunch time. But being curious about the Plane Tree of Hippocrates, I walked towards that direction and the 2 of them followed. Finally found it. A super big tree by imaginative sizes, but what’s left of it is just the outer layer. The internals are gone. Hollow out. And yet it’s still living. Shoots are still sprouting in the spring. Woooo. Suddenly, an old man came up to us. Introducing himself as the official guide, he started telling us about the tree and the surrounding areas. Thanks to his poor enunciation of English and a tendency to stutter, we couldn’t make much out of his stories. Finally, we had him to help us take a picture and then told him we need to be on our way for lunch. And he recommended Goodys. Great.

Lunched. Fed. Watered. Now we still need a map and a tourist information centre. In desperation, we almost entered the police station to ask for directions to a bicycle rental shop. What a laugh. Tried our luck at a local tour agency. And bingo. They gave us a map, and showed us the directions to the rental shop. Following the directions, we finally reached there. But they refused to rent to us. For god knows what reason. We started to wander aimlessly around till we realize there’s the advertisement of a bicycle rental shop on the map! Wow, where have our eyes been looking? And there evidently aren’t any babes on Kos. Haiz. The surprise was, the rent is super duper cheap. Even cheaper than in Singapore. 3 euros for a day. That’s like 6 SGD for 24 hours. In Singapore, 24 hour rental costs 5 times as much. Ouch. And we started our way up the mountains. After wasting so much time, we have approximately 1 hour to ascend before we need to descend for our ferry. Haiz.

One thing we realize: Greek villagers like to rear goats. There’re occasional cows and bulls and giant wolf-like dogs (we almost couldn’t tell the difference), but majority are goats. They even keep goat kids as pets. Goodness. So throughout our biking trip up the slope, we could hear all the ba-ba of the goats. Initially, we keep holanding. There were too many small roads leading up to houses and such. Finally, we managed to find a way up out of tar roads onto gravel roads. And the scenery starts becoming amazing. And the higher we climb, the more we are mesmerized by the landscape. Oh my goodness. But we did finally reach a point where we think we could just sit and watch the lands below us and wait for the sky to drop.

The backtracking of our routes were so much easier and effortless thanks to the slope. Just that I pity the bicycles’ tyres and brakes. Good luck to the retailer. And we had ice cream in the nice sunny weather of Greece. Mediterranean climate sure has its loveliness compared to gloomy London or fiery Singapore. Ok, London isn’t gloomy now anymore but still, I love the Aegean weather.

Back in Bodrum, our dinner is at a restaurant right beside the sea. Our table is in fact on the pebbled beach of Bodrum bay. And the sun sets while we wait for our food. After 2 days of beautiful and romantic sunset, I can finally understand why Bodrum is called Bedroom of the Mediterranean. You can really fall in love pretty easily in the atmosphere, relaxed, peaceful. There is this legend of Bodrum where you’ll find love easily in the town, and the love is lost as easily when you leave it. And it has a special name: Bodrum love, haha. I think I fell in love with the town, and up to now the love is still there in me. Woot.

Oh ya, before I end my log for today, let me just iterate that liquor in Bodrum is dirt cheap. You hear me? Dirt CHEAP. I had a litre of Absolut Peach Vodka for 10 euros in a duty free shop on my way out of customs. And Kiat bought Baileys for 14 Euros. 1 litre. No prize guessing what happened that night. I was somewhat drunk for the 1st time in my life, feasting on vodka and baileys shots. Ha. Bad boy. =p

120407: Bodrum

Today is supposed to be my mum’s birthday. And here I am in Bodrum. Sorry, mum, happy birthday and I promised goodies for you when I return.

It is today that I start to realize my travelmates are people who laze in bed. 1 alarm went off, another alarm went off, and they alternate. And none of them wanna wake up. I woke up instead. Only to realize my alarm was tuned to the wrong time. Hell.

Anyway, after last night’s drinks, I’m surprised that I’m feeling alright today. Cool. Breakfast at Hotel Kalendar was great. Traditional Turkish breakfast, on the terrace. A boiled duck egg, sliced cucumbers (Kiat’s nemesis), chopped tomatoes, cheese, butter, jam and loads of soft white bread. Not to mention nice fragrant Turkish coffee. Heavenly. And we met Kathy at breakfast. Sat with her, and had a great chat. Woot.

Today’s plans are the whole of Bodrum. No joke. It’s more like a port town than a city. Yeah. And we decided to go by the scenic windmill route that was recommended.

Erm, I think I can’t describe the scenery too well with English, or even Singlish for the matter. I’ve decided to include a poetry that I wrote on the plane back to London describing my feelings up the windmill hill.

漫步 轻盈
哼着谣曲
背靠绿油山坡
穿梭白锡屋寝
心中少了一份忧

艳阳 微风
飘着发丝
聆听绿蓝大海
遥望白云晴天
心中多了份安逸

携手相伴 写意同游
如此梦幻
如此真实
站在悬崖上
沉浸于鸟语花香中
天堂与否 毫无意义
此刻 此景 此真
天下绝妙享受

OK, it’s heavenly. Terrific weather, sunny and clear. Terrific landscape, mountains, marina, the seas and white houses. Terrific people, Jo and Kiat. In mandarin, it’s 天时、地利、仁和。 I’ve got nothing more to say. You just gotta check out my pictures. I’m so amazed by the view that there’s no words to describe. Or maybe no end to the words to describe.

Walking down to the marina, we holanded. Not entirely Kiat’s fault, though we kept teasing him about it. Ok actually more like I kept teasing him about it. Sorry brother. And the marina is luxuriously heavenly as well. All the yachts that are berthed there, hmmm, I just wish they could be mine. If only I had a few millions to spare. I’ll have a holiday every year in Bodrum, setting out to Greek islands on these yachts. But that’s a daydream. And along the way, we passed by schools dismissing their students, a traffic police vehicle lifting away a parked car and all sorts of funny things. Haha. Nice town life. And this time round, I holanded the entrance to the Bodrum castle. Insisting that it doesn’t make sense for entrance to castle to be facing the seas since most invasions happen to be from the seas, it appears that Bodrum doesn’t follow the logic. And we walked a big round to learn that lesson. Ouch.

Bodrum castle doesn’t seem to have a student rate for entry. But we kept showing them our ISIC and showed that we do not speak their language. And I think out of convenience, they waved us through. Haha. Saved 10 YTL each. That’s like the cost of our ISIC cards. And to tell the truth, the castle is disappointing. Nothing much. But the fun doesn’t come from the castle itself. It happens that there are free roaming peacocks in the castle. And Jo doesn’t seem to realize that. While pointing to a stationary one, she mentioned that it looks like real. And to her amazement, it moved. And she squealed like a peacock. Eh, maybe not like a peacock. But it was so funny the Bodrum castle became memorable for the little joke. And from then on, we started training her to differentiate between living and non-living. Was that supposed to be a Primary 3 science topic?

For lunch, we went to a little shop along the roadside. It looks like those mixed vegetable rice stalls that we get in Singapore. But here, they offer each dish as a main, not a side. Jo got her favourite eggplant (aubergine as they call it in Turkey), I got my chicken and cheese which tasted like cheese pudding and chicken and Kiat got his rolled doner. Not bad, and there were free tea. Woot. Starting to love Turkey more and more.

After lunch, we proceed to the food market beside the bus station (otogar in Turk). The food market happens to open only on Thursday and Friday, so we are quite lucky. Kiat bought some nuts for post-lunch desserts, and he got overpriced for some mixed nuts. Haha. Typical foreigner whacking technique. Beyond the market, we started walking to the Mausoleum of Halicarnassus. Actually, the Mausoleum was the prime reason that I came to Bodrum for. And we are supposed to pay 5 YTL for entry again. We tried flashing ISICs again, and after something like 5 minutes, he waved us in again. Woot. Free entry. Though not everyday Sunday, time seems to have stopped for us.

The mausoleum itself is long gone, only bits and pieces left. And Jo wasn’t really sure how it is a wonder. Lucky there was a room to show that size with modeling. And as expected from what I’ve seen in the British Museum, it is enormous. Enormous for the size of a building that people could have built eons ago. It took them decades to finish it. And much less effort than that for invaders to level it. Haiz. What a waste. And within the compound of the mausoleum, we started discussing about the wonders, and of course the Great Pyramid. Brother, don’t forget we have an agreed trip to Egypt.

There wasn’t really much in the mausoleum to look, and it’s actually more like a pilgrimage for me. Haha. The afternoon was spent walking up to the ancient roman theatre in Bodrum, which we did not go in because of the busy road separating us and the theatre. And the last bit was a unanimously agreed tea session at the bay. In case you are not aware, the Turks serve fabulous tea. I order a sage tea, which taste a bit like ginger with some herbs. I can’t remember what Jo ordered, but Kiat got himself a Turkish coffee which looks more like a Expresso shot. And we ate simit and acma (pronounced ar-ch-ma). After the 1st round of tea, we ordered a second round. This time round it’s lime tea, sage tea for Jo, and Kiat’s favourite orange tea which tasted too much like fanta. Haha.

Before dinner, we lazed on the bayshore. Watching sunset. For the 1st time in my life, I watched a full sunset. A whole 3 minutes of it. Fabulous waters, fabulous beach, fabulous hilly lands and fabulous mates. What else can I ask for? This is supposed to be a romantic moment, so those people out there who’s looking for a romantic place to spend their honeymoon, Bodrum is the place.

We scouted around for a good seafood dinner. And we found some cheap and fresh sea bass and sea bream. Never since leaving Singapore do we have had fresh fish for dinner. Grilled. Taste so much like home, yet taste like a paradise away from home. Ok, this is getting too emo.

We went back to the dessert pastry shop yesterday for desserts. Try something new and everything is cheap. Woot. Along the way, we also catered for a bottle of Yeni Raki. Ha. Tonight’s raki night. Bridge, Indian poker and raki. It’s gonna be fun.