Point2Point

I'm now running a series of articles on my website The Longest Way Home about living on an island in the Philippines.

So the Point2Point blog here, is taking a little break. It was only every meant to be my online journal from Portugal to China. But in doing so developed into The Longest Way Home website.

For that I really want to give the folks at Travellerspoint a big shout out, and thanks for the all support they've given here in the community forum and beyond.

I'm not leaving Travellerspoint! The new series of blogs on my website is just me continuing to learn about websites, and traveling with them. Trying to figure out what works for me and so on.

Once I finish the current series of entries on my website, I may turn Point2Point into a private blog, continue on as is, or turn it into something new like a photo-journal. For sure the journey is not over ...

If anyone wants to see what this blog looked like when integrated into a personal website just send me a message and I'll give you a link.

In the meantime I'll continue contributing on the forum, and on the great Travel Guides that are on TP.

So for the next few months if you want to catch up with my travel journals around the world in search of home you'll need to head to www.thelongestwayhome.com and or sign up to my RSS or Email.

"Ba ... shunnng!"

I have no idea what it meant. But Lu was not happy and was warning some tiny, skinny scruffy man in a torn t-shirt to get away from her. Thinking he'd taken a liberty with her I stepped up behind him and shouldered a distance between them. A local stall woman placed a hand on his shoulder and then wagged a finger at him. He left without another word.

"What was that about?"

"Nothing. It's fine." Lu went into silent mode as we continued looking for my shorts at the night market.

I persisted until she finally snapped something back. "He want to know how much you were paying me?"

I knew what she meant straight away. But played a little dumb. It didn't work. I finally spotted a decent pair of combat shorts hanging high. above. cheap shortsThe lady selling them put up a fight for the price. But not nearly as much as I was hoping. I knocked her back 200 pesos and got them for 200 pesos. The came my dilemma, what color? I tried to cheer Lu up with my near strip tease on the street. It had only a mild effect. The locals were happy. Then came some more comments. No wonder she was not happy. We took a jeepney back to the hotel. night time jeepney in manila

Lu was leaving the next day to visit her family before returning to her new job. And although we never really clicked. I knew I'd miss the company. We parted with big thank you's and hugs. She was worried about my travels in the Philippines. Especially since I had no clue where I was headed to next. With Vince dealing with some personal issue I was back to being a lone traveler again.

I stayed another two days in Manila. Alone I found I'd relied on Lu a little bit too much. But the jeepneys still ran with ease and I finally got to see another side to the city which on my first visit was all pristine malls. I was now noticing more foreigners in the capital. The majority being old white men with young Filipina girlfriends. Every white guy had one it seemed.

Nothing wrong with that, in Ghana every old white woman had a young local boyfriend. And so the world with continue to rotate. However what I did not like, were some of the creepy old white guys.

Some were dressed in tank tops, white knee length shorts, and shin high socks and looked a sight.it gets creepier Others were overweight, greasy haired and seemed to have problems walking properly. Some still were skinny and sick looking while the girls with them looked just too young.

Then there were the guy's with guys. And the guys with guys dressed as girls.girl or boy or both? Everything seemed fair game. The darker the street, the more likely you were to start hearing offers. Lone women, and men, waiting at corners. During the day the smiles were for shopping at malls, at night the smiles were for cash exchanges and sinful rewards. happens all over the world

I thought back to the comments directed at Lu the night before. It was easier to see why people had made those comments now. I felt bad for her. Especially since there was never anything at all between us in anyway. But then this was part of Manila. And for that matter, any other major city in the world could and does have similar traits.motorellas at night

For me I found the darker side of Manila far more interesting than the pristine sterile Malls. Things were fake there. Out in the streets life was raw and in your face. It was a part of traveling I enjoyed the most. There's no getting around the fact that to find a home, I had to jump off the tourist trail more. I had to see more of a countries real life blood. A challenge seemed to be dawning.

I also needed to put somethings to rest. People I know keep telling me to slow down. I don't like this. They say your in the Philippines, find an island and settle down. I say in return have you not read where I have been, it simple does not work that way anymore. It's 2009, visas, wars, money, economic collapses et al prevent so much.

But, I am stubborn. It got me this far, so I think of it as a positive. I am however, also open to all ideas, even though I know they won't always work for me. So next up comes my social experiment in finding home. Go with the masses. See how it works ...

Coming soon:

A new destination is decided plus an inside look at what life really is like on the road trying to find home.

Get regular updates with my RSS or email updates.

"You want cheap shorts and a fake cell phone?"

I looked at Lu and blinked. Cheap shorts were a must. The humidity was high like the heat, and since i could now wear them again. I wanted them. I cut her off before she mentioned anything about about going to a mall. Too expensive. And in truth, I really wanted to see what the real Manila was like. i'll never get tired of jeepney rides

We took a Jeepney and then a regular bus to Greenhills. A Code name for another mall. Only this time I had been assured by both my Filipino friend Lu, and the girl at reception that Greenhills was no ordinary mall. It was in fact, a mall filled to the brim with fake everything.

From designer Gucci bags, to Levi's jeans. From I-Phones to unheard of Chinese counter brands. From new pre pre pre release movies, to the entire collection of every modern TV series you could get it here.

By far the most impressive area was the cell/mobile phone area.endless rows I had seen my fair share of rip off phone stores in Asia, the mid east and to a veritable extent the back streets of Spain. But they all paled in comparison to the counter after counter of fake, renovated and new mobile stalls that lined the mall.

PDA's, bridge phones, Chinese copied phones, memory cards, mp3 players in all colors and shapes, not to mention mp4 players and micro this and macro that players. It was about as impressive as you could get.

My camera was glared at as I tried to take a photo and a few faces went ducking behind counters. Lu Lu nearly swatted my arm off as she smacked me hard in the arm. "Not a good idea."

So, I window shopped.

"Sir, over here."

"What you need from me?"

"Guapo, buy I-phone?"

Who could resist? Back in Manila was like being back at the center of a red carpet movie premiere at the best of times.

I took a look at an i-phone rip off. It worked just fine, bar the Chinese text. Thecan you read chinese? girl behind the counter called her long haired colleague over to help. I handed over the phone to a delicate hand with bright pink nail varnish. Then looked up to see what was for sure a very male face looking at me.

The Filipino transvestite/she male/not sure at all lady boy smiled wildly at me.

"No thanks, not buying today!"

Lu found it funny.

The day moved on with Lu purchasing a fake designer bag, and plenty of Pasalubongs. Apparently when one traveled out from one's home city in the Philippines it was expected that you bring gifts back for both family and friends.

local food, about $3 for everything hereBy the time we ate at the giant food court, hopped back onto a bus and got back to the terminal in Metro Manila it was dark. Lu was unsure about going to the Market during the night. Not the general central market most tourists go, but a more local version. People had told us it was unsafe. A muggers hive of all things scum ridden. Just what I needed to see.

We headed to an area under the LRT bridge.night time jeepneys The road was indeed filled with a crowd of night dwellers. Night Market Dwellers. Stalls were set up selling cheap brand less clothes and cheaper still Chinese plastic paraphernalia. Food stalls steamed wildly as trays of the Philippines infamous Balut (premature duck) eggs were sold. Siomi, light pastry filled with meat and steamed ... no 1 on the streetsDeep fried dough balls, squid balls, and mixture of anything that once floated in the sea balls; all mingled with watermelon and mango stands. A translucent ooze of liquid often running off from said stalls made me glad I did not like sandals.

Behind them again were groups of youths. Loners. And the type of man, or woman, you knew it would not be wise to converse with. But they kept to themselves and largely ignored the two people wandering down the road. Nonetheless, I found the people very friendly as they usually are in such places. Lu refused to believe me.

There were no more pretty uniformed girls here. Make up and sales pitches were gone. Instead I was greeted with nods, genuine smiles and the odd wave. I had finally made it to the real Manila. I looked around as I suddenly noticed Lu Lu was no longer in front of me. night streets

I heard her voice over by a clothes vendor and turned just in time to see her shouting at a very drunk looking man. What's worse was that there was a crowd gathering ...

Coming soon: The Darker Side of Manila Part II

Also, it's time for a change. Finding home what this is all about, and things are about to kick off.

It was a long argument, and Lu won. We would only be taking a day trip to Batad. I wanted to stay overnight, but she was all terraced out. We left early, on a jeepney, and then another until finally stopping off at the base of the trek. heading up

The trek was not so hard, we could have shortened it by paying an outrageous 200 pesos for a 15 minute lift to the top of the valley. great viewsBut our tight pockets prevent us. At the top various vendors approached. None too helpful, nor annoying. Most proclaiming it was impossible to find the terraces without a guide. We shrugged and followed the single well worn path down the terrace beside us.

Unlike Banuae, Batad had a more remote feel to it. The trip down into the valley took about two hours and was no problem at all. Thick jungle it was not, a little over grown, yes. pristine terrace

At the base we were greeted by a little stall. donations?I feared for yet more 'only with a guide' rules. Thankfully they were only after a donation. Apparently the UNESCO rice terraces are under threat from two angles. 1) few of the youth want to work on the terraces all day. The cities offered more. giant wormhole2) a giant worm was destroying the mud and clay walls. This was the biggest threat it seemed.

Doesn't UNESCO give money to help preserve these places?? Similar to India and other places I was disappointed to see all they like to do was stick up blue UNESCO everywhere instead.

After a brief local lunch we headed own the steep terraces pathways and through various small paths. The locals were friendly, but one could see they were getting that 'another tourist look' to them. After a far walk the waterfall of Tappia was visible. But I would rate the surrounding terraced land as the main attraction. Again everyday life was simple yet hard.rice paddy

I also noticed something about the rice terraces. no one left to maintain themThey were indeed in bad shape. Snails, worms, and a lack of maintenance was having an effect. Lu explained that the Government had left agriculture in favor of investing in Information Technology. AKA cheap call centers. The Philippines mainly imported it's rice now. A staggering blow to the rice terraces that was seeing them collapse. reflective thinking

Again I wonder why some countries don't learn from others that made similar mistakes like them before. Is that not progress. Yet at the same time saw in the news about yet more genocide atrocities in the world to day. Attention spans are shortening, and no in the world it seems is learning.

I imagined what it would be like to spend more time in the region. The people appealed, but the area was pretty monotonous. And I just knew I would get worked up over UNESCO, grants, and a the loss of such an area. I'd lived through that before for years in Africa. Doing it again did not appeal. how long will they last?

Instead it was time to head back to Manila. That big polluted capital that I actually liked. Mainly I suspected because I'd yet to meet someone who did not hate it. This time it would be different though. I would be saying goodbye to Lu. And I wanted to see the real Manila. By myself. Time was running out for me once again and I needed to get to grips with something else. Finding a place called Home ...

Coming Soon:

The Darker Side of Manila ...

Also on the the website: The Longest Way Home

The last trip through the Khyber Pass

The Longest Way Home

Banaue is a small town that's featured in every guide book due to it's UNESCO world heritage approved - Philippine Rice Terraces. As much as these sites are interesting, the tourist influx lowers their appeal to me.

"How much?"

"1,500 pesos, per room."

After China, and Nepal I was having problems adjusting to high room prices in the Philippines. Even when sharing with Lu, I was still paying more. What's worse I was paying more for less. I walked out as Lu tried bargaining the banaue townlady down. Another tout came up.

"How much?"

He looked at the list of room prices behind me. "1,000"

"No thanks."

I then spotted an old lady across the road. 5 minutes later and we had a double room for 400. It's wasn't great. But with private bathroom and plenty of cost saving tips from the old lady, I was happy.

With the help of the old lady and another 400 pesos we arranged for a return trip Tricycle to take us to the look out point that would give us this world heritage site view. And so it did. sign says it all

Our driver wanted to pull onto a concrete platform that had a group of Ifuago look-a-likes dressed up in native gear. Pose for a photo, hand over a wad of cash no thanks. Instead we moved up a bit further. Lu was as happy as I'd ever seen her. A little dream come true for her. To see her own countries rice terraces, at least the famous ones.

"Let's go down to them," I suggested.

Lu's eyes lit up, and we were off scrambling down someone's back garden after sending the tricycle driver away. We'd hit pay dirt. The rice terraces were a lot better close up.
rice terraceThe terraces were made from stone and clay walls. They prevented the mountains from erosion during the rainy season, and the small flat areas in between the terraces provided space for rice paddie's .

We walked along the well maintained terraces and soon came across a local real Ifuago man, chewing away on some orange grain. I so wanted to take a photo. Lu was behind me and I didn't want to insult the old man by thrusting a camera into his face. I politely nodded as he stopped work to let me pass.

perfect english"Where are you going?"

I stopped dead. The old man spoke perfect English. He'd learned from American GI's when they were stationed there. Now he tended to his terrace. It provided food for the family. Times were different.

young girl crossing terraceFollowing a route the old man gave, I went further down the valley. Crossed some more Paddie's and then through some thick under growth. But it seemed Lu was suffering. She was just happy with her photo to prove she had seen the terraces, and now wanted to go back. I'd seen enough of "Take ten photos beside the sign and then leave" people in my travels to care less. The majority coming from Asia it seemed. I pushed on.

woman working in the rice terraceI moved towards some distant workers and tried to figure out how to get up. It was then I spotted a lady tending to her rice paddy. Alone she pulled at clumps of rice stalks, bundled them up, and waded over to the side of the paddy. She's then repeated the process until she had a sack full. It was then time for her to struggle up the steep embankment. quite a steep climbAnd so the process continued ... and repeated all day.

It took us 3 hours to walk back to the main town,
heading downalong the way stopping off at roadside villages. Marveling at the hidden cables that helped to transport rice sacks up from the bottom of the valley. cables between houses used to pull of rice

If our next destination was the best of the best in Batad, I couldn't wait. Then that old feeling crept up. Solitude, rural peace. Wanting to know about how it all worked. Banaue had it. But something was lacking. It was all it had. This was not a show piece of UNESCO world heritage, this was everyday life.

Coming soon:

Batad or Banaue, which is the best rice terrace in the Philippines?

Also on: The Longest Way Home

In my stories section: Talika, a 12 year old miner from Nepal

Don't forget to sign up to the RSS or Email subscriptions for additional updates. There are some new additions to this feature when I hit Manila again.

morning mist in sagadaThe morning mist lifted off the surrounding mountains to reveal the first of our beautiful Rice Terraces. The air was cooler than it should have been in the tropical Philippines. The sky was lined with thick cloud. In most places that would have been a bad omen. Or a least a shady day. For me it brought light relief as we walked down a gravel strewn road for a day of caving in Sagada.

"Did you bring swimming gear?" Randy the guide asked.

Lu turned to me with a frown. "You didn't tell me we'd be in water?"

"I didn't know myself?!" Still clutching my memory card filled with Tibet riot photos I had brought my passport, camera and just about everything else water could kill off with me. Lu on the other hand was having her monthly friend visit her and was none to happy about going in the water.

the trail "I'll carry you." Randy replied. I looked at the ex army guide I'd chosen and wondered if he was serious. He was a nice chap who'd just broken off from the official government tour guides association to set up his own agency. Super cheap, and to be honest the guy knew a lot about where we were going.

Lu's face burst into a big smile at his chivalrous gesture. I then wondered if he'd carry my camera, wallet, boots and passport too?!

No. I'm glad I was at least sharing the costs.

We walked down a path of steep stone steps leading to the yawning entrance of a large cave. The air became cooler still and took on the scent of moist wood. It was the setting of yet more Sagada coffins.more coffins Unlike the previous hanging coffins. These ones were stacked along the walls in heaps and droves. Most were fairly aged and covered in patches of green moss. Others were in state of decrepit decay. In the center the oldest of the wooden structures was so far gone that wood and white sticks of bone were all that was left.

We went back up to the gravel strewn road and walked further to the main cave entrance. Just in time for the rain to arrive. Either way it looked like I was getting wet today. For all my travels I felt under prepared for the first time as Randy changed into his swimming gear, head torch and rock climbing shores. I packed every thing I had into one dry bag and tied my boots around my neck. Meanwhile Randy filled his day pack with Lu's things. And again she fell for the chivalry.

She turned and unleashed a knowing mischievous grin at me. I asked how her stomach was. She frowned.

Lantern in hand Randy led the way into the wide cave opening.pitch black otherwiseDarkness surrounded us as the spot lights from our head torches bounced off the glistening walls. To be fair to Randy he was good. He talked up about the caves history, the people that lived there 1000's of years ago. The Japanese platoon that hid out there in WW2 and how his tour was better than the government one.

We descended deeper still into the caves. Bats flew out above us as Randy clapped his hands on que. bats in the caveThen, the water started to appear. At first up to our ankles; then up to our knees. It was cold, and black. Yet when our torches shown down, it was as clear as spring water should be.

cavingWe reached a large tunnel with an overflow of water splashing down from above. Using ropes to guide ourselves further down Lu shrieked out.

"It's freezing."

Dry bag and boots around my neck I must have looked a sight at I grabbed hold of the ropes and made my decent. I looked up as Icy water splashed over my body. Up ahead there were more shills of delight as Lu looked on at a large underground expanse of water. I crossed a narrow ravine and wondered how we were going to cross.

Randy blazed a head, turning back to guide Lu along slowly. I readjusted my boots around my neck to near choking point and pattered out onto the ravine. Grabbing main rope, I pushed off along the wall and managed to use my spine as a bumper as as my weight cause the rope to bounce down and around. No sign of Randy to the rescue for me.

Ravine crossed I Looked back from where we came I saw how the rough rock and been sculpted by natures water in smooth statues and glistening forms of art. My breath formed steam in the air as Randy pointed out some fabled works.steam in the philippines!

"This is the big lady."

I saw why. There was also a Long Man and another few lady terms around.a girl cavei guess this is the boy?

"We go back?" asked Lu looking at the water ahead.

"No, forward" replied Randy. "And the under."

I should have been excited. But all I could think about was the slow destruction of my electronics, and more importantly irreplaceable photos. I waded in and soon hoped he didn't mean we literally had to go under water swimming. Lu squealed as Harry put her up on his shoulders like a little child and waded in .
water rising

The water came up to my waist, and then leveled off at that. Over a glistening underground dam and we were now faced with a very low claustrophobic opening that I knew would be a tight squeeze. Randy went first. He angled his shoulders, knelt down and then squirmed into the tight fitting space. Falling to his belly he then spun around effortlessly to reposition his body and slipped on through. tight fit

Smaller than any of us. Lu, of course, got stuck in the middle. I think she was trying not to get dirty by avoiding to touch the cave walls. It didn't work. A slip, a splash, a groan, and then a manual spin from Harry and me, and she made it thorough.

Now came the embarrassing part. I thought for sure I would get stuck. I handed my gear to Harry and squeezed into the opening. From memory I followed his actions. It worked. Once in position, I fell to my stomach and spun on the shiny rock and slipped through to the other side.

As we passed through many more tunnels and inner caves. cave formationsI began to wonder if caving like this was possible in the rest of the world. In the west I imagined enforced helmets, rope ties, probably a license or a permit. And what ever else was deemed necessary. Here it was in the raw, and enjoyable.

After a rope climb up an underground rock face and some more human body part rock sculptures light appeared. We had in fact done a giant loop and were back at the start. Up ahead a group of local tourists were hovering around in preparation for their own cavernous assault. about to head in

It was still raining when we emerged, not that we weren't already soaking. We thanked Randy for making the day so enjoyable and made our way back to the hotel. My dry bag had held up well and everything bar my own person was dry. It was one of those days that was so good you wanted to stay another day just to repeat it all again. Over an amazing meal cooked my a French expat we began planning for our next assault. The fabled Rice Terraces.

For the first time in while I felt excited about visiting a place. Tours, touts and guides aside, I vowed not to take any in Banuae.

Coming soon:

Banaue ... UNESCO protected rice terraces abound. Better yet meet the real treasure in the mountain lands of the Philippines. The people working them ...

Also: on The Longest Way Home Website

There's a new page on How to Travel Blog from Cyber Cafes with tips and help for those without laptops.

I've upload higher resolution photos to the Gallery page. Please check them out and let me know via the poll on the same page if they are loading quickly enough or not? There's also a new India Ganges Video there to check out.

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It was the first time I was alone since arriving in the Philippines. After making sure Lu was okay at the hotel I was back at the coffins. I'd dodged a few of the guides again. Avoiding the pleas that it was impossible to locate them without a guide, and one chap telling me about the dangers involved.back at the coffins

I spent some time reading up on the whole coffin process. And learned how a family member would stay with the deceased for a period of time. And by stay, they meant stay with them as they hung in a coffin. I looked up and caught a glimpse of a chair suspended beside one.
a hanging chair maybe they took it literally?

Venturing into one of the many caves scattered throughout the area I couldn't help but be fascinated by this tradition. broken coffin After the Chinese Pyramids it was interesting to see another Asian burial rite up close.

My trek was somewhat rushed as evening was moving in. trail cut short But it was enjoyable and good to get away from the touts who said it couldn't be done. No sooner had I let my curiosity take me further into the surrounding valley though, when I came across a memorial for an Italian touristtourist who died Apparently he'd ventured off too close to the valley cliffs and went over. Not a hard thing to do I noticed. The ground was deceptively prone to giving away, hidden under long grass as it was. For sure it was time to head back to town.

Thinking of the following day, along the way I stopped off to check out about the famous caving at the tourist office. Here I once again learned that Philippino signage, is not always so easy to read. Confusion reigned.

400 pesos half day full guide - 800, full day full rate motorbike guide - 1500 Full day guide with map.

The wall poster made little sense. Unfortunately the larger sign in the office did. "Mandatory guide for Sumaging Cave"

After the freedom of Nepal, and even China. I felt smothered by the 'have to have a guide' attitude of the Philippines' I left and ventured up a little further in the town. Along the way I noticed a guy standing by a second tour agency. Randy, introduced himself with a smile.

"I have no money my friend." I replied back before he could go any further.

He gave me his number and explained that the only official tourist guide office had just broken into two. Rates were competitive now. He offered to show us a burial cave with a full day of caving for half the price the official - or was it now, unofficial tourist office offered. I nodded and said I'd give him a call in the morning.

Looking back across the town the cool evening mist started to move in. misty mountainsI could smell the BBQ's starting up again. I still wasn't clicking to the Philippines. It seemed so very commercial. In the cities it was malls and fast food, in the remoter areas it was pay for this and tour for that. I was missing my overland route ... But I also realized the pit falls of travel for my chosen venture.

Travel is an addiction. Or rather the attributes a traveler entails are additive. When something was not so good, you could move on. Life on the go always brings about something new. Perhaps that's the biggest addictive quality. Always something new, with a dash of 'ability to move on'. My biggest responsibility is to find a home. Responsibility is rebuked by travel. I have to do something about it ...

Coming soon:

Underground antics, caving and the fear of loosing it all ...

Also on the site check out the stories page, new additions are being added!

If you'd like to stay up-to-date with all the websites additions and behind the scenes information try having a look at my RSS or email updates

While this site is a hanging wall for my photography, a shelf for my stories and a desk for my journal I'd also like to make it more accessible for as many people as possible.

While in Africa I met many children and adults who loved to hear about the rest of the world. Story telling, images and events were a big thing. The same is true the world over.

I have also met people with reading or sight impairments and I hope that bringing in new options to this website will provide enjoyment, information and good listening/reading material.

Here are some new features:

- There is now a high contrast image free version of this journal on my sight impaired blog here

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Again, I hope with these new features people with reading difficulties, sight impairments or a lack of good internet can benefit.

I am open to feedback on this feature so please feel free to contact me about it. I don't have many resources, so I just did what I could with what I have to hand. It's not super high tech, nor super great, but it's a start.

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Other Site Updates:

For those who subscribe to my RSS and Email updates, you'll know about the recent feedburner and google issue. I am pleased to say that everything is now back to normal.

For those who don't subscribe, and as requested via an email, I've put a small update bar on the blog so you can see when new pages are added to the website. There's plenty more going on behind the scenes on the website so subscribing is really the answer if you want to know more.

I'll give a full round up once back in Manila

Coming next week:

The Northern Philippines

As a follow up to my previous journal entry about now being over 4 years on the road in search of home; below is temple in lhasaan extract from the 2nd part of my experience of getting caught up in the Tibet Riots. I'm posting it here, now; as it's one of the events in the last year that had a profound effect on me. A positive one. At this stage life on the road in search of home was entering new unexplored territory.

In the next few months there will be a few changes in this journal. What happened in Tibet is a part of that.

Tibetan issues I put aside here; they've been well documented the world over. What I write about here is the experience I had.buildings on fire It's not something I think everyone can attest to, nor agree. Neither are some of the things I write about in my journal, but then, that's part of the reason I have a journal. If you don't speak, no one will listen. Including, perhaps, me.

In Lhasa I reestablished my fear that I was not worried about me. My physical well being was not an issue. My photographs survival, would my friends know where I died or that I was rotting in a Chinese jail topped my short list. If I died, it didn't matter how; whether it was a building fire, heated mob violence, or a Chinese bullet. What mattered to me was how would people know it ended? Sounds pathetic, scary, immature, selfish, tibetan beat down stupid, or whatever - to others. But the saying blood is thicker than water is true. Likewise, out of sight, out of mind. There is a difference between family and friends. To me this was a further conformation of a solo life in search of a home, a place to live. Values change. Or rather they'd changed a long time ago, this was just a nail in the proverbial coffin. A wake up call for a cause heard around the world, and one that alerted me to my own.

At times I am in a unique position. Going back to the previous commenter about "having a blast". Sometimes this works in my favor. More often it does not. Here in this situation, it worked in my favor. troops lined upAs others tried to contact loved ones in a panic of tears and realization of a possible fate; my mind was on the situation at hand. The building next door ... could we cross over to it and escape? Where to hide the photos? When to do it? Did the hotel have a generator, where was the fuel stored? Should I leave alone, or bring others? Or simply stay put.

Then there was the aftermath. Being confronted by a man telling me we were turning back to Nepal. Having others in the group support the decision. And fighting for my own right to continue on. But this was China, and I was told I had no rights; unlike my home. Paradoxical words that fueled my determination not to let it happen. And so I fought on, and left smoldering Tibet behind while others returned to Nepal.

The fear of loosing my overland journey was more gruesome than my own envisaged death. Again, I am in a unique position. Travel in China was slightly marred by the fact that I now had a single group entry permit with 'those' dates on it. chinese troopsI had a host of photo's and video of people and faces. Africa taught me it might be better to hit delete, rather than have it confiscated. The Italian who'd inserted his memory card in to a dark recess of his anatomy had returned to Nepal, maybe; he'd been the wiser. But then came the news of the Australians who'd also returned, and posted all online. The arrests were underway. I had made the right choice.

Just a recap: After waiting in Nepal for weeks, so that the Chinese snow storms would pass, I befriended one of four 'real' Tibet tour operators. Helpful, as I was about to start on the concluding leg of my overland journey. I'd experienced being in the riots in Kathmandu during this time. Felt the surge of adrenaline, and imagined a different life. This was something very different. For a full recap one should read my past travelouge entry.

The full entry reads better on my stories page, and to get a better idea of everything the first part of this travelogue is here, have a read of that first and continue on from there.

Please note photographs have been altered to protect identities.

Watching the Chinese Army move into Lhasa

People panic, it's human nature after all. An entire city is in the middle of a full on riot. Explosions and building on fire in lhasagunshots rock the air. Thick plumes of smoke are rising up from all round your rooftop vantage point. Below the scenes of mob violence unravel before you like a bloody movie scene. What's worse, across the road a block of buildings is in flames, there's tear gas in the air and an upturned car is burning up against your hotel wall. No wonder people were were panicking.

Strangely different nationalities acted in different stereotypical fashion. The Dutch remained cool, the Slovaks wept, the Americans panicked, the Brits went silent, the Australians tried to be cool, and the French did their own thing. Generalizations I know, but it's what happened. Meanwhile the real people at hand where the Tibetans, and they were scared because they knew that new nationality was descending upon the Tibetan capital of Lhasa; the Chinese army.

"Stay put and don't go anywhere," our guide pleaded.

"The hotel's on fire and the staff told us to get out!" shouted back a frantic voice.

streets of lhasa The reception area was in tatters. The bay windows were smashed in and chunks of glass were strewn everywhere. It was dark as the power had long since gone out. Smoke was spilling in from the street outside; tables and chairs stacked up around the broken doors. Through the cracks in the furniture we could see masked faces running by, trails of smoke and the odd orange flicker of fire.

We headed back up the stairs as the staff came running down in the opposite direction. We'd given up on getting any precise answers from them a long time ago. But what to do? We didn't know whether the hotel was truly on fire, and even if it was, the streets outside were certainly no safer looking at this stage.

I'd already managed one venture outside. The Tibetan's were fine,ready and waitingand were not interested in harming a tourist. What worried me the most was what we were now hearing. The incredible sound of metal clattering and crunching against tarmac and concrete outside. Tanks.

A few of us ran to the rooftop again, only to be tackled back by local Tibetan workers. "Too dangerous, back to your room."

But in such a situation, survival takes hold. I for one wanted to know if the damn hotel was truly on fire or not, not to mention whether the Chinese Army were about to open fire or worse. I pushed back, hard, and released a host of profanity in a torrent of rage. They moved back by force.

There was more clattering now. Plus the unmistakable sound of solid rubber on tarmac; marching troops. Not just marching troops, but hundreds of urban fatigued army types storming ready for action down the main road. On traffic poles, junction boxes and any metal object they'd clatter their batons. A chilling sound that was meant to intimidate with the warning of impending violence. It did. Long since before, the rioters had moved on.

Still some locals were trapped. I looked on as an APC trundled up the road and blocked in a group of terrified people. tank corners tibetansIn the distance explosions still rocked the capital. Gunfire rang out followed by a strange metallic whoosh as tear gas was set off below. Much like my time in Kathmandu I recognized the terrible bitter taste as my eyes began to water and sting.

I changed location and looked on as tens of army trucks appeared. Dusk was approaching, the hotel was smoking with the absence of flame and the explosions were becoming more distant. It looked like we were going to be spending the night in havoc.

Read more ...

Coming next:

Back to Travel in the northern part of the Philippines and that dead tourist ...

As I mentioned at the start, my travel journal will be taking on a few changes in the coming months. Probably after or during a return to Manila post Northern Travels. It should be interesting and well worth tuning into as I make a few big decisions. Should make for some interesting reading ...

Stay tuned on my journey around the world in search of home, and all The Longest Way Home's site wide updates with my Travelers RSS and email.

If it wasn't for the website I probably wouldn't have written up a journal entry about being four years on the road now. I would have done what I did the last few years and just shuffled the idea into the darker area that is my subconscious and looked back at it from a rear view mirror perspective. time ticks on ...

But that little timer in the top right keeps ticking away reminding me ...

I got a one liner comment from someone a few weeks back saying I was doing a "cool thing, you must be having a blast". A not so unusual comment from someone not having a disposition of my journey nor life.portugal, kick off! Since the website came about I usually get emails from people that are quite thought out - offering support, well wishes and thanks for the websites information and the inspiration. The latter touches me more than anything else. Inspiration. It's an honor to inspire anyone, I feel. I couldn't ask for more. budapest, a tourist mecca, couldn't wait to escape!

So back to my point about 'having a blast.' While travel does always have it's up's. After four plus years, even after the first, I truly wish I was just traveling for the sake of travel. With no family nor support network it's not just a nomadic romantic travel trip that I am on.iran, not what I expected, but inspiring I don't have a home to return to if things go belly up, or if I break a leg or get ill. Something I've already felt the ravish bite of. I'm on my own. It brings about a different kind of journey. Visas, permits, don't qualify, can't live here, no education, too old to work there. It all mounts up into a quandary of negativity. Hence my subconscious is often a dumping ground. From this recess, I find new hope. I've been in worse places in my life. pakistan during emergency rule, and the Khyber Pass

I am of course not an expert in all this finding home stuff, otherwise I would have found something by now. After four years on the road I've come pretty darn close on three occasions. Reading through the site should give you a fairly clear indication of where. If, at a certain point I know it's time to stop.india, a home to many ... Or, I have to. I have these choices to think about. It's certainly better than four years ago when after a lifetime of desire, hope, survival and dreams of escape, I had no choices. This makes me feel good, and I have to remind myself about that on occasion.

Likewise The Longest Way Home website has been of great benefit to me. For four years I had all my photographs on various online storage places.snow and ice in nepalLocked away and never viewed. Now I can log in and as if viewing them on the wall of my home I can see them all there. If only I had time to publish more of them. Something I truly enjoy. A home away ... until I find home.

The past four years have been quite an adventure. And, like any well laid out plan, it's taken me to places I never planned for. I've made mistakes, and have hopefully learned from them. I've also done the right thing on many an occasion, and have to remind myself not to forget those things either. okay maybe not here ...I know for sure I am getting closer. I've tasted home on this journey, felt it's primal security; and want a permanent version to be a part of me.

This past year I've been over 17,000 feet in -23 degrees in thin African combats and felt proud of my stupidity and self testing. I ended up in the middle of riots in Kathmandu and garnered a new purpose. I passed by Everest, and found myself in the middle of the second Tibetan uprising in Lhasa. some places stay with youI met new friends, said goodbye to old ones and completed my overland journey. And yes, I remind myself I found 2 potential homes along the way (and yes I know I said 3 earlier, think dates here). Then for the first time in quite a while I boarded a plane and ended up in the Philippines and onwards I go ...

Along the way I've written another book, 400 pages; of fiction I might add. And, I built www.thelongestwayhome.com with my own fair hands. the journey continues ... But best of all in the past year I tasted what home is like. That above all else pulls at me from inside. I was right. There is something out there. I've touched it. Felt it. And know what it feels like now. This above all else, is my biggest accomplishment to date.

Now, it's onwards to fully capture that feeling, that place ... once and for all. And, before it's too late ...it can happen ...

Coming soon:

As part of my four year anniversary of being on the road I have put together the final part my Lhasa experience with photographs not yet seen nor published here or elsewhere. It's a highlight of my travels over the past year and something that inspired me towards something else in my search for home ...

After that, this journal finally get's back to the Northern Philippines, that Dead Tourist and my continuing search around the world for a home!

Also on the site next week - Two new pages will be added to my Travel Resources section, How to Spot Fake Stuff When Traveling and How to Spot Fake Batteries.
But wait the Links Don't work yet!! They'll be live next week. They'll be two really good pages for anyone planning to buy Clothes, DVD's, Books, Mobile Phones or any other types of Electronics while traveling.
By subscribing to my RSS or free email updates. you'll get immediate notification when the pages go live!

Four years on the road, I think I have come far ...

Just a quick little update to Christmas festivities in the Philippines on Christmas Eve.

Near endless shiny sparkly lights and badly dressed Santa's aside. If anyone has ever been to the Philippines they might have noticed the numerous fireworks displays that seem to run every other week from one mall or another. No? Well most tourists are too busy on a beach or dare I say going to see hanging coffins to notice the Mall gathering points where most of this takes place every so often.

Would the Philippines celebrate Christmas in a time honoured traditional way people in the west see it as, or would it just pass by as just another holiday ...

Sufficed to say over the past few weeks I've been noticing a slow build up of fireworks, firecrackers and just about any other fire creation in stalls throughout most of the said malls. They are everywhere.

So it came as little surprise to me when on the 24th of December I was woken at the fiendishly early time of 9am by the loud popping of street side firecrackers. Bang Bang, pop, pop pop. And so it went on. And on and on. Indeed it lasted all day and well into the night. Non stop. Very impressive, for noise and persistence qualities alone.bang

A constant rain of cracks and explosions. Sometimes big singles blasts of sky illuminating proportions. But mainly the streets were filled with Euro/USA type banned street firecrackers that scare the living hell out of most tourists. Why? Well your fair game in another country for sweet little 8 year olds that finally have their hands on live explosives. Lose an eye, finger, or hand in the process thoughts; no where near the high list of priorities. Good for them I say. It also provided me with an immense amount of amusement to watch them run back inside their hotels or leap into the nearest taxi. Filled me with Christmas cheer!

As night time fell the fireworks broke loose, and for 7 hours each local neighborhood kept a constant display showing until 1am. Not just neighborhoods in the sense of distant barangay's. But neighborhoods in the sense of every other street. They weren't the biggest not most spectacular displays I'd seen. But for sure I'dnever seen so many neighborhoods get involved and for sure never have I seen a display last so long.

fireworks over palm trees 1 min approx, it was either that or a 7 hour livecast

While in the west people need to pass anti terrorist tests, dangerous weapons acts and all sorts of health and safety laws before one can buy a friggin' hand sparkler. In the Philippines a local 6 year old can gleefully aim a Chinese "Dragon Bomb" at whomever they so wish. Throw firecrackers at passing Motorella's and petrify the odd tourist couple too.

In Nepal during their new years (Losar) the kids would run the streets tying you up in string and threaten you with paint unless you handed over money. In the Philippines it's full out gun powered war. All I can say is, thank goodness it's not karaoke microphones they are threatening people with. I too would have hidden myself away at that thought. A future war crime in the making.

The biggest thing for me was the consistency. Non stop, every other street seems to have some kid, or teenager throwing or lobbing various bits of non QC exploding firecracker around. Literally all day not 10 seconds would pass with out hearing distant, not so distant and aimed right at you firecracker! Unlike in the west, it seems kids stay up well past the midnight hour on Christmas eve in the Philippines. Maybe there's hope for my less than stellar early mornings yet! it went on into the night

If that was Christmas Eve, I just wonder what New Years Eve will be like?!

"We'll get lost otherwise!"

"I have a map!"

"So ..."

After the previous debacle of having to pay 20 pesos just to enter Sagada, I was now being asked to pay 200 for a guide to the hanging coffins. I looked at Lu and surrendered. We paid, and headed off down the main town road past a quaint churchon the way ....

I remembered what it was like as a 'seasoned' traveler vs local traveler. Most think it's great to have a local show you around. And yes it can be a great asset. But as someone who's traveled a fair bit, there were some international similarities the world over. No matter the country. There were always ways to see something without having to pay for a guide. This was a prime example. Likewise the ridiculous 20 peso entrance fee into a town. I put money on it no one would ever stop us to see our tiny little tickets. But explaining the do's and don't of travel to a local person, who at the same time is feeling the weight of responsibility for showing your around; just isn't good.

Through a cemetery we went and down a little path into an overground area. past some graves to find hanging coffins The heat of the day was building up and I was glad that I had 2 bottles of water and trekking bars for the day. Then our guide stopped. He grinned at me and then nodded.

"Erm, yea?"

He pointed out over a forested valley. I squinted. Nothing. He came a little closer and pointed to a rock face. so the guide said ...There were some wooden boxes nestled into the vertical face. I smiled, took a photo and started to walk down. The guide didn't move. Lu spoke to him briefly, then looked at me with defeated eyes.

"That's it."

I said nothing. We headed back. Thanked our guide and ate some fried banana.

"Are you ready to go back alone now?"

Lu nodded, "Do you think they will have guards?"

We headed back along the same route. Through the cemetery and then down a steep slope. Through some dense foliage. I could see a light trail and new this was an established route. Or at least had been. Then, voices. American. Filipino. We ate trekking bars and pretended to look like we were heading somewhere else. Duh ... It was a guide and two tourists. Like most tourists these days, they didn't say hello. Just walked on past. Thankfully the Filipino guide was kind enough to respond to our greetings.

We walked as little further and then I could smell a cave. That humid, cold, mossy smell. We turned a corner and got a glimpse of our first hanging coffin. Perched on a rocky ledge it lay broken with age; its contents lay scattered along the ground beneath. remenants of an occupantI was glad it was an old coffin.

We went a little further, until we stood beneath a vertical grey rock face with coffins galore. attached by metal and rope cablesSome still bright with paint, others faded over the years. Names and dates hand painted on each. Spray painted Graffiti marked the rock face.

Some coffins looked very old. The wood dried up, withered and falling apart. Some looked very new - 2005 was the latest one I could find. Our guide had mumbled something about no new coffins in over 10 years. I read my print outs and it at least answered the question about why the coffins were so small. 'People were laid to rest in comfortable positions, often on their sides. Or curled up' How nice. 'Quite often their bones would be cracked or broken so they could fit in.' Agh!

I looked over a Lu, "Much better down here than up there eh?"

She scrunched up her face, "Yea, but I have my period!"

Agh! Just when things were getting good, at least it explained a few things. We headed back to the hotel. She said everything would be fine for tomorrow. Then, she apologized for her mood swings. What to do? I went downstairs and bought her a packet of her favorite snack food, and a drink. Making sure everything was fine, I went back out to the coffins for a trek into the mountain side.

Coming Soon:
A dead tourist ...

ALSO:
On: www.thelongestwayhome.com

* Just a reminder about the new RSS feed. It combines both site wide updates and the journal.

* The site just received a blog of the day award

karls blogNot so long ago I wrote an article for my Great Modern Travelers section about Karl Bushby. A man who in the late 90's set out to literally walk around the world. No canoes, human powered vehicles, nothing but two feet and two arms. It took him 6 years to walk from South America to Canada, an unbroken path. Including the Darien Gap (Columbia to Panama). He then became the first man along with Dimitri Kieffer to cross the Bering Straits.

For me, about 10 years ago when I began researching my own journey I came across Karl's story. At first I thought his travel plans were great, because of what they were. But after following his journey for nearly 10 years and karl's bookreading his book I found what I really admired was the man himself, or rather the story behind the man. You can find my review of Karl's book Giant Steps here.

In a video on You Tube

Karl says something I can relate to. Nobody gave a damn about him, nor thought he stood a chance in life. "We're not going to fail anymore at this, there's no going home."

These days I don't get a chance to catch up a lot on other blogs or travelers as much as a would like to. So it was with a sadness that I read Karl's most recent post. After crossing the Bering Straits the Russians held things up for the Expedition. Real life spy games between the UK and Russia meant no visa extensions and no hope of being let in to walk across Russia. And so they were told to wait, and wait. It's been years now. And Karl still waits. Nothing is changing but from Politics that are worsening. Quote from Karl "This, however, is a grand odyssey in the 21st Century, and these are the challenges one faces"

To cross Russia he needed sponsors, ice, snow, sub zero temps, it's not going to happen otherwise. The Russian wait can be done, but the global financial downturn meant Karl's sponsors retreated away. And now he's on his own again. It's means he's in trouble.

I'm writing this entry not to round up donations or anything like that. I write it because Karl's journey means something to me too. It's inspiring and adventurous. Look at the You Tube videos or better yet buy his book and read about the man before you pass judgment. There are some out there who use travel as a means, not a glory shot. Karl used travel as a last ditch effort to survive.

If you are interested in his blog it's right here. Any words of encouragement or ideas would be most welcome I am sure. Like wise on his forum where you can lay out your ideas in more depth and discuss things with Karl in person.

For me, I have suggested contacting a Russian business. Maybe NIKE Russia, or the like and getting a Russian 'job', thereby allowing a work visa. A Russian business maybe able to go one step further and offer sponsorship too.

The key is if you have contacts with any Russian business types out there, maybe you can help back a man making history and go along for the ride.

I've recently opened up some comments on this site, so if you have any feedback about Karl, and his story feel free to post them.

In the meantime. From one Traveler on a quest to another:

Karl mate, I wish you the best.

We left Manila quite early on fairly nice bus. The open window was my air-con in the rising heat, as Lu sat on the other side of the window shivering. It was only open a crack, and still I sweated as I watched the hawkers outside.

I'd heard from other tourists about Filipino buses being terrible. But I didn't see it myself. Okay, it didn't have a TV, nor great suspension. But I also wasn't being kicked out in a desert like in Pakistan, freezing sub zero temps in Morocco or crashing in Nigeria. So, for the Filipino bus I give thumbs in the middle. To the tourists that complain - get out more often.

Lu had stayed in a town called Baguio before, and had said it would be a nice place to break up the trip. Also, she'd heard of some famous strawberry fields there. What better to do than eat strawberries in the Philippines?

Unfortunately Lu never factored in that there were two hotels by the same name in Baguio. We arrived that evening and our wonderful taxi driver took as straight to Herman's Hotel in the city center. I kinda guessed something was up by the dark dingy lane it was situated down. That and the oodles of tattered looking ladies hanging around outside. some ladies ...

"They look like prostitutes," I whispered as we got out of the taxi. "Lets find another hotel ..."

"Shhhh, they'll hear you."

"So? Let's go."

"No, it's the place now."

Strangely, Lu still insisted this was the place she'd been before. We entered. Were offered a room either at an hourly rate, or nightly. And then quickly left. The lady in charge of the ... erm... other ladies, caught up with us on the stairs. She was all smiles explaining where the 'other' hotel was.

Again, strangely enough, this 'other' hotel was actually someone's house. And no where near an eatery nor flushing toilet. It was also during this period we discovered no one had heard of any strawberry fields. Trekking bars for dinner. Lu was not a happy Filipino.

The next morning we agreed to head into town in search of either a strawberry field, or a bus straight to Sagada. It seemed Baguio also had a lack of early morning eateries. I settled on Chow King,shh, its better than jollibee! a Chinese export fast food place. With a mountain of food! Lu was not in such a good mood, as still no one had heard of the infamous strawberry fields. With 4 packs of giant potato chips and chocolate biscuits I soon perked up on the bus. Lu stayed silent.

We lurched, skidded and swerved around the gravel strewn roads with good speed. Two hours later and our bus came to a grinding halt. Landslide!

"Mudslide," corrected Lu.

"Same thing." I retorted.

"It's not,"

Damn she was moody today.

landslideA queue of buses, cars and jeeps all lined the road. I walked down a bit and left Lu to sulk over her lost strawberries as I checked out the land/mudslide. The road had indeed given away. To the right half of it had slid away, while to the left it was strewn with rocks from the high ravine above. A man shouted. Drivers looked at each other. And then they were running. They'd cleared the road and they were all desperate to make it into the one lane first. Our side won.

I made it back to the bus just in time to see a sign post with directions and tourist attactions. Including "Mount Clitoris." Hmmm. well ...

Outside I caught my first glimpse of the infamous rice terraces. Green hills, stone walls and rice padi's rushed by. They were quite spectacular, and if this was only a taste of the famous Batad Terraces we were in for a treat in the coming days.

We arrived into Sagada just after lunch. It was a sagada townpicturesque town. Mountains and hills were all around; the air a shade cooler. A single main road, and well kept houses. Lu had managed to acquire a Rough Guide to the Philippines book from a friend. I'd marked out a few hostels, and merged them with some internet results. The first step was to avoid the "visitors fee" the book mentioned. A 20 peso charge, just for being there.

"We have to go pay the tax now."

Grrr. "Why?"

"Because we're meant to!"

"How about we check in first?"

Lu had a grown a bee in her bonnet. We headed to the first hotel.

"1500 peso."

??? No way. Next.

"1200"

And so we continued on until we found a little blue house and a little old lady offering us a double for 500. Where upon Lu promptly locked herself away in the bathroom for 45 minutes.500 pesos a night!

I began to wonder if it had been such a good idea to go along with perfect stranger. Lu was a nice girl, but if the mood swing of the day continued tomorrow. Then I might just have contemplate leaving her in one of the hanging coffins!

Coming Soon:
The Hanging Coffins

ALSO:
On: www.thelongestwayhome.com

* Some important updates from The Great Modern Travelers section

Karl Busby's in trouble, and needs some help ( I will be posting an entry on this next week)

Christoph Rehage's had to return home unexpectedly

Manon Ossevoort Has reached the Cape in South Africa!

* I finally got around to archiving all journal entries here

• The Poll on whether I should include photos in my Travelogues section (stories) is now closed. The results were a resounding 100% in favor of photos being included within the text. I will update what I can, and any new travelogues will have photos included!

• Next week I should be rolling out some important site updates so stay tuned for that!

Just sending this in via sms. The rain has been really heavy. Heard about a few mudslides in the north. Everything is fine though. Just rains for a few hours, then stops for the rest of the day. Not sure if the photo will appear but at least when its not raining some people can still sleep in the sun! Its also seriously difficult to send an sms from a bouncing bus!!!