back yard Enfield workshops and garages in and around Dharamsala. Its hard work, and a real exercise in keeping your cool when dealing with people and their attitude to the money they think youre hiding in your pockets. It seems to me theres just too much disposable tourist money up here coupled with people with little to no idea about motorcycles .This equates roughly to people trying to sell me any old rat bag at hugely inflated prices with a sales patter better placed in a Rolls Royce dealership. At first I was sympathetic to this kind of foolishness, but after seeing at least 10 bikes all of similar scrapyard, side of a riverbank quality, being punted with the same sugar coated honey slickness Ive became totally blase and upfront about my opinions.The nicely nicely gently does it approach falls on deaf ears here.
han happy to see it. "Oh yes" he say "I have a lovely 2002 model in perfect condition, beautiful nothing wrong with it, lovely paint, perfect". Great! I thought to myself as he totted off to find it and I waited patiently by the side of his tiny garage optimistic that someone might come up with the goods. When he comes back, even before he's thought about lifting his leg off the bike I take one look and see the forks have decided to emulate a set of holy cows horns and are neatly bent under the frame. I smile to myself and say, "The fork are bent under the frame my friend". He looks at me like Ive just walked out of the local asylum and rapped him round the face with a smelly wet trout and says "Theyre not!". Honestly, its desperate, this sort of nonsense seems to be par for the course, and I tell him the forks look like bananas and walk away before he has time to look at me like Ive called him mother something awful.
e some kind of sport of a sort, like a game, but for me its just a really disheartening, slap in the face introduction to the intricacies of motorcycle purchase in India. So as it stands I still have no bike, and being mechanically minded I think its going to take me some time before I find anything that resembles quality motorised transport of a reliable, safe and resaleable nature thats not going to implode or explode,or send me floating into the skies with little wings or scurrying down to his redness below.
with tranquilisers, bonkers. Well, after my second dose of the stuff I started to feel very odd indeed, like someone had given me a mild to moderate dose of amphetamine and LSD, couple with terrible vivid and realistic nightmares, sweating palms, and a pounding heartrate. I was seeing things in the corners of my eyes that I couldnt quite decide whether I'd seen and feeling very, anxious, paranoid, angry and aggressive towards anyone and everyone. The crunch came on the bus coming up the mountain side to Mcleod Ganj after a day looking for bikes, I simply wanted to attack the person sat next to me for absolutley no reason and jump off the bus while travelling at high speed. The impulse to do this was so very real and strong it was difficult to control it and I knew immediately that something was really very very wrong with me. When I got back I immediately enquired about seeing a doctor. I also did a whole load of research on the web and found numerous reports of people doing all sorts of attrocious t
hings under the influence of this drug. Soldiers murdering their wives, travellers committing suicide, many many things. Whoever markets this drug should be taken to court as its extremely dangerous. After a bit of dredging around I found that the company smudged the research reports to some degree. In these reports they suggest that something like 1 in 10000 people suffer some sort of serious psychosis from taking larium, however an independent report was ordered and found the figure to be actually more like 1 in 150! people affected. What upsets me is how a drug can be allowed on the market that has a non compliance rate like that. One of the problems is also that it has a half life of 2 weeks, which essentially means Im stuck with this for a while. Im just glad I was aware of the possible problems and that I hadnt taken more doses. I just wonder if others are made aware by doctors of exactly what could happen to them? Anyway suffice to say Ive switched my anti malarials and am just allowing this effect to slowly subside, Im ok now in case anyone who knows me is worried but Im pretty upset and dissolutioned by the obvious and transparent link between pharmaceutical profit and general medical care. I mean why give someone this medication when you can give him or her as simple antibiotic alternative with fewer side effects and the same effectiveness at 10% of the price tag! Just doesnt make any sense. In case youre interested heres one of many artciles written on the subject.★ 0 Comments. | Jonny, Friday, October 24, 2008 2:54 AM
ve seen yet. Out of my window, I'd thought ahead and got myself a window seat, I saw a big bank of clouds on the horizon and then far far way on my left I saw a jagged mountain way abovwe the clouds, the only one and it must have been Everest in Nepal it was so big and so far away, no other mountains look like that and none of the other mountains broke out of the clouds like that either, amazing! Flying certainly is beautiful.
and there are Buddhist monks in full crimson attire everywhere, this is very much a backpacker destination. Dreadlocked Isrealis charge up and down the stray dog streets on trooped up Royal enfield motorcycles, looking like something not too far removed from the motorcyclist from Bat out of Hell. Robed Monks rub shoulders with buisnessmen, tibetan refugees, backpackers, tourists, travellers, you name it its here. The shops
are a similar mix of real Tibetan Handricrafts, made by tibetan societies inhouse, and boutiques selling rucksacs, cargo pants, tacky souvenirs and such. This is all separated by fedex bureaus, ticket offices, barbers, scruffy tea shops, restaurants and beautiful Tibetan women selling Momo's. Of course you have the usual freeloading holy cows, stra
y bonking dogs, pleading beggars on rackety wooden scateboards, maniacal scooter riders and suicidal jeep drivers. But I gather this is the norm for India, just seems to me like a scruffy old place for his holiness to have his residence to be honest!
strange. Correct me if Im wrong, but isnt buddhism all about loving kindness and compassion. Well, these guys really go for it, stomping feet, slapping hands and at times I have to say I dont really detect that loving kindness so talked about, they seem pretty angry. Seems like this is a kind of sport to me, much bravado, and Im not sure how much of it is a display for the onlookers. But its pretty entertaining stuff. Ive sat with the robed monks during prayers and been served piping hot tea and bread with the other gatherers, followed in the foot
steps of little old men and spun the bronze prayer wheels of the Dalai Lamas temple, eaten steaming Momo's from a Tibetan steet seller, yum yum, and searched endlessly for a motorcycle to continue my travels.
a penchance for one of the therapies or yoga schools that seem to have sprung up around and about. Theres a lot of voluntary work about and I think that would be the most fulfilling thing to do up here to be honest. You can work teaching Tibetan people various things from English to IT aside from working on social projects in and around the area. Ive thought about this myself, but I dont really think this is the right time or place for me to be doing that kind of thing. McCleod Ganj in reality
seems to be just another hopping off point on the traveller circuit of India, which I kind of thought it would be.
prices up here are just crazy, crazy and Im sure this is becasue theres too many tourists and disposable money floating around. What you can buy in Delhi for 18,000 IRP costs you double up here, and being a foreigner hikes the price up immediately. Its also frustrating for me not having a working knowledge of these motorcycles, although I can rebuild just about anything I can get my hands on I dont really know what these things should or should not sound like. To me they all sound like a very loud rattly bag of spanners thats about to implode, but maybe thats how they sound. For all the bikers out there the gear shifts on the right on the older bikes ..hmmmhhh. ★ 0 Comments. | Jonny, Wednesday, October 15, 2008 8:48 PM
en one day while riding for the port in Athens I had my visor up, much to Christians anoyance and something stung me slap in the middle of my face, God knows what, but boy did it hurt. Had to stop, pull out the offending sting and ride on in quite considerable pain.We kept riding and arrived late at night in Athens and and slept on the port in waiting for the ferry to Chios Island and onto to Cesme in Turkey the next day. H
s in Capadoccia which is like no place Ive ever seen. Its truly amazing. Think of the star wars landscapes and youve got it. Its too hard to describe, but imagine caves cut into rock formations that are from another planet and youre not far off. Its easiest for me to post the pictures.
able, diplomats children were being sent home and armed escorts were being used on the roads. Now, this didnt dsound good to me, on a bike and having to ride Taftan quetta road near the Afgan border. After checking the foreign office website which confirmed my fears, but then it always does, and with the bombing of the marriott hotel and other overlanders turning back I started to think it might be wise to do ★ 0 Comments. | Jonny, Wednesday, October 1, 2008 11:35 PM
th her, I think Ive been on her at least eight times now and headed back to Folegandros, fully expecting to head out to Koufonissi and then on to Turkey. Sleeping on the deck of the boat is an art form, you have to hold on tight in the middle of the night as the wind gets up to gale force and your sleeping bag tries to enter orbit, most people seem to hate this but I find it great fun, its warm on deck and you can see the stars and with the wind and the night it gives a sense of freedom Ive not found anywhere else, kind of brings you back to your inner child as you imagine yourself crashing through monstrous seas in high winds and terrible danger, great fun!
about with very little to do, it was great. I felt very civilised sleeping in a room and not a tent, in fact it felt like luxury and really quite frivolent, eating out in restaurant, sampling the different fish and dishes. Looking back I think its important to let go once in a while or life on the road can become tiresome and tedious and you can loose your will to move.★ 1 Comments. | Jonny, Wednesday, August 6, 2008 8:42 AM
and peeling paint, I loved walking through the the fish market and meat markets at dusk, saw stalls piled up with dates, seeds and nuts, sold for pennies, watched sadly junkies,husslers and prostitutes hanging around scruffy squares and amazed at street stalls selling everything and anything you could ever want and some stuff you might not ever need. I did do some of the touristy things however like see the Acropolis and the other many ancient monuments and ruins, but like I said I find the real life of the city far more interesting than traipsing from this site to the next. I will say however that the view from the top of the hill overlooking the Acropolis into
Athens is something everyone should see, everywhere you look is Athens from far off mountains in one direction to distant blue sea with ships and islands in the other,its simply breathtaking, such a mass of houses and monuments, steets and cars, buildings and rooftops as far as the eye can see. I tried to c
apture it on my camera but its simply impossible, you'd need a lense that looks behind you and more.
ing any part of that I got my bearings and caught the next boat anywhere out of Ios which happened to be where I am now sat in a little camp cafe on the island of Folegandos. The change is indescribable,
a tiny little port with a few tavernas made out of old fishing boat housings and the prettiest old town with winding, rickety streets, all white washed with hidden alleys and courtyards. A few tavernas in the central square with book exchanges and seafood to make your mouth water and the energy here is amazing. I lay on the beach and it felt like all the days of little sleep Ive had in my life were being pulled from me into the rocks and the pebbles of the beach, beautiful, solid, warm energy filled with life and goodness and the locals happy and smiling, stopping to talk with you, easy. I met an old man sat sideways on his donkeys, trotting down a steep hill from the local church perched high up on the cliffto
ps, he slowed down and stop to ask me "you english" I said yes, "this one" he said pointing to the donkey, "this one Mercedes, the other one Rolls Royce" and off he plodded chuckling to himself. Great!★ 2 Comments. | Jonny, Wednesday, July 16, 2008 2:34 AM
sun and the surf and generally calm down after the storm that was Morocco. Being back on european soil made me realise just how well structured and clean and organised we have it in Europe and also how much personal space we give each other. Sure thats not always such a good thing but when youve experienced the stresses and hassles of travelling in Morocco it felt pretty good to have things easily organised and accesible and to be free from people constantly wanted something from you.
Musos out there)for a couple of nights because wanted to visit tthe Alhambra Palace, something I'd missed doing the last time I was here because I was broke. So with decisions made I headed up the steep hill to the Alhambra.
Its a wondefully beautiful place, part moorish, part spanish from different centuries perched high up on the hill peering solidly over Granada. From a distance it looks incredibly domineering and once inside its a place of timeless wonder and beauty. Its hard to describe really, ornate palace gardens with every kind of bushy tree and shrub, rambling twisty paths and green fish ponds, castle turrets and broken down moorish ruins. Inside the palace theres the most exquisitely intricate mosaic tile work and ceiling carvings, galleries and open courtyards, its very beautiful and too much to put into words really. However, unfortunately for me I found the place saddened and weighed down by tourists, its popularity has made it a place that was once light with energy and beauty into a place thats somehow heavy and burdened. Loaded with bus crowds of burger eating daytrippers dredging along the tick list of sites to see on their 10 day trip the Alhambra has lost its charm, people are sheep herded from one part to the next on time tickets, and theres no freedom in the place, and in a place that eminates lightness and space thats at a real juxtaposition to its true identity. I felt exhausted and perplexed by my experience there, in so much that somehow we've made something so beautiful and spacious into something so ugly and tight by revolving it around tourism and cash generation. To be honest it was a sad day for me as Im one of the tourists although I gave up eating burgers a while back.
bit of cunning and guile I designed a foam pad made from 3 layers of camping mat, some contact adhesive and scissors. Sculpted and placed under my sheepskin rug in the butt position this seemd like the ideal solution and setting off from Granada to Barcelona I thought it would be, but oh no,no,no, after riding the 530 miles up the coast I wondered if I'd ever walk again or father any children for that matter, I was living in serious Ass Hell again, wiggling this way, dangling my feet of the bike that way, doing pelvic exercise, it seemed like every area of my backside was crippled and paralysed. So on arriving in Barcelona I finally decided to give in to the financial worries of buying an air seat for the bike. Still havent found one yet but I will, believe you me I will.
asy feel to it. Spent most of the time organising and arranging things and problems although I did see Gaudis masterpiece the Seven Sister, fruits bowls on turrerts and all, bizarreness redifined. Hopped on the ferry to Rome, camped in a wonderful green froggy wood in Italy, cooked rice boiled in Canal water (yuck),
argued wholeheartedly in true English "thats just not cricket" style with a booking agent at Bari who charged me an extra 20 euro for my internet prebooked ticket to Patras. "Port tax" she said, "oh yeah" I said, nothing about port tax from any of the other companies here, "oh ok, not port tax, fuel surcharge" Made me realise things are no longer set in sto
ne as Im getting further east.★ 0 Comments. | Jonny, Saturday, July 5, 2008 8:51 AM
to now and headed off through the windy Cedar trees of the Rif mountains and down through the valleys to the plains. I arrived late in the afternoon, unpacked and decided to head into the city in the morning. However the next morning I awoke feeling terribly ill, and this progressed further and futher into full blown food poisoning in the 40 degree Fez heat and a campsite with little shade. I had this for three days solid, I couldnt eat or drink or move much which started to become a serious problem in the heat and I knew enough to realise I was becoming seriously unwell in the sun. So on the 4th day I got a lift to a taxi on the back of a moped and took myself to the public hospital not wanting to pay the private hospital charges. Well, that was a shock to my already unstable system, imagine an episode of Mash and youre not far off. People with serious head injuries just draped on rickety old beds with saline drips ties to wind
ow ledges, a man across from me looked as though he had been hit face first by a car,all swollen and battered, a woman to my left just kept falling over each time she stood up, blood splattered all over the walls and floor, health and safety, what, forget it. And theres poor old me with a bout of food poisoning, I felt i didnt really qualify for entry to this drama! Irrespective of that i got seen to and given an injection of God knows what and three different drugs again of which I have only a vague idea what they were. Adviced to stay cool I headed to an expensive hotel with air conditionijg and slept for 24hrs.
ral square is the buzz that propels the whole medina, storytellers, snake charmers, acrobats, drummers and food,food, food which is exactly what i wanted after 5 days of not eating. And boy did i eat, i sat in the square as the sun came down in one of the communal open air market stalls eating kebabs and fish and cuscous and chicken and olives watching all the chaos going on around me. I ate like a king for about 6 quid and felt bliss and heaven.
time I was getting fed up with all the constant hassling and tugging from the touts and sellers and hawkers and guides. To be honest it really got to me in Essouira, seems the people are really poor but fed up about it, being so close to europe and such and this kind of seeps out of them towards foreigners. I started to feel less of a person and more of a dollar sign and it kept me from really interacting with the people. Its seemed to me asthough Morocco had lost its identity with the influx of european travellers and unless you get into the mountains and the berbers its hard to be treated without a "whats in it for me attitude"Not wanting to be part of that I rode the 500 miles up the coast on my new shhepskin seat as the old one melted in the Maraketch 44 degree heat, and grabbed the Tanger tarifa ferry back to Spain and was glad to arrive back on european shores. Yes my bike is now half bike half sheep! Till next time blessings and love Jonny★ 0 Comments. | Jonny, Monday, June 23, 2008 9:55 AM