Friday, October 24, 2008
Bent forks bent head
The search for a bike in Dharamasala has taken me tripping this way and that all over the countryside, to most if not all of the scuffy 
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.
Yesterday I spoke to a mechanic, telling him how utterly fed up I was with being punted bikes that would be better seen as part of a gocart slash submarine on an episode of Scrapheap Challenge and that if he had anything that was worth me looking at that wasnt going to waste my time I'd be more t
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.
This seems to be a common theme, Im sure somewhere theres a big warehouse full with banana forked, buckled wheeled, banging, clanging, rattly, broken down bikes with a big flashing yellow and purple sign saying "only for use as submarine slash gocart or for sale to stupid senseless foreigners who happened to leave there brains behind on the plane". It seems to b-791470.jpg)
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.
So to a change of subject and to the more serious nature of anti malarial medication. I started taking my larium medication for malaria aproximately 2 weeks ago as recommended by the doctor and the instructions on the packet. I really thought nothing of it, I'd taken it in Africa with no problems so there would be no problems here I thought. Wrong! Just for those that dont know, Larium is an anti malairial thats renouned for sending the perfectly sane members of society totally screaming lock me up in a padded cell 
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.
http://www.cbsnews.com/stories/2003/01/27/60II/main538144.shtml
So for now Im just taking it easy and recovering. If I dont find a bike here soon Im heading to Delhi and the worlds largest motorcycle market, called Karol Bagh where apparently you have the largest selection of second hand mortorcycles in the world. Should be fun if nothing else. I dont really want to go to Delhi but Im starting to think that I really dont have much choice. So until next time, Namaste, and blessings to you all. Jonny
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. Yesterday I spoke to a mechanic, telling him how utterly fed up I was with being punted bikes that would be better seen as part of a gocart slash submarine on an episode of Scrapheap Challenge and that if he had anything that was worth me looking at that wasnt going to waste my time I'd be more t
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.This seems to be a common theme, Im sure somewhere theres a big warehouse full with banana forked, buckled wheeled, banging, clanging, rattly, broken down bikes with a big flashing yellow and purple sign saying "only for use as submarine slash gocart or for sale to stupid senseless foreigners who happened to leave there brains behind on the plane". It seems to b
-791683.jpg)
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.So to a change of subject and to the more serious nature of anti malarial medication. I started taking my larium medication for malaria aproximately 2 weeks ago as recommended by the doctor and the instructions on the packet. I really thought nothing of it, I'd taken it in Africa with no problems so there would be no problems here I thought. Wrong! Just for those that dont know, Larium is an anti malairial thats renouned for sending the perfectly sane members of society totally screaming lock me up in a padded cell
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.http://www.cbsnews.com/stories/2003/01/27/60II/main538144.shtml
So for now Im just taking it easy and recovering. If I dont find a bike here soon Im heading to Delhi and the worlds largest motorcycle market, called Karol Bagh where apparently you have the largest selection of second hand mortorcycles in the world. Should be fun if nothing else. I dont really want to go to Delhi but Im starting to think that I really dont have much choice. So until next time, Namaste, and blessings to you all. Jonny
★ 0 Comments. | Jonny, Friday, October 24, 2008 2:54 AM
Wednesday, October 15, 2008
Newcastle to India
The flight to Delhi was a long one, but Ive been on worse, New Zealand for example was a monster 30 hour bonanza of stopovers and 12 hour shifts, but then was way back when I didnt have deep lines on my brow, a rickety back and could hack being crunched up sideways in an econonomy airline seat next to a snoring fat man. Fortunately for me it turned out I was sat next to the exact opposite, a beautiful young American woman. I think its safe to say this did absolutely nothing for my ability to relax and concentrate on sleeping and remaining poised and calm for the onslaught of the Delhi chaos only a few hours ahead of me. But Joking aside, in reality the flight was a breeze.Its been a long time since Ive been on a plane and theyve certainly changed, I'd bought a paper and even considered buying a crossword book. Wrong! now you dont need any form of entertainment whatsoever, everything is provided at the touch of a screen in the back of the seat infront of you. I watched the newest releases on film and played backgammon, saw Razorlights most recent concert and saw an episode of cringeworthy friends all from the luxury of my seat, easy, or worrying whichever way you choose to see things. With a 4 hour stopover in the bling capital of bling Dubai, where you can purchase a classic 1960's convertible from the inflight magazine, or buy any kind of anything from the duty free, I nabbed a 1.50 chicken curry (Gorgous, shame on you heathrow airport with your prices and wilted lettuce!) and slept a couple of winks on the carpeted floor alongside an austrian guy and various other nationalities. Seems Dubai is the stopover capital of the world also, Ive never seen so many nationalities, cultures and clothing all getting along so famously, or at least sleeping along side each other so famously.
The last haul into Delhi from Dubai was all of 3 hours and I think I slept most of that which was good because I wanted to feel at least half human to take on the touts, crazed taxi drivers, mountains of forms and chaos everyone warned me about. But, in reality i had none of this. I dont really know what it is about me but people mostly leave me alone. Ive experienced this in most countries where folk tell me to be wary of hassles and chaos. Maybe I look scary or skint, I dont know, but I only had one taxi driver gingerly ask me if I wanted a taxi and that was that.Im sure that will change However I did encounter the usual Indian taste for formality,I was trying to catch the free shuttle bus between the International and domestic terminals and walked out of the terminal towards the bus, once I got to the bus I jumped aboard and was quickly told to get off by a soldier and instructed to walk all the way back through the terminal, through to customs , past various officials, and various gates, to return to the exact spot I started at where they could check my ticket and book me on the bus! Crazyness, I was a step away from the checking office. But nevermind I was grateful to be on a free bus and free of any hassles so all was good. I grabbed a tiny twin prop plane to Dharamsala which bobbed and weaved through some of the most amazing scenery I-744639.jpg)
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.
Once I arrived at the airport I was picked up and taken to a hotel I'd organised and I tried to rest. Strange thing though, the owner of the Hotel kept smiling at me in an odd way and touching my knee while in the taxi. I kind of felt uncomfortable with this but put it down to my stuffy Englishness. The light didnt really shine down on me till I was in my hotel room and he got behind me and started massaging my shoulders and asked me to lie on the bed. Finito! woahhh not nice! I had been warned about this kind of thing but really hadnt expected it to happen just stepping off the plane! I got a real taste of how women feel with this sort of daily bullshit and in that respect it was a great practical lesson but in general a nasty, sleasy, dirty experience and one I dont wish to repeat. So I made plans to leave the next day which I did, to a Tibetan guesthouse, with a bussling community and much more beauty.
Dharamsala, or Mcleod Ganj to be correct, a little hill station above Dharamsala, is a strange mix. I remember Brendan at Lothlorien talking to me with fond memories of it in the late 70's, early 80's. However, knowing Brenadan I think its a very different place to the one he remembers. As much as the Dalai Lama has residence here,-776341.jpg)
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 -746204.jpg)
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-752862.jpg)
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!
One of the highlights for me has been watching the monks shouting at each other in the coutryard of the temple. Sorry, one of the highlights for me has been watching the monks discussing serious philosphical points with each other in the courtyards of the temple. Now this to me seems-731246.jpg)
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-752971.jpg)
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.
To be honest aside from the Dalai Lama being here at Mcleod Ganj theres not a great deal to do unless you get involved in voluntary work or have -731188.jpg)
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 -776256.jpg)
seems to be just another hopping off point on the traveller circuit of India, which I kind of thought it would be.
So, for now, Im just getting used to the way of life here and trying to ease myself into India while trying to find a motorcycle to continue my journey. This is proving a little more difficult than I thought it would be as every Tom Dick or Harry wants to sell you a bike,even if the wheels are falling off, the tyres are bald and the engine sounds like its about to shake itself to pieces. Aside from that the-745961.jpg)
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.
So my search continues.With a little research Ive also found out that its a normal operation to put your bike on the train, just wrap in straw and sack and stuff it in the luggage van with all the other crap! Great! This really helps me as the country is huge, distances vast and Royal Enfields SLOW! In effect this means I can tour the different states I want to see and then ship the bike between them at little cost and better care for the environment and my backside! This is a good finding, I can sleep while Im travelling over the vast distances and places I dont wish to see or ride through.
From the little cafe Im sat in I can see the thunder storms and rain crashing down over the mountains, its very beautiful and very wet as you can imagine in the foothills of the Himalayas, so today is a day for writing and doing very little, the roads are muddy the electrics keep failing and mooching about in these storms isnt a sensible option unless your a duck. So until next time many blessings and love to everyone. Jonny
The last haul into Delhi from Dubai was all of 3 hours and I think I slept most of that which was good because I wanted to feel at least half human to take on the touts, crazed taxi drivers, mountains of forms and chaos everyone warned me about. But, in reality i had none of this. I dont really know what it is about me but people mostly leave me alone. Ive experienced this in most countries where folk tell me to be wary of hassles and chaos. Maybe I look scary or skint, I dont know, but I only had one taxi driver gingerly ask me if I wanted a taxi and that was that.Im sure that will change However I did encounter the usual Indian taste for formality,I was trying to catch the free shuttle bus between the International and domestic terminals and walked out of the terminal towards the bus, once I got to the bus I jumped aboard and was quickly told to get off by a soldier and instructed to walk all the way back through the terminal, through to customs , past various officials, and various gates, to return to the exact spot I started at where they could check my ticket and book me on the bus! Crazyness, I was a step away from the checking office. But nevermind I was grateful to be on a free bus and free of any hassles so all was good. I grabbed a tiny twin prop plane to Dharamsala which bobbed and weaved through some of the most amazing scenery I
-744649.jpg)
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. Once I arrived at the airport I was picked up and taken to a hotel I'd organised and I tried to rest. Strange thing though, the owner of the Hotel kept smiling at me in an odd way and touching my knee while in the taxi. I kind of felt uncomfortable with this but put it down to my stuffy Englishness. The light didnt really shine down on me till I was in my hotel room and he got behind me and started massaging my shoulders and asked me to lie on the bed. Finito! woahhh not nice! I had been warned about this kind of thing but really hadnt expected it to happen just stepping off the plane! I got a real taste of how women feel with this sort of daily bullshit and in that respect it was a great practical lesson but in general a nasty, sleasy, dirty experience and one I dont wish to repeat. So I made plans to leave the next day which I did, to a Tibetan guesthouse, with a bussling community and much more beauty.
Dharamsala, or Mcleod Ganj to be correct, a little hill station above Dharamsala, is a strange mix. I remember Brendan at Lothlorien talking to me with fond memories of it in the late 70's, early 80's. However, knowing Brenadan I think its a very different place to the one he remembers. As much as the Dalai Lama has residence here,
-776526.jpg)
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 -746223.jpg)
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-744600.jpg){kind=link}
-752885.jpg)
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! One of the highlights for me has been watching the monks shouting at each other in the coutryard of the temple. Sorry, one of the highlights for me has been watching the monks discussing serious philosphical points with each other in the courtyards of the temple. Now this to me seems
-761490.jpg){kind=link}
-773833.jpg){kind=link}
-731258.jpg)
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-752984.jpg)
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. To be honest aside from the Dalai Lama being here at Mcleod Ganj theres not a great deal to do unless you get involved in voluntary work or have
-731203.jpg)
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 -776275.jpg)
seems to be just another hopping off point on the traveller circuit of India, which I kind of thought it would be. So, for now, Im just getting used to the way of life here and trying to ease myself into India while trying to find a motorcycle to continue my journey. This is proving a little more difficult than I thought it would be as every Tom Dick or Harry wants to sell you a bike,even if the wheels are falling off, the tyres are bald and the engine sounds like its about to shake itself to pieces. Aside from that the
-746149.jpg)
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. So my search continues.With a little research Ive also found out that its a normal operation to put your bike on the train, just wrap in straw and sack and stuff it in the luggage van with all the other crap! Great! This really helps me as the country is huge, distances vast and Royal Enfields SLOW! In effect this means I can tour the different states I want to see and then ship the bike between them at little cost and better care for the environment and my backside! This is a good finding, I can sleep while Im travelling over the vast distances and places I dont wish to see or ride through.
From the little cafe Im sat in I can see the thunder storms and rain crashing down over the mountains, its very beautiful and very wet as you can imagine in the foothills of the Himalayas, so today is a day for writing and doing very little, the roads are muddy the electrics keep failing and mooching about in these storms isnt a sensible option unless your a duck. So until next time many blessings and love to everyone. Jonny
★ 0 Comments. | Jonny, Wednesday, October 15, 2008 8:48 PM
Wednesday, October 1, 2008
Turkey,Switzerland,Scotland
After spending a couple of weeks in the lap of luxury in Switzerland I felt really unsure as to whether I wanted to continue my trip. Somehow I felt tired of travelling and tired of constantly being on the seat a -781447.JPG)
motorcycle with all the concentration and stress involved in travelling in that way. Many days I wished for the lack of responsibility for the bike and the joy of sitting relaxed on a bus or train with no camping gear and only a few possessions. Having to lug my bags on and off and set up camp every day was feeling like a weight rather than a joy and my heart really wasnt leaping at sights and sounds each day. So with a rather confused step I went back to the UK to look at renting a small farmhouse in Dumfries and Galloway and to see just how I felt about being back in the UK and not being on a bike. I guess there are times like this when things just seem quite tricky and you loose your direction and all you want to do is come back home to all the fond memories you dream up in your "the grass is always greener " thoughts.
Well, the farmhouse was indeed very beautiful, set in rolling scottish countryside, way away from any hussle and bussle, quiet and secluded and just round the corner from my friends at Lothlorien. But,it just didnt feel right to be back, I still felt like I needed to move, I missed my bike and my attatchment to everything involved with it. Seems strange and a little cliched to say that the bike had become part of me,part of my identity and my being, but its true , it felt a little strange without it.
So, after a week of looking at the options for staying in Scotland I decided I needed to keep to my path and my plan, so I hopped back on my bike and headed east, a quick stop in Switzerland for a few days and then once again the long ferry journey from Venice to Greece.
I landed in Iguomenitsa on the north east coast with a German biker called Christian. We'd met on the ferry and clicked almost instantly, talking about so many subjects wide and varied subjects from communism, global warming, western lifestyle, religion, possible world solutions and such, sleeping on wild beaches and broken headlands. Th-752110.jpg)
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-785480.JPG)
owever when I awoke the morning my face had other ideas for travel my eyes had started to shut from the sting and I looked like a clihgon from star trek! I thought about a tip to the doctor but just nipped to the pharmacy and ttook some antihystamines. We did manage to grab the ferry to Chios, but by then my eyes were almost closed and after a night camping on the beach I awoke with both eyes closed and a trip to the hospital in Chios was inevitable. I was put on a cortisone drip and left for 2 hours to recover. A little better I left, slept the night on a beach but over the night my heart started racing like a train and in the morning I feltt like death and another trip to the hospital and another drip and an overnight stay. Apparently the cortizone lowers the blood pressure and increases the heart rate and mine was dangerously low and dangerously fast. I wish they had told me that before they gave me it!
Once out of hospital I was on my own again, Christian had to leave the day before as he had only a short time a-765451.JPG)
way from work. So I caught the tiny ferry to Cesme in Turkey and rode the mediteranean coast to a huge gorge near fethiye where I spent a couple of dats recovering in a treehouse camp. Very touristy but what I needed after two days in hospital.
I stayed ten days or so in Turkey, sleeping rough in the mountains and riding dirt tracks through mountain villaes with chickens and hens and kids shouting and waving from windows. I kept heading east as I was aware that by now things were tgetting cold in central Turkey and near the Iranian border almost down to freezing at night. I stopped for a few day-752151.jpg)
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.
While I was in Goreme in Capadocia I started to hear mixed reports of the declining situation in Pakistan. Apparently the goverment was becoming unst-785230.jpg)
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 -795770.JPG)
the same. For me riding alone across Pakistan started to feel like too much of a liability.
So, after much deliberation and research I decided to come back to the uk and look at my options which is where I am now. Im pleased I decided not to ride across Pakistan and Iran, but I would have liked to have made it at least to India with my bike. So for the last few days Ive been researching what to do back at Lothlorien and the conclusion is to store my bike here as its finacially not feasible for me to ship it to India and I dont have the time ior space to organise freighting and Im flying to India tommorrow (only option thats really viable) and hiring or buying an old Royal Enfield Motorcycle to ride round India and continue this trip. As to whether I can continue on from there I dont know. Its hard to ship Indian bikes out of India now but I will look into the situation as it emerges. For now Im just going to concentrate on riding around India and allow things to develop from there. I may have to do a Charlie Boorman and travel by whatever means possible. So on Friday I will be in Dharamsala and from there I will keep you all posted. Many blessings to you all. Jonny
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motorcycle with all the concentration and stress involved in travelling in that way. Many days I wished for the lack of responsibility for the bike and the joy of sitting relaxed on a bus or train with no camping gear and only a few possessions. Having to lug my bags on and off and set up camp every day was feeling like a weight rather than a joy and my heart really wasnt leaping at sights and sounds each day. So with a rather confused step I went back to the UK to look at renting a small farmhouse in Dumfries and Galloway and to see just how I felt about being back in the UK and not being on a bike. I guess there are times like this when things just seem quite tricky and you loose your direction and all you want to do is come back home to all the fond memories you dream up in your "the grass is always greener " thoughts.Well, the farmhouse was indeed very beautiful, set in rolling scottish countryside, way away from any hussle and bussle, quiet and secluded and just round the corner from my friends at Lothlorien. But,it just didnt feel right to be back, I still felt like I needed to move, I missed my bike and my attatchment to everything involved with it. Seems strange and a little cliched to say that the bike had become part of me,part of my identity and my being, but its true , it felt a little strange without it.
So, after a week of looking at the options for staying in Scotland I decided I needed to keep to my path and my plan, so I hopped back on my bike and headed east, a quick stop in Switzerland for a few days and then once again the long ferry journey from Venice to Greece.
I landed in Iguomenitsa on the north east coast with a German biker called Christian. We'd met on the ferry and clicked almost instantly, talking about so many subjects wide and varied subjects from communism, global warming, western lifestyle, religion, possible world solutions and such, sleeping on wild beaches and broken headlands. Then 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. However when I awoke the morning my face had other ideas for travel my eyes had started to shut from the sting and I looked like a clihgon from star trek! I thought about a tip to the doctor but just nipped to the pharmacy and ttook some antihystamines. We did manage to grab the ferry to Chios, but by then my eyes were almost closed and after a night camping on the beach I awoke with both eyes closed and a trip to the hospital in Chios was inevitable. I was put on a cortisone drip and left for 2 hours to recover. A little better I left, slept the night on a beach but over the night my heart started racing like a train and in the morning I feltt like death and another trip to the hospital and another drip and an overnight stay. Apparently the cortizone lowers the blood pressure and increases the heart rate and mine was dangerously low and dangerously fast. I wish they had told me that before they gave me it!
Once out of hospital I was on my own again, Christian had to leave the day before as he had only a short time away from work. So I caught the tiny ferry to Cesme in Turkey and rode the mediteranean coast to a huge gorge near fethiye where I spent a couple of dats recovering in a treehouse camp. Very touristy but what I needed after two days in hospital.
-752122.jpg)
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-785918.JPG)
owever when I awoke the morning my face had other ideas for travel my eyes had started to shut from the sting and I looked like a clihgon from star trek! I thought about a tip to the doctor but just nipped to the pharmacy and ttook some antihystamines. We did manage to grab the ferry to Chios, but by then my eyes were almost closed and after a night camping on the beach I awoke with both eyes closed and a trip to the hospital in Chios was inevitable. I was put on a cortisone drip and left for 2 hours to recover. A little better I left, slept the night on a beach but over the night my heart started racing like a train and in the morning I feltt like death and another trip to the hospital and another drip and an overnight stay. Apparently the cortizone lowers the blood pressure and increases the heart rate and mine was dangerously low and dangerously fast. I wish they had told me that before they gave me it!Once out of hospital I was on my own again, Christian had to leave the day before as he had only a short time a
-766129.JPG)
way from work. So I caught the tiny ferry to Cesme in Turkey and rode the mediteranean coast to a huge gorge near fethiye where I spent a couple of dats recovering in a treehouse camp. Very touristy but what I needed after two days in hospital.I stayed ten days or so in Turkey, sleeping rough in the mountains and riding dirt tracks through mountain villaes with chickens and hens and kids shouting and waving from windows. I kept heading east as I was aware that by now things were tgetting cold in central Turkey and near the Iranian border almost down to freezing at night. I stopped for a few days 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.
-752161.jpg)
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.While I was in Goreme in Capadocia I started to hear mixed reports of the declining situation in Pakistan. Apparently the goverment was becoming unstable, 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 the same. For me riding alone across Pakistan started to feel like too much of a liability.
-785242.jpg)
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 -795788.JPG)
the same. For me riding alone across Pakistan started to feel like too much of a liability.-772434.jpg){kind=link}
So, after much deliberation and research I decided to come back to the uk and look at my options which is where I am now. Im pleased I decided not to ride across Pakistan and Iran, but I would have liked to have made it at least to India with my bike. So for the last few days Ive been researching what to do back at Lothlorien and the conclusion is to store my bike here as its finacially not feasible for me to ship it to India and I dont have the time ior space to organise freighting and Im flying to India tommorrow (only option thats really viable) and hiring or buying an old Royal Enfield Motorcycle to ride round India and continue this trip. As to whether I can continue on from there I dont know. Its hard to ship Indian bikes out of India now but I will look into the situation as it emerges. For now Im just going to concentrate on riding around India and allow things to develop from there. I may have to do a Charlie Boorman and travel by whatever means possible. So on Friday I will be in Dharamsala and from there I will keep you all posted. Many blessings to you all. Jonny
★ 0 Comments. | Jonny, Wednesday, October 1, 2008 11:35 PM
