International Vagrant In Burma, Japan, Thailand & Hong Kong

Hurrah!! I just received my portable hard drive back from over a year in storage and I've been looking through all the stuff again. I'm really pleased because I've got a bunch of files including my first digital photography back from when I travelled around Burma with an Olympus C-2000 that I wrote about over here. I'm really chuffed to rescue those amazing fishermen shots just down the road from Ngapali beach that you can see above and which I wrote about here and here. Then there's also the Nokia 8250 launch party in Bangkok on Feb 23, 2001. I can only remember the phone model because of the sign to the rear of this chap Johnny Doran from Saville Productions below, with 'Walk on the blue side'. Remember when a blue Screen was the latest thang? Before mobile cameras and colour displays.

There are the trips to Bagan, the ancient capital of Burma. You might need to click on it to see this stitched together panorama shot. The journey took me over 24 hours on a nightmare bus journey that I wrote about here. Bagan took a hit during an earthquake in '74 I think but its still breathtaking to imagine the monks, merchants, families, kids and officials running around this place, breathing life into it around the time that the Normans gave us a good hiding at the battle of Hastings isn't it?


I've now also got the shots from many trips to Cambodia (but not the one where I went missing in the heart of darkness for a few days) including Angkor Wat, which is just plain spesh because of all that South Indian influenced Jayavarman architecture. Khmer culture is so important to S.E. Asia.

Then there is me during my camp yachting period around the Andaman Sea. Never was a hangover washed away so quickly than by jumping off the Piraya (our boat) in the morning.



Not to mention my gay cowboy look long before Brokeback mountain was a hit. That was quite a smash hit with the ladies, if I recall correctly. Cowboy boots 'n all.

The Tokyo period which was all too short because Tokyo ROCKS as far as I'm concerned.

But the wack stuff I've saved is from Hong Kong.


And no photo story can be complete without those Bangkok nights. As a friend of mine once said. More can happen in a Bangkok night than most might expect to happen in a year. This was taken on Soi Cowboy.


And of course those Hua Hin days, weeks and months. It never occurred to me before but I guess this blog is as good a place as any to explain why this bug very memorably fell in LOVE with me and then scared the very life out of me.

Any requests? ;)

Virgin Ata - lantic ; We salute you

I like the randomness of different travel modes and rarely do much thinking about what form of travel will be best. I like variety. I've taken fourth class trains to Chiang Mai in Northern Thailand, heaving with noisy chickens and snoring rice farmers in intense heat, or more memorably one dangerous 26 hour coach journey from Rangoon to Ngapali beach on the Bay of Bengal in Burma (easily the most beautiful and tranquil beach in the world I've come across). The driver on that particular trip used vocal instructions to a "co-driver" pulling a piece of string which led out the window and underneath the bus to control the breaks. I was OK with that (I had no choice actually) but late into the darkest of nights towards the end of the journey I was compelled to use some ferociously strong language as the driver started nodding off and careering across the road until he was jolted awake by some innate ability to save his and our lives.

I was the only one witness to notice we were facing impending death as my co-passengers were asleep, so despite having only a few words of Burmese I made it clear I would personally throttle him if he fell asleep again by roaring at him in language that would have made mid 80's Millwall fans proud, and gesturing wildly like I was wringing a chicken's neck. This worked a treat and he woke up permanently at this although the snoring passengers were none the wiser.

So it was with some surprise that I received a text from Virgin Atlantic the night before my flight asking for my passport number. We were all having a few cleansing departure ales the night before and eating my red rose that darling Sasha gave me, so I couldn't oblige at the time.


I called first thing the next morning and to my surprise was confirmed as having a chauffeur to Heathrow which kind of made me feel a bit spesh. But once you've flown Bangladeshi/Ethiopian Airlines or Air India its all Bisto after that as Ricky B would say. I was however highly impressed with the whole experience because once inside, the very pleasant driver checked me in with his mobile phone, and within no time at all I was driven into the new Virgin Atlantic 'Upper Class' entrance and passed through the whole shebang within minutes. Without even time to conclude that I wasn't going to have my socks X rayed by a surly Heathrow security attendant, I sashayed into the Upper Class lounge. Virgin have got it going on and I wont even go into the massage treatment on board the plane or the bar that allows travelers to socialise and mingle a little.

Here's a brief 'squirt' as they say in the TV trade, of the lounge. I was most impressed with the food selection which included brilliant breads, roll mop herrings, fresh anchovies and lots of yummy salty things that only the Scandinavians know how to do best. All in all, Virgin Atlantic have got it going on. We salute you.