Category Archives: Travel

Commentaries and images from my various travels around the world.

New York, 2006

The company where I (currently) work is always trying to get people to transfer over to the New York office. There are a number of personal reasons why I didn’t want to do that, however the main reason was always that it — basically — just didn’t appeal. It really didn’t seem to be very much different from London, where I currently live, but, well, more. So when I visited New York in April I was not expecting to like it very much.

As this was my first time in New York, and only my second in the United States, I was immediately drawn to the things that the place is famous for. Yellow taxis. The Empire State Building. The Statue of Liberty. Central Park. I managed to “do” them all, but not always on the first attempt!

The first time I went to the Battery Park pier for the Liberty Island ferry I found a long, snaking line of people and no shade from the sun. Not feeling like turning lobster-red for my wedding photos, I decided to postpone.

Typically the weather turned the day after making this decision. It got to the point that you could barely see statue from Manhattan and I was starting to think the trip might have to wait until my next time in New York. But on my last day the clouds and rain lifted enough to consider it. Even the crowds had evaporated.

For the short trip out, the boat was accompanied by the coast-guard. The memory of September 11th lives on. I just walked around the statue rather than going inside. You can’t go all the way to the top like you could previously — security again. Liberty looks more impressive In Real Life than it does in the pictures. I’m not sure exactly what it is, but it has a poise and grace that doesn’t come across quite so well in photographs.

A ferry took me from Liberty to Ellis Island, which was home to US Immigration for many years. It was late so I only managed a quick look around. It was fascinating if only because my wife had been dealing with UK Immigration for most of the time I’ve known her!

I had a similar experience with the Empire State Building. I first got there and found a vast queue. I had to be at dinner in about ninety minutes. Unfortunately the staff said that there was a ninety minute wait just to get to the top!

The next week I came back and splashed out on an Express Pass. I felt like a celebrity walking past all the queues — sorry, since we’re in America, lines — to step into the lift.

The main difference between London and New York I found is that New York is much taller. I guess this is a fairly obvious observation, but the lack of sky was quite striking from ground level. From the top of the Empire State Building you can see it all laid out in front of you. Even nearly a century after it first opened there is little taller. Looking down, ‘little’ six or seven story buildings seem nearly as far away as the throngs of yellow taxis. South of here, the buildings are smaller — the ground-rock isn’t as solid — until near the tip of Manhattan where things get taller again, and where the twin towers used to stand. Facing north you realise just how big Central Park is.

I’m glad I did the Empire State near the end of my time in New York. It allowed me to make sense of the various bits of geography I’d come to vaguely know. Oh, so that’s next to that!

Not quite fitting in the theme of “failed visits,” I saw Times Square a few times at various times of day. On the way to my hotel I believe I passed through it without realising. I look back and wonder how that was possible. To be fair to myself, it does look very different at night. I had to wonder at the value of any particular company advertising there. There’s just so much neon that absolutely nothing stood out, although I was continually dazzled by the lights, the constant flow of pedestrians and traffic and the noise.

I’ve only really scratched the surface of what I saw on my first visit to New York, yet I only scratched the surface of what there is to see in New York. I liked the place much more than I thought I would. I’m sure I’ll be back.

Vietnam, 2005

It’s easy to get the wrong impression of Vietnam. Switch on the TV and you find films showing vast areas of land being napalmed. Switch on the radio and you hear Paul Hardcastle. Even in books you see self-immolating monks.

Ho Chi Minh's Mausoleum, Hanoi, Vietnam

But the place is not all about the Vietnam War (or the American war as they call it). In fact there was little sign of it in the parts that I saw. Insead you see a beautiful, enthusiastic country that’s full of contradictions. You see successful small businesses, you learn that health-care and education is paid-for yet you know the government is officially Communist.

Modern Vietnam really started with Ho Chi Minh. His mausileam was near the top of the list of places to visit on our first full day on the tour. Perhaps as you’d expect, it’s not very much like the rest of Hanoi. While the other streets are busy, crowded and chaotic — I was reminded of Kathmandu — with motor-bikes zipping in and out of pedestrians and other traffic in a suicidal manner, Ho Chi Minh’s resting place is expansive, clean and quiet.

At the centre of Hanoi is Hoan Kiem Lake which is a tranquil contrast to the buzzing mopeds heard through the rest of the city. Both locals and tourists hang out around here, and only a few locals try to sell you things! Why, when they see you writing post-cards or reading the Lonely Planet guide, do they try to sell you exactly the same thing? Is one copy of a travel guide not sufficient?

Trip in Ha Long Bay, Vietnam

Our time in Hanoi quickly comes to an end. We leave on a (delayed) train to Ha Long City, the disembarkation point for many trips around Ha Long Bay.

Our hotel overlooks the bay, so we are distressed the next morning when we open the curtains and can’t see anything past the road that separates us from the water. The fog is amazingly dense and I nearly decide not to head down for breakfast. What’s the point?

The fog lifts slightly over breakfast but I’m still not keen to set off.

Boys navigate down the Perfumed River, Hué, Vietnam

We board the boat almost in silence. Not only is the fog deadening the sound from the nearby town, but we’re all subdued imagining a tragically disappointing day. We were, however, wrong. While the boat sets off, the sun rises and starts to burn away the fog.

The first few glances of the limestone pillars that make up the UN-designated Heritage Site are atmospherically partially shrowded in mist. As the day progresses, the sky gets clearer and we see the bay in its full glory. We’re all glad we got up at the crack of dawn.

It’s mainly a day of travelling next as we first head back to Hanoi and them take the night train down to Hué. Hué is one of the highlights of the trip, featuring a lazy trip down the Perfume River (piloted somewhat worryingly by these boys!) and the Old Citadel. You can find plenty more about these famous sighs in guide-books so I won’t go into any detail here.

Sleeping Market trader, Hué, Vietnam

Local markets are always fascinating places, and the one in Hué is no exception. It’s possible to buy almost anything, but we mostly get offered T-shirts and baseball caps all, no doubt, at bargain prices. I am drawn to the fruit stalls. As a photographer I like the bright colours, shapes and textures. But this time I see a person, a sleeping stall-holder. I think it’s an amusing scene and decide to take a picture. Our sleeper dozes away but a nearby trader notices, smiles at me and laughs so loudly that my model stirs from sleep. She first glances at the source of the noise and then, following the now pointing finger, at me. Unconcerned, her hat returns over her face and she falls back asleep.

It’s seemingly a rushed trip as we quickly head further south to Hoi An, perhaps the most charming and pretty of the towns we stayed in on the whole trip.

My Son, Vietnam

The next day the tour group splits into two. An optional exchursion to see My Lai, the site of a war attrocity, is very popular and sees everyone but me head there and ignore My Son. My Son is a temple complex built by the same people who constructed Ankor Wat. It’s much smaller and less intact but since I wasn’t heading out to Cambodia after the Vietnam section of the tour I didn’t want to miss it.

The one thing I wish I could have missed was the rain. Everyone got drenched. While it was quite amusing to see the contrast between the anchient temples and the bright, modern umbrella’s, I would have preferred dry conditions. And so did my camera which stopped working for a worryingly long time shortly after leaving.

Continuing our journey south we stop in Nha Trang. From here we head up into the hills. Our destination is a crocodile farm and an impressive waterfall. Luckily we find something even more interesting en route.

Hilltribe Children, Vietnam

We stop near a “Hilltribe” village where a number of local kids are congregating. They obviously don’t see too many tourists around these parts as they are both curious and nervous of us. In this remote area they even speak their own language, making the (very) little Vietnamese I’ve learned no use here.

The tour finished in Ho Chi Minh City, or Saigon as it is still called by many people. (One explaination I heard was that the central part was still officially called Saigon but not everyone agreed.) Arguably this would have been an easier start to the trip than Hanoi. It has a much more Western feel to it and even has a few familiar franchised fast-food outlets, which I only then realised I’d not seen anywhere else.

Inside Notre Dame Cathedral, Saigon (Ho Chi Minh City), Vietnam

With the Western sheen it also takes an undesirable trait that you find in many new cities such as Abu Dhabi and Charlotte: no character. There’s nothing wrong with the place as such but, compared with the rest of Vietnam, it’s pretty dull. I did, however, like some of the decorations in Notre Dame Cathedral. The pictured neon-lit Mary statues left me speechless.

One other place of note is the War Museum. It is one of the few places that we saw that has any reference to the American War. Back home in Britain we normally see the US side of the story so it was fascinating to see it from another perspective.

It’s a shame I that I wasn’t so keen on Saigon as it gave a weak ending to an otherwise fascinating trip to South East Asia.

Winchester, 2006

[photopress:IMG_1682.jpg,thumb,alignleft]I took my birthday off work. I had some great ideas of places to go but, unfortunately, I also had a lot of Christmas shopping to do so in the end we spent the day roaming Oxford Street. To some this would be a great birthday. To me this was only a better option than hitting central London on the last couple of weekends before Christmas. I hate shopping.

So come January we decided to celebrate it being half way between our two birthdays. It’s a common event down our way.

[photopress:IMG_1672.jpg,thumb,alignleft]Eventually we decided to go to Winchester as B had not been there previously and I have a friend who lives nearby. It was a cold but fine day so we spent some time darting around outside and longer periods inside, learning to appreciate log fires and fine beer.

We were not there long but we covered many of the more obvious sights. We started at the imposing Cathedral, wandered up the main street, past the Civic Centre and into a park which follows the river back to where we started. We follow variations of this route a couple of times, stopping off occasionally as I regain my bearings and the temperature varies.

[photopress:IMG_1673.jpg,thumb,alignleft]As dusk approaches we meet a friend for a few drinks. At the end of the day, realising we missed dinner, we stop off at a kebab place on the way to the station. So much for fast food, we missed our train by about two minutes and ended up waiting on a cold platform for the best part of an hour. A poor end to an otherwise great day.

Canada, 2005

I spent three weeks working in downtown Toronto. Fortunately I found enough time to head out and about while I was there.

[photopress:IMG_0740.jpg,full,alignleft]During the weekday evenings I wandered around without my camera, desperately trying to find a supermarket. I passed one on the first night and it took me another couple of days to find it again. Turns out it was just around the corner from my apartment!

The main oddity (from the perspective of an Englishman) is that they have a similar attitude to alcohol as the Norwegians. You can’t buy beer or wine in the supermarkets and have to go to a state-sponsored off-licence. It took me over a week to find one of those.

Most of the clients we have are investment banks, so I spent much of my time around Bay Street. This is the financial centre of Canada and is full of tall, glinting and expensive-looking buildings. Most have subterranean shops, a sure sign that it gets very cold here in winter.

The first weekend I did the touristy thing in Toronto itself. On Saturday, feeling like some air other than that found in an air conditioned office, I went on the local ferry to the imaginatively titled Toronto Islands. They are just a short distance from downtown Toronto yet feel like hundreds of miles distant. There are a few houses there and it’s generally well maintained with paths and even a fair (closed for winter). Not exactly back to nature, but I wander around far longer than I planned to and end up getting very burned despite it only being April. (For the record, I do burn easily but — even so — it surprised me!)

I waited until Sunday evening before heading up the CN Tower. I know the sun would be low and that this would be the best chance to get some good light and my best chance of some decent pictures.

[photopress:IMG_0908.jpg,thumb,alignleft]There are two levels, with the top one being a few dollars more. How often am I going to be in Canada? I pay for the expensive ticket. The lifts go outside the tower and have impressive views unless you’re cramped into the far side behind other inquisitive tourists as I was. (I made a mental note to get in the life last on the way down.)

The first level has a viewing platform and a few other amenities. The cafe looks like a motorway service station and I decide I’m not thirsty. A scuffed, transparent floor allows you to stand on nothing and look down to the ground, which is a disturbing distance below by this point. The wall here is adorned with CN Tower trivia, the height of this, the amount of concrete there, the quickest time that someone managed to climb the tower using the stairs.

I find the view exhausting and decide against competing.

I take a smaller lift to the top level. Stepping into it must feel similar to how top executives do when they get into their private lift to their penthouse office or the helipad. Alighting, we’re told that this is the highest observation platform in the world.

[photopress:IMG_0804.jpg,full]

The view from the top didn’t disappoint. By late afternoon the mist had lifted and the sun was golden and casting long shadows over the city. The Toronto islands were clearly visible; even the ferry could be seen, its wake a wide triangle covering much of the bay. I spend a good time here just scanning the area, taking in the view and trying to identify the apartment I was staying in, the office I was working in and some of the places I had visited in the previous week.

I spend the weekdays evenings wandering around downtown Toronto thumbing through books, checking out the music and DVDs.

[photopress:IMG_0785.jpg,thumb,alignleft]For my final weekend I decide to get out of Toronto and take the train. I like using trains abroad. You get to see so much more of a country when you get out of major cities and don’t have to keep your eyes on the road. My destination is Niagra.

The area really isn’t geared for people without a car. The train station is some way from downtown and any of the sights. The guidebook tells me all this but I assume it’s exaggerating and decide to walk instead. Unfortunately the book was right and I was wrong!

The first I see of the falls is through the legs of the bridge over to the US side. Initially I was thinking of nipping over the border, but queues are substantial and a man I speak to suggests that even for pedestrians I would be in for a ninety minute wait.

Instead I press on, deciding just to make the most of the Canadian side of the falls. I am reliably informed that these are by far the most impressive in any case. Mid-April is before most of the paid attractions open, so I am not able to take the Maid of the Mist boat trip. I suspect the trip would have been spectacular, but I am able to get a good view of the falls from the side as there are so few tourists around.

Just about the only Falls attraction open is called “Behind the Falls.” There are tunnels behind the deluge of water allowing you to see just how powerful nature can be. I feel slightly cheated by the admission fee but realise the title was literal enough and I should have figured out what it entailed…

[photopress:IMG_0836.jpg,thumb,alignleft]It takes a while to fully appreciate Niagra Falls. The volume of water is just amazing, even the spray reaches higher than most waterfalls I’ve seen previously.

Niagra town also warrants a mention. It’s Canada’s Las Vegas, with all the class and culture you might imagine given such a moniker. There are casino’s and fairground rides, dozens of chain restaurants and plastic chairs. Initially I was considering staying here for the night but I am now glad that I didn’t!

The train ride back to Toronto is delayed considerably first by US customs and then by the Canadians. As the guard said, “It’s all in the hands of the government now.” We knew we had a long wait ahead…

On the next weekend I head home. It rains heavily all day, really pounding down on the taxi I take to the airport. I think I was in Canada for the right three weeks.

Belgium, 2005

I need little excuse to go travelling, yet this time was perhaps my weakest justification ever. I’ve been away for some or all of November for the previous six years so I needed to leave the UK for at least one day to keep the tradition going.

[photopress:Image_69C87715549211DA.jpg,thumb,alignleft]I said it was weak.

Though I live in London I have somehow managed never to have used the Eurostar previously and, given I had no time to take off work, I wanted to avoid flying if possible. Heathrow always involves endless queuing and sitting around and, basically, not moving very quickly for an awful long time. The train was pretty swift and efficient, except when we came back, but that was a blessing as the guards at passport control scrutinised B’s US documentation very closely causing us to be late.

[photopress:Image_69C95FAA549211DA.jpg,thumb,alignleft]We arrived in Brussels, had dinner and pretty much fell straight asleep. I skip over this bit as it was dark and cold and we didn’t see very much, save the underground (which has those vicious closing doors) and a few largely deserted streets.

Starting (reasonably) early the next day, using a quirk of the train ticket to obtain free travel, we headed to Brugge. About an hour from Brussels, it’s a compact, pretty and busy town. Once in the town centre you find narrow, cobbled streets with brightly painted doors. (This picture probably would have looked better on a bright, spring day but beggars can’t be choosers.)

[photopress:Image_69CA05CC549211DA.jpg,thumb,alignleft]This being a Saturday afternoon, the shopping areas were packed. We wanted to climb a central tower but the queue appeared to be going nowhere and time was ticking on towards the “last entry” limit. We decided to eat waffles instead. It’s difficult to understand how any Belgian remains trim. Let’s see: waffles, beer, chocolate and the food is generally pretty hearty. We weren’t complaining.

We take a circuitous route along a river-side path back to the train station.

[photopress:Image_69CA3893549211DA.jpg,thumb,alignleft]Back in Brussels we head to a tiny cavern restaurant called T’Kelderke which is busy but they manage to squeeze the two of us in without too much of a wait. We’re mean and laugh at the people being turned away. It’s a great venue though and eventually feel sorry for them and stop our (distant) teasing. The food was great, the atmosphere even better. This place is probably packed every night.

Afterwards we head around the corner to see the statue that Brussels is famous for: the Manequine Pis. Only in Belgium. It’s a tiny statue of a boy, um, releaving himself. He has a cult and a nearby museum has a full collection of clothes that he is dressed up in from time-to-time.

Of couse one of the other things that Belgium is famous for is the EU. Our hotel was just around the corner from this imposing, shiny structure.

[photopress:IMG_1646.jpg,thumb,alignleft]We stay in Brussels on the Sunday.

B is keen to start the day in an area that’s packed with chocolaterie. We wander around and pop into a few. I’m not a huge chocolate fan, but I think if I lived in Belgium I might change my mind. It all looks fabulous and the few I had were amazing. I latterly discover that, while I bought some for my family for Christmas, I didn’t get any for myself. Oops.

We spend much of the rest of the day aimlessly wandering around. Brussels has lots of parks and cafes and pedestrianised streets which makes it easy to do this. The Grande Place, now I can see it properly in daylight, is a rather grand place. Other than that I can’t tell you I saw this amazing sight, or that wonderful church but can say that I left with a very warm feeling about the place.

Where have you been?

Some people seem to think that I visit new places just so that I can increment my Country Count. I guess going to three countries in one weekend a couple of years ago doesn’t do much to dispel that accusation, but it’s not true. What can I say? I like to see new places.


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Having said that, hopefully I’ll hit my thirtieth country this year!